^■-v';l'
 
 THE 
 
 WORKS 
 
 OF THE 
 
 REV. JOHN HOWE, M. A. 
 
 WITH 
 
 MEMOIRS OF HIS LIFE, 
 
 BY EDMUND CALAMY, D. D 
 
 COMPLETE IN TWO VOLUMES. 
 
 VOL. I. 
 
 NEW-YORK: 
 PUBLISHED BY JOHN P. HAVEN, 
 
 No. 148 NASSAU STREET. 
 E. Sanderson, Printer, ElizahetMown, N. J. 
 MDCCCXXXVIII. 1% ^7"
 
 V. I 
 
 CONTENTS. 
 
 The Life of Mr. John Howe. 
 
 The Living TemiT.e; or a desig^ied Improve- 
 ment of that Notion, That a Good Man is the Tem- 
 ple of God. 
 
 Part I. Concerning C-^d's Exi.stence, and hi.s Con- 
 ver.sableness with Man. Against Atheism, or 
 the Epicurean Deism 
 
 Chap. I. This notion common. Authorities need- 
 less. Insignificant with the atheistical, who 
 have made it more necessar}^ to defend religion, 
 and a temple in general, than this, or that. 
 Better defended against them by practice and 
 use, than argument, whereof they are incapable. 
 Often disputes of its principles not necessary to 
 the practice of religion. Some consideration of 
 those supposed in the general notion of a temple, 
 pertinent (however) to this discourse 
 
 Chap. II. I. The two more principal grounds 
 which a temple supposes. First, The existence 
 of God. Secondly, His conversableness with 
 men : both argued from common consent. Doubt- 
 ful if the first were ever wholly denied in former 
 days. The second also implied. First, In llie 
 known general practice of some or other religion. 
 Evidenced, Secondly, In that some, no strangers 
 to the world, have thought it the diflerence of 
 man. II. The immodesty and rashness of the 
 persons from whom any opposition can be ex- 
 pected. III. These two grounds, namely, the 
 existence of God, and his conversableness with 
 men, proposed to be more strictly considered 
 apart. And, FIRST, The existence of God, 
 where the notion of God is assigned. The parts 
 whereof are proposed to be evinced severally of 
 some existent being. First, Eternity. Secondly, 
 Self-origination. Thirdly, Independency. Fovrf'/i- 
 ly. Necessity of existence. Fifthly, Self-activity. 
 (^The impossibility that this world should be 
 this necessary self-active being. The incon- 
 sistency of necessary alterable matter, more 
 largely deduced in a marginal digression.) 
 Sixthly, Life. Seventhly, Vast and mighty power. 
 A corollary 
 
 Chap. III. Wisdom asserted to belong to this 
 Being. The production of this world by a 
 mighty agent destitute of wisdom impo.ssible. 
 On consideration of, 1. "What would be adverse 
 to this production. 2. What would be wanting; 
 some effects to which a designing cause will, on 
 all hands, be confessed necessary, having mani- 
 fest characters of skill and design upon them. 
 Absurd here to except the works of nature ; 
 wherein at least equal characters of wisdom and 
 design are to be seen, as in any the most confess- 
 ed pieces of art, instanced in the frame and mo- 
 tion of heavenly bodies. A mean unphilosophical 
 temper, to be more taken with novelties, than 
 common things of greater importance. Further 
 instance, in the composition of the bodies of 
 animals. Two contrary causes of men's not 
 acknowledging the wisdom of their Maker 
 herein. Progress is made from the consideration 
 of the parts and frame, to the powers and func- 
 tions, of terrestrial creatures. Growth, nutrition, 
 propagation of kind. Spontaneous motion, sen- 
 sation. The pretence considered, that the bodies 
 
 of animals are machines. 1. How improbable it 
 is. 2. How little to the purpose. The powers of 
 the human soul. It appears, notv:ithsianding 
 thevi, it had a cause ; by thim, a wise and intell'- 
 gent cause. It is not matter. That not capable 
 of reason. They not here reflected on who think 
 reasonable souls made of refined matter, by the 
 Creator. Not being matter, nor arising from 
 thence, it must have a cause that is intelligent. 
 Goodness belonging to this Being 14 
 
 Chap. IV. Generally all supposable perfection 
 asserted of this Being ; where, First, A being 
 absolutely perfect is endeavoured to he evinced 
 from the (already proved) necessary bei ig; which 
 is shown to import, in the general, the utmost 
 fulness of being. Also divers things in particular 
 that tend to evince that general. As that it is at 
 the remotest distance from no being. Most pure- 
 ly actual. Most abstracted being. The produc- 
 tive and conserving cause of all things else. Un- 
 diminishable. Incapable of addition. Secondly, 
 Hence is more expressly deduced. The infinite- 
 ness of this being. An inquiry whether it be 
 possible the creature can be actually infinite ? 
 Difficulties concerning the absolute fulness and 
 infiniteness of God considered. 2. The oneline.<:s 
 of this being. The trinity not thereby excluded. 30 
 
 Chap. V. Demands in reference to what hath been 
 hitherto discoursed, with some reasonings there- 
 upon : 1. Is it possible that, upon supposition of 
 this being's existence, it may be, in any way 
 suitable to our present state, made known to us 
 that it doth exist 1 Proved, 1. That it may. 2. 
 That, since any other fit way that can be thought 
 on is as much liable to exception as that we have 
 already, /Aismustbe, therefore, sufficient. Strong 
 impressions. Glorious apparitions. Terrible 
 voices. Surprising transformations. If these are 
 necessary, is it needful they be universal ? fre- 
 quent 1 if not, more rare things of this sort not 
 wanting. 2. Demand. Can subjects, remote from 
 their prince, sufficiently be assured of his exist- 
 ence 1 3. Demand. Can we be sure there are 
 men on earth 1 37 
 
 Chap. VI. What is intended by God's conversa- 
 bleness with men, considered only as fundamen- 
 tal and presupposed to a temple. An account of 
 the Epicurean deity. Its existence impossible 
 any way to be proved, if it did exist. Nor can 
 be affirmed to any good intent. That such a be- 
 ing is not God. That the absolute perfection 
 proved of God represents him a fit object of re- 
 ligion. From thence more particularly deduced 
 to this purpose, His omnisciency, omnipotency, 
 unlimited goodness, immensity. Curcellsus's 
 arguments against this last considered. . . 
 
 Part II. Containing Animadversions on Spinosa, 
 and a French Writer pretending to confute him. 
 With a Recapitulation of the Former Part, and 
 an Account of the Destitution and Restitution 
 of God's Temple among men 
 
 Chap. I. Wherein is .shown, the destructivene'^s of 
 Spinosa's scheme and design to religion and the 
 temple of God. The repugnancy of his doctrine 
 to this assertion — That whatsoever exists neces- 
 sarily and of itself, is absolutely perfect j which 
 
 45 
 
 56 
 
 3J;2085''
 
 CONTENTS. 
 
 is therefore further weighed. His vain attempt to 
 prove what he designs. His second proposition 
 considered. His definition of a substance defec- 
 tive. Proves not his purpose. His third, fourth, 
 and fifth proposition. His eighth scholia. The 
 riMnuductlo ad pantosophiam 59 
 
 Chap. II. Animadversions from a French writer, 
 nameles.s. His pretence to confute Spinosa. 
 The opinion of the workl's being made of in- 
 dependent self-existing matter ; chosen by hiin 
 and a.sserted against two other opinions. That 
 of matter's being created out of nothing rejected, 
 and falsel)'^ charged with novelty. Mo.ses, and 
 the author to the Hebrews misalleged, vindicat- 
 ed. Self-originate, independent matter di.sproved: 
 asserted by this author with evident self-contra- 
 diction ; and without necessity Gi 
 
 Chap. III. The reason of what next follows. Di- 
 rections to readers not wont to inquire into the 
 grounds of their religion. A summary and 
 plainer proposal unto such, of what hath been 
 said in the former Part, concerning God's exist- 
 ence and conversablcness with men. The reason- 
 ableness (so much being already evinced) of 
 alleging, and relying upon the testimony of the 
 Holy Scriptures. The expressness of that testi- 
 mony concerning the unity of the Godhead, the 
 trinity therein. The absolute perlection of the 
 divine nature. The infiniteness of God's know- 
 ledge, power, goodness, and presence. His pro- 
 pensions towards men, and aptness (supposing 
 there were no obstruction) to human converse. 
 Matters of doubt herein resolved 67 
 
 Chap. IV. That there is an obstruction to this 
 intercourse. The method of the following dis- 
 course. Man's apostacy from God, and the 
 vitiated state of his nature ; not only represented 
 in the sacred writings, but also acknowledged 
 and lamented by pagans : — very mistakenly, in 
 some respects ; wherein perhaps some of them 
 not justly understood. This not the primitive 
 state of man ; therefore not to be imputed to 
 the Author of nature. The temple of God 
 hereby became unfit for the divine presence. 
 Unsuitable. Disaffected. Hereupon forsaken, 
 and most justly 71 
 
 Chap.V. The restitution of this temple undertaken 
 by the Emmanuel : First, more darkly prefigured; 
 afterward, more clearly manifested. This con- 
 stitution of Emmanuel sufiicient. Necessary for 
 this pui-pose. That he was himself to be the plat- 
 form, the foundation, and the founder of it. 
 The original temple. And was, in order hereto, 
 also a sacrifice; to procure that God might 
 honourably, and without wrong to his governing 
 justice, return, and have his abode with men. 
 A.nd that they might become prepared to receive 
 his returning presence. For which purpose he 
 hath in him the power of giving the Holy Spirit, 
 on the account of this sacrifice. That when God 
 is, for the sake of it, willing; we might no 
 longer remain unwilling. That unwillingness 
 to be overcome by the power and spirit of 
 Emmanuel ; as hereafter to be more fully shown. 
 But working (suitably to an intelligent subject) 
 in a rational way. To which a great accom- 
 modateness, in the constitution of Emmanuel. 
 As demonstrating divine love, and holiness. In 
 its loveliness. Possibility of being attained. . 77 
 
 Ch.vp. VI. The necessity of this constitution of 
 Emmanuel to the erecting God's temple in the 
 world. The discoursing of this matter, proper 
 on this occasion. As to God's part herein, first, 
 proposed to show, both that a recompense wa.s 
 necessary to be made, and that it could be made 
 no other way. Towards the evincing the former, 
 sundry things gradually laid down. The point 
 
 itself argued, by considering the injury done to 
 the divine, with what we may suppose done to a 
 human, government ; where repentance not con- 
 stantly thought a sufficient recompense ; other- 
 wise, a penitent delinquent was never to be pu- 
 nished. Difierence between God's pardon and 
 man's in most usual cases. Recompense for 
 wrong done to government, quite another thing 
 from what answers the appetite of private re- 
 venge. Expressions that seem to import it in 
 God, how to be understood. Shown that they 
 import no more than a constant will so far to 
 punish oflences, as is necessary for the asserting 
 and preserving the rights and dignity of his go- 
 vernment. So much most agreeable, and neces- 
 sarily belonging to the perfection of the divine 
 nature. And if' the justice of a human govern- 
 ment requires it, of the divine much more. . . 84 
 
 Chap. VII. The notion of justice in the divine 
 government, and in a human, not altogether the 
 same. A thing said to be just, in a negative and a 
 positive sense. The question discussed. Whether 
 God's will to punish sin were, antecedently to 
 his legal constitution to that purpose, just, not 
 only in the former sense, but in the latter alsol 
 Volenti mm ft injuria, as to man needs limita- 
 tion. Holy Scripture speaks of God's punishing 
 sin, not merely as a concomitant of justice, but 
 an effect. His will to punish it must proceed 
 from justice ; not, primarily, according to the 
 common notion of justice, as it respects the 
 rights of another ; therefore another notion of 
 it (as to him) to be sought. God's rights so una- 
 lienable, that he cannot quit them to his owti 
 wrong as man can. Secondarily, according to 
 the other notion, his right to punish depends not 
 on his legal constitution, but that on it. That he 
 cannot altogether quit it, no detraction from 
 him. Justice, in a larger notion, doth further 
 oblige to insist upon recompense ;fi2r. universal 
 justice, as especially it comprehends his holiness, 
 his wisdom. The fitness of God's methods here- 
 in not to be only contemplated by men, but an- 
 gels. In what sense punishments to be reckoned 
 debts. This matter summed up 89 
 
 Chap. VIII. The first head thus far insisted on, 
 that a sufficient recompense was necessary : the 
 second succeeds, that no less was sufficient than 
 that made by Emmanuel. Dishonour to have 
 insisted on less. What the divine estimate in 
 this matter was, his own word shows. His love 
 to oflenders otherwise under restraint. Pro- 
 posed to consideration, 1. How great things 
 were to be remitted, the sins of all times, and 
 ages. Not from insufficiency unapplicable to 
 ail sinners. Remission to be granted, by a uni- 
 versal law. 2. How great to be vouchsafed. 
 Which follows 93 
 
 Chap. IX. Concerning the gift or communication 
 
 of the Spirit. The Gospel the means of it. The 
 inseparable connexion hereof with the former, the 
 imparting of righteousness, for removing theguilt 
 of sin. In what sense the Holy Spirit of God is 
 said to be given, or commimicated. What per- 
 sonal union signifies. How personal presence, 
 vital union, communicated influences, concern 
 the inquiry. In what respect the necessity assert- 
 ed of this communication. Since such fulness of 
 Spirit in Emmanuel, purposely for communica- 
 tion ; how comes it to pass he, thereby, raises no 
 more such temples; the necessity of this com- 
 munication, for this purpose, represented two 
 ways: by showing, 1. Thv 'he Holy Scripture 
 leaches that God doth g^vt his Spirit, though 
 under distinct notiojis, only through Christ. 2. 
 That it was most reasonable, and therefore ne- 
 cessary it should be so. The doctrine of Scrip- 
 ture hen:in proposed under sis head-s. . , , , 97
 
 CONTENTS. 
 
 Chap. X. The fir.";! of the mentioned six heads insist- 
 ed on — Thai the spirit is given both as a Builder, 
 and as an Inhabitant of this temple. Scripture 
 testimony concerning the former of those, and the 
 latter. And for the sake of his death and suffer- 
 ings. Anciently, the blessing of Abraham, and 
 his seed from age to age, upon this account. 
 More copiously and to other nations, when the 
 fulness of time was come. Christ's death hath 
 influence for these two purposes with much dif- 
 ference, to be afterwards explained. Colossians 
 i. 19, 20, 21. largely opened. A digression re- 
 lating thereto. The principal import of that text, 
 to show the dependence Christ's whole work of 
 reconciliation, both of God to us, and of ns to 
 God, had upon his sacrifice on the cross. The 
 latter whereof is elfected by his Spirit, obtained 
 by that sacrifice. Other texts to the same pur- 
 pose. Further noted, that the Spirit is expressly 
 said to be given by Christ, or in his name, &c. 
 Given for building or preparing a temple, by a 
 less certain, known rule 101 
 
 Chap. XI. The sixth head proposed before, now 
 insisted on. That for the purpose of inhabiting 
 this temple, already formed, the Spirit is given by 
 the Emmanuel, as a trustee. The Oecnnonius, 
 or chief Steward of God's household. And by a 
 certain, known rule. Giving them, that are to 
 partake therein, the ground of a rightful claim 
 unto this great and most comprehensive gift. 
 Whereupon to be considered. The dueness, 
 amp4itude, or comprehensiveness thereof (1.) 
 The dueness of it. 1. By promise. 2. By this 
 promise, its having the form of a covenant, resti- 
 pulated on their part. 3. From their state of 
 sonship, as regenerate. Adopted. 4. From their 
 being to receive it by faith. (2.) Its ample ex- 
 tent, measured by the covenant, considered partly 
 in actu sigiiato. In actu exercito. Infers recon- 
 ciliation, relation. The summary of the covenant 
 refers to it. The conclusion lOG 
 
 The Reconcileableness of God's Prescience of the 
 Sins of Men, with the Wisdom and Sincerity of his 
 Counsels, Exhortations, and whatsoever Means he 
 uses to prevent them. In a Letter to the Hon. Robert 
 Bo}le, Esq. To which is added a Postscript in De- 
 fence of the said Letter 114 
 
 Man's Creation in a holy but mutable State. — Eccl. 
 vii. 29. Lo, this only have I fmhtul, that God hath 
 made man upright ; but they have sought out many 
 inventions 132 
 
 A Calm and Sober Inquiry concerning the Possi- 
 bility of a Trinity in the Godhead, in a Letter to a 
 Person of worth ; occasioned by the lately published 
 Considerations on the Explications on the Doctrine 
 of the Trinity, by Dr. Wallis, Dr. Sherlock, Dr. 
 S — th, Dr. Cudworth, &c. Together with certain 
 Letters, formerly written to the Reverend Dr. Wal- 
 lis on the same subject 136 
 
 A Letter to a Friend concerning a Postscript to 
 the Defence of Dr. Sherlock's Notion of the Trinity 
 in Unity, relating to the Calm and Sober Inquiry 
 upon the same subject 151 
 
 A View of that part of the late Considerations ad- 
 dressed to H. H. about the Trinity, which concerns 
 the Sober Inquiry on that subject. In a Letter to the 
 former friend 157 
 
 A Letter written out of the Country to a Person of 
 quality in the City, who took offence at the late Ser- 
 mon of Dr. Stillingfleet, (Dean of St. Paul'.?,) before 
 the Lord Mayor 168 
 
 Some Consideration of a Preface to an Inquiry 
 concerning the occasional Conformity of Dissenters. 180 
 
 Thb Blessedness of the Righteous opened, and 
 further recommeaded from the Consideration of 
 
 191 
 
 194 
 
 198 
 
 201 
 
 the Vanity of this Mortal Life. In Two Treatises, 
 on Psalm xvii. 15. As for me, I will behold thy face 
 in righteousness: I shall be salisfcd, v:hen I aicuke, 
 vith thy likeness : and Psalm Ixxxix. 47. Remember 
 ho7C short my time is: wherefore hast th-ou made all 
 men in vain ? 187 
 
 Chap. I. A proemial discourse. A reflection upon 
 some foregomg verses of the psalm, by way of 
 introduction to the text. A consideration of its 
 somewhat various readings, and of its literal im- 
 portance. A discussion of its real importance so 
 far as is necessary to the settling the subject of 
 the present discourse 
 
 Chap. II. A summary proposal of the doctrine 
 contained in this scripture. A distribution of it 
 into three distinct heads of discourse ; viz. 1. The 
 qualified subject. 2. The nature. 3. The season 
 of the blessedness here spoken of. The first of 
 these taken into consideration, where the qualifi- 
 cation, righteousness, is treated of. About which 
 is shown, 1. What it is. 2. How it qualifies. . 
 
 Chap. III. The nature of this blessedness pro- 
 pounded unto consideration, in the three ingre- 
 dients (here mentioned) whereof it consists. 1. 
 Vision of God's face. 2. Assimilation to him, 
 3. The satisfaction resulting thence. These pro- 
 pounded to be considered, 1. Absolutely and 
 singly, each by itself 2. Relatively, in their 
 mutual respects to each other. The first of these, 
 Vision of God's face, discoursed of. 1. The ob- 
 ject. 2. The act 
 
 Chap. IV. The second ingredient into this bless- 
 edness considered. Assimilation to God, or his 
 glory imprest. Wherein it consists, discovered 
 in sundry propositions. The third ingredient, 
 The satisfaction and pleasure which results, sta- 
 ted and opened 
 
 Chap. V. The relative consideration of these three 
 ingredients of the saints' blessedness ; where it 
 is propounded to show particularly, 1. What 
 relation vision hath to assimilation. 2. What 
 both these have to satisfaction. The relation be- 
 tween the two former, inquired into. An entrance 
 upon the much larger discourse, what relation 
 and influence the two former have towards the 
 third. What vision of God's face or glory con- 
 tributes towards satisfaction, estimated from the 
 consideration, 1. Of the object of the glory to be 
 beheld; as 'tis divine, entire, permanent, appro- 
 priate 
 
 Chap. VI. AVhat the vision of God's face contri- 
 butes to the soul's satisfaction, estimated from 
 the consideration of the act of vision itself. 
 Wherein this pleasure surpasses that of st-i.se. A 
 comparison pursued more at large, between this 
 intuition and discourse, between it and faith. 
 This intuition more absolutely considered : Its 
 characters, and what they contribute to the satis- 
 faction of the blessed soul : That it is, viz. effica- 
 cious, comprehensive, fixed, appropriate. . . 
 
 Chap. VII. Wherein assimilation (the likene.^s or 
 glory of God impressed) contributes unto satis- 
 faction ; where is particularly propounded to be 
 shown. What pleasure it involves, what it dis- 
 poses to : What it involves in the esse of it, what 
 in the cogiiosci. 1. The pleasure of being like 
 God discovered. 2. Showing concerning the 
 image of God (generally considered) that it is 
 the soul's health and soundness restored -, that 
 it is a vital, an intimate, a connatural, a perfect 
 image 
 
 Chap. VIII. The satisfaction carried in the glory 
 of God impressed, further shown by instances. 
 Certain particulars of this: impression instanced 
 in a dependent frame of spirit, subjection or self- 
 devoting^ love, purity, liberty, tranquillity. . . 
 
 204 
 
 308 
 
 211 
 
 214
 
 CONTENTS, 
 
 221 
 
 Chap. IX. The pleasure arising from knowing or 
 considering ourselves to be like God: from con- 
 sidering it, 1. Absolutely, 2. Comparatively, or 
 respectively: To the former state of the soul, 
 To the state of lost souls, To its pattern, To the 
 way of accomplishment. To the soul's own ex- 
 pectations. To what it secures. The pleasure 
 whereto it disposes, of union, communion. A 
 comparison of this righteousness, with this bless- 
 edness 218 
 
 Chap. X. The season of this satisfaction, which 
 is two-fold; at death, and at the resurrection. 
 The former spoken to ; wherein is shown. That 
 this life is to the soul (even of a saint) but as a 
 sleep : That at death it awakes. As to the latter; 
 That there is a considerable accession to its hap- 
 piness at the resurrection 
 
 Chap. XI. An introduction to the use of the doc- 
 trine liitherto proposed. The use divided into 
 Inferences of truth. Rules of duty. 1. Infe- 
 rence, That blessedness consists not in any sen- 
 sual enjoyment. 2. Inference, The spirit of man 
 (since 'tis capable of so high a blessedness) is a 
 being of high excellency 224 
 
 Chap. XII. Inference 3. That a change of heart 
 is ncces-^ary to this blessedness. The pretences 
 of ungodly men, whereby they would avoid the 
 necessity of this change. Five considerations 
 proposed in order to the detecting the vanity of 
 such pretences. A particular discussion and re- 
 futation of those pretences 227 
 
 Chap. XIII. Fourth Inference, That the soul in 
 which such a change is wrought, restlessly pur- 
 sues this blessedness till it be attained. Fifth 
 Inference. That the knowing of God, and con- 
 formity to him, are satislying things, and do now 
 in a degree satisfy, according to the measure 
 wherein they are attained. Sixih Inference, That 
 the love of God towards his people is great, that 
 hath designed for them so great, and even a satis- 
 fying good 233 
 
 Chap. XIV. 7. Inference. That since this bless- 
 edness is limited to a qualified subject, " I in 
 righteousness," the unrighteous are necessarily 
 left excluded. 8. Inference. That righte.ousness 
 is no vain thing, inasmuch as it hath so happy 
 an issue, and ends so well 235 
 
 Chap. XV. Two other inferences, from the con- 
 sideration of the season of this blessedness : The 
 former, that inasmuch as this blessedness is not 
 attained in this life, the present happiness of 
 saints must in a great part consist in hope. The 
 latter, that great is the wisdom and sagacity of 
 the righteous man, which waves a present tempo- 
 rary happiness, and chooses that which is distant 
 and future 238 
 
 Chap. XVI. The second general head of the im- 
 provement or use of the doctrine propounded 
 from the text, containing certa in rules or prescrip- 
 tions of duty connatural thereto. 1. "I'hat we 
 settle in our minds the true notion of this blessed- 
 ness. 2. That we compare the temper of our 
 own spirits with it, and labour thence to discern ' 
 whethf. r we may lay claim to it or no. ... 240 
 
 Chap. XVII. Rule 3. Directing such as upon in- 
 quiry find, or see cause to suspect, a total aver- 
 sation in themselves to this blessedness, to be 
 speedy and restless in their endeavours to have 
 the temper of their spirits altered and made suit- 
 able to it. Doubts and objections concerning 
 the use of such endeavours, in such a case, an- 
 swered. Some considerations to enforce this di- 
 rection propounded and pressed 244 
 
 Chap. XVIII. Rule 4. Directing to t\\e endea- 
 vour of a gradual improvement in such a dispo- 
 
 sedness of spirit (as shall be found in any mea- 
 sure already attained) towards this blessedness. 
 That 'tis blessedness begun which disposes to the 
 consummate state of it. That we are therefore 
 to endeavour the daily increase of our pnsent 
 knowledge of God, conformity to him, and the 
 satisfiedncss of our spirits therein 250 
 
 Chap. XIX. Rule 5. Directing to raise our de- 
 sires above the actual or possible attainments of 
 this our present, and terminate them upon the fu- 
 ture consummate state of blessedness. The rule 
 explained and pressed by sundry considerations. 
 Rule 6. That wc add to a desirous pursuit, a 
 joyful expectation of this blessedness, which is 
 pursued in certain subordinate directions. . . 257 
 
 Chap. XX. The addition of two rules, that more 
 specially respect the yet future season of this 
 blessedness, after this life ; viz. Rule 7. That we 
 patiently wait for it until death. Rule 8. That 
 we love not too mitch this present life. . . . 262 
 
 The Vanity of this mortal life : or, of Man, con- 
 sidered in his present Mortal State. — Psalm Ixxxix. 
 47, 48. Remeviber how short my time is : wherefore 
 hast thou made all men in vain. What man is he that 
 liveth, and shall not see death? Shall he deliver his 
 soul from the hand of the grave 7 Selah 273 
 
 A Discourse relating to the expectation of future 
 Blessedness. — Hebrews x. 3G. f'or ye hare %ccd of 
 patience, that, after ye have done the wilt of God, ye 
 might receive the promise 202 
 
 An Appendix, containing some memorial of Dr. 
 Henry Sampson, a late noted Physici.an in the 
 City of London 
 
 303 
 305 
 
 The worthy Dr. Grew's Account of this his excel- 
 lent Brother-in-law 
 
 A Discourse concerning the Redeemer's Dominion 
 over the Invisible World, and the entrance thereinto 
 by death. Some part whereof was preached on 
 occasion of the Dea<h of John Hoghton, Esq. eldest 
 son of Sir Charles Hoghton, of Hoghton-Tower, in 
 the County of Lancaster, Baronet. — Rev. i. 18. Arid 
 have the keys of hell {hade;, or the unseen world") and 
 of death 306 
 
 Of Thoughlfulness for the Morrow— Matt. vi. 34. 
 Take therefore no thought for the morrow : for the 
 morrow shall take thought for the things of itself. 
 Sufficient for the day is the evil thereof. 328 
 
 An Appendix to the foregoing Discourse, concern- 
 ing the immoderate desire of knowing Things to 
 come ^40 
 
 A Treatise of Delighting in God. — Psalm xxxvii. 
 4. Delight thyself also in the Lord, and he shall give 
 thee the desires of thine heart. In Two Parts. . . . 349 
 
 Part I. Showing the Import of this Precept. . . 351 
 
 Part II. Concerning the Practice of Delight in 
 God 379 
 
 Self-dedication discoursed in the Anniversary 
 Thanksgiving of a Person of honour for a great Deli- 
 verance. Rom. xii. 1. — / beseech you, therefore, breth- 
 ren, by the mercies of God, that ye present riour bodies a 
 living sacrifice, holy, acceptable v/nto God, which is 
 your reasonable service 412 
 
 Two Sermons preached at Thurlow, in Suffolk, 
 on those words, Rom. vi. 13. Yield yourselves to 
 God 423 
 
 The Redeemer's Tears wept over Lost Souls. A 
 Treatise on Luke xix. 41, 42. And when he was 
 come near, he beheld the city and wept over it, saying, If 
 thou hadst known, even thou, at least in this thy day, 
 the things which belong unto thy peace ! but now they 
 are hid from thine eyes. With an Appendix, wherein 
 somewhat is occasionally discoursed, concerning the
 
 CONTENTS. 
 
 Blasphemy against the Holy Ghost, and how God is 
 said to will the Salvation of them that perish. . . . 432 
 
 The Carnality of Religious Contention, in Two 
 Sermons, preached at the Merchants' Lecture, in 
 Broad Street. — Gal. v. IG. This I say then, Walk in 
 the Spirit, and ye shall not Juijll the lust of the jlesh. . 457 
 
 A Sermon concerning Union among Protestants: 
 a Discourse answering the following (Question, 
 " "W hat may most hof ^fuKy be attempted to allay 
 animosities among Protestants, that ourDivisions may 
 not be our Ruin 1" — Col. ii. 2. That their hearts might 
 be comforted, being knit together in love, and unto all 
 riches of the full assurance of understanding, to the ac- 
 knowledgment of the -mystery of God, and of the Father, 
 and of Christ 472 
 
 Of Charity in reference to other Men's Sinj.— 
 1 Cor. xiii. 6. Rejoiceth not in iniquity 484 
 
 The right Use of that argument in Prayer, from the 
 Name of God ; on behalf of a People that profess it. 
 — Jer. xiv. 21. Do not abhor us for thy natne's sake. . 491 
 
 The Office and Work of the Holy Spirit, in every 
 age, with reference to Particular Persons: consider- 
 ed in several Sermons, on John iii. 6. That which is 
 horn of the flesh is flesh; and that ivhich is born of the 
 Spirit is spirit ; and Gal. v. 25. If we live in the Spi- 
 rit, let us also loalk in the Spirit 503 
 
 The Prosperous State of the Christian Interest be- 
 fore the End of Time, by a plentiful effusion of the 
 Holy Spirit, considered in Fifteen Sermons, on Ezek. 
 txxix. 29. Neither ivill I hide my face any more from 
 hem : for I have poured out my Spirit upon the house 
 if Israel, saith the Lord God 562 
 
 The Obligations from Nature ?nd Revelation to 
 family Religion and Worship, represented and 
 pressed in Six Sermons; from Josh. xxiv. 15. But 
 <f for me and my house, we will serve the Lord. . . 608 
 
 The Vanity of a Formal Profession of Religion, 
 considered in Eight Sermons, on Titus i. 16. They 
 profess that they know God ; but in hisworks they dcmj 
 him, being abominable, and disobedient, and unto every 
 good work reprobate 629 
 
 The Love of God and our Brother, considered in 
 Seventeen Sermons, on 1 John iv. 20. He that loveth 
 not his brother whom he hath seen, how can he love 
 God whom he hath not seen 7 Preached at a weekly 
 morning Lecture at Cordwainer's Hall, in the year 
 1676 650 
 
 TmRTEEN Sermons on variocs sueject.s. 
 
 Serm. I. Times and Seasons reserved in the Fa- 
 ther's own povver. — Acts i. 7. Ajm he said ujito 
 them, It is not for you to know the times or the sea- 
 sons, which t/ie Father hath put in his omi power. 
 
 Serm. II. Believers troubled, yet not distressed. 
 — 2 Cor. iv. 8 We are troubled on every dde, 
 yet not distressed 
 
 Serm. III. Wherein afflictions are to be accounted 
 joyful. — James i. 2. Mybrethren, cowit it all joy 
 when ye fall into divers temptations 
 
 Serm. IV. The Improvement of Afflictions desi- 
 red. — 1 Peter v. 10. But the God of all grace, 
 who hath called us into his eternal glory by Christ 
 Jesus, after that ye have suffered awhile, make you 
 perfect, stablish, strengthen, settle you 
 
 Serm. V. The Sin and Consequence of vexing the 
 Holy Spirit. — Isa. Ixiii. 10. Bht they rebelled, 
 and vexed his Holy Spirit : therefore he was turn- 
 ed to be their enemy, and he fought against them. 
 
 Serm. VI. Obedience to be united with hearing 
 the Word. — James i. 23. But be ye doers of the 
 word, and not hearers only, deceiving y^ur own 
 selves 
 
 701 
 
 705 
 
 708 
 
 713 
 
 720 
 
 Serm. VII. The Parable of the Unjust Judge.- 
 Luke xviii. 1 — 8. And lie spake a parable unto 
 them to this end, that vien ought olv:ays to pray, 
 amd not to faint ; saying. There was in a city a 
 judge, which feared not God, neither regarded 
 man : and there was a widovj in that city ; and she 
 came mito him, saying. Avenge me of mine adver- 
 sary. And, he icould not for a while ; but afterv-ard 
 he said within himself. Though I fear not God, 
 nor regard man ; yet because this widow Irovblelk 
 me, I will avenge her, lest by her continual co'ining 
 she weary inc. And the Lord said, Hear what the 
 unjust judge saith. And shall not God avenge his 
 ov}n elect, vjhich cry day and night unto him, 
 though he bear long with them 7 I tell you that 
 he vnll avenge them speedily. Nevertheless v;hen 
 the Son of man cometh, shall lie find faith on the 
 earth 7 724 
 
 Serm. VIII. The Influence of Hope. — Rom. v. 5. 
 Hope viaketh not ashamed 727 
 
 Serm. IX. Christians exhorted not to sleep, as do 
 others. — 1 Thes. v. 6. Therefore let us not sleep, 
 as do others 731 
 
 Serm. X. Jerusalem rebuilt in troublous times. — . 
 Dan. ix. 25. The street shall be built again, and 
 the icall, even in troublous times 734 
 
 Serm. XI. David's prayer, that the way of God may 
 be known upon Earth. — Psalm Ixvii. 2, 3. That 
 thy way may be known upon earth, thy saving health 
 among alt nations. Let the people praise thee, O 
 God, let alt the people praise thee 737 
 
 Serm. XII. The Sin nnd Danger of forsaking the 
 Lord. — Josh. xxiv. 20. If ye forsake the Lord, 
 and serve strange gods, then he will turn a->id do 
 you hurt, and consume you, after tlvat he hath done 
 you good 741 
 
 Serm. XIII. The Wicked turned into Hell.-Psalm 
 ix. 17. The wicked shall be turned into hell, and 
 all the nations tliat forget God 746 
 
 Sermons : 
 
 I. On the Gospel recommending itself to every 
 Man's Conscience. Seven Sermons from 2 Cor. 
 iv. 2. But }.ave renounced the hidden things of 
 dishonesty , not walking in craftiness, nor handling 
 the word of God deceit fully ; but by manifestation 
 of the truth commending ourselves to every man's 
 conscience in the sight of God 757 
 
 II. They to whom the Gospel is hid, are lost souls. 
 Six Sermons, from 2 Cor. iv. 3. But if our Gos- 
 pel bs hid, it is hid to them that are lost 780 
 
 III. On Hope. Fourteen Sermons, from Rom. viii. 
 24. For we are saved by hope ; hut hope that is 
 seen is not hope : for what a man seeth, ichy doth he 
 
 yet hope for? , 800 
 
 IV. Friendship with God. Ten Sermon.s, from 
 James ii. 23. And the scripture was fulfiUed 
 which saith, Abraham believed God, and it ivas im- 
 puted unto him for righteousness : and he was call- 
 ed the friend of God 851 
 
 V. On Regeneration. Thirteen Sermons, from 1 
 John V. 1. llTiosoever believeth that Jesus is the 
 Christ is born of God : and every one that loveth 
 him tluat begat, loveth him also that is begotl-en of 
 him 8S"2 
 
 A Sermon directing what we are to do, after a strict 
 Inquiry, whether or no we truly love God. — John v. 
 42. But I know you, that ye have not the love of God 
 in you 922 
 
 A Sermon on the Thanksgiving-day, Dec. 2, 1697. 
 — Psalm xxix. 1. The Lord will bless his people with 
 peace 925 
 
 A Sermon for the Reformation of Manners. — 
 
 5
 
 CONTENTS. 
 
 Rom. xui. 4. For he is the minister of God to thee for 
 good 
 
 A Two-fold Discourse. I. Of Man's Enmity 
 against God. II. Of Reconciliation between God 
 and Man.— Col. i. 21. And yau, that were smietirrie 
 alievMted and enemies in your mind by wicked works, 
 yet now hath he reconciled 
 
 A Sermon preached on the Fifth of November, 
 1703.— Col. i. 13. Who hath delivered us from the 
 power of darkness, and hath translated us into the king- 
 dom of his dear Son 
 
 FcNERdL Sermons. 
 
 A Funeral Sermon for that faithful and laborious 
 Servant of Christ, Mr. Richard Fairclough, who 
 deceased July 4, 168-2, in the 61st year of his 
 a^e. — Matt. xxv. 21. His lord said unto him, 
 Well done, thou good and faithful servant ; thou 
 hast been faithful over a few things, I will make 
 thee ruler over many things : enter thou into the 
 joy of thy lord 
 
 A Sermon on the much-lamented Death of that 
 reverend and worthy Servant of Christ, Mr. Ri- 
 chard Adams, M. A. sometime Fellow of Brazen- 
 nose College in Oxford, afterwards Minister of 
 St. Mildred, Bread-street, London, more lately 
 Pastor of a Congregation in Soiithwark, who de- 
 ceased Feb. 7, 169'r-8.— Phil. i. 23. Having a 
 desire to depart, and to be ivith Christ ; which is 
 far better 
 
 A Funeral Sermon for that excellent Minister of 
 Christ, the trulv Rev. William Bates, D. D. who 
 deceased July" 14, 1699.— John xi. 16. Then 
 said Thomas, which is called Didymus, unto his 
 fellow-disciples, Let us also go, that wc may die 
 with him 
 
 A Funeral Sermon for that very reverend and most 
 laborious Servant of Christ, 'in the Work of the 
 Ministry, Mr. Matthew Mead, who deceased 
 Oct. 16, 1699.— 1 Tim. iv. 16. Thou shall both 
 save thyself and the7n that hear thee 
 
 A Funeral Sermon for that faithful, learned, and 
 most worthy Minister of the Gospel, the Rev. 
 Peter Vink, B. D. who deceased Sept. 6, 1702. 
 — Acts V. 20. Go, stand and speak in the temple 
 to the people all the words of this life 
 
 A Funeral Sermon for Mrs. Esther Sampson. — 
 Luke xiii. 16. And ought not this woman, being 
 a daughter of Abraham, whom Satan hath bound, 
 lo, these eighteen years, be loosed from this bond on 
 the sabbath day ? 
 
 A Discourse relating to the much-lamented Death 
 and solemn Funeral of Clueen Mary. — Heb. xii. 
 23. A?id to the spirits of just men made perfect. 
 
 A Funeral Sermon on the Death of Mrs. Margaret 
 Baxter. — 2 Cor. v. 8. We are confident, I say, and 
 willing rather to be absent from the body, and to 
 be present with the Lord 
 
 A Funeral Sermon on the Death of Mrs. Judith 
 Hammond. — 1 Cor. xv. 54. Death is swallowed 
 up in victory 
 
 932 
 
 938 
 
 956 
 
 Howe. — 2 Tim. iii. 14. But continue thou in. the 
 things which thou hast learned a'.id hast been assured of, 
 knowing of whmn thou hast learned them 1040 
 
 965 
 
 973 
 
 978 
 
 The Principles cf the Oracles of God. 
 Parts. 
 
 In Two 
 
 996 
 
 1004 
 
 1012 
 
 1021 
 
 Letters 
 
 Fragment of a Sermon 
 
 Mr. Spademan's Funeral Sermon for Mr. John 
 6 
 
 1030 
 
 1036 
 1039 
 
 1049 
 
 1056 
 
 Part I. containing, 
 
 I. An Introduction, proving the Necessity of their 
 being taught, in Two Lectures, on Heb. v. 12. 
 Ye have need that one teach you again, which be 
 the first principles of the oracles of God. . . . 
 
 II. The Existence of God, manifest from the Crea- 
 tion, in Four Lectures, on Rom. i. 20. For the 
 invisible things of him from the creation of the 
 world are clearly seen, being understood by the 
 things that are made, even his eternal power and 
 Godhead ; so that they are without excuse. . . 
 
 III. The Divine Authority of the Scriptures, in 
 Four Lectures, on 2 Tim. iii. 16. All Scripture 
 
 is given by inspiration of God 10(>9 
 
 IV. The Unity of the Godhead, in Two Lectures, 
 on James ii. 19. Thou believest that there is one 
 God ; thou doest well : the devils also believe^ and 
 tremble ... 1085 
 
 V. The Trinity of Persons in the Divine Essence, 
 in Four Lectures, on 1 John v. 7. For there 
 are three that bear record in heaven, the Father, 
 the Word, and the Holy Ghoso: and these three 
 
 are or^ 1091 
 
 VI. The Attributes and Perfections of the Divine 
 Being, in Nine Lectures, on Matt. v. 48. Be ye 
 therefore perfect, even as your Father which is in 
 heaven is perfect 1103 
 
 Part II. containing, 
 
 I. The Decrees or Counsels of God, in Eight 
 Lectures, on Ephes. i. 11. In whom also we havs 
 obtained an inheritance, being predestinated ac- 
 cording to the purpose of him who worketh all 
 things after the counsel of his own will. . . . 1133 
 
 II. God's Work of Creation, in Seven Lectures, on 
 Heb. xi. 3. Through faith we understand that 
 the worlds v-ere framed by the word of God, so 
 that things which are seen %oere not made of things 
 which do appear 1158 
 
 III. God's Creation of Man, in Three Lectures, on 
 Gen. i. 27. So God created man in his own 
 image ; in the image of God created he him. . 1 177 
 
 IV. The Fall of the First Man, and the Fallen 
 State of Man, with the Death and Misery conse- 
 quent on each of them, in Fourteen Lectures, on 
 Rom. v. 12. Wherefore, as by one man sin enter- 
 ed into the world, and death by sin ; and so death 
 passed upon all men, for that all have sinned. . 1192 
 
 V. The Justice and Righteousness of God vindica- 
 ted, as to all Men's coming into the World with 
 depraved Natures, in Eight Lectures, on Psalm 
 li. 4, 5. Against thee, thee only, have I sinned, 
 and done this evil in thy sight : that thou mightesl 
 be justified v;hen thou speakest, and be clear jchen 
 thou judgest. Behold, I icas shapen in iniquity ; 
 and in sin did my mother conceive me. . . . 
 
 1233 
 
 VI. The General and Special Grace of God, in 
 order to the Recovery of Apostate Souls, in Three 
 Lectures, on Luke ii. 14. Good will towards 
 men , 1255
 
 THE LIFE 
 
 OF 
 
 MR. JOHN HOWE 
 
 The lives of persons of worth and eminence, when 
 drawn up with faithfulness and care, have been ever 
 thought very entertaining and improving; and where 
 there has been no hope of recovering any exact account 
 of one of a distinguished character, most people have 
 rather chosen to have some short memorials of him, than 
 that such particulars as might be retrieved, should be al- 
 together buried in oblivion. 
 
 It may be questioned whether any one now living is 
 capable of doing complete justice to the memory of the 
 truly reverend Mr. John Howe; though there is good 
 reason to believe, that the number of those who would set 
 a value upon an exact account of his significant life 
 (could such a thing be compassed) is far from being small. 
 The history of it could not have been drawn up to ad- 
 vantage by any but himself, or one that had his personal 
 direction and assistance ; or at least to Avhom he had given 
 the free use of his papers, with a liberty of transcribing 
 and inserting what might be likely to give entertainment 
 to the curious and inquisitive : whereas it has unhappily 
 fallen out, that he has been so far from leaving behind hiin 
 any directions for such a purpose, or narrative of the 
 most material passages of his life, or hints of what occur- 
 red in his general and extensive conversation, or even 
 committing his papers to the care of one that was fit to 
 make use of them for the benefit of the public, that before 
 his death he (as we shall hereafter see in the course of 
 these memorials of him) destro)'^ed a number of writings, 
 that might have afforded good materials towards the 
 giving a true historical account of him to after ages. 
 'Tis not easy for us to judge what particular reasons he 
 might have for this part of his conduct, and therefore it 
 becomes us to be .sparing in our censures : and yet I must 
 own I cannot see why we that are yet living should here- 
 upon slight or throw away, or they that come after us 
 bhould be deprived of, what is still preserved, and may be 
 recovered. 
 
 Most people, I doubt not, will readily conclude, that the 
 world has this way lost what might have been of no small 
 
 a Preface to !VIr. Chorlton's Funeral Sennoii for Mr Henry Newcome, 
 
 use. But after all, partly from the memories of some to 
 whom he was well known, and whom he admitted to free- 
 dom in conversation ; and partly from some letters and pa- 
 pers, copies whereof were carefully- preserved in the hands 
 of his relations, friends, and acquaintance; and partly 
 also from such hints and passages as he has left behind 
 him in the many writings he has published, such frag- 
 ments may be gathered up, as cannot, I think, but be 
 agreeable to those to whom his memory is precious. And 
 though in the memorials of him that are thus recovered, 
 there will appear several gaps which could not be filled 
 up ; yet are some of the papers and things preserved so 
 significant and worthy of notice, that I cannot help ex- 
 pecting to have a good number concurring with me in 
 opinion, that it would be unhappy for them not to be put 
 together, and preserved. 
 
 It is no difficult thing to foresee that it will occasion no 
 small regret, in some whose respect for the deceased rises 
 high, to find the account given of one that was so eminent 
 in his profession, and who would indeed have shined 
 bright in any .station, is .so very defective and imperfect : 
 and if it may contribute any thing to their satisfaction, the 
 compiler of this life is free to own, he should have been 
 heartily glad to have been in a capacity of drawing it up 
 in such a manner as the subject deserved. He himself 
 had that knowledge of Mr. Howe, that he can readily say 
 of him, as he did of the celebrated Mr. Newcome of Man- 
 chester, that " they that knew him best, could know but a 
 small part of his true and great worth, and might ahvays 
 apprehend when they knew most of him, there was still 
 much more that they knew not."" He laments he could 
 not be better furnished with materials in this underta- 
 king, to which he was encouraged, and in which he was 
 assisted by many. And yet having been at considera- 
 ble pains, in collecting and putting together what is 
 here offered to public view, thinks he may be allowed 
 to hope, that such defects as are ohserved will be easily 
 overlooked, because he can with safety say, it would 
 have been no small pleasure to him to have been able 
 to have supplied them; and that any mistakes he may 
 have run into will be readily pardoned, because he
 
 THE LIFE OF MR. JOHN HOWE. 
 
 would gladly have avoided them, had he but known how. 
 And if it should so happen, that any into whose hands 
 these papers fall, should find some things represented in a 
 manner that may not be suited to their particular gust, 
 they are desired to consider, that the compiler acted but 
 the part of an historian, upon the best informations he 
 could get, which he would not have regarded, if he had 
 not thought them fairly credible ; but if any are furnished 
 with better accounts, and better vouchers, he not only can 
 readily submit, but shall be glad to be favoured with their 
 intelligence. 
 
 To begin, then, with the first appearance of this great 
 man upon this earthly stage, our Mr. John Howe was 
 born May 17, 1630, the 29th day of which month was re- 
 markable for the nativity of kmg Charles II. and which 
 very year, a few months after, gave birth to that excel- 
 lent person, Archbishop Tillotson, whhwhom Mr. Howe, 
 in his after-life, had a particular intimacy, and uncom- 
 mon freedom. The place of his birth was Loughbo- 
 rough, a noted market town, in the county of Leicester ; 
 of which town his father was for some time the worthy 
 minister. I have heard his father commended as a per- 
 son of singular piety and probity ; and his mother as a 
 woman of distinguished sense. The father and this son 
 of his, were not the only ministers of the family. For 
 there was one Mr. Obadiah Howe, vicar of Boston, in 
 Lincolnshire, who upon several occasions appeared in 
 print, and died in 1682,b who was our Mr. John Howe's 
 uncle. There was also one Mr. William Howe, of 
 Gedney, in the same coimty, that was (I suppose) of 
 the family, though I cannot be positive how related to 
 him. 
 
 As to the father of our Mr. Howe, he was settled in 
 the parish of Loughborough by Archbishop Laud, and 
 afterwards thrust out by the same hand, on the account 
 of his siding with the puritans, contrary to the expecta- 
 tion of his promoter. He was one of those who could 
 not be satisfied to give in to that nice and punctilious 
 conformity, upon which that prelate laid so great a 
 stress; and therefore it was not thought fit to suffer him 
 to continue in the exercise of his ministry in that popu- 
 lous town. Great was the rigour that was at that time 
 used in the ecclesiastical courts, by which, as several 
 were driven into America, and others into Holland, and 
 other foreign parts, so was this worthy person from 
 whom Mr. John Howe immediately descended, driven 
 into Ireland, whither he took this his son (then very 
 young) along with him. While they continued in that 
 country, that execrable rebellion broke out, in which so 
 many thousands of the poor protestanls, who were alto- 
 gether unprovided, were so miserably butchered, and a 
 great number of flourishing families ruined and undone, 
 by the enraged papists, whose very tenderest mercies 
 were found to be cruelty. Both father and son were at 
 that lime exposed to very threatening danger, the place 
 to which they had retired being for several weeks to- 
 gether besieged and a.ssaulted by the rebels, though 
 without success. A very special providence did upon 
 
 b Wood's Athon. Oxon. vol. ii. p. 718. 
 
 c Atb. Oxon. vol. ii. p. 1014. d Fasti O.xon. p. 750. 
 
 this occasion guard that life, which was afterwards made 
 so serviceable to great and considerable purposes. Being 
 driven from thence by the war, which continued for some 
 years, the father returned back into his native country, 
 and settled in the county palatine of Lancaster; and 
 there it was that our Mr. Howe went through the first 
 rudiments of learning, and was trained up in the know- 
 ledge of the tongues, though I have not been able to get 
 any certain information who were his particular instruct- 
 ors, nor any further notices relating to his infancy and 
 childhood. 
 
 He was sent pretty early (I cannot say exactly in what 
 year) to Christ College, in Cambridge, where falling 
 among such persons as Dr. Henry More, and Dr. Cud- 
 worth, of both whom he was a great admirer, I think it 
 is not to be wondered at, that in his early days he received 
 that Platonic tincture, which so remarkably runs through 
 the writings which he drew up and published in his ad- 
 vanced years. As for Dr. More, there was an intimacy 
 between him and Mr. Howe, that continued till the Doc- 
 tor's death; which being known to Dr. Davis of Heyden, 
 (who had the most profoimd veneration imaginable for 
 the Doctor,) he the more respected Mr. Howe upon that 
 account. 
 
 He continued at Cambridge till he took the degree 
 of B. A. and then removed to Oxford. Mr. Wood, the 
 antiquary, says that he was of Brazen-nose College, in 
 Oxon, and Bible Clerk there in Michaelmas term, 1648,<= 
 and that he there took his Bachelor's degree, Jan. 18, 
 1649.d It was a common thing then to take the same 
 degree in both universities, and I suppose it is so to 
 this day. 
 
 He followed his studies close, and his great attainments 
 in learning, joined with his exemplary piety, so recom- 
 mended him, that he was at length duly elected Fellow of 
 Magdalen College, (of which famous society he was a 
 bright ornament,) after he had been made Demy by the 
 parliament visitors. Mr. Wood mentioning this of the 
 visitors, intends it I suppose as a reflection; but I must 
 own that may have been the case, and yet there may be 
 no just matter of reflection in it either on them or on him. 
 Not on them, supposing the person in whose room he suc- 
 ceeded deserved to be ejected ; nor on him, supposing he 
 did nothing unbecoming to get into his place when he was 
 ejected. 
 
 He had several contemporaries in this college, that 
 afterwards proved nonconformists, as Mr. Theophilus 
 Gale, Mr. Thomas Danson, Mr. Samuel Blower, and 
 Mr. John Spilsbury. Of the two first, Mr. Wood has 
 given some account,* among the Oxford Writers; as I 
 also have done, in my memoirs of those who were eject- 
 ed for nonconformity :f but the two latter are wholly 
 omitted by Mr. Wood, though they were both of them 
 Oxonians, and both of them graduates, because they 
 were not writers. Mr. Blower, who died pastor of a 
 congregation of dissenters, in the town of Abingdon, in 
 the county of Berks," was often used to say with plea- 
 sure, when Mr. Howe was at any time spoken of in his 
 
 e Athon. Oxon. vol. ii. p. G08, 1016. 
 f Abridg. vol. ii. p. 64, 648. 
 
 S Abridg. vol. ii. p. 542.
 
 THE LIFE OF MR. JOHN HOWE. 
 
 company, that the}'' two were born in the same town, 
 went to the same school, and were of the same colle^ 
 in the university. And Mr. Spilsbury, who was eject- 
 ed for nonconformity from Bromsgrove in Worcester- 
 shire,ii was one with whom Mr. Howe kept up a most 
 intimate and endearing correspondence by letter to his 
 dying day. 
 
 I might also mention two others, who were Fellows 
 of the same college, who were ejected in 1G62, whom 
 Mr. "Wood wholly overlooks, viz. Mr. George Por- 
 teri and Mr. James Ashhurst,k who died at Newington 
 Green, near London. It is true that they were neither 
 of them writers, and yet they were both graduates, the 
 former being B. D. and the latter M. A. and therefore 
 some notice ought to have been taken of them in his 
 Fasti. Such things as these make me apprehend that 
 that author designedly omitted several of the noncon- 
 formists, for fear their number should have appeared too 
 large and considerable. 
 
 The famous Dr. Thomas Goodwin was President of 
 the college, at the same time that Mr. Howe and the 
 others whom I have now mentioned were Fellows. He 
 had a gathered church among the scholars of that 
 house, and finding Mr. Howe, who had an established 
 reputation among them, did not offer himself to join with 
 them, he took an occasion to speak to him about it, 
 when they two were by themselves, without any 
 other company with them; and signified his surprise 
 that one of his character for serious piety should not 
 embrace such an opportunity of Christian fellowship, 
 which might be likely to have many good consequences 
 attending it. Mr. Howe, Avith great frankness, told 
 him that the true and only reason why he had been 
 so silent about that matter, was because he under- 
 stood they laid a considerable stress among them, upon 
 some distinguishing peculiarities, of which he had no 
 fondness, though he could give others their liberty to 
 take their own way, without censuring them, or having 
 any unkind thoughts of them ; but that if they would 
 admit him into their society upon catholic terms, he 
 would readily become one of them. The Doctor em- 
 braced him, and told him he would do it with all his 
 heart; and that, to his knowledge, it would be much to 
 the satisfaction and edification of all that were con- 
 cerned : and he thereupon became a member of that 
 society. It is with no small pleasure that I relate this 
 passage, which is a proof that Dr. Goodwin was not so 
 narrow and confined in his temper and principles as 
 some people have represented him. 
 
 Mr. Howe's promotion and reputation in the college, 
 and through the university, added new spurs to his 
 diligence and application, which was so great, that he 
 furnished himself with a large fund of rational and 
 theological learning, the fruits whereof were very con- 
 spicuous in his following life. He took the degree of 
 M. A. July 9, 1652 ;i Mr. Theophilus Gale, his fellow- 
 collegiate, whom I was mentioning but now, having 
 taken the very same degree but the month before. And 
 by this time he had not only gone through a course of 
 
 b Abriik. voL ii. e 772. i lb. p. 70. k lb. p. 71. 1 Fasti Oxon. p. 99. 
 
 philosophy, conversed closely with the heathen moral- 
 ists, read over the accounts we have remaining of pagan 
 theology, the writings of the school-men, and several 
 s)^stems and common-places of the reformers, and the 
 divines that succeeded them, but (as he himself sig- 
 nified to one from whom I had it) had thoroughly 
 studied the sacred Scriptures, and from thence drawn 
 up a body of divinity for himself and his own use, 
 which he saw very little occasion afterwards to vary 
 from, in compliance with the schemes of others. 
 
 After his taking his last degree, Mr. Howe became 
 a preacher, and was ordained by Mr. Charles Herle at 
 his church of Winwick in Lancashire, which Mr. 
 Wood says is one of the richest churches in the king- 
 dom. This Mr. Herle was a very noted man in those 
 times ; and upon the death of Dr. Twiss, was chosen 
 prolocutor of the Assembly of Divines at Westminster. 
 In his parish there were several chapelries, and the 
 ministers that officiated in them assisted at Mr. Howe's 
 ordination. And he would often say thai this Mr. 
 Herle was a primitive bishop, and the assistants in his 
 several chapels were his clergy ; and they joining in 
 laying on hands upon him, he thought few in modem 
 times had so truly primitive an ordination as he. And 
 Mr. Howe always spoke of this Mr. Herle with a very 
 great and particular respect. 
 
 Some time after, by an unexpected conduct of Divine 
 Providence, he was called to the stated exercise of his 
 ministry in the town of Great Torrington, in the county 
 of Devon. Dr. Walker^ tells us that this place is a 
 sort of donative or curacy, belonging to Christ Church 
 in Oxford, but deemed equivalent to one held by insti- 
 tution. He says that Mr. Theophilus Powel was turned 
 out here about 1646, and was succeeded by the famous 
 independent Mr. Lewis Stukely ; and after him came 
 Mr. Howe. 
 
 He was but young at the time of his first settlement 
 in that town, and j'et even there did he wonderfully 
 fulfil his ministry, and his labours were blessed with 
 great success. When he first came thither, several of 
 the inhabitants were members of the congregational 
 church at Biddeford, of which Mr. William Bartletn 
 was pastor, who had been Mr. Howe's particular ac- 
 quaintance at Oxford. Being weary of the fatigue of 
 going five or six miles every sacrament day, and dis- 
 posed to sit down under Mr. Howe's ministry, these 
 people desired a dismission from the church at Bidde- 
 ford, and Mr. Bartlet readily resigned them to Mr. 
 Howe, in whom there was a general concurrence ; and 
 he had a numerous auditor}', and a very flourishing 
 Christian society under his pastoral care, and thought 
 of no other than of living and dying with them. 
 
 I shall not easily forget the account he once gave 
 me in private conversation, of the great pains he took 
 among them, without any help or assistance, on the 
 public fasts, which in those days returned pretty fre- 
 quentl}'', and were generally kept with very great so- 
 lemnity. He told rne it was upon those occasions his 
 common way to begin about nine in the morning, with 
 
 m Attempt, part ii. p. 339. 
 
 n See Abridg. vol. ii. p. SiO.
 
 IT 
 
 THE LIFE OF MR. JOHN HOWE. 
 
 a prayer for about a quarter of an hour, in which he 
 begged a blessing on the work of the day ; and after- 
 wards read and expounded a chapter or psalm, in which 
 he spent about three quarters; then prayed for about 
 an hour, preached for another hour, and prayed for 
 about half an hour. After this, he retired and took 
 some little refreshment for about a quarter of an hour 
 or more, (the people singing all the while,) and then 
 came again into the pulpit, and prayed for another 
 hour, and gave them another sermon of about an hour's 
 length ; and so concluded the service of the day, at 
 about four o'clock in the evening, with about half an 
 hour or more in prayer: a sort of service that few could 
 have gone through without inexpressible weariness 
 both to themselves and their auditories ! But he had a 
 strong head, a warm heart, and a good bodily consti- 
 tution: and the more he spent himself in his Master's 
 service, the more was he beloved by the inhabitants of 
 his parish. 
 
 While he continued his painful labours in this town, 
 he kept up a good correspondence with the ministers 
 in the neighbourhood, and all over the country, and 
 was greatly esteemed: but there was a particular inti- 
 macy between him and the famous Mr. George Hughes 
 of Plymouth," who made a greater figure, and had a 
 greater interest and influence, than most of the minis- 
 ters in those parts ; and he was married to his daughter 
 March 1, 1654. These two kept up a weekly mutual 
 correspondence by Latin letters, and I have a memor- 
 able passage to relate as to one of them. Mr. Howe 
 happened to have a fire in his house at Torrington, 
 which might have been ruinous to his family, if a vio- 
 lent rain which fell just at that time had not con- 
 tributed greatly to extinguish it. On that very day it 
 so fell out that he received a letter from his father 
 Hughes, which concluded with this prayer ; Sit ros 
 cccli super habilaciduvi vestrum : Let the dew of hea- 
 ven be upon your dwelling : which was a prayer, the 
 Reasonableness of which for his children in the letter of 
 it, the good man could not apprehend at the time of 
 writing ; but they could not but affectionately remark 
 it at the receipt of it. 
 
 Some time after (I cannot with certainty say how 
 long) Mr. Howe having occasion to take a journey to 
 London, was detained there longer than he intended. 
 He had the curiosity to go one Lord's day (and it was 
 on the last that he designed to continue in town) to be 
 an auditor at the chapel at Whitehall ; but I cannot 
 meet with any one that can with certainty recollect 
 who was to be that day the preacher. Cromwell, who 
 generally had his eyes every where, spied out Mr. 
 Howe in the audilor}-^, and knew him by his garb to 
 be a country minister, and thought he discerned some- 
 thing more than ordinary in his countenance, and sent 
 a messenger to him to desire to .speak with him when 
 the worship of God was over. Upon his coming to 
 him, Cromwell requested him to preach before him the 
 Lord's day following. Mr. Howe weis surprised with 
 the unexpected motion, and modestly desired to be ex- 
 
 o See Abridg. vol. ii. p. 23S, 
 
 cused. Cromwell told him it was a vain thing to at- 
 tempt to excuse himself, for that he would take no 
 denial. Mr. Howe pleaded, that having despatched 
 what business he had in town, he was tending home- 
 wards, and could not be absent any longer without in- 
 convenience. Cromwell inquired what great damage 
 he was liable to sustain, by tarrying a little longer 1 
 Mr. Howe replied, that his people, that were very kind 
 to him, would be uneasy, and think he neglected them, 
 and slighted their respect. Cromwell promised to write 
 to them himself, and to send down one to supply his 
 place, and actually did so; and Mr. Howe staid and 
 preached as he was desired; and when he had given 
 him one sermon, Cromwell still pressed for a second 
 and a third ; and at last, after a great deal of free con- 
 versation in private, nothing would serve him (who 
 could not bear to be contradicted, after he had once got 
 the power into his hands) but he must have him to be 
 his household chaplain, and he would take care his 
 place should be supplied at Torrington, to the full 
 satisfaction of the people. Mr. Howe did all that lay 
 in his power to excuse himself and get off; but no 
 denial would be admitted. And at length (though not 
 without great reluctance) he was prevailed with to 
 comply, and remove with his family to Whitehall, 
 where several of his children were born: and in this 
 difficult station he endeavoured to be faithful, and to 
 keep a good conscience. And this I suppose is the 
 time when, as Mr. Wood informs us,p he became Lec- 
 turer of St. Margaret's church in Westminster. Certain 
 it is, that he was then a celebrated preacher, and gene- 
 rally respected ; and it has been observed by several, 
 that there was hardly any man that was in an eminent 
 public station in those critical times, and that Avas ad- 
 mitted to the knowledge of so many secrets as he, that 
 was so free from censure in the changes that afterwards 
 succeeded. A plain argument of uncommon conduct 
 and caution ! 
 
 Never can I find him so much as charged, even by 
 those that have been most forward to inveigh against 
 a number of his contemporaries, with improving his 
 interest in those who then had the management of 
 affairs in their hands, either to the enriching himself, 
 or the doing ill offices to others, though of known dif- 
 fering sentiments. He readily embraced every occarsion 
 that offered, of serving the interest of religion and 
 learning, and opposing the errors and designs which 
 at that time threatened both. Among many instances 
 of his generous temper, I shall mention one, which 
 was his seasonable service to Dr. Seth Ward, who was 
 afterwards Bishop of Exeter, and Sarum, successively. 
 The case in short was this. In 1657, that gentleman, 
 who had succeeded Mr. John Greaves some time before 
 as Astronomy professor in the university of Oxon, stood 
 candidate for the principalship of Jesus college in the 
 same university, upon the resignation of Dr. Michael 
 Roberts. Dr. Ward had the majority of the Fellows 
 for him ; but Mr. Francis Howell of Exeter college 
 made an interest in the Protector Cromwell, and obtained 
 
 p Athen. Oxon. vol. ii. p. 1014.
 
 THE LIFE OF MR. JOHN HOWE. 
 
 his promise for the filling up that vacancy. Dr. Ward 
 not knowing that matters had gone so far, was for 
 making an interest in the Protector loo, and in order to 
 it applied to Mr. Howe, who, without making great 
 promises as to success, readily offered to introduce him 
 to the Protector, and do him what service he was able. 
 Having obtained an audience, and they three being 
 together, Mr. Howe gave Cromwell a great character 
 of Dr. Ward, with respect to his learning, and signified 
 how ill it would sound, if a man of his known merit 
 should be discountenanced; especially when he had the 
 majority of the Fellows on his side. Cromwell replied, 
 that Dr. Roberts having resigned his principalship 
 into his hands, he had been informed that it was his 
 right to fill up the vacancy ; and he had given his 
 promise to Mr. Howell, and could not draw back. But 
 immediately taking Mr. Howe aside, and discoursing 
 him freely about Dr. Ward, and he telling him that in 
 his apprehension it Avould be much for his honour to 
 do something for the Doctor, and that he would thereby 
 encourage men of merit and learning, he returned to 
 Dr. Ward, who continued waiting, and told him that 
 he found Mr. Howe to be much his friend, and was 
 upon his report of him disposed to give him some 
 tokens of his regard : and thereupon he pleasantly 
 asked him what he thought the principalship of Jesus 
 College might be worth 1 The Doctor freely told him 
 what was the value of it according to common com- 
 putation. And thereupon he gave the Doctor a promise, 
 that he would allow him the sum that he mentioned 
 annuall}''. This was at that time reckoned a seasonable 
 kindness : and the Doctor expressed his grateful sense 
 of it to Mr. Howe some time after, when upon the 
 change of the times he became a greater man. 
 
 There were many others to whom Mr. Howe was 
 very serviceable while he continued at Whitehall : and 
 never was he known to be backward to assist any of 
 the royalists or episcopalians in distress, if they were 
 but persons of real merit. He befriended several with 
 his advice and interest upon their being obliged to ap- 
 pear before the Triers, in order to the having their 
 approbation before their being allowed to ofl[iciate in 
 public as ministers. Among the rest that applied to 
 him for advice upon that occasion, the celebrated Dr. 
 Thomas Fuller, who is so well known by his punning 
 writings, was one. That gentleman, who was gene- 
 rally upon the merry pin, being to take his turn before 
 these Triers, of whom he had a very formidable notion, 
 thus accosted Mr. Howe, when he applied to him for 
 advice. Sir, said he, you may observe I am a pretty 
 corpulent man, and I am to go through a passage that 
 is very straight, I beg you would be so kind as to give 
 me a shove, and help me through. He freely gave 
 him his advice, and he promised to follow it ; and when 
 he appeared before them, and they proposed to him the 
 usual question. Whether he had ever had any experience 
 of a work of grace upon his heart 1 he gave this in for 
 answer, that he could appeal to the Searcher of hearts, 
 that he made conscience of his very thoughts ; with which 
 answer they were satisfied, as indeed they well might. 
 
 In short, so generous was Mr. Howe, in using his 
 interest on the behalf of pej.sons of any worth that 
 applied to him, that I have been informed Cromwell 
 once freely told him, that he had obtamed many favours 
 for others ; but, says he, I wonder Avhen the time is to 
 come that you will move for any thing for yourself, oi 
 j'our family. A plain argument that he took him for a 
 very disinterested person, and as free from selfishness 
 as he was from partiality. 
 
 And here I know not how to forbear mentioning a 
 passage that I had from Mr. Howe's own mouth, when 
 I had the happiness of some hours' free conversation 
 with him, without any interruption. I had heard from 
 several, (and it had been confirmed to me by Mr. 
 Jeremy White, who lived at Whitehall at the very 
 same time with Mr. Howe,) that the notion of a par- 
 ticular faith in prayer prevailed much in Cromwell's 
 court; and that it was a common opinion among them, 
 that such as were in a special manner favoured of God. 
 when they offered up prayers and supplications to him 
 for his mercies, either for themselves or others, often 
 had such impressions made upon their minds and spirits 
 by a divine hand, as signified to them, not only in the 
 general that their prayers would be heard, and gra- 
 ciously answered, but that the particular mercies that 
 were sought for would be certainly bestowed; nay, 
 and sometimes also intimated to them in what way and 
 manner they would be afforded, and pointed out to 
 them future events beforehand, which in reality is the 
 same with inspiration. Having heard of mischief done 
 by the prevalence of this notion, I took the opportunity 
 that offered, when there was nothing to hinder the 
 utmost freedom, to inquire of Mr. Howe what he had 
 known about this matter, and what were his appre- 
 hensions concerning itl He told me the prevalence of 
 the notion that I mentioned at Whitehall, at the time 
 when he lived there, was too notorious to be called in 
 question ; and that not a little pains was taken to cul- 
 tivate and support it; and that he once heard a sermon 
 there, (from a person of note,) the avowed design of 
 which was to maintain and defend it. He said, he was 
 so fully convinced of the ill tendency of such a prin- 
 ciple, that afler the hearing this sermon, he thought 
 himself bound in conscience, when it came next to his 
 turn to preach before Cromwell, to set himself indus- 
 triously to oppose it, and to beat down that spiritual 
 pride and confidence, which such fancied impulses and 
 impressions were apt to produce and cherish. He told 
 me, he observed that while he was in the pulpit 
 Cromwell heard him with great attention, but would 
 sometimes knit his brows, and discover great uneasi- 
 ness. When the sermon was over, he told me a person 
 of distinction came to him, and asked him if he knew 
 what he had done ; and signified it to him as his ap- 
 prehension that Cromwell would be so incensed upon 
 that discourse, that he would find it very difficut ever 
 to make his peace with him, or secure his favour for tht 
 future. Mr. Howe replied, that he had but dischargea 
 his conscience, and could leave the event with God 
 He told me that he afterwards observed Cromwell was
 
 THE LIFE OF MR. JOHN HOWE, 
 
 cooler in his carriage to him than before ; and some- 
 times he thought he would have spoken to him of the 
 matter, but he never did, and rather chose to forbear. 
 He added, that he had a great deal of satisfaction in 
 what he did in this case, both in the time of doing it, 
 and ever afterwards, to the time of our conversing to- 
 gether upon this subject. 
 
 I well remember, that upon this occasion I begged 
 of Mr. Howe a sight of the notes of this sermon of his 
 upon a particular faith in prayer, if ever he could 
 recover them, and he gave me a promise ; and when I 
 reminded him of it some time after, he told me he had 
 looked for the notes, but could not find them. And not 
 long since I desired a search might be made for it, 
 among the few notes of his that remain. And what 
 could be found, though it is but a fragment, shall be 
 added in the close of this account. 
 
 Whilst he continued in Cromwell's family, he was 
 often put upon secret services; but they were always 
 honourable, and such as, according to the best of his 
 judgment, might be to the benefit either of the public, 
 or of particular persons. And when he was once en- 
 gaged he used all the diligence, and secrecy, and des- 
 patch, he was able. Once particularly I have been 
 informed, he was sent by Oliver in haste, upon a cer- 
 tain occaj^ion, to Oxford, to a meeting of ministers there, 
 and he made such despatch, that though he rode by St. 
 Giles's Church at twelve o'clock, he arrived at Oxford by 
 a quarter after five. In short, he so behaved himself in 
 this station, that he had the ill will of as few as any 
 man, and the particular friendship of the great Dr. 
 Wilkins, who was afterwards Bishop of Chester, and 
 several others, wlio were great supports of real piety 
 and goodness in those times, and afterwards eminent 
 under the legal establishment. 
 
 When Oliver died, his son Richard succeeded him as 
 Protector, and Mr. Howe stood in the same relation to 
 the son, as he had done to the father. He was still 
 chaplain at court, when in October, 1G58, he met with 
 the congregational brethren at the Savoy, at the time 
 of their drawing up their Confession of faith, &c.<i And 
 though he meddled not with state affairs neither then 
 nor afterwards, yet he has often been heard to say, that 
 he was in his judgment very much against Richard's 
 parting with his parliament, which he easily foresaw 
 would issue in his own ruin. I have been told by a 
 friend, that discoursing once freely with Mr. Howe, 
 about the setting Richard aside, he intimated to him' 
 that It was but a parenthesis in a public paper, that 
 was the occasion of the great ill-will of the officers to him 
 which rose at length to that height, that nothing would 
 satisfy, but the pulling him down. And when the same 
 person signified in a way of free discourse to Mr. Howe, 
 that he had heard Richard reflected on as a weak 
 man, he with some warmth made this return; How 
 could he be a weak man, when upon the remonstrance 
 that was brought from the army by his brother Fleet- 
 wood, he stood it out all night against his whole council, 
 and continued the debate till four o'clock in the morning, 
 
 n .'5ce Moninirs of the Life of Ur. J. Owen, prefixed to tl.e complete col- 
 lection of Ills Sermons, p. 21. !>■>,. 
 
 having none but Thurlow to abet him; maintaining 
 that the dissolving that parliament would be both his 
 ruin and theirs ! Upon some further discourse on the 
 same subject, Mr. Howe told my friend, that Fleetwood 
 undertook with great solemnity, that if Richard would 
 but comply with the proposal that was made him, the 
 army should not do him the least damage. And he 
 added, that when Fleetwood was afterwards put in 
 mind of this, all the answer he returned was, that he 
 thought he had had more interest in the army than he 
 found he had. And Mr. Howe further added, that ac- 
 cidentally meeting with Major-General Berry, who was 
 in those times so active and busy, some time after the 
 restoration, when he was but in very mean circum- 
 stances, he very freely told him, with tears running 
 down his cheeks, that if Richard had but at that time 
 hanged up him, and nine or ten more, the nation might 
 have been happy. But without applauding what w£is 
 weak, or vindicating what was blameable, it becomes 
 us to be sensible, that the great and infinitely wise 
 God had purposes to serve, that were out of the reach 
 of human foresight. 
 
 When the army had got their will, and set Richard 
 aside, they, as it was foreseen they would, soon fell 
 themselves; and a way was made by Monk to bring 
 things back into the old channel. Mr. Howe returned 
 to his people at Torrington, and continued his labours 
 among them till the restoration : at which time there 
 was such a madness attending the universal joy, that it 
 is a perfect wonder the nation ever in any measure re- 
 covered it. The king being restored, made for some 
 time more use than was usual of the lords-lieutenants 
 and their deputies to keep the several counties of the 
 kingdom in awe: many were made offenders for a 
 word, and the most cautious preachers were accused 
 and censured, if they were not intoxicated to the same 
 degree with their neighbours. Among the rest, Mr. 
 Howe, though as cautious as most men of giving dis- 
 turbance to any, yet met with some trouble, in the year 
 IGGO, a few months after the restoration, which appears 
 to have been given him by persons that were desirous 
 to do a pleasure to those who then had the ascendant. 
 
 He was informed against by John Evans and 
 William Morgan, as delivering somewhat that was 
 seditious and even treasonable, in two sermons preached 
 from Gal. vi. 7, 8. on Sep. 30, and Oct. 14. The inform- 
 ation was given before Mr. Wellington the mayor, 
 who took an engagement from Mr. Howe, and othf>rs 
 on his behalf, for his appearance at the next sessions, 
 to answer to that matter. Before that time, some of 
 the deputy-lieutenants of the county (who were not 
 willing the magistrates of the several corporations 
 should be too powerful) sent word to the mayor that 
 they could not be present at the appointed session, but 
 desired to hear the matter at some other time, and pre- 
 fixed a day for that purpose, to which the mayor accord- 
 ingly adjourned the sessions in compliance with their 
 desire. And whereas Mr. Howe in open court demanded 
 the benefit of the statute of 1 Edw. VI. and I Eliz, to
 
 THE LIFE OF MR. JOHN HOWE. 
 
 vu 
 
 purge himself by more evidences than the informers, the 
 mayor administered an oath to one and twenty witnesses, 
 who were judicious men, enjoining them on his majesty's 
 behalf to declare the truth of the matter ; and they all clear- 
 ed Mr. Howe from the guilt in the accusation, and the 
 court accordingly discharged him. 
 
 Some time after this, on November 24th, one of the 
 constables of the town summoned the mayor to appear 
 before the deputy-lieutenant, by a warrant, dated the 
 14th, which he had kept ten days by him ; and the 
 same being signed by four gentlemen who had been in 
 town the day that the warrant bore date, (which was the 
 very day of the hearing,) and the sheriff's hand, who 
 was not then in town, being also to the warrant, the 
 mayor doubted whether the warrant was made by the 
 gentlemen or not; and thereupon wrote to the sheriff, 
 that in case he might not be excused from appearing, 
 he would prepare for it, as far as would consist with his 
 office and place : but the messenger not returning soon 
 enough, (the summons being for Saturday, and the ap- 
 pearance the Wednesday morning after,) the mayor 
 gave another letter to the deputy-lieutenants to the 
 same purpose, and they presently sent a party of horse 
 for him, who carried him to Exon ; where appearing 
 before the said deputy-lieutenants, they told him he had 
 acted unwarrantably in the case of Mr. Howe, and 
 committed him to the Marshalsea, where he paid three 
 pounds for fees, and afterwards was bound over to ap- 
 pear at the next assizes ; and when they came, this af- 
 fair of Mr. Howe was heard at large before the judge, 
 and the notes that were taken in short-hand by a hearer 
 were read before him; and having heard them out, he 
 said the charge was wholly bottomed upon a mistake, 
 and cleared him. One of the accusers soon left the town, 
 and was seen there no more; and the other cut his own 
 throat, and was buried at a crossroad. 
 
 It is observable that there were many things of this 
 kind at that time in several parts of England, which seem 
 to have been managed in concert, on purpose to make 
 way for the celebrated Act of Uniformity ; as in the case 
 of Mr. Andrew Parsons, of Wem, in Shropshire,-- Mr. 
 John Sacheverel, of Wincaunton, in Somersetshire, = 
 and divers others. 
 
 When things were thought sufficiently prepared for it, 
 at length, in 1663, the Act of Uniformity passed the 
 two houses of parliament, though, as it was observed, 
 (and it ought not to this da^^ to be forgotten,) with a 
 very small majority in the House of Commons ; and it 
 took place on August 24th, this year. Mr. Howe on that 
 day preached two very affecting sermons to his people 
 at Torringtoii, and his auditory were all in tears. He 
 consulted his conscience, and could not be satisfied with 
 the terms of conformity fixed by the law, some account 
 of which he gave in his farewell sermons. He here- 
 upon quitted his public station in the church, and be- 
 came a silenced nonconformist : though how that 
 church from which he was excluded, can be that truly 
 primitive and apostolic church that it is represented, 
 and yet exclude one of his latitude, remains to many 
 
 t Soe CoafoimiBtB Fourth Plea for the NonconformiBts, p. 30, &c. 
 
 to this day a mystery. I shall not easily forget what 
 he himself has told me, viz. that the first time he 
 accidentally fell into the company of his much valued 
 friend Dr. Wilkins, after the affecting change which 
 that act produced, (under the sad effects whereof many 
 worthy persons are still groaning,) the Doctor in his 
 usual way entering into a free and pleasant conversa- 
 tion with him, told him that that act had had such con- 
 sequences £is a little surprised him. Some, he said, that 
 he should have thought much too stiff and rigid ever 
 to have fallen in with the establishment, had complied 
 and conformed, while others that he thought had a suf- 
 ficient latitude to have conformed, had stood out and 
 continued nonconformists : and he intimated to Mr. 
 Howe that he took him for one of the latter sort, and 
 should therefore be glad to know the reasons of his 
 conduct. Mr. Howe very frankly told him, that he had 
 weighed that matter with all the impartiality he was 
 able, and had not so slender a concern for his own use- 
 fulness and comfort, as not to have been willing and 
 desirous to have been under the establishment, could 
 he but have compassed it with satisfaction to his. con- 
 science : but that the giving him a particular account 
 of the workings of his mind upon that occasion, 
 (which he was free to do without any reserve, when a 
 convenient opportunity offered,) would take up much 
 more time than they then had to spend together ; and 
 that so many things were necessarily to be touched 
 upon in a discourse on that subject, that it was not pos- 
 sible for it to be crowded into a transient conversa- 
 tion, and therefore he should reserve it to a season, 
 when having more time, he might have more scope for 
 enlarging : but one thing, he added, he could tell him 
 with assurance, which was this, that that lalicude of his, 
 which he was pleased to take notice of, was so far from 
 inducing him to conformity, that it was the very thing 
 that made and kept him a nonconformist. The Doctor 
 asked him whether it was the discipline of the church, 
 that was the thing from whence he drew his chief ob- 
 jection 1 To which Mr. Howe replied, that he could not 
 by any means be fond of a church, that in reality had 
 no discipline at all, and that he thought that a very 
 considerable objection against the establishment. The 
 Doctor told him, that though he was sensible there 
 might not then be room for coming to a variety of par- 
 ticulars, yet he should be glad of a general hint from 
 him, about what was his great hinderance in the case, 
 leaving the enlargement to a further opportunity, 
 which he should readily embrace. Mr. Howe then 
 went on, and intimated to him, that he took the public 
 exercise of his ministry to be like a habitation or 
 dwelling ; and that when he was put upon consulting 
 about a dwelling, he could not tell how to reconcile it 
 with common prudence, to enter into a habitation that 
 he was apprehensive had so weak a foundation, as that 
 it was not likely to stand very long. I could not, says he, 
 by any means be for going into a falling house, for fear 
 of its falling about my ears. Of this nature (said he) 
 I take the present constitution to be, compared with that 
 
 s See Abridgment, \i)l. ii. p. 587— «,
 
 THE LIFE OF MR. JOHN HOWE, 
 
 flonrishins: state of real vital religion Mhicli I think I 
 have suflicient warrant liom the word of God to expect 
 and look for. To which the Doctor made this reply : I 
 understand you well, and if that be your sense, take this 
 advice from a friend ; don't think to gain any thing by 
 sneaking or crouching, but bear up against us boldly and 
 bravely ; stand to your principle, and sooner or later you 
 may hope to carry your point. 
 
 This Dr. Wilkins wa^ ever a great enemy to rigour 
 and severity. When he was made a bishop by king 
 Charles 11. (which was not compassed without con- 
 siderable difficulty,) I have been credibly informed he 
 waited on the famous Dr. Cosins, Bishop of Durham, 
 among other spiritual lords, and desired his company 
 at his consecration dinner. Upon this occasion Bishop 
 Cosins entered into a free discourse with him, about mo- 
 deration on the one hand, and a vigorous supporting 
 the ecclesiastical constitution on the other. Bishop 
 Wilkins frankly told his lordship, that for his part, it 
 ■was his apprehension, that he who was by many (with 
 ill nature enough) reflected on for his moderation, was 
 in reality a better friend to the church than his lord- 
 ship, who was for rigorously supporting the constitu- 
 tion. Bishop Cosins seeming sui-prised. Bishop Wil- 
 kins added this as the reason of his assertion : For while 
 you, my lord, said he, are for setting the top on the 
 piqued end, downwards, you won't be able to keep it 
 up any longer than you continue whipping and scourg- 
 ing; whereas I, says he, am for setting the broad end 
 downward, and so it will stand of itself. 'Tis a pity this 
 good bishop died so soon as 1672, and did not live till the 
 revolution in 1688. 
 
 What I have just been mentioning, of Mr. Howe's 
 intimating to Dr. Wilkins, that he thought he had a 
 scriptural warrant to expect and look for a more flourish- 
 ing state of real vital religion than we were yet arrived 
 at, very naturally reminds me of a passage I have 
 heard of in conversation, at .some other time, between 
 him and another great friend of his, viz. Dr. Henry 
 More. That Doctor when he came to town, usually 
 paid a visit to Mr. Howe, to whom he was always 
 welcome. Calling once at his house, soon after his 
 coming into the city, and not finding him at home, he 
 left word he would come and dine with him the next 
 day, which was Tuesday. Mr. Howe became that day 
 an auditor at the lecture at St. Laurence's, hoping there 
 to meet with his friend Dr. More, and bring him home 
 along with him. It .so fell out that Dr. More being at 
 that lecture, sat in the same seat with Dr. Sharp, who 
 was afterwards Archbishop of York, who when sermon 
 was over, asked him where he intended that day 40 
 dine. He told him he had promised to dine that day 
 with Mr. Howe, whom he saw there present in another 
 ■Dew. Dr. Sharp invited himself to dine with him too ; 
 and the company of two such persons was highly 
 pieasing to Mr. Howe, who was in his element when 
 in the company of men of letters. After dinner, among 
 other things tliat were freely discoursed of, they at 
 
 t Spo T)r. Moif's Prophet icul Exhibition of the Bcveii Epistles, sent to the 
 Bcvcn ChurcJics, cliap. 7. 
 
 length came to talk of the Revelation of St. John, 
 wliich was one of the Doctor's most common and 
 favourite subjects. The Doctor, who was very fond of 
 the notion, that the epistles to the seven Asian churches, 
 which we meet with in that book, were prophetical, 
 said, and repeated it over and over again, that he 
 thought he had very good evidence to prove that we 
 Avere now in the Sardian state ; with which Mr. Howe 
 was not displeased, though Dr. Sharp seemed not much 
 to relish it, thinking it no gi'eat compliment on the 
 present ecclesiastical constitution. Being informed of 
 this conversation, I took the pains to turn to Dr. More's 
 works, to see what account he gives of the Sardian 
 church; and I find in him these words, when he is 
 giving a particular description of it : ' Though the 
 Sardian church be well rid of the foul idolatries and 
 gross trumperies of the papal church, yet her state as 
 yet is but carnal. It is not the dispensation of the 
 spirit of life, but the main stir is about external opinion 
 and ceremony.'t And he adds a little after : ' As mis- 
 chievous a mark as any of her carnality, is her dissen- 
 sion and schismaticalness, even to mutual persecution ; 
 as also the unnatural and unchristian wars of one part 
 of reformed Christendom against the other.' So that 
 Mr. Howe was not singular in his .sentiments, in firmly 
 expecting that a much more flourishing state of religion 
 would in time take place, than that which was brought 
 in by the Act of Uniformity, in which so many were 
 for acquiescing, without advancing so much as a step 
 further, for fear of I know not what ill consequences 
 that might ensue. But as to him, he had a large soul, 
 and could not bear the thoughts of being cramped and 
 pinioned. He was for the 'union and communion of 
 all visible Christians ; and for making nothing necessary 
 to Christian communion, but what Christ hath made 
 necessary, or what is indeed necessary to one's being a 
 Christian.' And he was convinced that 'such an imioQ 
 must be effected, not by mere htunan endeavour, but 
 by an almighty Spirit poured forth, which (says he) 
 after we have suffered awhile, shall Karapriaai, put us 
 into joint, and make every joint know its place in the 
 body, (1 Pet. v. 10.) shall conquer private interests and 
 inclinations, and overawe men's hearts, by the authority 
 of the divine law, which now, how express soever it 
 is, little availeth against such prepossessions. Till 
 then (he says) Christianity will be among us a lan- 
 guishing, withering thing. When the season comes of 
 such an effusion of the Spirit from on high, there will 
 be no parties. And amidst the wilderness desolation 
 that cannot but be till that season comes, it matters 
 little, and signifies to me (says he) scarce one straw, 
 what party of us is uppermost. The most righteous, 
 as they may be vogued, will be but as briars and 
 scratching thorns; and it is better to suffer by such, 
 than be of them.'" I cannot help saying, that it could 
 never be for the credit of any church, to exclude one of 
 such a make and spirit out of its enclosure. 
 
 However, being ejected and silenced, Mr, Howe 
 
 u See Mr. Howe's Funeral Sermon for Mr. Mead, p. 994, 996.
 
 THE LIFE OF MR. JOHN HOWE. 
 
 continued for some time in the county of Devon, 
 preaching in private houses, among his friends and ac- 
 quaintance, as he had opportunity. Having preached 
 at the house of a certain gentleman in those parts, and 
 spent some few days with him, he at his return home, 
 was told that an officer belonging to the Bishop's court 
 had been to inquire after him, and left word that there 
 was a citation out, both against him, and the gentle- 
 man at whose house he had preached. Hereupon, he 
 the very next morning took his horse, and rode to 
 Exeter, and lighting at the inn there which he usually 
 called at, he stood awhile at the gate, considering 
 which way he had best to steer his course. While he 
 stood musing, a certain dignified clergyman, with 
 ■whom he wa^ well acquainted, happening to pass by, 
 looked on him with some surprise, and saluted him 
 with this question, Mr. Howe, what do you do here? 
 to whom he replied, with another question ; Pray, sir, 
 what have I done, that I may not be here 1 Upon 
 which he told him that there was a process out against 
 him, and that being so well known as he was, he did 
 not at all question but that if he did not take care of 
 himself, he would be taken up in a very little time. 
 Among other discourse that passed, he asked him 
 whether he would not go and wait upon the bishop 1 
 Ele said, he thought not to do it, unless his lordship 
 hearing of his being in that city, should think fit to 
 invite him. Upon this, he advised him to call for a 
 room, and wait there a little, and told him he would go 
 to the bishop, and let him know that he was there, and 
 return to him again, and give him an account, what 
 his lordship said to it. He accordingly left him, and 
 soon returned, and brought him an invitation from the 
 bishop, who signified he would be glad to see him. 
 Waiting on his lordship, he received him with great 
 civility, as his old acquaintance. The bishop presently 
 fell to expostulating with him about his nonconformity. 
 Mr. Howe told his lordship, he could not have time, 
 without greatly trespassing upon his patience, to go 
 through the several objections which he had to make 
 against the terms of conformity. The bishop pressed 
 him to name any one that he reckoned to be of weight. 
 He thereupon instanced in the point of re-ordination. 
 Why, pray sir, said the bishop to him, what hurt is 
 there in being twice ordained 1 Hurt, my lord, says 
 Mr. Howe to him ; the thought is shocking ; it hurts 
 my understanding ; it is an absurdity : for nothing can 
 have two beginnings. I am sure, said he, I am a 
 minister of Christ, and am ready to debate that matter 
 with your lordship, if you please; and I can't begin 
 again to be a minister. The bishop then dropping that 
 matter, told Mr. Howe, as he had done at other times, 
 that if he would come in amongst them, he might have 
 considerable preferments, and at length dismissed him 
 in a very friendly manner. And as his lordship did 
 not take the least notice to him of the process that was 
 issued out against him, so neither did he say any thing 
 of it to his lordship : but taking his le-ave, he mounted 
 
 w This matter was strenuously and solemnh' argued upon, a great many 
 years after, bj- the managers for tlie House of Commons, in tha trial of Dr. 
 Henrj- Jsacneverel. 
 
 his horse and rode home, and heard no more of that 
 matter, either with respect to the gentleman, or himself. 
 
 In 1665, when the dissenting ministers had been 
 three years silenced, they were not a little perplexed 
 in all parts of the kingdom, by the act that passed in 
 the parliament at Oxford, by which they were obliged 
 (under the penalty of not being allowed, unless upon 
 the road, to come within five miles of any city, or cor- 
 poration, or any place that sent burgesses to parliament, 
 or any place where they had been ministers, or had 
 preached after the Act of Oblivion) to swear, ' that it 
 was not lawful, upon any pretence whatsoever,-' to take 
 arms against the king, and that they abhorred the traitor- 
 ous position, of taking arms by his authority against his 
 person, or against those commissionated by him, in 
 pursuance of such commission : and that they would 
 not at any time endeavour any alteration of the govern- 
 ment either in church or state.' They were much 
 divided in their sentiments upon this occasion. There 
 were several among them, who reckoned this oath so 
 insnaring, that they durst not take it: but it was at 
 length taken in London by Dr. Bates, and others to 
 the number of twenty.^ It was also taken in Devonshire 
 by Mr. Howe and others, to the number of twelve ; and 
 by some few in Dorsetshire. 
 
 The twelve who took this oath in Devonshire, were 
 (as I am informed from a manuscript of Mr. Cluick's) 
 Mr. Humphrey Saunders, Mr. John Howe, Mr. 
 Gunnery, Mr. Mortimer, Mr. Parre, Mr. Francis 
 Whiddon, Mr. Fairant, Mr. Wilkins, Mr. Einmore, 
 Mr. Berry, Mr. Cleveland, and Mr. Bayly. The two 
 last took it voluntarily, before it came in force. The 
 other ten took it at the county sessions, after the taking 
 place of the act. At their appearance for that purpose, 
 one of the company (I find not who) made a declaration 
 in open court, in these words : 
 
 ' I confess I have had some doubts concerning this 
 oath ; but understanding, partly by discourse about 
 it with some who concurred in making of the law, 
 and partly by consideration of the law itself, and other 
 laws, that the oath hath no other meaning or end, than 
 to secure the person of the king's majesty, and his autho- 
 rity, whether in his person or commissioners, and the 
 government in church and state, from being shaken or 
 subverted, by any unpeaceable or seditious endeavours 
 out of our place and calling, I am abundantly satisfied 
 to tender myself to this honourable court, for the taking 
 of it.' 
 
 This declaration being candidly accepted by the 
 court, the ten before mentioned immediateh' took the 
 oath. Only Mr. Fairant and Mr. Wilkins took it with 
 this addition, ' so far as the laws of man are agreeable to 
 the word of God.' 
 
 But as to Mr. Howe, he upon this occasion drew up 
 the following paper, which gives an account of the 
 principles upon which he took the oath that was then 
 imposed ; and at the same time states the matter of 
 oaths in general, as judiciously and fully, a.s can 
 X Soo Abridgment of Mr. Baxter's Life, vol. i. p. 313,
 
 THE LIFE OF MR. JOHN HOWE. 
 
 ■well be supposed or imagined in so narrow a com- 
 pass. 
 
 '1. My swearing is my act. 2. The obligation I 
 .lereby contract is x-oluntary. 3. Swearing in a form 
 of woids prescribed by another, I adopt those words, 
 and make them my own. 4. Being now so adopted, 
 their first use is to express the true sense of my heart, 
 touching the matter about which I swear. 5. Their 
 next use, as they have now the form of an oath, is to 
 assure him or them who duly require it from me, that 
 what I express by them is the true sense of my heart. 
 6. 'Tis repugnant to both those ends, that they should 
 be construed (as now used by me) to signify another 
 thing than what I sincerely intend to make known by 
 them. 7. If the words be of dubious signification, 
 capable of more senses than one, I ought not to hide the 
 sense in which I take them, but declare it, lest I 
 deceive them whom I should satisfy. 8. That declara- 
 tion I ought to make, if I have opportunity, to them 
 whose satisfaction is primarily intended by the oath ; 
 if not, to them whom they intrust and employ. 9. This 
 declared sense must be such as the words will fairly bear, 
 without force or violence.' 
 
 I have been told, that in this year 1665, Mr. Howe 
 wa.s imprisoned for two months in the Isle of St. Nicolas, 
 which was the place where his father-in-law Mr. 
 George Hughes, and his brother Mr. Obadiah Hughes, 
 had been confined for a longer time : but the occasion 
 of this imprisonment, what was alleged to justify it, 
 and how he obtained deliverance, I have not been able 
 to discover. 
 
 In a letter he wrote to his brother-in-law Mr. Obadiah 
 Hughes, after they were set at liberty, he expressed him- 
 self thus : 
 
 ' Blessed be God, that we can have, and hear of, 
 each other's occasions of thanksgiving, that we may 
 join praises as well as prayers, which I hope is done 
 daily for one another. Nearer approaches, and constant 
 adherence to God, with the improvement of our interest 
 in each other's heart, must compensate (and I hope will 
 abundantly) the unkindness and instability of a surly 
 treacherous world, that we see still retains its wayward 
 temper, and grows more peevish as it grows older, 
 and more ingenious in in\'enting ways to torment 
 whom it disaffects. It was, it seems, not enough to 
 kill by one single death, but when .that was almost 
 done, to give leave and time to respire, to live again, at 
 least in hope, that it might have the renewed pleasure 
 of putting us to a further pain and torture in dying 
 once more. Spite is natural to her. All her kindness 
 is an artificial disguise ; a device to promote and serve 
 the design of the former with the more efficacious and 
 piercing malignity. But patience will elude the design, 
 and blunt its sharpest edge. It is perfectly defeated 
 when nothing is expected from it but mischief; for then 
 the worst it can threaten finds us provided, and the best 
 it can promise incredulous, and not apt to be imposed 
 upon. This will make it at last despair and grow 
 hopeless, when it finds that the more it goes about to 
 
 y See Dr. More'a Life, by Mr. Rich. Ward, p. 21. 
 
 mock and vex us, the more it teaches and instructs us ; 
 and that as it is wickeder, we are wiser. If we cannot, 
 God will outwit it, and carry us, I trust, safe through, 
 to a better world, upon which we may terminate hopes 
 that will never make us ashamed,' &c. 
 
 He continued still in those western counties, and 
 went much from one gentleman's house to another, and 
 was ready wherever he came to do any service he was 
 able ; and at length, in the year 1668, he was prevailed 
 with to print a book which met with wonderful accept- 
 ance in the world, and not undeservedly, if either the 
 subject be considered, or the happy management of it. 
 I remember it was a usual saying of Dr. Henry More, 
 who has been already mentioned once and again, that 
 ' if any man had but written, his works would best show 
 to all intelligent readers what he was.'y Perhaps this 
 is as true of Mr. Howe as of most men that ever appear- 
 ed in print. For in some of his writings he has drawn 
 his own very picture, without any disguise or artifice. 
 
 The first thing of his that was published, was a ser- 
 mon from Eccles. vii. 29. upon ' Man's Creation in an 
 holy, but mutable State.' It is to be met with in the 
 ' Morning Exercise methodized,' printed in 1660. But 
 he at this time published a discourse entitled, The 
 Blessedness of the Righteous, from Psal. xvii. 15. being, 
 as I am informed, sermons preached while he was at 
 Torrington: and this is a treatise that has been well 
 received and greatly valued, by the most serious and 
 judicious of all persuasions. 
 
 There is something in the preface to this work, that 
 I take to be extremely fine, and that should not be 
 passed over lightly, according to the usual way for the 
 generality of common readers. He there says of that 
 discourse of his, 
 
 ' That the design of it is wholly practical, and it 
 hath little or nothing to do with disputation. If (says 
 he) there be any whose business it is to promote a pri- 
 vate divided interest, or who place the sum of their re- 
 ligion in an inconsiderable and doubtful opinion, it 
 doth not unhallow their altars, nor offer any affront to 
 their idol. It intends no quarrel to any contending 
 angry party ; but deals upon things, in the substance 
 whereof Christians are at a professed agreement : and 
 hath therefore the greater probability of doing good to 
 some, without the ofience of any. 'Tis indeed equally 
 matter of complaint and wonder, that men can find so 
 much leisure, to avert from such things wherein there 
 is so much both of delight and pleasure, unto what one 
 would think should have little of temptation or allure- 
 ment in it, contentious jangling. It might rather be 
 thought, its visible fruits and tendencies should render 
 it the most dreadful thing to every serious beholder. 
 What tragedies hath it wrought in the Christian church ! 
 Into how weak and languishing a condition hath it 
 brought the religion of professed Christians ! Hence 
 have risen the intemperate preternatural heats and an- 
 gers that have spent its strength and spirits ; and make 
 it look with so meagre and pale a face. We have had 
 a greater mind to dispute than live, and to contend
 
 THE LIFE OF MR. JOHN HOWE. 
 
 about what we know not, than to practise the far greater 
 things we know, and which more directly tend to 
 nourish and maintain the divine life. The author of 
 that ingenious sentence, Pruritus disputandi scabies 
 ecclesias, whoever he were, hath fitly expressed what 
 is the noisome product of the itch of disputing. It 
 hath begot the ulcerous tumours, which beside their 
 own offensive soreness, drain the body, and turn what 
 should nourish that into nutriment to themselves. And 
 its effects are not more grievous, than the pleasures 
 which it affects and pursues are uncouth and unnatural. 
 The rough touch of an ingentle hand ; that only 
 pleases which exasperates ; (as Seneca the moralist 
 aptly expresses some like disaffection of diseased 
 minds ; ) toil and vexation is their only delight ; and 
 what to a sound spirit would be a pain, is to these a 
 pleasure. 
 
 ' Which is indeed the triumph of the disease, that it 
 adds unto torment, reproach and mockery, and imposes 
 upon men by so ridiculous a delusion, (while they are 
 made to take pleasure m punishing themselves,) that 
 even the most sober can scarcely look on in a fitter pos- 
 ture than with a compassionate smile. All which were 
 yet somewhat more tolerable, if that imagined vanish- 
 ing pleasure were not the whole of their gain ; or if it 
 were to be hoped that so great a present real pain and 
 smart, should be recompensed with as real a consequent 
 fruit and advantage. But we know that generally, by 
 how much any thing is more disputable, the less it is 
 necessary or conducible to the Christian life. God 
 hath graciously provided, that what we are to live by, 
 should not cost us so dear. And possibly as there is 
 the less occasion of disputing about the more mo- 
 mentous things of religion, so there may be somewhat 
 more of modesty and awe, in reference to what is so 
 confessedly venerable and sacred, (though too many 
 are over-bold even here also,) than so foolishly trifle 
 with such things. Therefore more commonly, where 
 that humour prevails, men divert from those plainer 
 things, with some slighter and more superficial rever- 
 ence to them, but more heartily esteeming them in- 
 sipid and jejune, because they have less in them to 
 gratify their appetite, and betake themselves to such 
 things about which they may more plausibly contend. 
 And then what pitiful trifles often take up their time 
 and thoughts ! questions and problems of like weighty 
 importance (very often) with those which Seneca tells 
 us this disease among the Greeks prompted them to 
 trouble themselves about ! as, what number of rowers 
 Ulysses had 1 which was written first, the Iliad or the 
 Odysses? so that (as he saith) they spend their lives 
 very operosely doing nothing : their conceits being 
 such, that if they kept them to themselves they could 
 yield them no fruit, and if they published them to 
 others, they should not seem thereby the more learned, 
 but the more troublesome. And is it not (says he) to 
 be resented, that men should sell away the solid 
 strength and vital joy, which a serious soul would find 
 in substantial religion, for such toys 1 yea, and not 
 only famish themselves, but trouble the world, and 
 
 embroil the church with impertinencies 1 If a man 
 be drawn forth, to defend an important truth against 
 an injurious zissault, it were treacherous self-love to 
 purchase his own peace by declining it. Or if be did 
 sometimes turn his thoughts to some of our petite 
 questions, that with many are so hotly agitated, for re- 
 creation sake, or to try his wit, and exercise his reason 
 without stirring his passions, to the disturbance of 
 others or himself; here an iimocent divertisement is 
 the best purpose that things of that nature are capable 
 of serving. But when contention becomes a man's 
 element, and he cannot live out of that fire ; strains his 
 wit, and racks his invention to find matter of quarrel ; 
 is resolved nothing said or done by others shall please 
 him, only because he means to please himself in dis- 
 senting ; disputes only that he may dispute, and loves 
 dissension for itself ; this is the unnatural humour that 
 hath so unspeakably troubled the church, and debased 
 religion, and filled men's souls with wind and vanity, 
 yea with fire and fury. This hath made Christians 
 gladiators, and the Christian world a clamorous theatre, 
 while men have equally affected to contend, and to 
 make ostentation of their ability to do so,' &c. 
 
 Some time after this, he was earnestly invited by a 
 person of considerable quality into Ireland, and had 
 generous offers made him. He accepted the motion 
 with the greater readiness, and looked upon it as the 
 more providential, because by this time he was reduced 
 to straits, and his circumstances were but low ; which 
 is not at all to be wondered at, considering that he had 
 for some years been out of any settled emplo}Tnent, and 
 had but a small income, several in family, and a ge- 
 nerous spirit of his own, which inclined him upon all 
 occasions to make the best figure he was able. He set 
 sail for Dublin (as I am informed) in the beginning of 
 April, 1671. And here I have a memorable passage to 
 relate, which I have from such hands, that I cannot 
 question the truth of it. When he went for Ireland, 
 taking his eldest son along with him, he was for em- 
 barking at a town in Wales, the name of which my in- 
 formant has forgotten, but I suppose it was Holy-head. 
 The wind not ser^'ing to carry them off, they con- 
 tinued there a Lord's day, and found a large parish 
 church, in which prayers only were to be read as 
 usually, but no preaching was expected. The com- 
 pany that was with Mr. Howe and waited for a wind, 
 were pretty numerous, and they were desirous to find 
 out some private place by the sea-side, where he might 
 preach to them. As they were walking along the sands 
 in search of some such place, they met two men on 
 horseback riding towards the town, who proved to be 
 the parson of the parish and his clerk. The clerk was 
 asked by one in the company whether his master 
 preached that day"? No, said he, my master does not 
 use to preach, he only reads prayers. Upon which it 
 was farther inquired whether he thought his master 
 would be willing to give leave to a minister that was 
 in their company, who was going for Ireland, but wait- 
 ing for a wind, to make use of his pnlpit that day in 
 his room 1 He answered he believed very willingly.
 
 THE LIFE OF MR. JOHN HOWE. 
 
 and they found it so, when the clerk had once made the 
 rnotion to him. Hereupon Mr. Howe and the rest of 
 them returned back to the town, and he preached that 
 day twice to them in the church ; and in the afternoon 
 the auditory was very large, and seemed to be not a 
 little aflected with what was delivered. The wind not 
 serving all the week following, the country all round 
 those parts took notice that neither the vessel nor the 
 minister were gone ; and therefore on the Lord's day 
 after, they came flocking into the town, expecting he 
 would preach that day also. There was a prodigious 
 multitude gathered together ; and the parson, who had 
 had no thoughts about the matter, nor made the least 
 motion for any further assistance from the stranger, 
 observing it, was in no small consternation. Preach 
 himself he could not ; for he had not of a long time 
 been used to it, and he was altogether unprovided ; and 
 if he did not employ the stranger, it would lessen his 
 reputation greatly : but then he did not know, whether 
 as things stood, he could be able to prevail with him. 
 However he sent his clerk to Mr. Howe, and begged 
 he would come and preach again, for that otherwise 
 he knew not what to do, the coimlry being come in 
 from several miles round, in hope of hearing him. 
 Mr. Howe having been much indisposed, was in bed, 
 and in a great sweat, when he received the message, 
 and that made him at first doubtful whether he had best 
 venture to comply. But considering with himself that 
 here was a plain call of Providence, and not knowing 
 but much good might be done in such a place, where 
 preaching was so uncommon a thing, and the people 
 seemed so desirous of the word of God, he sent word 
 he would do it ; and cooled himself with as much speed 
 as he was able with safety, and cast himself upon God, 
 and went and preached with great life and freedom: 
 and he told my informant, that he never in all his life 
 saw people more moved, or receive the word with 
 greater pleasure. And he at the same time added these 
 words, ' if my ministry was ever of any use, I think it 
 must be then.' Very soon after, the vessel went off, 
 and he found no ill effects or conseqxrences at all, of 
 the pains he took in such circumstances. 
 
 At length he had his whole family with him in Ire- 
 land, where he lived as chaplain to the Lord Massarene 
 in the parish of Antrim, and was received and treated 
 with all imaginable respect. His great learning and 
 Christian temper, (together with that lord's interest and 
 influence,) procured him the particular friendship of the 
 bishop of that diocese, who, (together with his metro- 
 politan,) without demanding any conformit}', gave him 
 fiee liberty to preach in the public church in that town, 
 every Lord's day in the afternoon : and I have been 
 informed that the archbishop in a pretty full meeting 
 of the clergy, told them frankly, that he would have 
 Mr. Howe have every pulpit (where he had any con- 
 cern) open to him, in which he at any time was free to 
 preach. And he manifested his truly peaceable and 
 Christian spirit, both in. his preaching and conversation, 
 and was useful to many. 
 
 In the very year in which he settled here, he pub- 
 
 lished a noble discourse upon ' The "Vanity of this mortal 
 Life, or of Man considered only in this present mortal 
 State,' from Psal. Ixxxi. 47, 48. which discourse is 
 usually bound up with his 'Blessedness of the Right- 
 eous.' There is an epistle before this sermon dated from 
 Antrim in 1671, to John Upton, of Lupton in Devon, Esq. 
 his kinsman, signifying that it was composed upon 
 occasion of the death of Anthony Upton, son of the 
 said John, who had lived between twenty and thirty 
 }'^ears in Spain, and had promised to return home ; and 
 being earnestly expected, a sudden disease in so few 
 days landed him in another world, that the first notice 
 his friends had of his death or sickness, was by the 
 arrival of that vessel (clad in mourning attire) which 
 brought over the deserted body to its native place of 
 Lupton ; which providence was therefore the more 
 affecting, because a meeting of the several branches of 
 the family, who lived at distant places, having been 
 appointed, the place and occasion and design of it was 
 this way altered ; and no less than twenty, the brothers 
 and sisters of the deceased, or their consorts, besides 
 many nephews and nieces, and other relations, were 
 brought together to the mournful solemnity of the in- 
 terment. It has been the judgment of many, that this 
 discourse is as noble a piece of true theological oratory, 
 as can be easily met with. 
 
 In 1674 he published his treatise of 'Delighting m 
 God,' which was the substance of some sermons he had 
 preached twenty years before to the people of Torring- 
 ton, with some additions and enlargements. He de- 
 dicated them to his old friends, the inhabitants of that 
 town, by a masculine, but at the same time most tender 
 and affectionate, epistle to them from Antrim, in which 
 he gives such an account of himself, as may very well 
 heighten our idea of him. Speaking of the sermons 
 which he then published, he expresses himself in this 
 glorious manner. 
 
 ' They aim (says he) at the promoting of the same 
 end, which the course of my poor labours among you 
 did, (as he that knoweth all things knoweth,) the se- 
 rious practice of the great things of religion, which are 
 known, and least liable to question ; without designing 
 to engage you to or against any party of them that 
 differ about circumstantial matters. They tend to let 
 you see, that formality in any way of religion, unac- 
 companied with life, will not serve your turn, (as it 
 will no man's,) than which there is nothing more 
 empty, sapless, and void both of profit and delight. I 
 have reflected and considered with some satisfaction, 
 that this hath been my way, and the temper of my mind 
 among you. Great reason I have to repent, that I 
 have not with greater earnestness pressed upon you 
 the known and important things wherein serious 
 Christians do generally agree : but I repent not I 
 have been so little engaged in the hot contests of 
 our age, about the things wherein they differ. For 
 as I pretend to little light in these things, (whence 
 I could not have much confidence to fortify me to such 
 an imdertaking,) so I must profess to have little inclina- 
 tion to contend about matters of that kind. Nor yet
 
 THE LIFE OF MR. JOHN HOWE. 
 
 xm 
 
 am I indifferent as to these smaller things, that I can- 
 not discern to be in their own nature so. But though I 
 cannot avoid to think that course right which I have 
 deliberately chosen therein, I do yet esteem that but a 
 small thing upon which to ground an opinion of my 
 exceeding them that think otherwise, eis if I knew more 
 than they. For I have often recounted thus seriously 
 with myself, that of every differing party (in those cir- 
 cumstantial matters) I do particularly know some per- 
 sons by whom I find myself much excelled, in much 
 greater things than is the matter of that difference. I 
 cannot ('tis true) thereupon say and think every thing 
 that they do ; which is impossible, since they differ 
 from one another as well as me ; and I understand well 
 there are other measures of truth, than this or that ex- 
 cellent person's opinion: but I thereupon reckon I 
 have little reason to be conceited of any advantage I 
 have of such in point of knowledge ; (even as little as 
 he would have, that can sing or play well on a lute, of 
 him that knows how to command armies or govern a 
 kingdom ;) and can with the less confidence differ from 
 them, or contend with them. Being thereby, though I 
 cannot find that I err in these matters, constrained to 
 have some suspicion lest I do ; and to admit it possible 
 enough, that some of them who differ from me, having 
 much more light in greater matters, may have so in 
 these also. Besides that I most seriously think, hu- 
 milit}', charity, and patience would more contribute to 
 the composing of these lesser differences, or to the good 
 estate of the Christian interest under them, than the 
 most fervent disputes and contestations. I have upon 
 such considerations little concerned myself in contend- 
 ing for one way or another, while I was among you; 
 or in censuring such as have differed from me, in such 
 notions and practices as might consist with our com- 
 mon great end; or as imported not manifest hostility 
 thereto: contenting myself to follow the course that to 
 ray preponderating judgment seemed best, without 
 stepping out of my way to jostle others. But I cannot 
 be so patient of their practical disagreement (not only 
 with all serious Christians, but even their own judg- 
 meiits and consciences also) who have no delight in 
 God, and who take no pleasure in the very substance 
 of religion,' &c. We may from hence take our mea- 
 sures of him both as a minister and a divine; and can 
 hardly forbear making this reflection, that it would be 
 an unspeakable happiness, did but such a spirit as this 
 prevail more among all the parties into which we are 
 divided. 
 
 In 1675, upon the death of Dr. Lazanis Seaman, he 
 had an invitation gi^sn him to comi and fix in London, 
 by a part of his congregation, and was earnestly press- 
 ed to accept of their call. There was some difference 
 among them about tbe person in whom they should 
 centre. Some were for Mr. Charnock, and others for 
 Mr. Howe: and though they that wrote to him urged 
 a variety of arguments and inducements, yet he could 
 not so well judge of the mattcvs alleged at a distance; 
 and was thereupon prevailed w/h to take a voyage in- 
 to England, and make a visit at l ondon, that he might 
 
 view and judge of things upon the spot. He upon this 
 occasion, which created him a great many thoughts, 
 and in which he looked seriously upwards for conduct, 
 committed some hints to writing, which have been pre- 
 served, and are here faithfully transcribed from an au- 
 thentic copy. 
 
 The paper is inscribed after this manner. 
 
 Considerations avd Communings v:ith myself concervr- 
 ing my present Journey, Dec. 20, 75. By Nighl on 
 my Bed. 
 
 ' L Cluaere ; Have I not an undue design or self-n- 
 sped in it? 
 
 ' 1 . I know well I ought not to have any design for 
 myself, which admits not of subordination to the in- 
 terest and honour of the great God, and my Redeemer, 
 and which is not acmally so subordinated. 
 
 '2. I understand the fearful evil and sinfulness of 
 having such an undue design ; that it is idolatry, the 
 taking another god, and making myself that god. 
 
 '3. I find (through God's mercy) some sensible stir- 
 rings of hatred and detestation, in my breast, of that 
 wickedness, and a great apprehension of the loveliness 
 and beauty of a state of pure entire devotedness to 
 God in Christ, and of acting accordingly. 
 
 '4. I have insisted on this chiefly in prayer to God, 
 in reference to this business, ever since it was set on 
 foot, that I might be sincere in it: and though I have 
 earnestly begged light to guide me therein, so as that 
 I might do that herein which in the substance of the 
 thing is agreeable to the holy will of God, yet I have 
 much more importimately prayed that I might be sin- 
 cere in what I do, not only because I know God will 
 pardon ignorance (unremedied by utmost endeavours) 
 where he beholds sincerity, whereas he will never ac- 
 cept the knowledge of our duty, nor the doing what is 
 in substance our duty, if that right manner of doing it, 
 or principle whence it is done, be wanting; but, also, 
 from the higher esteem I have of sincerity, above all 
 light and knowledge without it, and the greater excel- 
 lence of the thing itself. 
 
 ' 5. I have carefully examined what selfish respects 
 I can have in this matter. Is it worldly emolument"? 
 In this my heart acquits me in the sight of God. Is 
 it that I affect to be upon a public stage, to be popular 
 and applauded by men? To this I say, (L) That Mo 
 verily believe, that I shall be lower in the eye and 
 esteem of the people in London, when I come under 
 their nearer view. I know myself incapable of pleasing 
 their genius. I cannot contrive nor endure to preach 
 with elaborate artifice. They will soon be wear}', 
 when they hear nothing but plain discourses of such 
 matters as are not new to them. Yea, and ministers 
 that noAV judge of me by what I have written, (when 
 matter and words were in some measure weighed,) will 
 find mc, when 1 converse with them, slow to apprehend 
 things, slow to express my own apprehensions, unready, 
 entangled, and obscure in my apprehensions and ex- 
 press' ms : so that all will soon say, this is not the man
 
 THE LIFE OF MR. JOHN HOWE. 
 
 we took him for. (2.) It displeases me not, that they 
 should find and say this. I hope I should digest it 
 well. (3.) I have found (blessed be God) that the 
 applauses some have prudently given me in letters, 
 (as I have received many of that strain, very many 
 Ion" before this business, and that had no relation unto 
 any such, that no eye hath ever since seen but my own,) 
 an occasion and means to me of deep humiliation, when 
 my own heart hath witnessed to me, my miserable 
 penury, and that I am thought to be what I am not. 
 (4.) So far as I can find, I do not deliberately covet or 
 desire esteem but for my work's sake, and the success 
 of my work. Of applause I have often found an inward 
 abhorrence. I both know I have nothing but what I 
 have received, and that I have received a great deal 
 less than many think I have: which I say with re- 
 flection on myself; not to diminish the bounty of the 
 Free-giver, from whom I know I might have received 
 much more, if I had sought and used his gifts aright. 
 All the design I can more vehemently suspect myself 
 of that looks like self-interest anyway, is, (1.) The im- 
 provement of my own knowledge, which I know there 
 may be great opportunities for, if this journey should 
 issue in my settlement at London. (2.) The disposal 
 of my children. Yet I hope these things are eyed in 
 subordination, and indifferently, so as not to sway with 
 me against my duty. 
 
 ' n. Cluaere ; Have I not a previous resolution of settling 
 at London before I go up? 
 
 '1. I have a resolution to do what I shall conceive 
 shall make most to the usefulness of the rest of my life, 
 which resolution I ought never to be without. 
 
 '2. I am seriously yet at a loss as to judging this 
 case, whether in this country or there. 
 
 '3. If I can find clearly it is my duty to return in 
 order to continuance at Antrim, I shall do it with high 
 complacency. 
 
 III. Gluosre ; Am I not afraid of miscarrying in this 
 undertaken voyage, by shipwreck, tJ'C. 7 
 
 ' 1. I find little of that fear, I bless God. 
 
 '2. Nor is it that I think I have attained any emi- 
 nent degree of grace, that I am not afflicted with that 
 fear: nay more than that, I acknowledge, to be de- 
 livered from such fear is itself a great mercy, and 
 gracious vouchsafement. 
 
 '3. I hope I am in a state of favour and acceptance 
 with God, which I apprehend I owe to infinite rich 
 mercy in the Redeemer's blood. Great forgiveness I 
 need, for I am a miserable sinful wretch: this I trust I 
 have upon gospel terms. 
 
 ' 4. It is pleasant to me hereupon to think of going 
 into eternity; of laying dowTi the body of flesh and 
 sin and death together ; and of being perfectly holy, 
 and associated with them that are so, in holy work and 
 enjoyment. 
 
 '5. To put off this tabernacle so easily, I reckon 
 would to me be a merciful dispensation, who am more 
 afraid of sharp pains than of death. I think I should 
 
 joyfully embrace those waves that should cast me on 
 an tmdesigned shore, and when I intended Liverpool, 
 should land me in heaven. 
 
 '6. Yet I bless God I have no weariness of life, 
 nor of his work in this world, if he shall yet please 
 further to employ me here. 
 
 ' IV. Cluaere ; But am I not solicitous, lest if thib 
 should prove the event, it will be judged a testimony 
 against me, as to this present undertaking 7 
 
 ' 1. It is an honest design I go upon. I have, as I 
 said, no selfish design that oversways me in it. I have 
 
 no design to prejudice Mr. C . I believe I shall do 
 
 him no actual prejudice. Wherein I can justly befriend 
 him, I go resolved to do it. If I can do any thing for 
 the holding of the remainder together, without the 
 neglect of greater work, I do apprehend I shall do a 
 just and needful thing : but should do nothing if I had 
 opportunity, till I knew more. But, 
 
 '2. To judge of the justice of a cause by the suc- 
 cess, is a most imjust way of judging. Many a just 
 business has miscarried. If I get well into the other 
 world, such censures will be a small matter in my eye ; 
 and they are not great now. 
 
 '3. God will accept my sincere intentions, though 
 I effect nothing. 
 
 '4. My journey was to me absolutely necessary, 
 who could without it neither grant nor deny. 
 
 ' Consolations to my wife and other relatiojis, supposing 
 they hear of my deaih. 
 
 '1. Whom or what have you lostl A poor creature 
 that could never be of much use to you. 
 
 ' 2. You are to consider me, not as lost in my prime, 
 but as now I am sensibly under great decays, and not 
 likely to continue long, except some means hitherto not 
 thought on should have been tried. What a summer 
 had I of the last ! seldom able to walk the streets ; and 
 not only often disabled by pain, but weakness. And 
 what great advantage to you would it have been to see 
 me die"? I know not when I have had so much ease 
 and health as in this journey. 
 
 '3. God not only hath determined the thing, we 
 must die, but all circumstances, when and where, and 
 after what manner, and all wisely and well. Why 
 should you be grieved, that he hath done welll not 
 only well in itself, but well for you, if you love him"? 
 
 '4. You must ere long follow, and shall not be al- 
 ways in this world without me. 
 
 '5. What there is of evil in this case, admits of 
 remedy. Draw so much nearer to God, and cease 
 from man : mind heaven more, and your loss is made up. 
 
 '6. I have, through the grace of God, preached 
 immortal truth, which will survive, and may be to your 
 advantage. 
 
 '7. As to you who have dependance upon me for 
 worldly concernments: I was never a good projector 
 for the world; so the loss is not great. How many, 
 dear to God, make a shift, in a worse condition I Forget 
 not the motto, God will provide. He that feeds ravens.
 
 THE LIFE OF MR. JOHN HOWE, 
 
 and takes care of sparrows, will he not take care of 
 you 1 are you of his family, and will he not take care 
 of his own 1 instead of distrust and repining, give 
 thanks, O bless him with all your soul, that he hath 
 revealed and given himself to you for an everlasting 
 portion ; and whose covenant is to be your God, and 
 the Grod of yours, 
 
 ' 8. Let it be some satisfaction to you, that I go 
 willingly, under no dread, with no regret, but with 
 some comfortable knowledge of my way and end.' 
 
 With such thoughts and workings of mind as these, 
 did he tmdertake and pursue his voyage and journey, 
 and he arrived safe at London after having been five 
 years in Ireland : and upon mature consideration, he 
 accepted of the call that had been given him, and set- 
 tled there, and made a quiet and peaceable use of King 
 Charles's indulgence, preaching to a considerable and 
 judicious auditory, by whom he was singularly re- 
 spected ; and he was much esteemed, not only by his 
 brethren in the ministry among the dissenters, but also 
 by several eminent divines of the church of England, 
 as Dr. Whitchcot, Dr. Kidder, Dr. Fowler, Dr. Lncas, 
 and others, whom he often conversed with, and that 
 with great freedom and familiarity. 
 
 He was no sooner settled here, tnan he printed the 
 first part of his ' Living Temple,' by which it was his 
 design to improve that notion, that a good man is the 
 Temple of God. This first part is upon God's exist- 
 ence, and his conversableness with man ; and against 
 Atheism, or the Epicurean deism. 'Tis dedicated to 
 the Lord Viscount Massarene, governor of the county 
 of London-Derr}^, and one of the lords of his majesty's 
 most honourable privy-council in the kingdom of Ire- 
 land : and he signifies to his lordship, that this tract 
 was conceived under his roof, and born out of his house ; 
 and that he therefore thought it decent and just, that 
 it should openly own the relation which it thereby 
 had, and the author's great obligations, to his lordship. 
 
 In the year 1677, he published a tract, entitled, ' The 
 Reconcileableness of God's Prescience of the Sins of Men 
 wi'.h the Wisdom and Sincerity of his Counsels and Ex- 
 hortations, and whatever other Means he uses to prevent 
 them :' written by way of Letter to the Honourable 
 Robert Boyle, Esq. This treatise was exceedingly 
 admired by some, and as much opposed by others. 
 Mr. Theophilus Gale, in particular, his old fellow-col- 
 legiate, publishing about this time his fourth part of 
 ' The Court of the Gentiles,' made some animadversions 
 upon it.2 Whereupon Mr. Howe added a Postscript, 
 in defence of the said Letter, in which he makes a re- 
 turn to Mr. Gale's remarks. Mr. Danson also wrote 
 against this tract, but I know not that Mr. Howe took 
 any notice of him-, though the ingenious Andrew 
 Marvel, Esq. made a very witty and entertaining re- 
 ply to him. Upon the account of this performance of 
 his, Mr. Wood represents Mr. Howe as a great and 
 strict Arminian ;* but very wrongfully. For that which 
 he mainly asserts in that discourse, is no more than 
 
 z Seo Court of the Gentiles, part 1. page 522. 
 
 this, that ' it is inconceivable, that the holy and good 
 God should irresistibly determine the wills of men to 
 and punish the same thing ; that h« should irresistibly 
 determine the will of a man to the hatred of his own 
 most blessed self, and then exact severest punishments 
 for the oflTence done,' which the strictest Calvinist has not 
 the least occasion (as far as I can perceive) to scru- 
 ple to acknowledge. This notion widely difiers from 
 asserting the blessed God imiversally to have left his 
 reasonable creatures an indetermined power, with re- 
 spect to all actions, good as well as evil, to the utter 
 exclusion of efiicacious grace, in reference even to the 
 best actions that are. 'Tis that that is tlie true Armi- 
 nian principle, if we may be allowed to pass a judg- 
 ment, from the works of the most eminent writers that 
 are in that scheme. If all are great and strict Armini- 
 ans, who cannot allow themselves to suppose the blessed 
 God, by internal influence, to have a hand even in 
 the worst and wickedest actions, as far as in the best, I 
 am persuaded there will be very few remaining but 
 what are such, either here at home, or in any of the 
 reformed churches abroad. As to Mr. Howe, he was 
 so well satisfied in the firmness of the grounds he went 
 upon, that at last he did not stick to declare, that ' if 
 he found himself any way obliged further to intermed- 
 dle in this matter, he should reckon the time he had to 
 spend in this world could never be spent to better pur- 
 pose, than in discovering the fearful consequences of 
 the opposite opinion, the vanity of the sitbtei-fuges 
 whereby its assertors think to hide the malignitj' of it, 
 and the inelficacy of the arguments brought for it.'k 
 
 But this was what he had no occasion for, God had 
 cut out other work for him. He went on quietly in a 
 course of practical preaching in his slated ministry, 
 and was very useful in forwarding many in their way 
 to heaven. 
 
 In the time of the popish plot, when things took a 
 quite difierent turn from what they had done from the 
 restoration till then, and the city and whole body of 
 the nation was full of terror and melancholy apprehen- 
 sions, he made it his endeavour among tliose with whom 
 he had to do, to make the awful impressions which 
 people were at that time under, serviceable to the pur- 
 poses of serious religion : and in his conversation with 
 the clergy of the established church, or with persons of 
 quality and distinction, which was not unfrequent, he 
 upon all occasions discovered a very peaceable and 
 healing spirit, often giving it as his sense, that an ac- 
 commodation of matters between the church and the 
 dissenters, would be the most effectual waj' to keep out 
 poper}^ And it has been the opinion of many, that a 
 fitter season for a union could not well occur, than did 
 then present itself. The House of Commons who sat 
 at Westminster in 1680, seem to have been of that 
 mind, and therefore they brought in a bill for uniting 
 his majest5''s protestant subjects, and nothing was 
 more commonh' talked of at that time. And not being 
 able to go through with if, they, before they rose, came 
 to a resolution, ' that the acts of parliament made in the 
 
 a Allien. Oxon. vol. 2. page 1014. 
 
 b Postscript, page 131.
 
 THE LIFE OF MR. JOHN HOWE. 
 
 reigns of aueen Elizabeth and King James, against 
 popish recusants, ought not to be extended against pro- 
 testant dissenters : and that the prosecution of protest- 
 ant dissenters, upon the penal laws, is at this time 
 grievous to the subject, a weakening the protestant 
 interest, an encouragement to popery, and dangerous 
 to the peace of the kingdom.' 
 
 Mr. Howe had about this time an invitation from 
 Bishop Lloyd, to come and dine with him the next day. 
 He was apprehensive it could not be without some 
 particular design, that a bishop whom he had not seen, 
 or at least with whom he had no acquaintance, should 
 send to desire him to come and dine with him. He 
 sent his lordship word, that he was engaged that day 
 for dinner, (as he really was before the receipt of the 
 message sent him,) but would not fail of waiting upon 
 him afterwards. Hereupon the Bishop sent again, to 
 let him know, that since he could not dine with him, 
 he would not give him the trouble to come so far as 
 his house, but would meet him at Dr. Tillotson's, the 
 dean of Canterbury. They met there accordingly, 
 and the Bishop told him that the reason why he de- 
 sired a meeting with him, was to know of him, what 
 he thought would satisfy the nonconformists, that so 
 they might be taken into the church.'= Mr, Howe an- 
 swered, that he could not pretend to say what would 
 satisfy any besides himself; for that all had not an 
 equal latitude in such matters. The Bishop hereupon 
 pressed him to give his judgment, what he thought 
 would satisfy the most; for, says he, I would have the 
 terms so large as to comprehend the most of them. 
 Mr. Howe told him, that he thought it would go a 
 considerable way towards it, if the law was but so 
 framed, as that ministers might be enabled to promote 
 parochial reformation. Why, says the Bishop, for that 
 reason, I am for taking the lay chancellors quite away, 
 as being the great hinderance of reformation. At length,' 
 they agreed upon a meeting the next night, at seven 
 o'clock, at Dr. Stillingfleet's, the dean of St. Paul's. 
 Mr. Howe proposed to bring Mr. Baxter along with 
 him; but the Bishop would by no means allow of it. 
 Then he proposed to bring Dr. Bates, and was an- 
 swered, that no man could be more proper. Accord- 
 ingly Dr. Bates and Mr. Howe went at seven in the 
 evening to Dean Stillingfleet's, as had been appointed 
 the day before. The Dean had provided a very hand- 
 some treat, but they found not the company they ex- 
 pected. They waited till eight, till nine, till near 
 ten o'clock ; but the Bishop neither came, nor sent, nor 
 took any notice of the matter afterwards. And that 
 very night, as they heard the next morning, the bill of 
 exclusion was thrown out of the House of Peers, by a 
 majority of thirty voices, fourteen of which were 
 bishops. And after this, there was no further occasion 
 for any talk about a comprehension. 
 
 For upon this turn of affairs, it is observed by a cele- 
 brated writer on the church side, that ' the clergy struck 
 up with zeal for the duke's succession: as if a popish 
 
 c A copy of the ' Hcadg of a T?H1 for uniting his Majesty Protpstant Subjects ' 
 which was agreed upon at a committee of the House of Commons Nov 18 
 1680, may be met with, Abndffment of Mr. Baxter's Life, vol. i. p. 350 ' ' 
 
 king had been a special blessing from heaven, to be much 
 longed for by the protestant church. They likewise 
 gave themselves such a loose agamst the nonconform- 
 ists, as if nothing was so formidable as that party. So 
 that in all their sermons, popery was quite forgot, and 
 the force of their zeal was turned almost wholly against 
 the dissenters. 'd Amongst the rest, Dean Stillingfleet, 
 from whom it was little expected, on the first day of 
 Easter term, 1680, in a sermon before the lord mayor 
 and aldermen of the city, the judges and Serjeants, 
 from Phil. iii. 16. (which sermon he entitled, ' The Mis- 
 chief of Separation,') took occasion to represent all the 
 nonconformists as schismaticks, and inveigh against 
 them as enemies to peace, and dangerous to the church, 
 &c. This sermon was answered by Dr. Owen, Mr. 
 Baxter, Mr. Alsop, Mr. Barret, and others ; and among 
 the rest Mr. Howe made some remarks upon it, in a 
 pamphlet, entitled, ' A Letter written out of the Country 
 to a Person of quality in the City, who took oiTence at 
 the late Sermon of Dr. Stillingfleet, Dean of St. Paul's, 
 before the Lord Mayor;' which Letter was drawn up 
 with great clearness and strength of reasoning. He 
 therein shows how unreasonably the Doctor endeavours 
 to keep the dissenters, who after the utmost search 
 could not be satisfied to conform, in a state of danma- 
 tion, for scrupMng the ceremonies; at least in a ne- 
 glect of the necessary means of salvation. He shows 
 his arguments, both ad rem, and adi hoviinem too, to be 
 unconcluding ; reflects freely on the Doctor for his too 
 great acrimony, and too little seriousness in his way of 
 management; and yet closes with a very genteel and 
 handsome address to such as were oflfended with the 
 Doctor's sermon, to abate their indignation, and mo- 
 derate their censures, and stir them up to turn their re- 
 flections upon him, into serious prayers for him, for 
 which he shows there weis very just occasion. 
 
 The Doctor himself sticks not to own, that in this 
 Letter he discourses gravely and piously, without bit- 
 terness and rancour, or any sharp reflections, and some- 
 times with a great mixture of kindness towards him, 
 for which, and his prayers for him, he heartily thanks 
 him.e This warm sermon of the Doctor's was gene- 
 rally reckoned very ill-timed, to which it's not unlikel)' 
 but Bishop Burnet may have a reference, when he says 
 of the great man, that ' he went into the humours of the 
 high sort of people, beyond what became him; per- 
 haps beyond his own sense of things.'f 
 
 Nor can I forbear to take notice of another sermon, 
 that was preached this year (1680) at court, by Dean 
 Tillotson, from Josh. xxiv. 15. entitled, ' The Protestant 
 Religion vindicated from the charge of Singularity and 
 Novelty.' In this sermon there is this notion; that no 
 man is obliged to preach against the religion of a 
 country, though a false one, imless he has a power of 
 working miracles. King Charles slept most part of 
 the time while the sermon was delivered ; and a certain 
 nobleman stepped to him as soon as it was over, and 
 said, 'Tis a pity your majesty slept; for we had the 
 
 d Bishop Burnet's History of his own Times, vol. i. p. 501. 
 e Preface to his ' Unreasonableness of Separation,' p. Ixi. Ixii. 
 t History of his owti Times, vol. i. p. 1S9.
 
 THE LIFE OF MR. JOHN HOWE. 
 
 rarest piece of Hobbism that ever you heard in )'our 
 life. Ods fish, he shall print it then, says the king ; 
 and immediately called the lord chamberlain, and gave 
 him his command to the Dean to print his sermon. 
 When it came from the press, the Dean sent it as a pre- 
 sent to Mr. Howe, eis he usually did most of the things 
 he printed. Mr. Howe immediately perused it, and 
 ^vas not a little troubled, to find a notion there, that had 
 so ill a tendency as that forementioned. Whereupon 
 he drew up a long letter, in which he freely expostu- 
 lated with the Dean, for giving such a wound to the 
 Reformation ; signifying to him, that Luther and Calvin, 
 and the rest of our blessed reformers, were (thanks be 
 to God) of another mind. The Christian religion, (said 
 he,) both as to its precepts and promises, is already con- 
 firmed by miracles ; and must it be repealed, every 
 time a wicked governor thinks fit to establish a false 
 religion 1 must no one stand up for the true religion, 
 till he can work a miracle 1 He signified to him, how 
 much he was grieved, that in a sermon against popery, 
 he should plead the popish cause against all the re- 
 formers ; and insisted upon it, that we had incontest- 
 able evidence of the miracles wrought by the apostles, 
 and that we are bound to believe them, and take reli- 
 gion to be established by them, without any further 
 expectations, &c. Mr. Howe carried the letter him- 
 self, and delivered it into the Dean's own hands ; and 
 he taking a general and cursory view of it, signified 
 his willingness to talk that whole matter freely over; 
 but said, they could not be together where they were, 
 without interruption, and therefore moved for a little 
 journey into the coxmtry, that so they might have free- 
 dom of discourse. They accordingly agreed to go and 
 dine that day with the Lady Falconbridge at Sutton- 
 Court, and Mr. Howe re d over the letter to the Dean, 
 and enlarged upon the contents of it, as they were 
 travelling along together in his chariot. The good 
 man at length fell to weeping freely, and said that this 
 was the most unhappy thing that had of a long time 
 befallen him. I see (says he) what I have offered is 
 not to be maintained. But he told him, that it was not 
 his turn to preach as on that day. He that should have 
 been the preacher being sick, the Dean said, he was 
 sent to by the lord chamberlain to supply his place : 
 and he added, that he had but little notice, and so con- 
 sidered the general fears of popery, and this text oflTer- 
 ed itself, and he thought the notion resulted from it ; 
 and, says he, immediately after preaching, I received a 
 command from the king, to print the sermon, and then 
 it was not in my power to alter it. I am the better 
 satisfied that there is no mistake as to the substance of 
 this passage, because he from whom I had it, did not 
 trust to his bare memory, but committed it to writing, 
 presently after he received the account from Mr. Howe 
 himself. And though such a story as this may make 
 us sensible that the very best of men have their slips, 
 yet am I far from thinking it a dishonour to this great 
 man, to be open to conviction. 
 
 In 1681 the dissenters were prosecuted with great 
 
 g Hiatory of his own Times, vol. i. page 501. 
 
 violence both in city and country, and the severe laws 
 that had been made against them some years before, as 
 well as some that were made against the papists in the 
 reign of Q.ueen Elizabeth, were rigorously put in exe- 
 cution against them, without any favour. Several of 
 the bishops concurred, and by influence from court, 
 were prevailed with to do their endeavour to push for- 
 ward the civil magistrate, and to sharpen the rigour of 
 the ecclesiastical courts, and that in defiance of the 
 votes of the House of Commons in their favour. And 
 as Bishop Burnet observes, ' such of the clergy as would 
 not engage in the common fury, were cried out upon 
 as the betrayers of the church, and as secret favourers of 
 the dissenters.'? The author of 'the Complete History 
 of England, 'h says, that ' this year there was a vigorous 
 prosecution of the protestant dissenters, which was ge- 
 nerally thought a piece of court-artifice, to play the 
 church of England against the dissenters, and enrage 
 the dissenters against the church of England, that they 
 might not unite and see their common danger, but 
 rather by destroying one another, might make room for 
 a third party, that lay behind the curtain, and watched 
 an opportunity of the duke's succession.' And at this 
 juncture, Mr. Howe published a discourse of ' Thought- 
 fulness for the Morrow, with an Appendix, concerning 
 the immoderate Desire of foreknowing Things to come,' 
 in 8vo. It is dedicated to the Lady Anne Wharton, of 
 Upper Winchingdon in the county of Bucks, who had 
 expressed a desire of seeing somewhat written on that 
 subject. To which is added, ' A Discourse of Charity, 
 in reference to other Men's Sins, from 1 Cor. xiii. 6.' 
 He this year also published ' A Funeral Sermon on the 
 Decease of Mrs. Margaret Baxter, who died June 28lh, 
 from 2 Cor. v. 8.' 
 
 In 1682 things were much in the same state as the 
 year before. This year also Mr. Howe published se- 
 veral little things ; as, ' A Discourse on the right Use of 
 that Argument in Prayer, from the Name of God, on 
 behalf of a People that profess it, from Jer. xiv. 21.' 8vo. 
 ' A Discourse on Self-Dedication, at the Anniversary 
 Thanksgiving of the Earl of Kildare, for a great Deli- 
 verance,' in 12mo, and 'A Funeral Sermon for Mr, 
 Richard Fairclough, \vho deceased July 4th, from Matt. 
 XXV. 21.' And he now drew up those Armotations on the 
 three Epistles of St. John, which are to be met with in the 
 second volume, or continuation, of Mr. Pool. 
 
 In 1683 there was a most cruel order made by the 
 justices of peace at their quarter-sessions at Exon, 
 against all nonconforming ntinisters, allowing a reward 
 of forty shillings to any person that apprehended any 
 oire of them, and declaring their resolution to put in 
 execution against them the severest laws, and par- 
 ticularly that of the 35th of Elizabeth, the penalties 
 whereof are imprisonment, abjuration of the realm, or 
 death. And Bishop Lamplugh (who was afterwards 
 archbishop of York) required the order to be read by 
 all the clergy on the next Sunday after it should be 
 tendered to them, on purpose (as was said) ' that the 
 care of the justices of Devon, for the preservation of 
 
 h Vol. iii. page 403.
 
 THE LIFE OF MR. JOHN HOWE. 
 
 the public peace, might be fuller known, and have a bet- 
 ter effect.' 
 
 The same year there was published in the ' Continua- 
 tion of the Morning Exercise,' an excellent sermon of 
 Mr. Howe's, from Col. ii. 2. upon this question, ' What 
 may most hopefully be attempted, to allay animosities 
 among protestants, that our divisions may not be our 
 
 ruin V 
 
 'In order to this, he earnestly recommends to all 
 the professors of religion, the maintaining of a sincere 
 love to one another, and the improving of their faith to 
 greater measures of clearness, certainty, and eflScacy, 
 in reference to the substantials of Christianity. A 
 generous love, not to Christians of this or that party or 
 denomination only, but to all in whom the true essen- 
 tials of Christianity are found, would (he says) greatly 
 contribute to the vigour of the Christian life. It would 
 inspire Christians generally with a sacred courage and 
 fortitude, when they should know and even feel them- 
 selves knit together in love. It would on the contrary 
 extinguish or abate the unhallowed fire of our anger 
 and wrath towards one another. It would oblige us 
 to all acts of mutual kindness and friendship. Pre- 
 judices would cease, and jealousies concerning each 
 other, and a mutual confidence would be produced. It 
 would make us earnestly covet an entire union in all 
 the things wherein we differ, and contribute greatly to 
 it. It would make us much more apt to yield to one 
 another, and abate all that ever we can, in order to as 
 full an accommodation as is any way possible ; that if 
 we cannot agree upon either extreme, we might at last 
 meet in the middle. It would make us abstain from 
 mutual censures of one another as insincere for our re- 
 maining differences ; and convince us that such cen- 
 sures are very unreasonable, because all have not the 
 same understanding, nor the same gust and relish of 
 things. It would oblige us, after competent endea- 
 vours of mutual satisfaction, about the matters wherein 
 we differ, to forbear further urging of one another con- 
 cerning them : and it would make us forbear reviling 
 and exposing one another, and the industrious seeking 
 one another's ruin. And then if, at the same time, we 
 did but endeavour to have our souls possessed with a 
 more clear, efficacious, practical faith of the Gospel, 
 and our hearts so overcome, as practically and vitally 
 to receive it, we should apprehend the things to be 
 truly great wherein we are to unite, and should, in 
 comparison, apprehend all things else to be little ; and 
 so should be more strongly inclined to hold together 
 by the things wherein we agree, than to contend with 
 one another about the things wherein we differ. Thus 
 our religion would revive, and become a vital powerful 
 thing ; and consequently more grateful to God, and 
 awful to men. And if we in our several particular sta- 
 tions are but herein careful, if we but do our own part, 
 we may be able to say it was not our fault, but Chris- 
 tians had been combined, and entirely one with each 
 other ; but they had been more thoroughly Christian, 
 and more entirely united with God in Christ ; and that 
 Christianity had been a more lively, powerful, awful, 
 
 amiable thing. If the Christian commtmity moulder, 
 decay, be enfeebled, broken, dispirited, and ruined 
 in great part, this ruin shall not rest vmder our 
 hands.' 
 
 On July 20th this year, that noble patriot, William 
 Lord Russel, was beheaded in Lincolns-Inn-Fields, to 
 the no small terror and consternation of the true lovers 
 of their country, and friends of the protestant religion. 
 This was a severe stroke upon the Bedford family, and 
 an unspeakable loss to the excellent lady, who was left 
 a mournful widow, and continued so to the year 1723, 
 when she went to her grave full of years. Mr. Howe 
 upon this melancholy occasion wrote a consolatory letter 
 to her, which very well deserves to be preserved, and 
 transmitted to posterity ; an authentic copy of which 
 having been kept safe in his family, here follows. 
 
 ' Madam, 
 
 ' It can avail you nothing, to let your honour know 
 from what hand this paper comes ; and my own design 
 in it is abundantly answered, if what it contains proves 
 useful to you. Your affliction hath been great, unspeaJc- 
 ably beyond what it is in my power or design to repre- 
 sent ; and your supports (in the paroxysm of your afflic- 
 tion) have been very extraordinary ; and such as wherein 
 all that have observed or heard, could not but acknow- 
 ledge a divine hand. 
 
 ' But your affliction was not limited and enclosed 
 within the limits of one black day, nor is like those 
 more common ones, the sense whereof abates and wears 
 off by time ; but is continued, and probably more felt, 
 as time runs on : which therefore makes you need con- 
 tinued help from Heaven every da5^ 
 
 'Yet there is here a great difference between what 
 expectations we may have of divine assistance, in the 
 beginning or first violence of some great affliction, and 
 in the contintied course of it afterwards. At first we 
 are apt to be astonished, a consternation seizes our 
 thinking faculty, especially as to that exercise of it, 
 whereby it should minister to our relief In this case 
 the merciful God doth more extraordinarily assist such 
 as sincerely trust and resign themselves to him ; unto 
 these, as his more peculiar favourites, his sustaining 
 influences are more immediate, and more efficacious, 
 so as even (in the present exigency) to prevent and 
 supersede any endeavour of theirs, whereof they are, 
 then, less capable. And of the largeness and bounty 
 of his goodness, in such a case, few have had greater 
 experience than your ladyship ; which was eminently 
 seen, in that magnanimity, that composure and present- 
 ness of mind, much admired by your friends, and no 
 doubt by the special favour of Heaven afforded you in 
 the needful season : so that while that amazing ca- 
 lamity was approaching, and stood in nearer view, 
 nothing that was fit or wise or great was omitted, 
 nothing indecent done. Which is not now said, God 
 knows, to flatter your ladyship, (whereof the progress 
 will further vindicate me,) for I ascribe it to God, as I 
 trust your ladyship, with unfeigned gratitude, will also 
 do. And I mention it, as that whereby you are under
 
 THE LIFE OF MR. JOHN HOWE. 
 
 obligation to endeavour, your continued temper and 
 deportment may be agreeable to such beginnings. 
 
 ' For now (which is the other thing, whereof a distinct 
 observation ought to be had) in the continuance and 
 settled state of the affliction, when the fury of the first 
 assault is over, and we have had leisure to recollect 
 ourselves, and recover our dissipated spirits, though we 
 are then more sensible of pain and smart, yet also the 
 power of using our own thoughts is restored. And 
 being so, although we are too apt to use them to our 
 greater hurt and prejudice, we are really put again 
 into a capacity of using them to our advantage, which 
 oui" good God doth in much wisdom and righteousness 
 require we should do. Whereupon we are to expect 
 his continual assistance for our support under continued 
 affliction, in the way of concurrence and co-operation 
 with our due use of our own thoughts, aptly chosen, 
 as much as in us is, and designed by ourselves, for our 
 own comfort and support. 
 
 'Now as for thoughts suitable to your honour's case, 
 I have reason to be conscious that what I shall write 
 can make but little accession, I will not say to a closet, 
 but to a mind so well furnished, as you are owner of: 
 yet I know it is remote from you to slight a well-in- 
 tended offer and essay, that really proceeds only from 
 a verj' compassionate sense of your sorrows, and un- 
 feigned desire to contribute something (if the Father 
 of mercies, and the God of all comforts and consola- 
 tions, will please to favour the endeavour) to your 
 relief. 
 
 'And the thoughts which I shall most humbly offer, 
 will have that first and more immediate design, but to 
 persuade your making use of )'^our own ; that is, that 
 you would please to turn and apply them to subjects 
 more apt to serve this purpose, the moderating your 
 own grief, and the attaining an habitual well-tempered 
 cheerfulness, for your remaining time in this world. 
 For I consider how incident it is to the afiiicted, to 
 indulge to themselves an unlimited liberty in their 
 sorrows, to give themselves up to them, to make them 
 meat and drink, to justify them in all their excesses, as 
 that (otherwise) good and holy man of God did his 
 anger, and say, they do well to be sorrowful even to 
 the death, and (as another) to refuse to be comforted. 
 And I also consider that our own thoughts must and 
 will always be the immediate ministers either of our 
 trouble or comfort, though as to the latter, God only is 
 the supreme Author; and we altogether insufficient to 
 think any thing that good is, as of ourselves. It is 
 God that comforts those that are cast down, but by our 
 own thoughts employed to that purpose, not without 
 them. 
 
 ' I do not doubt, madam, but if you once fixedly ap- 
 prehend that there is sin in an over-abounding sorrow, 
 you will soon endeavour its restraint: for I cannot 
 think you would more earnestly set 5'^ourself to avoid 
 any thing, than what you apprehend will offend God, 
 especially the doing that in a continued course. Is 
 there any time when joy in God is a duty? 'tis very 
 plain the .sorrow that excludes it is a sin. How the 
 
 former may appear to be a duty, and how far, let it be 
 considered. 
 
 ' It is not to be doubled but that he that made us hath 
 a right to rule us; he that gave us being, to give os 
 law: nor again, that the divine government reaches 
 our minds, and that they are the prime and first seat of 
 his empire. His kingdom is within us. We are not 
 then to exercise our thoughts, desires, love, joy, or 
 sorrow, according to our own will, but his; not as we 
 please, or find ourselves inclined, but suitably to his 
 precepts and purposes, his rules and ends. 
 
 ' 'Tis evident that withal the earthly state is mixed, 
 intermediate between the perfect felicity of heaven, 
 and the total misery of hell: and further, that the 
 temper of our spirits ought to have in it a mixture of 
 joy and sorrow, proportionable to our state, or what 
 there is in it of the just occasions or causes of both. 
 
 ' Where Christianity obtains, and the Gospel of our 
 Saviour is preached, there is much greater cause of joy 
 than elsewhere. The visible aspect of it imports a 
 design to form men's minds to gladness, inasmuch as, 
 wheresoever it comes, it proclaims peace to the world, 
 and represents the offended Majesty of heaven willing 
 to be reconciled to his offending creatures on earth. 
 So the angel prefaced the Gospel, when our Lord was 
 born into the world, Luke ii. I tell 3'ou glad tidings 
 of great joy, which shall be to all people. And so the 
 multitude of accompanying angels sum it up ; Glory 
 be to God in Jhe highest, peace on earth, good will 
 towards men. 
 
 ' To them that truly receive the Gospel, and wuh 
 whom it hath its effect, the catise of rejoicing riseth 
 much higher. For if the offer and hope of recon- 
 ciliation be a just ground of joy, how much more 
 actual agreement with God, upon the terms of the 
 Gospel, and reconciliation itself! We rejoice in God 
 through Jesus Christ, by whom we have received the 
 atonement, Rom. v. 11. To such there are express 
 precepts given to rejoice in the Lord alwa)"s, Phil. iv. 
 4. And lest that should be thought to have been 
 spoken hastily, and that it might have its full weight, 
 that great apostle immediately adds. And again I say 
 to you, rejoice. And elsewhere. Rejoice evermore, I 
 Thess. V. 16. 
 
 ' Hence therefore the genuine right temper and frame 
 of a truly Christian mind and spirit may be evidently con- 
 cluded to be this, (for such precepts do not signify no- 
 thing, nor can they be understood to signify less,) viz. 
 an habitual joyfulncss, prevailing over all the tempo- 
 rary occasions of sorrow, that occur to them. For none 
 can be thought of that can preponderate, or be equal 
 to the jtist and great causes of their ]0}^ This is the 
 true frame, model, and constitution of the kingdom of 
 God, which ought to have place in us; herein it con- 
 sists, viz. in righteousness and peace, and joy in the 
 Holy Ghost, Rom. xiv. 17. 
 
 ' Nor is this a theory only, or the idea and notion of 
 an excellent temper of spirit, which we may contem- 
 plate indeed, but can never attain to. For we find it 
 I also to have been the attainment, and usual temper of
 
 THE LIFE OF MR. JOHN HOWE. 
 
 Christians heretofore, that being justified by faith, and 
 having peace with God, they have rejoiced in hope of 
 the glory of God, unto that degree, as even to glory in 
 their tribulations also, Rom. v. 1—3. And that in the 
 confidence they should be kept by the power of God, 
 through faith unto salvation, they have hereupon greatly 
 rejoiced, though with some mixture of heaviness (where- 
 of there was need) from their manifold trials. But that 
 their joy did surmount and prevail over their heaviness 
 is manifest ; for this is spoken of with much diminution, 
 whereas they are said to rejoice greatly, and with a joy 
 anspeakable and full of glory, 1 Pet. i. 5, G, 8. 
 
 ' Yea, and such care hath the great God taken for the 
 preserving of this temper of spirit among his people 
 more anciently, that even their sorrow for sin itself 
 (the most justifiable of all other) hath had restraints 
 put upon it, lest it should too long exclude or intermit 
 the exercise of this joy. For when a great assembly of 
 them were universally in tears, upon hearing the law 
 read, and the sense given, they were forbidden to weep 
 or mourn, or be sorry, because the joy of the Lord was 
 their strength, Neh. viii. 8—10. That most just sorrow 
 had been unjust, had it been continued, so as to ex- 
 clude the seasonable turn and alternation of this joy. 
 For even such sorrow itself is not required, or neces- 
 sary for itself 'Tis remote from the goodness and 
 benignity of God's ever-blessed nature, to take pleasure 
 in the sorrows of his people, as they are such, or that 
 they should sorrow for sorrow's sake; but only as a 
 means and preparative to their following joy. And 
 nothing can be more unreasonable, than that the means 
 should exclude the end, or be used against the purpose 
 tbey should serve. 
 
 ' It is then upon the whole most manifest, that no 
 temporary afliiction whatsoever, upon one who stands 
 ifl special relation to God, as a reconciled (and which 
 is consequent, an adopted) person, though attended 
 with the most aggravating circumstances, can justify 
 such a sorrow, (so deep or so continued,) as shall pre- 
 vail against and shut out a religious holy joy, or hinder 
 it from being the prevailing principle in such a one. 
 What can make that sorrow allowable or innocent, 
 (what event of Providence, that can, whatever it is, be 
 no other than an accident to our Christian state,) that 
 shall resist the most natural design and end of Chris- 
 tianity itself? that shall deprave and debase the truly 
 Christian temper, and disobey and violate most express 
 Christian precepts 1 subvert the constitution of Christ's 
 kingdom among men 1 and turn this earth (the place 
 of God's treaty with the inhabitants of it, in order to their 
 reconciliation to himself, and to the reconciled the portal 
 and gate of heaven, yea, and where the state of the very 
 worst and most miserable has some mixture of good in 
 it, that makes the evil of it less than that of hell) into a 
 mere hell to themselves, of sorrow without mixture, and 
 ■wherein shall be nothing but weeping and wailing. 
 
 '■ The cause of your sorrow, madam, is exceeding great. 
 Tne causes of your joy are inexpressibly greater. You 
 have infinitely more left than you have lost. Doth it 
 r.eed to be disputed whether God be better and greater 
 
 than man"? or more to be valued, loved, and delighted 
 in 1 and whether an eternalrelation be more considerable 
 than a temporary one 1 Was it not your constant sense 
 in your best outward state. Whom have I in heaven but 
 thee, O God, and whom can I desire on earth, in compa- 
 rison of thee ! Psal. Ixxiii. 25. Herein the state of your 
 ladyship's case is still the same (if you cannot rather with 
 greater clearness and with less hesitation pronounce 
 those latter words.) The principal causes of your joy 
 are immutable, such as no supervening thing can alter. 
 You have lost a most pleasant, delectable, earthly rela- 
 tive. Doth the blessed God hereby cease to be the 
 best and most excellent good 7 Is his nature changed 1 
 his everlasting covenant reversed and annulled 1 which 
 is ordered in all things and sure, and is to be all your 
 salvation and all your desire, whether he make your 
 house on earth to grow or not to grow, 2 Sam. xxiii. 4. 
 That sorrow which exceeds the proportion of its cause, 
 compared with the remaining true and real causes of 
 rejoicing, is in that excess causeless; i. e. that excess 
 of it wants a cause, such as can justify or aflford de- 
 fence unto it. 
 
 ' We are required, in reference to our nearest relations 
 in this world, (when we lose them,) to weep as if we 
 wept not, as well as (u^hen we enjoy them) to rejoice 
 as if we rejoiced not, because our time here is short, 
 and the fashion of this world passeth away, 1 Cor. vii. 
 29 — 31. We are finite beings, and so are they. Our 
 passions in reference to them must not be infinite, and 
 without limit, or be limited only by the limited capa- 
 city of our nature, so as to work to the utmost extent 
 of that, as the fire burns, and the winds blow, as much 
 as they can: but they are to be limited by the power, 
 design, and endeavour of our rea.son and grace (not 
 only by the mere impotency of our nature) in reference 
 to all created objects. Whereas in reference to the in- 
 finite uncreated Good, towards which there is no dan- 
 ger or possibility of exceeding in our affection, we are 
 never to design to ourselves any limits at all; for that 
 would suppose we had loved God enough, or as much 
 as he deserved, which were not only to limit ourselves, 
 but him too ; and were a constructive denial of his in- 
 finite immense goodness, and consequently of his very 
 Godhead. Of so great concernment it is to us, that in 
 the liberty we give our affections, we observe the just 
 difference which ought to be in their exercise, towards 
 God, and towards creatures. 
 
 ' It is also to be considered, that the great God is 
 pleased so to condescend, as himself to bear the name 
 and sustain the capacity of our nearest earthly relations ; 
 which implies that what they were to us, in this or that 
 kiiid, he will be in a transcendent and far more noble 
 kind. I doubt not but your ladyship hath good right 
 to apply to yourself those words of the prophet, Isa. 
 Ivi. 5. Thy Maker is thy husband, &c. Whereupon, 
 as he infinitely transcends all that is delectable in the 
 most excellent earthly relation, it ought to be endea- 
 voured, that the affection placed on him should pro- 
 portionably excel. I cannot think any person in the 
 world would be a more severe or impartial judge of a
 
 THE LIFE OF MR. JOHN HOWE. 
 
 criminal affection than your ladyship : or that it would 
 look worse unto any eye, if any one should so deeply 
 lake to heart the death of an unrelated person, as never 
 to take pleasure more, in the life, presence, and conver- 
 sation of one most nearly related. And you do well 
 know that such an height (or that supremacy) of affec- 
 tion, as is due to the ever-blessed God, cannot without 
 great injury be placed any where else. As we are to 
 have none other God before him ; so him alone we are to 
 love with all our heart and soul, and might and mind. 
 
 ' And it ought further to be remembered, that whatso- 
 ever interest we have or had in any the nearest relative 
 on earth, his interest who made both is far superior. 
 He made us and all things primarily for himself, to serve 
 great and important ends of his own ; so that our satis- 
 faction in any creature, is but secondary and collateral to 
 the principal design of its creation. 
 
 ' Which consideration would prevent a practical error 
 and mistake that is too usual with pious persons, 
 afflicted M-ith the loss of any near relation, that they 
 think the chief intention of such a providence is their 
 punishment. And hereupon they are apt to justify the 
 utmost excesses of their sorrow, upon such an occasion, 
 accounting they can never be sensible enough of the 
 divine displeasure appearing in it; and make it their 
 whole business (or employ their time and thoughts be- 
 yond a due proportion) to find out and fasten upon some 
 particular sin of theirs, which they may judge God was 
 offended with them for, and designed now to punish 
 upon them. It is indeed the part of filial ingenuity, 
 deeply to apprehend the displeasure af our father ; and 
 an argument of great sincerity, to be very inquisitive 
 after any sin for which we may suppo.se him displeased 
 with us, and apt to charge ourselves severely with it, 
 though perhaps upon utmost inquiry, there is nothing 
 particularly to be reflected on, other than common in- 
 firmity incident to the best, (and it is well when at 
 length we can make that judgment, because there 
 really is no more, not for that we did not inquire,) and 
 perhaps also God intended no more in such a dispensa- 
 tion, (as to what concerned us in it,) than only, in the 
 general, to take off our minds and hearts more from 
 this world, and draw them more entirely to himself. 
 For if we were never so innocent, must therefore such 
 a relative of ours have been immortal 1 But the error 
 in practice as to this case, lies here : not that our 
 thoughts are muck exercised this way, but too much. 
 We ought to consider in every case, principally, that 
 which is principal. God did not create this or that ex- 
 cellent person, and place him for a while in the world, 
 principally lo please us ; nor therefore doth he take 
 him away, principally to displease or punish us ; but 
 for much nobler and greater ends which he hath pro- 
 posed to himself concerning him. Nor are we to reckon 
 ourselves so little interested in the great and sovereign 
 Lord of all, whom we have taken to be our God, and to 
 whom we have absolutely resigned and devoted our- 
 selves, as not to be obliged to consider and satisfy our- 
 selves, in his pleasure, purposes, and ends, more than our 
 own, apart from his. 
 
 ' Such as he hath pardoned, accepted and prepared for 
 himself, are to serve and glorify him in a higher and 
 more excellent capacity, than they ever could in this 
 wretched world of ours, and wherein they have them- 
 selves the highest satisfaction. When the blessed God 
 is pleased in having attained and accomplished the end 
 and intendments of his own boundless love, (too great 
 to be satisfied with the conferring of only temporary 
 favours in this imperfect state,) and they are pleased in 
 partaking the full effects of that love ; who are we, that 
 we should be displeased 1 or that we should oppose our 
 satisfaction, to that of the glorious God, and his glori- 
 fied creature 1 Therefore, madam, whereas you cannot 
 avoid to think much on this subject, and to have the 
 removal of that incomparable person for a great theme 
 of your thoughts, I do only propose most humbly to 
 your honour, that you would not confine them to the 
 sadder and darker part of that theme. It hath also a 
 bright side ; and it equally belongs to it, to consider 
 whither he is gone, and to whom, as whence, and from 
 whom. Let, I beseech you, your mind be more exer- 
 cised in contemplating the glories of that state your 
 blessed consort is translated unto, which will mingle 
 pleasure and sweetness with the bitterness of your 
 afflicting loss, by giving you a daily intellectual parti- 
 cipation (through the exercise of faith and hope) in his 
 enjoyments. He cannot descend to share with you in 
 your sorrows ; you may thus every day ascend and 
 partake with him in his joys. He is a pleasant sub- 
 ject to consider. A prepared spirit made meet for an 
 inheritance with them that are sanctified, and with the 
 saints in light, now entered into a state so con-natural, 
 and wherein it finds every thing most agreeable to itself. 
 How highly grateful is it to be imited with the true cen- 
 tre, and come home to the Father of spirits ! To consider 
 how pleasant a welcome, how joyful an entertainment he 
 hath met with above ! how delighted an a.'^sociate he is 
 with the general assembly, the innumerable company of 
 angels, and the spirits of just men made perfect ! how 
 joyful an homage he continuall}' pays to the throne of the 
 celestial King ! 
 
 ' Will your ladyship think that a hard saying of our 
 departing Lord to his mournful disciples. If ye loved 
 me, ye would rejoice, that I said I go to the Father ; 
 for my Father is greater than I "? As if he had said, he 
 sits enthroned in higher glory than j'ou can frame any 
 conception of, by beholding me in so mean a condition 
 on earth. We are as remote, and as much short in our 
 thoughts as to the conceiving the glorj' of the Supreme 
 Kins:, as a peasant, who never saw any thing better 
 than his own cottage, from conceiving the splendour 
 of the most glorious prince's court. But if that faith, 
 which is the substance of things hoped for, and ihe 
 evidence of things not seen, be much accustomed to its 
 proper work and business, the dail}' delightful visiting 
 and viewing the glorious invisible regions ; if it be 
 often conversant in those vast and spacious tracts of 
 pure and brightest light, and amongst the holy inhabit- 
 ants that replenish them ; if it frequently employ itself 
 in contemplating their cornel}' order, perfect harmony,
 
 THE LIFE OF MR. JOHN HOWE 
 
 sublime wisdom, unspotted purit.y, most fervent mutual 
 love, delicious conversation with one another, and per- 
 petual pleasant consent in their adoration and observ- 
 ance of their eternal King ! who is there to whom it 
 would not be a solr>;e to think, I have such and such 
 friends and relatives (some perhaps as dear as my own 
 life) perfeclly well pleased, and happy among them 1 
 How can your love, madam, (so generous a love towards 
 so deserving an object !) how can it but more fervently 
 sparkle in joy, for his sake, than dissolve in tears for 
 your own 1 
 
 ' Nor should such thoughts excite over-hasty impatient 
 desires of following presently into heaven, but to the 
 endeavours of serving God more cheerfully on earth, 
 for our appointed time : which I earnestly desire your 
 ladyship would apply yourself to, as you would not 
 displease God, who it your only hope, nor be cruel to 
 yourself, nor dishonour the religion of Christians, as if 
 ihey had no other consolations than this earth can give, 
 and earthly power take from them. Your ladyship (if 
 any one) would be loth to do any thing unworthy your 
 family and parentage. Your highest alliance is to that 
 Father and family above, whose dignity and honour are 
 I doubt not of highest account with you. 
 
 ' I multiply words, being loth to lose my designs. 
 And shall only add that consideration, which cannot 
 but be valuable with you, upon his first proposal, who 
 had all the advantages imaginable to give it its full 
 weight ; I mean, that of those dear pledges left behind : 
 my own heart even bleeds to think of the case of those 
 sweet babes, should they be bereaved of their other 
 parent too. And even your continued visible dejection 
 would be their unspeakable disadvantage. You will 
 alwa3's naturally create in them a reverence of 3'^ou ; 
 and I cannot but apprehend how the constant mean 
 aspect and deportment of such a parent will insensibly 
 influence the temper of dutiful children ; and (if that 
 be sad and despondent) depress their spirits, blunt and 
 take off the edge and quickness, upon which their fu- 
 ture usefulness and comfort will much depend. Were 
 it possible their (now glorious) father should visit and 
 inspect you, would you not be troubled to behold a 
 frown in that bright serene face 1 You are to please a 
 more penetrating eye, which you will best do, by put- 
 tmg on a temper and deportment suitable to your 
 weighty charge and duty, and to the great purposes 
 for which God continues you in the world, by giving 
 over unnecessary solitude and retirement, which (though 
 it pleases) doth really prejudice you, and is more than 
 you can bear. Nor can any rules of decency require 
 more. Nothing that is necessary and truly Christian, 
 ought to be reckoned unbecoming. David's example, 
 2 Sam. xii. 20. is of too great authority to be counted 
 a pattern of indecency. The God of heaven lift up the 
 light of his countenance upon you, and thereby put 
 gladness into your heart ; and give you to apprehend 
 him saying to you. Arise and walk in the light of the 
 Lord. 
 
 i History of his ovm Times, vol. i. page 388. 
 
 k See the Life of Mr. Kettlewell, in 8vo. page 58. 
 
 ' That I have used so much freedom in this paper, I 
 make no apology for ; but do therefore hide myself m 
 the dark, not judging it consistent with that plainness 
 which I thought the case might require, to give any 
 other account of myself, than that I am one deeply 
 sensible of your and your noble relatives' great afflic- 
 tion, and who scarce ever bow the knee before the 
 mercy-seat without remembering it : and who shall 
 ever be, 
 
 Madam, 
 Your ladyship's 
 
 Most sincere honourer, and 
 
 Most humble devoted servant,' 
 
 Though Mr. Howe did not put his name to this his 
 consolatory epistle, yet the style, and several particu- 
 larities in it, soon discovered who was the author. The 
 lady sent him a letter of thanks, and told him that he 
 must not expect to remain concealed. She promised to 
 endeavour to follow the advice he had given her, and 
 often wrote to him afterwards, some of which letters I 
 have seen and read, and they show that his freedom was 
 taken kindly, and his pains well bestowed. 
 
 'Tis observed by Bishop Burnet,i concerning this 
 excellent person the Lord Russell, who died a martyr 
 for the liberties of his country, that he was a man of 
 great candour, and of a general reputation, universally 
 beloved and trusted, of a generous and obliging temper. 
 He had given such proofs of an undaunted courage, 
 and of an unshaken firmness, that the Bishop says, he 
 never knew any man have so entire a credit in the 
 nation as he had. He adds, that he had from his first 
 education an inclination to favour the nonconformists, 
 and wished the laws could have been made eeisier to 
 them. On the other hand, the high party represented 
 him as one that had no very favourable opinion of the 
 English clergy in general, as thinking them for the 
 most part a set of men too much bigoted to slavish 
 principles, and not zealous enough for the protestant 
 religion, or the common interest of a free nation. k 'Tis 
 hoped, that the remaining branches of that noble 
 family will adhere to his principles, and imitate his 
 glorious example. 
 
 I go on to the year 1G84, in which Mr. Howe pub- 
 lished a treatise, on Luke xix. 41, 42. entitled, ' The Re- 
 deemer's Tears wept over Lost Souls ; with an Appendix,, 
 where somewhat is occasionally discoursed, concerning, 
 the Blasphemy against the Holy Ghost, and how God 
 is said to will the salvation of them that perish.' 
 
 Bishop Burnet owns, that the prosecution of the dis- 
 senters was carried very high all this year. They were 
 not only proceeded against for going to conventicles, 
 as he is pleased to call their private meetings for the 
 worship of God, but for not going to church, and for 
 not receiving the sacrament. The laws made against 
 papists, with relation to those particulars, being now ap- 
 plied to them. Many were excommunicated and ruined 
 by these prosecutions.) 
 
 I Bishop Bumet's History of his own Times, vol. i. page 591.
 
 THE LIFE OP MR. JOHN HOWE. 
 
 XitU 
 
 Among other warm things which at that time came 
 from the press, there was a letter published by Bishop 
 Barlow of Lincoln, for the putting in execution the 
 laws against the dissenters: and this was written in 
 concurrence with that whi:h was drawn up by the 
 justices of the peace of the county of Bedford, bear- 
 ing date Jan. 14th, 1684. In answer to this warm 
 and angry printed letter of the Bishop of Lincoln, 
 Mr. Howe sent his lordship a free letter by the 
 post, a copy whereof has been preserved, and here 
 foJlows. 
 
 ' Right Reverend, 
 
 'As I must confess myself surprised by your late 
 published directions to your clergy of the coimty of 
 Bedford, so nor will I dissemble, that I did read them 
 with some trouble of mind, which I sincerely profess 
 was more upon your lordship's accormt than my own, 
 (who for myself am little concerned,) or any other par- 
 ticular person's whatsoever. It was such as it had not 
 been veiy difficult for me to have concealed in my 
 own breast, or only to have expressed it to God 
 in my prayers for you, (which through his grace I 
 have not altogether omitted to do,) if I had not 
 apprehended it not utterly impossible, (as I trust I 
 miight, without arrogating unduly to myself,) that 
 some or other of those thoughts, which I have revolv- 
 ed in my own mind upon this occasion, being only 
 hinted to your lordship, might appear to your very 
 sagacious judgment (for which I have had long, 
 and have still, a continuing veneration) some way 
 capable of being cultivated by your o-mi mature and 
 second thoughts, so as not to be wholly unuseful to 
 your lordship. 
 
 'My own judgment, such as it is, inclines me not to 
 oppose any thing, either, 1. To the lawfulness of the 
 things themselves which you so much desire should 
 obtain in the practice of the people under your lord- 
 ship's pastoral inspection : or, 2. To the desirable come- 
 liness of an uniformity in the public and solemn wor- 
 ship of God: or, 3. To the fitness of making laws for 
 the effecting of such uniformity: or, 4. To the execu- 
 tion of such laws, upon some such person as may pos- 
 sibly be found among so numerous a people as are under 
 your lordship's care. 
 
 'But the things which I humbly conceive are to be 
 deliberated on, are, 1. Whether all the laws that are in 
 being about matters of that nature, ought now to be 
 executed upon all the persons which any way transgress 
 them, without distinction of either "? 2. Whether it was 
 so well, that your lordship should advise and press that 
 indistinct execution, which the order (to which the 
 subjoined directions of your lordship do succenturiate) 
 seems to intend; supposing that designed execution 
 were fit in itself 
 
 'I shall not need to speak severally to these heads: 
 your lordship will sufficiently distinguish what is ap- 
 plicable the one way or the other. But I humbly offer 
 to your lordship's further consideration, whether it be 
 not a supposable thing, that some persons found in the 
 
 faith, strictly orthodox in all the articles of it taught 
 by our Lord Jesus or his apostles, resolvedly loyal, and 
 subject to the authority of their governors m church and 
 state, of pious, sober, peaceable, just, charitable dispo- 
 sitions and deportments, may yet (while they agree 
 with your lordship in that evident principle, both by 
 the law of nature and Scripture, that their prince and 
 inferior rulers ought to be actively obeyed in all lawful 
 things) have a formed fixed judgment (for what were to 
 be done in the case of a mere doubt, that hath not arrived 
 to a settled preponderation this way or that, is not hard 
 to determine) of the unlawfulness of some or other of 
 the rites and modes of worship enjoined to be observed 
 in this church 1 For my o^mi part, though perhaps I 
 should not be found to differ much from your lordship 
 in most of the things here referred unto, I do yet think 
 that few metaph3'sical questions are disputed with nicer 
 subtlety, than the matter of the ceremonies has been by 
 Archbishop Whitgift, Cartwright, Hooker, Parker, Dr. 
 Burgess, Dr. Ames, Gillespy, Jeanes, Calderwood, Dr. 
 Owen, Baxter, &c. Now, is it impossible that a sincere 
 and sober Christian may, with an honest heart, have so 
 weak intellectuals, as not to be able to understand all 
 the punctilios upon which a right judgment of such a 
 matter may depend 1 And is it not possible there may be 
 such a thing, as a mental as well as a merely sensitive 
 antipathy, not vincible by ordinary methods'? Is there 
 no difference to be put between things essential to our 
 religion, and things confessed indifferent on the one 
 hand, and on the other judged imlawful; on both 
 hands but accidental! (though they that think them 
 unlawful, daxf, not allow themselves a liberty of sin- 
 ning, even in accidentals.) If your lordship were the 
 paterfamilias to a numerous family of children and 
 servants, among whom one or other very dutiful 
 child takes offence, not at the sort of food you have 
 thought fit should be provided, but somewhat in the 
 sauce or way of dressing, which thereupon he for- 
 bears; you try all the means which j'our paternal 
 wisdom and severity thinks fit, to overcome that aver- 
 sion, but in vain; would you finally famish this child, 
 rather than yield to his inclination in so small a 
 thing 1 
 
 ' My lord, your lordship well knows the severity of 
 some of those laws which you press for the execution 
 of is such, as being executed, they must infer the utter 
 ruiu of them who observe them not, in their temporal 
 concernment; and not that only, but their deprivation 
 of the comfortable advantages appointed by our blessed 
 Lord, for promoting their spiritual and eternal well- 
 being. I cannot but be well persuaded not only of the 
 mere sincerity, but eminent sanctity of divers, upon 
 my own knowledge and experience of them, who would 
 sooner die at a stake, than I or any man can prevail 
 with them (notwithstanding our rubric, or whatever 
 can be said to facilitate the matter) to kneel before the 
 consecrated elements at the Lord's table. Would your 
 lordship necessitate such, perdere suhstantiam propter 
 accidentia? What if there be considerable numbers of 
 such in your lordship's vastly numerous flock; will it
 
 THE LIFE OF MR. JOHN HOWE. 
 
 be comfortable to you, when an account is demanded 
 of your lordship by the great Shepherd and Bishop of 
 souls concerning them, only to be able to say, Though, 
 Lord, I did believe the provisions of thine house pur- 
 chased for them, necessary and highly useful for their 
 salvation, I drove them away as dogs and swine from 
 thy table, and stirred up such other agents as I could 
 influence against them, by whose means I reduced 
 many of them to beggary, ruined many families, 
 banished them into strange countries, where they might 
 (for me) serve other gods; and this not for disobeying 
 any immediate ordinance or law of thine, but because 
 for fear of offending thee, they did not in every thing 
 comport with my own appointments, or which I was 
 directed to urge and impose upon theml How well 
 would this practice afree with that apostolical precept. 
 Him thnt is weak in the faith receive, but not to doubt- 
 ful disputations'? I know not how your lordship would 
 relieve yourself in this case, but by saying they were 
 not weak, nor conscientious, but wilful and humoursome. 
 But what shall then be said to the subjoined expostu- 
 lation, Who art thou that judgest thy brother 1 we shall 
 all stand before the judgment-seat of Christ. What 
 if they have appeared conscientious, and of a very 
 tmblameable conversation in all things else? What if 
 better qualified for Christian communion in all other 
 respects, than thousands you admitted 1 If you say you 
 know of none such under your charge so severely dealt 
 with, it will be said. Why did you use such severity 
 toward them you did not knowl or urge and animate 
 them to use it, whom you knew never likely to distin- 
 guish 1 A ■'^ery noted divine of the Church of England 
 said to me in discourse not very long ago, upon mention 
 of tne ceremonies. Come, come, the Christian church 
 and religion is in a consumption; and it ought to be 
 done as in the case of consumptive persons, shave off 
 the hair to save the life. Another (a dignified person) 
 present, replied, 1 doubt not it will be so, in the Phila- 
 delphian state. I long thought few had been in the 
 temper of their minds nearer it than your lordship, and 
 am grieved, not that I so judged, but that I am mis- 
 taken; and to see your lordship the first public example 
 to the rest of your order in such a course. Blessed 
 Lord ! how strange is it that so long experience will 
 not let us see, that little, and so very disputable matters, 
 can never be the terms of union so much to be desired 
 in the Christian church; and that in such a case as 
 ours is, nothing will satisfy, but the destruction of 
 them, whose union upon so nice terms we cannot ob- 
 tain ; and then to call sulitMdinem, pacem ! But we 
 must, it seems, understand all this rigour your lordship 
 shows, to proceed from love, and that you are for de- 
 stroying the dissenters, only to mend their understand- 
 ings, and because afflidio dat intellectum. I hope 
 indeed God will sanctify the affliction which you give 
 and procure them, to blessed purposes; and perhaps 
 
 m The Complete History of England, vol. iii. paffe 393. tells us, that the 
 Coininons, in 1690, prepared a bill for exempting his majesty's protestant .sub- 
 jects, dissenting from the church of England, from the penalties imposed upon 
 tlie papists, by repealin? the act of HB Eliz. This bill passed the Commons, 
 and was agreed to by ihe Lords, and lay ready for liis majesty's assent. But 
 
 periissent nisi pentssent : but for the purposes your 
 lordship seems to aim at, I wonder what you can ex- 
 pect. Can you, by undoing men, change the judgment 
 of their consciences 1 or if they should tell you. We do 
 indeed in our consciences judge, we shall greatly offend 
 God by complying with your injunctions, but yet to 
 save being undone, we will do it ; will this qualify 
 them for your communion 1 If your lordship think still, 
 you have judged and advised well in this matter, you 
 have the judgment of our sovereign, upon twelve years' 
 experience, lying against you: you have as to one of 
 the laws you would have executed, the judgment of 
 both houses of parliament against you, who passed a 
 bill (to which perhaps you consented) for taking it 
 away.m You have (as to all of them) the judgment of 
 the last House of Commons sitting at Westminster, so 
 far as to the season then, of executing those laws. It 
 may be your lordship thinks it now a fitter season : but 
 if you have misjudged, or misdone against your judg- 
 ment, I pray God to rectify your error by gentler 
 methods, and by less affliction, than you have designed 
 to your brethren: and do not for all this doubt, (any 
 more for your part than my own,) to meet you there one 
 day, where Luther and Zuinglius are well agreed. If 
 I did think that would contribute any thing to the 
 honest and truly charitable design of this letter, I 
 should freely and at large tell you my name: and do 
 however tell you, I am, 
 
 A sincere honourer of your lordship. 
 
 And your very faithful, humble servant.' 
 
 What effects this letter might have I know not, but 
 I must confess I think it to have been very strong and 
 moving, and likely to make impression. 
 
 In 1685, the dissenters were run down universally, 
 and hardly any one durst speak or write in their favour ; 
 and the prospects people had with respect to the public, 
 grew every day more and more gloomy. Mr. Howe 
 therefore having an invitation given him by the Lord 
 Wharton to travel with him abroad, into foreign parts, 
 accepted it readily. He had so little time given him 
 to prepare for his voyage, which he entered upon in the 
 month of August this year, that he had not an oppor- 
 tunity of taking leave of his friends, but sent a letter 
 to them from the other side the water, which was thus 
 directed. 
 
 ' To such, in and about London, among whom I have 
 
 laboured in the work of the Gospel.' It here follows. 
 'My most dearly beloved in our blessed Lord and Sa- 
 viour Jesus Christ, grace, mercy, and peace be through 
 him multiplied unto you. 
 ' That I am at this time at this distance from you, is, I 
 am persuaded, (upon the experience I have had of your 
 great love and value of my poor labours,) not pleasant 
 to you, and I do assure you it is grievous to me, though 
 
 when his majesty came to the throne, to pass this among other bills, this was 
 taken from the table, and never heard of after. Which no man durst have done, 
 without the king's command, or at least liis privityand conni^'ance at it. The 
 loss of this bill was complained of in the next parliament at Oxford, but With- 
 out satisfaction or redress.
 
 THE LIFE OF MR. JOHN HOWE. 
 
 xir 
 
 I murmur not at the wise and holy Providence that 
 hath ordered things thus, in reference to you and me: 
 but it added to my trouble, that I could not so much as 
 Did farewell to persons to whom I had so great endear- 
 ments, the solemnity whereof you know our circum- 
 stances would not admit. Nor could I have opportu- 
 nity to communicate to you the grounds of my taking 
 this long journey, being under promise while the mat- 
 ter was under consideration, not to speak of it to any 
 one that was not concerned immediately about it: 
 neither could I think that imprudent in itself, where 
 acquaintance was so numerous ; silence towards dearest 
 friends in such cases usually being designed for an 
 apology to all others. And after the resolution was 
 taken, my motion depending on another, I had not 
 time for that, or any such purposes. And should I yet 
 communicate them, as they lie particularly in my own 
 thoughts, it would lose time that I may more profitably 
 employ, for both you and myself, while I do it not. 
 You will, I may be confident, be more prudent and 
 equal, than to judge of what you do not know : but so 
 much I shall in the general say, that the providence of 
 God gave me the prospect of a present quiet abode, 
 with some opportunity of being serviceable; (and I 
 hope, as it may prove through his help and blessing, 
 unto you, if I have life and health to finish what I 
 have been much pressed by some of yourselves to go on 
 with;) which opportunity I could not hope to have 
 nearer you, at least without being imreasonably bur- 
 densome to some, while I was designing service as 
 much as in me lay to all. It much satisfies me that I 
 have a record above, I am not designing for myself; 
 that he who knoweth all things, knows I love not this 
 present world, and I covet not an abode in it, (nor have 
 I when it was most friendly to me,) upon any other ac- 
 count, than upon doing some service to him, and the 
 souls of men. It therefore has been my settled habi- 
 tual sense and sentiment a long time, to value and de- 
 sire (with submission to sovereign good pleasure) peace 
 and quiet, with some tolerable health, more than life. 
 Nor have I found any thing more destructive to my 
 health, than confinement to a room a few days in the 
 city air, which was much better and more healthful to 
 me formerly, than since the anger and jealousies of 
 such as I never had a disposition to offend, have of 
 later times occasioned persons of my circumstances very 
 seldom to walk the streets. 
 
 ' But my hope is, God will in his good time incline 
 the hearts of rulers more to favour such as cannot be 
 satisfied with the public constitutions in the matters of 
 God's worship, and that are innocent and peaceable in 
 the land ; and that my absence from you will be for no 
 long time, it being my design, with dependence upon 
 his gracious providence and pleasure, in whose hands 
 our times are, if I hear of anj' door open for service 
 with you, to spend the health and strength which God 
 shall vouchsafe me, (and which I find through lus 
 mercy much improved since I left 3'ou,) in his work 
 with and among you. In the mean time, I believe it 
 will not be unacceptable to you, that I offer you some 
 
 of my thoughts and counsels, for your pre.sent help, 
 such as are not new to me, nor as you will find to )'our- 
 selves, who are my witnesses, that I have often incul- 
 cated such things to you; but they may be useful to 
 stir you up, by putting you in remembrance. 
 
 'I. I beseech you, more earnestly endeavour to re- 
 duce the things you know (and have been by many 
 hands instructed in out of the Gospel of our Lord) to 
 practice. IS'othing can be more absurd than to content 
 ourselves with only a notional knowledge of practical 
 matters. We should think so in other cases. As if 
 any man should satisfy himself to know the use of 
 food, but famish himself by never eating any, when he 
 hath it at hand: or that he understands the virtues of 
 this or that cordial, but languishes away to death in the 
 neglect of using it, when it might cheer his spirits, and 
 save his life. And the neglect of applying the great 
 things of the Gospel to the proper uses and purposes of 
 the Christian life, is not more foolish, (only as the con- 
 cernments they serve for are more important,) but much 
 more sinful and provoking to God. For we are to con- 
 sider whence the revelation comes. They are things 
 which the mouth of the Lord hath spoken; uttered by 
 the breath of the eternal God, as all Scriptures are said 
 to be. God breathed, as that expression may be liter- 
 ally rendered, 2 Tim. iii. 16. And how high a con- 
 tempt and provocation is it of the great God, so totally 
 to pervert and disappoint the whole design of that re- 
 velation he hath made to us, to know the great things 
 contained therein, only for knowing sake, which he 
 hath made known that we might live by them. And* 
 oh what holy and pleasant lives should we lead in this 
 world, if the temper and complexion of our souls did 
 answer and correspond to the things Ave knoin'. The 
 design of preaching has been greatly mistaken, when 
 it has been thought, it must still acquaint them who 
 live (and especially who have long lived) under it, 
 with some new thing. Its much greater and more im- 
 portant design is the impressing of known things (but 
 too little considered) upon the hearts of hearers, that 
 they may be delivered up into the mould and form of 
 the doctrine taught them, as Rom. vi. 12. : and may so 
 learn Christ as more and more to be renewed in the 
 spirit of their minds, and put off the old man and put 
 on the new, Eph. iv. 20. The digesting our food is 
 what God now eminentl)'^ calls for. 
 
 ' II. More particularlj' labour to have your apprehen- 
 sions of the future state of the xmseen world, and eter- 
 nal things, made more lively and efficacious daily, emd 
 that joMT faith of them may be such as may truly ad- 
 mit to be called the very substance and evidence of 
 those things. Shall that glorious everlasting state of 
 things be always as a dark shadow with us, or as the 
 images we have of things in a dream, ineffectual and 
 vanishing, only because we have not seen with our 
 eyes, where God himself hath by his express word 
 made the representations of them to us, who never de- 
 ceived us, as oxir own eyes and treacherous senses have 
 done1 Why do we not live as just now entering into 
 the eternal state, and as if we now beheld the glorious
 
 THE LIFE OF MR. JOHN HOWE. 
 
 appearing of ihe great God our Saviour, when we are 
 as much, assured of them as if we beheld them 1 Why 
 do we not oftener view the representation of the heavens 
 vanishing, the elements melting, the earth flaming, the 
 angels every where dispersed to gather the elect, and 
 them ascending, caught up to meet the Redeemer in 
 the air, ever to be with the Lordl What a trifle will 
 the world be to us then ! 
 
 'III. Let the doctrine of the Redeemer be more 
 studied, and of his mighty undertaking, with the im- 
 mediate design of it, not merely to satisfy for sin by 
 the sacrifice he once for all made of himself, and so to 
 procure our pardon and justification, without effecting 
 any thing upon us, but to redeem us from all iniquity, 
 to purify us to himself, &c. and to form us after his 
 own holy likeness, and for such purposes to give his 
 Holy Spirit to us. Consider that our Redeemer is 
 mighty, who hath such kind designs upon us^ and that 
 as they shall not therefore fijially fail of accomplish- 
 ment, so will they be carried on without interruption, 
 and with discernible success, if we fail not as to what 
 pert in subordination to him belongs to us. How 
 cheerfully should the redeemed of the Lord go on in 
 their course, under such conduct ! 
 
 'IV. Endeavour your faith may be stronger, more 
 efficacious and practical, concerning the doctrine of 
 Providence, and that the workings and events of it lie 
 all under the management and in the hand of the Re- 
 deemer, who is head over all things to the church : that 
 therefore how grievous and bitter soever be his people's 
 lot and portion at any time, there cannot but be kind- 
 ness at the bottom; and that not only designing the 
 best end, but taking the fittest way to it. For can love 
 itself be unkind, so as not to design well! or wisdom 
 itself err so, as to take an improper course in order 
 thereto! Hereupon let not your spirits be imbittered 
 by tlie present dispensation of Providence you are 
 under, whereby you are in so great a part deprived of 
 the helps and means of your spiritual advantage, which 
 you like and relish most. And to this purpose consider, 
 
 ' 1. Our wise and merciful Lord (though perhaps 
 such means might be in some measure useful to us) 
 doth for th€ present judge, that his rebuking our undue 
 use of them will be more useful ; either overvaluing or 
 undervaluing his instruments, turning his ordinances 
 into mere formalities, preferring the means of grace 
 {as they are fitly called) before the end, grace itself 
 
 '2. Consider whether there be no disposition of Spi- 
 rit, to treat others as you are treated. The inward 
 temper of our minds and spirits is so much the more 
 narrowly to be inspected, by how much the less there 
 is opportunity to discover it by outward acts. As to 
 such as differ from us about the forms and ceremonies 
 that are now required in the worship of God, would 
 we not be glad if they were as much restrained from 
 using them in their worship, as we from worshipping 
 without them? And do not we think that that would 
 &n much grieve them, as our restraint doth us"? And 
 why should we suppose that their way should not as 
 much suit their spirits, and. be as grateful to them, as 
 
 ours to usl But we are in the right way, some will 
 say, and they in the wrong : and why cannot any man 
 say the same thing with as much confidence as we'i 
 Or do we think there is no difference to be put betweei. 
 controversies about matter of circumstance, and about 
 the essentials of Christianity'? Undoubtedly till those 
 that affect the name of the reformed, and count it more 
 their glory to be called protestants than to be good 
 Christians, have learnt to mingle more justice with 
 their religion, and how better to apply that great ad- 
 vice of our Lord's, Whatsoever you would that men 
 should do to you, do that to them, &c. and till they 
 become studious of excelling other men, in substantial 
 goodness, abstractedness from the world, meekness 
 humility, sobriety, self-denial, and charity, and to lay 
 a greater stress hereon, than on being of one or other 
 denomination, God's controversy will not cease. 
 
 'I reckon it much to be considered, and I pray you 
 consider it deeply, that after that great precept, Eph. 
 iv. 30. Grieve not the Holy Spirit of God, it imme- 
 diately follows, ver. 31. Let all bitterness, and anger^ 
 and wrath, and clamour, and evil speaking be put away 
 from you, with all malice : plainly implying that the 
 Spirit of God, that Spirit of all love, goodness, sweet- 
 ness, and benignity, is grieved by nothing more than 
 by our bitterness, wrathfulness, &c. And it appears 
 that the discernible restraint and departure of that 
 blessed Spirit from the Church of Christ in so great a 
 measure, for many foregoing generations, in comparison 
 of the plentiful efl^'usion of it in the first age, hath en- 
 sued upon the growth of that wrathful contentious 
 Spirit which showed itself early in the Gnostick, but 
 much more in the after-Arian persecution, which was 
 not in some places less bloody than the pagan persecu- 
 tion had been before. Oh the gentleness, kindness, 
 tenderness, and compassionateness of the evangelical 
 truly Christian spirit, as it most eminently appeared 
 in our Lord Jesus Christ himself! And we are told, if 
 any man have not the Spirit of Christ, he is none oi 
 his, Rom. viii. 9. And how easy and pleasant is it to 
 one's own self, to be void of all wrathfulness, and vin- 
 dictive designs or inclinations towards any other man! 
 For my own part, I should not have that peace and 
 consolation in a suffering condition, (as my being so 
 many years under restraint from that pleasant work of 
 pleading with sinners that they might be saved, is the 
 greatest suffering I was liable to in this world,) as 
 through the goodness of God I have found, and do find, 
 in being conscious to myself of no other than kind and 
 benign thoughts towards them I have suffered by, and 
 that my heart tells me I desire not the least hurt to 
 them that would do me the greatest; and that I feel 
 within myself an unfeigned love and high estimatioa 
 of divers, accounting them pious worthy persons, and 
 hoping to meet them in the all-reconciling world, that 
 are yet (through some mistake) too harsh towards us 
 who dissent from them: and in things of this nature I 
 pray that you and I may abound more and more. 
 
 But again, as I would not have your spirits imbittered, 
 so I would not have your spirits discouraged, or sunk
 
 THE LIFE OF MR. JOHN HOWE. 
 
 in dejection. The Lord will not cast off his people, 
 because it hath pleased him to make them his people, 
 1 Sam. xii. 22. I do not mean those of this or that 
 party, but who fear God and work righteousness, be 
 they of what party soever. As I often think of that 
 saying of an ancient, {Clem. Alex.) that he counted not 
 that philosophy, which was peculiar to this or that sect, 
 but whatsoever of truth was to be found in any of 
 them; so I say of Christianity, 'tis not that which is 
 appropriate to this or that party, but whatsoever of 
 sincere religion shall be found common to them all. 
 Such will value and love his favour and presence, and 
 shall have it; and he will yet have such a people in 
 the world, and, I doubt not, more numerous than ever. 
 And as the bitterness of Christians one towards another 
 chased away his Spirit, his Spirit shall vanquish and 
 drive away all that bitterness, and consume our other 
 dross. And as the aposiacy long ago foretold, and of 
 so long continuance m the Christian church, hath been 
 begun and continued by constant war agamst the 
 Spirit of Christ; the restitution and recovery of the 
 church, and the reduction of Christianity to its ancient 
 self, and primitive state, will be by the victory of the 
 Spirit of Christ over that so contrary spirit. Then 
 shall all the enmity, pride, wrathfulness, and cruelty, 
 which have rent the church of Christ and made it so 
 little itself, be melted down; and with all their great 
 impurities besides, earthliness, carnality, love of this 
 present world, and prevalence of sensual lusts, be 
 purged more generally away, and his repairing work 
 be done in a way grievous to no one, whereby those 
 that are most absolutely conquered will be most highly 
 pleased: not by might or by power, but by the Spirit 
 of the Lord. 
 
 ' In the mean time let us draw nigh to God, and he 
 will draw nigh to us. Let us more study the exercising 
 ourselves to godliness, and take heed of turning the 
 religion of our closets into spiritless uncomfortable 
 formalities. Their hearts shall live that seek God. 
 
 ' To that blessed, and faithful, and covenant-keeping 
 God I commit you; and to the word of his grace, 
 which is able to build you up further, and give j'ou an 
 inheritance among them that are sanctified. 
 
 ' And as I hope I shall without ceasing remember 
 you in mine, so I hope you will remember too in your 
 prayers, 
 
 Your sincerely affectionate, 
 
 Though too unprofitable. 
 
 Servant in Christ, 
 
 JOHN HOWE.' 
 
 In the course of his travels with this noble lord, 
 Mr. Howe had the satisfaction of seeing divers noted 
 places, and conversing freely, not only with a number 
 of learned papists, but several protestant divines, both 
 Lutherans and Calvinists, and making a variety of 
 remarks for his own use : and in the mean time, he was 
 often not a little affected with the melancholy tidings 
 of the swift advances they were making in England 
 towards popery and slavery, which he most heartily 
 
 lamented, as well as the hardships and severities which 
 his nonconforming brethren met with in particular. 
 And not having any encouragement from the posture 
 of affairs to return home, he at length, in the j^ear 1686, 
 settled in the pleasant city of Utrecht, which is the 
 capital of one of the seven United Provinces. Ha 
 took a house, and resided there for some time, and had 
 the Earl of Sutherland and his countess, and some 
 English gentlemen, together with his two nephews, 
 Mr. George and Mr. John Hughes, boarding with him. 
 He took his turn of preaching at the English church 
 in that city, with Mr. Matthew Mead, Mr. Woodcock, 
 and Mr. Cross, who were there at the same time. They 
 kept frequent days of solemn prayer together, on the 
 account of the threatening state of affairs in their own 
 country: and Mr. Howe generally preached on the 
 Lord's-days in the evening in his o"wn family. And 
 there being several English students then at that 
 university, in order to their being fitted for future use- 
 fulness, Mr. Howe was pleased to favour some of them 
 with hearing their orations and disputations in private, 
 and giving them his particular instructions and advice 
 as they were prosecuting their studies, which some have 
 owned to have been of no small advantage to them. 
 There were also several other worthy persons of the 
 English nation at that time there, and in other parts of 
 the United Provinces, that they might shelter them- 
 selves from prosecutions in their own country ; such as 
 Sir John Thompson, (afterwards Lord Haversham,) Sir 
 John Guise, Sir Patience Ward, and Mr. Papillon; and 
 there was a good harmony and correspondence among 
 them; and Mr. Howe received much respect from 
 them, as well as from the professors in that academy. 
 
 Among others by whom he was visited while he 
 continued at Utrecht, one was Dr. Gilbert Burnet, 
 afterward Bishop of Sarum, who also preached in the 
 English church there, and very frankly declared for 
 occasional communion with those of different senti- 
 ments. He and Mr. Howe had a great deal of free 
 conversation, upon a variety of subjects: and once 
 discoursing of nonconformit}', the Doctor told him, he 
 was apprehensive that it could not subsist long; but 
 that when Mr. Baxter, and Dr. Bates, and he, and a 
 few more, were once laid in their graves, it would sink, 
 and die, and come to nothing. Mr. Howe replied, that 
 that must be left to God ; though he at the same time 
 intimated that he had different apprehensions ; and did 
 not reckon it to depend upon persons, but upon prin- 
 ciple, which when taken up upon grounds approved 
 upon search, could not be laid aside by men of con- 
 science. The best way, he said, to put an end to non- 
 conformity, would be by giving due liberty under the 
 national settlement, and laying aside needless clogs 
 that would give occasion to endless debates. Were 
 this once done, there would be no room for a conscien- 
 tious nonconformity: but that without it, they could 
 expect no other than that as some passed off the stage, 
 others would rise up and fill their places, who woulJ 
 act upon the same principles as they had done beloro 
 them; though he hoped with a due moderation and
 
 THE LIFE OF MR. JOHN HOWE. 
 
 temper towards those of different sentiments. And the 
 event has showed, that he was herein in the right. 
 
 Several years after this, I myself having occasion to 
 wait upon Dr. Burnet, after he had been some time 
 Bishop of Sarum, at his palace in that city, where I 
 was treated with great frankness and civility, his lord- 
 ship signified how well he was pleased with the temper 
 discovered by the rising generation of ministers among 
 the dissenters; though at the same time he intimated, 
 that it was the common apprehension of the great men 
 of their church, that nonconformity would have 
 been re& unius cctatis only, and not have been con- 
 tinued to another generation, but have drawn to an 
 end, when they that were ejected out of the public 
 churches were once laid in their graves. Upon this 
 occasion, I declared to his lordship, that which, having 
 so fair an opportunity, I shall not now be shy of sig- 
 nifying more publicly ; viz. that after the closest search 
 into this matter of which I have been capable, I can- 
 not perceive that while and as long as the spirit of im- 
 position continues, any other can reasonably be ex- 
 pected, than that there will be some who will think 
 themselves obliged to stand up for a generous liberty, 
 the doing of which may be very consistent with all 
 that charity and brotherly love that is required, either 
 by reason or Scripture. And this liberty has, since the 
 death of the greatest part of the ejected ministers, 
 (though with the full approbation of such of them as 
 were then living, and of Mr. Howe in particular,) been 
 defended by some among the dissenters, upon a bottom 
 so truly large and noble, that the sagacious Mr. Locke 
 himself, whom I believe most people will own to have 
 been a pretty good judge, has more than once (as I 
 have been credibly informed) freely owned, that as 
 long as they kept to that bottom, they need not ques- 
 tion being able to stand their ground. And the nvim- 
 ber of their friends and abettors so increased, partly on 
 the account of the largeness of the foundations they 
 went upon, and partly also upon their steady zeal for 
 the government after the revolution, while the estab- 
 lished church was miserably divided, about the oaths, 
 and a great many other things that were very distaste- 
 ful to men of sense emd thought ;» that in all probabi- 
 lity their interest must before this time have had a con- 
 siderable accession of strength, had it not been for 
 their tmaiccountable heals in the reign of King William, 
 and also in the reign of his present majesty King 
 George; by which they have been sadly exposed and 
 weakened. But of all persons, those that are zealous 
 for the established church, have little reason upon this 
 account to insult them, because of the shameful differ- 
 ences they have had amongst themselves, which in a 
 great measure continue to this day. We may here say 
 very safely, Iliacos intra muros peccatur et extra. 
 
 While Mr. Howe continued in Holland, the late 
 King William, (of glorious and immortal memory,) who 
 was at that time Prince of Orange, did him the honour 
 to admit him several times into his presence, and dis- 
 
 n The miserable confuBion the high-church party were in after the revolution,' 
 about the oatjisj ajid al?out their prayers, ei^d abw* coi^Mnunion, ^c is most 
 
 coursed with him with great freedom ; and he eve? 
 after retained a particular respect for him. I well re- 
 member also, that he himself once informed me ol 
 some very private conversation he had with that prince, 
 upon his sending for him, not long before his death. 
 Among other things, the king then asked him a great 
 many questions, about his old master Oliver, as he 
 called him, and seemed not a little pleased with the 
 answers that were returned to some of his questions. 
 
 In 1687, King James published his declaration for 
 liberty of conscience, upon which the dissenters were 
 freed from their fetters and shackles, and were allowed 
 the freedom of worshipping God in public, in their own 
 way, without any molestation. Mr. Howe's flock in 
 London earnestly pressed for his return to them ac- 
 cording to his promise, and he readily complied. 
 But before he left Holland, he thought it proper to 
 wait on the Prince of Orange, who in his usual way 
 received him very graciously. He signified to his 
 royal highness, that he was returning for England, at 
 the earnest solicitation of his friends there, who were 
 impatient of his absence, now that he was in a capacity 
 of public service among them. The prince wished him 
 a good voyage, and advised him, though he and his 
 brethren made use of the liberty granted by King 
 James, yet to be very cautious in addressing ; and not 
 to be prevailed with upon any terms, to fall in with the 
 measures of the court, as to taking off the penal laws 
 and test, which was the thing intended, but which 
 would have fatal consequences ; and to use his utmost 
 influence in order to the restraining others: which he 
 readily promised ; and he was as good as his word. 
 
 Upon his return into his own country, which was in 
 May this year, he was gladly received by his old 
 friends and brethren, and v/ith joy (though not without 
 an aching heart, considering the apparent danger of the 
 public) returned to the free exercise of his ministry. 
 He was thankful for a little breathing time afforded, 
 and endeavoured to improve it to the best purposes, and 
 to preserve himself and others from the snares that 
 were laid for them. 
 
 The author of the life of a celebrated nonjuror, casts 
 some most invidious reflections upon the body of the 
 dissenters, and their conduct in this reign. He in- 
 sinuates, that when that inconsistent people had long 
 cried out against the members of the church of Eng- 
 land as inclinable to popery, they themselves were the 
 first to join hands with this popery, against the church 
 of England, and to favour the designs thereof, which 
 they had but just before so loudly exclaimed against." 
 And it must be owned, that they would have been an 
 inconsistent people indeed, had the body of them acted 
 in that manner : but the best of it is, that this is a sug- 
 gestion that is as void of truth as it is of charity. li 
 some among the dissenters did charge those of the 
 church of England with favouring popery m King 
 Charles's reign, it was because of their appearing so 
 zealous for his brother, who was well known to be a 
 
 admirably illustrated, by the account given in the Life of Mr. John Kettlewell 
 Part, ni. 
 o Lite of Mr. Kettlewell, in Svo. p. 141.
 
 THE LIFE OF MR. JOHN HOWE. 
 
 papist, and from whom no other could be expected than 
 that he would, if he came to the crown, do his utmost 
 to bring in popery, in opposition to all the laws and 
 securities against it ; and they evidently hazarded 
 the loss of our liberty and religion too, by making 
 the dangerous experiment : and they would boldly 
 venture upon this, though they were freely warned 
 beforehand what the consequence would be. But as 
 for joining hands with this popery, none were more 
 free from that than the dissenters. Bishop Burnet 
 owns, that how much soever a few weak persons might 
 be intoxicated by the caresses of the court, and elevated 
 by an appearance of favour shown them, yet the ' wiser 
 men among them saw through all this, and perceived 
 the design of the papists was now to set on the dissent- 
 ers against the church, as much as they had formerly 
 set the church against them: and therefore, though 
 they returned to their conventicles, (as he is pleased 
 to call them, though not a jot the better thought of 
 upon that account by his warmer brethren,) yet they 
 had a just jealousy of the ill designs that lay hid un- 
 der all this sudden and unexpected show of grace and 
 kindness.'P 
 
 In confirmation of this, I can upon good grounds 
 assure the reader, that whereas there were about this 
 time great endeavours used to draw in the dissenting 
 ministers to approve the measures of the court, and fre- 
 quent meetings among them to consider of their own 
 behaviour, at which times Mr. Howe was seldom absent, 
 he always declared against approving the dispensing 
 power, or any thing that could give the papists any 
 assistance in the carrying on their designs; and he 
 therein had the full concurrence of the generality of 
 his brethren. I have had a particular account of one 
 meeting at Mr. Howe's own house, in order to consider 
 of the advisableness of drawing up a writing to sig- 
 nify their concurrence with the king, as to the ends of 
 his declaration ; at which time there were two persons 
 present that came from court, and intimated that his 
 majesty waited in his closet, and would not stir from 
 thence till an account was brought him of their pro- 
 ceedings. I have heard that one in the company did 
 intimate that he thought it but reasonable they should 
 comply with his majesty's desire. To which another 
 immediately replied, that he was fully convinced that 
 the sufferings they had met with, had been all along on 
 the account of their firm adherence to the civil interest 
 of the nation, in opposition to tory schemes, rather than 
 on the account of their religious principles: and there- 
 fore if the king expected they should join in approving 
 such a conduct as would give the papists their liberty, 
 and establish a dispensing power, he had rather he 
 should take their liberty again. Mr. Howe, in sum- 
 ming up the matter, signified they were generally of 
 that brother's sentiments, and could by no means en- 
 courage the dispensing power; and it was left to those 
 who came down to them from court, to report that as 
 their common sense to those that sent them. Several 
 
 p Bishop Bumefs History of liia own Times, vol. 1. pa^e 6T3. 
 q Life of Mr. John Ketllewell, page 147. 
 
 of their ministers were, it must be confessed, afterwards 
 privately closeted by King James; and I won't say 
 but some few of them, who had personal and particular 
 favours shown them, might be drawn too far into the 
 snare, and use their interest in order to the taking off 
 all penal laws and tests : but they were but very few, 
 and as soon as it was known, their interest and sig- 
 nificance was lessened; the far greater number stood 
 it out; and Mr. Howe particularly, when the king dis- 
 coursed with him alone, told his majesty that he was a 
 minister of the Gospel, and it was his province to 
 preach, and endeavour to do good to the sotils of men ; 
 but that as for meddling with state affairs, he was £is 
 little inclined as he was called to it, and begged to be 
 excused. 
 
 The same author also observes, ' that upon King 
 James's famous declaration to all his loving subjects for 
 liberty, there followed a vast crowd of congratulatory ad- 
 dresses and acknowledgments, from all sorts of dissenters, 
 complimenting the king in the highest manner, and 
 protesting what mighty returns of loyalty they would 
 make his majesty, for such his favour and indulgence 
 to them. '9 And he adds, 'only the members of the 
 church of England generally were hereat very un- 
 easy.' But Bishop Burnet, who I am apt to think will 
 be most likely to be regarded in the case, gives a quite 
 different representation of the matter. He, speaking 
 of the dissenters, says, ' It was visible to all men, thea 
 the courting them at this time was not from any kind- 
 ness, or good opinion that the king had of them. They 
 needed not to be told, that all the favour expected from 
 popery was once to bring it in, under the colour of a 
 general toleration, till it should be strong enough to 
 set on a general persecution : and therefore, as they 
 could not engage themselves to support such an ar- 
 bitrary prerogative as was now made use of, so neither 
 could they go into any engagements for popery. They 
 did believe that the indignation against the church 
 party, and the kindness to them, were things too imna- 
 tural to last long. So the more considerable among 
 them resolved not to stand at too great a distance from 
 the court, nor to provoke the king so far, as to give 
 him cause to think they were irreconcilable to him, 
 lest they should provoke him to make up matters on 
 any terms with the church party. On the other hand. 
 they resolved not to provoke the church party, or by 
 any ill behaviour of theirs drive them into a reconcilia- 
 tion with the court. '«■ 
 
 As to the addresses of the dissenters upon this occa- 
 sion, though some of them ran high, j-et the church 
 party had set them the pattern, and therefore it was 
 the less decent in them to make complaints of them. 
 Those of the establishment had in a most luxuriant 
 manner thanked King Charles for dissolving one of the 
 best of parliaments, and as the Earl of Warrington de- 
 clared in his speech, were mighty 'forward in the sur- 
 render of charters ; and in their fulsome addresses and 
 abhorrences, made no other claim to their liberties and 
 
 r Bp. Burnet't Hutorr of his ovm Times, voL 1. page TOS.
 
 THE LIFE OF MR. JOHN HOWE, 
 
 civil rights, than as concessions from the crown : telling 
 the king, eveiy one of his commands was stamped 
 with Godls authority,' &c. And the university of Ox- 
 ford in particular, had in one of their public addresses 
 promised King James, that ' they would obey him with- 
 out limitations or restrictions:'^ which was not to be 
 equalled by any thing that came even from the most 
 incautious or the most transported dissenters. And if 
 they did not now preach so much against popery as 
 the churchmen, they may the more easily be excused, 
 because their people did not so much need it. They 
 had little reason to fear that any of their persuasion 
 would be perverted, for that the adhering to their dis- 
 tinguishing principle of the sufficiency of Scripture, 
 would not fail of securing them ; while many of the 
 bishops and doctors of the church of England, had in- 
 stilled into their followers such odd notions, about the 
 power of the church in matters of faith, the apostolical 
 succession and power of bishops, their right to judge of 
 fitness and decency in the worship of God, to which 
 all others must submit, and the binding force of old 
 canons and councils, that it highly concerned them 
 to do all that they were able to deliver them from the 
 consequences which they might easily foresee the Ro- 
 manists would put them upon drawing from such prin- 
 ciples. And the truth of it is, though I han't the 
 least word to say, to the lessening that glorious de- 
 fence of the protestant cause that was at this time made 
 by the writings of the divines of the church party, yet 
 the dissenters may be very well allowed to have taken 
 no small pleasure, in seeing those gentlemen baffle 
 the papists, upon such principles as they might easily 
 discern would help to set the authors themselves more 
 upright than some of them had been before; and in 
 such a case to have offered to take the work out of 
 their hands, had been over-officious, and an indecent 
 intermeddling. 
 
 However, the king went on with his design, and 
 nothing would satisfy him, but his declaration for 
 liberty must be read in all the churches. The bishops 
 meeting together for consultation, were convinced that 
 their concurring in this step, and sending the declara- 
 tion to all their clergy, and requiring their reading it 
 publicly to the people, would be an owning the dis- 
 pensing power: and therefore they drew up a pefition 
 to his majesty, in which they desired to be excused. 
 This petition was called a libel, and they were sent to 
 the Tower for presenting it. 
 
 Mr. Howe being at this time invited to dinner by 
 Dr. Sherlock, the Master of the Temple, accepted the 
 invitation, and was very civilly treated ; and there 
 were two or three other clergymen at the table. After 
 dinner, the discourse ran mostly upon the danger the 
 church was at that time in, of being entirely ruined. 
 The Doctor, freely, but pretty abruptly, asked Mr. 
 Howe, what he thought the dissenters would do, sup- 
 posing the preferments of the church should be made 
 vacant, and an offer should be made of filling them up 
 out of their number 1 Mr. Howe was so surprised 
 8 Bishop Biuret's History of his own Times, vol. 1. p. 620. 
 
 with such a question as this, which he little expected, 
 that he was at first at a loss for an answer. Where- 
 upon the Doctor drew out his dark and melancholy 
 scheme very distinctly, with all imaginable marks of 
 concern. He told him he thought that the bishops 
 would be as certainly cast, as they were at that time 
 imprisoned in the Tower: that the rest of the clergy, 
 who had so generally refused reading the king's decla- 
 ration, would follow after them : that it was not a thing 
 to be supposed that their places should be suffered to 
 continue vacant : and that no way could be thought of 
 for the filling them up again, but from among the dis- 
 senters: and who know^s, said he, but Mr. Howe may 
 be offered to be Master of the Temple 1 And therefore 
 he intimated he was very desirous to know how they 
 would be inclined to behave, upon such a supposition ; 
 of which he believed him to be as capable of giving 
 an account as any man whatsoever. Mr. Howe told 
 the Doctor, that these were things that were altogether 
 uncertain : but that if it should so happen that matters 
 should fall out according to his fears, he could not pre- 
 tend to answer for the conduct of the dissenters, among 
 whom there were several parties, that acted upon 
 different principles; and that therefore it was most 
 reasonable to suppose, their conduct might be different. 
 He signified to him, that he could answer for none but 
 himself: and that he thought for his part, if things 
 should ever come to the pass he mentioned, he should 
 not baulk an opportunity of more public service, 
 (which he was not aware he had done any thing "o 
 forfeit,) provided it was offered him upon such terms as 
 he had no just reason to except against: but then he 
 added, that as for the emolument thence accruing, he 
 should not be for meddling with that, any otherwise 
 than as a hand to convey it to the legal proprietor. 
 Whereupon the Doctor rose up from his seat, and em- 
 braced him, and said that he had always taken hio 
 for that ingenuous honest man that he now found him 
 to be, and seemed not a little transported with joy. 
 Mr. Howe afterwards telling this passage to a certain 
 great man in the church, to whom the Doctor was well 
 known, and signifying how much he was on a sudden 
 to seek for an answer to a question he so little ex- 
 pected, which was bottomed upon a supposition, that 
 had not so much as once entered into his thoughts be- 
 fore, he immediately made him this reply : Sir, you 
 say you had not once thought of the case, or so much 
 as supposed any thing like it ; but you must give me 
 leave to tell you, if you had studied the case seven 
 years together, you could not have said any thing that 
 had been more to the purpose, or more to the Doctor's 
 satisfaction. 
 
 When these fears were all blown over, and a happy 
 revolution brought about in 1688, and the Prince of 
 Orange was come to St. James's Palace, the dissenting 
 ministers waited on him in a body, and were intro- 
 duced by the Lords Devonshire, Wharton, and Wilt- 
 shire; at which time, Mr. Howe, in the name of the 
 rest, made a handsome speech, signifying,
 
 THE LIFE OF MR. JOHN HOWE. 
 
 'That they professed their grateful sense of his 
 highness's hazardous and heroical expedition, which 
 the favour of Heaven had made so surprisingly pros- 
 perous. 
 
 'That they esteemed it a common felicity, that the 
 worthy patriots of the nobility and gentry of this king- 
 dom, had unanimously concurred unto his highness's de- 
 sign, by whose most prudent advice, the administration 
 of public affairs was devolved in this difficult conjunc- 
 ture, into hands which the nation and the world knew to 
 be apt for the greatest undertakings, and so suitable to 
 the present exigence of our case. 
 
 ' That they promised the utmost endeavours, which in 
 their stations they were capable of affording, for promo- 
 ting the excellent and most desirable ends for which his 
 highness had declared. 
 
 ' That they added their continual and fervent prayers 
 to the Almighty, for the preservation of his highness's 
 person, and the success of his future endeavours, for the 
 defence and propagation of the protestant interest 
 throughout the Christian world. 
 
 'That they should all most willingly have chosen 
 that for the season of paying this duty to his highness, 
 when the lord bishop and the clergy of London at- 
 tended his highness for the same purpose, (which some 
 of them did, and which his lordship was pleased con- 
 descendingly to make mention of to his highness,) had 
 their notice of that intended application been so early, as 
 to make their more general attendance possible to them 
 at that time. 
 
 ' And that therefore, though they did now appear in 
 a distinct company, they did it not on a distinct account, 
 but on that only which was common to them and to all 
 protestants. 
 
 ' That there were some of eminent note, whom age or 
 present infirmitiest hindered from coming with them; 
 yet they concurred in the same grateful sense of our com- 
 mon deliverance.' 
 
 The prince in answer, assured them, ' that he came 
 on purpose to defend the protestant religion, and that it 
 was his o'vvn religion, in which he was born and bred ; 
 the religion of his country, and of his ancestors: and 
 that he was resolved, by the grace of God, always to 
 adhere to it, and to do his utmost endeavours for the de- 
 fence of it, and the promoting a firm union among pro- 
 testants.' 
 
 In this year 1688, Mr. Howe published a few prac- 
 tical discourses : as, ' A Sermon on John v. 42. directing 
 what we are to do after strict Inquiry, whether or no we 
 truly love God :' and ' Two Sermons preached at Thur- 
 low in Suffolk, on those words, Rom. vi. 13. Yield your- 
 selves to God.' 
 
 In 1689, he wrote a short letter about the case of the 
 French protestants, which I shall here add, leaving it to 
 the reader to guess (and I cannot myself do more) to 
 whom it was addressed, 'Twas in these words : 
 
 •Sir, 
 ' BcT that I am learning as much as I can to count 
 t This referred to Mr. Baxter and Dr. Bates. 
 
 nothing strange among the occurrences of the present 
 time, I should be greatly surprised to find, that divers 
 French protestant ministers, fled hither for their con- 
 sciences and religion, who have latitude enough to con- 
 form to the rites of the church of England, do accuse 
 others of their brethren, who are fled hither on the same 
 accoimt, but have not that latitude, a^ schismatics, only 
 for practising according to the principles and usages of 
 their own church, which at home were common to them 
 both ; and, as schismatics, judge them unworthy of any 
 relief here. Their common enemy never yet passed so 
 severe a judgment on any of them, that they should be 
 famished. This is put into the hands of the appellants 
 from this sentence, unto your more equal judgment. And 
 it needs do no more than thus briefly to represent their 
 case, and me. 
 
 Most honoured Sir, 
 Your most obliged, 
 
 and most humble Servant, 
 Apmt"^' • JOHN HOWE.' 
 
 This year there were many and warni debates in the 
 two houses of Lords and Commons, about a compre- 
 hension, and an indulgence ; for bills were brought in 
 for both, and both were canvassed. Some were so nai- 
 row-spirited and so imgenerous, as, forgetting their pro- 
 mises and repeated declarations in the time of their dis- 
 tress, from which they were just so wonderfully deli- 
 vered, to be for still keeping the dissenters under a brand. 
 Mr. Howe therefore at this time fairly represented their 
 case, and strenuously argued upon it, in a single sheet of 
 paper, which was printed, and is very fit to be transmitted 
 to posterity. 
 
 The case of the Protestant Dissenters represented and ar- 
 gued. 
 
 ' They are under one common obligation with the rest 
 of mankind, by the universal law of nature, to worship 
 God in assemblies. 
 
 ' Men of all sorts of religions, that have ever obtained 
 in the world, Jews, Pagans, Mahometans, Christians, 
 have in their practice acknowledged this obligation. Nor 
 can it be understood, how such a practice shoiild be so 
 universal, otherwise than from the dictate and impression 
 of the imiversal law. 
 
 'Whereas the religion professed in England is that of 
 reformed Christianity, some things are annexed to the 
 allowed public worship, which are acknowledged to be no 
 parts thereof, nor in themselves necessary; but which the 
 dissenters judge to be in some part sinful. 
 
 ' They cannot therefore, with good conscience towards 
 God, attend wholly and solely upon the public worship 
 which the laws do appoint. 
 
 ' The same laws do strictly forbid their assembling t© 
 worship God otherwise. 
 
 ' Which is in effect the same thing, as if they who 
 made, or shall continue such laws, should plainly say. 
 If you will not consent with us in our superadded rites 
 and modes against your consciences, you shaL not
 
 XZXll 
 
 THE LIFE OF MR. JOHN HOWE. 
 
 ■worship God; or if you will not accept of our additions 
 to the Christian religion, you shall not be Christians: 
 and manifestly tends to reduce to paganism a great part 
 of a Christian nation. 
 
 ' They have been wont therefore to meet however in 
 distinct assemblies, and to worship God in a way which 
 their consciences could approve; and have many years 
 continued so to do, otherwise than as they have been hin- 
 de; ed by violence. 
 
 ' It is therefore upon the whole fit to inquire, 
 
 ' Qu. 1. Whether they are to be blamed for their hold- 
 ing distinct meetings for the worship of God 1 
 
 ' For answer to this, it cannot be expected that all the 
 controversies should be here determined, which have 
 been agitated about the lawfulness of each of those 
 things which have been added to the Christian religion 
 and worship, by the present constitution of the church of 
 England. 
 
 ' But supposing they were none of them simply un- 
 lawful, while yet the misinformed minds of the dissen- 
 ters could not judge them lawful, though they have made 
 it much their business to inquire and search; being 
 urged also by severe sufferings, which through a long 
 tract of time they have undergone, not to refuse any 
 means that might tend to their satisfaction ; they could 
 have nothing else left them to do, than to meet and wor- 
 ship distinctly as they have. 
 
 ' For they could not but esteem the obligation of the 
 universal, natural, divine law, by Avhich they were bound 
 solemnly to worship God, less questionable than that of a 
 law, which was only positive, topical, and human, re- 
 quiring such and such additaments to their worship, and 
 prohibiting their worship without them. 
 
 ' The church of England, (as that part affects to be 
 called,) distinguished from the rest by those additionals 
 to Christian religion, (pretended to be indifferent, and 
 so confessed unnecessary,) hath not only sought to en- 
 gross to itself the ordinances of divine worship, but all 
 civil power. So that the privileges that belong either to 
 Christian or human society are enclosed, and made pe- 
 culiar to such as are distinguished by things that in them- 
 selves can signify nothing to the making of persons either 
 better Christians, or better men. 
 
 ' Qu. 2. Whether the laws enjoining such additions 
 to our religion, as the exclusive terms of Christian 
 worship and communion, ought to have been made, 
 when it is acknowledged on all hands, the things to be 
 added were before not necessary ; and when it is known 
 a great number judge them sinful, and must thereby 
 be restrained from worshipping the true and living 
 Godi 
 
 ' Ans. The question to any of common sense, answers 
 itself. For it is not put concerning such as dissent 
 from any part of the substance of worship which God 
 hath commanded, but concerning such additions as he 
 never commanded. And there are sufficient tests to 
 distinguish such dissenters from those that deny any 
 substantial part of religion, or assert any thing con- 
 
 u Vindication of some Protestant Principles, 4te. p. 52. 
 
 trary thereto. Wherefore to forbid such to worship 
 that God that made them, because they can't receive 
 your devised additions, is to exclude that which is ne- 
 cessary, for the mere want of that which is unneces- 
 sary. 
 
 ' And where is that man that will adventure to stand 
 forth, and avow the hindering of such persons from pay- 
 ing their homage to the God that made them, if we thus 
 expostulate the matter on God's behalf and their own 1 
 Will you cut off from God his right in the creatures he 
 hath made 1 Will you cut off from them the means of 
 their salvation upon these terms 1 What reply can the 
 matter admit 1 
 
 ' 'Tis commonly alleged that great deference is to be 
 paid to the laws, and that we ought to have forborne our 
 assemblies, till the public authority recalled the laws 
 against them : and we will say the same thing, when it 
 is well proved, that they who made such laws, made the 
 world too. 
 
 ' And by whose authority were such laws made 1 Is 
 there any that is not from God 1 and hath God given 
 any man authority to make laws against himself, and 
 to deprive him of his just rights from his own crea- 
 tures! 
 
 ' Nor if the matter be well searched into, could there 
 be so much as a pretence of authority derived for such 
 purposes from the people, whom every one now ac- 
 knowledges the first receptacle of derived governing 
 power. God can, 'tis true, lay indisputable obligations 
 by his known laws, upon every conscience of man 
 about religion, or any thing else. And such as repre- 
 sent any people, can, according to the constitution of 
 the government, make laws for them, about the things 
 they intrust them with : but if the people of England 
 be asked man by man, will they say they did intrust 
 to their representatives, their religion, and their con- 
 sciences, to do with them what they please 1 When it 
 is your own turn to be represented by others, is this 
 part of the trust you commit 1 What Dr. Sherlock" 
 worthily says concerning a bishop, he might (and par- 
 ticularly after, doth) say concerning every other man, 
 He can be no more represented in a council, than at the 
 day of judgment : every man's soul and conscience must 
 be in his own keeping ; and can be represented by no 
 man. 
 
 ' It ought to be considered that Christianity, wherein it 
 superadds to the law of nature, is all matter of revela- 
 tion. And 'tis well known that even among pagans, in 
 the settling rites and institutes of religion," revelation 
 was pretended at least, upon an implied principle, that 
 in such matters human power could not oblige the peo- 
 ple's consciences. 
 
 ' We must be excused therefore, if we have in our 
 practice expressed less reverence for laws made by no 
 authority received either from God or man. 
 
 'We are therefore injuriously reflected on, when it 
 is imputed to us, that we have by the use of our liberty 
 acknowledged an illegal dispensing power. We have 
 
 w As by Numa iVom his Egeria. And their priests, to whom the legulatioa 
 01 such matters was left, were eenerally believed to be inspired.
 
 THE LIFE OF MR. JOHN HOWE. 
 
 done no other thing herein, than we did when no dispen- 
 sation was given or pretended, in conscience of duty to 
 him that gave us our breath : nor did therefore practise 
 otherwise, because we thought those laws dispensed with, 
 but because we thought thein not laws. Whereupon little 
 need remains of inquiring further, 
 
 ' Qu. 3. Whether such laws should be continued 1 
 Against which, besides what may be collected from 
 that which hath been said, it is to be considered, that 
 what is most principally grievous to us, was enacted by 
 that parliament, that, as we have too much reason to 
 believe, suffered itself to be dealt with to enslave the 
 nation, in other respects as well as this ; and which (to 
 his immortal honour) the noble Earl of Danby procured 
 to be dissolved, as the first step towards our national deli- 
 verance. 
 
 ' And let the tenour be considered of that horrid law, 
 by which our Magna Charta was torn in pieces ; the 
 worst and most infamous of mankind, at our own ex- 
 pense, hired to accuse us ; multitudes of perjuries com- 
 mitted, convictions made without a jury, and without 
 any hearing of the persons accused; penalties inflict- 
 ed, goods rifled, estates seized and embezzled, houses 
 broken up, families disturbed, often at unseasonable 
 hours of the night, without any cause, or shadow of a 
 cause, if only a malicious villain would pretend to sus- 
 pect a meeting there ! No law in any other case like 
 this ! As if to worship God without those additions, 
 which were confessed unnecessary, were a greater 
 crime than theft, felony, murder, or treason ! Is it for 
 our reputation to posterity, that the memory of such a 
 law should be continued 1 
 
 ' And are we not yet awakened, and our eyes opened 
 enough to see, that the making and execution of the laws, 
 by which we have suffered so deeply for many by-past 
 years, was only, that protestants might destroy protestants, 
 and the easier work be made for the introduction of po- 
 pery, that was to destroy the residue 1 
 
 ' Nor can any malice deny, or ignorance of observing 
 Englishmen overlook, this plain matter of fact. After 
 the dissolution of that before-mentioned parliament, 
 dissenters were much caressed, and endeavoured to be 
 drawn into a subserviency to the court designs, espe- 
 cially in the election of after-parliaments. Notwith- 
 standing which, they every where so entirely and 
 unanimously fell in with the sober part of the nation, 
 in the choice of such persons for the three parliaments 
 that next succeeded, (two held at Westminster, and that 
 at Oxford,) as it was known would, and who did, most 
 generously assert the liberties of the nation, and the 
 protestant religion. Which alone (and not our mere dis- 
 sent from the church of England in matters of religion, 
 wherein Charles II. was sufficiently known to be a 
 prince of great mdifferency) drew upon us, soon afler 
 the dissolution of the last of those parliaments, that 
 dreadfi\l storm of persecution, that destroyed not a small 
 number of lives in gaols, and ruined multitudes of fa- 
 milies. 
 
 ' Let English freemen remember, what they cannot 
 but know, that it was for our firm adherence to the 
 
 civil interests of the nation, (not for our different modes 
 of religion from the legal way, though the laws gave 
 that advantage against us, which they did not against 
 others,) that we endured the calamities of so many 
 years. 
 
 ' When by the late king some relaxation was given us, 
 what arts and insinuations have been used with us, to 
 draw us into a concurrence to designs tending to the pre- 
 judice of the nation! And with how little effect upon 
 the generality of us, it must be great ignorance not to 
 know, and great injustice to deny. 
 
 'But he that knoweth all things, knoweth that though, 
 in such circumstances, there was no opportunity for our 
 receiving public and authorized promises, when we 
 were all under the eye of watchful jealousy ; yet as great 
 assurances as were possible, were given us by some that 
 we hope will now remember it, of a future established 
 security from our former pressures. We were told over 
 and over, when the excellent Heer Fagel's letter came 
 to be privately communicated from hand to hand, how 
 easily better things would be had for us, than that encou- 
 raged papists to expect, if ever that happy change should 
 be brought about, which none have now beheld with 
 greater joy than we. 
 
 ' We are loth to injure those who have made us hope 
 for better, by admitting a suspicion that we shall now 
 be disappointed and deceived, (as we have formerly 
 been, and we know by M'hom,) or that we shall suffer 
 from them a religious slavery, for whose sakes we have 
 suffered so grievous things, rather than do the least 
 thing that might tend to the bringing upon them a civil 
 slavery. 
 
 ' We cannot but expect from Englishmen that they be 
 just and true. We hope not to be the only instances 
 whereby the Anglica fides and the P^t?^^ca shall be thought 
 all one. 
 
 ' But if we, who have constantly desired, and as we 
 have had opportunity endeavoured the saving of the na- 
 tion, must however be ruined, not to greaten (one hair) 
 the wealth and dignity of it, but only to gratify the hu- 
 mour of them who would yet destroy it ; we, who are 
 competently inured to sufferings, shall through God's 
 mercy be again enabled to endure: but he that sits in the 
 heavens, will in his own time judge our cause, and we 
 will wait his pleasure; and we hope suffer all that can be 
 inflicted, rather than belraj' the cause of reformed Chris- 
 tianity in the world. 
 
 ' But our affairs are in the hands of men of worth 
 and honour, who apprehend how little grateful a name 
 they should leave to posterity, or obtain now with good 
 men of any persuasion, if, under a pretence of kindness 
 to us, they should now repeat the arts of ill men, in an 
 ill time. Great minds will think it beneath them to 
 sport themselves with their own cunning, in deceiving 
 other men; which were really in the present case too 
 thin not to be seen through, and may be the e^v at- 
 tainment of any man, that hath enough of opportunity, 
 and integrity little enough for such purposes. And 
 'tis as much too gross to endeavour to abuse the au- 
 thority of a nation, by going about to make that stoop
 
 THE LIFE OF MR. JOHN HOWE. 
 
 to so mean a thing, as to make a show of intending what 
 they resolve to their utmost shall never be. 
 
 ' But some may think, by concessions to us, the church 
 of England will be ruined, and a great advantage given 
 to the bringing in of poper}\ 
 
 ' To which we say, the generality of the dissenters 
 differ from the church of England, in no substantials 
 of doctrine and worship, no nor of government, provided 
 it be so managed, as to attain its true acknowledged end : 
 the favouring of us therefore will as much ruin the 
 church, as its enlargement and additional strength will 
 signify to its ruin. 
 
 ' And doth not the world know, that wherein we differ 
 from them, we differ from the papists tool And that 
 for the most part, wherein they differ from us, they seem 
 to agree with them 1 
 
 ' We acknowledge their strong, brave, and prosperous 
 opposition to popery: but they have opposed it by the 
 things wherein they agree with us. Their differences 
 from us are no more a fence against popery, than an en- 
 closure of straw is against a flame of fire. 
 
 ' But 'tis wont to be said, we agree not among our- 
 selves, and know not what we would have. 
 * ' And do all that go under the name of the church of 
 England agree among themselves 1 We can show more 
 considerable disagreements among them, than any can 
 between the most of us and a considerable part of them. 
 They all agree, 'tis true, in conformity ; and we all agree 
 in non-conformity. And is not this merely accidental 
 to Christianity and protestantism '? and herein is it not 
 well known that the far greater part of reformed Chris- 
 tendom do more agree with us 1 
 
 ' An arbitrary line of uniformity in some little acci- 
 dents, severs a small part of the Christian world from 
 all the rest. How unreasonably is it expected that 
 therefore all the rest must in every thing else agree 
 among themselves! Suppose any imaginary line to cut 
 off a little segment from any part of the terrestrial 
 globe ; 'tis as justly expected that all the rest should be 
 of one mind. If one part of England be tailors, they 
 might as well expect that all the people besides should 
 agree to be of one profession. 
 
 'Perhaps some imagine it dishonourable to such as 
 have gone before them in the same ecclesiastical stations 
 and dignities, if now any thing should be altered, which 
 their judgment did before approve and think fit. 
 
 ' But we hope that temptation will not prove invincible, 
 viz. of so excessive a modesty as to be afraid of seeming 
 wiser, or better natured, or of a more Christian temper 
 than their predecessors. 
 
 ' But the most of us do agree not only with one ano- 
 ther, but, in the great things above mentioned, with the 
 church of England too : and in short, that the reproach 
 may cea.se for ever with those that count it one, they will 
 find with us, when they please .to try, a very extensive 
 agreement on the terms of King Charles II.'s declaration 
 about ecclesiastical affairs, in 1660. 
 
 ' Qu. 4. Whether it be reasonable to exclude all that in 
 every thing conform not to the church of England, from 
 any part or share of the civil power 1 
 
 ' A71S. The difference or nonconformity of many is so 
 minute, that it would be as reasonable to exclude all 
 whose hair is not of this or that colour. And what if 
 we should make a distermination, by the decision this 
 way or that of any other disputed question, that may be 
 of as small concernment to religion '( suppose it be that 
 of eating blood, for the decision whereof one way, there 
 is more pretence from God's word, than for any point of 
 the disputed conformity : would it not be a wise constitu- 
 tion, that whosoever thinks it lawful to eat black-pudding, 
 shall be capable of no office, &c. 
 
 ' But we tremble to think of the exclusive sacramental 
 test, brought down as low as to the keeper of an ale- 
 house. Are all fit to approach the sacred table, whom 
 the fear of ruin or hope of gain may bring thither 1 We 
 cannot but often remember with horror, what happened 
 three or four years ago. A man that led an ill life, but 
 frequented the church, was observed not to come to the 
 sacrament, and pressed by the officers to come ; he yet 
 declined, knowing himself imfit ; at length, being threat- 
 ened and terrified, he came; but said to some present 
 at the time of the solemn action, that he came only to 
 avoid being undone, and took them to witness that 
 what he there received, he took only as common bread 
 and wine, not daring to receive them as the body and 
 blood of Christ. 'Tis amazing, that among Chris- 
 tians, so venerable an institution should be prostituted to 
 the serving of so mean purposes, and so foreign to its 
 true end ! and that doing it after the maimer of the 
 church of England must be the qualification ! as if Eng- 
 land were another Christendom; or it were a greater 
 thing to conform in every punctilio to the rules of this 
 church, than of Christ himself! 
 
 ' But we would fain know whose is that holy table 1 
 is it the table of this or that party, or the Lord's table 1 
 if the Lord's, are not persons to be admitted or excluded 
 upon his terms 1 Never can there be union or peace in 
 the Christian world till we take down our arbitrary en- 
 closures, and content ourselves with those which our 
 common Lord hath set. If he falls under a curse that 
 alters a man's landmark, to alter God's is not likely to 
 infer a blessing. 
 
 ' The matter is clear as the light of the sim, that as 
 many persons of excellent worth, sobriety, and godli- 
 ness, are entirely in the commimion of the church of 
 England, so there are too many of a worse character, 
 that are of it too ; and divers prudent, pious, and sober- 
 minded persons that are not of it. Let common reason 
 be consulted in this case. Suppose the tables turned, 
 and that the rule were to be made the contrary way, 
 viz. that to do this thing, but not by any means after 
 the manner of the church of England, were to be the 
 qualification: and now suppose one of meaner endow- 
 ments, as a man and a Christian, do what is required, 
 and not in the way of the church of England ; and 
 another that is of much better, does the same thing in 
 that way; were it suitable to prudence or justice, that 
 because it is done after the way of the church of Eng- 
 land, a fitter man should be reckoned unqualified 1 and 
 one of less value be taken for qualified, because he
 
 THE LIFE OF MR. JOHN HOWE. 
 
 does it a different way 1 Then Ls all that soiid weight of 
 wisdom, diligence, sobriety, and goodness, to be weighed 
 down by a feather. 
 
 ' It must surely be thought the prudence of any go- 
 vernment, to comprehend as many useful persons as it 
 can, and no more to deprive itself of the service of such 
 for any thing less considerable than those qualifications 
 are, by which they are useful, than a man would tear 
 off from himself the limbs of his body, for a spot on the 
 skin. 
 
 ' And really if, in our circumstances, we thus narrow 
 our interest, all the rest of the world will say, that they 
 who would destroy us, do yet find a way to be our in- 
 structors, and our common enemies do teach us our 
 politics. 
 
 ' P. S. The names of Mr. Hale, of Eton college, 
 and of a later most renowned bishop of the church of 
 England, who asserted this principle, that " if things be 
 imposed under the notion of indifferent, which many 
 think sinful, and a schism follow thereupon, the imposers 
 are the schismatics," will be great in England, as long as 
 their writings shall live, and good sense can be understood 
 in them.' 
 
 About this time, some had great expectations from the 
 meetings of the Ecclesiastical Commissioners who were 
 to prepare matters for the convocation. » Mr. Howe was 
 well acquainted, and had free and frequent conversation 
 with several of them, but found such a spirit had got 
 the ascendant among the dignified clergy, of whom the 
 convocation is made up, that there was no room for any 
 thing like an accommodation of the matters in difference, 
 which he often afterwards lamented, where he could use 
 freedom. 
 
 At length, on May 24th, this year, the ' Act for ex- 
 empting their Majesties' Protestant Subjects, dissenting 
 from the Church of England, from the Penalties of cer- 
 tain Laws,' received the royal assent. The dissenters 
 were hereupon contented and thankful; but the high- 
 flown clergy generally regretted the passing of this 
 act. The author of the Memoirs of the Life of Dr. 
 Robert South, owns in so many words, that that Doctor 
 by no means liked it.y And it was the same as to a 
 great many others of his temper and principles. Se- 
 veral years after. Dr. Henry Sacheverel being im- 
 peached by the Commons of England, the second ar- 
 ticle of the charge against him alleged, that he had 
 ' suggested and maintained, that this toleration granted 
 by law, was unreasonable, and the allowance of it un- 
 warrantable.' (1.) Upon which occasion. Sir Peter 
 King (one of the managers for the Commons) publicly 
 declared ' this toleration to be one of the principal con- 
 sequences of the revolution.' (2.) And the Lord Lech- 
 mere (who was another) declared, ' that the Commons 
 esteemed the toleration of protestant dissenters to be 
 one of the earliest and happiest effects of the revolu- 
 
 X See a particular account of the proceedings of these comniissioners, m the 
 Abndginent of Mr. Baxter's Life, vol. i. p. 452. 
 
 y Page 116. 
 
 z (1.) Trial of Dr Henry Sacheverel, p. 4. (2.) Trial, p. T?. (3.) Trial, p. 24. 
 (4 ) Trial, p 91. (5.) Trial, p. 49. 
 
 a Mr. Matthew Henry, in his short account of the Life of Mr. Riclianl Stret- 
 
 tion, wisely calculated for the support and strengthen- 
 ing the protestant interest, the great end of the revolu- 
 tion itself.' (3.) And Mr. Cowper (who was also 
 another) owned, that ' this indulgence was required from 
 the legislators, as they were Christians, and as they 
 were men professing humanity and good-will towards 
 one another.' (4.) And the attorney-general said, that 
 this was ' one of the most necessary acts for the good of 
 the kingdom.' (5.) And hereupon. Dr. Sacheverel's doc- 
 trine of wholesome severities was publicly branded. ^ 
 
 In order to the preventing (if it might be) flights of 
 this kind, or any thing that might be extravagant in 
 the opposite extreme, Mr. Howe verj' prudently, soon 
 after the toleration act passed, published another sheet 
 of paper, which he intituled, ' Humble Requests both to 
 Conformists and Dissenters touching their Temper and 
 Behaviour toward each other, upon the lately passed 
 Indulgence.''^ And this also deserves to be preserved to 
 posterity. 
 
 It is there moved, 
 
 ' 1. That we do not oveivrasignify our differences, or 
 coimt them greater than they really are. I speak now 
 (saj's Mr. Howe) of the proper differences which the 
 rule itself makes, to which the one sort conforms, and 
 the other conforms not. Remember that there are dif- 
 ferences on both parts, among themselves, incompar- 
 ably greater than these, by which the one sort differs 
 from the other. There are differences in doctrinal sen- 
 timents that are much greater. How inconceivably 
 greater is the difference between good men and bad ! 
 between being a lover of the blessed God, the Lord of 
 heavren and earth, and an enemy ! a real subject of 
 Christ, and of the devil ! Have we not reason to ap- 
 prehend there are of both these, on each side 1 Let us 
 take heed of having our minds tinctured with a wrong 
 notion of this matter, as if this indulgence divided 
 England into two Christendoms, or distinguished rather 
 between Christians and Mahometans, as some men's 
 Cyclopic fancies have an tmlucky art to represent 
 things ; creating ordinary men and things into monsters 
 and prodigious shapes at their own pleasure. It has 
 been a u.sual sajing on both sides, that they were (in com- 
 parison) but little things we differed about, or circum- 
 stantial things. Let us not unsay it, or suffer a habit of 
 mind to slide into us, that consists not with it. Though 
 we must not go against a judgment of conscience in the 
 least thing, yet let us not confound the true differences 
 of things, but what are really lesser things, let them go 
 for such. 
 
 ' 2. Let us hereupon carefully abstain from judging 
 each other's state God-ward upon these differences : for 
 hereby we shall both contradict our common rule, and 
 ourselves. When men make conscience of small and 
 doubtful things on the one hand, and the other, about 
 which they differ, blessed Grod, how little conscience 
 
 ton, that is subjoined to his Funeral Sermon for liim. n.«crihes this paper to Mr. 
 Strettoii. and intimatei! that he had it from a near relation of his. Iliat he was 
 tlie author of it : but this I have goo<i reason to lirliovc to have lieen a mistake. 
 Few I ha' have any taste of styles, can question it to have been Mr Howe's. 
 when DMco they have read it. But I can add in this case, that I have had fuL 
 assurance from Mr. Howe's family, that he was the real auUior of it.
 
 THE LIFE OF MR. JOHN HOWE. 
 
 is made of the plainest and most important rule, not to 
 judge one another for such differences, Rom. xiv. 3, 13. ! 
 Why of all the parts of that holy book, is this chapter 
 only thought no part of God's wordl or this precept, 
 so variously enforced in this chapter, and so awfully, 
 ver. 10, 11. 'But why dost thou judge thy brother 1 
 or why dost thou set at nought thy brother 1 We shall 
 all stand before the judgment-seat of Christ. For it is 
 written, As I live, saith the Lord, every knee shall bow 
 to me, and every tongue shall confess to me! Is it a 
 light matter to usurp the throne of Christ, the judg- 
 ment-seat of God 1 Yet how common has it been to 
 oay. Such a one conforms, he hath nothing of God in 
 him ! such a one conforms not ; 'tis not conscience, but 
 humour ! Grod forgive both. Had they blotted Rom. 
 xiv. out of their Bibles 1 'Tis plain by the whole series 
 of discourse, that it is the judging of men's states, and that 
 by such small matters of difference, that is the thing here 
 forbidden. Some [ew ihmgs contained in this chapter, 
 as, to receive one another, (as Christians, or such whom 
 God receives,) notwithstanding remaining doubts about 
 small matters, and not determining such doubled things 
 in bar to the doubter, ver. 1, 2, 3. and not to lay stum- 
 bling blocks in each other's way, ver. 13. not to do the 
 doubted thing with a mind still unsatisfied, ver. 5, 23. 
 not to censure, eit^<?r him that does or forbears ; not ad- 
 mitting a hard thought of him, or less favourable, than 
 that whai su'-h an one does, he does to the Lord, and 
 what the «<her forbears, he forbears to the Lord, ver. 6. 
 Thfse <ew things, I say, put in practice, had taken away 
 all 'lifferences, (that we are now considering,) or the in- 
 convenience of them, long ago. And we shall still need 
 them as much as ever. 
 
 ' 3. Let us not value ourselves upon being of this or 
 that side of the severing line. 'Tis Jewish, yea, pha- 
 risaical, to be conceited, and boast ourselves upon ex- 
 ternals, and small matters, especially if arbitrarily taken 
 up; and is itself an argument of a light mind, and in- 
 comprehensive of true worth. Though I cannot sin- 
 cerely be of this or that way, but I must think myself 
 in the right and others in the wrong that differ from 
 me, yet I ought to consider, this is but a small minute 
 thing, a point compared with the vast orb of know- 
 ables, and of things needful, and that ought to be 
 known. Perhaps divers that difier from me, are men 
 of greater and more comprehensive minds, and have 
 been more employed about greater matters ; and many 
 in things of more importance, have much more of valu- 
 able and useful knowledge than I. Yea, and since 
 these are not matters of salvation we differ about, .so 
 that any on either side dare considerately say, he can- 
 not be saved, that is not in these respects of my mind 
 and way ; he may have more of sanctifying savoury 
 knowledge, more of solid goodness, more of grace and 
 real sanctity than I; the course of his thoughts and 
 studies having been by converse and other accidents 
 led more off from these things, and perhaps by a good 
 principle been more deeply engaged about higher mat- 
 ters: for no man's mind is able equally to consider all 
 hings fit to be considered : and greater things are of 
 
 themselves more apt to beget holy and good impressions 
 upon our spirits, than the minuter and more circumstan- 
 tial things, though relating to religion, can be. 
 
 ' 4. Let us not despise one another for our differing in 
 these lesser matters. This is too common, and most na- 
 tural to that temper that offends against the foregoing 
 caution. Little-spirited creatures valuing themselves for 
 small matters, must consequently have them in contempt 
 that want what they coimt their own only excellency. 
 He that hath nothing wherein he places worth belong- 
 ing to him, besides a flaunting peruke and a laced suit, 
 must at all adventures think very meanly of one in a plain 
 garb. Where we are taught not to judge, we are forbid- 
 den to despise or set at nought one another upon these 
 little differences. 
 
 ' 5. Nor let us wonder that we differ. Unto this we 
 are too apt, i. e. to think it strange, (especially upon some 
 arguing of the difference,) that such a man should con- 
 form, or such a one not conform. There is some fault 
 in this, but which proceeds from more faulty causes. 
 Pride, too often, and an opinion that we understand so 
 well, that a wrong is done us if our judgment be not 
 made a standard and measure to another man's. And 
 again, ignorance of human nature, or inconsiderateness 
 rather, how mysterious it is, and how little can be 
 known of it; how secret and latent little springs there 
 are that move this engine to our own mind this way 
 or that ; and what bars (which perhaps he discerns not 
 himself) may obstruct and shut up towards us another 
 man's. Have we not frequent instances in other 
 common cases, how difficult it is to speak to another 
 man's understanding 1 Speech is too penurious, not ex- 
 pressive enough. Frequently, between men of sense, 
 much more time is taken up in explaining each other's 
 notions, than in proving or disproving them. Nature 
 and our present state, have in some respects left us 
 open to God only, and made us inaccessible to one ano- 
 ther. Why then should it be strange to me, that I 
 cannot convey my thought into another's mind 1 'Tis 
 unchristian to censure, as before, and say. Such a one 
 has not my conscience, therefore he has no conscience 
 at all: and it is also unreasonable and rude to say, 
 Such a one sees not with my eyes, therefore he is stark 
 blind. Besides, the real obscurity of the matter is not 
 enough considered. I am very confident an impartial and 
 competent judge, upon the view of books, later and more 
 ancient, upon such subjects, would say, there are few 
 metaphysical questions disputed with more subtlety, than 
 the controversies about conformity and nonconformity. 
 Blessed be God that things necessary to the salvation of 
 souls, and that are of true necessity even to the peace and 
 order of the Christian church, are in comparison so very 
 plain. 
 
 ' Moreover there is, besides understanding and judg- 
 ment, and diverse from that heavenly gift which in the 
 Scriptures is called grace, such a thing as gust and 
 relish belonging to the mind of man, and I doubt not, 
 to all men, if they observe themselves ; and this is as 
 unaccountable and as various as the relishes and dis- 
 gusts of sense. This they only wonder at, that either
 
 THE LIFE OF MR. JOHN HOWE. 
 
 understand not themselves, or will consider nobody 
 but themselves. To bring it dowTi to the present case. 
 As to those parts of worship which are of most frequent 
 use in our assemblies, (whether conforming or noncon- 
 forming,) prayer, and preaching, and hearing God's 
 word, our diflerences about them cannot but in part 
 arise from the diversity of this principle, both on the 
 one hand and the other. One sort do more savour 
 prayer by a foreknown form ; another that which hath 
 more of surprise, by a grateful variety of unexpected 
 expressions. And it can neither be universally said, 
 it is a better judgment, or more grace, that determines 
 men the one way or the other ; but somewhat in the 
 temper of their minds distinct from both, which I know 
 not how better to express than by mental taste, the acts 
 whereof (as the objects are suitable or unsuitable) are 
 relishing or disrelishing, liking or dislikmg : and this 
 hath no more of mystery in it, than that there is such 
 a thing belonging to our natures, as complacency or 
 displicency in reference to the objects of the mind. 
 And this, in the kind of it, is as common to men, as 
 human nature, but as much diversified in individuals, 
 as men's other inclinations are, that are most fixed, and 
 lesist apt to admit of change. Now in the mentioned 
 case, men cannot be universally determined either way, 
 by their having better judgment ; for no sober man 
 can be so little modest, as not to acknowledge, that 
 there are some of each sentiment, that are less judicious, 
 than some that are of the contrary sentiment in this 
 thing. And to say that to be more determined this way 
 or that, is the certain sign or efiect of a greater measure 
 of grace and sanctity, were a great violation both of 
 modesty and charit)'^. I have not met with any that 
 have appeared to live in more entire communion with 
 Grod, in higher admiration of him, in a pleasanter sense 
 of his love, or in a more joyful expectation of eternal 
 life, than some that have been wont with great delight 
 publicly to worship God in the use of our Common 
 Prayer : and others I have known, as highly excelling 
 in the same respects, that could by no means relish it, 
 but have always counted it insipid and nauseous. The 
 like may be said of relishing or disrelishing sermons 
 preached in a digested set of words, or with a more 
 flowing freedom of speech. It were endless and odious 
 to vie either better judgments, or more pious inclina- 
 tions, that should universally determine men either the 
 one way or the other in these matters. And we are no 
 more to Avonder at these peculiarities in the temper of 
 men's minds, than at their different tastes of meats and 
 drinks ; much less to fall out with them, that their minds 
 and notions are not just formed as ours are : for we should 
 remember, they no more differ from us, than we do 
 from them; and if we think we have the clearer light, 
 'tis like they also think they have clearer. And 'tis in 
 vain to say. Who shall be judge 1 for every jj^n will 
 at length judge of his own notions for himself, and 
 cannot help it : for no man's judgment (or relish of 
 things, which influences his judgment, though he know 
 it not) is at the command of his will ; and much less of 
 another man's. And therefore, 
 
 ' 6. Let us not be offended mutually with one another, 
 for our different choice of this or that way, wherein 
 we find most of real advantage and edification. Our 
 greatest concern in this world, and which is common to 
 us all, is the bettering of our spirits, and preparing them 
 for a better world. Let no man be displeased, (especially 
 of those who agree in all the substantials of the same 
 holy religion,) that another uses the same liberty, in 
 choosing the way most conducing in his experience to 
 his great end, that he himself also uses, expecting to do 
 it without another man's offence. 
 
 ' 7. But above all, let us, with sincere minds, more ear- 
 nestly endeavour the promoting the interest of religion 
 itself, of true reformed Christianity, than of this or 
 that party. Let us long to see the religion of Chris- 
 tians become simple, primitive, agreeable to its lovely 
 original state, and again itself; and each in our own 
 stations contribute thereto all that we are able, labour- 
 ing that the internal principle of it may live and flourish 
 in our own souls, and be to our utmo.st diffused and 
 spread unto other men's. And for its externals, as the 
 ducture of our rule will guide us, so gradually bend to- 
 wards one common course, that there may at length cease 
 to be any divided parties at all. 
 
 ' In the mean time, while there are, let it be remem- 
 bered, that the difference lies among Christians and 
 protestants, not between such and pagans. Let us 
 therefore carry it accordingly towards each other ; and 
 consider our assemblies are all Christian and pro- 
 testant assemblies, differing in their administrations, 
 for the most part, not in the things prayed for or depre- 
 cated, or taught, but in certain modes of expression ; 
 and differing really, and in the substance of things, 
 less by mere conformity or nonconformity to the public 
 rule of the law, than many of them that are imder it 
 do from one another, and than divers that are not un- 
 der it. For instance, go into one congregation that is 
 a conforming one, and you have the public prayers 
 read in the desk, and afterwards a form of prayer per- 
 haps used by the preacher in the pulpit, of his own 
 composure, before he begins his sermon. Go into an- 
 other congregation, and prayer is performed without 
 either sort of form ; and perhaps the difference in this 
 is not so great. It may be the conformist uses no pre- 
 conceived form of his own, and the nonconformist may. 
 Both instruct the people out of the same holy book ol 
 God's word. But now suppose one of the former sort 
 reads the public prayers gravely, with the appearance 
 of great reverence, fervency, and pious devotion; and 
 one of the latter sort that uses them not, does however 
 pray for the same things, with judgment and with like 
 gravity and Jiffection, and they both instruct their 
 hearers fitly and profitably ; nothing is more evident 
 than that the worship in these two assemblies doth much 
 less considerably differ to a pious and judicious mind, 
 than if in the latter the prayers were also read, but care- 
 lessly, sleepily, or scenically, flauntingly, and with mani- 
 fest irreverence, and the sermon like the rest ; or than if 
 in the former, all the performance were inept, rude, or 
 very offensively drowsy or sluggish.
 
 THE LIFE OF MR. JOHN HOWE. 
 
 ' Now, let us show ourselves men, and manly Chris- 
 tians, not swayed by trifles and little things, as chil- 
 dren by this or that dress or mode, or form of our 
 religion, which may perhaps please some the more for 
 its real indecency : but know, that if while we continue 
 picquering about forms, the life be lost, and we come to 
 bear the character of that church, ' thou hast a name that 
 thou 11 vest, and art dead,' we may e'er long (after all the 
 wonders God hath wrought for us) expect to hear of our 
 candlestick's being removed, and that our sun shall go 
 down at noon-day. 
 
 ' The true serious spirit and power of religion and 
 godliness, will act no man against his conscience, or 
 his rule understood, but will oblige him in all acts of 
 worship (as well as of his whole conversation) to keep 
 close to Gospel prescription, so far as he can discern it. 
 And that he will find requires, that in subordination to 
 the divine glory, he seriously design the working out 
 the salvation of his own soul, and take that course in 
 order thereto, put himself under such a ministry, and 
 such a way of using God's ordinances, as he finds most 
 profitable and conducing to that great end, and that doth 
 his soul most real good. If you are religious, or of this 
 or that mode or way of religion, to serve a carnal de- 
 sign for yourself or your party, not to save your soul, 
 you commit the most detestable sacrilege, and alienate 
 the most sacred thing in the world, religion, from its 
 true end ; which will not only lose that end, but infer 
 a heav-y vengeance. Yea, and 'tis too possible to 
 transgress dangerously, by preferring that which is less, 
 though never so confidently thought to be divine, be- 
 fore that which is greater, or separately from its true 
 end. You greatly prevaricate, if you are more zeal- 
 ously intent to promote independency than Christianity, 
 presbytery than Christianity, prelacy than Christianity, 
 a.s any of these are the interest of a party, and not con- 
 sidered in subserviency to the Christian interest, nor 
 designed for promoting the edification and salvation 
 of your own soul. But that being your design, 
 living religion will keep your eye upon your end, 
 and make you steady, and constantly true to that, and 
 to your rule, without which you can never hope to reach 
 your end. 
 
 ' Now hereupon such as conform to the public esta- 
 blishment, and they that dissent from it, may differ 
 from each other upon a two-fold account : either, (1.) 
 as judging the contrary way to be simply unlawful ; 
 or, (2.) as judging it to be only less edifying. 'Tis not 
 the business of this paper to discuss, who herein judge 
 aright, and who wrong ; but supposing their judgment 
 to remain as it is, (which they themselves however 
 should examine, and if it be wrong rectify,) I shall say 
 somewhat to each of these cases. 
 
 ' To the former, Avhile your judgment continues as 
 it is, 'tis true you cannot join in worship with the con- 
 trary minded : but nothing forbids, but you can be kind, 
 conversable, courteous towards them ; and your com- 
 mon Christian profession (besides the rules of humanity) 
 obliges you so to be ; yea, and even to converse with 
 
 b See tliose Heads of Agreement at large, AljiiJgraent of Mr. Baxter's 
 Life, vol. i. p. 476. 
 
 them, as occasion invites, more intimately as Cnns- 
 tians, the visible marks of serious Christianity appear- 
 ing in them. 
 
 ' To the latter sort it is acknowledged, you cannot 
 constantly join in worship with those of the contrary 
 way, because you ought ordinarily to worship God in 
 that way which you judge to be best, and most 
 agreeable to the divine rule ; (though you are not oblig- 
 ed utterly to abandon any for its imperfections or cor- 
 ruptions, that is not corrupt in the very essentials ;) 
 and you ought most frequently to attend on that which 
 you find to be most edifying to your own soul ; as that 
 should be your more ordinary diet that best agrees with 
 you. That way therefore you must most constantly 
 adhere to, which is most grateful and savoury to you ; 
 because you cannot so much edify by what you less 
 relish. But your judgment and latitude will well al- 
 low you sometimes to frequent the assemblies with 
 which you hold not constant commtmion. And if it 
 will allow, it will also direct you thereto for a valuable 
 end ; as that you may signify, you ordinarily decline 
 them not as no Christians, or their worship as no 
 worship, but Eis more defective, or less edifying, and 
 that you may maintain love, and both express and 
 beget a disposition to nearer union. And if our rulers 
 shall judge such intercourses conducing to so desirable 
 an end, they may perhaps in due time think it reasonable 
 to put things into that state, that ministers of both sorts 
 may be capable of inviting one another occasionally to 
 the brotherly offices of mutual assistance in each other's 
 congregations. For which, and all things that tend to 
 make us a happy people, we must wait upon him in 
 whose hands their hearts are.'' 
 
 Having brought down my history thus far, I shall 
 not, in what remains, confine myself to relate things 
 just as they passed year by year, but shall for brevity 
 sake rather choose to give an account in the general, 
 of Mr. Howe's conduct in the warm debates that arose 
 among the dissenting ministers, some time after the 
 revolution and toleration ; in the controversy upon 
 the doctrine of the Trinity ; and the dispute about oc- 
 casional conformity ; and then shall add some account 
 of his works not yet mentioned, and of his last sickness, 
 death and burial, and his exemplary character ; and 
 subjoin in the close of my narrative (which I hope 
 cannot disgust by its length, when it entertains with 
 so great variety) such letters of his, as I have been able 
 to recover. 
 
 I shall begin with the differences among the dis- 
 senting ministers soon after the revolution, and when 
 they had obtained a toleration. These were very im- 
 happy ; and the more so, because they gave too much 
 occasion to tho.se to insult, who had often said. Do but 
 let the^ people alone, and you'll see, they'll soon fall 
 out among themselves. We may date the rise of them, 
 from the Heads of Agreement, assented to by the body 
 of the united ministersb in and about the city, and in 
 the several parts of the coimtry, which were published
 
 THE LIFE OF MR. JOHN HOWE. 
 
 in 1691. Mr. Howe had a considerable hand in draw- 
 ing them up. The design of them was to bring those 
 that were presbyterian and those that were congre- 
 gational in their judgments to a coalition, that so their 
 difference might for the future be buried in oblivion : 
 but it so fell out, that some few of those who were in 
 their judgment strictly congregational, standing out, 
 and refusing to approve these heads of agreement, and 
 concur in the designed anion, plied their brethren who 
 were of the same sentiments with him, who had con- 
 sented to the union, so close, that they gave them no 
 rest, till they broke off from those to whom it was in- 
 tended they should for the future have been more 
 strictly united. It was observed in Germany, that 
 that which they called the Book of Concord, was the 
 occasion of great discord :<= so also, this designed 
 union among us, was the occasion of new divisions and 
 quarrels. It was indeed at first much applauded, and 
 the Heads of Agreement were generally approved and 
 subscribed, and they who stj'led themselves the united 
 brethren acted very harmoniously, and had weekly 
 meetings, in which matters of common concernment 
 were managed and adjusted with great imanimity. 
 They, by consent, published a declaration against Mr. 
 Richard Davis, of Rothwel, in the county of North- 
 ampton,d and did several other things that might have 
 contributed to the keeping iip order and regularity, and 
 the making the dissenters appear a compacted body : 
 but at length they had separate weekly meetings, and 
 such feuds and jealousies arose amongst them, as issued 
 in a rupture that had affecting consequences, in which 
 it was apprehended that they who never were of the 
 union, had no small hand. One great occasion of the 
 debates now on foot, was the reprinting of the w^orks 
 of Dr. Crisp, (who was noted for his antinomian 
 notions, though reputed a very pious man,) with some 
 sermons added ; to which a paper was prefixed, sub- 
 scribed by several ; for which a sort of an apology was 
 afterwards published, which was prefixed to Mr. John 
 Flavel's discourse, intituled, 'A Blow at the Root; or the 
 Causes and Cures of mental Errors.' Mr. (afterwards 
 Dr.) Daniel Williams wrote against the errors of these 
 sermons a book intituled, ' Gospel Truth stated and 
 vindicated,' to which also there were several names 
 subscribed ; and Mr. Lorimer wrote a large apology 
 for those subscribers ; and a great variety of pamphlets 
 were published on both sides, which made a great noise 
 and stir. And at length, there came out in 1G92 a paper 
 intituled, ' The Agreement in Doctrine among the Dis- 
 senting Ministers in London,' which was subscribed by 
 Mr. Howe among the rest, but it answered not the end ; 
 for the debates were still continued." 
 
 One party suspected (or at least pretended to suspect) 
 the other of verging too much towards Arminianism, 
 and even Socinianism ; and they on the other si<le 
 charged them with encouraging antinomiauism. Seve- 
 ral papers were hereupon drawn up, and subscribed, in 
 
 c See Brandt's Historj' of the Reformation, in and about the Low Countries, 
 vol. i. book 12. p. 364. 
 d See this Declaration, Abridsmenf of Mr. Baxter's Life, vol. i. page 512. 
 e He tljat would see tliis controversy among the tosenters represented 
 
 order to an accommodation ; there was a first, a second, 
 and a third paper, of this sort : and these very papers 
 created new altercations and debates, that were carried 
 on with no small heat and pettishness ; and a number 
 that stood by, could hardly tell what it was they con- 
 tended about. Several new creeds were framed, and 
 still objected against by some or other, either as too 
 large or too strait, too full or too empty. The world 
 wEis wearied out with pamphlets and creed-making, 
 and the Bishop of Worcester and Dr. Edwards were 
 appealed to, and gave their judgment ; and yet the 
 jealousies that were on foot were so strong, that they 
 did not of a long time abate or decrease : and the only 
 peace there was to be foimd, was among a few standers- 
 b)'-, who, without meddling with debates, amicably 
 persuaded the contenders, since they could not agree 
 to imite, to agree to differ, to lay aside their heat, and 
 speak as well of each other as they could. And such 
 were the effects of these brangles at that time, upon 
 the most common conversation, and so odd do the con- 
 troversies that were then managed appear, if reviewed 
 at a distance, as to convince considerate observers, that 
 ' there is no such enemy to peace as jealousy encouraged; 
 and that indulged suspicion is an endless fund of con- 
 tention.' 
 
 I cannot help here inserting a passage out of Bishop 
 Stillingfleet in his answer to Mr. Lobb's Appeal. 
 ' There is (says he) a remarkable story in the history 
 of the s)Tiod of Dort, which may not be improper in this 
 place. There were in one of the universities of that 
 country two professors, both very warm and extremely 
 zealous for that which they accounted the most ortho- 
 dox doctrine ; but it happened that one of these ac- 
 cused the other before the synod for no fewer than 
 fifty errors, tending to Socinianism, Pelagianism, &c. 
 and wonderful heat there was on both sides. At last a 
 committee was appointed to examine this dreadful 
 charge, and upon examination they found no ground 
 for the charge of Socinianism, or an)' other heres}'^, but 
 only that he had asserted too much the use of ambigu- 
 ous and scholastic terms, and endeavoured to bring in 
 the way of the schoolmen in his writings ; and there- 
 fore the synod dismissed him with that prudent advice, 
 rather to keep to the language of the Scripture, than of 
 the schools. 'f 
 
 But as to Mr. Howe, he had sufficiently declared his 
 judgment with respect to the matters which were now 
 so eagerly disputed on, in the writings which he had 
 published ; and it was his great aim to keep things 
 from running to extremity. In order to it, he publish- 
 ed ' The Carnalit}' of Christian Contention,' in two 
 sermons preached at the Merchant's Lecture in Broad- 
 street, in 1693. The preface to these discourses 
 ' breathes so heavenly a charity and concern for the 
 truly Christian interest, that (as Mr. Spademan" ob- 
 serves) a very eminent divine of the established church 
 did profess a willingness to lay down his own life, if 
 
 at larirc would do well to consult Mr. Nelson's life of Bishop Bull. p. 2S9. 
 260, 261. &r.. 
 
 f Bishop Stillinfffleet's Works, vol. iii. p. 405, 406. 
 
 g Funeral Sermon for Mr. Howe, p. 1044.
 
 THE LIFE OP MR. JOHN HOWE. 
 
 such a state of things as is there described, might obtain 
 among Christians.' 
 
 I shall be at the pains to transcribe from thence a 
 few remarkable passages. He observes, ' that when in 
 one place Christians are exhorted to contend earnestly 
 for the faith, and are told in another that the servant 
 of the Lord must not strive, 'tis plain there is a conten- 
 tion for religion which id a duty, and a contention 
 even concerning religion which is a sin. The servant 
 of the Lord must not strive, so as to exclude gentle- 
 ness, aptne-ss to instruct, and patience : and we are to 
 contend earnestly for the faith, but with a sedate mind, 
 full of charily, candour, kindness, and benignity, to- 
 wards them we strive with. There is a great differ- 
 ence between the church's contention with enemies 
 without it, and contentions within itself. The former 
 unite it, and increase its strength and vigour; the latter 
 divide and enfeeble it. As to those of this latter kind, 
 nothing is more evident, or deserves to be more con- 
 sidered, than that as the Christian church has grown 
 more carnal, it hath grown more contentious; and as 
 more contentious, still more and more carnal. The 
 savour hath been lost of the great things of the Gospel, 
 which only afford proper nutriment to the life of god- 
 liness ; and it hath diverted to lesser things, about which 
 the contentious disputative genius might employ it- 
 self. Thereby hath it grown strong and vigorous, and 
 acquired the power to transform the church from a 
 spiritual society, enlivened, acted, and governed by the 
 spirit of Christ, into a mere carnal thing like the rest 
 of the world. Carnality hath become its governing 
 principle, and torn it into fragments and parties, each 
 of which will be the church, enclose itself within its 
 own peculiar limits, exclusive of all the rest, claim and 
 appropriate to itself the rights and privileges which be- 
 long to the Christian church in common, yea, and 
 Christ himself, as if he were to be so enclosed or con- 
 fined. Hence it is said, Lo here is Christ, and there he 
 IS, till he is scarce to be found any where. And how 
 manifest are the tokens of his displeasure and retirement !' 
 Hereupon he offers it to consideration, 
 
 ' I. Whether for any party of Christians to make 
 unto itself other limits of communion than Christ hath 
 made, and hedge up itself within those limits, excluding 
 those whom Christ would admit, and admitting those 
 whom he would exclude, be not in itself a real sin 1 
 The holy table is the symbol of communion ; and if it 
 be the Lord's, it ought to be free to his guests, and ap- 
 propriate to them. Who should dare to invite others, or 
 forbid these 7 
 
 ' 2. If it be a sin, is it not a heinous one 1 Christianitj' 
 itself should measure the communion of Christians as 
 such ; and visible Christianity their visible commu- 
 nion. Christianity must be estimated principally by its 
 end, which refers not to this world, but to the world 
 to come, and a happy state there. Christians are a 
 sort of men tending to Grod and blessedness, under the 
 conduct of Christ, to whom they have by covenant de- 
 voted *hemselves, and to God in him. If any society 
 of men professedly Christian, make limits of their com- 
 
 munion, admitting those that Christ's rule excludes, 
 and excluding them whom it would admit, they break 
 Christ's constitution, and set up another. — If they be 
 little things only that we add; the less they are, the 
 greater the sin to make them necessary, and hang so 
 great things upon them ; break the church's peace and 
 rmity by them, and of them to make a new Gospel, 
 new terms of life and death, a new way to heaven ! 
 And is in effect to say, If you will not take Christianity 
 with these additions of ours, you shall not be Christiajs ; 
 you shall have no Christian ordinances, no Christian 
 worship : we will, as far as in us is, exclude you heaven 
 itself, and all means of salvation ! If this be sinful, it is 
 a sin of the deepest dye. But, 
 
 ' 3. If we suppose this a sin, and a heinous one, how 
 far doth the guilt of it spread ! How few are they that 
 lay their communions open to visible Christianity as 
 such, excluding none of whatsoever denomination, nor 
 receiving any that by Christian rational estimate cannot 
 be judged such ! 
 
 ' 4. How few that consider this as the provoking 
 cause of Christ's being so much a stranger to the 
 Christian church ! and how little is it to be hoped we 
 shall ever see good days, till this wasting evil is re- 
 dressed ! Carnal interest is the thing every where do- 
 signed by one party and another. The church for 13 
 or 1400 years hath been gradually growing a multiform, 
 mangled, shattered, and most deformed thing; broken 
 and parcelled into nobody knows how many several sorts 
 of communions. Not only things most alien from real 
 Christianity are added to it, but substituted in the room 
 of it, and preferred before it ; yea, and things most de- 
 structive of it, indulged and magnified in opposition to 
 it. Never were there more fervent contentions among 
 all sorts, whose notions, opinions, modes, and forms are 
 to be preferred. The word of God tells us, that to be 
 carnally minded is death. These contests seem there- 
 fore to express great solicitude how most neatly to adorn 
 a carcass ; or at best how with greatest art and curiosity 
 to trim and apparel gorgeously a languishing man in 
 the feared approaches of death, instead of endeavouring 
 to save his life. 
 
 ' It were a happy omen, if good men could once 
 agree what in particular to pray for. One would think 
 it should not be difficult to men of sincere minds, upon 
 serious consideration of the present sad state of things, 
 to agree to pray that the church of Christ may be more 
 entirely one, and that unity might be preserved in the 
 bond of peace, and this in order to its growth to the 
 measure of the stature of a perfect man in Christ : for 
 who sees not, that the Christian iirterest is naturally 
 obstructed in its extensive growth by the visible dis- 
 union of the Christian community 1 and penally too, 
 by the offence given to the spirit of Christ, who there- 
 upon in great degrees withdraws itself? That only 
 which the present state of things admits of, is, that we 
 keep ourselves united in mind and spirit with all seri- 
 ous Christians, in the plain and necessary things 
 wherein they all agree ; and preserve a resolved unad- 
 dictedness to any party in the things wherein they
 
 THE LIFE OF MR. JOHN HOWE. 
 
 xl 
 
 differ. That for actual local communion, we join with 
 them that we judge come nearest to our common rule ; 
 and labour to centre in some such scheme of doctrinals, 
 as may be of use distinctly to inform others concerning 
 our sentiments ; provided it be avowed to be looked upon 
 but as a mensura mensurata, reserving imto the Scriptures 
 the honour of being the only 7nensura mcnsurans, and so 
 that we only own it as agreeable to the Scriptures : de- 
 claring we take it to be agreeable thereto in the main, 
 and for substance, without attributing a sacredness to the 
 very words of a mere human composition, which indeed 
 we cannot attribute to the words used in the translation 
 of the Bible itself,' &c. 
 
 In the two discourses that follow, he shows that much 
 of a very blameable carnality may show itself in and 
 about spiritual matters, and particularly even in defend- 
 ing the truths of the Gospel, and that this may be dis- 
 covered by several indications. 
 
 And he declares this to be the case, ' when Christians, 
 who are very far agreed in the most important things, 
 make little of the things wherein they are agreed, 
 though ever so great, in comparison of the much less 
 things wherein they differ: and, when there is too 
 much aptness to lay greater stress than is needful upon 
 such unscriptural words, in delivering Scripture doc- 
 trine ; when we consider with too little indulgence one 
 another's mistakes and misapplications in the use even of 
 Scripture words, placing them (as some may do) upon 
 things to which they do not properly belong, when yet 
 they agree about the things themselves ; when there is 
 an agreement about the main and principal things that 
 the Scripture revelation contains and carries in it, but 
 there is not that agreement about their mutual respects 
 and references unto one another; and when we are over- 
 intent to mould and square Gospel truths and doctrines 
 by human measures and models, and too earnestly strive 
 to make them correspond.' 
 
 He adds, ' that carnality also appears, when there is 
 a discernible proneness to oppose the great things of 
 the Gospel to one another, and to exalt or magnify 
 one, above or against another : when any do with 
 great zeal contend for this or that opinion or notion as 
 very sacred and highly spiritual, with no other design 
 than that under that pretence they may indulge their 
 own carnal inclination with the greater liberty : when in 
 maintaining any doctrine of the Gospel in opposition 
 to others, we industriously set ourselves to pervert their 
 meaning, and impute things to them that they never 
 say ; or if we charge their opinions whom we oppose, 
 with consequences which they disclaim : when disputes 
 arise at length to Avrath, to angry strife, yea, and even 
 to fixed enmity : when any adventure to judge of the 
 consciences and states of them whom they oppose, or 
 from whom they differ : when we over-magnify our own 
 understandings, and assume too much to ourselves : and 
 then, finally, carnality greatly shows itself, in an affecta- 
 tion and desire of having such disputes still kept afoot, 
 and the contests continued, without either limit or ra- 
 tional design.' 
 
 He illustrates each article by suitable instances ; and 
 4 
 
 then cries out, ' Can none remember when the disputa- 
 tive humour had even eaten out the power and spirit 
 of practical religion and godliness 1 Thither things 
 are again tending, if, either by severity or mercy, God 
 do not prevent and repress that tendency. As yet I 
 fear the humour is violent, when the fervour of men's 
 spirits is such, as to carry them over all Scripture direc- 
 tions and animadversions, that they may signifj' no- 
 thing with them ; only make it their business each 
 one to animate the more vogued champions of their 
 own party into the highest ferments. Let us consider 
 we are professedly going to heaven. "We shall carry 
 truth and the knowledge of God thither with us ; we 
 shall carry purity thither, devoledness of soul to God 
 and our Redeemer, divine love and joy, with whatever 
 else of real permanent excellency hath a fixed seat and 
 place in our souls. But do we think we shall carry 
 strife to heaven 1 Shall we carry anger to heaven 1 
 Envyings, lieart-burnings, animosities, enmities, hatred 
 of our brethren and fellow-christians, shall we carry 
 these to heaven with us 1 Let us labour to divert our- 
 selves, and strike off from our spirits every thing that 
 shall not go with us to heaven, or is equally unsuitable 
 to our end and way, that there may be nothing to obstruct 
 and hinder our abundant entrance at length into the ever- 
 lasting kingdom.' 
 
 But no "' reasonings, expostulations, or complaints 
 would avail to extinguish the flame that was kindled. 
 At length there was a design formed in 1694, to ex- 
 clude Mr. Williams out of the lecture at Pinners-Hall ; 
 and then there was a new Tuesday lecture set up at 
 Salters-Hall, and Dr. Bates, Mr. Howe, and Mr. Alsop 
 bore Mr. Williams company in this new lecture ; and 
 the other two who continued at Pinners-Hall, viz. Mr. 
 Mead and Mr. Cole, had four more joined to them. Mr. 
 Howe in his first turn at the new lecture in Salters- 
 Hall, preached a very affecting sermon, from Isa. Ixiv. 7. 
 And there is none that calleth upon thy name, that 
 stirreth up himself to take hold of thee : for thou hast 
 hid thy face from ixs, and hast consumed us because 
 of our iniquities. And after this, no further attempts 
 (as I know of) were made for a coalition, but the 
 heat and strangeness abated by degrees, and they 
 learnt to keep up a friendly correspondence with each 
 other, making allowance for a diversity of sentiments, 
 but acting in concert in all matters of common concern- 
 ment; which was by experience found to be much 
 more comfortable than the continuance of strife and 
 contention, which tends to confusion, and every evil 
 work. 
 
 However, having obtained a copy of a letter, written 
 by Mr. Howe to his dear and intimate friend, Mr, 
 Spilsbury, (at his desire,) upon occasion of the setting 
 up another Tuesday lecture, I shall here insert it, be- 
 cause it may help to give some light into this mat- 
 ter. 
 
 London, April 20, 95. 
 ' My dear Brother, 
 ' YotJ strangely forget yourself, when you say I gave
 
 xlli 
 
 THE LIFE OF MR. JOHN HOWE. 
 
 you on account of the Pinners-Hall business, of which 
 I sent you a large narrative, when the business was 
 recent ; which if it miscarried, tell me so, and I pro- 
 mise you I will never do the like again: for it is a 
 very discouraging thing, when it is so hard a matter to 
 get time to write such long letters, to have them lost 
 by the way ; or it is not better, if when they are received 
 they are taken pro non scripiis. God knows how I 
 strove against that division. Almost all my friends 
 that called me to bear a part in that lecture, perceiving 
 the violence of the other party, agreed to remove to a 
 much more convenient place ; and they were, so far as I 
 can learn, the greatest part of the ancient subscribers, 
 who were grave, sober citizens. They invited Mr. Mead 
 as well as me. If he would not go, I could not help 
 that. His acquaintance lay more among the other, as 
 mine did with these. He and they all knew the many 
 meetings we have had to prevent the breach ; he and 
 I with divers of them on both sides. And they (who 
 are now of Pinners-Hall) ran against his advice and 
 mine, when they had desired us to meet purposely to 
 advise them. He hath been since as weary of them 
 as others, as he hath owned to me. They avowed it 
 for a principle before we parted, they would lay any of 
 us aside at their pleasure, without giving a reason : 
 and were told thereupon, we would lay down without 
 giving them a reason ; though I think that' itself was 
 a sufficient reason. They knew too, how often, since 
 the lecture was broken into two, and it appeared now 
 there were two congregations, which no one place 
 could receive, I have urged, both publicly and privately, 
 that the same lecturers might alternate in both places, 
 which would take away all appearance of disunion ; 
 and who they were only that opposed it. Upon these 
 terms I have preached with them still ; but I will not 
 be tied to them, nor any party, so as to abandon all 
 others. My frequent insisting in sermons among them, 
 when I saw whither things tended, that these were 
 tokens of what was coming, (just as thou writest,) will 
 be thought on, it may be, hereafter, though then it was 
 not. Above all, that which determined me was, that 
 when I solemnly proposed to them in a sermon, the 
 keeping a fast, before they went on to that fatal rupture ; 
 and it was as solemnly promised by the chief of them 
 there should be no step further made without a fast ; 
 it should be declined afterwards. Hereupon I told 
 them in my last sermon there, I should be afraid of 
 confining myself to such as were afraid of fasting and 
 prayer in so important a case, (repeating their own 
 good resolution to that purpose,) and began my course 
 in the other place with a fast, to lament what we could 
 not prevent. These things will be recollected another 
 day. 
 
 'In the mean time there never was greater intimacy 
 or endearedness between Mr. Mead and me, than now. 
 Last week he desired me only, without any other, to 
 join with him in keeping a fast at his house, about some 
 private affairs of his own, which we did. I was to 
 have preached at his place to-morrow, after my own 
 work at home ; but present indisposition prevents me 
 
 as to both. We have however agreed to exchange some 
 times : but this cannot last long. The things that 
 threaten us make haste. Only let us be found among 
 the mourners in Zion ; comforts will come, in this or 
 the better world. I just now heard from Mr. Porter out 
 of Sussex, who inquires after thee. 
 
 In the Lord, farewell : 
 To thee and thine, 
 from me and mine, 
 with most entire and 
 undecaying affection, 
 J. H.' 
 
 Great also' were the debates that were at this time on 
 foot about the doctrine of the Trinity. Different eX' 
 plications of that doctrine had been published by Dr. 
 Wallis, Dr. Sherlock, Dr. South, and Dr. Cudworth, 
 and others ; and a certain writer published considera- 
 tions on these explications, which occasioned Mr. Howe, 
 in 1G94, to publish a tract, intituled, 'A calm and sober 
 Inquiry concerning the Possibility c£ a Trinity in the 
 Godhead, in a Letter to a Person of worth.' To which 
 were added, some letters formerly written to Dr. Wallis, 
 on the same subject. 
 
 In this discourse he waves the question about three 
 persons in the Deity, though he declares the use of that 
 term neither blameable, nor indefensible ; and only in- 
 quires whether the Father, the Son or Word, and the 
 Holy Ghost, cannot possibly admit of sufficient dis- 
 tinction from one another, to answer the parts and 
 purposes severally assigned them by the Scripture, in 
 the Christian economy, and yet be each of them God, 
 consistently with this indubitable truth, that there can 
 be but one God. This he asserts to be no absurdity or 
 contradiction. 
 
 He promises, that he undercaKes not to show that the 
 Father, Son, and Holy Ghost are three and but one in 
 the same respect : and that he only designs to represent 
 this matter as possible to be some way, though not as 
 definitely certain to be this way or that. This being 
 done, he, 
 
 1. Acknowledges, that whereas we do with greatest 
 certainty and clearness conceive of the Deity, as an intelr 
 lectual being, comprehensive of infinite and universal 
 perfection, so do we conclude it a being necessarily ex- 
 istent. He is the I am : and whatsoever intellectual 
 being is necessarily existent is divine ; whereas whatso- 
 ever being is contingent, is a creature. 
 
 2. He affirms, that whatsoever simplicity the ever- 
 blessed God hath by any express revelation claimed to 
 himself, or can by evident and irrefragable reason be 
 demonstrated to belong tc him as a perfection, ought to 
 be ascribed to him : but such simplicity as he has nol 
 claimed, such as can never be proved to belong to him, 
 or to be any real perfection, such as would prove an im- 
 perfection and a blemish, &c. we ought not to ascribe 
 to him. 
 
 3. He declares, that such as have thought themselves 
 obliged by the plain word of God to acknowledge a 
 trinity in the Godhead, of Father, Son, and Holy
 
 THE LIFE OF MR. JOHN HOWE. 
 
 xliii 
 
 Ghost, but withal to diminish the distinction of the 
 one from the other, so as even to make it next to no- 
 thing, by leason of the straits into which unexamined 
 maxims concerning the divine simplicity have cast 
 their minds, have yet not thought that to be absolute 
 or omnimodous. 
 
 4. Since we may offend very highly by an arrogant 
 pretence to the knowledge we have not, but shall not 
 offend by confessing the ignorance which we cannot 
 remedy, he infers, we should abstain from confident 
 conclusions in the dark, especially concerning the 
 nature of God; and from saying, we clearly see a 
 sufficient distinction of Father, Son, and Spirit in the 
 Godhead cannot be, or is impossible. 
 
 5. Waving the many artificial unions of distinct 
 things, that united and continuing distinct make one 
 ^hing, under one name, he proposes only to consider 
 what is natural, and instances in what is nearest to us 
 in our very selves. Now we find, as to ourselves, that 
 we are made up of a mind and a body ; somewhat that 
 can think, and somewhat that cannot; sufficiently dis- 
 tinct, yet so united as to make up one man. He adds, 
 
 6. That the making up two things of so different 
 natures into one thing, was possible to be done, since 
 it is actually done; 'twas what God could do, for he 
 hath done it. And if it be possible to him to unite 
 two things of so very different natures into one thing, 
 'twould be hard to assign a colourable reason, wh)'' it 
 should not be as possible to him to imite two things of 
 a like nature. He argues, 
 
 7. That if such a imion of three things, so as that 
 they shall be truly one thing, and yet remain distinct, 
 though united, can be affected, then it is not intrin- 
 sically, or in itself, impossible. 
 
 8. If such a union with such distinction be not in 
 itself impossible, 'tis offered to consideration, whether 
 we shall have a conception in our own mind any thing 
 more incongruous, if we conceive such a union, with 
 such distinction, unmade and eternal, in an immade 
 or uncreated being. 
 
 9. Supposing it possible that three spiritual beings 
 might be in a state of so near union with continuing 
 distinction, as to admit of becoming one spiritual being, 
 as well as that a spiritual being and a corporeal being 
 may be in a state of so near rmion, with continuing 
 distinction, so as to become one spiritual corporeal 
 being: he queries, whether supposing the former of 
 these to be as possible to be done as the latter, which 
 is done already, we may not as well suppose somewhat 
 like it, but infinitely more perfect, in the uncreated being 1 
 
 10. He affirms, that the union of the two natures, 
 the human with the divine, in one person of the Son 
 of God, cannot appear to considerate persons more con- 
 ceivable or possible, than the supposed union of three 
 distinct essences in the one Godhead. 
 
 11. He affirms, there is nothing in all this repugnant 
 to such simplicity as God any where claims to his own 
 being, or that plain resison will constrain us to ascribe 
 lo him, or that is really in itself any perfection. 
 
 13. He adds, that if we should suppose three spiritual J 
 
 necessary beings, the one whereof were mere power, 
 destitute of either wisdom or goodness; another mere 
 wisdom, destitute of either goodness or power ; and a 
 third mere goodness, destitute of either power or wis- 
 dom; existing separately and apart from each other; 
 this triple conception would overthrow itself, and could 
 allow little ease to a considerate mind; for no one of 
 these could be God: but conceiving essential power, 
 wisdom, and goodness concurring, in one spiritual ne- 
 cessarily existent being, and not only permeating each 
 other, but really and vitally united, in the most perfect 
 and intimate manner, there is nothing of repugnancy, 
 contradiction, or abstxrdity in the matter. But then 
 'tis added, 
 
 13. That this is only a possible supposition, of what 
 for ought we know may be. This (he says) argues no 
 composition in the being of God; nor are we under 
 the precise notions of power, wisdom, and goodness, to 
 conceive of the Father, Son, and Holy Ghost. 
 
 14. This (he says) does not make three Gods, it only 
 asserts so much distinction between the Father, Son, 
 and Spirit, as is necessary to the founding the distinct 
 attributions which in the Scriptures are severally given 
 them, without affirming they are three distinct sub- 
 stances, three infinite minds or spirits. 
 
 15. The main thing (he says) we are searching for, 
 is what the most sacred Godhead may be, to which a 
 oneness is ascribed with a threefold distinction ; and 
 finding there are in the creation made imions, with suffi- 
 cient remaining distinction, particularly in ourselves, that 
 we are a soul and a body, that the soul is called the man, 
 and the body too ; we are led to apprehend it more easily 
 possible there might be two spirits so united as to be one 
 thing, yet continuing distinct ; and if two there might be 
 three. And if such a made union, -with, continuing distinc- 
 tion, be possible in created being, it may not be impossi- 
 ble in the uncreated, that there may be such an eternal 
 tmmade union, with continued distinction. 
 
 16. The unity of the Godhead is declared to be 
 salved, because the supposition takes in the natural, 
 eternal, necessary union of all the three : nor is the God- 
 head supposed more necessarily to exist, than these 
 three are to co-exist in the nearest and most intimate 
 union with each other therein. 
 
 17. But an hypothesis in this affair, which leaves 
 out the very nexus, that natural, eternal union, or 
 leaves it out of its proper place, and insists upon mutual 
 consciousness, which is but a consequence thereof, 
 wants the principal thing requisite to the salving the 
 unity of the Godhead. 
 
 18. The order of priority and posterioritj', which the 
 names Father, Son, and Spirit, do more than intimate, 
 is declared to be this way preserved and complied with. 
 
 19. If it is urged, that one individual necessarily 
 existent spiritual being alone is God, and is all that 
 is signified by the name of God; 'tis answered, that if 
 by one individual necessarily existent spiritual being, 
 either the Father, Son, or Holy Ghost is meant, taken 
 sejunctly, it is denied ; for both the other are truly sig- 
 nified by the name of God too.as well as that one.
 
 xliv 
 
 THE LIFE OF MR. JOHN HOWE. 
 
 20. If it is further objected, that the notion of God 
 is this way made to comprehend Father, Son, and Holy 
 Ghost, and a Godhead besides common to these three : 
 'tis answered, that the notion of God imports not any 
 thing more of real being than is contained in Father, 
 Son, and Holy Ghost, taken together, and most inti- 
 mately, naturally, and vitally, by eternal necessity, 
 united with one another. 'Tis added, 
 
 21. That let such a union be conceived in the being 
 of God, with such distinction, and the absolute perfection 
 of the Deity, and the perfect felicity thereof will be the 
 more apprehensible with us. 
 
 22. And yet as to delight in society, 'tis owned we 
 are not strictly to measure God by ourselves,, further 
 than as he himself prompts and leads us. 
 
 23. However, 'tis declared, that thus conceiving, the 
 sacred Triunity will be so remote from any shadow of 
 inconsistency or repugnancy, that no necessity can re- 
 main upon us, of torturing wit, and racking invention, 
 to do a laboured and artificial violence to numerous 
 and plain texts of Scripture, only to undeify our glorious 
 Redeemer, and do the utmost despite to the Spirit of 
 grace, &e. 
 
 This inquiry of Mr. Howe's was reflected on in a 
 'Postscript to the Defence of Dr. Sherlock's Notion of 
 the Trinity in Unity;' and thereupon he, in the same 
 year, published a 'Letter to a Friend, concerning that 
 Postscript.' 
 
 In this Letter Mr. Howe inquires, whether in his 
 printed Inquiry he had said more than Dean Sherlock, 
 or more than is defensible, of the distinction of the 
 sacred Three in the Godhead; and also, whether the 
 Dean had said so much as he had done, or so much as 
 was requisite, of their union. 
 
 He shows that the Dean must be judged, by every 
 one that understands common sense, to have heightened 
 the distinction of the three persons, at least as much as 
 he had done in his Inquiry: and that the Dean said not 
 enough in his book to salve the unity of the Godhead, 
 but ought to have insisted upon somewhat prior to 
 mutual consciousness, as constituent of that unity. He 
 shows that he wrongs him, and wounds himself; and 
 concludes, that since the difference between the sacred 
 Three, which only proceeds from their natural eternal 
 order, is conjecturable only, but is really unknown, 
 unrevealed, and inscrutable, it is better herein to con- 
 fess the imperfection of that knowledge which we have, 
 than to boast of that which we have not, or aspire to 
 that which we cannot have. 
 
 After this, there came out 'Some Considerations on the 
 Explications of the Doctrine of the Trinity, in a Letter 
 to H. H.' And Mr. Howe being therein concerned, in 
 1695, published ' A View of those Considerations, in a 
 Letter to the former Friend.' Wherein he gives it as 
 his judgment, that much service might be done to the 
 common interest of religion, by a free mutual commu- 
 nication of even more doubtful thoughts, if such dis- 
 quisitions were pursued with more candour, and with 
 less confidence and prepossession of mind, or addicted- 
 h Page 43. 
 
 ness, to the interest of any party whatsoever. If it 
 were rather endeavoured to reason one another into, 
 or out of, this or that opinion, than either by sophistical 
 collusions to cheat, or to hector by great words, one 
 that is not of our mind. Or if the design were less to 
 expose an adversary, than to clear the matter in con- 
 troversy. Besides, that if such equanimity did more 
 generally appear and govern in transactions of this na- 
 ture, it would produce a greater liberty in communi- 
 cating our thoughts about some of the more vogued 
 and fashionable opinions, by exempting each other 
 from the fear of ill treatment in the most sensible kind. 
 It being too manifest that the same confident insulting 
 genius, which makes a man think himself competent 
 to be a standard to mankind, would also make him 
 impatient of dissent, and tempt him to do worse, than 
 reproach one that differs from him, if it were in his 
 power. And the club or faggot arguments must be 
 expected to take place, where what he thinks rational 
 ones did not do the business. 
 
 He declares, that the perusal of these very consider- 
 ations, gave him more confidence about his hypothesis, 
 than he allowed himself before, finding that the saga/- 
 cious author of them, of whose abilities and industry 
 together he really had that opinion, as to count him the 
 most likely to confute it of all the modern anti-trinita- 
 rians, had no other way to deal with it, than first both 
 partially and invidiously to represent it, and then 
 rather to trifle than argue against it. And after freely 
 discoursing about the delicious society the divine hy- 
 postases are supposed to have with each other; about 
 the union of the sensitive, vegetative, and intellectual 
 natures in man, and the union also of soul and body; 
 about the union of intelligent beings; about heresy, 
 infinite and infinitude, essential and substantial unions, 
 &c. he declares he did not find that that writer had any 
 thing of argument in his discourse, which had not 
 been before considered in the discourse he had had 
 with the considerator ; and therefore he takes his leave, 
 and wrote no more upon the argument. 
 
 Mr. Howe, as well as others, in this case, met with 
 very different treatment from several persons, accord- 
 ing to their different notions. He was the more re- 
 spected by some, upon the account of what he publish- 
 ed on this subject, while others that greatly valued his 
 other writings, wished he had left this argument un- 
 touched, and kept his thoughts to himself: and some, 
 out of the abundance of their zeal for orthodoxy, could 
 scarce forbear charging him, as well as Dean Sherlock, 
 with downright heresy. To whom I shall make no 
 other return, than in the words of Bishop Stillingfleet, 
 in his preface to his ' Vindication of the Doctrine of 
 the Trinity.'!! ' There is a kind of bitter zeal, which is 
 so fierce and violent, that it rather inflames than heals 
 any wounds that are made; and is of so malignant a 
 nature, that it spreads and eats like a cancer, and if a 
 stop were not given to it, it might endanger the whole 
 body.' May such a zeal as this never prevail among 
 us: and if it has already got any footing, the good
 
 THE LIFE OF MR. JOHN HOWE. 
 
 XlT 
 
 Lord grant it may be heartily and speedily repented of, 
 and shaken off, and laid aside. Amen.' 
 
 But it seems necessary I should add somewhat upon 
 another subject, which also made a great noise in the 
 latter part of this good man's life, and that is the business 
 of occasional conformity. 
 
 Mr. Howe had all along' from his first quitting his 
 church, upon the taking place of the Act of Uniformity, 
 carried himself with great calmness and moderation, 
 and had openly declared for this occasional conformity, 
 before communicating with the established church was 
 a necessary qualification for a place in the magistracy ; 
 and it was the same also as to a number of his brethren : 
 and yet when the chief magistrate in the city of Lon- 
 don had carried the regalia to a dissenting congrega- 
 tion, it occasioned no small clamour ; and when a little 
 after Sir Thomas Abney, who was a worthy member 
 of Mr. Howe's congregation, (than whom none ever 
 filled the chair of the city with greater honour,) went 
 publicly to worship God, (in 1701, which was the year 
 of his mayoralty) sometimes in the established church, 
 and sometimes among the dissenters, a pamphlet was 
 published, intituled, ' An Inquiry into the Occasional 
 Conformity of Dissenters ;' in which this practice was 
 represented as very scandalous, and a preface was pre- 
 fixed to Mr. Howe, in which he was called on either 
 to vindicate it, or declare against it. Mr. Howe did 
 not much care to enter upon an argument of that na- 
 ture with one of so warm a temper as the author of that 
 Inquiry, and contented himself with a short return to 
 him in a small pamphlet, that was intituled ' Some Con- 
 sideration of a Preface to an Inquiry concerning the 
 Occasional Conformity of Dissenters :' in which he 
 tells the prefacer, that he for a long time had had an 
 habitual aversion in his own mind, from perplexing 
 himself, or disturbing others, by being concerned in 
 agitating the controversies that have been on foot about 
 the circumstantials of religion. That he had contented 
 himself, by the best means he could be furnished with, 
 and the best use God enabled him to make of them, so 
 far to form and settle his own judgment, as was neces- 
 sary to his own practice. That he had faithfully fol- 
 lowed his judgment, and abstained in the mean time 
 ft-om censuring others, who took a different way from 
 him. That he was sensible every one must give account 
 of himself to God : and that it is a great consolation 
 to such as sincerely fear God, that if with upright 
 minds they principally study to approve themselves 
 to him, and if they mistake, do only err for fear of err- 
 ing ; he will not with severity animadvert upon the 
 infirmity of a weak and merely misguided judgment : 
 and that it is a sure truth, worth all this world, that to 
 an honest unbiassed heart, 'tis a far easier thing to please 
 God, than men. That they that contend fervently and 
 conclude positively concerning church-power, &c. often 
 discover more confidence than knowledge or solid judg- 
 ment ; and much oftener little of the spirit of Christ and 
 the Gospel. 
 
 He further tells the prefacer, that before he had 
 offered at engaging him in this quarrel, he ought to 
 
 have been well assured, that he did really concern him- 
 self to advise one way or other, as to the lawfulness 
 or unlawfulness of that occasional conformitj', about 
 which he contended ; or at least that he ought to have 
 done so: but that not being able to make either of 
 these appear, he had been guilty of an affectation of 
 intermeddling beyond any call he had, that could lead 
 him to it. That he had pretended to judge in a matter 
 he had nothing to do with ; and that he had taken upon 
 him to invade the throne of the Most High, in charging 
 the worthy person referred to with acting against his 
 conscience. He tells him that before he concluded that 
 with so rash confidence, he ought to have been able to 
 prove the act in its circumstances unlawful. And his 
 making use of that text, about following God or Baal, 
 as if the God of the dissenters and of the established 
 church differed as the living God and Baal, he tells him 
 was profane and impious wit. And he at last aJJs, 
 that the person by him criminated, might, notwithstand- 
 ing any thing he had said, be in the right ; but if the 
 prefacer's judgment upon the case was true, he conceived 
 that the truth, accompanied with his temper of spirit, 
 was much worse than the other's error. And some time 
 after, he drew up, and there was found among his re- 
 maining papers, 
 
 ' A Letter to a Person of Honour, par tit/ representing tke 
 Rise of Occasional Conformity, and partly the Sense of 
 the present Nonconformists, about their yet continuing 
 Differences from the Established Church.' 
 
 ' Mt Lord, 
 
 'Tis well known to such as have understood the state 
 of religion in this kingdom, since the beginning of the 
 reformation, that there have been very different senti- 
 ments about the degrees of that reformation itselfl 
 Some have judged the church with us so insufficiently 
 reformed, as to want as yet the very being of a true 
 Christian church ; and wherewith they therefore thought 
 it unlawful to have any communion at all. Of whom 
 many thereupon in the several successive reigns, with- 
 drew themselves into foreign parts, for the enjojTnent of 
 the liberty of such worship as they judged more agree- 
 able to the word of God. 
 
 ' There have been also no inconsiderable numbers, la 
 former and later times, that though not entirely satis- 
 fied with our reformation, were less severe in their 
 judgment concerning the constitution and practice of 
 the established church ; that is, did not judge its re- 
 formation so defective, that they might not commu- 
 nicate at all with ,it, nor so complete, but that they ought 
 to covet a communion more strictly agreeable to the Holy 
 Scripture ; and accordingly apprehended themselves to 
 lie under a two-fold obligation of conscience in refer- 
 ence hereto. 
 
 ' 1. Not, by any means, totally to cut themselves off 
 on the one hand from the commimion of the establish- 
 ed church, in which they found greater and more mo- 
 mentous things to be approved of and embraced with 
 great reverence and complacency, (,viz. all the true
 
 xlvi 
 
 THE LIFE OF MR JOHN HOWE] 
 
 noble essentials of Christian religion, not suDvertea as 
 among the Romanists by any contrary doctrines or prac- 
 tices,) than could be pretended to remain the matter of 
 »heir disapprobation and dislike. 
 
 ' 2. Nor, on the other hand, to decline other commu- 
 nion, which to the judgment of their conscience ap- 
 peared, in some considerable circumstances, more 
 agreeable to the Christian rule, and to their experience 
 more conducing to their spiritual advantage and edifi- 
 cation. 
 
 ' Which latter judgment of theirs (whether itself jus- 
 tifiable or no we are not now considering) hath been 
 with many so fixed and inflexible, that in several suc- 
 cessive reigns, great numbers of such persons, who we 
 had no reason to apprehend had any thought totally to 
 abandon the established church, yet thought themselves 
 obliged besides, to seek and procure opportunities for 
 such other communions, even with extreme peril, not 
 only to their estates and liberties, but to their very lives 
 themselves. 
 
 ' They could not therefore but think both these sorts of 
 communions lawful, viz. whereto they might adjoin, but 
 not confine themselves. 
 
 ' And though to that former sort of communion, there 
 hath for many years by-past, been superadded the ac- 
 cidental consideration of a place or otfice attainable 
 hereby, no man can allow himself to think, that what 
 he before counted lawful, is by this supervening con- 
 sideration become unlawful : especially if the office were 
 such, as was in no manner of way to be an emolu- 
 ment, but rather an occasion of greater expense to the 
 undertaker of it ; that is, only enabled him to serve God, 
 the government, and his country, being regularly called 
 hereto, in the condition of a justice of peace, or other- 
 wise. In which capacity it is notorious that divers per- 
 sons of eminent note of this persuasion (and .some in 
 higher stations) have, within the space of forty years 
 past and upwards, been serviceable to the public in divers 
 parts of the nation. 
 
 ' It is not indeed to be thought that the judgment 
 and practice of such men can be throughout approved 
 by our reverend fathers and brethren of the established 
 church, as neither can we pretend it to be so universally 
 by ourselves. But we are remote from any the least 
 suspicion, that persons of so excellent worth and Chris- 
 tian temper, as now preside over the established church, 
 can suffer themselves to judge or censure men of this 
 sentiment, as being for this single reason men of hypocri- 
 tical and insincere minds ; but that they will rather think 
 it possible their understandings may be imposed upon, so 
 as this may be the judgment, in the whole, of a sincere 
 though misinformed conscience. 
 
 ' For when they apprehend this church, having all 
 the essential parts of Christian religion, has not, by 
 adding some much disputed things, that are not pre- 
 tended to be any parts thereof, (but that are become as 
 necessary to communion with it, as any of the most es- 
 sential part,) thereby unchurched itself, but that they 
 may hold communion with it ; yet they do not see that 
 they ought to appropriate their communion to it, so as to 
 
 refuse all other communion, where the same essentials of 
 Christian religion are to be found without those additions 
 which really belong not to it ; they are apt to think such 
 sentiments of theirs not to be altogether destitute of some 
 plausible ground. 
 
 ' However, among those that are not entirely in every 
 punctilio of this church, it hath not any so firm friends, or 
 that are so nearly united in judgment and affection with 
 it, as men of this sentiment. 
 
 ' We for our parts (who because in some things we 
 conform not, are called nonconformists, whereas no 
 man conforms in every thing) are not allowed to be 
 counted members of this church, by those that take 
 denominations, not from the intimate essentials of things, 
 (as sameness of doctrine, and the institutions of Christian 
 worship,) but from loose and very separable accidents ; 
 yet, thanks he to God, we are not so stupid, as not to 
 apprehend we are imder stricter and much more sacred 
 obligations, than can be carried under the sound of a 
 name, to adhere to those our reverend fathers and breth- 
 ren of the established church, who are most united among 
 themselves, in duty to God and our Redeemer, in loyalty 
 to our sovereign, and in fidelity to the protestant religion, 
 as with whom in this dubious state of things we are to 
 run all hazards, and to live and die together. Whether 
 they can have the same assurance, both from interest and 
 inclination of mind, concerning all that are of the same 
 external denomination with themselves, they need not us 
 to advise with. 
 
 ' We have our yet depending lesser diflerences, about 
 which we have (notwithstanding whatsoever provoca- 
 tion) been generally and for the most part silent ; and 
 see not in reference to them, what can further remain, 
 than that we, for our part, do consider, that all minds 
 are not turned the same way ; that such from whom we 
 dissent, no further differ from us than we do from them ; 
 and we are therefore no more to wonder at them, than 
 ourselves. 
 
 ' And we cannot disallow ourselves to hope, that our 
 reverend fathers and brethren will conceive of us as 
 humbly dissenting from them, without diminution of 
 that great reverence which their real worth claims 
 from us, and without arrogating any thing unduly to 
 ourselves on that account. For though we cannot avoid 
 thinking we are in the right, in those particular things 
 wherein we differ, yet at the same time we know our- 
 selves to be far excelled by them, in much greater and 
 more important things. 
 
 My honoured Lord, 
 )^our Lordship's 
 
 most obedient 
 
 humble servant, 
 
 J. H.' 
 
 But after this, some gave themselves a strange 
 liberty of inveighing against this practice of occasional 
 communion, as • irrational, unchristian, and altogether 
 unaccountable and self-condemning. And it at length 
 became a question, whether they that could at all and 
 in any case worship God with the church of England,
 
 THE LIFE OF MR. JOHN HOWE. 
 
 xlvu 
 
 should not be obliged to do it for a constanc)"^, or else 
 be incapacitated from holding any place either of 
 profit or trust 1 And when things were come to this 
 pass, and the Occasional Bill was first brought into the 
 House of Commons in 1702, Mr. Howe committed his 
 thoughts to writing in the following paper. 
 
 A CASE. 
 
 'Two sorts of Christian assemblies are wont to meet, 
 seveialiy, for the worship of God, which both hold all 
 the same articles of doctrine taught by Christ or his 
 apostles; and use the same institutions of worship ap- 
 pointed by them: only they diifer in this, that the one 
 sort use also some rites, not so appointed, which the 
 other use not. 
 
 ' Two gentlemen. Sir T and Sir J , are of 
 
 equal estates: but Sir T lives not so regularly, 
 
 more seldom comes to the worship of God in any 
 Christian assembly; yet when he doth, resorts only to 
 one of the former sort. 
 
 'Sir J is a sober, virtuous person, of approvea 
 
 piety, prudence, justice, fortitude, and who publicly 
 worships God, sometimes in the one sort of assembly, 
 and sometimes in the other. 
 
 ' The question is not, whether some lewd and vicious 
 persons may not frequent both sorts of assemblies; nor 
 whether some sober and pious persons may not frequent 
 those of the former sort only. 
 
 'But whether Sir J ought to be rendered inca- 
 pable of serving the government (to which he hath 
 constantly expressed himself well affected) in any sta- 
 tion, civil or militar}^, for this single reason, because he 
 sometimes worships God in assemblies of the latter 
 sort; (whether it be his infelicity, ill humour, or mis- 
 take, whereof yet he is not convinced;) while Sir T 
 
 (who is as little convinced of his ill life) is left ca- 
 pable 1 At least if the one be incapable, should not 
 both 1 
 
 ' But if the question be determined the other way, 
 monstrous ! How will that determination of an Eng- 
 lish parliament stand in the annals of future time 1 
 How will wiser posterity blush they had such proge- 
 nitors ! For can it be supposed a nation will be always 
 drunk 1 Or if ever it be sober, will it not be amazed 
 there ever was a time, when a few ceremonies, of which 
 the best thing that ever was said was that the}' were 
 indifferent, have enough in them to outweigh all reli- 
 gion, all morality, all intellectual endowments, natuitil 
 or acquired, which may happen in some instances to be 
 on the wrong side, (as it must now be reckoned,) when 
 on the other, is the height of profaneness. and scorn at 
 religion ; the depth of debauchery and brutiality, with 
 half a wit, hanging between sense and nonsense: onl)' 
 to cast the balance the more creditable way, there is 
 the skill to make a leg, to dance to a fiddle, nimbly to 
 change gestures, and give a loud response, which con- 
 tain the answer for the villanies of an impure life ! 
 
 ' If those little pieces of church-modislmess have so 
 much in them of real value, in all these are they not 
 well enough paid by the whole church revenues of 
 
 England, without stigmatizing every body that so much 
 admires them not '? 
 
 'And while divers of real worth live upon chanty, 
 some with difficulty getting, others {edncated to mo- 
 desty) with greater difficulty begging, their bread ! 
 
 ' But do those who are not contented to engross all 
 the legal emoluments, think there is no God in heaven, 
 that knows their large promises, at the beginning of 
 this revolution, of great abatements in their church 
 constitution ; when now, without abating one hair, they 
 must have all conform to it in every punctilio, or be 
 (as much as in them is) made infamous, and the scorn 
 of the nation V 
 
 But I draw a veil, and am not for dilating upon this 
 matter. 
 
 I shall only add, that as the dissenters have beea 
 considerable losers, as to their interest as a party, by 
 this occasional conformity, and might easily from the 
 first foresee that they should be so, they appear to me 
 to have acted a very generous part in practising and 
 defending it: and yet they have met with most un- 
 brotherly treatment on this accoimt from those to whom 
 they were willing to approach as near as they could, 
 while some have run them down upon this account as 
 perfect hypocrites; and others have represented this 
 occasional conformity as no commendable charity, as 
 long as they did not come up to constant conformity, 
 and yield the cause to them entirely. If this is doing 
 as men would be done unto, it is very strange ! Poste- 
 rity 'tis to be hoped will judge more favourably. How- 
 ever, after such treatment, so oft repeated, and so long 
 continued, if the dissenters should for the future be 
 more sparing in this waj^ of showing their charity^ 
 which they to whom they would express it, seem so 
 resolved to misintei-pret, I think it cannot be very sur- 
 prising: and if it should be attended with any ill con- 
 sequences, I doubt these gentlemen will find ihej- musi 
 lie at their doors, at last 
 
 But by this time, when that little charity that we 
 had remaining among us was just expiring, Mr. Howe 
 began to be weary of living. He had seen enough of 
 the v.orld, to. discern how imfit a place il was fo 
 continue to dwell in. He wanted to breathe in 
 nobler air, and inhabit better regions. And we shaJl 
 soon see how he fled thither, when we have touched on 
 those works of his, that have been hitherto unmentioned, 
 the account of which stands thus. 
 
 In 1690, he published 'A Funeral Sermon for Mrs, 
 Esther Sampson, late wife of Henry Sampson, Dr of 
 Ph3^sic, who died Nov. 24, 1669, from Luke xin. 16.' 
 
 In 16S5, ' A Discourse relating to the much lamented 
 Death, and solemn Funeral, of our incompai^ble and 
 most gracious Clueen Mary, of most blessed memory j 
 dedicated to the Right Honourable Rachel Lady 
 Russel.' 
 
 In 1698, ' A Sermon on the much lamented Death of 
 that reverend and worthy Servant of Chri-st, Mr. 
 Richard Adams, M. A. sometime Fellow of Brazen- 
 nose College in Oxon ; afterwards Minister of St. Mil-
 
 xlviii 
 
 THE LIFE OF MR. JOHN HOWE. 
 
 dred's, Bread-street, London : more lately Pastor of a 
 Congregation in Southwark, who deceased Feb. 7, 
 1698.' 
 
 The same year also he printed ' A Sermon preached on 
 the Day of Thanksgiving, Dec. 2. 1697,' and another 'to 
 the Societies for Reformation of Manners, from Rom. 
 xiii. 4.' 
 
 In 1699 he printed 'A Funeral Sermon for that re- 
 verend and most laborious Servant of Christ in the Work 
 of the Ministry, Mr. Matthew Mead,' who deceased 
 October 16th, this year, which is dedicated to the Lord 
 aaid Lady Haversham. The same year also came out 
 another discourse of his, concerning the ' Redeemer's 
 Dominion over the invisible World, and the Entrance 
 thereinto by Death : Preached on the Occasion of the 
 Death of John Hoghton, Esq. eldest Son of Sir Charles 
 Hoghton, of Hoghton Tower, in the County of Lancas- 
 ter, Bart.' And soon after, came out the ' Funeral Ser- 
 mon of the Reverend Dr. William Bates,' dedicated to 
 his Grace the Duke of Bedford. 
 
 In 1701 he printed 'A Two-fold Discourse, of Man's 
 Enmity against God, and Reconciliation between God 
 and Man, from Col. i. 21.' 
 
 In 1702 he published the ' Second Part of the Living 
 Temple, containing Animadversions on Spinosa, and a 
 French Writer pretending to confute him; with a Re- 
 capitulation of the Former Part, and an Account of the 
 Destitution and Restitution of God's Temple amongst 
 Men ;' which is dedicated to William, Lord Pagett, 
 Baron of Beaudesert in the county of Stafford. The 
 same year he also published ' A Sermon at the Funeral 
 of Mr. Peter Vink, B. D.' 
 
 On November 5, 1703, he preached a sermon on Col. 
 i. 13. which he afterwards printed. 
 
 And the last thing he published, was ' A Discourse of 
 Patience, relating to the Expectation of Future Bless- 
 edness,' to which there was afterwards added an Ap- 
 pendix, which came out in 1705. And this was what 
 he now had particular occasion for. For having em- 
 ployed his time, strength, and interest in the most va- 
 luable services, he by this time was wasted with several 
 diseases, which he bore with great patience, and a re- 
 signed submission to the will of his h.eavenly Father. 
 He discovered no fear of dying, but even when his end 
 drew near, was very serene and calm. He seemed in- 
 deed sometimes to have been got to heaven, even be- 
 fore he had laid aside that mortality, which he had 
 been long expecting to have swallowed up of life. It 
 was observed, and is I believe to this day remembered, 
 by some of his flock, that in his last illness, and when 
 he had Been declining for some time, he was once in a 
 most affecting, melting, heavenly frame at the commu- 
 nion, and carried out into such a ravishing and trans- 
 porting celebration of the love of Christ, that both he 
 himself, and they who communicated with him, were 
 apprehensive he would have expired in that very ser- 
 vice. And though nature was considerably spent in 
 him, yet was there somewhat even in the manner of 
 his dying that was remarkable, and worthy of obser- 
 vation. 
 
 He would be very pleasant sometimes in his last 
 sickness, and converse freely with such as came to 
 visit him ; and they were many of all ranks. Among 
 the rest Richard Cromwell, (who was now grown old, 
 and had lived many years retired from the world, since 
 the time when Mr. Howe was his domestic chaplain,) 
 hearing that he was going off the stage, came to make 
 him a respectful visit, and take his farewell of him be- 
 fore he died. There was a great deal of serious dis- 
 course between them. Tears were freely shed on both 
 sides, and the parting was very solemn, as I have been 
 informed by one that was present upon the occasion. 
 Many elder and younger ministers also frequently 
 visited him, and he was very free in discourse with 
 them, and talked like one of another world, and that 
 had raised and iincommo.n hopes of that blessedness 
 there, which his heart had long been set upon. 
 
 Having been very bad one evening, and being by 
 the next morning unexpectedly recruited, he was visibly 
 cheerful: which being taken notice of by those that 
 were about him, he said he was for feeling that he 
 was alive ; and yet he was most willing to die, and lay 
 that clog (as he called his body) aside. Of this there 
 is a plain proof, that he once told his wife that though 
 he loved her as well as it was fit for one creature to 
 love another, yet if it were put to his choice, whether 
 to die that moment, or to live that night, and the living 
 that night would secure the continuance of his life for 
 seven years to come, he declared he would choose to die 
 that moment. Being at last quite worn out, he finished his 
 course with joy, April 2, 1705, and was translated into 
 the calm and peaceable regions of the blessed above, 
 where nothing but perfect charity and serenity reign 
 for ever. 
 
 He was interred in the parish church of St. Allhal- 
 lows. Bread-street : and his Funeral Sermon was preach- 
 ed April 8, by his great admirer, and most respectful 
 fellow-labourer, Mr. John Spademan, from 2 Tim. 
 iii. 14, 
 
 Some time after his decease, my good friend Mr. 
 George Hughes of Canterbury wrote to Dr. George 
 Howe, the eldest son of his deceased uncle, desiring an 
 account from him of what manuscripts Mr. Howe had 
 left behind him, or any particularities that were fit to 
 be communicated to one so nearly related to him, and 
 that had so great respect and value for his memory. 
 The Doctor returned him an answer in the following 
 words : 
 
 'Sm, 
 ' I AM extremely concerned that some time before my 
 honoured father's decease, I was utterly disabled to 
 reap the advantage myself, and communicate it to 
 friends, of the large memorials he had collected, of the 
 material passages of his own life, and of the times 
 wherein he lived, which he most industriously conceal- 
 ed, till his last illness, when having lost his speech, 
 which I thought he would not recover, he surprisingly 
 called me to him, and gave me a key, and ordered me 
 to bring all the papers, (which were stitched up in a
 
 THE LIFE OF MR. JOHN HOWE. 
 
 ilix 
 
 multitude of small volumes) and made me solemnly 
 promise him, notwithstanding all my reluctance, im- 
 mediately to destroy them, which accordingly I did; 
 and have left me no other of his writings, but his short 
 sermon notes, excepting some passages in the frontis- 
 piece of the Bible he used in his study, which I here 
 transmit to you, and know it will be very acceptable. 
 I am sorry I can give no further account, but that is a 
 magnum in parvo, &c. 
 
 I am, 
 Your sincerely affectionate kinsman, 
 and humble servant, 
 
 GEORGE HOWE,' 
 
 The transcript from the blank page in Mr. Howe's 
 Bible, which the foregoing letter refers to, was in these 
 words following, which were written with his own hand ; 
 and they yet remain there. 
 
 'Dec. 26, 89. Q,uum diu apud me serio recogita- 
 rem, praster certum et indubium assensum rebus fidei 
 adhibendum, necessarium insuper esse vivificum quen- 
 dam earundem gustum et saporem, ut majori cum vi 
 et efficacia in ipsissima cordis penetralia sese insere- 
 rent : ibidemque altius infixse, vitam eo potentiiis re- 
 gerent; neque aliter de bono Deum versus statu con- 
 clusum iri, sive sanum judicium posse ratum haberi; 
 cumque pro concione, 2 Cor. i. 12. fusiiis tractassem, 
 hoc ipso mane ex hujus modi somnio dulcissimo, primo 
 evigilavi: mirum scilicet a superno Divinae Majestatis, 
 solio ccelestium radiorum profluvium in apertum meum 
 hiansque pectus, infusum esse videbatur. 
 
 ' Saepius ab illo insigni die, memorabile illud Pignus 
 divini Favoris, grato animo recolui, atque dulcedinem 
 ^jusdem iterum atque iterum degustavi. 
 
 'Gluas autem Octob. 22, 1704. in genus miranda Dei 
 mei benignitate, et suavissima Spiritus Sancti opera- 
 tione percepi, omnium verborum quae mihi suppetit 
 copiam, plane superant! Perquam jucimdam cordis 
 emoUitionem expertus sum, fusis prse gaudio lachrymis, 
 quod amor Dei per corda diffunderetur, mihique spe- 
 ciatim donato in hunc finem Spiritu suo. Rom. v. 5.' 
 
 For the sake of such readers as understand not the 
 Latin tongue, I shall add a translation of these memo- 
 rable passages, made by Mr. John Spademan, than 
 whom none ever more esteemed and valued the author 
 of them. 
 
 ' Dec. 26, 89. After that I had long, seriously, and 
 repeatedly thought with mj'self, that besides a full and 
 undoubted assent to the objects of faith, a vivifying, 
 savory taste and relish of them was also necessary, 
 that with stronger force and more powerful energy, 
 they might penetrate into the most inward centre of 
 my heart, and there being most deeply fixed and root- 
 ed, govern my life ; and that there could be no other sure 
 ground whereon to conclude and pass a sound judgment, 
 on my good estate God-ward; and after I had in m}"^ 
 course of preaching been largely insisting on 2 Cor. i. 
 12. This is my rejoicing, the testimony of a good 
 conscience, &c. This very morning I awoke out of a 
 most ravishing and delightful dream, that a wonderful 
 
 and copious stream of celestial rays, from the lofty 
 throne of the Divine Majesty, did seem to dart into my 
 open and expanded breast. I have often since with 
 great complacency reflected on that very signal pledge 
 of special divine favour vouchsafed to me on that noted 
 memorable day; and have with repeated fresh pleasure 
 tasted the delights thereof. But what of the same 
 kind I sensibly felt through the admirable bounty of 
 my God, and the most pleasant comforting influence 
 of the Holy Spirit, on Oct. 22, 1704, far surpassed the 
 most expressive words my thoughts can suggest. I 
 then experienced an inexpressibly pleasant melting of 
 heart, tears gushing out of mine eyes, for joy that God 
 should shed abroad his love abundantly through the 
 hearts of men, and that for this very purpose mine own 
 should be so signally possessed of and by his blessed 
 Spirit. Rom. v. 5.' 
 
 His introduction or preface to his last will and testa- 
 ment is peculiarly solemn, and a noble confession of his 
 faith. It runs thus : 
 
 'I John Howe, minister of the Gospel of Christ, in 
 serious consideration (though through God's mercy in 
 present health) of my frail and mortal state, and cheer- 
 fully waiting (blessed be God) for a seasonable un- 
 feared dissolution of this my earthly tabernacle, and 
 translation of the inhabiting spirit into the merciful 
 hands of the great God, Creator, Lord of heaven and 
 earth, whom I have taken to be my God, in and with 
 his only-begotten Son, Jesus Christ, who is also over 
 all, God blessed for ever, and my dear and glorious 
 Redeemer and Lord; with and by the Holy Spirit of 
 grace, my light, life, and joy; relying entirely and 
 alone upon the free and rich mercy of the Father vouch- 
 safed on the accoimt of the most invaluable sacrifice 
 and perfect righteousness of the Son, applied vmto me, 
 according to the Gospel-covenant, by the Spirit, for the 
 pardon of the many seriously-repented sins of a very 
 faulty fruitless life, and the acceptance of my person, 
 with my sincere though weak desires and endeavours 
 to do him service in this world, especially as my call- 
 ing, wherewith he graciously honoured me, did more 
 particularly require, in promoting the welfare and sal- 
 vation of the precious souls of men.' 
 
 Besides his forementioned works, he wrote also 
 several prefaces to the works of others; as to Mr. 
 Chorlton's Funeral Sermon for Mr. Henry Newcome of 
 Manchester ; to the third volume of Dr. Manton's 
 Sermons, by way of Dedication to King William, 
 in 1689, to Mr. Flavel's Discourse of Mental Er- 
 rors, &c. 
 
 But I know not how to close my account of this ex- 
 cellent person without adding somewhat as to his cha- 
 racter, though I am very sensible it cannot easily be 
 given. It must have something in it that is very great 
 and peculiar, or it will not be just. For my part, I 
 am far from thinking good Mr. Spademan at all ex- 
 ceeded, when he represented him as one, who had 're- 
 ceived from the Father of lights so great a varietj' of 
 both natural and Christian perfection, that he was not 
 only a shining light and ornament of his age, but an
 
 I 
 
 THE LIFE OF MR. JOHN HOWE. 
 
 inviting example of universal gooaness.'i That ' God 
 gave him an uncommon skill in the word of righteous- 
 ness;' and that 'he had peculiar advantages for under- 
 standing the Oracles of God ; a large fund of natural 
 endowments, improved by superadded preparatives 
 unto the study of the scriptures; a rich treasure of 
 human learning, particularly a thorough knowledge 
 of pagan theology, by which he was enabled to descry 
 the shortness and mistakes of human reason, which 
 faculty he well understood to use in subordination unto 
 Christian faith, whose mysteries he was able to free 
 from the objections of cavillers. 'k ' He took care to wash 
 the vessel, that it might be receptive of Divine com- 
 munications. And to these he added unwearied dili- 
 gence, humility, and prayer, which was the delight and 
 solace of his whole life. He unfeignedly sought God's 
 glory, and the good of the souls of men. He was im- 
 partial and faithful in reproving of sin, withoitt respect 
 of persons; easy of access, and condescending to the 
 lowest; and indeed became all things to all, that he 
 might gain the more. And ready to assist all the 
 necessitous and distressed, that he had opportunity of 
 doing good unto. He was furnished with fortitude of 
 mind, able to encounter the most grievous sufTeriags; 
 and an eminent example of a truly Christian patience 
 under very sharp afiiictions. And he finished his course 
 with uncommon joy: and few ever more experienced 
 a divine peace and serenity of mind, at the nearest ap- 
 proaches of death.' 
 
 As to his person, he was very tall, and exceeding 
 graceful. He had a good presence, and a piercing but 
 pleasant eye ; and there was that in his looks and car- 
 riage, that discovered he had something within that 
 was uncommonly great, and tended to excite venera- 
 tion. His intellectual accomplishments were eminent. 
 He was one of great abstractedness of thought, a strong 
 reasoner, and one that had a very penetrating judg- 
 ment, which carried him as deep into a subject, as 
 most men ever went that handled it. He had bright 
 natural parts, and they were greatly improved by study 
 and experience. He had an admirable way of think- 
 ing upon any subject that offered ; and many times 
 very surprising turns in discoursing upon it. 
 
 Even Mr. Wood the Oxonian himself, who very 
 seldom has a word to say in favour of a nonconformist, 
 when he comes to Mr. Howe is so unusually complai- 
 sant to him, as to own that he was ' a person of neat and 
 polite parts, 'I and ' moderate and calm in the smaller 
 matters that were under debate between the church and 
 his party.' I'm afraid, if he had seen some of the 
 things here published, he would have retracted the 
 latter part at least of this fair character he gave him. 
 Nay, and he goes so far as to commend his style too, 
 which he says is 'iine, smooth, and natural.' But here 
 I doubt many will think his good humour has carried 
 him too far, and tempted him to strain a point; his 
 style (as great a man as he was) being very commonly 
 objected against, and thought the most liable to excep- 
 
 i Dedicniion of hia Funeral Sermon for him, p. 1040. 
 k Funeral Sermon, page 1043, &c. 
 
 tion of any thing in his performances. Nor is this his 
 case alone ; for Bishop Fell in his Life of Dr. Hammond, 
 who was certainly a very great man, says that that 
 learned doctor's style was ' encumbered with parentheses, 
 which made it diflicult to vulgar understandings.' 
 Several have been of the same opinion with respect to 
 the style of Mr. Howe, which Mr. Wood mentions 
 with so particular an encomium. We may bear with 
 such a commendation of one of his character, it being 
 a thing so uncommon with that author. But methinks 
 it looks a little ill-natured, immediately upon his speak- 
 ing so favourably of one, to pour such contempt on the 
 rest of his persuasion, who he says are 'most of them of 
 sour and unpleasant converse.' It may be they were 
 not to his gust: which is the less to be wondered at, 
 since he was so little to theirs. But this might well 
 enough have been spared, seeing it was not thus with 
 Mr. Howe, of whom he was now writing ; for he was 
 generally cheerful, and inoffensively pleasant. 
 
 His ministerial qualifications were singular. He 
 could preach off-hand with as great exactness, as many 
 others upon the closest study. He delivered his sermons 
 without notes; though he did not impose that method 
 upon others. He had great copiousness and fluency in 
 prayer; and the hearing him discharge that duty upon 
 particular sudden emergencies, would have been apt to 
 have made the greatest admirer of stinted forms 
 ashamed of the common cavils and objections against 
 that which is usually called extemporary prayer. He 
 was an excellent casuist, and would clearly solve the 
 greatest difficulties that practice was concer led in. 
 And though in his sermons there was often an un- 
 common depth, especially at the beginning, yet he 
 took care to become plainer in the sequel; and before 
 he concluded, generally came with great pungency 
 home to the consciences of his hearers ; so that they 
 must be greatly faulty, if they did not come away 
 from hearing him both wiser and better. 
 
 He was one of remarkable prudence himself, and 
 much valued and commended it in others. It was a 
 common saying with him, that he was so far from 
 questioning whether prudence was a virtue, that he 
 reckoned imprudence to be a great vice and immorality. 
 He was not apt to be swayed by interest, nor could 
 any thing bias his judgment. And it may be said of 
 him, as is usually said of those of the strongest reason, 
 the greatest sagacity, and the noblest accomplishments, 
 that he was one of great civility, candour, and ingenuity. 
 
 He was very courteous to strangers, or others that came 
 to visit him, and received them with great decency: 
 and never could be of the mind of those that reckon 
 religion and piety mconsistent with good breeding. - 
 
 He knew how to address himself suitably to the 
 greatest persons, without the least mixture of what 
 was mean or servile; and yet was able to condescend 
 to inferiors: and was very affable to younger ministers, 
 whom he would use with an easy freedom, offering them 
 as there was occasion the kindest advice. 
 
 1 Atli. Oxen. vol. ii. page 1014.
 
 THE LIFE OF MR. JOHN HOWE. 
 
 He was very like that eminent German divine Martin 
 Bucer, in the peaceableness of his temper, and a willing- 
 ness to accommodate differences. He had a truly great 
 soul, and at the same time a very cool and moderate 
 spirit ; and was an utter enemy to that uncharitable and 
 censorious humour that is visible in so many. He did 
 not (as appears from all his writings) look upon religion 
 as a system of opinions, or a set of forms, so much as a 
 divine discipline to reform the heart and life. In lesser 
 matters he could freely give others the liberty of their 
 own senliments ; and was as unwilling to impose, as to 
 be imposed upon. 
 
 He seems to have been born into this world, to sup- 
 port generous principles, a truly catholic spirit, and an 
 extensive charity. He was for carefully concealing or 
 lessening the failings and imperfections of others ; and 
 in thai respect has admirably exemplified his own temper 
 in his printed discourse with reference to ' Charity for 
 other Men's Sins.' But whenever he found men impetu- 
 ous in asserting their own opinions, and peremptory in 
 rejecting the judgment of others, when they had taken 
 care to set things in a due light, and add a .suitable 
 evidence, 'twas his way to answer with silence ; not at 
 all caring to argue with those, who instead of soberly 
 and modestly inquiring into truth, were always for the 
 last word, for which (for his part) he was for giving them 
 full leave. 
 
 He was for having nothing remain as a test or bound- 
 ary of Christian communion, but what has its foundation 
 as such, in plain reason or express revelation. And to 
 him may those very words be justly applied, which he. 
 used in his character of Dr. Bates, in his funeral sermon 
 for nim. ' He was for entire union of all visible Chris- 
 tians, (or saints or believers, which in Scripture are 
 equivalent terms,) meaning by Christianity what is es- 
 sential thereto, whether doctrinal or practical; as by 
 humanity we mean what is essential to man, severing 
 accidents, as not being of the essence : and by visibility, 
 the probable appearance thereof: and for free com- 
 munion of all such, of whatsoever persuasion in extra- 
 essential matters, if they pleased. And this design he 
 vigorously pursued as long as there was any hope ; de- 
 sisting when it appeared hopeless ; and resolving to wait 
 till God should give a spirit suitable hereto, from an ap- 
 prehension that when principles on all hands were so 
 easily accommodable, and yet that there was with too 
 many a remaining insuperable reluctancy to the thing 
 itself, God must work the cure, and not man. Account- 
 ing also, in the mean time, that notwithstanding mis- 
 representations, it was better to cast a mantle over the 
 failings of brethren, than be concerned to detect and ex- 
 pose them. Knowing that if we are principally solicit- 
 ous for the name of God, he will in his own way and 
 time take care of ours.'m And as Mr. Howe savs in Dr. 
 Bates's case, so may I also say in his, ' in this sentiment 
 he wa* not alone.' 
 
 In many cases he discovered uncommon sagacity ; I 
 shall particularly mention one instance, the truth of which 
 may be depended on. In King Charles's reign he had 
 
 m Soe hU Funeral Sennon on Dr. William Bates, p. 9S6. 
 
 it signified to him by several, that a certain nobleman 
 that was at that time great at court, was desirous to 
 see him. Taking an opportunity to wait upon him, and 
 being easily admitted, the great man signified that his 
 visit was very acceptable, and seemed to be willing to 
 enter into particular freedoms with him. Among a 
 great many other things, he told him that he was very 
 sensible that the dissenters were a considerable body of 
 people, that deserved regard : and that it was his appre- 
 hension that if they had a person that was near the king, 
 and had a good interest at court, that would give them 
 hints by way of advice for their conduct, upon critical 
 emergencies, and that was able and ready to convey 
 their requests to his majesty, as occasions might require, 
 it would be much for their advantage. And he was 
 pleased to express himself in such a manner, that Mr. 
 Howe thought he could easily gather, that the maker of 
 the motion had no aversion from being the person 
 pitched upon, for the purpose mentioned. After a 
 pause, he made this reply ; that the dissenters bcL-o a 
 religious people, he thought it highly concerned them, 
 if they fixed upon any particular person for that purpose, 
 to make choice of one that would not be ashamed of 
 them, and whom at the same time they might have no 
 occasion to be ashamed of: and that a person in whom 
 there was a concurrence of these two qualifications was 
 very difficult to find. And he heard no more of him. 
 And it is with me past doubt, that they that were admit- 
 ted to the knowledge of the secret history of his life, 
 could have recollected several such instances, had the 
 communicating memoirs concerning him been sooner 
 thought of, and attempted. 
 
 In common conversation he was many times very 
 pleasant and facetious. Some of his sudden repartees 
 were very remarkable, and de.serve to be preserved. 
 Being at dinner with some persons of good fashion, 
 there was one gentleman in the company that expa- 
 tiated with great freedom in praise of King Charles the 
 First, and made some indecent reflections upon others, 
 that were not at all agreeable to several at the table. 
 Mr. Howe observing he intermixed a great many horrid 
 oaths with his discourse, took the freedom to tell him, that 
 in his humble opinion he had wholly omitted one very 
 great excellency which the prince he had so much ex- 
 tolled was so generally OMmed to have belonging to him, 
 that he had not known of any one that had the face to 
 contest it. The gentleman seemed not a little pleased to 
 have Mr. Howe come in as a voucher for the prince he 
 applauded, and was impatient to know what that par- 
 ticular excellence was that he referred to. And when 
 he had pressed for it with importunity, he at length 
 told him it was this; that he was never heard to swear 
 an oath in his common conversation. The gentleman 
 took the reproof, and promised to forbear swearing for 
 the future. 
 
 At another time, as Mr. Howe was walking along lie 
 passed by two persons of quality, who were talking 
 freely together, and with great eagerness ; and when 
 he came near them, he heard them damn each other
 
 THE LIFE OF MR. JOHN HOWE. 
 
 most abominably: whereupon pulling off his hat, and 
 saluting them with great civility, he cried out, I pray 
 God save you both ; which so took with them, that it for 
 the present diverted the humour they were in, and they 
 joined in returning him thanks. 
 
 I shall mention yet one passage more, which I think 
 may be depended on as related. It is this ; that during 
 the continuance of the debates in parliament about the 
 bill against occasional conformity, Mr. Howe walking 
 in St. James's Park, passed by a certain noble lord in 
 a chair, who sent his footman to call him to him, for 
 that he desired to speak with him. Coming up to him, 
 the said lord very respectfully saluted him, signified 
 he was glad to see him, and entered into discourse with 
 him upon the matter depending, reckoning it a thing 
 of no small consequence, which he intimated he had 
 opposed to his utmost. Among other passages upon 
 that occasion, he so far forgot himself, as to express 
 himself thus : Damn these wretches, for they are mad ; 
 and are for bringing us all into confusion. Mr. Howe, 
 who was no stranger to the lord who thus entertained 
 him with discourse, considering his character, made this 
 reply to him : My lord, 'tis a great satisfaction to us, 
 
 who in all affairs of this nature desire tc look upwards, 
 that there is a God that governs the world, to whom 
 we can leave the issues and events of things : and we 
 are satisfied (and may thereupon be easy) that he will 
 not fail in due time of making a suitable retribution to 
 all, according to their present carriage. And this great 
 Ruler of the world, my lord, said he, has among other 
 things also declared, he will make a difference between 
 him that sweareth, and him that feareth an oath. My 
 lord WEis struck with his last hint, and presently re- 
 plied, Sir, I thank you for your freedom, and take 
 your meaning, and shall endeavour to make a good use 
 of it. Mr. Howe in return said. My lord, I have a 
 great deal more reason to thank your lordship, for saving 
 me the most difficult part of a discourse, which is the 
 application. 
 
 'Twould be well if more of his letters could oe re- 
 covered. 
 
 [Here are subjoined in the original Life, several of 
 Mr. Howe's letters, which are inserted m the present 
 edition at page 10.36,]
 
 I 
 
 THE 
 
 LIVING TEMPLE; 
 
 DESIGNED IMPROVEMENT OF THAT NOTION, 
 
 A GOOD MAN IS THE TEMPLE OF GOD 
 
 PART I. 
 
 CONCERNING GOD'S EXISTENCE, AND HIS CONVERSABLENESS WITH MAN 
 
 AGAINST ATHEISM, OR THE EPICUREAN DEISM.
 
 TO THE RIGHT HONOURABLE 
 
 WILLIAM LORD PAGETT, 
 
 BA«ON OF BEAUDESERT, IN THE COUNTY OP STAFFORD. 
 
 My honoured Lord, 
 
 I HAVE not the opportunity of begging your Lordship's foregoing leave to prefix your name to these papers ; but 
 despair not of your following pardon. Your name must be acknowledged great, through two potent empires, Christian 
 and Mahometan; and the services greater which you have done to many that may perhaps not have heard the sound 
 of your name. Your prudent and prosperous negociations in the Austrian and Ottoman courts, have obliged multi- 
 tudes, whose better genius hath taught them more to value themselves, than to think they were born to slavery ; from 
 which you have found means, in great part, to save Europe : sojneicAere, by charming great power, so as to conquer 
 the inclination to use it to so ill a purpose; elsewhere, by preventing its increase, where that inclination was invinci- 
 ble. And hereby you have dignified England, in letting it be seen what it can signify m the world, when it is so 
 happy as to have its interest managed by a fit and able hand. 
 
 Yet that knowledge your Lordship hath heretofore allowed me to have of you, cannot suffer me to think you will 
 account your name too great to patronize the cause as.serted in the following discourse. That it is unpolished, will 
 not affect your Lordship ; let that rest where it ought : the subject and design will, I doubt not, have your Lordship's 
 countenance. And the rather, that it is not the temple of this or that party that is here defended, which would little 
 agree to the amplitude of your Lordship's large mind, and your great knowledge of the world, but that wherein man- 
 kind have a common concern. A temple that is the seat of serious, living religion, is the more venerable, and the 
 more extensive, the more defensible, and the more worthy to be defended, by how much it is the less appropriate to 
 this or that sect and sort of men, or distingtiished by this or that afl^ected, modifying form ; that which according to its 
 primitive designation may be hoped, and ought to be the resort of all nations : which it is vain to imagine any one, of 
 tnis (fr that external form, not prescribed by God himself, can ever be ; unless we should suppose it possible, that one 
 and the same human prince, or power, could ever come to govern the world. Such uniformity must certainl}^ sup- 
 pose such a universal monarchy as never was, and we easily apprehend can never be. Therefore, the belief that the 
 Christian religion shall ever become the religion of the world, and the Christian church become the common universal 
 temple of mankind : that " the mountain of the Lord's house snail De established on the top of the mountains, and all 
 nations flow to it ;" (as, besides that, many other texts of holy Scripture do plainly speak ;) and an intemperate con- 
 tentious zeal for one external, human form of God's temple on earth, are downright inconsfstencies. That belief, and 
 this zeal, must destroy one another ; especially, that which makes particular temples engines to batter down each 
 otne; oecause they agree not in some human additionals, though all may be charitably supposed to have somewhat 
 of divme life in them. Therefore we plainly see, that this universal. Christian, living temple, must be formed and 
 finished, not by human might or power, but by the Spirit of the living God ; which Spirit, poured forth, shall instruct 
 princes, and the potentates of the world, to receive and cherish among their subjects the great essentials of Christian 
 religion, and whatsoever is of plain divine revelation, wherein all may agree, rejecting, or leaving arbitrary, the little 
 human additaments about which there is so much disagreement. 
 
 Heaven did favour us with such a king : and thanks be to God, that he hath given us such a queen, who is not foi 
 destroying any temples that may have true vital religion in them, because they neither all have, or have not, the same 
 pinnacles, or other pieces of ornature alike. God grant all Christian princes and powers may herein equally imitate 
 then? both ; as many do seriously lament the loss of the former. 
 
 It nas been long the honour of your family to have had great esteem and reverence for such a temple. And I doubt 
 not, but its having spread its branches into divers other worthy families of the Hampdens, Foleys, Ashhursts, Hunts, 
 has given your Lordship much the more grateful and complacential view, for the affinity to your own in this respect. 
 A temple so truly (and even only) august and great, spreads a glory over the families, kingdoms, and nations where 
 it can have place. What is here written is a mean oblation, for the service of this temple ; but acceptable, as even 
 goats' hair was. by being consecrated, with a sincere mind, for the use of the tabernacle of old. 
 
 The First Part betakes itself to your Lordship as an orphan, upon the decease of its former patron, in hope cs^some 
 sort of a postliminary reception. And for the Second Part, it is (as your Lordship shall vouchsafe to receive it) origi- 
 nally and entirely yours. 
 
 The former, your Lordship will see, had a former dedication : and I cannot thmk it will be displeasing to your Lord- 
 ship, that I let it stand. For though it may seem somewhat uncouth and unusual to have two such epistles come sc 
 near one another, yet the unfashionableness hereof, I conceive, will, in your Lordship's judgment, be over-balanc«d 
 by considerations of a preponderating weight, that are suggested to the" reader. While, in'the mean time, I cannot 
 suppose it unacceptable to your Lordship, that a person of true worth in his time, related to the same county in which 
 your Lordship hath so considerable concerns, and not altogether unrelated to yourself, should have had a participation 
 with you in the same sort of patronage ; with whom your Lordship hath also a true participation, in all the honour, 
 esteem, and sincere prayers that ever were conceived for him, by 
 
 Your Lordship's most obedient. 
 
 And most devoted, humble servant, 
 
 JOHN HOWE.
 
 ADVERTISEMENT. 
 
 Reader 
 
 Be plea-sed tr' tade notice, that the former part of this work was heretofore inscribed to that w:)rthv person, Sir John 
 SkefBngton, of Fisherwick, in Staffordshire, Baronet : and who was at that time, also. Viscount Loid Masserene, gO' 
 x'emor of the county of Londonderry, and one of the Lords of his Majesty Charles the Second's most Honourable privy 
 council in the kingdom of Ireland ; and now, since, deceased. 
 
 I have, however, thought fit to let it be reprinted, (the incongruity being, by this advertisement, avoided, of making 
 an address anew, in this new impression, to one no longer in our world,) that the memory of a person so truly valua- 
 ble may, so far as this can contribute thereto, be preserved ; and because, also, many things in this epistle may be 
 useful, as a preface, to show the design of the following discourse. And as this purpose may be equally served by it 
 as it is, the other purpose being also, thus, better served, I have not judged it necessary, though that had been easy, to 
 alter the form ; which was as follow : 
 
 Although I am not, my Lord, without the apprehension that a temple ought to have another sort of dedication, yet 
 I have no such pique at the custom of former days, but that I can think it decent and just that a discourse concerning 
 one conceived under your roof, though born out of your house, should openly own the relation which it thereby hath, 
 and the author's great obligations to your Lordship ; and upon this account I can easily persuade myself (though that 
 custom hath much given place to this latter one) not to be so fashionable, as even to write in masquerade. 
 
 It were indeed most unbecoming, in the service of so noble a cause, to act in disguise, or decline to tell one's name. 
 And as the prefixing of one so obscure as that which the title-page bears, will be without suspicion of a design to re- 
 compense, by the authority of a name, any feared weakness of the cause itself; so were it very unworthy, having 
 nothing better, to grudge the bringing even of so mean a thing, as a sacrifice to the door of the temple. 
 
 And although your Lordship's is of so incomparably greater value, yet also is it (as the equity of the case requires) 
 exposed with less hazard ; since in common account, the vouchsafement of pardon (whereof I cannot despair) for 
 such assumed liberty, can with no justice be understood to import more than only a favourable aspect on the design, 
 without any interest or participation in the disrepute of its ill management. So that your honour is in no more 
 jeopardy than the main cause itself, which is but little concerned in the successfulness or miscarriage of this or th^t 
 effiirt, which is made on behalf of it ; and which, you are secure, can receive no real damage. For the foundation;, 
 of this temple are more stable than those of heaven and earth, it being built upon that Rock against which the gates 
 of hell can never prevail. 
 
 And if, in any unforeseen state of things, you should ever receive prejudice, or incur danger by any real service 
 you should design unto the temple of God, your adventure would be the more honourable, by how much it weie more 
 hazardous. The order of Templars, your Lordship well knows, was not, in former days, reckoned inglorious. 
 
 But as this temple is quite of another constitution and make, than that of Jerusalem, and (to use those words of the 
 sacred writer) lixi^ipoTroirirns, rovrir"' oi rauTrii rri; KTicrcojs — 7iot made with hands, that is to say, not of this building ; (Heb. 
 ix. 11.) so what is requisite to the interest and service of it, is much of another nature. Entire devotedness to God, 
 sincerity, humility, charity, refinedness from the dross and baseness of the earth, strict sobriety, dominion of one's 
 self, mastery over impotent and ignominious passions, love of justice, a steady propension to do good, delight in doing 
 it, have contributed more to the security and beauty of God's temple on earth, conferred on it more majesty and lustre, 
 done more to procure it room and reverence among men, than the most prosperous violence ever did: the building 
 up of this temple, even to the laying on the top-stone, (to be followed with the acclamations of Grace, grace,) being 
 that which must be done, not by might or power, but by the Spirit of the Lord. Which, inasmuch as the structure iS' 
 spiritual, and to be situated and raised up in the mind or spirit of man, works, in order to it, in a way suitable thereto. 
 That is, very much by soft and gentle insinuations, unto which are subservient the self-recom-mending amiableness 
 and comely aspect of religion; the discernible gracefulness and uniform course of such in whom it bears rule, axid is 
 a settled, livin? law. Hereby the hearts of others are captivated and won to look towards it: made not only desirous 
 to taste its delights, but, in order thereto, patient also of its rigours, and the rougher severities which their drowsy 
 security and unmortified lusts do require should accompany it ; the more deeply and thoroughly to attemper and form 
 them to it. Merely notional discourses about the temple of God, and the external forms belonging to it, (how useful 
 soever they be in their own kind and order,) being unaccompanied with the life and power whereto they should be ad- 
 joined, either as subservient helps, or comely expressions thereof, do gain but little to it in the estimation of discern- 
 ing men. 
 
 Much more have the apparently useless and unintelligible notions, with the empty formalities too arbitrarilj'' affixed 
 to it, by a very great, namely, the unreformed, part ol the Christian world, even there exposed it to contempt, where 
 the professed (but most irrational and hopeless) design hath been to draw to it respect and veneration. 
 
 And when these have become matter of strife, and filled the world with noise and clamour, through the imperious 
 violence of some, and the factious turbulency of others; it hath made it look with a frightful aspect, and rendered the 
 divine presence, so represented, an undesired, dreadful thing. This may make that the language of fear with some, 
 (which is of enmity with the most,) "Depart from us, we desire not the knowledge of thy ways."
 
 DEDICATION. 5 
 
 Most of all ; when a glorying in these things, and contention about them, are joined with gross immoralities ; either 
 manifest impiety, sensual debaucheries, acts of open injustice, or the no less criminal evil of a proud, wrathful, un- 
 governable temper of spirit; this hath made it a most hateful thing in the eyes of God and men, and turned that 
 which should be the house of prayer unto all nations, into a den of roljbers : hath cast the most opprobrious con- 
 tumely upon him whom they wuuld entitle the owner of it. That is, when men will steal, murder, commit adultery, 
 swear falsely, oppress the stranger, the fatherless, and the widow ; and yet cry. The temple of the Lord, the temple 
 of the Lord, &c. ; it is as if they would make the world believe, that the holy God, the great lover and patron of 
 purity and peace, had erected on purpose, a house on earth, to be the common harbour and sanctuary of the vilest of 
 men, the very pests of human society, and disturbers of mankind. 
 
 And if they were not the very worst, yet how absurd and senseless a thing were it, that he should be thought to 
 appropriate a people to himself, have them solemnly baptized into his name, and trained up in a professed belief of 
 those his more peculiar revelations, which are without the common notice of the most ; and in the use of certain 
 (somewhat ditfereni) external institutes, being yet content that, in all things else, they be but just like the rest of the world. 
 
 Though he may be, for some time, patient of this indignity, and connive at such a state and posture of things, (as 
 he did a great while towards the Je\vs of old,) yet, that this should be thought the top of his design, and the thing he 
 lastly aimed at, and would acquiesce in, supposes such a notion of God, as than which worshipping a stock were not 
 more foolish and impious, and professed atheism as rational and innocent. 
 
 This hath spoiled and slurred the glory of the Christian temple, the most august and magnificent the world hath, 
 (and which, indeed, only hath right to the name,) made the religion of Christians look like an empty vanity, and 
 appear, for many ages, but as an external badge of civil distinction between them and another sort of men, that are 
 only contending' for enlarging of empire, and who shall grasp most power into their hands; both having also their 
 sub-distinguishing marks besides, under which too probably divers of those wlio have adjoined themselves to the so 
 differenced parties, furiously drive at the same design. And these zealously pretend for religion and the temple of 
 God; when, in the mean time, it were a thing perfectly indifferent (even in itself, as well as in the opinion of the 
 persons concerned) what relieion or wav they were of, true or false, right or wrong. Paganish, Mahometan, Jewish, 
 Christian, Popish, Protestant; Lutheran^ Calvinistical, Episcopal, Presbyterial, Independent, &c. : supposmg there 
 be any of each of these denominations that place their religion in nothing else but a mere assent to the peculiar opi- 
 nions, and an observation of the external formalities, of their own party; and that they never go further, but remain 
 finally alienated from the life of God, and utter strangers to the soul-refining, governing power of true religion. 
 Only, that their case is the worse, the nearer thev approach, in profession, to the truth. 
 
 And really, if we abstract from the design and end, the spirit and life, the tranquillity and pleasure, of religion, 
 one would heartily wonder what men can see in all the rest, for which they can think it worth the while to contend, 
 to the disquieting themselves and the world. Nobody can believe they regard the authority of God, in this doctrmo 
 or institution, rather than another, who neglect and resist the substance and main scope of religion, recommended 
 to them by the same authority. And as to the matters themselves which will then remain to be disputed, we have 
 first the distinguishing name'; and if we run over all those before recited, is it a matter of that consequence, as to 
 cut throats, and lay towns and countries desolate, only upon this quarrel, which of these hath the handsomer sound 1 
 The different rites of this or that way, to them who have no respect to the authority enjoming them, must, in them- 
 selves, signify as little. And for the peculiar opinions of one or another sect, it may be soberly .said, that a very great 
 part understand no more of the distinguishing principles of their own, than he that was yet to learn how many legs 
 a sectary had. Only they have learned to pronounce the word which is the Shibboleth of their party, to follow the 
 common cry, and run with the rest, that have agreed to do so to. 
 
 But if they all understood the notions ever so well, (not to speak of only those which are peculiar to their way, but,) 
 which are most necessary to true religion itself; were it not, in them, a strange frenzy, to contend with clubs and 
 swords about a mere notion, which has no influence on their practice, and they intend never shalll li any should 
 profess to be of opinion that a triangle is a figure that hath four corners, sober men would think it enough to say they 
 were mad, but would let them quietly enjoy iheir humour, and never think it fit to levy armies agamst them, or em- 
 broil the world upon so slender a quarrel. And wherein can the notions belonging to religion be rationally ol higher 
 account, with them, who never purpose to make any use of them, and against which it is impossible for any to fight 
 so mischievously by the most vehement, verbal opposition, as themselves do, by their opposite practice, most direc-ily 
 assaulting, and striking at, even what is most principallv fundamental to religion and the temple of God 1 Not that 
 these great things are unworthy to be contended for. All that I mean is, what have these men to do with them 1 or 
 how irrationally and inconsistently with themselves do they seem so concerned about them? 
 
 Fox even lesser things, the appendages to this sacred frame, are not without their just value, to them who under- 
 stand their intent and use. Nor am I designing to tempt your Lordship to the neglect or disesteem of aiiy, the least, 
 thing appertaining to religion, /nd if any other should, I rejoice daily to behold in you that resolute adherence to 
 whatsoever apparently divine truth and institution, to common order, decency, peace, and unity, (which so greatly 
 contribute both to the beauty and stability of God's house,) that may even defy and dismay the attempt ; and gives 
 ground, however, to be confident it would be labour bestowed as vainly, as it were impiously designed. So much 
 greater assurance do you give of your constant fidelity and devotedness to the substance of practical religion itself. 
 
 Only how deeply it "is to be resented, that while it should be so with all others, so few understand wherein that 
 substance doth consist. I shall not now take notice of men's very diflerent (which must infer some men s mistaken) 
 apprehensions concerning the things necessary to be believed. But, besides that, though some religious sentiments 
 be most deeply natural to men, (and, for aught we certainly know, as far exten.led as the true notion ol humanity 
 can be,) yet in all times, there has been a too general mistake (not peculiar to the Paganish world omy) oi the true 
 design, and proportionably of the genuine principle of it. ... -i j - • 
 
 That is, it has not been understood as a thing designed to purify and refine men's spirits, to reconcile and jom 
 them to God, associate them with him, and make them finally blessed in him. But only to avert or pacify his wrath, 
 procure his favourable aspect on their secular affairs, (how unjust soever,) while, m the mean time they have 
 thought of nothing less than becoming like to him, acquainted with him, and happy in him. A reconciliation hath 
 only been dreamed of on one side, namely, on his, not their own ; on which, they are not so much as mclmed to 
 any thing else, than the continuance of the former distance and disaffection. , j ,• • • ,i „ 
 
 Consonantly whereto, it is plainly to be seen, that the great principle which hath mostly animated religion in the 
 world hath not been a generous love, but a basely servile fear and dread. Whence the custom of sacrificmg hath so 
 generally prevailed (whencesoever it took its rise) in the Pagan world. And with so deep an apprehension ot its 
 Ibsolute necessity, that men of even so vile and barbarous manners* as the Gaul's ol old, chose, ^ ma""^ of con- 
 troversy, to submit their greatest concernments to the pleasure and arbitrement ol their Druids, Uhose sacrea ler- 
 sons, as they reckoned them,) rather than be interdicted the sacrifices (the only punishment they could mmct> id 
 
 • See the character given of lUem by Cicero, Orat. pro. Marf.. Foil.
 
 6 DEDICATION. 
 
 case of their refusal : which punishment (as is testified by Julius Caesar*) they accounted the most grievous imagi- 
 nable. And it needs not be said in what part of the world the same engine hath had the same power with men, even 
 since they obtained to be called Chrbiian.. Which, while it hath been of such force with them, who, notwithstand- 
 ing, persisted in courses of the most profligate wickedness ; whence could their religion, such as it was, proceed, 
 save only from a dread of divine revenge 1 What else could it design (though that most vainly) but the averting 
 it, without even altering their own vile course 1 
 
 Wow let this be the account and estimate of religion; only to propitiate the Deity towards flagitious men, still re- 
 maining so; and how monstrous a notion doth it give its of God, that he is one that by such things can ever be ren- 
 dered favourable to such men ! Let it not be so, (while you sever its true and proper end also,) how most despicably 
 inept and foolish a thing doth it make religion ! A compages and frame of merely scenical observances and actions, 
 intended to no end at all. 
 
 In a word, their religion is nothing but foolery, which is not taken up and prosecuted with a sincere aim to the 
 bettering their spirits ; the making them holy, peaceful, meek, humble, merciful, .studious of doing good, and the 
 composing them into temples, some way meet for the residence of the blessed God; with design and expectation to 
 have his intimate, vital presence, settled and made permanent there. 
 
 The materials and preparation of which temple are no where entirely contained and directed, but in the gospel of 
 our Lord Jesus Christ: as, hereafter, we may with divine assistance labour to evince. The greater is the ignominy 
 done to the temple of God, and the Christian name, by only titular and nick-named Christianity. Will they pretend 
 themselves the temple of God, partakers in the high privilege and dignity of the Emmanuel, (in whom most emi- 
 nently the Deity inhabiteth,) who are discernibly, to all that know them, as great strangers to God, and of a temper 
 of spirit as disagreeing to him, of as worldly spirits, as unmortified passions, as proud, wrathful, vain-glorious, en- 
 vious, morose, merciless, disinclined to do good, as any other men 1 When Grod cleanses his house, and purges his 
 floor, where will these be foitnd 1 
 
 And for this temple itself, it is a structure whereto there is a concurrence of truth and holiness ; the former letting 
 in (it were otherwise a darksome, disorderly, uncomforlable house) a vital, directive, formative light, to a heavenly, 
 calm, God-like frame of spirit, composed and made up of the latter. 
 
 It is this temple, my Lord, which I would invite you both to continue your respect unto in others, and, more and 
 more, to prepare and beautify in yourself. 
 
 You will find little, in this part, ofl'ered to your view, more than only its vestibulum, or rather a very plain (if not 
 rude) frontispiece ; with the more principal pillars that must support the whole frame. Nor, whereas (by way of 
 introduction to the discourse of this temple, and as most fundamental to the being of it) the existence of the great 
 Inhabitant is so largely insisted on, that I think that altogether a needless labour. Of aH the sects and parties in the 
 world, (though there are few that avow it, and fewer, if any, that are so, by any formed judgment, unshaken by a 
 suspicion and dread of the contrary,) that of atheists we have reason enough to suppose the most numerous, as ha- 
 ving difiused and spread it.self through all the rest. And though, with the mo.st, under disguise, yet uncovering, 
 with too many, its ugly face : and scarce ever more than in our own days. Wherefore, though it hath never been 
 in any age more strongly impugned ; yet, because the opposition can never be too common, to so common an enemy, 
 this additional endeavour may prove not wholly out of season. And the Epicurean atheist is chiefly designed 
 against in this discourse ; that being the atheism most in fashion. 
 
 Nor is any thing more pertinent to the design of the discourse intended concerning God's temple ; which, import- 
 ing worship to be done to him, requires, first, a belief that he is. 
 
 And surely the [E?] inscribed of old, as Plutarch tells us, on the Delphic Temple; signifying, (as, after divers 
 other conjectures, he concludes it to do,) Thou dost exist, is an inscription much more fitly set in view, at our en- 
 trance into the temple of the living God, whose name is, I AM. 
 
 Amidst the pleasant entertainments of which temple, (made more intimate to you than human discourse can make 
 it,') may you spend many happy days in this world, as a preparative and introduction to a happier eternity in the 
 other. Whereto he is under many and deep obligations, by any means, to contribute to his uttermost, who must 
 (especially in the offices relating to this temple) profess himself. 
 
 My honoured Lord, 
 
 Your Lordship's most humble, 
 
 Devoted Servant, 
 
 JOHN HOWE. 
 
 * CnmTBtnl. bh. S.
 
 THE 
 
 LIVING TEMPLE 
 
 PART I. 
 
 CONCERNING GOD'S EXISTENCE, AND HIS CONVERSABLENESS WITH MAN. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 THIS NOTION COMMON. AUTHORITIES NEEDLESS. INSIGNIFICANT WITH THE ATHEISTICAL, WHO HAVE MADE IT MORE NECESSARY 
 TO DEFEND RELIGION, AND A TEMPLE IN GENERAL, THAN THIS, OR THAT. BETTER DEFENDED AGAINST THEM BY PRACTICE AND 
 USE, THAN ARGUMENT, WHEREOF THEY ARE INCAPABLE. OFTEN DISPUTES OF ITS PRINCIPLES NOT NECESSARY TO THE PRAC- 
 TICE OF RELIGION. SOME CONSIDERATION OF THOSE SUPPOSED IN THE GENERAL NOTION OF A TEMPLE, PERTINENT (hOWEVEB) 
 TO THIS DISCOURSE. 
 
 I. It is so well known that this notion hath long obtained 
 in the world, that we need not quote sayings to avouch it ; 
 wherewith not the sacred writings only, but others, even of 
 pagans themselves, would plentifully furnish us. 
 
 But as authorities are, in a plain case, needless to un- 
 
 Erejudiced minds ; so will they be useless to the prejudiced, 
 e the case never so plain. Nor is any prejudice deeper, or 
 less vincible, than that of profane minds against religion. 
 With such, it would in the present argument signify little, 
 to tell them wha^ hath been said or thought before by any 
 others. Not because it is their general course to be so 
 very circumspect and wary, as never to approve or assent 
 to any thing, unless upon the clearest and most convinc- 
 ing demonstration : but from their peculiar dislike of those 
 things only, that are of this special import and tendency. 
 Discourse to them what you will of « temple, and it will 
 be nauseous and unsavoury : not as being cross to their 
 reason, (which they are as little curious to gratify as any 
 other sort of men,) but to their ill humour, and the dis- 
 affected temper of their mind; whence also (though thej' 
 cannot soon or easily get that mastery over their under- 
 standings herein, yet because they would fain have it so) 
 they do what they can to believe religion nothing else but 
 the effect of timorous fancy, and a temple, consequently, one 
 of the most idle impertinences in the world. 
 
 To these, the discussion of the notion we have proposed 
 to consider, will be thought a beating the air, an endeavour 
 to give consistency to a shadow. And if their reason and 
 power could as well serve their purpose as their anger 
 and scorn, they would soon tear up the holy ground on 
 which a temple is set, and wholly subvert the sacred 
 frame. 
 
 I speak of suck as deny the existence of the ever-blessed 
 Deity ; or (if they are not arrived to that express and formed 
 misbelief) whose hearts are inclined, and ready to deter- 
 mine, even against their misgiving and more su.spicious 
 minds, there is no God: who, if they cannot a^ yet 
 believe, do wish there were none; and so strongly, as in 
 a great degree to prepare them for that belief. That 
 would fain banish him not only out of all their thoughts, 
 but the world too ; and to whom it is so far from being a 
 grateful sound, that the tabernacle of God is with men on 
 earth, that they grudge to allow him a place in heaven. 
 At least, if they are willing to admit the existence of any 
 God at all, do say to him. Depart from us; and would 
 have him so confined to heaven, that he and they may 
 have nothing to do with one another: and do therefore 
 rack their impious wits to serve their hypothesis either 
 way; that under its protection they may securely in- 
 
 dulge themselves in a course, upon which they find the 
 apprehension of a God, interesting himself in human 
 affairs, would have a very unfavourable and threatening 
 aspect. 
 
 They are therefore constrained to take great pains with 
 themselves, to discipline and chastise their minds and un- 
 derstandings to that tameuess and patience, as contentedly 
 to suffer the rasing out of their most natural impressions 
 and sentiments. And they reckon they have arrived to 
 a very heroical perfection, when they can pass a scoff 
 upon any thing, that carries the least signification with it 
 of the fear of God; and can be able to laugh at the weak 
 and squeamish folly of those softer and effeminate minds, 
 that will trouble themselves with any thoughts or cares, 
 how to please and propitiate a Deity : and doubt not but 
 they have made all safe, and effectually done their busi- 
 ness, when they have learned to put the ignominious titles 
 of frenzy, and folly, upon devotion, in whatsoever dress or 
 garb ; to cry canting, to any serious mention of the name 
 of God, and break a bold adventurous jest upon any the 
 most sacred mysteries, or decent and awful solemnities, of 
 religion. 
 
 II. These content not themselves to encounter this or 
 that sect, but mankind ; and reckon it too mean and in- 
 glorious an achievement to overturn one sort of temple 
 or another ; but would down with them all, even to the 
 ground. 
 
 And they are bound, in reason and justice, to pardon 
 the emulation which they provoke, of vying with them as 
 to the universality of their design; and not to regret it, if 
 they find there be any that think it their duty to wave a 
 while serving the temple of this or that party, as less con- 
 siderable, to defend that on^e wherein all men have a com- 
 mon interest and concernment ; since matters are brought to 
 that exigency and hazard, that it seems less necessary to 
 contend aboiit this or tliat mode of religion, as whether 
 there ought to be any at all. What was said of a former 
 age, could never better agree to an}', than our own, "that 
 none was ever more fruitful of religions, and barren of 
 religion or true piety." It concerns us to consider, whether 
 the fertility of those many doth not as well cause as ac- 
 company a barrenness in this one. And since ihe iniquity 
 of the world luith made that too suitable, which were 
 otherwise unseemly in itself, to speak of a temple as a 
 fortified j)lace, whose own sacredness ought ever to have 
 been its sufficient fortification, it is time to be aware lest 
 our forgetful heat and zeal in the defence of this or that 
 oiU-tcork, do expose (not to say betray) the main fortress 
 to assault and danger. Whilst it hath long been, by this
 
 8 
 
 THE LIVmG TEMPLE. 
 
 Part I. 
 
 means, a neglected, forsaken thing ; and is more decayed 
 by vacancy and disuse, than it could ever have been by 
 the most forcible battery ; so as even to promise the rude 
 assailant an easy victory. Who fears to insult over an 
 empty, dispirited, dead religion 1 which alive and shining 
 in its native glory, (as that temple doth, which is compacted 
 of lively stones uni'.ed to the living corner stone,) bears 
 with it a magrnificence and state that would check a profane 
 look, and dazzle the presumptuous eye that durst venture 
 to glance at it obliquely, or with disrespect. The temple 
 of the living God, manifestly animated by his vital presence, 
 would not only dismay opposition, but command veneration 
 also; and be both its own ornament and defence. Nor 
 can it be destitute of that presence, if we ourselves render 
 it not inhospitable, and make not its proper inhabitant be- 
 come a stranger at home. If we preserve in ourselves a 
 capacity of the divine presence, and keep the temple of 
 God in a posture fit to receive him, he would then no 
 more forsake it, than the soul a sound and healthy body, 
 not violated in any vital part. But if he forsake it once, 
 it then becomes an exposed and despised thing. And as 
 the most impotent, inconsiderable enemy can securely 
 trample on the dead body of the greatest hero, that alive 
 carried awfulness and terror in his looks; so is the weak- 
 spirited atheist become as bold now, as he was willing be- 
 fore, to make rude attempts upon the temple of God, when 
 He hath been provoked to leave it, who is its life, strength, 
 and gloiy. 
 
 III. Therefore as they who will not be treacherous to the 
 interest of God and man, must own an obligation and ne- 
 cessity to apply themselves to the serious endeavour of 
 restoring the life and honour of religion ; so will the case 
 itself be found to point out to us the proper course in order 
 hereto. That is, that it must rather be endeavoured by 
 practice, than by disputation; by contending, everyone 
 with himself, to excite the love of God in his own breast, 
 rather than with the profane adversary to kindle his anger, 
 more aiming to foment and cherish the domestic, continual 
 fire of God's temple and altar, than transmit a flame into 
 the enemies' camp. For what can this signify 1 And it 
 seldom fails to be the event of disputing against prejudice, 
 (especially of disputing for the sum of religion at once 
 against tlie prepossession of a sensual profane temper, and 
 a violent inclination and resolvedness to be wicked.) to 
 beget more wrath than conviction, and sooner to incense 
 the impatient wretch than enlighten him. And by how 
 much the more cogent and enforcing reasonings are used, 
 and the less is left the confounded, baffled creatures to say, 
 on behalf of a cause so equally deplorate and vile ; the 
 more he finds himself concerned to fortify his obstinate 
 will ;■ and supply his want of reason with resolution ; to 
 find out the most expedite ways of diverting, from what 
 he hath no mind to consider; to entertain himself with 
 the most stupifying pleasures, (that must serve the same 
 turn that opium is wont to do in the case of broken, un- 
 quiet sleep,) or whatsoever may most effectually serve to 
 mortify any divine principle, and destroy all sense of God 
 out of his soul. 
 
 And how grateful herein, and meritorious often, are the 
 assistant railleries of servile, and it may be mercenary, 
 wits! How highly shall he oblige them, that can furnish 
 out a libel against religion, and help them with more arti- 
 ficial .spite to blaspheme what they cannot disprove ! And 
 now shall the scurrilous pasquil and a few bottles, work a 
 more effectual confutation of^ religion, than all the reason 
 and argument in the world shall be able to countervail. 
 This proves too often the unhappy issue of misapplying 
 what is most excellent in its own "kind and place, to" im- 
 proper and incapable subjects. 
 
 IV. And who sees not this to be the case with the 
 modern atheist, who hath been pursued with that strength 
 and vigour of argume-nt, even in our own days, that would 
 have baffled persons of any other temper than their own, 
 into shame and silence 1 And so as no other support hath 
 been left to irreligion, than asenseless stupidity, an obstinate 
 resolvedness not to consider, a faculty to stifle an argument 
 with a jest, to charm their reason by sensual softnesses 
 into a dead sleep; with a strict and circumspect care that 
 it may never awake into any exercise above the condition 
 of dozed and half-witted persons > or if it do, by the next 
 
 debauch, presently to lay it fast again. So that the very 
 principle fails in this sort of men, whereto, in reasoning, 
 we should appeal, and apply ourselves. And it were al- 
 most the same thing, to offer arguments to the senseless 
 images, or forsaken carcasses of men. It belongs to the 
 grandeur of religion to neglect the impotent assaults of 
 these men : as it is a piece of glory, and bespeaks a worthy 
 person's right understanding, and just value of himself, to 
 disdain the combat with an incompetent or a foiled enemy. 
 It is becoming and seemly, that the grand, ancient, and 
 received tiuth, which tends to, and is the reason of, the 
 godly life, do sometimes keep state ; and no more descend 
 to perpetual, repeated janglings with every scurrilous and 
 impertinent trifler, than a great and redoubted prince would 
 think it fit to dispute the rights of his crown with a 
 drunken, distracted fool, or a madman. 
 
 Men of atheistical persuasions having abandoned their 
 reason, need what will more powerfully strike their sense — 
 storms and whirlwinds, flames and thunderbolts; things 
 not so apt immediately to work upon their understanding, 
 as their fear, and that will astonish, that they may convince, 
 that the great God makes himself known by the judgments 
 which he executes. Stripes are for the back of fools (as 
 they are justly styled, that say in their hearts. There is no 
 God.) But if it may be hoped any gentler n:ethod may 
 prove effectual with any of them, we are rather to expect 
 the good efiect from the steady, uniform course of their 
 actions and conversation, who profess reverence and devo- 
 tedness to an eternal Being; and the correspondence of 
 their u-ay, to their avowed principle, that acts them on 
 agreeably to itself, and may also incur the sense of the 
 beholder, and gradually invite and draw his observation; 
 than from the most severe and necessitating argumenta- 
 tion that exacts a sudden assent. 
 
 V. At least, in a matter of so clear and commanding 
 evidence, reasoning many times looks like trifling; and 
 out of a hearty concernedness and jealousy for the honour 
 of religion, one would rather it should march on with an 
 heroical neglect of bold and malapert cavillers, and only 
 demonstrate and recommend itself by its own vigorous, 
 comely, coherent course, than make itself cheap by dis- 
 cussing at every turn its principles : as that philosopher 
 who thought it the fittest way to confute the sophisms 
 against motion, only by walking. 
 
 But we have nothing so considerable objected against 
 practical religion, as well to deserve the name of a. sophism ; 
 at least, no sophism so perplexing in the case of religious, 
 as of natural, motion ; jeers and sarcasms are the most 
 weighty, convincing arguments; and let the deplorate 
 crew niock on. There are those in the world, that will 
 think they have, however, reason enough to persist in the 
 way of godliness ; and that have already laid the founda- 
 tion of that reverence which they bear to a Deity, more 
 strongly than to be shaken and beaten off from it by a jest ; 
 and therefore will not think it necessary to have the princi- 
 ples of their religion vindicated afresh, every time they are 
 called to the practice of it. For surely thej^ would be re- 
 ligious upon very uncertain terms, that will think them- 
 selves concerned to suspend or discontinue their course as 
 oft as they are encountered in it with a wry mouth or a 
 distorted look; or that are apt to be put out of conceit 
 with their religion by the laughter of a fool ; or by their 
 cavils and taunts against the rules and principles of it, 
 whom only their own sensual temper, and impatience of 
 serious thoughts, have made willing to have them false. 
 That any indeed should commence religious, and persist 
 with blind zeal in this or that discriminating profession, 
 without ever considering why they should do so, is un- 
 manly and absurd; especially when a gross ignorance of 
 the true rea.sons and grounds of religion shall be shadowed 
 over with a pretended awe and scrupulousness to inquire 
 about things so sacred. And an inquisitive temper shall 
 have an ill character put upon it, as if rational and profane 
 were words of the same signification. Or, as if reason 
 and judgment were utterly execrated, and an unaccount- 
 able, enthusiastic fuiy, baptized and hallowed, the only 
 principle of religion. But when the matter hath un- 
 dergone already a severe inquisition, and been search- 
 ed to the bottom; principles have been examined; the 
 strength and firmness hath been tried of its deepest and
 
 Chap. II. 
 
 THE LIVING TEMPLE. 
 
 most finKlamental grounds, and an approving judgment 
 been past in the case, and a resolution thereupon taken up, 
 of a suitable and correspondent practice; alter all this, it 
 were a vain and unwarrantable curiosity, to be perpetu- 
 all}' perplexing one's easy path with new and suspicious 
 researches into the most acknowledged things. Nor 
 were this course a little prejudicial to the design and end 
 of religion, (if we will allow it any at all,) the refining 
 of our minds, and the fitting us for a happy eternity. For 
 when shall that building be finished, the foundations 
 whereof must be every day torn up anew, upon pretence 
 of further caution, and for more diligent search 1 Or when 
 ■will he reach his journey's end, that is continually vexed 
 (and often occasioned to go back from whence he came) 
 by causeless anxieties about his way ; and whether ever 
 he began a right course, yea or no 1 
 
 Many go securely on in a course most ignominiously 
 wicked and vile, without ever debating the matter with 
 themselves, or inquiring if there be any rational principle 
 to justify or bear them out. Much more may they, with 
 a cheerful confidence, persist in their well-chosen way, 
 that have once settled their resolutions about it upon firm 
 and assured grotmds and principles, without running over 
 the same course of reasonings with themselves in reference 
 to each single, devotional act; or thinking it necessary 
 every time they are to pray, to have it proved to them, 
 there is a God. And because yet many of these do need 
 excitation ; and though they are not destitute of pious sen- 
 timents and inclinations, and have somewhat in them of 
 the ancient foundations and frame of a temple, have yet, 
 by neglect, sulTered it to grow into decay. It is therefore 
 the principal intendment of this discourse, not to assert the 
 principles of religion against those with whom they have 
 no place, but to propound what may some way tend to rein- 
 force and strengthen them, -where they visibly languish ; 
 and awaken such as profess a devotedness to God, to the 
 speedy and vigorous endeavour of repairing the ruins of 
 his temple in their own breasts ; that they may thence hold 
 forth a visible representation of an indwelling Deity, in 
 effects and actions of life worthy of such a presence, and 
 render his enshrined glory transparent to the view and 
 conviction of the irreligious and profane. Which hath 
 more of hope in it, and is likely to be to better purpose, 
 than disputing with them that more know how to jest, than 
 reason ; and better imderstand the relishes of meat and 
 drink, than the strength of an argument. 
 
 VI. But though it would be both an ungrateful and in- 
 significant labour, and as talking to the wind, to discourse 
 of religion with persons that have abjured all seriousness, 
 and that cannot endure to think ; and would be like fight- 
 ing with a storm, to contend against the blasphemy and 
 outrage of insolent mockers at whatever is sacred and di- 
 vine ; and were too much a debasing of religion, to retort 
 sarca.sms with men not capable of being talked with in any 
 other than such (that is, their own) language : yet it wants 
 neither its use nor pleasure, to the most composed minds, 
 and that are most exempt from wavering herein, to view 
 the frame of their religion, as it aptly and even naturally 
 rises and grows up from its very foimdations; and to con- 
 template its first principles, which they may in the mean 
 time find no present cause or inclination to dispute. They 
 will know how to consider its most fundamental grounds, 
 not with doubt or suspicion, but with admiration and de- 
 light ; and can with a calm and silent pleasure enjoy the 
 repose and rest of a quiet and well-assured mind, rejoicing 
 and contented to know to themselves, (when others refuse 
 to partake with them in this joy,) and feel all firm and stable 
 under them, whereupon either the practice or the hopes of 
 their religion do depend. 
 
 And there may be also many others of good and pious 
 inclinations, that have never yet applied themselves to 
 consider the principal and most fundamental grounds of 
 religion, so as to be able to give or discern anj' tolerable 
 reason of them. For either the sluggishness of their own 
 temper may have indisposed them to any more painful and 
 laborious exercise of their minds, and made them to be 
 content with the easier course of taking every thing upon 
 trust, and imitating the example of others; or they have 
 been unhappily misinformed, that it consists not with the 
 reverence due to religion, to search into the grounds of it. 
 
 Yea, and may have laid this for one of its main grounds, 
 that no exercise of rea.son may have any place about it. 
 Or perhaps having never tried, they apprehend a greater 
 difliculty in coming to a clear and certain resolution herein, 
 than indeed there is. Now such need to be excited to set 
 their own thoughts a-work this way, and to be assisted 
 herein. They should therefore consider who gave them 
 the understandings which they fear to use. And can they 
 use them to better purpose, or with more gratitude to him 
 who made them intelligent, and not brute creatures, than 
 in labouring to know, that they may also by a reasonable 
 service worship and adore their Maker 1 Are they not to 
 use their very senses about the matters of religion 1 For 
 the invisible things of God, even his eternal power and 
 godhead, are clearly seen, &c. And their faith comes by 
 hearing. But what 1 are these more sacred and divine, 
 and more akin to religion, than their rea.son and jiidgment, 
 without which also their sense can be of no use to them 
 herein 1 Or is it the best way of making use of what 
 God has revealed of himself, by whatsoever means, not 
 to imderstand what he hath revealed "? It is most true in- 
 deed, that when we once come clearly to be informed that 
 God hath revealed this or that thing, we are then readily 
 to subject (and not oppose) our feeble reasonings to his 
 plain revelation. And it were a most insolent and un- 
 creaturely arrogance, to contend or not yield him the cause, 
 though things have to us seemed otherwise. But it were 
 as inexcusable negligence, not to make use of our under- 
 standings to the best advantage ; that we may both know 
 that such a revelation is divine, and what it signifies, after 
 we know whence it is. And anj- one that considers, will 
 soon see it were very imseasonable, at least, to -allege the 
 written, divine revelation, as the ground of his religion, till 
 he have gone lower, and fore-known some things (by and 
 by to be insisted on) as preparator}' and fundamental to 
 the knowledge of this. 
 
 And because it is obvious to suppose how great an in- 
 crease of strength and vigour pious minds may receive 
 hence, how much it may animate them to the service of 
 the temple and contribute to their more cheerful progress 
 in a religious course ; it will therefore not be besides our 
 present purpose, but very pursuant to it, to consi<ler 
 awhile, not in the contentious way of brawling and cap- 
 tious disputation, (the noise whereof is as unsuitable to the 
 temple, as that of axes and hammers,) but of calm and 
 sober discourse, the more principal and lowermost grounds 
 upon which the frame of religion rests, and to the supposal 
 whereof, the notion and use of any such thing as a temple 
 in the world, do owe themselves. 
 
 CHAPTER n. 
 
 The two more princip^ ffroHtids which a temple supposes. 1. TTie edstenee 
 of God. 2. Hie conversal)kTie3s with men : both argued from common 
 consent. The former doubtful if ever wholly denied in fomier days. 'ITw 
 latter also implied in the knmvn general practice of some or other reli- 
 gion. Fndenced in that some, no strangers to the world, have thought it 
 the diderence of man. The immodest j' and rashness of the persons trom 
 wlv)m an}' opposition can be expected. These two grounds proposed to be 
 more strictly considered apart. And, first. The existence of God, where 
 first the notion of God is assigned. The parts whereof arc proixised to be 
 evinced severally of some existent being. 1. Elemitv. 2. Selforiginalion. 
 3. Independency. 4. Necessity of existence. 5. Self-acfi\ily. (Theimims 
 eibiUty this world should be this necessao' self active being. The inconsist- 
 ency of necessary alterable matter, more largely deduced in a margmal di- 
 gression.) 6. Lite. 7. Vast and mighty power. A cotoUary. 
 
 1. Now the grounds more necessary to be laid down, 
 and which are supposed in the most general notion of a 
 temple, are especially these two ■? The exislence of GJod, 
 and his conversableness with men. For no notion of -a 
 temple can more easil}'^ occur to any one's thoughts, or 
 is more agreeable to common acceptation, than that it 
 is a habitation wherein God is pleased to dwell among 
 
 nren. i.- ,, - 
 
 Therefore to the designation and use of it, or (which is 
 all one) to the intention and exercise of religion, the belief 
 or persuasion is necessary of those two things, (the same 
 which we find made necessarv on the same accotmt,) 
 " That God is, and that he is a fewarder of them that dili- 
 gently seek him ;" Hcb. xi. G. as will appear when the
 
 10 
 
 THE LIVING TEMPLE. 
 
 Part I. 
 
 manner and design of that his abode with men shall be 
 considered. 
 
 These are the grounds upon which the sacred frame of 
 a temple ought to stand, and without which it must be ac- 
 knowledged an unsupported, airy fabric. And since it 
 were vain to discourse what a temple is, or whereto the 
 notion of it may be applied, unless it be well resolved that 
 there is, or ought to be, any such thing ; the strength and 
 firmness of this its double ground should be tried and 
 searched, and of its pretensions thereto. 
 
 II. And though it be not necessary in a matter that is so 
 plain, and wherein so much is to be said otherwise ; yet it 
 will not be impertinent to consider, first, what prescription 
 (which in clearing of titles is not wont to signify nothing) 
 will signify in the present case. And, 
 
 First, For the existence of God, we need not labour 
 much to show how constantly and generally it hath been 
 acknowledged through the whole world; it being so difii- 
 cult to produce an uncontroverted instance, of any that 
 ever denied it in more ancient times. For as for them 
 whose names have been infamous amongst^ men here- 
 tofore upon that account, there hath been that said, that at 
 least wants not probability for the clearing them of so foul 
 an imputation. That is, that they were maliciously re- 
 presented as having denied the existence of a Deity, be- 
 cause they impugned and derided the vulgar conceits and 
 poetical lictions of those days, concerning the multitude 
 and the ridiculous attributes of their imaginary deities. 
 Of which sort Cicero'j mentions not a few ; their being 
 inflamed witli anger, and mad with lust ; their wars, fights, 
 wounds; tiieir hatreds, discords; their births and deaths, 
 &c. : who though he speak less favourably of some of these 
 men, and mentions one<^ as doubting whether there were 
 any gods or no, (for which cause his book in the beginning 
 whereof he had intimated that doubt, (as Cotta is brought 
 in, informing us,) was publicly burnt at Athens, and him- 
 self banished his country,) and two othersd as expressly 
 denying them ; 3'et the more generally decried patron'' of 
 atheism (as he has been accounted) he makes Velleius 
 highly vindicate from this imputation, and say of him, 
 that he was the first that took notice that even nature itself 
 had impressed the notion of God upon the minds of all 
 men : who also gives us these as his words ; " What 
 nation is there or sort of men that hath not, without teach- 
 ing, a certain anticipation of the gods, which he calls a 
 prolepsis, a certain preventive, or fore-conceived informa- 
 tion of a thing in the mind, without which nothing can be 
 miderstood, or sought, or disputed of?" Unto which pur- 
 pose the same authorf (as is commonly observed) else- 
 where speaks ; that there is no nation so barbarous, no one 
 of all men so savage, as that some apprehension of the 
 gods hath not tinctured his mind; that many do think in- 
 deed corruptly of them, which is (saith he) the effect of 
 vicious custom ; but all do believe there is a divine power 
 and nature. Nor (as he there proceeds) hath men's talk- 
 ing and agreeing together effected ttiis. It is not an opi- 
 nion settled in men's minds by public constitutions and 
 sanctions; but in every matter the consent of all nations 
 is to be reckoned a law of nature. 
 
 And whatever the apprehensions of those few (and some 
 others that are wont to be mentioned under the same vile 
 character) were in this matter, yet so inconsiderable hath 
 the dissent been, that as another most ingenious pagan 
 authors writes, "In so great a contention and variety of 
 opinions, (that is, concerning what God is,) herein you 
 shall see theh law and reason of every country to be 
 harmonious and one; that there is one God, the King and 
 Father of all ; that the many are but the servants audi 
 — co-rulcrs unto God ; that herein the Greek and the bar- 
 barian say the same thing, the islander and the inhabitant 
 of the continent, the wise and the foolish : go to the 
 utmost bounds of the ocean, and you find God there. 
 But if (says he) in all times, there have been two or 
 three,it an atheistical, vile, senseless sort of persons, whose 
 
 a Parker Tent^m. b De Natura Deoruni, lib. 1. 
 
 c Protag. Abderitcs. 
 
 d Diagoras and Theotiorus Cyrenaiciifl, wlio (as Diogenes Laertius, in Aris- 
 tip. reports) was suniamcd aWiuj, alterwarils Oco;. 
 
 e Epicunus, wliom alno liis own Epistle to MentBceus in Diosenes Laertius 
 acguits of atheism, but not of irreligion ; as hereal'tcr may be observed. 
 
 t Cicero 'f uscul. Quajst. 1. i. 
 
 own eyes and ears deceive them, and who are maimed in 
 their very soul, an irrational and steril sort, as monstrous 
 creatures, as a lion without courage, an ox without horns, 
 or a bird without wings ; yet, out of those, you shall 
 imderstand somewhat of God ; for they know and confess 
 him, whether they will or no." 
 
 III. Yea, and the use of a temple, and the exercise of 
 religion, (which suppose the second ground also, as well 
 as the first,) have been .so very common, (though not 
 altogether eqrially common with the former,) that it is 
 the observation of that famed moralist,i " That if one 
 travel the world, it is possible to find cities without walls, 
 without letters, without kings, without wealth, without 
 coin, without schools and theatres. But a city without a 
 temple, or that uselh no worship, prayers, &c. no one ever 
 saw." And be believes a city may more easily be built™ 
 without a foundation, or ground to set it on, than any 
 community of men have or keep a rnnsistency without 
 religion. 
 
 IV. And it is no mean argument of the commonness 
 of religion, that there have been some in the world, and 
 those no idiots neither, that have accounted it the most 
 constituent and distinguishing thing in human nature. So 
 that Platonic Jew" judgeth invocation "of God, with hope 
 towards him, to be, if w^e will speak the truth, the only 
 genuine property of man, and saith that 07ilij he who is 
 acted by such a hope, is a man, and he that is destitute of 
 this hope, is no man ;"° preferring this account to the 
 common definition, (which he says is only of the concrete 
 of man,) that he is a reasonable, and mortal, living crea- 
 ture. And yet he extends not reason further, that is, to 
 the inferior creatures ; for he had expressly said above, 
 " That they who have no hope towards God, have no part 
 or share in the rational nature." And a noble person? of 
 our own says, " That upon accurate search, religion and 
 faith appear the only ultimate ditferences of man ; whereof 
 neither divine perfection is capable, nor brutal imperfec- 
 tion ;" reason, in his account, descending low among the 
 inferior creatures. But these agreeing more peculiarly to 
 man, and so universally, that he affirms, " There is no man 
 well and entirely in his wits, that doth not worship some 
 deity." Who therefore accounted it a less absurdity to 
 admit such a thing as a rational beast, than an irreligious 
 man. Now if these have taken notice of any instances 
 that seemed to claim an exemption from this notion of 
 man, they have rather thought fit to let them pass as an 
 anomalous sort of creatures, reducible to no certain rank 
 or order in the creation, than that any should be admitted 
 into the account, or be acknowledged of the society of 
 men, that were found destitute of an inclination to worship 
 the common Author of our beings. And according to 
 this opinion, by whatsoever steps any should advance 
 in the denial of a Deity, they should proceed by the 
 same, to the abandoning their own humanity ; and by 
 saying there is no God, should proclaim themselves no 
 men. 
 
 However, it discovers (which is all that is at present in- 
 tended by it) the commonness, not to say absolute uni- 
 versality, of religion, in the observation of these persons, 
 whom we must suppose no strangers to the world, in their 
 own and former times. And if it aflferd any less ground 
 for such an observation in our present time, we only see 
 that as the world grows older it grows worse, and sinks 
 into a deeper oblivion of its original, as it recedes further 
 from it. 
 
 And (notwithstanding) this so common a consent is yet 
 not without its weight and significancy to our present pur- 
 pose ; if we consider how impossible it is to give or ima- 
 gine any tolerable account of its original, if we do not 
 confess it natural, and refer it to that common Author of 
 all nature whom we are inquiring about : of which so much 
 is said by divers others,q that nothing more needs here to 
 be said about it. 
 
 V. And at least so much is gained by it to a temple, 
 
 g Maxim. Tyr. diss. I. 
 
 h Ofioipdivov vojiov Kai \oyoy. 
 k aOcov Kat Taireivoti, xai aiiaiada yenos. 
 
 I avvap\ovTCs Oc ^ 
 
 1 Plutarcb adversus Colntem. m eSaibovi xwpii. 
 
 n Philo. libr. dc eo quod deterius potiori insid. 
 
 o povoi tofATTif, avQpwKos o ivaeXini ovk avOpwiros. 
 
 p Herlicrt de Verit. 
 
 q Sec Cicero in sundry places. Grotins de Veritate Christiana Religi.
 
 Chap. II. 
 
 THE LIVING TEMPLE. 
 
 11 
 
 that unless some very plain and ungainsayable demonstra- 
 tion be brought against the grounds of it, (which will be 
 time enough to consider when we see it pretended to,) no 
 opposition, fit to be regarded, can ever be made to it. That 
 is, none at all can possibly be made, but what shall pro- 
 ceed from the most immodest and rash confidence, animated 
 and borne up only by a design of being most licentiously 
 ■wicked, and of making the world become so. Imrnodest 
 confidence it must be, for it is not a man, or a nation, or 
 an age, that such have to oppose, but mankind ; upon 
 which they shall cast, not some lighter reflection, but the 
 vilest and most opprobrious contumely and .scorn that can 
 be imagined. That is, the imputation of so egregious folly 
 and dotage, as all this while to have worshipped a shadow, 
 as the author of their being ; and a figment, ibr their covi- 
 inon parent. And this not the ruder only, and uninquisi- 
 tive vulgar, but the wisest and most considering persons in 
 all times. Surely less than clear and pregnant demonstra- 
 tion (at least not wild, incoherent, self-confounding sup- 
 Eositions and surmises, of which more hereafter) will never 
 e thought sufficient to justify the boldness of an attempt 
 that shall carry this signification with it. And it will be 
 a confidence equall}'^ rash, as immodest. For what can be 
 the undertakers' hope, either of success or reward 1 Do 
 they think it an easy enterprise, and that a few quirks of 
 malapert wit will serve the turn to baffle the Deity into 
 nothing, and unteach the world religion, and rase out im- 
 pressions renewed and transmitted through so many ages, 
 and persuade the race of men to descend a peg lower, and 
 believe they ought to live, and shall die, like the perishing 
 beast 1 Or, do they expect to find men indifferent in a 
 matter that concerns their common practice and hope 1 add 
 wherein their zeal hath been wont to be such as that it hath 
 obtained to be proverbial : to strive as for the very altars. 
 And what should their reward be, when the natural 
 tendency of their undertaking is to exclude themselves 
 from the expectation of any in another world 1 And what 
 will they expect in this, from them whose temples and 
 altars they go about !o subvert 1 Besides, that if they be 
 not hurried by a blind impetuous rashness, they would 
 consider their danger, and apprehend themselves concerned 
 to strike very sure. For if there remain but the least pos- 
 sibility that the matter is otherwise, and that the Being 
 doth exist, whose honour and worship they contend against, 
 they must imderstand his favour to be of some concern- 
 ment to them; which they take but an ill course to entitle 
 themselves unto. Much more have they reason to be 
 solicitous, when their horrid cause not only wants evidence, 
 nor hath hitherto pretended to more than a bare possibilitj' 
 of truth on their side, but hath so clear (and as yet alto- 
 gether unrefuted) evidence lying against it, that quite takes 
 away that very possibility, and all ground for that misera- 
 ble languishing hope, that it could have ever aftbrded 
 them. Therefore is it left also wholly unimaginable, what 
 
 Erinciple can animate their design, other than a sensual 
 umour, impatient of restraints, or of any obligation to be 
 sober, just, and honest, beyond what their own inclination, 
 and (much-mistaken) interest, or conveniency, would lead 
 them to. 
 
 By all which we have a sufficient measure of the persons 
 from whom any opposition unto religion can be expected, 
 and how much their authority, their example, or their 
 scorn, ought to signify with us. And that a more valuable 
 opposition can never be made, our experience, both that 
 hitherto it hath not been, and that it would have been if it 
 could, might render us tolerably secure. For surely it 
 may well be supposed, th.at in a world so many ages lost 
 in wickedness, all imaginable trials would have been made 
 to disburthen it of religion ; and .somewhat that had been 
 specious at least, to that purpose, had been hit upon, if the 
 matter had been any ways possible. And the more wicked 
 the world hath been, so directly contrar}' and so continually 
 assaulted a principle, not yet vanquished, appears the more 
 plainly invincible. And that the assaults have been from 
 the lusts of men, rather than their reason, shows the more 
 evidently, that their reason hath only Avanted a ground to 
 work upon, which if it could have been found, their lusts 
 
 Dii PJexs. same siibiect and title. Calvin Jnntit. Kpiscaphis his Instil. 
 Thfol. wiio has written ncrvouslv on thi.s subject ; with many more : but esi)e- 
 ci-aJly Dr. Stillingfleet, in his Oris- Sacr. 
 
 had certainly pressed it to their. service in this warfare, and 
 not have endured, rather, the molestation of continual 
 checks and rebukes from it. 
 
 Nor need we yet to let our minds hang in suspense, or 
 be in a dubious expectation, that possibly some or other 
 great wit may arise, that shall perform some great thing in 
 this matter, and discover the groundlessness and folly of 
 religion, by plain and undeniable reasons that have not as 
 yet been thought on; bin betake ourselves to a stricter and 
 closer consideration of our own grounds, which if we can 
 once find to be certainly true, we may be sure they are of 
 eternal truth, and no possible contrivance or device can 
 ever make them false. 
 
 VI. Having therefore seen what common consent may 
 contribute to the establishing of them jointly ; we may 
 now apply ourselves to consider and search into each of 
 them (so far as they are capable of a distinct considera- 
 tion) severall}'^ and apart. Having still his mark in our 
 eye, our oM'n confirmation and excitation in reference to 
 what is the proper work and business of a temple, religion 
 and conversation with God : how little soever an}' en- 
 deavour in this kind may be apt to signify with the other- 
 wise-minded. 
 
 VII. And, first, for the existence of God ; that we may 
 regularly and with evidence make it out to ourselves, that 
 he is, or dolh exist, and may withal see what the belief of 
 his existence will contribute towards the evincing of the 
 reasonableness of erecting a temple to him. It is requisite 
 that we first settle a true notion of him in our minds; or 
 be at an agreement \vith ourselves, what it is that we mean, 
 or would have to be signified by the name of God : other- 
 wise we know not what we seek, nor when we have foimd 
 him. 
 
 And though we must beforehand professedly avow, that 
 we take him to be such a one as we can never compre- 
 hend in our thoughts; that this knowledge is too excellent 
 for us, or he is more excellent tlian that we can perfectly 
 know him; yet it v>'iil be sufficient to guide us in our 
 search after his existence, if we can s^ive such a descrip- 
 tion, or assign such certain characters of his being, as 
 will severally or together distinguish him from all things 
 else. For then we shall be able to call him by his own 
 name, and say, This is God ; whatever his being may con- 
 tain more, or whatsoever other properties may belong to it, 
 beyond what we can as yet compass in our present thoughts 
 of him. 
 
 VIII. And such an account we shall have of what we are 
 inquiring after, if we have the conception in our minds of 
 an eternal, uncaused, independent, necessary Being, that 
 hath active power, life, wisdom, goodness, and whatsoever 
 other supposable excellency, in the highest perfection 
 originally, in and of itself 
 
 Such a being we would with common consent express 
 by the name of God. Even they that would profess to 
 deny or doubt of his existence, yet must acknowledge 
 this to be the notion of that which they deny or doubt 
 of Or if they should say this is not it, or (which is all 
 one) that they do not deny or doubt of the existence of 
 such a Being as this; they on the other hand that would 
 ai-gue for his existence, may conclude the cause is yielded 
 them; this being that which they designed to contend 
 for. 
 
 It must indeed be acknowledged, that some things 'be- 
 longing to the notion of God might have been more ex- 
 pressly named. But it was not necessary they should, 
 being sufficiently included here, as will afterwards appear: 
 nor perhaps so convenient ; some things, the express men- 
 tion whereof is omitted, being such as more ca'ptious per- 
 sons might be apt at first to startle at; who yet may 
 possibly, as they are insinuated under other expressions, 
 become by degrees more inclinable to receive them after- 
 wards. And "however if this be not a full and adequate 
 notion, (as who can ever tell when we have an express, dis- 
 tinct, particular notion of G^d, which we are sure is ade- 
 quate and fuin) it mav however suflice, that it is a trne 07ie, 
 as far as it goes, and "such as cannot be mistaken for the 
 notion of anv thing else. And it will be more especially suf- 
 ficient to our present purpose, if enough be comprehended 
 in it to recommend him to us as a fit and worthy object of 
 religion; and whereto a temple ought to be designed: as
 
 12 
 
 THE LIVING TEMPLE. 
 
 Part I. 
 
 it •will appear there is, when also we shall have added 
 what is intended, concerning his conversableness with 
 men ; the ground whereof is also in great part included in 
 this account of him; so that the consideration of it can- 
 not be wholly severed from that of his existence ; as hath 
 been intimated above. That is, that if such a Being ex- 
 ist, unto which this notion belongs, it will sufficiently ap- 
 pear, he is such as that he can converse with men, though 
 it doth not thence certainly follow that he icill. For it 
 were a rash and bold adventure, to say he could not be 
 God, if he did not condescend to such terms of reconci- 
 liation and converse with apostate creatures. Whereof, 
 therefore, more is to be said, than the mere manifesting 
 his existence, in its own place. 
 
 And as to this, we shall endeavour to proceed gradual- 
 ly, and in the most familiar and intelligible way we can. 
 
 I am not unapprehensive that I might here indeed, fol- 
 lowing great examples, have proceeded in another method 
 than that which I now choose. And because we can have 
 no true, appropriate, or distinguishing idea or conception 
 of Deity, which doth not include nece.ssity of existence in 
 it, have gone that shorter way, immediately to have con- 
 cluded the existence of God, from his idea itself. And I 
 see not, but treading those wary steps which the incompa- 
 rable Dr. Cudworth (in his Intell. System) hath done, that 
 argument admits, in spite of cavil, of being managed, 
 with demonstrative evidence. Yet since some most per- 
 tinaciously insist that it is at the bottom but a mere so- 
 phism; therefore (without detracting any thing from the 
 force of it as it stands in that excellent work, and the 
 writings of some other noted authors) I have chosen to go 
 this other way, as plainer and less liable to exception, 
 though further about. And beginning lower, to evince 
 from the certain present existence of things not existing 
 necessarily, or of themselves, their manifest dependence 
 on what doth exist necessarily or of itself; and how ma- 
 nifestly impossible it was that any thing should .exist now, 
 or hereafter to all eternity, if somewhat had not existed 
 necessarily and of itself, from all eternity. And I trust, 
 not only this will appear with competent evidence in the 
 sequel of this discourse, but also that this necessary self- 
 existent Being, is God, a Being absolutely perfect, such 
 to whom the rest of his idea must belong ; and to whom 
 religion or the honour of a temple is due. 
 
 And because that was the point at which this discourse 
 principally aims, and wherein it finally terminates, not 
 merely the discovering of atheism, but irreligion ; from 
 an apprehension that as to use and practice, it was all one 
 to acknowledge no God at all, as only such a one to whonr 
 no temple or religion could belong; it was therefore be- 
 sides my purpose, to consider the several /wots or schemes 
 of atheism, that have been devised in any age, as that 
 excellent person hath done ; and enough for my purpose, 
 to refute the Epicurean atheism, or theism, (it is indif- 
 ferent which you call it,) because that sect-master, while 
 he was liberal in granting there were deities, yet was so 
 impious as to deny wor.ship to any, accounting they were 
 such, as between whom and man there could be no con- 
 versation ; on their fart by providence, or on manh by re- 
 ligian. Therefore, if we shall have made it evident in 
 the issue, that God is, and is conversable with men, both 
 the Epicit^rean atheism vanishes from ofi^ the stage, and 
 with it all atheism besides, and irreligion. 
 
 IX. We therefore begin with God's existence. For the 
 evincing whereof we may, 1. Be most assured, that 
 there hath been somewhat or other from all eternity, or 
 that looking backward, somewhat of real being must be 
 confessed eternal. Let such as have not been used to 
 think of any thing more than what they could see with 
 their eyes, and to whom reasoning only seems difficult, 
 because they have not tried what they can do in it, but 
 use their thoughts a little, and by moving them a' few 
 easy steps, they will soon find themselves as sure of this, 
 as that they see, or hear, or understand, or are any 
 thing. 
 
 For being sure that something now is, (that you see, for 
 instance, or are something,) you must then acknowledge, 
 that certainly either something always was, and hath ever 
 been, or been from all eternity; or else you must sav, 
 that sometime, nothing was; or that all being once was 
 
 not. And so, since you find that something now is, that 
 there was a time when any thing of being did legin to 
 be, that is, that till that time, there was nothing; bulnow, 
 at that time, somewhat first began to be. For what can 
 be plainer than that, if all being sometime was not, and 
 nov-: some being is, every thing of being had a beginning'? 
 And thence it would follow that some being, that is, the 
 first that ever began to be, did of it.self start up out of 
 nothing, or made itself to be, when before nothing was. 
 
 But now, do you not plainly see that it is altogether 
 impossible any thing should do so; that is, when it was 
 as yet nothing, and when nothing at all as yet was, that 
 it should make itself, or come into being of itself? For 
 surely making itself is doing something. But can that 
 which is nothing do any thing 1 Unto all doing there 
 must be some doer. Wherefore a thing mu.st be, before 
 it can do any thing ; and therefore it would follow ihat 
 it was before it was ; or u-as and was not, was something 
 and nothing, at the same time. Yea, and it was diverse 
 from itself. For a cause must be a distinct thing from 
 that which is caused by it. Wherefore it is most appa- 
 rent that some being hath ever been, or did never legin to 
 be. Whence further, 
 
 X. It is also evident, 2. that some being was un- 
 caused, or was ever of itself without any cause. For 
 what never was from another had never any cause, since 
 nothing could be its own cause. And somewhat, as 
 appears from what hath been said, never was from an- 
 other. Or it may be plainly argued thus ; that either 
 some being was uncaused, or all being was caused. But 
 if all being were caused, then some one, at least, was 
 the cause of itself: which hath been already shown im- 
 possible. Therefore the expression commonly used con- 
 cerning the first Being:, that it was of itself, is only to be 
 taken negatively, that is, that it was not of another, not 
 positively, as if it did sometime make itself. Or, what 
 there is positive, signified by that form of speech, is only 
 to be taken thus, that it was a being of that nature, as 
 that it was impossible it .should ever not have been. Not 
 that it did ever of itself step out of not being into being: 
 of which more hereafter. 
 
 XI. And now it is hence further evident, 3. that some 
 being is independent upon any other, that is, whereas it 
 already appears that some being did never depend on any 
 other, as a productive cause ; or was not beholden to any 
 other, that it might come into being. It is thereupon 
 equally evident that it is simply independent, or cannot 
 be beholden to any for its continued being. For what did 
 never need a productive cause, doth as little need a sus- 
 taining or conserving cause. And to make this more 
 plain, either .some being is independent, or all being is 
 dependent. But there is nothing without the compass of 
 all being, whereon it may depend. Wherefore to say, 
 that all being doth depend, is to say it depends on nothing, 
 that is, that it depends not. For to depend on nothing, is 
 not to depend. It is therefore a manifest contradiction, 
 to say that all being doth depend : against which it is no 
 relief to say, that all beings do circularly depend on one 
 another. For so, however, the whole circle or sphere ol 
 beins: should depend on nothing, or one at last depend on 
 itself; which negatively taken, as before, is true, and the 
 thing we contend for ; that one, the common support ol 
 all the rest, depends not on any thing without itself. 
 Whence also it is plainly consequent, 
 
 XII. That, 4. such a being is necessary, or doth necessarily 
 exist ; that is, that it is of such a nature as that it could not 
 or cannot but be. For what is in being neither by its own 
 choice, or any other's, is necessarily. But what was not 
 made by itself (which hath been shown impossible that 
 any thing should) nor by any other, (as it hath been proved 
 .something was not,) it is manifest, it neither depended on 
 its own choice, nor any other's, that it is. And therefore 
 its existence is not owing to choice at all, but to the ne 
 cessity of its own nature. Wherefore it is always by a 
 simple, absolute, natural necessity ; being of such a nature, 
 to which it is altogether repugnant, and impossible ever not 
 to have been, or ever to cease from being. And noAV ha- 
 ving gone thus far, and being assured that hitherto we feel 
 the ground firm under us; that is, having gained a full 
 certainly that there is an eternal, uncaused, independent.
 
 Chap. II. 
 
 THE LIVING TEMPLE. 
 
 13 
 
 necessary Being, and therefore actually and everlasting 
 existing; we may advance one step lurlher, and with 
 equal assurance add, 
 
 XIII. 5. That this eternal, independent, uncaused, 
 necessary Being, is self-active, that is, (which is at pre- 
 sent meant,) not such as acts upon it.self, but that hath 
 the power of acting upon other things, in and of itself, 
 without deriving it from any other. Or at least that there 
 is such a Being as is eternal, uncaused, &c. having the 
 power of action in and of itself. For either such a Be- 
 ing as hath been already evinced is of itself active, or 
 unactive, or either hath the power of action of itself, or 
 not. If we will say the latter, let it be considered what 
 we say, and to what purpose we say it. 
 
 First, we are to weigh what it is we affirm, when we 
 speak of an eternal, uncaused, independent, necessarj'' Be- 
 ing, that is of itself totally unactive, or destitute of any 
 active power. If we will say there is some such thing, 
 we will confess, when we have called it something, it is a 
 very silly, despicable, idle something, and a something(if 
 we look upon it alone) as good as nothing. For there is 
 but little odds between being nothing, and being able to do 
 nothing. We will again confess, eternit)'^, self-origination, 
 independency, necessity of existence, to be very great and 
 highly dignifying attributes; and that import a most in- 
 conceivable excellency. For what higher glor)^ can we 
 ascribe to any being, than to acknowledge it to have been 
 from eternity of itself/ without being beholden to any 
 other, and to be such as that it can be, and cannot but be 
 in the same state, self-subsisting, and self-sufficient to all 
 eternity 1 And what inconceivable myriads of little sense- 
 less deities must we upon that supposition admit ! (as 
 would appear if it were fit to trouble the reader with an 
 explication of the nature and true notion of matter, which 
 the being now supposed, must be found to be !) but what 
 can our reason either direct or endure, that we should so 
 incongruously misplace so magnificent attributes as these, 
 and ascribe the prime glory of the most excellent Being, 
 imto that which is next to nothing 1 What might further 
 be said to demonstrate the impossibility of a self-subsist- 
 ing and self-original, unactive Being, will be here unsea- 
 sonable and pre-occupying. But if any in the mean time 
 will be so sullen as to say such a thing. 
 
 Let it, secondly, be considered to what purpose they say 
 it. Is it to exclude a necessary self-active being 1 But it can 
 signify nothing to that purpose. For such a being they will 
 be forced to acknowledge, let them do what they can (be- 
 sides putting out their own eyes) notwithstanding. For why 
 will they acknowledge any necessary being at all, that was 
 ever of itself? Is it not because they camnot, otherwise, 
 for their hearts tell how it was ever possible that any thing 
 at all could come into being 1 But finding that something 
 is, they are compelled to acknowledge that something hath 
 ever been, necessarily and of itself. No other account 
 
 r We will acknowledge an impropriety in this word, anil its conjusate, 
 gelf-OTiginate, sometimes hereat>er used : which yet is recompensed by their 
 conveniency ; as they may perhaps find who shall make trial how to ex- 
 press the sense intended by them in other words. And they are used with- 
 out suspicion, that it can he thought they are meant to signify as if ever 
 God gave original to himself; but in the negative sense, tliat he never 
 received it from any other ; yea. and that lie is, what is mire than equivalent 
 to his being, self caused ; namely, a Being of^ himself so excellent as not to 
 need or be capable to admit any cause Vid. c. 4. Sect. 3. And with the ex- 
 pectation of the same allowance which hath licen given to ai'ruirioc, or other 
 like words. We also take it for eraiited, (v\hich ft may suffice to hint here 
 once for all,) that when we use here the word self-sxibsistent, it will be under- 
 stood we intend by it, (without logical or metapfiysical nicety,) not the mere 
 exclusion of dependence on a subject, but on a cause. 
 
 s And whether by the way this will not aflbrd us (though that be none 
 of our present business) plain evidence that there can be no such thing as 
 necessary, alterable matter, may be examined by such as think lit to give 
 themselves the diversion. For let it be cnnsidered, if every part and par- 
 ticle that makes up the matti'r of this universe were itself a necessary 
 being, and of itself from all eternity, it must have not only it.s simple 
 being, but its being such or such, of itself necessarily ; or rather every 
 thing of it, or any way belonging to it, must be its very simple being 
 itsclT. For wlience should it receive any accession to itself, when it is sup- 
 posed equally independent upon its fellows, ils any of them upon it ? Sup- 
 pose then only their various intercurrent mDlion among themselves, requi- 
 site to prepare them to, and unite them in, the composition of particular 
 bo<lies, and no other change of any other individual particle needful 
 thereto, but. only of their figure, place, and situation, till they shall come 
 aptly to be disposed in the now attempted composition. How is even tliis 
 change possible? For supixjse one of these particles from eternity of such 
 or such a fieure, as triangular, hooked, &c. now can it lose any thing from 
 itself, or suffer any alteration of its figure which essentially and necessarily 
 tjelonged toil from eteniity? That to which it is necessarj' to Ix' such if is 
 impossible to it not to be such. Or sttppo.se no alteration of figure uvliich 
 Fiiicunis admits not) were necessary: but of situation and motion till it 
 become conveniently situate. Even this change also will be siniflv iin- 
 possible. Because you can frame no imagination of the existence of this 
 
 could be given how other things came to be. But what! 
 doth it signify any thing towards the giving an account of, 
 the original of all other things, to suppose only an eternal, 
 self-sub.^isting, unactive being 1 Did that cause other 
 things to bel Will not their own breath choke them it 
 they attempt to utter the self-contradicting words, an un- 
 active cause (i. e. efficient or author) of any thing. And 
 do they not .see they are as farfiom their mark ; or do no 
 more towards the a.ssigning the original of all other things, 
 by supposing an eternal, unactive being only, than if they 
 supposed none at all. That which can do nothing, can no 
 more be the productive cause of another, than that which 
 is nothing. Wherefore by the same reason that hath con- 
 strained us to acknowledge an eternal, uncaused, inde- 
 pendent, necessary being, we are also unavoidably led to 
 acknowledge this being to be self-active, or such as hath 
 the power of action in and of itself; or that there is cer- 
 tainly such a being, that is the cause of all the things 
 which our sense tells us are, besides, existent in the world. 
 
 XIV. For what else is left us to say or think 1 Will we 
 think fit to say, that all things we behold, were, as they 
 are, necessarily existent from all eternity 1 That were to 
 speak against our own eyes, which continually behold the 
 rise and fall of living things, of whatsoever sort or kind, 
 that can come imder their notice. And it were to speak 
 against the thing itself, that we say, and to say and unsay 
 the same thing m the same brealh. For all the things we 
 behold are in some respect or other (internal or external) 
 continually changing, and therefore could never long be 
 beheld as they are. And to say then, they have been con- 
 tinually changing from eternity, and yet have been neces- 
 sarily, is unintelligible, and flat nonsense. For what is 
 necessarily, is always the same ; and what is in this or that 
 posture necessarily, (that is, by an intrinsic, simple, and 
 absolute necessity, which must be here meant,) must be 
 ever so. Wherefore to suppose the world in this or that 
 state necessarily; and yet that such a state is changeable, 
 is an impossible and self-contradicting supposition. ^ 
 
 And to say any thing is changing from eternity, .'dignifies 
 it is always undergoing a change which is never past over, 
 that is, that it is eternaily unchanged, and is ever the same. 
 For the least imaginable degree of change is some change. 
 What is in any the least respect changed, is not in every 
 respect the same. Suppose then any thing in this present 
 state or posture, and that it is eternally changing in it; 
 either a new state and posture is acquired, or not. If it 
 be, the former was temporary, and hath an end ; and 
 therefore the just and adequate measure of it wets not 
 eternity, which hath no end; much less of the change of 
 it, or the transition from the one state to the other. But 
 if no new state or posture be acquired, (which any the 
 least gradual alteration would make,) then it is eternally 
 unchanged in any the least degree. Therefore eternal 
 changing is a manifest contradiction. 
 
 or that particle, but you must suppose it in some or other «6;", or point of 
 space, and if it be necessarily, it is here necessarily: for what is simply 
 no where is nothing. But if it be here necessarily, (that is, in this or that 
 point of space, fbr in some or other it must be, and it cannot be here and 
 there at once.) it must lie here eternally, anil can never not be here. There- 
 fore we can have no notion of necessarily alterable or moveable matter, 
 which is not iiiidnsislent and repugnant to itself Therefore also motion 
 must pniceed from an iniiuoveable mover, as hath been (though upon 
 aunlher ground) coiii-kided of old. But how action erf fXtra stands with 
 the iuunutalility of tlio Diity. must be fetched from the consiileration of 
 other. perfections belonging thereto. Of which metaphysicians and school- 
 men riiay be consulted, discoursing at large. See Riiarez, Lfdivtua <lc di- 
 vina perfectione, with many more, at le>5ure. Whatso{'\er difticulty we 
 may apprehend in this case or if we cannot so easily conceive how an 
 eternal mind foreseeing perfectly all futurity, together with an elem.il 
 efficacious determination of will concerning the existmcc of such and Mich 
 tliines to such an instant or point of time, can suffice to their production 
 without a super addid efflux nfp<iwerat that instant; which would seem 
 to infer somewhat of mutation : yet as the former of these cannot be de- 
 monstrated insnfiicient. (nor shall we ever n^ckon oursehfs pinched in this 
 matter till we see tliat plainly and fully done.) so they are very obstinately 
 blind that cannot see upon the addition of the latter the vast diflertnce of 
 these two cases: viz. the lacile silent egress of a snflicient power, in 
 pur-uance to a calm, complacential. eternal purpose ; for the pn i uction 
 of this crea'ion. by which the agent acts not upon itself, but upon iis own 
 creature made by its own aci ion : and the e'eiTal. blind, unpovemed action 
 of matter upon itself, by which it is perpetually chanting itself, while yet 
 it is snppost d necessarily w hat it was beliire. And how much mon; easily 
 conceivable that is, than this ; how also lilierty of action consists with ne- 
 cessity of existence, divers have shown: to which puriio-e somewhat not 
 inconsiderable may be seen. Ficin. lib. 2. cap. ^•3. Of iinviorro'. <$•<" But in 
 this there can be little pretence to imagine a diflicuhy. For our own lieinp, 
 though not simply, yet as to us is necessary, 1. e. it is imposed upon us : 
 for we come no' into being bv our own choice : and yet are conscious to our- 
 selves of no prejudice herebv to our lil>ertv of acting. Yea. ajid not only doth 
 the former consist with tliis latter, but is inferred by it. Of w liich see GMenf 
 de Ijben. Dei, 4- creat.
 
 .4 
 
 THE LIVING TEMPLE. 
 
 Part L 
 
 But if it be said, though eternity be not the measure of 
 one change, it may be of infinite changes, endlessly suc- 
 ceeding one another; even this also will be found contra- 
 dictious and impossible. For, (not to trouble the reader 
 with the more intricate controversy of the possibility or 
 impossibility of infinite or eternal succession, about which 
 they who have a mind may consult others, t) if this signify 
 any thing to the present purpose, it must mean the infinite 
 or eternal chaiiges of a necessary being. And how these 
 very terms do clash with one another, methinks any sound 
 mind might apprehend at the first mention of them ; and 
 how manifestly repugnant the things are, may be collected 
 from what hath been said ; and especially from what was 
 thought more fit to be annexed in the margin. 
 
 But now since we find that the present state of things is 
 changeable, and actually changing, and that what is change- 
 able is not necessarily, and of itself; and since it is evident 
 that there is some necessary being; (otherwise nothing 
 could ever have been, and that without action nothing 
 could be from it ;) since also all change imports somewhat 
 of passion, and all passion supposes action, and all action 
 active power, and activ^e power an original seat or subject, 
 that is self-active, or that hath the power of action ill and 
 of itself ; (for there could be no derivation of it from that 
 which hath it not, and no first derivation, but from that 
 which hath it originally of itself; and a first derivation 
 there must be, since all things that are, or ever have been, 
 furnished with it, and not of themselves, must either me- 
 diately or immediately have derived it from that which had 
 it of itself ;) it is therefore manifest that there is a neces- 
 sary, self-active Being, the Cause and Author of this per- 
 petually variable state and frame of things. And hence, 
 
 XV. 6. Since we can frame no notion of life which 
 self-active power doth not, at least, comprehend, (as upon 
 trial we shall fmd that we cannot,) it is consequent, that 
 this Being is also originally vital, and the root of all vi- 
 tality, such as hath life in or of itself, and from whence 
 it is propagated to every other living thing." 
 
 And so as we plainly see that this sensible world did 
 sometime begin to be, it is also evident that it took its be- 
 ginning from a Being essentially vital and active, that 
 had itself no beginning. Nor can we make a difficulty 
 to conclude, that this Being (which now we have shown 
 is active, and all action implies some power) is, 
 
 XVI. 7. Of vast and mighty power, (we wall not say 
 infinite, lest we should step too far at once ; not mind- 
 ing now to discuss whether creation require infinite 
 power,) when we consider and contemplate the vastness 
 of the work performed by it. Unto which (if we were 
 to make our estimate by nothing else) we must, at lea.st, 
 judge this power to be proportionable. For when our 
 eyes behold an effect exceeding the power of any cause 
 which they can behold, our mind must step in and supply 
 the defect of our feebler sense ; so as to make a judgment 
 that there is a cause we see not, equal to this effect. As 
 when we behold a great and magnificent fabric, and en- 
 tering in we see not the master, or any living thing, 
 (which was Cicero's observation'*' in reference to this 
 present purpose,) besides mice and weasels, we will not 
 think that mice or weasels built it. Nor need we in a 
 matter so obvious, insist further. But only when our se- 
 verer reason hath made us confess, our further contem- 
 
 Elation should make us admire, a power which is at once 
 oth so apparent and so stupendous. 
 
 Corollary. And now, from what hath been hitherto 
 discoursed, it seems a plain and necessary consecta- 
 ry, that this world had a cause div^erse from the mat- 
 ter whereof it is composed. 
 
 For otherwise matter that hath been more generally 
 
 t Parker Tentara. Physico=Thool. Dcrodoii. Philoa. cont. Dr. More's En- 
 cWrid. Metaptiys. . 
 
 u Wliich will also prove it to be a Spirit ; unto which order of beings es- 
 sential vitality, or that life be essential to tliem, seems as di.stin^iisliiii^ a pro- 
 jjorty between it and a body, as any other wi; can fasten iiimn ; that is. tliat 
 thoiijch a body may be truly s.iid to live, yet it lives by a lifi- tlj.it i- :i, ilil'iil.il, 
 uiid separable from it, so as that it may ce.-xse to live, and yfl 1" n linlv ~'ill ; 
 wlicrons a spirit lives by its own essence ; so tliat it can no niun .•.<.-•• u, Ir . 
 lliuii to bo. And as where that eiicncc ii bjrrowod and denv.'d i.,]ly, as it is 
 
 taken to be of itself altogether unactive, must be stated 
 the only cause and fountain of all the action and motion 
 that is now to be foimd in the whole universe : which is 
 a conceit, wild and absurd enough ; not only as it opposes 
 the common judgment of such as have with the greatest 
 diligence inquired into things of this nature, but as being 
 in itself manifestly impossible to be true ; as would easily 
 appear, if it were needful to press further Dr. More's* 
 reasonings to this purpose ; which he hath done sufficient- 
 ly for himself. 
 
 And also that otherwise all the great and undeniable 
 changes which continually happen in it must proceed 
 from its own constant and eternal action upon itself, while 
 it is yet feigned to be a necessary being; with the notion 
 whereof they are notoriously inconsistent. Which there* 
 fore we taking to be most clear, may now the more se- 
 curely proceed to what follow. 
 
 CHAPTER in. 
 
 Wisdom asserted to belon? to tliis Being. The production of this world by a 
 mighty agent destitute of wisdom impossible. On consideration of, 1. What 
 would be adverse to this production. 2. What would be wanting -, some 
 effects to which a designing cause will, on all hands, be confessed necessary, 
 haling manifest characters of skill and design upon them. Absurd here to 
 accept the works of nature ; wherein at least equal characters of wisdom 
 and design are to be seen, as in any the most confessetl pieces of art, in- 
 stanced in the frame and motion of heavenly bodies. A mean, unptiilo- 
 sophical temper, to be more taken with novelties, than common tilings of 
 greater importance. Further instance, in the composition of the bodies of 
 animals. Two contrary causes of men's not acknowledging the wisdom of 
 their Maker herein. Progress is made from the consideration of the parts 
 and frame, to the powers and functions, of terrestrial creatures. Grouth, 
 nutrition, propagation of kind. Spontaneous motion, sensation. The pre- 
 tence considered, that the bodies of animals are machines, 1. How impro- 
 bable it is. 2, How little to the purpose. The powers of the human soul. 
 It appears, notwlthstanAing them, it had a cause ; by them, a wi.ie and in- 
 telligent cause. It is not matter. That not capable of reason. They not 
 here reflected on who think reasonable souls made of refined matter, by the 
 Creator. Not being matter, nor arising from thence, it must have a cause 
 that is intelligent. Goodness belonging to this Being. 
 
 T. We therefore add, that this Being is wise and in- 
 telligent, as well as powerful ; upon the very view of this 
 world, it will appear so vast power was guided by equal 
 wisdom in the framing of it. Though this is wont to be 
 the principal labour in evincing the existence of a Deity, 
 namely, the proving that this universe owes its rise to a 
 wise and designing cause; (as may be seen in Cicero's 
 excellent performance in this kind, and in divers later 
 writers ;) yet the placing so much of their endeavour 
 herein, seems in great part to have proceeded hence, that 
 this hath been chosen for the great medium to prove that 
 it had a cause diverse from itself. But if that once be 
 done a shorter way, and it fully appear tliat this world 
 is not itself a necessary being, having the power of all 
 the action and motion to be found in it, of itself; 
 (which already seems plain enough;) and it do most 
 evidently thence also appear to have had a cause foreign 
 to, or distinct from, itself; though we shall not there- 
 fore the more carelessly consider this subject ; yet no place 
 of doubt seems to remain, but that this was an intelligent 
 cause, and that this world was the product of wisdom and 
 counsel, and not of mere power alone. For what imagi- 
 nation can be more grossly absurd, than to suppose this 
 orderly frame of things to have been the result of so 
 mighty power, not accompanied or guided by wisdom and 
 counsel 1 that is, (as the ca.se must now unavoidably be 
 understood,) that there is some being necessarily existent, 
 of an essentially active nature, of inconceivably vast 
 and mighty power and vigour, destitute of all under- 
 standing and knowledge, and consequently of any self- 
 moderating principle, but acting always by the necessity 
 of its own nature, and therefore to its very uttermost, 
 that raised up all the alterable matter of the universe (to 
 whose nature it is plainly repugnant to be of itself, or exist 
 
 with all created spirits, so its life must neeils be therewithal : so tlie eternal, 
 self-subsisling Spirit, lives necessarily, and of itself, according as necessarily 
 and of itself it is, or hath its being, 
 
 W^hich is only annoted, with a design not to trouble this discourse with any 
 <ii-'l*;isition concemitig the nature and other properties of a spiritual Bciiig. 
 Of wiiich enough hath been, with great evidence, said, by the incomparable 
 Dr. :\!c>r.:-. 
 
 \v Tlr Niitiira nconim, 
 
 X bciili in lii,s Immortality of the Soul; and Enchirid. Metaphys.
 
 ClIAP. III. 
 
 THE LIVING TEMPLE. 
 
 15 
 
 necessarily) out of nothing:-, and by the utmost exertion of 
 that ungoverned power, put all the parts and particles of 
 that matter into a wild hurry of impetuous motion, by 
 which they have been compacted and digested into parti- 
 cular beings, in that variety and order which we now be- 
 hold. And surely to give this account of the world's 
 original, is, as Cicero speaks, not to consider, but to cast 
 lots what to say; and were as mad a supposition, "as if 
 one should suppose the one-and-twenty letters, formed (as 
 the same author elsewhere speaks) in great numbers, of 
 gold, or what you please else, and cast of any careless 
 fashion together, and that of these loosely shaken out upon 
 the ground, Eimius's Annals should result, so as to be dis- 
 tinctly legible as now we see them." Nay, it were the 
 supposition of a thing a thousand-fold more manifestly 
 impossible. 
 
 II. For before we consider the gross absurdity of such a 
 supposed production, that is, that a thing should be brought 
 to pass by so mere a casualty, that so evidently requires an 
 exquisitely-formed and continued design, even though there 
 were nothing positively to resist or hinder it, let it be con- 
 sidered what there will be that cannot but most certainly 
 hinder any such production. To this purpose we are to 
 consider, that it is a vast power which so generally moves 
 the diffused matter of the universe. 
 
 Hereof make an estimate, by considering what is requi- 
 site to the continual w^hirling about of such huge bulks as 
 this whole massy globe of earth ; (according to .some ;) or, 
 which is much more strange, the sun, (according to others,) 
 with that inconceivably swift motion which this supposi- 
 tion makes necessary, together with the other planets, and 
 the innumerable heavenly bodies besides, that are subject 
 to the laws of a continual motion. Adding hereto how 
 mighty a power it is which must be sufficient to all the 
 productions, motions, and actions, of all other things. 
 
 Again, consider that all this motion, and motive power, 
 must have some source and fountain diverse from the dull 
 and sluggish matter moved thereby, unto which it already 
 hath appeared impossible it should originally and essen- 
 tially belong. 
 
 Next, that the mighty, active Being, which hath been 
 proved necessarily existent, and whereto it must first be- 
 long, if we suppose it destitute of the self-moderating prin- 
 ciple of wisdom and counsel, cannot but be always exert- 
 ing its motive power, invarialily and to the same degree : 
 that is, to its very utmost, and can never cease or fail to 
 do so. For its act knows no limit but that of its power ; 
 (if this can have any ;) and its power is essential to it, and 
 its essence is necessary. 
 
 Further, that the motion impressed upon the matter of 
 the universe must hereupon necessarily have received a 
 continual increase, ever since it came into being. 
 
 That supposing this motive power to have been exerted 
 from eternity, it must have been increased long ago to an 
 infinite excess. 
 
 That hence the coalition of the particles of matter for 
 the forming of any thing had been altogether impossible. 
 For let us suppose this exerted, motive power to have been, 
 any instant, but barely sufficient for such a formation, be- 
 cause that could not be despatched in an instant, it would 
 by its continual, momently increase, be grown so over-suf- 
 ficient, as, in the next instant, to dissipate the particles, but 
 now beginning to unite. 
 
 At least, it would be most apparent, that if ever such a 
 frame of things as we now behold could have been produ- 
 ced, that motive power, increased to so infinite an excess, 
 must have shattered the whole frame in pieces, many an 
 age ago; or rather, never have permitted that such a thing, 
 as we call an age, could possibly have been. 
 
 Our experience gives us not to observe any so destructive 
 or remarkable changes in the course of nature : and this 
 (as was long ago foretold) is the great argument of the 
 atheistical scoffers in these latter days, that things are as 
 they were from the beginning of the creation to this day. 
 But let it be soberly weighed, how it is possible the gene- 
 ral consistency, which we observe things are at through- 
 out the universe, and their steady, orderly posture, can 
 .stand with this momently increase of motion. 
 
 a D. Cartes Princip. Philosopli. part 2. 
 
 And that such.an increase could not, upon the supposi- 
 tion we are now opposing, but have been, is most evident. 
 For, not to insist that nothing of impressed motion is ever 
 lost, but only imparted to other tilings, (which they that 
 suppose it, do not Uierejore suppose, as if they thought, 
 being once impressed, it could continue of itself, but that 
 there is a constant, equal supply from the first mover,) we 
 will admit that there is a continual decrease, or loss, but 
 never to the degree of its continual increase. For we see 
 when w^e throw a stone out of our hand, whatever of the 
 impressed force it do impart to the air, through which it 
 makes its way, or nut being received, vanishes of itself, it 
 yet retains a part a considerable time, that carries it all the 
 length of its journey, and all does not vanish and die away 
 on the sudden. Therefore, when we here consider the 
 continual, momently renewal of the same force, always 
 necessarily going forth from the same mighty Agent, with- 
 out any moderation or restraint; every following impetus 
 doth so immediately overtake the former, that whatever 
 we can suppose lost, is yet so abundantly over-supplied, 
 that, upon the whole, it cannot fail to be ever growing, 
 and to have grown to that all-destroying excess before 
 mentioned. Whence, therefore, that famed restorer and 
 improver of some principles of the ancient philosophy, 
 hath seen a necessity to acknowledge it, as a manifest thing, 
 " That God himself is the universal and primary cause of 
 all the motions that are in the world, who in the beginning 
 created matter, together with motion and rest ; and doth 
 now, by his ordinar}' concourse onl}-. continue so much of 
 motion and rest in it, as he first put iiuo it. — For (saith he) 
 we understand it as a perfection in God, not only that he 
 is unchangeable in him.self, but that he works after a most 
 constant and unchangeable manner. So that, excepting 
 those changes which either evident experience or divine 
 revelation renders certain, and which we know or believe 
 to be without change in the Creator, we ought to suppose 
 none in his works, lest thereb\' any incon.stancy should be 
 argued in himself."'^ Whereupon he grounds the laws 
 and rules concerning motion, which he afterwards lays 
 down, whereof we referred to one, a little above. 
 
 It is therefore evident, that as without the supposition of 
 a self-active Being there could be no such thing as motion ; 
 so without the supposition of an intelligent Being, (that is, 
 that the same Being be both self-active and intclUgetd,) 
 there could be no regular motion ; such as is absolutely 
 necessary to the forming and continuing of any the com- 
 pacted, bodily substances, which our eyes behold every 
 day : yea, or of any whatsoever, suppose we their figures, 
 or shapes, to be as rude, deformed, and useless, as we c£m 
 imagine; much less, such as the exquisite compositions, 
 and the exact order of things, in the universe, do evidently 
 require and discover. 
 
 III. And if there were no such thing carried in this sup- 
 position, as is positively adverse to what is supposed, so 
 as most certainly to hinder it, (as we see plainly there is,) 
 yet the mere want of what is necessary to such a produc- 
 tion, is enough to render it impossible, and the supposition 
 of it absurd. For it is not only absurd to suppose a pro- 
 duction ^vhich somewhat shall certainly resist and hinder, 
 but which wants a cause to effect it ; and it is not less 
 absurd, to suppose it affected by a manifestly insufficient 
 and unproportionable cause, than b\' none at ail. For as 
 nothing can be produced without a cause, so no cause can 
 work above or beyond its own capacity and natural apti- 
 tude. Whatsoever therefore is ascribed to anj' cause, above 
 and beyond its ability, all that surplusage is ascribed to no 
 cause at all : and so an effect, in that part at least, were 
 supposed without a cause. And if then it follow when an 
 effect is produced, that it had a cause ; Mhy doth it not 
 ecjually follow, when an effect is produced, having mani- 
 fest characters of wisdom and design upon it, that it had a 
 wise and designing cause 1 If it be said, there be scune 
 fortuitous cir casual (at least undesigned) productions, that 
 look like the effects of wisdom and contrivance, but indeed 
 are not, as the birds so orderly and seasonalily making 
 their nests, the bees their comb, and the spider its web, 
 which are capable of no design : that exception needs to 
 be wpH proved before it be admitted : and that it be plainly 
 demonstrated, both that these creatures are not capable of 
 design, and that there is not a universal, designing cause,
 
 16 
 
 THE LIVING TEMPLE. 
 
 Part I. 
 
 from whose directive as well as operative influence, no 
 imaginable efl'ect or event can be exempted; (in which 
 case it will no more be necessary, that every creature that 
 is observed steailily to work towards an end, should itself 
 design and know it, than that an artificer's tools should 
 know what he is doing with them: but if they do not, it is 
 plain he must;) and surely it lies upon them who so ex- 
 cept, to prove in this case what they say, and not be so 
 precarious as to beg or think us so easy, as to grant so 
 much, only because they have thought fit to say it, or 
 would fain have it so. That is, that this or that strange 
 event happened without any designing cause. 
 
 IV. But, however, I would demand of such as rnake 
 this exception, whether they think there be any effect at 
 all, to which a designing cause was necessary, or which 
 they will judge impossible to have been otherwise pro- 
 duced, than by the direction and contrivance of wisdom 
 and counsell I little doubt but there are thousands of 
 things, laboured and wrought by the hand of man, con- 
 cerning which they would presently, upon first sight, pro- 
 nounce they were the etfects of skill, and not of chance; 
 yea, if they only considered their frame and shape, though 
 they )'et understood not their use and end. They would 
 surely think (at least) some effects or other sufhcient to 
 argue to us a designing cause. And would they but so- 
 berly consider and resolve what characters or footsteps of 
 wisdom and design might be reckoned suflicient to put us 
 out of doubt, would they not, upon comparing, be brought 
 to acknowledge there are no whei:eany more conspicuous 
 and manifest, than in the things daily in view, that go or- 
 dinarily, with us, under the name of tke works of nature 7 
 Whence it is plainly consequent, that what men com- 
 monly call universal nature, if they would be content no 
 longer to lurk in the darkness of an obscure and uninter- 
 preted word, they must confess is nothing else but com- 
 mon providence, that is, the universal poiver which is every 
 where active in the world, in conjunction with the mier- 
 ring ivisdom which guides and moderates all its exertions 
 and operations; or the wisdom which directs and governs 
 that power. Otherwise, when they see cause to acknow- 
 ledge that such an exact order and disposition of parts, in 
 very neat and elegant compositions, doth plainly argue 
 wisdom and skill in the contrivance; only they will dis- 
 tinguish, and say, It is so in the effects of art, but not of 
 natur",. What is this, but to deny in particular what 
 they granted in general 1 to make what they have said 
 signify nothing more than if they had said. Such exqui- 
 site order of parts is the efiect of wisdom, where it is the 
 effect of wisdom, but it is not the effect of wisdom, where 
 it is not the effect of wisdom 1 and to trifle, instead of 
 giving a reason why things are so and so 1 And whence 
 take they their advantage for this trifling, or do hope to 
 hide their folly in it, but that they think, while what is 
 meant by art is known, what is meant by nature cannot 
 be known 1 But if it be not known, how can they tell but 
 their distinguishing members are co-incident, and run into 
 one 1 Yea, and if they would allow the thing itself to 
 speak, and the effect to confess and dictate the name of 
 its own cause, how plain is it that they do run into one, 
 and that the expression imports no impropriety which we 
 somewhere find in Cicero ; The art of nature ; or rather, 
 that nature is nothing else but divine art, at least in as 
 near an analogy as there can be, between any things di- 
 vine and human. For, that this matter (even the thing 
 itself, waving for the present the consideration of names) 
 may be a little more narrowly discussed and searched 
 into, let some curious piece of worlcmanship be offered to 
 such a sceptic's view, the making whereof he did not see, 
 nor of any thing like it ; and we will suppose him not told 
 that this was made by the hand of any man, nor that he 
 hath any thing to guide his judgment about the way of its 
 becoming what it is, but only his own view of the thing 
 itself; and yet he shall presently, without hesitation, pro- 
 nounce. This was the eflfect of much skill. I would here 
 inquire, Why do you so pronounce 7 Or, What is the rea- 
 son of this your judgment 1 Surely he would not say he 
 hath no reason at all for this so confident and unwavering 
 determination ; for then he would not be determined, but 
 speak by chance, and be indifferent to say that, or any 
 thing else. Somewhat or other there must be, that, when 
 
 he is asked. Is this the effect of skilll shall so suddenly 
 and irresistibly captivate him into an assent that it is, that 
 he cannot think otherwise. Nay, if a thousand men weie 
 asked the same question, they would as undoubtedly say 
 the same thing ; and then, since there is a reason for this 
 judgment, what can be devised to be the reason, but that 
 there are so manifest characters and evidences of skill in 
 the composure, as are not attributable to any thing CISC'! 
 Now here I would further demand, Is there any thing in 
 this reason, yea, or no? Doth it signify any thing, or is 
 it of any value to the purpose for which it is alleged 1 
 Surely it is of very great, inasmuch as, when it is con- 
 sidered, it leaves it not in a man's power to think any 
 thing else ; and what can be said more potently and efh- 
 caciously to demonstrate 1 But now, if this reason signify 
 any thing, it signifies thus much ; that wheresoever there 
 are equal characters, and evidences of skill, (at least 
 where there are equal,) a skilful agent must be acknow- 
 ledged. And so it will (in spite of cavil) conclude uni- 
 versally, and abstractedly from what we can suppose dis- 
 tinctly signified by the terms oi art, and nature, that what- 
 soever effect hath such or equal characters of skill upon 
 it, did proceed from a skilful cause. That is, that if this 
 effect be said to be from a skilful cause, as such, {viz. as 
 having manifest characters of skill upon it,) then, every 
 such effect, {viz. that hath equally manifest characters of 
 skill upon it,) must be, with equal reason, concluded to 
 be from a skilful cause. 
 
 We will acknowledge skill to act, and wit to contrive, 
 very distinguishable things, and in reference to some works, 
 (as the making some curious automato7i, or self-moving 
 engine,) are commonly lodged in divers subjects; that is, 
 the contrivance exercises the wit and invention of one, 
 and the making, the manual dexterity and skill of others: 
 but the manifest characters of both will be seen in the ef- 
 fect. That is, the curious elaborateness of each several 
 part shows the latter ; and the order and dependence of 
 parts, and their conspiracy to one common end, the former. 
 Each betokens design ; or at least the smith or carpenter 
 must be understood to design his own part, that is, to do 
 as he was directed: both together, do plainly bespeak an 
 agent, that knew what he did ; and that the thing was not 
 done by chance, or was not the casual product of only 
 being busy at random, or making a careless stir, with- 
 out aiming at any thing. And this, no man that is in 
 his wits, would, upon sight of the whole frame, more 
 doubt to assent unto, than that two and two make four. 
 And he would certainly be thought mad, that should pro- 
 fess to think that only by some one's making a blustering 
 stir among several small fragments of brass, iron, and 
 wood, these parts happened to be thus curiously formed, 
 and came together into this frame, of their own accord. 
 
 Or lest this should be thought to intimate too rude a 
 representation of their conceit, Avho think this world to have 
 fallen into this frame and order, wherein it is, by the agi- 
 tation of the moving parts, or particles of matter, without 
 the direction of a wi.se mover: and that we may also 
 make the case as plain as is possible to the most ordinary 
 capacity, we will suppose (for instance) that one who had 
 never before seen a watch, or any thing of that sort, hath 
 now this little engine first offered to his view; can we 
 doubt, but he would upon the mere sight of its figure, 
 structure, and the very curious workmanship which we 
 will suppose appearing in it, presently acknowledge the 
 artificer's hand"? But if he were also made to understand 
 the use and purpose for which it serves, and it were dis- 
 tinctly shown him how each thing contributes, and all things 
 in this little fabric concur to this purpose, the exact measur- 
 ing and dividing of time by minutes, hours, and months, 
 he would certainlj'both confess and praise the great inge- 
 nuity of the first inventor. But now if a b)'--stander, be- 
 holding him in this admiration, would imderlake to show 
 a profounder reach and strain of wit, and should say, Sir, 
 you are mistaken concerning the composition of this so 
 much admired piece ; it was not made or designed by the 
 hand or skill of any one; there were only an innumerable 
 company of little atoms or very small bodies, much too 
 small to be perceived by your sense, that were busily frisk- 
 ing and plying to and fro about I he place of its nativity; and 
 by a strange chance (or a stranger fate, and the necessary
 
 Chap. III. 
 
 THE LIVING TEMPLE. 
 
 n 
 
 laws of that motion which the}' were unavoidably put into, 
 by a certain boisterous, undesigning mover) they fell 
 together into this small bulk, so as to compose it into this 
 very shape and figure, and with this same number and 
 order of parts which you now behold : one squadron of 
 these busy particles (little thinking what they were about) 
 agreeing to make up one wheel, and another some other, 
 in that proportion which you see : others of them also 
 falling, and becoming fixed in so happy a posture and 
 situation, as to describe the several figures by which the 
 little moving fingers point out the hour of the day, and 
 day of the month : and all conspired to fall together, each 
 into its own place, in so lucky a juncture, as that the re- 
 gular motion failed not to ensue which we see is now 
 observed in it, — what man is either so wise or so foolish 
 (for it is hard to determine whether the excess or defect 
 should best qualify him to be of this faith) as to be capable 
 of being made believe this piece of natural history? And 
 if one should give this account of the production of such a 
 trifle, would he not be thought in jest "? But if he persist, 
 and solemnly profess that thus he takes it to have been, 
 would he not bethought in good earnest mad 1 And let 
 but any sober person judge whether we have not unspeak- 
 ably more manifest madness to contend against in such as 
 suppose this world, and the bodies of living creatures, to 
 have fallen into this frame and orderly disposition of parts 
 wherein they are, without the direction of a wise and de- 
 signing cause 1 And whether there be not an incomparably 
 greater number of most wild and arbitrary suppositions in 
 their fiction than in this 7 Besides the innumerable sup- 
 posed repetitions of the same strange chances all the world 
 over ; even as numberless, not only as productions, but as 
 the changes that continually happen to all the things pro- 
 duced. And if the concourse of atoms could make this 
 world, why not (for it is but little to mention such a thing 
 as this) a porch, or a temple, or a house, or a city, (as 
 Tally speaks in the before-recited place,) which were less 
 operose and much more easy performances'? 
 
 V. It is not to be supposed that all should be astrono- 
 mers, anatomists, or natural philosophers, that shall read 
 these lines; and therefore it is intended not to insist upon 
 particulars, and to make as little use as is possible of terms 
 that would only be agreeable to that supposition. But 
 surely such general, easy reflections on the frame of the 
 uni\'erse, and the order of parts in the bodies of all sorts 
 of living creatures, as the meanest ordinary understanding 
 is capable of, would soon discover incomparably greater 
 evidence of wisdom and design in the contrivance of these, 
 than in that of a watch or a clock. And if there were any 
 whose understandings are but of that size and measure as 
 to suppose that the whole frame of the heavens serves to 
 no other purpose than to be of some such use as that, to us 
 mortals here on earth ; if they would but allow themselves 
 leisure to think and consider, might discern the most con- 
 vincing and amazing discoveries of wise contrivance and 
 design (as well as of vastest might and power) in disposing 
 things into so apt a subserviency to that meaner end. 
 And that so exact a knowledge is had thereby of times 
 and seasons, days and years, as that the simplest idiot in 
 a country may be able"to tell you, when the light of the 
 sun is withdrawn from his eyes, at what time it Mnll return, 
 and when it will look in at such a window, and Avhen at 
 the other ; and by what degrees his days and nights shall 
 either increase or be diminished ; and what proportion of 
 time he shall have for his labours in this season of the 
 year, and what in that ; without the least suspicion or fear 
 that it shall ever fall out otherwise. 
 
 But that some in later days whose more enlarged minds 
 have by diligent search and artificial helps, got clearer 
 notices (even than most of the more learned of former 
 times) concerning the true frame and vastness of the uni- 
 verse, the matter, nature, and condition of the heavenly 
 bodies, their situation, order, and laws of motion; and the 
 great probability of their serving to nobler purposes, than 
 the greater part of learned men have ever dreamed of be- 
 fore ; that, I say, any of these should have chosen it for the 
 employment of their great intellects, to devise ways of ex- 
 cluding intellectual power from the contrivance of this 
 
 b Lib. ?. De usu part, ex Lacun. Epit. 
 
 frame of things, having so great advantages beyond the 
 most of mankind besides to contemplate and adore the 
 great Author and Lord of all, is one of the greatest won- 
 ders that comes under our notice; and might tempt even 
 a sober mind to prefer vulgar and popular ignorance, be- 
 fore their learned, philosophical deliration. 
 
 VI. Though yet, indeed, not their philosophy by which 
 they would be distinguished from the common sort, but 
 what they have in common wiih them, ought in justice to 
 bear theblame. For it isnot evident, how much soever they 
 reckon themselves exalted above the vulgar sort, that their 
 miserable shifting in this matter proceeds only from what 
 is most meanly so ; i. e. their labouring under the most 
 vulgar and meanest diseases of the mind, disregard of 
 what is common, and an aptness to place more in the 
 strangeness of new, unexpected, and surprising events, 
 than in things unspeakably more consideiable, that are of 
 every day's observation "? Than which nothing argues a 
 more abject, nnphilosophical temper. 
 
 For let us but suppose (what no man can pretend is 
 more impossible, and what any man must confess is less 
 considerable, than what our eyes daily see) that in some 
 part of the air near this earth, and within such limits as 
 that the whole scene might be conveniently beheld at one 
 view, there should suddenly appear a little globe of pure 
 flaming light resembling that of the sun ; and suppose it 
 fixed as a centre to another body, or moving about that 
 other as its centre, (as this or that h3'pothesis best pleases 
 us,) which we could plainly perceive to be a proporlion- 
 ably-little earth, beautified with little trees and woods, 
 flowery fields, and flowing rivulets with larger lakes into 
 which these discharge themselves ; and suppose we the 
 other planets all of proportionable bigness to the narrow 
 limits assigned them, placed at their due distances, and 
 playing about this supposed earth or sun, so as to measure 
 their shorter and soon absolved days, months, and years, 
 or two, twelve, or thirty years, according to their supposed 
 lesser circuits ; — would they not presently, and with great 
 amazement, confess an intelligent contriver and maker of 
 this whole frame, above a Posidonius or any mortal ] And 
 have we not in the present frame of things a demonstration 
 of wisdom and counsel, as far exceeding that which is now 
 supposed, as the making some toy or bauble to please a 
 child is less an argument of wisdom than the contrivance 
 of somewhat that is of apparent and universal use 7 Or, if 
 we could suppose this present state of things to have but 
 newly begun, and ourselves pre-existent, so that we could 
 take notice of the very pa.ssing of things out of horrid con- 
 fusion into the comely order they are now in, would not 
 this put the matter out of doubt 7 And that this state had 
 once a beginning needs not be proved over again. But 
 might what would yesterday have been the effect of wis- 
 dom, better have been brought about by chance five or six 
 thousand }'ears, or any longer time ago 1 It speaks not 
 want of evidence in the thing, but want of consideration, 
 and of exercising our understandings, if Avhat were new 
 would not only convince but astonish, and what is old, of 
 the same importance, doth not so much as convince 1 
 
 VII. And let them that understand any thing of the com- 
 position of ahumanbody (or indeed of any livingcrcature) 
 but bethink themselves whether there be not equal contri- 
 vance at least, appearing in the composure of that admir- 
 able fabric, as of any the most admired machine or engine 
 devised and made by human wit and skill. If we pitch 
 upon anv thing of known and common use, as suppose 
 again a clock or watch, which is no sooner seen than ii is 
 acknowledged (as halh been said) the eflect of a designing 
 caitse ; will we not confess as much of the body of a man ? 
 Yea, what comparison is there, when in the structure of 
 some one single member, as a hand, a foot, an eye, or ear, 
 there appears upon a diligent search, unspeakablv greater 
 curiositv, whether we consider the variety of parts, their 
 exquisite figuration, or their apt disposition to the distinct 
 uses and ends these members serve for, than is to be seen 
 in any clock or watch 1 Concerningwhich uses of the seve- 
 ral parts in man's body, Galen, ^ so largely discoursing in 
 seventeen books, inserts on the by, this epiphonema, upon 
 the mention of one particular instance of our most wise
 
 18 
 
 THE LIVING TEMPLE. 
 
 Part I. 
 
 Maker's provident care; " Unto whom (saith he) I com- 
 pose these commentaries," (meaning his present work of 
 unfolding the useful figuration of the human body,) " as 
 certain hymns, or songs of praise, esteeming true piety 
 more to consist in this, that I first may know, and then 
 declare to others, his wisdom, power, providence, and 
 goodness, than in sacrificing to him many hecatombs: and 
 in the ignorance whereof there is greatest impiety, rather 
 than in abstaining from sacrifice.*^ Nor" (as he adds in 
 the close of that excellent work) " is the most perfect natu- 
 ral artifice to be seen in man only ; but you may find the 
 like industrious design and wisdom of the Author, in any 
 living creature which you shall please to dissect : and by 
 how much the less it is, so much the greater admiration 
 shall it raise in you; which those artists show, that describe 
 some great thing (contractedly) in a very small space: as 
 thai person (saith he) who lately engraved Phaeton carried 
 in his chariot with his four horses upon a little ring — a 
 most incredible sight '. But there is nothing in matters of 
 this nature, more strange than in the structure of the leg 
 of a flea." How much more might it be said of all its in- 
 ward parts ! " Therefore (as he adds) the greatest com- 
 modity of such a work accrues not to physicians, but to 
 them who are studious of nature, viz. the knowledge of 
 our Maker's perfection, and that (as he had said a little 
 above) it establishes the principle of the most perfect theo- 
 log}', which theology (sailh he)ismuchmoreexcellent than 
 all medicine." 
 
 It were too great an undertaking, and beyond the de- 
 signed limits of this discourse, (though it would be to ex- 
 cellent purpose, if it could be done without amusing terms, 
 and in that easy, familiar way as to be capable of common 
 use,) to pursue and trace distinctly the prints and footsteps 
 of the admirable wisdom which appears in the structure 
 and frame of this outer temple. For even our bodies them- 
 selves are said to be the temples of the Holy Ghost, 1 Cor. 
 vi. 19. And to dwell a while in the contemplation and 
 discovery of those numerous instances of most apparent, 
 ungainsayable sagacity and providence which offer them- 
 selves to view in every part and particle of this fabric; how 
 most commodiously all things are ordered in it ! With 
 how strangely cautious circumspection and foresight, not 
 only destructive, hut even (perpetually) vexatious and 
 afflicting, incongruities are avoided and provided against, 
 to pose ourselves upon the sundry obvious questions that 
 might be put for the evincing of such provident foresight. 
 As for instance, how comes it to pass that the several parts 
 which we find to be double in our bodies, are not single 
 only '? Is this altogether by chance 1 That there are two 
 eyes, ears, nostrils, hands, feet, &c. what a miserable, 
 shiftless creature had man been, if there had only been 
 allowed him one foot 1 a seeing, hearing, talking, un- 
 moving statue. That the hand is divided into fingers 1 
 those so conveniently situate, one in so fitly opposite a 
 posture to the rest 1 
 
 And what if some one pair or other of these parts had 
 been universally wanting 1 The hands, the feet, the eyes, 
 the ears. How great a misery had it inferred upon man- 
 kind ! and is it only a casualty that it is not so ■? That 
 the back-bone is composed of so many joints, (twenty- four, 
 besides those of that which is the basis and sustainer of the 
 whole,) and is not all of a piece, by which stooping, or any 
 motion of the head or neck, diverse from that of the whole 
 body, had been altogether impossible; that there is such 
 variety and curiosity in the ways of joining the bones to- 
 gether in that, and other parts of the body ; that in some 
 parts, they are joined by mere adherence of one to another,! 
 cither with or without an intervening medium, and both 
 these ways, so diversely; that others are fastened together 
 by proper jointing, so as to suit and be accompanied with 
 motion, either more obscure or more manifest, and this, 
 cither by a deeper or more superficial insertion of onebone 
 into another, or by a mutual insertion, and that so different 
 ways ; and that all these should be exactly accommodated 
 to the several parts and uses to which they belong and 
 serve : — was all this without design 1 Who, that views 
 
 r. Sub. fill. I 17. 
 d Fiiirtliolin. Riolanu's. 
 
 c flow foolish to think that art intendod an end in making a window 
 to sne thruugli, and that nature iiileiidcd none in making an eye to see 
 
 the curious and apt texture of the eye, can think it was not 
 made on purpose to see with,' and the ear, upon the like 
 view, for hearing, when so many things must concur that 
 these actions might be performed by these organs, and are 
 found to do so 1 Or who can think that the sundry little 
 engines belonging to the eye were not made with design to 
 move it upwards, do'viTiwards, to this side or that, or whirl 
 it about as there should be occasion ; without which in- 
 struments and their appendages, no such motion could 
 have been 1 Who, that is not stupidly perverse, can think 
 that the sundry inward parts (which it would require a 
 volume distinctly to speak of, and but to mention them 
 and their uses would too unproportionably swell this part 
 of this discourse) were not made purposely by a designing 
 Agent, for the ends they so aptly and constantly serve for"? 
 The want of some one among divers whereof, or but a little 
 misplacing, or if things had been but a little otherwise than 
 they are, had inferred an impossibility that such a creature 
 as man could have subsisted, or been propagated upon the 
 face of the earth. As what if there had not been such a 
 receptacle prepared as the stomach is, and so formed, and 
 placed as it is, to receive and digest necessary nutriment If 
 Had not the whole frame of man besides been in vain 1 
 Or what if the passage from it downward had not been 
 somewhat a little way ascending, so as to detain a conve- 
 nient time what is received, but that what was taken in 
 were suddenly transmitted 1 It is evident the whole 
 structure had been ruined as soon as made. What (to in- 
 stance in what seems so small a matter) if that little cover 
 had been wanting at the entrance of that passage through 
 which we breathe; (the depression whereof by the weight 
 of what we eat or drink, shuts it and prevents meat and 
 drink from going down that way ;) had not tmavoidable 
 suffocation ensued 1 And who can number the instances 
 that might be given besides 1 Now when there is a concur- 
 rence of so many things absolutely necessary, (concerning 
 which the common saying is as applicable, more frequently 
 wont to be applied to matters of morality, " Goodness is 
 from the concurrence of all causes ; evil from any defect,") 
 each so aptly and opportunely serving its own proper use, 
 and all one common end, certainly to say that so manifold, 
 so regular, and stated a subserviency to that end, and the 
 end itself, were imdesigned, and things casually fell out 
 thus, is to say we know or care not what. 
 
 We will only, before we close this consideration, con- 
 cerning the mere frame of a human body, (which hath been 
 so hastily and superficially proposed,) offer a supposition 
 which is no more strange (excluding the vulgar notion by 
 which nothing is strange, but what is not common) than 
 the thing itself, as it actually is ; viz. That the whole 
 more external covering of the body of a man were made, 
 instead of skin and flesh, of some very transparent sub- 
 stance, flexible, but clear as very crystal; through which, 
 and the other more inward (and as transparent) integu- 
 ments or enfoldings, we could plainly perceive the situation 
 and order of all the internal parts, and how they each of 
 them perform their distinct offices : if we could discern the 
 continual motion of the blood, how it is conveyed by its 
 proper conduits, from its first source and fountain, partly 
 downwards to the lower entrails, (if rather it ascend not 
 from thence, as at least what afterwards becomes blood 
 doth,) partly upwards, to its admirable elaboratory, the 
 heart ; where it is refined and furnished with fresh vital 
 spirits, and so transmitted thence by the distinct vessels 
 prepared for this purpose: could we perceive the curiou.s 
 contrivance of those little doors, by which it is let in and 
 out, on this side and on that ; the order and course of its 
 circulation, its most commodious distribution by two social 
 channels, or conduit-pipes, that every where accompany 
 one another throughout the body: could we discern the 
 curious artifice of the brain, its ways of purgation ; and 
 were it possible to pry into the secret chambers and recep- 
 tacles of the less or more pure spirits there ; perceive theii 
 manifold conveyances, and the rare texture of that net, 
 commonly called the u-onderful one : could we behold the 
 veins, arteries, and nerves, all of them arising from their 
 
 with i as Canipanella in that rapturous discourse of liis Atheismiia triimipha- 
 tu.s. . . 
 
 f Non prodest cibus neqne corpori acccdit, qui statim sumptus emittitur. 
 Seneca (on another occasion.)
 
 Ckap. III. 
 
 THE LIVING TEMPLE. 
 
 19 
 
 proper and distinct originals ! and their orderly dispersion 
 for the most part, by pairs and conjugations, on this side 
 and that, from the middle of the back; with the curiously 
 wrought branches, which, supposing these to appear duly 
 diversified, as so many more duskish strokes in this trans- 
 parent frame, they would be found to make throughout the 
 whole of it ; were every smaller fibre thus made at once dis- 
 cernible; especially thi)se innumerable threads into which 
 the spinal marrow is distributed at the bottom of the back : 
 and could we, through the some medium, perceive those 
 numerous little machines made to serve unto voluntary 
 motions, (which in the whole body are computed, by some,? 
 to tlie number of four hundred and thirty, or thereabouts, 
 or so many of them as according to the present supposi- 
 tion could possibly come in view,) and discern their com- 
 position ; their various and elegant figures — round, square, 
 long, triangular, &c. and behold them do their offices, and 
 see'how they ply to and fro, and work in their respective 
 places, as any motion is to be performed by them : were 
 all these things, I say, thus made liable to an easy and 
 distinct view, who would not admiringly cry out, How 
 fearfully and wonderfully am Iviade? And sure there is 
 no man sober, who would not, upon such a sight, pro- 
 nounce that man mad, that should suppose such a produc- 
 tion to have been a mere undesigned casualty. At least, 
 if there be any thing in the world that may be thought to 
 carry sufficiently convincing evidences in it, of its having 
 been made industriously, and on purpose, not by chance, 
 would not this composition, thus offered to view, be 
 esteemed to do so much more"? Yea, and if it did only 
 bear upon it characters equally evidential, of wisdom and 
 design, with ivhat doth certainly so, though in the lowest 
 degree, it were sufficient to evince our present purpose. 
 For if one such instance as this would bring the matter no 
 higher than to a bare equality, that would at least argue a 
 maker of man's body, as wise, and as properly designing, 
 as the artificer of any such slighter piece of workmanship, 
 that may yet, certainly, be concluded the effect of skill and 
 design. And then, "enough might be said, from other 
 instances, to manifest him unspeakably superior. And 
 that the matter would be brought, at least, to an equality ,_ 
 upon the supposition now made, there can be no doubt, if 
 any one be judge that hath not abjured his understanding 
 and his eyes together. And what then, if we lay aside that 
 supposition, (which only somewhat gratifies fancy and 
 imagination,) doth that alter the case 1 Or is there the less 
 of wisdom and contrivance expressed in this work of form- 
 ing man's body, only for that it is not so easily and sud- 
 denly obvious to our sight 1 Then we might with the 
 same reason say, concerning some curious piece of carved 
 work, that is thought fit to be kept locked up in a cabinet, 
 when we see it, that there was admirable workmanship 
 shown in doing it ; but as soon as it is again shut up in 
 its repository, that there was none at all. Inasmuch as we 
 speak of the objective characters of wisdom and design, 
 that are in the thing itself, (though they must some way 
 or other come under our notice, otherwise we can be capa- 
 ble of arguing nothing from them, yet,) since we have suf- 
 ficient assurance that there really are such characters in the 
 structure of the body of man as have been mentioned, and 
 a thousand more than have been thought necessary to be 
 mentioned here ; it is plain that the greater or less facility 
 of finding them out, so that we be at a certainty that they 
 are, (whether by the slower and more gradual search of 
 our own eyes, or by relying upon the testimony of such as 
 have purchased themselves that satisfaction by their own 
 labour and diligence,) is merely accidental to the thing 
 itself we are discoursing of; and neither adds to, nor de- 
 tracts from, the rational evidence of the present argument. 
 Or if it do either, the more abstruse paths of divine wis- 
 dom in this, as in other things, do rather recommend it the 
 more to our adoration and reverence, than if every thing 
 were obvious, and lay open to the fir.st glance of a more 
 careless eye. The things which we are sure (or may be, 
 if we do not shut our eyes) the wise Maker of this world 
 hath done, do sufficiently serve to assure us that he could 
 have done this also; that is, have made every thing in the 
 frame and shape of our bodies conspicuous in the way but 
 
 g Rlolanus. 
 
 h Parker Tentani. Pliysico-Tlieol. 
 
 now supposed, if he had thought it fit. He hath done 
 greater things. And since he hath not thought that fit, 
 we may be bold to say, the doing of it would signify 
 more trifling, and less design. It gives us a more amiable 
 and comely representation of the Being we are treating 
 of, that his works are less for ostentation than use ; and 
 that his wisdom and other attributes appear in them rather 
 to the instruction of sober, than the gratification of vain 
 minds. 
 
 We may therefore confidently conclude, that the figura- 
 tion of the human body carries with it as manifest, un- 
 questionable evidences of design, as any piece of human 
 artifice, that most confessedly, in the judgment of any man, 
 doth so ; and therefore had as certainly a designing cause. 
 We may challenge the world to show a disparity, unless 
 it be that the advantage is unconceivably great on our side. 
 For would not any one that hath not abandoned at once 
 both his reasonii and his modesty, be ashamed to confess 
 and admire the skill that is shown in making a statue, of 
 the picture of a man, that (as one ingeniously says^ is but 
 the shadow of his skin, and deny the wisdom that ap- 
 pears in the composure of his body itself, that contains 
 so numerous and so various engines and instruments for 
 sundry purposes in it, as that it is become an art, and 
 a very laudable one, but to discover and find out the 
 art and skill that are shown in the contrivance and forma- 
 tion of them "? 
 
 VIII. It is in the mean time strange to consider from how 
 diflferent and contrary causes it proceeds, that the wise 
 Contriver of this fabric hath not his due acknowledgments 
 on the account of it. For with some, it proceeds from 
 their supine and drowsy ignorance, and that they little 
 know or think what prints and footsteps of a Deity they 
 carry about them, in (heir bone and flesh, in every part and 
 vein and limb. With others, (as if too much learning had 
 made them mad, or an excess of light had struck them into 
 mopish blindness,) these things are so well known and seen, 
 so common and obvious, that they are the less regarded. 
 And because they can give a very punctual account that 
 things are so, they think it, now, not worth the consider- 
 ing^how they come to be so. They can trace all these hidden 
 paths and footsteps, and therefore all seems very easy, and 
 they give over wondering. As they that would detract 
 from Columbus's acquists of glory by the discovery he had 
 made of America, i by pretending the achievement was 
 easy; whom he ingeniously rebuked, by challenging them 
 to make an egg stand erect, alone, upon a pfain table; 
 which when none of them could do, he only by a gentle 
 bruising of one end of it makes it stand on the table with- 
 out other support, and then tells them this was more easy 
 than his voyage to America, now they had seen it done; 
 before, thej^ knew not how to go about it. Some may 
 think the contrivance of the bodv of a man, or other animal, 
 easy, now they know it ; but had they been to project such 
 a model without a pattern, or any thing leading thereto, 
 how miserable a loss had they been at ! How easy a con- 
 fession had been drawn frorii thein of the finger of God, 
 and how silent a submission to his just triumph over their 
 and all human wit, when the most admired performances 
 in this kind, bv any mortal, have been only faint and in- 
 finitely distant" imitations of the works of God ! As is to 
 be seen in the so much celebrated exploits of Posidonius, 
 Resfiomontanus, and others of this sort. 
 
 IX. And now if any should be either so incurably blind 
 as not to perceive, or so perversely wilful as not to acknow- 
 ledge an appearance of wisdom in the frame and figuration 
 of the bodv of an animal (peculiarly of man) more than 
 equal to what appears in any the miost exquisite piece of 
 human artifice, and which no wit of man can ever fully 
 imitate; although, as hath been said, an acknowledged 
 equality would suffice to evince a wise maker thereof, yet 
 because it is the existence of God we are now speaking of, 
 and that it is therefore not enough to evince, but to mag- 
 nify, the wisdom we would ascribe to him; we shall pass 
 from the parts and frame, to the consideration of the more 
 principal powers and functions of terrestrial creatures; 
 a.scending from .such as agree to the less perfect orders of 
 these, to those of the more perfect, vi~. of man himselC 
 
 i Arclibishop Abbot's Gis-g.
 
 20 
 
 THE LIVING TEMPLE. 
 
 Part i. 
 
 And surely to have been the Author of faculties that shall 
 enable to such functions, will evidence a wisdom that 
 defies our imitation, and will dismay the attempt of it. 
 
 We begin with that of groicth. Many sorts of rare en- 
 £^ines we acknowledge contrived by the wit of man, but 
 who hath ever made one that could grow, or that had in it 
 a self-improving power! A tree, an herb, a pile of grass, 
 may upon this account challenge all the world to make 
 such a thing. That is, to implant the power of growing 
 into any thing to which it doth not natively belong, or to 
 make a thing to which it doth. 
 
 By what art would they make a seed 1 And which way 
 would they inspire it with a seminal form 1 And they that 
 think this whole globe of the earth was compacted by the 
 casual (or fatal) coalition of particles of matter, by what 
 magic would they conjure so many to come together as 
 should make one clod 7 We vainly himt with a lingering 
 mind after miracles ; if we did not more vainly mean by 
 them nothing else but novelties, we are compassed about 
 with such. And the greatest miracle is, that we see them 
 not. You with whom the daily productions of nature (as 
 you call it) are so cheap, see if you can do the like. Try 
 your skill upon a rose. Yea, but you must have pre- 
 existent matter 1 But can you ever prove the Maker of the 
 world had so, or even defend the possibility of uncreated 
 matter 1 And suppose they had the free grant of all the 
 matter between the crown of their head and the moon, 
 could they tell what to do with it, or how to manage it, 
 so as to make it yield them one single flower, that they 
 might glory in, as their own production! 
 
 And what mortal man, that hath reason enough about 
 him to be serious, and to think awhile, would not even be 
 amazed at the miracle oinutritioii? Or that there are things 
 in the world capable of nourishment! Or who would 
 attempt an imitation here, or not despair to perform any 
 thing like it! That is, to make any nourishable thing. 
 Are we not here infinitely out-done ! Do not we see our- 
 selves compassed about with wonders, and are we not 
 ourselves such, in that we see, and are creatures, from all 
 whose parts there is a continual defluxion, and yet that 
 receive a constant gradual supply and renovation, by which 
 they are continued in the same state ! As the bush burn- 
 ing, but not consumed. It is easy to give an artificial 
 frame to a thing that shall gradually decay and waste till 
 it quite be gone, and disappear. You can raise a structure 
 of snow, that would .soon do that. But can your manual 
 skill compose a thing that, like our bodies, shall be con- 
 tinually melting away, and be continually repaired, through 
 so long a tract of time ! Nay, but you can tell how it is 
 done ; you know in what method, and by what instruments, 
 food is received, concocted, separated, and so much as 
 must serve for nourishment, turned into chyle, and that 
 into blood, first grosser, and then more refined, and that 
 distributed into all parts for this purpose. Yea, and what 
 then ! Therefore you are as wise as your Maker. Could 
 you have made such a thing as the stomach, a liver, a 
 heart, a vein, an artery ! Or are you so very sure what the 
 digestive quality is ! Or if you are, and know what things 
 best serve to maintain, to repair, or strengthen it ; who im- 
 planted that quality! both where it is so immediately 
 u.seful, or in the other things you would use for the service 
 of that ! Or how, if such things had not been prepared to 
 your hand, would you have devised to persuade the par- 
 ticles of matter into so useful and happy a conjuncture, as 
 that such a quality might result ! Or, (to speak more suit- 
 ably to the most,) how, if you had not been shown the 
 way, woukl you have thought it were to be done, or which 
 way would you have gone to work, to turn meat and drink 
 into flesh and blood ! 
 
 Nor is propagation of their own kind, by the creatures 
 that have that faculty implanted in them, less admirable, 
 or more possible to be imitated by any human device. 
 Such productions stay in their first descent. Who can, 
 by his own contrivance, find out a way of making any 
 thing that can produce another like itself.' What machine 
 did ever man invent, that had this power ! And the ways 
 and means by which it is done, are .such (though he that 
 can do all things well knew how to compass his ends 
 
 k Des Cartes de passioniUia aiiima;, part 1. atmie alibi. 
 
 by them) as do exceed not our understanding only, but our 
 wonder. 
 
 And what shall we sa.y of spontomeoiis motion, wherewith 
 we find also creatures endowed that are so mean and 
 despicable in our eyes, (as well as ourselves,) that is, that 
 so silly a thing as a fly, a gnat, &c. should have a power 
 in it to move itself, or stop its owai motion, at its own 
 pleasure! How far have all attempted imitations in this 
 kind fallen short of this perfection ! And how much more 
 excellent a thing is the smallest and mo.st contemptible 
 insect, than the most admired machine we ever heard or 
 read of; (as Archytas Tarentinus's dove, so anciently cele- 
 brated ; or more lately, Regiomontanus's fly, .or his eagle, 
 or any the like;) not only as having this peculiar power, 
 above any thing of this sort, but as having the sundry other 
 poicers, besides, meeting in it, whereof these are wholly 
 destitute ! 
 
 And should we go on to instance further in the several 
 powers of sensation, both external and internal, the various 
 instincts, appetitions, passions, sympathies, antipathies, 
 the powers of memory, (and we might add, of speech,) that 
 we find the inferior orders of creatures either generally fur- 
 nished with, or some of them, as to this last, disposed unto. 
 How should we even over-do the present business; and 
 too needlessly insult over human wit, (which we must 
 suppose to have already yielded the cause,) in challenging 
 it to produce and offer to view^ a hearing, seeing engine, 
 that can imagine, talk, is capable of hunger, thirst, of desi re, 
 anger, fear, grief, &c. as its own creature, concerning which 
 it may glory and say, I have done this! 
 
 Is it so admirable a performance, and so ungainsayable 
 an evidence of skill and wisdom, with much labour and 
 long travail of mind, a busy, restless agitation of working 
 thoughts, the often renewal of frustrated attempts, the 
 varying of defeated trials; this way and that at length to 
 hit upon, and by much pains, and with a slow, gradual 
 progress, by the use of who can tell how many sundry 
 sorts of instruments or tools, managed by more (possibly) 
 than a few hands, by long hewing, hammering, turning, 
 filing, to compose one only single machine of such a frame 
 and structure, as that by the frequent reinforcement of a 
 skilful hand, it may be capable of some (and that, other- 
 wise, but a very short-lived) motion ! And is it no argu- 
 ment, or effect of wisdom, so easily and certainly, without 
 labour, error, or disappointment, to frame both so infinite 
 a variety of kinds, and so innumerable individuals of every 
 such kind of living creatures, that cannot only, with the 
 greatest facility, move themselves with so many sorts of 
 motion, dowaiwards, upwards, to and fro, this way or that, 
 with a progressive or circular, a swifter or a slower, motion, 
 at their own pleasure; but can also grow, propagate, see,- 
 hear, desire, jov, &e. ! Is this no work of wisdom, but 
 only blind either fate or chance ! Of how strangely per- 
 verse and odd a complexion is that understanding, (if yet 
 it may be called an understanding,) that can make this 
 judgment ! 
 
 X. And they think they have found out a rare knack, 
 and that gives "a great relief to their diseased minds, who 
 have learned to call the bodies of living creatures, (even 
 the human not excepted,) by way of diminution, machines, 
 or a sort of automatons engines. 
 
 But how little cau.se there is to hug or be fond of this 
 fancy, would plainly appear, if, first, we would allow our- 
 .selves leisure to examine with how sviall pretence this ap- 
 pellation is so placed and applied: and, next, if it be 
 applied rightly, to how little purpose it is alleged ; or that 
 it signifies nothing to the exclusion of divine wisdom 
 from the formation of them. 
 
 And for the first, because we know^ not a better, let it 
 be considered how defective and unsatisfying the account 
 is, which the greatk and justly admired master in this 
 faculty gives, how divers of those things, which he would 
 have to be so, are performed only in the mechanical 
 way. 
 
 For though his ingenuity must be acknowledged, in his 
 modest exception of sorte noble operations belonging to 
 ourselves from coming under those rigid necessitating laws^ 
 yet certainly, to the severe inquiry of one not partially 
 addicted to the sentiments of so great a wit, because they 
 were his, it would appear there are great defects, and many
 
 Cii.u'. III. 
 
 THE LIVING TEMPLE. 
 
 21 
 
 things yet wanting, in the account which is given us of 
 some of the meaner of those functions, which he would 
 attribute only to organized matter, or (to use his own 
 expression) to the conformation of the members of the 
 body, and the course of the spirits, excited by the heat of 
 the heart, &c. 
 
 For howsoever accurately he describes the instruments 
 and the way, his account seems very little satisfying of 
 the principle, either of spontaneous motion, or of sensation. 
 As to the former, though it be very apparent that the 
 muscles, seated in that opposite posture wherein they are 
 mostly found paired throughout the body, the nerves and 
 the animal spirits in the brain, and (suppose we) that ^Za/i- 
 dide seated in the inmost part of it, are the instruments of 
 the motion of the limbs and the wholebody ; 3'et, what are 
 all these to the prime causation, or much more, to the spon- 
 taneity of this motion 1 And whereas, with us, (who are 
 acknowledged to have such a faculty independent on (he 
 body,) an act of will doth so manifestly contribute, so that, 
 when we will, our body is moved with so admirable faci- 
 lity, and we feel not the cumbersome weight of an arm to 
 be lifted up, or of our whole coporeal bulk, to be moved 
 this way or that, by a slower or swifter motion. Yea, and 
 when as also, if we will, we can, on the sudden, in a very 
 instant, start up out of the most composed, sedentary po.s- 
 ture, and put ourselves, upon occasion, into the most vio- 
 lent course of motion or action. But if we have no such 
 will, though we have the same agile spirits about us, we 
 find no difficulty to keep in a posture of rest ; and are, for 
 the most part, not sensible of any endeavour or urgency of 
 those active particles, as if they were hardly to be restrained 
 from putting us into motion ; and against a reluctant act of 
 our will, we are not moved but with great difficulty to them, 
 and that will give themselves, and us, the trouble. This 
 being, I say, the case with us; and it being also obvious 
 to our observation, that it is so very much alike, in these 
 mentioned respects, with brute creatures, how inconceivable 
 is it, that the directive principle of their motions, and ours, 
 should be so vastly and altogether unlike 1 (whatsoever 
 greater perfection is required, with us, as to those more 
 noble and perfect functions and operations which are found 
 to belong to us.) That is, that in us, an act of will should 
 signify so very much, and be for the most part necessary 
 to the beginning, the continuing, the stopping, or the va- 
 rying of our motions; and in them, nothing like it, nor any 
 thing else besides, only that corporeal principlei which he 
 assigns as common to them and us, the continual heat in 
 the heart, (which he calls a sort of fire,) nourished by the 
 blood of the veins ; the instruments of motion already men- 
 tioned, and the various representations and impressions of 
 external objects, as there and elsewhere™ he expresses him- 
 self ! Upon which last, (though much is undoubtedly to 
 be attributed to it,) that so main a stress should be laid, 
 as to the diversifying of motion, seems strange; when we 
 may observe so various motions of some silly creatures, as 
 of a fly in our window, while we cannot perceive, andean 
 scarce imagine, any change in external objects about them : 
 yea, a swarm of flies, so variously frisking and plying to 
 and fro, some this way, others that, with a thousand di- 
 versities and interferings in their motion, and some resting ; 
 while things are in the same state, externally, to them all. 
 So that Avhat should cause, or cease, or so strangely vary 
 such motions, is from thence, or any thing else he hath 
 said, left unimaginable. As it is much more, how, in 
 creatures of much strength, as a bear or a lion, a paw 
 should be moved sometimes sogently, and sometimes with 
 so mighty force, only by mere mechanism, without any 
 directive principle, that is not altogether corporeal. But 
 most of all, hoAv- the strange regularity of motion in some 
 creatures, as of the spider in making its web, and the like, 
 should be owing to no other than such causes as he hath 
 assigned of the motions in general of brute creatures. And 
 "what though some motions of our own seem wholl}^ invo- 
 limtary, (as that of our eyelids, in the case which he sup- 
 poses,) doth it therefore follow they must proceed from a 
 Erinciple" only corporeal, as if our soul had no other act 
 elonging to it, but that of willing 1 Which he doth not 
 
 I De Pa.'ssion. part. 1. art. S. 
 
 m Princip. Philosopli. Dioptric, c. 4. 
 
 n De Pass. art. 13. 
 
 Diisert de metliod. 
 
 downright say ; but that it is its only, or its chief act : and 
 if it be its chief act only, what hinders but that such a 
 motion may proceed from an act that is not chief? Or 
 that it may have a power that may, sometimes, step forth 
 into act (and in greater matters than that) without any- 
 formal deliberated command or direction of our willl So 
 little reason is there to conclude, that all our motions" 
 common to us with beasts, or even their motions them- 
 selves, depend on nothing else than the conformation of 
 the members, and the course which the .spirits, excited by 
 the heat of the heart, do naturally follow, in the brain, 
 the nerves, and the muscles, after the same manner with 
 the motion of an automaton, &c. 
 
 But as to the matter of sensation, his account seems 
 much more defective and unintelligible, that is, how it 
 should be performed (as he supposes every thing common 
 to us Avith beasts may be) without a soul. For, admit that 
 it be (as who doubts but it is) by the instruments which 
 he assigns, we are still to seek what is the sentient, or what 
 useth these instruments, and dothsentire or exerci.se sense 
 by them. That is, suppose it be perforthed in the brain,P 
 and that (as he says) by the help of the nerves, which from 
 thence, like small strings,i are .stretched forth unto all the 
 other members ; suppose we have the three things to con- 
 sider in the nerves, which he recites — their interior sub- 
 stance, which extends itself like very slender threads from 
 the brain to the extremities of all the other members into 
 which they are laiit; the verj' thin little skins which en- 
 close these, and which, being continued with those that 
 inwrap the brain, do compose the little pipes which contain 
 these threads ; and lastly, the animal spirits which are 
 conveyed dovrn from the brain through these pipes — j'et 
 which of these is most subservient unto sense 1 That he 
 undertakes elsewhere' to declare, riz. that we are not to 
 think (which we also suppose) some nerves to serve for 
 sense, others for motion only, as some have thought, but 
 that the enclosed spirits serve for the motion of the mem- 
 bers, and those little threads (also enclosed) for sense. Are 
 we yet any nearer our puqiose? Do these small threads 
 sentire'? Are these the things that ultimately receive and 
 discern the various impressions of objects'? And since they 
 are all of one sort of substance, how comes it to pass that 
 some of them are seeing threads, others hearing threads, 
 others tasting, &c. Is it from the diverse and commodious 
 figuration of the organs unto which these descend from the 
 brain 1 But though we acknowledge and admire the curi- 
 ous and exquisite formation of those organs, and their most 
 apt usefulness (as organs, or instruments) to the purposes 
 for which they are designed,yet what do they signify,with- 
 out a proportionably apt and able agent to use them, or 
 percipient to entertain and judge of the several notices, 
 which by them are only transmitted from external things 1 
 That is, suppose we a drop of ever so pure and transparent 
 liquor, or let there be three, diversely tinctured or coloured, 
 and (lest the)' mingle) kept asunder by their distinct, in- 
 folding coats ; let these encompass one the other, and toge- 
 ther compose one little shining globe: are we satisfied that 
 now this curious, pretty ball can see '? Nay, suppose we 
 it ever so conveniently situate ; suppose we the fore-men- 
 tioned strings fastened to it, and these, being hollow, well 
 replenished Avith as pure air or wind or gentle flame as you 
 can imagine ; yea, and all the before-described little threads 
 to boot ; can it yet do the feat 1 Nay, suppose we all 
 things else to concur that Ave can suppose, except a living 
 principle, (call that by Avhat name you will,) and i« it not 
 still as incapable of the act of seeing, as a ball of clay or 
 a pebble stone 1 Or can the substance of the brain itself 
 perform that or any other act of sense, (for it is superfluous 
 to .speak distinctlyof the rest,) any more than the pulpof 
 an apple or a dish of curds'? So that, trace this matter 
 whither you will, within the compass of A'our assigned 
 limits, and you are still at the same loss: range through 
 the Avhole body, and what can you find hut flesh and 
 bones, marroAV and Mood, strings and threads, humour and 
 vapour; and Avhich of these is capable of sense 1 These 
 are your materials and such like; order them as you wiL, 
 put them into Avhat method you can devise, and exceut 
 
 o As art. 16. 
 
 q De Passion, art 11. 
 
 r Dioptr. c. 4. S. 4, 5. 
 
 p Princip. Pliilosoph. Sect. 189.
 
 23 
 
 THE LIVING TEMPLE. 
 
 Part 1 
 
 vou can make it live, yon cannot make it so much as feel, | to their several functions; it seems a miich more easy 
 rrniCii less perform all other acts of sense besides, unto | performance, and is more conceivable, and within the 
 
 which these tools alone seem as unproportionable, as a 
 plough-share to the most curious sculpture, or a pair of 
 tongs to the most melodious music. 
 
 But how much more inconceivable it is, that the figura- 
 tion and concurrence of the fore-mentioned organs can 
 alone suffice to produce the several passions of love, fear, 
 ano-er, &c. whereof we find so evident indications m brute 
 creatures, it i-s enough but to hint. And (but that all per- 
 sons do not read the same books) it were altogether un- 
 necessary to have said so much, after so plain demonstra- 
 tion^ already extant, that matter, howsoever modified, 
 any of the mentioned ways is incapable of sense. 
 
 Nor would it seem necessary to attempt any thing in 
 this kind, in particular and direct opposition to the very 
 peculiar sentiments of this most ingenious author, (as he 
 will undoubtedly be reckoned in all succeeding time,) 
 who, when he undertakes to show what sense is, and how 
 it is performed, makes it the proper business of the soul, 
 comprehends it under the name of cogitation ;t naming 
 himself a thinking thing, adds by way of question. What 
 is that? and ainswers, A thing doubting, understanding, 
 affirming, denying, willing, nilling, and also imagining, 
 and exercising sense ; says" expressly it is evident to all 
 that it is the soul that exercises sense, not the body,"*' in as 
 direct words as the so much celebrated poet of old. The 
 only wonder is, that under this general name of cogita- 
 tion he denies it unto brutes; under which name, he may 
 be thought less fitly to have included it, than to have af- 
 firmed them incapable of any thing to which that name 
 ought to be applied ; as he doth not only affirm, but es- 
 teems himself by most firm reasons to have proved.^ 
 
 And yet that particular reason seems a great deal more 
 pious than it is cogent, which he gives for his choosing 
 his particular v;ay of ditferencing brutes from human 
 creatures, viz. lest any prejudice should be done to the 
 doctrine of the human soul's immortality ; there being no- 
 thing, as he truly says, that doth more easily turn ofl' weak 
 minds from the path of virtue, than if they should think 
 the souls of brutes to be of the same nature with our own ; 
 and therefore that nothing remains to be hoped or feared 
 after this life, more by us than by flies or pismires. For 
 surely there were other ways of providing against that 
 danger, besides that of denying them so much as sense, 
 (other than merely organical,> as he somewhere alleviates 
 ihe harshness of that position, but without telling us what 
 useth these organs,) and the making them nothing else 
 but well-formed machines. 
 
 But yet if we should admit the propriety of this ap- 
 pellation, and acknowledge (the thing itself intended 
 to be signified by it) that all the powers belonging to 
 mere brutal nature are purely mechanical, and no more ; 
 to what purjTOse is it here alleged, or what can it be 
 understood to signify 1 What is lost from our cause by 
 it'? And what have atheists whereof to glory 1 For was 
 the contrivance of these machines theirs 1 Were they 
 the authors of this rare invention, or of any thing like if? 
 Or can they show any product of human device_^and wit, 
 that shall be capable of vying with the strange powers of 
 those machines 1 Or can they imagine what so highly 
 exceeds all human skill, to have fallen by chance, and 
 without any contrivance or design at all. into a frame ca- 
 pable of such powers and operations 1 
 
 If they be machines, they are (as that free-spirited au- 
 thor speaks) to be considered a^ a sort of machine^ made 
 by the hand of God, which is by infinite degrees better 
 ordered, and hath in it more admirable motions, than any 
 that could ever have been formed by the art of man. Yea, 
 and we might add, so little disadvantage would accrue to 
 the present cause (whatever might to some other) by this 
 concession, that rather (if it were not a wrong to the cause, 
 which justly disdains we should allege any thing false or 
 uncertain for its support) this would add much, we will 
 not say to its victory, but to its triumph, that -"e did ac- 
 knowledge them nothing else than mere mechsaiical con- 
 trivances. For, since they must certainly eithei be such, 
 or have each of them a soul to animate, anden&ble them 
 
 nearer reach of human apprehension, that they should be 
 furnished with such a one, than be made capable of so 
 admirable operations without it; and the former (though 
 it were not a surer) were a more amazing, unsearchable, 
 and less comprehensible discovery of the most transcen- 
 dent wisdom, than the latter. 
 
 XI. But because whatsoever comes tinder the name of 
 cogitation, properly taken, is assigned to some higher cause 
 than mechanism ; and that there are operations belonging 
 to man, which lay claim to a reasonable soul, as the im- 
 mediate principle and author of them; we have yet this 
 further step to advance, that is, to consider the most ap- 
 parent evidence we have of a wise, designing agent, in 
 the powers and nature of this more excellent, and, among 
 things more obvious to our notice,, the noblest of his pro- 
 ductions. 
 
 And were it not for the slothful neglect of the most to 
 study themselves, we should not here need to recount 
 unto men the common and well-known abilities and 
 excellences which peculiarly belong to their own nature. 
 They might take notice, without being told, that first, as 
 to their intellectual facility, they have somewhat about 
 them, that can think, understand, frame notions of things; 
 that can rectify or supply the false or defective represen- 
 tations which are made to them by their external senses 
 and fancies; that can conceive of things far above the 
 reach and sphere of sense, the moral good or evil of ac- 
 tions or inclinations, what there is in them of rectitude or 
 pravity ; whaceby they can animadvert, and cast their eye 
 inward upon themselves; observe the good or evil acts or 
 inclinations, the knowledge, ignorance, dulness, vigour, 
 tranquillity, trouble, and, generally, the perfections or im- 
 perfections, of their own minds ; that can apprehend the 
 general natures of things, the future existence of what, 
 yet, is not, with the future appearance of that to us, 
 which, as yet, appears not. 
 
 Of which last sort of power, the confident assertion, 
 " No man can have a conception of the future, "^^ needs 
 not, against our experience, make us doubt ; especially 
 being enforced by no better, than that vleasant reason 
 there subjoined, for the future is not yet ; that is to say, 
 because it is future ; and so (which is all this reason 
 amounts to) we cannot conceive it, because ice cannot. 
 For though our conceptions of former things guide us in 
 forming notions of what is future, yet sure our conception 
 of any thing as future, is much another sort of conception 
 from what we have of the same thing as past, as appears 
 from its different effects; for if an object be apprehended 
 good, we conceive of it as past with sorrow, as future with 
 hope and joy ; if evil, with joy as past, with fear and sor- 
 row as future. And (which above all the rest discovers 
 and magnifies the intellectual power of the human soul) 
 that they can form a conception, howsoever imperfect, ol 
 this absolutely perfect Being, whereof we are discoursing. 
 Which even they that acknowledge not its existence, 
 cannot deny; except they will profess themselves blindly, 
 and at a venture, to deny they know not what, or what 
 they have not so much as thought of. 
 
 They may take notice of iheiv poiver of comparing things, 
 of discerning and making a judgment of their agreements 
 and disagreements, their proportions and disproportions 
 to one another ; of affirming or denying this or that, con- 
 cerning such or such things; and of pronouncing, with 
 more or less confidence, concerning the truth or falsehood 
 of such affirmations or negations. 
 
 And moreover, of their fencer of arguing, and infer- 
 ring one thing from another, so as from one plain and 
 evident principle, to draw forth a long chain of conse- 
 quences, that may be discerned to be linked therewith. 
 
 They have withal to consider the liberty and the large 
 capacity of the human will, which, when it is itself, rejects 
 the dominion of any other than the supreme Lord, and 
 refuses satisfaction in any other than the supreme and 
 most comprehensive good. 
 
 And upon even so hasty and transient a view of a thing 
 furnished with such powers and faculties, we have suf- 
 
 B tn Dr. More'3 Immortality of the SouL 
 u Medit. 2. 
 
 t Princip. Phil, part 4. 189. 
 w Dioptt. c. i 
 
 X Resp. Bextae. Dissert, de Method. 
 I Dissert, de Method, sect. 5. 
 
 y Resp. sexfsE. 
 
 a Hobbes'6 Hu:nan Nature.
 
 Chap. III. 
 
 THE LIVING TEMPLE. 
 
 23 
 
 ficient occasion to bethink ourselves. How came such a 
 thing as this. into being 1 whence did it spring, or to what 
 original doth it owe itself] More particularly we have 
 here two things to be discoursed. — E^irst, That, notwith- 
 standing so high excellences, the soul of man doth yet aj)- 
 pear to be a caused being, that sometime had a beginning. 
 — Secondly, That, by them, it is sufficiently evident, that 
 it owes itself to a wise and intelligent cause. 
 
 As to the former of these, we need say the less, because 
 that sort of atheists with whom we have chiefly now to 
 do, deny not human souls to have had a beginning, eis 
 supposing them to be produced by the bodies they animate, 
 by the same generation, and that such generation did 
 sometimes begin ; that only rude and wildly moving matter 
 ■was from eternity ; and that by infinite alterations and 
 commixtures in that eternity, it fell at last into this orderly 
 frame and state wherein things now are, and became pro- 
 lific, so as to give beginning to the several sorts of living 
 things which do now continue to propagate themselves ; 
 the mad folly of which random fancy we have been so 
 largely contending against hitherto. The other sort, w^ho 
 were for an eternal succession of generations, have been 
 sufficiently refuted by divers others, and partly by what 
 hath been already said in this discourse ; and we may 
 further meet with them ere it be long. We in the mean- 
 time find not any professing atheism, to make human souls, 
 as such, necessary and self-originate beings. 
 
 Yet it is requisite to consider not only what persons of 
 atheistical persuasions have said, but what also they pos- 
 sibly may say. And moreover, some that have been 
 remote from atheism, have been prone, upon the contem- 
 plation of the excellences of the human soul, to over- 
 magnify, yea and even no less than deify, it. It is therefore 
 needful to say somewhat in this matter. For if nothing 
 of direct and downright atheism had been designed, the 
 rash hyperboles, as we will charitably call them, and un- 
 warrantable rhetorjcations of these latter, should they 
 obtain to be looked upon and received as severe and strict 
 assertions of truth, were equally destructive of religion, as 
 the others' more strangely bold and avowed opposition to it. 
 
 Such, I mean, as have spoken of the souls of men as 
 parts of God,h one thing with him ; a particle of divine 
 breath ; an extract or derivation of himself ; that have not 
 feared to apply to them his most peculiar attributes, or say 
 that of them, which is most appropriate and incommuni- 
 cably belonging to him alone. Nay, to give them his very 
 name, and say in plain words they were God.'^ 
 
 Now it would render a temple alike insignificant, to 
 suppose no worshipper, as to suppose none who should be 
 worshipped. And what should be the worshipper, w^hen 
 our souls are thought the same thing with what should 
 be the object of our worship 1 But methinks, when we con- 
 sider their necessitous, indigent state, their wants and 
 cravings, their pressures and groans, their grievances and 
 complaints, we should find enough to convince us they are 
 not the self-originate or self-sufficient being ; and might 
 even despair any thing should be plain and easy to them, 
 with whom it is a difficulty to distinguish themselves from 
 God. Why are they in a state which they dislike 1 Where- 
 fore are thej'^ not full and satisfied 1 Why do they wish 
 and complain 1 Is this Godlike 1 But if any have a doubt 
 hanging in their minds concerning the imity of souls with 
 one another, or with the soul of the world, let them read 
 ■what is already extant : and supposing them, thereupon, 
 distinct beings, there needs no more to prove them not to 
 be necessary, independent, uncaused ones,d than their sub- 
 jection to so frequent changes ; their ignorance, doubts, 
 irresolution, and gradual progress to knowledge, certainty, 
 and stability in their purposes ; their very being united 
 with these bodies in which they have been but a little 
 ■while, as we all know ; whereby they undergo no small 
 change, (admitting them to have been pre-existent,) and 
 
 b Sen. Ep. 92. Hor. Serm. M. Anton. aTTomraafia eavrov. 
 
 c The Pythagoreans, concerning whom it is said, they were wont to ad- 
 monish one another to take heed, lest they slwiiM rent God in themneli-es.— 
 Mw ^(aOTTav rot; cv eavToti, dcov. Jamblich. de vit. Pylhas. I'l:tti), who 
 undertakes to prove the iramortaJity of the soul by .«uch arHiiment:J as, it' liiev 
 did conchide any thing, would conclude it to be God : thnt it is the liiuntain", 
 the principle [Trnyi. aai apxn] of motion ; and adds, that the principle is un- 
 beeottcn, &c. in Phredone. Makes it the cause of all things, and the nder of 
 &U, Dc Le? 1. 10. though his words there seem meant of the soul of the world. 
 
 wherein they experience so many. Yea, whether those 
 changes import any immutation of their very essence or 
 no, the repugnancy being so plainly manifest of the very 
 terms, necessary and chaii<icable. And inasmuch as it is so 
 evident that a necessary being can receive no accession to 
 itself; that it must always have, or keep itself, after the 
 same manner, and in the same state ; that if it be nece.s- 
 sarily such, or such, (as we cannot conceive it to be, but 
 we must, in our own thoughts, affix to it some determinate 
 state or other,) it must be eternally such, and ever in that 
 particular unchanged state. 
 
 Therefore be the perfection of our souLs as great as our 
 most certain knowledge of them can possibly allow us to 
 suppose it, it is not yet so great, but that ■we must be con- 
 strained to confess them no necessary, self-originate beings, 
 and, by consequence, dependent ones, that owe themselves 
 to .some cause. 
 
 XII. Nor yet (that we may pass over to the other 
 strangely distant extreme) is the perfection of our souls 
 so lilllc, as to require less than an intelligent cause, en- 
 dowed M'ith the wisdom which we assert and challenge 
 unto the truly necessary, uncaused Being. Which, because 
 he hath no other rival or competitor for the glory of this 
 production, than only the fortuitous jumble of the blindly- 
 moving particles of matter, directs our inquiiy to this 
 single point: Whose image the thing produced bears 1 Or 
 which it more resembles % stupid, senseless, unactlve matter, 
 (or at the best only supposed moving, though no man, 
 upon the atheists' terms, can imagine how it came to be 
 so,) or the active, intelligent Being, whom we affirm the 
 cause of all things, and who hath peculiarly entitled him- 
 self, the Father of spirits. 
 
 That is, we are to consider whether the powers and 
 operations belonging to the reasonable soul do not plainly 
 argue — 1. That it neither rises from, nor is, mere matter; 
 whence it will be consequent, it must have an efficient, 
 diverse from matter — 2. That it owes itself to an intelli- 
 gible efficient. 
 
 As to the former, ■we need not deal distinctly and seve- 
 rally concerning their original and their nature. For if 
 they are not mere matter, it will be evident enough they do 
 not arise from thence. 
 
 So that all will be summed up in this inquirj'. Whether 
 reason can agree to matter considered alone, or b}' itself] 
 
 But here the case requires closer discourse. For, in 
 order to this inquiry, it is requisite the subject be deter- 
 mined we inquire about. It hath been commonly taken 
 for granted, that all substance is either matter ot mind ; 
 when 5'et it hath not been agreed what is the distinct notion 
 of the one or the other. And for the stating their diCer- 
 ence, there is herein both an apparent difficulty and ne- 
 cessity. 
 
 A difficulty ; for the ancient difference, that the former 
 is extended, having parts lying without each other, the 
 latter unextended, having no parts, is now commonlv ex- 
 ploded, and, as it seems, reasonably enough ; both because 
 w^e scarce know hoM- to impose it upon ourselves, to con- 
 ceive of a mind or spirit that is unextended, or that hath 
 no parts ; and that, on the other hand, the atoms of matter, 
 strictly taken, must also be unextended, and be without 
 parts. And the difficulty of assigning the proper diflerence 
 between these two, is further evident, from what we expe- 
 rience how difficult it is to form any clear distinct notion 
 of substance itself, so to be divided into matter and mind, 
 stripped of all its attributes.'' Though, as that celebratcti 
 author also speaks, we can be surer of nothing, than that 
 there is a real somewhat, that sustains those attributes. 
 
 Yet also, who sees not a necessity of assigning a differ- 
 ence ] For how absurd is it, to affirm, deny, or inquire, 
 of what belongs, or belongs not, to matter, or mind, if it 
 be altogether unagreed, what we mean by the one, or the 
 other. 
 
 Concerning which sonl, aflenvards, inquiring whether all oitghl not to account 
 it God, lie "answers. Yes certainly, except anyone he come t«> extr»>me mad- 
 ness. And whether an Identity were not imagined of our souls, with that ot 
 the world, or with find, is too much left in doubt, both as to lum and some ot 
 his followers : to say nothing of modem enthusiasts. <• i o i »» 
 
 d Dr. Morx 's Poem. Anlimonopsuchia. His Immortality ot tlie Soul, Mr. 
 Baxter's Appendix to the Reasons of Christian Religion, d-c. . „ - 
 
 e As is to be seen in that accurate discourse of Mr. Locke. His Lssay ol 
 Human Understanding, pubUshed since this was lirst written.
 
 24 
 
 THE LIVING TEMPLE. 
 
 Part I 
 
 That the former, speaking of any continned portion of 
 matter, hath parts actually separable ; the other being ad- 
 mitted to have parts too, but that cannot be actually sepa- 
 rated ; with the power of self-contraction, and self-dilata- 
 tion, ascribed to this latter, denied of the former, seem as 
 intelligible differences, and as little liable to exception, as 
 any we can think of Besides what we observe of dulness, 
 inactivity, insensibility, in one sort of substance; and of 
 vigour, activity,, capacity of sensation, and spontaneous 
 motion, with what we can conceive of self-vitality, in this! 
 latter sort; i. e. that whereas matter is only capable of 
 having life imparted to it, from somewhat that lives of 
 itself, created mind or spirit, though depending for its being 
 on the supreme cause, hath life essentially included in that 
 being, so that it is inseparable from it, and it is the same 
 tiling to it, to live, and to be. But a merely materiate 
 being, if it live, borrows its life, as a thing foreign to it, and 
 separable from it. 
 
 But if, instead of such distinction, we should shortly 
 and at the next have pronounced, that as mind is a cogi- 
 tant substance, matter is incogitant ; how would this have 
 squared with our present inquiry 1 What antagonist would 
 have agreed with us upon this "state of the question"? i. e. 
 in efiect, whether that can i-e,i*^in or think, that is incapa- 
 ble of reason or thought 1 Such, indeed, as have studied 
 more to hide a bad meaning, than express a good, have 
 confounded the terms matter or bodv, and substance. But 
 take we matter as contradistinguished to mind and spirit, 
 as aljove described : and it is concerning this that we in- 
 tend this inquirjr. 
 
 And here we shall therefore wave the consideration of 
 their conceits, concerning the manner of the first origina- 
 tion of men, who thought their whole being was only a 
 production of the earth. Whereof the philosophical ac- 
 count deserves as much laughter, instead of confutation, 
 as any the most fabulously poetical : that is, how they 
 were formed (as also the other animals) in certain little 
 ba^s, or wombs of the earth, out of which when they 
 grew ripe, they broke forth, f &c. 
 
 And only consider what is said of the constitution and 
 nature of the human soul itself; which is said to be com- 
 posed of very well polished, the smoothest and the roundest 
 atoms ;? and which are of the neatest fashion, and every 
 way, you must suppose, the best conditioned the whole 
 coiintry could aflbrd ; of a more excellent make, as there 
 is added, than those of the fire itself. And these are the 
 things you must know, which think, study, contemplate, 
 frame .syllogisms, make theorems, lay plots, contrive busi- 
 ness, act the philosopher, the logician, the mathematician, 
 statesman, and every thing else ; only you may except the 
 priest, for of him there was no need. 
 
 This therefore is our present theme, whether such things 
 as these be capable of such, or any acts of reason, yea or 
 no 1 And if such a subject may admit of serious discourse ; 
 in this way it maybe convenient to proceed, fis. either 
 any such small particle, or atom (for our business is not 
 now with Des Cartes, but Epicurus) alone, is rational, or 
 a good convenient number of them assembled, and most 
 happily met together. It is much to be feared the former 
 way will not do. For we have nothing to consider in any 
 of these atoms, in its solitary condition, besides its magni- 
 tude, its figure, and its weight, and you may add also its 
 motion, if you could devise how it should come by it. 
 
 And now, because it is not to be thought that all atoms 
 are rational, (for then the stump of a tree or a bundle of 
 straw might serve to make a soul of, for aught we know, 
 as good as the best,) it is to be considered by which of 
 those properties an atom shall be entitled to the privilege 
 of being rational, and the rational atoms be distinguished 
 from the rest. Is it their peculiar magnitude or size that 
 so far ennobles them 1 Epicurus would here have us be- 
 lieve, that the least are the fittest for this turn. Now if you 
 consider how little we must suppose them generally to" be, 
 according to his account of them ; (that is, that looking 
 
 f Gasscnd. Epicur. Syntag. 
 . g As may be seen in tlie same Syntag. and in Epicunis's Epist. to Herodot. 
 m Laert. 'E5 arojiajv avri^v c-vyKticBJi AnoraToii', Kat rpoyyvXararoif, 
 
 .u^y^^'^J^!^ it falls out somewhat crossly, that the least (and consequently 
 the lightest) should be thought htter to be the matter of the rational soul, be- 
 cause they are aptest for motion, when yet 110 other cause is assigned of their 
 
 upon any of those little motes a stream whereof you may 
 perceive when the sun shines in at a window, and he 
 doubts not but many, myriads of even ordinary atoms, go 
 to the composition of any one of these scarcely discernible 
 motes ;) how sportful a contemplation were it, to suppose 
 one of those furnished with all the powers of a reasonable 
 soul ! Though it is likely they would not laugh at the 
 jest, that think thousands of souls might be conveniently 
 placed upon the point of a needle. And yet, which makes 
 the matter more admirable, that very few, except they are 
 very carefully picked and chosen, can be found among 
 those many myriads, but will be too big to be capable of 
 rationality. Here sure the fate is very hard, of those that 
 come nearest the size, but only, by a very little too much 
 corpulency, happen to be excluded, as unworthy to be 
 counted among the rational atoms. But sure if all sober 
 reason he not utterly lost and squandered away among 
 these little entities, it must needs be judged altogether in- 
 comprehensible, why, if upon the account of mere little- 
 ness, any atom should be capable of reason, all should not 
 be so: and then we could not but have a very rational 
 world. At least, the difference in this point being so very 
 small among them, and they being all so very little, me- 
 thinks they should all be capable of some reason, and have 
 only less or more of it, according as they are bigger or less. 
 But there is little doubt, that single property of less mag- 
 nitude, win not be stood upon as the characteristieal diffei- 
 ence of rational and irrational atoms ; and because their 
 more or less gravity is reckoned necessarily and so imme- 
 diately to depend on that, (for those atoms cannot be 
 thought porous, but very closely compacted each one with- 
 in itself,) this, it is likely, will as little be depended on.h 
 And so their peculiar figure must be the more trusted to, 
 as the differencing thing. And because there is in this 
 resjiect so great a variety among this little sort of people, 
 or nation, as this author somewhere calls them, (whereof 
 he gives so punctual an account,* as if he had been the ge- 
 neralissimo of all their armies, and were wont to view them 
 at their rendezvous, to form them into regiments and squad- 
 rons, and appoint them to the distinct services he found 
 them aptest for,) no doubt it was a difficulty to determine 
 which sort of figure was to be pitched on to make up the 
 rational regiment. But since his power was absolute, and 
 there was none to gainsay or contradict, the roimd figure 
 was judged best, and most deserving this honour. Other- 
 wise, a reason might have been asked (and it might have 
 been a greater difficulty to have given a good one) why some 
 other figure might not have done as well ; unless respect 
 were had to fellow-atoras, and that it was thought, they of 
 this figure could better associate for the present purpose ; 
 and that we shall consider of by and by. We now pro- 
 ceed on the supposition that possibly a single atom, by the 
 advantage of this figure, might be judged capable of this 
 high achievement. And in that case, it would not be im- 
 pertinent to inquire whether, if an atom were perfectly 
 round, and .so very rational, but by an unexpected misad- 
 venture, it comes to have one little corner somewhere 
 clapped on, it be hereby quite spoiled of its rationality? 
 And again, whether one that comes somewhat near that 
 figure, only it halh some little protuberances upon it, might 
 not by a little filing, or the friendly rubs of other atoms, 
 become rational 1 And yet, now we think on it, of this im- 
 provement he leaves no hopes, because he tells us, though 
 they have parts, yet they are so solidly compacted that they 
 are by no force capable of dissolution. And so whatever 
 their fate is in this particular, they must abide it without 
 expectation of change. And yet, though we cannot really 
 alter it for the better with any of them, yet we may think 
 as favourably of the matter as we please; and for any 
 thing that yet appears, whatever peculiar claim the round 
 ones lay to rationality, we may judge as well ; and shall 
 not easily be disproved of any of the rest. 
 
 Upon the whole, no one of these properties alone is 
 likely to make a rational atom : what they will all do, 
 
 motion besides their CTBAity, which cannot but be more, as they are bigger : (for 
 no doubt if you sliould try them in a pair of scales, the bigjrest would be found 
 to out weigh ;) whence also it should seem to follow, that the heaviest hai-ing 
 most iji them of that wliich is the cause of motion, should be the most move- 
 able, and so by consequence the biggest. 
 
 i That they are rouiid, oblong, oval, plain, hooked, rough, smooth, buocb 
 backed, &c.
 
 Chap. III. 
 
 THE LIVING TETvIPLE. 
 
 25 
 
 meeting together, may yet seem a doubt. That is, sup- 
 posing we could hit upon one single atom that is at once 
 of a very little size, and consequently very light and nim- 
 ble, and most perfectly smooth, and unexceptionaWy refund, 
 (and possibly there may be found a good many such,) will 
 not this do the business 1 May we not now hope to have 
 a rational sort of people among them, that is, those of this 
 peculiar family or tribe ■? And yet still the matter will be 
 found 10 go very hard ; for if we cannot imagine or devise 
 how any one of these properties should contribute any 
 thing (as upon our utmost disquisition we certainly can- 
 not) towards the power of reasoning, it is left us altogether 
 unimaginable how all these properties together should 
 make a rational atom ! There is only one relief remaining, 
 that is, what if we add to these other properties some 
 peculiarly brisk sort of actual motion : (for to be barely 
 moveable will not serve, inasmuch as all are so :) but Avill 
 not actual motion, added to its being irreprehensibly little, 
 light, and round, especially if it be a very freakish one, and 
 made up of many odd, unexpected windings, and turns, 
 effect the business 1 Possibly it might do something to 
 actual reasoning, supposing the power were there before: 
 for who can tell but the little thing was fallen asleep, and 
 by this means its power might be awakened into some 
 exercise 1 But that it should give the power itself^ is 
 abov^e all comprehension ; and there is nothing else to give 
 it. These that have been mentioned, being all the prime 
 qualities that are assigned to atoms singly considered^ all 
 others that can be supposed, belonging to concrete bodies, 
 t.hat are composed of many of them meeting together. 
 And therefore hither in the next place our inquiry must be 
 directed, whether any number of atoms, definite or in- 
 definite, being in themselves severally irrational, can be- 
 come rational by association, or compose and make up a 
 rational soul 1 
 
 Hitherto it must be acknowledged we have not fought 
 with any adversary ; not having met with any that have 
 asserted the rationality of single, corporeal atoms; yet 
 because we know not what time may produce, and whither 
 the distress and exigency of a desperate cause may drive 
 the maintainers of it, it was not therefore fit to say nothing 
 to that supposable or possible assertion, I mean possible 
 to be asserted, howsoever impossible it is to be true. 
 Nor yet could it well admit of any thing to be said to it, 
 but in that ludicrous and sportful way. If we will sup- 
 pose any to be so foolish, they are to be dealt with accord- 
 ing to their folly. 
 
 But now as to this other conceit, that atoms, provided 
 the}'' be of the right stamp or kind, may, a competent num- 
 ber of them assembled together, compose a reasonable soul, 
 is an express article of the Epicurean creed. And there- 
 fore, here, we are to deal more cautiously ; not that this 
 is any whit a wiser fancy than the other, but that the truth 
 in this matter is surer to meet with opposition in the minds 
 of some persons, already formed unto that wild apprehen- 
 sion, and tinctured with it. 
 
 Wherefore such must be desired to consider in the first 
 place, if they will be true disciples of Epicurus through- 
 out, what he affirms of all atoms universally, that they 
 muse be simple, uncompounded bodies, (or, if you will, 
 corpuscles,) not capable of division or section, by no force 
 dissoluble, and therefore immutable, or in themselves void 
 of any mutation. 
 
 Hereupon let it be next considered, if there were in 
 them, those that are of the right size, shape, and weight, 
 severally, some certain sparks or seeds of reason, (that we 
 may make the supposition as advantageous as we can,) or 
 dispositions thereto, yet how shall it be possible to them 
 to communicate, or have that communion with one another, 
 as tog;etker to constitute an actually and completely rational 
 or thinking thing 1 If everj^ one could bring somewhat to 
 a common stock that might be serviceable to that purpose ; 
 how shall each one's proportion or share be imparted 1 
 They can none of them emit any thing, there can possibly 
 be no such thing as an cffluvivm from any of them, inas- 
 much a.s they are incapable of diminution ; and are them- 
 selves each of them as little as the least imaginable cffiuvi- 
 um that we would suppose to proceed from this or that par- 
 ticular atom. They can at the most but touch one another ; 
 penetrate, or get into one another they cannot ; insomuch 
 
 as if any one have a treasure in it, which is in readiness 
 for the making up an intellective faculty or power among 
 them that should be common to them all, yet each one 
 remains so locked up witliin itself, and is so reserved ami 
 incommunicative, that no other, much less the whole body 
 of them, can be any jot the wiser. So that this is like to 
 be a very dull assembly. 
 
 But then, if there be nothing of reason to be commu- 
 nicated, we are yet at a greater loss; for if it be said, 
 having nothing else to communicate, they communicate 
 themselves, what is that self 1 Is it a rational self? Or 
 is every single atom that enters this composition reason 7 
 Or is it a principle of reason "? Is it a seed 1 Or is it a 
 part 1 Is it a thought 1 What shall we suppose '? Or 
 what is there in the properties a.ssigned to this sort of atoms 
 that can bespeak it any of these 1 And if none of these 
 can be supposed, Avhat doth their association signily towards 
 ratiocination "? They are little, what doth that contribute? 
 Therefore there may need the more of them to make a good 
 large soul ; but why must a Litlle thing, devoid of reason, 
 contribute more towards it, than another somewhat bigger ? 
 They are liglit, doth that mend the matter l They are the 
 sooner blown away, rhey can the less cohere, or keep 
 together ; they are the more easily capable of dissipation, 
 the less of keeping their places in solemn counsel. They 
 are round, and exactly smooth. But why do they the more 
 convenientl)^ associate upon that account for this purpose 1 
 They cannot therefore come so close together as they might 
 have done, had they been of various figures. They cannot, 
 indeed, give or receive so rude touches. This signififis 
 somewhat towards the keeping of state, but what doth it 
 to the exercise of reason 1 Their being so perfectly and 
 smoothly round, makes them the more incapable of keep- 
 ing a steady station, they are the more in danger of rolling 
 away from one another; they can upon this account lay 
 no hold of each other. Their counsels and resolves are 
 likely to be the more lubricous, and liable to an uncertain 
 volubility. It is not to be imagined what a collection of 
 individuals, only thus qualified, can do when Xhey are 
 come together, an assembly thus ■constituted. Are we 
 hence to expect oracles, philosophical determinations, max- 
 ims of state '? And since they are supposed to be so much 
 alike, how are the mathematical atoms to be distinguished 
 from the morall those from the politicall the contem- 
 plative from the active ? Or when the assembly thinks fit 
 to entertain itself with matters of this or that kind, what 
 must be its different composure or posture 1 Into what 
 mould or figure must it cast itself for one puipose, and 
 into what, for another"? It is hard to imagine that these 
 little globular bodies, chat we may well suppose to be as 
 like as one egg can be to another, should b}' the mere 
 alteration of their situation, in respect of one another, (and 
 no alteration besides can be .so much as imagined among 
 them,) make so great a change in the complexion of lliis 
 assembly ; so that now, it shall be disposed to seriousness, 
 and by some transposition of the spherical particles, to 
 mirth ; now to business, and by and by to pleasure. And 
 seeing all human souls are supposed made of the same 
 sort of material, how are the atoms modelled in one man, 
 and how in another 1 What atoms are there to dispose to 
 this sect more, and what to another 1 Or if a good reason 
 can be assigned for their difference, what shall be given 
 for their agreement "? Whence is it that there are so manj^, 
 so unquestionable, common notions ever}' where received? 
 Why are not all things transposed in some minds, when 
 such a posture of the atoms as might infer it, is as sujv 
 posable as any other 1 Yea, and since men are found not 
 always to be of one mind with themselves, it is strange 
 and incomprehensible, that such a situation of these atoms, 
 that constitute his ,soul, should dispose him to be of one 
 opinion, and another of another How are they to be 
 ranged when for the afiirmative 1 how for the negative "? 
 And yet a great deal more strange, that since their situa- 
 tion is so soon changed, and so continually changing, (the 
 veiy substance of the soul being supposed nothing else 
 than a thing very like, but a little finer than a busy and 
 continually moving flame of fire,) any man should ever 
 continue to be of the same opinion with himself, one quar- 
 ter of an hour together ; that all notions are not confounded 
 and jumbled ; that the same thing is not thought and un-
 
 no 
 
 THE LIVING TEMPLE. 
 
 Part. I 
 
 thought, resolved and unresolved, a thousand times in a 
 day. That is, if any thing could be thought or resolved 
 at all, or, if this were a subject capable of framing or re- 
 ceiving any sort of notion. 
 
 But still that is the greatest difficulty, how there can be 
 such a thing as thinking, or forming of notions. The case 
 is plain of such notions as have no relation to matter, or 
 dependence upon external sense. For what doth contri- 
 bute to my contemplation of my own mind, and its acts 
 and powers; to my animadversion, or knowing that I 
 think, or will, this or that 1 
 
 But besides, and more generally, what proportion is 
 there between a thought and the" motion of an atom "? 
 Will we appeal to our faculties, to our reason itself? And 
 whither else will we ] Is there any cognation or kindred 
 between the ideas we have of these things, the casual 
 agitation of a small particle of matter, (be it as little or as 
 round as we please to imagine,) and an act of intellection 
 or judgment 1 And what il' there be divers of them toge- 
 ther 1 What can they do more towards the composing an 
 intelligent thing, than many ciphers to the arithmetical 
 composition of a number ■? It would be as rational to 
 suppose a heap of dust, by long lying together, might at 
 last become rational. Yes, these are things that have, 
 some way or other, the power of motion ; and what can 
 they effect by that I They can frisk about, and ply to and 
 fro, and interfere among themselves, and hit, and justle, 
 and tumble over one another, and that will contribute a 
 great deal; about as much, we may suppose, as the shak- 
 ing of such dust well in a bag, by which means it might 
 possibly become finer and smaller something; and by 
 continuing that action, at length rational ! No; but these 
 atoms, of which the soul is made, have a greater advan- 
 tage by their being disposed into a so well-contrived and 
 filly organized receptacle as the body is. It is indeed true, 
 and admirable, that the body is, as hath been before ob- 
 served, so fitly framed for the purposes whereto the whole 
 of it, and its several parts, are designed. But how imfitly 
 is that commodious structure of it so much as mentioned, 
 by such as will not allow themselves to o^vn and adore 
 the wisdom and power of its great Architect. 
 
 And what if the composure of the body be so apt and 
 useful ; so excellent in its own kind ; is it so in every 
 kind, or to all imagmable purposes "? Or what purpose can 
 we possibly imagine more remote or foreign to the com- 
 position of the body, than that the power of ratiocination 
 should be derived thence 1 It might as well be said it was 
 so made, to whirl about the sun, or to govern the motions 
 of the moon and stars, as to confer the power of reason, or 
 enable the soul to think, to understand, to deliberate, to 
 will, &c. Yea, its organs, some-of them, are much more 
 proportionable to those actions, than any of them unto 
 these. Which, though a well-habited body, while the soul 
 remains in this imprisoned state, do less hinder, yet how 
 doth it help 1 And that it might perform these acts without 
 bodily organs, is much more apprehensible than how they 
 can properlj^be said to be performed by them. And that, 
 though they are done in the body, they would be done 
 much better out of it. 
 
 But shall it be granted that these soul-constituting atoms, 
 till they be (or otherwise than as they are) united with a 
 duly organized body, are utterly destitute of any reasoning 
 or intelligent power 1 Or are they, by themselves, apart 
 from this grosser body, irrational 1 If this be not granted, 
 the thing we intend must be argued out. Either, then, they 
 are, or they are not. If the latter be said, then they have 
 it of themselves, without dependence on the organized 
 body ; and so we are fairly agreed to quit that pretence, 
 without more ado, of their partaking reason from thence. 
 And are only left to weigh over again what hath been 
 already said to evince the contrary, that is, how manifestly 
 absurd it is, to imagine that particles of matter, by their 
 peculiar size, or weight, or shape, or motion, or all of these 
 together: and that, whether single or associated, should 
 he capable of reasoning. If the former be the thing which 
 is resolved to be stuck to, that is, that they are of them- 
 selves irrational, but they become reasonable b}^ their being 
 united in such a prepared and organized body, this requires 
 to be a little further considered. And to this purpose it is 
 necessary to obviate a pitiful shift that it is possible some 
 
 may think fit to use, for the avoiding the force of this 
 dilemma; and may rely upon as a ground, why they may 
 judge this choice the more secure; that is, that they say 
 they are rational by dependence on the body they animate ; 
 because they are only f^ound so imited with one another 
 there; that there they have the first coalition; there they 
 are severed from such as serve not this turn ; there they 
 are pent in, and held together as long as its due temperament 
 la.sts ; which, when it fails, they are dissipated, and so lose 
 their great advantage for the acts of reason, which they had 
 in such a body. What pleasure soever this may yield, it 
 wdl soon appear it does them little service. For it only 
 implies, that they have their rationality of themselves, so 
 be it that they were together ; and not immediately from 
 the body ; or any otherwise, than that they are somewhat 
 beholden to it, for a fair occasion of being together ; as il 
 it were, else, an unlawful assembly ; or that they knew 
 not, otherwise, how to meet and hold together. They will 
 not say that the body gives them being, for they are eternal, 
 and self-subsisting, as they will have it. Yea, and of 
 themselves (though the case be otherwise with the Car- 
 tesian particles) undiminishable, as to their size, and, as to 
 their figure and weight, unalterable ; so that they have 
 neither their littleness, their roundness, nor their lightness, 
 from the body, but only their so happy meeting. Admit 
 this, and only suppose them to be met out of the body. 
 And why may not this be thought supposable 1 If they be 
 not rational till they be met, they cannot have wit enough 
 to scruple meeting, at least someM'here else, than in the 
 body. And who knows but such a change may happen 1 
 As great as this, are by these persons supposed to have 
 happened, before the world could have come to this pass 
 it is now at ; who can tell but such a number of the same 
 sort of atoms (it being natural for things so much of a com- 
 plexion and temper to associate and find out one another) 
 might ignorantly, and thinking no harm, come together 1 
 And having done so, why might they not keep together "? 
 Do they need to be pent in 1 How are they pent in, whilsL 
 in the body ■? If they be disposed, they have ways enough 
 to get out. And if they must needs be inclined to scatter 
 when the crasis of the body fails, surely a way might be 
 found to hem them in, if that be all, at the time of expira- 
 tion, more tightly and closely, than they could be in the 
 body. And what reason can be devised, why, being be- 
 come rational, by their having been assembled in the body, 
 they may not agree to hold together, and do so in spite of 
 fate, or maugre all ordinary accidents, when they find it 
 convenient to leave it 1 And then upon these no-way im- 
 possible suppositions, (according to their principles, so far 
 as can be understood, with whom we have to do,) will 
 they now be rational out of the body 1 Being still endowed 
 (as they cannot but be) with the same high privileges of 
 being little, round, and light, and being still also together; 
 and somewhat more, it may be, at liberty, to roll and 
 tumble, and mingle with one another, than in the body1 
 If it be now affirmed, they will, in this case, be rational, 
 at least as long as they hold together, then we are but 
 where we were. And this shift hath but diverted us a 
 little ; but so, as it Avas easy to bring the matter, again, 
 about, to the same point we were at before. Wherefore 
 the shelter of the body being thus quite again forsaken, 
 this poor expulsed crew of dislodging atoms are exposed 
 to fight in the open air, for their rationality, against all that 
 was said before. 
 
 But if this refuge and sanctuary of the body be not 
 merely pretended to, but really and plainly trusted in, and 
 stuck to, then are we sincerely and honestly to consider 
 what a body so variously organized can do, to make such 
 a party of atoms (that of themselves are not so, singly, nor 
 together) become rational. And surely, if the cause were 
 not saved before, it is now deplorate, and lost without 
 remedy. For what do they find here that can thus, be- 
 yond all expectation, improve them to so high an excel- 
 lency"? Is it flesh, or blood, or bones, that puts this stamp 
 upon theml Think, what is the substance of the nobler 
 parts, the liver, or heart, or brain, that they should turn 
 these, before, irrational atoms, when they fall into them, 
 into rational, any more than if they were well soaked in a 
 quagmire, or did insinuate themselves into a piece ol 
 soft dough 1 But here they meet with a benign and kindly
 
 Chap. III. 
 
 THE LIVING TEMPLE. 
 
 27 
 
 heat and warmth, which comfortably fosters and cherishes 
 them, till at length it hath hatched them into rational. 
 But methinks they should be warm enough of themselves, 
 since they are supposed so much to resemble fire. And, 
 however, wherein do we find a flame of fire more rational, 
 than a piece of ice 1 Yea, but here they find a due temper 
 of moisture as well as heat. And that surely doth not 
 signify much; for if the common maxim be true, that the 
 dry soul is the wisest, they might have been much wiser, 
 if they had kept themselves out of the body. And since 
 it is necessary the soul should consist of that peculiar sort 
 of atoms before described; and the organical body (which 
 mu.st be said for distinction sake, the soul being all this 
 while supposed a body also) consists of atoms too, that are 
 of a -much coarser alloy, methinks a mixture should not 
 be necessary, but a hinderance, and great debasement, ra- 
 ther, to this rational composition. Besides, that it cannot 
 be understood, if it were necessary these atoms should 
 receive any tincture from the body, in order to their being 
 rational, what they can receive, or how they can receive 
 any thing. They have not pores that can admit an adven- 
 titious moisture, though it were of the divinest nectar, and 
 the body could never so plentifully furnish them with it. 
 Wherein then lies the great advantage these atoms have by 
 being in the body, to their commencing rational! If there 
 be such advantage, why can it not be understood 1 Why 
 is it not assigned '? Why should we further spend our 
 guesses what may possibly be saidl But yet, may not 
 much be attributed to the convenient and well-fenced 
 cavity of the brain's receptacle, or the more seci-et cham- 
 bers within that, where the studious atoms may be very 
 private and free from disturbance ] Yet sure it is hard to 
 say, why they that are wont to do it here, might not as well 
 philosophize in some well-chosen cavern, or hole of a rock ; 
 nor were it impossible to provide them t/iere, wdth as soft 
 a bed. And yet would it not be some relief to speak of 
 the fine slender pipes, winding to and fro, wherein they 
 may be conveyed so conveniently from place to place, that 
 if they do not fall into a reasoning humour in one place, 
 they may in another 1 Why, what can this do 1 It seems 
 somewhat like Balaam's project, to get into a vein of in- 
 cantation, by changing stations. And transplace them as 
 you will, it requires more magic than ever he was master 
 of, to make those innocent, harmless things, masters of 
 reason. 
 
 For do but consider, what if you had a large phial capa- 
 ble of as great a quantity as you can think needful, of very 
 fine particles, and replenished with them, closely stopped, 
 and well luted ; suppose these as pure and fit for the pur- 
 pose as you can imagine, only not yet rational ; will their 
 faring to and fro, through very close and stanch tubes, from 
 one such receptacle to another, make them at last beccane 
 sol It seems then, do what you will with them, toss and 
 tumble them hither and thither, rack them from vessel to 
 vessel, try what methods you can devise of sublimation or 
 improvement, every thing looks like a vain and hopeless 
 essay. For indeed, do what you please or can think of, 
 they are such immutable entities, you can never make 
 them less, or finer, than they originally were : and rational 
 they were not, before their meeting in the body ; wherefore 
 it were a strange wonder, if that should so far alter the case 
 with them, that they should become rational by it. 
 
 XIII. And now I must, upon the whole, profess not to 
 be well pleased with the strain of this discourse ; not that 
 I think it unsuitable to its subject, (for I see not how it is 
 fitly to be dealt with in a more serious way,) but that I 
 dislike the subject. And were it not that it is too obvious, 
 how prone the minds of some are to run themselves into 
 any the grossest absurdities rather than admit the plain 
 and easy sentiments of religion ; it were miserable tritlnig 
 to talk at this rate, and a loss of time not to be endured. 
 But when an unaccountable aversion to the aclniowledg- 
 ment and adoration of the ever-blessed Deity, hurries away 
 men, affrighted and oflended at the lustre of his so mani- 
 fest appearances, to take a bad, but the only shelter the 
 case can admit, under the wings of any the most silly, 
 foolish figment ; though the ill temper and dangerous state 
 of the persons is to be thought on with much pity, yet the 
 things which they pretend being in themselves ri^diculous, 
 if we will entertain them into our thoughts at all, cannot . 
 
 fitly be entertamed but with derision. Nor doth it more 
 unbecome a seriotis person to laugh at what is ridiculous, 
 than gravely to weigh and ponder what is weighty and 
 considerable; provided he do not seek occasion of that 
 former sort, on purpose to gratify a vain humour ; but only 
 allow himself to discourse suitably to them, when they 
 occur. And their dotage who would fain serve themselves 
 of so wildly extravagant and impossible suppositions, for 
 the fostering their horrid misbelief, that they have no God 
 to worship, would certainly justify as sharp"ironies, as the 
 prophet Elijah bestows upon them who worshipped Baal, 
 instead of the true God. 
 
 XIV. Nor is any thing here said intended as a reflection 
 on such as, being unfurnished with a notion of created, 
 intelligent spirits, that might distinguish their substance 
 from the mo.st subtile matter, have therefore thought that 
 their mind or thinking power might have sonae such sub- 
 slratum, unto which it is superadded, or impressed thereon 
 hy a divine hand; in the meantime not doubting their 
 immortality, much less the existence of a Deity, the 
 Author and former of them, and all things. For they are 
 no way guilty of that blasphemous nonsense, to make 
 them consist of necessary, self-subsistent matter, every 
 minute particle whereof is judged eternal and immutable, 
 and in themselves, for aught we can find asserted, destitute 
 of reason ; and which yet acquire it by no one knows what 
 coalition, without the help of a wise efficient, that shall 
 direct and order it to so imimaginable an improvement. 
 These persons do only think more refined matter capable 
 of that impression and stamp ; or of having such a powef 
 put into it, by the Creator's all-disposing hand. Wherein, 
 to do them right, though they should impose somewhat 
 hardly upon themselves, if they will make this estimate of 
 the natural capacity of matter; or if they think the acts 
 and ptiwer of reason in man, altogether unnatural to him; 
 yet they do, in effect, the more befriend the cause we are 
 pleading for ; (as much as it can be befriended by a mis- 
 apprehension ; which yet is a thing of that untoward 
 genius, and doth so ill consort with truth, that it is never 
 admitted as a friend, in any one respect, but it repays it 
 with a mischievous revenge, in some other; as misht many 
 ways be shown in this instance, if it were within the com- 
 pass of our present design ;) it being evident, that if any 
 portion of matter shall indeed be certainly found the actual 
 subject of such powers, and to have such operations be- 
 longing to it, there is the plainer and more undeniable 
 necessity and demonstratian of his power and wisdom, 
 v.'ho can make an)' thing of any thing ; of stones raise up 
 children to Abraham I and who shall then have done that 
 which is so altogether impossible, except him to whom 
 all things are possible 1 There is the more manifest need 
 of his hand to heighten dull matter, to a qualifiedness for 
 performances so much above its nature; to make the 
 loose and independent parts of so fluid matter cohere and 
 hold together ; that, if it were once made capable of 
 knowledge, and the actnal subject of it, whatsoever 
 notions were impressed thereon, might not be, in a mo- 
 ment, confovmded and lost: as indeed they could not b\U 
 be, if the particles of matter were the immediate seat of 
 reason ; and so steady a hand did not hold them, in a 
 settled composure, that they be not disordered, and mea 
 have, thence, the necessity of beginning afresh, to kTiour 
 any thing, every hour of the day. Though yet it seems a 
 great deal more reasonable to suppose the souls of men to 
 be of a substance in itself more consistent, and more 
 agreeable to our experience ; who find a continual ebbing 
 and flowing of s]nrits, without being sensible of any so 
 notable and sudden changes in our knowledge, as we 
 could not but, thereupon, observe in ourselves ; if they, 
 or any as fluid finer matter, were the immediate subjects 
 of it. It is therefore however sufficiently evident, and out 
 of question, that the human soul (be its own substance 
 what it will) must have an efficient diverse from matter; 
 which it was our present intendment to evince. And so 
 our way is clear to proceed to, 
 
 XV. The second inquiry, whether it be not also mani- 
 fest, from the powers and operations which belong to it as 
 it is reasonable, that it must have had an intelligent ef- 
 ficient ? That is, since we find, and are assured, that there 
 is a sort of being in the world (yea somewhat of ourselves,
 
 28 
 
 THE LIVING TEMPLE. 
 
 Part I, 
 
 and that hath best right, of any thing else about us, to be 
 called ourselves) that can think, understand, deliberate, 
 argue, &c. and which we can most certainly assure our- 
 selves (whether it were pre-existent in any former state, or 
 no) is not an independent orimcaused being, and hath there- 
 fore been the efi'ect of some cause ; whether it be not ap- 
 parently the eflect of a wise caused 
 
 And this, upon supposition of what hath been before 
 proved, seems not liable to any the least rational doubt. 
 For it is already apparent, that it is not itself matter ; and 
 if it were, it is however the more apparent, that its cause 
 is not matter; inasmuch, as if it be itself matter, its 
 powers and operations are so much above the natural 
 capacity of matter, as that it must have had a cause, so 
 much more noble and of a more perfect nature than that, 
 as to be able to raise and improve it, beyond the natural 
 capacity of matter : which it was impossible for that, itself, 
 to do. Whence it is plain, it must. have a cause diverse 
 from matter. 
 
 Wherefore this its immaterial cause must either be wise 
 and intelligent, or not so. But is it possible any man 
 should ever be guill}^ of a greater absurdity than to ac- 
 knowledge some certain immaterial agent, destitute of 
 wisdom, the only cause and fountain of all that wisdom, 
 that is, or hath ever been, in the whole race of mankind. 
 That is as nmch as to say, that all the wisdom of mankind 
 hath been caiised without a cause. For it is the same 
 thing, after we have acknowledged any thing to be caused, 
 to say it was caused by no cause, as to say it was caused 
 by such a cause as hath nothing of that in it, whereof we 
 find somewhat to be in the etfect. Nor can it avail any 
 thing, to speak of the disproportion or supeiior excellency 
 in some etlects to their second, or to their only partial 
 causes. As that there are sometimes learned children of 
 unlearned parents. For who did ever in that case say the 
 parents were the productive causes of that learning 1 or 
 of them, as they were learned'! Sure that learning comes 
 from some other cause. But shall it then be said, the 
 souls of men have received their being from some such 
 immaterial agent destitute of wisdom; and afterward, their 
 wisdom and intellectual ability came some other way; by 
 their own observation, or by institution and precept, from 
 others 1 Whence then came their capacity of observing, or 
 of receiving such instruction 1 Can any thing naturally des- 
 titiite even of seminal reason, (as we may call it,) or of 
 any aptitude or capacity tending thereto, ever be able to 
 make observations, or receive instructions, whereby at 
 length it may become rational 1 And is not that capacity 
 of the soul of man a real something 1 Or is there no difler- 
 ence between being capable of reason and incapable'? 
 What, then, did this real something proceed from nothing 1 
 Or was the soul itself caused, and this its capacity un- 
 caused '? Or was its cause, onl}^, capable of intellectual 
 perfection, but not actually furnished therewith'? But if it 
 were only capable, surely its advantages for the actual 
 attainment thereof have been much greater than ours. 
 Whence it were strange if that capacity should never have 
 come into act. And more strange, that we should know, 
 or have any ground to pretend, that it hath not. But that 
 there was an actual exercise of wisdom in the production 
 of the reasonable soul is most evident. For is it a neces- 
 sary being '? That we have proved it is not. It is therefore 
 a contingent, and its being depended on a free cause, into 
 ■whose pleasure, only, it was resolvable, that it should be 
 or not be ; and which therefore had a dominion over its 
 own acts. If this bespeak not an intelligent agent, what 
 doth'? 
 
 And thoirgh this might also be said concerning every 
 thing else which is not necessarily, and so might yield a 
 more general argument to evince a free designing cause ; 
 yet it concludes Avith greater evidence concerning the rea- 
 sonable soul, whose powers and operations it is so mani- 
 festly impossible should have proceeded from matter. And 
 therefore even that vain and refuted pretence itself, that 
 other things might, by the necessary laws of its motion, 
 become what they are, can have less place here. Whence 
 it is more apparent that the reasonable soul must have had 
 a free and intelligent cause, that used liberty and counsel, 
 in determining that it should be, and especially that it 
 should be such a sort of thing as we find it is. For when 
 
 we see how aptly its powers and faculties serve for their 
 proper and peculiar operations, who that is not beside 
 himself can think that such a thing was made by one that 
 knew not what he was doing 1 or that such powers were 
 not given on purpose for such operations'? And what is 
 the capacity, but a power that should sometime be reduced 
 into act, and arrive to the exercise of reason itself 1 
 
 Now was it possible any thing should give that power 
 that had it not any way '? That is, in the same kind, or in 
 some more excellent and noble kind 1 For we contend 
 not that this Agent whereof we speak is in the strict and pro- 
 per sense rational, taking that term to import an ability or 
 faculty of inferring what is less known from what is more. 
 For we suppose all things equally known to him, (which, 
 so far as is requisite to our present design, that is, the repre- 
 senting him the proper object of religion, or of that honour 
 which the dedication of a temple to him imports, we may 
 in due time come more expressly to assert,) and that the 
 Imowledge which is with us the end of reasoning, is in him 
 in its highest perfection, without being at all beholden to 
 that 7iicans ; that all the connexion of things with one an- 
 other lie open to one comprehensive view, and are known 
 to be connected, but not because they are so. We say, is 
 it conceivable that man's knowing power should proceed 
 from a cause that hath it not, in the same, or this more 
 perfect kind ■? And may use those words to this purpose, 
 not for their aiUhority, (which we expect not should be 
 here significant,) but the convincing evidence they carry 
 with them, "He that teacheth man knowledge, shall not 
 he know '? " That we may drive this matter to an issue, it 
 is evident the soul of man is not a necessary, self-originate 
 thing ; and had therefore some cause. We find it to have 
 knowledge, or the power of knowing, belonging to it. 
 Therefore we say. So had its cause. We rely not here 
 upon the credit of vulgar maxims, (whereof divers might 
 be mentioned,) but the reason of them, or of the thing 
 itself we allege. And do now speak of the whole, entire 
 cause of this being, the human soul, or of whatsoever is 
 casual of it ; or of' any perfection naturally appertaining to 
 it. It is of an intelligent nature. Did this intelligent na- 
 ture proceed from an unintelligent, as the whole and only 
 cause of it 1 That were to speak against our own eyes, 
 and most natural, common sentiments ; and were the same 
 thing as to say that something came of nothing. For it is 
 all one to say so, and to say that any thing communicated 
 what it had not to communicate. Or (which is alike madly 
 absurd) to say that the same thing was such, and not such, 
 intelligent, and not intelligent, able to communicate an 
 intelligent nature, (for sure what it doth it is able to do,) 
 and not able, (for it is not able to communicate what it 
 hath not,) at the same time. 
 
 It is hardly here worth the while to spend time in coun- 
 termining that contemptible refuge, (which is as incapable 
 of oflending us, as of being defended,) that human souls 
 may perhaps only have proceeded in the ordinary course 
 of generation from one another. For that none have ever 
 said any thing to that purpose deserving a confutation, ex- 
 cept that some sober and pious persons, for the avoiding 
 of some other ditficulties, have thought it more safe to as- 
 sert the traduction of human souls, who yet were far enough 
 from imagining that they could be total, or first causes to 
 one another: and doubted not, but they had the constant 
 necessary assistance of that same Being we are pleading 
 for, acting in his own sphere, as the first cause in all such, 
 as well as any other, productions. Wherein they nothing 
 oppose the main design of this discourse ; and therefore it 
 is not in our way, to off"er at any opposition unto them. 
 
 But if any have a mind to indulge themselves the liberty 
 of so much dotage, as to say the souls of men were first 
 and only causes to one another; either they must suppose 
 them to be material beings ; and then we refer them to 
 what hath been already said, showing that their powers 
 and operations cannot belong to matter, nor arise from it; 
 or immaterial, and then they cannot produce one another 
 in the way of generation. For of what pre-existent sub- 
 stance are they made 1 Theirs who beget them 1 Of 
 that they can part with nothing ; separability, at least, of 
 parls being a most confessed property of matter. Or some 
 other 1 Where will they find that other spiritual substance, 
 that belonged not inseparably to some individual being
 
 Chap. III. 
 
 THE LIVING TEMPLE. 
 
 29 
 
 before 1 And besides, if it were pre-existent, as it must 
 be if a soul be generated out of it, then tliey were not the 
 first and only causes of this production. And in another 
 \Fay than that of generation, how will any form the notion 
 of making a soul 1 Let experience and the making of 
 trial convince the speculators. By what power, or by 
 what art, will they make a reasonable soul spring up out 
 of nothing 1 
 
 It might be hoped that thus, without disputing the pos- 
 sibility of an eternal, successive production of souls, this 
 shift may appear vain. But if any will persist, and say, 
 that how, or in what way soever they are pro'^'uced, it is 
 strange if they need any nobler cause than them.selves; 
 for may not any living thing well enough be thought ca- 
 pable of producing another of the same kind, of no more 
 than equal perfection with itself 1 To this we say, besides 
 thai no one living thing is the only cause of another such, 
 yet if that were admitted possible, what will it avail 1 For 
 iiath every soul that hath ever existed, or been in being, 
 been produced, in this way, by another 1 This it were 
 ridiculous to say, for if every one were so produced, there 
 was then so7ae one, before every one ; inasmuch as that 
 which produces, must .surely have been before that which 
 is produced by it. But how can every one have one before 
 it 1 A manifest contradiction in the very terms ! For 
 then there will be one without the compass of every one. 
 And how is it then said to be every one T There is then 
 it seems one besides, or more than all. And so all is not 
 all. And if this be thought a sophism, let the matter be 
 soberly considered thus : The soul of man is either a thing 
 of that nature universally (and consequently every indi- 
 vidual soul) as that it doth exist of itself, necessarily and 
 independently, or not. If it be, then we have, however, a 
 wise intelligent being necessarily existing, the thing we 
 have been proving all this while. Yet this concession Ave 
 will not accept, for though it is most certain there is such 
 a being, we have also proved the human soul is not it. 
 Whence it is evidently a dependent being, in its own na- 
 ture, that could never have been of itself, and consequently 
 not at all, had it not been put into being by somewhat else. 
 And being so in its own nature, it must be thus with every 
 one that partakes of this nature. And consequently it 
 must be somewhat of another nature that did put the souls 
 of men into being. Otherwise, the whole stock and line- 
 age of human souls is said to have been dependent on a 
 productive cause, and yet had nothing whereon to depend : 
 and so is both caused by another, and not caused. And 
 therefore since it is hereby evident it was somewhat else, 
 and of another nature, than a human soul, by which all 
 human souls were produced into being : we again say, 
 that distinct being either was a dependent, caused being, 
 or not. If not, it being proved that the soul of man can- 
 not but have had an intelligent or wuse cause, we have 
 no^v what we seek — an independent, necessary, intelligent 
 being, if it do depend, or any will be so idle to say so ; 
 that, however, will infallibly and very speedily lead us to 
 the same mark. For though some have been pleased to 
 dream of an infinite succession of individuals of this or that 
 kind, I suppose we have no dream as yet, ready formed, 
 to come binder confutation, of infinite kinds or orders of 
 beings, gradually superior, one above another; the inferior 
 still depending on the superior, and all upon nothing. And 
 therefore, I conceive, we may fairly take leave of this ar- 
 gument from the human soul, as having gained from it 
 sufficient evidence of the existence of a necessary being, 
 that is intelligent, and designedly active, or guided by 
 wisdom and counsel, in what it doth. 
 
 We migh.t also, if it were needful, further argue the same 
 thing from a power or ability manifestly superior to, and 
 that exceeds the utmost perfection of, human nature, viz. 
 that of prophecy, or the prediction of future contingen- 
 cies ; yea, and from another that exceeds the whole sphere 
 of all created nature, and which crosses and countermands 
 the known and stated laws thereof, viz. that of working 
 miracles; both of them exercised with manifest design ; 
 as might evidently be made appear, by manifold instances, 
 to as many as can believe any thing to be true, more than 
 what they have seen with their own eyes ; and that do 
 not take present sense, yea, and their owm only, to be the 
 alone measure of all reality. But it is not necessary we 
 
 insist upon every thing that may be .said, so that enough 
 be said to serve our present purpose. 
 
 XVI. And that our purpose may yet be more fully 
 served, and such a being evidenced to exist as we may 
 with satisfaction esteem to merit a temple with us, and the 
 religion of it, it is necessary that we add somewhat con- 
 cerning, 
 
 9. The divine goodness; for unto that eternal Being, 
 whose existence we have hitherto asserted, goodness also 
 cannot but appertain ; together with those his other attri- 
 butes we have spoken of 
 
 It is not needful here to be curious about the usual 
 .scholastical notions of goodness, or what it imports, as it 
 is wont to be attributed to being in the general, what, as 
 it belongs in a peculiar sense to intellectual beings, or 
 what more special import it may have, in reference to this. 
 That which we at present chiefly intend by it, is a propen- 
 sion to do good with delight ; or most freely, without oi her 
 inducement than the agreeablencss of it to his nature who 
 doth it; and a certain delectation and complacency, which, 
 hence, is taken in so doing. The name of goodness (though 
 thus it more peculiarly signifies the particular virtue of 
 liberality) is of a significancy large enough, even in the 
 moral acceptation, to comprehend all other perfections or 
 virtues, that belong to, or may any way commend, the 
 will of a free agent. These therefore we exclude not ; and 
 particularly whatsoever is wont to be signified, as attri- 
 butable unto God, by the names of holiness, as a steady 
 inclination unto what is intellectually pure and comely, 
 with an aversion to the contrary; justice, as that signifies 
 an inclination to deal equally, which is included in the 
 former, yet as more expressly denoting what is more proper 
 to a governor over others, viz. a resolution not to let the 
 transgressions of laws, made for the preservation of com- 
 mon order, pa.ss without due animadversion and punish- 
 ment ; tnith, whose signification also may be wholly con- 
 tained under those former more general terms, but' more 
 directly contains sincerity, unaptness to deceive, and con- 
 stancy to one's word: for these may properly be styled 
 good things in a moral sense ; as many other things might, 
 in another notion of goodness, which it belongs not to our 
 present design to make mention of But these are men- 
 tioned as more directly tending to represent to us an amia- 
 ble object of religion ; and are referred hither, as they 
 fitly enough may, out of an unwillingness to multiply, with- 
 out necessity, particular heads or subjects of discourse. 
 
 In the meantime, as was said, what we principally in- 
 tend, is. That the Being who.se existence we have been 
 endeavouring to evince, is good, as that imports a ready 
 inclination of will to communicate unto others what may 
 be good to them ; creating, first, its own object, and then 
 issuing forth to it, in acts of free beneficence, suitable to 
 the nature of every thing created by it. Which, though 
 it be the primary or first thing carried in the notion of 
 this goodness, vet because that inclination is not otherwise 
 good than as it consists with holiness, justice, and truth, 
 these therefore may be esteemed, secondarily at least, to 
 belong to it, as inseparable qualifications thereof 
 
 Wherefore it is not a merelynatural and necessan.' ema- 
 nation we here intend, that prevents any act or exerci.se of 
 counsel or design; which would no way consist with the 
 liberty of the divine will, and would make the Deity as 
 well a necessary Agent, as a necessary Being; yea. and 
 would therefore make all the creatures merely natural 
 and necessary emanations, and so destroy the distinction 
 of necessary and contingent beings : and, by consequence, 
 bid fair to the making all things God. It would infer not 
 only the eternity of the world, but would seem to infer 
 either the absolute infinity of it, or the perfection of it, and 
 of every creature in it, to that degree, as that nothing could 
 be more perfect in its own kind, than it is ; or would infer 
 the finiteness of the divine Being. For it would make 
 what he hoih done the adequate measure of what he con 
 do, and would make all his administrations necessary, yea_ 
 and all the actions of men, and consequently take awav 
 all law and government out of the world, and all measures 
 of right and wron?, and make all punitive justice, barbar- 
 ous cruelty: and consequently, give us a notion of good- 
 ness, at length, plaini)' inconsistent with itself 
 
 All this is provided against, by our having first asserted
 
 30 
 
 THE LIVING TEMPLE. 
 
 Part 1. 
 
 the wisdom of that Being, whereunto we also attribute 
 goodness ; which guides all the issues of it, according to 
 those measures or rules which the essential rectitude of 
 the divine will gives, or rather is, unto it : whereby also a 
 foundation is laid of answering such cavils against the 
 divine goodness, as they are apt to raise to themselves, 
 who are wont to magnify this attribute to the suppression 
 of others ; which is, indeed, in the end, to magnify it to 
 nothing. And such goodness needs no other demonstra- 
 tion, than the visible instances and effects we have of it 
 in the creation and conservation of this world ; and parti- 
 cularly, in his large, munificent bounty and kindness to- 
 wards man, whereof his designing him for his temple and 
 residence, will be a full and manifest proof. 
 
 And of all this, his own self-sutHcient fulness leaves it 
 impossible to us to imagine another reason, than the de- 
 light he takes in dispensing his own free and large com- 
 munications. Besides, that when we see some semblances 
 and imitations of this goodness in the natures of some men, 
 which we are sure are not nothing, they must needs pro- 
 ceed from something, and have some fountain and original, 
 which can be no other than the common Cause and Au- 
 thor of all things. In whom, therefore, this goodness doth 
 firstly and most perfectly reside. 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 Generally all supposable perfection asserted of tliis Being ; wliero, First, A be- 
 ing al)Solutely perfect is endeavoured tobe evinced fruni Ihc (alicaily proved) 
 necessary being ; which is shown to import, in the gcniral llir utmost ful- 
 ness of being. Also divers things in particular that tend Ui o\iu(:e fliut gene- 
 ral. As that it is at the remotest distance from no being. Most purely act ual. 
 Most abstracted being. The productive and conserving cause of all things 
 else. Undiminishable. Incapable of addition. Stcondly. Hence is more 
 expressly deduced, the infiniteness of this being. An inquiry whether it be 
 possil)le the creature can be actually infinite? Difficulties concerning: the 
 absolute fulness and infiniteness of God considered. 2. The onliness of tliis 
 beins. The Trinity not thereby excluded. 
 
 I. SoMK account has been thus far given of that Being, 
 whereunto we have been designing to assert the honour of 
 a temple. Each of the particulars having been severally 
 insisted on, that concur to make up that notion of this 
 being, which was at first laid down. And more largely, 
 what hath been more opposed, by persons of an atheistical 
 or irreligious temper. But because, in that fore-mentioned 
 account of God, there was added to the particulars there 
 enumerated, (out of a just consciousness of human inabili- 
 ty to comprehend every thing that may possibly belong to 
 him,) this general supplement, " That all other supposa- 
 ble excellences whatsoever, do in the highest perfection 
 appertain also originally unto this Being," it is requisite 
 that somewhat be said concerning this addition. Espe- 
 cially in as much as it comprehends in it, or may infer, 
 some things (not yet expressly mentioned) which may be 
 thought necessary to the evincing the reasonablene.ss of 
 religion, or our self-dedication as a temple to him. 
 
 For instance, it may po.ssibly be alleged, that if it were 
 admitted there is .somewhat that is eternal, uncaused, in- 
 dependent, necessarily existent, that is self-active, living, 
 powerful, wise, and good ; yet all this will not infer upon 
 us a universal obligation to religion, unless it can also be 
 evinced, I. That this Being is every way sufficient to sup- 
 ply and satisfy all our real wants and just desires. And, 
 2. That this Being is but one, and so that all be at a cer- 
 tainty where their religion ought to terminate ; and that 
 the worship of every temple must concentre and meet in 
 the same object. Now the eviction of an absolutely perfect 
 Being would include each of these ; and answer both the 
 purposes which may seem hitherto not so fully satisfied. 
 It is therefore requisite that we endeavour. 
 
 First, To show that the Being hitherto described is ab- 
 solutely or every way perfect. 
 
 Secondly, To deduce, from the same grounds, the abso- 
 lute infinity, and the unity or the onliness thereof, 
 
 II. And for the former part of this undertaking, it mu.st 
 be acknowledged absolute or universal perfection cannot 
 be pretended to have been expressed in any, or in all the 
 works of God together. Neither in number, for aught we 
 know, (for as we cannot conceive, nor consequently speak. 
 
 of divine perfections, but under the notion of many, what- 
 soever their real identity may be, so we do not know, but 
 that within the compass of universal perfection there may 
 be some particular ones, of Avhich there is no footstep in 
 the creation, and whereof we have never formed any 
 thought,) nor (more certainly) in degree ; for surely the 
 world, and the particular creatures in it, are not so perfect 
 in correspondence to those attributes of its great Architect, 
 which we have mentioned, viz. his power, wisdom, and 
 goodness, as he might have made them, if he had pleased. 
 And indeed, to say the world were absolutely and univer- 
 sally perfect, were to make that God. 
 
 Wherefore it must also be acknowledged that an abso- 
 lutely perfect being cannot be immediately demonstrated 
 from its efiects, as whereto they neither do, nor is it within 
 the capacity of created nature that they can, adequately 
 correspond. Whence, therefore, all that can be done for 
 the evincing of the absolute and universal perfection of 
 God, must be in some other M^ay or method of discourse. 
 
 And though it be acknowledged that it cannot be imme- 
 diately evidenced from the creation, yet it is to be hoped 
 that mediately it may. For from thence (as we have seen) 
 a necessary self-originate being, such as hath been descri- 
 bed, is, with the greatest certainty, to be concluded ; and, 
 from thence, if we attentively consider, we shall be led to 
 an absolutely perfect one. That is, since we have the same 
 certainty of such a necessary self-originate being, as we 
 have that there is any thing existent at all ; if we seriously 
 weigh what kind of being this must needs be, or what its 
 notion must import, above what hath been already evinced; 
 we shall not be found, in this way, much to fall short of 
 our present aim, though we have also other evidence that 
 may be produced in its own fitter place. 
 
 Here therefore let us awhile make a stand, and more 
 distinctly consider how far we are already advanced, that 
 we may with the better order and advantage make our 
 further progress. 
 
 These two things, then, are already evident : L That 
 there is a necessary being that hath been eternally of itself, 
 without dependence upon any thing, either as a productive 
 or conserving cause ; and, of itself, full of activity and 
 vital energy, so as to be a productive and sustaining cause 
 to other things. Of this any the most confused and indis- 
 tinct view of this world, or a mere taking notice that there 
 is any thing in being that lives and moves, and withal that 
 alters and changes, (which it is impos,sible the necessary 
 being itself should do,) cannot but piTt us out of doubt. 
 2. That this necessary, self-originate, vital, active being, 
 hath very vast power, admirable wisdom, and most free 
 and large goodness belonging to it. And of this, our 
 nearer and more deliberate view and contemplation of the 
 world do equally ascertain us. For of these things we 
 find the manifest prints and footsteps in it. Yea, we find 
 the derived things themselves, power, wisdom, goodness, 
 in the creatures : and we are most assured they have not 
 sprung from nothing; nor from any thing that had them 
 not. And that which originally had them, or was their 
 first fountain, must have them necessarily and essentially, 
 (together with whatsoever else belongs to its being,) in and 
 of itself So that the asserting of any other necessary 
 being, that is in itself destitute of these things, signifies 
 no more towards the giving any account how these things 
 came to be in the world, than if no being, necessarily 
 existing, were asserted at all. We are therefore, by the 
 exigency of the case itself, con.strained to acknowledge, 
 not only that there is a necessary being, but that there is 
 such a one as could be, and was, the fountain and cause 
 of all those several kinds and degrees of being and per- 
 fection that we take notice of in the world besides. Ano- 
 ther sort of necessary being should not only be asserted 
 to no purpose, there being nothing to be gained by it, no 
 imaginable use to be made of it, as a principle that can 
 serve any valuable esd ; (for suppose such a thing as ne- 
 cessary matter, it will, as hath been shown, be unalterable; 
 and therefore another sort of matter must be supposed be- 
 sides it, that may be the matter of the universe, raised up 
 out of nothing for that purpose, unto which this so un- 
 wieldy and unmanageable an entity can never serve ;) but 
 also it will be impossible to be proved. No man can be 
 able with any plausible show of reason to make it out.
 
 :,HAP. IV. 
 
 THE LIVING TEMPLE. 
 
 31 
 
 Yea, and much may he said, 1 conceive with convincing 
 evidence, against it. As may perhaps be seen in the sequel 
 of this discourse. 
 
 In the meantime, that there is, however, a necessary 
 being, unto which all the perfections whereof we have any 
 footsteps or resemblances in the creation do originally and 
 essentially belong, is undeniably evident. 
 
 Now, that we may proceed, what can self-essentiate, 
 underived power, wisdom, goodness, be, but most perfect 
 power, wisdom, goodness'? Or such, as than which there 
 can never be more perfect '! For since there can be no 
 wisdom, power, or goodness, which is not either original 
 and self-essentiate, or derived and participated from 
 thence; who sees not that the former must be the more 
 perfect? Yea, and that it comprehends all the other (as 
 what was from it) in itself, and consequently that it is simply 
 the most perfect 1 And the reason will be the same, con- 
 cerning any other perfection, the stamps and characters 
 whereof we find signed upon the creatures. 
 
 But that the being unto which these belong is absolutely 
 and universally perfect in every kind, must be further evi- 
 denced by considering more at large the notion and import 
 of such a self-originate necessary being. 
 
 Some indeed, both more anciently, ^^ and of late, have 
 inverted this course; and from the supposition of absolute 
 perfection, have gone about to infer necessity of existence, 
 as being contained in the idea of the former. But of this 
 latter we are otherwise assured upon clearer and less ex- 
 ceptionable terms. And being so, are to consider what 
 improvement may be made of it to our present purpose. 
 
 And in the general, this seems manifestly imported in 
 the notion of the necessary being we have already evinced, 
 that it have in it (some way or other, in what way there 
 will be occasion to consider hereafter) the entire sum and 
 utmost fulness of being, beyond which or without the 
 compass whereof no perfection is conceivable, or indeed 
 (whjch is of the same import) nothing. 
 
 Let it be observed, that we pretend not to argue this 
 from the bare terms necessary being only, but from hence, 
 that it is such as we have found it ; though indeed these 
 very terms import not a little to this purpose. For that 
 which is necessarily of itself, without being beholden to 
 any thing, seems as good as all things, and to contain in 
 itself an immense fulness, being indigent of nothing. Nor 
 by indigence is here meant cravingness, or a sense of want 
 only; in opposition whereto, every good and virtuous man 
 hath or may attain a sort of durapicEia or self-fulness, and 
 be satisfied from himself: (which yet is a stamp of di- 
 vinity, and a part of the image of God, or such a partici- 
 pation of the divine nature, as is agreeable to the state and 
 condition of a creature:) but we understand by it (what 
 is naturally before that) want itself really, and not in 
 opinion, as the covetous is said to be poor. On the other 
 hand, we here intend not a merely rational, (much less an 
 imaginary,) but a real self-fulness. And so we say, what 
 is of that nature, that it is, and subsists wholly and only 
 of itself, without depending on any other, must owe this 
 absoluteness to so peculiar an excellency of its own nature, 
 as we cannot well conceive to be less than whereby it 
 comprehends in itself the most boundless and unlimited 
 fulness of being, lile, power, or whatsoever can be con- 
 ceived under the name of a perfection. For taking notice 
 of the existence of any thing whatsoever, some reason must 
 be assignable, whence it is that this particular being doth 
 exist, and hath such and such powers and properties be- 
 longing to it, as do occur to our notice therein. When 
 we can now resolve its existence into some cause that put 
 it into being, and made it what it is, we cease so much to 
 admire the thing, how excellent soever it be, and turn our 
 admiration upon its cause, concluding that to have all the 
 perfection in it which we discern in the effect, whatsoever 
 unknown perfection (which we may suppose is very great) 
 it may have besides. And upon this ground we are led, 
 when we behold the manifold excellences that lie dispersed 
 among particular beings in this universe, with the glory of 
 the whole resulting thence, to resolve their existence into 
 
 a So that wliatevor there is of strcnsth in that way of arcuing, the ?Ioiy 
 of it cannot be without injury appropriated to tlie present age. much les-s 
 to any particular person therein: it havine, since Anselni, been ventilated 
 by divprs otMera heretofore. D. Sect. disf. 2. Q. 2. Th. Aquin. P. 1. Q. 2. 
 
 a common cause, which we design by the name of God. 
 And now considering him as a wise Agent, (which hath 
 been proved,) and consequent!}' a free one, that acted not 
 from any necessity of nature, but his mere good pleasure 
 herein, we will not only conclude him to have all that 
 perfection and excellency in him which we fmd him to 
 have displaj-ed in so vast and glorious a work, but will 
 readily believe him (supposing we have admitted a con- 
 viction concerning what hath been discoursed before) to 
 have a most inconceivable treasure of hidden excellency 
 and perfection in him, that is not represented to our view 
 in this work of his: and account, that he who could do all 
 this which we see is done, coidd do unspeakably more. 
 For though, speaking of natural and necessitated agents, 
 which always act to their uttermost, it would be absurd to 
 argue from their having done some lesser thing, to their 
 power of doing somewhat that is much greater; yet as to 
 free agents, that can choose their own act, and guide them- 
 selves by wisdom and judgment therein, the matter is not 
 so. As when some great prince bestows a rich largess 
 upon some mean person, especially that deserved nothing 
 from him, or was recommended by nothing to his royal 
 favour, besides his poverty and misery; we justly take it 
 for a very significant demonstration of that princely mu- 
 nificence and bounty, which would incline him to do 
 much greater things, when he should see a proportionable 
 cause. 
 
 But now, if taking notice of the excellences that appear 
 in created beings, and inquiring how they come to exist 
 and be what they are, we resolve all into their cause; 
 which, considering as perfecth' free and arbitrary in all his 
 communications, we do thence rationally conclude, that if 
 he had thought fit, he could have made a much more 
 pompous display of himself; and that there is in him, 
 besides what appears, a vast and most abimdant store of 
 undiscovered perfection. 
 
 When next we turn our inquirj' and contemplation more 
 entirely upon the cause, and bethink ourselves. But how 
 came he to exist and be what he isl Finding this cannot 
 be refunded upon any superior cause; and our utmost 
 inquiry can admit of no other result but this, that he is of 
 himself what he is, we will surely say then. He is all in 
 all. And that perfection which before we judged vastly 
 great, we will now conclude altogether absolute, and such 
 beyond which no greater can be thought. 
 
 Adding, I say, to what pre-conceptions we had of his 
 greatness, from the works which we see have been done 
 by him, (for why should we lose any ground we might 
 have esteemed ourselves to have gained before'?) the con- 
 sideration of his necessary self-subsistence : and that no 
 other reason is assignable of his being what he is, but the 
 peculiar and incommunicable excellency of his own na- 
 ture ; whereby he was not only able to make such a world, 
 but did possess eternally and invariably in himself all that 
 he is, and hath : we cannot conceive that all to be less than 
 absolutely universal, and comprehensive of whatsoever can 
 lie within the whole compass of being. 
 
 For when we find that among all other beings, (which 
 is most certainly true not only of actual, but all possible 
 beings also,) how perfect soever they are or may be in their 
 own kinds, none of them, nor all of them together, are or 
 ever can be of that perfection, as to he of themselves with- 
 out dependence on somewhat else as their productive, yea 
 and sustaining, cause; we see besides, that their cause 
 hath all the perfection, soiue way, in it that is to be found 
 in them all : there is also that appropriate perfection be- 
 longing thereto, that it could be ; and eternally is (j-ea and 
 could not but be) only of itself, by the underiveti and in- 
 communicable excellency of its own being. And surely, 
 what includes in it all the perfection of all actual and pos- 
 sible beings, besides its own, (for there is nothing pos.■^ible 
 which some cause, yea and even this, cannot produce,) 
 and inconceivably more, must needs he absohiiely and 
 every way perfect. Of all which perfections this is the 
 radical oiie, that belongs to this common Cause and Author 
 of all things, that he is necessarily and only self-subsisting. 
 
 art. 1. contra Gentil. 1. I. c. 10. Bradwardin. 1. 1. c. 1. And by divers of 
 late, as is snlfiricntly known, some rriecting, others much connduie in iU 
 botli ofthe.se former, oud of iiioderii writers.
 
 33 
 
 THE LIVING TEMPLE. 
 
 Part 1. 
 
 For if this high prerogative in point of being had been 
 wanting, nothing at all had ever been. Therefore we at- 
 tribute to God the greatest thing that can be said or 
 thought, (and not what is wholly diverse from all other 
 perfection, but which contains all others in it,) when we 
 affirm of him that he is necessarily of himself For though 
 when we have bewildered and lost ourselves (as we soon 
 may) in the contemplation of this amazing subject, we 
 readily indulge our wearied minds the ease and liberty of 
 resolving this high excellency of self or necessary existence 
 into a mere negation, and say that we mean by it nothing- 
 else than that he was not from ano'her; yet surely, if we 
 would take some pains with ourselves, and keep our 
 slothful shifting thoughts to some exercise in this matter, 
 though we can never comprehend that vast fulness of per- 
 fection which is imported in it, (for it were not what we 
 plead for, if we could comprehend it,) yet we should soon 
 see and confess that it contains unspeakably more than a 
 negation, even some great thing that is so much beyond 
 our thoughts, that we shall reckon we have said but a 
 little in saying we cannot conceive it. And when we 
 have stretched our understandings to the utmost of their 
 line and measure, though we may suppose ourselves to 
 have conceived a great deal, there is infmitely more that 
 we conceive not. 
 
 Wherefore that is asober and most important truth which 
 is occasionally drawn forth (as is supposed) from the so 
 admired Des Cartes bj' the urgent objections of his very 
 acute, friendly adversary, b that the inexhaustible power of 
 God is the reason for which he needed no cause ; and that 
 since that imexhausted power, or the immensity of his es- 
 sence, is most highly positive, therefore he may be said to 
 be of himself positively, i. e. not as if he did ever by any 
 positive efficiency cause himself (which is most manifestly 
 impossible) but that the positive excellency of his own 
 being was such, as could never need, nor admit of, being 
 caused. 
 
 And that seems highly rational, (which is so largely in- 
 sisted on by Doctor Jackson, >= and divers others,) that what 
 is without cause must also be without limit of being; be- 
 cause all limitation proceeds from the cause of a thing, 
 which imparted to it so much and no more ; which argu- 
 ment, though it seems neglected by Des Cartes, and is 
 opposed by his antagonist; yet I cannot but judge that the 
 longer one meditates, the less he shall understand, how 
 any thing can be limited ad intra, or from itself, &c. As 
 the author of the Tentam. Phys. Theol. .speaks. 
 
 But that we may entertain ourselves with some more 
 particular considerations of this necessary being, which 
 may evince that general assertion of its absolute plenitude 
 or fulness of e-ssence : it appears to be such, 
 
 III. As is first, at the greatest imaginable distance from 
 non-entity. For what can be at a greater, than that which 
 is necessarily, which signifies as much as whereto not to 
 be is utterly impossible 1 Now an utter impossibility not 
 to be, or the uttermost distance from iio being, seems 
 plainly to imply the absolute plenitude oi all being. And, 
 if here it be said that to be necessarily and of itself needs 
 be understood to import no more than a firm possession of 
 that being which a thing hath, be it never so scant or mi- 
 nute a portion of being; I answer, it seems indeed so, if 
 we measure the signification of this expression by its first 
 and more obvious appearance. But if you consider the 
 matter more narrowly, you will find here is also signified 
 the nature and kind of the being possessed, as well as the 
 manner of possession, viz. that it is a being of so excellent 
 and noble a kind, as that it can subsist alone without being 
 beholden : which is so great an excellency, as that it man- 
 ifestly comprehends all other, or is the foundation of all 
 ihat can be conceived besides. Which, they that fondly 
 dream of necessary matter, not considering, unwaringly 
 make one single atom a more excellent thing than the 
 whole frame of heaven and earth : tlud being supposed 
 simply necessary, this the merest piece of hap-hazard, the 
 strangest chance imaginable, and beyond what any but 
 themselves could ever have imagined. And which, being 
 considered, would give us to understand that no minute or 
 finite being can be necessarily. 
 
 b Ad ob. in Med. re§p. quarts. 
 
 And hence we may see what it is to be nearer, or at a 
 further distance from not-being. 
 
 For these things that came contingently into being, or at 
 the pleasure of a free cause, have all but a finite and limited 
 being, whereof some, having a smaller portion of being 
 than others, approach so much the nearer to not-being. 
 Proportionably, what hath its being necessarily and of 
 itself, is at the furthest distance from no-being, as compre- 
 hending all being in itself Or, to borrow the expressions 
 of an elegant writer, translated into our own language,d 
 "We have much more non-essence than essence; if we 
 have the essence of a man, yet not of the heavens, or of 
 angels." "We are confined and limited within a parti- 
 cular essence, but God, who is what he is, comprehendeth 
 all possible essences." 
 
 Nor is this precariously spoken, or as what may be hoped 
 to be granted upon courtesy. But let the matter be rigidly 
 examined and discussed, and the certain truth of it will 
 most evidently appear. For if any thing be, in this sense, 
 remoter than other from no-being, it must either be, what 
 is necessarily of itself, or what is contingently at the plea- 
 sure of the other. But since nothing is, besides that self- 
 originate necessary being, but what was from it ; and no- 
 thing from it but what was within its productive power ; 
 it is plain all that, with its own being, was contained in it. 
 And therefore, even in that sense, it is at the greatest dis- 
 tance from no-being; as comprehending the utmost fulness 
 of being in itself, and consequently absolute perfection. 
 Which will yet further appear, in what follows. We there- 
 fore add, 
 
 IV. That necessary being is most unmixed or purest 
 being, without allay. That is pure which is full of itself. 
 Purity is not here meant in a corporeal sense, (which few 
 will think,) nor in the moral ; but as, with metaphysicians, 
 it signifies simplicity of essence. And in its present use 
 is more especially intended to signify that simplicity which 
 is opposed to the composition of act and possibility. We 
 say then, that necessary being imports purest actuality ; 
 which is the ultimate and highest perfection of being. For 
 it signifies no remaining possibility, yet unreplete or not 
 filled up, and consequently the fullest exuberancy and en- 
 tire confluence of all being, as in its fountain and original 
 source. We need not here look further to evince this, 
 than the native import of the very terms themselves; ne- 
 cessity and possibilHy ; the latter whereof is not so fitly 
 said to be excluded the former, as contingency is, but to be 
 swallowed up of it; as fulness takes up all the space 
 which were otherwise nothing but vacuity or emptiness. 
 It is plain then that necessary being engrosses all possible 
 being, both that is, and (for the same reason) that ever was 
 so. For nothing can be, or ever was, in possibility to 
 come into being, but what either must spring, or hath 
 sprung, from the necessary self-subsisting being. 
 
 So that unto all that vast possibility, a proportionable 
 actuality of this being must be understood to correspond. 
 Else the other were not possible. For nothing is possible 
 to be produced which is not within the actual productive 
 power of the necessary being: I say -within its actual pro- 
 ductive power; for if its power for such production were 
 not already actual, it could never become so, and so were 
 none at all : inasmuch as necessary being can never alter, 
 and consequently can never come actually to be what it 
 already is not; upon which account it is truly said, In 
 ecternis posse el esse sunt idem. Wherefore in it, is nothing 
 else but pure actuality, as profound and vast as is the ut- 
 most possibility of all created or producible being; i. e. it 
 can be nothing other than it is, but can do all things, of 
 which more hereafter. It therefore stands opposed, not 
 only, more directly, to impossibility of being, which is the 
 most proper notion of no-being, but some way, even to 
 possibility also. That is, the possibility of being any thing 
 but what it is; as being every way complete and perfectly 
 full already. 
 
 V. Again, we might further add, that it is the most ab- 
 stracted being, or is being in the very abstract. A thing 
 much insisted on by some of the schoolmen. And the 
 notion which with much obscurity they pursue after their 
 manner, may carry some such sense as this, (if it may, 
 
 c Of the Essence and Attributes of God. d Camin.
 
 Chap. IV. 
 
 THE LIVING TEMPLE. 
 
 33 
 
 throughout, be called sense,) that whereas no created na- 
 ture is capable of any other than mere mental abstraction, 
 but exists al\va3's in concretion with some subject, that, be 
 it never so refined, is grosser and less perfect than itself; 
 so that we can distinguish the mentally abstracted essence, 
 and (he thing which hath that essence ; by which concre- 
 tion, essence is limited, and is only the particular essence 
 of this or that thing, which hath or possesses that essence. 
 The necessary being is, in strict propriety, not so truly 
 said to have essence, as to be it, and exist separately by 
 itself; not as limited to this or that thing. Whence it is, 
 in itself, universal essence, containing therefore, not for- 
 malh^ but eminently, the being of all things in perfect 
 simplicity. Whence all its own attributes are capable of 
 being atfirmed of it in the abstract, >= that it is wisdom, 
 power, goodness; and not only hath these, and that upon 
 this accoimt it is a being, which is necessarily and of itself. 
 For that which is necessarily and of itself, is not whatso- 
 ever it is by the accession of any thing to itself, whereof 
 necessary being is incapable; but by its own simple and 
 unvariable essence. Other being is upon such terras 
 powerful, wise, yea, and existent, as that it maj^ cease to 
 be so. Whereas to necessary being, it is manifestly repug- 
 nant, and impossible either simply not to be, or to be any 
 thing else but what and as it is. And though other things 
 may have properties belonging to their essence not separa- 
 ble from it, 3^et they are not their very essence itself. And, 
 whereas they are in a possibility to lose their very exist- 
 ence, the knot and ligament of whatsoever is most intimate 
 to their actual being, all then falls from them together. 
 Here, essence, properties, and existence, are all one simple 
 thing that can never cease, decay, or change, because the 
 whole being is necessary. Now, all this being supposed, 
 of the ibrce of that form of speech, when we afhrm any 
 thing in the abstract of another, we may admit the common 
 sense of men to be the interpreter. For every body can 
 tell, though they do not know the meaning of the word 
 abstract, what we intend when we use that phrase or 
 manner of speaking. As when we say, by way of hyper- 
 bolical commendation. Such a man is not only learned, 
 but learning itself; or he not only hath much of virtue, 
 justice, and goodness in him, but he is virtue, justice, and 
 goodness itself, (as was once said of an excellent pagan 
 virtuoso, that I may borrow leave to use that word in the 
 moral sense,) every one knows the phrase intends the ap- 
 propriating all learning, virtue, justice, goodness, to such 
 a one. Which, because they know unappropriable to any 
 man, they easily understand it to be, in such a case, a 
 rhetorical strain and form of speech. And yet could not 
 know that, if also they did not understand its proper and 
 native import. An.d so it may as well be understood what 
 is meant by saying of God, He is being itself. With 
 which sense may be reconciled that of (the so named) 
 Dionysius the Areopagite ;f that God is not so properly 
 said to be of, or be in, or to have, or partake, of being, as 
 that it is of him, &c. Inasmuch as he is the pre-existent 
 Being to all being ; i. e. if we understand him to mean all 
 besides his own. In which sen.se taking being for that 
 which is communicated and imparted, he may truly be 
 said, (as this author and the Platonists generally speak,?) 
 to be super-essential or super-substantial. But how fitly 
 being is taken in that restrained sense, we may say more 
 hereafter. 
 
 In the meantime, what hath been said concerning this 
 abstractedness of the necessary being, hath in it somethings 
 so unintelligible, and is accompanied with so great (un- 
 mentioned) difficulties, (which it would give us, perhaps, 
 more labour than profit to discuss,) and the absolute per- 
 fection of God appears so evidenceable otherwise, by what 
 halh been and may be further said, that we are no way 
 concerned to lay the stress of the cause on this matter 
 only. 
 
 VI. Moreover, necessary being is the cause and author 
 of all being besides. Whatsoever is not necessary, is 
 caused ; for not having being of itself, it must be put into 
 
 e To which purpose we may take notice of the words of one. not the less 
 wortliv to hr nnmril, for not being reckoned of tliat fore-menlioned order. Si 
 eiiim denominative de co qciippiam praedicaretur. abstractum esset turn aUud 
 ah if'SO, turn ipso prius. Q,nod .sane impinni est. oimre neqiie ens est sed es- 
 sentia, ncqiie bonui sed bonitits est. Jul. Scr.l Exen: 365 
 
 i Kai avTO oe to ctnai ck tov npoovros, xai tiVTOv earc ie to stvat, nat ovk 
 
 being by somewhat else. And ma.smuch as there is no 
 middle sort of being betwixt necessor}' and not necessary, 
 and all that is not necessary is caused, it is plain that 
 which is necessary must be the cause of all the rest. And 
 surely what is the cause of all being besides its own, must 
 needs, one way or other, contain its own and all other in 
 itself, and is consequently comprehensive of the utmost 
 fulness of being ; or is the absolutely perfect being, (as 
 must equally be acknowledged,) unless any one would 
 imagine himself to have got the notice of some perfection 
 that lies without the compass of all being. 
 
 Nor is it an exception worth the mentioning, that there 
 may be a conception of possible being or perfection, which 
 the necessary being hath not caused. For it is, manifesilj'', 
 as well the possible cause of all possible being and per- 
 fection, as the actual cause of what is actual. And what 
 it is possible to it to produce, it hath within its productive 
 power, as hath been said before. 
 
 And if the matter did require it, we might say further, 
 that the same necessary being which hath been the pro- 
 ductive cause, is also the continual root and basis of all 
 being, which is not necessary. For what is of itself, and 
 cannot, by the special privilege of its own being, but be, 
 needs nothing to sustain it, or needs not trust to any thing 
 besides its own eternal stability. But what is not so, 
 seems to need a continual reproduction everj' moment, 
 and to be no more capable of continuing in being by itself, 
 than it was, by itself, of coming into being. For (as is 
 frequently alleged by that so often mentioned author) since 
 there is no connexion betwixt the present and future time, 
 but what is easily capable of rupture, it is no way conse- 
 quent that, because I am now, I shall therefore be the 
 next moment, further than as the free Author of my being 
 shall be pleased to continue his own most arbilrar)' in- 
 fluence, for m}'' support. This seems highly probable to 
 be true, whether that reason signif}^ any thing or nothing. 
 And that thence, also, continual conservation differs not 
 from creation. Which, whether (as is said by the same 
 author) it be one of the things that are manifest by natural 
 light, or whether a positive act be needless to the annihi- 
 lation of created things, but only the withholding of in- 
 fluence, let them examine that apprehend the cause to 
 need it. And if, upon inquiry, they judge it at lea«t 
 evidenceable by natural light to be so, (as I doubt not 
 they will.) they will have this further ground upon which 
 thus to reason : that, inasmuch as the necessary being 
 subsists wholly by itself, and is that whereon all other 
 doth totally depend, it hereupon follows, that it mu.st, 
 some way, contain in itself all being. We may yet fur- 
 ther add. 
 
 That the necessary being we have evinced, though it 
 have caused and do continually sustain all things, yet 
 doth not itself in the meantime suffer any diminution. 
 It is not possible, nor consistent with the very terms ne- 
 cessary being, that it can. It is true, that if such a thing 
 as a necessary atom were admitted, that would be also 
 undiminishable, it were not else an atom. But as nothing 
 then can flow from it, as from a perfect parvitude nothing 
 can, so it can effect nothing. And the reason is the same 
 of manj' as of one. Nor would undiminishableness, upon 
 such terms, signify any thing to the magnif\-ing the value 
 of such a trifle. 
 
 But this is none of the present case : for our eyes tell 
 us here is a world in being, which we are sure is not itself 
 necessarily; and was therefore made by him that is. And 
 that, without mutation or change in him ; against which 
 the very notion of a necessary being is most irreconcilably 
 reluctant ; and therefore without diminution, which can- 
 not be conceived without change. h 
 
 Wherefore how inexhaustible a fountain of life, being, 
 and all perfection, have we here representedioourthoughts ! 
 from whence this vast universe is sprnn?, and iscontintially 
 springing, and that in the meantime receiving no recruits 
 or foreign supplies, yet suffers no impairment or lessening 
 of itself! What is this but absolute all-fulness 1 And it is 
 
 avToi rnv firat, Ka( cv avrtoi errrt to ctvai, xai ovk aVTO( tv rtot tivai, «raj 
 arrnv rvfi rn firm. >cai ovk ai'To; ?\rf to eivai. De Dirinis nomin. Co. S. 
 
 e Proclus in Plat. Theol. 1. 2. c 4. 
 
 It E" r'c -ravTni nit \Ofi£iii, KaOopa. Trriyrjv fin- ^(.ii;f, ti?) j/v ce ►of, ap\r]v 
 oiTos. ayal^ov a(Ttay plt^ap \l'V\ri(; ovk « xto/uycMni air' avTOV eir' (KCO'Coy 
 e\aTTOvvTO)i: Plotinm Enn. 6. 1. 9. C. 9.
 
 34 
 
 THE LIVING TEMPLE. 
 
 Part L 
 
 so far from arguing any deficiency or mutability in his 
 nature, that there is this continual issue of power and 
 virtue from him, that it demonstrates its high excellency 
 that this can be without decay or mutation. For of all 
 this, we are as certain as we can be of any thing : that 
 many things are not necessarily, that the being must be 
 necessary from whence all things else proceed, and that 
 with necessary being change is inconsistent. It is therefore 
 unreasonable to entertain any doubt that things are so, 
 which most evidently appear to be so, only because it is 
 beyond our measure and compass to apprehend how they 
 are so. And it would be to doubt, against our own eyes, 
 whether there he any such thing as motion in the world, 
 or composition of bodies, because we cannot give a clear 
 account, so as to avoid all difficulties, and the entanglement 
 of the common sophisms about them, how these things 
 are performed. In the present case, we have no difficulty 
 but what is to be resolved into the perfection of the divine 
 nature, and the imperfection of our own. And how easily 
 conceivable is it, that somewhat may be more perfect, than 
 that we can conceive it. If we cannot conceive the manner 
 of God's causation of things, or the nature of his causa- 
 tive influence, it only shows their high excellency, and 
 gives us the more ground (since this is that into which 
 both his own revelation and the reason of things most 
 naturally lead us to resolve all) to admire the mighty 
 efficacy of his all-creating and all-sustaining will and 
 word ; that in that easy unexpensive way, by his mere fiat, 
 so great tViings should be performed. 
 
 VII. We only say further, that this necessary Being is 
 such to which nothing can be added ; so as that it should 
 be really greater, or better, or more perfect, than it was 
 before. And this not only .signifies, that nothing can be 
 joined to it, so as to become a part of it, (which necessary 
 being, by its natural immutability, manifestly refuses,) but 
 we also intend by it, that all things else, with it, contain 
 not more of real perfection than it doth alone. Which, 
 though it carries a difficulty with it that we intend not 
 wholly to overlook when it shall be seasonable to consider 
 it, is a most apparent and demonstrable truth. For it is 
 plain that all being and perfection which is not necessary, 
 proceeds from that which is, as the cause of it ; and that 
 no cause could communicate any thing to another Avhich 
 it had not, some way, in it.self Wherefore it is manifestly 
 consequent that all other being was wholly before com- 
 prehended in that which is necessary, as having been 
 wholly produced by it. And what is wholly comprehended 
 of another, i. e. within its productive power, before it be 
 produced, can be no real addition to it, when it is. 
 
 Now what can be supposed to import fulness of being 
 and perfection, more than this impossibility of addition, 
 or that there can be nothing greater or more perfect"? 
 
 And now these considerations are mentioned, without 
 solicitude whether tliey be so many exactly distinct heads. 
 For admit that they be not all distinct, but some are in- 
 volved with others of them, yet the same truth may more 
 powerfully strike some understandings in one form of re- 
 presentation, others in another. And it suffices, that 
 (though not severally) they do together plainly evidence 
 that the necessary being includes the absolute, entire ful- 
 ness, of all being and perfection actual and possible within 
 itself 
 
 Having therefore thus despatched that former part of this 
 undertaking, the eviction of an every-way perfect being, 
 we shall now need to labour little in the other, viz. 
 
 VIII. Secondly, The more express deduction of the in- 
 finifeness and onliness thereof. 
 
 For as to the former of these, it is in effect the same 
 thing that hath been already proved ; since to the fullest 
 notion of infiniteness, absolute perfection seems every way 
 most fully to correspond. For absolute perfection includes 
 all conceivable perfection, leaves nothing excluded. And 
 what doth most simple infiniteness import, but to have 
 nothing for a boundary, or, which is the same, not to be 
 bounded at all 1 
 
 We intend not now, principally, infiniteness extrinsi- 
 cally considered, with respect to time and place, as to be 
 eternal and immense do import ; but inlrinsically, as im- 
 porting bottomless profundity of essence, and the full con- 
 fluence of all kinds and degrees of perfection, without 
 
 bound or limit. This is the same with absolute perfec- 
 tion : which yet, if any should suspect not to be so, they 
 might, however, easily and expressly prove it of the neces- 
 sary being, upon the same grounds that have been already 
 allegedfbrproof of that: — as that the necessary being hath 
 actuality answerable to the utmost possibility of the crea- 
 ture; that it is the only root and cause of all other being, 
 the actual cause of whatsoever is actually •, the possible 
 cause of whatsoever is possible to be: which is most ap- 
 parently true, and hath been evidenced to be so, by what 
 hath been said, so lately, as that it needs not be repeated. 
 That is, in short, that nothing that is not necessarily, and 
 of itself, could ever have been or can be, but as it hath 
 been or shall be put into being by that which is necessa- 
 rily, and of itself So that this is as apparent as that any 
 thing is, or can be. 
 
 But now let sober reason judge, whether there can be 
 any bounds or limits set to the possibility of producible 
 being; either in respect of kinds, numbers, or degrees of 
 perfection 1 Who can say or think, when there can be so 
 many sorts oi" creatures produced, (or at least individuals 
 of those sorts,) that there can be no morel Or that any 
 creature is so perfect as that none can be made more per- 
 fect 1 Which indeed, to suppose, were to suppose an actual 
 infiniteness in the creature. And then it being, however, 
 still but somewhat that is created or made, how can ilp; 
 maker but be infinite'? For surely nobody will be so ab- 
 surd as to imagine an infinite effect of a finite cause. 
 
 Either therefore the creature is, or some time may be 
 actually made, so perfect that it cannot be more perfect, or 
 not. If not, we have our purpose ; that there is an infinite 
 possibility on the part of the creature, always unreplete; 
 and consequently, a proportionable infinite actuality of 
 power on the Creator's part. Infinite power, I say; other- 
 wise there were not that acknowledged infinite possibility 
 of producible being. For nothing is producible that no 
 power can produce, be the intrinsic possibility of it (or its 
 not-implying in itself a contradiction that it should exist) 
 what it will. And I say, infinite actual power, because 
 the Creator, being what he is necessarily, what power he 
 hath not actually, he can never have, as was argued before. 
 But if it be said, the creature either is, or may some time 
 be, actually so perfect as that it cannot be more perfect; 
 that, as was said, will suppose it then actually infinite ; 
 and therefore much more that its cause is so. And there- 
 fore in this way our present purpose woirld be gained also. 
 But we have no mind to gain it this latter way, as we have 
 no need. It is in itself plain, to any one that considers, 
 that this possibility on the creature's part can never actu- 
 ally be filled up; that it is a bottomless abyss, in which 
 our thoughts may still gradually go down deeper and 
 deeper, without end: that is, that still more might be pro- 
 duced, or more perfect creatures, and still more, everlast- 
 ingly, without any bound; which sufficiently infers what 
 we aim at, that the Creator's actual power is proportion- 
 able. And indeed the supposition of the former can neither 
 consist with the Creator's perfection, nor with the imper- 
 fection of the creature; it would infer that the Creator's 
 productive power might be exhausted ; that he could do 
 no more, and so place an actual boundary to him, and 
 make him finite. It were to make the creature actually 
 full of being, that it could receive no more, and so would 
 make that infinite. But it may be said, siirce all power is 
 in order to act, and the very notion of possibility imports 
 that such a thing, of which it is said, may, some time, be 
 actual ; it seems very unreasonable to say, that the infinite 
 power of a cause cannot produce an infinite effect; or that 
 infinite possibility can never become infinite actuality. For 
 that were to say and imsay the same thing, of the same; 
 to affirm omnipotency and impotency of the same cause ; 
 possibility and impossibility of the same effect. 
 
 How urgent soever this difficulty may seem, there needs 
 nothing but patience and attentive consideration to disen- 
 tangle ourselves and get through it. For if we will but 
 allow ourselves the leisure to consider, we shall find that 
 power and possibility must here be taken not simply and 
 abstractedly, but as each of them is in conjunction with 
 infinite. And what is infinite, but that which can never 
 be travelled through, or whereof no end can he ever arrived 
 unto? Now suppo.se infinite power had produced all that
 
 ClIAP. IV. 
 
 THE LIVING TEMPLE. 
 
 J5 
 
 it could produce, it were no longer infinite, there were an 
 and of it : i. e. it had found limits and a boundary beyond 
 which it could not go. If infinite possibility were filled 
 up, there were an end of that also ; and so neither were 
 infinite. 
 
 It may then be further urged, that there is therefore no 
 such thing as infinite power or possibility. For how is 
 that cause said to have infinite power, which can never 
 pioduce its proportionable etlect, orthat eflfect have infinite 
 possibility, which can never be produced 1 It would follow 
 then, that power and possibility, which are said to be in- 
 finite, are neither power nor possibility ; and that infinite 
 must be rejected as a notion either repugnant to itself, or 
 to any thing unto which we shall go about to affix it. 
 
 I answer. It only follows, they are neither power nor 
 possibility, whereof there is any bound or end; or that 
 can ever be gone through. And how absurd is it that they 
 shall be said, as they cannot but be, to be both very vast, 
 if they were finite ; and none at all, for no other reason 
 but their being infinite ! And for the pretended repugnancy 
 of the very notion of infinite, it is plain, that though it can- 
 not be to us distinctly comprehensible, yet it is no more 
 repugnant than the notion of finiteness. Nor when we 
 have conceived of power, in the general, and in our own 
 thoughts set boimds to it, and made it finite, is it a greater 
 difficulty (nay, they that try will find it much easier) 
 again to think away these bounds, and make it infinite 1 
 And let them that judge the notion of infiniteness incon- 
 sistent, therefore reject it if they can. They will feel it 
 reimposing itself upon them, whether they will or no, and 
 It' sticking as close to their minds as their very thinking power 
 itself And who was therefore ever heard of, that did not 
 acknowledge some or other infinite 1 Even the Epicure- 
 ans themselves, though they confined their gods, they did 
 not the universe. Which, also, though some Peripatetic 
 atheists made finite in respect of place, yet in duration 
 they made it infinite. Though the notion of an eternal 
 world is encumbered with such absurdities and impossi- 
 bilities, as whereof there is not the least shadow, in that, 
 of an every way infinite Deit}^ 
 
 Briefly, it consists not with the nature of a contingent 
 being, to be infinite. For what is upon such terms, only, 
 in being, is reducible to nothing, at the will and pleasure 
 of its maker; but it is a manifest repugnancy, that what 
 is at the utmost distance from nothing (as infinite fulness 
 of being cannot but be) should be reducible thither. 
 Therefore actual infinity cannot but be the peculiar privi- 
 lege of that which is necessarily. 
 
 Yet may we not say, that it is not within the compass 
 of infinite power to make a creature that may be infinite. 
 For it argues not want of power that this is never to be 
 done, but a still infinitely abounding surplusage of it, that 
 can never be drained or drawn diy. Nor, that the thing 
 it.self is simply impossible. It may be, as is compendiously 
 expressed by that most succinct and polite writer. Dr. 
 Boyle, i in fieri, not in facto esse. That is, it might be a 
 thing always in, doing, but never done. Because it belongs 
 to the infinite perfection of God, that his power be never 
 actually exhausted ; and to the infinite imperfection of the 
 creature, that its possibility or capacity be never filled up: 
 to the necessary self-subsisting being, to be always full 
 and communicative; to the communicated contingent be- 
 ing, to be ever emptj^ and craving. One maj' be said to 
 have that, some way, in his power, not only which he can 
 do presently, all at once, but which he can do by degrees, 
 and supposing he have sufficient time. So a man may be 
 reckoned able to do that, as the uttermost, adequate etlect 
 of his whole power, which it is only possible to him to 
 have effected, with the expiration of his life's-time. God's 
 measure is eternit)^ What if we say then, this is a work 
 possible to be accomplished, even as the ultimate, propor- 
 tionable issue of divine power, (if it were his will, upon 
 which all contingent being depends,) that the creature 
 should be ever growing in the mean while, and be abso- 
 lutely perfect at the expiration of eternity'? If then you 
 be good at suppositions, suppose that expired, and this 
 work finished, both together. Wherefore if you ask. Why 
 can the work of making created being infinite, never be 
 
 done 1 The answer will be, Because eternity (in every 
 imaginable instant whereof, the inexhaustible power of 
 God can, if he will, be still adding either more creatures, 
 or more perfection to a creature) can never be at an end. 
 
 We might further argue the infinity of the necessaiy 
 being, from what hath been said of its undiminiskaileness, 
 by all its vast communications. Its impossibilityk to re- 
 ceive any accession to itself, by any its so great productions, 
 both which are plainly demonstrable, as we have seen, of 
 the necessary being, even as it is such, and do clearly, as 
 any thing can, bespeak infinity. But we have thence ar- 
 gued its absolute perl'ection, which so evidently includes 
 the same thing;, that all this latter labour might have been 
 spared; were it not that it is the genius of some persons 
 not to be content that they have the substance of a thing 
 said, unless it be also said in tlieir o^Ti terms. And that 
 the express asserting of God's simple infiniteness, in those 
 very terms, is, in that respect, the more requisite, as it is 
 a form of expression more known and usual. 
 
 IX. There are yet some remaining difficulties in the 
 matter we have been discoursing of; which partly through 
 the debility of our own minds we cannot but find, and 
 which partly the subtilty of sophistical wits doth create to 
 us. It will be requisite we have some consideration of at 
 least some of them, which we will labour to despatch with 
 all possible brevity ; leaving those that delight in the .sport 
 of tying and loosing knots, or of weaving snares wherein 
 cunningly to entangle themselves, to be entertained by the 
 school-men; among whom they may find enough, upon 
 this subject, to give them exercise unto weariness ; and, if 
 their minds have any relish of what is more savorj', I may 
 venture to say, unto loathing. 
 
 It may possibly be here said, in short, But what have 
 we all this while been doing? We have been labouring 
 to prove that necessary being comprehends the absolute 
 fulness of all being : and what doth this signify, but that 
 all being is necessary 1 That God is all things, and so 
 that every thing is God ; that we hereby confoimd the be- 
 ing of a man, yea, of a stone, or whatever we can think 
 of, with one another, and all with the being of God. 
 
 And again, how is it possible there should be an infinite 
 self-subsisting being? For then how can there be any 
 finite, since such infinite being includes all being, and 
 there can be nothing beyond all 1 
 
 Here therefore it is requisite, having hitherto only as- 
 serted, and endeavoured to evince that, some way, neces- 
 sary being doth include all being, to show in what way. 
 And it is plain it doth not include all, in the same way. 
 It doth not so include that which is created by it, arid 
 depends on it, as it doth its own, which is uncreated and 
 independent. 
 
 The one it includes as its own, or rather as itself; tn* 
 other, as what it is, and ever was, within its power to pro- 
 duce. If any better like the terms fo)malhj and virtually, 
 they nviy serve themselves of them at their own pleasure, 
 which yet, as to many, will but more darkly speak the 
 same sense. 
 
 AVe must here know, the productive power of God ter- 
 minates not upon himself as if he were, by it, capable of 
 adding any thing to his own appropriate being, which is 
 (as hath been evinced already) infinitely full, and incapa- 
 ble of addition, and is therefore all pure act ; but on the 
 creature, where there is still a perpetual possibility, never 
 filled up ; because divine power can never be exhausted. 
 And thus all that of being is virtually in him, which, either 
 having produced, he doth totally sustain, or not being pro- 
 duced, he can produce. 
 
 Whereupon it is easy to understand, how necessary 
 being may comprehend all being, and yet all being not be 
 necessary. It comprehends all being, besides what itself 
 is, as having had, within the compass of its productive 
 p<^)\ver, whatsoever hath actually sprung from it, and having 
 within tlie conipa,ss of the same power, whatsoever is still 
 possible to be produced. Which no more confounds such 
 produced or producible being with that necessary being 
 which is its cause, than it confounds all the effects of hu- 
 man poM-er with one another, and with the being of a man, 
 to say, that he virtually comprehended them (so far as they 
 
 I Now Bishop of Clogtier, in liis Contemplat Metaphva. tiolhing added to it ; vet it is without dispute, that whatsoever is so full as that 
 
 K For ha\vsoevcr Qi.<putablo it may be, wheinar wliataoevcr is uifiiiite can have iiotlung can be uildcd to it, is iufmile.
 
 36 
 
 THE LIVING TEMPLE. 
 
 Part I, 
 
 were producible by him) wilhin his power. And it is no 
 wiser an inference from the former, than it would be from 
 this latter, that a house, a book, and a child, are the same 
 thing with one another, and with the person that produced 
 them ; because, so far as they were produced by him, he 
 had it in his power to produce them. And that the effects 
 of divine power are produced thereby ti'tally , whereas tho.se 
 of human power are produced by it but in part only, doth, 
 as to the strength and reasonableness of the argument, 
 nothing alter tlie case. 
 
 And as to the next, That infinite being should seem to 
 exclude all finite ; I confess that such as are so disposed, 
 might here even wrangle continually, as they might do 
 about any thing in which infiniteness is concerned ; and 
 yet therein show themselves (as Seneca I remember speaks 
 in another case) not a wit the more learned, but the more 
 troublesome. But if one would make short work of it, and 
 barelv deny that infinite being excludes finite, (as Scotus 
 doth little else ;i besides denying the consequence of the 
 argument, by which it was before enforced, viz. [that an 
 infinite body would exclude a finite ; for where should the 
 finite be, when the infinite should fill up all space 1 And 
 therefore by parity of reason, why should not infinite being 
 exclude finite ?] showing the disparity of the two cases,) it 
 would perhaps give them some trouble also to prove it. 
 For which way would they go to work "? Infinite self-sub- 
 sisting being includes all being, very true ; and therefore, 
 we say, it includes finite. And what then ? Doth it, be- 
 cause it includes it, therefore exclude it 7 And let the 
 matter be soberly considered ; somewhat of finite being 
 and power, we say, (and apprehend no knot or difficulty 
 in the matter,) can extend so far as to produce some pro- 
 portionable effect, or can do such and such things. And 
 what, doth it seem likely then, that infinite being and 
 power can therefore do just nothing 1 Is it not a reason 
 of mighty force, and confoundingly demonstrative, that an 
 agent can do nothing, or cannot" possibly produce any the 
 least thing, only because he is of infinite power 1 
 
 For if there be a simple inconsistency between an infinite 
 being and a finite, that will be the case ; that, because the 
 former is infinite, therefore it can produce nothing. For 
 what it should produce cannot consist with it, i. e. even 
 not being finite ; and then certainly if we could suppose 
 the effect infinite, much less. But what, therefore, is power 
 the less for being infinite 1 or can infinite power, even be- 
 cause it is infinite, do nothing "? What can be said or 
 thought more absurd, or void of sense? Or shall it be 
 said that the infiniteness of power is no hinderance, but the 
 infiniteness of being 1 But how wild an imagination were 
 that of a finite being, that were of infinite power ! And 
 besides, is that power somewhat, or nothing 1 Surely it 
 will not be said it is nothing. Then it is some being ; 
 and if some power be some being, what then is infinite 
 power"? is not that infinite being 1 ' And now, therefore, if 
 this infinite can produce ajiy thing, which it were a strange 
 madness to deny, it can at least produce some finite thing. 
 Wherefore there is no inconsistency between the infinite 
 and finite beings, unless we say the' effect produced, even 
 by being produced, must destroy, or even infinitely impair, 
 its cause, so as to make it cease at least to be infinite. 
 But that also cannot possibly be said of that which is infi- 
 nite and necessary ; which, as hath been showoi, cannot, 
 by whatsoever productions, suffer any diminution or decay. 
 If here it be further urged, But here is an infinite being 
 now supposed ; let, next, be supposed the prodtiction of a 
 finite : this is not the same with the other ; for surely in- 
 finite, and finite, are distins^uishable enough, and do even 
 infinitely differ. The finite is either something or nothing : 
 nothing it cannot be said; for it was supposed a being, 
 and produced; but the production of nothing is no pro- 
 duction. It is somewhat then; here is therefore an infi- 
 nite being, and a finite now besides. The infinite, it was 
 said, cannot be dimmished ; the finite, a real something, is 
 added. Is there therefore nothing more of existent being 
 than there was before this production ? It is answered, 
 Nothing more than virtually was before ; for when we 
 suppose an infinite being, and afterwards a finite; this 
 
 1 nistinct. 2 Q 2. Q. 1. 
 
 ni And we imHt oiipi)o«e Jiommvliat aijrppalilo t ) ftii^. to he Plo'inis's mpan- 
 ing, when i<e denies kiiowledgc to be in God, and jet also denies tliat there Ls 
 
 finite is not to be looked upon as emerging or springing up 
 of itself out of nothing, or as proceeding from some third 
 thing as its cause, but as produced by that infinite, or 
 springing out of that, which it could not do, but as being 
 before virtually contained in it. For the infinite produces 
 nothing, which it could not produce. And what it could 
 produce, was before contained in it, as in the power of its 
 cause. And to any one that attends, and is not disposed 
 to be quarrelsome, this is as plain and easy to be under- 
 stood, as how anj' finite thing may produce another, or 
 rather, more plain and easy, because a finite agent doth 
 not entirely contain its efl'ect within itself, or in its own 
 power, as an infinite doth. If yet it be again said, that 
 which is limited is not infinite, but suppose any finite thing 
 produced into being after a pre-existent infinite, this infi- 
 nite becomes now limited ; lor the being of the finite is not 
 that of the infinite, each hath its own distinct being. And 
 it cannot be said of the one, it is the other; therefore each 
 is limited to itself I answer ; that -vhich was infinite be- 
 comes not hereby less than it was , for it hath produced 
 nothing but what was before virtually contained in it, and 
 still is, for it still totally sustains the other. — But whatso- 
 ever it actually doth, it can do, or hath within its power: 
 therefore if it were infinite before, and is not now become 
 less, it is still infinite. 
 
 Wherefore the true reason why the position of a finite 
 thing after a supposed all-comprehending infinite, doth no 
 way intrench upon or detract from the other's all-compre- 
 hensive infinity, is, that it was formerly contained, and still 
 is, within the virtue and power of the other. 
 
 It is true, that if we should suppose any thing besides 
 that supposed infinite to be of itself, that would infer a 
 limitation of the former. Infer I say, not cause it ; that is, 
 it would not make it cease to be all-comprehendingly infi- 
 nite, but it would argue it not to have been so before ; and 
 that the supposition of its infinity was a false supposition, 
 because it would then appear that the former did not com- 
 prehend all being any way in itself. Somewhat being 
 now found to be in being, which hath no dependence 
 thereon ; whence it would be evident neither can be so. 
 Of which, some good use may be made to a further pur- 
 pose by and by. 
 
 Here only we may by the way annex, as a ju.st corolla- 
 ry, from the foregoing discourse, that as the supposition of 
 necessary self-subsisting matter was before shown to be a 
 rai7i, it now also appears plainl)^ to be altogether an impos- 
 sible, supposition. For since the necessary self-subsisting 
 being is infinite and all-comprehensive ; and if matter 
 were supposed necessary, we must have another necessary 
 being to form the world, inasmuch as matter is not self- 
 active, much less intelligent, as it hath both been proved it 
 cannot be, and that the Former of this world must be. It 
 is therefore out of question, that because both cannot be 
 all-comprehensive, they cannot both be necessary. Nor 
 can the vastly different kinds or natures of these things 
 salve the business; for be they of what kinds they will, 
 they are still beings. Besides, if matter were necessary 
 and self-subsisting, every particle of it must be so. And 
 then we shall have not only two, but an infinite number of 
 such infinities, and all of the same kind. But being, only 
 of this or that sort, (as is apparent where more sorts do 
 exist than one,) could not he simply infinite, except as the 
 other depends thereon ; and as this one is radically com- 
 prehensive of all the rest, that can come under the general 
 and most common notion of being. For that there is some 
 general notion wherein all being agrees, and by which it 
 differs from no being, is, I think, little to be doubted ; how 
 unequally soever, and dependently the one upon the other, 
 the distinct sorts do partake therein. Whereupon the ex- 
 pression, super-essential, and others like it, spoken of God, 
 must be imderstood as rhetorical strains, importing more 
 reverence than rigid truth. Except by essence, as was for- 
 merly said, only that which is created be meant. And that 
 only a purer and more noble kind of essence were intended 
 to be asserted to him,™ which yet seems also unwarrantable 
 and injurious, that a word of that import should be so 
 misapplied and transferred from the substance, to signify 
 
 ill him any ienorance ; that is, that he means his intelligence is of an infinitely 
 disiinct &nA more excellent sort from that which he causes in wa. as appears by 
 liis aniie.\eJ reason, ro Jt -ai'T<jiv aiTiov, ovitvtTi-vtm.ii'Oiv, Enn.6.1. 9.c.6.
 
 Ciup. V. 
 
 THE LIVING TEMPLE. 
 
 37 
 
 nothing but the shadow, rather, of being. And that they 
 who would seem zealously concerned to appropriate all 
 being unto God, should, in the height of their transport, 
 so far forget themselves as to set him above all being, and 
 so deny him any at all. For surely that which simply is 
 above all being is no being. 
 
 X. And as to the imity, or onliness rather, of this being, 
 or of the God-head, the deduction thereof seems plain and 
 easy from what hath been already prov^ed ; that is, from 
 the absolute perfection thereof For though some do toil 
 themselves much about this matter, and others plainly 
 conclude that it is not to he proved at all in a rational way, 
 but only by divine revelation ; yet I conceive, they that 
 follow the method (having proved some necessary self-sub- 
 sisting being the root and original spring of all being and 
 perfection, actual and possible, which is as plain as any 
 thing can be) of deducing from thence the absolute, all- 
 comprehending perfection of such necessary being, will 
 find theirwork as good as done. For nothing seems more 
 evident, than that there cannot be two (much less more) 
 such beings, inasmuch as one comprehends in itself all being 
 and perfection; for there can be but one all, without which 
 is nothing. So that, one such being supposed, another can 
 have nothing remaining to it. Yea, so far is it therefore, 
 if we suppose one infinite and absolutely perfect being, 
 that there can be another, independent thereon, (and of a 
 depending infinity, we need not say more than we have, 
 which if any such could be, cannot possibly be a distinct 
 God,) that there cannot be the minutest finite thing ima- 
 ginable, which that supposed infinity doth not comprehend, 
 or that can stand apart from it, on any distinct basis of its 
 own. And that this matter may be left as plain as we can 
 make it; supposing it already most evident. That there is, 
 actually existing, an absolute, entire fulness of wisdom, 
 power, and so of all other perfection — That such absolute 
 entire fulness of perfection is infmite — That this infinite 
 perfection must have its primary seat somewhere — That 
 its primary, original seat can be nowhere, but in necessary 
 self-subsisting being. We hereupon add, that if we sup- 
 pose multitude, or any plurality of necessary self-originate 
 beings, concurring to make up the seat or subject of this' 
 infinite perfection ; each one must either be of finite and 
 partial perfection, or infinite and absolute. Infinite and 
 absolute it cannot be, because one self-originate, infinitely 
 and absolutely perfect being, will necessarily comprehend 
 all perfection, and leave nothing to the rest. Nor finite, 
 because many finites can never make one infinite ; much 
 less can many broken parcels or fragments of perfection 
 ever make infinite and absolute perfection ; even though 
 their number, if that were possible, were infinite. For the 
 perfection of unity would still be wanting, and their com- 
 munication and concurrence to any work (even such as 
 we see is done) be infinitely imperfect and impossible. 
 
 We might, more at large, and with a much more pomp- 
 ous number and apparatus of arguments, have shown that 
 there can be no more gods than one. But to such as had 
 rather be informed, than bewildered and lost, clear proof that 
 is shorter, and more comprehensive, will be more grateful. 
 
 Nor doth this proof of the unity of the God-head any 
 way impugn the trinity, which is by Christians believed, 
 therein, (and whereof some heathens, as is known, have 
 not been wholly without some apprehension, however they 
 came by it,) or exclude a sufficient, uncreated groimd of 
 trinal distinction. As would be seen, if that great differ- 
 ence of beings, necessary and contingent, be well stated, 
 and what is by eternal, necessary emanation of the divine 
 r^ature, be duly distinguished from the arbitrary products 
 of the divine will ; and the matter be thoroughly examined, 
 whether herein be not a sufficient distinction of that which 
 is increated, and that which is created. In this way it is 
 possible it might be cleared, how a trinity in the God- 
 head may be very consistently with the unity thereof. But 
 that it is, we cannot know, but b)^ his telling us so. It 
 being among the many things of God, which are not to be 
 known, but by the Spirit of God revealing and testifying 
 them, in and according' to the Holy Scriptures : as the 
 things of a man are not kno-«Ti but by the spirit of a man. 
 And what further evidence we may justly and reasonably 
 take from those Scriptures, even in reference to some of 
 the things hitherto discoursed, mav be hereafter shown. 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 Demands in reference to wtiat hatli been hitherto discoursed, with some rea- 
 sonings thereupon: l, is it possible that, ujton 6upi)osition of /A« beings 
 custence, it may lie, in any way suitable to our present state, made kjiowu 
 to us that it doth e.xist? Proved, 1. That it may. «. That, since any other 
 fit way that can Ik; thouglit on is as much liable to exception as that we liave 
 already, ttiis must l)e, therefore, sufficient. Stroni? impressions. Glorious 
 api)aritions. Terrible voices. 6uriiri>ir]p translumialion. If these are ne- 
 cessar)', is it needfid they be universal? frequent? If not, more rare thinga 
 of tliis sort not wanting, 'i. Demand. Can subject.^, remote from their prince, 
 sufficiently be assiucd of liis e.xistfcnce? 3. Demand. Can we be sure there 
 are men on earth 3 
 
 I. And if any should in the meantime still remain either 
 doubtful, or apt to cavil, after all that hath been said for 
 proof of that bcirig's existence which we have described, 
 I would only add these few things, by way of inquir}- or 
 demand: viz. 
 
 First, Do they believe, upon supposition of the exist- 
 ence of such a Being, that it is possible it may be made 
 knowTi to us, in our present state and circumstances, by 
 means not unsuitable thereto, or inconvenient to the order 
 and government of the world, that it doth exist"? It were 
 strange to say or suppose, that a Being of so high perfec- 
 tion as this we have hitherto given an accoimt of, if he is, 
 cannot in any fit way make it known that he is, to an in- 
 telligent and apprehensive sort of creatures. 
 
 If indeed he is, and be the common Cause, Author, 
 and Lord of us and all things, (which we do now but sup- 
 pose: and we may defy cavil to allege any thing that is 
 so much as colourable against the possibility of the sup- 
 position,) surely he hath done greater things than the mak- 
 ing of it known that he is. It is no unapprehensible thing. 
 There hath been no inconsistent notion hitherto given of 
 him; nothing said concerning him, but will well admit 
 that it is possible such a Being may be now existent. 
 Yea, we not only can conceive, but we actually have, and 
 cannot but have, some conception of the several attributes 
 we have ascribed to him: so as to apply them, severally, 
 to somewhat else, if we will not apply them, jointly, to 
 him. We cannot but admit there is some eternal, neces- 
 sary being; somewhat that is of it.self active; somewhat 
 that is powerful, wise, and good. And these notions have 
 in them no repugnancy to one another; wherefore it is not 
 impossible they may meet, and agree together, in full per- 
 fection to one and the same existent beinsf. And hence it 
 is manifestly no unapprehensible thing, that such a Being 
 doth exist. Now supposing that it doth exist, and hath 
 been to us the Cau.se and Author of our being; hath given 
 us the reasonable, intelligent nature which we find our- 
 selves possessors of; and that very power whereby we 
 apprehend the existence of such a Being as he is to be pos- 
 sible, (all which we for the present do still but suppose,) 
 while also his actual existence is not unapprehensible; 
 were it not the greatest madness imaginable to say, that 
 if he do exist, he cannot also make our apprehensive nature 
 understand this apprehensible thing that he doth exist 1 
 We will therefore take it for granted, and as a thing which 
 no man well in his wits will deny, that upon supposition 
 such a Being, the Cause and Author of all things, do 
 exist, he might, in some convenient way or other, with 
 sufficient evidence, make it known to such creatures as we, 
 so as to beget in us a rational certainty that he doth exist. 
 
 Upon which presumed ground we will only reason thus, 
 or assume to it ; That there is no possible and fit way of 
 doing it which is not liable to as much exception as the 
 evidence we already have. Whence it will be consequent, 
 that if the thing be possible to be fitly done, it is done 
 already. That is, that if we can apprehend how it may he 
 possible such a iBeing, actually existent, might give us 
 that evidence of his existence that should be suitable to 
 our present state, and suflicient to oiU-weigh all objections 
 to the contrary; (without which it were not rationally suf- 
 ficient;) and that we can apprehend no possible way of 
 doing this, which will not be liable to the same, or equal 
 objections, as mav be made against the present means we 
 have for the begetting of this certainty in us, then we 
 have already sufficient evidence of this Being's existence. 
 That is, such as ought to prevail against all objections, 
 and obtain our assent that it doth exist. 
 
 Here it is only needful to be considered what ways can 
 
 
 2085':
 
 38 
 
 THE LIVING TEMPLE. 
 
 Part 1. 
 
 be thoTiglit of, which we will say might assure us in this 
 matter, that we already have not. And what might be 
 objected agamst them, equally, as against the means we 
 now have. 
 
 II. Will we say such a Being, if he did actually exist, 
 might ascertain us of his existence, by some fowerful iin- 
 pression of that truth upon our minds? We will not insist 
 what there is of this already. Let them consider,who gainsay 
 what they can find of it in their own minds; and whether 
 they are not engaged by their atheistical inclinations in a 
 contention against themselves, and their more natural sen- 
 timents, from which they find it a matter of no .small dif- 
 ficulty to be delivered"? It was not for nothing, that even 
 Epicurus himself calls this of an existing deity, a prolep- 
 fical notion. But you may say, the impression might have 
 been simply rmiversal, and so irresistible as to prevent or 
 overbear all doubt, or inclination to doubt. 
 
 And, first, for the universality of it, why may we not 
 suppose it already sufficiently universal 7 as hath been 
 heretofore alleged. With what confidence can the few 
 dissenting atheists, that have professed to be of another 
 persuasion, put that value upon themselves, as to reckon 
 their dissent considerable enough to implead the univer- 
 sality of this impression 1 Or what doth it signify more to 
 that purpose, than some few instances may do, of persons 
 so stupidly foolish, as to give much less discovery of any 
 rational faculty than some beasts, to the impugning the 
 universal rationality of mankind 1 
 
 Besides that, your contrary profession is no sufficient 
 argument of your contrary persuasion, much less, that you 
 never had any stamp or impression of a Deity upon your 
 minds, or that you have quite rased it out. It is much to 
 be suspected thai you hold not your contrary persuasion 
 with that unshaken confidence, and freedom from all fear- 
 ful and suspicious misgivings, as that you have much more 
 reason to brag of your disbelief for the strength, than you 
 have for the goodness, of it. And that you have those 
 qualmish fits, which bewray the impression, (at least to 
 your own notice and reflection, if you would but allow 
 yourselves the liberty of so much converse with your- 
 selves,) that you will not confess, and yet cannot utterly 
 deface. But if in this you had quite won the day, and 
 were masters of your design, were it not prettv to suppose 
 that the common consent of mankind would be a good 
 argument of the existence of a Deity, except only that it 
 wants your concurrence! If it were". so universal as to in- 
 clude your vote and suffrage, it would then be a firm and 
 solid argument; (as no doubt it is, without you, a stronger 
 one than you can answer;) but when you have made a 
 hard shift to withdraw your assent, you have undone the 
 Deity, and religion ! Doth this cause stand and fall with 
 you, unto which you can contribute about as much as 
 the fly to the triumph"? Was that true before, which now 
 j^our hard-laboured dissent hath made false"? But if this 
 impression were simply universal, so as also to include 
 you, it matters not wha't men would say or object against 
 it; (it is to be supposed thev would be in no disposition 
 to object any thing;) but what were to be said, or what 
 the case itself, objectively considered, would admit. And 
 though it would not (as now it doth not) admit of any 
 thing to be said to any purpose, yet the same thing were 
 still to be said, that you now say. And if we shoiild but 
 again unsuppose so much of the former supposition, as to 
 imagine that some few should ha ve made their escape, and 
 disburthened themselves of all apprehensions of God, 
 would they not, with the same impudence as you now do, 
 say that all religion were nothing else but ehthusiastical 
 fanaticism; and that all mankind, besides themselves, 
 were enslaved fools 1 
 
 And for the mere irresistibleness of this impression ; it 
 is true, it would take away all disposition to oppose, but 
 it may be presumed this is none of the rational evidence 
 which we suppose you to mean ; when you admit (if you 
 do admit) that, some way or other, the existence of such 
 a being might be possibly made so evident, as to induce a 
 rational certainty thereof For to believe such a thing to 
 be true only upon a strong impulse, (how certain soever 
 the thing be,) is not to assent to it upon a foregoing reason. 
 Nor can any, in that case, tell why thev believe it, hxitthat 
 they believe it. You will not sure think any thing the 
 
 truer for this, only, that such and such believe it with a 
 sturdy confidence. It is true, that the universality and 
 naturalness of such a persuasion, as pointing us to a com- 
 mon cause thereof, affords the matter of an argument, or 
 is a medium not contemptible nor capable of answer, as 
 hath been said before. But to be irresistibly captivated 
 into an assent, is no medium at all; but an immediate 
 per.suasion of the thing itself, without a reason. 
 
 III. Therefore must it yet be demanded of atheistical 
 persons, what means, that you yet have not, would you 
 think sufficient to put this matter out of doubt 1 Will you 
 say, some kind of very glorious apparitions, becoming the 
 majesty of such a one as this Being is represented, would 
 have satisfied"? But if you know how to fancy, that such 
 a thing as the sun, and other luminaries, might have been 
 compacted of a certain peculiar sort of atoms, coming to- 
 gether of their own accord, without the direction of a wise 
 agent; yea, and consist so long, and hold so strangely 
 regular motions; how easy would it be to object that, with 
 much advantage, again'Jst what any temporary apparition, 
 be it as glorious as you can imagine, might seem to signify 
 to this purpose I 
 
 Would dread/id loud voices proclaiming him to be, of 
 whose existence /ou doubt, have served the turnl It is 
 likely, if your lear would have permitted you to use your 
 wit, you would have had some subtle invention how, by 
 some odd rencounter of angry atoms, the air or clouds 
 might become thus terribly vocal. And when you know 
 already, that they do sometimes salute your cars with very 
 loud sounds, (as when it thunders,) there is little doubt 
 but your great wit can devise a way how possibly such 
 sounds might become articulate. And for the sense and 
 coherent import of what were spoken ; you that are so 
 good at conjecturing how things might casually happen, 
 would not be long in making a guess that might serve that 
 turn also ; except you were grown very dull and barren, 
 and that fancy that served you to imagine how the whole 
 frame of the universe, and the rare structure of the bodies 
 of animals, yea, and even the reasonable soul itself, might 
 be all casual productions, cannot now devise how, by 
 chance, a few words (for you do not say you expect long 
 orations) might fall out to be sense though there were no 
 intelligent speaker. 
 
 But would strange and wonderful effects that might sur- 
 prise and amaze you do the business "? We may challenge 
 you to try your faculty, and stretch it to the uttermost ; 
 and then tell us what imagination you have formed of any 
 thing more strange and wonderful, than the already extant 
 frame of nature, in the whole, and the several parts of it. 
 Will he that hath awhile considered the composition of the 
 world ; the exact and orderly motions of the stm, moon, 
 and stars; the fabric of his own body, and the powers of 
 his soul, expect yet a wonder, to prove to him there is a 
 God "? But if that be the complexion of your minds, that 
 it is not the greatness of any work, but the novelty and 
 surprisingriess of it, that will convince you, it is not ra- 
 tional evidence you seek: nor is it your reason, but your 
 idle curiosity, you would have gratified; which deserves 
 no more satisfaction than that fond wish, that one might 
 come from the dead to warn men on earth, lest they should 
 come into the place of torment. 
 
 And if such means as these that have been mentioned 
 should be thought necessary, I would ask. Are they ne- 
 cessarj'' to every individual person, so as that no man shall 
 be esteemed to have had sufficient means of conviction, 
 who hath not with his own eyes beheld some such glorious 
 apparition ; or himself heard some such terrible voice ; or 
 been the immediate witness or subject of some prodigious 
 wonderful work? Or will the once seeing, hearing, or feel- 
 ing them suflice? It is not necessary there .should be a 
 frequent repetition and renewal of these amazing things, 
 lest the impression wearing off, there be a relapse, and a 
 gradual sliding into an oblivion, and unapprehensiveness 
 of that Being's existence, whereof they had, sometime, 
 received a conviction. Now if such a continual iteration 
 of these strange things were thought necessary, would they 
 not hereby soon cease to be strange "? And then if their 
 strangeness was necessary, by that very thing, wherein 
 their sufficiency for conviction is said to consist, they 
 should become useless. Or if by their frequent variations
 
 Chap. V. 
 
 THE LIVING TEMPLE. 
 
 39 
 
 (which it is possible to suppose) a perpetual amusement 
 be still kept up in the minds of men, and they be always 
 full of consternation and wonder, doth this temper so much 
 befriend the exercise of reason, or contribute to the sober 
 consideration of things? As if men could not be rational, 
 without being half mad ! And indeed they might soon 
 become altogether so, by being but awhile beset with 
 objects so full of tenor, as are by this supposition made 
 the necessary means to convince them of a Deity. ^ And 
 were this a iit means of ruling the world, of preserving 
 order among mankind? What business could then be 
 followed? Who could attend the affairs of their callings? 
 Who could either be capable of governing, or of being 
 governed, while all men's minds should be wholly taken 
 up, either in the amazed view or the suspenseful expec- 
 tation, of nought else but strange things? To which pur- 
 pose much hath been of late, with so excellent reason, 
 discoursed by a noted author, b that it is needless here to 
 say more. And the aspect and influence of this state of 
 things would be most pernicious upon religion, that should 
 be most served thereby, and which requires the greatest 
 severity and most peaceful composure of mind to the due 
 managing the exercises of it. How little would that con- 
 tribute to pious and devout converses with God, that 
 should certainly keep men's minds in a continual com- 
 motion and hurry ! This course, as our present condition 
 is, what could it do but craze men's understandings, as a 
 too bright and dazzling light causeth blindness, or any 
 over-excelling sensible object destroys the sense ; so that 
 we should soon have cause to apply the Erpen. proverb, 
 " Shut the windows that the house may be light." And 
 might learn to put a sense, not intolerable, upon those 
 passages of some mystical writers,'^ that God is to be seen, 
 — in a divine cloud or darkiiess, as one;(i and with closed 
 eyes'" as another, speaks; though what was their very sense 
 I will not pretend to tell. 
 
 Besides that, by this means, there would naturally ensue 
 the continual excitation of so vexatious and enthralling 
 passions, so servile and tormenting fears and amazements, 
 as could not but hold the souls of men under a constant 
 and comfortless restraint from any free and ingenuous ac- 
 cess to God, or conversation with him; wherein the very 
 life of religion consists. And then, to what purpose doth 
 the discovery and acknowledgment of the Deity serve ? 
 Inasmuch as it is never to be thought that the exist- 
 ence of God is a thing to be known, only that it may be 
 known; but that the end it serves for, is religion; a com- 
 placential and cheerful adoration of him, and application 
 of ourselves with at once both dutiful and pleasant affec- 
 tions towards him. That were a strange means of coming 
 to know that he is, that should only tend to destroy or 
 hinder the very end itself of that knowledge. Wherefore 
 all this being considered, it is likely it would not be in- 
 sisted upon as necessary to our being persuaded of God's 
 existence, that he should so multiply strange and astonish- 
 ing things, as that every man might be a daily, amazed be- 
 holder and witness of them. 
 
 IV. And if their frequency and constant iteration be 
 acknowledged not necessary, but shall indeed be judged 
 wholly inconvenient, more rare discoveries of him, in the 
 very ways we have been speaking of, have not been want- 
 ing. What would we think of such an appearance of God 
 as that was upon motmt Sinai, when he came dowTi (or 
 caused a sensible glory to descend) in the sight of all that 
 great people ; wherein the several things concurred that 
 were above mentioned ? Let us but suppose such an ap- 
 pearance, in all the concurrent circumstances of it, as that 
 is said to have been. That is we will suppose an equally 
 great assembly or multitude of people is gathered together, 
 and solemn forewarning is given and proclaimed among 
 them, by appointed heralds or officers of state, that, on such 
 a prefixed day, now very nigh at hand, the divine majesty 
 and glory (even his glory set in majesty) will visibly ap- 
 pear, and show itself to them. They are most sev'erely 
 enjoined to prepare themselves, and be in readiness against 
 that day. Great care is taken to sanctify the people, and 
 
 a Now were not that q most improper course, and unsuitable to the na- 
 ture ot man, that stiould rather tend to destroy his reason or judgment, tlian 
 convince it ? 
 
 b Dr. Spencer, of Prodigies. A discourse, which, though it disproves not 
 
 the place; bounds are set about the designed theatre of 
 this great appearance : all are strictly required to observ^e 
 their due and awful distances, and abstain from more au- 
 dacious approaches and gazings ; lest that terrible glory 
 break out upon them, and they perish : an irreverent or 
 disrespectful look, they are told, will be mortal to them, 
 or a very touch of any part of this sacred enclosure. In 
 the morning of the appoinied day, there are thunders, and 
 lightnings, and a thick cloud upon the hallowed mount. 
 The exceeding loud sound of trumpet proclaims the Lord's 
 descent. He descends in fire, the flames whereof envelop 
 the trembling mount, (now floored with a sapphire pave- 
 ment, clear as the body of heaven,) and ascend into the 
 middle region, or, as it is expressed, into the midst or 
 heart of the heavens. The voice of words, (a loud and 
 dreadful voice,) audible to all that mighty assembly, in 
 which were six hundred thousand men, (probably more 
 than a million of persons,) issues forth from amidst that 
 terrible glory, pronouncing: to them that I am Jehovah thy 
 God. And thence proceeding to give them precepts so 
 plain and clear, so comprehensive and full, so unexccption- 
 ably just and righteous, so agreeable to the nature of man, 
 and subservient to his good, that nothing could be more 
 worthy the great Creator, or more aplly suitable to such a 
 sort of creatures. 
 
 It is very likely, indeed, that such a demonstration 
 would leave no spectator in doubt concerning the existence 
 of God ; and would puzzle the philosophy of the most 
 sceptical atheist to give an account, otherwise, of the phe- 
 nomenon. And if such could devise to say any thing that 
 should seem plausible to some very ea.sy half-witted per- 
 sons, that were not present, they would have a hard task 
 of it to quiet the minds of those that were ; or make them 
 believe this was nothing else but some odd conjuncture of 
 certain fiery atoms, that, by some strange accident hap- 
 pened into this occursion and conflict with one another; 
 or some illusion of fancy, by which so great a multitude 
 were all at once imposed upon ; so as that they only seem- 
 ed to them.selves to bear and see, what they heard and 
 saw not. Nor is it likely they would be very confident of 
 the truth of their own conjecture, or be apt to venture 
 much upon it themselves; having been the eye and ear- 
 witnesses of these things. 
 
 But is it nccessarj- this course shall be taken to make 
 the world know there is a God ? Such an appearance, in- 
 deed, would more powerfully strike sense; but imto sober 
 and considerate reason were it a greater thing than the 
 making such a world a.s this, and the disposing this great 
 variety of particular beings in it, into so exact and elegant 
 an order ; and the sustaining and preserving it in the same 
 state, through so many ages? Let the vast and unknown 
 extent of the whole, the admirable variety, the elegant 
 shapes, tlie regular motions, the excellent faculties and 
 powers of that inconceivable number of creatures contained 
 in it, be considered. And is there any comparison between 
 that temporary, transient, occasional, and this steady, per- 
 manent, and universal discover}^ of God ? Nor (supposing 
 the truth of the history) can it be thought the design of 
 this appearance lo these Hebrews was to convince them of 
 the existence of a Deity, to be worshipped ; when both 
 thej' had so convincing evidence thereof many ways before ; 
 and the other nations, that which they left, and tho^e 
 M'hither they went, were not without their religion and 
 worship, such as it was : but to engage them, by so ma- 
 jestic a representation thereof, to a more exact observance 
 of his will, now made known. Though, had there been 
 any doubt of the former, (as we can hardly suppose they 
 could before have more doubted of the being of a God, 
 than that there were men on earth.) this might collaterally, 
 and besides its chief intention, be a means to confirm them 
 concerning that also: but that it was necessary for that 
 end, we have no pretence to imagine. The like may be 
 said,concerningothermiraclesheretofore wrought, that the 
 intent of them was to justily the divine authority of lym 
 who wrought them, to prove him sent by God, and so 
 countenance the doctrine or message delivered by him. 
 
 the reality or tnio sifnificancy of such portents, yet aptly tends to prevent or 
 correct the ill use of them. 
 
 c D. Areop. 1. de niyster. Th«oI. c. 1. d Tif o OCtos yvotfios. 
 
 e Prod, in Plat. Theol. jtvcavras eveipvcadai T>t a) yc^roji xai Kpxxpiut tuv 
 onTiiiV cvadi. ■
 
 ^ 
 
 THE LIVING TEMPLE. 
 
 Part I. 
 
 Not that they tended (otherwise than on the by) to prove 
 God's existence : much less, was this so amazing an ap- 
 pearance needful, or intended for that end; and least of 
 all, was it necessary that this should be God's ordinary 
 way of making it known to men that he doth exist : so as 
 that for this purpose he should often repeat so terrible 
 representations of himself. And how inconvenient it were 
 to mortal men, as well as unnecessary, the astonishment 
 "wherewith it possessed that people, is an evidence ; and 
 their passionate aifrighted wish thereupon, " Let not God 
 any more speak to us, lest we die." They apprehended 
 ft impossible for them to outlive such another sight ! 
 
 And if that so amazing an appearance of the Divine 
 Majesty (sometime affurded) were not necessary, but some 
 way, on the by, useful, for the confirming that people in 
 the persuasion of God's existence, why may it not be 
 useful also, for the same purpose even now, to usl Is it 
 that we think that can be less true now, which was so 
 gloriously evident to be true four thousand years ago 1 Or 
 is it that we can disbelieve or doubt the truth of the his- 
 tory % What should be the ground or pretence of doubt 1 
 If it were a fiction, it is manifest it was feigned by some 
 person that had the iLse of his understanding, and was not 
 beside himself, as the coherence and contexture of parts 
 doth plainly show. But would any man not beside him- 
 self, designing to gain credit to a forged report of a matter 
 of fact, ever say there were six hundred thousand persons 
 present at the doing of if? Would it not rather have been 
 pretended done in a corner 1 Or is it imaginable it should 
 never have met with contradiction 1 That none of the pre- 
 tended bystanders should disclaim the avouchment of it, 
 ajid say they Imew of no such matter 1 Especially if it be 
 considered that the lav/s'said to be given at that time, 
 chiefly those which were reported to have been written in 
 the two tables, were not so favourable to vicious inclina- 
 tions, nor that people so strict and scrupulous observers 
 ot'them^but that they would have been glad to have had 
 any thing to pretend, against the authority of the legisla- 
 ture, if the case could have admitted it. When they dis- 
 covered, in that and succeeding time, so violently prone 
 and unretractable a propension to idolatry and other 
 wickednesses, directly against the very letter of that law, 
 how welcome and covetable a plea had it been, in their 
 frequent, and, sometimes, almost universal apostacies, 
 could they have had such a thing to pretend, that the law 
 itself that curbed them was a cheat ! But we always 
 find, that though they laboured, in some of their degene- 
 racies, and when they were lapsed into a more corrupted 
 state, to render it more easy to themselves by favour- 
 able glosses and interpretations ; yet, even in the most 
 corrupt, they never went about to deny or implead its 
 divine original, whereof they were ever so religious as- 
 sertors, as no people under heaven could be more ; and 
 the awful apprehension whereof prevailed so far with them, 
 as that care was taken (as is notoriously known) by those 
 appointed to that charge, that the very letters should be 
 numbered of the sacred writings, lest there should happen 
 any the minutest alteration in them. Much more might 
 be said, if it were needfal, for the evincing the truth of 
 this particular piece of history: and it's little'to be doubted 
 but any man who, with sober and impartial reason, con- 
 siders the circumstances relating to it; the easily evidence- 
 able antiquity of the records whereof this a part; the 
 certain nearness of the time of writing them, to the time 
 when this thing is said to have been done ; the great re- 
 putation of the writer even among pagans ; the great mul- 
 titude of the alleged witnesses and spectators; the no- 
 contradiction ever heard of; the universal consent and 
 suffrage of that nation through all times to this day, even 
 when their practice hath been most contrary to the laws 
 then given ; the secrirely confident and unsuspicious refer- 
 ence of later pieces of sacred Scripture thereto, (even some 
 parts of the New Testament,) as a most known and un- 
 doubted thing; the long series and tract of time through 
 which that people are said to have had extraordinary and 
 sensible indications of the divine presence; (which, if it 
 nad been false, could not, in so long a time, but have been 
 evicted of falsehood ;) their miraculous and wonderful 
 cductioa out of Egypt, not denied by any, and more ob- 
 sciu'ely acknowledged by some heathen writers ; their con- 
 
 duct through the wilderness, and settlement in Canaan ; 
 their constitution and form of polity, known for many ages 
 to have been a theocracy; their usual ways of consulting 
 God, upon all more important occasions : — whosoever, I 
 say, shall soberly consider these things, (and many more 
 might easily occur to such as would think fit to let their 
 thoughts dwell awhile upon this subject,) will not only, 
 from some of them, think it highly improbable, but from 
 others of them, plainly impossible, that the history of this 
 appearance should have been a contrived piece of falsehood. 
 Yea, and though, as was said, the view of such a thing 
 with one's own eyes would make a more powerful impres- 
 sion upon our fancy, or imagination, yet, if we speak of 
 rational evidence (which is quite another thing) of ihe truth 
 of a matter of fact that were of this astonishing nature, I 
 should think it were as much (at least if I were credibly 
 told that so many hundred thousand persons saw il at 
 once) as if I had been the single unaccompanied spectator 
 of it myself. Not to say that it were apparently, in some 
 respect, much greater; could we but obtain of ourselves 
 to distinguish between the pleasing of our curiosity, and 
 the satisfyng of our reason. So that, upon the whole, I 
 see not why it may not be concluded, with the greatest 
 confidence, that both the (supposed) existence of a Deity 
 is possible to be certainly known to men on earth, in 
 some way that is suitable to their present state; that 
 there are no means fitter to be ordinary, than those we 
 already have, and that more extraordinary, additional con- 
 firmations are partly, therefore, not necessary, and partly 
 not wanting. 
 
 V. Again, it may be further demanded, (as that which 
 may both immediately serve our main purpose, and may 
 also show the reasonableness of what was last said,) Is it 
 sufficiently evident to such subjects of some great prince 
 as live remote from the royal residence, that there is such 
 a one now ruling over them? 
 
 To say No, is to raze the foundation of civil government, 
 and reduce it wholly to domestical, by such a ruler as may 
 ever be in present view. Which yet is upon such terms 
 never possible to be preserved also. It is plain many do 
 firmly enough believe that there is a king reigning over 
 them, who not only never saw the king, but never beard 
 any distinct account of the splendour of his court, the 
 pomp of his attendance, or, it may be, never saw the man 
 that had seen the king. And is not all dutiful and loyal 
 obedience Wont to be challenged and paid as such, as well 
 as his other subjects'? Or would it be thought a reason- 
 able excuse of disloyalty, that any such persons should 
 say they had never seen the king, or his court '? Or a 
 reasonable demand, as the condition of required subjection, 
 that the court be kept, sometime, in their village, that they 
 might have the opportunity of beholding at least some of 
 the insignia of regality, or more splendid appearances of 
 that majesty, which claims subjection from them"? Much 
 more would it be deemed unreasonable and insolent, that 
 every subject should expect to see the face of the prince 
 every day, otherwise they will not obey, nor believe there 
 is any such person. Whereas it hath been judged rather 
 more expedient and serviceable to the continuing the vene- 
 ration of majesty, (and in a monarchy of no mean reputa- 
 tion for wisdom and greatness,) that the prince did very 
 rarely offer himself to the view of the people. Surely more 
 ordinary and remote discoveries of an existing prince and 
 ruler over them, (the effects ofhis power, and the influences 
 of his government,) will be reckoned sufficient, even as to 
 many parts of his dominions that possibly through many 
 succeeding generations never had ether. And yet how 
 unspeakably less sensible, less immediate, less constant, 
 less necessary, less numerous, are the effects and instances 
 of regal human power and wisdom, than of the divine ; 
 which latter we behold which way soever we look, and 
 feel in every thing we touch, or have any sense of, and 
 may reflect upon in our very senses themselves, and in all 
 the parts and powers that belong to us; and so certainly, 
 that if we would allow ourselves the liberty of serious 
 thoughts, we might soon find it were utterly impossible 
 such effects should ever have been without that only 
 cause : that without its influence, it had never been po.s- 
 sible that we could hear, or see, or speak, or think, or live, 
 or he any thing, nor that any other thing could ever have
 
 Ctiap. V. 
 
 THE LIVING TEMPLE. 
 
 41 
 
 been, when as the effects that serve so justly to endear and 
 recommend to us civil government, (as peace, safety, order, 
 quiet possession of our rights,) we cannot but know, are 
 not inseparably and incoramunicably approriate, or to be 
 attributed to the person of this or that particular and mor- 
 tal governor, but may also proceed from another; yea, and 
 the same benefits may (for some short time at least) be 
 continued without any such government at all. Nor is 
 this intended merely as a rhetorical scheme of speech, to 
 beguile or amuse the imwary reader ; but, without arro- 
 gating any thing, or attributing more to it, than that it is 
 an altogether inartificial and very defective, but true and 
 naked, representation of the very case itself as it is. It is 
 professedly propounded, as having somewhat solidly argu- 
 mentative in it. That is, that (whereas thereis most con- 
 fessedly sufficient, j'et) there is unspeakably less evidence 
 to most people in the world, under civil government ; that 
 there actually is such a government existent over them ; 
 and that they are under obligation to be subject to it ; than 
 there is of the existence of a Deity, and the consequent 
 reasonableness of religion. If therefore the ordinary 
 effects and indications of the former be sufficient, which 
 have so contingent and uncertain a connexion with their 
 causes, (while those which are more extraordinary are so 
 exceeding rare with the most,) why shall not the more 
 certain ordinary discoveries of the latter be judged suffi- 
 cient, though the most have not the immediate notice of 
 any such extraordinary appearances as those are which 
 have been before mentioned 1 
 
 VI. Moreover, I yet demand further, whether it may 
 be thought possible for any one to have a full rational cer- 
 tainty that another person is a reasonable creature, and 
 bath in him a rational soul, so as to judge he hath suffi- 
 cient ground and obligation to converse with him, and 
 carry towards him as a man 1 Without the supposition 
 of this, the foundation of all human society and civil 
 conversation is taken awa^^. And what evidence have 
 we of it, whereunto that which we have of the being of 
 God (as the foundation of religious and godly conversa- 
 tion) will not at least be found equivalent. 
 
 Will we say that mere human shape is enough to prove 
 such a one a man"? A philosopher would deride us, as the 
 Stagyrite's disciples are said to have done the Platonic 
 man. But we will not be so nice. We acknowledge it 
 is, if no circumstances concur (as sudden appearing, va- 
 nishing, transformation, or the like) that plainly evince 
 the contrary ; so far as to infer upon us an obligation not 
 to be rude and uncivil; that we use no violence, nor carry 
 ourselves abusively towards one that only thus appears a 
 human creature. Yea, and to perform any duty of jus- 
 tice or charity towards him within our power, which we 
 owe to a man as a man. As suppose we see him wronged 
 or in necessity, and can presently right or relieve him ; 
 though he do not or cannot represent to us more of his 
 case than our own eyes inform us of. And should an act of 
 murder be committed upon one whose true humanity was 
 not otherwise evident, would not the offender be justly li- 
 able to the kno'WTi and common punishment of that event 1 
 Nor could he acquit himself of transgressing the laws of 
 humanity, if he should only neglect any seasonable act of 
 justice or mercy towards him, whereof he beholds the pre- 
 sent occasion. But if any one were disposed to cavil, or 
 play the sophist, how much more might be said, even by 
 infinite degrees, to oppose this single evidence of any one's 
 true humanity, than ever was or can be brought against 
 the entire concurrent evidence we have of the existence 
 of God. It is, here, most manifestly just and equal, thus 
 to state the case, and compare the whole evidence we have 
 of the latter, with that one of the former ; inasmuch as 
 that one alone is apparently enough to oblige us to carry 
 towards such a one as a man. And if that alone be suffi- 
 cient to oblige us to acts of justice or charity towards man, 
 he is strangely blind that cannot see infinitely more to 
 oblige him to acts of piety towards God. 
 
 But if we would take a nearer and more strict view of 
 this parallel, we would state the general and more obvious 
 aspect of this world on the one hand, and the external 
 aspect and shape of a man on the other ; and should then 
 see the former doth evidence to us an in-dwelling Deil^' 
 diffused through the whole, and actuatiugevery part with 
 
 incomparably greater certainty, than the latter doth an 
 in-dwelling reasonable soul. In which way we shall find 
 what will aptly serve our present purpose, though we are 
 far from apprehending any such union of the blessed God 
 with this world, as is between the soul and body of a maru 
 It is manifestly possible to our understandings, that there 
 may be, and (ii any hi.story or testimony of others be 
 worthy to be believed) certain to experience and sense, 
 that there often hath been, the appearance of human 
 shape and of agreeable actions without a real man. But 
 it is no way possible such a world as this should have ever 
 been without God. That there is a world, proves that 
 eternal Being to exist, whom we take to be God, (snppo.se 
 we it as rude a heap as at first it was, or as we can sup- 
 pose it,) as external appearance represents to us that cr-ea- 
 ture which we take to be a man : but that as a certain in- 
 fallible discovery, necessarily true ; this but as a probable 
 and conjectural one, and (though highly probable) not im- 
 possible to be false. 
 
 And if we will yet descend to amore particular inquiry 
 into this matter, w'hich way will we fully be ascertained 
 that this supposed man is truly and really what he seems 
 to be 7 This we know not how to go about, without recol- 
 lecting what is the differencing notion we have of a man 4 
 that he is, viz. a reasonable, living creature, or a reason- 
 able soul, inhabitinsT, and united with a hoAy. And how 
 do we think to descry that, here, which may answer this 
 common notion we have of a man 1 Have we any way 
 besides that discovery which the acts and effects of reason, 
 do make of a rational or intelligent beingl We will look 
 more narrowly, i. e. unto somcAvhat else than his external 
 appearance; and observe the actions that proceed from a 
 more distinguishing principle in him, that he reasons, dis- 
 courses, doth business, pursues designs; in short, he talks 
 and acts as a reasonable creature: and hence we conclude 
 him to be one, or to have a reasonable soul in him. 
 
 And have we not the same way of procedure in the other 
 case 1 Our fir.st view or takingnotice of a world full of 
 life and motion, assures us of an eternal active Being, be- 
 sides it, which we take to be God, having now before our 
 eyes a darker shadow of him only, as the external bulk of 
 the human body is onlv the shadow of a man. Whicli, 
 when we behold it stirring and moving, assures us there is 
 somewhat besides that grosser bulk, (that of itself could 
 not so move,) which we take to be the soul of a man. 
 Yet, as a principle that can move the body makes not up 
 the entire notion of this soul, so an eternal active being, 
 that moves the matter of the universe, makes not up the 
 full notion of God. We are thus far sure in both cases, 
 i. c. of some mover distinct from what is moved. But we 
 are not yet sure, by what we hitherto see, what the one or 
 the other is. But as when we have upon the first sight 
 lhou<^ht it was a reasonable soul that was acting in the 
 former or a man, (if we will speak according to their 
 sense who make the soul the man,) in order to being sure, 
 (as .sure as the case can admit,) we have no other way, 
 but to consider what belongs more distinguishmgly to the 
 notion of a man, or of a reasonable soul ; and observe how- 
 actions and effects, which we have opportunity to take 
 notice of, do answer thereto, or serve to discover that, bo 
 when we would be sure what that eternal active Being is 
 (which that it is, we are already sure, and) which we have 
 taken to be God, that, I say, we may be sure of that also, 
 we have the same thing to do. That is, to consider what 
 more peculiarly belongs to the entire notion of Grod, (and 
 would even in"the judgment of opposei-i,be acknowledged 
 to belono- to n ) and see whether his works, more narrowly- 
 inspected, do not bear as manifest correspondency to that 
 notion of God, as the works and actions of a man do to 
 the notion we have of him. And certainly we cannot but 
 find they do correspond as much. And that upon a seri- 
 ous and" considerate view of the works and appearances of 
 God in the world ; having diligently observed and pon- 
 dered the vastness and beauty of this universe, the variety, 
 the multitude, the order, the exquisite shapes and numer- 
 ous parts, the admirable and useful composure, of parti- 
 cular creatures; and especially the constitution and powers 
 of the reasonable soul of man itself; we cannot, surety, 
 if we be not under the possession of a very voluntar}- and 
 obstinate blindness, and the power of a most vicious pre-
 
 42 
 
 THE LIVING TEMPLE. 
 
 Part 1. 
 
 judice, but acknowledge the making, sustaining, and go- 
 verning such a world, is as god-like, as worthy of God, 
 and as much becoming him, according to the notion that 
 hath been assigned of him, as at least the common actions 
 of ordinary men, are of a man ; or evidence the doer of 
 them to be a human creature. Yea, and with this advan- 
 tageous difference, that the actions of a man do evidence 
 a human creature more uncertainly, and so as it is possible 
 the matter may be otherwise. But these works of God do 
 with so plain and demonstrative evidence discover him 
 the Author of them, that it is altogether impossible they 
 could ever otherwise have been done. 
 
 Now therefore, if we have as clear evidence of a Deity, 
 as we can have, in a way not unsuitable to the nature and 
 present state of man ; (and we can have in a suitable way, 
 that which is sufficient ;) if we have clearer and more 
 certain evidence of God's government over the world, 
 than most men have or can have, of the existence of their 
 secular rulers ; yea, more sure than that there are men on 
 earth, and that thence (as far as the existence of God will 
 make towards it) there is a less disputable ground for re- 
 ligioris than for civil conversation ; we may reckon our- 
 selves competently well ascertained, and have no longer 
 reason to delay the dedication of a temple to him, upon 
 any pretence of doubt, whether we have an object of wor- 
 ship existing, 3^ea or no. 
 
 Wherefore we may also by the way take notice how im- 
 pudent a thing is atheism, that by the same fulsome and 
 poisonous breath whereby it would blast religion, would 
 despoil man of his reason and apprehensive power, even 
 in reference to the most apprehensible thing ; would blow 
 away the rights of princes, and all foundations of policy 
 and government, and destroy all civil commerce and con- 
 versation out of the world, and yet blushes not at the at- 
 tempt of so foul things. 
 
 VII. And here it may perhaps prove worth our while 
 (though it can be no pleasant contemplation) to pause a 
 little, and make some short reflections upon the atheistical 
 temper and genius, so as therein to remark some few more 
 obvious characters of atheism itself. 
 
 And Jirst, such as have not been themselves seized by 
 the infatuation, cannot but judge it a most unreasonable 
 thing, a perverse and cross-grained humour, that so oddly 
 writhes and warps the mind of a man, as that it never 
 makes any effort or offer at any thing against the Deity ; 
 but it therein dolh (by a certain sort of serpentine invo- 
 lution and retortion) seem to design a quarrel with itself: 
 that is, with (what one would think should be most inti- 
 mate and natural to the mind of man) his very reasoning 
 power, and the operations thereof So near indeed was 
 the ancient alliance between God and man, (his own Son, 
 his likeness and living image,) and consequently between 
 reason and religion, that no man can ever be engaged in 
 an opposition to God and his interest, but he must be equal- 
 ly so to himself and his own. And any one that takes no- 
 tice how the business is carried by an atheist, must think, 
 in order to his becoming one, his first plot was upon him- 
 self: to assassine his own intellectual i^aculty, by a sturdj^ 
 resolution, and violent imposing on himself, not to consi- 
 der, or use his thoughts, at least with any indifferency, but 
 with a treacherous predetermination to the part resolved 
 on before-hand. Otherwise, it is hard to be imagined how 
 it should ever have been possible that so plain and evident 
 proofs of a Deity as every where offer themselves unto 
 observation, even such as have been here proposed, (that 
 do even lie open,^or the most part, to common apprehen- 
 sion, and needed little search to fuid them out ; so that it 
 was harder to determine what not to say, than what to 
 say,) could be overlooked. 
 
 For what could be more easy and obvious, than taking 
 notice that there is somewhat in being, to conclude that 
 somewhat must be of itself, from whence whatever is not 
 so must have sprung 1 That, since there is somewhat 
 effected or made, (as is plain, in that some things are al- 
 terable, and daily altered, which nothing can be that is of 
 itself, and therefore a necessary being,) those effects have 
 then had an active being for their cause 1 That since the.se 
 effects are partly such as bear the manifest characters of 
 wisdom and design upon them, and are partly, themselves, 
 wise and designing ; therefore they must have had a wisely 
 
 active and designing cause 1 So much would plainly con- 
 clude the sum of what we have been pleading for ; and 
 what can be plainer or doth require a shorter turn of 
 thoughts 1 At this eo.sy expense might any one that had a 
 disposition to use his understanding to such a purpose, 
 save himself from being an atheist. And where is the 
 flaw "? What joint is not firm and .strong in this little frame 
 of discourse 1 which yet arrogates nothing to the contri- 
 ver; for there is nothing in it worthy to be called contri- 
 vance ; but things do themselves lie thus. And what hath 
 been further said concerning the perfection and oneness 
 of this Cause of all things, (though somewhat more remote 
 from common apprehension,) is what it is likely would 
 appear plain and natural to such as would allow them- 
 selves the leisure to look more narrowly into such things. 
 
 Atheism therefore seems to import a direct and open 
 hostility against the most native, genuine, and facile dic- 
 tates of common reason. And being so manifest an enemy 
 to it, we cannot suppose it should be at all befriended by 
 it. For that will be always true and constant to itself, 
 whatsoever false shows of it a bad cause doth sometimes 
 put on ; that having yet somewhat a more creditable name, 
 and being of a little more reputation in the world, than 
 plain downright madness and folly. And it will appear 
 how little it is befriended, by any thing that can justly 
 bear that name, if we consider the pitiful shifts the atheist 
 makes for his forlorn cause ; and what infirm tottering 
 supports the whole frame of atheism rests upon. For 
 what is there to be said for their hypothesis, or against the 
 existence of God, and the dueness of religion 1 For it, 
 there is directly nothing at all. Only a possibility is al- 
 leged, things might be as they are, though God did not 
 exist. And if this were barely possible, how little doth 
 that signify 1 Where reason is not injuriously dealt with, 
 it is permitted the liberty of balancing things equally, and 
 of considering which scale hath most weight. And is he 
 not perfectly blind, that sees flot what violence is done to 
 free reason in this matter 1 Are there not thousands of 
 things, not altogether impossible, which yet he would be 
 concluded altogether out of his wits, that should profess 
 to be of the opinion they are, or were actually so 1 And as 
 to the present case, how facile and imexceplionable, how 
 plain and intelligible, is the account that is given of the- 
 original of this world, and the things contained in it, by 
 resolving all into a Deity, the Author and Maker of them 1 
 Whereas the wild, extravagant suppositions of atheists, if 
 they were admitted possible, are the most unlikely that 
 could be devised. So that if there had been any to have 
 laid wagers, when things were taking their beginning,there 
 is nobody that would not have ventured thousands to one, 
 that no such frame of things (no not so much as one single 
 mouse or flea) would ever have hit. And how desperate 
 hazards the atheist runs, upon this mere supposed possi- 
 bility, it will be more in our way to take notice by and by. 
 But besides, that pretended possibility plainly appears 
 none at all. It is impossible any thing should spring up 
 of itself out of nothing ; that any thing that is alterable, 
 should have been necessarily of itself, such as it now is ; 
 that what is of itself unactive, should be the maker of 
 other things ; that the Author of all the wisdom in the 
 world, should be, himself, unwise. These cannot but be 
 judged most absolute impo.ssibilities, to such as do not vi- 
 olence to their own minds ; or with whom reason can be 
 allowed any the least exercise. Wherefore the atheistical 
 spirit is most grossly unreasonable, in withholding assent, 
 v/here the most ungainsayable reason plainly exat;ts it. 
 
 And are not the atheist's cavils as despicably silly against 
 the Deity, and (consequently) religion'? Whosoever shall 
 consider their exceptions against some things in the notion 
 of God, eternity, infinity, &c. which themselves, in the 
 meantime, are "forced to place elsewhere, will he not see 
 they talk idly 1 And as for such other impeachments of 
 his wisdom, justice, and goodness, as they take their ground 
 for, from the state of affairs, in some respects, in this 
 present world, (many of which maybe seen in Lucretius, 
 and ansAvered by Dr. More in his Dialogties,) how incon- 
 siderable will they be, to any one that bethinks himself, 
 with how perfect and generous a liberty this world was? 
 made, by one that needed it not; who had no design, nor 
 could have inclination to a fond, self-indulgent glorying
 
 CsAP. V. 
 
 THE LIVING TEMPLE. 
 
 43 
 
 and vaunting of his own work ; who did it with the great- 
 est facility, and by an easy, iinexpensive vouchsafement of 
 his good pleasure ; not with an operose curiosity, studious 
 to approve itself to the peevish eye of every froward Mo- 
 mus, or to the nauseous, squeamish gust of every sensual 
 Epicure. And to such as shall not confine their mean 
 thoughts to that very clod or ball of earth on which they 
 live; which, as it is a very small part, may, for aught we 
 know, but be the worst or most abject part of God's 
 creation; which yet is full of his goodness, and hath most 
 manifest prints of his other excellences besides, as hath 
 been observed; or that shall not look upon the present 
 state of things as the eternal state, but upon this world 
 only as an antechamber to another, which shall abide in 
 most unexceptionable perfection for ever: — how fond and 
 idle, I say, will all such cavils appear to one that shall but 
 thus use his thoughts, and not think himself bound to 
 measure his conceptions of God by the uncertain, rash 
 dictates of men born in the dark, and that talk at random ; 
 nor shall affix any thing to him, which plain reason doth 
 not dictate, or which he doth not manifestly assume, or 
 challenge to himself But that because a straw lies in 
 my way, I would attempt to overturn heaven and earth, 
 what raging phrensy is this ! 
 
 Again, it is a base, abject temper, speaks a mind sunk 
 and lost in carnality, and that having dethroned and ab- 
 jured reason, hath abandoned itself to the hurry of vile 
 appetite, and sold its liberty and sovereignty for the insipid, 
 gustless pleasures of sense ; an unmanly thing — a degrad- 
 ing of oneself For if there be no God, what am I*? A 
 piece of moving, thinking clay, whose ill-compacted parts 
 will shortly fly asunder, and leave no other remains of me 
 than what shall become the prey and triumph of worms ! 
 
 It is a sad, mopish, disconsolate temper ; cuts off and 
 quite banishes all manly, rational joy ; all that might 
 spring from the contemplation of the divine excellences 
 and glory, shining in the works of his hands. Atheism 
 clothes the world in black, draws a dark and duskish 
 cloud over all things ; doth more to damp and stifle all 
 relishes of intellectual pleasure, than it would of sensible, 
 to extinguish the sim. What is this world (if we should 
 suppose it still to subsist) without Godl How grateful 
 an entertainment is it to a pious mind to behold his glory 
 stamped on eveiy creature, sparkling in every providence ; 
 and by a firm and rational faith to believe (when we can- 
 not see) how all events are conspiring to bring about the 
 most happy and blissful state of things ! The atheist may 
 make the most of this world; he knows no pleasure, but 
 what can be drawn out of its dry breasts, or found in its 
 cold embraces ; which yields as little satisfaction, as he 
 finds, whose arms, aiming to enclose a dear friend, do onl}' 
 clasp a stiff and clammy carcass. How uncomfortable a 
 thing is it to him, that having neither power nor wit to 
 order things to his own advantage or content, but finds 
 himself liable to continual disappointments, and the ren- 
 counter of many an unsuspected, cross accident, hath none 
 to repose on that is vyiser and mightier than himself! But 
 when he finds he cannot command his own affairs, to have 
 the settled apprehension of an Almighty Ruler, that can 
 with the greatest certainty do it for us the best way, and 
 will, if we trust him — how satisfying and peaceful a repose 
 doth this yield ! And how much the rather, inasmuch as 
 that filial, unsuspicious confidence and trust, which natu- 
 rally tends to and begets that calm and quiet rest, is the 
 very condition required on my part ; and that the chief 
 thing I have to do, to have my affaire brought to a good 
 pass, is to commit them to his management ; and my only 
 care, to be careful in nothing. The atheist hath nothing to 
 mitigate the greatness of this loss, but that he knows not 
 what he loses; which is an allay that will serve but a 
 little while. And when the most unsupportahle, pressing 
 miseries befall him, he must in bitter agonies groan out his 
 •wretched soul without hope, and sooner die under his 
 burden, than say. Where is my God and Maker 1 At the 
 best, he exchanges all the pleasure and composure of mind 
 which certainly accompanies a dutiful, son-like trust, sub- 
 
 f Wliich story I confidently refer to, hein? of late date, and hanng had a 
 r.ertain and circumstantial account of it, by one (a viTy sober and intelligent 
 person) who had the relation from hin> to whom that dreadful warning was 
 given, by his then lately deceased associate. But I shall not by a particular . 
 
 mission, and resignation of ourselve.% and all our concern- 
 ments, to the disposal of fatherly wisdom and Icve, for e 
 sour and sullen succumbency to an irresistible fate or hard 
 necessity, against which he sees it is vain to contend. So 
 that at the best he not only rages, but tastes nothing of 
 consolation; whereof his spirit is as incapable, as his des- 
 perate affairs are of redress. And if he have arrived to 
 that measure of foriiiude, as not to be much discomposed 
 with the lighter crosses which he meets with in this short 
 time of life, what a dreadful cross is it that he must die! 
 How dismal a thing is a certain, never to be avoided 
 death ! Against which as atheism hath not surely the ad- 
 vantage of religion in giving protection ; so it hath greatly 
 the disadvantage, in afibrding no relief What would the 
 joy be worth in that hour, that arises from the hope of the 
 glory to be revealed 1 And is the want of tliat, the total 
 sum of the atheist's misery at this hour^ What heart can 
 conceive the horror of that one thought, if darted in upon 
 him at that time, (as it is strange, and more sad, if it be 
 not,) What becomes now of me, if there prove to be a God 1 
 Where are my mighty demonstrations, upon which one 
 may venture, and which may cut off all fear and danger of 
 future calamity in this dark, unknown state I am going 
 into'? Shall I be the next hour nothing, or miserable !? 
 Or if I had opportunity, shall I not have sufficient cause 
 to proclaim, (asf once one of the same fraternity did, by 
 way of warning to a surviving companion) — A great and a 
 terrible God ! A great and a terrible God ! A great and 
 a terrible God. 
 
 I only add, 'tis a most strangely mysterious and unac- 
 covmtable temper ; such as is hardly reducible to its pro- 
 per causes: so that it would puzzle any man's inquirj' to 
 find out or even give but probable conjectures, how so odd 
 and preternatural a disaffection as atheism should ever 
 come to have place in a human mind. It must be con- 
 cluded a very complicated disease, and yet, when our 
 thoughts have fastened upon several things that have an 
 aspect that way, as none of them alone could infer it, sa 
 it is hard to imagine, how ail of them together should ever 
 come to deprave reasonable nature to such a degree. 
 
 'Tis, first, most astonishingly marvellous, (though it is 
 apparent this distemper hath its rise from an HI will,) that 
 any should so much as will that which the atheist hath 
 obtained of himself to believe; or afJect to be, what he is. 
 
 The commonness of this vile disposition of will, doth 
 but sorrily shift off the wonder, and only with tho.se slight 
 and trifling minds that have resigned the office of judging 
 things to their (more active) senses, and have leanied the 
 easy way of waving all inquiries about common things, 
 or resolving the account into this only, that they are 
 to be seen every day. But if we allowed ourselves to 
 consider this matter soberly, we would soon find, that 
 howsoever it must plainly appear a very common plague 
 upon the spirits of men (and universal till a cure be 
 wrought) to say, by way of wish, No God, or I would 
 there were none: yet by the good leave of them who 
 would thus easily excuse the thing, the commonness of 
 this horrid evil doth so little diminish, that it increases the 
 wonder. Things are more strange, as their causes are more 
 hardly assignable. What should the reason be, that a 
 being of so incomparable excellency, so amiable and allur- 
 ing glory, purity, love, and goodness, is become imdesir- 
 able and hateful to his own creatures! that such creatures, 
 his more immediate, peculiar offsprin'j, stamped with his 
 likeness, the so vivid resemblances of his own spiritual 
 immortal nature, are become so wickedly unnatural to- 
 wards their common and most indulgent parent i what, to 
 wish him dead ! to envy life and being, to him from whom 
 they have rec«ved their own ! 'Tis as strange as it is 
 without a cause. But they have offended him, are in a 
 revolt, and sharply conscious of fearful demerits. And who 
 would not wish to live, and to escape so unsupportahle 
 revenge 1 'Tis still strange we would ever offend such a 
 one! Wherein were his laws imequal, his government 
 grievous 1 But since we have, this only is pertinent to be 
 said by them that have no hope of forgiveness, that are left 
 
 I 
 
 relation gratify the .scorn of this sort of men, who. taking advantage from the 
 (sometime deceived) credulity of well-meaning people have but tjiat way of 
 answering all such tilings, by the one word which served so learnedly to ooniufe 
 Bellamiine. 
 
 i
 
 44 
 
 THE LIVING TEMPLE. 
 
 Part I. 
 
 to despair of reconciliation— Why do we sort ourselves 
 with devils 1 We profess not to be such. 
 
 Yea, but we have no hope to be forgiven the sin we do 
 not leave, nor power to leave the sin which now we love. 
 This, instead of lessening, makes the wonder a miracle. O 
 wretched, forlorn creature ! Wouldst thou have God out 
 of being for this'? (I speak to thee who dost not yet pro- 
 fess to believe there is no God, but dost only wish it.) The 
 sustainer of the world ! the common basis of all being ! 
 Dost thou know what thou sayest,'? Art thou not wishing 
 thyself and all things into nothing 1 This, rather than 
 humble thyself, and beg forgiveness ! This, rather than 
 become again a holy, pure, obedient creature, and again 
 blessed in him, who lirst made thee so ! It can never 
 cease, I say, to be a wonder, we never ought to cease won- 
 dering, that ever this befell the nature of man, to be prone 
 to wisk such a thing, that there were no God ! 
 
 Bat this is, 'tis true, the too common case; and if we 
 will only have what is more a rarity go for a wonder, how 
 amazing then is it. That if any man would, even never so 
 fain, he ever can make himself believe there is no God ! 
 and shape his horrid course according to that most horrid 
 misbelief! By what fatal train of causes is this ever 
 brought to passi Into what can we devise to resolve itl 
 
 Why such as have arrived to this pitch are much ad- 
 dicted to the pleasing of their senses ; and this they make 
 their business; so as that, for a long time, they have given 
 themselves no leisure to mind objects of another nature; 
 especially that should any way tend to disturb them in 
 their easy course; till they are gradually fallen into a for- 
 getful sleep, and the images of things are worn out with 
 them, that had only more slightly touched their minds 
 Defore. And being much used to go by the suggestions of 
 sense, they believe not what they neither see nor feel. 
 
 This is somewhat, but does not reach the mark; for 
 there are many very great sensualists, (as great as they at 
 least,) who never arrive hither, but firmly avow it that they 
 believe a Deity, whatsoever mistaken notion they have of 
 him ; whereupon they imagine to themselves impunity in 
 their vicious course. 
 
 But these, it may be said, have so disaccustomed 
 themselves to the exercise of their reason, that they have 
 no disposition to use their thoughts about any thing above 
 the sphere of sense ; and have contracted so dull and 
 sluggish a temper, that they are no fitter to mind or em- 
 ploy themselves in any speculations that tend to beget in 
 them the knowledge of God, than any man is for discourse 
 or business when he is fast asleep. 
 
 So indeed, in reason, one would expect to find it; but 
 the case is so much otherwise, when we consider particular 
 instances, that we are the more perplexed and entangled 
 in this inquiry, by considering how agreeable it is, that the 
 matter should be thus; and observing that it proves, oft- 
 times, not to be so ; insomuch that reason and experience 
 .seem herein not to agree, and hence we are put again upon 
 new conjectures what the immediate cause of this strange 
 malady should be. For did it proceed purely from a 
 sluggish temper of mind, unapt to reasoning and dis- 
 course ; the more any were so, the more disposed they 
 should be to atheism : whereas, every one knows that 
 multitudes of persons of dull and slow minds, to any 
 thing of ratiocination, would rather you should burn their 
 houses, than tell them they did not believe in God : and 
 would presently tell you, it were pity he should live, that 
 should but intimate a doubt whether there were a God or 
 no. Yea, and man}', somewhat more intelligent, yet in 
 this matter are shy of using their reason, and think it un- 
 .safe, it not profane, to go about to prove that there is a 
 God, lest they should move a doubt, or seem hereby to 
 make a question of it. And in the mean time, while they 
 offer not at reasoning, they more meanly supply that want, 
 after a sorry fashion, from their education, the tradition of 
 their forefathers, common example, and the universal pro- 
 fession and practice of some religion round about them ; 
 and it may be only take the matter for granted, because 
 they never heard such a thing was ever doubted of or 
 called in question in all their lives. 
 
 Whereas, on the other hand, they who incline to atheism 
 
 g Anst. Elli. 1. 3. 
 
 are, perhaps, some of them the greatest pretenders to rea- 
 son. They rely little upon authority of former times and 
 ages, upon vulgar principles and maxims, but are vogued 
 great masters of reason, diligent searchers into the myste- 
 ries of nature, and can philosophize (as sufficiently appears) 
 beyond all imagination. But 'tis hoped it may be truly- 
 said, for the vindication of philosophy and them that pro- 
 fess it, that modern atheists have little of that to glory in ; 
 and that their chief endowments are only their skill to 
 please their senses, and a faculty with a pitiful sort of 
 drollery to tincture their cups, and add a grace to their 
 otherwise dull and flat conversation. Yet all this howso- 
 ever being considered, there is here but little advance made 
 to the finding out whence atheism should proceed. For, 
 that want of reason shall be thought the cause, what 
 hath been already said seems to forbid ; that many igno- 
 rant persons seem possessed with a great awe of a Deity, 
 from which divers, more knowing, have delivered them- 
 selves. And yet neither doth the former signify any thing 
 (in just interpretation) to the disrepute of religion. For 
 truth is not the less true, for that some hold it they know 
 not how or why. Nor doth the latter make to the reputa- 
 tion of atheism, inasmuch as men, otherwise rational, may 
 sometimes learnedly dote. But it confirms us that atheism 
 is a strange thing, when its extraction and pedigree are so 
 hardly found out, and it seems to be directly of the lineage, 
 neither of knowledge nor ignorance, neither sound reason 
 nor perfect dotage. 
 
 Nor doth it at all urge to say, And why may we not as 
 well stand wondering, whence the apprehension of a God, 
 and an addictedness to religion, should come, when we 
 find them peculiar neither to the more knowing nor the 
 more ignorant 1 For they are apparently and congruously 
 enough to be derived from somewhat common to them 
 both — the impression of a Deity, imiversally put upon the 
 minds of all men, (which atheists have made a shift to 
 rase out, or obliterate to that degree, as to render it illegi- 
 ble,) and that cultivated by the exercise of reason, in some, 
 and in others, less capable of that help, somewhat con- 
 firmed by education, and the other accessaries mentioned 
 above. 
 
 Therefore is this matter still most mysteriously intricate, 
 that there should be one temper and persuasion, agreeing to 
 two so vastly different sorts of persons, while yet we are 
 to seek for a cause (except what is most tremendous to 
 think of) from whence it should proceed, that is common 
 to them both. And here is, in short, the sum of the won- 
 der, that any, not appearing very grossly unreasonable in 
 other matters, (which cannot be denied even of some of 
 the more sensual and lewder sort of atheists,) should, in so 
 plain and important a case, be so, beyond all expression, 
 absurd; that they without scruple are pleased to think 
 like other men in matters that concern and relate to com- 
 mon practice, and wherein they might more colourably, 
 and with less hazard, go out of the common road ; and are 
 here only so dangerously and madly extravagant. Theirs 
 is therefore a particidar madness ; the dementia quoad hoc ; 
 so much 'the stranger thing, because they whom it pos- 
 sesses do only in this one case put off themselves, and are 
 like themselves and other men in all things else. If they 
 reckoned it a glory to be singular, they might (as hath 
 been plainly shown) more plausibly profess it as a principle, 
 that they are not bound to believe the existence of any 
 secular ruler (and consequently not be subject to any) 
 longer than they see him, and so subvert all policy and 
 government; or pretend an exemption from all obligation 
 to any act of justice, or to forbear the most injurious vio- 
 lence towards any man, because they are not infallibly 
 certain any one they see is a human wight, and so abjure 
 all morality, as they have already so great a part ; than 
 offer with so fearful hazard to assault the Deity, (of whose 
 existence, if they would but think a while, they might be 
 most infallibly assured,) or go about to subvert the foun- 
 dations of religion. Or, if they would get themselves glory 
 by great adventures, or show themselves brave men by 
 expressing a fearless contempt of divine power and justice ; 
 this fortitude is not human. These are without the com- 
 pass of its object ;£ as inundations, earthquakes, &c., are
 
 Chap. VI. 
 
 THE LIVING TEMPLE. 
 
 45 
 
 said to be, unto which, that any one should fearlessly ex- 
 pose himself, can bring no profit to others, nor therefore 
 glory to him. 
 
 In all this harangue of discourse, the design hath not 
 been to fix upon any true cause of atheism, but to repre- 
 sent it a strange thing; and an atheist, a prodigjs a mon- 
 ster, amongst mankind; a dreadful spectacle, forsaken of 
 the common aids afforded to other men ; hnng up in chains 
 to warn others, and let them see what a horrid creature 
 man may make himself by voluntary aversion from God 
 that made him. 
 
 In the meantime, they upon whom this dreadful plague 
 is not fallen, may plainly see before them the object of 
 that worship which is imported by a temple — an existing 
 Deity, a God to be worshipped. Unto whom we shall 
 yet see further reason to design and consecrate a temple 
 for that end, and even ourselves to become such, when we 
 have considered what comes next to be spoken of: his 
 conversableness with men. 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 what is intended by God's conversableness witli men, considered only as run- 
 damental and presupposed to a temple. An account of the Epicurean deity. 
 Its existence impossible any way to be proved, if it did exist. Nor can be 
 affirmed to any good intent. That such a being is not God. That the abso- 
 lute perfection proved of God represents him a fit object of religion. From 
 thence more particularly deduced to this purpose. His omnisciency, omnipo- 
 tency, unlimited goodness, immensity. Curcclla;us's arguments against tiiis 
 last considered. 
 
 I. Nor is the thing here intended less nece-ssary to a 
 temple and religion than what we have hitherto been dis- 
 coursing of For such a sort of deity as should shut up 
 itself, and be reclused from all converse with men, would 
 leave us asdisfumished of an object of religion, and would 
 render a temple on earth as vain a thing, as if there were 
 none at all. It were a being not to be worshipped, nor 
 with any propriety to be called God, more (in some re- 
 spect less) than an image or statue. We might with as 
 rational design worship for a god what were scarce worthy 
 to be called the shadow of a man, as dedicate temples to a 
 wholly unconversable deity. That is, such a one as not 
 only will not vouchsafe to convei-se with men, but that 
 cannot admit it ; or whose nature were altogether incapa- 
 ble of such converse. 
 
 For that measure and latitude of sense must be allowed 
 unto the expression, [conversableness with men,] as that 
 it signify both capacity and propension to such converse : 
 that God is both by his nature capable of it, and hath a 
 gracious inclination of will thereunto. Yea and we will 
 add, (what is also not without the compass of our present 
 theme, nor the import of this word whereby we generally 
 express it,) that he is not only inclined to converse with 
 men, but that he actually doth it. As we call him a con- 
 versable person that upon all befitting occasions doth freely 
 converse with such as have any concern with him. It will 
 indeed be necessary to distinguish God's converse with 
 men, into That which he hath in common with «//??ic?(., so 
 as to sustain them in their beings, and some way influence 
 their actions ; (in which kind he is also conversant with 
 all his creatures ;} and That which he more peculiarly 
 hath with good men. 
 
 And though the consideration of the latter of these Avill 
 belong to the discourse concerning his temple itself which 
 he hath with and in them ; yet it is the former only we 
 have now to consider as presupposed thereto, and as the 
 ground thereof; together with his gracious propension to 
 the latter also. 
 
 As the great apostle, in his discourse at Athens, lavs 
 the same ground for acquaintance with God, (which he 
 intimates should be set afoot and continued in another 
 sort of temple than is made with hands,) that he hath given 
 to all breath and being and all things, and that he i.-5"near 
 and ready, (whence they should therefore seek him, if 
 haply they might feel after him, and find him out,) in 
 order to further converse. And here, our business will 
 have the less in it of labour and difficulty ; for that we 
 
 a Ac designare quidem non licet quibus in locis Dii degant. Cum ne 
 
 shall have little else to do, besides only the applying of 
 principles already asserted (or po.ssibly the moie express 
 adding of some or other that were implied in what hath 
 been said) to this purpose. From which principles it will 
 appear, that he nui only can, but that in the former sense 
 he doth, converse with men, and is graciously inclined 
 thereto in the latter. And yet because the former is more 
 deeply fimdamental, as whereon all depends, and that the 
 act of it is not denied for any other reason than an ima- 
 gined impos.sibilit}' ; that is, it is not said he doth not sus 
 tain and govern the world upon any other pretence, but 
 that he cannot, as being inconsiMent with his nature and 
 felicity. This we shall therefore more directly apply our- 
 selves to evince. That his nature doth not disallow it, but 
 necessarily includes an aptitude theieto. 
 
 Nor yet, though it may be a less laborious work than 
 the former that we have despatched, is it altogether need- 
 less to deal somewhat more expressly in this matter , 
 inasmuch as what opposition hath been made to religion 
 in the world, hath for the most part been more expressly 
 directed against this ground of it. I say more expressly ; 
 for indeed by plain and manifest consequence it impugns 
 that also of God's existence : that is, through this it strikes 
 at the other. For surely (howsoever any may arbitrarily, 
 and with what impropriety and latitude of .speech they 
 please, bestow titles and eulogies here or there) that being 
 is not God, that cannot converse with men, supposing 
 them such as what purely and peculiarly belongs to the 
 nature of man would bespeak them. So that they who 
 have imagined such a being, and been pleased to call it 
 God, have at once said and unsaid the same thing. That 
 deity was but a creature, and that only of their own fancy ; 
 and they have by the same breath blown up and blasted 
 their own bubble, made it seem something and signify 
 nothing: have courted it into being, and rioted it again 
 quite out of it. In their conceit, created it a god ; in their 
 practice, a mere nullity. And it equally served their turn, 
 and as much favoured the design of being wicked, to ac- 
 knowledge only a god they could imagine and dis-imagine 
 at their own pleasure, as to have acknowledged none at 
 all. It could do no prejudice to their aflairs to admit of 
 this fictitious deity, that the}' could make be what or 
 where they pleased ; that should afi'ect ease and pleasure, 
 and (lest his pleasure and theirs should interfere) that 
 they could confine to remote territories, and oblige to 
 keep at an obedient and untroublesome distance. Nor, 
 though no imagination could be more madly extravagant 
 than that of a God no way concerned in the forming and 
 governing of the world ; and notwithstanding whom, men 
 might take their liberty to do what they listed ; yet (as 
 hath been observed long ago, that no opinion was ever so 
 monstrously absurd, as not to be owned by some of the 
 philosopher's) hath not this wanted patronage, and even 
 among them who have obtained to he esteemed (not to 
 say idolized) under that name. Which would be seen, if 
 it were worth the while to trouble the reader with an ac- 
 count of the Epicurean deity. As it can only be with 
 this design, that the representation may render it (as it 
 cannot but do) ridiculous to sober men ; and discover to 
 the rest the vanitj^ of their groundless and self-contradict- 
 ing hope, (still too much fostered in the breasts of not a 
 few.) who promise themselves impunity in the most licen- 
 tious course of wickedness, upon the security only of this 
 their own idle dream. That is, if there be a God, (which 
 the}' reckon it not so plausible flatly to deny,) he is a 
 being of either so dull and phlegmatic a temper that he 
 cannot be concerned in the actions and aflairs of men. or 
 so soft and easy that he will not. But because his good 
 will alone was not so safely to be relied on, it was thought 
 the securer way not to let it be in his power to intermed- 
 dle with their concernments. And therefore being to frame 
 their own Gtt)d, to their own turn, thus the matter was of 
 old contrived. 
 
 First, Great care was taken. That he be set at a di.s. 
 tance remote enough ; that he be complimented oiu of this 
 world, as a pkice loo mean for his reception, and unwor> 
 thy such a presence ; they being indeed unconcerned 
 where J*e^fcad his residence, so it were* not too-near them. 
 
 nostor quidem hie mundus, digiia sit illonmi sedes.- Phil. Epicur. S>-ntaf.
 
 46 
 
 THE LIVING TEMPLE. 
 
 Part I. 
 
 So that a confinement of him somewhere, was thought 
 altogether necessaay. 
 
 Secondly, And then, with the same pretence of great 
 observance and respect, it is judged too great a trouble to 
 him, and inconsistent with the felicity of his nature and 
 being, that he should have given himself any diversion or 
 disturbance, by making the world ; from the care and la- 
 bour whereof "he is with all ceremony to be excused, it 
 being too painful and laborious an undertaking lor an im- 
 mortal and a happy being. Besides tliat he was altogether 
 destitute of instruments and utensils requisite to so great 
 a performance. b 
 
 Whence also. Thirdly,'^ He was with the same reason 
 to be excused of all the care and encumbrance of govern- 
 ment; as indeed, what right or pretence could he have to 
 the government of a world that chose him not, which is 
 not his inheritance, and which he never made 1 But all is 
 very plausibly shadowed over with a great appearance of 
 reverence and veneration, with magnificent elogies of his 
 never-interrupted felicity ; whence also it is made a very 
 great crime not to free even the divine nature itself from 
 business : though yet the true ground and root of this 
 Epicurean faith doth sometime more apparently discover 
 itself, even an impatiency of the divine government, and 
 a regret of that irksome bondage which the acknowledg- 
 ment of a Deity, that were to be feared by men, would infer 
 upon them. 
 
 And therefore. Fourthly, He is further expressly asserted 
 to be such as need not be feared, as cares not to be wor- 
 shipped, as with whom neither anger nor favour hath any 
 place. So that nothing more of duty is owing to him than 
 a certain kind of arbitrary veneration, which we give to 
 any thing or person that we apprehend to excel us, and to 
 be in some respect better than ourselves: an observance 
 merely upon courtesy. But obedience and subjection to 
 his government, fear of his displeasure, expectation of his 
 favour and benefits, have no place left ihcra. We are not 
 obliged to worship him as one with whom we have any 
 concern, and do owe him no more homage than we have 
 to the Great Mogul, or the Cham of Tartary, and indeed 
 are less liable to his severity, or capable of liis favours, 
 than theirs ; for of theirs, we are in some remote possi- 
 bility, of his, in none at all. In one word, all converse 
 between him and man, on his part by providence, and on 
 ours by religion, is quite cut off. Which evidently appears 
 (from what hath been already collected out of his own 
 words, and theirs who pretended to speak that so admired 
 author's mind and sense) to be the scope and sum of the 
 Epicurean doctrine, in this matter; and was indeed ob- 
 served to be so long ago, by one that we suppose to have 
 had better opportunitj' and advantages to know it, than 
 we : who, discoursing that a man cannot live pleasantly, 
 according to the principles of Epicurus ; and that accord- 
 ing to his doctrine beasts are more happy than men ; 
 plainly gives thisd reason why he says so, viz: that the 
 Epicureans took away providence, and that the design of 
 their discoursing concerning God w^as, that we might not 
 fear him. 
 
 Unto which purpose also much more may be seen in the 
 same author elsewhere, when he more directly pleads 
 (among divers more philosophical subjects) on behalf of 
 religion against the Epicurean doctrine, which'' he saith 
 they leave to us in word and sliow^ but by their principles 
 take away indeed, as they do nature and the soul, &c. 
 
 It is then out of question, that the doctrine of Epicurus 
 utterly takes away all intercourse between God and man. 
 Which yet were little worth our notice or consideration, 
 
 b —nQcta (pvaii Trpog raxira nTi?iafir] TTp'ioa) caOoi, nXXff aXfiroti/jj ijroj 
 iiiiTrp-taOu), Km cv rqi traiyri' i^otKnpiojriTt. Laertiiis, I. 10. 
 
 QiiSB molilio, qii« forramcnta, qui vectes, qiisB machinae, qui ministri tanti 
 munerjs tuenint? Veil, apud, Cieer. de Natvra Deoru7n. 
 
 c Nihil beating, nihil omninoboni-iomniliusartluentius excogitari potest. Niliil 
 eniiii agit, nullisoccupationibus est impticatus, &c. Id. Oraf,rrii' Qciav ^vaiv 
 pn \:'Tovpytoiv airoXocoatv. Laert. ihld. Itaiiue iniposui.sfis cer\'ieibus nos- 
 fri.i serajiitemum dominum. quern, dies et noctes, timerennis. Uuis enim ik)ii 
 timeat omnia providentem, et coj-Ttantem, et animadveiteMtem, et omnia ad se 
 pertinere putantem, curiosum et plenum negotii Deuin Veil, ubi mpra. Hu- 
 mana ante oculos frede cum vita iaceret. In tenis opprcssa gravi sub relijione 
 Primum Grains homo (ineaninsr Epicurus, t)ie first ehampion nf irreli^ion.) 
 Lucret To lohich purpose be.iidesiohatioehaveinLacrt. To pUKcpiov 
 Kai a<p6apT0v, ovtc avro irpaypara c:\ci, ovre nAAoii Traptxei wr^ ovre 
 opyaig, ovre \iip((Ti avvcYerai' tv afxdevsi yap irav to Totovrav, I. 10. Mvch 
 more is collected in the SyntaiTm. Nam et pnesfans Deomm natura homi- 
 num pietate cojeretur, cum isterna esset et Iwatissima. Habit enim venera- 
 '.oueui JHStani q'licguid exeellit. El raetus omnis, a vi atque ira Deonmi pulsus 
 
 nor would it answer any valuable end or purpose to revive 
 the mention of such horrid opinions, or tell the world 
 what such a one said or thought two thousand years ago; 
 if their grave had been faithful to its trust, and had retain- 
 ed their filthy poisonous savour within its own unhallowed 
 cell. 
 
 But since (against what were so much to have been de- 
 sired, that their womb might have been their grave) their 
 grave becomes their womb, where they are conceived, and 
 formed anew, and whence by a second birth they spring 
 forth afresh, to the great annoyance of the world, the de- 
 bauching and endangering of mankind ; and that it is ne- 
 cessary some remedy be endeavoured of so mortal an evil, 
 it was also convenient to run it up to its original, and con- 
 tend against it as in its primitive state and vigour. 
 
 Wherefore this being a true (though it be a very short) 
 account of the Epicurean god, resulting all into this shorter 
 sura, That he is altogether unconversable wiih men, (and 
 such therefore as cannot inhabit their temple, and for 
 whom they can have no obligation or rational design to 
 provide an)^,) it will be requisite in reference hereto, and 
 suitable to our present scope and purpose, severally to 
 evince these things: — L That the existence of such a 
 being as this were impossible ever to be proved unto men, 
 if it did exist — 2. That being supposed without any good 
 ground, it is equally unimaginable that the supposition of 
 it can intend any valuable or good end — 3. That this 
 supposed being cannot be God, and is most abusively so 
 called ; as hereby, the true God, the Cause and Author 
 of ail things, is intended to be excluded — 4. That it be- 
 longs to, and may be deduced from, the true notion of 
 God which ha(h been given, (and proved by parts of a 
 really existent Being,) that he is such as can converse 
 with men. 
 
 For the first. That there is no way to prove the existence 
 ofsuch a being, is evident. For what ways of proving it 
 can be thought of, which the supposition itself doth not 
 forbid and reject 1 Is it to be proved by revelation 'I But 
 that supposes converse with men, and destroys what it 
 should prove, that such a being, having no converse with 
 men, doth exist. And where is that revelation"? Is it 
 written or unwritten ; or who are its vouchers ? Upon 
 what authority doth it rest 1 Who was appointed to inform 
 the world in this matter 1 Was Epicurus himself the 
 common oracle 1 Why did he never tell men so ? Did he 
 ever pretend to have seen any of these his vogued gods 1 
 No, they are confessed not to be liable to our sense, any 
 more than the inane itself. And what miracles did he ever 
 work to confirm the truth of his doctrine in this matter! 
 Which sure was reasonably to be expected from one who 
 would gain credit to dictates so contrary to the common 
 sentiments of the rest of mankind, and that were not to 
 be proved any other way. And what other way can be 
 devised? Can it admit of rational demonslration ? What 
 shall be the medium 1 Shall it be from the cause? But 
 what cause can (or ever did) he or his followers assign of 
 God? Or from eflTects? And what shall they be, when the 
 matter of the whole universe is supposed ever to have 
 been of itself, and the particular frame of every thing 
 made thereof, to have resulted only of the casual coalition 
 of the parts of that matter, and mj real being is supposed 
 besides 1 Or shall it be that their idea, which they have of 
 God, includes existence, as so belonging to him that he 
 cannot but exist 1 But by what right do they aflix snch 
 an idea to their petite and fictitious deities'? How will 
 they prove their idea true 1 Or are we bound to take their 
 words for it 1 Yea it is easily proved false, and repugnant 
 
 essot. Iiitellisitur enim a beata immortalique natura, et iram et ^atiam se- 
 grcgan. Qnilnis remotis. nullos a snpcris imptnderc motus, &c. Sect. 1. cap 3. 
 An et muiiduni fecit, et in mundo homines ut ab liominibus coleretur? At quid 
 Deo cultus hominum conlert, beato, et nulla re indigent!. Sect. 2 cap. 3. 
 
 d Ku' Toicipd'cv Tr]i vpo\r}ipci Tovdcov rriv irpovotav antXiroii, ediaii/ovTO 
 ap e^mai xpt^iiS vXcov exovrcs at (bpovipoi tmv 8ripic>v npof to riftioi 
 Criv ; eirei fc tcXoj r]v tov rrcpi Qcmv Xoyoii, to prj (po/HecaOai 6eof, aWa 
 TtavaaaOai -npaTToptvovi, lief^aiortpov oipai tovto, &c. Plut. 
 
 e Advcrsus Colotem. 11 ws ovv aTroXctnovat tpvtriv Kat i}^v\rii> xat ^<ooi>; 
 cos opKOV, (OS svxriv, (OS dvataii, (OS TTpO(TKVi>r]aiv, prjpart Kat Xo} oil, nat r(oi 
 (pauat Kat wpoairottKrQnt Kat ovopat,civ, a rais ap\ats Kat roii ioypaatv 
 avaipovatv. Unto which purpo.se is that also in Ttilly. Atetiamdesancti- 
 tate, de pietate adversus Deos libros scripsit Epicurus. Ad qnomodn in his lo- 
 quitur? ut Conmcanium aut Scaivolam Pontifices ma.vimos teaudire dicasnon 
 eum. nni subtulerit omnem funditus relisionem : Nee manilnis ut Xerxes, sed 
 rationitms Templa Deorum et aras everterit. Dt Natura Deorum.
 
 Chap. VI. 
 
 THE LIVING TEMPLE. 
 
 47 
 
 to itself, while they would have that to be necessarily- 
 existent (as they must if they will have it existent at all, 
 unto which, in the meantime, they deny the other perfec- 
 tions which necessar)'' existence hath been proved to include. 
 But how vain and idle trifling is it, arbitrarily and by a 
 random fancy to imagine any thing what we please, and 
 attributing of our own special grace Euid favour necessary 
 existence to it, thence to conclude that it doth exist, only 
 because we have been pleased to make that belong to the 
 notion of it ? What so odd and uncouth composition can 
 we form any conception of, which we may not make exist, 
 at this rale 1 
 
 But the notion of God is not arbitrary, but is natural, 
 proleptical, and common to men, impressed upon the minds 
 of all : whence they say it ought not to be drawn into con- 
 troversy. What! thef Epicurean notion of him 1 We 
 shall inquire further into that anon. And in the mean- 
 time need not doubt to say, any man might with as good 
 pretence imagine the ridiculous sort of gods described in 
 Cicero's ironical supposition, and affirm them to exist, as 
 they those they have thought fit to feign, and would impose 
 upon the belief of men. And when they have fancied 
 these to exist, is not that a mighty proof that they indeed 
 do so 1 But that which for the present we allege, is, that 
 supposing their notion were ever so absolutely universal 
 and agreeing with the common sentiments of all other men, 
 they have yet precluded themselves of any right to argue. 
 from its commonness, to the existence of the thing itself 
 Nor can they upon their principles form an argument 
 hence, that shall conclude or signify any thing to this pur- 
 pose." None can be drawn hence, that will conclude im- 
 mediately, and itself reach the mark, without the addition 
 of some further thing, which so ill sorts with the rest of 
 their doctrine, that it would subvert the whole frame. That 
 is, it follows not, that because men generally hold that 
 there is a God, that therefore there is one ; otherwise than 
 as that consequence can be justified by this plain and irre- 
 fragable proof — That no reason can be devised of so gene- 
 ral an agreement, or of that so common an impression 
 upon the minds of men, but this only ; that it must have 
 proceeded from one common cause, viz. God himself; 
 who having made man so prime a part of his creation, 
 hath stamped with his own signature this nobler piece of 
 his workmanship, and purposely made and framed him to 
 the acknowledgment and adoration of his Maker. 
 
 But how shall they argue so, who, while they acknow- 
 ledge a God, deny man to be his creature, and will have 
 him and all things to be by chance, or without dependence 
 on any Maker? What can an impression infer to this 
 purpose, that comes no one can tell whence or how ; but 
 is plainly denied to be from him, whose being they would 
 argue from it 1 
 
 The observation of so common an apprehension in the 
 minds of men, might (upon their supposition) beget much 
 wonder, but no knowledge ; and may perplex men much, 
 how such a thing should come to pass, without making 
 them any thing the wiser ; and would infer astonishment, 
 sooner than a good conclusion, or than it would solidly 
 prove any important truth. And do they think they have 
 salved the business, ^.nd given us a satisfying account of" 
 this matter, by telling us, This impression is from nature, 
 as they speak 1 It were to be -wished some of them had 
 told us, or could yet tell us, what they meant by nature. 
 Is it any intelligent principle, or was it guided by any such 1 
 If yea, whence came this impression, but from God him- 
 self? For surely an intelligent Being, that could have this 
 universal influence upon the minds of all men, is much 
 liker to be God than the imaginary entities they talk of, 
 that are bodies, and no bodies, have blood, and no blood, 
 members, and no members, are some where, and no where ; 
 or if they be any where, are confined to some certain places 
 remote enough from our world ; with the affairs whereof, 
 or any other, they cannot any way concern themselves, 
 without quite undoing and spoiling their felicity. If they 
 say No, and that nature, which put this stamp upon the 
 minds of men, is an utterly unintelligent thing, nor was 
 ever governed by any thing wiser than itself— strange ! that 
 blind and undesigning nature should, without being 
 
 f Deos, Strabones, psetiilos, n»\'um habeiUes, silos, flaccos, frontones, 
 CApitones.— De Natura Deorum, I. l. 
 
 prompted, become thus ignorantly ofl^cious to these idle, 
 voluptuary godlings ; and should so efiectually take course 
 they might be known to the world, who no way ever 
 obliged it, nor were ever like to do ! But to regress a 
 little, fain I would know what is this thing they call na- 
 ture 1 Is it any thing else than the course and inclination 
 of conspiring atoms, which singly are not pretended to 
 bear any such impres.sion ; but as they luckily club and 
 hit together, in the composition of a human soul, by the 
 merest and strangest chance that ever happened 1 But 
 would we ever regard what they say whom we believe to 
 speak by chance ? Were it to be supposed that characters 
 and words serving to make up some proposition or other, 
 were by some strange agitation of wind and waves impressed 
 and figured on the sand; would we, if we really believed 
 the matter came to pass only by such an odd cas'ualty, 
 think that proposition any whit the truer for being there, 
 or take this for a demonstration of its truth, any more than 
 if we had seen it in a ballad 1 Because men have casu- 
 ally come to think so, therefore there are such beings, (to 
 be called gods,) between whom and them there never was 
 or shall be any intercourse or mutual concern. It follows 
 as -tvell, a.s that because the staff stands in the comer, the 
 morrow will be a rainy day. The dictates of nature are 
 indeed most regardable things taken as expressions of his 
 mind, or emanations from him, who is the Author and God 
 of nature: but abstracted from him, they are and signify 
 as much as a beam cut off from the body of the sun ; or a 
 person that pretends himself an ambassador, without cre- 
 dentials. 
 
 Indeed, (as is imported in the words noted from that 
 graves pagan a little before,) the principles of these men 
 destro}'^ quite nature itself, as well as every thing of reli- 
 gion ; and leave us the names and show of them, but take 
 away the things themselves. In sum, though there be no 
 such impression upon the minds of men as tliat which they 
 talk of, yet if there were, no such thing can be inferred 
 from it, as they would infer ; their principles taking away 
 all connexion between the argument, and what they would 
 argue by it. 
 
 2. We have also too much reason to add, That as the 
 supposition of such a being, or sort of beings, can have no 
 sufficient ground ; so it is equally unconceivable that it 
 can be intended for any good end. Not that we think the 
 last assertion a .sufficient sole proof of this ; for we easily 
 acknowledge that it is possible enough, men may harm- 
 lessly and with innocent intentions attempt the building 
 very weighty and important truths upon weak and insufii- 
 cient foundations; hoping they have offered that as a sup- 
 port unto truth, which proves only a useless cumber. Nor 
 were it just to impute treachery, where there is ground for 
 the more charitable censure, that the misadventure pro- 
 ceeded only from want of judgment and shortness of 
 discourse. But it is neither needful nor seemly, that 
 charit}' which can willingly wink in some cases, should 
 therefore be quite blind ; or that no difference should be 
 made of well-meant mistakes, and mischief thinly hid and 
 covered over with specious pretences. And let it be so- 
 berly considered, what can the design be, after the cashier- 
 ing of all solid grounds for the proving of a Deity, at 
 length to acknowledge it upon none at all ? As if their 
 acknowledgment must owe itself not to their reason, but 
 their courtesy. And when they have done what they can 
 to make the rest of men believe they have no need to own 
 any God at all, and they can tell how all tliai concerns the 
 making and governing the world may well enough be des- 
 patched without any, yet at last they will be so generous 
 as to be content there shall be one, however. What, I say, 
 can the design of this be, that they who have contended 
 with all imaginable obstinacy against the most plain and 
 convincing evidences, that do even defy cavil ; have quite 
 fought themselves blind, and lost their eyes in the en- 
 counter ; so that they at-e ready to swear the sun is a clod 
 of dirt, and noon-day light is to them the very blackness 
 of darkness 1 They cannot see a Deity encircling them 
 with the brightest beams, and shining upon them with the 
 most conspicuous glory through every thing that occurs, 
 and all things that encompass them on every side. And 
 
 e Plut&rcb.
 
 48 
 
 THE LIVING TEMPLE. 
 
 Part I. 
 
 yet when all is done, and llieir thnnder-sinick eyes make 
 them fancy they have put out the sun ; they have won 
 the day, have cleared the field, and are absolute victors ; 
 they have vanquished the whole })ower of their most 
 dreaded enemy, the light that reveals God in his works — 
 after all this, without any inducement at all, and having 
 triumphed over every thing that looked like an argument 
 to prove it, they vouchsafe to say however, of their own 
 accord. There is a God. Surely if this have any design at 
 all, it must be a very bad one. And see whither it tends. 
 They have now a god of their own making; and all the 
 being he hath, depends upon their grace and favour. They 
 are not his creatures, but he is theirs ; a precarious deity, 
 that shall be as long, and what, and where, they please to 
 have him. And if he displease them, they can think him 
 back into nothing. Here seems the depth of the design. 
 For see with what cautions and limitations they admit him 
 into being. There shall be a god, provided he be not 
 meddlesome, nor concern himself in their affairs to the 
 crossing of any inclinations of humours which they are 
 pleased shall command and govern their lives ; being con- 
 scious that if they admit of any at all that shall have to do 
 with their concernments, he cannot but be such as the 
 ways they resolve on will displease. Their very shame 
 will not permit them to call that God, which if" he take 
 any cognizance at all of their course will not dislike it. 
 And herein that they may be the more secure, they judge 
 it the most prudent course, not to allow him anypart or 
 interest in the affairs of the world at all. 
 
 Yet all this while they court him at a great rate, and all 
 religion is taken away under pretence of great piety : Avor- 
 ship they believe he cares not for, because he is full and 
 needs nothing. In this Avorld he must not be, for it is a 
 place unworthy of him. He must have had no hand in 
 framing, nor can they think fit he should have anv in the 
 government of it. For it would be a great disturbance to 
 him, and interrupt his pleasures. The same thing as if 
 certain licentious cour.tiers, impatient of being governed, 
 should address themselves to their prince in such a form 
 of speech, that it is beneath him to receive any homage 
 from them, it would too much debase majesty ; that his 
 dominions afford no place fit for his residence, and there- 
 fore it would be convenient for him to betake himself into 
 some other country, that hath better air and accommoda- 
 tion for delight; that diadems and sceptres are burthen- 
 some things, which therefore if he will quit to them, he 
 may wholly give up himself to ease and pleasure. 
 
 Yea, and whatsoever would any way tend to evince his 
 necessary existence, is with the same courtship laid aside ; 
 (although if he do not exist necessarily .and of himself, he 
 cannot have any existence at all ; for as they do not allow 
 him to be the cause of any thing, so they assign nothing 
 to be the cause of him ;) that is, with pretence there is no 
 need it should be demonstrated, because all men believe 
 it without a reason, nature having impressed this belief 
 upon the minds of all ; or (which is all one) they having 
 agreed to believe it because they believe. But though 
 diey have no reason to believe a Deity, they have a very 
 good one why they would seem to do so, that they may 
 expiate with the people their irreligion by a collusive pre- 
 tending against atheism. And because'they think it less 
 plausible plainly to deny there is a God, they therefore 
 grant one to please the vulgar, yet take care it shall be 
 one as good as none, lest otherwise they should displease 
 themselves : and so their credit and their liberty are both 
 cared for together. 
 
 V. But this covering is too short, and the art by which 
 they would fit it to their design, when it should cheat 
 others, deceives themselves. For it is most evident, 
 
 3. That the being with the pretended belief whereof 
 they would mock the world, is no God ; and that conse- 
 quently, while they would seem to acknowledge a deity, 
 they really acknowledge none at all. Our contest hath 
 not, all this while, been a strife about words, or con- 
 cerning the name, but the thing itself And not whe- 
 ther there be such a thing in being to which that name 
 may, with whatsoever impropriety, be given, but whether 
 
 h OffOl ucv ovv Ta; nOcovi aoKovat rtiXoaociiaf, &e. D. Halicamass. Ant. 
 Rom. I. 
 i See their ambassador's oration, in Q Curtius. 
 
 there be such a being as whereto it properly belongs : 
 supposing, and taking for granted as a matter out of qiies- 
 tion, that (even in their own sense) if such a being as we 
 have described do exist, it is most properly God ; and that 
 they will not go about to call it by another name ; or that 
 they will not pretend this name agrees to any other thing 
 so fitly as to him. And because we have already proved 
 this Being doth exist, and that there can be but one such, 
 it plainly follows theirs is in propriety of speech (even 
 though he did exist) no God ; and that much less should 
 he appropriate the name, and exclude the only true God. 
 For since the high and dignifying eulogies, which they are 
 wont to bestow upon their feigned deity, do plainly show 
 they would have it thought they esteem him the most ex- 
 cellent of all existent beings; if we have proved a really 
 existent Being to be more excellent than he, it is evident, 
 even upon their own grounds, that this is God. Hither 
 the Deity must be deferred, and theirs must yield, and 
 give out ; inasmuch as we cannot suppose them so void of 
 common sense, as to say the less excellent being is God, 
 and the more excellent is no God. But if they should be 
 so, (whereas the controversy is not about the name,) we 
 have our main purpose, in having proved there is a Being 
 actually existent, that hath all the real excellences which 
 they ascribe to their deities, and infinitely more. And as 
 concerning the name, who made them dictators to all the 
 world, and the sole judges of the propriety of words 1 or 
 with what right or pretence will they assume so much to 
 themselves, so as, against the rest of the world, to name 
 that God, from which they cut off the principal perfections 
 wont to be signified by that name 1 And if we speak of 
 .such perfections as tend to infer and establish religion and 
 providence, who but themselves, did ever call that God 
 in the eminent sense, that they supposed could not hear 
 prayers, and thereupon dispense favours, relieve the afflict- 
 ed, supply the indigent, and receive suitable acknowledg- 
 ments 1 They indeed (saith a famed writerii of Roman 
 history) that exercise themselves in the atheistical sorts of 
 philosophy, {if we may call that philosophy,) as they are wont 
 to jeer at all appearances of tlie gods, whether a,mong the 
 Greeks or the JBarbarians, will make themselves matter of 
 laughter of our histories, not thinking that any God takes 
 care of any man. — Let the story he there tells shift for itself; 
 in the meantime it appears they escaped not the infamy of 
 atheists, who (whatever deities they might imagine be- 
 sides) did deny God's presence, and regard to men. 
 Which sort of persons he elsewhere of ten animadverts 
 upon. But do we need to insist, that all the rest of the 
 world acknowledged no gods, whom they did not also 
 worship 1 What meant their temples and altars, their 
 prayers and sacrifices 1 Or did they take him for God, 
 whom they believed to take no care of them, or from whom 
 they expected no advantage 1 Even the barbarous Scy- 
 thians themselves vmderstood it most inseparable to belong 
 to a deity, to be beneficent; when they upbraidingly tell 
 Alexander,! That if he were a god, (as they it seems had 
 heard he vogued himself) he should bestow benefits upon 
 men, and not take from them Avhat was their own. 
 
 And by the way, it is observable how contradictious 
 and repugnant the Epicurean sentiments arc in this, even 
 to themselves : that speaking of friendship, u (of which they 
 say many generous and brave things,) they gallantly pro- 
 fess (as Plutarch testifies of them) that it is a more pleasant 
 thing to benefit others than to receive benefits oneself. 
 They yet, while they seem so greatly concernedi that their 
 gods be every way most perfectly happy, deny to them this 
 highest and most excellent part of felicity. That a virtuous 
 man may a great deal more benefit the world than they, 
 and consequently have more pure and lively relishes of a 
 genuine and refined pleasure. 
 
 Upon the whole, it is manifest they so maim the notion 
 of God, as to make it quite another thing. And if they 
 think to wipe off' any thing of the foul and odious blot 
 wherewith their avowed irreligion hath stained their name 
 and memory, by the acknowledgment of such a God ; they 
 effect the like thing by it, and gain as much to the repu- 
 tation of their piety as he should of his loyalty, who being 
 
 k Lib. lion posse suav-iter \\\i, &c. 
 
 1 Vid. et lib. maxime cum oriiicip. viris Pliil. &c.
 
 Chap. VI. 
 
 THE LIVING TEMPLE. 
 
 49 
 
 accused of treason against his prince, shall think to vindi- 
 cate himseli' by professing solemnly to own the king ; 
 provided you only mean by it the king of clubs, or any 
 such painted one the pack affords. But here it may be 
 demanded. Is every misapprehension of God to be under- 
 stood as a denial of his being 1 If so, whom can we un- 
 dertake to assoil of atheism'? Or who can certainly acquit 
 himself 1 For how impossible is it to be sure we have no 
 untrue conception of a Being so infinitely, by our own 
 confession, above ail our thoughts'? Or how is it to be 
 avoided, in somewhat or other, to think amiss of so lui- 
 known and incomprehensibly excellent a Being, either 
 by detracting somewhat that belongs to it, or attributing 
 somewhat that belongs not ] And since many, we are sure, 
 have thought and spoken unworthily of God, besides 
 Epicureans, are all these logo into the account of atheists'? 
 Or whereas it is commonly wont to be said. Whatsoever 
 is in God, is God: how can they who deny any thing of 
 him, which is really in him, be excused of denying his 
 whole being'? Or where will we fix the bounds of our 
 censure'? 
 
 Many things should be said (if we will speak at all) to 
 so manifold an inquiry: but it belongs not to the design 
 of this discourse to examine and discuss all men's senti- 
 ments of God that have been exposed to the view of the 
 world, or arbitrate among the dissenting parties; much 
 less to explain or abet every school-maxim that hath refer- 
 ence to this theme; the authors or lovers whereof will be 
 sufficiently prompted by their own genius to do at least as 
 much as can be requisite herein. But whatever the real 
 sameness is supposed to be, of the things attributed to 
 God, it is acknowledged we cannot but conceive of them 
 as divers; and so that our conception of any one is not 
 adequate to the entire object, which is confessed incom- 
 prehensible. Yet any one attribute gives a true notion of 
 the object, so far as it reaches, though not a full. As I 
 may be said truly to see a man, when I only see his face, 
 and view not every part and limb; or to know him, while 
 }'et I have not had opportunity to discern everj^ quality 
 in his temper, and what his dispositions and inclinations, 
 in all respects, are. Moreover, it's one thing to deny any 
 divine perfection, another, only not to know it. 
 
 And such mere nescience is so far from being guilty of 
 the horrid crime of atheism, that it's not so much as cul- 
 pable, further than as it is obstinatelj'' persisted in, against 
 sufficient evidence: for we are not obliged to know everj' 
 thing, but what is to us knowable, and what we are con- 
 cerned to know. Again, (and which is most considerable 
 to our purpose,) we are not concerned to know what God 
 is in himself, otherwise than as we may thereby knoM' 
 what he is in relation to us, viz. as he is the Author of 
 our beings, the Governor of our lives and actions, and 
 thereupon the object of our religion; for a religious respect 
 unto him is the very end of that knowledge. Now, if any 
 other than that sort of persons we oppose have taken up 
 apprehensions of him not so suitable to that end, it were 
 to be wished they saw it, and would unthink all those 
 thoughts. But surely, they who must professedly contend 
 against the very notions themselves which directly influ- 
 ence all our practice toward God, so considered," would 
 suggest such as are wholly inconsistent therewith ; who 
 oppose the knowledge of God to the end of that know- 
 ledge, and do not merely mistake the way to that end 
 while they are aiming at it, but most avowedly resist and 
 disclaim the end itself; are to be distinguished from them 
 who professedly intend that same end, only see not wherein 
 their misapprehension are prejudical and repugnant to 
 it; otherwise are ready to reject them. And the former 
 are therefore most justly to be singled out, and designed 
 the objects of our direct opposition. Nor are they so fitly 
 to be opposed under any other notion, as that of atheists. 
 For since our knowledge of God ought chiefly to respect 
 him in that fore-mentioned relative consideration, and the 
 inquiry, What is God 1 signifies, as it concerns us, What 
 is the object of religion'? they denying any such thing, 
 deny there is a God. Nor do they "deny him in that re- 
 lative consideration only; but (as every relation is founded 
 in somewhat that is absolute) the very reason of their 
 denying him so, is, that they deny in him those absolute 
 and positive perfections that render him such; as certain 
 
 of those do, that have been proved to belong to him. 
 Which is that we have next to consider, viz. 
 
 VI. That it may evidently be deduced from what hath 
 been said, tending to prove those things of God which are 
 included in the notion of him, and from that notion itself, 
 that he is such as can converse with men. That is, having 
 proved — That there is an eternal, self-subsisting, inde- 
 pendent, necessary Being, of so great activity, life, power, 
 wisdom, and goodness, as to have been the Maker of this 
 world: and by this medium — That we see this world is 
 in being, which otherwise could never have been, much less 
 such as we see it is: it therefore follows, that this great 
 Creator can have influence upon the creatures he hath 
 made, in a way suitable to their natures. It follows, I 
 say, from the same medium, (the present visible existence 
 of this world, which could not olher^vise be now in being,) 
 that he can thus have influence upon his creatures: for it 
 is hence manifest that he hath; they depend on him, and 
 are sustained by him; nor could more subsist by them- 
 selves, than they could make themselves, or of themselves 
 have sprung out of nothing. And if it were possible they 
 could, being raised up into being, continue in being of 
 themselves; yet since our present question is not concern- 
 ing what they need, but what God can do; and our ad- 
 versaries in the present cause do not (as hath been noted) 
 upon any other pretence deny that he doth concern him- 
 self in the affairs of the vmiverse,but that he cannot; (that 
 is, that it consists not with his felicity, and he cannot be 
 happy;) is it not plain that he can with the .same facility 
 continue the influence which he at first gave forth, and 
 with as little prejudice to his felicity'? For if it be neces- 
 sary to him to be happy, or impossible not to be so, he 
 must be ever so. His happiness was not capable of being 
 discontinued, so long as while he made the world, settled 
 the several orders and kinds, and formed the first indi- 
 viduals of every kind of creatures. Therefore having done 
 this, and without diminution to his happiness, Avas it a 
 more toilsome and less tolerable labour to keep things as 
 they were, than to make them so 1 If it was, (which no 
 man that understands common sense would say,) surely 
 that blind thing which they more blindly call nahtre, (not 
 understanding or being able to tell what they mean by it,) 
 and would have be the only cause of all things, acting at 
 first to the uttermost, and having noway to recruit its 
 vigour and reinforce itself, its labour and business being 
 so much increased, and jaded and grown weary ; had given 
 out, and patiently suffered all things to dissolve and re- 
 lapse into the old chaos long ago. But if the labour was 
 not greater, to continue things in the state wherein they 
 were made, than to make them; surely a wise, intelligent 
 Deity, which we have proved made them, could as w'ell 
 sustain them, being made, as their brutal (and as unintel- 
 ligible as unintelligent) nature do both. 
 
 So much then of intercourse God could have with hi.s 
 creatures, as his continual communication of his influence 
 to be received by them amounts to. And then man, not be- 
 ing excluded their number, must share in this possible 
 privilege according to the capacity' of his nature. And inas- 
 much as we have also proved more particularly concerning 
 man, that he immediately owes the peculiar excellences 
 of his intelligent nature, as it's .such, to God only; it is 
 apparently consequent, that having formed this his more 
 excellent creature, according to his own more express 
 likeness, stamjied it M-ith the glorious characters of his 
 living image, ijiven it a nature suitable to his own, and 
 thereby made it capable of rational and intelligent converse 
 with him; he hath it ever in his power to maintain a con- 
 tinual converse with this creature, by agreeable communi- 
 cations; by letting; in upon it the vital beams and influ- 
 ences of his own lijjht and love, and receiving back the 
 return of its grateful acknowledgments and praises. 
 Wherein it's manifest he should do no greater thing than 
 he hath done : for who sees not, that it is a matter of no 
 greater diflSculiy to converse with, than to make a reason- 
 able creature'? Or who would not be ashamed to deny, 
 that he who hath been the only Author of the soul of man, 
 and of the excellent powers and faculties belonging to it, 
 can more easily sustain what he hath made, and converse 
 with that his creature, suitably to the way wherein he hath 
 made it capable of his converse '? Whereto the consider-
 
 50 
 
 THE LIVING TEMPLE. 
 
 Part I. 
 
 ation being added of his gracious nature, (manifested in 
 this creation itself,) it is farther evident, that he is (as 
 things are now ordered, whereof more hereafter) not only 
 able, but apt and ready, to converse with men, in such a 
 way as shall tend to the improving of their being unto that 
 blessedness whereof he hath made them naturally capable; 
 if their own voluntary alienation and aversion to him (yet 
 not overcome) do not obstruct the way of that intercourse. 
 And even this were sufficient to give foundation to a tem- 
 ple, and both afford encouragement and infer an obligation 
 to religion ; although no other perfection had been, or 
 conid be, demonstrated of the Divine Being, than what is 
 immediately to be collected from his works, and the things 
 whereof he hath been the sole and most arbitrary Author. 
 For what if no more were possible to be proved, have we 
 not, even by thus much, a representation of an object suf- 
 ficiently worthy of our homage and adoration 1 He that 
 could make and sustain such a Avorld as this, how inex- 
 pressibly doth he surpass in greatness the most excellent 
 of all mortal creatures! to some or other of whom, upon 
 some (merely accidental) dignifying circumstances, we 
 justly esteem ourselves to owe a dutiful observance and 
 subjection. 
 
 If he did not comprehend within his own being simply 
 all perfection; if there were many gods and worlds besides, 
 and he only the Creator and absolute Lord of our vortex; 
 were not that enough to entitle him to all the obedience 
 and service we could give him, and enable him suf- 
 ficient h^ to reward it, and render hispresence and cherishing 
 influences (which he could every where diffuse within this 
 circle, and limited portion of the universe) even infinitely 
 covetable and desirable to US'? Yea, if he were the only 
 entire Author of our own particular being, how much 
 more is that, than the partial, subordinate interest of a 
 human parent, to whom (as even an Epicurean would 
 confess) nature itself urges and exacts a duly, the refusal 
 whereof even barbarian ingenuity would abhor, yea and 
 brutal instinct condemn 1 How much greater and more 
 absolute is the right which the parentage ofour whole being 
 challenges! If every man were created by a several god, 
 whose creative power were confined to only one such 
 creature, and each one were the solitary product and the 
 charge of an appropriate deity, whose dominion the state 
 of things would allow to be exteirded so far only, and no 
 further; were there therefore no place left for religion, or 
 no tie unto love, reverence, obedience, and adoration, 
 because the author of my being comprehended not in 
 himself all perfection, when as yet he comprehended so 
 much as to be the sole cause of all that is in me; and his 
 power over me, and his goodness to me, are hereby sup- 
 posed the same which the only one God truly hath and 
 exerciseth towards all 1 If all that I am and have be for 
 him, I cannot surely owe to him less than all. 
 
 Such as have either had, or supposed themselves to have, 
 their particular tutelary ^'f wit, (of whom there will be more 
 occasion to take notice hereafter,) though they reckoned 
 them but a sort of deputed or vicarious deities, underling 
 gods, whom they never accounted the causes of their 
 being; yet how have they coveted and gloried to open 
 their breasts to become their temples, and entertain the 
 converse of those supposed divine inhabitants! If thcv 
 had taken one of these to be their alone creator, how much 
 greater had their veneration and their homage been ! This, 
 it may be hoped, will be thought sufficiently proved in 
 this discourse, (at least to have been so by some or other,) 
 that we are not of ourselves; and that our extraction is 
 to be fetched higher than from matter, or from only human 
 progenitors. Nothing that is terrene and mortal could 
 be the author of such powers as we find in ourselves; 
 we are most certainly the offspring of some or other deity. 
 And he that made us, knows us thoroughly, can apply 
 himself inwardly to us, receive our addresses and ap- 
 plication, our acknowledgments and adoration; where- 
 unfo we should have, even upon these terms, great and 
 manifest obligation, although nothing more of the excel- 
 lency and perfection of our Creator were certainly known 
 tons. 
 
 VII. But it hath been further shown. That the neces- 
 sary Being from whence we .sprang, is also an absolutely 
 and infinitely perfect Being: — That necessary Being can- 
 
 not be less perfect, than to include the entire and inei- 
 haustible fulness of all being and perfection: — That 
 therefore the God to whom this notion belongs, must con- 
 sequently be every way sufficient to all, and be himself 
 but one; the only Source and Fountain of all life and 
 being; the common Basis and Support of the universe; 
 the absolute Lord of this great creation, and the central 
 Object of the common concurrent trust, fear, love, and 
 other Avorship of his intelligent and reasonable creatures. 
 And therefore there remains no greater or other difficulty, 
 in apprehending how he can, without disturbance to him- 
 self or interruption of his own felicity, intend all the 
 concernments of his creatures, apply himself to them ac- 
 cording to their several exigences, satisfy their desires and 
 cravings, inspect and govern their actions and affairs ; than 
 we have to apprehend a Being absolutely and every way 
 perfect. Whereof if we cannot have a distinct apprehen- 
 sion all at once, i. e. though we cannot comprehend every 
 particular perfection of God in the same thought, (as our 
 eye cannot behold, at one view, every part of an over-large 
 olDJect, unto which, however, part by part, it may be suc- 
 cessively applied,) we can yet in the general apprehend 
 him absolutely perfect; or such to whom, we are sure, no 
 perfection is Avanting: and can successively contemplate 
 this or that, as we are occasionally led to consider them : 
 and can answer to ourselves difficulties that occur to us, 
 with this easy, sure, and ever ready solution; That he can 
 do all things; that nothing is too hard for him; that he is 
 full, all-sufficient, and every way perfect. Whereof we 
 are the more confirmed, that we find we cannot, by the 
 utmost range of our most enlarged thoughts, ever reach 
 any bound or end of that perfection, which yet we must 
 conclude is necessarily to be attributed to an absolutely 
 perfect Being. And this we have reason to take for a \'ery 
 sufficient answer to any doubt that can arise, concerning 
 the possibility of his converse with us ; unless we will be 
 so unreasonable as to pretend, that what is brought for 
 sohdion. hath greater difficulty in it than the doubt; or that 
 because we cannot apprehend at once infinite perfection, 
 therefore it cannot be; Avhich Avere as much as to say, that 
 it cannot be because it is infinite ; for it were not infinite, 
 if we could distinctly apprehend it. And so were to 
 make it a reason against itself, which is most injuriously 
 and Avith no pretence attempted, except we could shoAv an 
 inconsistency in the terms; which it is plain we can never 
 do, and should most idly attempt. And it were to make 
 our present apprehension the measure of all reality, against 
 our experience; which (if our indulgence to that self- 
 magnifying conceit do not suspend our further inquiries 
 and researches) would daily bring to our notice things we 
 had no apprehension of before. It were (instead of that 
 just and laudable ambition of becoming ourselves like God, 
 in his imitable perfections) to make him like ourselves ; 
 the true model of the Epicurean deity. 
 
 Nor can any thing be more easy, than that wherein we 
 pretend so great a difficulty; that is, to apprehend some- 
 Avhat may be more perfect than we can apprehend. What 
 else but proud ignorance can hinder us from seeing, that 
 the more we knoAV, the more there is that we knoAv not ? 
 How often are we outdone by creatures of our own order 
 in the creation ! How many men are there Avhom we are 
 daily constrained to admire, as unspeakably excelling us, 
 and Avhom Ave cannot but acknowledge to be far more 
 knowing, discerning, apprehensive of things, of more 
 composed minds, of more penetrating judgments, of 
 more quick and nimble Avits, easily turning themselves 
 to great variety of objects and affairs without distrac- 
 tion and confusion, of more equal and dispassionate 
 tempers, less liable to commotion and disturbance, than 
 ourselves. 
 
 HoAv absurd and senseless a pretence is it against the 
 thing itself, that Ave cannot apprehend an infinite perfection 
 in one common fountain of all perfection; or because we 
 cannot go through a multitude of businesses without dis- 
 traction, that therefore he that made us and all thing can- 
 not. If we Avould make ourselves the measure, it is likely 
 we should confess Ave are outstripped, Avhen we are told 
 that Julius Cajsar could dictate letters, when he was intent 
 upon the greatest affairs, to four (and if he had nothing 
 else to diA'ert him, to scA'en) secretaries at once ; that
 
 Chap. VI. 
 
 THE LIVING TEMPLE. 
 
 51 
 
 Cyrusm could call by name all the soldiers in his numerous 
 army: with divers "other strange instances of like nature. 
 And since the perfections of some so far exceed the measure 
 of the most, why is it then unconceivable that divine perfec- 
 tion should so far surpass all, as that God may intend the 
 affairs of the world, according to the several exigences of 
 his creatures, without any ungrateful diversion to himself, 
 or diminution to his felicity"? And since they who partake 
 of some, and but a small portion of perfection only, can 
 be concerned in many affairs, with little trouble; why 
 cannot he that comprehends all perfection, be concerned 
 in all, without any 1 For though we have, in what hath 
 been last said, endeavoured to represent it as not so unap- 
 prehensible as is pretended, that it may be also ; we take 
 it, in the meantime, as formerly sufficiently proved, that 
 so it is ; that God is a being absolutely perfect, or that in- 
 cludes eminently all perfection in himself. 
 
 VIII. Which general perfection of his being, as it mo- 
 difies all his attributes, so we shall particularly take notice 
 that it doth so as to those that have a more direct influence 
 upon, and tend more fully to evince, his conversableness 
 with men. As, first, his wisdom and knowledge (for we 
 need not to be so curious as at present to distinguish them) 
 must be omniscient. About which, if any place were left 
 for rational doubt, it would be obvious to them to allege it 
 who are of slower inclinations towards religion ; and ob- 
 ject, (against all applications to, or expectations from, him,) 
 that if we be not sure he knows simply all things, so as 
 wisely to consider them and resolve fitly about them, it 
 will be no little difficulty to determine which he doth, and 
 which not ; or to be at a certainty, that this or that con- 
 cernment of theirs, about which they might address them- 
 selves to him, be not among the unknown things. At 
 least, we shall the less need to be curious in distinguish- 
 ing, or to consider what things may be supposed rather 
 than other, to be without the compass of his knowledge ; 
 if it appear that it universally encompasses all things, or 
 that nothing can be without its reach. And because we 
 suppose it already out of doubt, that the true notion of 
 God imports a Being absolutely or every way perfect; 
 nothing else can be doubted in this matter, but whether 
 the knowledge of all things be a perfection. 
 
 The greatest difficulty that hath troubled some in this 
 matter, hath been, How it is possible there should be any 
 certain knowledge of eventsyetto come, that depend upon 
 a free and self-determining cause 1 But methinks we 
 should not make a difficulty to acknowledge, that to 
 know these things, imports greater perfection than not to 
 know them ; and then it would be very unreasonable, 
 because we cannot show how this or that thing was per- 
 formed which manifestly is done, therefore to deny that it 
 is done at all. It would be so highly unreasonable to 
 conclude against any act of God, from our ignorance of the 
 manner of it, that we should reckon it very absurd to con- 
 clude so, concerning any act of our own, or our ability 
 thereto. What if it were hitherto an unknown thing, and 
 impossible to be determined, how the act of vision is per- 
 formed by us; were it a wise conclusion, that therefore we 
 neither do nor can see 1 How much more rash and pre- 
 suming a confidence were it to reason thus concerning. the 
 divine acts and perfections ! Would we not in any such 
 case be determined rather by thkt which is more evident, 
 than b}'' what is more obscure 1 As in the assigned in- 
 stance, we should have but these two propositions to 
 compare — That I do (or have such a perfection belonging 
 to me that I can) see, and, — That whatsoever act I do or 
 can do, I am able to understand the course and method 
 of nature's operations therein — and thereupon to judge 
 which of these two is more evident. Wherein it may be 
 supposed there is no man in his wits, to whom the deter- 
 mination would not be easy. Accordingly, in the present 
 case we have only these two assertions that can be in com- 
 petition, in point of evidence, between which we are to 
 make a comparison, and a consequent judgment ; viz. — 
 Whatsoever perfection belongs -to a being absolutely per- 
 fect, enabling it to do this or that, the wit of man can com- 
 prehend the distinct way and manner of doing it; and, — 
 
 m Plin. Nat. Hist. lib. 7. c. 2.5. Id. 1. 7. c. 24. vid. pt Xenonh. de C>T Ps'd. 
 I. .'5. Who, thou'-'h he expressly s^vs he knew all tlie PoUlicrs' name?, but 
 seems ratlierto mean it of their oiricers, (for, saith he, he reckoned it an ab- 
 
 It imports greater perfection to know all things, than to be 
 ignorant of some — and here .surely whosoever shall think 
 the determination difficult, accounts the wit of man so 
 exceeding great, that he discovers his own to be very little. 
 For what can the pretence of evidence be in the former 
 assertion 1 Was it necessary that he, in whose choice it 
 was whether we should ever knowany thing or no, should 
 make us capable of knowing every thing belonging to his 
 own being? Or will we adventure to be so assuming, as 
 while we deny it to God that he knows all things, to attri- 
 bute to ourselves that we dol But if we will think it not 
 altogether unworthy of us to be ignorant of something, 
 what is there of which we may with more probability, or 
 with less disparagement be thought so, than the manner of 
 God's knowing things'! And what place is there for com- 
 plaint of inevidence in the latter 1 Is not that knowledge 
 more perfect, which so fully already comprehends all things, 
 as upon that account to admit of no increase; than that 
 which shall be every day growing, and have a continual 
 .succession of new objects emerging and coming into view 
 before altogether unknown 1 And will not that be the 
 case, if we suppose future contingencies to lie concejaled 
 from the penetrating eye of God 1 For whatsoever is fu- 
 ture, will some time be ])resent, and then we will allow 
 such contingencies to be known to him. That is, that 
 God may know them, when we ourselves can; and that 
 nothing of that kind is k-nown to him, which is not know- 
 able some way or other to ourselves, at least successively, 
 and one thing" after another. We will perhaps allow that 
 prerogative to God, in point of this knowledge, that he 
 can know these things now fallen out, all at once ; ice, 
 but by degrees ; while yet there is not any one that is ab- 
 solutely unknowable to us. But why should it be thought 
 unreasonable, to attribute an excellency to the knowledge 
 of God above ours; as well in respect of the manner of 
 knowing, as the multitude of objects at once known 1 We 
 will readily confess, in some creatures, an excellency of 
 their visive faculty above our own ; that they can see 
 things in that darkness, wherein they are to us invisible. 
 And will we not allow that to the eye of God, which is 
 as aflame of fire, to be able to penetrate into the abstrusest 
 darkness of futurity, though we know not the way how it 
 is done ; when yet we know that whatsoever belongs to 
 the most perfect being, must belong to his 1 And that 
 knowledge of all things imports more perfection, than if 
 it were lessened by the ignorance of an}' thing. 
 
 Some, who have thought the certain foreknowledge of 
 future contingencies not attributable to God, have reckoned 
 the matter sufficiently excused by this. That it no more 
 detracts from the divine omniscience, to state without the 
 object of it things not possible, or that imply a contradic- 
 tion (as thev suppose these do) to be known ; than it doth 
 from his ornnipotency, that it cannot do what is impossi- 
 ble, or that implies" a contradiction to be done. But 
 against this there seems to lie this reasonable exception, 
 that the two ca.ses appear not sufficiently alike ; inasmuch 
 as the supposition of the former will be found not to leave 
 the blessed God equally entitled to omnisciency, as the 
 latter to omnipotencv. For all things should not be alike 
 the object of both ; "and why should not that he under- 
 stood to signify the knou-lcdsc of simply all things, as well 
 as this\\\e pov'cr of doins simply all things 7 Or why should 
 all thiiifis, included in these two words, signify so very 
 diversely; that is, there properly all things, here some 
 things only? And why must we so difference the object 
 of omnisciency and ornnipotency, as to make that so much 
 narrower than this? And then how is it all things, when 
 so great a number of things will be left excluded ? 
 Whereas from the object of ornnipotency (that we may 
 prevent what would be replied) there will be no exclusion 
 of any thing: not of the things which are actually already 
 made ; for they are still momently reproduced by the same 
 power: not of the actions and effects of free causes yet 
 future; for, when they become actual, Gxid doth certainly 
 perform the part of the first cause, (even by common con- 
 sent,) in e,-der to their becoming so; which is certainly 
 doing somewhat, though all be not agreed what that part 
 
 surd thine a meohanic should know the names of all his tools. 4:c. and a ge- 
 neral not know the names of his captains under him. Sic.) ret he amtb the sol- 
 diers wondered -ojj oi'oa^i^iM ti'trcXX^ro.
 
 52 
 
 THE LIVING TEMPLE. 
 
 Part I, 
 
 is. Therefore they are, in the meantime, to be esteemed 
 within the object of omnipotency, or to be of the things 
 which God can do ; viz. as the first cause virtually in- 
 cluding the power of the second. But more strictly ; all 
 impossibility is either natural and absolute, or moral and 
 conditional. AVhat is absolutely or naturally impossible, 
 or repugnant in itself, is not properly any thing. What- 
 soever simple being, not yet existent, we can form any 
 conception of, is producible, and so within the compass of 
 omnipotency; for there is no repugnancy in simplicity. 
 That wherein therefore we place natural impossibility, is 
 the inconsistency of being this thing, whose notion is such ; 
 and another, wholly and entirely, whose notion is diverse, 
 at the same time, that which (more barbarously than insig- 
 nificantly) hath been wont to be called incompnssibility. 
 But surely all things are properly enough said to be natu- 
 rally possible to God, while all simple beings are produci- 
 ble by him, of which any notion can be formed; yea, and 
 compounded, so as by their composition to result into a 
 third thing. So that it is not an exception, to say that it 
 is naturally impossible this thing should be another thing, 
 and yet be wholly itself still at once ; that it should be 
 and not be, or be without itself There is not within the 
 compass of actual or conceivable being, such a thing. Nor 
 is it reasonable to except such actions as are naturally pos- 
 sible to other agents, but not to him ; as to walk, for in- 
 stance, or the like. Inasmuch as, though the excellency 
 of his nature permits not they should be done by him, yet 
 since their power of doing them proceeds wholly from him, 
 he hath it virtually and eminently in himself: as was for- 
 merly said of the infiniteness of his being. And for moral 
 impossibility, as to lie, to do an unjust act ; that God never 
 does them, proceeds not from want of power, but an eter- 
 nal aversion of will. It cannot be said he is not able to 
 do such a thing, if he would; but so is his will qualified 
 and conditioned, by its own unchangeable rectitude, that 
 he most certainly never will; or such things as are in 
 themselves evil are never done by him, not through the 
 defect of natural power, but from the permanent stability 
 and fulness of all moral perfection. And it is not without 
 the compass of absolute omnipotency to do what is but 
 conditionally impossible, that absence of which restrictive 
 condition would rather bespeak impotenc}^ and imperfec- 
 tion, than omnipotency. Therefore the object of omnipo- 
 tence is simply all things ; why not of omniscience as 
 well 1 It may be said, all things, as it signifies the object 
 of omniscience, is only restrained by the act or faculty, 
 signified therewith in the same Avord, so as to denote the 
 formal object of that faculty or act, mz. all knowable 
 things. But surely that act must suppose some agent, 
 whereto that knowable hath reference. Knowable ! To 
 whom? To others, or to God himself ? If we say the 
 former, it is indeed a great honour we put upon God, to 
 say he can know as much as others; if the latfter, we 
 speak absurdly, and only say he can know^ all that he can 
 know. It were fairer to deny omniscience than so inter- 
 pret it. But if it be denied, what shall the pretence bel 
 Why, that it implies a contradiction future contingents 
 should be certainly known ; for they are uncertain, and 
 nothing can be otherwise truly known than as it is." 
 
 And it must be acknowledged, that to whom any thing 
 is uncertain, it is a contradiction that to him it should be 
 certainly known. But that such things are uncertain to 
 God, needs other proof than I have met with, in Avhat fol- 
 lows in that cited author, or elsewhere : all which will 
 amount to no more than this, that such things as w-e can- 
 not tell how God knows them, must needs be unknown to 
 him. But since we are sure many such things have been 
 certainly foretold by God, (and of them such as we may 
 be also sure he never intended to effect,) we have reason 
 enough to be confident that such things are not unknow- 
 able to him. And for the manner of his knowing them, it 
 is better to profess ignorance about it, than attempt the 
 explication thereof, either unintelligibly, as some have to 
 no purpose, or dangerously and impiously, as others have 
 adventured to do to very bad jm-rpose. And it well be- 
 comes us to suppose an infinite understanding may have 
 
 n ftiinlis res est talis est roi cosiiitio. Si itaoue res sit inccrta (piita Incer- 
 iuiii est lioo ne sit fiituniin, an non) non datur ulla certa ejus notitia. Quo- 
 nrt/^lo eniin fieri potest uf certo soiatur adfore, quod certo futururn tion est, &c. 
 
 ways of knowing things which we know nothing of. To 
 my apprehension, that last-mentioned author doth with ill 
 success attempt an explication of God's manner of know- 
 ing this sort of things, by the far less intelligible notion of 
 the indivisibility of eternity, comprehending (as he says) 
 all the parts of time, not successively, but together. And 
 though he truly say that the Scotists' way of expressing 
 how future contingents are present to God, i. e. according 
 to their objective and intentional being only, affords us no 
 account why God knows them, (for which cause he rejects 
 it, and follows that of the I'homists, who will have them 
 to be present according to their real and actual existence,) 
 I should yet prefer the deficiency of the former way, be- 
 fore the contradictiousness and repugnancy of the latter ; 
 and conceive those words in the Divine Dialogues^ as 
 good an explication of the manner of his knoAvledge, as the 
 case can admit, (which yet is but the Scotists' sense,) 
 "That the whole evolution of times and ages is so collect- 
 edly and presentificly represented to God at once, as if all 
 things and actions which ever were, are, or shall be, w-ere 
 at this very in.stant, and so always really present and ex- 
 istent before him." Which is no wonder the animadver- 
 sion and intellectual comprehension of God being abso- 
 lutely infinite, according to the truth of his idea. I do 
 therefore think upon a sober resolution in this matter, 
 " That it seems more safe to allow this privilege to the in- 
 finite understanding of God,P than to venture at all to cir- 
 cumscribe his omniscience : for though it may safely be 
 said that he knows not any thing that really implies a 
 contradiction to be known, yet we are not assured but that 
 may seem a contradiction to us, that is not so really in 
 itself." And when we have only human wit to contest 
 with in the case, reverence of this or that man, though both 
 in great vo^ue in that kind, needs not restrain us from 
 distinguishing Detwcen a mere seeming latent contradic- 
 tion, and a flat, downright, open one. Only as to that 
 instance of the commensiirableness of the diagonal lineol 
 a quadrate to one of the sides ; w^hereas though there are 
 great difficulties on both sides, viz. that these are com- 
 mensurable, and that they are not ; yet any man's judg- 
 ment would rather incline to the latter, as the easier part : 
 I should therefore also think it more safe to make choice 
 of that, as the parallel of the present difficulty. Upon 
 the whole, we may conclude that the knowledge of God 
 is every way perfect ; and being so, extends to all our con- 
 cernments: and that nothing remains, upon that account, 
 to make us decline applying ourselves to religious con- 
 verses with him, or deny him the honour and entertain- 
 ment of a temple: for which we shall yet see further 
 cause, when we consider, next, 
 
 IX. That his power is also omnipotent. Which (though 
 the discourse of it have been occasionally somewhat min- 
 gled with that of the last) might be directly spoken of for 
 the fuller eviction of that his conversableness with men, 
 which religion and a temple do suppose. Nor indeed is it 
 enough that he knows our concernments, except he can 
 also provide effectually about them, and dispose of them 
 to our advantage. And we cannot doubt but he, who 
 could create us and su<;h a world as this, can do so, even 
 thaugh he were supposed not omnipotent. But even that 
 itself seems a very unreasonable supposition, that less than 
 infinite power should suffice to the creation of any thing. 
 For however liable it may be to controversy, what a second 
 cause might do herein, being assisted by the infinite power 
 of the first; it seems altogether tmimaginable to us, how, 
 though the power of all men were met in one, (which we 
 can easily suppose to be a very vast power,) it could alone 
 be sufficient to make the minutest atom arise into being 
 out of nothing. And that all the matter of the universe 
 hath been so produced, %nz. out of nothing, it will be no 
 great presumption to suppose already fully proved ; in that 
 though any such thing as necessary matter were admitted, 
 yet its essential unalterableness would render it impossible 
 it should be the matter of the universe. Therefore when 
 we cannot devise what finite power can ever suffice (sup- 
 pose it were never so much fncreased, but still finite) to 
 the doing of that which we are sure is done, what is left 
 
 —Strangiiis de. Votuntate et Jctionihvs Dei, <J-c. I. 3. c.t.ashe there ob- 
 jects 10 himself. o Dr. More, 
 p Of Bathymus, in the same Dialogues.
 
 Chap. VI. 
 
 THE LIVING TEMPLE. 
 
 53 
 
 us to suppose, but that the power which did it is simply 
 infinite: much more when we consider, not only that 
 something is actually produced out of nothing, but do also 
 seriously contemplate the nature of the production ! Which 
 carries so much of amazing wonder in it, every where, that 
 even the lejist and most minute things might serve for suf- 
 ficient instances of the unlimited greatness of that power 
 which made them; as would be seen if we did industri- 
 ously set ourselves to compare the effects of divine pou-er 
 with those of human art and skill. As is the ingenious 
 and pious observation of the most worthy Mr. Hook,"? 
 who upon his viewing with his microscope the point 
 of a small and very sharp needle, (than which we can- 
 not conceive a smaller thing laboured by the hand of 
 man,) takes notice of sundry sorts of natural things, "that 
 have points many thousand times sharper: those of the 
 hairs of insects, &c. that appearing broad, irregular, and 
 uneven, having marks upon it of the rudeness and bungling 
 of art. So unaccurate (saith he) it is in all its productions, 
 even in those that seem most neat, that if examined truly 
 with an organ more acute than that by which they were 
 made, the more we see of their shape the less appearance 
 will there be of their beauty. Whereas in the works of nature 
 the deepest discoveries show us the greatest excellences ; 
 an evident argument thai he that was the Author of these 
 things, was no other than omnipotent, being able to include 
 as great a variety of parts, in the yet smallest discernible 
 point, as in the vaster bodies, (which comparatively are 
 called also points,) such as the earth, sun, or planets." 
 And I may add, when those appear but points, in com- 
 parison of his so much vaster work, how plainly doth that 
 also argue to us the same thing 7 And let us strictly con- 
 sider the matter. Omnipotency, as hath been said, im- 
 ports a power of doing all things possible to be done, or 
 indeed, simply all things; unto which passive power, an 
 active one must necessarily correspond. That is, there is 
 nothing in itself possible to be done, but it is also possible 
 to some one or other to do it. If we should therefore 
 suppose God not omnipotent, it would follow some one 
 or other were able to do more than God. For though 
 possibility do import a non-repugnancy in the thing to be 
 done; yet it al.so connotes an ability in some agent to do 
 it. Wherefore there is nothing possible which some agent 
 cannot do. And if so, that agent must either be God, or 
 some other. To say it is God, is what we intend. That 
 is, thei'e is nothing possible which God cannot do ; or he 
 can do all things. But to say it is some other, and not 
 God, were to open the door to the above-mentioned horrid 
 consequence; which no one that acknowledges a God 
 (and we are not now discoursing with them who simply 
 deny his being) would not both blush and tremble to 
 avow. 
 
 Some indeed have so over-done the business here as to 
 deny any intrinsical possibility of any thing, and say that 
 things are only said to be possible, because God can do 
 them; which is the same thing as thus to explain God's 
 omnipotency; i. e. that he can do all things which he can 
 do : and makes a chimara no more impossible in itself to 
 be produced, than a not yet existent man. And the reason 
 of the denial is, that what is only possible is nothing, and 
 therefore can have nothing intrinsical to it ; as if it were 
 not suflicient to the intrinsical possibility of a thing, that 
 its idea have no repugnancy in it. Yet entire and full 
 possibility connotes a reference to the productive power of 
 an agent; so that it is equally absurd to say that things 
 are only possible, because there is no repugnancy in their 
 ideas, as it is to say they are only possible, because some 
 agent can do them; inasmuch as the entire possibilit}' of 
 their existence imports both that there is no repugnancy 
 in their ideas, which if there be, they are every way nothing, 
 (as hath been said before,) and also that there is a suffi- 
 cient power to produce them. Therefore, whereas we 
 might believe him sufficient every way for us, though we 
 did not believe him simply omnipotent ; how much more 
 fully are we assured, when we consider that he is! Whereof 
 also no place of doubt can remain, this being a most un- 
 questionable perfection, necessarily included in the notion 
 of an absolutely perfect Being. But here we need not 
 
 q In his MicoKraphia. 
 
 t^vva.itvuii fxev iraira, fiov^OficvcJi Sc ra api'^a. Phil. Jud. de Abr. 
 O 
 
 further insist, having no peculiar adversary (in this matter 
 singly) to contend with, as indeed he would have had a 
 hard province, who should have undertaken to contend 
 against omnipotency. 
 
 And now join herewith again, the boundlessness of his 
 goodness, which upon the same ground of his absolute 
 perfection, must be infinite also, and which it is of equal 
 concernment to us to consider, that we may understand 
 he not only can effectually provide about our concern- 
 ments, but is most graciously inclined so to do. And 
 then, what rational inducement is wanting to religion, and 
 the dedication of a temple; if we consider the joint en- 
 couragement that arises from so unlimited power and 
 goodness 1 Or what man would not become entirely de- 
 voted to him, who, by the one of these, we are a.'^sured, 
 can dn all things, and by the other, v;ill do ivhot is btsi ?' 
 Nor therefore is there any thing immediatel)' necdlul to 
 our present purpose, the eviction of God's coniersableness 
 with men, more than hath been already said. That is, 
 there is nothing else to be thought on, that hath any nearer 
 influence thereon; the things that can be supposed to 
 have such influence, being none else than his power, 
 knowledge, and goodness, which have been particularly 
 evinced from the creation of the world, both to have been 
 in some former subject, and to have all originally met in 
 a necessary being, that alone could be the Creator of it. 
 Which necessary being, as it is such, appearing also to be 
 infinite, and absolutely perfect; the influence of these can- 
 not but the more abundantly appear to be such as can and 
 may most sufficiently and fully correspond, both in gene- 
 ral to the several exigencies of all creatures, and more 
 especially to all the real necessities and reasonable desires 
 of man: so that our main purpose seems already gained. 
 Yet because it may be giateful when we are persuaded 
 that things are so, to fortify (as much as we can) that per- 
 suasion, and because our persuasion concerning these 
 attributes of God will be still liable to assault unless we 
 acknowledge him every where present ; (nor can it well be 
 conceivable otherwise, how the influence of his knowledge, 
 power, and goodness, can be so universal, as will be thought 
 necessary to infer a universal obligation to religion ;) it 
 will be therefore requisite to add somewhat concerning 
 his omnipresence, or because some, that love to be very 
 strictly critical, will be apt to think that term restrictive of 
 his presence to the universe, (as supposing to be present 
 is relative to somewhat one may be said present imto, 
 whereas they will say without the universe, is nothing.) 
 we will rather choose to call it immensily. For though it 
 would sufficiently answer our purpose, that his presence 
 be universal to all his creatures ; 3'et even this is to be 
 proved by such arguments as will conclude him simply 
 immense; which therefore will with the greater advantage 
 infer the thing we intend. This part of divine perfection 
 we will acknowledge to have been impugned, by some 
 that have professed much devotedne.ss to a Deity and 
 religion : we will therefore charitably suppose that oppo- 
 sition to have been joined with inadvertency of the ill ten- 
 dency of it ; that is, how unwarrantably it would maim 
 the notion of the former, and shake the foundations of the 
 latter. Nor therefore ought that charity to be any aUay to 
 a just zeal for so great concerns. 
 
 It seems ihen, first, manifestly repugnant to the notion 
 of an infinitely perfect Being, to suppose it less than sim- 
 ply immense. For, upon that supposition it must either 
 be limited to some certain place, or excluded out of all. 
 The latter of these would be most openly to deny it ; as 
 hath with irrefragable evidence been abund?aitly mani- 
 fested by the most learned Dr. More,-' whereto it would 
 be needless and vain to attempt to add any thing. Nor is 
 that the thing pretended to by the sort of persons I no\> 
 chiefly intend. 
 
 And for the forvier, I would inquire, Is amplitude of 
 essence no perfection'? Or were the confining of this 
 Being to the very minutest space we can imagine, no de- 
 traction fi-om the perfection of ill What if the amplitude 
 of that glorious and ever-blessed Essence were said to be 
 only of that extent (may it be spoken with all reverence, 
 and resentment of the unhappy necessit)- we have ofma- 
 
 % Both in his Dialogues and Enchiridion Metaphya.
 
 54 
 
 THE LIVING TEMPLE. 
 
 Fatit I. 
 
 king so mean a supposition) as to have been confined unto 
 that one temple to which of old he chose to confine his 
 more solemn worship ; that he could be essentially pre- 
 sent, only here at once, and no where else; were $his no 
 detraction 1 They that think him only to replenish and be 
 present by his essence in the highest heaven, (as some are 
 wont to speak,) would they not confess it were a meaner 
 and much lower thought to suppose that presence circum- 
 scribed within the so unconceivably narrower limits as the 
 walls of a house 1 If they would pretend to ascribe to 
 him some perfection beyond this, by supposing his essen- 
 tial presence commensurable to the vaster territory of the 
 highest heavens; even by the same supposition, should 
 they deny to him greater perfection than they ascribe. 
 For the perfection which in this kind they should ascribe, 
 vf eve finite only; but that which they should deny, were 
 infinite. 
 
 Again, they will however acknowledge omnipotency a 
 perfection included in the notion of an absolutely perfect 
 Being; therefore they will grant, he can create another 
 world (for they do not pretend to believe this infinite; and 
 if they did, by their supposition, they should give away 
 their cause) at any the greatest distance we can conceive 
 from this ; therefore so far his power can extend itself 
 But what, his power without his being? What then is 
 his power 1 something, or nothing:'? Nothing can do no- 
 thing ; therefore not make a world. It is then some be- 
 ing; and whose being is it but his own? Is it a created 
 beingl That is to suppose him, first, impotent, and then 
 to have created omnipotency, when he could do nothing. 
 "Whence by the way we may see to how little purpose 
 that distinction can be applied in the present case of essen- 
 tial and virtual contact, where the essence and virtue can- 
 not but be the same. But shall it be said, he must, in 
 order to the creating such another world, locally move 
 thither where he designs if? I ask then. But can he not 
 at the same time create thousands of worlds at any dis- 
 tance from this round about it ? No man can imagine this 
 to be impossible to him that can do all things. Where- 
 fore of such extent is his power, and consequently his 
 bemg. Will they therefore say he can immensely, if he 
 please, diffuse his being, but he voluntarily contracts it 1 
 It is answered, Tliai is altogether impossible to a being, 
 that is whatsoever it is by a simple and absolute necessity, 
 for whatsoever it is necessarily, it is unalterably and eter- 
 nally, or is pure act, and in a possibility to be nothing 
 which it already is not. Therefore since God can every 
 where exert his power, he is necessarily, already, every 
 where : and hence, God's immensity is the true reason of 
 his immobility; there being no imaginable space, which 
 he doth not necessarily replenish. Whence also, the sup- 
 position of his being so confined (as was said) is imme- 
 diately repugnant to the notion of a necessary being, as 
 well as of an absolutely perfect, which hath been argued 
 from It. We might moreover add, that upon the same 
 supposition God might truly be said to have made a crea- 
 ture greater than himself, (for such this universe apparently 
 were,) and that he can make one (as they must confess 
 who deny him not to be omnipotent) most unconceivably 
 greater than this imi verse now is. Nothing therefore seems 
 more manifest than that God is immense, or (as we may 
 express it) extrinsically infinite, with respect to place ; as 
 well as intrinsically, in resj>ect to the plenitude of his 
 perfection. Only it may be requisite to consider briefly 
 what is said against it by the otherwise minded, that pre- 
 tend not to deny his infinity in that other sense. Wherein 
 that this discourse swell not beyond just bounds, their 
 strength of argument, (for it will "not l>e so seasonable here 
 to discuss with them the texts of Scripture wont to be in- 
 sisted on in this matter,) shall be viewed as it is collected 
 and gathered up in one of them. And that shall be,Cur- 
 cellagHS,^ who gives it as succinctly and fully as any I have 
 met with of that sort of men. 
 
 The doctrine itself we may take from him thus, First, 
 On the negative part, by way of denial of what we have 
 been hitherto asserting, he says, " The foundation," (that 
 s De Vocibus Trinit. Ac. 
 
 t Unto which purpose speaks at large Volkelius de vera Relig. Quia 
 ^Ji i,^Lf,J,' ^^-^''^ et sapientia ad res omnes extenditur, uti et potestas 
 riht *l ;^' ^"^?? "^^^^l P™?ens ommaque numine euo complere di- 
 citiur, &c. I. J. c. 27. Slichwi^iu-s Artie, de JUio Dei. Ad P» I3i» 6 7 
 
 is, of a distinction of Maresius's to which he is replying, 
 for so occasionally comes in the discourse,) "viz. the in- 
 finity of the divine essence, is not so firm as i.s commonly 
 thought." And that therefore it may be thought less firm, 
 he thinks fit to cast a slur upon it, by making it the doc- 
 trine of the Stoics, exprest by "Virgil, Jori$ omnia plena ; 
 (as if it must needs be false, because Virgil said it, though 
 I could tell, if it were worth the while, where "Virgil 
 speaks more agreeably to his sense than ours, according 
 to which he might as well have interpreted this passage, 
 as divers texts of Scripture ; and then his authority might 
 have been of some value;) and by Lucan, who helps, it 
 seems, to disgrace and spoil it; Jupiter est quodcnnque 
 vides, quocunqize meveris. He might, if he had a mind to 
 make it thought paganish, have quoted a good many more, 
 but then there might have been some danger it should 
 pass for a common notion. Next, he quotes some passages 
 of the fathers that import dislike of it, about which we 
 need not concern oirrselves ; for the question is not what 
 this or that man thought. And then, for the positive 
 account of his own judgment in the case, having recited 
 divers texts out of the Bible that seemed as he appre- 
 hended to make against him, he would have us believe, 
 that these all speak rather of God's providence and power, 
 by which he concerns himself in all our works, words, and 
 thoughts, wheresoever we live, than of the absolute infinity 
 of his essence.! And afterwards, That God is by his es- 
 sence in the supreme heaven, where he inhabits the inac- 
 cessible light, but thence he sends out from himself a spirit, 
 or a certain force, whither he pleases, by which he is truly 
 present, and works there. 
 
 But proceed we to his reasons, which he saith are not to 
 be contemned. We shall therefore not contemn them so 
 far, as not to take notice of them; which trouble also 
 the reader may please to be at, and afterward do as he 
 thinks fit. 
 
 I. That no difl^erence can be conceived between God 
 and creatures, if God, as they commonly speak, be wholly, 
 in every point, or do fill all the points of the universe 
 with his whole essence: for so whatsoever at all is, will 
 be God himself. 
 
 Answ. And that is most marvellous, that the in-being 
 or one thing in another must needs take away all their 
 difference, and confound them each with other; which 
 sure would much rather argue them distinct. For certainly 
 it cannot, without great impropriety, be said that any thing 
 is in itself; and is both the container and contained. How 
 were these thoughts in his mindl And these very notions 
 which he opposes to each other, so as not to be confounded 
 with his mind, and consequently with one another? So 
 that it is a great wonder he was not of both opinions at 
 once. And how did he think his soul to be in his body, 
 which, though substantially united with it, (and that is 
 somewhat more, as we will suppose he knew was com- 
 monly held, than to be intimately present,) was not yet 
 the same thing? However, himself acknowledges the 
 power and providence of God to be every where : and 
 then at least every thing must, it seems, be the very power 
 and providence of God. But he thought, it may be, only 
 of confuting the words of Lucan, and chastising his poetic 
 liberty. And if he would have been at the pains to turn 
 all their strains and raptures into propositions, and so have 
 gravely fallen to confuting them, he might perhaps have 
 found as proper an exercise for his logic as this. As for 
 his talk of a whole, whereof we acknowledge na parts, 
 (as if he imagined the divine essence to be compounded 
 of such, he should have said so, and have proved it,) it is 
 an absurd scheme of speech, which may be left to him, 
 and them that use it, to make their best of. 
 
 2. No idolatry can be committed, if there be not the 
 least point to be found, that is not wholly full of whole 
 God : for whithersoever worship shall be directed, it shall 
 be directed to Grod himself, who will be no less there than 
 in heaven. 
 
 Answ. This proceeds upon the supposition that the 
 former would be granted as soon as it should be heard, as 
 
 Nee loqiiitur DimH de Spiritu Sann.fo, ni" peculiaris qiiidem Dei .^piritus 
 est. sed de SpiriUi Dei simpliciter. Nee dicit Spiritum i.stura utiinue re esse 
 .s(d tantum docet nullum, esse locum, ad ouem i.s iiequeat pertingere, &c. 
 b.0 also F. Socin. Smalcius. And {tlioiish not altogether so expressly M 
 (he reati Vorstiua, Crellius, ^-e. «- »
 
 Chap. VI. 
 
 THE LIVING TEMPLE. 
 
 55 
 
 a self-evident principle, that whatsoever is in another, is 
 that in whict it is ; and so his consequence were most un- 
 deniable. But though we acknowledge God to be in every- 
 thing, yet so to worship him in any thing, as if his essen- 
 tial presence were confined thereto, while it ought to be 
 conceived of as immense, this is idolatry : and therefore 
 they who so conceiv^e of it, as confined, (or tied in any re- 
 spect, wherein he hath not so tied it himself,) are concern- 
 ed to beware of running upon this rock. 
 
 3. Nor can the opinion of fanatics be solidly refuted, 
 who call themselves spiritual, when they determine God 
 to be all in all ; to do not only good but evil things, be- 
 cause he is to be accoimted to be essentially in all the 
 atoms of the world, in whole ; and as a common soul, by 
 which all parts of the universe do act. 
 
 Answ. We may in time make trial whether they can be 
 refuted or no, or whether any solid ground will be left for 
 it; at this time it will suffice to say, that though he be pre- 
 sent every where as a necessary being, yet he acts as a free 
 cause, and according as his wisdom, his good pleasure, his 
 holiness and justice do guide his action. 
 
 4. So God will be equally present with the wicked, and 
 with the holy and godly, with the damned in hell, and 
 devils, as with the blessed in heaven, or Christ himself. 
 
 Ansxo. So he will, in respect of his essential presence. 
 How he is otherwise (distinguishingly enough) present in 
 liis temple, we shall have occasion hereafter to show. 
 
 5. That I say not how shameful it is to think, that the 
 
 u In his Dialogues. 
 
 most pure and holy God should be as much in the most 
 nasty places as in heaven, &c. (I forbear to recite the rest 
 of this uncleanly argument, which is strong in nothing but 
 ill savour.) But for 
 
 Answ. How strange a notion was this of holiness, by 
 which it is set in opposition to corporeal filthiness ! As if 
 a holy man should lose or very much blemish his sanctity, 
 by a casual fall into a puddle. Indeed, ii sense must give 
 us measures of God, and every thing must be reckoned an 
 offence to him that is so to it, we shall soon frame to our- 
 selves a God altogether such a one as ourselves. The 
 Epicureans themselves would have been ashamed to reason 
 or conceive thus of God, who tell us the Divine Being is 
 as little capable of receiving a stroke, as the inane ; and 
 surely (in proportion) of any sensible offence. We might 
 as well suppose him in danger, as Dr. More" fitly expresses 
 it, to be hurt with a thorn, as offended with an ill smell. 
 
 We have then enough to assure us of God's absolute 
 immensity and omnipresence, and nothing of that value 
 against it as ought to shake our belief herein. And surely 
 the consideration of this, added to the other of his perfec- 
 tions, (and which tends so directly to facilitate and 
 strengthen our persuasion concerning the rest,) may render 
 us assuredly certain, that we shall find him a conversable 
 Being; if we seriously apply ourselves to converse with 
 him, and will but allow him the liberty of that temple 
 within us, whereof we are hereafter (with his leave and 
 help) to treat more distinctly and at large.
 
 THE 
 
 LIVING TEMPLE. 
 
 PART II. 
 
 CONTAINING ANIMADVERSIONS ON SPINOSA, AND A FRENCH WRITER PRETENDING 
 
 TO CONFUTE HIM. 
 
 A RECAPITULATION OF THE FORMER PART, AND AN ACCOUNT OF THE DESTITUTION 
 AND RESTITUTION OF GOD'S TEMPLE AMONG MEN. 
 
 A PREFACE, 
 
 SHOWING THE INDUCEMENT AND GENERAL CONTENTS OF THIS SECOND PART. THE OCCASION OP CONSIDERING SPmOSA, AND A 
 FRENCH WRITER WHO PRETENDS TO CONFUTE HIM. A SPECIMEN OF THE WAY AND STRENGTH OF THE FORMER'S REASONING, 
 AS AN INTRODUCTION TO A MORE DISTINCT EXAMINATION OF SUCH OF HIS POSITIONS, AS THE DESIGN OF THIS DISCOURSE WAS 
 MORE DIRECTLY CONCERNED IN. 
 
 It is not worth the while to trouble the reader with an account why the progress of this work (begun many years 
 ago, in a former part) hath been so long delayed ; or why it is now resumed. There are eases wherein things too 
 little for public notice, maybe sufficient reasons to oneself: and such self-satisfaction is all that can be requisite, in a 
 matter of no more importance than that circumstance only, of the time of sending abroad a discourse, of such a nature 
 and subject, as that if it can be useful at any time, will be so at all times. The business of the present discourse, is 
 religion ; which is not the concern of an age only, or of this or that time, but of all times ; and which, in respect of its 
 grounds and basis, is eternal, and can never cease or vary. But if in its use and exercise it do at any time more 
 visibly languish, by attempts against its foundations, an endeavour to establish them, if it be not altogether unfit to 
 serve that purpose, will not be liable to be blamed as unseasonable. Every one will understand, that a design further 
 to establish the grounds of religion, can have no other meaning, than only to represent their stability unshaken by any 
 attempts upon them; that being all that is either possible in this case, or needful. Nothing more is possible : for if 
 there be not already, in the nature of things, a sufficient foundation of religion, it is now too late ; for their course and 
 order cannot begin again. Nor is any thing, besides such a representation, needful : lor have the adventures of daring 
 wits (as they are fond of being thought) altered the nature of things'? Or hath their mere breath thrown the world 
 off from its ancient basis, and new-moulded the universe, so as to make things be after the way of their own hearts 1 
 Or have they prevailed upon themselves, firmly to believe things are as they would wish 1 
 
 One would be ashamed to be of that sort of creature, called Alan, and count it an unsufTerable reproach to be long 
 unresolved, Whether there ought to be such a thing in the world as religion, yea, or no. Whatever came on't, or what- 
 soever I did or did not besides, I would drive this business to an issue ; I would never endure to be long in suspense 
 about so weighty and important a question. But if I inclined to the negative, I would rest in nothing short of the 
 plaiinest demonstration : for I am to dispute against mankind ; and eternity hangs upon it. If I misjudge, I run 
 counter to the common sentiments of all the world, and am lost for ever. The opposers of it have nothing but inclina- 
 tion to oppose it, with a bold jest now and then. But if I consider the unrefuted demonstrations brought for it, with 
 the consequences, religion is the last thing in all the world upon which 1 would adventure to break a jest. And I 
 would ask such as have attempted to argue against it, Have their strongest arguments conquered their fear 1 Have they 
 no suspicion left, tha;t the other side of the question may prove true 1 They have done all they can, by often repeating 
 their faint despairing wishes, and the mutterings of their hearts, " No God ! no God V to make themselves believe 
 there is none ; when yet the restless tossings to and fro of their uneasy minds ; their tasking and torturing that little 
 residue of wit and common sense, which their riot hath left them, (the excess of which latter, as well shows as causes 
 the defect of the former,) to try every new method and scheme of atheism they hear of, implies their distrust of all; 
 and their suspicion, that do what they can, things will still be as they were, /. e. most adverse and unfavourable to that 
 way of living, which however at a venture, they had before resolved on. Therefore, they find it necessarj'- to continue 
 their contrivances, how more etiectiially to disburden themselves of any obligation to be religious ; and hope, at least, 
 some or other great wit may reach further than their own ; and that either by some new model of thonghts, or by not 
 thinking, it may be possible at length to argue or wink the Deity into nothing, and all religion out of the world. 
 
 And we are really to do the age that right, as to acknowledge, the genius of it aims at more consistency and agree- 
 ment with itself, and more cleverly to reconcile notions with common practice than heretofore. Men seem to be grown 
 weary of the old dull way of practising all manner of lewdness, and pretending to repent of them; to sin, and say 
 they are sorry for it. The running this long-beaten circular tract of doing and repenting the same things, looks ridicu- 
 lously, and they begin to be ashamed on't. A less interrupted and more progressive course in their licentious ways, looks 
 braver ; and they count it more plausible to disbelieve this world to have any ruler at all, than to suppose it to hava
 
 PREFACE. 57 
 
 such a one as they can cheat and mock with so easy and ludicrous a repentance, or reconcile to their wickedness, only 
 by calling themselves wicked, while they still mean to continue so. And perhaps of any other repentance they have 
 not heard much; or if they have, they count it a more heroical, or feel it an easier thing to laugh away the fear of 
 any future account or punishment, than to endure the severities of a serious repentance, and a regular life. Nor can 
 they, however, think the torments of any hell so little tolerable as those of a sober and pious life upon earth. And for 
 their happening to prove everlasting, they think they may run the hazard of that. For as they can make a sufficient 
 shift to secure themselves from the latter sort of torments, so they believe the champions of their caube have taken 
 sufficient care to secure them from the former. 
 
 As religion hath its gospel and evangelists, so hath atheism and irreligion too. There are tidings of peace sent to 
 such as shall repent and turn to God ; and there have been those appointed, whose business it should be to publish 
 and expound them to the world. This also is the method for carrying on the design of irreligion. Doctrines are 
 invented to make men fearless, and believe they need no repentance. And some have taken the part to assert and 
 defend such doctrines, to evangelize the world, and cry " Peace, peace," to men, upon these horrid terms. And these 
 undertake for the common herd, encourage them to mdulge themselves in all manner of liberty, while they watch for 
 them, and guard the coasts: and no faith was ever more implicit or resigned, than the infidelity and disbelief of 
 the more unthinking sort of these men. They reckon it is not every one's part to think. It is enough for the most 
 to be boldly wicked, and credit their common cause, by an open contempt of God and religion. The otlier warrant 
 them safe, and confidently tell them they may securely disbelieve all that ever hath been said, to make a religious 
 regular life be thought necessary; as only invented frauds of sour and ill-natured men, that envy to mankind the 
 felicity whereof their nature hath made them capable, and which their own odd preternatural humour makes them 
 neglect and censure. 
 
 And for these defenders of the atheistical cause, it being their part and province to cut off tlie aids of reason from 
 religion, to make it seem an irrational and a ridiculous thing, and to warrant and justify the disuse and contempt of 
 it, and as it were, to cover the siege, wherewith the common rout have begirt the temple of God; they have had less 
 leisure themselves, to debauch and wallow in more grossly sensual impurities. Herewith the thinking part did kss 
 agree: and they might perhaps count it a greater thing to make debauchees than to be such, and reckon it was glory 
 enough to them to head and lead on the numerous throng, and pleasure enough to see them they had so thoroughly 
 disciplined to the service, throw dirt and squibs at the sacred pile, the dwelling of God among men on earth, and cry, 
 " Down with it even to the ground." Nor for this sort of men, w^hose business w-as only to be done by noise and 
 clamour, or by jest and laughter, we could think them no more fit to be discoursed with than a whirlwind, or an ignis 
 fatuus. But for such as have assumed to themselves the confidence to pretend to reason, it was not fit they should 
 have cause to think themselves neglected. Considering therefore, that if the existence of a Deity were fully proved, 
 {i. e. such as must be the fit object of religion, or of the honour of a temple,) all the little cavils against it must signify 
 nothing, (because the same thing cannot be both true and false,) we have in the former part of this discourse, en- 
 deavoured to assert so much in an argumentative way. And therefore first laid down such a notion of God, as even 
 atheists themselves, wiiile they deny him to exist, cannot but grant to be the tnve notion of the thing thej- deny ; tisr. 
 summarily that he can be no other than a being absolutely perfect. And thereupon next proceed to evince the exist- 
 ence of such a being. And whereas this might have been attempted in another method, as was noted Part 1. CA. 1. 
 by concluding the existence of such a being first from the idea of it, which (as a fundamental perfection) involves ex- 
 istence ; yea, and necessity of existence, most apparently in it. Because that was clamoured at as sophistical and 
 captious, (though very firm unsliding steps might, with caution, be taken in that way,*) yet we rather chose the other 
 as plainer, more upon the square, more easily intelligible and convictive, and less liable to exception in any kind; 
 i. e. rather to begin at the bottom, and rise from necessity of existence, to absolute perfection, than to begin at the top, 
 and prove downward, from absokite perfection, necessity of existence. 
 
 Now, if it do appear from what hath been said concerning the nature of necessarj', self-existing being, that it cannot 
 but be absolutely perfect, even as it is such, since nothing is more evident than that some being or other doth exist 
 necessarily, or of itself, our point is gained without more ado ; i. e. we have an object of religion, or one to whom a 
 temple duly belongs. We thereupon used some endeavour to make that good, and secure that more compendious way 
 to our end ; as may be seen in the former Part. Which was endeavoured as it was a nearer and more expeditions 
 course ; not that the main cause of religion did depend upon the immediate and self-evident reciprocal connexion erf 
 the terms necessary existence, and absolute perfectiori, as we shall see hereafter in the follow-ing discourse; but because 
 there are other hypotheses, that proceed either upon the denial of any necessary being that is absolutely perfect, or upon 
 the assertion of some necessary being that is not absolutely perfect ; it hence appears requisite, to undertake the exa- 
 mination of what is said to either of these purposes, and to show with how little pretence a necessary most perfect 
 being is denied, or any such imperfect necessary being, is either asserted or imagined. 
 
 We shall therefore in this Second Part, first, take into consideration what is (with equal absurdity and impiety) 
 asserted by one author, of the identity of all substance, of the impossibility of one substance being produced by another, 
 and consequently of one necessary self-existing being, pretended with gross self-repugnancy, to be endued with infi- 
 nite perfections, but really represented the common receptacle of all imaginable imperfection and confusion. — Next, 
 what is asserted by another in avowed opposition to him, of a necessary self-existent being, that is at the same time 
 said to be essentially imperfect. — Then we shall recapitulate what had been discoursed in the former Part, for proof 
 of such a necessarily existent and absolutely perfect being, as is there asserted. — Thence we shall proceed to show how 
 reasonably Scripture testimony is to be relied upon, in reference to some things concerning God, and the religion of 
 his temple, which either are not so clearly demonstrable, or not at all discoverable the rational way. — And shall lastly 
 show how it hath come to pass, if God be such as he hath been represented, so capable of a temple with man, so apt 
 and inclined to inhabit such a one, that he should ever not do so ; or how such a temple should ever cease, or be unin- 
 habited and desolate, that the known -R-ay of its restitution may be the more regardable and marvellous in our eyes. 
 
 The authors against whom we are to be concerned, are Benedictus Spinosa, a Jew, and an anonymous French writer, 
 who pretends to confute him. And the better to prepare our way, we shall go on to preface something concerning the 
 former, viz. Spinosa, whose scheme,+ though, with great pretence of devotion, it acknowledges a Deity, yet so con- 
 founds this his fictitious deity with every substantial being in the w-orld besides, that upon the whole it appears al- 
 together inconsistent with any rational exercise or sentiment of religion at all. And indeed, the mere pointing with 
 the finger at the most discernible and absurd weakness of some of his principal supports, might be sufficient to over- 
 mrn his whole fabric ; though perhaps he thought the fraudulent artifice of contriving it geometricaDy must-conloimd 
 all the world, and make men think it not liable to he attacked in any part. 
 
 But whether it can, or no, we shall make some present trial ; and for a previous essay, (to show that he is not invul- 
 nerable, and that his scales do not more closely cohere, than those of his brother-leviathan,) do but compare his defi- 
 nition of an attribute,* " That which the understanding perceives of substance ; as constituting the essence thereof,' 
 
 * As by tJie excellent Dr. Cudworth, in liis Intellectual System, we find ia done. ♦ As U laid down in his Poslhvnious Elhics. 
 
 I Etliic. Put 1. DkL 4.
 
 68 PREFACE. 
 
 ■with his fifth Proposition, " There cannot be two or more substances of the same nature or attribute ;" which is as 
 much as to say that two substances cannot be one and the same substance. For the attribute of any substance (saitn 
 he) constitutes its essence ; whereas the essence therefore of one thing, cannot be the essence of another thing, if such 
 an attribute be the essence of one substance, it cannot be the essence of another substance. A rare d'scovery ! and 
 which needed mathematical demonstration! Well, and what now 1 Nothing, it is true, can be plainer, if by the 
 same attribute or nature, he means numerically the same ; it only signifies one thing is not another thing. But if he 
 mean there cannot be two things or substances, of the same special or general nature, he hath his whole business yet 
 to do ; which how he does, we shall see in time. 
 
 But now compare herewith his defuiition of what he thinks fit to dignify with the sacred name of God : " By God 
 (saith he*) I understand a being absolutely infinite ; i.e. a substance consisting of infinite attributes, every one whereof 
 expresses an iniinite essence." And behold the admirable agreement ! how amicably his definition of an attribute, 
 and that mentioned proposition, accord with this definition (as he calls it) of God ! There cannot be two substances, 
 he saith, that have the same attribute, i. e. the same essence. But now it seems the same substance may have infinite 
 attributes, i. e. infinite essences ! O yes, very conveniently : for he telist you that two attributes really distinct, we 
 cannot conclude do constitute two divers substances. And why do they not 1 Because it belongs to the nature of 
 substance, that each of its attributes be conceived by itself, &c. Let us consider his assertion, and his reason for it. 
 He determines, you see, two really distinct attributes do not constitute two divers substances. You must not here 
 take any other man's notion of an attribute, according to which, there may be accidental attributes, that, we are sure, 
 would not infer diversity of substances for their subjects; or, there may be also essential ones, that only flow from the 
 essence of the thing to which they belong ; so, too, nobody doubts one thing may have many properties. But we must 
 take his own notion of an attribute, according whereto it constitutes, or (which is all one) is, that very essence. Now 
 -will not such attributes as these, being really distinct, make divers substances 1 Surely what things are essentially 
 diverse, must be concluded to be most diverse. But these attributes are by himself supposed to be really distinct, 
 and to constitute (which is to be) the essence of the substance. And how is that one thing, or one substance, which 
 hath many essences 1 If the essence of a thing be that, by which it is what it is, surely the plurality of essences must 
 make a plurality of things. 
 
 But it may be said. Cannot one thing be compounded of two or more things essential diverse, as the soul and body 
 of a man ; whence therefore, the same thing, viz. a man, will have two essences 1 This is true, but impertinent. 
 For the very notion of composition signifies these are two things united, not identified, that are capable of being again 
 separated ; and that the third thing, which results from them both united, contains them still distinct from one another, 
 not the same. 
 
 But it may be said, though these attributes are acknowledged and asserted to be distinct from one another, they are 
 yet found in one and the same substance common to them all. And this no more ought to be reckoned repugnant to 
 common reason, than the philosophy heretofore in credit, which taught that the vast diversity of forms throughout the 
 imiverse, which were counted so many distinct essences, do yet all reside in the same first matter, as the common re- 
 ceptacle of them all. 
 
 Nor yet doth this salve the business, were that philosophy never so sure and sacred. For you must consider he 
 asserts an attribute is that which constitutes the essence of the substance in which it is. But that philosophy never 
 taught the forms lodged in the same common matter were its essence, though they were supposed to essentiate the 
 composifa, which resulted from their union therewith. Yea, it did teach they were so little the essence of that common 
 matter, that they might be expelled out of it, and succeeded by new ones, and yet the matter which received them still 
 remain the same. But that an attribute should be supposed to be the essence of the substance to which it belongs ; 
 and that another superadded attribute, which is also the essence of .substance, should not make another .substance 
 essentially distinct, is an assertion as repugnant to common sense, as two and two make not four. But that which 
 completes the jest, (though a tremendous one upon so awful a subject,) is, that this author* should so gravely tell the 
 ■world, they who are not of his sentiment, being ignorant of the causes of things, confound all things ; imagine trees 
 and men speaking alike, confound the divine nature with the human, &c. Who would imagine this to be the com- 
 plaining voice of one so industriously labouring to mingle heaven and earth ! and to make God, and men, £ind beasts, 
 and stones, and trees, nil one and the same individual substance! 
 
 And now let us consider the reason of that assertion of his ; why two attributes really distinct, do not constitute two 
 beings, or two distinct substances; because, saith he,§ it is of the nature of substance that each of its attributes be 
 conceived by itself, &c. A marvellous reason ! Divers attributes, each whereof, as before, constitutes the essence of 
 substance, do not make divers substances; because those attributes may be conceived apart from each other, and are 
 not produced bj' one another. It was too plain to need a proof, (as ■was observed before,) that there cannot be two 
 substances of one attribute, or of one essence, (as his notion of an attribute is,) i. e. two are not one. But that two 
 attributes or essences of substance, cannot make two substances, because they are diverse, is very surprisingly strange. 
 This was (as Cicero upon as good an occasion speaks) not to consider, but to cast lots what to say. And it deserves 
 observation too, how well this assertion, " That two distinct attributes do not constitute two distinct substances," agrees 
 ■with thatjii " Two substances having divers attributes, have nothing common between them." This must certainly 
 suppose the diversity of attributes to make the greatest diversity of substances imaginable; when they admit not there 
 should be any thing (not the least thing) common between them ! And yet they make not distinct substances I 
 
 But this was only to make way for what was to follow, the overthrow of the creation. A thing he was so over- 
 intent upon, that in the heat of his zeal and haste, he makes all fly asunder before him, and overturns even his own 
 batteries as fast as he raises them ; says and unsays, does and undoes, at all adventures. Here two substances are 
 supposed having distinct attributes, that is, distinct essences, to have therefore nothing common between them ; and 
 yet presently after, the two, or never so many distinct attributes, give unto substance two, or never so many distinct 
 essences, yet they shall not be so much as two, but one only. For to the query put by himself. By what sign one may 
 discern the diversity of substances 1 he roundly answers,ir The following propositions would show there was no other 
 substance but one, and that one infinite, and therefore how substances were to be diversified would be inquired in 
 vain. Indeed, it would be in vain, if knowing them to have different essences, we must not yet call them different 
 substances. But how the following propositions do show there can be no more than one substance, we shall see in 
 time. We shall for the present take leave of him, till we meet him again in the following discourse. 
 
 • Definit. 6. t Schol. in Prop. 10. J Schol, S, in Prop. 8. Part k § Schol. in Prop. 10. D Prop. 2. IT Schol. in Prop. 10.
 
 THE LIVING TEMPLE. 
 
 PART IL 
 
 CHAPTER L 
 
 WHEREIN tS SHOWN, THE DESTRUCTIVENESS OF* SPINOSa's SCHEME AND DESFGN TO RELIGION AND THE TEMPLE OF GOD. THE 
 REPUGNANCY OF HIS DOCTRINE TO THIS ASSERTION — THAT WHATSOEVER EXISTS NECESSARILY AND OF ITSELF, IS AESOLUTELT 
 PERFECT; WHICH IS THEREFORE FURTHER WEIGHED. IIIS VAIN ATTEMPT TO PROVE WHAT HE DESIGNS. HIS SECOND PROPO- 
 SITION CONSIDERED. HIS DEFINITION OF A SUBSTANCE DEFECTIVE. PROVES NOT HIS PURPOSE. HIS THIRD^ FOURTH, AND 
 FIFTH PROPOSITION. HIS EIGHTH SCHOLIA. THE MANUDUCTIO AD PANTOSOPHIAM. 
 
 Hitherto we have discoursed only of the Owner of this 
 temple, and shown to whom it rightfully belongs ; viz. 
 That there is one only necessary, self-existing, and most 
 absolutely-perfect being, the glorious and ever-blessed God 
 — who is capable of our converse, and inclined thereto; 
 whom we are to conceive as justly claiming a temple with 
 us, and ready, upon our willing surrender, to erect in us, 
 or repair such a one, make it habitable, to inhabit and re- 
 plenish it with his holy and most delectable presence, and 
 converse with us therein suitably to himself and us ; i. e. 
 to his own excellency and fulness, and to our indigency 
 and wretchedness. And now tlie order of discourse would 
 lead us to behold the sacred structure rising, and view the 
 surprising methods by which it is brought about, that any 
 such thing should have place in such a world as this. But 
 we must yield to stay, and be detained a little by some 
 things of greater importance than merely the more even 
 shape and order of a discourse ; that is, looking back 
 upon what hath been much insisted on in the former Part 
 — That some being or other doth exist necessarily and of 
 itself, which is of absolute or universal perfection — and 
 taking notice of the opposite sentiments of some hereto- 
 because the whole design of evincing an object of religion 
 would manifestly be much served hereby, we could not 
 but reckon it of great importance to consider what is said 
 against it. We have observed in the Preface a two-fold 
 opposite hypothesis, which therefore, before we go further 
 in the discourse of this temple of God, require to be dis- 
 cussed. 
 
 I. The first is that of Spinosa, which he hath more ex- 
 pressly stated, and undertaken with great pomp and boast 
 to demonstrate, in his Postkummis Ethics ; which "we 
 shall therefore so far consider, as doth concern our present 
 design. He there, as hath been noted in the preface, as- 
 serts all " substance to be self-existent, and to be infinite ; 
 that one substance is improducible by another ; that there 
 is but one, and this one he calls God, &c." Now this hor- 
 rid scheme of his, though he and his followers woitld 
 cheat the world with names, and with a specious show of 
 piety, is as directly levelled against all religion, as any the 
 most avowed atheism : for, as to religion, it is all one 
 whether we make nothing to be God, or every thing; 
 whether we allow of no God to be worshipped, or leav^e 
 none to worship him. His portentous attempt to identify 
 and deify all substance, attended with that strange pair of 
 attributes, extension and tkeught, (and an infinite number 
 of others besides,) hath a manifest design to throw reli- 
 gion out of the world that way. 
 
 II. And it most directly opposes the notion of a self- 
 existent Being, which is absolutely perfect: for such a 
 being must be a substance, if it be any thing ; and he 
 allows no substance but one, and therefore none to be 
 perfect, unless all he so. And since we are sure some is 
 imperfect, it will be consequeEt there is none absolutely 
 perfect ; for that the same should be imperfect, and abso- 
 lutely perfect, is impossible. Beside.';, that he makes it no 
 way possible to one substance to produce another, and 
 
 what is so impotent must be very imperfect: yea, and 
 whatsoever is not omnipotent, is evidently not absolutely 
 perfect. We are therefore cast upon reconsidering this 
 proposition — Whatsoever being exists necessarily and of 
 itself, is absolutely perfect. It is true that if any being 
 be evinced to exist necessarily and of itself, which is ab- 
 solutely perfect, this gives us an object of religion, and 
 throws Spinosa's farrago, his confused heap and jumble 
 of self-existent being, into nothing. But if we carry the 
 universal proposition as it is laid down, though that will 
 oblige us afterwards as well to confute his French eon- 
 futer, as him ; it carries the cause of religion with much 
 the greater clearness, and with evident, unexceptionable 
 self-consistency. For indeed that being cannot be under- 
 stood to be absolutely perfect, which doth not eminently 
 comprehend the entire fulness of all being in itself; as 
 that must be a heap of imperfection, an everlasting chaos, 
 an impossible, self-repugnant medley, that should be pre- 
 tended to contain all the varieties, the diversifications, 
 compositions, and mixtures of things in itself formally. 
 And for the universal proposition : the matter itself re- 
 quires not an immediate, self-evident, reciprocal connex- 
 ion of the terms — necessarily self-existent, and absolutely 
 perfect. It is enough that it however be brought about 
 by gradual steps, in a way that at length cannot fail; and 
 I conceive hath been in the method that was followed in 
 the former Part. 
 
 For, to bring the business now within as narrow a 
 compass as is possible : nothing is more evident than that 
 some being exists necessarily, or of itself; otherwise no- 
 thing at all could now exist. Again, for the same reason, 
 there is some necessarj^ or self-existent being that is the 
 cause of whatsoever being exists not of itself; otherwise 
 nothing of that kind could ever come into being. Now 
 that necessary being, which is the cause of all other being, 
 will most manifestly appear to be absolutely perfect. For, 
 if it be universally causative of all other being, it mu.st 
 both have been the actual cause of all being that doth 
 actually exist, and can only be the possible cause of ali 
 that is possible to exist. Now so universal a cause cac 
 be no other than an absolutely or universally perfect being. 
 For it could be the cause "of nothing, which it did not 
 virtually or formally comprehend in itself And that being 
 which comprehends in itself all perfection, both actual and 
 possible, must be absolutely or universally perfect. And 
 such a being, as hath also further more particularly been 
 made apparent, must be an intelligent and a designing 
 agent, or cause ; because, upon the whole universe of pro- 
 duced beings, there are most manifest characters of design, 
 in the passive sense. They are designed to serve ends to 
 which they have so direct and constant an aptitude, as 
 that the attempt to make it be believed they were forced 
 or fell in that posture of subserviency to such and such 
 ends, by any pretended necessity upon their principal cause 
 or causes, or bv mere casualty, looks like the most ludi- 
 crous triflins; to any man of sense. And because that among 
 produced beings there are found to be many, that are them-
 
 60 
 
 THE LIVING TEMPLE. 
 
 Part II. 
 
 selves actively designing, and that do understandingly 
 intend and pursue ends; and consequently that they 
 themselves must partake of an intelligent, spiritual nature, 
 since mere inatter is most manifestly incapable of thought 
 or design. And further, by the most evident consequence, 
 that their productive cause, {viz. the necessary, self-ex- 
 isting Being, whereto all other things owe themselves,) 
 must be a mind or spirit, inasmuch as to suppose any 
 effect to have any thing more of excellency in it than the 
 cause from whence it proceeded, is to suppose all that ex- 
 cellency to be effected without a cause, or to have arisen 
 of itself out of nothing. See former Part, Chap. III. 
 Sect. XII. &c. 
 
 Therefore if it did not immediately appear that neces- 
 sary being, as such, is absolutely perfect being ; yet, by 
 this series of discourse, it appears that the main cause of 
 religion is still safe ; inasmuch as that necessary Being 
 which is the cause of all things else, is however evinced 
 to be an absolutely perfect Being, and particularly a neces- 
 sary self-existent Mind or Spirit, which is therefore a most 
 apparently tit and most deserving object of religion, or of 
 the lionour of a temple ; which is the sum of what we 
 were concerned for. Nor needed we be solicitous, but 
 that the unity or onliness of the necessary Being, would 
 afterwards be made appear, as also we think it was. For 
 since the whole universe of produced being must arise out 
 of that which was necessary self-existent Being, it must 
 therefore comprehend all being in itself, its own formally, 
 and eminently all other; i. e. what was its own, being for- 
 mally its own, must be eminently also all being else, con- 
 tained in all possible simplicity, within the productive 
 power of its own. This Being therefore containing in 
 itself all that exists necessarily, with the power of pro- 
 ducing all the rest, which together make up all being, can 
 primarily be but one, inasmuch as there can be but one all. 
 Upon the whole therefore, our general proposition is suf- 
 ficiently evident, and out of question — That whatever ex- 
 ists necessarily, and of itself, is absolutely perfect. Nor 
 is it at all incongruous that this matter should be thus 
 argued out, by such a train and deduction of consequences, 
 drawn from effects, that corne under our present notice; 
 for how come we to know that there is any self-existing 
 Being at all, but that we find there is somewhat in being 
 that is subject to continual mutation, and which therefore 
 exists not necessarily, (for whatsoever is what it is neces- 
 sarily, can never change, or be other than what it is,) but 
 must be caused by that which is necessary and self-exist- 
 ent. Nothing could be more reasonable or more certain 
 than the deduction from what appears of excellency and 
 perfection in such being as it is caused ; of the corres- 
 pondent and far-transcendent excellency and perfection 
 of its cause. But yet, after all this, if one set himself at- 
 tentively to consider, there must appear so near a con- 
 nexion between the very things themselves, self -existence 
 and absolute perfection, that it can be no easy matter to 
 conceive them separately. 
 
 Self-existence ! Into how profound an abyss is a man 
 cast at the thought of it ! How doth it overwhelm and 
 swallow up his mind and whole soul ! With what satis- 
 faction and delight must he see himself comprehended, of 
 what he finds he can never comprehend! For contem- 
 plating the self-existent Being, he finds it eternally, neces- 
 sarily, never not existing! He can have no thought of the 
 self-existing Being, ^ as such, but as always existing, as 
 having existed always, as always certain to exist. Inquir- 
 ing into the spring and source of this Being's existence, 
 whence it is that it doth exist ; his own notion of a 
 self-existing Being, which is not arbitrarily taken up, but 
 which the reason of things hath imposed upon him, gives 
 him his answer; and it can be no other, in that it is a self- 
 existing Being, it hath it of itself, that it doth exist. It is 
 an eternal, everlasting spring and fountain of perpetually- 
 existent being to itself. What a glorious excellency of 
 being Ls this ! What can this mean, but the greatest re- 
 moteness from nothing that is possible; i. e. the most 
 absolute fulness and plenitude of all being and perfection! 
 And whereas all caused being, as such, is, to every man's 
 understanding, confined within certain limits ; what can 
 
 a 1)es Cartw. 
 
 b Dr. More. 
 
 the uncaused seif-existent Being be, but most unlimited, 
 infinite, all-comprehending, and most absolutely perfect 1 
 Nothing therefore can be more evident, than that the self- 
 existent Being must be the absolutely perfect Being. 
 
 And again, if you simply convert the terms, and let this 
 be the proposition, — That the absolutely-perfect Being is 
 the self-existent Being — it is most obvious to every one, 
 that the very notion of an absolutely-perfect Being carries 
 necessity of existence, or self-exisfence, in it ; which the 
 notion of nothing else doth. And indeed one great mas- 
 terb of this argument for the existence of God, hath him- 
 self told me, " That though when he had puzzled divers 
 atheists with it they had been wont to quarrel at it, as so- 
 phistical and fallacious, he could never meet with any that 
 could detect the sophism, or tell where any fallacy in it 
 lay ; and that, upon the whole, he relied upon it as most 
 solid and firm." And I doubt not but it may be managed 
 with that advantage as to be very clearly concluding; yet, 
 because I reckoned the way I have taken more clear, I 
 chose it rather. But finding that so near cognation and 
 reciprocal connexion between the terms both ways, I reck- 
 oned this short representation hereof, annexed to the 
 larger course of evincing the same thing, might add no 
 unuseful strength to it ; and doubt not to conclude, upon 
 the whole, that — whatsoever Being exists necessarily, and 
 of itself, is absolutely perfect — and can, therefore, be no 
 other than an intelligent Being; i. e. an infinite, eternal 
 Mind, and so a most fit, and the only fit, deserving object 
 of religion, or of the honour of a temple. 
 
 III. But now, be all this never so plain, it will, by 
 some, be thought all false, if they find any man to have 
 contrivance enough to devise some contrary scheme of 
 things, and confidence enough to pretend to prove it ; till 
 that proof be detected of weakness and vanity, which 
 must first be our further business with Spinosa. And not 
 intending to examine particularly the several parts and 
 junctures of his model, inasmuch as I find his whole de- 
 sign is lost, if he fail of evincing these things, — That it 
 belongs to all substance, as such, to exist of itself, and be 
 infinite — And, (which will be sufficiently consequent here- 
 upon,) That substance is but one, and that it is impossible 
 for one substance to produce another. I shall only attend 
 to what he more directly says to this effect, and shall par- 
 ticularly apply myself to consider such of his propositions 
 as more immediately respect this his main design: for 
 they will bring us back to the definitions and axioms, or 
 other parts of his discourse, whereon those are groimded, 
 and even into all the darker and more pernicious recesses 
 of his labyrinth ; so as every thing of importance to the 
 mentioned purpose will be drawn imder our considera- 
 tion, as this thread shall lead us. 
 
 His first proposition we let pass; " That a substance is, 
 in order of nature, before its affections ;" having nothing 
 applicable to his purpose in it, which we shall not other- 
 wise meet with. 
 
 His second, " That two substances, having divers attri- 
 butes, have nothing common between them ; or, which 
 must be all one, do agree in nothing, I conceive it will be 
 no great presumption to deny. And since he is pleased 
 herein to be divided from himself, it is a civility to hi? 
 later and wiser self to do so, who will afterwards have 
 substance, having a multitude of distinct attributes, i. e, 
 essences,'^ and which therefore cannot but be manifold, tc 
 have every thing common. So little hath he common 
 with himself. 
 
 And it will increase the ooligation upon him, to deliver 
 him from the entanglement of his demonstration, as he 
 calls it, of this proposition ; as I hope we shall also of the 
 other too, for no doubt they are both false. Of this pro- 
 position his demonstration is fetched from his third defini- 
 tion, viz. of a substance, " That which is in itself, and 
 conceived by itself; i. e. whose conception needs the con- 
 ception of nothing else, whereby it ought to be formed;" 
 so is his definition defined over and over. 
 
 We are here to inquire : — 1. Into his definition of a 
 substance. 2. Whether it sufficiently prove his proposition. 
 
 IV. F'irst, For his definition of a substance. He 
 himself tells us,<i " A definition ought to express nothing 
 
 c Schol. in Prop. 10. 
 
 d Schol. in Prop. ^
 
 Chap. I. 
 
 THE LIVING TEMPLE. 
 
 61 
 
 but the simple nature of the thing defined ;" and we may 
 as well expect it distinctly to express that. Doth this 
 definition express the simple nature of a substance, " That 
 which is in itself," when it is left to divination what is 
 meant by is, whether essevxc, or existence, or subsisteiice ? 
 And when we are to be at as random a guess, what is m- 
 tended by being in itself? Whether being only contained, 
 or being also sustained in, and by, or of itself? And sup- 
 posing this latter to be mejnt, whether that self-subsist- 
 ence exclude dependence only on another, as a s^tbjecl, 
 which we acknowledge true of all substance; or depend- 
 ence as on an efficient, which if he will have to be taken 
 for true of all, he was in reason to expect it should be so 
 taken from his etfectual proof, not from the reverence of 
 his authority only : for what he adds, "And that is con- 
 ceived by itself; and whose conception needs not the 
 conception of any other thing by which it ought to be 
 formed ;'' — would he have us believe this to be true, when 
 afterward his tenth proposition is, "That every attribute 
 of substance ought to be conceived by itself 1" Where- 
 upon then so many attributes, so many substances, it be- 
 ing the nature of a substance to be conceived by itself. 
 
 V. But passing from his notion of a substance, let us 
 consider, secondly, How it proves his proposition, that 
 " Two substances, having different attributes, have nothing 
 common between them." According to him, every attri- 
 bute of substance is to be conceived by itself; and yet 
 have one and the same substance common to them all : 
 therefore the distinct conception of things is, even with 
 him, no reason why they should have nothing common 
 between them. But as to the thing itself, he must have 
 somewhat more enforcing than his definition of a substance, 
 to prove that two (or many) individual substances may 
 not have the same special nature common to them, and 
 yet be conceived by themselves; having different indivi- 
 dual natures or attributes, or different special natures, 
 having the same general nature. Yea, and an equal de- 
 pendence on the same common cause, which is a less 
 ingredient in the conception of a thing, than the general 
 or .special nature is. And I doubt not, we shall find he 
 hath not disproved, but that there is somewhat, in a true 
 sense, common to them and their cause, that is of a con- 
 ception much more vastly different from them both. 
 
 Whereupon, it is necessary to take distinct notice of his 
 third proposition, " What things have nothing common 
 between them, of them the one cannot be the cause of the 
 other." In which nothing is to be peculiarly animadverted 
 on, besides the contradiction in the very terms wherein it 
 is proposed. What things have nothing covimon between 
 them. How can they be things, and have nothing com- 
 mon between themi If they be things, they have sure the 
 general notion of things common to them; there can there- 
 fore be no such things, that have nothing common. And 
 let this be supposed to have been absurdly set down on 
 purpose; yet now, for his demonstration hereof, it rests 
 upon a palpable falsehood — that causes and effects must 
 be mutually understood by one another ; as we shall see 
 more hereafter. 
 
 His fourth we let pass ; what it hath regardable in it, 
 being as fitly to be considered under the 
 
 VI. Fifth; " There cannot be two or more substances, 
 in the whole universe, of the same nature or attribute;" 
 unto which, besides what hath been said already, we need 
 only here to add, that (whereas he hath told ns, by the 
 attribide of a substance, he means the essence of it) if he 
 here speak of the same numerical essence or attribute, it is 
 ridiculously true; and is no more than if he had said, One 
 thing is but one thing. If he speak of the same special or 
 general attribute or essence, it is as absurdly false ; and 
 for the proof of it, in the latter sense his demonstration 
 signifies nothing. There may be more than one (as a stone, 
 a tree, an animal) that agree in the same general attribute 
 of corporeity, and are diversified by their special attributes; 
 and there may be many of the same special attribute, {viz. 
 of rationality,) as John, Peter, Thomas, Sac. that are dis- 
 tinguished by their individual ones. He might as well 
 prove, by the same method, the identity of his modi, as of 
 substances; as that there can be but one individual tri- 
 angle in all the world, of one attribute or property, as but 
 one substance. Let (for instance) one at Paris, another at 
 
 Vienna, a third at Rome, a fourth at London, describe 
 each an equilateral triangle of the same dimensions, or in 
 a thousand places besides; each one of the.se do only 
 make one and the same numerical triangle, because they 
 have each the same attribute. But how are theauributes 
 of these several triangles the samel What ! the same nu- 
 merically ■? Then indeed they are all the same numerical 
 triangle; for one and the same numerical essence makes 
 but one and the same numerical thine. But who that is 
 in his right wits would say so 7 And if it be only said they 
 have all attributes of one and the same kind, what then is 
 consequent, but that they are all triangles of one kind 1 
 Which who in his right wits will deny 1 And if the attri- 
 bute of a substance be that whi' h constitutes its essence, 
 the attribute of any thing else is that which constitutes its 
 essence. See then how far Spinosa hath advanced with 
 his demonstration of the identity of substance ! If he prove 
 not all substance to be numerically the same, he hath done 
 nothing to his purpose. And it is now obvious to every 
 eve how effectually he hath done that. 
 " Whence also it is further equally evident, his demon- 
 stration dwindles into nothing; and gives no support to 
 
 VII. His sixth proposition, which contains the malig- 
 nity of his whole design, viz. " That one substance cannot 
 be produced by another substance," which rests (as you 
 see) partlv upon the fifth, " That there cannot be two sub- 
 stances of the same attribute," which in his sense i.s, as 
 hath been shown, most absurdly false, and the attempt of 
 proving it as absurd ; partly upon his second, " That two 
 substances, of different attributes, have nothing common 
 between them," which might be said of whatsoever el'^e, 
 as truly as of substances ; but which is also most evidently 
 untrue"; and partly, upon his third, " That such things as 
 have nothing common between them, the one of them can- 
 not be the cause of the other," which depends upon two 
 false suppositions,— I. " That there can be two things, 
 which have nothing common between them;" which, as 
 hath been noted, contradicts itself, and needs not be fur- 
 ther stood upon. 2. "That whatsoever things are catiseand 
 effect, the one to the other, must be mutually understood 
 by one another," which we shall here more distinctly con- 
 sider, it being also his second demonstration of the corol- 
 lary of this his sixth proposition, (which nothing but a 
 disposition to trifle, or having nothing to say, could have 
 made him mention, as a corollary from this proposition, it 
 being in effect but a repetition of the same thing,) viz. 
 " That if one substance can be produced by another, (agent, 
 or substance, which you please,) the knowledge of it must 
 depend upon the knowledge of its cause, (by the fourth 
 axiom,) and thereupon (by definition third) it should not 
 be a substance." We are here to consider, 
 
 1. This his fourth axiom, " That the knowledge of an 
 effect depends upon the knowledge of its cause, and doth 
 involve it." An effect may be considered two ways; abso- 
 lutely, as it is in itself, or relatively, as it is the effect of 
 an efficient cause. It cannot, it is true, be understood to 
 be the effect of such an efficient, but the knowledge that 
 this was its efficient, is involved therein ; for it is the same 
 thing, and so much may he known, withtmt knowing any 
 thing of the nature of either the efficient or effect. But 
 this signifies nothing to his purpose. He must therefore 
 mean, that the knowledge of an effect absolutely considered, 
 and in its own nature, depends upon and involves the know- 
 ledge of the nature of its efficient. Surely, the nature of a 
 thing may becom| etently known by its true definition. But 
 is the efficient cause wont to be universally put into defini- 
 tions 7 He tells us himself, (Schol. 2. upon Proposition 8.) 
 "A true definition contains, or expresses, nothing, besides 
 the mere nature of the thing defined." And let any man 
 that thinks it worth it. be at the pains to examine his own 
 definition in the several parts of this ethico-geometrical 
 tract, and see whether he always puts the efficient cause 
 into every definition. And (no doubt) he thought him- 
 self to define accurately. If all other men, who have so 
 generally reckoned the efficient and end. external causes, 
 and only matter and form internal, and ingredient into 
 the nature of things, and therefore only fit to be put into 
 definitions, were thought by him mistaken and out in 
 their reckoning, it was, however, neither modest nor wise, 
 to lay down for an axiom a thing so contrary to the
 
 63 
 
 THE LIVING TEMPLE. 
 
 Part n. 
 
 common sentiments of mankind; iind witliout the least 
 attempt to prove it, go about to demonstrate by it, in so 
 Dortentous a cause; and lay the whole Aveiglit of his hor- 
 rid cause upon it; expecting all the world should be awed 
 into an assent, by the authority of his bare word; and not 
 Dresume to disbelieve or doubt it, only because he is 
 pleased to stamp the magisterial name of an axiom upon 
 It. If therefore any man assume the boldne.ss to deny his 
 axiom, what is become of his demonstration 1 And 
 whereas it is commonly apprehended, that definitions are 
 not of individual things, but of special kinds, and is ac- 
 knowledged by himself, •= " That the essence of things 
 Droduced by God, involves not existence, and the produc- 
 ion of a thing is nothing else but the putting it into actual 
 existence;" why may not the abstract essence, or nature 
 of things, be well enough conceived and defined, without 
 involving the conception of their productive cause "? And 
 this enougli shows, 2dly, That his definition of a substance 
 proves not, that one substance cannot be produced by an- 
 other, viz. " Tliat which can be conceived by itself," for 
 so it may, without involving the conception of that which 
 produces it; and so be a substance sufficiently according 
 to his definition. Though there can be no inconvenience 
 in admitting, that things understood apart, by themselves, 
 may be afterwards further and more clearly understood, 
 by considering and comparing them in the habitude and 
 references which they bear as causes and effects (or other- 
 wise) to one another. And now is his, 
 
 VIII. Seventh proposition, " That it belongs to the na- 
 ture of substance to exist," which is so great a pillar, left 
 itself without support; and being understood of substance 
 as such, as his terms and design require it to be, it is 
 manifestly impious, communicating the most fundamental 
 attribute of the Deity to all substance. And is as little 
 befriended by reason, as it befriends religion ; for it rests 
 upon nothing but the foregoing bafHed proposition : and 
 this definition, f of that which is its own cause; which is, 
 " That whose essence involves existence, or which cannot 
 be conceived otherwise than as existing;" whereas, it is 
 sufl[iciently plain we have a conception clear enough of 
 the general nature of a substance as such, abstracted from 
 existence, or non-existence, conceiving it only to be such, 
 as if it exist, doth subsist in and by itself, i. c. without 
 having a subject to support it ; though it may be such as 
 to have needed a productive, and continually to need a 
 sustaining, efficient cause. Nor is there less clearness in 
 this abstract conception of a substance, than there is in 
 that of a modus, or accident, which we may conceive in 
 an equal abstraction, from actual existence, or non-exist- 
 tence ; understanding it to be such, as that if it exist, it 
 doth inexist, or exist only in another. And now is our 
 way sufficiently prepared to the consideration of his eighth 
 proposition; " That all subslance is necessarily infinite." 
 And how is it demonstrated ■? Why, by his fifth proposi- 
 tion, — " That there can be but one stibstance, of one and 
 the same attribute," — which hath been sufliciently unra- 
 velled and exposed, so as not to be left capable of signi- 
 fying any thing here, as the reader will see by looking 
 back to what has been said upon it. And now it must 
 quite sink; its next reliance failing it, viz. the foregoiaig 
 seventh proposition, — " That it belongs to it, to exist 
 necessarily." I grant the consequence to be good, and 
 reckon it a truth of great evidence and concernment, " That 
 whatsoever exists necessarily, is infinite." I heartily con- 
 gratulate Spinosa's acknowledgment of so very clear and 
 important an assertion ; and do hope, as in the foregoing 
 discourse I have made some, to make further, good use of 
 it. But for what he assumes, that all " substance neces- 
 sarily exists ;" you see it rests upon nothing, and so conse- 
 quently doth what he would conclude from it, that all 
 substance is infinite. And his further proof of it avails 
 as little, ^liz. that it cannot be finite; because (by his 
 second definition) if it be so, it must be limited by some- 
 thing of the same nature, &c. Which would be absurd 
 by proposition fifth, — " That there cannot be two sub- 
 stances of the same attribute:" for that there be two, of 
 the same individual attribute, to bound one another is un- 
 necessary, (as well as impossible,) and absurdly supposed 
 
 Prop. 24. 
 
 f Def. 6. 
 
 for this purpose. For if there were two of the same indi- 
 vidual nature and attribute, they would not bound one 
 another, but run into one; inasmuch as having but one 
 attribute, they should, according to him, have but one and 
 the same essence ; and so be most entirely one, and that 
 there cannot be two, or many times two, of the same spe- 
 cial or general nature, is unproved ; and the contrary most 
 evident, as may be seen, in what hath been said upon that 
 fifth proposition. 
 
 IX. No man needs wish an easier task, than it would 
 be to show the falsehood or impertinency of his Scholia 
 upon this proposition, and of his following discourse, to 
 the purpose above mentioned. But I reckon it unneces- 
 sary, his principal supports being (I will not say over- 
 thrown, but) discovered to be none at all. I shall there- 
 fore follow his footsteps no further, only take notice of 
 some few things that have a more direct aspect upon his 
 main design, and make all the haste I can to take leave 
 of him, that I may be at liberty to pursue my own. What 
 is in his first Scholium follows, he says, only upon his 
 seventji proposition, which itself follows upon nothing; 
 and trifrefore I further regard it not. His second Schol. 
 would have his seventh proposition pass for a common 
 notion ; and so it will, when he hath inspired all man- 
 kind with his sentiments. But why must it do so 1 Be- 
 cause substance is that which is in itself, and is conceived 
 by itself? Now compare that with his tenth proposition, 
 — " Every attribute of substance ought to be conceived by 
 itself" There the definition of substance is given to 
 every attribute of substance; therefore, every attribute of 
 substance is a substance, since the definition? of substance 
 to which he refers us in the demonstration of that propo- 
 sition, agrees to it; therefore, so many attributes, so many 
 substances. What can be plainer? We have then his 
 one substance multiplied into an infinite number of sub- 
 stances. By his sixth definition, we shall see his own 
 confession of this consequence, by and by. 
 
 And whereas in this Schol. he would make us believe, 
 that modifications men may conceive as not existing, but 
 substances they cannot. Let the reason of this assigned 
 difference be considered; " That by substance they must 
 understand that which is in itself, and is conceived by 
 itself, its knowledge not needing the knowledge of another 
 thing. But by modifications they are to understand that 
 which is in another, and whose conception is formed by 
 the conception of that thing in which they are : wherefore, 
 we can have true ideas of not-existing modifications, in- 
 asmuch as though they may not actually exist, otherwise 
 than in the understanding, 3'et their essence is so compre- 
 hended in another, that they may be conceived by the 
 same. But the truth of substances is not otherwise with- 
 out the understanding, than in themselves, because they 
 are conceived by themselves," &c. Which reason is evi- 
 dently no reason. For with the same clearness, wherewith 
 I conceive a substance, whensoever it exists, as existmg 
 in itself; I conceive a modification, whensoever it exists, 
 as existing in another. If therefore any thing existing in 
 another, be as truly existing, as existing in itself, the 
 existence of a .substance is no more necessary than the 
 existence of a modification. And if we can have true ideas 
 of not-existing modifications, we may have as true, of not- 
 existing substances; especially since (according to him) 
 we cannot conceive a substance, without conceiving in it 
 some or other modifications. For he tells us, " The 
 essence of modifications is so comprehended in another, 
 that they may be conceived by the same." Now, what 
 means he by the essence of modifications being compre- 
 hended in another 1 By that other, he must mean sub- 
 stance : for modifications do modify substances, or nothing ; 
 and if the essences of modifications be contained in sub- 
 stances, they must (according to him) be contained in the 
 essence of substances. 
 
 For there is, saith he, nothing in nature, besides sub- 
 stances and their affections or modifications (demonstra- 
 tion of prop, fourth, and def fifth.) Therefore, since nothing 
 can be conceived in substance, antecedent to these modi- 
 fications, besides its own naked essence, they mu.st be 
 contained immediately in the very essence of substance, 
 
 g Def a
 
 Chap. I. 
 
 THE LIVING TEMPLE. 
 
 63 
 
 or in substance itself; wherefore if all substance be neces- 
 sarily existent, they must be necessarily inexistent. And 
 if the essence of substance contains the inexisting viodi, 
 the essence of the modi doth equally contain their inexist- 
 ence in substance. Whereupon, by consequence also, the 
 essence of these modifications doth as much involve ex- 
 istence (since no one can athrm inexistence to be exist- 
 ence) as the essence of substance doth, in direct contradic- 
 tion to prop, twenty-fourth, which expressly (and most 
 truly) says, " The essence of things produced by God ' 
 (which he, as untruly, intends of these modifications alone) 
 " do not involve existence." 
 
 And now for his notanda in this Schol. bj' which he 
 would conclude, that there is no other than thi:> one infi- 
 niteh substance in being. It is true indeed, that the defini- 
 tion of a thing (which we have before said is of specific 
 nature, not of individuals) expresses not any certain num- 
 ber of existing individuals, (be it man, or triangle, or what 
 else you please,) nor any at all. For surely the defiiiiiion 
 o^" man, or triangle, would be the same, if every individual 
 of each should be abolished and cease. But that, if any 
 do exi.st, some cause must be assignable why they exist, 
 and why so many only. What is to be inferred from this ? 
 That the reason being the same, as to every substance 
 whose essence involves not existence in it, (which that 
 the essence of every substance doth, or of substance as 
 such, he hath not proved, nor ever can) when any such 
 substance is found to exist, the cause of its existence, not 
 being in its own nature, must be external. And there- 
 fore, so many only do exist, because a free agent, able to 
 produce them, (for the very substance of created beings 
 itself, owes not its production to a merely natural, unde- 
 signing, or to any subordinate agent onlj',) was pleased to 
 produce so many, and no more. And so hath this unhap- 
 py author himself, with great pains and sweat, reasoned 
 out for us the very thing we assert. 
 
 But that it may be further seen, how incurious a writer 
 this man of demonstration is, and how fatally, while he is 
 designing the overthrow of religion, he overthrows his 
 own design, I shall not let pass what he says, in demon- 
 strating Ids twelfth prop. — " That no attribute of substance 
 can be truly conceived, from which it may follow, that 
 substance can be divided." How he proves it by prop, 
 eighth, and after by the sixth, I shall not regard, till I see 
 those propositions better proved. But that which I at pre- 
 sent remark, is his argument from prop, fifth, — " That if 
 substance could be divided, each part must consist of a 
 dilTerent attribute ; and so of one sub.stance many might 
 be constituted." A fair confession, that many attributes 
 will constitute many substances. And himself acknow- 
 ledges many attributes of substance, (def. sixth, and prop, 
 eleventh.) And therefore, though he here call this an 
 absurdity, it is an absurdity which he hath inevitably now 
 fastened upon himself, having here allowed, plainly, the 
 consequence (as was above promised to be shown) that if 
 there be diversity of attributes, they will constitute a di- 
 versity of substances, which it was before impossible to 
 him to disallow, having defined an attribute (as was form- 
 erly noted) to bei that which constitutes the essence of sub- 
 stance. Therefore, his whole cause is here fairly given 
 away ; for his one substance is now scattered into many, 
 and the pretended impossibility of the creation of any 
 substantial being, quite vanished into thin and empty air. 
 The many inconsistencies to be noted also in his annexed 
 letters, with several parts of his discourse, it is not my 
 business particularly to reflect on. It is enough, to vuj 
 purpose, to have shown he comes short of his. 
 
 X. Upon the whole, little more seems needful for the 
 refutation of this his horrid doctrine of the unity, .self- 
 existence, and infinity of all substance, than only to oppose 
 Spinosa to Spinosa. Nor have I ever met with a discourse 
 so equally inconsistent with all principles of reason and 
 religion, and with itself. And so frequently doth he over- 
 throw his own ill design, in this very discourse, that it is 
 altogether unnecessary to insist on the inconsistencies of 
 this, with his demonstrations of Des Cartes's principles, 
 
 }> P 31. i net. 4. 
 
 i A?J"^ asserting God to be a most simple t)einff, and tliat his attrihules do 
 only difter, ratione Wherea.'i, now. lie makes his attributes as divers, as exten- 
 sion and tbouelit. and says, they i.uplit to be conceived as really distinct. .«!ihnl. 
 ui Prop. 10. There ho asserts all things to be created by God, here, noUilnj;. 
 
 written divers years before. Against which, every one 
 that hath compared, knows these his later sentiments to 
 import so manifest hostility, that I may well spare that 
 vain and useless labour, it being sufficient only to note the 
 more principal, in the margin. k 
 
 His following propositions (and among them those most 
 surprising ones, the sixteenth and twenty-eighth) tend to 
 evince the onliness of substance, and the absolute necessity 
 of all actions ; but upon grounds so plainly already dis- 
 covered to be vain and false, that we need follow him nc 
 further. Nor is it necessary to di.sprove his hypothesis, or 
 charge it with the many absurdities that belong to it ; they 
 are so horrid and notorious, that to any one who is not in 
 love with absurdity for itself, it will abtmdantly suffice to 
 have .shown he hath not proved it. 
 
 XI. I cannot but, in the meantime, take some notice 
 of the genius, which seems to have inspired both him and 
 his devotees. A fraudulent pretence to religion, while 
 they conspire against it. Whereof many instances might 
 be given ; as the prefixing that text of Holy Scriptu^re to so 
 impure a volume, on the title-page, 1 John iv. 13. " By 
 this we know that we dwell in God, and God dwelleth in 
 us, because he hath given us of his Spirit." That the pre- 
 face to his posthumous works is filled up with quotations 
 out of the Bible ; which it is their whole design to make 
 signify nothing. The divine authority whereof, an anony 
 mous defender of his, in that part of his work which he 
 entitles. Specimen artis ratiucinandi, no.turalis ci ardficialh 
 ad pantosophi<£ j^rincipia munuiuccns, undeitakes to de- 
 monstrate (because, as he says, all religion depends upon 
 the word of God) by an argument, which, he says, he can 
 glory, that after many years meditation, the divine grace 
 favouring him, he hath found out, by which he tell us,i 
 he is able (to do what, that he knows, no man hath ever 
 done before him) to demonstrate naturally the truth of the 
 sacred Scripture, that i.s. That it is the word of God. An 
 argument, he says, able to convince the most pertinacious 
 pagan, &c. And it is taken from the idea of God, com- 
 pared with that divine saying, Exod. iii. 14. " I am that I 
 am." Whereupon what he says will to any one who at- 
 tentively reads show his design, viz. at once to expose 
 religion, and hide himself. And so do;h his collusion 
 sufficiently appear in making the soul philosophically 
 mortal, aiid Christianly immortal, p. 70, &c. But if the 
 philosopher perish for ever, what will become of the 
 Christian "? 
 
 This author also finds great fault with the instances 
 usually given to exemplify the common definition of sub- 
 stance. That is, a bciiig subsisting hj itself, or in itself,"' 
 because he thought them not agreeable enough to his 
 master Spinosa's notion of the unity and identity of all 
 substances, and consetjuently of the improductibility of 
 any. And he fancies them to contradict themselves, that 
 while they call the sun, the moon, the earth, this or that 
 tree, or stone, substances, they yet admit them to be pro- 
 duced by another. For how "can it be, saith he, that they 
 should be in or by themselves, and yet depend on another, 
 as on a subject, or as an efficient cause 1 He is very angry, 
 and says they by it do but crucify and mock their readers, 
 only because it crosses and disappoints his and his master's 
 impious purpose of deifying every substance. And there- 
 fore, to serve that purpose as he fancies the better, he 
 would more aptly model all things, and reduce them to two 
 distinct kinds only, viz. Of things that may be conceived 
 primarily and in themselves, without involving the concep- 
 tion of a'nother ; and again, of things that we conceive not 
 primarily and in themselves, but secondarily and by ano- 
 ther, whose conception is involved in their conception. 
 But all the while, what is there in this, more than what is 
 common and acknowledged on all hands 1 as the sense of 
 the trivial distich he takes the pains to recite, 
 
 Summus Aristoteles, &c. 
 
 But when all this is granted, what is he nearer his 
 mark 1 Of that former sort, still some are from another; 
 and one other only of and from itself. But then (says he) 
 
 There be makes corporeal .siiKstance divisible ; here, all substance imlivisililc, 
 &c. And yet in this work (vide Schol. hi Prop. 19 ) refsrs us to the former, & 
 if, when the one destroys the other, Ixjth were firm. 
 
 1 P. 241, &-c. 
 
 m nioiiuduct. p. 11, 12.
 
 64 
 
 THE LIVING TEMPLE. 
 
 Part I[. 
 
 how are those former conceived in and by themselves 1 
 Well enoug:h, say I; for they are to be conceived, as they 
 are to be deliiied; but the definition of a thing is to ex- 
 press only its own nature and essence (as Spinosa himself 
 says, Schol. 2. in Prop. 8.) considered apart by itself, into 
 which (as hath been said) the efficient cause, which is ex- 
 trinsical to it, enters not; and without considering wliether 
 it exist or exist not. Because definitions are of special 
 kinds, or common natures, that exist not as such ; not of 
 existing individual.^, except the one only self-subsisting, 
 original Being, of whose essence existence is; which Spi- 
 nosa himself acknowledges, and makes his twentieth pro- 
 position ; as on the other hand, that " The essence of things 
 produced by God involves not existence," is his twenty- 
 fourth. 
 
 XII. But that the substance of things, whose essence 
 involves existence, and whose essence involves it not, 
 should be one and the same, exceeds all wonder! One 
 would think, so vastly different essences of substance 
 should at least make different substances; and that when 
 Spinosa hath told us so expressly, that an " attribute of 
 substance constitutes the essence of substance ; and that 
 all the attributes of substance are distinctly conceived ; the 
 conception of the one, not involving the conception of ano- 
 ther;" and so do most really differ from each other, and 
 make so many essences therefore, of substance really dis- 
 tinct, (though he once thought otherwise of the divine at- 
 tributes, that they did only differ from each other rationc, 
 and that God was a most simple Being, which he also 
 takes pains to prove, R. D. Cartes. Princip. Philos. Ap- 
 pend, part 2d. cap. 5. p. 117, 118,) one would surely here- 
 upon think, that so vastly different attributes, as necessary 
 existence, and contingent, should constitute the most dif- 
 ferent substances imaginable. For what is an attribute"? 
 Jd quod intclleclus de sviisiantia pcrcipit, tanqvnm ejus es- 
 sejitiam constituens. (Def. 4.) Now the essence of some 
 substance the understanding most clearly perceives as in- 
 volving existence in it. Existence therelbre constitutes 
 the essence of such substance, and is therefore an attribute 
 of it. Some other essence it as clearly perceives, that in- 
 volves not existence. Now this sort of essence is the at- 
 tribute of somewhat. And of what is it the attribute? 
 Why, he hath told us, "An attribute is what the under- 
 standing perceives of substance as constituting its essence ;" 
 therefore, some substance hath such an essence as involves 
 not existence. 
 
 Now let it hereupon be considered (albeit that I affect 
 not to give high tides to any reasonings of mine) whether 
 this amount not to a demonstration against the hj'pothesis 
 of Spinosa, and the rest of his v.'ay, that all substance is 
 self-existent ; and that, even upon their own principles 
 and concessions, so frequently acknowledging the world to 
 be produced, and not self-existent, that even the substance 
 of it is produced also ; which they deny, viz." That whose 
 essence, this unnamed author says, includes not existence, 
 either hath some substance belonging to its essence, or it 
 hath not. If not, it may exist without substance; and 
 then unto what is it an attribute, or what doth it modify? 
 If yea, there is then some substance, and particularly that 
 of this world, in whose essence existence is not included; 
 and that by consequence, the substance of this world is 
 produced. But if any make a difficuliy of it to under- 
 stand, how all being and perfection should be included 
 in the Divine Being, and not be very God; so much is 
 already said to this in the former Part of this discourse, 
 (viz. Chap. 4. Sect. XII. &c.) that as I shall not here re- 
 peat what hath been said, so I think it unnecessary to say 
 more. 
 
 And it is what Spinosa hiinself had once such sobriety 
 of mind as to apprehend, when (Princip. R. D. Cart. Phi- 
 losoph. more Geometr. demonsirat. Append, part 1. cap. 
 2.) he says thus of God, or of increate substance, that God 
 doth eminently contain that which is found formally in 
 created things, i. c. God hath that in his own nature, in 
 which all created things are contained in a more eminent 
 manner; and that there is some attribute in God, wherein 
 all the perfections, even of matter, are after a more excel- 
 lent manner themselves contained. Having before told us, 
 
 n Maniiduct. p. 107. 
 
 (Princip. Ps.rt I. Axiom 8.) That by eminently, he under- 
 stood when a cause did contain all the reality of its effect 
 more perfectly than the effect itself; by formally, when it 
 contained it in equal perfection. And so he might have 
 told himself of somewhat sufficiently common (though not 
 univocally) to the substance of the Divine Nature, and 
 that of creatures ; whereon to found the causality of the 
 former, in reference to the latter, as effected thereby. But 
 as he grew older, his understanding either became less 
 clear, or was more perverted by ill design. 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 Animadversions from a French writer, nameless. His pretence to confufe Spi- 
 nosa. The opinion of the world's being made of independent self-e.xisting 
 matter ; cliosen by liim and asserted against two other opinions. Tliat of 
 matter's being created out of nothing rejected, and falsely charged with 
 novelty. Moses, and the author to the Hebrews misalleged, vindicated. 
 Self-originate, independent matter disproved : asserted by tnis author with 
 evident self-contradiction ; and without necessity. 
 
 I. But having here done with him and that sort of men, 
 I shall now very briefly consider the fore-mentioned Mon- 
 sieur's way of confuting him. The conceit, that there must 
 be such a thing as necessary self-subsisting matter, hath 
 I confess seemed to be favoured by some or other name 
 among the Ethnics of that value, as to have given some 
 countenance to a better cause ; besides some others, who 
 with greater incongruity, and more injury to it, have pro- 
 fessed the Christian name. It hath been of late espoused, 
 and asserted more expressly, by this French gentleman, 
 who hath not thought fit to dignify it with his name, 
 doubting perhaps whether the acquainting the world wilh 
 it, might not more discredit his cause, than his cause (in 
 this part of it) could better the reputation of his name. 
 However it be, though my inquiry and credible informa- 
 tion hath not left me ignorant, I shall not give him occa- 
 sion to think him.self uncivilly treated, by divulging what 
 he seems willing should be a secret. For though it was 
 not intrusted to me as such, I shall be loth to disoblige 
 him by that, whereby that I know I can oblige nobody 
 else. It is enough that his book may be known by its 
 title, VImpie convaincu. It is professedly written against 
 the atheism of Spinosa. And when I first looked into ii, 
 I could not refrain thinking of Plato's repartee to Diogenes, 
 when the latter undertook to reprehend the other's pride, 
 that he did it with greater pride. Although I think not 
 the application is to be made in the strictest terms. For 
 I will neither be so indulgent to Spinosa, as to reckon that 
 any man's atheism can be greater than his ; nor so seveie 
 to this his adversary, as positively to conclude he designed 
 the service of any atheism at all. But I think him at least, 
 unwarily and without any neces.sity, to have quitted one 
 of the principal supports of the doctrine of a Deity; and 
 that he hath undertaken the confutation of atheism, upon 
 a ground that leads to atheism. 
 
 II. He thinks, it seems, Spinosa not otherwise confuta- 
 ble, than upon the hypothesis of eternal, independent 
 matter, which he thus explains in his preface, it being the 
 second of the three distinct hypotheses whereof he there 
 gives an account. 
 
 The second," he says, is theirs who assert two beings or 
 two substances increate, eternal, independent, as to their 
 simple existence, though very differently ; the former 
 whereof is God, the infinitely perfect Being, almighty, 
 the principle of all perfection ; and the second, matter, a 
 being essentially imperfect, without power, without life, 
 without knowledge ; but capable nevertheless of all these 
 perfections, by impression from God, and his operations 
 upon it. This he pretends to have been the hypothesis of 
 the ancient philosophers and divines (after he had acknow- 
 ledged the former hypothesis — " That the world, and the 
 matter of it, v/ere drawn out of nothing by the infinite 
 power of the first and supreme Being, which itself alone 
 was eternal and independent," — was the hj'pothesis of the 
 greater part of Christian divines and philosophers.) And 
 this second, he says, is the hypothesis which he shall fol- 
 
 a La leconde eBt celle de ceux qui, &c. AvertiBsemont.
 
 Chap. II. 
 
 THE LIVING TEMPLE. 
 
 65 
 
 low, rejecting the first, but now menlionecl ; and in oppo- 
 sition to the third, which makes the world and its produc- 
 tion to be nothing else than an emanation of the Divine 
 Substeince, whereby a part of itself is formed into a world. 
 And this, he says, was the opinion of the ancient Gnostics 
 and Priscillianists, and is for the most part of the Cabba- 
 lists, of the new Adamites or the illuminated, and of an 
 infinite number of Asiatic and Indian philosophers. 
 
 III. To qualify the ill .savour of that second opinion 
 which he follows, he would have us believe it to be the 
 more creditable, than the (rejected) first, which he says is 
 a new thing in the world, and that it was not born till 
 some ages after Christ; which is gratis dictum. And 
 whereas he tells us, he takes notice, that Tertullian was 
 the first that maintained it against a Christian philosopher, 
 who defended the eternal existence of matter; he had only 
 reason to take notice, That the philosopher he mentions, 
 was the first, that calling himself a Christian, had the con- 
 fidence to assert an opinion so repugnant to Christianity 
 and to all religion, and who therefore first gave so con- 
 siderable an occasion to one who was a Christian indeed, 
 to confute it. Nor was Hermogenes a much more credit- 
 able name with the orthodox, ancient Christians, than those 
 wherewith he graces the third opinion, besides the other 
 ill company which might be assigned it, if that were a 
 convictive way of fighting, by names. 
 
 IV. And for what he adds. That Moses was, he dares 
 say, of his opinion ; because he only gives such an account 
 of the creation, as that it was made of an unformed pre- 
 existent matter; and the Apostle Paul to the Hebrews, 
 saying, God drew these visible things out of those that 
 were not visible. He shows, indeed, more daringness than 
 solid judgment, in venturing to say the one or the other 
 upon so slender a ground. As if every thing were false, 
 which Moses and Paul did not say. But it appears rather 
 from his way of quoting, (who, it is like, did not much 
 concern himself to turn over the leaves of the Bible, that 
 he might be sure to quote right,) that God did create that 
 unformed matter, as he calls it. For it is expressly said, 
 God created heaven, and earth, and that this earth (not 
 matter) was without form, and void. Gen. i. 1,2. And if 
 this unformed earth and matter be, as with him it seems, 
 all one, then the unformed matter is said to have been 
 created. For God is said to have created that unformed 
 earth; which must indeed pre-exist, unformed, to its be- 
 ing brought into form, not imto all creation. And the 
 same thing must be understood of the unformed heaven 
 too, though Moses's design was to give us a more distinct 
 account of what was nearer us, and wherein we were more 
 concerned. And indeed, is seems most agreeable to the 
 letter of the text, and to the following history, so to under- 
 stand those words, " In the beginning God created heaven 
 and earth," viz. That in the beginning he created that 
 which afterwards became heaven and earth, i. e. unformed 
 matter. For heaven and earth as now they are, or as they 
 were in their formed state, were not created in a moment, 
 in the very beginning ; but in several successive days, as 
 the following history shows. And so much Tertullian 
 aptly enough intimates to that Pseudo-Christian Her- 
 mogenes, Terra; nomen redigit in maferiam, d^'C. Nor is 
 Heb. xi. 3. capable of being tortured into any sense more 
 favourable to his gross fancy, which (as the Greek text, if 
 any will con.sult it, shows) "says not. The things that are 
 seen were made of things not appearing, but were not 
 made of things appearing. As to what he adds touching 
 the word crcer. &c. I let it pass, not liking to contend 
 about words often promiscuously used, but shall apply 
 myself to the consideration of the thing in question, and 
 show — 1. How inconsistently this author asserts inde- 
 pendent matter, both with the truth and with himself— 2. 
 How unnecessarily he doth it, and that the defence of the 
 common cause against Spinosa did no way oblige him 
 to it. 
 
 V. FHrst, How inconsistently he asserts it, 1. With the 
 truth of the thing; for, 
 
 (1.) Whatsoever exists independently and necessarily, 
 is infinite. And herein I must do Spinosa that right, as 
 to acknowledge he hath, in asserting it, done right to truth; 
 though the grounds upon which he asserts it, are most 
 perniciously false. But I conceive it is capable of being 
 
 clearly proved (and hath been proved. Part 1st) otherwise, 
 i-iz. that necessary, self-originate being, is the root and 
 fountain of all being, whetlier actual or possible ; since 
 there is nothing actual brought into being, which is not 
 actually from it, and nothing possible, but whose possi- 
 bility depends upon it. And what virtually comprehends 
 all being, actual and po.ssible, cannot but be infinite. For 
 without the compass of such all-comprehending being, 
 there is nothing to bound it. And what is bounded by 
 nothing, is unboimded or infinite. Whereupon also, matter 
 plainly appears not to be of itself. For if it were, for the 
 same reason it must be infinite and all comprehending. 
 But nothing were more apparently contradictious and self- 
 repugnant, than the assertion of nvo all-comprehending 
 beings ; and if there be but one, that matter is not that 
 one. But that it must be a necessary, self-originate, intel- 
 ligent Being, which is the root of all being, I conceive 
 already suihciently proved in the former part of this dis- 
 course. Wherein it is also shown, that finite created be- 
 ings, arising from that infinite self-originate one, limit it 
 not, nor do detract any thing from its infinity, but concur 
 to evidence its infinity rather; inasmuch as they could 
 never have been, had they not been before contained within 
 the productive power of that increate self-originate Being. 
 It is, by the way, to be noted that the notion of infinity we 
 now intend, doth not merely import unconfinedness to this 
 or that certain space, (though it include that too,) for that, 
 alone, were a very maimed, defective notion of inhnitencss. 
 But we understand by it the absolute all-comprehending 
 profundity and plenitude of essence and perfection. Where- 
 upon, it signifies nothing to the preserving entire the infi- 
 nity of the self-originate, intelligent Being, only to suppose 
 it such, as that it can permeate all the space that can be 
 taken up by another (.supposed) self-originate being. For 
 still, since its essence were of itself, it were not virtually 
 contained in the other. Which therefore would evince 
 that other not to be in the true sense infinite. Where- 
 upon we, 
 
 (2.) Proi^e the impossibility of independent, self-origi- 
 nate matter, from the known, agreed notion of God, viz. 
 That he is a Bei7ig absolutely perfect, or comprehensive of 
 all perfection. Even they that deny his existence, confess 
 (though to the contradiction of themselves) this to be the 
 notion of the thing they deny. Now, though this Eissertor 
 of independent matter acknowledges it a being essentially 
 imperfect, he can only mean by that, less perfect ; not 
 that it hath, simply, no perfection at all. 'Tis idle trifling 
 to brangle about words. Perfection hath been wont to go 
 for an attribute of being. He calls it a being; it must 
 therefore have some perfection, some goodness, be of some 
 value. Is it not better than nothing 1 Then, that perfec- 
 tion must be eminently contained in God ; otherwise, how 
 is he a Being comprehensive of all perfection 1 The imper- 
 fections of matter belong not to him; nor of any thing 
 else. For imperfection is nothing; nor do the perfections 
 of any creature belong to him formally, or in the same 
 special kind, hut eminently, and in a higher and more 
 noble kind. And so, to have all being and perfection, 
 either for his own, or within his productive power, cannot, 
 without contradiction, be denied of him, who is confessed 
 to be God. And again, to be able to create, is surelv a 
 perfection. Omnipotency, more a perfection than partial 
 impotenc}'. Wherefore to assert matter could not be cre- 
 ated by God, is to assert an impotent, imperfect God. Or 
 since God can be conceived under no other notion than 
 of a Being absolutely perfect) to assert none at all. 
 
 (3.) This supposition not only denies to God all perfec- 
 tion, but it ascribes to matter, which he himself confesses 
 the meanest sort of being, (as shortly it will be fitter to 
 take further notice,) the high excellency of self-subsist- 
 ence, the first and most fundamental of all divine per- 
 fections. 
 
 (4.) If matter be, as such, an independent, self-originate 
 thing, then every part or particle of matter must be so. 
 And then, let such matter be supposed to fill up infinite 
 space, we shall have an infinite number of independent 
 entities, co-existing for ever ; for a finite number cannot 
 replenish infinite space : or let it be supposed (more agree- 
 ably to the pretended sentiments of this author") confined 
 within the limits of the formed universe: ana how un-
 
 66 
 
 THE LIVING TEMPLE. 
 
 Part IL 
 
 reasonably is such a thing as independent matter, sup- 
 posed to be of itself, limited to one spot of immense space ! 
 For let the universe be supposed finite, though ever so 
 vast, it must yet be conceived but as a minute spot, to the 
 infinite unbounded vacuity that lies without it ; and which 
 yet he seems to acknowledge replenished with the Divine 
 Being. Now let a man set himself to consider, and try 
 how easy it will be to his thoughts to conceive one little 
 portion of boundless space, taken up with a mean being, 
 next to nothing, that is of itself there, and cannot but be 
 there, and no where else, imposed upon the infinitely per- 
 fect Being ; the all-wise and almighty God, who fills up 
 all space unavoidably and from all eternity, so that he 
 could not, if he thought it a cumber, disencumber or rid 
 himself of it ; and rather seemed of necessity, than of 
 choice, to have made a world of it, as not knowing else 
 what to do with it ; with which imagination also the youth 
 of the world so ill agrees, for why then was it so lately 
 made? 
 
 (5.) But it further seems very evident, and more fully 
 evidential of the absurdity of this conceit, that if there 
 were such matter, the world could never have been made 
 of it. For how great alterations must such rude, undi- 
 gested, unformed matter have undergone, in forming of 
 such a world as this? But what greater inconsistency can 
 we imagine, than that what exists necessarily, or of itself, 
 should be alterable 1 What is of itself what it is, must be 
 eternally and without change what it is. So absurd, as 
 well as profane, it will be to ascribe to dull and senseless 
 matter, or to any thing else, so peculiar and appropriate an 
 attribute and name as that of the Deity, /«?« that lam. 
 For, hereupon, such matter were not only supposed vainly 
 and to no purpose, being never possible to be the matter 
 of the world, but destructively, and against the very pur- 
 pose that should be served by it. For such matter being 
 supposed to occupy the space of the formed world, must 
 exclude thence any other matter of which it could be 
 formed ; and make it, consequently, impossible there 
 should ever have been any such world as this, where the 
 supposition itself makes it be. This see discoursed more 
 at large, Part I. Chap. 2. 
 
 (6.) And whereas his great reason for such self-originate, 
 independent matter, viz. the imagined impossibility of 
 creation, or that any thing can be produced out of nothing, 
 (which so far as is needful, we partly have and further 
 shall consider, in its proper place,) doth as much oppose 
 the creation of^any spiritual being, as material. If all that 
 hath been said in the former part of this discourse, and by 
 many authors besides, do suificiently prove there are such 
 spiritual or immaterial beings that are created, or are not 
 of themselves ; and that, of the property of thought, which 
 is found belonging to them, matter is not capable, (which 
 I shall think to have been done till I see the contrary 
 evinced,) we must judge him very absurdly to have as- 
 serted such self-originate, independent matter. And as he 
 hath asserted it very inconsistently with the truth of the 
 thing ; so, 
 
 VI. 2. It will appear he hath done it as little consist- 
 ently with himself. For, 
 
 (i.) He acknowledges God to be Vetre infiniment par- 
 fait, tout jmissant, el le principe de toute perfection — a 
 Being infinitely perfect, almighty, and the principle of all 
 perfection. Now how is he infinitely perfect, if his being 
 include not all perfection 1 How is he almighty, if he 
 cannot create 1 How is he the fountain or principle of all 
 perfection, if the perfection of matter (which, as hath been 
 said, though he make it essentially imperfect, must have 
 some perfection belonging to it, since it is not mere no- 
 thing) be not eminently comprehended in his being? 
 
 Besides that here acknowledging God to be omnipoten-t, 
 and having denied the necessary, eternal, independent 
 matter, which he imagines to be infinite, but limited and 
 confined to the created universe only; I would hereupon 
 demand of him, Cannot the blessed God, if he please, cre- 
 ate many worlds 1 If he say, No, then how is he omni- 
 potent ? — If Yea, of what matter must they be made ? Not 
 of his (imagined) necessary, independent matter, for of that 
 really none could : but according to him the present uni- 
 
 b P. 47, 48. 
 
 c P. 110. 
 
 verse is made : it is already taken up, and pre-engaged 
 therein, and it is limited thereto. Therefore the matter ii 
 yet to be created, of which the other worlds are to be made . 
 and it can be so, otherwise no more worlds can be made; 
 and thereupon the great God is, not without blasphemy, 
 said to have gone to the utmost of his power, to have done 
 in this kind all that he can. And this must be said, by 
 this author, in express contradiction to the truth of the 
 thing, to the most common and agreed idea or notion of 
 the Divine Being ; and now, most apparently, to himself. 
 And therefore his high rant against Spinosa,b (in this point 
 more orthodox than himself,) That he confounds in his 
 philosophy being and perfection, Prctcndant que, ce qui 
 est, et ne rcnferme aucune negation d'etre, est une perfec- 
 tion, (^c. — Pretending that whatsoever is, and includes not 
 in lis notion any negation of being, is a perfection, <^c. i" 
 vain, and as much without cause, as what he afterwardf, 
 says about it is without sense. For he adds, That for hii, 
 part he finds nothing more false or extravagant; and why 
 so ? Because then pain and sorrow must be reckoned 
 among perfections, and such real perfections as are worthy 
 of God, or a Being infinitely perfect. And upon this, he 
 triumphs over such men, as supplanters of the Deity, in- 
 stead of defenders of so great a Being, and as having lost 
 their senses and their reason, &c. But if he had not lost 
 his own, and abandoned himself to that fury and rage ol 
 insolence which he there inaputes to his opposers, he might 
 have been capable of so much calm and sober considera- 
 tion, as to have bethought himself, that among creatures, 
 a sense of pain, real grief and sorrow, correspondent to 
 their present, true causes, import more perfection, than 
 stupidity, insensibleness, and apathy; and if so, though 
 pain and grief cannot formally agree to the most perfect 
 being of God, to whom their causes cannot agree, that the 
 life and percipiency do eminently agree to him, by which 
 he can apprehend an injury, though not a real hurt, (which 
 he can therefore only not apprehend, not because the per- 
 ceptive principle is wanting, but the object, ") and by the 
 power of imparting whereof, he is able to maKe a creature 
 capable of pain and grief, where the objects shall (as they 
 may deservedly) occur, and meet the perceptive principle; 
 and that the power of making such a creature, is a greater 
 perfection than an impotency of doing it. Which perfec- 
 tion therefore, he could not, consistently with himself, 
 deny to God, having acknowledged him a Being infinitely 
 perfect, or comprehensive of all perfection. Nor, 
 
 (2.) Doth he assert necessary increate matter, consist- 
 ently with his own reasonings for the possibility of a vacu- 
 um,c where he takes it for granted, that God can aneantir 
 une petite partie de la matiere, d^c. — annihilate some s'tnall 
 particle of matter, one stone, for example, or one grain of 
 sand. Which how ridiculously is it supposed, by one who 
 supposes such matter necessarily self-existent ! For who 
 sees not that necessity of existence, and impossibility of 
 non-existence, do infer one another, or signify rather the 
 same thing. Therefore, no man, except Spinosa, could 
 be at once more daring and more unhappy than this author. 
 And as it hath thus appeared, that he hath asserted such 
 self-originate, independent matter, very inconsistently both 
 with the truth of the thing and himself; so, 
 
 VII. Secondly, It will also appear he hath done it very 
 unnecessarily ; " and particularly, without that necessity 
 which he pretends of answering Spinosa. For there is no 
 necessity of it so much as pretended, upon any account 
 besides that of the common maxim, that nothing can come 
 out of nothing ; the sense whereof must first be inquired 
 before it can be understood, how far it will serve his pur- 
 pose, or infer the necessity of independent matter. The 
 sense of it must either be this — That a being could never 
 arise out of no-being, of itself, without a pre-existent, cre- 
 ative cause ; whichis most evidently true, but as evidently 
 not to his purpose : or this — That what once "was not, 
 could never be produced into being by a pre-existent, 
 omnipotent Cause : which were to his purpose, but is 
 evidently, and by apparent self-contradiction, untrue.^ 
 And what can make it have so much as the least sem- 
 blance of truth 1 Either the authority of the maxim, or 
 some plausible reason. For its authority; though that 
 
 d of thia fee at \ajffi Dr. Cudwoitli's Intellectual System.
 
 Chap. III. 
 
 THE LIVING TEMPLE. 
 
 67 
 
 which he claims lo it of the ancient philosophers were 
 little considerable, if ever so truly claimed, we have no 
 ground to think it otherwise claimed than most untruly. 
 Its authority, as he represents it, depends upon a worse 
 authority. He is so modest as to expect it to be believed, 
 upon his bare word, that this was the opinion of all the 
 ancient philosophers before Christ's time; while yet he 
 thinks not fit to tell us his name. But if their reasonings 
 from it be considered, that generations are out of matter, 
 and corruptions are into matter, we have no cause to ap- 
 prehend they understood it otherwise than that natural 
 agents did neither create nor annihilate any thing. Besides 
 that, there is positive ground enough to ^conclude, that the 
 more instructed and wiser pagans, long before Christ's 
 time, did believe all things to have sprang from one intel- 
 ligent, self-subsisting original, matter itself not being ex- 
 cepted. As, with the Egj-ptians, the inscription of the 
 temple at Sais shows, " I am all that is, or was, or shall 
 be," &c. and with the Grecians, their worshipping God, 
 under the name of Pan ; which could mean no other 
 thing, than that they thought the Deity to comprehend 
 eminently or virtually all beings besides, in its creatire or 
 productive poM^er. And we have reason to think that 
 pagan philosophers since Christ, such as Hierocles, Jam- 
 blichus, Porphyry, Plotinus, &c. who (as others have 
 observed) were manifestly of this .sentiment, understood 
 the minds of the more ancient philosophers as well as 
 this Monsieur ; nor do they pretend to contradict them 
 herein. 
 
 And for the reason of the thing itself, he hath not the 
 least appearance of any on his part, but that, because the 
 finite power of a creature cannot bring a thing out of no- 
 thing, therefore omnipotency cannot ; which is so far from 
 concluding for him, that (as hath been intimated) it mani- 
 festly contradicts itself, and concludes the contrary. For 
 how" is that omnipotency, which cannot do everything 
 that implies not a contradiction 1 And how is that a con- 
 tradiction, that what once was not, should afterwards come 
 to be 1 there being no objective impossibility or intrinsic 
 repugnancy in the thing itself to exist, but that it were truly 
 ens possib)le ; (and we are out of doubt concerning matter 
 for instance, or whatsoever else we are sure doth exist, 
 ;hat it could exist;) and supposing also that there be a suf- 
 ficient, causative power, to make it exist, or produce it into 
 being : and what cause can be more sufficient than an om- 
 nipotent one, such as our author confesses God to bel 
 Nor doth he deny that there are intelligent spirits, that 
 were not of themselves; only he would have us think 
 them but finer matter, impres.sed with intellectual power. 
 But what akin is a mind to matter, except his own 1 And 
 supposing a mind or intellect be stamped upon matter, it 
 is then but added to it, not drawn out of it, as if matter 
 had before contained it. And even thus, since mind or 
 intellect is not nothing, (unless he will say, himself diflfers 
 by nothing from unthinking clay,) we have something out 
 of nothing. And who can think it more impossible to 
 Omnipotency, to create matter, than a mind 1 
 
 But if he reckon thought, or intellect, is contained in 
 matter, or included in the notion of it, then matter, as 
 such, must be intelligent, and consequently all matter ; 
 and this will be absurdity enough, to give him as good a 
 title to the privilege of not being reasoned against, as, 
 from his magisterial way of writing, we may count Spinosa 
 thought himself to have. Nor indeed will it leave any 
 man so much as a conjecture at the reason why he should 
 pretend to differ from him. For who can imagine, why 
 his matter, endued with the attributes of extension and 
 thought, might not do as well as Spinosa's substance 1 
 
 Or if he think matter, as such, to have only seminal 
 reason or intellect in it, antecedently to his supposed di- 
 vine impress upon it, how will that agree with his making 
 it essentiellevient imparfatt ,'' — essenlial/y impcrf(>ct ? Or 
 what means his added capable neunmnins, its he'mg never- 
 theless capable of all such perfections by the impression of 
 God upon it 1 Is that capacity something, or nothing 1 
 Or what sense is it to make it capable of having those per- 
 fections, which it is essential to it not to have 1 
 
 And surely, as he will attribute to matter more perfec- 
 
 tion than he intended, so he will attribute less to God. 
 For he will, at this rate, attribute no more to him. than 
 hath been generally ascribed to ordinary natural agents ; 
 i.e. to produce into actual being, out of matter, that whereto 
 there was in it some seminal disposition before. 
 
 And here, indeed, is the S(jurce of his error, his reducing 
 infinite power to the measures of finite ; an insolent pre- 
 suming to circumsciibe Omnipotenc}', and making that 
 simply impossible even lo Almightir^ess itself, which is 
 only so to created agents. And to this purpose, I find 
 some reasonings in Sextus Empiricus, who tells us how 
 the sceptics attempted to prove (besides their disputing 
 against the other three sorts of causation) that dawfiaToi — 
 an incorporeal thing, cannot be uitiov otj'tjiaToi — the cause of 
 any thing corporeal ; arguing (and slightly enough) from 
 the common methods of subordinate agents, to the opera- 
 tions of the Supreme Cause. Nor is it apprehensible, how 
 one can find a medium ; or while they make matter in- 
 dependent, how not to make God dependent. 
 
 And when the Monsieur we are concerned with took a 
 friendly notice of Hermogenes's consent with him upon 
 this subject, he might as well have been at the pains to 
 consider somewhat of what Tertullian wrote anainst him, 
 that hereby, in some respect, God is made inferior and 
 svbject to matter, when without it he coaild not hare made a 
 world. Materia superior invenilur, qua illi capiam ope- 
 randi subministravit, et Deus subjectus materia yidetur, 
 cujus substantia eguit ; nemo non subjicitur ei cujus eget, 
 (f-c.f — Every one is subject to what he stands in need of. 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 The reason of what next follows. Directions to readers not wont to inquire 
 into the grounds of their reli^on. A summary and plainer proposal unto such, 
 of what hath been said in the former Part, concerning God's existence and 
 conversableness with men. The reasonableness (so much beine already 
 evinced) of alleging, and rebing upon the te.stimony of the Holy Scnptures. 
 The expressness of that testimony concerning the unity ot the Godhead, the 
 trinity therein The absolute perfection of the Divine Nature. The infimle- 
 iiess of God's knowledge, power, goodness, and presence. His propensions 
 towards men. and aptness (supposing there were no obstruction) to human 
 converse. Matters of doubt herein resoh-ed. 
 
 I. And having thus far established and vindicated so 
 principal a ground-work in this important cause, — That 
 what is necessarily, or of itself, is an absolutely perfect 
 Being, di.stinct from all things else ; and a proper Object 
 of religion, or whereto a temple, and all the worship there- 
 of, duly belong, I shall now only suffer myself to be a 
 little further diverted from my intended course, apprehend- 
 ing that their case is also to be considered, who have been 
 less accustomed to this course, of reasoning out to them- 
 selves the principles of their religion: unto whom there- 
 fore what hath been hitherto attempted may seem, if not 
 obscure in its parts, yet so tiresome in the whole, as not 
 to meet with patience enough to trace ihe design that hath 
 been driven on, to its issue and period; it being very in- 
 cident to unexercised and less attentive readers, to lose 
 their thread, and forget the scope of a discourse, and so 
 still have the truth to seek even in the midst of it. And 
 if what hath been hitherto said, prove unsatisfying to any, 
 that justice must be done to the cause itself and to them, 
 as to avow it must rather proceed either from this infirmity 
 in the reader, or from the unskilfulness of the writer to 
 propound things happily and to advantage ; than either 
 from the inevidence of the things themselves, or frrm 
 want of capacity, even in an ordinary understanding. Nor 
 doth any undertaking seem more feasible, or less to be 
 despaired of, than plainly and satisfyingly to evince, to an 
 unprejudicecl understanding that shall attend, these first 
 foundations of a religion and a temple, vi~. That God is; 
 and — That he is conversable with men. or is such as is 
 capable and apt to receive worship from men, and impart 
 blessedness to them. We shall therefore so far interrupt 
 the current of this discourse, as to endeavour this, by 
 giving a brief and plain sum of the more principal things 
 that have been said to this purpose already. And to pre- 
 
 f Tertull. contra Hemiog.
 
 68 
 
 THE LIVING TEMPLE. 
 
 Part IL 
 
 pare for it, must desire you that have not been, as yet, 
 wont to employ your minds this way, to observe the fol- 
 lowing directions : 
 
 First, That you would not give place to discourage- 
 ment, nor think too meanly of the understanding whereby 
 God hath distinguished you from the inferior creatures. 
 There is that mind and spirit in man, which doth compass 
 many things of far greater difficulty than it is here to be 
 employed about ; though it can be exercised about nothing 
 of so great consequence. That apprehensive power that 
 can take in the orderly frame of such notions as are requi- 
 site to the exact skill of numbering or of measuring things, 
 of navigation, of trade, of managing the common afiairs of 
 human life ; that can lay down to itself such prudent 
 maxims and rules whereby the inconveniences may in 
 great part be avoided which are incident to common con- 
 versation, and the advantages gained which may serve 
 one's own private and secular interests ; that understand- 
 ing which can do all this, would far more easily compre- 
 hend as much as is needful to the certain knowledge of 
 God's existence, and that he is such as we ought to wor- 
 ship, and may enjoy, if it apply itself hereto. Do not so 
 despair as not to make an attempt ; you know not the 
 strength of your own mind till you have tried it. 
 
 Secondly, That you indulge not, or do not suffer your- 
 selves to be insensibly seized by, a mean and sordid sloth. 
 Set your thoughts a-work with vigorous diligence. Give 
 not out before you have well begun. Resolve, since you 
 have a thinking power about you, you will use it to this 
 most necessary purpose ; and hold your thoughts to it. 
 See that your minds do not presently tire and flag ; that 
 you be rationally peremptory, and soberly obstinate, in 
 this pursuit : yield not to be diverted. Disdain, having 
 minds that can reach up to the great Original and Author 
 of all things, that they should be confined to this dirty 
 earth, or only to things low and mean. 
 
 Thirdly, Look on the things that are rationally evident 
 to your understandings, as equally certain with what you 
 see with your eyes. Are you not as sure that two and 
 two make four (which judgment is the act of your mind) 
 as that this thing which you look upon is black or white, 
 or of this or that shape or figure 1 Do not so debase your 
 own understandings, as to think nothing certain that comes 
 under their judgment. It is true, they are apt enough to 
 be deceived in many things, and so is your sense too; but 
 if your sense could make you certain of nothing, what 
 would become of justice and government among men % 
 Who could take an oath before a magistrate 1 What 
 would become of the common actions and affairs of life 1 
 How could you eat or drink, or buy or sell, if you could 
 not certainly distinguish one thing from another ? Some 
 things are so plain as that you can be in no doubt about 
 them, as that this is bread, not a stone ; that a horse, not 
 a sheep ; otherwise all the world must stand still, and all 
 commerce and action cease. And if there were not some 
 things sure to your minds, that you may ccrlainly say, in 
 some plain cases at least, this is true and that false, this 
 right and that wrong, you would be at as great a loss. 
 Otherwise, you might be apt to think a part of a thing 
 greater than the whole, or that the same man might be at 
 London and at Rome at the same time; and you might 
 be as ready to kill your own father as to do him rever- 
 ence, or to commit robbery upon your rich neighbour as 
 relieve the poor, and judge the one as good an action as 
 the other. 
 
 Fourthly, As any particular thing is offered to you, for 
 the purpose we are here aiming at, consider it well by 
 itself, before you go further; and think thus. Is this plain 
 and certain, yea or no 1 If at the first sight you think it 
 not so, observe diligently what is brought for the proof of 
 it, and see whether now it be not manifestly certain ; and 
 when you once find it is, fix it in your mind as a certain- 
 ty ; say. Thus far I am sure. Let not your thoughts run 
 back to this as a doubtful thing any more, or unravel their 
 own work; but make use of it as a certainty, to your 
 further purpose. 
 
 II. Being thus prepared, take this brief account of what 
 hath before been discoursed more at large. And, 
 
 First, As to this first and great principle, — That there is 
 a God. Be but patient of being led by the hand a few 
 
 easy steps in a way that is in some part sufficiently beaten, 
 however, that is sufficiently plain, and it is to be hoped 
 you will soon see that matter put out of all doubt. Let 
 this then be your first step : 
 
 1. That somewhat or other there is, that hath been from 
 all eternity necessarily and of itself, without dependence 
 upon any thing else. If this be not at the first view evi- 
 dent to you. or if it seem too large a step, we will divide 
 it into parts; and consider well what is said for the proof 
 of it, by these degrees. 
 
 (1.) Somewhat or other must ever have been; for other- 
 wise, how could anything come to be at all? Do you 
 think it was possible, if ever there was nothing at all in 
 being, of one sort or other, that any thing should have 
 come into being 1 No surely, for which way should it bel 
 It could not be made by another, there being no other to 
 make it ; and it could not make itself, itself being as yet 
 nothing. But sure you can easily apprehend, that to make 
 a thing be, is to do something ; and as easily, that Avhat is 
 nothing, can do nothing. Therefore, when your eyes tell 
 you that something now is, you maybe as sure, as of what 
 you see with your eyes, that somewhat or other hath ever 
 been. Say with j'ourself. Somewhat now is, therefore some- 
 what hath ever been. If you discern not the clearness of 
 this consequence, take the opposite to it : Nothing now is, 
 therefore nothing will ever he ; it is as broad as long. 
 
 (2.) You may next proceed thus, that something or 
 other hath been of itself ; that is, Mnthout depending upon 
 any thing else, or being beholden to any other thing for its 
 being. Now here pause awhile, and consider what is 
 said to make this plain to you. Either you must acknow- 
 ledge something hath ever been of itself, or yon must say 
 that all things that are, or ever have been, were fromano- 
 ther, without any exception. But mark now, if you say 
 that all things that are, or ever have been, without except- 
 ing any, were from another, you contradict yourself; for 
 besides all things that are, or ever have been, Avithout ex- 
 cepting any, there is not another from whom they could 
 be. Therefore it is impossible that all things without ex- 
 ception should have been from another ; whence then it is 
 plain that something must have been of itself, without de- 
 pending for its being upon any thing else : for it will come 
 to the same contradiction, if }''ou say all things depend 
 upon some other ; since there is nothing beyond all things : 
 therefore, to say that all things depend, is to say they de- 
 pend on nothing, that is, they do not depend. And to 
 say they have all depended on one another for their being, 
 or made one another, is altogether as absurd; for it will 
 make the whole compass or circle of all being to depend 
 upon nothing, or come at length to this, that some one 
 made itself, or even (which is more gross) made its own 
 maker; unless you will rest in some one that made all the 
 other, and was itself not made by any of them. If you 
 do not apprehend this yourself, desire any one that hath a 
 better understanding to explain it to you, and you will 
 soon see the matter intended by it to be as evident as your 
 heart can wish. And so this will be out of question with 
 you — That somewhat was oiitself ; which added to what 
 was proved before, comes to this — That somewhat was 
 ever of itself And both these thus conjoined, plainly ap- 
 pear from what hath been said. For we have seen that 
 nothing could possibly make itself, (which would absurdly 
 imply, that before, it both was and was not,) and therefore, 
 whatsoever was of itself, must ever have been, or never 
 had beginning of being. So much, then, I suppose you 
 take to be most certain, that something hath ever been of 
 itself Whereupon )'ou may further add, 
 
 (".) That what was ever of itself, was necessarily. I 
 hope you understand what is meant by being necessarily, 
 that is, being so as that it could not possibly but be. You 
 may perceive that some things are so as that it was possi- 
 ble they might not have been, as a house, a town, a gar- 
 ment, or whatsoever was made by such makers as might 
 have chosen whether they would have made it, or no. 
 Yea, or whatsoever is any way made to be, having before 
 not been ; for what once was not, it is manifest it was then 
 possible for it not to be. But to be necessarily, is to be 
 so as that it could never possibly but have been; that is, 
 what is necessarily, is somewhat of so excellent a nature, 
 as that it could never be out of being. Now what was
 
 Chap. III. 
 
 THE LIVING TEMPLE. 
 
 ever of itself, it was in this sense necessarily ; viz. so as 
 that the excellency of its nature was such, as could never 
 permit that it should not be ; whence the name I AM 
 agrees peculiarly and always thereunto. Nothing can other- 
 wise be of itself, (not by making itself, which you have 
 seen is impossible,) but' by an everlasting possession of 
 that excellency of being, which excludes all possibility of 
 not being. It depends upon no one's choice or power, 
 whether that which is of itself shall be or not be. 
 
 (4.) What hath thus ever been nccessarilJ/, still is, and 
 will ever be ; which is plain upon the same ground. What 
 could never but be, can never but be ; for its nature is 
 such, as whereto not to be is impossible. Otherwise, if 
 its nature had not been such, there being nothing else by 
 which it should be made, it could never have been. 
 Wherefore thus far you have firm footing in this first 
 step ; no part of the ground which it measures shakes un- 
 der you. You may say you are sure of this — That some- 
 what there now is, that hath been from all eternity neces- 
 sarily and of itself, without dependence upon any thing 
 else, and that can never ceai>e to be. — Set this down there- 
 fore for a certainty, and then add to it, 
 
 2. That whatsoever is not necessarily and of itself, is 
 from and by that which is necessarily and of itself, as the 
 first Author and Cause thereof. This is so certain, that 
 nothing needs to be said for the proof of it more than hath 
 been said already, so that you do but understand the 
 meaning of it; which you cannot but do, if you consider 
 that all things that are, or ever were, must be of one of 
 these two sorts, viz. what was of itself, and what was not 
 of itself, but from another : therefore, what is not of the 
 first sort, must be of the second ; that is, what was not of 
 itself, must be from another ; and then, what other must 
 it be from'? Surely from what was of itself, as its first and 
 chief cause, whatsoever inferior or secondary causes it may 
 have had besides, that were before it, caused by that first. 
 So that you have now plainly before you, and in view, 
 some or other eternal, necessary Being, not only to be con- 
 sidered as it is in itself, but as the original and root of all 
 besides. Then go forward a little, and further add, 
 
 3. Neither this visible world, nor any thing of it, is ne- 
 cessarily, or of itself, without depending upon any thing 
 else; and was therefore created and made by some more 
 excellent Being that was so, and is quite distinct and 
 diverse from it. That this may be evident to you, con- 
 sider, 
 
 (1.) That whatsoever is changeable or imperfect, and 
 capable of becoming more perfect, is not necessarily, and 
 of itself, without dependence on any thing else. For what 
 is of itself necessarily, and without dependence on any 
 other, must have whatsoever belongs to it, all at once ; for 
 from whence should any addition or change happen any 
 way to it 1 Not from any other, for it no more depends 
 on another for addition, than it is liable to diminution by 
 another, being what it is necessarily, or from itself: for 
 nothing can impart or add what it hath not ; and what it 
 hath was in it before, and was in it necessarily, and there- 
 fore unalterably, and without possibility' of any change. 
 Now you know this visible world is continually changing, 
 and in an imperfect state ; and we may add, that there is 
 somewhat invisible, of whose present being we are certain, 
 that was not of itself, and that did not make this world. 
 For instance, we are certain of the present being of our 
 o-wTi mind and spirit, which we cannot see with our eyes, 
 but by self-reflection we are sure we have somewhat in us 
 that can think. Nor is there any thing that comes under 
 our immediate, certain observation, more excellent than 
 man himself, especially his mind and soul. And do vou 
 not yourself know, and find how changeable, indigent, 
 and imperfect that is"? Therefore you maybe sure it is 
 not of itself, or the maker of this visible world. If all the 
 men in the world should join all their wit and pov/er 
 together, which way would they go to work to make such 
 a world as thisl yea, or even to make one single pile of 
 grass, or grain of sand 1 Which way can you devise, then, 
 they should make the .sun or stars, or such an earth as 
 this? It is plain, then, that all this world had a maker, 
 distinct from itself 
 
 (2.) Whatsoever being is of itself, is more excellent than 
 what is not of itself This 3'ou cannot but assent to at the 
 
 first sight : for besides that you must needs acknowledge 
 it better to live of oneself, than to be beholden to another, 
 you must also know that whatever being is not of itself, 
 hath no excellency in it, but what was in that being that 
 was of itself before ; and therefore it had in it all the ex- 
 cellency that is in such things as proceeded from it, (una- 
 bated because in it necessarily,) together with the proper 
 excellency of its own being, "whereas the other sort of 
 beings have but their own derived excellency only. 
 Wherefore this also is most evident, that this world had a 
 maker distinct from and more excellent than itself, that 
 changes not, and whereto that name most properly agrees, 
 I AM THAT I AM. Being sure of this, you may pro- 
 ceed, and conclude, 
 
 4. That the things which are manifestly not of them- 
 selves, but created and made, do plainly show that the 
 Maker of them doth excel in power, wisdom, and good- 
 ness. The greatness of his works shows his mighty power; 
 the nature, exactness, and order of them, his admirable 
 wisdom ; and his own self-sufficiency, and independency 
 on the things made, show his rich and vast goodness in 
 making them, as you may see more at large in Part I. 
 Now therefore, if you have attended, you cannot but find 
 you are sure and at a plain certainty concerning these four 
 things : (I.) That somewhat was ever, and is necessarily. 
 Ci.') That what was not so did arise from that which was. 
 (3.) That this w'orld being not so, did therefore spring from 
 that eternal, necessary, self-subsisting Being. (4.) And 
 that this Being hath those particular excellences, whereof 
 there are the manifest appearances and footsteps in the 
 works that are made by him, (viz. especially power, wis- 
 dom, and goodness,) in himself. And thus the invisible 
 things of him from the creation of the world are clearly 
 seen, being understood bj^ the things that are made, even 
 his eternal power and godhead ; so that they who see them 
 not are without excuse. Rom. i. 20. If 5-ou be sure that 
 any thing is, you may be sure somewhat was ever of 
 itself: if you be sure any thing that was not of itself 
 hath appearances of power, wisdom, and goodness in the 
 frame of it, you may be sure that Being which was of 
 itself is thB powerful, wise, and good Creator and Maker 
 of it. It is to be hoped, then, you are at a certaintj-, — 
 That God is. 
 
 III. Secondly, And now as to the second principle, that 
 hath been insisted on also in the former Part, — That this 
 God is conversable with men. You cannot surely doubt, 
 but that he that made you, and gave j-ou all that any way 
 belongs to your being, can apply himself to you, or any of 
 his creatures, in a way suitable to the natures which he 
 hath put into you and them; nor that he is read}- to con- 
 verse with you, in a way suitable to the nature he hath 
 given you, if you be such towards him, and so apply 
 yourself to him, as you ought. For it is not a greater 
 thing to do so, nor more exceeding or going beyond the 
 reach of his power, wisdom, and goodness, as you cannot 
 but see, than to have given being to 3'ou, and a.il things. 
 
 But now if what is further discoursed in that former 
 Part, concerning the oneness of the Divine Being, and 
 the infiniteness thereof, or concerning any other perfec- 
 tions there particularly asserted unto it, seem not so plain 
 to you as is requisite to guide and facilitate your applica- 
 tions to him ; what hath been more plainly said in this, ia 
 however sufficient, as more primarih' fundamental and 
 pre-requisite to that further knowledge of liis nature and 
 will towards you, which in another way is to be had and 
 sought after. 
 
 A cloud and darkness are now drawn over the world of 
 mankind; and though it be still very easily discernible 
 that God is, it is yet more difficult to attain to so distinct 
 apprehensions u-hat he is, as are necessary to our convers- 
 ing with him. Against this difficulty, he hath aflbrded a 
 gracious relief ; that is, he hath pi ovided there should be 
 a more express discovery of him extant among men, than 
 can be collected bj' their making observations upon this 
 world. The case was such with man, (grown now so great 
 a stranger to God,) as to require a written revelation of his 
 nature and will ; and we have it in those scriptures which 
 bear with us the name of the word of God. It were in- 
 deed very unseasonable and absurd, to urge their authority 
 in the inquiry, whether there be a God or no 1 For what
 
 THE LIVING TEMPLE. 
 
 Part II. 
 
 authority have they more than other writings, bat as they 
 are God's word 1 Therefore to expect or give assent to 
 them as such, vsrhile yet it remains an undecided contro- 
 versy, whether there be any such one, or no, for whose 
 sake the assent should be given, were to expose our reli- 
 gion, not to prove it. These holy writings were not in- 
 tended, by their affirmation of it, to inform us of God's 
 existence, which they suppose, and do not prove, as a 
 thing we may otherwise be certain of; but to teach us our 
 duty towards him, and what our expectations may be from 
 him ; and do therefore give us a true representation and 
 discovery of his nature, (so far as it was needful for us 
 preparatively first to know it,) and then next, of the pre- 
 sent state of things between him and us, that we might be 
 directed how to apply ourselves to him suitably to both 
 the one and the other. It is true, that we can never know 
 that there is a God, without knowing somewhat of his 
 nature, or what a one he is. We cannot so much as in- 
 quire whether he be or no, but we must have some notion 
 in our minds of the thing we inquire about ; and so much 
 as is necessary to this purpose, may be plainly gathered in 
 the way we have gone hitherto. For if we understand the 
 diflerence between something and nothing, between being 
 and no being, and find that something is, or that there is 
 some being ; and again, if we understand the difference 
 between a thing's being of itself, and being of or from 
 another, and find the former must be the original of t-he 
 latter, we cannot but understand ourselves, when we say 
 there is an Original Being. And having some under- 
 standing what is meant by power, wisdom, and goodness; 
 withal finding that not only the effects of these, but these 
 very things themselves, are in the world, we cannot but be 
 sure (because these things come not of nothing) that the 
 Original Being is powerful, wise, and good. And now 
 when we have thus found out an Original Being, that is 
 of wisdom, power, and goodness sulficient to be the Author 
 of such a world as this, we at once know both what God 
 is, (sufficiently to distinguish him from all things else,) 
 and are at a certainty that he is. 
 
 When we perceive that he hath given to all breath and 
 being and all things ; we have sought, and even felt and 
 found him out, and found that he is not far from any one 
 of us, since in him we live and move and have our being ; 
 that he is every where present, in this his creation, as the 
 great Sustainer and the Life of the universe ; and foras- 
 much especially as we are his oflspring, (as even the light 
 of a heathen poet could reach to discover, a sort of intelli- 
 gent, designing, active beings,) that therefore the Godhead 
 is not like silver, or gold, &c., but of a nature more nearly 
 resembling that of our own souls, and the higher excel- 
 lences of the best of his creatures although eminently con- 
 taining in himself also all the real perfections, virtues, and 
 powers of all the re.st. When we understand so much of 
 God, (as we may by the light of our own reason,) we un- 
 derstand enough to give a fuvuulation to religion, and to 
 let us see he ought to have a temple, and worship ; and 
 another sort of temple than is made by men's hands, other 
 worship Ihan can be performed by the hands of men; as 
 is there clearly argued, and inferred by the apostle, upon 
 those plain grounds. Now when we are arrived thus far, 
 it is seasonable to make use of the further help which we 
 may observe the great, and wise, and good God to have 
 most condescendingly,^ most aptly, and most mercifully 
 afforded us, for our more distinct understanding of his 
 nature, and our own state ; and how we are to behave our- 
 selves towards him thereujion. 
 
 IV. Taking notice therefore that there is a written reve- 
 lation of him extant in the world, that bears his name, and 
 gives itself out to be from him ; if now we look into it, 
 observe the import and design of it, compare it with what 
 we before knew of his nature and our own ; consider what 
 is most obvious to an easy self-reflection in our own state 
 and case, and how exactly this written revelation agrees 
 and corresponds to those our former notices ; taking in 
 withal the many considerations that concur besides, to 
 evidence to us the divine original and authority thereof: 
 we camiot but have much rational inducement and obliga- 
 
 a If we take notice that in some parts of this volume there are very ancient 
 predictions, of the strongest and most unhliely events, that we see exactly ful- 
 filled in the other parts. 
 
 tion to receive, with all reverence and gratitude, this reve- 
 lation, as from God ; and to rely upon it, as a sure and 
 sacred light sent down from heaven, to direct us in all our 
 concernments God-ward. For finding our own great need 
 of such additional light, and apprehending it sufficiently 
 agreeable to the divine goodness to afford it, and expecting 
 it to be sufh, in its scope and design, as we find it is: if 
 we further consider it must have had some author, and 
 perceiving it not easy, with any plausible pretence, to affix 
 it to any other than to God himself; if we consider that it 
 was impossible it could be invented by men, without some 
 design of self-advantage, either iu this world or in the 
 other; and how absurd any such expectation must be, 
 either from men here, (the contents thereof being so re- 
 pugnant to the common inclinations o-f men, as to oblige 
 those that owned them to the severest sufferings on that 
 account,) or from God hereafter, who could not be expected 
 to reward forgery, falsehood, and the usurpation of his 
 name : if, again, we further observe the positive attesta- 
 tions whereby he hath challenged and owned it as his own, 
 and wherein the divine power hath borne witness to the 
 divine truth contained in it : if the matters of fact on which 
 all depends appear not less certain than that there were 
 men and nations in the world, that we have not seen, and 
 before we were born; if we see it not only improbable, 
 but even next to impossible, that the records of those mi- 
 raculous attestations should have been forged, and nations 
 imposed upon thereby ; and amongst them, many of the 
 wisest of men in those very times when the things recorded 
 were alleged to have been done, and in a matter wherein 
 their eternal hope was concerned ;.'' we shall upon the 
 whole see cause to judge. That as it were most absurd to 
 suppose such a revelation given by God, and no sufficient 
 rational evidence withal given that it is from him, (without 
 which it cannot serve its end, and s'O would signify no- 
 thing,) so that there is nothing wanting, in divine estimate 
 itself, to make up such a sufficient, rational evidence ; nor 
 in our own, unless we would suppose it necessary that 
 every man should have a Bible reached him down by an 
 immediate hand from heaven, or make some other .suppo- 
 sition as fond and vain as that ; or that we count not that 
 sufficient evidence, which ought to satisfy our reason, if it 
 do not gratify our fancy and curiosity too. It is not fit, 
 here, to say more of the divine original of those holy 
 writings, nor needful ; so much being written already,b 
 with so great clearness, on that subject, by many. That 
 therefore being out of question what you cannot reason out 
 yourselves, or apprehend from the reasonings of others, 
 concerning God's nature, tending to represent him worthy 
 of a temple with you, and capable of receiving and re- 
 warding your sincere and spiritual worship, fetch out 
 from that divine volume ; for you may be sure, though 
 you cannot search him out imto perfection, he perfectly 
 understands himself, and is certainly such, as he there 
 tells you he is : and he there reveals himself to be such, as 
 to whom the temple and worship we here intend, cannot 
 be doubted (as he hath ordered things) to be both dxie and 
 grateful. Whatever might be otherwise matter of doubt, 
 is, by his express discovery of himself, taken away. 
 
 V. If it were still a doubt, after all that hath been for- 
 merly said for the reasoning out of these things, whether 
 the Deity be one only, or manifold; whether the world had 
 but one, or had not many makers ; and so, whether there 
 be no danger of misapplying our religion, or of mistaking 
 the object of our worship. This word plainly tells us. 
 There is but 07ic God, the Father, of whom are all things. 
 1 Cor. viii. 6. That he is God, and there is none else. 
 Isa. xiv. 21, 22. And that however there be three that 
 bear witness in heaven, and the stamp of whose name is, 
 in our baptism, distinctly and solemnly put upon us ; 
 Matt, xxviii. 1 John v. yet (as in many other instances, 
 that may be in some respect three, which in some other 
 respect is but one) without the unnecessary, punctual de- 
 claration, how these are three, and how but one, it ex- 
 pressly tells us, these three are 07ie. 
 
 And if it be yet a doubt with us (in which the reasonings 
 of some may be too short to determine and resolve them) 
 
 b Dr. Stillingfleet, in his Origines .Sacrae, Grotius de Verit. Chr. Relis. Hiief. 
 Demonstr. Evangel. &c. Mr. Baxter's Reasons of Cluiatian Religion. With 
 many more.
 
 Chap. IV. 
 
 THE LIVING TEMPLE. 
 
 71 
 
 whether this one God be so absolutely and every way per- 
 fect as to be sufficient for us all ; whether he can under- 
 stand all our concernments, relieve us in all our necessi- 
 ties, hear our prayers, satisfy our desires, receive our ac- 
 knowledgments and thanksgivings, and take notice with 
 what love and sincerity they are tendered unto him ; or, 
 if he can do for us according to our necessities, and rea- 
 sonable desires ; whether we have any ground to believe 
 that he will ; this word of his plainly assures us. That he 
 is God all-sufficient. Gen. xvii. 1. ; that he halh all fulness 
 in him. It often represents him to us, under the name of 
 the Lord God Almighty ; tells us that he can do every 
 thing, and that he doth whatsoever it pleaseth him. It 
 tells us his understanding is infinite, and particularly as- 
 sures that he searches the hearts of men, and tries their 
 reins; that they cannot think a thought, or speak a word, 
 but he understands them afar off, and knows them alto- 
 gether : that his eyes are upon all the ways of men ; that 
 he knows all things, and therefore knows if they love him: 
 
 And that we may be the more fully put out of doubt 
 how easy it is to him to do so, we are assured. That he 
 is everywhere present, that he fills heaven and earth, that 
 the heaven, and heaven of heavens, cannot contain him ; 
 that there is no going from his Spirit, or flying from his 
 presence ; that if one go up to heaven, he is there ; lie 
 down in hell, he is there ; go to the uttermost part of the 
 sea, yet there his hand shall lead, and his right hand hold 
 him. 
 
 VI. And that all doubt may vanish, concerning his will 
 and gracious inclination, how expressly doth he make 
 himself known by his name 1 viz. That he is the Lord, 
 the Lord God, merciful and gracious, long-suffering, and 
 abundant in goodness and truth, &c. Exod. xxxiv. 7. And 
 by the same blessed and inspired penman of a part of these 
 holy writings, (the beloved disciple, who lay in the bosom 
 of his only-begotten Son ; who also is in the bosom of the 
 Father, and hath declared him,) we are not only told that 
 God is Light, whereby the knowledge, purity, simplicity, 
 and glory of the Divine Being are represented ; but also, 
 once and again, that God is Love, that we might imder- 
 stand him as a Being not of more glorious excellency in 
 himself, than of gracious propensions towards his creatures. 
 And lest it should be thought our meanness should ex- 
 empt us, and put us beneath his regard, we are told. He 
 taketh care for sparrows, he heareth the ravens when they 
 cry ; and generally, that the eyes of all wait upon him, 
 and he gives them their meat in season, Psal. cxlv. (which 
 even the brute creatures are emphatically said to seek of 
 God,) and that he opens his hand, and satisfies the desires 
 of every living thing, Psal. civ. And besides what he 
 hath so expressly testified concerning his own nature, his 
 favourable inclinations towards men might sufficiently be 
 collected from that ver}' nature which he hath given to 
 man, considered in comparison and reference to his own ; 
 that he made him in his own image ; and that he being 
 the Father of spirits, hath placed a spirit in man, so agree- 
 able to his own spiritual nature ; and by his own inspira- 
 tion given him that understanding, that the mind begotten 
 corresponds, by its most natural frame and constitution, to 
 the mind that begot, the vovi naTpiKds,<^ (as it was anciently 
 called,) his mm Eternal Mind ; and that if its own origi- 
 nal be remembered, it turns itself towards him, seeks his 
 acquaintance by an instinct he halh himself implanted in 
 it, and cannot rest till he have such a temple erected in it, 
 where both he and it may cohabit together. By all this, 
 his aptness to that converse with men, which is imported 
 in the notion of a temple, doth so far appear, that at least 
 it is evident such converse cannot fail to ensue, supposing 
 that there w^re nothing in the way that might be a present 
 obstruction thereto. And it will more appear, when we 
 have considered (since there is somewhat that obstructs 
 this converse) what he hath done to remove the obstruc- 
 tion, and how he hath provided that the intercourse may 
 be restored, and his temple be resettled with men, upon 
 everlasting foundations. 
 
 e Hieroc. 
 
 a Poms and Penia. 
 
 CHAPTER IV, 
 
 That tlicre is an obstrurlion to this intercourse. The method of the following 
 discourse. Man s aposlacy from God, and the vitiated slate of hie nature ; 
 not only repreHented in the saorcd wrilinifs, but also ucknowledKcd and la- 
 mented liy pagans :— very nii.stakeiily, in some resftecls ; wherein periiapa 
 some of them not justly understood. This not the pnnjitive state of man : 
 therefore not to be imputed to (he Author of nature. The trmple of God 
 herebybecame unfit for the divine presence. Unsuitable. Disafll-cted. Here- 
 upon forsaken, and most justly. 
 
 I. But so far it is, that there should want probability of 
 a very inward commerce between God and man, that we 
 have reason to think it rather strange, considering his na- 
 ture and our own, it should not have been continual; and 
 that his unbounded and self-communicative fulness was 
 not by him always afforded, and always imbibed and drawTi 
 in by so capable and indigent a creature. One would 
 wonder what should have di.sconlinued this intercourse ! 
 What can be so apt to give and flow out, as fulness 1 
 What should be so apt to receive and take in, as w^ant and 
 emptiness 1 Sucji a commerce then as can be supposed 
 between one* that is rich and full, and them that are poor 
 and necessitous, one would think should have never failed. 
 So a fabulous dream may be significant, and not unin- 
 structive, touching the reason and w^ay of commerce be- 
 tween God and creature. We are therefore put upon at 
 new inquiry, and need no longer spend ourselves in 
 anxious thoughts. Can there be any converse between God 
 and men 1 That w-e ma)' rather say. How can it not bel 
 or. How strange is it there is not more ! that he hath not 
 a temple in every human breast, repleni.shed with his vital 
 presence ! that there are notliing but ruins and desolation 
 to be fotmd, where one would expect a fabric worthy of 
 God, and an in-dwelling Deity ! This must therefore be 
 the sad subject of our thoughts awhile, What halh render- 
 ed the blessed God so much a stranger on earth, and occa- 
 sioned him in so great part to forsake his terrestrial 
 dwelling 7 Whence we shall have the advantage (seeing 
 how just cause there was, on his part, for this deplorable 
 distance) to adore the grace that returns him to us, and 
 inclined him to take that strange course, which we find 
 he did, to repair his forlorn temple, and fill this desolate, 
 forsaken world with the joyful sound of those glad tidings, 
 " The tabernacle of God is with men." 
 
 II. We shall find he is no further a stranger in this 
 world, than as w-e have made and continued him so : _^no 
 further a home-dweller in it, than as by an admirable con- 
 trivance of wisdom and love, that will be the eternal won- 
 der of the other world, he hath made way for himself: 
 whereby his propensions towards men, prevailing against 
 so great an obstruction, do even now appear at once both 
 evident and marvellous, and ought to be not only the 
 matter of our belief, but admiration. 
 
 Wherefore our discourse must here proceed by these 
 steps, to show — \. That mankind hath universally revolted, 
 and been in a state of apostacy from God ; — 2. That hereby 
 the temple of God in man hath been generally made waste 
 and desolate; — 3. That he hath laid both the new founda- 
 tians and the platform of his present temple in Immanuel, 
 God with ns, his own incarnate Son, who rebuUds, beau- 
 tifies, furnishes, inhabits it, and orders all the concern- 
 ments of it. 
 
 III. \. The first we do little need to labour in — every 
 man's own reflection upon the vitiated powers of his own 
 soul, would soon, as to himself, ptit the matter out of 
 doubt ; whence each one's testimony concerning his own 
 case, would amount to a universal testimony. No man 
 that takes a view of his owti dark and blinded mind, his 
 slow and dull apprehension, his uncertain staggering judg- 
 ment, roving conjectures, feeble and mistaken reasonings 
 about matters that concern him most ; ill inclinations, 
 propension to what is unlawlul to him and destructive, 
 aversion to his truest interest and best good, irresolution, 
 drowsy sloth, exorbitant and ravenous appetites and de- 
 sires, impotent and self-vexing passions — can think human, 
 nature, in him, is in its primitive integrity, and so pure as 
 when it first issued from its high and most pure original. 
 By such reflection, every man may perceive liis own ill 
 
 b Plat. Sympo?.
 
 n 
 
 THE LIVING TEMPLE. 
 
 Part II. 
 
 case, in these and many more such respects ; and by ob- 
 serving the complaints of the most serious, and such as 
 have seemed most to study themselves, collect it is gene- 
 raUy so with others also. 
 
 IV. They that have read the sacred volume, cannot be 
 ignorant that <= all flesh have corrupted their way ; that the 
 great God, looking d down from heaven upon the children 
 of men, to see if there were any that did understand, that 
 did seek God, hath only the unpleasing prospect before his 
 eyes even of a universal depravation and defection ; that 
 every one of them is gone back ; they are altogether be- 
 come filthy, there is none that doeth good, no not one ; 
 that all have sinned,^ and come short of the glory of God ; 
 that this world lieth in wickedness ;f and that this was not 
 the first state of man, but that he is degenerated into it 
 from a former and better state; that? "God made him 
 upright," but that he is become otherwise, by his own 
 "many inventions :" that by trying conclusions to better a 
 state already truly good, he brought himself into this woful 
 plight ; and by aiming at somewhat above, sunk so far be- 
 neath himself into that gulf of impurity and misery, that 
 is now become to him as his own element ajjd natural 
 state. 
 
 Yea and the matter hath that evidence, that even many 
 of them who, for ought we know, never conversed with 
 those sacred records, have no less clearly discovered their 
 sense of the present evil state of man, than their ignorance 
 of the original of that evil,h though some of them carefully 
 acquit God of it. We find their complaints of the malig- 
 nity of ignorance j-^ surrounding all the earth, and that cor- 
 rupts the soul shut up in the body ; that, as a garment and 
 web, inwraps the minds of men, that they cannot look to 
 him whose pleasure it is to be known, and who is not to 
 be heard with ears, nor seen with eyes, nor expressed by 
 words. That till it be rent in pieces, they have upon 
 them the bond of corruption,'^ the dark coverture, the living 
 death, the sensible carcass, a moving sepulchre, which 
 they carry about with them. 
 
 We find complaints, that by bonds and chains^ our mind 
 is held, from our infancy : of certain " mean and debasing 
 passions, that do fasten and even nail the soul to the body :" 
 of much greater evils,'" and more grievous, than the most 
 fainful bodily diseases, gouts, stranguries, dysenteries, and 
 myriads of the like ; viz. all manner of sins, wickednesses, 
 transgressions, ungodlinesses, which we have to lament as the 
 maladies or disaffections of our soul. 
 
 Of certain old or inveterate spots,'" that are by all means 
 to be washed and purged out : that there are certain p7-in,- 
 ciplcs of viciousness,° as pleasures, griefs, lusts, fears, en- 
 kindled from the body, but mixed with the soul, and that 
 absurdly bear rule over it. 
 
 And the naturalness p of these is more than intimated, 
 while they are said to be rather from parents and our first 
 elements than ourselves : or, rather to be imputed, as is else- 
 where ■! said, to those that plant, than those thai are planted,. 
 
 Whence also, vice is said to be involmitary :' (being 
 rooted in our natures :) that whosoever are vicious, become 
 so from such things as do even prevent our choice. And 
 
 c Gen. vi. d Psal. xiv. and liii. e Rom. iii. f 1 John v. 
 
 g Eccl. ix. h Max. Tyr. Diss. 25. 
 
 i Tlie so controverted Merc. Trisraei?. c. 7. Seeund. M. Ficin. Interpret, i; 
 Trjff ay ft,^tTla5 KiiKia. 
 
 k Tr}i (pdofiai f^erjjiov. 
 
 1 cipyfioiv xai avi'6c(TCoiv rov KaTCxoutvoVr ck ppcdxov, vow. Iamb, de vit 
 Pythas. 
 
 m -Tepi TO a-ajjjia TrXcvpiTi8ei,Ttpi7!'Ktvfioviai,.^pcviTiici,TTodaypat, srpay- 
 yovpiai, Svaevnpiai, 4-C. irepi Scrrjv ipvxw toAAcoi pti^ovaKai x'iXs'i'WT-e- 
 pa, adeafia, KOKa. -rt-upavoyiiai, aae0ri^iaTa. Idem. 
 
 n — cyKarenKippGijicvat KijXiSts, p. 256, Hippar. Pythag. 
 
 o ap\at xnKins. 
 
 p £«■ Tbjv yciiCTop!,n Kai ro'VO", /laWov r] cl ajiuov. Piat. Tim. Locr. 
 
 q aiTiarcnv ucf tov; (ivrevovras act, rcov avTCVouevuv uaWof. Idem. 
 Tiniffiua. 
 
 r KaKoi di aKovcnciirara yiyvope&a. Ibid. 
 
 a ap^apivot ex TzaiSioi', koi ef apapravovciv okovts;. Idem. Hipp. Major, 
 p. ;296. 
 
 t uKovata vaOnpaTa. Plotin. Enne. 1. lib. &. 
 
 u pcptyptvt] ) ap ovvon n^uv Koauov dtvatiCK T£ vov,Kac avctyKrj;. Idem. 
 P- 77, 
 
 w Ttiii dc rnf apernv ehovacov uvai cmrat to ttiv KOKtav OKOvotov vnap- 
 X^ii'.&e. AJpinous, Cap. 30. 
 
 X £f aiiToipvovs pox&npiai. Max. Tyr. Dissert. 25. 
 
 y TO Trape-rropcvov ttj ovctat ripov Kmov. Hiero. in Carm. Pytha.^. 
 
 z TOX'g eKTnopcvopevovs eii tov (itovirOTt^ci, fravTei ■nivovaiv, aXKa oi pcv 
 -k\clov.ol & nrrov. Tab. Cebetis. 
 
 a Empedoclcs and Heraclitiis represented as ToXXaicif oSvpoptvot xai 
 \ot6opovm-£s Tr)ii (fivaiv c's ai'ajK»)i' Kai noXciiov ovaav, autyci St firicev 
 /i1<)< uXtKtpiirci iX'^vatw. 
 
 that all men do more evil than good,^ beginning even from 
 their very childhood. 
 
 And (as another expresses it') we offend from certain in^ 
 voluntary passions, in which the pravityof the soul is made 
 to consist : or that we here partake a certain mundane » Tia- 
 ture, which, he says, is mixed of mind and necessity. 
 
 And even from hence that virtue is.voluntary ; vice is, 
 by another, concluded to be involuntary.'^ " For," says that 
 author, " who can willingly, in the most lovely and most 
 noble part of himself, choose that which is the greatest of 
 all evils 1" esteeming vicious inclination the most repug- 
 nant thing to liberty, (as it is indeed in the moral sense,) 
 and the greatest slavery. Whereupon, another inquiring,' 
 since God doth nothing but what is good, whence evils 
 should come, resolves that whatsoever is good is from 
 heaven, but all evil from our self-natural vilentss. And 
 y another speaks of an evil adhering to our being, and not 
 only acquired, but even connatural to us ; yea, and this evil 
 is said to be the very death of the soul. The sadness of the 
 common case of man in this respect, hath been therefore 
 emblematically represented by a ^ potion of error and igno- 
 rance, presented to every one at their first coming into the 
 v;orld, and whereof it is said all do drink, more or less ; a 
 woman called Imposture, accompanied by other harlots, 
 Opinion, Lust, Pleasure, &c. seizing and leading away 
 every one. ^ And hence are bitter complaints and accusa- 
 tions poured forth even against nature itself, as being a mere 
 force and war, and having nothing pure or sincere in it, but 
 having its course amidst many unrighteous passions ; 3'ea, 
 and its rise and first production are lamented, as founded 
 in unrighteousness. The discontentful resentments where- 
 of have made some not spare to censure our very make 
 and frame, t the uniting of an immortal thing to a mortal 
 in the composition of man, as a kind of distortion of na- 
 ture, that the thing produced, should be made to delight in 
 having parts so unnaturally pulled and drawn together. 
 
 VI. So that some of the ethnick philosophers have been 
 so far from denying a corruption and depravation of na- 
 ture in man, that they have overstrained the matter, and 
 thought vicious inclination more deeply natural than in- 
 deed it is ; and so taxed and blamed nature, in the case 
 of man, as to be too liable to implied reflections even on 
 the blessed Author of nature himself": Whereto the 
 known principles of the sect of the Stoics do too plainly 
 tend, who give in so vast a catalogue of the diseases and 
 distempers of the mind of man ; taking every thing into 
 the account that hath the least of perturbation in it, with- 
 out excepting so much as mercy itself, or pity towards 
 them that suffer unjustly; and yet seem to subject all 
 things to fate and natural necessity, whereby all these 
 evils in the mind of man would be rejected upon the holy 
 God, as their original cause. d Whence therefore some 
 that were more sober have made it their business to vindi- 
 cate God from so horrid an imputation ; and one of much 
 note animadverts upon the mistakes of such as seemed so 
 to charge him, sharply blaming them for such an inti- 
 mation; but more sharply (quarrelling others in his own 
 dubious twilight) for the excuse they give of it, viz. 
 
 b Ttoi OvrjTOM avvepxopcvov adavoTOV. Plut. de .Solert. Anim. p. 964. 
 
 c D Laert. L. 7. But perhaps tliey have been somewhat misunderstood by 
 their prejudiced opposers, or some unwary expression of theirs been stretched 
 beyond what was meant. For though they reckon f Afoj among tlie distempers 
 of the mind ; yet so afterivards they do avtXtripoavvr] too Whence il is proba- 
 ble they intended to place tXcn^ among the evils of man's nature no otherwise 
 than as it should mclude undue perturSation in it, or as it might urge those who 
 are more apt to be passionate upon such occasions, than just and wise, to the 
 doing of unfit or unseasonable things for the atflicled person's relief; than which 
 nothing is more supposable : which occasioned that famous general Agesilaus, 
 when his sick friend importuned him witb tears, to stop the (then necessarj') 
 march of his army tor his sake, (looking sadly back upon him,) to say. wj \a- 
 XtTzov cs'iv cXecivKai fpovciv. How hard is it to be pitifid and wise • Phitar. 
 Apophtheg; Lacon. And that aflerwanis making aveXerifxofTvvri vicious too, 
 their meaning was, that a calm and sedate will or propension to relieve persons 
 in distress was the virtue, both the otber the opposite >Tces. 'Which seems 
 more likely than Menagius's way of salving the evavTiotpai'CS, by supposing 
 avc^cripoovvti tiere to have been misprinted for cKeripotrn'r}, by some very as- 
 suming transcribers, that were willing rather to express their own mind than 
 their author's. Obser\'. in Locum. 
 
 d And though in what follows they are sharply taxed, as laj-mg all the 
 e\'il3 of the world (moral as well as other) upon God and nature, this 
 seems to have proceeded from some lavish speeches of Chrj^ippus, that 
 justly fell under the reprehension of Plutarch's severer and more sound 
 judgment. Yet surely they did suppose another and purer state of na- 
 ture, out of which man was lapsed ; otherwise, how come they, wben 
 they assign the common notion of vicious perturbation or passion, to call 
 it an irrational and {trapa (pvniv Kivrfoti] preternatural motion? What 
 nature is that, which it is supposed to swerve from ? Re.sides that, they 
 constantly call these diseases of the soul, therefore they understood them 
 not to be its very nature : for then what were the diseased subject ? Nor
 
 Chap. IV. 
 
 THE LIVING TEMPLE. 
 
 73 
 
 «That God dotli what they attribute to him in tliis matter, 
 for the punishment of wicked men ; falleging it were a 
 grievous matter that God should will and revenge the 
 same thing, that wickedness should both be, and be pu- 
 nished, according to the mind of God. ?Some do, with 
 great reverence of the divine majesty, confess the rise of 
 all this evil to be from man himself, viz. even that sort of 
 evil which is called by the name of wickedness, is said to 
 be from an innate principle, which the arbitrary power of 
 a man's own soul hatcheth and fosters, and the fault is his 
 who admits it ; but God is faultless : i> that God did place 
 the soul over a terrene body, as a charioteer over a cha- 
 riot, which it might governor neglect, &c. 
 
 So another says, tkat 'whatsoever things come iiito this 
 ICO rid from, God., are good ; but evils proceed from a certain 
 ancient nature, tf-c. By which what could he mean, but 
 the hereditary pravity which hath in a long series de- 
 scended from depraved progenitors, so as no longer to be 
 a new thing ; but of a forgotten original, and from of old 
 reigning in the w^orld 1 
 
 They of this famous sect, the Platonists, seem often to 
 attribute vicious inclination to the soul's being united with 
 the body; (as supposing it to have existed pure and sin- 
 less before ;) yet even thej"^ appear also not to have thought 
 it impossible a human soul should sometime have been in 
 an earthly body without sin. For their renowned leader 
 discourses at large of a former incorrupt state of man in 
 the body, (a golden age, as others also call it,) and of a 
 defection or apostacy from it; which state, though his 
 Eg}^lian tradition misinformed him about the continuance 
 of it, he excellently describes, (as also man's declining 
 from it,) telling us, that " then God familiarly conversed 
 with men, taking care of them, as a shepherd of his flock ; 
 !i that he w-as chiefly intent upon the ducture and govern- 
 ment of their minds ; ithat (as he afterward says in another 
 part of that unfinished discourse) while the godlike nature 
 continued in sufficient vigour with them, they were obedient 
 10 laws, and behaved themselves friendly towards that 
 '^divine thing that was akin to them. Then they possessed 
 thoughts that were true, and altogether great ; using meek- 
 ness and prudence in reference to their own conditions 
 and one another ; that they disregarded all things in com- 
 parison of virtue. They easily bore a prosperous condi- 
 tion, esteeming all outward things little. They were not 
 intoxicated or drunken with sensual delights; but sober 
 and quick-sighted, and all things increased upon them 
 through their mutual love and virtue. But they growing 
 at length into a too great esteem and love of terrene things 
 — n and that participation which they had of God decaying, 
 (whereas all was well while the Divine nature remained 
 with them,) and being variously intermingled with much 
 deadly » evil, and a kind of human custom or course of 
 living," as elsewhere he so expresses sinful corruption, 
 "prevailing among them, and they not able to bear a pros- 
 perous condition, came to shame, and ruin with it ; having 
 lost the loveliest of their most precious things." Agreeably 
 whereto, another, discoursing of the nature and original 
 of evil, places it in our being plunged and sunk into mat- 
 ter and corporeity : and commenting upon a noted Ppassage 
 of his master, viz. " That our recovery must be by a 
 speedy flight to God," &c. says, that this fight is not to de- 
 part from the earth, 'ibut that ice become, even while we are 
 on earth, righteous, a?id holy, and wise. 
 
 Therefore also have we with this sort of men, so fre- 
 quent discourses of the purgative virtues, "^ which suppose 
 a lapse into great impurities; yet not so inseparable from 
 oar natures, but that by divine help ^which thej- also 
 sometimes speak of as necessary) a cure and redress may 
 be wrought. 
 
 VII. Nor, if we consider, can it be so much as imagin- 
 able to us, that the present state of man is his primitive 
 
 could it agree with that known dogma of tlieirs, that virtue is <5if5af rov tl, 
 a ttiine to be taiietit, if tlicy should suppose ^^ce in tliat sense natural. And 
 indeed, that Plutarch entitles that book he hath against them, Tupt ^oiKutv 
 evavTjuijia, arsues. they intended not the gross things he refutes, for no man 
 intends contradiction to himself. And since no man can hold both parts of a 
 contradiction, it Li candid to snppose they would have chose rather, to let go 
 the worserparf. 
 e A>Aa ficv tov Occv KoXa^eiv dtrjat ttiv xaKiav Kai no\\a voteiv eiri ko. 
 
 f'Ei^Ti ficv ovf TOVTO iiivov re Kai yii/tadat rnv xaxtav Kai Ko\a!^sadat 
 Kara tov rov^wi \oyov. Plular. de Rcpugnan. Stoiconim. 
 tafncnv rt\v avToipvr), if 'ifvxii c^ovata Kt/taKCi n Kai rt'Kcaipopei rji 
 
 state, or that he is now such as he was at first made. For 
 neither is it conceivable, the blessed God should have 
 made a creature w-ith an aversion to the only imjKjrtant 
 ends, whereof it is naturally capable; or, particularly, 
 that he created man with a disaffection to himself; or that 
 ever he at first designed a being of so high excellency as 
 the spirit of man, to drudge so meanly, and be so basely 
 servile to terrene inclinations ; or, that since there are 
 manifestly powers in him of a superior and inferior sort 
 and order, the meaner should have been, by original in.sti- 
 tution, framed to command, and the more noble and ex- 
 cellent, only to obey and serve; as now, every one that 
 observes may see the common case with man is. Axid 
 how far he is sw^erved from what he wa-s, is easily conjec- 
 turable, bj' comparing him with the measures which show 
 what he should be. For it cannot be conceived for what 
 end laws were ever given him, if, at least, we allow them 
 not the measures of his primitive capacity, or deny him 
 ever to have been in a possibilit3'^ to obe}'. Could they be 
 intended for his government, if conformity to them were 
 against or above his nature 1 or were the)' only for his 
 condemnation "? or for that, if he was never capable of 
 obeying them 1 How inconsistent were it with the good- 
 ness of the blessed God, that the condemnation of bis 
 creatures should be the first design of his giving them 
 laws ; and with his justice, to make his laws the rule of 
 punishment, to whom they could never be the rule of 
 obedience and duly; or with his wisdom, to frame a sys- 
 tem and body of laws, that should never serve for either 
 purpose, and so be upon the w-hole useful for nothing! 
 The common reason of mankind teacheth us, to estimate 
 the wisdom and equity of lawgivers, by the suitableness 
 of their constitutions to the genius and temper of the 
 people for w-hom they are made ; and we cojumonly 
 reckon nothing can more slur and expose government, thaa 
 the imposing of constitutions most probably impracticable, 
 and which are never likely to obtain. How^ much more 
 incongruous must it be esteemed to enjoin such as never 
 possibly could ! Prudent legislators, and studious of the 
 common good, would be shy to impose upon men under 
 their power, against their genius and common usages, 
 neither alterable easily, nor to an}' advantage. Much more 
 absurd were it, with great soleninity and weighty sanc- 
 tions to enact statutes for brute creatures ! And wherein 
 were it more to purpose to prescribe unto men strict rules 
 of piety and virtue, than to beasts or trees, if the former 
 had not been capable of observing them as the latter were 
 not 1 We insist not on the written precepts in the sacred 
 volume, (where we have also the history of man's creation 
 and fall,) but let the law be considered which is written 
 in men^s hearts; the vSfios ^rj^novpyiKof, the ru^i? ewo^og, or 
 the lex nata,^ (in the ethnick language.) tvhich the eternal, 
 laiogiving mind hath created in mir souls. And how evi- 
 dentl}' doth that law convince, that we neither are nor do 
 what we should ! How gross and numerous deformities 
 do we daily behold by that shattered and broken glass! 
 how many things which we disapprove, or certainly would, 
 if we discussed the matter with ourselves ! How "frequent 
 buffetings are many, when the}' reilecT, constrained to 
 suffer at their own hands ; even w'herein (not having an- 
 other law) they are only " a law to themselves,'" Rom. ii. 
 and have only their own thoughts, either their excusers, or 
 accusers! And what doth that signify, but a lapse and 
 recess from their original slate 1 the broken imperfect me- 
 morials whereof, are a standing testimony against their 
 present course; their notions of right and wrong, comely 
 and uncomely, remonstrating against their vicious inclina- 
 tions and ways. For would they ever reprove themselves 
 for what was not possible to be otherwise'? Or was man 
 created a mere piece of self-contradiction ; or with a nature 
 made up of repugnancies, and perpetually at war with 
 
 ovn/ia ftoxdnp'" avTOV tov cXofievov airiaf Qcos aiairiof. Ma.v. Tjr. 
 ubi supra. 
 
 h As he there proceeds. 
 
 i oaa TTapa dcovayada. rait xaxa CKrrii apxa'as (bvoctic. Plot Enuead. 
 1. lib. 8. p. 77. 
 
 kTheastet. \ ri tov Qzov (pvaii aVTOiit^ripKU. 
 
 m T/) )? TO (Ti'y) fi'Cf Sttov. n v tov deov ttotpa. 
 
 o TToAXwi roll OvrtTWt. p In Thestet. 
 
 q ov TO CK yrj a-zcXBctv aWa, &c. Plot. Enne. 1. lib 1. 
 
 r Marin Procl. 
 
 s TiivTao voiioacTttivovi itaxieouodsTa rati \pv\ais. Hierocl. p. 19 and 
 210.
 
 74 
 
 THE LIVING TEMPLE. 
 
 Part II. 
 
 itself? This I should do, but that which is clean contrary 
 I have a mind to. Were these ever like to be impressions, 
 both signed upon him by the same hand 1 Nothing is 
 plainer, therefore, than that he is corrupted from his pj'i- 
 mitive integrity, and become a depraved and a degenerate 
 thing. 
 
 VIII. 2. We go on then, in the next place, to show, — 
 That by this degeneracy, the temple of the living God 
 among men became waste and desolate: viz. hoih unin- 
 habitable or unfit for his blessed presence ; and, thereupon, 
 deserted and forsaken of it. And (because in breaches 
 and disagreements man hath tlie first hand and part) we 
 shall therefore treat, First, Of the unaptne.ss of man, in his 
 state of apostacy, to entertain the divine presence, or be 
 any longer God's temple ; Second, Of the blessed God's 
 absenting himself, and estrangement from him hereupon. 
 
 1. That the spirit of man, by his having apostatized, be- 
 came unft to answer the purposes of a temple, will too 
 plainly appear, by considering the nature of that apostacy ; 
 which, what was it but a severing himself from God ; a 
 recess and separation 1 Not in respect of place, (which 
 was impossible,) but the temper of his mind and spirit ; or 
 not by a local removal, but by unsuitableness and disaf- 
 fection, departing in heart from the living God. 'Tis true 
 indeed, that by this his revolt, he became indisposed to all 
 other converse which belonged to him as a creature intel- 
 ligent and virtuous, but chiefly to divine : the blessed God 
 being the chief term of this defection and revolt. For 
 man, by his original rectitude, was principally determined 
 towards God: and by the same due bent and frame of 
 spirit by which he stood rightly postured towards him, he 
 was in a right disposition to everything besides wherewith 
 he had any concern. And adhering to him as his centre 
 and prime object, he kept his due order towards all other 
 things : whence by forcing and relaxing the bonds that 
 held him united to God, and by changing his posture 
 towards him, he came to stand right no way. Turning to 
 him tlie back, and not the face, all things are inverted to 
 him. He is now become most directly opposite to God, 
 and unduly disposed towards other things only by means 
 of that opposition. As then he is unfit for every other 
 good use, so most of all for that of a temple ; and that 
 upon both the above-mentioned accounts, as being first 
 unsuitable to the blessed God, and then thereupon disaf- 
 fected. 
 
 Ist. Man was become most unsuitable to him ; the di- 
 vine image (which where should it be but in his temple) 
 being now defaced and torn down. We speak not now of 
 the natural image of God in man, or the representation 
 the soul of man hath of its Maker in the spiritual, intelli- 
 gent, vital, and immortal nature thereof, which image we 
 know cannot be lost ; but its resemblance of him in the 
 excellences which appear to be lost, and which were his 
 duty, a dehitum i?iesse, and could not be lost but by his 
 own great default. And those are both such as wherein 
 the soul of man did imitate and resemble God, as know- 
 ledge, purity, justice, benignity, &c. and such as wherein 
 though it could not imitate him, yet was to bear itself 
 correspondently towards him ; as he being the absolute 
 Sovereign, to be subject to him, obey and serve him : and 
 he being the all-sufficient Good, to trust in him, depend 
 upon him, know, love, and delight in him, unite with 
 him, and expect blessedness only in and from him. How 
 unlike and disagreeable to God in all these respects is 
 apostate man ! That whereas the notion given us of God, 
 is, that he is Light, and with him is no darkness at all ; 
 (1 John i.) it is said of such as have been involved in the 
 common apostacy, in reference to that their former state, 
 " Ye were darkness ;" as if that were the fittest and truest 
 account that could be given of this revolted creature : not 
 that he is in darkness, or there is much darkness in him, 
 but, " He is darkness," Ephes. v. He and darkness may 
 define one another — That is he ; and he is that. A dismal 
 horrid cloud hath inwrapped his soul, that resists and 
 yields not easily to the most piercing beams, excludes 
 light, wheresoever it would insinuate itself This hath 
 made the soul of man a most unmeet receptacle for the 
 divine presence, and more like a dungeon than a temple. 
 And as he is now sunk into carnality, and a low, abject, 
 earthly spirit, how unfit is he for divine converse ! How 
 
 unapt to savour the things of God ! How unlike the 
 Father of Spirits ! And whereas he was of a middle na- 
 ture, partaking somewhat of the angelical, somewhat of 
 the animal life, how is he swallowed up of the latter, and 
 become like the beasts that peri.sh ; as the horse and mule 
 without understanding, as the dog and swine both for 
 fierceness and impurity ; as the one is both apt to bite and 
 devour, and return to his own vomit, and the other both 
 to rend such as stand in his way, and wallow in the mire. 
 We might add the sundry other Scripture resemblances 
 of wolves, bears, lions, serpents, adders, vipers, &c. where- 
 by many brutes seem to meet in one man ; and to have 
 made a collection, and contributed their worst qualities, 
 and all the venom of their natures, to the making up of 
 one mischievous composition in him. So that instead of 
 a temple, he is a cage of every unclean and hurtful thing : 
 he is, in short, of a reprobate mind, full of all unrighteous- 
 ness, fornication, wickedness, covetousness, maliciousness, 
 envy, murder, debate, deceit, malignity, &c. How repug- 
 nant, in all respects, to the holy, pure, benign, merciful 
 nature of God ! How remote from the imitation of his 
 Maker, wherein he hath offered himself as his most 
 imitable pattern ! And wherein he is not imitable, but 
 requires a proportionable and correspondent deportment 
 or conformity ; as by trust to his all-sufiiciency, by subjec- 
 tion to his sovereign power and government. How dismal 
 is the case, and how horrid the effects, of the apostacy in 
 these regards ! How preposterous and perverse are his 
 dispositions and the course he hath run ! For wherein it 
 was permitted to him to imitate and affect likeness to a 
 Deity ; where he was put under no restraints, and his 
 highest aspirings had been not only innocent, but most 
 worthy of praise, (as to imitate God in wisdom, righteou.s- 
 ness, sincerity, goodness, purity, &c.) here nothing would 
 please but utmost dissimilitude, and to be as unlike God 
 as he could devise. But in those things that were within 
 the enclosure, and appropriate most peculiarly to the God- 
 head ; to be the "first and the last, the Alpha and Omega ; 
 the only one on whom ail must depend, and to whom all 
 must bersubject and obey : these sacred regalia, the highest 
 rights and flowers of the eternal crown, these are thought 
 fine things, and beheld with a libidinous devouring eye, 
 caught at by a profane sacrilegious hand. Nothing would 
 satisfy but to be Godlike in this most disallowed and im- 
 possible sense. Man, when he hath reduced himself to 
 the lowest pitch of vileness, misery, and penury, now will 
 be self-sufficient ; and when he is become the most abject 
 slave to ignominious lusts and passions, now he will be 
 supreme : that is, having made himself viler than the 
 meanest creature, and worse than nothing, he vnW be a 
 god, even his own, a god to himself Having severed 
 and cut himself off from God, he will supply the room, 
 and live only within himself: be to himself what God was, 
 and should ever be. He now moves wholly in his own 
 sphere, disjoined from that of the whole world, and is his 
 own centre. All he does is from himself, and for himself. 
 Thus is the true image of God torn down from his own 
 temple, and that alienated, and become the temple of a 
 false god, dedicate to that abominable idol, self. 
 
 IX. 2nd. Whence it comes to pass, that man is most dis- 
 affected to God, and full of enmity. So Scripture testifies 
 concerning the carnal mind, Rom. viii. 8. And whom it 
 had before represented (ch. ii.) full of all malignity, it 
 afterwards .speaks of as directing it (most horrid to think) 
 against this blessed object; "Haters of God, despiteful," 
 &c. Nor is any thing more natural ; for, in part, the con- 
 trariety of their nature to his, more immediately begets this 
 enmity, which always rises out of dissimilitude ; and partly 
 it is fomented and increased to a great degree, by a secret 
 consciousness of that dissimilitude, and the misgivings ot 
 their own guilty fears thereupon ; which must tell them, 
 whensoever they have so much communication with them- 
 selves, that they are unlike, and cannot but be impleasing 
 to him; and this infers some kind of dread; whence (as 
 hath been commonly observed) the passage is short and 
 easy unto hatred. And though the more positive workings 
 of this enmity do not (perhaps with the most) so ordinarily 
 discover themselves ; and they do not see or suspect that 
 they hate him, while they are not urged to self-reflection ; 
 and when they are hardly admit a conviction that they do:
 
 Chap. IV. 
 
 THE LIVING TEMPLE. 
 
 75 
 
 yet the matter carries its ovra evidence with it, and would 
 soon be put beyond a question, if men were Avilling to 
 understand the truth of their own case. For whence else 
 do they so slowly entertain the knowled°:e of God, when 
 the whole earth is full of his glory"? When so manifest 
 
 Srints and footsteps of his wisdom, power, and goodness, 
 o offer themselves to view in every creature, whence can 
 it be, but that they like not to retain him in their know- 
 ledge ■? Rom. i. And that their very hearts say to him, 
 Depart from us, we desire not the knowledge of thy ways ? 
 Job xxi. Why is so bright a light not observed, but that 
 it shines amidst a malignant darkness, that, resisting, com- 
 prehends it not 1 Why are the thoughts of God so un- 
 pleasant to men, and unfrequent, that when one would 
 suppose no thoughts should be so obvious, none so wel- 
 come, yet it is become the character of an unrenewed man 
 to forget God, (Psal. ix.) or not to have him in ail his 
 thoughts 1 Psal. x. Why do men decline his acquaint- 
 ance, live volimtary strangers to him all their days, and as 
 without him in the world 1 Ephes. ii. Why are men so 
 averse to trust him, and turn to him, even upon so mighty 
 assurances 1 What makes them shy to take his word, 
 but rather count him a liar, though they know it incon- 
 sistent with his nature ; and can form no notion of God, 
 without including this conception therein, that he cannot 
 lie; when as yet they can ordinarily trust one another, 
 though there be so much colour to say, " All men are 
 liars '?" Why do they resist his authority, against which 
 they carmot dispute, and disobey his commands, unto 
 which they cannot devise to frame an exception 1 What, 
 but the spirit of enmity, can make them regret so easy a 
 yoke, reject so light a burthen, shun and tly off froni so 
 peaceful and pleasant paths; yea, and take ways that so 
 manifestly take hold of hell, and lead down to the cham- 
 bers of death, rather choosing to perish than obey 1 Is not 
 this the very height of enmity 1 What further proof would 
 we seek of a disaffected and implacable heart 1 Yet to all 
 this, we may cast in that fearful addition, their saying in 
 their heart. No God ; (Ps. xiv.) q. d. O that there were 
 none ! This is enmity, not only to the highest pitch of 
 wickedness, (to wish their common Parent extinct, the 
 Author of their being,') but even unto madness itself For 
 in the forgetful heat of this transport, it is not thought on 
 that they wish the most absolute impossibility, and that, 
 if it were possible, they wish, with his, the extinction of 
 their owti, and of all being; and that the sense of their 
 hearts, put into words, would amount to no less than a dire- 
 ful and most horrid execration and curse upon God, and 
 the whole creation of God at once ! as if by the blasphemy 
 of their poisonous breath, they would ■gather all nature, 
 blast the whole universe of being, and make it fade, lan- 
 guish, and drop into nothing. This is to set their mouth 
 against heaven and earth, themselves, and all things at 
 once, as if they thought their feeble breath should over- 
 power the omnipotent word, shake and shiver the adaman- 
 tine pillars of heaven and earth, and the almighty Jiat be 
 defeated by their nay ; striking at the root of all ! So fitly 
 is it said. The fool hath in his heart muttered thus ! Nor 
 are there few such fools : but this is plainly given us as 
 the common character of apostate man, the whole re- 
 volted race ; of whom it is said in very general terms, 
 " They are all gone back, there is none that doeth good." 
 This is their sense, one and all ; i. e. comparatively ; and 
 the true state of the case being laid before them, it is more 
 their temper and sense to say no God, than to repent, and 
 turn to him. What mad enmity is this ! Nor can we de- 
 vise into what else to resolve it. 
 
 This enmity, indeed, more plainly shows itself where 
 the Divine glory (especially that of his grace, and good- 
 will towards men, a thing not less evident, than strange) 
 more brightly shines : yet there are so manifest appear- 
 ances of it every where, and he hath so little left himself 
 " without witness" unto any, that the universal strange- 
 ness of men towards him apparently owes itself more to 
 enmity than ignorance ; and even where there is much 
 darkness, there is more ill-will. For their ignorance by 
 which they are alienated from fhe life of God, is called 
 blindness of heart; i. e. voluntary, affected blindness, 
 Er>h. iv. 18. It can be imputed to nothing else, that they 
 who ha\'e Grod so near to every one of them, who live and 
 
 move, and have their being in him, do not }'et seek after 
 him, and labour to feel and find him out; i. e. that they 
 can miss of God so nigh at hand, when they have even, 
 palpable demonstrations of his nearness, and kind propen- 
 sions towards ihem. Now this being the ca.se, whatever 
 this degenerate vile creature might serve for else, he was 
 plainly most unfit for the use of a temple, or to be the 
 dwelling-place of God. 
 
 2. Nor can it now be a wonder that the divine presence 
 should be hereupon withdrawn ; that the blessed God ab- 
 sents himself, and Ls become a stranger to this his once 
 beloved mansion. We shall here lake notice how appa- 
 rent it is — 1. That he hath done so, — 2. That he was most 
 highly justifiable herein. 
 
 And, first. That he hath withdraxni himself, and left 
 tliis his temple desolate, we have many sad and plain 
 proofs before us. The stately ruins are visible to every 
 eye, that bear in their front (yet extant) this doleful inscrip- 
 tion — fiere 606 once iiwlt. Enough appears of the admi- 
 rable frame and structure of the soul of man, to show the 
 divine presence did sometimes reside in it ; more than 
 enough of vicious deformity, to proclaim he is now retired 
 and gone. The lamps are extinct, the altar overturned; 
 the light and love are now vanished, which did the one 
 shine with so heavenly brightness, the other burn with so 
 pious fervour; the golden candlestick is displaced, and 
 thrown away as a useless thing, to make room for the 
 throne of the prince of darkness ; the sacred incense, which 
 sent rolling up in clouds its rich perfumes, is exchanged 
 for a poisonous, hellish vapour, and here is, " instead of a 
 sweet savour, a stench." The comely order of this house 
 is turned all into confusion; "the beauties of holiness" 
 into noisome impurities ; the " house of prayer to a den 
 of thieves," and that the worst and most horrid kind ; for 
 every lust is a thief, and every theft sacrilege: continual 
 rapine and robbery is committed upon holy "things. The 
 noble powers which were designed and dedicated to divine 
 contemplation and delight, are alienated to tlie service of 
 the most despicable idols, and employed unto vilest intu- 
 itions and embraces ; to behold and admire lying vanities, 
 to indulge and cherish lust and wickedness." What have 
 not the enemies done wickedly in the sanctuary 1 How 
 have they broken do^^'n the carved work thereof, and that 
 too with axes and hammers, the noise whereof was not to 
 be heard in building, much less in the demolishing this 
 sacred frame ! Looli upon the fragments of that curious 
 sculpture which once adorned the palace of that great 
 king; the relics of common notions ; the lively prints of 
 some undefaced truth; the fair ideas of things; the yet 
 legible precepts that relate to practice. Behold ! with 
 what accuracy the broken pieces show these to have been 
 engraven by the finger of God, and how they now lie torn 
 and scattered, one in this dark corner, another in that, 
 buried in heaps of dirt and rubbish ! There is not now a 
 system, an entire table of coherent truths to be found, or 
 a frame of holiness, but some shivered parcels. And if 
 any, with great toil and labour, apply themselves to draw 
 out here one piece, and there another, and set them to<re- 
 ther, they serve rather to show how exquisite the divine 
 workmanship was in the original composition, than for 
 present use to the excellent purposes for which the whole 
 was first designed. Some pieces agree, and own one an- 
 other; but how soon are our inquiries and endeavours 
 non-plussed and superseded ! How many attempts have 
 been made, since that fearful fall and ruin of this fabric, 
 to compose again the truths of so many several kinds into 
 their distinct orders, and make up frames of science, or 
 useful knowledge ; and after so many ages, nothing is 
 finished in any one kind ! Sometimes truths are mis- 
 placed, and what belongs to one kind is transferred to 
 another, where it will not fitly match: sometimes false- 
 hood inserted, which shatters or disturbs the whole frame. 
 And what is with much fruitless pains done by one hand, 
 is dashed in pieces by another ; and it is the work of a 
 following age to sweep awa}'' the fine-spun cobwebs of a 
 former. And those truths which are of greatest use, 
 though not most out of sight, are least regarded : their 
 tendency and design are overlooked ; or they are so loos- 
 ened aiid torn off, that they cannot be -nTought in. .so as 
 to take hold of the soul, but hover as faint inctfectua, no-
 
 THE LIVING TEMPLE. 
 
 Part II. 
 
 tions, that signify nothing. Its very fundamental powers 
 are shaken and disjointed, and their order towards one an- 
 other confounded and brolien : so that what is judged con- 
 siderable is not considered, what is recommended as eligible 
 and lovely is not loved and chosen. Yea, the truth which 
 is after godliness is not so much disbelieved, as hated, 
 held in unrigliteousness ; and shines as too feeble a light 
 in that malignant darkness which comprehends it not. 
 You come amidst all this confusion, as into the ruined 
 palace of some great prince, in which you see here the 
 fragments of a noble pillar, there the shattered pieces of 
 some curious imagery, and all lying neglected and useless 
 among heaps of dirt. He that invites you to take a view 
 of the soul of man, gives you but such another prospect, 
 and doth but say to you,—-' Behold the desolation ;" all 
 things rude and waste. So that should there be any pre- 
 tence to tne Divine presence, it might be said. If God be 
 here, why is it thus 'i. The faded glory, the darkness, the 
 disorder, the impurity, the decayed state in all respects of 
 this temple, too plainly show the great inhabitant is gone. 
 X. 2. And what was so manifest a sign of God's ab- 
 sence, was also a most righteous cause : for who have 
 committed these great wastes, and made this temple un- 
 inhabitable, but men themselves f And what could be 
 more injurious to the holy God, than to invade and pro- 
 fane his temple 1 Or for what could we suppose him to 
 show more jealousy and concern 1 Whoever were a God, 
 one would expect he should plead for himself, when men 
 have cast down his altar. No words can express the 
 greatness of the indignity ! For do but take the following 
 state of the case, thus : Man was his own creature, raised 
 out of nothing by his mighty and most arbitrary hand ; it 
 was in his power and choice, whether ever he should have 
 beinjj, any, or none, another, or this, of so noble an order 
 and kind. The designation was most apt, of so excellent 
 a creature to this office and use, to be immediately sacred 
 to himself, and his own converse ; his temple and habi- 
 tation, the mansion and residence of his presence and in- 
 dwelling glory ! There was nothing whereto he was herein 
 designed, whereof his nature was not capable. His soul 
 was, after the required manner, receptive of a deity ; its 
 powers were competent to their appointed work and em- 
 ployment ; it could entertain God by knowledge and con- 
 templation of his glorious excellences, by reverence and 
 love, by adoration and praise. This was the highest kind 
 of dignity whereto created nature could be raised, the most 
 honourable state. How high and quick an advance ! This 
 moment, nothing, the next, a. being capable and full of 
 God! 
 
 It was a most delectable and pleasant state, to be sepa- 
 rated to the entertainment of the Divine presence ; that as 
 soon as man could first open his eyes, and behold the light 
 and glory of this new-made world, the great Lord and 
 Author of it should present himself, and say, "Thou 
 shalt be mine." How grateful a welcome into being ! 
 " Thee, above all my works, which thou beholdest, I choose 
 out for myself Thine employment shall be no laborious, 
 painful drudgery ; unless it can be painful to receive the 
 large communications of immense goodness, light, life, and 
 love, that shall, of their own accord, be perpetually flowing 
 in upon thee ! Whatsoever thou espiest besides, that is 
 even most excellent and pleasant to thy sense, is yet infe- 
 rior to thee, and insufficient for thy satisfaction and highest 
 delight, and but the faint shadow of that substantial ful- 
 ness, which I myself will be unto thee." 
 
 There was, in all this, the freest and most condescending 
 vouchsafement ; no necessity could urge the self-sufficient 
 Good to affect union and familiarity with its own creature. 
 Man's alienation of himself from God, was as entirely 
 voluntary, nothing could force him to it ; he could have 
 no inducement, which it was not easy to resist ; heaven 
 and earth could not afford the matter of a regardable 
 temptation, to withdraw him from what did so infinitely 
 excel. But how mean things have become the tempting 
 and prevailing objects ! the momentary relishes of a merely 
 sensual delight, that might have been had innocent and 
 
 t Sencc. de Tranquill. 
 
 pure, without breaking the enclosure. Ravenous appetite, 
 lust after forbidden pleasure, is impatient of restraint : 
 reason, that should have restrained it, resigns its office, 
 falls into a treacherous combination with usurping sense, 
 chooses lather to obey than rule, to rebel than obey ; for 
 not to rule, being thereto enjoined by the supreme Ruler, 
 was to rebel. The empire of rebellious appetite was 
 reckoned more tolerable than God's : thus are his authority 
 affronted and his goodness despised both at once. He is 
 rejected both as ruler and benefactor, with equal disrespect 
 to his majesty and grace, to his governing and his heart- 
 delighting presence. And how ignominious, hereupon, is 
 the rejection, when so vile things are chosen and preferred ! 
 The tyranny of lust, before his holy, reasonable, orderly 
 government ; the pleasures of sin, rather than those of the 
 divine presence : this being the practical, decisive judgment 
 given in the case, that these are better. 'Tis better be the 
 meanest drudge and slave than his servant, and feed upon 
 husks or ashes than his pure and most satisfying commu- 
 nications. And what he chose to be, he is ; i. e. with the 
 indignity done to God, he hath joined the vilest debase- 
 ment of himself. For hence, also, how loathsome a crea- 
 ture is he now become ! How perverted in all his powers ! 
 How full of darkness, confusion, impurity, malignity, 
 and venom ! How universally and horridly deformed ! 
 And hereof an estimate may be made, from his imaptness 
 to self-reflection ; which how notorious is it ! What doth 
 he not rather choose to do with his thoughts, than turn 
 them inward 1 And how unfit is he for divine converse, 
 that cannot endure his own ; or to associate with God, 
 that is become too foul a creature to have any satisfying 
 converse with himself ! Now what could be expected to 
 ensue upon all this, but that he should be forsaken of 
 God ; that the blessed presence be withdrawn, that had 
 been so despitefully slighted, to return no more 7 No 
 more, till at least a recompense should be made him for 
 the wrong done, and a capacity be recovered for his future 
 converse : viz. till both his honour should be repaired, 
 and his temple ; till he might again honourably return, 
 and be fitly received. But who could have thought in 
 what way these things should ever be brought to pass ? 
 i. e. neither could his departure but be expected, nor his 
 return but be above all expectation. To depart was what 
 became him; a thing, as the case was, most God-like, or 
 worthy of God, and what he owed to himself. It was 
 meet so great a Majesty, having been so condescendingly 
 gracious, should not be also cheap, to appear unapprehen- 
 sive of being neglected and set at nought. It became 
 him, as the self-sufficient Being, to let it be seen he de- 
 signed not man his temple for want of a house ; that hav- 
 ing of old inhabited his own eternity, and having now the 
 heavens for his throne, the earth his footstool, he could 
 dwell alone, or where he pleased else, in all his great 
 creation ; and did not need, where he was not desired. 
 That of the Cynic was thought a brave saying, when his 
 malcontented servant turned fugitive, and left him — " It 
 were an unworthy thing t Manes should think he can live 
 without Diogenes, and that Diogenes cannot without 
 Manes." How much better would it suit with the real 
 self-fulness of a Deity, where nothing of this kind can 
 look like an empty, hollow boast ! It was becoming of his 
 pure and glorious holiness, not to dwell amidst impurities, 
 or let it be thought he was a God that took pleasure in 
 wickedness ; and most suitable to his equal justice to let 
 them who said to him, " Depart from us," feel they spake 
 that word against their own life and soul ; and that what 
 was their rash and wilful choice, is their heaviest doom 
 and punishment. It was only strange, that when he left 
 his temple he did not consume it ; and that not leaving it 
 without being basely expulsed, he hath thought of return- 
 ing without being invited back again. Yea, and that what- 
 soever was necessary thereto, is designed by his own so 
 strange contrivance, and done at his own so dear expense : 
 his only-begotten Son most freely consenting with him, 
 and in sundry capacities sustaining the weight and burthen 
 of this great undertaking.
 
 Chap. V. 
 
 THE LIVING TEMPLE. 
 
 T7 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 Tl«restitution of this temple undertaken l.ythe Emmanuel; First, more darkly 
 ^Sred%fteruard, mW clearly n,u,w.estedT.jsoo.^^^ 
 nuel sutiident. Necessary for ihis puriiose.. That Ik; «a> "'"sen t" ut uie 
 p atfo".n. the foundation, and the lounder of .t. Th;- ;-"^';";; , ^f ">'' «;,^^f, "^ 
 was, in order hereto, also a sacrifice ; 1».1'"'<^"J'^ '''^\' V^V' 'h', aS t^^^^ 
 and without wrong to his f.'oVLrninfe' justice, retun,, aii.l h.iu; '"^ abwle «i h 
 men. And that they misht Ik-,-,,,,,,- |,r,|i,-in-rl i., "'''^'JV,; , :n,l h/iv Snir^ 
 eencc. For which purpos,. ,.■ Imi , ,„ ''7' 'I';:!"'"''.''' y'^ '' ^l ''V,,^ '' '^ "': 
 on the account of this sa.-utuv. 1 hat u i.n l..„d ,s. Inrih.- >ak,. o it i ig 
 wemieht no longer remain unwilling, lliat iunvillin!;iie=s to lie inn o ne tiy 
 0.e Tower and spirit of Kmmaimel : as liereulUr to.be more lully shown. 
 But working (suitably to an inielligent subject) m a rational way. lo wliicti 
 a great acconnnodateness, in the consUtution ot Emmanuef As demon- 
 siruting divine love, and holuiess. In its loveliness. Possibdity of being 
 attained. 
 
 And indeed, what was to be designed and done, did 
 every way call for so great an undertaker.— The indignity 
 offered to the majesty of the most high God, in his so igno- 
 minious expulsion from his own temple, was to be recom- 
 pensed; — and the ruin must be repaired which had be- 
 fallen his temple itself 
 
 I. In reference to both these performances, it was deter- 
 mined Emmanuel, i. e. his own Son, his substantial Ima^e, 
 the Biightness of his glory, the eternal Word, should be- 
 come incarnate ; and being so, should undertake several 
 parts, and in di-stinct capacities, and be at once a single 
 Temple himself, and that this temple should be also a 
 sacrifice, and thereby give rise to a manifold temple con- 
 formed to that original one, of each whereof, in the virtue 
 of that s icrifice, he was himself to be the glorious Pattern, 
 the firm Foundation, the magnificent Founder, and the 
 most curious Architect and Former, by his own various 
 and most peculiar influence. 
 
 This hath been the result of the divine counsel, and the 
 Lord's own doing, most justly marvellous in our eyes, 
 VIZ. (which we are next to consider.) 
 
 II. That the blessed God hath laid the platform and 
 the foundations of his temple, as it was to be restored and 
 set up again among men, in and by that great Emmanuel, 
 his own Son made flesh. It is to be considered that (as 
 hath been shown) the world had a long time lain deluged 
 with wickedness, sunk in sensuality, and a deep oblivion 
 of God ; his memorial was even lost among men, and no- 
 thing less thought of than a temple in the true design and 
 meaning of it ; the notices of God, and any inclination to 
 religion that remained, (too deeply infixed into the mind 
 and nature of men to be quite extinct,) were yet so faint 
 and weak, carnal and terrene propensions so strong, that 
 the vital religion which was the proper business of a living 
 temple, could have noplace. It was not only so in the 
 pagan worlds, from which God had further withdrawn 
 himself, but even with that select people to whom he 
 vouchsafed more peculiar manifestations and symbols of 
 his mind and presence. 
 
 They had a figurative temple by his own appointment, 
 erected in much glory among them, that might have in- 
 structed them, and by degrees the rest of the world, if they 
 would have understood its true meaning and signification, 
 that God was yet willing to dwell with men on earth, and 
 that it should be a " house of prayer for all nations," who 
 ought, upon those glorious appearances of God among 
 that people, to have gradually proselyted themselves unto 
 them. It prefigured what he intended, viz. in his ap- 
 pointed season, by his own Son to descend and inhabit, 
 make and constitute him a much more glorious temple 
 than could be built of wood or stone, or by the hands of 
 men : that in after-time " Shiloh should come, unto whom 
 the gathering of the people should be," and by whom he 
 would reconcile and re-collect the apostate world back 
 again to himself But all this was an unintelligible mys- 
 tery on all hands ; entered not into the minds of men of 
 either sort, but much less into their hearts ; and the Jews 
 did much more afl"ect to paganize, and go further oif from 
 God, than the pagans (which in this they ought) to judaize, 
 and draw nearer to him. The natural sentiments of reli- 
 gion, which were common to all men, did run out only 
 into mere external observances and empty (though some- 
 what different) formalities, that might we'll enough agree 
 with a sensual life, transacted in habitual estrangement 
 from God, and as without him in the world ; so as not 
 
 only not to answer the true intent and use of a temple, but 
 to frustrate and elude it. 
 
 III. When this was the state of things with this world, 
 and the fulness of time was now come, wherein God in- 
 tended, with more vigour and efficacy, to renew and rein- 
 force his mighty and merciful work of setting up his temple, 
 and to make it rise in splendour and glory in the world, 
 he at length sends down his Son : he puts on man ; be- 
 comes Emmanuel ; an incarnate God among men ; and a 
 Man inhabited by all the fulness of God. This Man w-as, 
 therefore, a most perfect Temple ; the origiiwl one : i. e. 
 not only a single one himself, but an exemplary Temple, 
 to which all other were to be conformed ; the advantage 
 whereof to the forming of more we shall see hereafter : 
 whereby he was also a virtual one, from which life and 
 inlluence was to be transfused to raise and form all others. 
 But in order to its being so, this very temple must become 
 a sacrifice ; and by dying, multiply : a seminal temple, as 
 w^e shall hereafter show, and as he himself represents the 
 matter. John xii. 24. And which is in the full sense of it 
 .said, 1 Pet. ii. where, when we were first told, {v. 4, 5.) we 
 must come to him as unto a living stone, and as lively 
 stones be built up a spiritual house; we are further told, 
 {v. 24.) that he himself bare our sins is his own body on 
 the tree, (where he was offered as a sacrifice,) that we 
 might die to sin, and live to righteousness. For now, a 
 temple being, in its proper u.-;e and design, intended for 
 divine honour, could not have its foundation in the ruin 
 thereof, or be built upon his unremedied dishonour: the 
 Son of God, by tendering himself for a valuable recom- 
 pense, must be the Corner-stone of this new building. 
 The wrong that man had done to the divine majesty should 
 be expiated by none but man, and could be by none but 
 God. Behold then the w^onderful conjunction of both in 
 the one Emmanuel ! who was, by his very constitution, an 
 actual Temple; "God with us;" the habitation of the 
 Deity returned, and resettling itself with men ; and fitted 
 to be (what it must be also) a most acceptable sacrifice. 
 For here were met together man that could die, and God 
 that could overcome death ; man, that might suffer, and 
 God, that could give sufficient value to those sufferings; 
 sufficient to atone the offended Majesty, and procure that 
 life might be diffused, and spread itself to all that should 
 unite with him ; whereby they might become living stones, 
 joined to that living Corner-stone; a spiritual temple, 
 again capable of that divine presence which they had for- 
 feited, and whereof they were forsaken. 
 
 That all this may be the better understood, we shall 
 endeavour to show, more distinctly, 1. The sufficiency and 
 aptness of the constitution and appointment of Emmanuel, 
 (considering what he was, and what was underiaken to be 
 suffered and performed by him,) as the most proper and 
 adequate means for the restoring of God's temple with 
 men. 2. The necessity of this course for this end. 
 
 L And for the former, the aptness and sufficiency of this 
 course, or what the setting up of Emmanuel might do for 
 this purpose, may be seen in the suitableness hereof to the 
 foregoing state of the case, and by comparing therewith 
 what he is, and hath done and suffered in order hereto 
 We have seen that the former desolate slate of this tcmplfi 
 was occasioned and inferred by man's aposiacy, (whereby 
 he became incapable of serving any longer the purposes of 
 a temple, and God's departure thereupon. There was 
 therefore the concurrence of somewhat on man's part, and 
 somewhat on God's, unto this desolation; on man's, what 
 was unjust, leading, and casual ; on God's what was most 
 just, consequent, and caused thereb}'; man's unrighteous 
 and ill-deserving aversion from God . and God's most righte- 
 ous and deserved aversion hereupon from him : the one 
 caused by the other, but both causing in different kinds 
 the vacancy and deserted state of this temple which en- 
 sued ; the former as a sinning cause, the latter as a pun- 
 ishing. Now what we have considerable in the Emma- 
 nuel towards the restoration of this temple, and that it 
 might become again habitable and replenished by the 
 Divine presence as before, is answerable to this state of the 
 case ; and directly tending to compose thinirs between the 
 distanced parties, both on the one part and the other. And 
 because God was to have the first and leading part in 
 reconciliations, as man hath in disagreements, we have
 
 78 
 
 THE LIVING TEMPLE. 
 
 Part II. 
 
 enough in him, whereupon — God might express himself 
 willing to rebuild and return to his former dwelling; — 
 and man be willing to render it back to him, and admit 
 the operation of the fashioning hand whereby it is to be 
 prepared and refitted for its proper use. 
 
 IV. L The former is eflected ; and a foundation is laid 
 for the effecting of the other too, in his becoming a sacri- 
 ^ce to justice; a sacrifice so rich and fragrant, so full of 
 value and grateful savour, as that abundant recompense is 
 made by it for the wrong man had done to the Majesty 
 of heaven, by profaning and polluting this temjile, and 
 expelling so contumeliously its great Inhabitant : — an in- 
 jury, to which the creation, consuming in a universal flame, 
 had been an unproportionable sacrifice : but the sacrifice 
 ot himself, the Emmanuel, God-man, could be defective 
 in nothing ; was both suitable and equal to the exigency 
 of the case. For the sacrifice of him who was man, was 
 suitable to the offence of man ; and of him who was God, 
 was equal to the wrong done to God. Long before this 
 sacrifice was offered, the expectation of it, and since, the 
 remembrance have been precious. It Avas of sufficient 
 virtue to work and diffuse its influence at the greatest dis- 
 tance ; and not of time onl}', but of place too ; to perfume 
 the world, and scatter blessings through all the parts and 
 nations of it, as well as through all the ages. When no 
 other sacrifice or offerings could avail any thing, (Psal. xl. 
 Heb. X.) lo ! He comes into a body prepared on purpose: 
 which, though it was not formed and assumed until the 
 fulness of time, (Gal. iv. 4,) was yet reckoned as slain from 
 the beginning of it. Rev. xiii. 8. This was the seed in 
 which, though it sprung up only in Judca, yet all the na- 
 tions of the earth were to be blessed. Gen. xxii. 18. Long 
 was this body in preparing, and the seed transmitted through 
 many generations, whence it was at length to arise; into 
 which, as its last preparation, the Deity descended ; and 
 that it might be a suflicientlj^ costly sacrifice, filled it with 
 the divine fulness ; for in him dwelt all the fulness of the 
 Godhead bodily. Col. ii. 9. When we read Abel's sacri- 
 fice to have been more excellent than Cain's (Heb. xi. 4.) 
 the Greek word is, it was fnlli;r. How full a one was this ! 
 That was filled by faith with a derivative fulness; this, 
 immediately by God himself, with his own self-fulness, 
 which filleth all in all, and whence all must receive. 
 
 Being so filled, it was a temple, and must now further 
 be a sacrifice. Both are signified in that one short passage, 
 which himself let fall, (John ii. 19.) " Destroy this tem- 
 ple :" i. e. that he M^as a Temple, and was to be destroyed ; 
 which is carried m the notion of a sacrifice. This he said 
 of his body, v. 21. Strange mystery ! The very temple 
 itself a consuming oblation, self-devoted even to destruc- 
 tion, and out of that again self-raised! The Divine justice 
 could not hereby but be well satisfied, and say. It was 
 enough, when the whole temple became all propitiatory, 
 and the profanation of the former temple was expiated by 
 the immolation of the new : so that, in point of honour 
 and justice, no exception could now lie against the re- 
 turn of the Divine presence to its wasted and forsaken 
 temple. 
 
 V. Only his return could not, as yet, be presently to 
 dwell there, (for it was most unfit,) but to refit and prepare 
 it for his future dwelling. It had been long desolate, and 
 hereby was become decayed and ruinous, full of noisome 
 impurities ; yea, the habitation of dragons, and devils of 
 Ziim, and Jiim, and Ochim. Many an abominable idol 
 was set up here, that filled up the room of the one God 
 that had forsaken and left it. It was wholly in the pos- 
 session of false gods, for whose use it was the more fit, by 
 how much it wa.s the less fit for his ; for amidst darkness, 
 confusion, and filthiness, was the chosen seat of the prin- 
 cipalities and powers that now did dwell and rule here. 
 Here was the throne of the prince of darkness, the resort 
 of his associates, the altars of as many lusts as the heart 
 of man, now wholly given up to all manner of wicked- 
 ness, could multiply unto itself; by whose consent and 
 choice, this horrid alienation had been made and con- 
 tinued. Upon such terms the "strong man armed kept 
 the house." 
 
 The blessed God might now return, but he must build 
 before he dwell, and conquer ere he build. He might 
 return, but not upon other terms than the expiatory value, 
 
 and actual or ascertained oblation of that above-mentioned 
 sacrifice : for when he forsook this his temple, he left it 
 with just resentment, and his most righteous curse upon 
 it — a curse that was of this import, " Never anything holy 
 or pure any more come here, or any thing good and plea- 
 sant. The light of the sun never shine any more at all on 
 thee : the voice of joy and gladness never be heard any 
 more at all in thee." The powerful horror of this curse 
 held it doomed to all the desolation and misery that were 
 upon it ; confirmed it in the power of him that ruled here, 
 at his will. Hence, had the magic and charms of the evil 
 one, their permitted, unresisted efficacy, rendered it an 
 enchanted place; related and adjoined it to the nether 
 world, the infernal region ; made it the next neighbour- 
 hood, even of the very suburbs of hell ; barred out all 
 divine light and grace, all heavenly beams and influences 
 from it. So that, had it not been for this Sacrifice, this 
 temple had been and remained, even in the same kind, an 
 accursed place, as hell itself: the Spirit of God should 
 have had no more to do here, than there; for so the sen- 
 tence and curse of his violated law had determined : 
 " Thou shalt die the death," did say no less. 
 
 VI. But now, (Gal. iii.) Christ hath redeemed us from 
 the curse of the law, being made a curse for us : for it is 
 written, Cursed is every one that hangeth on a tree : that 
 the blessing of Abraham might come on the Gentiles ; that 
 we might receive the promise of the Spirit through faith. 
 He was made a curse for us ; not the same in kind which 
 we had incurred, (which it were horrid to think,) but such 
 as his slate could admit, and ours could lequire. For that 
 a person so immutably pure and holy should become an 
 impure thing, was what his state could not admit ; and 
 that one of so high dignity should willingly suffer to that 
 degree which he did for us, was a thing of so great merit 
 and value, as to answer the uttermost of our ill-deservings ; 
 than which the exigency of our case could not, in that 
 respect, call for more. And the end or design of his be- 
 coming to that degree a curse for us, being expressly said 
 to be this, that we might receive the promise of the Spirit, 
 (or the promised Spirit,) implies that the curse upon us 
 had intercepted and cut off from us all influence of that 
 holy blessed Spirit; for the fresh emission whereof, in 
 God's own stated method, he had now again opened the 
 way. That this blessing is hereby said to become the por- 
 tion of the Gentiles, was enough to the apostle's present 
 purpose, writing to the Galatians ; the Jews having, upon 
 the same terms, had the same privilege formerly from age 
 to age : " Thou gavest thy good Spirit to instruct them ;" 
 (Neh. ix. 20.) which also is implied in their being charged 
 with vexing and rejecting this blessed Spirit, one genera- 
 tion after another, Isa. Ixiii. 10. Acts vii. 51. And they 
 had now the same gospel, and are here also included, in 
 that it is said to be the blessing of Abraham ; into the 
 communion whereof the Gentiles are now declared to have 
 been admitted, about which so great a doubt had been in 
 those days. That therefore the Spirit might be given for 
 the mentioned purpose, on the account of the Son of God's 
 oblation of himself, is out of question. The necessity that 
 he should be only given on these terms, will be seen here- 
 after, in its proper place, in ch. ix. 
 
 But whereas it hath been designed in all this discourse 
 to represent the constitution of Immanuel (being first made 
 a personal Temple, then a Sacrifice) as an apt and fit 
 means to multiply this one temple into many, and bring it 
 about, that upon just and honourable terms God might 
 again return to inhabit the souls of men : it may perhaps 
 be alleged, by some, — That it seems an unrighteous thing 
 God should appoint his own innocent Son to be punished 
 for the sins of offending creatures, and let them escape. 
 And then how could an unjust act make for the honour of 
 his justice, or that which was in itself unfit, be a fit means 
 to any good end 1 — The loud clamours wherewith some 
 later contenders have filled the Christian world upon this 
 subject, make it fit to say somewhat of it; and the thing 
 itself needs not that we say much. We do know that the 
 innocent Son of God was crucified ; we know it was by 
 God's determinate counsel ; we know it was for the sins 
 of men ; (which the adversaries, in a laxer and less signifi- 
 cant sense, deny not, though it must by no means be 
 understood, say they, as a punishment of those sins;) we
 
 Chap. V. 
 
 THE LIVING TEMPLE. 
 
 T9 
 
 know many of those sinners do finally escape deserved 
 punishment.. The truth of these things, in fact, is disputed 
 on neither side : all these then are acknowledged recon- 
 cilable and consistent with the justice of God. What 
 then is to be inferred^ Not that these things are not so, 
 ; for that they are, is acknowledged on all hands. What 
 then ? That God is unjust 1 Will their zeal for the repu- 
 tation of God's justice admit of this 1 No ; but it is only 
 unjust to count this suftering of his Son a punishment : 
 that is, 'tis unjust he should sutler for a valuable and 
 necessary purpose ; not that he should sufier needlessly, 
 or for no purpose that might not have been served without 
 it! But why may not the sufferings of Christ be looked 
 on as a punishment! Because they will have it be essen- 
 tial to pimishment, that it be inflicted on the person that 
 offended ; and then inconsistent with its notion and essence, 
 that it be inflicted on an innocent person. But if so, the 
 
 Eretence for the cry of injustice vanishes, vmless they will 
 e so absurd as to say. It is very just to afflict an inno- 
 cent person, but not to punish him; when the punishment 
 hath no more in it of real evil to him that suffers it, than 
 the admitted affliction. And when they say, The very no- 
 tion of punishment carries in it an essential respect to that 
 personal guilt of him that bears it, it implies that in the 
 present case punishment hath no place, not because it is 
 unjust, but because it is impossible. In the meantime, 
 how vain and ludicrous is that pretence, that all the real 
 evil which God determined should befall his Son he .should 
 let come upon him with ackuQwledged justice, but that 
 the injustice must lie only in a notion ; i. e. if he look 
 upon it as a pimishment. Yet also the pimishing of one 
 for another's offence is forbidden to men, as themselves 
 allege from Deut. xxiv. 16. (as it is not strange God should 
 disallow men that dominion over one another, which he 
 mny claim to himself, and which he is in no such possibi- 
 lity to abuse as they,) which therefore shows their notion 
 of punishment is false, by which they would make it im- 
 possible for one man to be puni-shed for another's faults, 
 (as the ''learned Grotius acutely argues,) inasmuch as it 
 were absurd to forbid a thing that is impossible. And 
 that God himself doth often pimish the sins of some upon 
 others is evident enough from many places of holy Scrip- 
 ture ; particularly the second commandment, (Exod. xx. 
 5.) " I the Lord thy God am a jealous God, vi.siting the 
 sins of the fathers upon the children," &c. 2 Sara. xxiv. 
 15, &c. 1 Kings xiv. Lam. v. 7. Whereas therefore they 
 are wont, on the contrary, to allege that of Ezek. xviii. 
 " Ye shall no more use this proverb, The fathers have 
 eaten the sour grapes, and the children's teeth are set on 
 edge," V. 2, 3. and 19, 20, &c. It is plain, in that it is 
 said. Ye shall no more, &c. that the blessed God speaks 
 here of what, in merciful indulgence, he for the future 
 would not do, not of what in strict justice he might not ; 
 for can it be supposed he owns himself to have dealt un- 
 justly with them before. 
 
 It is evidently therefore neither impossible nor unjust to 
 punish one for another's offence ; and the matter only 
 .seems harsh, to such as have misshapen to themselves the 
 notion of punishment, and make it only correspond to the 
 appetite of private revenge : whereas it only answers to a 
 just will of vindicating the rights and honour of govern- 
 ment ; which may most fitly be done, upon another than 
 the offender, not at random, or in an undistinguishing pro- 
 miscuous hurry, but upon the two suppositions mentioned 
 by the above-recited author. 1. If there be a near con- 
 junction between the person punished, and the person 
 offending. 2. If there be a consent and voluntary sus- 
 ception of the former on behalf of the other. And we add, 
 a.s a 3. Especially if there be thereupon a legal substitu- 
 tion, the supreme ruler upon that consent also agreeing, 
 providing, by a special law made in the case, for such 
 transferring of the guilt and punishment. All which have 
 so eminently concurred in the present case, that it can 
 proceed from nothing but a disposition to cavil, further to 
 msist and contend about it. And we know that such 
 translations have among men not only been esteemed just, 
 but laudable ; as in the known story of Zaleucus, who 
 having ordained that adultery among" his Locricas should 
 
 a De Satisfact, 
 
 be punished with the loss of lx)th eyes, and his own son 
 afterwards being found guilty of that crime, was content to 
 lose one of his own eyes, that justice might be done to the 
 public constitution, and mercy be .shown to his son in 
 saving one of his : and that of the Pythagoreans, Damon 
 and Pythias, the one of whom pawned his own life to the 
 tyrant, to procure time for ?he other (condemned to die) 
 wherein to settle some affairs abroad before his death; 
 who returning within the limited time to .save his faith 
 and his friend's life, by surrendering his own, so moved 
 tlie tyrant that he spared both. The common case of man, 
 forsaken of the divine presence, and not to be restored 
 without recompense, was the most deplorable and the most 
 important that could be tliought. And it may now be 
 compassionately cared for; this having been obtained by 
 this great sacrifice, that the divine justice is so well satis- 
 fied, and his majesty and honour .so fully asserted and vin- 
 dicated, as that he now mav, without wrong to himself, 
 (his justice and the dignity of his goveinment not reclaim- 
 ing against it,) cast a compassionate and favourable eye 
 upon the desolations of his temple; take up kind thoughts 
 towards it ; send forth his mightier Spirit to di.spossess 
 the " strong man armed," to vanquish the combined ene- 
 my-powers, to build and cleanse and beautify the habita- 
 tion of his holiness, and then inhabit and dwell in it: 
 upon which account it is now called, the temple of the 
 Holy Ghost ; the Spirit which the Father .sends, in the 
 name of the Son, upon this errand; he having obtained 
 that it should be sent. By which Spirit also ihe Emma- 
 nuel was .sufficientlj' enabled to gain our consent unto all 
 this ; for his dying on the cro.ss was not that he mijfht 
 have the Spirit in himself, but that he might have the 
 power of communicating it: and so (as was before inti- 
 mated) might the foundation he laid fen- what i; to be done 
 on our part, by the offering of this sacrifice : of which we 
 are next further to treat. 
 
 VII. Wherefore, '2(Ui/, That which was to be done on <«ir 
 part, in order to the restoring of God's temple in us, was, 
 that we be made vUUng of his return, and that there be 
 wrought in us whatsoever might tend to make us fitly ca- 
 pable of so great a presence. More needs not to be said 
 (but much more easily might) to show thnt we were most 
 unwilling. And that our becoming willing was requisite, 
 is sufficiently evident. For what sort of a temple are we 
 to be? Not of wood and stone; but a.s our worship must 
 be all reasonable service, of the same constitution mu.st 
 the temple be whence it is to proceed. We are to be tem- 
 ples, by self-dedication, separating ourselves unto that 
 purpose; and are to be the voluutar}' under-labourers in 
 the work that is to be done for the preparing of this temple 
 for its proper use: and the use which is to be made of it, 
 that there the blessed God and we might amicably and 
 with delight converse together, supposes our continual 
 willingness, which therefore must be once obtained. Now 
 unto this purpose also, the constitution of Emmanuel was 
 most .suitable; or the setting up of this one eminent tem- 
 ple first, God ill Christ. This was a leading case, and 
 had a further design : it was never meant that the Divine 
 presence should be confined to that one single Person, or 
 only that God should have a temple on earth as long as 
 the Man Christ should reside there ; but he was to be the 
 priviary original Tempk ; and his being so, did contribute 
 to the making us willing to become his temples al.-^o. 
 
 iKl. As here was the fulness of that Spirit, by whose 
 power and influence that, and all the subsequent work, 
 was to be wrought in us: which fulness is bv that blessed 
 name EMMANUEL, signified to be in him on purpose 
 to be communicated, or as what must be some way com- 
 mon unto God with us. Our aversion was not easily 
 vincible: the people, it was said, (speaking of the reisrnof 
 Emmanuel,) should be willing in the day of his power; 
 (Ps. ex. 3.) and as it follows, in the beauties of holiness, 
 1 Chr. xvi. 29. This was a known name of God's tem- 
 ple, for the building whereof David wa-s now preparing, 
 and whereto the passages agree, Ps. xxvii. 4. Ps. xc\n. 8, 9. 
 And that spiritual one whereof we speak must be here 
 chiefly meant, whereof the Christian world, in its exterior 
 frame, is but the outer court ; or is subordinate to the interior
 
 80 
 
 THE LIVING TEMPLE. 
 
 Part II. 
 
 frame, and to the work thereof, hut as scafTolds to the build- 
 ing which they enclose. The people shall be loilling, but 
 not otherwise than being made so by his 'power ; and that 
 not always put forth, but in the day of his power; on a 
 noted memorable day; a day intended for the demonstra- 
 tion and magnifying of his power ; i. e. the season when 
 Emmanuel (the Lord, to whom the speech was addressed) 
 would apply and set himself, even with his might, to the 
 great work of restoring and raising up the temple of God : 
 a work not to be done by might and power, (according to 
 the common, vulgar notion thereof, by which nothing is 
 reckoned might and power but a visible arm of flesh, hosts 
 and armies, horses and chariots,) but by my Spirit, saith 
 the Lord of hosts, Zech. iv. Then, though the spirits of 
 men swell as mountains, in proud enmity and opposition, 
 (which must be levelled where this building is designed,) 
 those mountains shall appear bubbles : what are they be- 
 fore this great undertaker 1 They shall become a plain, 
 when the Head-stone is brought forth with shoutings, 
 unto which the cry shall be, Grace, grace. tThis is the 
 Stone laid in Zion for a foundation, sure and tried, elect 
 and <= precious; disallowed by men, but chosen of God; 
 the d chief Stone of the corner ; a living, spirituous Stone, 
 from which is a mighty effluence of life and spirit, all to 
 attract and animate other stones, and draw them into union 
 with itself, so as to compact and raise up this admirable 
 fabric, a spiritual house for " spiritual sacriiice, acceptable 
 to God by Jesus Christ:" a Stone that shall spread life 
 through the whole frame ; called therefore a ^Branch, as 
 well as a Stone, whereto is attributed the work and the 
 glory of building God's temple. " Behold the Man whose 
 name is the Branch ; and he shall grow up out of his 
 place, and he shall build the temple of the Lord ; even 
 he shall build the temple of the Lord ; and he shall bear 
 the glory," &c. chap. vi. A plain indication, that the 
 prophecies of that book did not ultimately terminate in 
 the restoration of the temple at Jerusalem; but, more 
 mystically, intended (he great comprehensive temple of 
 the living God, which the Messiah should extend and 
 ditfuse, by a mighty communication of his Spirit, through 
 the world ; when (as is afterwards said, v. 15.) " they that 
 are afar off shall come and build in the temple of the 
 Lord ; " and the inhabitants of one city shall go to an- 
 other, saying, Let us go speedily to pray before the Lord, 
 and to seek the Lord of hosts ; I will go also. Many 
 people and strong nations," &c. chap. viii. 20, 21, 22. 
 Ten men out of all languages to one Jew, that shall say, 
 We will go with you, for we have heard that God is with 
 you. Mic. iv. 2. This, 'tis said, shall be at Jerusalem, 
 but it must be principally meant of the New Jerusalem, 
 that Cometh down from heaven, that is from above, that is 
 iree with her children, and is the mother of us all. And 
 how plentiful an effusion of Spirit ! how mighty and gene- 
 ral an attraction, by it, is signified in all this, by which so 
 deeply rooted an aversion to God and serious living re- 
 ligion, as is known to be common to men, is overcome, and 
 turned into willingness and inclination towards him ! And 
 whereby that great primary temple, CHRIST, replenished 
 with the divine fulness, multiplies itself into so many, or 
 enlarges itself into that one, his church ; called also his 
 body, (as both his very body and that church are called his 
 temple,) the fulness of him that filleth all in all. Nor 
 needs it scruple us, or give us any trouble, that we find 
 this name of a temple placed upon a good man singly and 
 alone, sometimes upon the whole community of such 
 together. Each one bears a double habitude — direct 
 towards God, by which he is capable of being his private 
 mansion ; collateral towards our fellow Christians, where- 
 by he is a part of his more enlarged dwelling. Whensoever 
 then any accession is made to this spiritual temple, begun 
 in Christ himself, it is done by a further diffusion of that 
 Spirit, whereof that original Temple is the first receptacle. 
 VIII. But moreover, because it was a rational subject 
 that was to be wrought upon, it is also to be expected 
 that the work itself be done in a rational way. These 
 that must be made living, and that were before intelligent 
 stones, were not to be hewed, squared, polished, and moved 
 to and fro by a violent hand; but being to be rendered 
 
 b Isa. xxviii. cPsuMii cxvfu. dl Peter ii. 
 
 willing, must be dealt with in a way suitable to the effect 
 to be wrought. They are themselves to conie as lively 
 stones, to the living Corner-stone, by a vital act of their 
 own will; which, we know, is not to be moved by force, 
 but rational allurement. Wherefore this being the thing 
 to be brought about, it is not enough to inquire or under- 
 stand by what power, but one would also covet to know 
 by what motive or inducement, is this willingness and vital 
 co-operation brought to pass ; and we shall find this origi- 
 nal Temple, the Emmanuel, had not only in it a spring of 
 sufficient power, but also, 
 
 2dly, Carried with it enough of argument and rational 
 inducement, whereby to persuade and overcome our wills 
 into a cheerful compliance and consent. And that, 
 
 IX. 1. As it was itself the most significant demon- 
 stration of divine love, ih?ir\. which nothing is more apt to 
 move and work upon the spirit of man. The bonds of 
 love are the cords of a man, (Hos. xi. 4.) of an attractive 
 power, most peculiarly suitable to human nature: We 
 love him, because he first loved us, 1 John iv. This is 
 rational magnetism. When in the whole sphere of beings 
 we have so numerous instances of things that propagate 
 themselves, and beget their like, can we suppose the divine 
 love to be only barren and destitute of this power"? And 
 we find, among those that ^re born of God, there is no- 
 thing more eminently conspicuous, in this production, than 
 love. This new creature were otherwise a dead creature. 
 This is its very heart, life, and soul ; that which acts and 
 moves it towards God, and is the spring of all holy ope- 
 rations. Since then love is found in it, and is so eminent 
 a part of its composition, what should be the parent of 
 this love, but lovel Nor is this a blind or unintelligent 
 production, in respect of the manner of it, either on the 
 part of that which begets, or of that which is begotten : 
 not only he who is propagating his own love, designs it, 
 and knows what he is about, but he that is hereby made 
 to love, knows whereto he is to be formed, and receives, 
 through an enlightened mind, the very principle, power, 
 and spirit of love. Is his love the cause of ours ; or do 
 we love him, because he loved us first 1 And what sort of 
 cause is it 1 or how doth it work its effect, otherwise than 
 as his love, testified and expressing itself, lets us see how 
 reasonable and congruous it is," that we should love back 
 again 1 As is more than intimated, by the same sacred 
 writer, in that epistle : " Hereby perceive we the love of 
 God," &c. chap. iii. 16. Somewhat or other must first 
 render his love perceivable to us, that thereby we may be 
 induced to love him for his own, and our brother for his 
 sake. And again, " We have known and believed the 
 love that God hath to us. God is love," &c. After which 
 it shortly follows, " We love him, because he first loved 
 us;" q. d,. The way of God's bringing us to that love- 
 union with himself, that we by love dwell in him, and he 
 in us, is, by his representing himself a Being of love. 
 Till he beget in us that apprehension of himself, and we 
 be brought to know and believe the love that he hath to- 
 wards us, this is not done. But where have we that 
 representation of God's love toward us, save in Emmanuel 1 
 This is the sum of the ministry of reconciliation, or which 
 is all one, of making men love God, to wit, that God was 
 in Christ reconciling the world to himself, &c. 2 Cor. v. 
 18, 19. This was the very make and frame, the consti- 
 tution and design, of the original Temple, to be the " Ta- 
 bernacle of witness ;" a visible testimony of the love of 
 God, and of his kind and gracious propensions towards 
 the race of men, however they were become an apostate 
 and degenerous race; to let them see how inclined and 
 willing he was to become acquainted again with them, and 
 that the old intimacy and friendship, long since out-worn, 
 might be renewed. And this gracious inclination was 
 testified, parity by Christ's taking up his abode on earth ; 
 or by the erecting of this original Temple, by the Word's 
 being made flesh, (John iv.) wherein (as the Greek ex- 
 presses it f ) he did tabernacle among us. That whereas we 
 did dwell here in earthly tabernacles, (only now destitute 
 and devoid of the divine presence,) he most kindly comes 
 and pitches his tent amongst our tents ; sets up his taberna- 
 cle by ours, replenished and full of God ; so that here the 
 
 e Zecli. ill. 8, 9. 
 
 f MKr)V(jiOev.
 
 Chap. V. 
 
 THE LIVING TEMPLE. 
 
 81 
 
 divine glory was familiarly visible, the glory of the only 
 begotten Son of the Father, shining with mild and gentle 
 rays, such as should allure, not affright us, npr their terror 
 make us afraid. A vail is most condescendingly put on, 
 lest majesty should too potently strike disaccustomed and 
 misgiving minds ; and what is more terrible of this glory, 
 is allayed by being interwoven with " grace and truth." 
 Upon this account might it now truly be proclaimed, 
 " Behold, the tabernacle of God is with men !" That is 
 performed which once seemed hardly credible, and (when 
 that temple was raised that was intended but for a type 
 and shadow of this) was spoken of with wondering expos- 
 tulation : " In very deed will God dwell with men on 
 earth !" "Whereas it might have been reasonably thought 
 this world should have been for ever forsaken of God, and 
 no appearance of him ever have been seen here, unless 
 with a design of taking vengeance ; how unexpected and 
 surprising a thing was this, that in a state of so comfortless 
 darlcness and desolation, the " day-spring from on high 
 should visit it," and that God should come down and 
 settle himself in so mean a dwelling, on purpose to seek 
 the acquaintance of his offending, disaffected creature ! 
 But chiefly and more eminently this his gracious inclina- 
 tion was testified, — 
 
 By the manner and design of his leaving this his earthly 
 abode, and yielding that his temple to destruction : " De- 
 stroy this temple, and I will raise it up." This being an 
 animated living temple, could not be destroyed without 
 sense of pain, unto which it could not willingly become 
 subject, but upon design ; and that could be no other than 
 a design of love. When he could have commanded twelve 
 legions of angels to have been the guardians of this temple, 
 to expose it to the violence of profane and barbarous 
 hands ! this could proceed from nothing but love ; and 
 greater love could none show, especially if we consider 
 what was the designed event. This temple was to fall but 
 single, that it might be raised manifold : it was intended 
 (as it came to pass) to be multiplied by being destroyed ; 
 as himself elegantly illustrates the matter : " Verily, verily, 
 I say imto you. Except a corn of wheat fall into the ground 
 and die, it abideth alone; but if it die, it bringeth forth 
 much fruit ;" (John xii.) which he afterwards expresses 
 without a metaphor. " And I, if I be lifted up from the 
 earth," signifying, as it follows, the death he should die, 
 " will draw all men unto me." 
 
 We will not here insist on what was said before, that 
 hereby the way was opened for the emission of the Spirit, 
 which, when it came forth, performed such wonders in this 
 kind, creating and forming into temples many a disaffected 
 unwilling heart. Whence it may be seen, that he forsook 
 that his present dwelling ; not that he might dwell here 
 no longer, but only to change the manner of his dwelling, 
 and that he might dwell here more to common advantage: 
 the thing he intended, when he came down. He came 
 down, that b}^ dying, and descending low into the lower 
 parts of the earth, he might make way for a glorious ascent; 
 and ascended, that he might fill all things; (Eph. iv.) that 
 he might give gifts to men, even the rebellious also, that 
 he might dwell among them, Ps. Ixviii. Not, I say, to 
 insist on this, which shows the power by which those great 
 effects were wrought, we may also here consider the way 
 wherein they were wrought ; ?'. e. by way of representalion 
 and demonstration of the divine love to men. How 
 brightly did this shine, in the glorious ruin and fall of this 
 temple ! Herein, how did redeeming love triumph ! how 
 mightily did it conquer, and slay the enmity that wrought 
 in the minds of men before ! Here he overcame by dying, 
 and slew by being slain. Now were his arrows sharp in 
 the hearts of enemies, by which they became subject, Ps. 
 xlv. What wounded him, did, by a strong reverberation, 
 wound them back again. How inwardly were thousands 
 of them pierced by the sight of him whom thev had 
 pierced ! How sharp a sting" was in those words, " There- 
 fore let all the house of Israel know assuredly, that God 
 hath made that same Jesus, whom ye crucified, both Lord 
 and Christ !" Acts ii. For it immediately follows, " When 
 they heard this, they were pricked to the heart." They 
 that crucified him, are crucified with him; are now in 
 agonies, and willing to vield to any thingthev are required: 
 " Men and brethren, what shall we do "!" He mav have 
 
 temples now, for taking tnem ; the mo.st obdurate hearts 
 are overcome : and what could be so potent an argument 1 
 what so accommodate to the nature of man ; so irresistible 
 byiti To behold this live-temple of the living God, the 
 sacred habitation of a Deity, full of pure and holy life and 
 vigour, by vital union with the eternal Godhead, volunta- 
 rily devoted and made subject to the most painful and 
 ignominious suffering, purposely to make atonement for 
 the offence done by revolted creatures against their rightful 
 Lord ! What rocks would not rent at this spectacle 1 
 Enough to put the creation (as it did) into a paroxysm, 
 and bring upon it travailing pangs ! And how strange if 
 the hearts of men, only next and most closely concerned, 
 should alone be unmoved, and wit! out the sense of such 
 pangs! Well might it be said, " I, if I be lift up, will 
 draw all men," without any such diminishing sense as to 
 mean by that all a very few only ; not intending so much 
 by it the effect wrought, (though that also be not incon- 
 siderable,) as the power, or natural aptitude of the cause, 
 q. d. This were enough to vanquish and subdue the world, 
 to mollify every heart of man ; and to leave the character 
 upon them of most inhuman creatures, and imworthy to 
 be called men, that shall not be dra-^Ti. It might be 'ex- 
 pected, that every one that hath not abandoned humanitj', 
 or hath the spirit of a man in him, should be wrought 
 upon by this means : and they cannot but incur most fear- 
 ful guilt, even all men, who once having notice of this 
 matter, are not effectually wrought upon by it. 
 
 Upon which account, the apostle asks the Galatians, 
 (who had not otherwise seen this sight than as the gospel- 
 narrative had represented it to them,) who had bewitched 
 them that they should not obey, before whose eyes Christ 
 had been set forth crucified among them ; intimating, that 
 he could not account them less than bewitched, whom the 
 representation of Christ crucified did not captivate into his 
 obedience. And since, in his crucifixion, he was a sacri- 
 fice, i. e. placatory and reconciling, and that reconciliations 
 are always mutual, of both the conlending parties to one 
 another, it must have the proper influence of a sacrifice 
 immediately upon both, and as well mollify men's hearts 
 towards God, as procure that he should express favourable 
 inclinations towards them. That is, that all enmity should 
 cease, and be abolished for ever ; that wrongs be forgotten, 
 rights restored, and entire friendship, amity, emd free con- 
 verse, be renewed, and be made perpetual. All which 
 signifies, that by this means the spirits of men be so 
 wrought upon that they render back to God his own tem- 
 ple, most willingly, not merely from an apprehension of 
 his right, but as overcome by "his love; and valuing his 
 presence more than their own life. Guilt is very apt lo be 
 always jealous. No wonder if the spirits of men, conscious 
 of so great wrong done to God, (and a secret consciousness 
 there may be even where there are not very distinct and 
 explicit reflections upon the case,) be not very easily in- 
 duced to think God reconcilable. And while he is" not 
 thought so, what can be expected but obstinate aversion 
 on their part 1 For what so hardens as despair 1 Much 
 indeed might be collected, by deeply-considering minds, 
 of a propension, on God's part, to peace and friendship, 
 from the course of his providence, and present dispensation 
 towards the world ; his clemenc}-, long-suffering, and most 
 of all his bounty, towards them. These lead to repent- 
 ance in their own natural tendency : yet are thev but dull 
 insipid gospel in themselves, to men drowned in sensualitv, 
 buried in earthliness, in whom the Divine Spirit breathes 
 not, and who have provoked the B. Spirit to keep at a 
 distance, by having stupified and laid asleep the consider- 
 ing power of their own spirit. Nor are these the usual 
 means, apart and by themselves, which the Spirit of Gxxl 
 is wont to work by upon the hearts of men. as experience 
 and observation of the common stale of the pagan world 
 doth sadly testify, and without the concurrence of that 
 blessed Spirit, even the most apt and suitable means avail 
 nothing. 
 
 But now where this is so express a testification, as we 
 find in the gospel of Christ, of Grod's willingness to be 
 reconciled ; a proclamation distinctlv made, that imports 
 no other thing but srlory to God in the highest, peace on 
 earth, and good-will towards men ; (for confirmation 
 whereof, the Son of God incarnate is represented slain.
 
 THE LIVING TEMPLE. 
 
 Part II. 
 
 and offered up a bloody sacrifice ; and that we might see 
 at once both that God is reconcilable, by the highest de- 
 monstration imaginable, and how or upon what terms he 
 comes to be so;) no place for reasonable doubt any longer 
 remains. We have before our eyes what, by the wonder- 
 ful strangeness of it, should engage the most stupid minds 
 to consider the matter; what ought to assure the most 
 misgiving doubtful mind, that God is in good earnest, 
 and^intends no mockery or deceit in his offer of peace ; 
 and what ought to melt, mollify, and overcome the most 
 obdurate heart. Yea, not only what is in its own nature 
 most aj.t to work towards the producing these happy effects 
 is here to be foimd, but wherewith also the Spirit of grace 
 is ready to concur and co-work ; it being his pleasure, and 
 most lit and comely in itself, that he should choose to 
 unite and fall in with the aptest means, and apply him- 
 self to the spirits of men in a way most suitable to their 
 own natures, and most likely to take and prevail with 
 the-n: whereupon the Gospel is called the "ministration 
 of spirit and life, and the power of God to salvation." But 
 that this gospel, animated by that mighty and good Spirit, 
 hath not universally spread itself over all the world, only 
 its own resolved and resisting wickedness is the faulty 
 cause ; otherwise there had been gospel, and temples raised 
 by it, every where. 
 
 IX. 2. This original primary temple hath matter of 
 rational inducement'in it ; as it gives us a plain represent- 
 ation of divine holiness, brightly shining in human nature. 
 For here was to be seen a most pure, serene, dispassionate 
 mind, unpolluted by any earthly tincture, inhabiting an 
 earthly tabernacle, like our own. A mind adorned with 
 the most amiable, lovely virtues, faith, patience, temper- 
 ance, godliness ; full of all righteousness, goodness, meek- 
 ness, mercifulness, sincerity, humility ; most abstracted 
 from this world, unmoveably intent upon what had refer- 
 ence to a future stale of things, and the affairs of another 
 yountiy ; inflexible by the blandishments of sense ; not 
 «pt to judge by the sight of the eye, or be charmed by what 
 •were most grateful to a voluptuous ear ; full of pity towards 
 a wretched, sinful world, compassionate to its calamities, 
 unprovoked by its sharpest injuries ; bent upon doing the 
 greatest good, and prepared to the suffering of whatsoever 
 evil. Here was presented to common view a life transacted 
 agreeably to such a temper of mind ; of one invariable 
 tenor : equal, uniform, never unlike itself, or disagreeing 
 with the exactest or most strict rules. Men might see a 
 God was come down to dwell among them ; " The Bright- 
 ness of the Father's glory, and the express Image of his 
 person ;" a Deity inhabiting human flesh ; for such pur- 
 poses as he came for, could not be supposed to carry any 
 more becoming appearance than he did. Here was, there- 
 fore, an exemplary temple, the fair and lovely pattern of 
 what we were each of us to be composed and formed 
 unto : imitating us (for sweeter insinuation and allurement) 
 in what was merely natural, and inviting us to imitate 
 him in what was (in a communicable sort) supernatural 
 and divine. Every one knows how great is the power of 
 example, and may collect how apt a method this was to 
 move and draw the spirits of men. Had only precepts and 
 instructions been given men, how they were to prepare and 
 adorn in themselves a temple for the living God, it had, 
 indeed, been a great vouchsafement ; but how much had 
 it fallen short of what the present state of man did, in 
 point of means, need, and call for ! How great a defalca- 
 tion were it from the gospel, if we did want the history of 
 the life of Christ ! But not only to have been told of what 
 materials the temple of God must consist, but to have 
 seen them composed and put together ; to have opportu- 
 nity of viewing the beautiful frame in every part, and of 
 beholding the lovely, imitable glory of the whole, and 
 which we are to follow, though we cannot with equal steps; 
 how merciful condescension, and how great an advantage 
 is this unto us ! We have here a state of entire devoted- 
 nesR to God (the principal thing in the constitution of his 
 temple) exemplified before our eyes, together with what 
 was most suitable besides to such state. Do we not see 
 how, in a body of flesh, one may be subject to the will of 
 God ; to count the doing of it our meat and drink 1 When 
 it imposes any thing grievous to be suffered, to say, " Not 
 luy will, but thine be done"?" How in all things to seek 
 
 not our own glory, but his? and not to please ourselves, 
 but him "? How hereby to keep his blessed presence with 
 us, and live in his constant converse and fellowship, nevei 
 to be left alone ; but to have him ever with us, as alway.' 
 aiming to do the things that please him 1 Do we not know 
 how to be tempted, and abstain ; injured, and forgive ; 
 disobliged, and do good ; to live in a tumultuous world, 
 and be at peace within ; to dwell on earth, and have our 
 conversation in heaven 1 We see all this hath been done, 
 and much more than we can here mention : and by so 
 lively a representation of the brightest divine excellences, 
 beautifying this original exemplary temple, we have a two- 
 fold most considerable advantage towards our becoming 
 such ; viz. that hereby both the 'possibility and the loveliness 
 of a temple (the thing we are now ourselves to design) is 
 here represented to our view ; by the former whereof we 
 might be encouraged, by the latter allured, unto imitation ; 
 that working upon our hope, this upon our desire and love, 
 in order hereto. 
 
 1. The possibility. I mean it not in the strict sense only, 
 as sigfnifying no more than that the thing, simply consider- 
 ed, implies no repugnance in itself, nor is without the reach 
 of absolute omnipotence ; for as no one needs to be told 
 that such a thing is (in this sense) possible, so to be told 
 it, would sigTiify little to his encouragement. There are 
 many things in this sense not impossible, whereof no man 
 can, however, have the least rational hope ; as, that another 
 world may shortly be made ; that he may be a prince, or 
 a great man, therein ; with a thousand the like. But I 
 mean it of what is possible to divine power, {i. e. to the 
 grace and Spirit of God,) now ready to go forth in a way 
 and method of operation already stated and pitched upon 
 for such purposes. For having the representation before 
 our eyes of this original Temple, i. e. God inhabiting hu- 
 man flesh on earth, we are not merely to consider it as it 
 is in itself, and to look upon it as a strange thing, or as a 
 glorious spectacle, wherein we are no further concerned, 
 than only to look upon it, and take notice that there is or 
 hath been seen such a thing ; but we are to consider how 
 it came to pass, and with what design it was that such a 
 thing should be, and become obvious to our view. Why 
 have we such a sight offered us 1 or what imports it unto 
 us1 And when we have informed ourselves, by taking the 
 account the gospel gives us of this matter, and viewed the 
 inscription of that great name, Emmanuel, by wonderful 
 contrivance, inwrought into the very constitution of this 
 temple, we will then find this to be intended for a leading 
 case ; and that this temple was meant for a model and 
 platform of that which we ourselves are to become ; or, 
 after which the temple of God in us must be composed 
 and formed ; and so, that this matter is possible to an 
 ordinate, divine power, even to that mighty Spirit that 
 resides eminently in this temple, on purpose to be trans- 
 mitted thence to us, for the framing of us to the likeness of 
 it ; and so that the thing is not merely possible, but de- 
 signed also, viz. that as he was, so we might be in this 
 world : (1 John iv.) unto which is necessary our believing 
 intuition towards him, or a fiducial acknowledgment that 
 this Jesus is the Son of God, come down on purpose into 
 human flesh, to bring about a union between God and us 
 whereupon that union itself ensues : the matter is brought 
 about, we come to dwell in God, and he in us, v. 15. 
 And this wc collect and conclude from hence, that we find 
 the same Spirit working and breathing in us, which did in 
 him ; " Hereby know we that we dwell in him, and he in 
 us, because he hath given us of his Spirit," v. 13. And 
 though it was an unmeasured fulness of this Spirit which 
 dwelt in tins primary temple, yet we are taught and en- 
 couraged hence to expect that a sufficient and proportion- 
 able measure be imparted to us, that we may appear not 
 altogether unlike or unworthy of him ; that this temple 
 and ours are of the same make, and " both he that sancti- 
 fieth, and they that are sanctified, are all of one ;" that we 
 so far agree with our original, that he may not be ashamed 
 to call us brethren, Heb. ii. And how aptly doth this 
 tend to excite and raise our hope of some great thing to be 
 effected in this kind in us, when we have the matter thus 
 exemplified already before our eyes, and do behold the 
 exact and perfect model according whereto we ourselves 
 are to be framed. Nor doth that signify a little to the
 
 Jhap. V. 
 
 THE LIVING TEMPLE. 
 
 83 
 
 drawing of our wills, or the engaging us to a consent and 
 co-operation, as the under-bnilders, in the work of this 
 temple. A design that in itself appears advantageous, 
 needs no more to set it on foot, than that it be represented 
 hopeful. No one, that understands any thing of the nature 
 of man, is ignorant of the power of hope. This one engine 
 moves the world, and keeps all men busy. Every one 
 soon finds his present state not perfectly good, and hopes 
 some way to make it better ; otherwise, the world were a 
 dull scene. Endeavour would languish, or rather be none 
 at all : for there were no room left for design, or a rational 
 enterprising of any thing ; but a lazy unconcerned tnflmg, 
 without care which end goes forward, and with an utter 
 indiflerency whether to stir or sit still. Men are not, in 
 their other designs, without hope, but their hope is placed 
 upon things of no value ; and when they have gained the 
 next thing they hoped for and pursued, they are as far stiU 
 as they were from what they meant that for. They have 
 obtained their nearer end, but therein have mistook their 
 way; which they designed by it, to their further end. 
 When they have attained to be rich, yet they are not happy; 
 perhaps much further from it than before. When they 
 have preyed upon the pleasure they had in chase, they are 
 still imsatisfied ; it may be, guilty reflections turn it all to 
 gall and wormwood. Many such disappointments might 
 make them consider, at length, they have been out all this 
 while, and mistaken the whole nature and kind of the 
 good that must make them happy. They may come to 
 think with themselves, Somewhat is surely lacking, not 
 only to our present enjoyment, but to our very design ; 
 somewhat it must be without the compass of all our former 
 thoughts, wherein our satisfying good must lie. God may 
 come into their minds ; and they may cry out, Oh ! that 
 is it ; here it was I mistook, and had forgot myself. Man 
 once had a God ! and that God had his temple, wherein 
 he resided, and did converse with man : hither he must 
 be invited back. Yea, but his temple lies all in ruin, long 
 ago deserted and disused, forsaken upon provocation, and 
 with just resentment ; the ruin to be repaired by no mortal 
 hand ; the wrong done to be expatiated by no ordinary sa- 
 crifice. All this imports nothing but despair. But let 
 now the Emmanuel be brought in ; this origimal Temple 
 be offered to view, and the design and intent of it be un- 
 folded and laid open ; and what a spring of hope is here ! 
 Or what can now be wanting to persuade a wretched soul 
 of God's willingness to return 7 Or, being now sensible 
 of his misery by his absence, to make it willing of his re- 
 turn ; yea, and to contribute the utmost endeavour that 
 all things may be prepared and put into due order for his 
 reception 1 Or if any thing should be still wanting, it is 
 but Avhat may more work upon desire, as well a,s beget 
 hope : and to this purpose, a narrower view of this origi- 
 nal Temple also serves ; that is, it not only shows the pos- 
 sibility, but gives us opportunity to contemplate, 
 
 2. The loveliness too of such a temple. For here is the 
 fairest representation that ever this world had, or that 
 could be had, of this most delectable object. The Divine 
 holiness incarnate did never shine so bright. And we may 
 easily apprehend the great advantage of having so lively 
 and perfect a model set before us of what we are to design 
 and aim at. Rules and precepts could never have afibrd- 
 ed so full a description, or have furnished us with so per- 
 fect an idea. He that goes to build a house, must have 
 the project formed in his mind before ; and (as hath been 
 said) he is to make a material hou.se of an immaterial. So 
 here, we may say the real house is t-o be built out of the 
 mental or notional one. It is true indeed, when we have 
 got into our minds the true and full idea or model of this 
 temple, our greatest difficult)^ is not yet over: how happy 
 were it, if the rest of our work would as soon be done ! 
 And our hearts would presently obey our light. If they 
 were ductile, and easy to )aeld, and receive the stamp and 
 impression that would correspond to a well enlightened 
 mind ; if we could presently become conform and like to 
 the notions we have of what we should be : what excel- 
 lent creatures should we appear, if on the sudden our spi- 
 rits did admit the habitual, fixed frame of holiness, where- 
 of we sometimes have the idea framed in our minds! But 
 though to have that model truly formed in our under- 
 standings be not sufficient, it is however necessary: and 
 
 although our main work is not immediately done by it, it 
 can never be done without it. Truth is the means of ho- 
 liness : " Sanctify them through thy truth." John xvii. 17. 
 God hath chosen us to salvation, through sanctification of 
 the Spirit and beliefof the truth, 2Thess. ii. 3. Therefore 
 it is our great advantage to have the most entire and full 
 notion that may he, of that temper and frame of spirit we 
 should be of. When the charge was given Moses of com- 
 posing the tabernacle, (that moveable temple,) he had the 
 perfect pattern of it shown him in the mount. And to re- 
 ceive the very notion aright of this spiritual living tem- 
 ple, requires a some-way prepared mind, purged from vi- 
 cious prejudice and perverse thoughts, possessed with dis- 
 like of our former pollutions and deformities ; antecedent 
 whereto is a more general view of that frame whereimto 
 we are to be composed, and then a more distinct represen- 
 tation is consequent thereon. As we find the prophet is di- 
 rected first to show the people the house, that they might 
 be ashamed : whereupon it follows, if they be ashamed of 
 that they have done, then he must show them the form of 
 the house, and the fashion thereof, and the goings out 
 thereof, and the comings in thereof, and all the ordinances 
 thereof, Ezek. xliii. 10, 11. How much would it conduce 
 to the work and service of God's temple in us, if upon 
 our having had some general intimation of his gracious 
 propensions towards us, to repair our ruins, and restore 
 our forlorn, decayed state, we begin to lament after him, 
 and conceive inward resentments of the impurities and 
 desolations of our souk : and shall now have the distinct 
 representation set before our eyes, of that glorious work- 
 manship which he means to express in our renovation ! 
 How taking and transporting a sight will this be to a soul 
 that is become vile and loathsome in its own eyes, and 
 weary of being as without God in the world ! But now, 
 wherein shall he be understood to give us so exact an ac- 
 count of his merciful intendments and design in this mat- 
 ter, as b)' letting us see how his glory shone in his own 
 incarnate Son, his express Image ; and then signifying his 
 pleasure and purpose to have us conformed to the same 
 image. This is his most apt and efficacious method, when 
 he goes about to raise his new creation, and erect his inner 
 temple ; (as it was, in some respect, his way, when he 
 made his first great outer temple of the M'orld ;") "God, 
 that commanded light to shine out of darkness, haln shined 
 in our hearts, to give the light of the knowledge of the 
 glory of God in the face of Jesus Christ," 2 Cor. iv. That 
 glory shines with greatest advantage to our transforma- 
 tion, in the face or aspect of Emmanuel. When we set 
 our faces that way, and our eye meets his, we put ourselves 
 into a purposed posture of intuition, and do steadily look 
 to Jesus ; " when we, with open face, behold as in a glass 
 the glory of the Lord, we are changed from glory to glory, 
 as by the Spirit of the Lord," 2 Cor. iii. His very Spirit 
 enters with those vital beams; enters at our eye, and is 
 thence transfused through our whole soul. 
 
 The seed and generative principle of the new creature 
 is truth ; " Being born again, not of corruptible seed, but 
 incorruptible, the word of God," 1 Peter i. '23. We must 
 understand it of practical truth, or that which serves to 
 show what we are to be and do, (ck. ii. 1, "2, 3, 4.) in our 
 new and regenerate state. Hereby souls are begotten to 
 God, hereby they live and grow, hereby they come and 
 join as living stones to the living Corner-stone, in the com- 
 position of this spiritual house : as we see the series of 
 discourse runs in this context. Now we have this practical 
 truth, not only exhibited in aphorisms and maxims in the 
 word, but we have it exemplified in the life of Christ. And 
 when the great renovating work is to be done, the old man 
 to be put off, the new man to be put on, the spiric of our 
 mind to be renewed, our business is to learn Christ, and 
 the truth as it is in Jesus : (Eph. iv. 20, 21, 23, 24.) so is 
 accomplished the formation of that new man that is after 
 God. And when we become his (second) M-orkmauship, 
 we are created in Christ Jesus imto good works ; caught 
 into union with that Spirit which showed itself in the 
 whole course of his conversation on earth, and is gradually 
 to work and form us to an imitation of him. Whereunto 
 we are not formed by mere looking on, or by our own con- 
 templation only of his lite and actions, on the one hand: 
 (our rigid hardness and ilitf aversion to such a temper and
 
 84 
 
 THE LIVING TEMPLE. 
 
 Part n. 
 
 course a^ his was, is not so easily altered and overcome :) 
 nor, on the other hand, is our looking on useless and in 
 vain, as if we were to be formed, like mere stones, into 
 dead unmoving statues, rather than living temples ; or as 
 if his Spirit were to do that work upon us, by a violent 
 hand, while we know nothing of the matter, nor any way 
 comply to the design. But the work must be done by the 
 holding up the representation of this primary temple before 
 our eyes, animated and replenished with divine life and 
 glory, as our pattern, and the type by which we are to be 
 formed, till our hearts be captivated and won to the love 
 and liking of snch a state ; i. e. to be so united with God, 
 so devoted to him, so stamped and impressed with all imi- 
 table Godlike excellences, as he was : we are to be so ena- 
 moured herewith, as to be impatient of remaining what 
 we were before. And such a view contributed directly 
 hereto, and in a way suitable to our natures. Mere tran- 
 sient discourses of virtue and goodness, seem cold and un- 
 savoury things to a soul drenched in sensuality, sunk into 
 deep forgetfulness of God, and filled with aversion to ho- 
 liness ; but the tract and course of a life evenly transacted, 
 in the power of the Holy Ghost, and that is throughout 
 uniform, and constantly agreeablelo itself, is apt, by often 
 repeated insinuations, (as drops wear stones,) insensibly to 
 recommend itself as amiable, and gain a liking even with 
 them that were most opposite and disaffected. For the 
 nature of man, in its most degenerate state, is not wholly 
 destitute of the notions of virtue and goodness, nor of some 
 faint approbation of them. The names of sincerity, hu- 
 mility, sobriety, meekness, are of better sound and import, 
 even with the worst of men, than of deceit, pride, riot, and 
 wrathfulness : nor are they wont to accuse any for those 
 former things, under their own names. Only when they 
 •see the broken and more imperfect appearances of theni, 
 and that they are rather otTered at than truly and con- 
 stantly represented in practice ; this begets a prejudice, 
 and the pretenders to thein become suspected of hypocrisy, 
 or a conceited singularity, and are not censured as not 
 being grossly evil, but rather that they are not thoroughly 
 good. But when so unexceptionable a course is in con- 
 stant view as our Saviour's was, this procures, even from 
 the ruder vulgar, an acknowledgment he doth all things 
 well, and carries that lustre and awful majesty, as to com- 
 mand a veneration and respect; yea, is apt to allure those 
 that more narrowly observe into a real love both of him 
 and his way ; especially when it hath such a close and is- 
 sue, as appears no way imworthy of himself, or his former 
 pretensions. But all being taken together, resolves into 
 the plainest demonstration of most sincere devotedness to 
 God, and good-will to men ; upon which the great stress is 
 laid : " And I, if I be lift up, will draw all men unto me." 
 And how great a thing is done towards our entire com- 
 pliance with the Redeemer's design of making us tem- 
 ples to the living God, as he himself was, Avhen he, under 
 that very notion, appears amiable in onr eyes ! How na- 
 tural and easy is imitation unto love ! All the powers of 
 the soul are now, in the most natural way, excited and set 
 on work ; and we shall not easily be induced to satisfy 
 ourselves, or admit of being at rest, till we attain a state, 
 ■with the loveliness whereof our hearts are once taken 
 and possessed beforehand. But nothing of all this is said 
 with design, nor hath any tendency, to diminish or detract 
 from that mighty power of the blessed Spirit of God, by 
 whom men become willing of the return of the Divine 
 presence into its ancient residence, and, in subordina- 
 tion, active towards it ; but rather to magnify the excel- 
 lency of that wisdom, which conducts all the exertions 
 and operations of that power so suitably to the subject to 
 be wrought upon, and the ends and purposes to be effected 
 thereby. 
 
 Upon the whole, the setting up of this original temple, 
 inscribed with the great Emmanvel, or the whole consti- 
 tution of Christ the mediator, hath, we see, set a very ap- 
 parent aptitude- and rich sufficiency in its kind, to the com- 
 posing of things between God and men ; the replenishing 
 this desolate world with temples aa:ain every where, and 
 those with the Divine presence; both as there was enough 
 m it to procure remission of sin, enough to procure the 
 emission of the Holv Spirit: an immense fulness both of 
 righteousness and Spirit ; of righteousness for the former 
 
 purpose, and of Spirit for the latter, and both of these, in 
 distinct ways, capable of being imparted; because the 
 power of imparling them was upon such terms obtained, 
 as did satisfy the malediction and curse of the violated 
 law, which must otherwise have everlastingly Avithheld 
 both from apostate, offending creatures. It is not the 
 righteousness of God, as such, that can make a guilty crea- 
 ture guiltless, (which must rather oblige him still to hold 
 him guilty,) or the Spirit of God, as such, that can make 
 him holy. Here is a full fountain, but sealed and shut up; 
 and what are we the better for that 1 But it is the right- 
 eousness and Spirit of Emmanuel, God with us ; of him 
 who was made sin for us, that we might be made the 
 righteousness of God in him ; and who was made a curse 
 for us, that we might have the blessing of the promi.sed 
 Spirit: otherwise, there were not in him a sufficiency to 
 answer the exigency of the case ; but as the matter is, 
 here is abundant sufficiency in both respects, as we have 
 already seen. And therefore, the only thing that remains 
 to be shown herein, — is the necessity and requisiteness of 
 such means as this, unto this end. For Avhen w^e take no- 
 tice of so great and so rare a thing as an Emmanuel, set 
 up in the world ; and find by this solemn constitution of 
 him, by the condition of his person, his accomplishments, 
 performances, sufferings, acquisitions, the powers and vir- 
 tues belonging to him, that everj' thing hath so apt an as- 
 pect, and is so accommodate to the restitution of lost man, 
 and of God's temple in and with him ; we cannot but con- 
 fess, here is a contrivance worthy of God, sufficient for its 
 end. So that the work needs not fail of being done, if in 
 this way it prove not to be overdone ; or if the apparatus 
 be not greater than was needful for the intended end ; or 
 that the same purposes might not have been effected at an 
 easier rate. I design therefore to speak distinctly and se- 
 verally of the necessity of this course, in reference, 1. To 
 the remission of sin. 2. To the emission or communica- 
 tion of the Spirit : and do purposely reserve several things 
 concerning this latter, to be discoursed under this head: 
 after the necessity of this same course for the former pur- 
 pose (Avherein the latter also hath its foundation) hath 
 been considered. 
 
 CHAPTER VI, 
 
 The nece^nity of ttiis constihition of Emmanuel to the erecting God's temple in 
 the world. The discoursing of this matter, proper on this occasion. As to 
 God's part herein, tirst, proposed to show, hoth that a recompense was ne- 
 cessarj' to be made, and that it could be made no other way. Towards the 
 evincing the ff)rmer, sundry things gradually laid down. The point itselfar- 
 gued, by considering the injury done to the divine, with m hat we may sup- 
 pose done to a human government ; where repentance not constantly 
 thought asufficient recompence ; othenvise, a penitent delinquent was never 
 to be punished Difference between God's pardon and man's in most usual 
 cases. Recompense fijr wrong done to government, quite another thing 
 from what answers the appetite of private revenge. Expressions that seem 
 to import it in Ciod, how to be understood. Sliown that they import no 
 more than a constant will so far to punish offences, as is necessary for the 
 asserting and preserving the righ'^ and dignity of his government. So much 
 most agreeable, and necessarily belonging to the perfection of the divine na- 
 ture. And if the justice of a human government requires it, of the divine 
 much more. 
 
 It may here perhaps be said. Why might not the matter 
 have been otherwise brought about ? Or, might not God 
 of his mere sovereignty have remitted the wrong done to 
 him, without any such atonement ; and, upon the same ac- 
 count, have sent forth his Spirit to turn men's hearts'? 
 And if that must work by arguments and rational persua- 
 sives, w^ere there not others to have been used, sufficient 
 to this purpose, though the Son of God had never become 
 man, or died upon this account"? To use means exceeding 
 the value of the end, may seem as unsuitable to the divine 
 wisdom, as not to have used sufficient. And who can 
 think the concernments of silly worms impossible to be 
 managed, and brought to a fair and happy issue, without 
 so great things as the incarnation and death of God's own 
 Son ? 
 Wherefore we proceed to show, as was promised, 
 2. The necessity, as the case stood, that this course should 
 be taken for this end. No man can here think we mean 
 that the end itself was otherwise necessary, than as the 
 freest love and good- will made it so ; but /A«i sup- 
 posed, we are only to evince that tliis course was the
 
 Chap. VI. 
 
 THE LIVING TEMPLE. 
 
 83 
 
 necessary means to attain it. And as to this, if indeed 
 that modesty and reverence were every where to be found, 
 wherewith it would become dim-sighted man to judge of 
 the ways of God, any inquiry of this kind might be for- 
 borne ; and it would be enough to put us out of doubt, 
 that this WELs the most equal and fittest way, that we see 
 it is the way which God hath taken. But that cross temper 
 hath foimd much place in the world, rather to dispute 
 God's methods, than comport with them, in an obedient 
 thankful compliance and subserviency to their intended 
 ends. And how deeply is it to be resented, that so mo- 
 mentous a thing in the religion of Christians, and that 
 above all other should be the subject and incentive of ad- 
 miring, devout thoughts and affections, should ever have 
 been made intricate and perplexed by disputation ! That 
 the food of life should have been filled with thorns and 
 gravel ! And what was most apt to beget good blood, and 
 turn all to strength, vigour, and spirit, should be rendered 
 the matter of a disease ! This can never enough be taken 
 to heart. What complaints might the tortured, famished 
 church of Christ send up against the ill instruments of so 
 great a mischief! " Lord ! we asked bread, and they gave 
 us a stone. They have spoiled the provisions of thy house. 
 Our pleasantest fare, most delicious and strengthening 
 viands, they have made tasteless and unsavoury." What 
 expostulations might it use with them ! " Will you not let 
 us live? Can nothing in our religion be so sacred, so im- 
 portant, as to escape your perverting hands V 
 
 The urgency of the case itself permits not that this 
 matter be silently passed over : a living temple needs the 
 apt means of nourishment and growth ; and it must be 
 nourished and grow, by what is suitable to its constitu- 
 tion : unto which nothing is more inward, than the laying 
 this " living Corner-stone." 
 
 We will acknowledge the reasons of divers things in 
 God's determinations and appointments may be very deeply 
 hidden, not only from our more easy view, but our most 
 diligent search: where they are, his telling us the matter 
 is so, or so, is reason enough to us to believe with reve- 
 rence. But when they offer themselves, we need not be 
 afraid to see them ; and when the matter they concern is 
 brought in question, should be afraid of being so treache- 
 rous as not to produce them. 
 
 Now that it was requisite this temple should be so found- 
 ed as hath been said, is a matter not only not repugnant 
 to the common reason of man, but which fairly approves 
 itself thereunto: that is, so far as that though it exceed 
 all human thought, the great Lord of heaven and earth, 
 infinitely injured by the sin of man, should so wonderfully 
 condescend ; yet w^hen his good pleasure is plainly ex- 
 pressed, touching the end, that nothing could be so appa- 
 rently congruous, so worthy of himself, so accommodate to 
 his design, as the way which he hath avowedly taken to 
 bring it about. That it might be brought about, (as in all 
 reconciliations, and as hath been said concerning this,) a 
 compliance was necessary, and a mutual yielding of both 
 the distanced parties; i. e. that God consent to return to 
 his desolate temple, and that man consent or be willing he 
 should. 
 
 We have sho'mi that the constitution and use of the 
 original temple, whereof the account hath been given, was 
 sufficient, and aptly conducing unto both. Now being to 
 show wherein they were also requisite or necessary to the 
 one and the other, we must acknowledge them not alike 
 immediately necessary to each of these ; and must there- 
 fore divide the things in order whereto this course was 
 taken, and speak of them severall}'. Nor are they to be 
 so divided, as though the procurement of God's return for 
 his part, and of man's admitting thereof for his part, were 
 throughout to be severally considered ; for God's part is 
 larger than man's, and some way runs into it : he is not 
 only to give his own consent, but to gain man's ; and be- 
 sides his own willing return to repossess this his temple, 
 he is to make man willing also : or rather that return or 
 repossession, rightly understood, will be found to include 
 the making of man willing ; i. e. in that very return and 
 repossession, he is to put forth that measure of power and 
 influence, by which he may be made so. All this is Gtod's 
 
 a This 2d head cornea to be diacouraed Chap. vtii. Sect. 1, &c. 
 
 10 
 
 part, which he doth graciously undertake, and ■without 
 which nothing could be effected in this matter. But then 
 because man is to be wrought upon in a way suitable to 
 his reasonable nature, he is to have such things offered to 
 his consideration, as in their own nature tend to persuade 
 him; and which that power and spirit, to be put forth, 
 may use as proper means to that purpose. Now it is man's 
 part to consider such things, and consent thereupon. Our 
 business here, therefore, is to show how necessary the con- 
 stitution of Emmanuel was, chiefly and principally as to 
 what now appears to be God's part: and afterward, to say 
 somewhat as to our own. — To the former, it was requisite 
 that the original Temple, Emmanuel, should be set up, 
 and be used to such immediate purposes as have been ex- 
 pressed ; to the latter, was requisite the declaration hereof. 
 — To the one, that such a constitution should be ; to the 
 other, that it be made known to man. 
 
 II. First, then, in reference to the former, this constitution 
 was necessarj", that so there might be a sufficient means 
 for the previous expiation of the offence done to the 
 majesty of God ; or that the injurious violation of his sa- 
 cred rights might be sufficiently recompensed. And here, 
 more particularly, two things are to be cleared ; fHrst, 
 That in order to God's return, it was necessar}' such a full 
 recompense should be made him ; secondly, That it could 
 not be full any other way than this, by Emmanuel.'' In 
 discoursing of which things, it is not intended to go in the 
 usual way of controversy, to heap up a great number of 
 arguments, and discuss particularly ever}- little cavil that 
 maybe raised on the contrary part ; but plainly to offer 
 such considerations as may lend to clear the truth, and 
 rather prevent than formally answer objections against it. 
 
 Wherefore we say, (1.) it was necessary God's return 
 and vouchsafement of his gracious restored presence to 
 man, as his temple, should be upon teims of recompense 
 made him (or as certain to be made) for the indignity and 
 wrong done in the former violation thereof. 
 
 We do not here need to be curious in inquiring, whether 
 the consideration of this recompense to be made, had 
 influence on the gracious purpose of God in this matter, 
 or only on the execution thereof. Nor indeed hath the 
 doubt anyproper ground in the present case, which, where 
 it hath disquieted the minds of any, seems to have pro- 
 ceeded from our too great aptness to measure God by 
 ourselves, and prescribe to him the same methods we our- 
 selves are wont to observe. That is, we find it is our way, 
 when we have a design to bring about, upon which we are 
 intent, first to propound the end to ourselves which we 
 would have effected, then to deliberate and consult by 
 what means to effect it: whereupon, we assign to the 
 blessed God the same course. But to him, all his works 
 are known from the beginning of the world ; and he ever 
 beheld, at one view, the whole tract and course of means 
 whereby any thing is to be done, which he intends with 
 the intended end itself So that we have no reason to affix 
 to him any thought or purpose of favour towards the sinful 
 sons of men, ancienter or more early than his prospect of 
 the way wherein that favourable purpose was to be accom- 
 plished. 
 
 Nor again can any act or purpose of his towards his 
 creatures be otherwise necessary to him, than from the 
 essential rectitude of the counsels of his own will : the 
 determinations whereof are such as might not have been, 
 or might have been otherwise, where the thing determined 
 was, by those measures, a matter of indifferency. Where 
 it was not so, thej' are (however necessary, yet also) in 
 that sense most free ; as they are directed and approved by 
 his infinite wisdom, and attended with that complacency 
 which naturally accompanies any act or purpose that is in 
 itself most exceptionably congruous, just, and good. 
 
 It may furthermore be truly said, that nothing ought to 
 be reckoned possible to him, upon the agreement only 
 which it holds lo some one attribute of his, considered 
 singly and apart from all the rest : as, for instan<"e. in what 
 is next our present case, to forgive all the sins that ever 
 were committed against him, without insisting upon any 
 compensation, were vainly alleged to be correspondent to 
 boundless sovereign mercy, if it will not as well accord
 
 THE LIVING TEMPLE. 
 
 Part II. 
 
 with infinite wisdom, justice, and holiness; as it would 
 be imreasonably said to be agreeable enough to him, to 
 thr&w all the creatures that never offended him mto an 
 endless nothingness, in consideration only of the abso- 
 luteness of his power and dominion. But whatsoever he 
 can do, must be understood to be agreeable to a Being 
 absolutely and every way perfect. 
 
 Moreover we add, that whatsoever is most congruous 
 and fit for him to do, that is truly necessary to him : he 
 cannot swerve in the least tittle, we will not only say from 
 what strict and rigorous justice doth exact and challenge, 
 but also not from what is requisite, under the notion of 
 most comely and decent. Hath it been said of a mortal 
 man, that it was as easy to alter the course of the sun, as 
 to turn him from the path of righteousness 1 We must 
 suppose it of the eternal God equally impossible that he 
 should be diverted from, or ever omit to do, what is most 
 seemly, becoming, and worthy of himself In such things 
 wherein he is pleased to be our pattern, what we know to 
 be oar own duty, we must conclude is his nature : we 
 ought to be found neither in an unjust act or omission, nor 
 undecent one; and he cannot. And if it belong to us to 
 do what is good, it more necessarily belongs to him to do 
 what is best; i. e. in all things that are any way capable 
 of coming under a moral consideration : for as in other 
 matters it is permitted to us to act arbitrarily, so there is 
 nothing hinders but he may much more. Wherefore it is 
 not hence to be thought that therefore it was necessary this 
 imiverse and every thing in it should have been made as 
 perfect as thev could be ; as if we ourselves will make any 
 thing for our own use, nothing obliges us to be so very 
 curious about it, as that it may be as neat and accurate as 
 we can devise to make it ; it will sufhce if it be such as 
 will serve our turn. And indeed, in the works of nature, 
 it would have been less worthy of God to have expressed 
 a scrupulous curiosity that nothing might ever fall out be- 
 sides one fixed rule, (especially in a state of things de- 
 signed for no long continuance,) that should extend to all 
 imaginable particularities ; as that all men should be of 
 the comeliest stature, all faces of the most graceful aspect, 
 with a thousand the like. But in matters wherein there 
 can l>e better and worse, in a moral sense, it seems a prin- 
 ciple of the plainest evidence, that the blessed God cannot 
 but do that which is simply the best ; yea, while a neces- 
 sity is upon us not only to mind things that are true, and 
 just, and pure, but also that are lovely and of good report, 
 we have no cause to doubt, but whatsoever is comely, and 
 beseeming his most perfect excellences, is an eternal, in- 
 dispensable law to him: wherefore it is not enough to con- 
 sider, in the present case, what it were strictly not unjust 
 for him to do, but what is fit and becoming so excellent 
 and glorious a majesty as his. 
 
 Nor now can it be a" doubt, but that he only is the compe- 
 tent Judge of what is becoming and worthy of himself; or 
 what is most congruous and fit in itself to be done ; (Isa. 
 xl.) " Who hath'directed the Spirit of the Lord, or being 
 his counsellor, hath instructed him !" &c. Surely the best 
 reason we can exercise in this case, is to think that course 
 reasonable which we find God hath chosen, although we 
 had no insight at all into the matter. There are many 
 constitutions which we have occasion to observe in the 
 course of God's government over the world, which, by the 
 constancy of them, we have ground to think founded in 
 indispensable necessity; though the reasons whereupon 
 they are necessary, are most deeply latent and hidden from 
 us. Not to speak of the abstruser paths and methods of 
 nature, wherein while we observe a constancy, yet perhaps 
 we apprehend it might have been some other way as well : 
 perhaps it might, but it is more than v/e know. And 
 though, as hath been said, we have reason to suppose that 
 the ways God hath taken, in matters of this sort, may be 
 more absolutely arbitrary ; yet the constant iteration of the 
 same thing, or continuation of the ancient settled course, 
 shows the peremptoriness of the Creator's counsel; and 
 seems to carry with it an implied rebuke of our ignorant 
 rashness, in thinking it might as well be otherwise ; and a 
 stiff asserting of his determinations against us. There are 
 none so well studied naturalists, as to be able to give a 
 rational account why it is so, and so, in many instances ; 
 wherein they may yet discern the inflexibleness of nature,, 
 
 and perceive her methods to be as unalterable, as they are 
 unaccountable. 'Tis true, this is obvious to be seen by 
 any eye, that where things are well, as they are, constancy 
 doth better than innovation, or change ; but it very much 
 becomes human modesty to suppose, that there may, in 
 many cases, be other reasons to justify the present course, 
 which we see not. But we may, with more advantage, 
 consider the fixedness of that order which God hath set, 
 unto the course of his dispensation, towards his intelligent 
 creatures : wherein we shall only instance in some few 
 particulars. 
 
 As first, that there is so little discernible commerce, in 
 the present state, between the superior rank of these crea- 
 tures, and the inferior. That whereas we are well assured 
 there are intelligent creatures, which inhabit not earthly 
 bodies like ours, but hold an agreement with us in greater 
 things ; they yet so rarely converse with us. When we 
 consider that such of them as remain innocent, and such 
 of us as are, by Divine mercy, recovered out of a state of 
 apostacy, are all subject to the same common Lord ; ob- 
 serve the more substantial things of the same law; have 
 all the same common end ; are acted by the same principle 
 of love, devotedness, and zeal for the interest and honour 
 of ihe great Maker, and Lord of all things. We are all to 
 make up one community with them, and be associates in 
 the same future blessed state ; yet, they have little inter- 
 course with us, they shun our sight. If sometimes they 
 appear, it is by transient, hasiy glances ; they are strangely 
 shy and reserved towards us, they check our inquiries, 
 put us, and appear to be themselves in reference thereto, 
 under awful restraints. We know not the reason of all 
 this, sometimes we may think with ourselves, those pure 
 and holy spirits cannot but be full of kindness, benignity, 
 and love, and concerned for us poor mortals, whom they 
 see put to tug and conflict with many difficulties and 
 calamities ; abused by the cimning malice of their and our 
 enemy; imposed upon by the illusions of our own senses. 
 How easily might they make many useful discoveries to 
 us, relieve our ignorance in many things, acquaint us, 
 more expressly, with the state of things in the other world, 
 rectify our dark or mistaken apprehensions, concerning 
 many both religious and philosophical matters I But they 
 refrain, and we know not why. 
 
 Again, that in the days of our Saviour's converse on 
 earth, there should be so strange a connexion as to them, 
 on whom he wrought miraculous cures, between the Di- 
 vine power, and their faith ; so that, sometimes, we find it 
 expressly said, He could do no mighty work, because of 
 their unbelief. 
 
 And we, lastly, instance in the fixedness of that course, 
 which God hath set, for making known to the world the 
 contents of the gospel of Christ: so that little is ever 
 done therein, immediately, or by extraordinary means. 
 The apostle Paul is stopped in the career of his persecu- 
 tion, by an amazing voice, and vision; but he is left for 
 instruction, as to his future course, to Ananias. Unto 
 Cornelius an angel is sent, not to preach the gospel, but 
 to direct him to send for Peter, for that purpose. The 
 Lord doth not immediately himself instruct the Eunuch 
 in the faith of Christ, but directs Philip to do it ; and experi- 
 ence shows, that(according totherulesetin that case, Rom. 
 X.) where they have no preachers, they have no gospel. 
 
 Now^ as to all these cases, and many more that might be 
 thought on, can it be said it would have been unjust, if 
 God had ordered the matter otherwise than he hath 1 
 That we cannot so much as imagine, nor are we to think 
 the matter determined as it is, in all such cases, bjr mere 
 will and pleasure, without a reason ; which were an ima- 
 gination altogether unworthy the Supreme wisdom; but 
 that there are reasons of mighty force and weight, or cer- 
 tain congruities, in the natures of things themselves, obvi- 
 ous to the Divine understanding, which do either wholly 
 escape ours, or whereof we have but very shallow, dark, 
 conjectural apprehensions ; as he that saw men as trees, 
 or as some creatures, of very acute sight, perceive what 
 to us seems invisible. And yet those occult and hidden 
 reasons and congruities have been the foundation of con- 
 stitutions and laws, that hold things more steadily than 
 adamantine bands ; and are of more stability than the 
 foundations of heaven and earth.
 
 Chap. VI. 
 
 THE LIVING TEMPLE. 
 
 87 
 
 Furthermore it is to be considered, that the rights of the 
 Divine government, the quality and measure of offences 
 committed against it, and when or upon what terms they 
 may be remitted, or in what case, it may be congruous to 
 the dignity of that government to recede from such rights ; 
 are matters of so high a nature, that it becomes us to be 
 very sparing in making an estimate about them ; especially 
 a more diminishing one than the general strain of Scrip- 
 ture seems to hold forth. Even among men, how sacred 
 things are majesty, and the rights of government! And 
 how much above the reach of a vulgar judgment ! Suppose 
 a company of peasants, that understand little more than 
 what is within the compass of their mattock, plough, and 
 shovel, should take upon them to judge of the rights of 
 their prince, and make an estimate of the measure of 
 offences, committed against the majesty and dignity of 
 government ; how competent judges would we think them "? 
 And will we not acknowledge the most refined human 
 understanding as incompetent to judge of the rights of the 
 Divine government, or measure the injuriousness of an 
 offence done against it ; as the meanest peasant to make 
 an estimate of these matters, in a human government 1 
 If only the reputation be wronged of a person of better 
 quality, how strictly is it insisted on to have the matter 
 tried by peers, or persons of equal rank ! such as are ca- 
 pable of understanding honour and reputation ! How 
 would it be resented, if an affront, put upon a nobleman, 
 should be committed to the judgment of smiths, and cob- 
 blers ; especially if they were participes criminis, and as 
 well parties, as judges'? 
 
 When the regalia of the great Ruler and Lord of heaven 
 and earth are invaded, his temple violated, his presence 
 despised, his image torn down thence and defaced ; who 
 among the sons of men are either great, or knowing, or 
 innocent enough to judge of the offence and wrong 7 or 
 how fit it is that it be remitted, without recompense 1 or 
 what recompense would be proportionable 1 How sup- 
 posable is it, that there may be congruities in this matter, 
 obvious to the Divine understanding, which infinitely ex- 
 ceed the measure of ours 1 
 
 III. And yet, because God speaks to us about these 
 matters, and they are our own concernments, as being of 
 the offending parties ; it is necessary we apply our minds 
 to understand them, and possible to us to attain to a true, 
 though not to a full, understanding of them. And though 
 we can never fully comprehend in our own thoughts the 
 horror of the case, that reasonable creatures, made after 
 God's image, so highly favoured by him, capable of 
 blessedness in him, incapable of it any other way, 
 should have arrived to that pitch of wickedness towards 
 him, and unnaturalness towards themselves, as to say to 
 him, Depart from us, and cut themselves off from him : 
 though we may sooner lose ourselves in the contemplation, 
 and be overwhelmed by our own thoughts, than ever see 
 through the monstrous evil of this defection: yet we may 
 soon see it incomparably to transcend the measure of any 
 offence, that can ever be done by one creature against 
 another ; or of the most scandalous affront the meanest, 
 the vilest, the most ungrateful, ill-natured wretch could 
 have devised to put upon the greatest, the most benign, 
 and best deserving prince the world ever knew. And if 
 we can suppose an offence, of that kind, may be of so 
 heinous a nature, and so circumstanced as that it cannot 
 be congruous it should be remitted, without some repara- 
 tion made to the majesty of the prince, and compensation 
 for the scandal done to government; it is easy to sup- 
 pose it much more incongruous it should be so in the 
 present case. 
 
 Yea, and as it can never be thought congruous, that 
 such an offence, against any human governor, should be 
 pardoned without the intervening repentance of the delin- 
 quent ; so we may easily apprehend also the case to be 
 such, as that it cannot be fit it should be pardoned upon 
 that alone, without other recompense. Whereof if any 
 should doubt, I would demand, is it in any case fit that a 
 penitent delinquent, against human laws and government, 
 should be punished, or a proportionable recompense be 
 exacted for his offence, notwithstanding! Surely it will 
 be acknowledged ordinarily fit, and who would take upon 
 him to be the censor of the common justice of the worla, in 
 
 all such cases 1 or to damn the proceedings of all times, 
 and nations, wheresoever a penitent offender hath been 
 made to suffer the legal punishment of his offences, not- 
 withstanding his repentance 1 How strange a maxim of 
 government would that be : that it is never fit an offender, 
 of what.soever kind, should be punished, if he repent him- 
 self of his offence ! And surely if ever, in anv case, some- 
 what else than repentance be fitly insisted on", as a recom- 
 pense for the violation of the sacred rights of government ; 
 it may well be supposed to be so, in the case of man's 
 common delinquency and revolt from God, much more. 
 
 Unto which purpose it is further to be considered, that 
 in this case the matter is much otherwise between God 
 and man, than, for the most part, between a secular prince 
 and a delinquent subject : that is, that pardon, be it never 
 so plenary, doth (as pardon) no more than restore the de- 
 linquent into as good a condition as he was in before. But 
 what was, for the most part, the ca.se before of delinquent 
 subjects "? There are very few that were before the prince's 
 favourites, his intimate associates and friends, with whom 
 he was wont familiarly to converse. Very often the con- 
 dition of the offender was such before, that his pardon 
 only saves him from the gallows ; lets him live, and enjoy 
 only the poor advantages of his former mean condition ; 
 and not always that neither : yea, or if he were one whose 
 higher rank and other circumstances had entitled him to a 
 nearest attendance on the person of the prince, and a daily, 
 inward conversation with him ; it is possible he might be 
 pardoned with limitation as to his life, or it may be, fur- 
 ther, to his estate, without being restored to the honours 
 and offices about the person of the prince, which he held 
 only by royal favour: for though princely compassion 
 might extend so far as to let his offence be expiated by less 
 than his utter ruin, yet also his prudent respect to the dig- 
 nity of his government might not admit that a person 
 under public infamy should have the liberty of his pre- 
 sence, intermingle with his councils, or be dignified with 
 more special marks of his favour and kindness. Whereas 
 in the restitution of man, inasmuch as before he wa,s the 
 temple and residence of the great King, where he afforded 
 his most inward, gracious presence, the design is to restore 
 him into the same capacity, and to as good condition as 
 he was in before in these respects: yea, and not only so, 
 but unspeakably to better his case, to take him much 
 nearer to himself than ever, and into a more exalted state. 
 In order whereto, it was the more highly congruous that 
 his offence be done away by a most perfect, unexception- 
 able expiation; that so high and great an advancement of 
 the most heinous offenders, might not be brought about 
 upon other terms than should well accord with the ma- 
 jesty of his government over the world. 
 
 IV. Here, therefore, let a comparative view be taken of 
 the fearful malediction and curse of God's law upon the 
 transgressors of it, and of the copious blessing of the gos- 
 pel : that thereupon we may the more clearly judge how 
 improbable it was there should be so vast a difference and 
 translation between two so distant states, without atone- 
 ment made for transgression of so high demerit, Emd so 
 deeply resented. 
 
 1. As to the former, we are in the general told, (Gal. 
 iii.) that "cursed is everyone that continues not in all 
 things written in the book of the law, to do them." As- 
 tonishing thing ! That he should curse me who made 
 me! That my being, and a curse upon me, should 
 proceed from the word and breath of the same sacred 
 mouth ! Of how terrible import is his curse ! To be made 
 an anathema, separate and cut off from God, and from all 
 the dutiful and loyal part of his creation ! Driven forth 
 from his deliffhtful presence ! In the same breath, it is 
 said to the loathed wretch. Depart— accursed ! To be re- 
 duced to the condition of a vagabond on the earth, not 
 knowing whither to go ! Naked of Divine protection from 
 any violent hand; yea, marked out for the butt of the 
 sharpest arrows of his own indignation ! How voluminous 
 and extensive is his curse ! reaching to all one's concern- 
 ments in both worlds, temporal and eternal, of outward 
 and inward man. To be cursed in one's basket and store, 
 in the citv and field, in going out and coming in ! Espe- 
 ciallv to have all God's"curs"es and plagues meeting and 
 centring in one's very heart, to be there smitten with
 
 THE LIVING TEMPLE. 
 
 Part II. 
 
 blindness, madness, and astonishment ! How efficacious 
 is this curse ! Not a faint, impotent wishing ill to a man, 
 but under which he really wastes, and which certainly 
 blasts, withers, and consumes him, and even turns his very 
 blessings into curses ! How closely adhering, as a gar- 
 ment wherewith he is clothed, and as a girdle with which 
 he is girt continually ! How secretly and subtly insinuat- 
 ing, as water into his bowels, and oil into his bones ! And 
 how deservedly doth it befall 1 The curse causeless shall 
 not come ; this can never be without a cause. If another 
 curse me, it shows he hates me ; if the righteous God do 
 so, it signifies me to be in myself a hateful creature, a son 
 and heir, not of peace, but of wrath and a curse. And the 
 effect must be of equal permanency with its cause ; so as 
 that God is angry with the wicked every day, and rains 
 upon them fire and brimstone, and a horrible tempest, as 
 the portion of their cup ; indignation and wrath, tribulation 
 and anguish, upon every soul of man that does evil, and 
 continually growing into a treasure, against the da)^ of wrath. 
 
 2. View, on the other hand, the copious, abundant 
 blessing contained and conveyed in the gospel. It is a 
 call to blessing, that we may inherit a blessing: it dis- 
 covers a state begun with the blessedness of having ini- 
 qiiity forgiven ; a course, under a continued blessing, of 
 meditating on the word of God with delight, day and 
 night ; of being undefiled in the way : gives characters of 
 the subjects of blessings showered down from the mouth of 
 Christ on the poor in spirit, pure in heart, the meek, mer- 
 ciful, &c. : aims at making them nigh, that were afar off; 
 taking them into God's own family and household ; making 
 them friends, favourites, domestics, sons, and daughters ; 
 engaging them in a fellowship with the Father and Son : 
 yet were all these the children of wrath, by nature. Whence 
 is this change? A regression became not the majesty of 
 heaven. God's original constitution, that connected sin 
 and the curse, was just; he abides by it, reverses it not. 
 To have reversed it, was not to have judged the offenders, 
 but himself; but having a mind to show men mercy, he 
 provides for the expiation of sin, and salving the rights of 
 his government, another.way — by transferring guilt and 
 the curse, not nutting them. 
 
 V. Whereupon, we may also see what made atonement 
 for sin so fundamental to a design of grace ; the magnifying 
 the divine law; (Isa. xlii. 41.) the asserting the equity 
 and righteousness of the supreme government ; not, as 
 some odiously suggest, the gratifying of what, with us, is 
 wont to go for a private appetite of revenge, from which 
 the support of the honour and the dignity of the govern- 
 ment is most remote : yea, it were horrid to suppose that 
 any such thing can have place with the blessed God, which 
 is one of the most odious things in the disposition of 
 lapsed, degenerate man — an aptness to take complacency 
 in the pains and anguish of such as have offended us; 
 unto which purpose, how feelingly v/ould a malicious, ill- 
 minded man, oftentimes utter the sense of his heart, and 
 say, O the sweetness of revenge ! So black a thought of 
 God will be most remote from every pious breast, or that 
 is capable of savouring real goodness. Nor doth any pre- 
 cept within the whole compass of that revelation which he 
 hath given us, express more fully, at once, both our duty 
 and his own nature, than that of loving our enemies, or of 
 forgiving men their trespasses. There is, perhaps, some- 
 where (but O how rarely ?) to be found among men, that 
 benign, generous temper of mind, as when an enemy is per- 
 fectly within one's power, to be able to take a real solace 
 in showing mercy; when he is in a fearful, trembling ex- 
 pectation, and hath even yielded himself a prey to revenge, 
 to take pleasure in surprising him by acts of kindness and 
 compassion : one that can avow the contrary sentiment to 
 the spirit of the world, and to them who so emphatically 
 say. How sweet is revenge ! and can with greater -rraBoi 
 oppose to it that, as the undisguised sense of his soul, O 
 but how much sweeter is it to forgive ! Than this, there is 
 no where to be seen a more lively resemblance of God ; a 
 truer and more real part of His living image, who hath 
 commanded us to love our enemies ; if they hunger, to 
 feed them ; to bless them that curse us ; to pray for them 
 that despitefuUy use us, and persecute us ; that we may 
 ne his childr^en, tjiat we may show ourselves born of him, 
 and to have received from him a new, even a divine, na- 
 
 ture, one truly agreeable to and resembling his own ; and 
 unto him, the acts and operations that naturally proceed 
 from this temper of spirit, are more grateful and savoury 
 than all whole burnt-ofi'erings and sacrifices. So are we to 
 frame our conceptions of the ever blessed God, if either 
 we will take the rationally coherent and self-consistent 
 idea of an absolutely perfect Being, or his own frequent 
 affirmations who best understands his own nature, or the 
 course of his actual dispensations towards a sinful world, 
 for our measure of him. 
 
 VI. But is it a difficulty to us to reconcile with all this 
 such frequent expressions in the sacred volume, as import 
 a steady purpose that all the sins of men shall be answered 
 with an exactly proportionable measure of punishment 1 
 That every transgression shall have a just recompense of 
 reward 1 That death is the stated wages of sin ! Or do we 
 find ourselves more perplexed how to understand, con- 
 sistently with such declarations of his merciful nature, 
 those passages which sometimes also occur, that seem to 
 intimate a complacential vindictiveness, and delight taken 
 in punishing — the Lord is "jealous, the Lord revengeth :" 
 yea, he seems to appropriate it as peculiar to himself — 
 "Vengeance is mine, and I will repay it:" "indignation 
 and wrath, tribulation and anguish, shall be upon every 
 soul of man that doth evil." We meet with passages that 
 speak of his laying up sin, sealing it among his treasures ; 
 of his waiting for a day of recompenses ; of his whetting 
 his glittering sword, his making his bow ready, and pre- 
 paring his arrows on the string ; of his being refreshed by 
 acts of vengeance, his satiating of his fury, and causing it 
 hereupon to rest, as having highly pleased and satisfied 
 himself therewith. If any thing alien to the Divine nature, 
 and disagreeable Vo the other so amiable discoveries of it, 
 be thought imported in such expressions, let it only be 
 considered, first, what must be allowed to be their import; 
 and next, how well so much will agree with a right con- 
 ception of God. 
 
 For the former, it is not necessary that such expressions 
 be understood to intend more, and it seems necessary they 
 be not understood to import less, than a constant, calm, 
 dispassionate, complacential will, so far to punish sin, as 
 shall be necessary to the ends of his government. That 
 they do import a will to punish, is evident ; for they are 
 manifest expression of anger, whereof we can say nothing 
 more gentle, than that it is a will to punish. It cannot 
 signify punishment, without that will ; for though the word 
 anger, or wrath, be sometimes used in Scripture for the 
 punishment itself, yet even then that will is supposed; 
 otherwise what is said to be punishment, were an unin- 
 tended accident; and then how were it a punishment'? 
 Much less can it signify only God's declaration of his will 
 to punish, excluding that will itself; for then what is it a 
 declaration of? Or what doth it declare ? Surely we will 
 acknowledge it a true declaration ; then it cannot be the 
 declaration of nothing, but must have somewhat in God 
 correspondent to it ; viz. the will which it declares. Which 
 being plain, that it be also a dispassionate will, accom- 
 panied with nothing of perturbation ; that it be a constant 
 will, in reference to all such occasions, wherein the sacred- 
 ness of the divine government, violated, requires sueh 
 reparation ; and without any change, (other than what we 
 may conceive imported in the different aspects of the same 
 object, conceived as future, present, or past, and beheld be- 
 fore, with purpose, afterwards with continual approbation,) 
 the most acknowledged perfection on the divine nature doth 
 manifestly not admit only, but require. For that such a 
 calm, sedate, steady, fixed temper of mind in a magistrate 
 is an excellency, even common reason apprehends: there- 
 fore is it said, by a noted pagan, that judges ought to be 
 teguvi similes — like the Mies themselves ; which are moved 
 by no passion, yet inflexible : and then where can such an 
 excellency have place in highest perfection, but in the 
 blessed God himself? Yea, and that it be also a conipla.- 
 cential will, as some of the expressions above recited seem 
 to import, may very well be admitted, if we right *■• con- 
 ceive and state in our own minds the thing willed by it ; 
 i. e. the preserving the honour and dignity of the supreme 
 government. Indeed, simply to take pleasure in the pain 
 and misery of another, is so odd and unnatural a disaffec- 
 tion, that it is strange how it can have place any where ;,
 
 Chap. VII. 
 
 THE LIVING TEMPLE. 
 
 and where it seems to have place among men, though too 
 often it really hath so in more monstrou.sly vicious tem- 
 pers, yet, with many others, (who herein are sufficiently 
 blameable also,) the matter may, perhaps, be somewhat 
 mistaken ; pleasure may possibly not be taken in the af- 
 flicted person's mere suffering, for itself, but only a-s it is 
 an argument or evidence of the other's superiority, wherein 
 he prides himself, especially if he before misdoubted his 
 own power, and that there'hath been a dispute about it, 
 which is now only thus decided. In this case a secret 
 joy may arise unto the prevailing party, upon his being 
 delivered from an afflicting fear of being so used himself; 
 and whereas he took it for a disparagement that the other 
 did so far lessen and diminish him in his own thoughts, as 
 to suppose or hope he should prove the stronger ; a pleasure 
 is now taken in letting him feel and have so sensible a 
 demonstration of his error. 
 
 VII. But that wherewith we must suppose the blessed 
 God to be pleased, in the matter of punishing, is the con- 
 gruity of the thing itself, that the sacred rights of his go- 
 vernment over the world be vindicated; and that it be 
 understood how ill his nature can comport with any thing 
 that is impure : and what is in itself so highly congruous, 
 cannot but be the matter of his delectation. He takes 
 eternal pleasure in the reasonableness and fitness of his 
 own determinations and actions, and rejoices in the works 
 of his own hands, as agreeing with the apt, eternal schemes 
 and models which he hath conceived in his most wise and 
 all-comprehending mind : so that though he desireth not 
 the death of sinners, and hath no delight in the sufferings 
 of his afflicted creatures, which his immense goodness 
 rather inclines him to behold with compassion, yet the 
 true ends of punishment are so much a greater good than 
 their ease, and exemption from the suffering they had de- 
 served, that they must rather be chosen, and cannot be eli- 
 gible for any reason, but for which also they are to be 
 delighted in ; i. e. a real goodness, and conducibleness to a 
 valuable end, inherent in them. Upon which account, the 
 iust execution of the Divine pleasure in the punishment of 
 insolent offenders is sometimes spoken of under the notion 
 of a solemn festival, a season of joy, yea even of a sacrifice, 
 as having a fragrancy or delectable savour in it. But 
 whereas some of the above-mentioned expressions do seem 
 to intimate a delight in satisfying a furious, vindictive ap- 
 petite; we are to consider, that what is spoken for the 
 warning and terror of stupid besotted men, was necessaril}' 
 to be spoken with some accommodation to their dull ap- 
 prehension of the things which they yet see and feel not. 
 For which purpose the person is put on, sometimes, of an 
 enraged, mighty man ; the terror of which representation 
 is more apprehensible to vulgar minds, than the calm, de- 
 .iberate proceedings of magistratical justice ; it being man}' 
 
 imes more requisite, that expressions be rather suited to 
 vhe person spoken to, though they somewhat less exactly 
 square with the thing itself intended to be spoken. 
 
 VIII. Wherefore this being all that we have any reason 
 to understand imported in such texts of Scripture as we 
 before mentioned, viz. a calm and constant will of preserv- 
 ing the divine government from contempt, by a due punish- 
 ment of such as do offer injurious affronts to it ; and that 
 takes pleasure in itself, or is satisfied with the congruiiy 
 and fitness of its o\vn determination ; what can there be in 
 this unworthy of God? what that disagrees with his other 
 perfections'? or that the notion of a Being, every way 
 perfect, doth not exact and claim as necessarily belonging 
 to it 1 For to cut off this from it, were certainly a veiy 
 great maim to the notion of such a Being, if we consider 
 it as invested with the right and office of supreme rector, 
 or ruler of the world. For if you frame such an idea of a 
 prince as should exclude a disposition to pimish offenders, 
 who would not presently observe in it an intolerable defect 1 
 Suppose Xenophon to have given this character of his 
 Cyrus — That he was a person of so sweet a nature, that 
 he permitted every one to do what was good in his own 
 eyes; if any one put indignities upon him, he took no 
 offence at it ; he dispensed favours alike to all ; even they 
 that despised his authority, invaded his rights, attempted 
 the subversion of his government, with the disturbance and 
 confusion cf all that lived under it, had equal countenance 
 and kindness from him, as they that were most observant I 
 
 of his laws, and faithful to his interest; and it were as 
 safe for any one to be his sworn enemy, as his mo.st loyal 
 and devoted subject: — who would take this for a com- 
 mendation, or think such a one fit to have s"wayed a scep- 
 tre? Can there be no such thing as goodness, without 
 the exclusion and banishment of wisdom, righteousness, 
 and truth 1 Yea, it is plain they not only CMisist with it, 
 but that it is a manifest inconsistency it should be without 
 them. The several virtues of a well-instructed mind, as 
 they all concur to make up one entire frame, so they do 
 each of them cast a mutual lustre upon one another ; much 
 more is it so with the several excellences of the Divine 
 Being. But how much too low are our highest and mo.st 
 raised thoughts of the Supreme Majesty! How do we 
 falter when we most earnestly .strive to .speak and think 
 most worthily of God, and suitably to his excellenl 
 greatness! 
 
 CHAPTER VIL 
 
 The notion of justice in the divine government, and in a human, not altogether 
 the same. A thing said to brt just, in a negative and a positive sense. Tho 
 question discussed, Whettier God's will to puni.sh sin wtre. antecedently to 
 his legal constitution to that purpose, just, not only in the former sense, but 
 in the latter also? Volenti non /it injuria, as to man needs limitation. 
 Holy .Scripture speaks of God's punishing sin, not merely as a concomitant 
 of justice, but an clfect. His will to punish it must proceed from justice ; 
 not. primarily, according to the common notion of justice, as it resjiects llie 
 rights of another ; therefore another notion of it (as to him) to be sought. Gai'M 
 rights so unalienable, that he cannot quit them to his own wroiig a.s rrtan can. 
 .Secondarily, according to the other notion, his right to puiMsh depends not on 
 his legal constitution, but that on it. That he cannot altogether quit it. no 
 detraction from him. Justice, in a larger notion, do'h further oblige to insist 
 upon recompense ; viz. universal justice, as especially it comprehends his 
 holiness, his wisdom. The fitness of God's methods herein not to be only 
 contemplated by men, but angels. In what sense punishmentji to be reckoucd 
 debts. This matter summed up. 
 
 I. We must also acknowledge a very vast difference be- 
 tween God's government over his intelligent creatures, and 
 that of a secular prince over his subjects ; and are there- 
 upon to inquire, whether the notion of justice, as it is ap- 
 plied to the one government and the other, can be the 
 same. A secular ruler is set up and established pui-posely 
 for the good of the community, as the more principal end 
 of his constitution. The people are not formed for him, 
 but he for them ; whence the administration of justice is 
 a public and common right, wherewith he is intrusted by 
 the Supreme Ruler for them, in order to the common good. 
 Well, therefore, may his decrees and edicts go in this form, 
 and have this for their chief scope and end : Nc quid de- 
 trivienti respnblica capiat. And hence the neglect duly 
 and seasonably to animadvert upon offenders, is a violation 
 of the public justice committed to his management, for 
 which he is accountable to him that intrusted him: it is a 
 wrong done to the community, of whose rights he is the 
 appointed guardian. And whereas such oflences as more 
 directly strike at his crown, and disnit}', as treason or re- 
 bellion, seem more principally levelled against himself and 
 his own rights, so is the legal punishment of them to be 
 more at his arbitrement, whether to inflict or not inflict it; 
 because it maj- seem in any one's power to dispense with 
 or recede from his own rights. Yet indeed if the matter 
 be more narrowly scanned, the relaxation of these should 
 be, in reason, less in his power than of any other ; because 
 they more directly affront that Supreme Ruler whom he 
 represents, and threaten the dissolution of the government, 
 which is the principal civil good of the whole commtmity, 
 and the benefits whereof are their highest right. If vio- 
 lence be done to a private subject, the impunity of the 
 oflender would be a public wrong; because it remotely 
 tends, by the badness of the example, to the hurt of the 
 whole community. But in this case, without any such 
 circulation, all the rights of the community are immedi- 
 ately struck at together, in their central knot and juncture; 
 wherefore here, most of all, the prince is debtor to the com- 
 munity. But now, the great Lord and Ruler of the world 
 owes his own creatures nothing : he is, by his goodness, 
 inclined to take care of them, and preserve common order 
 among them ; but not owing them any thing, (except by his 
 own word he makes himself a debtor,) he cannot be said to
 
 90 
 
 THE LIVING TEMPLE. 
 
 Part II. 
 
 ■wrong the community, by not providing that punishments 
 be inflicted upon delinquents, according to demerit. What 
 he can be understood, originally, to owe herein, he owes 
 only to himself; whence also the notion of justice which 
 we herein attribute to him, seems very different from that 
 which belongs to human governments ; which, though it 
 allows not the disposal of another's right, to his prejudice, 
 forbids not the remitting of one's own. 
 
 II. Whereas, therefore, a thing may be said just, in a 
 two-fold sense; either negative, as it is that which justice 
 does not disapprove, or positive, as that whereto also jus- 
 tice doth oblige: it is hereupon a question of great moment. 
 Whether God's will to punish sinners, antecedent to his 
 legal constitution to that purpose, were just in the former 
 sense only, or also in the latter 1 Can we say, God had 
 been unjust, in not so determining 1 Whose rights had he 
 violated in willing otherwise 1 Not man's, to whom he 
 did owe nothing. Will we say. His ownl But volenti 
 nan fit injuria — which maxim doth not set us at liberty 
 absolutely to do whatsoever we will with ourselves, and 
 what is ours ; because of others, whose rights are compli- 
 cated with ours, the chief Ruler and Lord of all especially, 
 who hath principal interest in us, and all that we have. 
 Yet it holds even as to us: for though we may mjure 
 others, God especially, by an undue disposition of our 
 properties, which he intrusts us with ; (not for ourselves 
 only, but for himself chiefly, and for other men, whom 
 therefore, in the second place, we may wrong, by disabling 
 ourselves to do them that good which we ought;) and 
 though we may also prejudice ourselves, yet, "ourselves 
 apart, we cannot be said so far to wrong, by our own con- 
 sent, as to be able to resume our right ; because, by that 
 consent, (supposing it imprudent, or any way undue,) we 
 have quilted and even forfeited the right, which, for our- 
 selves, we had. But as to God, who has no superior, nor 
 owes any thing to any one, whom can he be thought to 
 wrong, by departing from any of his own rights 1 
 
 Inasmuch therefore as justice, in the common and most 
 general notion of it, is ever wont to be reckoned conversant 
 about d\\6Tpuiv dyiiGov — tJie good of others, even that whereto 
 they have a right ; it seems not intelligible, how justice, 
 according to this usual notion of it, could primarily oblige 
 God to inflict deserved punishment upon transgressors, if 
 he had not settled a legal constitution to this purpose, and 
 declared that should be the measure of his proceedings 
 herein; both because it is so little conceivable how the 
 punishments of the other state (which we are chiefly to con- 
 sider) can be a good to them who do not suffer them, (as 
 we are sure they can be none to them that do,) and also 
 that it is not to be understood how, if they were, they 
 could otherwise have any right thereto, than by that con- 
 stitution by which (as, before, God's dominion was that 
 of an absolute, sovereign Lord) he now undertakes the 
 part of a governor, ruling according to known and estab- 
 lished laws. 
 
 III. Yet very plain it is, that for the actual infliction of 
 such punishments, holy Scripture speaks of it not merely 
 as a concomitant of justice, or as that which may consis't 
 with it, but as an eftect; which the nvTaTT6ioaii, mentioned 
 by the apostle, plainly signifies, (-2 Thess. i. 9.) when he 
 tells us it is with God a righteous thing, — iUaiov (that must 
 be not only what justice doth admit, but exact,) to recom- 
 ve7ise — ivraTTo^Svai, tribulation to the troublers of his people, 
 &c. And Avhen we are told, (Rom. ii. 6.) that God will 
 reyyder (or recompense — a-aoiii^a) to every one according to 
 his works, even in the day above mentioned, {v. 5.) which 
 
 is called, ^^itpu i^yfti, koi d-roKa'Xiipcms iiKaioKpiaiai, — the day 
 
 of wrath, and of the revelation of the righteous judg- 
 ment of God; and that 'tis said, the world was to become 
 vv6SLKni — guilty, (we read,) liable to be impleaded before 
 God, Rom. iii. 19. And again, {ch. xii. 19.) that iKiiKvan 
 —vengeance is said to belong to him, and he will repay; 
 with many more passages of the like import. 
 
 But to carry the matter higher : it being evident it is 
 that which justice doth require, to punish sin, according to 
 such a constitution once made; vet all this while, how 
 the constitution was any necessary effect of justice, appears 
 not. Nor are we helped by the common notion of justice 
 herein, and are therefore cast upon the inquiry. Whether 
 any other notion of justice be fitly assignable, according 
 
 whereto it may be understood to have required the making 
 that constitution itself 1 
 
 IV. It is here to be considered, whence, or from what 
 fountain, any man, or community of men, come to have 
 right to any thing. It cannot be, but that the Fountain 
 of all being must be the Fountain of all rights. From 
 whence things, absolutely considered, descend, all the 
 relations that result must also descend. There can there- 
 fore be no pretence of right to any thing, among creatures, 
 but from God ; He, as the sovereign Proprietor and Lord 
 of all, settles such and such rights in creatures, which they 
 hold and retain dependenlly on him, upon terms and ac- 
 cording to rules which he hath prescribed ; so as that by 
 transgression men may forfeit such rights, or by consent 
 and mutual contracts transfer them to one another. Where- 
 upon they have no unalienable rights, none whereof they 
 may not be divested, either by their default or consent: 
 sometimes by both together, as by a faulty consent. And 
 indeed if it be by the former, it must be by the latter ; be- 
 cause no man is supposed to commit a fault against his 
 will. But it may be by the latter without the former, as 
 none can doubt but one may innocently divest himself, in 
 many cases, of his own present right; otherwise, there 
 could be no such thing in the world as either gift or sale. 
 And hence it comes to pass, that the justice which is in- 
 herent in any man, comes to be conversant about the rights 
 of another, not his own ; so far as to oblige him not to in- 
 trench upon the rights of another, while yet it forbids him 
 not to dispose of his own, as they are merely his. And 
 there is no such thing as justice towards a man's self, so 
 inhibiting him, as (though perhaps such an act ought not 
 to have been done) to make his act in that kind invalid, 
 when he hath done it, only because he hath thereby 
 wronged himself; or which he can, afterwards, allege 
 against his own act or deed. For he hath no other rights 
 in any thing, than what are derived, borrowed, dependent 
 on the Supreme Proprietor, mea,surable by his rules, by 
 which they are not unalienable ; yea, justice obliges, if he 
 swear to his own hurt, not to change, Ps. xv. 
 
 V. But now, with the Supreme Proprietor, there cannot 
 but be unalienable rights, inseparably and everlastingly 
 inherent in him: for it cannot be, but that He that is the 
 Fountain of all rights, must have them primarily and 
 originally in himself; and can no more so quit them, as to 
 make the creature absolute and independent, than he can 
 make the creature God. Wherefore, though with man 
 there can be no such thing as justice towards one's self, 
 disenabling him to forego his own rights, the case cannot 
 but be quite otherwise as to God, and for the same reason 
 for which it cannot agree to man ; because man hath none 
 but borrowed and alienable rights, which he can forego 
 to his own prejudice, and God hath none that he can so 
 part with. Hereupon, therefore, God did owe it to him- 
 self, primarily, as the absolute Sovereign and Lord of all, 
 not to suffer indignities to be offered to him, without 
 animadverting upon them, and therefore to determine he 
 would do so. 
 
 VI. But withal, he having undertaken the part of a legal 
 Governor, and to rule by established laws, which should 
 be the stated measures of sin and duty, of punishments 
 and rewards ; hereby common order was to be preserved 
 in the governed community: and having published his 
 constitution in his word, and otherwise sufficiently to thaK 
 purpose, he hath hereby, secondarily, made himself DebtOi 
 to the community, and by his constitution given men 
 some right to the benefit of that order which was to be 
 maintained among them by these means: which benefit 
 they do here, in this present state, actually partake in some 
 measure ; and might in a greater measure, if they were 
 more governable, or would regard and be awed more by 
 the laws (with their sanctions) of their great and rightful 
 Ruler and Lord. Wherefore, though men have no benefit 
 by the punishments of the future state, they have, or might 
 have, by the feared commination of them, which, neglected, 
 made the actual infliction of them necessary. Nor had 
 they only the probable benefit of present order hereb}', but 
 of a future well-being ; it bemg the design of that, as of all 
 the comminations of wise and good rulers, to prevei-t the 
 desert of the threatened punishment, and consequently the 
 punishment itself. And though men could have no right
 
 Chap. VII. 
 
 THE LIVING TEMPLE. 
 
 91 
 
 to any such benefit, before the constitution ; yet it is not 
 inconceivable, that by it they might have some; viz. an 
 inferior and secondary right. 
 
 VII. Wherefore the blessed God, by making the legal 
 constitution, that he will have stand as the measure of his 
 government, hath not added to his own right to govern and 
 punish as there is cause ; for it was natural, and needed 
 nothing to support it. The constitution rather limits than 
 causes his right, which depends not on it, but gives rise 
 to it rather. He gives assurance, by it, of his equal deal- 
 ing, and that he will not lay upon man more than is riglit, 
 that he should enter into judgment with God, Job xxxiv. 
 12, 23. And whereas he hath been pleased to publish his 
 constitution, in the form of a covenant, variously attem- 
 pered to the different states of men, nothing accrues to 
 him by their stipulating with him thereupon. He is their 
 Governor, as he is their Maker; not at their choice, which 
 in propriety thecase admits not, there being no competitor 
 that pretends against him; but is only a loyal, dutiful 
 consent, or recognising his former right. They that con- 
 sent to it, do therefore more deeply oblige themselves to 
 their own duty, and entitle themselves to his covenanted 
 favours ; but can entitle him to nothing, for their all was 
 his before : his contract shows his condescension, not de- 
 fective title. And this his antecedent, original right, that 
 peculiar excellency of his nature, his justice to himself in- 
 violably preserves, as the faithful guardian of all his sacred 
 rights. So that when he undertakes the part of a legal 
 Governor, it indispensably necessitates his doing whatso- 
 ever is requisite for supporting the honour and dignity of 
 his government ; and can permit nothing that shall detract 
 from it, or render it less august and awfuL 
 
 Yet need we not here over scrupulously defend the 
 common notion of justice, in the utmost strictness of it, 
 that makes it conversant only about another's right, and 
 seems therefore to imply that a man can owe nothing to 
 himself That love to others, which comprehends all our 
 duty to them, is to be measured by love to ourselves, 
 which seems equally comprehensive of duty which we are 
 supposed to owe to ourselves. Nor shall we dispute 
 whether in no sense one can be both creditor and debtor; 
 or whether insobriety be not properly unrighteousness, 
 and sobriety justice, even towards oneself; subordination 
 to God being still preserved, under whom, and for whom, 
 only we can owe any thing to ourselves or others. Only 
 supposing, among men, such a thing as self-justice, it is 
 with them a weaker and more debile principle, that may 
 betray and lose their rights, which then no justice can 
 reclaim. Whereas, with God, it is, as all other excellen- 
 cies are, in highest perfection, and hath always the force 
 with him of an eternal and immutable law. 
 
 VIII. And if any should imagine this to detract from 
 the absoluteness of God's dominion and sovereignty, and 
 set him in this respect beneath his own creatures, that 
 whereas tkey can quit their rights, it should be supposed he 
 cannot forego his; 'tis answered. It hath not been said, that 
 God can forego none of his own rights; it is plain he doth 
 when having the right to punish a sinner, he by pardon 
 confers upon him right to impunity : but he cannot do it to 
 the prejudice and dishonour of his glorious excellences, and 
 the dignity of his government. And therefore, if some 
 preparation were requisite to his doing it, consistently with 
 the due honour and reputation thereof, justice towards 
 himself required he should insist upon it ; which is no more 
 a detraction from his absoluteness, than that he cannot lie, 
 or do any thing unworthy of himself. He is f;o eibsoluf-c, 
 that he can do whatever he pleases; but so jvst, that he 
 cannot be pleased to do an unrighteous thing. 
 
 IX. But besides that stricter notion of God's justice, as 
 k is conversant about, and conservative of, his own rights ; 
 we may also consider it in a larger and more comprehen- 
 sive notion, as it includes his several moral attributes and 
 excellences, and answers to that which among men is 
 called universal justice, and reckoned to contain in it all 
 virtues.* For so taken, it comprehends his holiness, and 
 perfect detestation of all impurity, in respect whereof he 
 cannot be perpetually inclined to animadvert with severity 
 upon sin ; both because of its irreconcilable contrariety 
 
 A 'Ev 6eiucaioavvm ffvXXij/J^ijv irof a/ier' ff'. 
 
 to his holy nature, and the insolent affront which it there- 
 lore directly oilers him ; and because of the implicit, most 
 injurious misrepresentation of him, which it contains in it, 
 as if he were either kindly or more indifferently affected 
 towards it: upon which accounts, we may well suppose 
 him to esteem it necessary for him, both to constitute a 
 rule for punishing it, and to punish it accordingly ; that 
 he may both truly act his own nature, and truly represc/ii 
 it. 
 
 X. And again, if we take the notion of his justice ia 
 this latitude, it will comprehend his governing vnsdom; 
 the part of which attribute it is, to determine and direct the 
 doing whatsoever is fit to be determined and done ; as it is 
 the part of his righteousness (taken in the strictest sense) 
 to resolve upon and execute whatever the rules of justice 
 do require and call for. 'Tis the judge of decencies, or 
 what is meet and becoming him, a-s the Lord and Ruler of 
 the world, to do or not do. And a very reasonable account 
 might be given of this matter, that we may renew and 
 somewhat further insist on what was said above, chap. vL 
 s. 5, &c. There are many just laws made by hunran le- 
 gislators, to the making whereof, though justice (in the 
 strictest sense) did not rigidly oblige them, so that they 
 had been unjust if they had not made them, yet this other 
 principle, of equal importance to government, and which 
 also doth not altogether refuse the name of justice, might 
 require the making them, and would not be well comport- 
 ed with by omitting to make them. 
 
 Hereupon therefore if it should be inquired. Was it, 
 antecedently to the making of this constitution, an indif- 
 ferent thing with God, whether to determine sin should 
 be punished, or not 1 I answer, even upon this ground. No; 
 it was not indifferent, but most indispensably necessary. 
 Any thing is with him necessary, as he is the Supreme 
 Governor, that is upon a prudential account most fit and 
 conducible to the ends of government An antecedent 
 necessity we might therefore assert, such as not only arises 
 from his justice, most strictly taken, but his wisdom also; 
 whose part it is to judge of congruities, as it is the part of 
 strict justice to determine matters of right. Nor is it unfit 
 to say, Wisdom is the chief principle exercised in making 
 laws, justice in governing according to laws already made. 
 I say, the chief; for justice hath that part in legislation 
 too, which hath been assigned it, as wisdom hath also its 
 part in the consequent administration. And what can be 
 more necessary to the great God, than to do ever what is 
 most becoming and worthy of himself? And what could 
 have been so becoming of him, as to let it appear to the 
 world how sacred the rights of his empire over ii are 1 how 
 horrid a thing the defection of a reasonable creature is. 
 from the great Author and Lord of its life and being? how 
 costly an expiation it did require 1 how solemn rights 
 were to be performed 1 how great and awful transactions, 
 that sin might become pardonable 1 What could so tend 
 to exalt majesty, to magnify the reputation of his govern- 
 ment, to possess his reasonable creatures with awful ap- 
 prehensions, and make them dread to offend 1 In a pru- 
 dent government, how great a thing is reason of state ! 
 Even where there is the greatest inclination imaginable to 
 be in all things most strictly and unexceptionably just, yet 
 is that the only care with prudent governors, that they 
 mavbe able to approve the justice of their administrations 1 
 There are manv things which, without transgressing par- 
 ticular rules of justice, misht have been omitted, from 
 which vet, upon mere reason of state, you can no more 
 make them swerve one ace, than you can remove the earth 
 from its centre, or change the ordinances of day and nieht : 
 and whereas that hath place in all things that tend to the 
 keeping up the reputation and grandeur of govemment, 
 where can it claim to have place with equal right asliere 1 
 Whereupon we mav, with greatest assurance, assert, that 
 in thingswhichhave this reference, 'tis equally impossible 
 to the absolute perfection of the divine nature, that God 
 should do an inept or unfit thing, as an unjust. And 
 whereas his righteousness is the directive principle, in 
 respect of equity or iniquity ; so is his wisdom, of congruity 
 and incongruitV, decencv and indecency; and that 'tis^ 
 equally necessary to hini to do what is most worthy ol
 
 93 
 
 THE LIVING TEMPLE. 
 
 Part II. 
 
 himself, and most becomins; his excellent greatness, as 
 what is most strictly just. Therefore that when his most 
 transcendant greatness is represented m terms as high and 
 great as could come under human conception, (Heb. li. 10.) 
 He, viz. for whom arc all things, and by whom are all 
 ihi'ngs ; (and what could sound higher'?) As such it is 
 considered what was most becoming of him ; and deter- 
 mined that it became Him, for and by whom all things 
 were, since there was one (though so great a one) that had j 
 undertaken for sinners, to be the Prince or Prefect t over 
 the great affair of their salvation, especially being to make | 
 them, of rebels, sons, and as such, bring them to glory, | 
 .out of the meanest and most abject state ; that he should 
 .not be made perfect, (not be duly initiated into his great 
 ■office, or not be complete master of his design,) otherwise 
 than by his own intervening suffering. Meaner persons 
 might do as became their meaner condition ; but He, for 
 whom are all things, and by whom are all things, must do 
 as best became the most glorious greatness of Him, who 
 is the First and the Last, the Author and End of all 
 things ■? ^ 
 
 XI. We are prone to confine our apprehensions of 
 things to our own narrow sphere, that have reference also 
 to another besides, and greater than ours. If God had no 
 creatures but man, capable of government by laws, the 
 case had been much other than it is ; for considering that 
 men have all been in one common case of apostacy and 
 condemnation, they who should be restored to favour and 
 a happy state, should have no reason to look strangely upon 
 one another, whatsoever the way and terms were of their 
 restitution, being all dealt with alike. But we are to de- 
 sign a larger field and scene for our thoughts, and to con- 
 sider, that besides men, that shall be restored from a fallen 
 and lapsed state, there are numberless myriads of pure 
 and loyal spirits, that never fell, and with whom restored 
 men are to make one entire, happy community, for ever. 
 Now we are to consider what aspect the matter would have 
 in their eyes, if not a single person, or two, but so vast a 
 multitude, (and not guilty of some light, transient offence 
 only, but of insolent, malicious enmity and rebellion 
 against the divine government, propagated and transmitted 
 from age to age, through all the successions of time,) 
 should be brought in upon them, to partake in the dignities 
 and blessedness of their state, without any reparation made 
 of so great and continuing an injury ! Though their perfect 
 subjection in all things to the good pleasure of God would 
 not allow them to be exceptions, and apt to censure his 
 doings or determinations, yet also his most perfect wisdom 
 and exact judgment, and knov/ledge of what is in itself 
 most fit, could much less admit he should do any thing 
 liable to be censured by his creatures, as less fit. And no 
 doubt so large and capacious intellects may well be sup- 
 posed to penetrate far into the reason and wisdom of his 
 dispensations; and so not only to exercise submission, in 
 an implicit acquiescence in the unseen and only believed 
 fitness of them, but also to take an inexpressible compla- 
 cency and satisfaction in what they manifestly discern 
 thereof, and 'o be able to resolve their delectation in the 
 ways and works of God into a higlier cause and reason 
 than the mere general belief that he doth all things well ; 
 viz. their immediate, delightful viewof tlie congruity and 
 fitness of what he does. When they behold the apostacy 
 and revolt of the sons of men expiated not by one of them- 
 selves, but with whom the Divine Nature, in his own Son, 
 was so intimately united, that the atonement made was 
 both fit, as from them, and adequate, as to him : this they 
 cannot but behold with complacential approbation and 
 admiration ; for, no doubt, he made creatures of such a 
 capacity, with a design to gratify the understandings he 
 gave them, by approving and recommending the exactness 
 and accuracy of his methods thereto ; otherwise, a far 
 lower measure of intellectual ability, in these creatures, 
 had answered the Creator's purpose as well. They cer- 
 tainly cannot but approve that way lie hath taken, for 
 itself; and do doubtless stoop down to look into it, not with 
 less complacency than wonder; it being, in the congruity 
 of it, as suitable to their bright and clear intellects, being 
 revealed, as for the strange contrivance thereof it had been 
 
 b apxnyoi'. 
 
 altogether above them, if it had not been revealed. They 
 cannot, Avhen they behold a full, glorious vindication of 
 the offence and wrong done to their common Lord, and 
 the dignity of his government, by his revolted creatures 
 antecedent to the reception of any of them into grace and 
 favour, but highly admire the lovely comeliness and con- 
 gruity of this whole di.spensation, and express their plea- 
 sant resentments, by bearing a part with the redeemed 
 society in such strains of praise, such admirations and ap- 
 plauses, as these : " Holy and marvellous are thy works, 
 LordGod Almighty ; just and true are thy judgments, thou 
 King of nations and of saints!" 
 
 XII. Upon the whole, there appears sufficient reason to 
 conclude, not only upon the account of justice more strictly 
 taken, but also of congruity and fitness, or according to 
 such a larger notion of justice as imports an inflexible 
 propension to do what is fit and congruous to be done, it 
 was indispensably necessary the holy God should, in order 
 to his return to his temple among men, insist to have a 
 recompense made for the wrong that was done him by the 
 violation of it. Nor let this be understood to detract from, 
 but add to, what hath been above discoursed of justice, 
 taken in a mo.st strict sense, and most appropriate to God, 
 as it is, primarily and in the first place, conservative of 
 his own most sacred rights; which must be, by conse- 
 quence, vindictive of the violation of them : and this is 
 the original justice, (as his are the original rights, and the 
 fountain of all other,) and must have had place, though he 
 had settled no express constitution of government. And 
 also as, secondarily, it is conservative of the rights of the 
 governed community, which, by the constitution, once 
 settled, accrue to it. 
 
 Whereupon also it maybe understood, in what sense 
 punishments, passively taken, are to be accounted debts. 
 And it is fitter to distinguish, and thereupon to explain, 
 how they are or are not so, than at random to deny they 
 are so at all, when our Lord hath taught us to pray, " For- 
 give us our debts;" and when it is so plain in itself, that 
 he who by delinquency hath forfeited his life, is most truly 
 said to owe it to justice. Yea, and when, though the 
 creditor pmna is said not to be so easily assignable, yet no 
 doubt at all is made concerning the debtor ; for how ab- 
 surdly should he be said to be a debtor, that owes no debt ! 
 Therefore punishments are not of the nature of those 
 debts, that according to the rules of communicative justice, 
 arise by contract between man and man ; and which, as 
 they arise by consent between the two covenanting parties, 
 may as well cease by consent. But nothing hinders, but 
 they may be such debts as are to be estimated by the dis- 
 tributive justice of rulers, whereof we must either say, that 
 of some, justice doth oblige human and secular rulers to 
 exact the punishment ; or else, that magistratical justice 
 would allow the remitting of all, and that no offences of 
 any kind be ever at all punished. But if the justice of any 
 secular rulers oblige them to punish some oflienders, then 
 most of all that of the supreme and most absolute Ruler 
 and Lord of all, whose rights are natural, and depend not 
 on our consent, or any contract with us, no more than our 
 consent was previous to our coming into being, or our 
 becoming his creatures ; and whose justice must be more 
 concerned to protect and vindicate his rights, than that of 
 any earthly governor can be to preserve the rights of even 
 the most considerable community : no community, nor all 
 taken together, nor even the whole creation, being of any 
 comparable value with the interest of the supreme and 
 universal Ruler, himself alone; in respect of whom all 
 nations are as the " drop of the bucket," &c. especially if 
 we add, (though that be but of secondary consideration,) 
 that the rights of the greatest, even the universal commu- 
 nity of all mankind, are involved with his own, and that 
 their common peace and order are to be preserved by 
 punishments, even eternal ones, not as executed, but as 
 threatened ; which, as hath been said, made the execution 
 necessary, where the terms and method of remission are 
 not complied with. 
 
 And whereas it is reckoned difficult to assign the cre- 
 ditor pcena:, the reason of that is not difficult to be assigned, 
 if we consider what the true notion of a creditor is. And
 
 Chap. VIII. 
 
 THE LIVING TEMPLE. 
 
 93 
 
 :t is not taken passively, for him who is intrusted with ano- 
 ther's rights, at least is not so to be limited ; inasmuch as 
 a man may be more properly creditor of what is his own 
 than of what is another's; but actively, for one who trusts 
 another. But the debitor poena is not intrusted with any 
 thing, but is only to be punished when he can be met with, 
 and duly brought thereto ; and therefore is not bound to 
 offer himself to punishment, as another debtor is to pay 
 what he owes ; who is to be active in the solution ; the de- 
 linquent, passive only ; whence dare panas is rightly in- 
 terpreted to siiffer punishment. And that this is all he is 
 obliged to, is plain, if we consider that it is not the precept 
 of the law that in this case obliges him, which only obliges 
 to the doing of duty, but the annexed commination, which 
 can only oblige to undergo punishment. 
 
 Creditor indeed is chosen as a fit word to express the 
 correlative unto debitor pasna ,- but by it we are to under- 
 stsuid no more than only the object of this solution : so in 
 iiuman governments, the governor is improperly, viz. as 
 be is intrusted with the rights of the community. But in 
 ■^ ■ the divine government, God himself, originally and radi- 
 i S^ cally, as he is Maker and Lord of all ; immediately and 
 < ». formally, as he is the supreme Ruler, and such a one there- 
 fore as governs principally, sua jure, and for himself, not 
 for others. For he cannot hut be his own supreme end ; 
 that he also doth undertake the care of the concernments 
 and good of others, is of mere vouchsafement and conde- 
 scension, not from any antecedent obligation so to do. 
 
 The sum of all therefore is, that whether we take Divine 
 justice in the larger sense, as it comprehends all the moral 
 excellences that relate to the government of God overman, 
 especially his wisdom and his holiness, or whether we 
 take it in a stricter sense, for a principle inclining him to 
 maintain and vindicate the rights and dignity of his go- 
 vernment, it did direct as well his making a constitution 
 for the punishing of affronts and offences committed 
 against it, as to proceed according to it, so as not to remit 
 such injuries to the offender without most sufficient re- 
 compense. 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 The first head thus far insisted on, that a sufficient recompense was necessary : 
 the second succeeds, that no less was sufficient than that made by Emmanuel, 
 liishonour to have insisted nn less. What the divine estimate in this matter 
 was. his own word shows. His love to oHenders otherwise under restraint. 
 Proposed to consideration, 1 How ^reat tilings were to be remitted, the sins 
 of all tinips, and ages. Not from nisufficiency unapplicable to all sinners. 
 Remission to be granted, by a universal law. 2. How great to be vouclisafed. 
 Wliich follows. 
 
 I. 2. And so much being clear, there is less need to 
 insist copiously in showing what comes next to be con- 
 sidered; that"* no recompense could be sufficient for ex- 
 piating the wrong done by the violation of God's temple 
 among men, and the laying its foundations anew, besides 
 that which hath been made by the Son of God, Emmanuel, 
 God with us : becoming him.self first an original Temple, 
 a Man, inhabited with all the fulness of God, and then 
 made also a Sacrifice to the offended majesty and justice 
 of Heaven, for those great and high purposes, the expia- 
 ting the indignity of violating God's former temple, and 
 the raising, forming, and beautifying il anew, in conformi- 
 ty to its present pattern and original ; and then possessing, 
 inhabiting, and restoring the Divine presence in it. 
 
 II. For as it hath been shown already, that this recom- 
 pense could not but be full, and apt to answer these pur- 
 
 Eoses; so it is in itself evident, that whatsoever should 
 e tendered in the name of a recompence, ought to he full, 
 and proportionable to the wrong done, and to the favours 
 afterwards to be shown to the transgressors. 
 
 For it were manifestly more ht)nourable and worthy of 
 God not to have exacted any recompense at all, than to 
 have accepted, in the name of a sacrifice, such as were 
 unproportionable, and beneath the value of what was to 
 be remitted and conferred. What had been lower must 
 have been infuiitely lower ; let any thing be supposed less 
 than God, and it falls immensely short of him. Such is 
 
 a Which i» the second head proposed to be discoursed, ch. vi. s. 2. 
 
 the distance between created being and uncreated, that 
 the former is as nothing to the latter; and therefore, bring 
 the honour and majesty of the Deity to any thing less than 
 an equal value, and you bring it to nothing. And this 
 had been quite to lo.se the design of insisting upon a re- 
 compense ; it had been to make the majesty of Heaven 
 cheap, and depreciate the dignitj- of the divine govern- 
 ment, instead of rendering it august and great. Therefore 
 the whole constitution of En)manuel, his undertaking, per- 
 formances, and acquisitions, ai)pearto have been not only 
 apt, suitable, and sufilcient to the intended purposes, 
 (which was first proposed to be shown,) but also requisite 
 and necessary thereto. 
 
 III. And for the evincing hereof, let us apply our minds 
 to meditate silently and intently awhile on those words of 
 our Lord, (John x. 17.) " Therefore doth my Father love 
 me, because I lay down my life:" and let us consider 
 them -with that reverence which we cannot but conceive 
 due to words we esteem most sacred and divine ; i. e. thai 
 they could not be rashly or lightly spoken : whereupon, let 
 us bethink ourselves. Have those words a meaning 1 T'his, 
 our awful regard to the venerable greatness of Him that 
 spoke them, cannot suffer us to doubt. And if they mean 
 any thing, it is impossible they should not mean some- 
 what most profound and great; somewhat that implies a 
 reference to a peculiar Qt'nrpcrii,i. e. a divine decorum, that 
 as an eternal law perpetually conducts all the propen- 
 sions and determinations of God's most perfect will, that 
 could by no means suffer any violation : what wa^; most 
 becoming of God ; viz. what might best " become him, 
 for whom are all things, and by whom are all things;" 
 (Heb. ii. 10.) worthy of the great, all-comprehending, 
 central, original Being, from whence all things sprang, 
 and wherein all terminate. Here is some gradual reieclion 
 (if we consider what immediately follows, " in bringing 
 many sons to glory," &c.) of the veiled arcana of the Di- 
 vine Being: if we may, on so fit occasion, allude to the in- 
 scription in the Egyptian temple, elsewhere mentioned in 
 this discourse — " I am all that was, and is, and shall be, 
 and who is he that shall draw aside my veil ?" Here is, 
 in some part, a withdrawing of that sacred veil, by Hira to 
 whom by prerogative it belonged, and of whom it is said, 
 " No man hath seen God at any time, but the only-begot- 
 ten Son, who is in the bosom of the Father, he hath de- 
 clared him," John i. IS. Here is some disclosure of the 
 mystery of God, of the Father, (Col. ii. 2.) in whom the 
 Divine nature was primarily, and as in that first founiain ; 
 and of Christ, the mystery of the Mediator, of whom Christ 
 was the distinguishing name. The agreement, hitherto 
 inconceivable and most mysterious, of the absolute purity 
 and perfection of the Divine nature, with the admirable 
 mercifulness of the constitution of Emmanuel, of God and 
 man united in one, in order to the reconciliation of the 
 holy, blessed God, with unholy, miserable man. How was 
 it to be brought about, in a way becoming him for whom 
 and by whom all things were, so great, so august a Majes- 
 ty ! that He should admit that so despicable and rebellious 
 a race should not only be saved, but be made sonsl This 
 could never be, though his immense and boundless love 
 most strongly inclined him to it, but by their having one 
 of highest dignity, his own Son, set as a Prince or Prefect 
 t)ver the whole affair of their salvation ; nor by him but 
 upon his own intervening suffering ! This was according 
 to fixed rule indispensably necessary; i. e. by the inviola- 
 ble maxims of the Divine government. But because, 
 through the inconceivable riches of his own goodness, this 
 was a thing he was most propense unto, and intent upon ; 
 yet because the death of his own Son in their stead could 
 neither be meritorious nor just, without his own free con- 
 sent, therefore, says our Lord, doth my Father love me, 
 because I lay down my life — What conceivable reason 
 can there be of this connexion, (" He therefore loves me. 
 because I lay down my life,") without the concurrence of 
 these two things to be considered conjunctly 1 A most in- 
 tense, vehement love to a perishing world. An inflexible 
 regard to the eterna', immutable measures of right and 
 wrong, fit and unfit, decent and indecent, that had their 
 fixed, everlasting seat in the mind of God.
 
 94 
 
 THE LIVING TEMPLE. 
 
 Part II. 
 
 IV. The former made the cMfi necessary, the preventini,' 
 the total, eternal ruin of a lost world ; the latter made the 
 Son of God's death, and his own consenl thereto, the neces- 
 sary means to this end. The former, viz. the end, was not 
 otherwise necessary than upon supposition; it was not so 
 absolutely necessary, that by any means, right or wrong, 
 fit or unfit, such a ruin (even most deserved^ must be pre- 
 vented. But it was so far necessary, as tnat if, by any 
 rightful and decorous means, this ruin could be prevented 
 as to many, and a contrary blessed state of perpetual life 
 be attained by them, this must be efiected and brought 
 about for them. Not, 'lis true, for all offenders, but as 
 many as the like eternal, indispensable means and mea- 
 sures of equal and imequal, fit and unfit, capable and in- 
 capable, should not exclude. 
 
 All this we have in that most admirable text of Scrip- 
 ture, (John iii. 16.) "God .so loved the world, that he gave 
 his only-begotten Son, that whosoever believeth in him 
 should not perish, but have everlasting life." So loved! 
 The matter is signified in such a way, as to leave all men 
 amazed ! and by their astonishment to supply their most 
 defective conception of so stupendous a love. The ^corUl 
 is an indefinite term, that contains the special and the 
 afterwards specified object of this love; not a single per- 
 son, but a whole race of intelligent creatures, a world 
 inhabited by such, that were not to be left, and finally all 
 swallowed up together in one common ruin ; that upon 
 this account he gave his only-begotten Son to death, as 
 the event and known design showed. And how incon- 
 ceivable must his love be tohisonly-begoUen Son ! " The 
 Brightness of his glory, the express Image of his person !" 
 always his delight ! Yet rather than allthis world should 
 be lost for ever. He is thus given up ! " That whosoever 
 believe on him, should not perish," &c. which expresses 
 the certain, specified, declared object of this love : leaving 
 them certainly excluded, who, after sufficient proposal, re- 
 fuse their homage to the throne of Emmanuel; choose 
 rather their forlorn souls should be for ever forsaken of 
 the Divine presence, than unite with him, and surrender 
 themselves to him, by whom alone they might be refitted, 
 an imated again, and inhabited as his living temples. Their 
 exclusion is necessary, by such measures as those, by 
 which such means were necessary to the salvation and 
 ble-ssedness of the others. But who can doubt hereupon, 
 but that this course was indispensably necessary to this 
 end? Especially if (reviewing that first-mentionsd text) 
 we consider, that our Lord represents his laying down his 
 life as an une.xpressible additional endearment of him to 
 the Father : q. d. " O thou Son of my delights, thou hast 
 now set my love to lost souls at liberty, that hath been 
 ever pregnant with great and godlike designs towards them, 
 and that must otherwi.se have been under perpetual re- 
 straint:" which is most evidently implied. 
 
 V. But it may be said. Could the love of God be under 
 restraint 1 And I say no, it could not; therefore, to the 
 all-comprehending Mind, where ends and means lie con- 
 nected together under one permanent, eternal view, this 
 course presented itself, as peculiarly accommodate to this 
 end; and was therefore eternally determined by easy con- 
 cert between the Father and the Son, not to remedy, but 
 prevent any such restraint. Yet it may be further urged, 
 Cannot the absoluteness and omnipotency of a God enable 
 him to satisfy his own propensions, if it were to save never 
 so many thousand worlds of offending creatures, without 
 taking such a circuit as this "? It was once said to a human 
 mortal king, that had about him but a thin shadow of 
 sovereignty, Dost thou now govern Israel, and not make 
 thy will any way take place 1 Much more might it here 
 be said, Dost thou govern the world 1 Art thou not God 1 
 Yes ! and may freely say, I can the less, for that I am God, 
 do what is not Godlike; i. e. can therefore the less break 
 through established, eternal measures, and counteract ni}^- 
 self I must do as becomes Him, for whom and by whom 
 are all things. Others may assume to themselves an ima- 
 gined, unhallowed liberty of pursuing, at the next, their 
 own inclinations; but it is beneath divine greatness to do 
 so. Yet in this case (it may be further said) why did not 
 love to his Son preponderate? Which our Lord himself 
 in great part obviates by whnt is subjoined— "because I 
 lay down my life." How ? With a power and design to 
 
 take it again, as v. 18. " I have power to lay it down, 
 and I have power to take it again, q. d. This is a matter 
 agreed, I am not to lie under a perpetual death ; that could 
 neither be grateful to my Father, nor is in itself possible. 
 But as things are staled, I am prepared to endure the 
 cross, and despise the shame, for the joy set before me ; 
 which joy will be everlastingly common to him and me, 
 and to the whole redeemed community, according to their 
 measure." But was all this unnecessary trifling 1 What 
 serious man's reverence of Deity can let him endure to 
 harbour so profane a thought 1 Therefore take we now 
 the entire state of this matter, as it lies plainlj^ in view be- 
 fore us, in these texts of Scripture. 1. Here is an unex- 
 pressibie love of God to undone, lost sinners. 2. Here is 
 a plain intimation that this love must have been under a 
 suspension and a restraint, if God's own Son had not laid 
 down his life for them. 3. It is as plainly signified, that 
 the Son of God's laying down his life for them, was, in 
 divine estimate, a sufficient expedient to prevent this re- 
 straint upon his love to sinners. 4. That this expedient 
 was reckoned by tJie blessed God more eligible, than that 
 his love to sinners should be under perpetual, everlasting 
 restraint. 5. That it was only reckoned more eligible, as 
 there was a conjunct consideration had of his laying it 
 down, with a power and design of resuming and taking it 
 again. 6. That therefore, as the eternal God had a most 
 constant, unquestionable love to his only-begotten Son, 
 his love to him hath a peculiar and most complacential 
 exercise, on the account of his concurring with him upon 
 this expedient ; choosing rather to endure all the dolours 
 of that " one hour, and power of darkness," that was to 
 come upon him, than that a whole world of rea.sonable 
 creatures, his own offspring, and bearing his own image, 
 should all perish together everlastingly. But who now 
 sees not that this was the determinate judgment of the 
 great God, viz. that his gracious designs towards guilty 
 creatures were not otherwise to he effected, than in this 
 way? And yet, for the further clearing of this matter, 
 taking Heb. x. 4. that the blood of the Lord Christ, and 
 of bulls and goats, are put in direct opposition to each 
 other; and hereupon, that it is said of the latter, "It is 
 not possible it should take away sin;" what can that imply 
 less, than that the former was necessary to the taking it 
 away ? Let us but appeal to ourselves, what else can it 
 mean ? Will we say, though sin could not be taken away 
 by the blood of bulls and goats, it might by some nobler 
 sacrifice of an intermediate value ? But is not this mani- 
 festly precluded, and barred by the immediateness of the 
 opposition? These two only are in competition, and it is 
 said, not this, but that. Other sacrifices God would not; 
 (Psal. xl. 6, 7.) then, saith our Lord, " Lo ! I come." 
 These are rejected, this is chosen ; he takelh away the 
 first, that he may establish the second, Heb. x. 9. When 
 it is said, (Mic. vi. 6, 7.) not thousands of rams, or ten 
 thousand rivers of oil; if one should say, Yea, but eleven 
 thousand might serve ; were not this trifling, not reason- 
 ing ? Is it not plain all other were refusable, for the same 
 reason ? 
 
 I shall now somewhat enlarge (as was formerly designed) 
 upon the two tilings already intimated under the foregoing 
 head of Emmanuel's sufficiency, &c. as having acquired 
 the two-fold power of forgiving sin, and giving the Spirit. 
 And shall now show, further, the necessity of his engaging 
 in this afrair(the restoringof God's temple) with reference 
 to bot?i these things, requisite thereto. 
 
 And to this purpose, let it be considered — What was to 
 be remitted, and what was to be conferred, by the procure- 
 ment. 
 
 1. What was to be remitted. It was not the single 
 trespass of one or a few delinquent persons, but the revolt 
 and rebellion of a vast community; a universal hostility 
 and enmity, continued and propagated through many suc- 
 cessive agents, that was now, once for all, to be atoned for. 
 It is hereupon to be considered — How great the offence 
 was that must be remitted. The way and manner in 
 which the grant was to be made of this remission. 
 
 1. How great was the offence to be remitted ! A whole 
 race and order of creatures had been in a conspiracy against 
 their rightful Lord, to deface his temple, tear down his 
 image, invade his rights, withhold and incapacitate them-
 
 Cmv. VIII. 
 
 THE LIVING TEMPLE. 
 
 95 
 
 selves for his worship, substitute, instead of that, highest 
 contempt, banish his presence, and as much as in them 
 lay raze out his memorial, that he might be no more 
 known, feared, or served upon earth ! How horrid a 
 prospect had the Lord from heaven, when, from the throne 
 of his glory there, he beheld the state of thmgs below ! 
 (Ps. xiv. 2, 3.) " The Lord looked down from heaven 
 upon the children of men, to see if any did understand, 
 and seek after God ; they are all gone back, none that does 
 good, no not one." All were become such mischievous, 
 wicked fools, els to say, with one consent, in their hearts, — 
 No God ! And though, it is true, this wickedness was not 
 in event to be actually remitted to all, the case was to be 
 so stated, that remission might be universally offered ; and 
 that it be left to lie upon men's own score if it were not 
 accepted ; and therefore, that a sacrifice must be offered 
 up, of no less value than if every single transgressor was 
 to have his actual, sealed pardon. 
 
 VI. For let it be considered what sort of transgressors 
 are excluded the benefit of remission, on the account of 
 that great Sacrifice that once for all was offered up ; and 
 we find it not difficult to apprehend other most important 
 reasons why they are excluded ; but no colour of a reason 
 that it should be for want of sufficient value in this Sacri- 
 fice. 
 
 i. As for the angels that fell, though their case comes 
 not directly under our present consideration, yet occasion- 
 ally, and as (d fortiori) we may argue from it, some 
 thoughts may usefully be employed about it. The Divine 
 pleasure herein is indeed intimated, in the Son of God's 
 not taking tkeir nature, but ours ; and his known measure 
 of showing mercy is, that he will show mercy, because he 
 will show mercy. Yet, whereas we find that the most 
 sovereign act of grace, the predestinating of some to the 
 adoption of children, is ascribed to the good pleasure, 
 (Eph. i. 5.) the same act is ascribed also to the counsel 
 of his will, I'. II. And when we see the apostle in that 
 holy transport, (Rom. xi. 33.) crying out, in contempla- 
 tion of distinguishing mercy, w pa9os — Othe depth! he doth 
 not say of the sovereign power, but of the wisdovi and 
 knowledge of God ; and admires the unsearchableness, not 
 of his arbitrary determinations, but of his judgments and 
 wa)''s, or judicial proceedings towards them that believed, 
 or believed not: (Ps. xxx. 31, 32.) implying he had rea- 
 sons to himself, though past our finding out, of his different 
 proceedings towards some, and others. And as for the 
 angels that fell, and whom he thought fit not to spare, (2 
 Pet. ii. 4, 5. Jude 6.) he threw them into chains of dark- 
 ness, resolving to deal with them, not upon terms of abso- 
 lute Sovereignty, but of justice, therefore reserving them 
 to the judgment of the great day ; not in the meantime 
 affording them a second trial, in order to their recovery, 
 as he hath to us, even of mere mercy ; for no justice could 
 oblige him to offer us new terms. Yet their case and ours 
 so differed, that there are reasons obvious to view, and 
 which must lie open to all, in the public, final judgment, 
 why he might judge it fitter to design the objects of mercy 
 among men, than the apostate angels. As, 
 
 1. That we must suppose them (cir. the angels) created, 
 each of them, in perfect inaturily, unto which we (our first 
 parents excepted) grow up gradually and by slow degrees. 
 Thei/ had their intellectual ability lit lor present exercise, 
 when they first existed, and did all then at once co-exist ; 
 (as we generally reckon, having nothing to induce us to 
 think otherwise ;) we come into being successively, and 
 exist here but in a succession. 
 
 2. Whereas they therefore must be understood to have 
 been originally under a sort of covenant of works, (as we 
 were,) or were some way or other made to understand 
 what, lay the law of their creation, was their duty towards 
 the Author of their beings, and what their expectations 
 might be from him ; we have no reason therefore to appre- 
 hend that they were treated with, in one common head of 
 their own order, in whom they should stand or fall, as we 
 were ; our case not admitting it to be otherwi.se, because 
 we were not co-existent with him. But we must conceive 
 them to have been, every individual of them, personal 
 covenanters, each one in his own person receiving the sig- 
 nification of their Maker's will; and if there were reason 
 or need of solemn restipulation, each one in his own per- 
 
 son as it were plighting his faith, and V3wing his alle- 
 giance to the celestial crown and throne. They ihcrefbre, 
 from a self-contracted malignity, rebelled wiih open eyes; 
 and though an obligation by a common head were bind- 
 ing, theirs, by their own act and deed, must be more 
 strongly binding, and their revolt more deeply and more 
 heinously criminal. 
 
 3. The posterity of our apostate first parents have bui a 
 limited time, in this state of probation, wherein to under- 
 stand the present altered state of things between them and 
 their offended Lord : within which time, though he foresaw 
 the malignity of very many would never be overcome by 
 his goodness, in the ordinarj' meihods wheiein he reckoned 
 it became him to discover and exercise it towards them, 
 yet according to the course and law of nature he had now 
 settled for this apostate sinful world, their course would 
 soon be run out, and they w^ould not have opportunity 
 long to continue their rebellion, and obstruct his interest 
 and designs on earth. And also, having all things ever 
 present to his all-comprehending view, he foreknew and 
 foredetermined that great numbers should become the 
 captives of his grace, and that the love and blood of an 
 Emmanuel should not be lost and thrown away upon 
 them. He should make them " willing in the day of his 
 power" to fall in with gracious intendmenis, and their Re- 
 deemer should see his seed, and the travail of his .soul, and 
 be satisfied therein : whereas he beheld the apostate spirits 
 of that higher order fixed in enmity, not vincible by any 
 ordinary methods. Nor was it to be expected he should 
 exert (in this case) his absolute power, and act ad iilti- 
 vmm, as a natural agent doih, to its very uUermost. (Had 
 he thought fit, he could as well have prevented their re- 
 volt.) Or that he should have appointed a Redeemer for 
 their recovery, who were irrecoverable : their case at first 
 being (probablv) very parallel to theirs among men, who 
 sin "that sin a"gainst the Holy Ghost." And as things 
 lay in divine prospect, their malicious opposition to God's 
 designs in this world was not bounded within the narrow 
 limits of a short human life, their natures not being sub- 
 ject to a law of mortality, as it is with every sinner 
 among men; but they were beheld as continually filling 
 this world with mischiefs, with wickednesses and rni.^erics, 
 and counterworking all God's glorious and merciful de- 
 signs in it ; even every one of them, from his first apos- 
 tacy, as long as the world shall last. 
 
 4. Man sinned at first, being seduced, tempted, and de- 
 ceived by the devil. The devils, as being their own 
 tempters, sin had in and from them its original and first 
 rise in the creation of God. In all agency, whether of 
 good or evil, much is wont to be attributed to this, Who 
 •was first in it ? In point oi good, the blessed God hath no 
 competitor ; he is the undoubted first Fountain of all good, 
 and is therefore acknowledged the supreme Good. In 
 point of evil, (viz. moral,) there is none prior to the devil, 
 who is therefore eminently called the evil, or icicked one. 
 And as the devils were first in sin, so they led us into it, 
 b)' deceiving us; the malignity of it was therefore the 
 greater on their parts, and proportionably the less on ours. 
 The more knowing are the more deeply guilty,thedeceivei 
 than the deceived, and deserve the more stripes. 'Tis true 
 that none can deserve mercy, for then it were justice, and 
 not mercy ; but though none can deseiwe to have mercy 
 shown them, they may deserve not to have it. The more 
 a ruler is above us, and the less he needs us, the less pos- 
 sible it is for us to oblige him, and the more possible to 
 disoblige and offend him, and the more heinous will the 
 offence be : therefore, though none can claim mercy, they 
 may forfeit it; and will, by the deeper guilt, incur such 
 a forfeiiure, by how much the more and clearer the light 
 and knowledge is against which they offend. And this 
 we find to have been a measure with the blessed God, in 
 the exercise of his mercy, even in some of the highest 
 instances hereof that we meet with in holy Scripture ; " I 
 obtained mercy, because I did it ignorantly, in unbelief," 
 I Tim. i. Not that this could specify a more deserving 
 object of mercy ; for where there can be no desert at all, 
 tiiere can be no more, or less. 
 
 VII. But it represents the occasion and season of show- 
 ing mercy more fitly, in the estimate of the Divine wisdom, 
 which conducts the acts of sovereignty ; and judges of
 
 96 
 
 THE LIVING TEMPLE. 
 
 Part 11, 
 
 congruities, as justice doth of right and wrong. Where 
 indeed, among the objects of mercy, there is an absolute 
 parity, there (as to them) mere sovereignty determines; 
 as it may be ordinarily, in God's electing among men the 
 objects of his free favour. Where there is no objective 
 reason of eligibility in one more than another, especially 
 if there be such as would rather persuade the contrary 
 way, wisdom hath no proper exercise. But occasions are 
 of greater latitude, and comprehend all considerable cir- 
 cumstances and consequences ; and many things lie open 
 to the Divine eye, that are hid to ours. 
 
 But now, whereas we cannot doubt, that besides such 
 considerations as occur to us, the blessed God saw super- 
 abundant ground of not making such provision for the re- 
 covery of fallen angels, as of lost men ; we can have none, 
 whereupon to imagine the former partake not of the bene- 
 fit with the latter, for want of value in the sacrifice of 
 Emmanuel. For when the blood of his cross is intimated 
 to extend to all things both in heaven and earth; (Col. i. 
 20.) to diffuse an influence through the universe ; to be 
 the cement of the creation, in what part and for what time 
 it shall continue, subordinately to the Creator's pleasure 
 and purposes ; and that by Him, who shed it even as such, 
 all things are said to consist: and that besides his natural 
 right, he hath acquired by the superabundant value of this 
 sacrifice, (the odours whereof are spread through all 
 worlds,) a universal dominion ; and particularly, to be 
 Head of all principalities and powers ; to establish the 
 faithful and loyal, to judge and punish the disloyal, over 
 whom he so gloriously triumphed on the cross ; (Col. ii. 
 15.) to have every knee bow to him, &c. (Phil. ii. 6, 7, 8, 
 9, 10, 11.) it cannot be, doubtless, but the value of the 
 same sacrifice had sufficed to obtain a power as well as to 
 govern and judge all, to establish and reward the good, to 
 punish the bad; to have obtained that, upon terms, par- 
 don and mercy might have reached down into the infernal 
 regions, if they that inhabit them cwild upon other accounts 
 have been thought a pardonable or tractable sort of delin- 
 quents. And if we cannot apprehend this great Sacrifice 
 to want value even to make atonement for devils, we can 
 as little think it .should want value to save. 
 
 VIII. 2. The impenitent and unbelieving among men, 
 nnder the gospel ; and that it must therefore also be for 
 some other reason, that such perish. 
 
 As, (1.) If there be any thing of reason in -what hath 
 been discoursed concerning the state of the lapsed angels, 
 their continuance in wilful impenitency and infidelity 
 partly supposes, partly makes, the state of things with them 
 the same. 
 
 1. Partly supposes it so. For it implies they have been 
 applied to and treated with personally, upon the terms of 
 the second covenant ; i. e. the covenant of God in Christ, 
 as the apostate angels were upon the first. And if the 
 guilt of the former apostates was so horridly great upon 
 this account, the guilt of the latter must be proportionably 
 so on the same account. 
 
 2. Partly makes it the same. For hereby, as they were 
 violators first and immediately in their own persons of the 
 first covenant, so are these of the second. For, generally, 
 they that live under the gospel are professed covenanters ; 
 and if they were not, they could not but have become 
 obliged to have been so, by the very proposal and tender 
 thereof unto them; or, as soon as the mind of Him who 
 made them, concerning this matter, was known. They 
 were not obliged by their own consent, but they were 
 obliged to it; and by an incomparably greater and deeper 
 obligation ; not by their own act and deed, but by His 
 who gave them breath. What is their authority over 
 themselves, compared with that of the Supreme Lawgiver? 
 A mere borrowed subordinate thing, without and apart 
 from him, without whom their being itself were mere no- 
 thing ! An argument ad homincvi, is convictive, in dispu- 
 tation, between one man and another ; but how much more 
 overpowering means of conviction will there be in the 
 judgment of the great day! And the parity of cases be- 
 tween the angels that fell, and insolent sinners under the 
 gospel, is intimated as monitory to the latter, in those texts 
 of Scripture that speak of God's most just and terrible se- 
 verity to the former ; viz. the sin of both was apostacy, 
 according to the different covenants or laws under which 
 
 they stood. For as the one 5ort were apostates from God, 
 so the others were from Christ, denying the Lord that 
 bought them, 2 Pet. ii. 1. And again, " turning the gra.ce 
 of God into lasciviousness, rind denying the only Lord 
 God, and our Lord Jesus Christ," Jude 4. Whereupon, 
 this example of God's vengeance upon the angels that fell 
 is subjoined in both places. Besides what was common 
 to them with the apostate angels, there were some things 
 peculiar to these wilful refusers of the grace of the gospel, 
 and violators of the gospel-covenant. As, 
 
 1. That the guilt of wilful sinners under the gospel ad- 
 mits of this aggravation above that of the rebelling angels, 
 that they oflend against the grace of the remedy, never 
 offered to the other ; treading underfoot the Son of God, 
 profaning the blood of the covenant, wherewith they were 
 sanctified, as an unholy thing, and doing despite unto the 
 Spirit of grace, Heb. x. 29. And, 
 
 2. That the offer itself, made to them, carried in it a. 
 manifest signification of their (remote) claimable right to 
 the benefits of the gospel-covenant, on supposition of their 
 compliance with the terms of it, (unto which the fallen 
 angels could have no pretence,) barred only by their non- 
 acceptance or refu.sal, which appears in the general tenor 
 of the gospel-covenant itself: " Ho, every one that thirsts" 
 — " Whosoever will, let him come, and take of the waters 
 of life freely" — " God so loved the world, that he gave his 
 only-begotten Son, that whosoever believeth in him, should 
 not perish." — And it is here to be noted, that a secret in- 
 tention gives not a claimable right, but some overt-act or 
 deed ; and it must be claimable, before it ought to be 
 claimed or accepted. This is the case then with the wil- 
 fully impenitent and rebellious under the gospel, that it 
 may be truly said of them, " You might have had pardon 
 and eternal life, if you had not rejected the kindest ofiers." 
 It is not therefore want of value in this sacrifice, but their 
 rejection, whence it is unavailable to them. As for them 
 that could never have the gospel, or infants incapable of 
 receiving it, we must consider the Holy Scriptures were 
 written for those that could use them, not for those that 
 could not ; therefore to have in.serted into them an account 
 of God's methods of dispensation towards such, had only 
 served to gratify the curious and unconcerned, not to in- 
 struct or benefit such as were concermed. And it well be- 
 came hereupon the accurate wisdom of God, not herein to 
 indulge the vanity and folly of man. 
 
 IX. 2. Now let it hereupon be considered, in what way 
 was this to be done ; not otherwise than by enacting and 
 publishing a universal law, that whosoever should comply 
 with such and such terms, expressed in that law, (as, for 
 instance, repentance towards God, and faith in Jesus 
 Christ,) should be actually and finally pardoned and saved. 
 And this being now the plain slate of the case, let any 
 sober unprejudiced mind make a judgment of it, what 
 this matter would come to, if there had not been a com- 
 pensation made, as a formdation to this law, and the pub- 
 lication of it. They that exalt one Divine perfection, to the 
 diminution of several others; that, for instance, so plead 
 for the absoluteness and sovereignty of God's mercy, as 
 not to adjust therewith the determinations of his wisdom, 
 purity, righteousness, forget that they hereby make any 
 satisfaction by a Redeemer unnecessary, (and by conse- 
 quence make Christ, whom they cannot deny to have suf- 
 fered and died, being innocent, to have died in vain,) nor 
 do allow in their own thoughts its just weight to this state 
 of the case, — that the method in which God was to exer- 
 cise his pardoning mercy, was by publishing an edict for 
 that purpose, that was to extend all the world over, and 
 through all the successions of time. They know this is 
 the course the wisdom of God hath pitched upon, and 
 yet, taking the case as it is, would have this large, uni- 
 versal tenor of the gospel to proceed upon no foregoing 
 compensation. The great God requires it should be pro- 
 claimed to all the world, " Ho, every one that thirsts, 
 come to the waters" — " Whosoever believes shall not 
 perish, but have life everlasting" — " If the wicked turn 
 from all the sins he hath committed, he shall not die : all 
 his transgressions shall not be mentioned" — " Repent, so 
 your iniquities shall not be your ruin" — " Come to me, all 
 ye that are weary and heavy laden, and I will give you 
 rest" — " Go preach the go.spel to every creature; whoso-
 
 Chap. IX. 
 
 THE LIVING TEMPLE. 
 
 9j 
 
 ever believes shall he saved." This is the known tenor 
 
 of the gospel, directed without liniiialion to all the ends of 
 
 I the earth; "Look to me, and be saved; all sin and blas- 
 
 tphemy shall be forgiven lo men." That gospel which de- 
 termines whosoever believes shall be saved, is directed to 
 be preached to all nations. He did first, by his angels 
 from heaven, indefinitely proclaim, " Peace on earth, and 
 good-will towards men:" and pursuant hereto was the 
 commission given by our ascending Lord to his apostles 
 and ministers that should succeed to the end of the world. 
 Now suppose that without reference to, or mention any 
 where made of, this compensation to the justice of God, 
 there must be an offer made of such mercy, not to pre- 
 sent delinquents only, but to all, in all future times and 
 ages ! 
 
 X. With what methods of government would such a 
 course as this agree 1 I the rather insist upon this, both as 
 apprehending it to have its own great weight, and that 
 perhaps it hath escaped the consideration of the most, in 
 treating of this important subject ; yet, what is more ob- 
 vious 1 It is one thing for a prince, bj'^ a private act of 
 grace, to pardon a particular person that hath offended 
 him without insisting upon any recompense ; another 
 thing to do it to a multitude, not only that had now trans- 
 gressed, but that should do so in any future time. Lighter 
 minds may perhaps at first sight reckon this would only 
 so much the more magnify the mercy of God above that 
 of man, "whose ways are not as our ways, nor his 
 thoughts as our thoughts." And so indeed doth the way he 
 hath taken for the pardoning of sin infinitely exceed all 
 human thought, Isa. Iv. 6,7, 8. Butw^e must take heed of 
 being so inconsiderately officious, as to prescribe him wa3's 
 of exalting one attribute, to the depressing of another ; and 
 so lo set him above men in one respect, as to throw him in 
 another below himself, yea, and below men too : i. e. not 
 more to set him above them in point of mercy, than be- 
 neath them in point of governing wisdom and righteous- 
 ness. And if any would be so insolent to prescribe to him, 
 they might have thought the inconvenience of such a uni- 
 versal edict might have been avoided, by his sending an 
 angel, or affording some particular revelation, to every 
 man he would have turn to him, and repent. But were 
 it dutiful so to correct his way of dispensation 1 And con- 
 sider how this way he hath chosen would square with the 
 ordinary measures of government, without the foundation 
 laid which we are asserting. That prince would cer- 
 tainly never be so much magnified for his clemency and 
 mercy, as he would be despised by all the world for most 
 remarkable defects of government, that should not only 
 pardon whosoever of his subjects had offended him, upon 
 their being sorry for it, but go about to provide a law that 
 should obtain in his dominions, through all after-time, 
 that whosoever should oft'end against the government, with 
 whatsoever insolency, malignity, and frequency, if they 
 repented, they should never be punished, but be taken 
 forthwith into highest favour. Admit that it had been 
 congruous to the wisdom and righteousness of God, as 
 well as his goodness, to have pardoned a particular sin- 
 ner, upon repentance, without satisfaction; yet nothing 
 could have been more apparently unbecoming him, than 
 to settle a universal law, for all future time, to that pur- 
 pose ; that let as many as would in any age, to the world's 
 end, affront him never so highly, invade his rights, trample 
 his authority, tear the constitution of his government, thev 
 should, upon their repentance, be forgiven, and not only 
 not be punished, but be most highly advanced and digni- 
 fied. 
 
 XI. And though he hath, upon the recompense made 
 him by his Son for all this injury, declared he will do all 
 this ; they ccepting their Redeemer and Saviour for their 
 Ruler and Lord, and returning to their state of subjection 
 and duty to him.self, in him ; yet it were enough to make 
 the world tremble and fall astonished at his foot-stool, to 
 have peace and reconciliation offered them only upon 
 such terms ; and to behold God's own Son made a sacrifice 
 to his justice, and a public spectacle to angels and men, for 
 the expiation of the wrong done ; and "enough to make 
 all men despair of ever finding such another sacrifice, if 
 they should reject the terms upon which only the value 
 and meritoriousness of this can be available for them. 
 
 They can never, .after this, have pretence to think it a 
 light matter to offend God, or to think that he looks with 
 indifferency upon sin, or counts it a sujall matter. And 
 suppose it possible a single delinquent might have been 
 pardoned, without such atonement made for his offence; 
 the design of God's unbounded mercy not being so nar- 
 row, but so vastly oomprehensive as to require the settling 
 of a stated course for the reducing and saving of lost souls, 
 in all times and ages; .since a Redeemer of so high dig- 
 nity was to be constituted for this purpose; it had been an 
 unexpressible injury to him, a detraction from the kind- 
 ness of his undertaking and the authority of his office, that 
 any thing of mercy should be shown in this kind, but in 
 him and by him alone. 
 
 But that it may be further understood how requisite it 
 was such atonement should be made, such a sacrifice of- 
 fered, for the sins of men, in order to Go#s settling his 
 temple and presence with them ; we were to consider, not 
 only what was to be remitted, which we have done, but 
 also what was to be communicated, viz. his blessed Spirit, 
 in pursuance of the same gracious purpose ; which re- 
 mains to be done in what follows. 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 ConceiTiing the gift or communication of the .^rint- The gospel the means of 
 it. The inseparable conne.\ion hereof with llie former, the imparting of" 
 righteousness, for removing the guilt of sin. In what sense the Holy Spirit 
 of God IS said to be given, or communicated. What personal union signifies. 
 How personal presuJice, vital union, communicated influences, concern the 
 inijuiry. In what respect the necessity asserted of this communication. 
 Since such fulness of^Spirit in Emmanuel, purposely for communication ; 
 how comes it to pass he, thereby, raises no more such temples ? The neces- 
 sity of this communication, for this purijose. represented t«o ways : bv show- 
 ing, 1 That thi- Holy Scripture teaches that God doth give his Spirit.' thouch 
 undtrdisliiict nutions, only through Christ. 2. That it was most rcasonabfe, 
 and thrriliirr ruri'ssary it should be so. The doctrine of Scripture herein 
 proposed under si.\ heads. 
 
 1. Whsreas there could be no restoration of this tem- 
 ple of God with men (as hath been shown) without the 
 concurrence of these two things: remission of sin — emis- 
 sion of the Holy Spirit — and that it was undertaken to 
 show, that these were so great things, as that the wisdom 
 of God judged it not meet to vouchsafe them in another 
 way, than by constituting the Emmanuel invested with a 
 full power, by his own acquisition, in an unexceptionable, 
 legal way, to dispense, and effect both of them ; where- 
 upon, as we have seen, this constitution was abundantly 
 sufficient, so it now also must appear necessary, for this 
 purpose. Having endeavoured to evince this necessity 
 concerning the former of these, remission of sin, upon con- 
 sideration of the vast amplitude and the peculiar way of 
 this remission ; we are now to show it concerning the 
 latter, viz. the emission or communication of the Holy 
 Spirit. 
 
 The rich sufficiency of Emmanuel, so constituted, as to 
 be furni.shed with this power of giving the Spirit, hath 
 been already seen, and that in a two-fold respect; viz. 
 both in respect of the end of its communication, that the 
 indi.sposed, unwilling heart of man might be prepared and 
 maile willing again to receive the Divine presence ; and 
 in respect of the way wherein it was to be communicated ; 
 viz. in a way suitable to man's intelligent nature, by re- 
 presentation of the glorious object by which his souTwas 
 to be impressed. Emmanuel himself, represented as the 
 original, excvipJary temple ; and also represented as made 
 a sacrifice: as Avas discoursed chap. v. Whereby the two 
 purposes are answered, mentioned chap. vi. s. 1. For 
 which it was requisite this constitution of Emmanuel 
 should be, and should be declared and made known tons: 
 that the blessed God might, upon terms not injurious to 
 himself, give his own consent ; and might, in a wav not 
 unsuitable to us, gain ours. Both which he is graciously 
 pleased to assume to himself, for his part, in his transac- 
 tions with us about this matter ; leaving it for our parr, 
 being so assisted, to consider what is represented to us : 
 and thereupon, actually to give our own consent. 
 
 Whereupon we are not to look upon the gospel of the 
 Son of God as a useless or unnecessary thing. It is the 
 ministration of .spirjt and life, (2 Cor. iii". 6.) aiid the power
 
 98 
 
 THE LIVING TEMPLE. 
 
 Part II. 
 
 of God to salvation to every one that believes ; (Rom. i. 
 lo.) all apt instrument of such impressions upon the spi- 
 rits of men as are necessary to their being formed into 
 living temples; the sword of the Spirit. Not that any good 
 ■work is wrought by the inanimate gospel: the letter kills; 
 but it is the Spirit that gives life, 2 Cor. iii. An instru- 
 ment comes under the general notion of means, which 
 signify somewhat middle between the efficient and the ef- 
 fect. And suppose an agent able etfectually to use them ; 
 a sword is a fit instrument for its proper use, supposing a 
 hand able to wield it. 
 
 The communication therefore of the Spirit, is t^at we 
 are principally now to consider. And as the constitution 
 of Emmanuel was sufficient, in its own kind, and for its 
 own proper purpose, in this restoration ; so we are to show 
 the necessity of it, for this same purpose. 
 
 There ought to be a concurrence of these two, in the 
 Cause, the Restorer, of this temple; viz. A fulness of 
 righteousness, to be so imparted as that it may be a ground 
 upon which sin may be forgiven : and, A fulness of Spirit, 
 from whence vital influence may be communicated and 
 transfused . 
 
 Inasmuch, as it is most evident, there cannot but be a 
 connexion of what is correspondent thereto in the eifect, 
 viz. the temple itself restored, it must be full of life, 1 Pet. 
 ii. 4, 5. For can it be thought the righteousness of the 
 Son of God should ever be the clothing of a carcass 1 
 Wiihout union with Christ, no man can have either: 
 neither his righteousness nor his indwelling Spirit. Nor 
 can they be separable, with reference to the designed end. 
 It is an unsupposable thing, that one should be God's 
 temple enlivened, and animated by his own Spirit, and 
 yet be rmder remaining guilt, and liable every moment to 
 his consuming wrath ; or that he could be any whit the 
 better, to have all his former guilt taken off, and be still 
 " dead in trespasses and sins !" Wherefore this latter is of 
 equal necessity. Hither therefore we have reserved the 
 larger discourse we intended of the gift or communication 
 of the Spirit, as the most proper place for it. And by 
 way of preparation hereto, two things are liot unfit to be 
 briefly opened. 
 
 I. How or in what sense the Spirit is said to be given at 
 all, or communicated. 2. In what respect we assert a ne- 
 cessity in reference to this communication. 
 
 II. 1. It will not be inconvenient to say somewhat of the 
 true import of the phrase giving the Spirit. It is evident, 
 that whereas giving imports some sort of communication, 
 there is yet a sense wherein that blessed Spirit is, to any 
 creature, simply incommunicable. There is a T!coix'''9')<'ii, 
 or m\\U\^\ in-being, of the .sacred Persons in the Godhead, 
 which is most peculiar to themselves, not communicable 
 to creatures with them ; and which is natural and neces- 
 sary, not gratuitous, and whereto therefore the notion of 
 gift no way agrees. We cannot yet be ignorant, that be- 
 cause the Holy Spirit is sometimes called the Spint of God, 
 sometimes the Spirit of Christ, some bold, assuming en- 
 thusiasts, upon pretence of being possessed of this Spirit, 
 have taken the liberty of uttering " great swelling words 
 of vanity," and to talk of being godded with God, and 
 christed with Christ. Yet, because the expressions of 
 giving the Spirit, of receiving, of having the Spirit, of 
 our being in the Spirit, and of his being and dwelling or 
 abiding in us, are phrases of known and frequent use in 
 Scripture ; whether in relation to extraordinary purposes 
 and operations, peculiar to some, or to ordinary, common 
 to all that are sincere in the Christian church : such ex- 
 pressions are therefore by no means to be rejected or dis- 
 used; but cautiously used, and vmderstood in a sound 
 and sober sense. We find no difficulty in apprehending 
 how God is said to give any thing diverse or distinct from 
 himself; as houses, lands, riches, &c. when in the mean- 
 time we will confess it not so easy to conceive of his 
 giving what is within the verge of Deity, or that is of and 
 belonging to himself. Same have thought, that by the 
 Spirit jjiven, we are to understand the operations and ef- 
 fects of the Spirit, cvtraordinanj, as of prophecy, working 
 miracles, &€. and ordinary, (which concern our present 
 purpose,) the graces, habits, acts, and influences of the 
 Spirit. Others, finding it so expressly said of the Spirit 
 himself, spoken of as a person, that he shall be given, he 
 
 shall abide with, and shall or doth dwell with or in you ; 
 (John xiv. 15, 16. Rom. viii. in divers verses of those 
 chapters ;) have thought it too diminishing, and beneath 
 the sense of those places, to understand them of any thing 
 less than the very person of the Spirit. And some, reckon- 
 ing the particle in to import union, have therefore incogi- 
 tantly spoken of a personal union between the Holy Spi- 
 rit and believers. Others, more cautiously, of his indwell- 
 ing, personal presence in them : as a greater thing, and 
 more answerable to the letter of such texts, than their 
 only having in thejn his graces or gracious influences. 
 
 Ill If one may adventure to give a censure and judg- 
 ment upon all this, I conceive, 
 
 1. That if any will make use of metaphysical terms, 
 they should take them in the sense Avherein metaphysi- 
 cians use them ; which they do not, who speak of a per- 
 sonal tinion between Christ, or the Spirit of Christ, and 
 believers. For by personal union is never wont to be 
 meant a union of one person with another, but a union of 
 the singular nature with this peculiar manner of subsist- 
 ence, whereby is constituted one person ; i. e. that by per- 
 sonal union is meant, not the subjects of union, as if it 
 only signified that several persons remaining distinct were 
 yet some way or other united v/ith one another ; which, so 
 taken, were a very lax expression, and which, according to 
 various capacities persons may admit of, would be of vast 
 extent, and may reach to domestical, political, and I know 
 not how many more imions ; which cannot but be much 
 beneath what such men must be understood to intend : but 
 that expression, personal miion, means the result of union, 
 whereby the mentioned two become one person. And 
 therefore they that speak in this stricter and more proper 
 sense of personal union of the Spirit and believers, do 
 most unwarily assert a nearer union between the Spirit 
 and believers than that of the sacred persons in the God- 
 head with each other. For they who acknowledge them 
 one in Godhead, do yet as commonly deny them to be one 
 person, and assert them to be ever three distinct persons: 
 and this must be as much above what such men will avow 
 and stand by. Therefore that expression can, in this case, 
 admit no tolerable sense ax all, distinctly expressive of 
 any thing that can be truly meant by it. 
 
 2. That, of a personal indtuelling presence, can by no 
 means be denied. The plain import of many texts of 
 Scripture is so full to this purpose, that to take them other- 
 wise, exclusively of this, is not to i/Uerpret Scripture, but 
 deny it. 
 
 3. Yet this expression oi a per sono2 indwelling presence, 
 taken alone, doth not signify any peculiar distinguishing 
 privilege of believers from others ; but what is common to 
 all men and creatures. For can we acknowledge God to 
 be omnipresent, and deny it of any person of the Godhead 1 
 Therefore, the Spirit's personal presence alone doth not 
 distinguish believers from others, even though we suppose 
 that presence to be never so intimate: God is all, and in 
 all, more inward or intimate to ns than ve are to our- 
 selves ; an assertion carrying its own evidence so fully in 
 itself, as easily to be transferred from the pagan academy 
 to the Christian church, so as generally to obtain in it. 
 
 4. That therefore such as speak of the Spirit's being 
 present, by his gracious influences, operations, and effects, 
 suppose his personal presence, from which they can no 
 more be severed, than the beams from the body of the sun. 
 The way of Divine operation being also by an immediate- 
 ness both virtutis et supposili, of both poorer and person, as 
 it is commonly, and fitly enough, wont to be spoken. 
 
 If any therefore should speak of the Spirit's personal 
 presence, as secluding gracious effects wrought thereby, 
 they do not herein say a greater thing than the others, but 
 much less. For though there can't be any gracious effects 
 without the present person of the Spirit, jei we all know 
 he may be personally present where he produces no such 
 effects: it is therefore his being so present, as to be the 
 productive cause of sUch blessed effects, that is any one's 
 peculiar advantage. It is very possible to have the person- 
 al presence of some great and munificent personage, and 
 be nothing the better for it, if his favour be shut up to- 
 wards m». It is only his communicative presence that I 
 can be the better for, which depends upon free good-will. 
 
 5. It is therefore only the free, gracious presence of the
 
 Chap. IX. 
 
 THE LIVING TEMPLE. 
 
 99 
 
 Spirit, that can be the matter of gift and of promise ; not 
 that which is necessary, or impossible not to be, which is 
 peculiar and distinguishing. Mere personal presence, as 
 the Divine essence itself, is every where, by necessity of 
 nature, not by vouchsafement of grace ; and therefore no 
 way comports with the notion of giving, or of promise. 
 
 6. Therefore giving the Spirit import.s, in the full sense 
 of it, two things : 
 
 (I.) Somewhat real, when he vouchsafes to be in us, as 
 the spring and fountain of gracious communications, influ- 
 ences, and effects, which are most distinct from himself 
 For the cause is uncreated : the eflect is the new creature, 
 ■with whatsoever was requisite to produce, sustain, im- 
 prove, and perfect it; though so like its cause, in nature, 
 as to bear its name. " That which is born of the Spirit, 
 is spirit," John iii. 6. And because he is said to be in 
 Christians, who are truly such, and they in him ; which 
 are words very expressive of union ; that union is most 
 properly vital, as whereof holy life is the immediate re- 
 sult : " I live, yet not I, but Christ" {i. c. by his Spirit) 
 " liveth in me." Nor, otherwise, could such be living 
 temples, animated from Emmanuel. 
 
 (2.) Somewhat relative, the collation of a right to such 
 a presence, for such purposes; which hath no dithculty. 
 We easily conceive how the meanest persons may, by 
 vouchsafement, have relation to, and interest in, the great- 
 est ; so God gives Himself, his Son, his Spirit, to them 
 that covenant with him, as we also take the Father, Son, 
 and Spirit, to be our God ; as the baptismal form signifies. 
 And when we so covenant, then hath this giving ils full 
 and complete sense. And now, having thus far seen in 
 what sense the blessed Spirit of God may be said to be 
 given or communicated, we come next briefly to show, as 
 the other intended premise, 
 
 IV. 2. In what respect we arc here, pursuantly to the 
 drift and design of the present discourse, to afhrm a neces- 
 s^itij, in reference to this communication. It may admit a 
 twofold reference : backward, to the constitution of Em- 
 manuel, on which it depends; — forward, to the restoration 
 of God's temple, which depends on it. There was a con- 
 sequent, moral necessity of this communication ; upon 
 what the Emmanuel was, did, suffered, and acquired. 
 There was an antecedent, natural necessity of it, in order 
 to what was to be effected, and done by it. Ln the former 
 respect, it was necessary in point of right, as it stood re- 
 lated to its meriting cause. In the latter respect, it was 
 necessity in fact, as it stood related to its proper designed 
 effect, which could only be brought about by it. In short ; 
 the communication of the Spirit was necessary to the re- 
 storing of this temple. The constitution of Emmanuel 
 Avas necessary to the communication of the Spirit. 
 
 This former necessity hath, in great part, been evinced 
 already, in representing the ruinous state of God's temple 
 among men, when Emmanuel undertook the reparation of 
 it ; and in treating of his abundant rich sufficiency for this 
 undertaking. Yet, there will be farther occasion to say 
 more of it in the progress of the following discourse ; the 
 other will more directly come under our consideration in 
 what follows; wherein, however, we must have reference 
 to both promiscuously, pursuant to what hath been said. 
 
 For as we have shown, that the immense fulness of both 
 righteousness and Spirit, treasured uj) in Emmanuel, could 
 not but be abundantly sufficient for the purpose of restor- 
 ing God's temple ; and have also shown, that his fulness 
 of righteousness was in order to the remission of sin, as 
 well necessary, as sufficient, to the same purpose ; so it 
 remains further to be shown, that his fulness of Spirit, as 
 it was sufficient, so is the emission or immission of it also 
 necessary, for that part it was to have in this restoration. 
 And that the whole course of Divine dispensation, in re- 
 storing of this temjile, imports a steady comportment with 
 this necessity in both the mentioned kinds of it. There- 
 fore, the Emmanuel being the procurer of this restoration, 
 as this may fitly be styled the temple of Christ, or of God 
 in him: so the Spirit being the immediate actor herein, is 
 also styled the temple of the Holy Ghost, aa we find in 
 many texts of Scripture, Eph. ii. 20, 21. 1 Cor. iii. KJ. 
 and vi. 19. 2 Cor. vi. 18, 19. 1 Peter ii. 4, 5. which the 
 re^.der may consult at leisure. And they all show, how 
 a tvcp)ovvToi. 
 
 important and necessary a part the blessed Spirit hath in 
 this merciful and glorious work. As withal, it being con- 
 sidered what relation the Spirit bears to Christ, a.s he is 
 Emmanuel and Mediator between God and man ; it evi- 
 dently shows the necessity of his being constituted and 
 made such, in order to the Spirit's part herein. 
 
 V. God's own judgment is the surest measure to direct 
 ours of what was necessary, in this case. And so far as 
 the ground of his judgment is, by himself, made visible to 
 us, we are neither to put out our own eyes, nor turn them 
 away from beholding it. We arc to reckon it always safe 
 and modest to follow him, by an ob.sequious, ductile judg- 
 ment of things apparent, and which he offers to our view, 
 or appeals to us about them. To go before him by a pre- 
 ventive judgment of the secret things that belong to him, 
 or pretend to give reasons, or an account of his matters, 
 where he gives none himself, argues rashness, arrogance, 
 and self-confidence, whereof we can give no account. But 
 our judgment may be truly said to follow his, when he 
 having in his word declared his choice of such a course, 
 which he steadily pursues in his consequent dispensations; 
 we thereupon conclude that course to be most fit, and that 
 what he judged most fit, was to him (as formerly we have 
 insisted) necessary. Therefore may we with just confi- 
 dence undertake to show. 
 
 That his declared, chosen, constant course of giving the 
 Spirit, for restoring his temple with men, is to do it in and 
 by Christ, or Emmanuel, the constituted Mediator between 
 God and man. And that it was apparently reasonable 
 and becoming of himself so to do. 
 
 Whereby the necessity will appear, both of his giving 
 the Spirit, for the restoring of his temple ; and of his set- 
 tling the constitution of Emmanuel, or such a Mediator 
 in order to the giving his Spirit. 
 
 Only, before we proceed more distinctly to discourse 
 these things, it seems requisite to consider and discuss a 
 difficulty, which may give great amusement to the minds 
 of many, viz. 
 
 That since, by the drift and tendency of this discourse, 
 it would appear, that the Son of God, Emmanuel, God 
 with us, hath by his own dear purchase, a fulness of Spirit 
 in him for this blessed work; and now hath it in his 
 power to raise temples every where at his pleasure, That 
 yet so great a part of the world is still desolate, full of 
 idols' temples : yea, the \'isible temple of God full of 
 idols, destitute of the Divine Spirit, under the poisonous 
 influence of the prince of the poM-er of the air, the spirit 
 that works in the hearts of the children of disobedience, 
 Eph. ii. 2. and by an efficacious energy,'^ as the word 
 there used emphatically signifies. For what hath that 
 accursed spirit more power to destroy, than the Son of 
 God manifested to dissolve and destroy the works of the 
 devil, and his blessed Spirit hath to save 1 
 
 Some considerations tending to disamuse men's minds 
 about this matter, may make way for our clearer and less 
 interrupted progress in the following discourse. There- 
 fore consider, 
 
 VI. 1. That the raising up of temples to God in the 
 souls of men, with the dispossessing of that wicked one, 
 must by no means be understood to be the work of mere 
 power; as if no other excellency of the Divine Being 
 were concerned in it. Nor is it fit to say (as elsewhere is 
 insisted) that God can do every thing that almightv power 
 can do. Almighty power gives us not an adequate no- 
 tion of God. He is every other excellency as well as 
 power ; and can do nothing but what agrees with every 
 other perfection of his nature, wisdom, justice, holiness, 
 truth, &c. as well as his power. 
 
 2. The Son of God, Emmanuel, having obtained an in- 
 finite fulness of power to reside in himself cannot be ex- 
 pected to exert it to the utmost, as natural, unintelligent 
 agents do ; but so far as is suitable to the proper ends of 
 his undertaking, and the office which he bears. 
 
 3. It ought to be deeply considered, as a truth both of 
 clearest evidence and great importance, (though perhaps 
 it may have escaped the thoughts of many,) that the prin- 
 cipal end of our Lord's undertaking and office, was not 
 the salvation of men, but the glory of God. This is that 
 whereupon his design did ultimately terminate. The
 
 100 
 
 THE LIVING TEMPLE. 
 
 Part 11. 
 
 other he coultl only intend secondarily, and as a means to 
 this ; otherwise he should make the creature his chief 
 end, and place upon it a most appropriate Divine prero- 
 gative, to be the last, as he is the first, to all things ; which 
 is said of the great God, in reference to this very case, the 
 saving of some, and rejecting of others. In contempla- 
 tion whereof, the apostle, crying out, O the depth ! asserts 
 God's absolute liberty, as debtor to no man, (Rom. xi. 33, 
 34, 35.) and subjoins the true reason hereof. That of him, 
 and by him, and to him, are all things, that to him might 
 be glory, &c. This is the avowed design of our Lord 
 Christ's office, in both his lowest humiliation, and highest 
 exaltation. The desire of being saved from the (approach- 
 ing) hour and power of darkness vanishes, and gives 
 place to this, — Father, glorify thy name, John xii. 27, 28. 
 When, for his obedience to death, that of the cross, he is 
 highly exalted — all are to confess him Lord, to the praise 
 and glory of God, Phil. ii. 8, 11. He, who is the most 
 competent and most rightful Judge, determines when it will 
 be more for the glory of God, to dispossess the strong man 
 armed, being himself the stronger, and erect that house 
 into a temple : and when it will most serve this his great 
 end, to leave the strong man armed still in his possession, 
 and finally to doom the possessor and the possessed to take 
 their lot together. In the former case, there are vessels 
 unto honour, framed by his own hand, to the praise of the 
 glory of grace, Eph. i. 6. In the latter, vessels unto dis- 
 honour, to glorify his power, by making known his wrath 
 and just resentments. For that honourable purpose, none 
 are of themselves fit ; but he makes them meet for that 
 glorious slate, Col. i. 12. before he makes them partakers 
 of it ; but none serve the dishonourable use, but who are, 
 of themselves, vessels of wrath fitted for destruction, Rom. 
 ix. 22. Our Lord was faithful as a Son ; and was there- 
 fore content to die upon a cross, that he might, in a way 
 against which the strictest justice should not reclaim, ob- 
 tain to himself a power of giving an apostate world a time 
 of trial ; and as men should acquit themselves, by com- 
 plying or not complying with his methods, glorify the 
 Father, whose glory he sought as being sent by him, and 
 vindicate the rights of the Divine government, both in 
 them that are " saved, and in them that perish." 
 
 VII. 4. But it may gain us further advantage, to con- 
 sider the great God doth not pursue ends, as we are wont 
 to do, who commonly apprehend ourselves to stand in need 
 of the things we pursue as our ends. But he acts agree- 
 ably to his self-sufficient fulness, who dwells not in tem- 
 ples made with hands, nor in any human temple, " as if 
 he needed any thing, seeing he gives to all life and breath, 
 and all things;" Acts xvii.25. and expects hereupon, men 
 si <ild seek after him : — as nothing is more fit, than that 
 indigency and necessity should crave and supplicate unto 
 rich and abounding fulness. Princes glory in their acqui- 
 sitions, and the increased multitude of their subjects, from 
 whom they have an increase of power, and the ampler 
 revenues ; they glory in receiving ; He in giving, in 
 making diffusive goodness flow among his creatures. Nor 
 hath he any cause to be anxious about the event, or how 
 his commimicalions are received ; beholding always, with 
 infinitely higher complacency, the perfect rectitude of his 
 own dispensations, than their felicity, though he take a 
 secondary pleasure in that too, when it is the result of the 
 former. He glories, as he requires us to do, (Jer. ix. 24.) 
 that he exerciseth loving-kindness, judgment, and right- 
 eousness in the earth, because in those he delighteth. 
 
 5. Though the goodness and loving-kindness of God be 
 immense, and without limit ; yet, the exercise of it is 
 within certain limits, which annexed judgment or the most 
 exquisite wisdom prescribes to it. He waits to be gracious 
 — and because he is the God of judgment, they are blessed 
 that wait for him, Isa. xxx. 18. There is a critical season 
 and nick of lime, which men are concerned to wait for; 
 and because to every purpose there is time and judgment, 
 therefore is the misery of men great, Eccl. viii. 6. For 
 man also knows not his time, ck. ix. 12. The most perfect 
 wisdom hath drawn out a certain verge, within which the 
 most special goodness confines, ordinarily, its communi- 
 cations : otherwise, what means that, — if thou continue 
 in nis goodness 1 Rom. xi. 22. with that of Jude 21. Keep 
 
 b Tl OlKoSuftJ] OV TOV T£XVIT0V, oXXo TUV ScdlTOTOV. 
 
 yourselves in the love of God, looking for the mercy of 
 our Lord Jesus Christ unto eternal life. While we con- 
 verse with the ever Blessed One, within the region of his 
 own love and goodness, imbibing and taking in his frep 
 and gracious communications, and still craving and ex- 
 pecting more, we keep within the sacred vital circle and 
 mclosure ; without which, is darkness and the shadow of 
 death. We breathe in the element of life, by grateful 
 aspirations, and respirations, that cannot be unpleasant to 
 ourselves, but must be infinitely more pleasant to him; 
 who reckons it a more blessed thing to give than to re- 
 ceive. We are always to remember, that our state is that 
 of expectants : that we keep ourselves in the love of God, 
 looking, waiting, always onward, till we attain eternal 
 life. Our waiting hath the annexed promise of blessed- 
 ne.ss, as above, Isa. xxx. 18. and Prov. viii. 34. And is 
 most becomingly required, as a just homage unto sove- 
 reign goodness. 
 
 6. That admirable goodness of God, which shows itself 
 in raising up temples in this vile world by the Spirit of 
 Emmanuel, claims our subordinate co-operation as under- 
 builders in this structure; We are to work, because he 
 works, of his good pleasure, Phil. ii. 12, 13. Which 
 signifies both his liberty and delight in working. It is 
 said, 1 Cor. iii. 9. Ye are God's building ; yet, it is also 
 said, V. 14. If any man's work abide, which he hath 
 built, &c. 
 
 One of great note in the ancient Christian church, dis- 
 coursing of this passage, says,b 7%e building is not the 
 artist's, or workman's, but the Lord's, that owns it ; and 
 who is to be, (as a little after he speaks,) the <= inhabitant 
 of it. And inasmuch as we are to be living, intelligent 
 temples, we are also to be ourselves labourers and work- 
 men (as well as they who are to be so by special office) in 
 this building. But if our work be pulling down, .stifling 
 convictions, suppressing desires, fear, &c. do we provoke 
 the Lord to jealousy, by keeping up the service of the 
 idols' temple, and profaning his own, 1 Cor. x. 22'? or have 
 we forgot who hath said. Vengeance is mine, even for 
 treading under-foot the Son Emmanuel, and despiting his 
 Spirit of grace, Heb. x. 29, 30 1 The high pleasure the 
 blessed God takes in his own gracious communications, 
 gratefully received, and his just resentment and displea- 
 sure for the contemptuous refusal of them, may be under- 
 stood some way to measure one another. Both may be 
 conjectured from this text of Scripture, after such sort, as 
 the great things of God can be conceived of, by such mean 
 mortals. The Spirit of grace, of all kindness, love, good- 
 ness, benignity, sweetness ; O the inefl'able delight that 
 blessed Spirit must take in its own efl'usions, tending to the 
 recovery, the healing and saving, of a lost soul, when there 
 is an agreeable comportment therewith ! But the despiting 
 of such a Spirit, who can conceive or apprehend, deeply 
 enough, the horror of this crime! the thwarting the de- 
 sign of so compassionate goodness ! Or of severity, or 
 soreness of punishment, it shall be thought worthy of! 
 
 The whole work of faith, i. e. that entire work, neces- 
 sary to be wrought upon the soul of a man in order to his 
 future felicity, and that by God's own power is called the 
 fulfilling, or satisfying, the good pleasure of his goodness, 
 2 Thess. i. 11. O the plentitude of satisfaction which our 
 blessed Lord takes in the fulfilling the good pleasure of 
 his goodness, when the methods are complied with, ac- 
 cording whereto he puts forth his power for efl^ecting such 
 a work ! But if we can apprehend what it is to cross a 
 man of power in his pleasures ; what is it to withstand the 
 great God in his pleasures ! even the pleasures of his good- 
 ness! his most connatural, delightful pleasures! Some 
 estimate we can make, by supposing a wealthy, potent, 
 wise, and good man, intent upon reclaiming a poor, wretch- 
 ed, undone, perverse neighbour ; if his supplies and coun- 
 sels be gratefully received, how pleasant is it to his bene- 
 factor ! if often repeated, they are scornfully rejected, how 
 vexing is the disappointment ! 
 
 7. We must know, there are vincible operations of that 
 Spirit, leading on to those that are victorious, being com- 
 plied with ; otherwise, to the most terrible vengeance. 
 When it was charged upon the Jews, Acts vii. 51. that 
 they did always resist the Holy Ghost, as their fathers did ; 
 
 c vaoi Tjuets, avros cioiKOi. Chrysost. in 2 ad Cor.
 
 CUAP. X. 
 
 THE LIVING TEMPLE, 
 
 101 
 
 It's implied, he was always striving, though more rarely, 
 to victory. But when it is said, Prov. i. 23. Turn at m}' 
 reproof, could any essay to turn be without some influence 
 of the Spirit? But that complied with, tends to pouring 
 forth a copious effusion, not to be withstood. The less 
 sensible adminicvla, the gentler aids and insinuations of 
 grace, lead to what shall overcome. 
 
 8. "Without such an overpowering effusion, man's impo- 
 tency will be acknowledged, by those that understand either 
 the Scriptures or themselves. But how perverse is the 
 inference, that therefore they are to sit still ! No ; there- 
 fore to pray, cry, strive, wait, more than they that wait for 
 the morning, till he be gracious, and show mercy. 
 
 9. Therefore, for men to be destitute of the Spirit is 
 criminal; as much not to be filled with the Spirit, as to be 
 drunk with wine : the same authority that forbids the one, 
 enjoins the other, Eph. v. 18. 
 
 10. But though it be God's ordinary method, to proceed 
 gradually in raising temples to himself in this world, he 
 never so binds his own hands, as not to do extraordinary 
 acts of grace and favour, when he thinks fit ; and without 
 any danger of forcing men's wills, or offering violence to 
 human nature: than which imagination nothing is more 
 absurd ; both because, 
 
 (1.) The forcing of a man's will, implies a contradiction 
 in the terms; for we have no other notion of force, than 
 the making one do a thing against his will. But it is im- 
 possible a man should will or be willing against his will. 
 He that hath made a man's soul and all its powers, well 
 enough knows how to govern him without violence, and 
 by (though never so sudden) an immission of his light and 
 grace, effectually to change a man's will without forcing 
 it. And also because, 
 
 (2.) No man that has the present use of his own facul- 
 ties, will think they can be injured by Divine light and 
 grace ; or that they hurt the nature of man, which they 
 manifestly tend to restore, improve, and perfect. Yet no 
 man is to expect, that because the blessed God vouchsafes 
 to make some rarer instances of dealing by way of sudden 
 surprise with the spirits of men, that this should be his 
 ordinary method; but, more usually, to awaken them into 
 some consideration of that forlorn state, while they are 
 destitute of the Divine presence, and their souls the haunts 
 and residence of devils, instead of temples of the Holy 
 Ghost. And to make them know, that he counts the gift 
 of his Son, and Spirit, too great things to be despised, or 
 not earnestly sought, after he hath given hope of their 
 being attained ; or that the neglect thereof .should not have 
 a very terrible vindication: letting men feel that the des- 
 pising the richness of his goodness, which gently leads to 
 repentance, is nothing else but " treasuring up wrath 
 against the day of wrath," and the revelation of his righte- 
 ous judgment. Inasmuch as he owes it to himself, to let 
 them know that the high and lofty One that inhabits eter- 
 nity, needs not seek to them for a house, Isa. Ixvi. 1, 2. 
 And as to what, in ordinary course, he judges necessary, 
 (lest men should in all this be thought justly querulous,) 
 he appeals to themselves, Isa. v. 4. What could I have 
 done morel Are not my ways equal? Ezek. xviii. 
 
 Whereupon we now proceed to show the two things, 
 before intimated. 
 
 1. That the Holy Spirit is not otherwise given, than in 
 or by Emmanuel, or for Christ's sake. — 2. How necessary, 
 or (which comes fully to the same) how highly reasonable, 
 it was in itself, and may appear to us, that so mighty a 
 gift, and of this peculiar nature and kind, should not be 
 vouchsafed unto men, upon other terms, or in any other 
 wav, than this.d 
 
 VIII. 1. For the former of these; That the Spirit of 
 God is actually given, upon this account only, his own 
 word sufficiently assures us. And who can so truly in- 
 form us, upon what consideration he doth this, or that, as 
 he himself? Let us, then, with equal, imbiassed minds, 
 consider the tenor and import of what we find spoken in 
 the Holy Scriptures about this matter, which I conceive 
 may be truly summed up thus, viz. 
 
 (1.) That the Holy Spirit is given to this purpose of 
 restoring the temple of God with men, with the worship 
 
 d This 2d comes to be considered chnp. xi. 
 11 
 
 and fruitions thereof, under a twofold notion, — As a Builder, 
 and an Inhabitant, 
 
 (2.) That it is given under both notions, or for both these 
 purposes, for Christ's .sake, and in consideration of his 
 death and sufferings; though they have not influence to 
 the obtaining of this gilt, for both these purposes, in the 
 same way, but with some difference, to be afterwards ex- 
 plained in what follows. 
 
 (3.) That it was not the immediate effect of his suffer- 
 ing, that this blessed Spirit should be forthwith given tc 
 this or th'at pariicular person ; but that all the fulness of it 
 be given into Christ's power, and the right of dispensing 
 it annexed to this office, as he is the Redeemer of sinners, 
 and Mediator between God and them, for the accomplish- 
 ing the end of his ofl^ce, the ceasing of controversies, eft 
 mities, and di.saffections on our part, Godward. 
 
 (4.) That hereupon, its actual communication for botk 
 the mentiorjcd purposes, is immediately from Christ, or b) 
 and through him. 
 
 (5.) That it is given by Christ, under the formernotion, 
 or for the former purpose of rebuilding God's temple, as 
 a sovereign, or an ab.solute plenipotentiary in the affairs 
 of lost souls, in a more arbitrary way, so as not to be claim- 
 able upon any foregoing right. 
 
 (6.) That he gives it, under the latter notion, and in or- 
 der to a continued abode and inhabitation, as an occono- 
 rnus, or the steward of the household of God, proceeding 
 herein by fixed rule, published in the gospel, according 
 whereto the subjects of this following communication, 
 being qualified for it, by the former, may, with certainty, 
 expect it upon the prescribed terms, and claim it as a righs; 
 he having, by the merit of his blood, obtained that they 
 might do so. 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 The first of the mentioned sLx head-s insisted on — That the Spirit is given 
 both as a Builder, and as an Inhaliilant of this tcmi'le. Scriplure te,siunony 
 conoemin? the former of those, and the latter. And for the sake of his 
 death and suft'erings-. Anciently, the blessin? of Abraliam. anil liis seed 
 from age to age, upon this account. More copiously and to oilier na- 
 tions, when the fulness of time was come. Christ's death lialh influence 
 for these two puriioses with much difference, to be aftenvards explained. 
 Colossians i. 19, 20, 21. largely oiiened. A disression rel.'iting thereto. 
 The principal import of that te.\t, to show the dependence Christ's whole 
 work of reconciliation, both of God to us. and of us to God, had upon his 
 sacrifice on tlie cross. The latter wheieof is eftected by his Spirit, obtained 
 by that sacrifice Other texts to the same purpose. Further noted, that tlie 
 Spirit is expressly said to be given by Christ, or in liis nanie, &c. Given lor 
 building or preparing a temple, by a less certain, known rule. 
 
 I. Now let us see, as to each of these, whether this be 
 not the plain doctrine of the Scriptures in this matter, 
 
 1. For the first of these, it hath been sufiiciently shown 
 already, and the common experience of all the world 
 shows, that till this blessed Spirit be given, the temple 
 of God is every where all in ruin : that therefore he can- 
 not dwell till he build, and that he builds that he may 
 dwell, (the case and his known design being considered,") 
 are things, hereupon, plain in themselves, and are plainly 
 enough spoken in Scripture. When the apostle had told 
 the Christians of Corinth, (1 Cor. iii. 9.) " Ye are God's 
 building," he shortly after adds, (in the same chapter, v. 
 16.) " Know ye not that ye are the temple of God, and 
 that the Spirit of God dwelleth in you 1" This temple, 
 being a living thing, (as 1 Pet. ii. 7. represents it,) the 
 verj' building and formation of it is, in the more peculiar 
 sense, generating ; and because it is to be again raised tip 
 out of a former ruinous state, wherein it lay dead, and 
 buried in its own ruins, this new production is regenera- 
 tion. And do we need to be put in mind whose work 
 that is ? that " it is the Spirit that quickencth ?" (John vi.) 
 or of what is so industriously inculcated by our Lord, 
 (cA. iii. V. 3, 5, 6, &c.) and tesiified under the seal of his 
 fourfold avicn, that this new birth must be by the Spirit 1 
 And we have both notions again conjoined, Eph. ii. For 
 having been told, (r. IS.) that both Jews and Gentiles 
 have by one Spirit access to the Father, so as to be no
 
 10& 
 
 THE LIVING TEMPLE. 
 
 Part IT, 
 
 longer strangers and at a distance, but made nigh to God ; 
 [v. 19. compared with v. 13.) 'tis said, {v. 20.) We " are 
 built upon the foundation of the prophets and apostles, 
 Jesus Christ himself being the chief Corner-stone ;" and 
 again added, (r. 21.) " In whom all the building, fitly 
 framed together, groweth (as a living thing) unto an holy 
 temple in the Lord." After all which, the end and use of 
 this building (implied in the name of a temple) is more 
 expressly subjoined, {v. 22.) " In whom also ye arebuilded 
 together an habitation of God, through the Spirit." 'Tis 
 therefore suificiently evident, that the Spirit is given under 
 these distinct notions, and for these several purposes, the 
 one .subordinated to the other, viz. both as a builder and a 
 dweller. 
 
 •II. 2. That it is given for Christ's sake, whether for the 
 one purpose or the other, is as expressly signified as any 
 thing in the whole gospel. For what means it, that it is 
 said to be given in his name ? John xiv. 26. and xv. 26. 
 That the work it does, being given, is said to be done in 
 his name 1 1 Cor. vi. 11. "Ye are sanctified in the name 
 of our Lord Jesus Christ, and by the Spirit of our God." 
 
 Yea, and that it is given in consideration of his sufferings 
 and death, is not less plainly spoken : for not only are the 
 immediate and most peculiar operations of this Spirit as- 
 cribed to his death, (1 Pet. ii. 24.) " He himself bare our 
 sins in his owti body on the tree, that we, being dead to sin, 
 might live to righteousness;" but the imparting of the 
 Spirit itself, is represented as the design and end of those 
 sufferings, Gal. iii. 14. " He was made a curse for us ; for 
 cursed is every one that hangeth on a tree, that the bless- 
 ing of Abraham might come on the Gentiles, that we might 
 receive the promise of the Spirit," &c. 
 
 III. It was the same way, and on the same terms, upon 
 the largeness and certainty of the Divine prospect and 
 foresight touching Christ's future sufferings, that this was 
 the blessing of Abraham and his posterity, long before he 
 suffered : that God gave them, of old, his Spirit to instruct 
 them; (Neh. ix. 20.) which is not obscurely implied, when, 
 looking back upon the days of old, they are said to have 
 " rebelled, and vexed his Spirit ;" (Isa. Ixiii. 9, 10.) and 
 when Stephen tells them, (Acts vii. 51.) " Ye do always 
 resist the Holy Ghost ; as your fathers did, so do ye ;" it is 
 implied that even from age to age that blessed Spirit was 
 striving with them ; (children and fathers ;) for there could 
 be no resistance, where there was no striving : and that, 
 in those former ages, that Holy Spirit was active among 
 them upon Christ's account, and by the procurement of 
 his future sacrifice, (presignified by their many sacrifices,) 
 is also suthciently intimated, in that, when it is said. That 
 under Moses, they did eat and drink spiritual meat and 
 drink, they are said to have drank of the rock that followed 
 them ; and 'tis added, that rock was Christ. And by what 
 provocations could they be supposed more to resist and 
 vex the Holy Spirit, than by tlK«e wherewith, in the day 
 of provocation and temptation, they are said to have lusted 
 in the wilderness, and tempted God in the desert, (Ps. 
 cvi. 14. Ps. Ixxviii. Ps. xcv. Heb. iii.) by which they are 
 expressly said to have tempted Christ, 1 Cor. x. 9. And 
 certainly the privilege was inestimably great, (though they 
 too generally little esteemed it, and made little advantage 
 of it,) that when the most of the world besides was nothing 
 else but waste, neglected wilderness, they should be an 
 enclosed vineyard, under the long-continued droppings 
 and dews of heavenly influence. For it was not but upon 
 high and long provocation, that at last God commands his 
 clouds to rain no more rain upon it, Isa. v. 6. How sin- 
 gular a favour was it to be the appropriate plantation, 
 vineyard, and garden of God, taken in from so vast and 
 wild a desert ! and that the God of Abraham would so long 
 continue the relation, and be their God ; to bless them with 
 the choice of his blessings, those whereof his own Spirit 
 was the peculiar source and spring I 
 
 IV. But when the fulness of time, and the season for 
 the actual immolation of that Sacrifice, (once for all, to 
 be offered up,) was now come, that the immense fulness of 
 its value and virtue might be duly demonstrated and glo- 
 rified; down goes the enclosure, which the amplitude and 
 exteasiveness of God's kind design could no longer en- 
 dure : and as som£ time the great prophetic oracle given 
 te Abraham, must taJie efiect, In thy seed (and '^tis said, 
 
 not of seeds, as of many, but of seed, as of one, viz. Christ, 
 Gal. iii. 10.) shall all the nations of the earth be blessed; 
 this is the time. Now must the blessing of Abraham 
 come upon the Gentiles. Nor could any time have been 
 more fitly chosen, that the copiousness and vast diffusion 
 of the effect might demonstrate and magnify the power 
 and fulness of the cause, and even lead the eyes of all unto 
 it. The drawing, so generally of all men, was that which 
 must dignify the cross, and incite all eyes to behold and 
 adore the Son of man lift up, John xii. 32. and in the 
 midst of death, even with his dying breath, sending forth 
 so copious and far-spreading a diffusion of spirit and 
 life ! And now had it only been said loosely and at 
 large, that this was brought about by his dying, that might 
 admit a great latitude of sense, and give some room for 
 sinister interpretation. The intendment of the expres- 
 sion might be thought sufficiently answered, if, any way, 
 his dying did occasion good impressions upon the minds 
 of men. But when the effect is expressly ascribed to his 
 dying so, as the cause, i. e. to his being lift up, to his being 
 made a curse in dying, by hanging on a tree, and a curse 
 for us, to redeem us thereby from the legal curse which 
 lay upon us before; the curse of the law, the doom which 
 the violated law laid upon us, of having (as is apparently 
 meant) the Spirit withheld from us, that thereupon the 
 great and rich blessing might come upon us, of having 
 that Holy Spirit freely, and without further restraint, 
 communicated to us ; this puts the matter out of all dis- 
 pute, that it was in consideration of his dying, that God 
 now gives his Spirit, and leaves no place for contending 
 against it unto any, who have not more mind to object, 
 than they can have pretence lor it. 
 
 It is, then, the plain doctrine of the Scriptures, that the 
 Spirit is given for the restoring of God's temple with men, 
 for the sake of Christ's death and sufferings, who was Em- 
 manuel, and, in his own person, the original temple, out of 
 which each single temple was to arise and spring up, as 
 well as he was the exemplary temple, unto which they were 
 all to be conformed. 
 
 V. But whereas his sufferings and death have Iheir in- 
 fluence differently, to the Spirit's building of any such par- 
 ticular secondary temple, and to his replenishing and in- 
 habiting it : that difference we shall find is not inexplicable 
 or very difficult to be represented according to the tenor 
 of the Scriptures also. In order whereto it will be of use 
 to add, 
 
 3. That, as the immediate effect of his sufferings and 
 death, the Spirit in all the fulness thereof, is first given 
 into his power, and the right of communicating it annexed 
 to his office, as he is the Emmanuel, the Redeemer of 
 sinners, and Mediator between God and them ; that it 
 might implant what was necessary, root out what should 
 be finally repugnant, either to their duty towards him or 
 their felicity in him. 
 
 That this was the end of his office, the very notion of a 
 mediator between God and men doth plainly intimate; 
 (1 Peter iii. 18.) "For Jesus Christ himself suffered once, 
 the just for the unjust, to bring us to God." Which must 
 signify not only that he was to render God accessible, ex- 
 piating by his blood our guilt ; but also, to make us willing 
 to come to him, vanquishing by his Spirit our enmity, 
 procured also by his suffering, the just for the unjust, with- 
 out both we could not be brought to God, which was, we 
 see, the end of his suffering. 
 
 That all fulness did, upon his suffering, reside in him, 
 for this purpose is as plainly signified by that remarkable 
 connexion. Col. i. 19, 20. "For it pleased the Father that 
 in him should all fulness dwell — and, having made peace 
 by the blood of his cross, by him to reconcile all things 
 to himself" The Father is not in the original text, (the 
 verb being left impersonal,) but is fitly and necessarily 
 understcx)d; for whose pleasure can this be supposed to 
 be, but the Father's 1 And so the current of discourse 
 doth thus run smooth. " The Father was pleased that 
 all fulness should dwell in him, having made peace by the 
 blood of his cross, by him to reconcile all things to him- 
 self; even by him : for that is inculcated a second time. 
 It was judged necessary to this reconciling design, that 
 all fulness should dwell in him. But who did thus 
 judge 1 TheFather was pleased it should be so; but upon
 
 Chap. X. 
 
 THE LIVING TEMPLE. 
 
 103 
 
 what consideration 1 " having made peace by the blood of 
 his cross." The same He, that was pleased all fulness 
 should dwell in him, was so pleased, as having made 
 peace by the blood of the cross ; for the syntax cannot 
 admit that nprjioir.nrio-as should be spoken of the Son; but 
 the Father (as agent, agreeably to that 2 Cor. v. 18. " All 
 things are of God, who hath reconciled us to himself, by 
 Jesus Christ") having made peace; or pitched upon this 
 method, and laid this foundation of making peace, (for 'tis 
 usual to speak of a thing as done, when it is put into a 
 sure way of being so) by the olood of his Son's cross, was 
 now content that all fulness should dwell in him, to be 
 diffused by him, through the world, in order to his having 
 temples prepared, inhabited, replenished with Divine glory 
 every where; not in heaven only, which was already full 
 of them, or where it was easy to suppose he might find 
 such temples ready prepared in all quarters; but even on 
 earth also, where all was waste and desolate, nothing to 
 be seen hut tbrlorn ruins. 
 
 VI. And , by the way, (that we may make some, not 
 unuseful, digression,') it is very ordinary in Scripture, to 
 join things in the same period, as if they were of equal 
 concernment, when, though they are mentioned together, 
 their concernment is very different, and the main stress is 
 intended to be laid but on the one of them; the other 
 being placed there, either as an opposite, the more to illus- 
 trate and set off that with which it is joined ; or as an in- 
 troduction, a thing supposed, and which had place already, 
 unto which the other is more principally necessary to be 
 added ; and then is the form of speech, manifestly, ellip- 
 tical, but so, as that to considering readers 'tis easy to 
 apprehend what is to be supplied. As when the apostle 
 speaks thus, (Rom. vi. 17.) "God be thanked, that ye 
 were the .servants of sin, but ye have obeyed from the 
 heart that form of doctrine which was delivered to you;" 
 doth the apostle intend to thank God for their having 
 been the servants of sin 1 No man can think so. But 
 that, whereas, or notwithstanding, they had been so, (which 
 was the thing to be supplied,) they did now obey, &c. So 
 that (John iii. 5.) "Except a man be born of water, and of 
 the Spirit, he cannot enter into the kingdom of God." It 
 was certainly none of our Saviour's design to assert the 
 absolute, universal necessity of washing with water, equally, 
 with being born of the Spirit ; but whereas it was the known 
 manner among the Jews to admit proselytes to their reli- 
 gion, by baptism, (which was then reckoned as a new birth,) 
 his design was, without rejecting that as useless, (which 
 he intended to continue in the Christian church,) to repre- 
 sent the greater and most indispensable necessity, of being 
 born of the Spirit, added to the other, and that without 
 this the other alone would avail nothing. When again it 
 is said, (James i. 9, 10.) " Let the brother of low degree 
 rejoice in that he is exalted ; but the rich, in that he is 
 made low;" it cannot be thought that both these w^ere 
 equally intended to be enjoined ; but the former is sup- 
 posed, as a thing that would be naturally, and of course ; 
 Let him, q. d. admit he do, or he may, or it is taken for 
 granted that he will, rejoice, who, being of low degree, is 
 exalted. But the principal design is to show, what it is 
 less obvious to apprehend or imagine, that the rich hath a 
 truer cause and greater reason to rejoice when he is made 
 iOW ; because he was, otherwise, apt to please himself, or 
 be mocked w'ith a shadow. Manj^ more such instances 
 might be given of two things thus joined together in the 
 same assertion, or sometimes, in the same precept, where 
 the intendment is to make us of the one, either b}^ wa)' of 
 opposition, or comparison, the more to magnify, or to lay 
 the greater weight on, the other. 
 
 The matter may well be so understood in the place 
 nnder our present consideration ; "by him to reconcile all 
 things to himself," (things being put for persons, as else- 
 where in Holy Scripture, Luke xix. 10. 1 John v. 4. and 
 commonly in other writers,) " whether things on earth, or 
 things in heaven ;" i. e. even as well men on earth, where 
 the difficulty was greater, and where enmity against God 
 did rage, where he was set at greatest distance and highest 
 defiance ; as those in heaven, where all was pacate alread}', 
 and therefore a word was chosen more suitable to the state 
 of their case, who were principally intended, vis. of recon- 
 ciling; meaning that, by reconciliation,^ he would make 
 
 the state of things on earth, now so filled with enmity 
 against God, suitable to their state above, among whom 
 there was none: and yet a word not wholly incongruous 
 to the heavenly state also ; for da-o/caTaXXurrcii/ doth not 
 always suppose a foregoing enmity, as KaraWaTTCiv (used 
 2 Cor. V. 19, 20.) doth not always; nor doth the decom- 
 pound here more limit the sense; but doth sometimes 
 signify to conciliate, or draw into society, and may, in re- 
 ference to that state above, have reference to the continu- 
 ation of amity and accord there; that no more any such 
 rapture, a.s once there wa.s, should have place in those 
 bright regions for ever. And it seems designed for the 
 Redeemer's more consummate glory, that the perpetual sta- 
 bility of the heavenly state should be owing to him, and 
 to the most inestimable value of his oblation on the cross; 
 that it should be put upon his account, and be ascribed to 
 the high merit of his pacificatory sacrifice, that they con- 
 tinue in obedience and favour for ever! For why, else, is 
 the mention of the " blood of his cross" so carefully in- 
 serted, and that, rather than be omitted, it is even thrust 
 into a parenthesis : " It pleased the Father that in him 
 should all fulness d^-ell, and (having made peace by the 
 blood of his cross) to reconcile all things to himsell^ — on 
 earth — in heaven !" This is the more remarkably designed, 
 though yet, the principal import of the word reconciled 
 (as any word that is to be applied to divers matters, is 
 differently to be understood, according to the diversity of 
 the matter) is accommodated to their case, who were prin- 
 cipally intended, riz. those on earth, who were in enmity 
 with God. And the following words show these to have 
 been here principally intended : " And j'ou, who were 
 sometime alienated, and enemies in your minds by wicked 
 works, yet now hath he reconciled," &c. (v. 21.) q. d. He 
 hath not only conciliated to himself, or made sure of the 
 everlasting amity of those, who were always dutiful in 
 heaven ; but he hath also recovered the good-will and 
 loyal affection of such on earth, as were at enmity, in an 
 apostacy, alienated, and enemies in their minds; and all, 
 by the same means, the virtue and fragrancy of a sacrifice, 
 sufficient to fill heaven and earth with its grateful odour, 
 and whose efficacy can never decrease to all eternity. Nor, 
 therefore, is it consequent, that the direct intention of this 
 his sacrifice, should bear reference to the concernments of 
 angels, whose nature he took not, but from the redundancy 
 of its merit, this inestimable advantage, rf~. the permanent 
 stability of their slate, may well be supposed to accrue to 
 them; and, for the greater honour of the Redeemer, they 
 made debtors to him for it. 
 
 And why should it seem incongruous, that those most 
 constantly pure and holy creatures above, who are, in this 
 same context, (r. IG.) made to owe whatever excellencies 
 they have, within the sphere of nature, to the Son of God, 
 should owe to him also, whatsoever they have, within the 
 sphere of Grace 1 Yea, how aptly do things correspond, 
 that, whereas it had been said above, (r. 16.) " By him 
 were all things created, that are in heaven, and that are on 
 earth," &c. it" should also be after said, "by him are all 
 things reconciled," either recovered into, or continued in, 
 everlasting amity with him, i. e. That whosoever partake 
 of special Divine favour, whether they be of the things on 
 the earth, or the things in heaven, shall for the future be 
 debtors to him for it. And whereas it is expressly said in 
 Scripture, that "when God raised him from the dead, he 
 set him far above all principality and power." &c. Fph. i. 
 20, 21. (which words ik-aOiaev vr:ipiiio, Set him ulorc. not 
 only signify constitution, a thing diverse from natural pri- 
 ority, but also, being conjunct with his raising him liom 
 the "dead, import a reference to his dj-ing, and conquest 
 over death, as the reason of it,) and that "being gone into 
 heaven — angeis, and authorities, and powers are made 
 .subject to him;" (.1 Pet. iii. 22.) and that he being said 
 to be "the head of all principalities and powers;" he 
 might, by themselves, be understood not to be a use- 
 less or unbeneficial Head to them. Though it also is not 
 to be forgotten, that at the time when the apostle wrote 
 these words, a considerable part of that holy blessed so- 
 ciety, then in heaven, were sometime on earth, in a state of 
 enmity aijainst God, and so who needed reconciliation in 
 the strict and proper sense ; as they did who were still on 
 earth, and to whom he now more particularly directs his
 
 104 
 
 THE LIVING TEMPLE. 
 
 Part 11. 
 
 speech,, (v. 21.) " And you also, who were sometime alien- 
 ated—yet now hath he reconciled," &c. 
 
 VII. But, though I could not think it an impertinency, 
 to use some endeavour for clearing the whole of this 
 (somewhat obscure) context, it coming, as it did, in my 
 way, yet the principal thing, with reference to my present 
 scope and purpose, which I consider in it, is that it was 
 upon the account of the blood of our Redeemer shed on 
 the cross, that the Father was pleased all fulness should 
 dwell in him, as an original Temple, to serve the purposes 
 of that great reconciling work, undertaken by him, the 
 raising up of multitudes of temples, all sprung from this 
 one, in this world of ours. That God might dwell with 
 men on earth! that amazing thing! 2 Chron. vi. 18. And 
 that ascending (in order whereto he was first, dying, to 
 descend) that he might fill all things, give gifts, that of his 
 Spirit especially; and that to such as were enemies in 
 their minds, by wicked works, even the rebellious also, 
 that the Lord God might have his temple, and dwell with 
 them, Psal. Ixviii. 18. And whereas that work must 
 comprehend the working out of enmity from the hearts of 
 men against God, (and not only the propitiating of God 
 to them, which the word ti'pjji/oTroiijtra? seems more princi- 
 •.lally to intend,) and that a great communication of influ- 
 ence from the Divine Spirit, was necessary for the over- 
 coming that enmity ; that therefore this fulness must 
 include (among other things, being vav TrMpufia, all fulness) 
 an immense treasure and abundance of Spirit, (which is 
 elsewhere said to be given him, not by measure, John iii. 
 31.) and that therefore his sufferings did obtain this ple- 
 nitude of Spirit to be first seated in him, as the receptacle 
 and fountain, whence it must be derived, and that the 
 power and right of dispensing it should belong to his 
 office, as he was the great Reconciler and Mediator be- 
 tween God and man. Which also many other texts of 
 Scripture do evidently imply, as when he is represented 
 as a universal Plenipotentiary, able to quicken whom he 
 will, John V. 21. And "all power is said to be given 
 him, both in heaven and earth;" (Matt, xxviii. 18.) and 
 that "the Father had given all things into his hands," 
 (John xiii. 3.) which must comprehend the power of giv- 
 ing the Spirit, and which the end of giving him that ple- 
 nitude of power plainly requires. " Thou hast given him 
 power over all flesh, that he might give eternal life to as 
 many as thoir hast given him;" (John xvii. 2.) the Spirit 
 given being the root of that life, (Gal. vi. 8.) they that sow 
 to the Spirit, shall of the Spirit reap life everlasting. And 
 that he is exalted to be a Prince and a Saviour, to give 
 repentance, (which equally implies the gift of the Spirit,) 
 as well as remission of sins, Acts v. 31. Nor is the con- 
 sideration of his sufferings and death less pMnly signified 
 to be the ground, upon which this fulness of power is 
 given him; when it is said, "Christ both died, and re- 
 vived, and rose again, that he might be Lord of the living 
 and the dead," Rom. xiv. 8. And when, after mention of 
 his being obedient to death, &.c. it is said, " Wherefore 
 God hath highly exalted him," &c. that all "should con- 
 fess Christ is Lord," &c. Phil. ii. 5, 6, 7, 8, 11. 
 
 We further note, 
 
 VIII. 4. That hereupon, the Spirit (whether it be for 
 the one or the other of the mentioned purposes) is actually 
 and immediately given by Christ, or by the authority of 
 that office which he bears ; than v.'hich nothing can be 
 plainer^in that he is called the Spirit of Christ, Rom. viii. 
 9. And when our Lord himself uses the expressions 
 about this matter, with such mdifTerency, and as equiva- 
 lent ; either " I will send him," John xvi. 7. or, " I will 
 send him from my Father," John xv. 26. or, " My Father 
 will send him in my name," John xiv. 26. Which what 
 can it signify less, than that, as the Father was the first 
 Fountain of this communication, so the established way 
 and method of it was in and by Christ, from which thei'e 
 was to be no departure 1 as is also signified in that of the 
 apostle, Eph. i. 3. " Blessed be the God and Father of 
 our Lord Jesus Christ, who hath blessed us with all 
 spiritual blessings in heavenly places (or things) in Christ." 
 
 And when we consider, how exact care is taKen in well- 
 ordered secular governments, not only that things be done 
 which the afl^kirs of the government required, but that 
 they be done regularly, and in the way which is prescribed 
 
 and set ; so as that every one Imows and attends the 
 business of his own place and station ; and that no one 
 may expect that from the treasurer, which is to be done by 
 the chancellor, or that from him, which belongs to the 
 secretary of state. If there be any beauty and comeliness 
 in order, where should we more expect to find it, than in 
 the Divine government, and in the conduct and manage- 
 ment of the afl^airs of the supreme and celestial kingdom ; 
 wherein only the remoteness of those things from our 
 sense, makes every thing seem little and inconsiderable 1 
 But did we allow ourselves to retire more frequently out 
 of this world of shadows, and ascend into those glorious 
 regions above ; there to contemplate the bright orders of 
 holy, loyal spirits, all emplo)'ed in the services of the ce- 
 lestial throne, and to behold Jesus the Head of all prin- 
 cipalities and powers, the Restorer of what was sunk and 
 decayed, and the Upholder of the whole sliding universe, 
 even of the noblest parts of it, that were liable to the same 
 lapse and decay; by whom all things consist; we should 
 not think it strange that such deference and honour should 
 belong to his office; that it should be rendered every way 
 so august and great, that he should be so gloriously en- 
 throned at the right hand of the Majesty on high ; and 
 that, when his administrations are manageable with sc 
 much ease and pleasure, to one of so immense wisdom, 
 power, and goodness, all acts of grace and favour should, 
 more especially, pass through his hands. And if we un- 
 derstand any thing of the distinction &f persons in the ever 
 blessed Deity, (Avhereof if we understand nothing, how do 
 we adventure to affirm anj^ thing 1) it is not more difficult 
 to apprehend distinct employments, wherein, yet, all can 
 never fail to have their most complacential consent. And 
 when that kind of office was so freely undertaken by the 
 Son, the susception and management whereof hath, no 
 doubt, filled the supreme court, at first, and from age to 
 age, with his highest celebrations and praises, and for the 
 execution whereof, when he made his first descent into 
 this world of ours, and was to appear an incarnate God 
 on earth, a proclamation was published in heaven, " Now 
 let all the angels of God worship him ;" and in his execu- 
 tion whereof, they had, from time to time afterwards, spon- 
 taneously stooped down to behold, with pleased wonder, 
 his surprisingly strange and prosperous methods and per- 
 formances ; who can think it unsuitable to the dignity and 
 authority of so great and so highly magnified an office, 
 unto which all the power of heaven and earth was annexed, 
 that it should by consent belong to it, to employ the whole 
 agency of the Holy Ghcst, in pursuance of its high and 
 great ends ? 
 
 But now, he having by his blood obtained, that this 
 immense plenitude of Spirit should reside in him, not for 
 himself, personally considered, (for so he had it by natu- 
 ral, eternal necessity, without capitulation or procurement,) 
 but as he was invested with such an office, and in order 
 to its being, by the power of that office, communicated to 
 others; it is easy to be conceived, and maybe collected 
 from the tenor of Holy Scripture, in what different methods 
 it was to be communicated, for the (already mentioned) 
 different ends of that communication, viz. the rebuilding 
 of God's temple on earth, and the constant inhabiting and 
 replenishing it afterwards. Therefore, 
 
 IX. 5. For the former of these purposes, it is given 
 more arbitrarily, and of more absolute sovereignty, not 
 limited by any certain, published, or known rule; or other 
 than what lay concealed in secret purpose. Here the first 
 principle is given of that life which springs out, and exerts 
 itself, in the generating and forming of a living temple ; 
 which grows up into everlasting life, and makes it an 
 eternally living thing. Now whereas he hath so va.st a 
 power given him by the Father over all flesh, (which giv- 
 ing, we again note, must signify this not to be the power 
 he had by natural inherence, but by later constitution.) 
 we do know to whom, or to what sort of persons, this 
 eternal life, in the consummate state of it, is to be given, 
 for that is sufficiently declared in Scripture ; but we 
 are not told to whom it shall be given in the very initial 
 state, or in the first and seminal principle of it; that is 
 reserved among the Arcana Imperii, the secret resolves, or 
 placita of the divine government. And so, taking the 
 v/hole of it together, (as here we must,) we are only told,
 
 Chap. X. 
 
 THE LIVING TEMPLE. 
 
 10.5 
 
 He will give it to as many as the Father hath given him, 
 John xvii. 2. We do find a connexion, (Rom. viii. 30.) 
 of predestination, calling, justification, and glorification : 
 but not of a sinner, as such, with any of these. So obser- 
 vable was that of a noted * ancient, " He that hath promised 
 pardon to a penitent, hath not (except with very great lati- 
 tude) promised repentance to a sinner." To speak here 
 more distinctly, 
 
 X. Ever since the apostacy, even upon the first declared 
 constitution of a Redeemer, and in the shining forth of 
 that first cheering ray of gospel light and grace, " the seed 
 of the woman shall break the serpent's head ;" a promise 
 was implied of the communication of the Spirit; that 
 curse, which made the nature of man, as the accursed 
 ground, improductive of any thing but briers and thorns ; 
 and whereby all holy, vital influences were shut up from 
 men, as in an enclosed, sealed fountain, being now so far 
 reversed, for the Redeemer's sake, as that all communi- 
 cation of the Spirit should no longer remain impossible. 
 And hereupoiL, some communication of it, in such a de- 
 gree, as might infer some previous dispositions and ten- 
 dencies to holy life, seems to have been general ; (and is 
 therefore fitly enough wont to be called common grace :) 
 but then, in that lower degree, it is not only resistible, 
 but too generally resisted with mortal eflicacy; so as that 
 it builds no living temples ; but retiring, leaves men under 
 the most uncomfortable and hopeless (but chosen) shades 
 of death. 
 
 When it was said concerning the old world before the 
 flood, " My Spirit shall not always strive with man," it is 
 implied, it had been constantly and generally striving, 
 until then ; but that it was now time, by the holy, wise, 
 and righteous judgment of Heaven, to surcease, and give 
 them over to the destruction which ensued. Which text, 
 'lis true, some interpret otherwise; but if we will allow 
 that of the 1 Pet. iii. 18, 19, 20, to mean that, while Noah, 
 that preacher of righteousness, did it externall)', Christ 
 was, by his Spirit, inwardly preaching to that generation, 
 who were now since in the infernal prison ; not while they 
 were so, (which the text says not,) but in their former days 
 of disobedience on earth ; this place will then much agree 
 with the sense, wherein we (with the generality of our 
 interpreters) take the other. Nor are we therefore to think 
 there is no stated rule at all, in reference to this case of 
 God's more general (but less eflicacious) striving with 
 men, by his Spirit. For we here see, that before God took 
 any people to be peculiar to him, from the rest of men, the 
 reason which he gives, why his Spirit should not always 
 strive with man, in common (after an intimation of his 
 contemptible meanness, and his own indulgence towards 
 him notwithstanding, and instance given of his abounding 
 wickedness in those da)''s) was, because-all " the imagina- 
 tions of the thoughts of his heart were only evil continu- 
 ally ;" (Gen. vi. 3, 4, 5.) i. c. that in opposition to the dic- 
 tates of the blessed Spirit, he gave himself up to the 
 power and government of sensual inclination, his mind, 
 or thinkmg, considering power and faculty, falling in with 
 the imaginations of sense, and taking part therewith, 
 against the Spirit of God ; which imported nothing less 
 than a continual rebelling against that Holy Spirit. Now 
 if we consider thi.s, as the declared reason, why God's 
 Spirit should not always strive, and compare therewith 
 other passages of Scripture; we may collect and perceive, 
 there is some rule of God's proceeding, in this matter, not 
 only settled in heaven, but sufficiently notified on earth 
 also: i. e. concerning the extent, not concerning the limi- 
 tation, of this gift ; how far God would certainly go, in 
 afibrding it, not how far he would not go. As far as it is 
 sought, complied with, and improved ; not how far he 
 would not, in some instances, proceed beyond that. He hath 
 bound us to pray, strive, endeavour, but not tied his own 
 hands from doing surprising acts of favour, above and 
 beyond his promise. 
 
 'Tis plain, man had b^^ his apostacy^ cut off all inter- 
 course between God and him; not only was become re- 
 gardless of it, but disentitled. It was his inclination not 
 to converse with God ; it was his doom that he should 
 not. We have but short and dark hints of God's first 
 Iran.sactions with men, but what was written and done 
 
 afterwards, much enlightens and explains them. There 
 was, no doubt, a much more comprehensive and substan- 
 tial law, or rule of duty given to Adam, than that positive 
 statute, "Of the tree of knowledge of good and evil, thou 
 shalt not eat ;" that was fundamental to it, and trans- 
 gressed in the violation of it, and therefore some way im- 
 plied in it ; and if all that ?H</re were only given by internal, 
 mental impression, or was only to be collected from the 
 thorough consideration of God's nature and his own, and 
 of the state of things between God and him; that must 
 have been as intelligible to Iiis yet undepraved mi^id, as 
 written tables or volumes. There must also, accordingly, 
 be much more implied in the subjoined enforcing sanction, 
 or rule of punishment, " In the day thou eatest thereof, 
 thou shall die tlie death;" than the vulgar apprehension of 
 dying comes to ; for these were t'he words of the commi- 
 nation or cur.se upon man, if he should tranf^gress. And 
 are we not plainly fold, (Gal. iii. 13, 14.) " Chri.st hath 
 i-edeemed us from that curse — that this blessing might 
 come upon us, that we might receive — the Spirit T' There- 
 fore, this curse did shut up the Spirit from us ; and tliis 
 death must sigTiift'a suspension of all viial, holy influence, 
 a continual languishment under the stupifying power of a 
 carnal mind, which (Rom. viii. 6.) we are expressly told is 
 death. And when that first evangelical promise was co- 
 laterally and implicitly given, wrapt up in the threaten- 
 ing to the serpent, That the woman's seed should break 
 his head ; it could mean no less, than that he, that should 
 aflei-wards, in the fulnessof time, become her seed, andlue 
 born of a woman, should redeem us from under that curse, 
 and turn it, in all the consequent horrors of it, upon him- 
 self It was therefore further plain also, that no breath of 
 holy divine influence was ever more to touch the spiiit of 
 man, had it not been for the Redeemer's interposition, and 
 undertaking. 
 
 But he having interposed, undertaken, and performed, 
 as he hath ; what is the effect of it 7 What ! that the 
 Spirit should now go forthwith irresistible almighty power 
 to convert all the world? That, the event too plainly 
 shows, was not the design. Or that it should immediat/ely 
 supply men with sufficient grace and pcrv\-er to conAert 
 themselves 1 That, no scripture speaks, and it were strange, 
 if such sufficient grace were actually given to all, it should 
 prove effectual with so very" few. But the manifest efl'ect 
 is, that the Spirit may now go forth, (the justice, and male- 
 diction of the law not reclaiming against it,) and make 
 gentle trials upon the spirits of men, inject some beams of 
 light, and some good thoughts, with which if they comply, 
 they have no cause to despair of more; and so, that which 
 is wont to be called common grace, may gradually lead 
 and tend to that of a higher kind, which is special, and 
 finally saving. That light, and those motions, which h-ave 
 only this tendency, must be ascribed to the Spirit of God, 
 co-operating with men's natural faculties; and not to tlieir 
 own unassisted, natural power alcxie ; for we are not 
 suflicient of ourselves to think one right thought. And 
 now if they rebel against such light and motions Aiolently 
 opposing their sensual imaginations and desires, to tlicir 
 light, and the secret promptings of God's Holy Spirit; 
 they hereby vex his Spirit, provoke him to leave ih<?m, 
 and do forfeit even those assistances they have had, and 
 might further have expected, upon the Redeemer's ac- 
 count. All which seems to be summed up, as a stated 
 rule, in that of our Saviour — " To him that hath shall be 
 given ; but from him that hath not" (where having mani- 
 festly includes use and improvement) " shall be takcia 
 away that which he had." Which latter words must be 
 taken not for a prediction, expressive of the certain event, 
 or what shall be ; but a commination, expressing what is 
 deserved, or most justly may be. The true meaning or 
 design of a commination, being, that it may never he exe- 
 cuted. And to the same sense is that of Prov. i. 23, 24, 
 &c. " Turn at my reproof— I will pour out my Spiri, 
 unto you, I will make known my woixis imto you-. Lmi 1 
 called, and they refused ; I stretched out my hand, and no 
 man regarded ; therefore they shall eat the fruit of their 
 own wav." &.c. v. 31. 
 
 XI. So far then we are not without a stated rule, as to 
 those previous and superable operations of the Spirit of
 
 106 
 
 THE LIVING TEMPLE. 
 
 Part fl 
 
 God ; according whereto we may expecl them to be con- 
 tinued and increased, or fear they shall be withheld. But 
 now, because all do more or less resist, and thereby de- 
 serve they should cease, or commit a forfeiture of them: 
 and sometimes this forfeiture is taken, sometimes it is not ; 
 but the grieved Spirit returns and re-enforces his holy mo- 
 tions, even unto victory ; where or when he shall do so, 
 we have no certain published rule, whereby to conclude 
 this way, or that. The Son of God (by consent with the 
 Father) here acts as a Plenipotentiary, and Sovereign, 
 quickening whom he will. The Spirit (by consent with 
 him) breathes, in order to the vital production of temples, 
 as the wind — where it listeth; or for regeneration, which 
 is the thing there discoursed of in all that context, and even 
 in the next following words, which apply that similitude ; 
 "so is every one that is born of the Spirit," John iii. 8. 
 And we are therefore, elsewhere, warned to "work out 
 our salvation with fear and trembling," (Phil. ii. 12, 13.) 
 because God worketh in us, to will, and to do, of his own 
 good pleasure ; being under no tie, not quite to desist, and 
 forsake us, at the next opposition he meets with. At least, 
 they that are not within the compass of his covenant (once 
 sincerely entered) can lay no claim, in such a case, to his 
 continuance, or return. 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 The sixth head proposed before, now insisted on. Tliat for the puipose of 
 inhabiting this temple, already formed, the Spirit is |i\en by the Emmanuel, 
 as a tnistee. The Oeconomus. ox chief Steward ot God's household. And 
 by a certain known rule. Giving them, that are to parlake therein, the ground 
 of a rife'htful claim unto tliis great and most comprehensive gift. Whereupon 
 to be considered, The dueness, amplitude, or comprehensiveness thereof 
 (1.) The dueness of it. l. By promise. 2. By this promise, its having the 
 ibnri of a covenant, restipulated on their part. 3. From their state of son- 
 sliip, as regenerate. Adopted. 4, From their being to receive it by fuitli. 
 (2.) Its ample extent, measured by the covenant, considered partly in actu 
 signato. In actu exercito. Infers reconciliation, relation. The sunmiary 
 of the covenant refers to it The conclusion. 
 
 I. For the other purpose of inhabiting this temple, 
 M'hen by regeneration it is thus built and prepared, the 
 Redeemer gives the Spirit upon other terms, viz. according 
 to the tenure of a certain rule declared and published to 
 the world, and whereby a right thereto accrues unto these 
 regenerate ones. The unregenerate world, especially 
 such as by frequent resistances had often forfeited all 
 gracious communications of that blessed Spirit, have no- 
 thing to assure them he will ever regenerate them. But, 
 being now regenerate, and thereby formed into living 
 temples, they may, upon known and certain terms, expect 
 him to inhaiait them as such, and to be statedly their Em- 
 manuel ; and that as God, even their own God, (Psal. 
 Ixvii.) he will bless ihem, and abide with them, and in 
 them, for that gracious purpose. Why else hath he con- 
 quered all their reluctancy, and made them his temples'? 
 It was against their (former) will, but according to his own. 
 He at first herein, by rough he wings, might displease them, 
 but he pleased himself, and fulfilled, hereby, " the good 
 pleasure of his own goodness," 2 Thess. i. 11. Nor will 
 now leave his people, because it pleased him to make them 
 his people, 1 Sam. xii. Neither is he now the less pleased 
 that he is under bonds, for he put himself imder them, 
 most freelv, and his "sifts and callings are without re- 
 pentance," Rom. xi. But being under bonds, he now puts 
 on a distinct capacity, and treats these his regenerate ones 
 under a different notion from that under which he acted 
 towards other men, or themselves before; not as an abso- 
 lute, unobliged Sovereign, that might do or not do for 
 them as he would ; but as a trustee, managing a trust 
 committed to him by the Eternal Father ; as the Oeconomus^ 
 the great Stemard of his family ; the prime Minister, and 
 Curator of all the affairs of his house and temple, which 
 they are, (1 Cor. iii. 17.) all and every one. » For as vast 
 as this temple is, where it is made up of all ; and as mani- 
 fold as it is, when every one is to him a single temple; 
 neither is above the comprehension, nor beneath the con- 
 descension, of his large and humble mind. Neither larger 
 
 a Ilnjus enim Templum, simul omnes, et singuli, Templa sumus.— Om- 
 nium Concordiam, et s>nfiulo8 inhabitaro dignatur, non in omnibus, quam 
 
 diffusion, nor more particular distribution, signifying him 
 to be greater or less, in ail, in every one. 
 
 He so takes care of all as of every one, and of evei7 
 one as if he were the only one under his care. Id. He is 
 the first-born among many brethren ; and as that imports 
 dignity, so it doth employment ; it being his part as such 
 to provide for the good state of the family : which is all 
 named from him, both that part in heaven, and that on 
 earth, Eph. iii. 15. Yea, and he may in a true sense be 
 styled the Pater- familids, the Fatker of the family : though 
 to \\\& first in Godhead he is the Son, to us he is styled the 
 everlasting Father, Isa. ix. 6. Therefore he is under obli- 
 gation hereto, by his Father's appointment, and his own 
 undertaking. 
 
 And that which he hath obliged himself to, is to give 
 the Holy Spirit, or take continual care that it be commu- 
 nicated from time to time, as particular exigencies and 
 occasions shall require. It was a thing full of wonder, 
 that ever he should be so far concerned in our affairs ! But 
 being concerned so deeply as we know he hath been ; to 
 be incarnate for us ; to be made a sacrifice to God for us, 
 that he might have it in his power to give the Spirit, having 
 become a curse for us, that he might be capable of con- 
 ferring upon us this blessing; 'tis now no wonder he 
 should oblige himself to a continual constant care that his 
 own great and kind design should now not be lost or 
 miscarry. After he had engaged himself so deeply in 
 this design for his redeemed, could he decline further obli- 
 gation ? 
 
 And his obligation creates their right, entitles them to 
 this mighty gift of his own Spirit ; concerning which we 
 shall consider — The dueness, and the greatness, or ampli- 
 tude, of this Gift : or show, that, as their case is now stated, 
 upon their regeneration, they have a pleadable right to this 
 high privilege, the continued communication of the Spirit. 
 And next show, of how large extent this privilege is, and 
 how great things are contained in it. I scruple not to call 
 it a Gift, and yet at the same time to assert their right to 
 it, to whom it is given ; not doubting but every one will 
 see, a right accruing by free-promise (as we shall show 
 this doth) detracts nothing from the freeness of the gift. 
 When the promise only, with what we shall see is directly 
 consequent, produces or creates this right, it is unconceiv- 
 able that this creature, by resulting naturally, should injure 
 its own parent or productive cause. We shall therefore 
 say somewhat briefly, 
 
 II. 1. Of the dueness of this continued indwelling pre- 
 sence of the blessed Spirit to the regenerate: (intending 
 to speak more largely of the amplitude and extensiveness 
 of it, on the account afterwards to be given :) And, 
 
 (1.) It is due (as hath been intimated) by promise. It 
 is expressly said lo be the promise of the Spirit, Gal. iii. 
 14. But to whoml To the regenerate, to them who are 
 born after the Spirit, as may be seen at large, chap. iv. 
 These (as it after follows) are the children and heirs of the 
 promise, which must principally mean this promise, as it 
 is eminently called. Acts ii. 38. "Repent," (which con- 
 notes regeneration,) "and ye shall receive the Holy Ghost; 
 for the promise is to you, &c. and lo as many as the Lord 
 shall call :" which calling, when effectual, includes re- 
 generation. When (Eph. i. 13.) this blessed Spirit is 
 called the Spirit of promise, what can that mean but the 
 promised Spirit 1 
 
 (2.) Their right is the more evident ; and what is pro- 
 mised the more apparently due, in that the promise hath 
 received the form of a covenant, whereby the covenanters 
 have a more strongly pleadable right and claim ; to which 
 the rest of men have no such pretence. 
 
 It is true that we must distinguish of the covenant, — as 
 proposed, and entered. 
 
 The proposal of it is in very general terms, " Ho, every 
 one that thirsts" — Isa. Iv. 1. " Incline your ear — and I will 
 make an everlasting covenant with you" — v. 3. And so it 
 gives a remotCj future right to such" as shall enter into it. 
 But only they have a present actual right to what it con- 
 tains, that have entered into it : and their plea is strong, 
 having this to say; " I have not only an indefinite, or le.is 
 determinate, promise to rely upon ; but a promise upon 
 
 in singulis major. Quoniam nee mole diateiiditur, nee partitiooe minuitur. 
 Aug. de Civ. Dei, lib. 18. cap. 45.
 
 Chap. XI. 
 
 THE LIVING TEMPLE. 
 
 107 
 
 terms expressed, which I have agreed to ; and there is 
 now a mutual stipulation between God and me : He 
 offered himself, and demanded me; I have accepted him, 
 and given myself. And hereupon I humbly expect and 
 claim all further needful communications of his Spirit, as 
 the principal promised blessings of this covenant." Such a 
 one may therefore say, as the Psalmist hath taught him. 
 Remember thy word to thy servant, in which thou hast 
 caused me to hope, Psal. cxix. 49. I had never looked 
 for such quickening influences, if thou hadst not caused 
 me, and been the Author to me of such an expectation. 
 Now as thou hast quickened me by thy word, v. 50. so 
 quickening me according to thy word. " I wiU put my 
 Spirit within you," is a principal article of this covenant, 
 Ezek. xxxvi. 27. And this expression of putting the 
 Spirit within, must signify not a light touch upon the soul 
 of a man, but to settle it as an the innermost centre of the 
 soul, in order to a fixed abode. 
 
 And how sacred is the bond of this covenant! it is 
 founded in the blood of the Mediator of it. This is, as 
 he himself speaks, the new testament (or covenant) in my 
 blood, Luke xxii. 20. Therefore is this, in a varied phrase, 
 said to be the "blood of the covenant;" and therefore is 
 this covenant said to be everlasting, Heb. xiii. 20. referring 
 to a known maxim among the Hebrews: Pacts, confirmed 
 by blood, (^sanguine saucita,) can never be abolished. " The 
 God of peace — by the blood of the everlasting covenant, 
 make you perfect in every good work;" which must im- 
 ply a continual communication of the Spirit- for it is 
 also added, to do always what is well-pleasing in his sight ; 
 which, who can do without iuch continual aids 2 "Coming 
 to Jesus the Mediator of the new covenant, we come to 
 the blood of sprinkling," Heb. xii. 24. He could not 
 mediate for us upon other terms; and upon those, obtains 
 for us the better promises, " spiritual blessings in heavenly 
 things," Eph. i. 3. 
 
 And further, this covenant is ratified by his oath who 
 formed and made it. "My covenant will I not break — 
 Once have I sworn," Ps. Ixxxix. 34, 35. By these two 
 immutable things, (even to our apprehension,) 'tis impos- 
 sible for God to lie, Heb. vi. 17, 18. Regeneration is the 
 Duilding of this temple ; covenanting on our part contains 
 the dedication of it ; and what then can follow btit con- 
 stant possession and use 1 
 
 (3.) The regenerate, as such, are sons,bofh by receiving 
 a new nature, even a divine, 2 Pet. i. 4. in their regenera- 
 tion; and a new title, in (what is always conjunct) their 
 adoption. Now, hereupon the continual supplies of the 
 Spirit in this house (or temple') of his are the children's 
 bread, Luke xi. 13. Because tney are sons, therefore God 
 sends the Spirit of his Son into their hearts. Gal. iv. G. 
 and he is styled the Spirit of adoption, Rom. viii. 14, 15. 
 Therefore have a right to the provisions of their Father's 
 house. 
 
 (4.) The Spirit is given unto these children of God upon 
 their faith ; which must certainlj' suppose their previous 
 title for the ground of it. They receive " the promise of 
 the Spirit by faith," (Gal. iii. 14.) as by faith they are 
 God's children, v. 26. Receiving the Son, who was emi- 
 nentlj' so, and to whom the sonship did primarily or origi- 
 nally belong; and believing in his name, they thereupon 
 have ^ power or right to become the sons of God, John i. 
 12. being herein also regenerate, born not of flesh and 
 blood, — but of God. And thus, by faith receiving him, 
 by faith they retain him, or have him abiding in them, as 
 he abides in them: for the union is intimate and mutual, 
 John XV. 5. They first receive him upon the gospel offer, 
 which, as was said, gave them a remote right, and now re- 
 tain him, as having an actual right. He dwells in the 
 heart by faith, Eph. iii. 17. But what he doth, in this 
 respect, his Spirit doth ; so he explains himself, when, in 
 those valedictory chapters of St. John's gospel, xiv. xv. 
 jcvi. he promises his disconsolate disciples, he would come 
 to them, he would see them, he would manifest himself 
 to them, he would abide with them, within a little while 
 they should see him, &c. intimates to them, that heprinci- 
 
 Eally meant all this of a presence to be vouchsafed them by 
 is Spirit, cL xiv. v, 16, 17, 18, 19. And he concerns the 
 
 b e^ov(Ttav. 
 
 Father also with himself in the same .sort of commerce; 
 (v. 20.) " At that day ye shall know that I am in my Fa- 
 ther, and you in me, and 1 in you^" as also v. 21, and 23. 
 Thus in another place, we find the Spirit promiscuously 
 spoken of as the Spirit of God, and the Spirit of Christy 
 and the inbeingor indwelling of Christ, and of the Spirit, 
 used as expressions signifying the same thing; when also 
 the operation of God is spoken of by the same indwelling 
 Spirit, Rom. viii. 9,10, 11. Which an eminent father 
 observing, intakes occasion to speak of the joint presence 
 of the several persons of the Trinity, with such with whom 
 any one is present, because each bears itself inseparably 
 towards the other, and is unite/I most intimately therewith, 
 v-ker€Soever one hypostasis (or peisons, as by the Latins we 
 are taught to s]pea\<) is present, there tke v:hole Trinily is 
 present — Amazing thing! that the glorious Suljsistents in 
 the eternal Godhead, should so concentre in kind design, 
 influence, and operation towards a despicable impure 
 worm ! 
 
 But this conjunction infers no confusion; breaks not 
 the order, wherein each severally acts towards one end. 
 But that, notwithstanding, we may conceive from whom, 
 through whom, and by whom, what was lately a ruinous 
 heap is become an animated temple, inhabited by the Di- 
 vine presence, wherein we ought not to forget, how emi- 
 nent and conspicuous the part is of our Lord Christ, and 
 upon how costly terms he obtained, that the blessed Spirit 
 should so statedly, and upon a right claimable by faith, 
 employ his mighty agency in this most gracious and won- 
 derful undertaking! being (as hath been observed) made 
 a curse for us, that we might receive the promise of the 
 Spirit by faith, Gal. iii. 13, 14. Whence also it is said, 
 that after our believing we are sealed with the Spirit of 
 promise ; (Eph. i. 13.) i. e. by that seal, by which God 
 knows, or owns, or acknowledges, them that are hi-s, (2 Tim. 
 ii. 19.) though they maj- not alwa3's know it themselves. 
 Hereupon also our Lord hath assured us, from them that 
 believe in him, shall flow (as out of the belly of a conduit) 
 rivers of livmg water, -which it is said he spoke of the 
 Spirit, which they that believed should receive, John 
 vii. 37. 
 
 Much more might be alleged from many texts of the 
 Old and New Testament to evince the right which believ- 
 ers, or they who are God's more peculiar people, have to 
 the abiding indwelling presence of his Spirit, as the inha- 
 bitant of that temple which they are now become. 
 
 III. But that matter being plain, we shall proceed to 
 what was next proposed ; to show, 
 
 (2.) The ample extent and comprehensiveness of this 
 privilege, which I shall the rather enlarge upon, that from 
 thence we may have the clearer ground upon which after- 
 wards to argue; — how highly reasonable and congruous 
 was it, that so great a thing, and of so manifest importance 
 to God's having a temple and residence among men, should 
 not be otherwise communicated than in and b)- Emman- 
 uel, the Founder and Restorer of this temple. 
 
 And we cannot have a truer or surer measure of the 
 amplitude and extensiveness of this gift, than the extent 
 and comprehensiveness of the covenant itsell", to which it 
 belongs. To which purpose, let it be considered that this 
 covenant of God inChiist,of which we are now speaking, 
 may be looked upon two ways ; i. e. 
 
 We may view it abstractedly, taking the frame and mode) 
 of it, as it were in adu signato, to be collected -and ga- 
 tliered out of the Holy Scriptures. Or we may look irpou 
 it as in adu cxercito, viz. as it is noir transacted and en- 
 tered into by the blessed God, and this or that awakened, 
 considering, predisptised soul. Now here, 
 
 1. Take it the former way, vj\A you find this article, 
 concerning the gift or communication of the Holy Ghost ; 
 standing there as one great grant contained in the gospel- 
 covenant. And it is obvious to observe, as it is placed 
 there, what aspect it hath upon both the parts of the cove- 
 nant, I will be your God — )-ou shall be im People, 
 Which will be seen, if, 
 
 2. You consider this covenant as actually ejiicred into, 
 or as the covenanting parties are treating, the one lo draw, 
 the other to enter, this covenant. And so we shall see that 
 
 c Oifoii yap Tl fta T""?? rptaSos viros-aais TOf ij waoa xapc^iv n rpiat, 
 Chmt. in Cpiit. ad Roman.
 
 108 
 
 THE LIVING TEMPLE. 
 
 Part II. 
 
 cnr consent, both that God shall be our God, and that we 
 will be his people, with all previous inclinations thereto, 
 and what immediately results from our covenanting, do 
 all depend upon this communication of the Spirit ; and 
 otherwise, neither can he do the part of a God to us, nor 
 we, the part that belongs to his people towards him. By 
 all which we shall see the va,st extent of the gift. It is 
 the Mediator's part to bring the covenanting parties toge- 
 ther. He is therefore said to be the Mediator of the new 
 covenant, Heb. xii. 24. He rendered it possible, by the 
 merit of his blood, that the offended Majesty of heaven 
 might, without injury to himself, consent ; and that the 
 Spirit might be given to procure our consent, which, as 
 Mediator or Emmanuel, he gives. When he gives it in so 
 copious an effusion, as to be victorious, to conquer our 
 aversion, and make us cease to be rebellious, then he en- 
 ters to dwell, Ps. Ixviii. 18. Till then, there is no actual 
 covenanting ; no plenary consent on our part to what is 
 proposed in the covenant, in either respect: we neither 
 agree that God shall be our God, nor that we will be of 
 his people. This speaks this gift a great thing and of vast 
 extent, looking for the present upon the two parts of the 
 covenant summarily; and afterwards considering what 
 each part more particularly contains in it. But if in prac- 
 tice it be so far done as is reguisite to a judicious and 
 preponderating determination of will, (which may yet 
 afterwards admit of higher degrees,) how great a thing is 
 now done ! Their state is distinguished from theirs Who 
 are strangers to the covenant, who are without Christ, and 
 without God in the world. From hence results, 
 
 1. An express reconciliation between God and thee; 
 for this is a league of friendship, enmity ceasing. 
 
 2. A fixed special relation : (Ezek. xvi. 8.) " I entered 
 into covenant with thee, saith the Lord God, and thou be- 
 camest mine." How great and high a privilege ! Relations 
 are said to be of minute entity, but great efficacy. All the 
 Divine Being related to me a worm ! 
 
 IV. And that all this may be the plainer, let us 
 but consider, more distinctly, what the great summary 
 of God's part of this covenant contains; what is the most 
 principal promise of it; the dependence of our part there- 
 on ; upon what terms that which is distinct is promised ; 
 how far what is distinctly promised, is coincident with 
 this gift of the indwelling S])irit, both in respect of this 
 present, and the future eternal state. 
 
 1. The known and usual summary of this covenant, on 
 God's part, is, " I will be their God;" as it is set douTi 
 in many places of both Testaments. Now, what can be 
 meant, more principally, by his being their God, than giv- 
 ing ihem his indwelling Spirit 1 Wherein without it can 
 he do the part of a God to them"? By it he both governs 
 and satisfies them: is both their supreme and sovereign 
 Lord, in the one regard, and their supreme and sovereign 
 good, in the other. Doth being their God intend no more 
 than an empty title? or, what would be their so great 
 advantage, in having only a nominal God? Yea, and he 
 is pleased himself to expound it of his continued gracious 
 presence, (2 Cor. vi. 16.) "I will dwell in them, and walk 
 m them, and I will be their God ;" alluding to his contin- 
 uing his tabernacle among them, as is promised, Lev. 
 xxvi. 11, 12. " I will set my tabernacle among you, and 
 my soul shall not abhor you; and I will walk among 
 you, and I will be your God," &c. And what did that 
 tabernacle signify but this living temple, whereof we speak, 
 as a certain type and shadow of ill Agreeably whereto 
 his covenant is expressed, with evident reference to the 
 days of the gospel, and the time of the Messiah's king- 
 dom, (plainly meant by David's being their king and 
 prince for ever,) Ezek. xxxvii. 24, 25, 26, 27. " David, 
 my servant, shall be king over them," (spoken many an 
 age after he was dead and gone,) — " and their prince for 
 ever. Moreover, I will make a covenant of peace with them, 
 it shall be an everlasting covenant with them, and I will 
 set my sanctuary in the midst of them for evermore. My 
 tabernacle also shall be with them; yea, I will be their 
 God." That yea, the exegetical note, is observable, "my 
 sanctuary and tabernacle shall be with them." (i. c. " I 
 wixl dwell in them," as it is expounded before, 2 Cor. vi. 
 d Templum Dei tetlificatum per Testamentiun Novum lapidibus vii-is 
 eloriosior quum illud quod a Rege Soloraone coiistmotum est, &c Aue 
 do Civ. Cei. 1. 18. c. 4fl. ) *• 
 
 16. And could it be meant ol' an uninhabited, desolate 
 sanctuaiy or tabernacle, that should be with them for ever- 
 more ■?) And why is this his constant inhabiting presence 
 to be with theml The emphatical yea, with what follows, 
 informs us: Yea, I will be their God: q. d. I have under- 
 taken to be their God, which I cannot make good unto 
 them, if I afford them not my indwelling presence. To be 
 to them a distant God, a God afar off", can neither answer 
 my covenant, nor the exigency of their ca'se. They will 
 but have a God, and no God, if they have not with them, 
 and in them, a divine, vital, inspiriting, inactuating pre- 
 sence, to govern, quicken, support, and satisfy them, and 
 fill them with an all-sufficient fulness. They would soon, 
 otherwise, be an habitation for Ziim and Ochim, or be the 
 temple but of idol gods. 
 
 It is therefore evident that this summary of God's part 
 of his covenant, I will be their God, very principally in- 
 tends his dwelling in them by his Spirit. 
 
 V. And the restipulation, on their part, to be his people, 
 (which is generally added in all the places, wherein the 
 other part is expressed,) signifies their faith, by which they 
 take hold of his covenant, accept him to be their God, 
 dedicate themselves to be his people, his peculiar, his man- 
 sion, his temple, wherein he may dwell. Now this their 
 self-resigning faith, taken in its just latitude, carries with 
 it a twofold reference to Him, as their sovereign Lord, 
 as their sovereign Good ; whom, above all other, they are 
 to obey and enjoy. But can they obey him, if he do not 
 put his Spirit into them, to write his law in their hearts, 
 and "cause them to walk in his statutes 1" Ezek. xxxvi. 
 27. Jer. li. 35. Or can they enjoy him, if they love him 
 not as their best good 1 which love is the known fruit of 
 his Spirit. Whereupon, after such self-resignation and 
 dedication, what remains, but that "the house of the Lord 
 be filled with the glory of the Lord?" as 2Chron. vii. 2. 
 
 2. Let us consider what is the express, more peculiar 
 kind of the promises of this covenant, in the Christian 
 contradistinct to the Mosaical administration of it. It is 
 evident, in the general, that the promises of the gospel 
 covenant are in their nature and kind, compared with 
 those that belonged to the Mosaical dispensation, more 
 spiritual; therefore called better promises, Heb. viii. 6. 
 They are not promises of secular felicity, of external pros- 
 perity, peace, and plenty, as those other most expressly 
 vfevQ. It is true indeed that the covenant with Israel, 
 with Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob, and their seed, was not 
 exclusive of spiritual good things. For the communica- 
 tion of the Spirit was (as hath been noted) the blessing of 
 Abraham, (Gal. iii. 14.) and that, as he was the father of 
 that people, the head of a community, now lo he much 
 more extended, and take in the Gentiles the time being 
 come, when all nations were to be blessea in him, which 
 is said to be the gospel that was preached to Abraham, 
 Gal. iii. 8. But in the mean time, the Spirit was given 
 less generally, and in a much lower measure ; wherefore, 
 in that purposed comparison, 2 Cor. iii. between the legal 
 and the evangelical dispensation; though a certain glory 
 did attend the former, yet that glory is said to be no glory, 
 in respect of the so much excelling glory of this latter, t;. 
 10. And the thing wherein it so highly excelled, was the 
 much more copious effiision of the Spirit. That whereas, 
 under the former dispensation, Moses was read for many 
 ages, with little efficacy, a veil being upon the people's 
 hearts, signified by the (mystical) veil wherewith, when 
 he conversed with them, he was wont to cover his face; 
 that comparative inefficacy proceeding from hence, that 
 little of the light, life, and power of the Spirit accompanied 
 that dispensation: now, under the gospel dispensation, 
 the glory of the Lord wai; to be beheld as in a glass, with 
 unveiled face, so as that, beholding it, we might be 
 changed (so great an efficacy and power went with it) 
 into the same likeness, from glory to glory, as by the 
 Spirit of the Lord ; which is the scope of the latter part of 
 that chapter, from v. 10 to 18. d How great was the splen- 
 dour and magnificence of Solomon's temple, yet how much 
 more glorious is that which is built of living stones I And 
 as the whole frame of that former economy was always 
 less spiritual, a lower measure of the Spirit always accom-
 
 Chap. XI. 
 
 THE LIVING TEMPLE. 
 
 109 
 
 panyingit; so -when it stood in competition, as corrival 
 to the Christian dispensation, being hereupon quite de- 
 serted bv the Spirit, it is spoken of as weak, worldly, car- 
 nal, and" beggarly, Gal. iv. i). Col. ii. 20. Heb. ix. 2, 10. 
 Therefore the apostle expostulates with the Galatian Chris- 
 tians, verging towards Judaism; "Received ye the Spirit 
 by the works of the law, or by the hearing of faith 1 Are 
 ye so foolish, having begun in the Spirit, are you now 
 made peifeet by ihe flesh ?" Gal. iii. 2, 3, and ch. iv. from 
 V. 22 to 32. Speaking of the two covenants, under alle- 
 gorical represcntaiion, he makes Ihe former, given upon 
 Mount Sinai, to be signified by Agar the bondwoman, 
 and by the terrestrial Jei-usalem, which was then in bond- 
 age, with her children, as productive but of a servile race, 
 born after the flesh only, as Ishmael was, destitute of the 
 Divine Spirit ; (which where it is, there is liberty, 2 Cor. 
 iii. 17.) the other by Sarah, a freexvoman, and by the 
 celestial Jerusalem, which is free, with her children, all 
 born from above, of the Divine Spirit; (John iii. 3, 5, as 
 nvyhf there signifies;) which spiritual seed, signified by 
 Isaac, are said at once to be born after the Spirit, and by 
 promise, v. 23, 28, 29. And this can import no less than, 
 that the ancient promise, (given long before the law, upon 
 Mount Sinai, vi~. four hundred and thirty years. Gal. iv. 
 17, and expressly called the covenant of Gfod, in Christ : 
 most eminently to be made good in the days of the gospel; 
 after the cessation of the Mosaical institution, as it was 
 made before it,) must principally mean the promise of the 
 Spirit. Which is most plain from that of the apostle Peter 
 to his convinced, heart-wounded hearers. Acts ii. 38, 39. 
 " Repent and be baptized, every one of you, in the name 
 of Jesus Christ, for the remission of sins, and ye shall 
 receive the gift of the Holy Ghost ; for the promise is 
 unto you, and j'our children, and to all that are afar ofl^," 
 (this promise not being to be confined to them and their 
 children, but to reach the Gentiles also, as Gal. iii. 14.) 
 " even as many as the Lord our God shall call." And 
 surely that which is, by way of excellency, called the 
 promise, must be the more principal promise of this cove- 
 nant ; which it is also signified to be, in that account given 
 of it by the prophets, Isa. xliv. 3. and lix. 20, 21. Jer. 
 ixxi. 33. quoted Heb. viii. 10. (where though the Spirit be 
 not expressly named, yet those eflfecls of it are, which 
 manifestly suppose it,) and Ezek. xxxvi. 25, 27. Joel ii. 
 28. This new coveirant is distinguished from the former, 
 by the more certain, more general, and more efficacious 
 communication of the Spirit promised in it, as is plainly 
 implied, Jer. xxxi. and (^which refers thereto) Heb. viii. 9, 
 10, 11. 
 
 VI. 3. It will further tend to evidence, that the Spirit 
 is given as a settled Inhabitant, upon the known terms of 
 this covenant : if we consider upon what terms it is pro- 
 mised, what is distinctly but however most conjunctly 
 promised therewith, viz. all the relative graces of justifi- 
 cation, pardon of sin, and adoption. These are promised, 
 as is apparent, in the same covenant, and upon laith, 
 which is our taking hold of and entering into the cove- 
 nant, our accepting God in Christ to be our God, and giv- 
 ing up ourselves to be his people ; and is (according to that 
 latitude, wherein faith is commonly taken) inclusive of 
 repentance. For a sinner, one before in a state of apostacy 
 from God, cannot take him to be his God, but in so doing 
 he must exercise repentance to\x ards God. His very act 
 of taking him, in Christ, is turning to him through Christ, 
 from the sin by which he had departed and apostatized 
 from him before. Therefore must the indwelling Spirit 
 be given, upon the same certain and known terms as is 
 also expressed in (the before-mentioned) Gal. iii. M. Eph. 
 i. 13, &c. Acts ii. 38, 39. 
 
 4. Now faith and repentance being first given in forming 
 God's temple, consider, how coincident the gift of the 
 Spirit, is an Inhabitant, is with remission of sin, or with 
 whatsoever relative grace as such, is distinct from that 
 which is inherent, subjected in the soul it.self, and really 
 transmutative of its subject. But we are to consider with- 
 al, how manifestly the latter of the.se is involved in the 
 former. Giving the Spirit (the root and original of sub- 
 jective grace) implies two things: 1. Conferring a right to 
 it: 2. Actual communication, The former belongs to 
 relative grace, the latter to real; (as they commonly dis- 
 
 tinguish :) but the former is in order to ihc latter, and the 
 lattermost certainly follows upon the former. Both are 
 signified by one name of giving ; and do both, in a sort, 
 make one entire legal act, (though there are distinct physi- 
 cal ones,) which the former (usually) begins, and the latter 
 consummates. Divers things are not herein given, but 
 only a title to, and the possession of, the same thing: nor 
 by divers donations; but by the concurrence of such things 
 as are requisite to make up one and the same. 
 
 VII. And let it now be considered. What there is pro- 
 mised in the gospel-covenant, besides what may be com- 
 prehended in the gift of the Spirit. We will first set a.side 
 what is manifestly not promised in it besides ; and then, 
 more closely inquire about what may seem distinctly pro- 
 mised, and see in how great part that residue will be re- 
 ducible hither. 
 
 1. As to what is manifestly not promised besides ; it is 
 plain, there is not promised in it a part and portion in a 
 particular land or country on earth, as there was in the 
 old covenant (contra-distinguished to this new one) to 
 Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob, and their seed, which land 
 was, we know, called the " land of promise ;" and unto 
 which the body of that people had so certain a title, upon 
 the condition of their continued obedience, that they were 
 sure never to be removed out of it; or if they had made 
 a general defection, and were thereupon forsaken of God, 
 and given up to invading enemies, that should dispossess 
 them, they were as sure, upon their general repentance, 
 to be restored, and settled there again ; as may be seen in 
 Solomon's pra3'er, at the dedication of the temple, and 
 God's most gracious and particular answer thereto, and 
 in divers places of the Old Testament besides. 
 
 If particular persons brake this covenant, by grosser 
 transgressions, they were to be cut off from this good land, 
 and, by Moses's law, at the mouth of two or three wit- 
 nesses, to die without mere)'; and so, by such execution of 
 justice, the bodj'^ of the people was kept safe from Divine 
 displeasure ; the land was not defiled, so as to spew out its 
 inhabitants. 
 
 But if the people did generally revolt, so as that the 
 ordinary methods of punitive justice could have no place, 
 God took the matter into his own hands, and did justice 
 upon them himself, by casting them out. This is the 
 covenant Vvhich, it is said, they brake, Jer. xxxi. and Heb. 
 viii. The new gospel covenant is apparently of no such 
 import, or hath no such additament to the spiritual bless- 
 ings of it. 
 
 Nor again doth it promise, more indefinitely, temporal 
 blessings of any kind, with certainty, upon any condition 
 whatsoever, even of the highest faith, the most fervent love 
 to God, or the most accurate obedience, and irreprehen- 
 sibje sanctity, attainable on earth ; as if the best and 
 holiest men should therefore be any whit the more assured 
 of constant health, ease, opulency, or peace in this world. 
 We know the ordinary course of providence (which can- 
 not justly be understood to be a misinterpreter of God's 
 covenant) runs much otherwise; and that such things as 
 concern the good estate of our spirits, and inward man, 
 are the only things we can, upon any terms, be sure of, 
 by this covenant ; the tenor of it not warranting us to look 
 upon external good things, as otherwise promised, than so 
 far as they may be subservient to these, and to our better 
 serving the interest and honour of God and the Redeemer; 
 of which things he reserves the juderment to himself And 
 unto Him, by this covenant, we absolutely devote our- 
 selves to serve and glorify him in his own way. and in 
 whatsoever external circumstances his wisdom and good 
 pleasure shall order for us; being ourselves only assured 
 of this in the general, That all things shall work together 
 for good to us, if we love him, &c. but still esteeming it 
 our highest good (as we cannot but do, if we love him as 
 we ought) to be most serviceable to his glory, and conform- 
 able, in our habitual temper, to his will. Spiritual good 
 things, then, are by the tenor of this covenant our only 
 certainties, Other things indeed cannot be the matter of 
 absolute universal promise. Their nature refuses it and 
 makes them incapable. They are but of a mutable good- 
 ness ; may be sometimes, in reference to our great end, 
 good for us ; and sometimes, or in some circumstances, 
 evil and prejudicial. And being in a possibilitj' to become
 
 no 
 
 THE LIVING TEMPLE. 
 
 Part II, 
 
 evil in that relative sense, (as what hinders a greater good, 
 is then an evil,) if they ever be actually so; tiiey are then 
 no longer matter of a promise. The promise would in 
 that case cease to be a, promise; for can there be a promise 
 of an evill It would then necessarily degenerate, and turn 
 Liito a threatening. 
 
 VIII. But it may be said of those good things that are 
 of a higher kind and nature, that respect our souls and our 
 states Godward, there seem to be some vastly difi'erent 
 from this of giving the Spirit. Therefore, 
 
 2. We are next to inquire what they are, and how far 
 they may be found to fall into this. 
 
 Remission of sin is most obvious, and comes first in 
 view, upon this account. And let us bethink ourselves 
 what it is. We will take it for granted, that it is not a 
 mere concealed will or purpose to pardon, on the one hand, 
 (for no one in common speech takes it so ; a purpose to 
 do a thing signifies it not yet to be done,) nor mere not 
 punishing, on the other. If one should be never so long 
 only forborne, and not punished, he ma}' j-et be still 
 punishable, and will be always so, if he be yet guilty. It 
 's therefore such an act as doth, in law, take away guik, 
 iz. the reatuvi fana, or dissolve the obligation to sitffcr 
 punishment. 
 
 It is therefore to be considered, what punishment a sin- 
 ner was, by the violated law of works and nature, liable 
 to in this world, or in the world to come; and then what 
 of this, is, by virtue of the Redeemer's sacrifice and cove- 
 nant, remitted. He was liable to whatsoever mi.series in 
 this life God should please to inflict; to temporal death, 
 and to a state of misery hereafter, all comprehended in 
 this threatening, " Thou shalt die the death ;" if we will 
 take following scriptures and providences for a commen- 
 tary upon it. 
 
 Now the miseries to which the sinner was liable in this 
 world, were either external, or internal. Those of I lie 
 former sort, the best men still remain liable to. Those of 
 the inner man were certainly the greater, boih in them- 
 selves, and in their lendencj' and consequence; especially 
 such as stand in the ill dispositi-ons of men's minds and 
 spirits Godward, unapprehensiveness of him, alienation 
 from him, willingness to be as without him in the world. 
 For that the spirits of men should be thus disaffected, and 
 in this averse posture towards God, in whomonl)'^ it could 
 be possible for them to be happy, how^ could it but be most 
 pernicious to them, and virtually comprehensive of the 
 worst miseries'? And M'hence came these evils to fall 
 into the reasonable, intelligent spirit of man ? Was it by 
 God's infusion 1 Abhorred be that black thought ! Nor 
 could it be, if they were not forsaken of God, and the holj^ 
 light and influence of his Spirit were not withheld. But 
 is more evil inflicted upon men than either the threatening 
 or the sentence of the law contained 1 That were to say, 
 he is punished above legal desert, and beyond what it 
 duly belonged to him to suffer. Experience shows this to 
 be the common case of men. And had that threatening 
 and sentence concerned Adam only, and not his poste- 
 rity, how come they to be mortal, and otherwise externally 
 miserable in this world, as well as he 1 But how plainly 
 is the matter put out of doubt, that the suspension of the 
 Spirit is part (and it cannot but be the most eminent part) 
 of the curse of the law, hj that of the apostle, " Christ 
 hath redeemed us from the curse of the law, being made a 
 curse for us, that this blessing — might come upon us," 
 (even the Gentiles, as well as Abraham's seed,) " that we 
 might receive the promise of the Spirit," Gal. iii. 13, 14. 
 
 But now what is there of all the misery duly incumbent 
 upon man in this world, by the constitution of that law of 
 works and nature, remitted and taken off by virtue of the 
 covenant or law of grace or faith, from them that have 
 taken hold of it, or entered into it 1 Who dare say, God 
 doth not keep covenant with them 1 And we find they 
 die as well as other men ; and are as much subject to the 
 many inconveniences and grievances of human life. And 
 it is not worth the while fo talk of the mere notion, under 
 which they suffer them. It is evident that God doth them 
 no wrong, in letting them be their lot ; and therefore that 
 as they were, by the law of nature, deserved, so God hath 
 not obliged himself, by the covenant or law of grace, to 
 lake or keep them off; for then surely he had kept his 
 
 word. That he hath obliged himself to do that which is 
 more, and a greater thmg, to bless and sanctify them to 
 their advantage and gain, in higher respects, is plain and 
 out of question ; which serves our present purpose, and 
 crosses it not. 
 
 For upon the whole, that which remains the actual mat- 
 ter of remission, in this world, is whatsoever of those spi- 
 ritual evils would be necessarily consequent upon the total 
 restraint, and wiihholdingof the Spirit. 
 
 And that this is the remission of sin in this life, which 
 the Scripture intends, is plain from divers express places, 
 Acts ii. 37, 38. When the apostle Peter's heart-pierced 
 hearers cry out, in their distress, "What shall we do'?" 
 he directs them thus : " Repent, and be baptized, every 
 one of you, for the remission of sins, and ye shall (he adds) 
 receive the Holy Ghost ; for the promise is to you, and 
 your children;" q. d. " The great promise of the gospel- 
 covenant, is that of the gift of the Holy Ghost. It doth 
 not promise you worldly wealth, or ease, or riches, or ho- 
 nours; but it promises you that God will be no longer a 
 stranger to you, refuse your converse, withhold his Spirit 
 from you ; your souls shall lie no longer waste and deso- 
 late. But as he hath mercifully approached your spirits, 
 to make them habitable, and fit to receive so great and so 
 holy an intimate, and to your reception whereof, nothing 
 but unremitted sin could be any obstruction ; as, upon 
 y(5ur closing with the terms of the gospel-covenant, by a 
 sincere believing intuition towards him whom you have 
 pierced, and resolving to become Christians, whereof your 
 being baptized, and therein taking on Christ's badge and 
 cognizance, will be the fii and enjoined sign and token, and 
 by which federal rite, remission of sin shall be openly con- 
 firmed, and solemnly sealed unto 5'ou; so by that remis- 
 sion of sin the bar is removed, and nothing can hinder the 
 Holy Ghost from entering to take possession of your souls 
 as his own temple and dwelling-place." 
 
 We are by the way to take notice, that this fulfilling of 
 tiie terms of the gospel-covenant is. aptly enough, in great 
 part, here expressed by the word 7'c;7C7;<2wcc; most com- 
 monly it is by that oi faith. It might as fitly be signified 
 by the former in this place, if you consider the tenor of the 
 foregoing discourse, rf.2r. that it remonstrated to them their 
 great wickedness in crucifying Christ as a malefactor and 
 impostor, whom they'ough* to have believed in as a Sa- 
 viour; now to repent of this, was to believe., which yet is 
 more fully expressed by that which follows ; and be bap- 
 tized in (or rather into) the name of the Lord Jesus Christ. 
 
 It is in the whole plain, that their reception of the 
 Holy Ghost, as a Dweller, sinnds in close connexion, as 
 an immediate consequent, with their having their sins ac- 
 tually remitted, and that, with their repenting their former 
 lefusing of Christ as the Messiah, their now becoming 
 Christians, or taking on Christ's name, whereof their being 
 baptized was to be only the sign, and the solemnization 
 of their entrance into the Christian state, and by conse- 
 quence, a visible confirmation of remission of sin to them. 
 Irhey are therefore directed to be baptized into the name 
 of the Lord Jesus Christ, i-i tm oi/ii/mri, or unto a covenant- 
 surrender of themselves to Christ, whereof their baptism 
 was, it is true, to be the signifying token for the remission 
 of sins; which remission therefore must be understood con- 
 nected, not with the sign but with the thing which it signi- 
 fied. And it was only a more explicit repentance of their 
 former infidelity, and a more explicit faith, which the 
 apostle now exhorts them to, the inchoation whereof he 
 might already' perceive, by their concerned question, 
 " What shall we do'?" intimating their willingness to do 
 any thing that they ought; that their hearts were already 
 overcome and won ; and that the Holy Ghost had conse- 
 quently began to enter upon them : the manifestation of 
 whose entrance is elsewhere, as to persons adult, found to 
 bean antecedent requisite to baptism, and made the argu- 
 ment why it should not be withheld, as Acts x. 47. " Can 
 any man forbid that these should not be baptized, who 
 have received the Holy Ghost, as well as we'?" 
 
 Rcvtission of sin, therefore, as it signifies giving a right 
 to future impimity, signifies giving a right to the participa- 
 tion of the Spirit; the withholding whereof was the prin- 
 cipal punishment to be taken off. And as it signifies the 
 actual taking off of that punishment, it must connote the
 
 Chap. XI. 
 
 THE LIVING TEMPLE. 
 
 Ill 
 
 actual communicalion of the Spirit. Therefore, upon Uiat 
 faith which is our entrance into the gospel-covenant, the 
 curse which withheld the Spirit is removed, and so we 
 receive the promise of the Spirit (or the promised Spirit) 
 by faith ; as is plain in that before mentioned, Gal. iii. 
 13, 14. 
 
 The same reference of giving (or continuing) the Spirit 
 imto forgiveness of sin, we may observe in that of the 
 Psalmist: " Hide thy face from iny sins, and blot out all 
 mine iniquities. Creaie in me a clean heart, and renew 
 a right Spirit within me. Cast me not away from thy 
 presence, and take not thy Holy Spirit from me;" (Ps. li. 
 9, 10, 11.) which it is plain was dreaded and deprecated 
 as the worst of evils; but which would be kept off, if ini- 
 quity were blotted out. And as to this, there was no 
 more difference in the case, than between one whose state 
 was to be renewed, and one with whom God was first to 
 begin. And that summar)^ of spiritual blessings promised 
 in the new covenant. Jar. xxxi. 31, 32, &,c. and Heb. viii. 
 which all suppose the promised gift of the Spirit itself, as 
 the root of them all — " I vrill put my law in their inward 
 parts, and will write it in their hearts," &c. is all grounded 
 upon this : " For I will forgive their iniquity, and I will 
 remember their sin no more." When therefore the punish- 
 ment of sin is remitted, quoad jus, or a right is granted to 
 impunity, the Spirit is, de jure, given; or a right is confer- 
 red unto this sacred gift. When actually (upon that right 
 granted) the punishment is taken off, the Spirit is actually 
 given ; the withholding whereof was the principal punish- 
 ment we were liable to, in this present state. 
 
 IX. And as io justification, \he. case cannot differ, which 
 itself so little differs from pardon, that the same act is par- 
 don, being done by God as a sovereign Ruler acting above 
 hiw, viz. the law of works ; and justification, being done 
 by him a.s sustaming the person of a judge according to 
 law, viz. the law of grace. 
 
 Adoption also imports the privilege conferred of being 
 the sons of God. And what is that privilege 1 (for it is 
 more than a name ;) that such are led by the Spirit of God : 
 (Rom. viii. 14.) which Spirit is therefore, as the peculiar 
 cognizance of the state, called the Spirit of adoption, 
 {v. 15.) and forms theirs suitably thereto: for it was not 
 fit the sons of God should have the spirits of slaves. 'Tis 
 not the .spirit of bondage that is given them, as there it 
 is expressed, but a free generous spirit; not of fear, as 
 there, and 2 Tim. i. 7. but of love and power, and of a 
 sound mind. Most express is that parallel text, Gal. iv. 
 Because they are sons, he hath sent the Spirit of his Son 
 into their hearts, that enables them (as also Rom. viii. 16. 
 speaks) to say, Abba, Father, makes them understand their 
 state, whose sons they are, and who is their Fatlier, and 
 reallv implants in them all filial di<;positions and affections 
 
 Wherefore it is most evident that the relative srrace of 
 the covenant only gives a right to the real grace of it ; and 
 that the real grace communira'ed in this life, is all com- 
 prehended in the gift of the Spirit, even that which flows 
 in the external dispensations of Providence, not excepted. 
 For as outward good things, or immunity from outward 
 afflictions, are not promised in this new covenant, further 
 than as they shall be truly and spiritually good for us; 
 but we are, by the tenor of it, left to the suffering of very 
 sharp afflictions, and the loss or want of all worldlv com- 
 forts, with assurance that will turn to our srreater spiritual 
 advantage; so the grace and sanctifying: influence, that 
 shall make them do so, is all from the same Fountain, the 
 issue of the same blessed Spirit. We only add, that eter- 
 nal life in the close of all depends upon it, not only as the 
 man}' things alreadv mentioned do so, that are necessary 
 to it, but as it signified to be itself the immediate perpetual 
 spring thereof. Thev that sow to the Spirit, shall of the 
 Spirit reap life everlasting. Gal. vi. 8. And how plainlv 
 hath our blessed Lord signified the vast extent of this gift. 
 when by good things in general, Matt. vii. 11. he lets us 
 know he means the Holy Spirit, Luke xi. 13. 
 
 We therefore see, that this great gift of the Holy Ghost 
 is vouchsafed entirely upon the Redeemer's account, and 
 by the authority of his office, for the buildins and inhahitins 
 the desolated temple of God with men: for the rebuild- 
 ing of it ; by that plenipotency, or absolute fulness of 
 power, whicH, by the sacrifice of himself, he hath obtained 
 
 should be in him: for the re-inhabiting of it, by virtue, 
 and accordingto the tenor, of that covenant, now .solemnly 
 entered; and which was established and ratified in the 
 blood of that same Sacrifice. Wherein appears the due- 
 ne.ss of it to the regenerate ; or that they have a real right 
 to it, who are born of the Spirit; and have also seen the 
 large amplitude and vast comprehensiveness of this gift. 
 We therefore proceed to what was, in the next place, pro- 
 mised, and wherein, after what hath been said, there will 
 need little enlargement, i. e. 
 
 X. 2. To give an account, (as was proposed in ch. ix 
 sect, vii.) How highly reasonable it was trie Holy Spirit 
 of God should not be vouchsafed for these purposes, upon 
 other terms. And this we shall see, 
 
 1. By mentioning briefly, .what we have been showing 
 all this while — The xast e.rtent and amplitude of this 
 gift. Let it be remembered that the most considerable 
 part of the penalty and curse incurred by the apostacy, 
 was the withholding of the Spirit; from which curse in 
 the whole of it Christ was to redeem us, by being made a 
 curse for us. By the same curse, also, our title to many 
 other benefits ceased and was lost, and many other mi- 
 series were inferred upon it. But this one of being de- 
 prived of the Spirit did so far surmount all the rest, that 
 nothing" else was thought worth the naming with it, when 
 the curse of the law, and Christ's redemption of us from. 
 it, are so designedly spoken of together. If only lessei 
 penalties Avere to have been remitted, or favours conferred 
 of an inferior kind, a recompense to the violated law and 
 justice of God, and the affronted majesty of his govern- 
 ment, had been less necessarily insisted on. But that the 
 greatest thing imaginable should be vouchsafed upon so 
 easy terms; and without a testified resentment of the in- 
 jury done by ruining his former temple, was never to be 
 expected. JN'othing was more becoming or wortliy of God, 
 than when man's revolt from him so manifestly implied an 
 insolent conceit of his self-sufliciency, and that lie could 
 subsist and be happy alone, he should presently withhold 
 his Spirit, and leave hiiu to sink into that carnalitv which 
 involved the fulness of death and misery in it. ("To be 
 carnallv minded is death.") It belonged to the majesty 
 and grandeur of the Deity, it was a part of Godlike state 
 and greatness, to retire and become reserved, to reciude 
 himself, and shut up his holy cheering influences and 
 communications from a haughty miscreant; that it might 
 try and feel what a sort of god it could be to itself: but 
 to return; the state of the case being unaltered and every 
 way the same as when he withdrew, no reparation being 
 made, no atonement offered, had been, instead of judging 
 his offending creature, to have judged himself, to rescind 
 his own sentence as if it had been unjust; to tear his act 
 and deed as if it had been the product of a ra.sh and hasty 
 passion, not of mature and wise counsel and judgment; 
 the indecencv and unbecomingness whereof had been the 
 greater and the more conspicuous, by how much the greater 
 and more peculiar favour it was to restore his gracious 
 presence, or (which is all one) the influences of his Holy 
 Spirit. Further consider, 
 
 2. That since nothing was more necessary for the restitu- 
 tion of God's temple, it had been .strange if, in the consti- 
 tution of Emmanuel for this purpose, this had been 
 omitted: for it is plain that without it things could never 
 have come to anv better state and posture between God 
 and man ; God must liave let him he at the same distance, 
 without givinsf him his Spirit. Neither could he honourably 
 converse with man ; nor man possibly converse with him. 
 Man would ever have borne towards God an implacable 
 heart. And whereas it is acknowledged, on all hands, his 
 repentance at least was necessary both on God's account 
 and his own, that God might be reconciled to him, who 
 without intolerable diminution to himself, could never 
 otherwise have shown him favour. He had always carried 
 about him the ^.ip.'i'.ii' (iusrajifX/jr.n, the h':art that could not 
 repent. The " carnal mind," which is " enmity against 
 God," is neither subject to him nor can be, had remained 
 in full power; there had never been any stooping or yield- 
 ing on man's part. And there had remained, besides, all 
 manner of impurities : fleshlv lusts had retained the 
 throne ; the soul of man had continued a cage of every 
 noisome and hateful thing, the most unfit in all the wo- Id
 
 112 
 
 THE LIVING TEMPLE. 
 
 Part II. 
 
 to have been the temple of the holy blessed God. It had 
 neither stood with his majesty to have favoured an impe- 
 nitent, nor with his holiness to have favoured so impure, 
 a creature. Therefore, without the giving of his Spirit to 
 mollify and purily the spirits of men, his honour in such a 
 reconciliation had never been salved. 
 
 And take the case as it must stand on man's part, his 
 happiness had remained impossible. He could never have 
 conversed with God, or taken complacency in him, to 
 whom he had continued everlastingly unsuitable and dis- 
 aflected. No valuable end could have been attained, that 
 it was either fit God should have designed for himself, or 
 was necessary to have been effected for man. In short, 
 there could have been no temple : God could never have 
 dwelt with man; man would never have received him to 
 dwell. 
 
 3. But it is evident this was not omitted in the constitu- 
 tion of Emmarruel. It being provided and procured by 
 his dear expense, that he should have in him a fulness of 
 Spirit : not merely as God ; for so in reference to offend- 
 ing creatures it had been enclosed : but as Emmanuel, as 
 a Mediator, a dying Redeemer; for only by such a one, 
 or by him as such, it could be communicated ; so was 
 there a sufficiency for this purpose of restoring God's tem- 
 ple. And why was he in this way to become sufficient, 
 if afterwards he might have been waived, neglected, and 
 the same work have been done another way? 
 
 4. It could only be done this way, in and by Emmanuel. 
 As such, he had both the natural and moral power in con- 
 junction, which were necessary to effect it. 
 
 (I.) The luitural power of Deity which was in him, was 
 only competent for this purpose. Herein had he the ad- 
 vantage infinitely of all human power and greatness. If 
 an offended secular prince had never so great a mind to 
 save and restore a condemned favourite, who besides that 
 he is of so haughty a pride, and so hardened in his enmity, 
 that he had rather die than supplicate, hath contracted all 
 other vicious inclinations, is become infinitely immoral, 
 debauched, unjust, dishonest, false, and we will suppose 
 stupid, and bereft of the sprightly wit that graced his for- 
 mer conversation ; his merciful prince would fain preserve 
 and enjoy him as before; but he cannot change his quali- 
 ties, and cannot but be ashamed to converse familiarly 
 with him, while they remain unchanged. Now the blessed 
 Emmanuel, as he is God, can, by giving his Spirit, do all 
 his pleasure in such a case. And he hath as such too, 
 
 (2.) The moral po^ver of doing it most righteously and 
 becomingly of God, i. e. upon consideration of that great 
 and noble sacrifice, which as such he offered up. He is 
 now enabled lo give the Spirit : he might otherwise do 
 any thing for man rather than this : for it imports the 
 greatest intimacy imaginable. All external overtures and 
 expressions of kindness, were nothing in comparison of it. 
 And no previous disposition towards it, nothing of com- 
 pliance on the sinner's part, no self-purifying, no self- 
 loathing for former impurities, no smiting on the thigh, or 
 saying, " What have I done," could be supposed antece- 
 dent to this communication of the Spirit. The universe 
 can afford no like case, between an offending wretch, and 
 an affronted ruler. If the greatest prince on earth had 
 been never so contumeliously abused by the most abject 
 peasant; the distances are infinitely .ess, than between 
 the injured glorious Majesty of heaven, ami the guilty 
 sinner ; the injury done this majesty incomprehensibly 
 greater. 
 
 And besides all other differences in the two cases, there 
 is this most important one, as may be collected from what 
 hath been so largely discoursed, that the principal thing 
 in the sentence and curse upon apostate man, was, That 
 God's Spirit should retire and be withheld, so that he 
 should converse with him, by if, no more. The condemn- 
 ing sentence upon a criminal, doth in secular governments 
 extend to life and estate; such a one might be pardoned 
 as to both, and held ever at a distance. If before he were 
 a favourite, he may still remain discourted. Familiar con- 
 verse with his prince, was ever a thing to which he could 
 lay no legal claim, but was always a thing of free and 
 arbitrary favour. But suppose, in this case of delinquency, 
 the law and his sentence did forbid it for ever; and sup- 
 pose we that vile insolent peasant, before under obligation 
 
 to his prince, for his daily livelihood and subsistence, now 
 under condemnation for most opprobrious affronts and ma- 
 licious attempts against him ; he relents not, scorns mercy, 
 defies justice ; his compassionate prince rushes, notwith- 
 standing, into his embraces, takes him into his cabinet, 
 shuts himself up with hiin in secret: but all this while, 
 though by what he does he debases himself, beyond all 
 expectation of decency ; the principal thing is still want- 
 ing, he cannot alter his disposition. If he could give him 
 a truly right mind, it were better than all the riches of the 
 Indies. This greatest instance of condescension he can- 
 not reach, if he never so gladly would. It is not in his 
 power, even when he joins bosoms, to mingle spirits with 
 him ; and so must leave him as incapable of his most va- 
 luable end, as he found him. 
 
 In the present case, what was in itself so necessary to 
 the intended end, was only possible to Emmanuel ; Avho 
 herein becomes most intimate to us, and in the fullest sense 
 admits to be so called ; and was therefore necessary to be 
 done by him : unless his so rich sufficiency, and the end 
 itself, should be lost together. 
 
 XI. Thus far we have been considering the temple of 
 God individually taken as each man, once become sin- 
 cerely good and pious, renewed, united with Emmanuel, 
 i. e. with God in Christ, and animated by the Spirit, may 
 be himself a single temple to the most high God. 
 
 I might now pass on to treat of the external state of 
 the Christian church, and of the whole community of 
 Christians, who collectively taken, and built upon the 
 foundation of the apostles and prophets, Jesus Christ 
 himself being the chief Corner-stone, in whom fitly fiamed 
 and builded together, they grow unto an holy temple in 
 the Lord; and are in this compacted state a habitation of 
 God, through the Spirit. Eph. ii. 20. But this larger 
 subject, the outer-court of this temple, is, I find, beset 
 and overspread with scratching briers and thorns. And 
 for the sacred structure itself, though other foundation 
 none can lay, than that is laid, which is Jesus Christ, 
 1 Cor. iii. II, &c. yet some are for superstructing one 
 thing, some another; some gold, silver, precious stones ; 
 others wood, hay, stubble. I am, for my part, content, 
 that every man's work be made manifest, when the day 
 shall declare it. 
 
 Great differences there have long been, and still are, 
 about setting up (the Trrrpi'yia) the pinnacles, and adjoining 
 certain appendicles, which some have thought may inno- 
 cently and becomingly belong to it. And very different 
 sentiments there have been about modifying the services 
 of it. Some too are for garnishing and adorning it one 
 way, some another. And too many agitate these little 
 differences, with so contentious heats and angers, as to 
 evaporate the inward spirit and life, and hazard the con- 
 sumption of the holy fabric itself. Ill-willers look on with 
 pleasure, and do hope the violent convulsions which they 
 behold, will tear the whole frame in pieces, and say in 
 their hearts, " Down with it even to the ground." But it 
 is built on a rock, against which the gates of hell can 
 never prevail ! 
 
 It ought not to be doubted, but that there yet will be a 
 time of so copious an effusion of the Holy Spirit, as will 
 invigorate it afresh, and make it spring up out of its maci- 
 lent withered state, into its primitive liveliness and beauty; 
 when it shall, according to the intended .spiritual meaning, 
 resemble the external splendour of its ancient figure, 
 Sion, the perfection of beauty; and arise and shine, the 
 glory of the Lord being risen upon it. But if before that 
 time there be a day that shall burn as an oven and 
 make the hemisphere as one fiery vault; a day wherein 
 the jealous God shall plead against the Christian church 
 for its lukewarmness and scandalous coldness in the matter 
 of serious substantial religion; and no less scandalous 
 heats and fervours about trivial formalities, with just in- 
 dignation, and flames of consuming fire, then will the 
 straw and stubble be burnt up; and such as were sincere, 
 though too intent upon such little trifles, be saved, yet so 
 as through fire. 
 
 A twofold effusion we may expect, of the wrath, and of 
 the Spirit of God. The former to vindicate himself; the 
 other to reform us. Then will this temple no more be 
 termed forsaken; it will be actually, and in fact, what in
 
 Chap. XI. 
 
 THE LIVING TEMPLE. 
 
 113 
 
 right it is always, " Bethel, The house of God, and the 
 gate of heaven." Till then, little prosperity i.s to be 
 hoped for in the Christian church ; spiritnal, -without a 
 large communiiation of the Spirit, it cannot ^ave ; exter- 
 nal {\vnho\\l it) it cannot 6m/-. It was a noted " pagan's 
 observation and experiment, How incapable a n-cak inind is 
 of a prosperous state. In heaven there will be no need of 
 afflictions : on earth, the distempers of men's minds do 
 both need and cause ihem. The pride, avarice, envyings, 
 self-conceitedness, abounding each in their own sense, 
 minding every one their own things, without regard to 
 those of another, a haughty confidence of being always 
 in the right, with contempt and hard censures of them 
 that differ, spurning at the royal law of doing as one would 
 be done to, of bearing with others as one would be 
 borne with ; evil surmisings, the imperiousness of some, 
 and peevishness of others, to be found among them that 
 bear the Christian name, will not let the church, the house 
 of God, be in peace, and deserve that it should not ; but 
 that he should let them alone to punish themselves and 
 one another. 
 
 But the nearer we approach, on earth, to the heavenly 
 state, which only a more copious and general pouring 
 forth of the blessed Spirit will infer, the more capable we 
 shall be of imcard and outward prosperity both together. 
 Then will our differences vanish of course. The external 
 pompousness of the church will be less studied, the life 
 and spirit of it much more ; and if I may express my o\\ti 
 sense, as to this matter, it should be in the words of that 
 f worthy ancient, viz. That supposing the option or choice 
 were left me, I would choose to have lived in a time when 
 the temples were less adorned with all sorts of marbles, 
 the church not being destitute of .spiritual graces. In the 
 mean time, till those happier days come, wherein Chris- 
 tians shall be of one heart and one way, happy are they 
 that can attain so far to bear one another's yet remaining 
 differences. And since it is impossible for all to Avorship 
 together within the walls of the same material temple, 
 that they choose ordinarily to do it, where they observe 
 the nearest approach to God's own rule and pattern ; and 
 where, upon experience, they find most of spiritual advan- 
 tage and edification, not despising, much less paganizing, 
 those that are built with them upon the same foundation, 
 because of circumstantial disagreements; nor making 
 mere circumstances, not prescribed by Christ himself the 
 measures and boundaries of Christian communion, or any 
 thing else that Christ hath not made so : that abhor to say 
 (exclusively) Christ is here, or there, so as to deny him to 
 be any where else; or to confine his presence to this or 
 that party ; or to a temple so or so modified, by no direc- 
 tion fjom himself Or if any, through mistake, or the pre- 
 judices of education and converse, 1 e of narrower minds, 
 and will refuse our communion, unless we will embrace 
 theirs upon such terms as to abandon the communion of 
 all other Christians, that are upon the same bottom with 
 ourselves and them; that even as to them we retain a 
 charitable hope, that our blessed Lord will not therefore 
 exclude them ; because, through their too intense zeal for 
 the little things, whereof they have made their partition- 
 wall, they exclude us. If again, we be not too positive, or 
 too prone to dispute about those minute matters that have 
 been controverted bj"- the most judicious and sincere ser- 
 vants of our Lord, on the one hand, and the other, in 
 former days, and with little effect; as if we understood 
 more than any of them, had engrossed all knoAvledge,and 
 wisdom were to die with us ! and that with our bolt, too 
 suddenly shot, we could out-shoot all others that ever had 
 
 e Infirmi est animi, non posse pati di\itias. Sen. 
 
 gone before us : if our minds be well furnished with hu- 
 mility, meekness, modesty, sincerity, love to God. and his 
 Christ, and our brethren, no otherwise distinguished, than 
 by their visible avowed relation to him, this will constitute 
 us such temples, as whereunto the blessed God will never 
 refuse his presence. And do more to keep the Christian 
 church in a tolerable good state, till the wa^iyycffo-ia, the 
 times of restitution, come, than the most fervent disputa- 
 tions ever can. 
 
 And so I shall take leave of this subject, in hope that, 
 through the blessing of God, it may be of use to some that 
 shall allow themselves to read and consider it ; request- 
 ing only.'^uch as are weary of living as without God in the 
 world, that they defer not to invite, and admit the Dii'ine 
 presence, till they see all agreed about every little thing 
 that belongs to his temple, or that may be thought to be- 
 long to it, but resolve upon what is plain and great, and 
 ■which all that are serious, that have any regard to God, or 
 their own everlasting well-being, cannot but agree in, i. e. 
 forthwith to " lift up the evei lasting doors, that the King 
 of glory may come in." Do it without delay, or disputa- 
 tion. Let others dispute little punctilios with one another 
 as they please ; but do not you dispute this grand point 
 with him. Look to Emmanuel ; consider him in the 
 several capacities, and in all the accomplishments, per- 
 formances, acquisitions, by which he is so admirably fitted 
 to bring it about, that God may have his temple iii your 
 breast. Will you defeat so kind and so glorious a design 1 
 Behold, or listen, doih he not stand at the door, and knock 1 
 Rev. iii. 20. 
 
 Consider, as exemplary, the temper of the royal Psalmist, 
 how he sware — how he vowed — I will not come into the 
 tabernacle of my house, nor go up into my bed; I will not 
 give sleep to my eyes, nor slumber to my eye-lids, till I 
 have found out a place for the Lord, a habitation for the 
 mighty God ! Ps. cxxxii. Yours is a business of less in- 
 quisition, less expense ! His temple is to be within j-ou. 
 Lament, O bitterly lament the common case, that he may 
 look through a whole world of intelligent creatures, and 
 find every breast, till he open, shut up against him ' All 
 agreeing to exclude their most gracious rightful Lord, 
 choosing rather to live desolate without him ! 
 
 The preparation, or prepared mansion, is a penitent, 
 purged, willing heart ! Fall down and adore this most 
 admirable and condescending grace; that the high anil 
 lofty One, who inhabits eternity, who having made a 
 world, and surveying the work of his own hands, inquires, 
 " Where shall he my house, and the place of my rest 1" 
 and thus resolves it himself: " The humble, broken, con- 
 trite heart! there, there I will dwell !" 
 
 If you have such a temple for him, dedicate it. Make 
 haste to do so: doubt not its suitableness. 'Tis his own 
 choice, his own workmanship; the regeneiate new crea- 
 ture. He himself, as Emmanuel, hath procured and pre- 
 pared it, knowing what would be mo.st grateful, most 
 agreeable to him: to the most exalted Majesty; the most 
 profound, humble self-abasement. Upon this consum- 
 mative act, the dedicating of this temple, I might here fitly 
 enlarge; but having published a discourse already some 
 years ago, under the title of Self-dedication ; (which you 
 ma}' either find annexed to this, or have apart by itself, at 
 your own choice;) thither I refer j-ou. And because this 
 must be a livin? temple ; there is also another extant, upon 
 these words : Yield ymirsclres to God. as those that are alive 
 frovi the dead. That also, such as are inclined may. through 
 God's gracious assistiug influence, with eyes lift up to 
 heaven, peruse unto some advantage. 
 
 f aipcaii ftoi. Isidor. Telus. L. 2. Ep. 23«.
 
 THE RECONCILEABLENESS OF 
 
 GOD'S PRESCIENCE 
 
 OF THE SINS OF MEN, 
 
 WISDOM AND SINCERITY OF HIS COUNSELS, EXHORTATIONS, AND WHATSOEVER MEANS 
 HE USES TO PREVENT THEM. 
 
 IN A LETTER TO THE HON. ROBERT BOYLE, Esq. 
 
 TO WHICH IS ADDED, 
 
 A POSTSCRIPT IN DEFENCE OF THE SAID LETTER. 
 
 Sir, 
 
 The veneration I have long had for your name, could not permit me to apprehend less obligation than that of a 
 law, in your recommending to me this subject. For within the whole compass of intellectual employment and affairs, 
 none but who are so unhappy as not at all to know you, would dispute your right to prescribe, and give law. And 
 taking a nearer view of the province you have assigned me, I must esteem it alike both disingenuous and undutifnl, 
 wholly to have refused it. For the less you could think it possible to me to perform in it, the more I might perceive 
 of kindness allaying the authority of the imposition ; and have the apprehension the more obvious to me that you 
 rather designed in it mine own advantage, than that you reckoned the cause could receive any, by my undertaking it. 
 The doubt, I well know, was mentioned by you as other men's, and not your own; whose clear mind, and diligent 
 inquiry, leave you little liable to be encumbered with greater difficulties. "Wherefore that I so soon divert from you, 
 and no more allow these papers to express any regard unto you, till the shutting of the discourse, is only a seeming 
 iisrespeci or indecorum, put in the stead of a real one. For after you have given them the countenance, as to let it 
 be understood you gave the first rise and occasion to the business and design of them ; I had little reason to slur that 
 stamp put upon them, by adding to their (enough other) faults, that of making them guilty of so great a misdemeanor 
 and impertinency, as to continue a discourse of this length, to one that hath so little leisure or occasion to attend to 
 any thing can be said by them. 
 
 Sect. I. What there is of difficulty in this matter I 
 ;annot pretend to set down in those most apt expressions 
 wherein it was represented to me, and must therefore en- 
 deavour to supply a bad memory out of a worse invention. 
 So much appears very obvious, that ascribing to the ever 
 blessed God, among the other attributes which we take to 
 belong to an every way perfect Being, a knowledge so 
 perfect as shall admit of no possible accession or increase; 
 and consequently the prescience of all future events, as 
 whereof we doubt him not to have the distinct knowledge 
 when they shall have actually come to pass. Since many 
 of those events are the sinful actions or omissions of men, 
 which he earnestly counsels and warns them against ; this 
 matter of doubt cannot but arise hereupon, viz. " How it 
 can stand with the wisdom and sincerity which our own 
 thoughts do by the earliest anticipation challenge to that 
 ever happy Being, to use these (or any other means) with 
 a visible design to prevent that, which in the mean time 
 appears to that all-seeing eye sure to come to pass." So 
 that, by this representation of the case, there seem to be 
 committed together, — either, first, God's wisdom with this 
 part of his knowledge, for we judge it not to consist with 
 the wisdom of a man, to design and pursue an end, which 
 he foreknows he shall never attain : — orsecondl3\ the same 
 foreknowledge with his sincerity and uprightness, that he 
 seems intent upon an end, which indeed he intends not. 
 
 The matter then comes shortly to this sum. Either the 
 holy God seriously intends the prevention of .such foreseen 
 sinful actions and omissions, or he doth not intend it. If 
 he do, his wisdom seems liable to be impleaded, as above. 
 If he do not, his uprightness and truth. 
 
 My purpose is not, in treating of this affair, to move a 
 dispute concerning the fitness of the words prescience or 
 foreknowledge, or to trouble this discourse with notions I 
 understand not, of the indivisibility and unsuccessiveness 
 of eternal duration, whence it would be collected there can 
 be no such thing as first or second, fore or after, knowledge 
 in that duration ; but be contented to speak as I can un- 
 derstand, and be understood. That is, to call that fore- 
 knowledge which is the knowledge of somewhat that as 
 yet is not, but that shall sometime come to pass. For it 
 were a mere piece of legerdemain, only to amuse inquirers 
 whom one would pretend to satisfy ; or to fly to a cloui 
 for refuge from the force of an argument, and avoid ai 
 occurring difficulty by the present reliefless shift of in 
 volving oneself in greater. Nor shall I design to mysel 
 so large a field as a tractate concerning the Divine presci- 
 ence : so as to be obliged to discourse particularly what- 
 soever may be thought to belong to that theological topic. 
 But confine the discourse to my enjoined subject. And 
 offer only such considerations as may some way tend to 
 expedite or alleviate the present difficulty
 
 THE RECONCILEABLEjS'ESS OF GOD'S PRESCIENCE, &c. 
 
 115 
 
 Sect. II. It -were one of the greatest injuries to religion, 
 a subversion indeed of its very foundations, and tlian by 
 doing which, we could not more highly gratify atheistical 
 minds, instead, and under pretence of ascribing perfections 
 to the nature of God, to ascribe to it inconsistencies, or to 
 give a self-repugnant notion of that adorable Being, the 
 parts whereot should justle and not accord with one ano- 
 ther. And yet equal care is to be taken, lest while we en- 
 deavour to' frame a consistent notion of God, we reject 
 from it any thing that is truly a perfection, and so give a 
 maimed one. Whereby we should undo our own de.-;ign, 
 and by our over-much caution to make our conception of 
 him a^'ree with itself, make it disagree to him. For to an 
 absolutely perfect being, no other can agree than that, 
 which not only is not made up of contradictious ; but which 
 also comprehends in it all real perfections either explicitly, 
 or which leaves room for all, by not positively excluding 
 any of them. Which to do, and afterwards to assign that 
 as ihe proper notion of God, -were itself the greatest con- 
 tradiction. We need therefore to be very wary, lest we 
 pronounce too hastily concerning any thing, which to oar 
 most sedate thcugbls. appears simph^ a perfection in itself, 
 that it carries with it a repugnancy to somewhat else, ne- 
 cessary to be ascribed to him. 
 
 We are first to suspect (as there is greatest cause) and 
 inquire whether the ail be not wholly in our own minds. 
 Which in this and such like cases, we certainly shall, upon 
 due reflection, find labouring under the natural defect of 
 that incomprehensive narrowness that is, in some degree, 
 unavoidably followed with confusion and indistinctness of 
 thoughts. And may perhaps find cause to accuse them of 
 the more culpable evils, both of slothfulness, that with- 
 holds them from doing what they can, and self-conceit, by 
 which they imagine to themselves an ability of doing what 
 they cannot. It cannot be unobserved by them that have 
 made themselves any part of their own stud}"^, that it is 
 very incident to our minds, to grasp at more than they 
 can compass ; and then, through their own scantiness, (like 
 the little hand of a child,) to throw away one thing that 
 hath pleased us, to make room for another, because we 
 cannot comprehend boih together. It is not strange, that 
 our so straitly limited understandings should not be able 
 to lodge commodiously the immense perfections of a Deity ; 
 so as to allow them liberty to spread themselves in our 
 thoughts in their entire proportions. And because Ave can- 
 not, we complain, when we feel ourselves a little pinched 
 that the things will not consist ; when the matter is, that 
 we have unduly crowded and huddled them up together, in 
 our incomprehensive minds, that have not distinctly con- 
 ceived I hem. 
 
 And though this consideration should not be used for the 
 protection of an usurped liberty of fastening upon God, 
 arbitrarily and at random, what we please; (as indeed what 
 so gross absurdity might not any one give shelter to by such 
 a misapplication of it 1) we ought yet to think it seasona- 
 bly applied, when we find ourselves urged with difficulties 
 on one hand and the other ; and apprehend it hard, with 
 clearness and satisfaction, to ascribe to God, what we also 
 find it not easy not to ascribe. Nor would it be less unfit 
 to apply it for "the patronage of that slothfulness wherein 
 our discouraged minds are sometimes too prone to indulge 
 themselves. To which purpose I remember somewhat verv 
 apposite in Minucius Felix, that many, through the mere 
 tediousness of finding out the truth, do rather, by a mean 
 succumbency, yield to the first specious show of any opin- 
 ion whatsoever, than be at the trouble, by a pertinacious 
 diligence, of applying themselves to a thorough search. 
 Thotigh the comprehension of our minds be not infinite, 
 it might be extended much further than usually it is, if we 
 would allow ourselves with patient diligence to consider 
 things at leisure, and so as gradually to stretch and en- 
 large our own understandings. Many things have car- 
 ried the appearance of contradiction and in-consistency, 
 to the first view of our straitened minds, which afterwards 
 wc have, upon repeated consideration and endeavour, 
 found room for, and been able to make fairly accord, and 
 lodge together. 
 
 Especially we should take heed lest it be excluded by 
 over-much conceitedness, and a self-arrogating pride, that 
 disdains to be thought not able to see through every thin?. 
 
 by the first and slightest glance of a haughty eye; and 
 peremptorily determines that to be unintelligible, that an 
 arrogant and uninstrucled mind, hath only not humility 
 enough to acknowledge difficult to be understood. Whence 
 it is too possible some may be over-prone to detract from 
 God what really belongs to him, lest any thing should seem 
 detracted from themselves, and impute imperfections to 
 him rather than confess their own. And may be so over- 
 ascribing to themselves, a.s to reckon it a disparagement 
 not to be endured, to seem a little puzzled for the present, 
 to be put to pause, and draw breath awhile, and look into 
 the matter again and again; which if their humility and 
 patience would enable them to do, it is not likely that the 
 Author of our faculties would be unassisting to them, in 
 those our inquiries which concern our duty towards him- 
 self. For though in matters of mere speculation, we may 
 be encountered with difficulties, whereof perhaps no mor- 
 tal can ever be able to find out the solution, (which is nc 
 great prejudice, and may be gainful and instructive to us,^ 
 yet as to what concerns the object of our religion, it is tc 
 be hoped we are not left in unextricable entanglements; 
 nor should think we are till Ave have made our utmost 
 trial. The design being not to gra'iiy our curiosity, but 
 to relieve ourselves of uncomfortable doubtfulness in the 
 matter of our worship, and (in a dutiful zeal towards 
 the blessed object thereof) to vindicate it against the cavils 
 of ill-minded men. 
 
 Sect. III. But if the nnsucce.s.sfulness of often repeated 
 endeavours make us despair of being able, with so full sa- 
 tisfaction, to reconcile some things which we haA^e thought 
 were to be attributed to God ; it will be some relief to us, 
 if we find the things about which the doubt lies, are not 
 of the same order, nor such as with equal eA-idence and 
 necessity are to be affirmed of him. And when we make 
 a comparison, we maA' find ourselves at a certainty con- 
 cerning those his attributes Avhich most commonh', and at 
 the first view, approA-e themseh-es to eA'ery man's under- 
 standing. Among Avhich Ave little hesitate, (as we are 
 most concerned not to do,) about those which carr)' with 
 them the import of moral goodness; and which renderlhe 
 object of our religion, at once, both most A'encrable and 
 loA'ely. For none do more naturally obtain for common 
 notions concerning him ; so as even to preA-ent ratiocina- 
 tion or argument, with Avhomsoever the apprehension ol 
 his existence hath place. 
 
 Every man's mind, it being once acknowledged that 
 there is a God, refuses to conceive otherwise of him, than 
 that he is hol)^, just, merciful, true, &c. and rejects with 
 abhorrence the notion of an impure, unrighteous, crnel, 
 deceitful Deity. As for those that, by a long train of our 
 own more uncertain and lubricous reasonings, we endea- 
 vour to deduce ; if we find ourselves constrained any 
 Avhere to admit a diffidence, it were rather to be placed 
 here. For it is at first sight eA'idenl, since God is most 
 certainly willing to be knoA\Ti of them that are sincerely 
 willing to knoAv him ; that what is a natural impression 
 stamped by his oAvn hand on every man's mind, hath more 
 of absolute certainty, tlian Avhat depends on metaphysi- 
 cal subtlety ; whereof so A'erv feAv are capable, and Avhereby 
 diA'ers pretenders thereto, do so frequently (and perhaps 
 A^ery dangerously) insnare themseh-es. And it is of far 
 greater importance, such a notion of God be entertained, 
 as Avherebv he may be rendered amiable, and an inviting 
 object of love, (the very life and soul of all religion.) than 
 such as shall be the result, and entertainment, only of 
 scholastic Avit. 
 
 Yet also, since it is A^ery manifest that man is now be- 
 come a degenerate creature, and in an apostacA' from God, 
 he is A'ery little to be trusted Aviih the framing his own 
 idea of him ; being certainly most unapt to alloAV any 
 thing a place in it, that Avould haA-e an unfavourable as- 
 pect upon his vicious inclinations and his guilty state. 
 And the contaofion of man's sinfulness having spread itself 
 as far as he hath propagated his oAvn nature ; so as no 
 notion in his mind can be more common than the perver- 
 sion and distemper of his mind itself; the possibility and 
 danger is very obvious, of mistaking a dictate of depraA-ed 
 nature for an authentic con^mon notion. And though 
 these are not impossible to be distinguished, and in some 
 cases very easy, as Avhen men fmd it imposed unavoidably^
 
 116 
 
 1 tIE RECONCILEABLENESS 
 
 upon them, to apprehend and acknowledge some things 
 which they are very unwilling should be true, (in which 
 case their sentiments have the same right to be believed 
 as the testimony of an enemy on the opposite parly's be- 
 half,) we have yet no reason to neglect any other means, 
 whereby we may be more certainly directed how to con- 
 ceive of God, or what we are to attribute to him, and 
 what not. 
 
 Sect. IV. Nor can we be at a greater certainty, than in 
 admitting such things to belong to the blessed God as he 
 plainly affirms of himself; or any way, by his word, evi- 
 dently discovers to belong to him. For as none knows the 
 things of man, but the spirit of man that is in him, so the 
 things of God are known to none but the Spirit of God. » 
 Taking therefore his own word for our measure in the 
 present case, (which I will suppose the reader not to think 
 it unreasonable to appeal to ; and what is here said, is in- 
 tended only for those that have that estimate of the wri- 
 tings wont to go under that name,) what it says of him 
 (much more what it proves) will no doubt be admitted for 
 certain truth. Though, if it say such things, as, to us, 
 seem not so manifestly to agree with one another, our en- 
 deavour must be the more earnest and solicitous (as also 
 it ought to be the more modest) to discuss, and remove the 
 cj'di/rioc/iai'/s or whatsoever semblance of disagreement. And 
 whosoever concern themselves to peru.se that venerable 
 book, will find every where, on the one hand, proclaimed 
 and magnified in it, (what our own minds cannot but have 
 been pre-posse.ssed of,) the most exquisite wisdom of God, 
 whereby he forms and contrives the methods of all his dis- 
 pensations, and disposes them in the aptest subserviency 
 to his own great and most important ends: that "all his 
 ways are judgment," b and that he '' worketh all things ac- 
 cording to the counsel of his will.'o In sum, that all wis- 
 dom is appropriated to him, that he is celebrated in the 
 style of " God, only vvi.se." d Nor are we therefore to think 
 it strange, if, many times, we are not able to trace him out, 
 or understand the reason of every thing he thinks fit to do. 
 For the paths of the more perfect wisdom, must therefore 
 be expected to be the mor'; abstruse, and remoter from 
 common apprehension. 
 
 How ofien do we find ourselves so far outgone by wise 
 and designing men, as that we are sometimes constrained 
 to confess and admire their great prudence and conduct 
 (when they have efl^ected their purposes) in those manage- 
 ments, which we have before beheld, either with silent ig- 
 norance, or perhaps, not without censure. How much less 
 should the wisest of men regret it, to find all their con- 
 jectures exceeded by the infinite wisdom : in the contem- 
 plation whereof, we find the great apostle (notwithstand- 
 ing the vast capacity of his divinely enlightened un- 
 derstanding) exclaiming in a transport, O the depths ! "^ 
 And when our eyes tell us, from so manifest stupendous 
 effects, how far we are exceeded by him in power, it were 
 reasonable to expect he should surpass us proportionably 
 in the contrivances of his wisdom also. And whereas 
 the conjimction is rare, among men, of deep political wis- 
 dom with integrity and strict righteousness; this proceeds 
 from the imperfection and insuflficiency of the former in 
 great part, that they know not how to compass their de- 
 signs, unless often, by supplying their want of wisdom, 
 out of the spoil and violation of their justice and honesty. 
 Otherwise, these are things not altogether so out of credit 
 in the world, but that men would rather accomplish their 
 purposes bj' fair and unexceptionable means, if they could 
 tell how. Only the respect and deference they have for 
 them is less, than what they bear to their own interests 
 and ends. 
 
 But besides the natural, inflexible rectitude of the Di- 
 vine will, we are secured, from his all-sufficiency, that we 
 shall never be fraudulently impo.sed upon by any of his 
 declarations unto the children of men. For there is no- 
 thing to be gained by it: and we cannot conceive what 
 inducement he should have, to make use of any so mean 
 and pitiful shiAs for the governing of his creatures, whom 
 he spontaneously raised out of notliing, and hath so per- 
 fectly Avithin his power. Unless we should be so most 
 
 a 1 Cor. ii. II. b Dent, xxxii. 
 
 il T^mn XV i lilt. e Roni. \'. 33. 
 
 K Isa. xin. 9, 10. with chap, xl' 22 23. 
 
 cEph. in. 
 f Psol. xi. 7. 
 
 intolerably injurious to him, as to imagine a worse thing 
 of him than we would of the worst of men, that he loved 
 falsehood for its own sake. And that against his so con- 
 stantly professed detestation of it, the declared repugnan- 
 cy of it to his nature, and the even tenor of his word (eve- 
 ry where agreeing with itself herein) so often describing 
 him by that property, "God that cannot lie." And, with 
 the same positiveness, avowing his own uprightness, and 
 requiring it, expressing his great love to it, and the high 
 delight he takes to find it, in his intelligent creatures. 
 The righteous God loveth righteousness, and with his 
 countenance doth he behold the upright, f Nor is his tes- 
 timony the less to be regarded for that it is laudatory, and 
 of himself. For we are to consider the prerogative of him 
 that testifies, and that if he were not avrd-nTus he were not 
 God. Besides that his giving us this or any repiesentation 
 of himself (to whom it were enough to enjoy his own per- 
 fections) is a vouchsafement, and done of mere grace and 
 favour to us, that we may by it be induced to place with 
 satisfaction our unsuspicious trust and confidence in him. 
 As also, that he says in all this, no other thing of himself, 
 than what our own minds, considering him as God, must 
 acknowledge most worthy of him, and agreeing to tiim 
 with the most apparent necessity. This part, therefore, of 
 the idea of God hath so firm a foundation, both in the na- 
 tural complexion of our own minds, and the report which 
 his word makes of him, that on this hand we are hemmed 
 in as by a Avail of adamant : and cannot have the thought 
 of defending his prescience, by intrenching upon his wis- 
 dom and truth, without offering the highest violence both to 
 him and ourselves. 
 
 Sect. V. On the other hand also, as it cannot but seem 
 to us a higher perfection to know all things at once, than 
 gradually to arrive to the knowledge of one thing afler an- 
 other; and so proceed from the ignorance of some things 
 to the knowledge of them ; and that nothing is more cer- 
 tain, than that all possible perfection must agree to God ; 
 so we find his own word asserting to him that most perfect 
 knowledge which seems to exclude the possibility of in- 
 crease ; or that any thing should succeed into his know- 
 ledge. For how plainly is it affirmed of him that he 
 knows all things. And even concerning .such future things 
 as about which our present inquiry is conversant, the affir- 
 mation is express and positive. I am God, and there is 
 none like me, declaring the end from the beginning, and 
 from ancient times the things that are not yet done.e Nor 
 is the affirmation naked, and unfortified. For in the same 
 sacred records, we hav'e the same thing both affirmed, and 
 proved: inasmuch as we find, in a great part thereof, are 
 contained things foretold by most express prophecy, unto 
 which the events recorded in other parts (and many of 
 them in other unquestioned writings besides) have so 
 punctually corresponded, as to leave no place for doubt 
 or cavil. Instances are so plain and well known that they 
 need not be mentioned. And surely what was so expressly 
 foretold could not but have been foreknown. It seems 
 then an attempt also eqitally hopeless and unrelieving, as 
 it were adventurous and bold, to offer at the protection ol 
 his Avisdom and sincerity, by assaulting his prescience or 
 certain foreknowledge of whatsoever shall come to pass. 
 And that their defence is not to be attempted this way, 
 Avill further most evidently appear from hence, that it is 
 not impossible to assign particular instances of some or 
 othermost confessedly wicked actions; against which God 
 had directed those ordinary means of counselling and de- 
 horting men, and which yet it is most certain he did fore- 
 knoAV they would do. As though it was so punctually 
 determined evenh to a day, and was (though not so punc- 
 tually i) foretold unto Abraham, how long, from that time, k 
 his seed should be strangers in a land that was not theirs; 
 yet how frequent are the counsels and warnings sent to 
 Pharaoh to dismiss them sooner; yea, how often are Moses 
 and Aaron directed to claim their liberty, and exhort Pha- 
 raoh to let them go, and at the same time told, i he should 
 not hearken to them. Nor indeed is it more seldom said 
 that the Lord hardened Pharaoh's heart, lest he should. 
 Though it ma}' be a doubt Avhether those passages be truly 
 
 h Exod. xi. 41. i Gen, xv 3. 
 
 k What tlierp is of difficulty or doubt about llii« propliecj', sec fully cleared in 
 the late letter to the Deist. 1 Ejod iv. &c.
 
 OF GOD'S PRESCIENCE, &c. 
 
 117 
 
 translated; for the gentler meaning of the Hebrew idiom 
 being well known, it would seem more agreeable to the 
 text, to have expressed only the intended sense, than to 
 have strained a word to the very utmost of its literal im- 
 port, and manifestly beyond what was intended. After 
 the like manner is the prophet Ezekiel sent to the revolted 
 Israelites. And directed to speak to them with God's 
 own words, the sum and purport whereof was to warn 
 and dehort them from their wicked ways lest they should 
 die; when as yet it is plainly told him, but the house of 
 Israel will not hearken to thee, for they will not hearken 
 to me.™ Unto which .same purpose it is more pertinent, 
 than necessary to be added, that our Saviour's own plain 
 a-ssertions that he was the Son of God, the many miracles 
 by which he confirmed it, and his frequent exhortations to 
 the Jews to believe in him thereupon, had a manifest ten- 
 dency to make him be known and believed to be so, and 
 consequently to prevent that most horrid act of his cruci- 
 fixion; for it is said, and the matter speaks itself, that, if 
 they had known they would not have crucified the Lord 
 of glory:" notwithstanding that it was a thing which 
 God's hand and counsel had determined before to be done.° 
 That is, foreseeing wicked hands would be prompted and 
 ready for this tragic enterprise, his sovereign power and 
 wise counsel concurred with his foreknowledge so only, 
 and not with less latitude, to define or determine the 
 bounds and limits of that malignity, than to let it proceed 
 unto this execution. And to deliver him up (not by any 
 formal resignation, or surrender, as Ave well know, but per- 
 mitting him) thereunto. Though the same phrase of de- 
 livering him hath, elsewhere, another notion, of assigning 
 or appointing him to be a propitiation for the sins of men, 
 by dying; which was done by mutual agreement between 
 both the parties, him that was to propitiate, and him who 
 was to be propitiated. In which respect our Saviour is 
 also said to have given himself for the same purpose;? 
 which purpose it was determined not to hinder prepared 
 hands to execute in this way. 
 
 Now if it did appear but in one single instance only, that 
 the blessed God did foreknow, and dehort from the same 
 act, it will be plainly consequent, that his warnings, and 
 dehortations from wicked actions in the general, can with 
 no pretence be alleged as a proof against his universal pre- 
 science. For if the argument, he dehorted from the doing 
 such an action, therefore he did not foreknow it, would be 
 able to conclude any thing, it must be of suflicient force to 
 conclude universally; which it cannot do, if but a single 
 instance can be given, wherein it is apparent he did both 
 dehort and foreknow. It can only pretend to raise the 
 doubt which we have in hand to discuss, how fitly, and 
 with what wisdom and sincerity, he can be understood to 
 interpose his counsels and monitions in such a case. 
 
 Sect. VI. Wherefore nothing remains but to consider 
 how these may be reconciled, and niTade appear to be no 
 way in onsistent with one another. Nor are we to appre- 
 hend herein so great a diificulty, as it were to reconcile 
 his irresistible pre-determinative concurrence to all actions 
 of the creature, even those that are in themselves most 
 malis:nantly wicked, with the wisdom and righteousness 
 of his laws against them, and severest punishments of them 
 according to those laws. Which sentiments must, I con- 
 ceive, to any impartial understanding, leave it no way suf- 
 ficiently explicable, how the influence and concurrence, 
 the holy God hath to the worst of actions, is to be distin- 
 guished from that which he affords to the best; wherein 
 such inherently evil actions are less to be imputed to him 
 who forbids them, than to the malicious tempter who 
 prompts to them, or the actor that does them ; or ^'herein 
 not a great deal more. And leave it imdeniable, that the 
 matter of all his laws, in reference to all .such actions that 
 ever have been done in the world, was a simple and most 
 natural impossibilit}\ Nothing being more apparently so, 
 than either not to do an action whereto the agent is deter- 
 mined by an infinite power; or to separate the malignity 
 thereof, from an intrinsically evil action; and that this 
 natural impossibility of not sinning was the ineluctable 
 fate of his (at first) innocent creatures. Who also (as the 
 case IS to be conceived of with the angels that kept not 
 their first station) must be understood irreversibly con- 
 
 m Ezek. iii. 4. n 1 Cor. ii. 
 
 12 
 
 demned to the suffering of eternal punishment, for the 
 doing of what it wa.s (upon these terms) so absolutely 
 impossible to them to avoid. 
 
 Sect. VII. niis too hard province the present design 
 pretends not to intermeddle in, as being neither appre- 
 hended manageable, for those briefly mentioned considera- 
 tions, and many more that are wont to be insisted on in 
 this argument. 
 
 Nor indeed at all necessary; for though many consider- 
 ations have been, with great subtlety, alleged and urged to 
 this purpose, by former and some modern writers, (which 
 it is besides the design of these papers severally to discuss,) 
 these two, which seem the most importunate and enforc- 
 ing, will, I conceive, be found of little force; and then, 
 the le.ss strength which is in others, will Ije nothing for- 
 midable : viz. that it necessarily belongs to the Original 
 and Fountain Being, to be the first Cause of whatsoever 
 being; and consequently that what there is of positive 
 being in any the most wicked action, must pi incipally owe 
 it.self to the determinative productive influence of this first 
 and sovereign Cause. Otherwise it would seem there 
 were some being that were neither primum, nor a prinio. 
 
 And again, (which we are more concerned to consider, 
 because it more concerns our present subject,) that it were 
 otherwise impossible God should foreknow the sinful ac- 
 tions of men, (many whereof, as hath been observed, he 
 hath foretold,) if their futurition were a mere contingency, 
 and depended on the uncertain will of the subordinate 
 agent, not determined by the .'supreme. But neither of 
 these seem able to infer tlie dismal conclusion of God's con- 
 curring by a determinative influence unto wicked actions. 
 Not the former : for it may well be thought suflicienlly 
 to salve the rights and privileges of the first Cause, to 
 assert that no action can be done but by a power derived 
 from it; which in reference to forbidden actions, intelli- 
 gent creatures may use or not use as they please, without 
 over-asserting, that they must be irresistibly determined 
 also, even to the worst of actions done by them. Besides 
 that it seems infinitely to detract from the perfection of the 
 ever-blessed God, to affirm he was not able to make a 
 creature, of such a nature, as, being continualh' sustained 
 by him, and supplied with power every moment suitable 
 to its nature, should be capable of acting unless whatso- 
 ever he thus enables, he determine (that is, for it can 
 mean no less thing, impel it to do also. And except it 
 were afiirmed impossible to God to have made such a 
 creature, (that is, that it implied a contradiction, which 
 certainly can never be proved.) there is no imaginable pre- 
 tence why it should not be admitted he hath done it ; 
 rather than so fatally expose the wisdom, goodness, and 
 righteousness of God,' by supposing him to have made laws 
 for his reasonable creatures, impossible, through his own 
 irresistible counter-action, to be observed ; and afterwards 
 to express himself displeased, and adjudge his creatures to 
 eternal punishments, for not observing them. 
 
 I am not altogether ignorant what attempts have been 
 made to prove if impossible, nor again, what hath been 
 done to manifest the vanity of those attempts. But I 
 must confess a greater disposition to wonder, that ever 
 such a thing should be di.spuled, than dispute so plain a 
 case. And that a matter whereupon all moral government 
 depends, both human and divine, should not have been 
 determined at the first sight. 'Tis not hard for a good wit 
 to have somewhat to .say for any thing. But to dispute 
 against the common sense of mankind, we know before- 
 hand, is but to trifle ; as the essay to prove the impossi- 
 bility of local motion. The notion of the goodness and 
 righteousness of God, methinks, should stick so close to 
 our minds, and create such a sense in our souls, as should 
 be infinitelv dearer to us than all our senses and powers. 
 And that we should rather choose to have our sight, hear- 
 ing, and motive power, or what not besides disputed, or 
 even torn away t'rom us, than ever .suffer ourselves to be 
 disputed into a belief, that the holy and good God should 
 irresistiblv determine the wills of men to. and punish, the 
 same thing. Nor is it difficult to urge more puzzling so- 
 phisms as:ainst the former, than for tliis latter. But the 
 efforts of a sophistical wit against sense, and more against 
 the sense of our souls, and most of all against the entire 
 
 o Acts iv. 23. P Tit, ii. H.
 
 118 
 
 THE RECONCILEAELENESS 
 
 sum and substance of all morality and religion, at once, 
 are but like the attempt to batter a wall of brass with 
 straws and feathers, Kor is the assault, on this part, more 
 feeble and impotent, than the defence is wont to be of the 
 other. For I would appeal to the quick refined sense of 
 any sober and pious mind, after serious, inward consulta- 
 tion with itself; being closely urged, with the horror of so 
 black a conception of God, that he should be supposed 
 irresistibly to determine the will of a man to the hatred of 
 his own most blessed self, and then to exact severest pmiish- 
 ments for the offence done, what relief it would now be to 
 it, to be only taught to reply, that man is under the law, 
 and God above it. A defence that doubles the Ibrce of the 
 assault. What ! that God should make a law, and neces- 
 sitate the violation of it ! and yet also punish that violation ! 
 And this be thought a sufficient salvo, that himself is not 
 subject to any law ! Will a quick-scenled, tender spirit, 
 w^ormded by so unsutferable indignity, offered to the holy 
 God, be any whit eased or relieved, by the thin sophistry 
 of only a collusive ambiguity in the word law ] which 
 sometimes signifies the declared pleasure of a ruler to a 
 subject, in which sense any eye can see God can be under 
 no law, having no superior. But not seldom, also, an 
 habitual fixed principle and rule of acting after one steady 
 tenor. In which sense how manifest is it, that the perfect 
 jectitude of God's own holy gracious nature is an eternal 
 law to him, infinitely more stable, and immutable, than 
 the ordinances of day and night ! Or what relief is there 
 in that dream of the supposed possibility of God's making 
 a reasonable creature Avith an innocent aversion to himself? 
 For what can be supposed more repugnant 1 or what more 
 impertinent '? If innocent, how were it punishable 7 A law 
 already made in the case, how can it be innocent 1 
 
 But whatsoever strength there may be in arguments, 
 and replies, to and fro, in this matter ; that which hath too 
 apparently had greatest actual efficacy, with many, hath 
 been the authority and name of this or that man of repu- 
 tation, and the force of that art of imputing a doctrine, 
 already under a prejudicial doom, to some or other ill-re- 
 puted former writer. I profess not to be skilled in the use 
 of that sort of weapons. And what reputation ought to be 
 of so great value with us, as that of God and religion 1 
 Though if one would take that invidious course, it were 
 easy to evince, that such a predeterminative influx to the 
 production of all whatsoever actions, is the dearly espoused 
 notion of one, of as deservedly an ill character, as ever 
 had the name of a Christian writer. And whether he 
 would not take that name for a dishonour to him, I pre- 
 tend not to know. But let us take this sober account of 
 the present case, that in this temporary state of trial, the 
 efficacious grace of God is necessary to actions sincerely 
 good and holy ; which therefore all ought undespairingly 
 to seek and pray for. But that in reference to other ac- 
 tions, he doth only supply men with such a power, as 
 whereby they are enabled, either to act, or, in many in- 
 stances, (and especially when they attempt any thing that 
 is evil,) to suspend their own action. And surely it carries 
 so unexceptionable a face and aspect with it, that no man 
 that is himself sober, vWll think the worst name, of who- 
 soever shall have said the same thing, were a prejudice to 
 it ; or should more oblige him to reject it, than we would 
 think ourselves obliged to throw away gold, or diamonds, 
 because an impure hand hath touched them ; or to deny 
 Christ, because the devils confessed him. Though also, if 
 any should impute the so stating of this matter to any 
 author, that hath been wont to go under an ill name and 
 character, in the Christian church ; there were a great over- 
 sight committed ; to say no harder thing of it. For the 
 writers whose names would be supposed a prejudice, have 
 neither said the same thing, nor with the same design. 
 They would have this indetermination of the power afforded 
 to the creature, to be so universal, as to extend equally to 
 evil actions and to good. And have asserted it with a 
 manifest design to exclude efficacious grace, in reference 
 to the best actions. Whereas this account would make it 
 not of so large extent: (as it were very unreasonable any 
 «.hould;) for though it may well be supposed extendible 
 to many actions, besides those that are intrinsically evil, or 
 to any "that are not spiritually good, yet nothing enforces 
 (nor can it be admitted) that it should actually and always 
 
 extend so far. For who can doubt but God can overrule 
 the inclinations and actions of his creature, when he 
 pleases; and, as shall best consist with his wisdom, and 
 the purity of his natiire, either lay on or take ofi" his de- 
 termining hand. Nor is it here asserted with any other 
 design, than to exempt the blessed God, as far as is pos- 
 sible, from a participation in the evil actions of his crea- 
 tures; in the meantime entitling him most entirely to 
 those that are sincerely good. Though it must be left 
 imputable to men themselves (it being through their own 
 great default) if they have not the grace which might 
 effectually enable them to do such also. And as for the 
 latter. This supposed indetermination of the human will, 
 in reference, especially, to wicked actions, is far from 
 being capable of inferring, that God cannot therefore 
 foreknow them ; or any thing more, than that we are left 
 ignorant of the way, how he foreknows them. And how 
 small is the inconvenience of acknowledging that, yea, and 
 how manifest the absurdity of not acknowledging the like, 
 in many cases! since nothing is more certain, than that 
 God doth many things besides, whereof the manner how 
 he does them, we can neither explicate nor understand ! 
 For neither is it difficult to assign instances more than 
 enough of actions done by ourselves of the manners whereof 
 we can give no distinct account, as those of vision, intel- 
 lection, with sundry others. 
 
 Some have been at great pains we well know to explain 
 the manner of God's foreknowledge of these futurities, 
 otherwise than by laying the foundation thereof in his 
 supposed efficacious will or decree of them. They that 
 can satisfy themselves with what Thomas and Scotus have 
 attempted, and the followers of them both ; that can un- 
 derstand what it is, with the one, for all things to be eter- 
 nally present to the Divine intellect in esse reali, and not 
 understand by it, the world to have been eternal. Or, 
 what with the other, that they be all present only in esse 
 representativo, and not understand by it barely that they 
 are all known, and no more, (which seems like the expli- 
 cation of the word invasion by invasion,) let them enjoy 
 their own satisfaction. For my own part, I can more 
 easily be satisfied to be ignorant of the modus or medium 
 of his knowledge, while I am sure of the thing; and I 
 know not why any sober-minded man might not be so too. 
 While we must all be content to be ignorant of the manner, 
 yea, and nature too, of a thousand things besides, when that 
 such things there are, we have no doubt. And when there 
 are few^ things, about which we can, with less disadvantage, 
 suffer our being ignorant; or with less disreputation, pro- 
 fess to be so. It cannot therefore be so affrightful a thing, 
 to suppose God's foreknowledge of the most contingent 
 future actions, well to consist with our ignorance how 
 he foreknows them, as that we should think it necessary 
 to overturn and mingle heaven and earth, rather than 
 admit it. 
 
 Sect. VIII. Wherefore waving that unfeasible, unne- 
 cessary, and unenjoined task, of defending God's predeter- 
 minativ^e concourse unto sinful actions; our encounter 
 must only be of the more superable difficulty, to reconcile 
 his prescience of them with his provisions against them, i. s. 
 how fitly the wise and holy God can have interposed his 
 precautions and dissuasions, in their own nature, aptly 
 tending to withhold and divert men from those evil ac- 
 tions, which he yet foresees they will do. And it is, in the 
 first place, evident, there can be no pretence to allege that 
 there is any such repugnancy in the matter, as shall amount 
 to a contradiction, so much as virtual, or which the things 
 signified, on the one part and the other, can be understood 
 any way to import, that indeed there should be a direct 
 and explicit contradiction between foreknowing and de- 
 horting, we may, at first sight, perceive the terms cannot 
 admit ; for there is nothing enunciated (affirmed or denied) 
 in either. But let the sense of both be resolved into pro- 
 positions, capable of being confronted to one another, and 
 all that can be made of the former, will only come to this, 
 " You will do such a thing," and of the latter, no more 
 but this, "You ought not to do it :" these are at as great 
 distance, as can be imagined, from grating upon, or jarring 
 with, one another. And wherein is the indecorum of it, 
 that both these effata should proceed from the same mouth, 
 viz. of a governor, or one that hath authority over others.
 
 OP GOD'S PRESCIENCE, &c. 
 
 119 
 
 We will, for discourse sake, suppose a prince endowed 
 frith, the gift or spirit of prophecy. This most will ac- 
 Knowledge a great perfection, added to whatsoever other 
 his accomplishments. And suppose we this his prophetic 
 ability so large, as to extend to most events that shall fall 
 out within his dominions. Is it hereby become unfit for 
 him to govern his subjects by laws, or any way admonish 
 them of their duty 1 Hath this perfection so much dimin- 
 ished him as to depo.se him from his government! It is 
 not indeed to be dissembled, that it were a difficulty to 
 determine, whether such foresight were, for himself, better 
 or worse. Boundless knowledge seems only in a fit con- 
 junction with as unbounded power. But it is altogether 
 unimaginable that it should destroy his relation to his sub- 
 jects. As what of it were left, if it should despoil him of 
 his legislative power, and capacity of governing according 
 to laws made by itl And to bring back the matter to the 
 supreme Ruler: Let it for the present be supposed onh^, 
 that the blessed God hath, belonging *o his nature, the 
 universal prescience whereof we are discoursing ; we will, 
 surely, upon that supposition, acknowledge it to belong to 
 him as a perfection. And were it reasonable to affirm that 
 by a perfection he is disabled for government; or were it 
 a good consequence, " He foreknows all things, he is 
 therefore unfit to govern the world." 
 
 Sect. IX. And, that we may consider the matter more 
 narrowly, would the supposition of such foreknowledge in 
 God, make that cease to be man's AxAy, which had other- 
 wise been sol and take away the diflTerences of good and 
 evin Would it nullify the obligation of God's law, and 
 make man's own inclination his only rule 1 or, if it be said, 
 because it is foreknown, man will do such a thing, there- 
 fore he may, where is the connexion 1 For what influence 
 can foreknowledge have, to alter or efl^ect any way, either 
 the nature of the thing foreknown, or the temper of the 
 person that shall do it ; any more than the present know- 
 ledge of the same thing, now in doing 1 which knowledge 
 none would deny to God; and which, when it Occurs to a 
 man, is no more understood to make an evil action inno- 
 cent, than the action makes the eye guilty, of him that 
 beholds it only, and detests it at once. Surely what is, in 
 its own nature, whether good or evil, can never not be so, 
 be it foreknown or not foreknown. 
 
 But if what was otherwise man's duty, be still his duty, 
 what can make it unfit that it be declared, and made 
 known to him to be so % and how is that otherwise to be 
 done, than by these disputed means 1 yea (for this is the 
 case) what can make it less fit, than it would be that God 
 should cease to rule over the world ; and quit the right of 
 his government to his revolted creatures, upon no other 
 reason, than only that he foresees the)' have a mind to in- 
 vade it 1 It may now perhaps be said, all this reasoning 
 tends indeed to establish the contrary assertion, that not- 
 withstanding God do foreknow man's sin, it is however 
 necessary he forewarn him of it — but it answers not the 
 objected "difficulty, viz. how reasonably any such means are 
 used for an unattainable end. As it is manifest, the end, 
 man's obedience, cannot be attained when it is foreknown 
 he will not obey. 
 
 Sect. X. It may here, before we proceed further, not be 
 unseasonable to consider, (a matter, as is known, wont to 
 be much vexed in the schools,) how God may be said to 
 act for any end at all. And it appears verj' certain, that 
 he who is so every way absolutely perfect and happy, can- 
 not be thought to intend and pursue an end, after the same 
 manner as we are wont to do. We being conscious to 
 ourselves of indigency, or, at the best, of obligation to the 
 Author of our beings, are wont to design this or that end 
 for the relieving of ourselves, or the approving ourselves 
 to him. And, our satisfaction depending upon the attain- 
 ment of it, we solicitously deliberate about the fittest means 
 to attain it ; and are to.ssed with various passions, of desire, 
 and hope, and fear, and joy, and grief, according as the 
 end is apprehended more or less excellent, or likely to be 
 attained; varying often our course upon new emerirencies, 
 as this or that may probably promote or hinder the suc- 
 cess of our pursuit. In short, we pursue ends, as being 
 both impatient of disappointment, and uncertain of iheir 
 attainment. 
 
 q Acts IV. 13. 
 
 The blessed God, being indigent of nothing, nor under 
 obligation to any one, cannot be supposed to propound an 
 end to himself as that whereupon his satisfaction depends, 
 which were inconsistent with his already complete felicity, 
 and would argue hirn but potentially happy. But acting 
 always from an immense self-sufficient fulness of life, and 
 of all perfections, doth ever satisfy him.self in himself, and 
 take highest complacency in the perfect goodness, con- 
 gruity, and rectitude of his own most holy will and way. 
 And again, as he doth not seek a yet unattained satisfac- 
 tion, in any end he can be supposed to propound to him- 
 self; so nor can he be thought to deliberate, as we are 
 wont to do, concerning the means of effecting any. For 
 deliberation would imply doubtfulness and uncertainty, 
 which his absolute perfection cannot admit ; nor doth need, 
 the whole frame and compass of things intended by him, 
 in their distinct references and tendencies, being, at once, 
 present to his all-comprehending view; so that there can 
 be no place for any intermediate knowledge with him, or 
 for any new resolves thereupon. Known to the Lord are 
 all his works from the beginning of the world.i 
 
 Sect. XI. This being premised ; it is now further to be 
 considered, that howsoever one end oftentimes is not at- 
 tained, unto which the publicly extant declarations of the 
 Divine will have a visible aptitude, viz. the obedient com- 
 pliance of men with them ; another more noble end wa.s, 
 however, attainable, not unbecoming the designment of the 
 Divine wisdom, and which it was every way most worthy 
 of God to be more principally intent upon. It is fit the 
 mention of this be prefaced with an obvious remark ; — that 
 the misapprehension of the state of things between God 
 and man doth, in great part, owe itself to our aptness to 
 compare unduly the Divine government with that of 
 secular rulers ; and our expectation to find them in all 
 things agreeing with each other. Whereas there cannot 
 but be a vast difference, between the constitution and end 
 of God's government over his creatures, and more espe- 
 cially mankind, and that of man over his fellow-creatures 
 of the same kind. The government of secular, human 
 rulers, can never be, in the constitution of it, altogether 
 absolute, nor ought, in the design of it, primarily to intend 
 the personal advantage of the ruler himself, who as much 
 depends upon his subjects, and hath (at least) as great 
 need of them, as they can be understood to have of him. 
 But as to the blessed God the matter is apparent, and hath 
 its own triumphant evidence, that since he is the original 
 and root of all being, that all things are mere dependencies 
 upon his absolute pleasure, and entireh' of him, and by 
 him, all ought to be to him, that he alone might have the 
 glory. -^ 
 
 Wherefore, it must be asserted, and cannot fail of ob- 
 taining to be acknowledged, by every impartial and sober 
 considerer of things, that there is a much more noble and 
 important end, that all God's public edicts and declara- 
 tions to men, (the instruments of his government over 
 them,) do more principally aim at, than their advantage, 
 viz. the dignity and decorum of his government itself; and 
 that he may be found in everything to have done as be- 
 came him, and was most worthy of himself And what 
 could be more so, than that he should testify the aversion 
 of his own pure and holy nature, to whatsoever was un- 
 holy and impure, his love of righteousness and compla- 
 cency to he imitated herein, together with his steady, gra- 
 cious propension to receive all them into the communion 
 of his own felicity or blessedness (for the Redeemer's sake) 
 who should herein comply with him 1 Nor are we to un- 
 derstand that he herein so designs the reputation of his 
 government, as men are often wont to do things out of 
 design for their interest in that kind, that are, otherwise, 
 against their overruled inclination. But we are to accoun' 
 these his declarations (although they are acts of an intel 
 ligent Agent, and the products of wisdom and counsel, 
 yet al.so)"the spontaneous emanations of his own holy and 
 gracious nature, such as wherein he most fully agrees, 
 and consents with himself And is it now to be ex 
 pected, that because he foresees men will be wicked, and 
 do what shall be unworthy of them, he must therefore lay 
 aside his nature, and omit to do what shall be worthy ol 
 himself? 
 
 r Rom. n.
 
 130 
 
 THE RECONCILEAELENESS 
 
 Sect. XIL And hereupon it may be expected, the more 
 ingenuous and candid -RiU allo-vv themselves to think the 
 matter tolerably clear, in reference to the former part of 
 the proposed difficulty ;, i. e. will apprehend this way of 
 dealing with men not imprudent, or inconsistent with the 
 Divine wisdom, since, though one end, in a great part, fail, 
 yet another, more valuable, is attained. But yet, as to 
 the latter part, the difficulty may still urge, viz. how it can 
 stand with sincerity ; whereas that end also which fails, 
 seems to have been most directly intended, that the blessed 
 God should seem so earnestly intent upon it : since it is 
 hardly conceivable, that the same thing should be, at once, 
 seriousl)' intended as an end, and yet, at the same time, 
 give the eye, which seems to design it, no other prospect 
 than of a thing never to be brought to pass. 
 
 Wherefore we are next to consider, that we may pro- 
 ceed gradually, and not omit to say what is in itself con- 
 siderable ; though it is not all (which cannot be said at 
 once) that is to be said ; — that the public declarations of 
 the Divine will, touching man's duty, do attain that very 
 end, his obedient compliance therewith, in great part, and 
 as to many (although it be foreknown they will prove in- 
 effectual with the most) are the no less successful, than the 
 apt. means of attaining it. Nor, certainly, if it were fore- 
 known the world would be so divided, as that some would 
 obey, and others not obey, was it therefore the fittest 
 course, that these two sorts should, by some extraordinary 
 act of providence, be carefully severed from each oiher ; 
 and those be dealt withal apart from the rest. But rather, 
 that the Divine edicts should be of a universal tenor, and 
 be directed to all as they are ; the matter of them being of 
 maiversal concernment, and eqaally suitable to the com- 
 mon case of all men. 
 
 Sect. XIII. Neither yet was it necessary, that effectual 
 care should be taken, they should actually reach all, and 
 be applied to every individual person. Since it is appa- 
 rently to be resolved into the wickedness of the world, 
 that they do not so; and that there is not a universal dif- 
 fusion of the gospel into every part. For it being evident 
 to any one's reflection, that men are in a state of apostacy 
 and defection from their Maker and common Lord, and 
 therefcsre subject to his displeasure ; whereas the merciful 
 God hath done his own part, and so much beyond what 
 was to be expected from him ; issued out his proclama- 
 tions of peace and pardon, upon so easy and indulgent 
 termSy aS'- are expressed in his gospel; if, hereupon, men 
 also did their part, behaved themselves suitably to the ex- 
 igency of their case, and as did become reasonable crea- 
 tures, fallen under the displeasure of their Maker, (whereof 
 their common condition affords so innumerable, so preg- 
 nant proofs,) the gospel, wheresoever it should arrive, 
 would have been entertained with so great a transport of 
 joy, and so ready and universal acceptance, as very soon 
 to have made a great noise in the world ; and being found 
 to be of a universal tenor and concernment, and that 
 what it says to one nation, it equally says the same to every 
 one ; it could not but be, that messengers would inter- 
 changeably have run from nation to nation; some to com- 
 municate, others to inquire after, those strange tidings of 
 great joy unto all people, lately sent from heaven j con- 
 cerning the Emmanuel, God with us; God, again upon his 
 return to man, and now in Christ reconciling the world to 
 himself. And thus how easily, and even naturally, would 
 the gospel soon have spread itself through the world! es- 
 pecially the merciful God having so provided, that there 
 should be an office constituted, and set up ; a sort of men, 
 whose whole business it should be, to propagate and pub- 
 lish those happy tidings. But that men should so indulge 
 their sensual, terrene inclination, as not at all to use their 
 understandings and considering power, about other mat- 
 ters than only what are within the sight of their eye, when 
 by so easy and quick a turn of thoughts they might feel 
 and find out who made them, and was the Original of 
 their life and being, and that things are not right, and as 
 they should be, between him and them; and so by what 
 is within the compass of natural revelation, be prepared 
 for what is supernatural. And not that only, but to that 
 stupidity, by which they are unapt to inquire after and 
 )receive, to add that obstinate malignity by which they 
 ate apt to reject and oppose the merciful discoveries and 
 
 overtures of their offended, reconcileable Creator and 
 Lord. How manifestly doth this devolve the whole busi- 
 ness of the little, slow progress of the gospel in the world, 
 upon themselves onl}" ! As suppose we a prince of the 
 greatest clemency, benignity, and goodness, from whom a 
 whole country of his .subjects have made a most causeless 
 defection ; hereupon to send to the whole body of the re- 
 bels a gracious proclamation of free pardon upon their 
 return to their allegiance and duty; and it only from 
 hence comes to pass, that every individual person of them 
 distinctly understands not what the message from their 
 prince did import ; because, they that heard it would not, 
 many of them, allow themselves to consider and regard it ; 
 and others of them, with despiteful violence, fell upon the 
 heralds, barbarously butchering some of them, and igno- 
 miniously repulsing the rest : who would not say, that 
 prince had fully done his part, and acquitted himself an- 
 swerably to the best character, though he should send to 
 the rebels no further overtures 1 Much more, if through 
 a long tract of time, he continue the same amicable en- 
 deavours for their reducement ; notwithstanding the con- 
 stant experience of the same ill success; who would not 
 cast the whole business of the continued ill understanding, 
 between him and the revollers, upon themselves'? and 
 reckon it impossible, an)' should be ignorant, of his kind 
 and benign inclinations and intentions, if an implacable 
 enmity, and disafl'eclion to him and his government, were 
 not their common temper 1 
 
 Though so infinitely do- the mercies of God exceed 
 those of the most merciful prince on earth, as well as his 
 knowledge and power ; that wheresoever there are any 
 exempt cases, we must conceive him equally able and in- 
 clined to consider them distinctly. And so vastly differ- 
 ent may we well suppose the degrees of happiness and 
 misery to be, in the other world ; as that there may be 
 latitude enough, of punishing and rewarding men, propor- 
 tionably to the degrees of light they have had, and the 
 more or less malignity, or propension to reconciliation, 
 was found with them thereupon. 
 
 Sect. XIV. Nor again was it at all incongruous, oi 
 unbecoming, that the blessed God, this being the common 
 temper and disposition of all men, to reject his gracious 
 tenders, should provide, by some extraordinary means, 
 that they might not be finally rejected by all. For what 
 can be more appropriate to sovereignty (even where it is 
 infinitely less absolute) than arbitrarily to design the ob- 
 jects of special favour 1 Who blames a prince, for placing 
 special marks of his royal bounty, or clemency, here and 
 there as he thinks fit ? or that he hath some peculiar fa- 
 vourites, with whom he familiarly converses, whom he 
 hath won, bysome or other not common inducements, and 
 assured their loyal affection ; though there be thousands 
 of persons in his dominions besides, of as good parts, dis- 
 positions, and deserts as they? It belongs to sovereignly, 
 only so to be favourable to some, as, in the mean time, 
 to be just towards all. Yea, and it must be acknowledged, 
 such are the dispensations of the holy God towards the 
 whole community of mankind, as import not only strict 
 righteousness, but great clemency and mercy also. Though 
 they might easily understand themselves to be offenders, 
 and liable to the severities of his justice, they are spared 
 by his patience, sustained by his bounty, protected by his 
 power; their lives and properties are fenced by his own 
 laws. And whereas they are become very dangerous 
 enemies to one another; and each one his own greatest 
 enemy ; it is provided by those laws, even for the worst of 
 men, that none shall injure them, that all love them, and 
 seek their good. He interposes his authority on their be- 
 half; and, if any wrong them, he takes it for an affront 
 done to himself. By the same laws they are directed to 
 industry, frugality, sobriety, temperance, to exercise a 
 government over themselves, to bridle and subdue their 
 own exorbitant lusts and passions, their more immediate 
 tormentors, and the sources of all the calamities and mise- 
 ries which befall them in this world. By all which evi- 
 dences of his great care, and concern for their welfare, 
 they might understand him to hare favourable propensions 
 towards them, and that though they have offended him, he 
 is not their implacable enemy ; and might; by his good- 
 ness, be led to repentance.
 
 OP GOD'S PRESCIENCE, &c. 
 
 121 
 
 Yea and moreover ; Ix? hath sent thein a Redeemer, liis 
 own Son, an incarnate Deity, who came duwn into this 
 workl, full of grace and truth, upon the must merciful 
 errand. And they have some of them been in transports, 
 when they have but fancied such a descent, for tlie doing 
 them only some lighter good turn ; as upon the cure ot' 
 the cripple. The gods (say they) arc come down in the 
 likeness of men ! » He being filled with the glorious ful- 
 ness of the Godhead, hath been a voluntary .sacrifice for 
 the sins of men ; and if they would believe and obey him, 
 they would find that sacrifice is accepted, and available 
 for them. And though they are disabled to do so only 
 by their own wicked inclination, even against that also 
 they have no cause to despair of being relieved, if they 
 would (which they might) admit the thoughts of their im- 
 potency, and the exigency of their case, and did seriously 
 implore Divine help. 
 
 Sect. XV. Now with whom these methods succeed 
 well, there is no suspicion of insincerit3^ Lei us see 
 what pretence there can be for it, with the rest. It is to be 
 considered, that, as to them he doth not apply himself to 
 every, or to any, person immediately, and severally, after ; 
 some such tenor of speech as this, " I know thee to be a 
 profligate, hopeless wretch, and that thou wilt finally dis- 
 regard whatsoever I say to thee, and consequently perish 
 and become miserable. But however (though I foresee 
 m.ost certainly thou wilt not, yet) I entreat thee to hear, 
 and obey, and live." Indeed, sending a prophet to a pro- ; 
 miscuous people, he foretells hira of such ill success, t! 
 But it is not told hira he should succeed so ill universally, 
 and it is implied, he should not. " 
 
 But the course the great God takes, is only to apply 
 himself to these (as hath been said) in common with the 
 rest. For if it be said he also applies himself to them b}' 
 the private dictates of his Spirit ; he does not, by it, make 
 formed speeches to men. But as to those its common 
 motions, whereby it applies itself imto them, doth only 
 solicit, in a slated manner of operation, in and by their 
 own reason and consciences, (as he concurs with our infe- 
 rior faculties, and with the inferior creatures, suitable to 
 their natures and capacities,) speaking no other than their 
 own language, as the}'' are instructed out of his word, or 
 by other means. Which he usually continues to do, till 
 by their resistances, they have sealed up their own con- 
 sciences, and consequently (according to its more ordinary 
 fixed course, and laws of access and recess) shut out the 
 Holy Spirit both at once. Nor is it more to be expected 
 he should universally alter that course ; tlian that he 
 should alter the courses of the sun, moon, and stars, and 
 innovate upon universal nature. So that what is endea- 
 voured for the reducement of such, as finally refuse to re- 
 turn, by particular applications to this or that person, and 
 beyond what is contained in the public declarations of his 
 written word, is by substituted ministers and inferior agents, 
 that know no more of the event, than they do themselves. 
 And that this was the fittest way of dealing with reason- 
 able creatures, who, that will use his own reason, sees not 1 
 
 Sect. XVI. That our disquisition may be here a little 
 more strict we shall inquire both, — What may be sup- 
 posed po.ssible to be alleged out of God's word, in refer- 
 ence to them that persist in wickedness till they finally 
 perish, which it can be thought not consistent with sin- 
 cerity, to have inserted, upon the supposed foresight of so 
 dismal an issue. And what more convenient course we 
 can think of, which sincerity (as we apprehend) would 
 have required. 
 
 As to the former. It may, perhaps, be alleged, that he 
 professes to will the salvation of all men. « Not to desire 
 the death of hira that dieth. y Yea, and professes himself 
 grieved that any perish. ^ Now these things, compared 
 with his public declarations and tenders, directed, in a 
 universal tenor, lo all men, carry that appearance and 
 show with them, as if he would have it believed, his end 
 were to save all. Wherewith his foresight of the perdition 
 of so many seems ill to agree. For how can that end be 
 seriously intended which it is foreseen will not be brought 
 about 1 And how can it be thought to consist with sin- 
 cerity, that there should be an appearance of his having 
 such an end, unto which, a serious real intention of it 
 « Act« )dv. t Ezek. ili. 7. u Vor. -il. 
 
 doth not correspond 1 Wherefore we shall here examme, 
 what appeaianco such expressions as those above recited, 
 can, by just interpretation, be understood to amount unto. 
 And liien show that there is really with the ble.ssed GihI, 
 wliai doth truly and fully corresixmd to that appeai-ance; 
 and very ngieeably too, with the hypothe.-is of his foresee- 
 ing how' tilings will finally issue, wiih very many. 
 
 And first, that \vc may understand the true import of 
 the expressions which we have mentioned, and others ot 
 like sound and meaning. We are to consider, that though 
 being taken severally and apart, they aie not capable ola 
 sense, prejudical to the cau.se, the defence whereof we 
 have undertaken, which we shall aJierwards more distinctly 
 evince, yet, it were very injurious, lo go about to a/hx 
 a sense unto a single expression, without weighing tJie 
 general design of the writings, whereof it is a part. It were 
 quite to frustrate the use of words, when a matter is to be 
 represented, that is copious, and consists of many parts and 
 branches, which cannot be comprehended in one of a 
 few sentences ; if we will pretend to estimate and make a 
 judgment of the speaker's full meaning, by -this or that 
 single passage onl)^, because we have not jiatience or lei- 
 sure to hear the rest ; or perhaps have a greater dispositioa 
 to cavil at his words, than understand his meaning. If a, 
 course resembling this should be taken, in interpreting the 
 edicts or laws of princes and stales, (suppose it were a 
 proclamation of pardon to delinquent subjects,) and only 
 this or that favourable clause be fastened upon, without 
 regard to the inserted provisos and conditions ; the (con- 
 cerned) interpreters might do a slight, temporary, and 
 easily remediable wrong to the prince, but are in danger, 
 more fatally, to wrong themselves. 
 
 The edicts of the great God, that are publicly extant to 
 mankind, (the universal publication «'hereof thej' partly 
 withstand, and which they too commonly deprave, and 
 perversely misinterpret, where they do obtain,) carry no 
 such appearance with them, as if he had ever proposed it 
 to himself, for his end, to save all men, or any man, let 
 them do what they please, or how destructive a course 
 soever they lake, and shall finally persist in. If that were 
 supposed his design, his so seemingly serious counsels 
 and exhortations were as ludicrous, as they could be 
 thought, if it were as peremptorily determined all should 
 perish. For what God will, by almighty power, immedi- 
 ately work, without the subordinate concurrence of any 
 second cause, must be necessarily. And it is equally vain, 
 solicitously to endeavour the engaging of subordinate 
 ngents, to "do that which without them is absolutely neces- 
 saiT, as it were to endeavour that, bj' them, which is abso- 
 lutelv impossible. 
 
 Sect. XVII. That which his declarations to men do 
 amount unto, is, in sum, thus much, — that, whereas they 
 have, bv their defection and revolt from him, made them- 
 selves liable to his justice, and very great consequent 
 miseries; he is willing to pardon, save, and restore them 
 to a blessed state, upon such terms as shall be agreeable 
 (the recompense due to his injured law being othei-wise 
 provided for, at no expense of theirs) to the nature of that 
 blessedness they are to enjoy, the purity of his own nature, 
 and the order and dignity of his government. That is, that 
 thev seriouslv repent and turn to him, love him as the 
 Loid their God, wiih all their heart and soul, and might 
 and mind ; and one another as themselves; (being to make 
 together one happ)' community, in the participation of the 
 same blessedness ;) commit themselves by entire trust, 
 subjection, and devoledne.ss to their great and merciful 
 Redeemer, according to the measure of light wherewith 
 he shall have been revealed and made known to them-, 
 submit to the motions and dictates of his blessed Spirit, 
 whereby the impression of his own holy imase is to be 
 renewed in theni^and a divine nature imparted to them: 
 and carefully atteifd to his word as the means, the impres- 
 sive instrument or seal, by which, understood and con- 
 sidered, that impression shall be ntade, and the very seeds 
 out of which that holy nature, and the entire frame of the 
 new creature, shall result and spring up in them ; so as to 
 make them apt unto the obedience that is expected from 
 them, and capable of the blessedness they are to expect; 
 that if they neglect to attend to these external discoveries 
 
 V T.zA. \-.ii! 35. 7 P«. K.vsi. 12, 13. 
 
 X 1 Tim. ii. 4.
 
 THE RECONCILEABLENESS 
 
 and refuse the ordinary aids and assistances of his good 
 Spirit and offer violence to their own consciences, they 
 are not to expect he should overpower them, by a strong 
 hand and save them against the continuing disinclination 
 of their own wills. Nor (whatsoever extraordinary acts 
 he may do upon some, to make them willing) is there any 
 universal promise in his word, or other encouragement, 
 upon which any may reasonably promise themselves that, 
 in the neglect and disuse of all ordinary means, such power 
 shall be used with them, as shall finally overcome their 
 averse, disaffected hearts. 
 
 Sect. XVIII. 'Tis true that he frequently uses much 
 importunity with men, and enforces his laws with that 
 earnestness, as if it were his own great interest to have 
 them obeyed ; wherein, having to do with men, he doth 
 like a man, solicitously intent upon an end which he can- 
 not be satisfied till he attain. Yet withal, he hath inter- 
 spersed, every where in his word, so frequent. Godlike 
 expressions of his own greatness, all-sufficiency, and inde- 
 pendency upon his creatures, as that if we attend to these 
 his public declarations, and manifests of himself entirely, 
 so as to compare one thing with another, we shall find the 
 matter not at all dissembled ; but might collect this to be 
 the state of things between him and us, that he makes no 
 overtures to us, as thinking us considerable, or as if any 
 thing were to accrue to him from us. But that, as he 
 takes pleasure in the diffusion of his own goodness, so it is 
 our interest to behave ourselves suitably thereunto, and, 
 according as we comply with it, and continue in it, or do 
 not, so we may expect the delectable communications of 
 it, or taste, otherwise, his just severity. That, therefore, 
 when he exhorts, obtests, entreats, beseeches that we would 
 obey and live ; speaks as if he were grieved at our dis- 
 obedience, and what is like to ensue to us therefrom ; 
 these are merciful condescensions, and the efforts of that 
 goodness, which chooseth the fittest ways of moving us, 
 rather than that he is moved himself, by any such passions 
 as we are wont to feel in ourselves, when we are pursuing 
 our own designs. And that he vouchsafeth to speak in 
 such a way as is less suitable to himself, that it may be 
 more suitable to us, and might teach us, while he so far 
 complies with us, how becoming it is that we answerably 
 bend ourselves to a compliance with him. He speaks, 
 sometimes, as if he did suffer somewhat human, as an apt 
 means (and which to many proves effectual) to bring us to 
 enjoy, at length, what is truly divine. We may, if we 
 consider, and lay things together, understand these to be 
 gracious insinuations ; whereby, as he hath not left the 
 matter liable to be so misunderstood, as if he were really 
 affected with solicitude, or any perturbation concerning 
 us, (which he hath sufficiently given us to understand his 
 blessed nature cannot admit of,) so nor can they be thought 
 to be disguises of himself, or misrepresentations, that have 
 nothing in him corresponding to them. For they really 
 signify the obedience and blessedness of those his crea- 
 tures that are capable thereof, to be more pleasing and 
 agreeable to his nature and will, than that they should 
 disobey and perish ; (which is the utmost that can be im- 
 derstood meant by those words, God will have all men to 
 lie saved and come to the knowledge of the truth ;) but 
 withal, that he so apprehends the indignity done to his 
 government, by their disobedience, that if they obey not 
 (as the indulgent constitution and temper of his law and 
 government now are, in and by the Redeemer) they must 
 perish. And that he hath also such respect to the con- 
 gruity and order of things, as that it shall not be the ordi- 
 nary method of his government over reasonable creatures, 
 to overpower them into that obedience, by which it may 
 come to pass that they perish not. All which may be 
 collected from those his own plain words, in that other 
 recited text, and many besides of like import. When, 
 "with so awful solemnity, he professes, that as he lives he 
 takes no pleasure in the death of sinners, but that they 
 may turn and live ; and adds. Turn ye, turn ye, why will 
 you die 1 * That is, that their repentance, and consequent 
 welfare, would be more grateful tohim than their perdition, 
 upon their persevering in destructive ways ; but yet, that 
 if they were not moved to repent, by these his pleadings 
 and expostulations used with them, they should die, and 
 
 were therefore concerned to attend and hearken to such 
 his reasonings and warnings, as the apt means to work 
 their good ; not expecting he should take extraordinary 
 courses with them, in order to it. And that the real re- 
 spect he had thereunto, should never induce him to use 
 any indecorous course to bring it about; but that he had 
 a more principal respect to the rules of justice, and the 
 order of his government, than to their concernments. And 
 that he, notwithstanding, expresses himself aggrieved that 
 any finally perish. If we consider and recollect, what 
 notices he hath furnished our minds with, of the per- 
 fections of a Deity, and what he hath remonstrated to us 
 of his own nature, so plainly in his word; we cannot 
 understand more by it, than the calm dispassionate resent- 
 ment and dislike, which most perfect purity and goodness 
 have, of the sinfulness and miserable ruin of his own 
 creatures. 
 
 In all which we have a most unexceptionable idea of 
 God, and may behold the comely conjuncture of his large 
 goodness, strict righteousness, and most accurate wisdom 
 altogether: as we are also concerned, in making our 
 estimate of his ways, to consider them : and not to take 
 our measure of what is suitable to God, by considering 
 him according to one single attribute only; but as they all 
 are united, in his most perfect being. And in that blessed 
 harmony, as not to infer with him a difficulty what to do, 
 or what'not. Which sometimes falls out with men, where 
 there is an imperfect resemblance of those divine excel- 
 lencies, not so exactly contempered together. As it was 
 with that Spartan prince and general in Plutarch, when 
 finding a necessity to march his army, and taking notice 
 of one, for whom he had a peculiar kindness, that through 
 extreme weakness was not possibly to be removed, he 
 looked back upon him, expressing his sense of that exi- 
 gency, in those emphatical words. How hard a matter is 
 it at once iXcav Kat ippovciv, to exercise pity and be wise i 
 God's own word misrepresents him not, but gives a true 
 account of him, if we allow ourselves to confer it with 
 itself, one part of it with another. Nor doth any part of 
 it, taken alone, import him so to have willed the happiness 
 of m.en, for any end of his, that he resolved he would, by 
 whatsoever means, certainly effect it: as we are wont, 
 many limes, with such eagerness to pursue ends upon 
 which we are intent, as not to consider of right or wrong, 
 fit or unfit, in our pursuit of them, and so let the cost ol 
 our means, not seldom, eat up our end. Nor did that be- 
 long to him, or was his part as our most benign, wise, and 
 righteous Governor, to provide that we should certainly 
 not transgress, or not suffer prejudice thereby ; but that 
 we should not do so, through his omission of any thing, 
 which it became him to do to prevent it. 
 
 Sect. XIX. It may therefore be of some use further to 
 take notice, that a very diverse consideration must be had, 
 of the ends which shall be effected by GoJ's own action 
 only, and of those which are to be brought a. out (in con- 
 currence and subordination to his own) by the interveni- 
 ent action of his creatures. Especially (which is more to 
 our purpose) such of them as are intelligent, and capable 
 of being governed by laws. As to the former sort of thevse 
 ends, we may be confident they were all most absoluteh 
 intended, and can never fail of being accomplished. Fo^ 
 the latter, it cannot be luiiversally said so. For these be 
 ing not entirely his ends ; but partly his, and partly pre 
 scribed by him, to his reasonable creatures, to be theirs 
 We are to conceive he always, most absolutely, intends tr 
 do, what he righteously esteems congruous should be his 
 own part ; which he extends and limits as seems good untc 
 him. And sometimes, of his own good pleasure, assumes 
 to himself the doing of so much, as shall ascertain the end , 
 effectually procuring, that his creature shall do his pari 
 also. That is, not only enacts his laws, and adds exhorta- 
 tions, warnings, promises, to enforce it, but also emits 
 that effectual influence, whereby the inferior wheels shall 
 be put into motion, the powers and faculties of his governed 
 creature excited and assisted, and (by a spirit in the wheels) 
 made as the chariots of a willing people. At other times', 
 and in other instances, he doth less, and meeting with re 
 sistance, sooner retires ; follows not his external edicts and 
 declarations, with so potent and determinative an influence ; 
 
 a Ezek. .\xxiii. U.
 
 OF GOD'S PRESCIENCE, &c. 
 
 Dut that the creature, tlirough his own great default, may 
 omit to do his part, and so that end be not effected. 
 
 That the course of his economy towards men on earth 
 is, de facto ^ ordered with this diversity, seems out of ques- 
 tion. Manifest experience shows it. Some do .^ensibly 
 perceive that motive influence, which others do not. The 
 same persons, at some times, find not that, which at other 
 times they do. His own word plainly asserts it. " He 
 works in us to will and to do, of his own good pleasure."* 
 Where he will, he, in this respect, shows mercy ; where 
 he will, he hardeneth, or doth not prevent but that men be 
 hardened. And indeed, we should be constrained to rase 
 out a great part of the Sacred Volume, if we should not 
 admit it to he so. And as the equity and fitness of his 
 making such difference (when it appears he doth make it) 
 cannot without profaneness be doubted, so it is evident, 
 from what was before said, they are far removed from the 
 reach and confines of any reasonable doubt ; since he for- 
 sakes none, but being first forsaken. Nor have men aaiy 
 pretence to complain of subdolous dealing, or that they 
 are surprisingly disappointed, and lurched of such help, 
 as they might have expected; inasmuch as this is so plain- 
 ly extant in God's open manifests to the world, that he 
 uses a certain arbitrariness, especially in the more exube- 
 rant dispensation of his grace 4 and is inserted to that 
 purpose, that they may be cautioned not to neglect loiver 
 assistances; and warned, because he works to will and to 
 do of his own pleasure, therefore to work out their own 
 salvation with fear and trembling.b Whereupon, else- 
 where, after the most persuasive alluring invitations : 
 Turn ye at my reproof, I will pour out mj' Spirit to you, 
 I will make known my words to you, it is presently sub- 
 joined. Because I called and ye refused, I stretched out 
 my hand and no man regarded; but ye have set at 
 nought all my counsel, and would none of my reproof; I 
 also will laugh at your calamity, I will mock when your 
 fear cometh.<= 
 
 From all which it is plainly to be understood, that the 
 general strain and drift of God''s external revelation of 
 his mind to man, in his word, and the aspect of eveji those 
 passages, that can, with most colour, be thought to signify 
 any thing further, do amount to nothing more than this, 
 that he doth so far really will the salvation of all, as not 
 to omit the doing that which may effect it, if they be not 
 neglectful of themselves ; but not so as to efl'ect it by that 
 extraordinary exertion of power, which he thinks fit to 
 employ upon some others. 
 
 Nor is it reaisonably to be doubted, -(such a will being 
 all that can be pretended to be the visible meanixig of the 
 pa.ssages before noted,) whether there be such a will in 
 God or no : and so somewhat really corresponding (the 
 next thing promised to be discoursed) to the aspect and 
 appearance hereof, which is offered to our view. For 
 what should be the reason of the doubt % He, who best 
 understands his own nature, having said of himself what 
 imports no less ; why should we make a difficulty to be- 
 lieve him "? Nor indeed can any notices we have of the 
 perfections of the Divine nature be less liable to doubt, 
 than what we have of his unchangeaWe veracity ; whence, 
 as it is impossible to him to lie, it must be necessary, that 
 he be really willing of what he hath represented himself 
 so to be. I must here profess my dislike of the terms of 
 that common distinction, the i-olvntas bcneplaciti, ct signi, 
 in this present case. Under which, such as coined, and 
 those that have much used it, have only ratlier, I doubt not, 
 concealed a good meaning, than expressed by it an ill one. 
 It seems, I confess, by its more obvious aspect, too much to 
 countenance the ignominious slander, which profane and 
 atheistical dispositions would fasten upon God, and the 
 course of his procedure towards men ; and which it is the 
 design of these papers to evince of as much absurdity- and 
 folly, as it is guilty of impiety and wickedness : as though 
 he only intended to seem willing of what he really was 
 not ; that there was an appearance to which nothing did 
 subessc. And then why is the latter called voluntas? un- 
 less the meaning be he did only will the sign, which is 
 false and impious ; and if it were true, did he not will it 
 with the will of good pleasure *? And then the members of 
 the distinction are confounded. Or, as if the evil actions 
 
 b Phil. ii. 12, 13. 
 
 123 
 
 of men were more truly the objects of his good pleasure, 
 than their forbearance of them. And of these faults the ap- 
 plication of the distinction of God's secret will, and reveal- 
 ed, unto this ca-^e, though it be u^^eful in many, is as guilty. 
 
 Sect. XXI. The truth is, (unto which we must esteem 
 ourselves obliged to adhere, both by our assent and de- 
 fence,) that God doth really and complacentially will (and 
 therefore doth with most unexceptionable sincei-ity declare 
 himself to will) that to be done and enjoyed b^- many men, 
 which he doth not, universally, will to make them do, or 
 irresistibly procure that they shall enjoy. Which is no 
 harder assertion, than that the impure will of degenerate, 
 sinful man is opposite to the holy will of God ; and the 
 malignity of man's will to the benignity of his. No harder 
 than that there is sin and misery in the world, which how 
 can we conceive otherwise, than as a repugnancy to the 
 good and acceptable will of Godl Melhinks it should 
 not be difficult to us to acknowledge, that God doth truly, 
 and with complacency, will whatsoever is the holy, righte- 
 ous matter of his own laws. And if it should be with 
 any a difficulty, I would only make this supposition. What 
 if all the Avorld were yet in innocency, yielding entire 
 universal obedience to all the now extant laws of God, 
 which have not reference to man as now fallen, (as those 
 of repentance^ faith in a Mediator, &c.) would it now be 
 a doubt with any, whether God did truly and really will, 
 and were pleased with, the holiness and righteousness 
 which were every where to be Ibund in the world ? Surely 
 we would not, in this case, imagine the creature's will more 
 pure and holy than tJie Divine ; or that he were displeased 
 with men for their being righteous and holy. Now again, 
 suppose the world revolted, what then is that holy will of 
 God changed ? will we not say it remains the same holy 
 will still ? and stands the same rule of righteousness and 
 duty that it was ? Doth the change of his rebel creatures 
 infer any with him'? or do only the declarations of his 
 former will remain to be their rule, and keep them still 
 obliged, his will itself being become another from what it 
 was 1 Surely he might as easily have changed his laws. 
 
 And if we say his will is changed, how should we know 
 it to be so ? If we know it not, surely such a thing should 
 not be said or thought. If we know it, how should those 
 yet extant laws and declarations continue to oblige, again.st 
 the Lawgiver's known will? And tlien the eas}* expedient 
 to nullify the obligation of a la\v, that were thought too re- 
 strictive, were to disobey it. And men might, by sinning 
 once, license themselves to do the same thing (though ihea 
 we could not call it sinning) always. And so the creature's 
 should be the supreme and ruling will. Nor had it been a 
 false suggestion, but a real truth that man, by becoming 
 a sinner, might make himself a god. Or, if it shall be 
 thought fit to say, that the Divine will would not, in that 
 supposed case, be said to be changed ; but only, that now 
 the event makes it appear not to have been what we 
 thought it was; that were to impute both imp\irity and 
 dissimulation to the holy, blessed God, as his fixed attri- 
 butes. And Avhat we thought unfit, and should abhor, to 
 imagine might have place with him one moment, to affix 
 to him for perpetuity. 
 
 Sect. XXII. And whereas it may be thought to follow 
 hence, that hereby we ascribe to God a liablenessto frus- 
 tration, and disappointment. That is without pretence. 
 The resolve of the Divine will, in this matter, being not 
 concerning the event what man shall do, but concerning 
 his duty what he should, and concerning the connexion 
 between his duty aud his happiness. Wliich we say he 
 doth not only seem to will, but wills it really and truly. 
 Nor would his prescience of the event, which we all this 
 while assert, let frustration be so much as possible to him. 
 Especially, it being at once foreseen, that his will, being 
 crossed in this, would be fulfilled in so important a thing, 
 as the preserving the decorum of his own government- 
 AVhich had been most apparently blemished, beyond what 
 could consist with the perfections of the Deity, if either 
 his will concerning men's dutv, or the declarations of that 
 will, had not been substantially the same that they are. 
 We are, therefore, in assigningthe object of this or that 
 act of the Divine will, to do it entirely, and to take the 
 whole object together, without dividing it, as if the will ot 
 c Prov. L
 
 134 
 
 THE RECONCILEABLENESS 
 
 God did wholly terminate upon what indeed is but a part 
 (and especially if that be but a less considerable part) oi 
 the thin? willed. In the present case, we are not to con- 
 ceive that God, only, wills either man's duty or lelicity, or 
 that herein his will doth solely and ultimately terminate. 
 But in the whole, the determination of God's will is, that 
 mail shall be duly governed, that is, congruously both to 
 himself, and him. That such and such things, most con- 
 gruous to both, shall be man's duty, by his doing whereof, 
 the dignity and honour of God's own government might 
 be pre1;erved, which was the thing principally to be de- 
 signed, and in the first place. And, as what was secondary 
 thereto, that hereby man's felicity should be provided for. 
 Therefore it being foreseen a violation would be done to 
 the sacred rights of the Divine government, by man's dis- 
 obedience, it is resolved, they shall be repaired and main- 
 tained by other means. So that the Divine will hath its ef- 
 fect ; as to what was its more noble and principal design, 
 the other part failing only by his default, whose is the loss. 
 And if yet it should be insisted, that in asserting God 
 to will what by his laws he hath made become man's duty, 
 even where it is not done we shall herein ascribe to him, 
 at least, an ineffectual and an imperfect will, as which 
 doth not bring to pass the thing willed. It is answered, 
 that imperfection were with no pretence imputable to the 
 Divine will, merely for its not effecting every thing, 
 whereto it may have a real propension. But it would be 
 more liable to that imputation, if it should effect anything, 
 which it were less fit for him to effect, than not to effect it. 
 The absolute perfection of his will stands in the propor- 
 tion, which every act of it bears, to the importance of the 
 things about which it is conversant. Even as, with men, 
 the perfection of any act of will is to be estimated, not by 
 the mere peremptory sturdiness of it, but by its proportion 
 to the goodness of the thing willed. Upon which account, 
 a mere velleity (as many love to speak) when the degree 
 of goodness in the object claims no more, hath uncon- 
 ceivably greater perfection in it, than the most obstinate 
 volition. And since the event forbids us to admit that 
 God did ever will the obedience and felicity of all, with 
 such a will as should be effective thereof; if yet his plain 
 word shall be acknowledged the measure of our belief, in 
 this matter, which so plainly asserts him someway to will 
 the salvation of all men, 'tis strange if, hereupon, we shall 
 not admit rather of a will not-effective of the thing will- 
 ed, than none at all. 
 
 The will of God is sufficiently to be vindicated from all 
 imperfection, if Ave have sufficient reason for all the pro- 
 pensions and determinations of it, whether from the value 
 of the things willed, or from his own sovereignty who 
 wills them." In the present case, we need not doubt to af- 
 firm, that the obedience and felicity of all men, is of that 
 value, as whereunto a propension of Avill, by only simple 
 complacency, is proportionable. Yet that his not procur- 
 ing, as to all, (by such courses as he more extraordinarily 
 takes with some,) that they_^hall, in event, obey and be 
 happy, is upon so mitch more valuable reasons (as there 
 will be further occasion to show ere long) as that, not to do 
 it was more eligible, with the higher complacency of a 
 determinntive will. And since the public declarations of 
 his good will, towards all men, import no more than the 
 former, and do plainly import so much ; their correspond- 
 ency to the matter declared is sufficiently apparent. And 
 so is the congruity of both with his prescience of the event. 
 For though, when God urges and incites men, by exhorta- 
 tions, promises, and threats, to the doing of their OAvn part, 
 (which it is most agreeable to his holy, gracious nature to 
 do,) Jie foresee many will not be moved thereby ; but per- 
 sist in wilful neglect and rebellions till they perish : he, at 
 the same time, sees thai they might do otherwise, and that, 
 if they would comply with his methods, things would 
 otherwise issue with them. His prescience, no way, im- 
 posing upon them a necessity to transgress. For they do 
 it not because he foreknew it, but he only foreknew it be- 
 cause they would do so. And hence he had, as it was ne- 
 cessary he should have, not only this for the object of his 
 foreknowledge that they would do amiss and perish ; but 
 the whole case in its circumstances, that they would do so, 
 not through his omission, but their own. And there had 
 been no place left for this state of the case, if the public 
 
 edicts and manifests had not gone forth, in this tenor, as 
 they have. So that the consideration of his prescience 
 being taken in, gives us only, in the whole, this state of 
 the case, that he foresaw men would not take that course 
 which he truly declared himself willing they should (and 
 was graciously ready to assist them in it) in order to their 
 own well-being. Whence all complaint of insincere deal- 
 ing is left without pretence. 
 
 Sect. XXIII. Nor (as we also undertook to show) 
 could any course (within our prospect) have been taken, 
 that was fit, in itself, and more agreeable to sincerity. 
 There are only these two ways to be thought on besides ; 
 either, that God should wholly have forborne to make 
 overtures to men in common ; or, that he should effica- 
 ciously have overpowered all into a compliance with them. 
 And there is little doubt, but upon sober consideration, 
 both of these will be judged altogether unfit. l!he former ; 
 inasmuch as it had been most disagreeable — to the exact 
 measures of his government, to let a race of sinful crea 
 tures persist, through many successive ages, in apostacy 
 and rebellion, when the characters of that law, first writ- 
 ten in man's heart, were in so great a measure outworn, 
 and become illegible ; without renewing the impression, 
 in another way, and re-asserting his right and authority, 
 as their Ruler and Lord ; — to the holiness of his nature, 
 not to send into the world such a declaration of his will, 
 as might be a standing testimony against the impurity 
 whereinto it was lapsed ; — to the goodness of it, not to 
 make known upon what terms, and for whose sake, he was 
 reconcileable ; and — to the truth of the thing, since he 
 really had such kind propensions towards men in common, 
 not to make them known : — that it had, itself, been more 
 liable to the charge of insincerity, to have concealed from 
 men what was real truth, and of so much concernment to 
 them. And he did, in revealing them, but act his own 
 nature ; the goodness whereof is no more lessened, by 
 man's refusal of its offers, than his truth can be made of 
 none effect by their disbelief of its assertions : besides the 
 great use such an extant revelation of the way of recovery 
 was to be of, to those that should obediently comply with 
 it, even after they should be won so to do. 
 
 Sect. XXIV. "And the latter we may also apprehend 
 very unfit too ; though, because that is less obvious, it re- 
 quires to be more largely insisted on. For it would seem 
 that if we do not effect any thing which we have a real 
 will unto, it must proceed from impotency, and that we 
 cannot do it, which, who would say of the great Godi 
 Herein, therefore, we shall proceed by steps. And gradu- 
 ally offer the things that follow to consideration. 
 
 As, that it were indeed most repugnant to the notion of 
 a Deity, to suppose any thing, which includes in it no 
 contradiction impossible to God, considered according to 
 that single attribute of power only. But yet we must add, 
 that this were a very unequal way of estimating what 
 God can do, that is, to consider him as a mere Being of 
 power. For the notion of God so conceived, were very 
 inadequate to him, which taken entirely, imports the com- 
 prehension of all perfections. So that they are two very 
 distant questions, — What the power of God alone could 
 do 1 and — What God can do 1 And whereas to the for- 
 mer the answer would be, — whatsoever is not in itself 
 repugnant to be done. To the latter, it must only be, — 
 whatsoever it becomes or is agreeable to a Being every way 
 perfect to do. And so it is to be attributed to the excel- 
 lency of his nature, if amongst all things not simply im- 
 possible, there be any, which it may be truly said he can- 
 not do. Or, it proceeds not from the imperfection of his 
 power, but from the concurrence of all other perfections 
 in him. Hence his own word plainly affirms of him that 
 he cannot lie. And by common consent it will he ac- 
 knowledged, that he cannot do any unjust act whatsoever. 
 
 To this I doubt not we may with as common suffrage 
 (when the matter is considered) subjoin, that his wisdom 
 doth as much limit the exercise of his power, as his righte- 
 ousness or his truth doth. And that it may with as much 
 confidence, and clearness, be said and understood, that he 
 cannot do an unwise or imprudent act as an unjust. 
 Further, that as his righteousness corresponds to the jus- 
 tice of things, to be done or not done, so doth his wisdom 
 to the congruity or fitness. So that he cannot do what it
 
 OF GODS PRESCIENCE, &c. 
 
 125 
 
 is unfit for him to do, because lie is wise ; and because he 
 
 is most perfectly and infinitely -wise, therefore nothing that 
 is less fit. Butwhatsoever is fittest, when a coinpari;>on 
 is made between doing this or that, or between doing and 
 not doing, that the perfection of his nature renders neces- 
 sary to him, and the opposite part impossible. Again, that 
 this measure must be understood to have a very large and 
 most general extent unto all the affairs of his government, 
 the object it concerns being so very large. We, in our 
 observation, may take notice, that fewer questions can 
 occur concerning what is right or wrong, than what is fit 
 or unfit. And whereas any man may in a moment be 
 honest, if he have a mind to it; very few (and that by 
 long experience) can ever attain to be wise. The things 
 about which justice is conversant being reducible to cer- 
 tain rules, but wisdom supposes very general knowledge of 
 things scarce capable of such reduction. And is, besides, 
 the primary requisite, in any one that bears rule over 
 others: and must therefore most eminently influence all 
 the managements of the Supreme Ruler. 
 
 Sect. XXV. It is moreover to be considered, that in- 
 numerable congruities lie open to the Infinite Wisdom, 
 which are never obvious to our view or thought. As to a 
 well-studied scholar, thousands of coherent notions, which 
 an illiterate person never thought of; to a practised cour- 
 tier, or well-educated gentleman, many decencies and inde- 
 cencies, in the matter of civil behaviour and conversation, 
 which an unbred rustic knows nothing of; and to an ex- 
 perienced statesman, those importancies, which never 
 occur to the thoughts of him who daily follows the plough. 
 What government is there that hath not its arcana, pro- 
 found mysteries, and reasons of state, that a vulgar wit 
 cannot dive into 1 And from whence, the account to be 
 given, why this or that is done or not done, is not, always, 
 that it would have been unjust it should be otherwise, but 
 it had been imprudent. And many things are, hereupon, 
 judged necessary not from the exigency of justice, but 
 reason of state. Whereupon men of modest and sober 
 minds, that have had experience of the wisdom of their 
 governors and their happ)' conduct, through a considerable 
 tract of time ; when they see things done by them, the 
 leading reasons whereof they do not understand, and the 
 effect and success comes not yet in view, suspend their 
 censure ; while as 5'et all seems to them obscure, and 
 wrapt up in clouds and darkness. Yea though the course 
 that is taken have, to their apprehension, an ill aspect. 
 Accounting it becomes them not, to make a judgment of 
 things so far above their reach, and confiding in the tried 
 wisdom of their rulers, who, they believe, see reasons for 
 what they do, into which they find themselves unable to 
 penetrate. With how much more submiss and humble 
 veneration, ought the methods of the Divine government 
 to be beheld and adored, upon the certain assurance we 
 have, *hat all things therein are managed by that wisdom, 
 which could never in an v thing mistake its way ! Where- 
 as, there was never any continued administration of human 
 government, so accurate and exact, but that after some 
 tract of lime, some or other errors might be reflected on 
 therein. 
 
 Again, it may further be said, M'ithout presuming beyond 
 due bounds, that though infinite congruities musl be sup- 
 po.sed to lie open to the divine understanding, which are 
 concealed from ours, yet that these two things in the gene- 
 ral are very manifestly congruous to any sober attentive 
 mind, that directly concern, or mav be a]iplied to the case 
 under our present consideration, riz. That the course of 
 God's government over the world, be, for the most part, 
 steady, and uniform: not interrupted by ver\' frequent, 
 extraordinary, and anomalous actions. And again, That 
 he use a royal liberty, of stepping out of his usual course, 
 sometimes, as he sees meet. 
 
 It cannot but appear to such as attend, highly incon- 
 gruous, should we affirm the antithesis to either of these; 
 or lay down counter-positions to them, and suppose the 
 course of the Divine government to be managed agreeablj'- 
 thereunto. 
 
 Sect. XXVI. For, as fo the former; what confusion 
 would it make in the world, if there should be perpetual 
 innovations upon nature ; continual or exceeding frequent 
 impeditions, and restraints of second causes. In the 
 
 sphere of nature, the virtues and proper qualities of things, 
 
 being never certain, could never be understood, or knowTi. 
 In that of policy, no measures, so much as piobable, 
 could ever be taken. How much better is it, in both, that 
 second cau.ses ordinarily follow their inclinations! And 
 why is it not to be thought congruous, that, in some de- 
 gree, things should be proportionably so, in the sphere of 
 grace 1 whereto by and by we shall speak more direct- 
 ly. We pray, when our friends are sick, for their recovery. 
 What can be the sober meaning and design of such 
 prayers! Not that God would work a miracle for their 
 restitution, (for then we might as well pray for their revival 
 after death,) but, that God would be pleased so to co-ope- 
 rate, in the still and silent way of nature, with second 
 causes, and so bless means, that they may be recovered, 
 if he see good. Otherwise that they and we may be pre- 
 pared to undergo his pleasure. And agreeable hereto 
 ought to be the intent of our prayers, in reference to the 
 public affairs, and better po.sture of the world. And we 
 may take notice, the Divine wisdom lays a ver}' great stress 
 upon this matter, the preserving of this common order of 
 things ; and cannot but observe a certain inflexibleness of 
 Providence herein. And that it is very little apt to divert 
 from its wonted course. At which weak minds are apt to 
 take offence : to wonder, that against so many prayers and 
 tears God will let a good man die ; or one w hom they 
 love; or that a miracle is not wrought to prevent their 
 own being wronged at any time; or, that the earth doth 
 not open and swallow up the person that halh done them 
 wrong : are apt to call for fire from heaven, upon them 
 that are otherwise minded, and do otherwise than they 
 would have them. But a judicious person would consider, 
 if it be so highly reasonable that my desires should be 
 complied with so extraordinarih^, then why not all men'sl 
 And then were the world filled with prodigies and con- 
 fusion. The inconveniencies would soon be to all equally 
 discernible and intolerable : (as the heathen poet takes 
 notice, should Jupiter's ear be over-ea.sy ;) yea, and the im- 
 pos.sibility were obvious of gratifying all, "because of their 
 many counter-desires. 
 
 And for the other, it were no less incongruous, if the 
 Supreme Power should so tie its own hands, and be so 
 astricted to rules and methods, as never to do anv thing 
 extraordinary, upon never so important occasion. How ill 
 could the world have wanted such an effort of omnipo- 
 tency, as the restriction upon the flames from destroying 
 Shadrach, Meshach, and Abediiego ! or the miracles 
 wrought in our Saviour's and the next following days! 
 Such things are never done, but when the all-compre- 
 hending wisdom sees it most congruous ; and that the 
 cause will over-recompense the deflection from the common 
 course. If no such thing did ever fall out, what a tempta- 
 tion were it to mankind, to introduce into their belief an 
 unintelligent fate instead of a Deity! Besides that the 
 convincing testimony were wanting, which we see is so 
 necessary for the confirmation of any particular revelation 
 from God, which comes not within the compass of nature's 
 discovery, (upon which account also, it is as apparently 
 necessary such extraordinary works should not be over- 
 frequent, for then they become ordinary, and useless to 
 that special end,) so that here the exertions both of the 
 ordinate and absolute power of God (as some distinguish) 
 have their so appropriate, and so visibly apt and congruous, 
 uses, that they are discernible to a very ordinary under- 
 standing, how much more to the infinite wisdom of God ! 
 
 Sect. XXVII, Now hereupon we say further, there is 
 the like congruity, upon as valuable (thouerh not altogether 
 the same) reasons that, in the affairs of grace, there be 
 somewhat correspondent : that, ordinarily, it he sought 
 and expected, in the use of ordinary means. And that, 
 sometimes, its sovereignty show itself in preventing exer- 
 tions; and in working so heroically, as none have, before- 
 hand, in the neglect of its ordinary methods, any reason ic 
 expect. And we may fitly add, that where sovereignty is 
 pleased thus to have its exercise and demonstrate iiseli", it 
 is sufficient that there be a general congruity. that it do so 
 sometimes, as an antecedent reason to the doii^g of some 
 such extraordinary things, but that there should be a par- 
 ticular, leading congruity or antecedent reason, to invite 
 those extraordinary operations of grace, to one person more
 
 196 
 
 THE RECONCILE ABLENESS, &c. 
 
 than another, is not necessary. But it is most congruous, 
 that, herein, it be most arbitrary ; most agreeable to the 
 supremacy of God; to the state of sinful man, who hath 
 infinitely disobliged him, and can deserve nothing from 
 him ; yea, and even to the nature of the thing. For, 
 whcrethere is a parity, in any objects of our own choice, 
 there can be no leading reason to this, rather than that. 
 The most prudent man, that is wont to guide himself by 
 never so exquisite wisdom, in his daily actions, where 
 there is a perfect indifferency, between doing this thing or 
 that, is not liable to censure, that he is not able to give a 
 reason why he did that, not the other. Wisdom halh no 
 exercise in that case. 
 
 But that the blessed God doth ordinarily proceed in 
 these affairs, by a steady rule, and sometimes show his 
 liberty of departing from it, is to be resolved into his 
 infinite wisdom, it being, in itself, most fit he should do 
 both the one and the other; and therefore to him most 
 necessary. Whereupon, the great apostle Saint Paul, dis- 
 coursing upon the subject, doth not resolve the matter 
 into strict justice, nor absolute sovereignly; (both which 
 have their place too, in his proceedings with men, as the 
 sacred writings do abundantly testify ;) but we find him in 
 a transport, in the contemplation of the Divine wisdom, 
 that herein so eminently shines forth. O the depths of 
 the riches both of the wisdom and knowledge of God! 
 how unsearchable are his judgments, and his ways past 
 finding out ! d 
 
 Sect. XXVIII. To sum up all, we conclude it obvious 
 to the apprehension of such as consider, that it was more 
 congruous the general course of God's government over 
 man should be by moral instruments. And howsoever 
 it were very unreasonable to imagine, that God cannot in 
 any case extraordinarily oversway tlie inclinations, and 
 determine the will of such a creature, in a way agreeable 
 enough to its nature, (though we particularly know not, 
 as we are not concerned to know, or curiously to inquire 
 in what way,) and highly reasonable to admit that in many 
 cases he doth. It is notwithstanding manifest, to any 
 sober reason, that it were very incongruous, this should be 
 the ordinary course of his conduct towards mankind, or 
 the same persons at all times. That is, that a whole order 
 of intelligent creatures should be moved only by inward 
 impulses ; that God's precepts, promises, and commina- 
 tions, whereof their nature is capable, should be all made 
 impertinencies, through his constant ov^erpowering those 
 that should neglect them ; that the faculties, whereby men 
 are capable of moral government, should be rendered, to 
 this purpose, useless and vain ; and that they should be 
 tempted to expect to be constantly managed as mere ma- 
 chines, that know not their own use. 
 
 Nor is it less apprehensible, how incongruous it were 
 also, on the other hand, to suppose that the exterior frame 
 of God's government should be totally unaccompanied 
 with an internal vital energy; or exclude the inward mo- 
 tions, operations, and influences, whereof such a creature 
 is also fitly capable; or that God should have barred out 
 himself from all inward access to the .spirits of men, or 
 commerce, with them : that the supreme, universal, pater- 
 nal Mind (as a heathen called it) should have no way for 
 efficacious communications to his own offspring, when he 
 pleases ; that so (unsuitably to sovereignty) he should have 
 no objects of special favour, or no peculiar ways of ex- 
 pressing it. It is manifestly congruous that the Divine 
 government over man, should be (as it is) mixed or com- 
 posed of an external frame of laws, with their proper sanc- 
 tions and inforcements, and an internal effusion of power 
 and vital influence, correspondent to the several parts of 
 that frame ; and which might animate the whole, and use 
 it, as instrumental, to the begetting of correspondent im- 
 pressions on men's spirits; — that this power be put forth, 
 not like that of a natural agent, ad uUimum, (which if we 
 would suppose the Divine power to be, new worlds must 
 be springing up every moment,) but gradually, and with 
 an apt contemperation to the subject, upon which it is de- 
 signed ; to have its operations and withal arbitrarily, as is 
 becoming the great Agent from whom it proceeds, and to 
 whom it therefore belongs to measure its exertions, as 
 
 il Rom xi. 33. See to the sarao purpose, ch xvi. 25, 26, 27. and Eph. i. 5,6, 
 7 with the 8th. 
 
 seems meet unto him: — that it be constant.y put forth 
 (though most gratuitously, especially the disoldigation of 
 the apostacy being considered) upon all to that degi ee, as 
 that they be enabled to do much good, to which they are 
 not impelled by it : — that it be ever ready (since it is the 
 power of grace) to go forth in a further degree than it had 
 yet done, wheresoever any former issues of it have been 
 duly complied with. Though it be so little supposable that 
 man should hereby have obliged God thereto, that he lialh 
 not any way obliged himself, oiherwi.se, than that he hath 
 implied a readiness to impart unto man what shall be ne- 
 cessary to enable him to obey, so far as, upon the apostacy, 
 is requisite to his relief: if he seriously endeavour to do 
 his own part, by the power he already hath received. Agree- 
 ably to the common saying, hovtini facienti qvod in se est, 
 4-c. That, according to the royal liberty wherewith it 
 works it go forth, as to some, with that efficacy, as not- 
 withstanding whatever resistance, yet to overcome, and 
 make them captives to the authority and love of Christ. 
 
 Sect. XXIX. The universal, continued rectitude of all 
 intelligent creatures had, we may be sure, been willed 
 with a peremptory, efficacious Avill, if it had been best. 
 That is, if it had not been less congruous than to keep 
 them sometime (under the expectation of future confirma- 
 tion and reward) upon trial of their fidelity, and in a state 
 wherein it might not be impossible to them to make a de- 
 fection. And so it had easily been prevented, that ever 
 there should have been an apostacy from God, or any sin 
 in the world. Nor was il either less easy, by a mighty 
 irresistible hand, universally to expel sin, than prevent it; 
 or more necessary or more to be expected from him. But 
 if God's taking no such course, tended to render his go- 
 vernment over the world more august and awful for the 
 present, and the result and final issue of all things more 
 glorious at length, and Avere consequently more congru- 
 ous ; that could not be so Avilled, as to be effectually pro- 
 cured by hiin. For whatsoever obligation strict justice 
 hath upon us, that congruity cannot but have upon him. 
 And whereas it would be concluded, that whatsoever any 
 one truly wills, they would effect if they could, we admit 
 it for true, and to be applied in the present ca.se. But 
 add. That as we righly esteem that impossible to us, 
 which we cannot justly do, so is that to him, not only 
 which he cannot do justly, but which, upon the whole 
 matter, he cannot do most wisely also. That is, which his 
 infinite wisdom dolh not dictate is most congruous and 
 fit to be done. 
 
 Things cohere and are held together, in the course of 
 his dispensation, by congruities as by adamantine bands, 
 and cannot be otherwise. That is, comparing and taking 
 things together, especially the most important. For other- 
 wise, to have been nicely curious about every minute 
 thing, singly considered, that it might not possibly have 
 been iDeiler, (as in the frame of this or that individual ani- 
 mal or the like,) had been needlessly to interrupt the 
 course of nature, and therefore, itself, to him an incongru- 
 ity. And dolh, in them that expect it, import more of a 
 trifling disposition than of true wisdom. But to him 
 whose being is most absolutely perfect, to do that which, 
 all things considered, would be simply best, i. e. most 
 becoming him, most honourable and Godlike, is abso- 
 lutely necessary. And consequently, it is to be attributed 
 to his infinite perfection, that, unto him, to do otherwise, 
 is absolutely impossible. And if we yet see not all these 
 congruities which, to him, are more than a law ; it is 
 enough that they are obvious to his own eye, who is the 
 only competent Judge. Yet, moreover, it is finally to be 
 considered, that the methods of the Divine government 
 are, besides his, to be exposed to the view and judgment 
 of other intellects than our own, and we expect they should 
 to our own, in another state. What conception thereof is, 
 already, received and formed in our minds, is but an em- 
 bryo, no less imperfect than our present state is. 
 
 It were very unreasonable to expect, since this world 
 shall continue but a little while, that all God's manage- 
 ments, and ways of procedure, in ordering the great affairs 
 of it, should be attempered and fitted to the judgment 
 that shall be made of them in this temporary slate, that
 
 A POSTSCRIPT TO THE LATE LETTER, &c. 
 
 127 
 
 will so soon be over; and to the present apprehension and 
 capacity of our now so muddied and distempered minds. 
 A vasi and stable eternity remains, wherein the whole ce- 
 lestial chorus shall entertain themselves with the grateful 
 contemplation and applause of his deep counsels. Such 
 things as now seem perplex and intricate to us, will 
 appear most irreprehensibly fair and comely to angeli- 
 cal minds, and our own, when we shall be vouchsafed a 
 place amongst that happy community. What discovery 
 God affords of his own glorious excellencies and perfec- 
 tions, is principally intended to recommend him in that 
 state wherein he, and all his ways and works, are to be 
 beheld with everlasting and most complacential approba- 
 tion. Therefore though now we should covet the clearest 
 and most satisfying account of things that can be had, we 
 are yet to exercise patience, and not precipitate our judg- 
 ment of them before the time: as knowing our present 
 conceptions will differ more from what they will be here- 
 after, than those of a child from the maturer thoughts of 
 the wisest man. And that many of our conceits, M'hich 
 
 we thought wise, we shall then see cause to put away 
 childish things. 
 
 The disorder. Sir, of this heap rather than frame of 
 thoughts and discourse, as it cannot be thought more un- 
 .suitable to the .subject, than suitable to the author ; and 
 the less displease, by how much it could less be expected 
 to be otherwise, from him, even in the best circumstances; 
 so it may lay .some claim to your ea.sier pardon, as having 
 been, mostly, huddled up in the intervals of a troublesome, 
 long journey. Wherein he was rather willing to lake what 
 opportunity the inconveniences and hurry of it could allow 
 him, than neglect any, of using the earliest endeavour to 
 approve himself, as he is your great admirer, 
 
 Most honoured Sir, 
 
 Your most obedient Immble servant, 
 
 H. W. 
 
 A POSTSCRIPT 
 
 TO THE LATE LETTER 
 
 OF THE RECONCILEABLENESS OF GOD'S PRESCIENCE, &c. 
 
 Finding that this discourse of the reconcilcablcriess of 
 God's prescience of the sins of vien, with the icisdom and, 
 sincerity of his counsels, exhortations, (f-c. ha'.h been mis- 
 understood and misrepresented ; I think it requisite to say 
 somewhat briefly in reference thereto. I wrote it upon the 
 motion of that honourable gentleman to whom it is in- 
 scribed ; who apprehended somewhat of that kind might 
 be of use to render our religion less exceptionable to some 
 persons of an inquiring disposition, that might perhaps be 
 too sceptical and pendulous, if not prejudiced. Having 
 finished it, I thought it best the author's name should 
 pass under some disguise, supposing it might .so better 
 serve its end : for knowing my name could not give the 
 cause an advantage, I was not willing it should be in a 
 possibility of making it incur any disadvantage. And 
 therefore, as I have observed some, in such cases, to make 
 use only of the two last letters, I imitated some other, in 
 the choice of the pcn^uUimate . But perceiving that dis- 
 course now to fall under animadversion, I reckon it be- 
 coming to be no longer concealed. It was unavoidable to 
 me, if I would, upon reasonable terms, apply myself 
 to the consideration of the matter I had undertaken, of 
 showing the consistency of God's prescience of the sins 
 of men, with the preventive methods we find him to have 
 used against them, to express .somewhat of my sense of 
 (what I well knew to have been asserted by divers school- 
 men) God's predeterminative concurrence to the sins of 
 men also. For it had been (any one may see) very idle 
 and ludicrous trifling, to offer at reconciling those methods 
 with God's prescience, and have waived that manifestly 
 greater diSiculty of J'econciling them with his predetermi- 
 native concourse, if I had thought there had been such a 
 thing. And were a like case, as if a chirurgeon, under- 
 talring a wounded person, should apply himself, with a 
 great deal of diligence and address, to the cure of a finger 
 slightly .scratched; and totally neglect a wound feared to 
 be mortal in his breast. 
 
 And whereas I reckoned God's prescience of all what- 
 soever futurities, and consequently of the sins of men, 
 most certain and demonstrable, (though it was not the 
 business of this discourse to demonstrate it, but, supposing 
 it, to show its reconcileableness with what it seemed not 
 so well to agree,) if I had believed his predeterminative 
 
 concurrence to the sins of men to be as certain ; perfect 
 despair of being able to say any thing to purpose in this 
 case, had made me resolve lo say nothing in either. For. 
 to show how it might stand with the wisdom and sincerity 
 of the blessed God, to counsel men not to sin, to profess 
 his hatred and detestation of it, to remonstrate to men the 
 great danger they should incur by it ; with so great ap- 
 pearance of seriousness to exhort, warn, expostulate with 
 them concerning it, express his great displeasure and grief 
 for their sinning, and consequent miseries; and yet all the 
 while act them on thereto, by a secret, but might)' and 
 irresistible, influence, seemed to me an utterly hopeless 
 and impossible undertaking. The other, without this, 
 (supposing, as *o this, the case to have been as some have 
 thought it.) a very vain one. But being well assured, thai 
 what seemed the greater difficulty, and to carry most of 
 terror and affright in the face of it, was only a chimera; I 
 reckoned the other very superable, and therefore directed 
 my discourse thither, according to the first design of it, 
 which was in effect but to justify God's making such a 
 creature as man, and governing him agreeably to his nature. 
 Now judging it requisite, that he who should read tha' 
 discourse concerning this designed subject, with any aa 
 vantage, should have the same thoughts of the other 
 which was waived, that I had ; I apprehended it necessarj' 
 to communicate those thoughts concerning that, as I did. 
 Not operosely, and as my business, but only on the bye, 
 and asAvas fit in reference to a thing that was to he waived, 
 and not insisted on. Now I perceive that some persons, 
 who had formerly entertained that strange opinion of 
 God's predeterminative concurrence to the wickedest ac- 
 tions, and not purged their minds of it, have been offended 
 with that letter, for not expressing more respect unto it. 
 And yet offered nothing themselves, (which to me seems 
 exceedinar strange,) for the solving of that great difficulty 
 and encumbrance, which it infers upon our religion. Nor 
 do I much wonder, that this opinion of predeterminative 
 concourse, to sinful actions, should have some stiff ad- 
 herents among ourselves. For having been entertained by 
 certain Dominicans, that were apprehended in some things 
 to approach nearer us, than others of the Roman church ; 
 it came to receive favotir and countenance from some of 
 our own, of considerable note for piety and learning, whose
 
 128 
 
 A POSTSCRIPT TO THE 
 
 name and authority cannot but be expected to have iiiiicli 
 influence on ihe minds of many. Knt I .somewhat 
 wonder, that they who have had no kindnes.s for thi.s letter, 
 upon the account of it.s di.s.sent from them, in this par- 
 ticular, .should not allow it common justice. For because 
 it hath not said every thing they would have had it say, 
 and that would have been grateful to them.selves, tliey 
 im{)ule to it the having said what it said not, and what 
 they appreliended would be most ungrateful to all pious 
 and sober men. The sum is, they give out concerning it, 
 that it denies the providence of God about sin, which all 
 good men ought to abhor from; and insinuate that it falls 
 in with the sentiments of Durandus, which they know 
 maiiv think not well of. 
 
 All thai I intend to do, for the present, upon this oc- 
 ca,sion, shall be to show wherein the letter is misrepre- 
 sented, and charged with what it hath not in it. To 
 remark what is .said against that supposed sense of it, and 
 give the true sense of what it says touching this matter; 
 with a further account of the author'.s mind herein than it 
 was thought fit to insert into .so transient and occasional a 
 <Ii.scourse as that part of the letter was. Whereby it may 
 be seen, ^'herein he agrees with those of that opposite 
 persuasion, and what the very point of difference is. 
 Further than this, I yet intend not to go, till I .see further 
 need. There have two discourses come to my view that 
 have referred to that letter. The one in manuscript only ; 
 which, because it is uncertain to me whether the reputed 
 author of it will own it or no, and because it says little 
 or nothing, by way of argument, against the true sen.^e of 
 the letter, I shall take no fnrlher present notice of The 
 other is printed, and oflers at somewhat of argument, 
 which therefore I shall more attentively consider. It doth 
 this letter an honour, whereof its author never had the 
 least ambition or expectation, to insert the mention of it 
 into the close of a very learned, elaborate work;'' with 
 which it might, yet, easily be imagined, its simplicity, anil 
 remoteness Irom any pretence to learning, would .so ill 
 agree, that a quarrel could not but ensue. It is from one, 
 who having spent a great part of his time in travelling 
 through some regions of literature, and been peaceable, a.s 
 fur as I hav'e understood, in his travels; it might have 
 been hoped would have let this pamphlet alone, when, for 
 what I can observe, he finds no fault with it but what he 
 makes, and is fain to accuse it of what is no where to be 
 found in it, lest it should be innocent. 
 
 It is an unaccoimtable pleasure which men of some 
 humours take, in depraving what is done by others, when 
 there is nothing attempted that doth interfere with them ; 
 nothing that can, righteously, be understood to cross any 
 good end, which they more openly pretend to, nor the 
 more concealed end (if they have any such) of their oAvn 
 glory. Common edification seems less designed, when 
 every thing must be thrown down, which is not built by 
 their own hands, or by their own line and measure. I 
 plead nothing of merit in this little essay, only I say for 
 It, that I know not what it can be guilty of towards this 
 learned man, that can have occasioned this a.ssauU upon 
 it by his pen. By how much the less it keeps his road, the 
 more I might have thought it out of the way of his notice. 
 I am sure it meant him no harm, nor had any design to 
 pilfer from him any part of his collections. But he says, 
 he may not let it pa.ss. Then there is no remedy. But I 
 wonder what he should mean by he may not. It must 
 either mean, that he ihouijht it unlawful to let it pass, or 
 that he had a mighty strong and irresistible inclination to 
 .squabble a little with it. The former cannot be imagined. 
 For then, for the same rea,son, he would have attempted 
 sundry others of former and later days, that have said 
 much to the purpose, which this letter doth but touch 
 obiter, and on the bye, in its way to another design. But 
 those were giants, whom it was not so safe to meddle with. 
 Therefore he could very wisely let them pass, though they 
 have wounded his beloved cause, beyond all that it is in 
 the power of his (or any) art to cure. Whence it is con- 
 sequent, that the whole business must be resolved into the 
 latter. And this inclination cannot but owe itself to some 
 peculiar aspect and . eference he had to the author. Whom, 
 though he was incognito, yet (as I have been informed) 
 a Court of tlie Gentiles, part 2, page 522. 
 
 he professes to have discoursed with upon the same suo- 
 ject many times. And so, therefore, he miirht once more 
 before this public rencounter, if he had thought fit, and 
 nature could have been repelled awhile. 
 
 it is true, he hath found me not facile to entertam nis 
 sentiments in this matter. And indeed I have deeply 
 dreatled the portentous imaginations which I lound had 
 more lightly tinctured his mind, as to this thing, concerning 
 the blessed God. Than which, upon dehberalion, I do 
 believe, no human wit can ever devise worse. As I have 
 often freely told divers of my friends, and it is very likely, 
 among them, himself Though I do not suspect the con- 
 tagion to have infected his viials; by a privilege, vouch 
 safed to some, that they may possibly drink some deadly 
 thing that shall not hurt ihem. But why must an impa- 
 liency of this dissent break out into so vindictive an hos- 
 tility ] I will not say I expected more friendly dealing. 
 For, as I do well know it was very possible such a jjublic 
 contest might have been managed with that candour and 
 fairness, as not at all to intrench upon friendship ; io, as 
 it is, I need not own so much weakness, as upon many 
 years' experience, not to be able to distinguish and under- 
 stand there are some temjiers less capable of the ingenui- 
 ties that belong to that pleasant relation. But it was only 
 a charitable error, of which I repent not, that I expected a 
 more righteous dealing. 
 
 He pretends to give my sen.se in other words, and then 
 gravely falls to combating his own man of straw, which he 
 will have represent me, and so I am to be tortured in 
 effigy. It can never be proved, that it implies a contra- 
 diction, for God to make a creature, which should be ca- 
 pable of acting without immediate concourse. This he 
 puts in a difl^erent character, as if I had said so much. 
 And why might not my own words be allowed to speak 
 my own sense, but that his understanding and eyes must 
 then have conspiied to tell him, that the sense would have 
 been quite another 1 It is only a predeterminative concur- 
 rence to all actions, even those that are most malignantly 
 wicked, (p. 117.) and again, God's concurring by a deter- 
 minative influence unto wicked actions, (Jhid.) which is 
 the only thing I speak of; as what I cannot reconcile with 
 the wisdom and sincerity of his councils and exhortations, 
 against such actions. And if he had designed to serve any 
 common good end, in this undertaking of his, why did he 
 not attempt to reconcile them himself? But the wi.sdom 
 and sincerity of God are thought fit (as it would seem) 
 to be sacrificed to the reputation of his more peculiarly 
 admired schoolmen. If there be such a univer.sal deter- 
 mination, by an irresistible Divine influence, to all even 
 the wickedest actions, (which God forbid !) methinks such 
 a difficulty should not be so ea.sily past over. And surely 
 the reconciling such a determinative influence, with the 
 Divine wisdom and sincerity, had been a peiformance 
 worth all his learned labours besides, and of greater ser- 
 vice to the Christian name ar d lionour. 
 
 But it seems the denying concurrence by such predeter- 
 mining influence, is the denying of all immediate con- 
 currence. And I am sent to the Thomists, Scotists, Je- 
 suits, and Suarez, more especially to be taught oiliertvise. 
 As if all these were for determinative concourse. Which 
 is very pleasant, when the very heads of the two first- 
 mentioned sects were against it, as we shall see further 
 anon, the third generally, and Suarez particularly, whom 
 he names, have so industriously and strongly opposed it. 
 Yea and because I assent not to the doctrine of predetermi- 
 native concourse, I am rej)resented (which was the last 
 spite that was to be done me) as a favourer of the hypo- 
 theses of Durandus. And he might as truly liave said of 
 Henry Nicholas, but not so prudently, because he knows 
 whose opinions have a nearer alliance to that family. Kow 
 I heartily wish I had a ground for so much charity to- 
 wards him, as to suppo.se him ignorant that immediate 
 concour.se, and determinative, are not wont to be used by 
 the schoolmen, in this controversy, as terms of the same 
 signification. If he do himself think them to be all one, 
 what warrant is that to him to give the same for my sen.se ? 
 When 'lis so well known they are not commonlv so taken, 
 and that determinative concourse is so voluminously 
 written against, where immediate is expressly asserted[
 
 LETTER ON GOD'S PRESCIENCE, &c. 
 
 129 
 
 Let him but soberly iell me, what his design was, lo dash 
 out the word determining from what he recites of that letter, 
 and put in immediate, which he knows is not to be found 
 in any of the places he refers to in it. Or what was the 
 spring of that confidence that made him intimaie the 
 Scotists, Thomists, the Jesuists, and particularly Suarez, 
 to be against what is said in the letter, in this thing ] If 
 he could procure all the books in the world to be burnt, 
 besides those in his own library, he would yet have a harcj 
 task to make it be believed inthe next age, that all these 
 were for God's efficacious determination of the wills of 
 men unto wicked actions. 
 
 1 need not, after all this, concern m3rself as to what he 
 says about the no medium between the extremes of his dis- 
 junctive proposition. Either the human will must depend 
 upon the divine independent will of God, &c. (as he phrases 
 it in the excess of his caution, lest any should think the 
 will of God was not a divine will,) or God must depend 
 on the human will, &.c. Unless he can show that the 
 human will cannot be said to depend on the divine, as 
 being enabled by it, except it be also determined and im- 
 pelled by it, to every wicked action. A created being that 
 was entirely from God, with all the powers and faculties 
 which belong to it; that hath its continual subsistence in 
 him, and all tliose powers continued, and maintained by 
 his influence ever}'' moment; that hath those powers made 
 habile, and apt for whatsoever its most natural motions 
 and operations, b}^ a suitable influence whensoever it moves 
 or operates : can this creature be said not to depend, as to 
 all its motions and operations, unless it be also unavoid- 
 ably impelled to do every thing lo which it is thus suf- 
 ficiently enabled "? 
 
 I again say, was it impossible to God to make such a crea- 
 ture that can, in lliis case, act or not act 1 It is here oddly 
 enough said, that the author gives no demonstration hereof. 
 Of what 1 Why that it can never be proved (as the reference 
 to the foregoing words shows) that it implies a contradic- 
 tion, &c. It seems it was expected that author should 
 have proved by demonstration, that it can never be proved, 
 that it implies a contradiction for God to make a creature, 
 which should be capable of acting (as he feigns him to have 
 said) without immediate concourse. By what rule of rea- 
 soning was he obliged to do sol But if the proving there 
 is such a creature, as in the case before expressed can act 
 without determinative concourse, will serve turn to prove, 
 that it cannot be proved, it implies a contradiction there 
 should be such a one ; I may think the thing was done. 
 And may think it sulhciently proved, that there is such a 
 creature ; if it appear (whereof there is too much proof) 
 that there are such actions done by creatures, as for the 
 reasons that were before alleged, it could stand with the 
 nature of God to determine them unto. And was nothing 
 said tending to prove this, that it could not consist with 
 the nature of God, to determine men unto all the wicked 
 actions they commit! It seems unless it were put into 
 mood and figure, 'tis no proof. Nor was it the design of 
 those papers to insist upon that subject ; but there are 
 things suggested in transi/u, as such a discourse could 
 admit, that whether they are demonstrative or no, would 
 puzzle a considering person. That God should have as 
 much influence and concurrence to the worst actions, as 
 to the be.st. As much or more than the sinner or the 
 tempter. That the matter of his laws to Adam, and his 
 posterity, should be a natural impossibility. And I now 
 add, the irreconcileableness of that determination, with 
 God's wisdom and sincerit3\ &c. These I shall reckon 
 demonstrations, till I see them well answered. 
 
 However, if mine were a bad opinion, why was it not as 
 confutable without the mention of Durandus ? But that 
 was, with him, an odious name ; and fit, therefore, to im- 
 press the brand, which he desired I should wear for his 
 sake. This is a likely way to clear the truth ! Yet if it 
 serve not one design, it will another, he thinks, upon which 
 he was more intent. A re all for Durandus's way that ai'e 
 against a predeterminative influence to wicked actions ? 
 I could tell him who have shown more strength in arguing 
 against Durandus, than I find in all his arguments : who 
 yet have written, too, against determinative concourse to 
 such actions, more than ever he will be able to answer, or 
 
 b L. 2. Dist. 1. Q,. 5. D. 37. Q. 1. c Dist. 1. 2. 5. ut siipr. 
 
 any man. The truth is, when I wrote that letter, I had 
 never seen Durandus. Nor indeed did I consult any book 
 for the writing of it, (as I had not opportunity, if 1 had 
 been so inclined,) except, upon some occasions, the Bible. 
 Not apprehending it necessary to number votes, and con- 
 sider how many men's thoughts were one way, and of how 
 many the other, before 1 would adventure to think any of 
 my own. But I have this day, upon the view of his ani- 
 madversions, taken a view of Durandus too: and really 
 cannot yet guess what should tempt him to parallel my 
 conceptions with Durandu.s's, but that he took his for some- 
 what an ill-favoured name. Durandus flatly, in several 
 places, denies God's immediate concourse to the actions of 
 the creatures, b Which I never said nor thought ; but do 
 really believe his immediate concourse, to all actions of his 
 creatures both immcdiatione virtutis, and supposili, (that 
 I may more comply with his scholastic humour, in the use 
 of such terms, than gratify my own,) yet not determina- 
 tive unto wicked actions. 
 
 Again, Durandus denies immediate concourse, univer- 
 sally, and upon such a ground, as whereupon, the denial 
 must eqtially extend to good actions as to bad ; riz. that 
 'tis impossible the same numerical action should be ixum 
 two or more agents immediately and perlectl)', except the 
 same numerical virtue should be in each. But he says 
 the same numerical virtue cannot be in God and in the 
 creature, &e. = Whereas he well knows the concourse or 
 influence (for I here affect not the curiosity lo distinguish 
 these two terms, as some dfi) which I deny not to be im- 
 mediate to any actions, I only deny lo be deieiminative, as 
 to those which are wicked. Yea, and the authors he quotes, 
 (sec. 11.) Aquinas and Scotiis, though every body may 
 know they are against what was ihe notion of Durandus, 
 yet are as much against himself, if he will directly oppose 
 that letter, and assert determinative concourse, to wicked 
 actions. They held immediate concourse not determina- 
 tive. The former, though he supposes Divine help in 
 reference to the elections of the human will, yet asserts the 
 elections themselves to be in man's own power, and only 
 says that in the executions of those elections men can be 
 hindered. That (whatsoever influence he asserts of the 
 first cause) men still, habent se in differ enter ad bent vel 
 malt eligendum. >' The other, though he also excludes not 
 the immediate efficacy of God in reference to the actions 
 of men, yet is so far from making it determinative, that ihe 
 reason he gives why, in evil actions, man sins, and God 
 does not, is that the one of those causes posset rcctitudinem 
 dare actui qvam tenctur dare: ct tamen non dut. Alia 
 autem, licet non tencotiir cam dare: tamen quantvvi est ex 
 se daret, sivohintas creata co-nperarclur ; ' in the veiy place 
 which himself refers to. Wherein they dift'er from this 
 author toto ca;lo, and from me, in that they make not deter- 
 minative influence necessary in reference to good actions, 
 which I expressly do. 
 
 Thus far it may be seen what pretence or colour he had 
 to make my opinions the same with Durandus's, or his 
 own the same with that of Thomas and Scotus. But if 
 he knew in what esteem I have the schoolmen, he would 
 hardly believe me likely to step one foot out of my way, 
 either to gain the reputation of any of their names, or avoid 
 the disreputation. He, notwithstanding, supposed his own 
 reputation to be so good (and I know no reason why he 
 might not suppose so) as to make it be believed 1 was any 
 thing he pleased to call me, by such as had not opportunity 
 to be otherwise informed. And thus 1 would take leave of 
 him, and permit him to use his own reflections upon his 
 usage of me, at his own leisure ; but that civility bids me 
 (since he is pleased to be at the pains of catechising me) 
 first to give some answer to the questions wherein he thus 
 expostulates with me. 
 
 CI. 1. Whether there be any action of man on earth so 
 good, which hath not some mixture of sin in if? And if 
 God concur lo the substrate matter of it as good, must he 
 not necessarily concur to the substrate matter as sinful 1 
 For is not the substrate matter of the act, boih as good and 
 sinful, the same 1 
 
 A. 1. It seems then, that God doth concur to the matter 
 of an action as .sinful. Which is honestly acknowledged, 
 since by his principles it cannot be denied; though most 
 
 d la Q. 83. c L. 2. Dist. 27. Q. 2.
 
 130 
 
 A POSTSCRIPT TO THE 
 
 of hh way mince the business, and say the concurrence 
 is only to the action which is sinful, not as sinful. 
 
 2. This I am to consider as an argument fur God's pre- 
 determinalive concurrence to wicked actions. And thus it 
 must be conceived : That if God concur by determinative 
 influence to the imperfectly good actions of faith, repent- 
 ance, lov^e to himself, prayer ; therefore to the acts of en- 
 mity against himself, cursing, idolatry, blasphemy, &c. 
 And is it not a mighty consequence 1 If to actions that 
 are good quoad substantiam, therefore to such as are in the 
 substance of them evil 1 We ourselves can, in a remoter 
 kind, concur to the actions of others : because you nray 
 afford, yourself, your leading concurrence to actions im- 
 perfectly good, therefore may you to them that are down- 
 right evil 1 because to prayer, therefore to cursing and 
 swearing 1 and then ruin men for the actions you induced 
 .hem to 1 You will say, God may rather, but sure he can 
 much less do so than you. How could you be serious in 
 .he proposal of this question 1 
 
 We are at a loss how it should consist with the Divine 
 wisdom, justice, goodness, and truth, to design the punish- 
 ing man, yet innocent, with everlasting torments, for ac- 
 tions which God, himself, would irresistibly move him to ; 
 whereas his making a covenant with Adam in reference 
 ■.0 himself and his posterity, implied there was a possibility 
 it might be kept; at least that he would not make the 
 keeping of it, by his own positive influence, impossible. 
 And you say, if he might concur to the substrate matter 
 of an action as good, (which tends to man's salvation and 
 blessedness,) he must necessarily concur (and that by an 
 .rresistible determinative influence, else you say nothing 
 10 me) to the substrate matter of all their evil actions, as 
 2vil, which tend to their ruin and misery, brought upon 
 '.hem by the actions which God makes them do. I sup- 
 pose St' Luke vi. 9. with Hos. xiii. 9. show a ditference. If 
 you therefore ask me, why I should not admit this conse- 
 quence 1 I say it needs no otlier answer, than that I take 
 wisdom, righteousness, goodness, and truth, to belong 
 more to the idea of God, than their contraries. 
 
 CL. 3. Is there any action so sinful that hath not some 
 natural good as the substrate matter thereof? 
 
 A. True. And what shall be inferred 1 That therefore 
 God must by a determinative influence produce every 
 such action whatsoever reason there be against it % You 
 might better argue thence the necessity of his producing, 
 every hour, a new world; in which there would be a great 
 deal more of positive entity, and natural goodness. Cer- 
 tainly the natural goodness that is in the entity of an action, 
 is no such invitation to the holy God by determinative 
 influence to produce it, as that he should offer violence 
 to his own nature, and stain the justice and honour of his 
 government, by making it be done, and then punish it 
 being done. 
 
 Q,. 3. Do we not cut off the most illustrious part of 
 Divine Providence in governing the lower world, &c. ? 
 
 A. What 1 by denying that 'tis the stated way of God's 
 government, to urge men, irresistibly, to all that wicked- 
 ness, for which he will afterwards punish them with ever- 
 lasting torments 1 I should least of all ever have expected 
 such a question to this purpose, and am ashamed further 
 to answer it. Only name any act of providence, I hereby 
 deny, if you can. In the next place, that my sense may 
 appear in my own words ; and that I may show how far 
 I am of the same mind with those that apprehend me at 
 so vast a distance from them; and where, if they go fur- 
 ther, our parting point must be ; I shall set down the par- 
 ticulars of my agreement with them, and do it in no other 
 heads than they might have collected, if they had pleased, 
 out of that letter. As, 
 
 1. That God exerciseth a universal providence about 
 all his creatures, both in sustaining and governing them. 
 
 2. That, more particularly, he exerciseth such a provi- 
 dence about man. 
 
 3. That this providence about man extends to all the 
 actions of all men. 
 
 4. That it consists not alone in beholding the actions of 
 men, as if he were a mere spectator of them only, but is 
 positively active about them. 
 
 5. That this active providence of God about all the 
 actions of men consists not merely in giving them the natu- 
 
 ral powers, whereby they can work of themselves, but in a 
 real influence upon those powers. 
 
 6. That this influence is in reference to holy and spirit- 
 ual actions (whereto since the apostacy the nature of man 
 is become viciously disinclined) necessary to be effica- 
 ciously determinative; such as shall overcome that disin- 
 clination, and redirce those powers into act. 
 
 7. That the ordinary, appointed way for the communi- 
 cation of this determinative influence, is by our intervening 
 consideration of the inducements which God represents to 
 us in his word, viz. the precepts, promises, and commina- 
 tions, which are the moral instruments of his government. 
 No doubt but he may (as is intimated in the letter) extra- 
 ordinarily act men in some rarer cases, by inward impulse, 
 without the help of such external means, as he did pro- 
 phets or inspired persons ; and when he hath done so, we 
 were not to think he treated them unagreeably to their 
 natures, or so as their natures could not, without violence, 
 admit. But it hath been the care and designment of the 
 Divine wisdom, so to order the way of dispensation to- 
 wards the several sorts of creatures, as not only not, ordi- 
 narily, to impose upon them what they could not conve- 
 niently be patient of, but so as that their poM'ers and 
 faculties might be put upon the exercises whereof they 
 were capable, and to provide that neither their passive 
 capacity should he overcharged, nor their active be unem- 
 ployed. And whereas the reasonable nature of man renders 
 him not only susceptible of unexpected internal impres- 
 sions, but also capaole of being governed by laws, which 
 requires the use of his own endeavour to understand and 
 obey them; and whereas we also find such laws are actu- 
 ally made for him, and propounded to him with their prc>- 
 per enforcements. If it should be the fixed course of God's 
 government over him, only to guide him by inward im- 
 pulses ; this (as is said in that letter) would render those 
 laws and their sanctions impertinencies, his faculties 
 whereby he is capable of moral government so far, and 
 to this purpose, useless and vain ; and would be an occa- 
 sion, which the depraved nature of man would be very apt 
 to abuse into a temptation to them, never to bind their 
 powers to the endeavour of doing any thing that were 
 of a holy and spiritual tendency, (from which their aver- 
 sion would be always prompting them to devise excuses,) 
 more than a mere machine would apply itself to the uses 
 which it was made for and doth not understand. 
 
 Therefore, lest any should be so unreasonable, as to ex- 
 pect God should only surprise them,Avhile they resolvedly 
 sit still and sleep; he hath, in his infinite wisdom, with- 
 held from them the occa' ion hereof; and left them desti- 
 tute of any encouragement (whatsoever his extraordinary 
 dealings may have been with some) to expect his influ- 
 ences, in the neglect of his ordinary methods, as is dis- 
 coursed p. 121. and at large in the following pases. And 
 which is the plain sense of that admonition, Phil. ii. 12, 
 13. Yea, and though there be never so many instances of 
 merciful surprisals, preventive of all our own considera- 
 tion and care, yet those are still to be accounted the ordi- 
 nary methods which are so dc jure, which would actually 
 be so, if men did their duty, and which God hath obliged 
 us to observe and attend unto as such. 
 
 8. That in reference to all other actions which are no; 
 sinful, though there be not a sinful disinclination to them, 
 yet because there may be a sluggishness and ineptitude to 
 some purposes God intends to serve by them, this influ- 
 ence is also always determinative thereunto; whensoever 
 to the immense wisdom of God shall seem meet, and con- 
 ducing to his own great and holy ends. 
 
 9. That, in reference to sinful actions, by this influence 
 God doth not only sustain men who do them, and con- 
 tinue to them their natural faculties and powers, whereby 
 they are done, but also, as the first mover, so far excite 
 and actuate those powers, as that they are apt and habile 
 for any congenerous action, to which they have a natural 
 designation ; and whereto they are not sinfully disin- 
 clined. 
 
 10. That, if men do then employ them to the doing of 
 any sinful action ; by that same influence, he doth, as to 
 him seems meet, limit, moderate, and, against the inclina- 
 tion and design of the sinful agent, overrule and dispose 
 it to good. But now if, besides all this, they will also
 
 LETTER ON GOD'S PRESCIENCE, &c. 
 
 131 
 
 assert; that God doth, by an efflcacious influence, move 
 and determine men to wicked actions. This is that 
 which I most resolvedly deny. Tliat is, in this I shall 
 ditfer with them, that I do not suppose God to have, by in- 
 ternal influence, as far a hand in the worst and wickedest 
 actions, as in the best. I assert more to be necessary to 
 actions to which men are wickedly disinclined ; but that 
 less will suffice for their doing of actions to which they 
 have inclination more than enough. I reckon it sufficient 
 to the production of this latter sort of actions, that their 
 powers be actually habile, and apt for any such action, in 
 the general, as is connatural to them ; supposing there be 
 not a peccant aversion, as there is to all those actions that 
 are holy and spiritual ; which aversion a more potent 
 (even a determinative) influence is necessary to overcome. 
 I explain myself by instance. 
 
 A man hath from God the powers belonging to his na- 
 ture, by which he is capable of loving or hating an appre- 
 hended good or evil. These powers being, by a present 
 Divine influence, rendered habile, and apt for action; he 
 can now love a good name, health, ease, life, and hate dis- 
 grace, sickness, pain, death : but he doth also by these 
 powers, thus habilitated for action, love wickedness, and 
 hate God. I say, now, that to those former acts God 
 should over and besides determine him, is not absolutely 
 and always necessary ; and to the latter, is impossible. 
 But that, to hate wickedness universally, and as such, and 
 to love God, the depravedness of his nature, by the apos- 
 tacy, hath made the determinative influence of efficacious 
 grace necessary. Which, therrfore, he hath indispensable 
 obligation (nor is destitute of encouragement) earnestly to 
 implore and pray for. My meaning is noAV plain to such 
 as have a mind to understand it. 
 
 Having thus given an account wherein I agree Avith 
 them, and wherein, if they please, I must differ. It may 
 perhaps be expected I should add further reasons of that 
 difference on my part. But I ;hall for the present forbear 
 to do it. I know it may be alleged, that some very pious 
 
 as well as learned men have been of their opinion. And 
 I seriously believe it. But that signifies nothing to the 
 goodness of the opinion. Nor doth the badness of it ex- 
 tinguish my charity nor reverence towards the men. For 
 I consider, that as many hold the most important truths, 
 and which most directly tend to impress the image of God 
 upon their souls, that yet are never stamped with any such 
 impression thereby ; so, it is not impossible some may have 
 held v^ery dangerous opinions, with a notional judgment, 
 the pernicious influence wheieof hath never distilled upon 
 their hearts. Neither shall I be willing without necessity 
 to detect other men's infirmities. Yet if I find myself any 
 way obliged further to intermeddle in this matter. I reckou 
 the time I have to spend in this world, can never be spent 
 to better purpose, than in discovering the fearful conse- 
 quences of that rejected opinion, the vanity of the subter- 
 fuges whereby its assertors think to hide the malignity of 
 it ; and the ineflicacy of the arguments brought for it. 
 Especially those two which the letter takes notice of. For 
 as so ill-coloured an opinion ought never to be admitted 
 without the most apparent necessity, so do I think it most 
 apparent there is no necessity it should be admitted upon 
 those grounds or any other. And doubt not but that both 
 the governing providence of God in reference to all events 
 whatsoever, and his most certain foreknowledge of them 
 all, may be defended, against all opposers, without it. But 
 I had rather my preparations to these purposes should be 
 buried in dust and silence; than I should ever see the 
 occasion which should carry the signification with it of 
 their being at all needful. And I shall take it for a just 
 and most deplorable occasion, if I shall find any to assert 
 against me the contradictory to this proposition : — That 
 doth not by an efficacious influence, universally move and 
 determine men to all their actions ; even those that are 
 most wicked. — Which is the only true and plain meaning 
 of what was said, about this ousiness, in the before-men- 
 tioned letter.
 
 MA N'S CREATION 
 
 A HOLY BUT MUTABLE STATE. 
 
 1 
 
 ECCLES. VII. 29. 
 
 LO, THIS ONLY HAVE I FOUND, THAT GOD HATH MADE MAN UPRIGHT ; TUT THEY HAVE SOUGHT OUT MANY INTENTIONS. 
 
 In these words you have the result of a serious inquiry 
 into the state of mankind. In the verse immediately fore- 
 going, the preacher speaks his own experience, touching 
 each sex distributively ; how rare it was to meet with a 
 wise and good man, how much rarer with a prudent and 
 virtuous woman ; (so he must be understood, though these 
 qualities are not expressed;) then in the text gives this 
 verdict touching both collectively, tending to acquit their 
 Maker of their universal depravation, and convict them. 
 " Lo, this only have I found," &e. 
 
 The words contain two propositions. — The first touching 
 man's perfection by his creation, " God made," &c. The 
 second touching his defection by sin, " But they have 
 sought," &c. Together with a solemn preface introducing 
 both, and recommending them as well-weighed truths, 
 " Lo, this only have I found," &c. q. d. " I do not now speak 
 at random, and by guess ; no, but I solemnly pronounce it, 
 as that which I have found out by serious study and dili- 
 gent exploration, that God made man upright," &c. The 
 terms are not obscure, and are fitly rendered. I find no 
 considerable variety of readings, and cannot needlessly 
 spend time about words. Only in short, — By man you 
 must understand man collectively, so as to comprehend 
 the whole species. — Making him upright, you must under- 
 stand so as to refer malcing not to the adjunct onlv, 
 supposing the subject pre-existent, but to both subject and 
 adjunct together; and so 'tis man's concreate and original 
 righteousness that is here meant. — By i?ivcntions under- 
 stand (as the antithesis doth direct) such as are alien from 
 this rectitude. Nor is it altogether improbable that in this 
 expression, some reference may be had to that curious de- 
 sire of knowing much that tempted Adam and Eve into 
 the first transgression. — Many inventions, seems to be spo- 
 ken in opposition to that simplicity and singleness of heart 
 which this original rectitude did include ; truth is but one ; 
 falsehood, manifold. God made man upright, i.e. simple, 
 plain-hearted, free from all tortuous windings, and invo- 
 lutions. (So the word rendered upright in the text doth 
 signify ; and Jeshurun derived therefrom, which God 
 thought a fit name for his people Israel, the seed of plain- 
 hearted Jacob, to be known by; answerably whereto Na- 
 thanael is said to be a true Israelite,'' in whom was no 
 guile.) Such man was at first; now, in the room of this 
 simplicity, you find a multiplicity : he was of one constant, 
 uniform frame and tenorof spirit, held one straight, direct, 
 and even course; now he is become full of inventions, 
 grown vafrons, multiform as to the frame of his spirit, im- 
 certain, intricate, perplexed in all his ways. — Sought out, 
 this notes the voluntariness, and perfect spontaneity of his 
 defection ; 'twas his own doing. God made him upright ; 
 he hath sought out means to deform and undo himself. — 
 The words thus opened afford us two great go.spel truths. 
 
 Doct. 1. That God endued the nature of man, in his 
 creation, with a perfect and universal rectitude. 
 
 2. That man's defection from his primitive state was 
 
 Eurely voluntary, and from the unconstrained choice of 
 is own mutable and self-determining will. 
 
 (Though the latter part of the text would afford a suf- 
 ficient ground to treat of the state of man now fallen ; yet 
 that being by agreement left to another hand, I observe no 
 more from it than what concerns the manner of his fall, 
 and that only as it depended on a mutable will.) In 
 handling these truths, I shall, 
 
 1. Open them in certain explicatory theses. 2. Improve 
 them in some few practical and applicatory inferences. 
 
 1. About the former — that God endued, &c. — take these 
 propositions for explication. 
 
 Prop. I. All created rectitude consists in conformity lo 
 some rule or law. Rectitude is a mere relative thing, and 
 its relation is lo a rule. By a rule, I here mean a law 
 strictly taken ; and therefore I speak this only of created 
 rectitude. A law, is a rule of duty given by a superior to 
 an inferior ; nothing can be in that sense a rule to God, or 
 the measure of increated rectitude. 
 
 Prop. 2. The highest rule of all created rectitude, is 
 the will of God, considered as including most intrinsically 
 an eternal and immutable reason, justice, and goodness. 
 'Tis certain, there can be no higher rule to creatures than 
 the Divine will ;b and as certain that the government of 
 God over his creatures, is always reasonable, and just, and 
 gracious; and that this reasonableness, justice, and good- 
 ness, by which it is so, should be subjected any where but 
 in God himself, none that know what God is, according to 
 our more obvious notions of him, can possibly think. 
 
 Prop. 3. Any sufficient signification of this will, touch- 
 ing the reasonable creature's dnty, is a law, indispensably 
 obliging such a creature. A law is a constitution de debito, 
 and 'tis the legislator's will (not concealed in his own 
 breast, but) duly expressed that makes this constitution, 
 and infers an obligation on the subject. 
 
 Prop. 4. The law given to Adam at his creation wa.s 
 partly natural, given by way of internal impression upon 
 his soul ; partly positive, given (as is probable) by some 
 more external discovery or revelation. That the main 
 body of law, whereby man was to be governed, should be 
 at first given no other way than by stamping them upon 
 his mind and heart, was a thing congrnous enough to his 
 innocent state ; (as it is to angels and saints in glory ;) it 
 being then exactly contempered to his nature, highly ap- 
 provable to his reason, (as is evident, in that being fallen, 
 his reason ceases not to approve it, Rom. ii. 18.) fully 
 suitable to the inclination and tendency of his will, and 
 not at all regretted by any reluctant principle that might 
 in the least oppose or render him doubtful about his duty, 
 
 b Rom. vii. IS. xii. 1, 2. Ezck. n-iii. 25. chap, xxxiii.
 
 MAN CREATED MUTABLE. 
 
 133 
 
 Yet was it most reasonable also, that some positive 
 commands should be superadded, that God's right of do- 
 minion and government over him as Creator, might be 
 more expressly asserted, and he might more fully appre- 
 hend his own obligation as a creature to do some things, 
 because it was his Maker's will, as well as others, because 
 they appeared to him in their own nature reasonable and 
 fit to be done ; for so the whole of what God requires of 
 man, is fitly distinguished into some things which he com- 
 mands because they are just, and some things that are 
 just because he commands them. 
 
 Prop. 5. Adam was endued in his creation with a suf- 
 ficient ability and habitude to conform to this whole law, 
 both natural and positive; in which ability and habitude 
 his original recitude did consist. This proposition carries 
 in it the main truth we have now in hand, therefore re- 
 quires to be more distinctly insisted on. There are two 
 things in it to be considered — the thing itself he was en- 
 dued with — the manner of the endowment. 
 
 1. The thing itself wherewith he was endued. That 
 was uprightness, rectitude, (otherwise called the image of 
 God, though that expression comprehends more than we 
 now speak of, as his immortality, dominion over the in- 
 ferior creatures, »&c.) which uprightness or rectitude con- 
 sisted in the habitual conformity, or conformability, of all 
 his natural powers to this whole law of God ; and is there- 
 fore considerable two ways, viz. in relation to its subject, 
 and its rule. 
 
 1. In relation to its subject ; that was the whole soul, 
 (ia some sense it may be said the whole man,) even the 
 several powers of it. And here we are led to consider the 
 parts of this rectitude, for 'tis co-extended (if that phrase 
 may be allowed) with its subject, and lies spread out into 
 the several powers of the soul ; for had any power been 
 left destitute of it, such is the frame of man, and the de- 
 pendence of his natural powers on each other, in order to 
 action, that it had disabled him to obey, and had destroyed 
 his rectitude ; for bonum non oritur nisi ex causis integris, 
 malum vero ex quovis defectu. And hence (as Davenanf^ 
 well observes) according to the parts (if I may so speak) 
 of the subject wherein it was, man's original rectitude 
 must be understood to consist of, 
 
 1. A perfect illumination of mind to understand and 
 imow the will of God. 2. A compliance of heart and will 
 therewith. 3. An obedient subordination of the sensitive 
 appetite, and other inferior powers, that in nothing they 
 might resist the former. That it comprehends all these, 
 appears by comparing Col. iii. 10. where the image of 
 God, wherein man was created, is said to consist in know- 
 ledge, that hath its seat and subject in the mind, with Eph. 
 iv. 24. where righteousness and holiness are also mention- 
 ed; the one whereof consists in equity towards men, the 
 other in loyalty and devotedness to God ; both which neces- 
 sarily suppose the due framing of the other powers of the 
 soul, to the ducture of an enlightened mind And besides, 
 that work of sanctification (which in these scriptures is 
 expressly called a renovation of man according to the im- 
 age of God wherein he was created) doth in other scrip- 
 tures appear (a.s the forementioned author also observes) 
 to consist of parts proportionable to these I mention, riz. 
 illumination of mind, Ephes. i. 18. conversion of heart, Ps. 
 li. 10. victory over concupiscence, Rom. vi. 7, throughout. 
 
 2. Consider this recitude in relation to its rule ; that is, 
 the will of God revealed,d or the law of God. Sin is the 
 transgression of the law ; and accordingly righteousness 
 must needs be conformity to the law ; viz. actual righte- 
 ousness consists in actual conformity to the law ; that 
 habitual rectitude which Adam was furnished with in his 
 creation, (of which we are speaking,) in an habitual con- 
 formity, or an ability to conform to the same law. This 
 habitual conformity was, as of the whole soul, so to the 
 whole law, i. e. to both, the parts or kinds of it, natural 
 and positive. He was furnished with particular princi- 
 ples, inclining him to comply with whatsoever the law of 
 nature had laid before him ; and with a general principle, 
 disposing him to jield to whatsoever any positive law 
 should lay before him as the will of God. And if it be said, 
 
 c Davcnant de justitiahabituali, &c. d 1 John iii. 4. 
 
 e Aquin. Sumin. f Aug. de civitate Dei. 
 
 e 1 Kings viii. 46. Psal. xiv. l. Rom. iii. 12, &c. cap. v. 12, 13, &c. 1 John 
 V. 19, &c. 
 
 13 
 
 (in reference to the former of these,) that this law of na- 
 ture impressed upon Adam's soul, was his very rectitude; 
 therefore how can this rectitude be a conformity to this 
 law? I answer, 1. A law is twofold, regnlans, regulator. * 
 •2. The law of nature impressed upon the .soul of Adam, 
 must be considered; — 1. as subjected in his mind; soil 
 consisted of certain practical notions about good and evil, 
 right and wrong, &c.— 2. as subjected in his heart, so it 
 consisted in certain habitual inclinations to conform to 
 those principles. Now these inclinations of the heart, 
 though they are a rule to actions, thej' are yet something 
 ruled in reference to those notions in the mind ; and their 
 conformity thereto makes one part of original rectitude. 
 And those notions, though they are a rule to these inclina- 
 tions, yet they are something ruled in reference to the will 
 of God signified by them ; and in the conformity thereto, 
 consists another part of this original rectitude. 
 
 2. We have to consider the manner of this endowment. 
 And as to this, 'tis much disputed among the schoolmen, 
 whether it were natural or supernatural. I shall only lay 
 down, in few words, what I conceive to be clear and in- 
 disputable. 
 
 1. If by natural, you mean essential, (whether constitu- 
 tively, or consecutively,) so original righteousness was 
 not natural to man ; for then he could never have lost it, 
 without the loss of his being. 
 
 2. If by natural, you mean connatural, i. e. concreate 
 with the nature of man, and consonant thereto, so I doubt 
 not but it was natural to him. 
 
 Prop. 6. This rectitude of man's nature, could not but 
 infer and include his actual blessedness, while he should 
 act according to it. According to the tenor of the cove- 
 nant, it could not but infer it. And consider this rectitude 
 in itself, it must needs include it : the rectitude of his un- 
 derstanding including his knowledge of the highest good; 
 and the rectitude of his will and affections, the accept- 
 ance and enjoj'ment thereof; as Augustine f in this case, 
 nullum bonum abcssct hoviini quod recta voluntas optare 
 posset, cf-c. Thus far of the holiness and blessedness of 
 man's first state. It follows to speak of the matability of 
 it, and of his fall as depending thereon. 
 
 Doct. 2. That man's defection from his primitive state 
 was merely voluntary, and from the unconstrained choice 
 of his own mutable and self-determining will. For the 
 asserting of this truth, take the following propositions: 
 
 Prop. 1. That the nature of man is now become uni- 
 versally depraved and sinful. This, Scripture is full of,? 
 and experience and common observation puts it beyond 
 dispute. 'Tis left then that sin must have had some ori- 
 ginal among men. 
 
 Prop. 2. The pure and holy nature of God could never 
 be the original of man's sin. This is evident in ii.'^elf. 
 God h disclaims it: nor can any affirm it of him without 
 denying his very Being. He could not be the cause of 
 unholiness, but by ceasing to be holy, which would sup- 
 pose him mutably holy ; and if either God or man must 
 be confessed mutable, 'tis no difficulty where to lay it; 
 whatever he is, he is essentially; and necessity of exist- 
 ence, of being alwavs what heis, i remains everlastingly 
 the fundamental attribute of his Being. 
 
 3. 'Tis blasphemous and absurd to talk of two princi- 
 ples, (as the Manichees of old.) the one good per se, and 
 the cause of all good ; the other evil per sc, and the cause 
 of all evil. 
 
 Bradwardine's k two arguments, 1. that this would sup- 
 pose two gods, two independent beings, 2. that it would 
 suppose an evil god, do sufficiently convince this to be full 
 both of blasphemy and contradiction. 
 
 4. It was not possible that either external objects, or 
 the temptation of the devil, should necessitate the will of 
 man to sin. External objects could not ; for that were to 
 reject all upon God ; for if he create objects with such an 
 aliective power in them, and create such an appetite in 
 man as cannot but work inordinately and sinfully towards 
 those objects, it must needs infer his efficacious necessita- 
 tion of sin, being it would destroy the truth already estab- 
 lished, that God created man with such a rectitude as that 
 
 h Deut. xxxii. 4. Psal. v. 4. 3 John 11. 
 
 i James i 17. 
 
 k Bradwardine de causa Dei.
 
 134 
 
 MAN CREATED MUTABLE. 
 
 there was a siifficient ability in his superior powers for the 
 cohibition and restraint of the inferior, that they should 
 not work inordinately towards their objects. The devil 
 could not do it for the same reason, having no way to 
 move the will of man but by the proposal of objects; yet 
 that by this means (which he could in many respects 
 manag-e most advantageously) he did much help forward 
 the first sin, Scripture leaves us not to doubt. 
 
 5. The whole nature of sin consisting only in a defect, 
 no other cause need be designed of it than a defective ; 
 i.e. an understanding, will, and inferior powers, however 
 originally good, yet mutably and defectively so. I shall 
 not insist to prove that sin is no positive being; but I 
 take the argument to be irrefragable, (notwithstanding 
 the cavils made against it,) that is drawn from that com- 
 mon maxim, that ovine ens positivum est vel primum, vel a 
 primoA And that of Dionysius the Areopagite is an in- 
 genious one : he argues that no being can be evil per se ; 
 for then it must be immutably, to which no evil can be, for 
 to be always the same, is a certain property of goodness; 
 'tis so even of the highest goodness. And hence sin being 
 supposed only a defect, a soul that is only defectibly holy, 
 might well enough be the cause of it; i. e. the deficient 
 cause. Nor is it in the least strange that man should be 
 at first created with a defectible holiness ; for if he were 
 immutably holy, either it must be ex natitrd, or ex gratia: 
 ex naturd it could not be, for that would suppose him 
 God; if it were ex gratia, then it must be free; then it 
 might be, or might not be ; therefore there was no incon- 
 gruity in it that it should not be. And indeed it was most 
 congruous that God having newly made such a creature, 
 furnished with such powers, so capable of government 
 by a law, of being moved by promises and threats, he 
 should for some time hold him as a viator, in a state of 
 trial unconfirmed, (as he did also the innocent angels,) that 
 it might be seen how he would behave himself towards 
 his Maker, and that he should be rewardable and punish- 
 able accordingly, in a state that should be everlasting and 
 unchangeable: the liberty therefore of the viators and the 
 comprehensors, ""Gibieuf well distinguishes into inchoata 
 or consummabilis, and perfecta or cnnsinnvwM ; the former 
 such as Adam's was at his creation ; the latter such as is 
 the state of angels and saints in glory; and as his would 
 have been had he held out and persisted innocent through 
 the intended time of trial. 
 
 It was therefore no strange thing that man should be 
 created defectible ; it was as little strange that a defectible 
 creature should deficere. For the manner of that defec- 
 tion, (whether error of the understanding preceded, or in- 
 consideration only, and a neglect of its office,) with the 
 great difficulties some imagine herein, I waive discourse 
 about them ; judging that advice good and sober, for to 
 consider more how sin may be gotten out of the world, 
 than how it came in. Though 'tis most probable there 
 was in the instant of temptation a mere suspension of the 
 understanding's act, (not as previous to the sin, but as a 
 part of it,) and thereupon a sudden precipitation of will, 
 as Estius doth well determine. 
 
 6. Man being created mutable as to his holiness, must 
 needs be so as to his happiness too. And that both upon 
 a legal account, (for the law had determined that if he did 
 sin he must die,) and also upon a natural ; for it was not 
 possible that his soul being once depraved by sin, the 
 powers of it vitiated, their order each to other, and to- 
 wards their objects, broken and interrupted, there should 
 remain a disposition and aptitude to converse with the 
 highest good. 
 
 The use follows, which shall be only in certain practical 
 inferences that will issue from these truths, partly con- 
 sidered singly and severally, partly together and in con- 
 junction. 
 
 From the First. 1. Did God create man upright as 
 hath been shown 1 then how little reason had man to sin ! 
 how little reason had he to desert Grod ! to be weary of 
 his first estate ! Could God's making him, his making 
 him upright, be a reason why he should sin against him 1 
 was hjs directing his heart, and the natural course of his 
 affections towards himself, a reason M^hy he should forsake 
 him 1 What was there in his state that should make it 
 
 1 Dion de Div. nom. 
 
 m Gihicuf Jq libertate Dei ct creatunE. 
 
 grievous to him "? Was his duty too much for him "? God 
 made him upright, so that every part of it was connatural 
 to him. Was his privilege too little "? He knew, and 
 loved, and enjoyed the highest and infinite good. O think 
 then how unreasonable and disingenuous a thing sin was! 
 that a creature that was nothing but a few hours ago, now 
 a reasonable being, capable of God, should yet sin i Urge 
 your hearts with this, we are too apt to think ourselves 
 unconcerned in Adam's sin ; we look upon ourselves too 
 abstractly, we should remember we are members of a 
 community, and it .should be grievous to us to think that 
 our species hath dealt so unkindly and unworthily with 
 God : and besides, do not v/e sin daily after the similitude 
 of Adam's transgression 1 and is not sin as unreasonable 
 and unjust a thing as ever % 
 
 2. Was our primitive state so good and happy, how 
 justly may we reflect and look back towards our first state ! 
 how fitly might we take up Job's words ! O that I were 
 as in months past ; — as in the days of my youth; — when 
 the Almighty was yet with me : — when I put on righte- 
 ousness and it clothed me ; — when my glory was fresh in 
 me, &c.n With what sadness may we call to mind the 
 things that are past, and the beginnings of ancient time ! 
 when there was no stain upon our natures, no cloud upon 
 our minds, no pollution upon our hearts ; when with pure 
 and undefiled souls we could embrace and rest, and re- 
 joice in the eternal and incomprehensible good ! When 
 we remember these things, do not our bowels turn 1 are 
 not our souls poured out within us 1 
 
 From the Second. 1. Did man so voluntarily ruin him- 
 self; how unlikely is he now to be his own saviour ! He 
 that was a self-destroyer from the beginning, that ruined 
 himself as soon as God had made him, is he likely now to 
 save himself? Is it easier for him to recover his station 
 than to have kept it 1 or hath he improved himself by sin- 
 ning, and gained strength by his fall for a more difficult 
 undertaking 1 Is he grown better natured towards himself 
 and his God, than he was at first 1 
 
 2. How little reason hath he to blame God, though he 
 finally perish ! What would he have had God to have done 
 more to prevent it; he gave his law to direct him, his 
 threatening to warn him ; his promise for his encourage- 
 ment was evidently implied ; his nature was sufficiently 
 disposed to improve and comport Avith all these : yet he 
 sins ! Is God to be charged with this 1 Sins upon no ne- 
 cessity, with no pretence ; but that he must be seeking out 
 inventions, trying experiments, assaying to better his state, 
 as plainly despising the law, suspecting the truth, envying 
 the greatness, asserting and aspiring to the sovereignty 
 and Godhead of his Maker. Had we (any of us) a mind 
 to contend with God about this matter, how would we 
 order our cause 1 how would we state our quarrel 1 If we 
 complain that we should be condemned and ruined all in 
 one man ; that is to complain that we are Adam's children. 
 A child might as well complain that he is the son of a 
 beggar or a traitor, and charge it as injustice upon the 
 prince or law of the land that he is not born to a patri- 
 mony ; this is a misery to him, but no man will say it is a 
 wrong. And can it be said we are wronged by the com- 
 mon Ruler of the world, that we do not inherit from our 
 father the righteousness and felicity he had wilfully lost 
 long before we were his children 1 If we think it hard we 
 should be tied to terms we never consented to, might not 
 an heir as well quarrel with the magistrate, that he suffers 
 him to become liable to his father's debts, and to lie in 
 prison if he have not to payl 
 
 But besides, who can imagine but we should have con- 
 sented, had all mankind been at that time existent in in- 
 nocency together 1 i. e. let the case be stated thus : Sup- 
 pose Adam, our common parent, to have had all his 
 children together with him before the Lord, while the 
 covenant of works was not as yet made, and while as yet 
 God was not under any engagement to the children of 
 men. Let it be supposed, that he did propound it to the 
 whole race of mankind together, that he would capitulate 
 with their common parent on their behalf, according to 
 the terms of that first covenant ; if he stood, they should 
 stand, if he fall, they must all fall with him. Let it be con- 
 sidered, that if this had not been consented to, God mighi 
 
 n Jobsxix. 2,4,5 14,20
 
 MAN CREATED MUTABLE. 
 
 135 
 
 (^•without the least colour of exception, being as yet under 
 no engagement to the contrary) have annihilated the whole 
 species ; for wherein can it seem hard, that what was no- 
 thing but the last moment, should the next moment be suf- 
 fered to relapse into nothing again 1 Let it also be consi- 
 dered, that Adam's own personal interest, and a mighty 
 natural affection towards so vast a progeny, might well be 
 thought certainly to engage him to the uttermost care and 
 circumspection on his own and their behalf. It must also 
 be remembered, that all being now in perfect innocency, 
 no defect of reason, no frowardness or perverseness of will 
 can be supposed in any, to hinder their right judgment, 
 and choice of what might appear to be most for their own 
 advantage, and the glory of their Maker. 
 
 Can it now possibly be thought (the case being thus 
 stated) that any man should rather choose presently to 
 lose his being, and the pleasures and hopes of such a 
 state, than to have consented to such terms "? It cannot be 
 thought. 
 
 For consider the utmost that might be objected ; and 
 suppose one thiis to reason the matter with himself : 
 " Whyl 'tis a mighty hazard for me to suspend my ever- 
 lasting happiness or misery upon the uncertain determi- 
 nations of another man's mutable will ; shall I trust my 
 eternal concernments to such a peradventure, and put my 
 life and hopes into the hands of a fellow-creature V 
 
 It were obvious to him to answer himself, " Aye, but he 
 is my father ; he bears a natural affection to me, his own 
 concernment is included, he hath power over his own will, 
 his obedience for us all will be no more difficult than each 
 man's for himself; there is nothing required of him but 
 what his nature inclines him to, and what his reason (if 
 he use it) will guide him to comply with ; and though 
 the hazard of an eternal misery be greatly tremendous, 
 yet are not the hopes of an everlasting blessedness as 
 greatly consolatory and encouraging 1 and besides, the 
 hazard will be but for a time, which if we pass safely, we 
 shall shortly receive a full and glorious confirmation and 
 advancement." Certainly no reasonable man, all this 
 considered, (though there had been no mention made of a 
 means of recovery in case of falling, the consideration 
 whereof is yet also to be taken in by us,) would have re- 
 fused to consent. And then what reasonable man but will 
 confess this to be mere cavil, that we did not personally 
 consent ; for if it be certain we should have consented, and 
 our own hearts tell us we should, doth the power of a 
 Creator over his creatures signify so little that he might 
 not take this for an actual consent 1 for is it not all one, 
 whether you did consent, or certainly would have done it, 
 if you had been treated with 1 Covenants betwixt superi- 
 ors and inferiors, differ much from those betwixt equals; 
 for they are laws as well as covenants, and therefore do 
 suppose consent, (the terms being in se reasonable,) as that 
 which not only our interest but duty would oblige us to. 
 'Tis not the same thing to covenant with the great God, 
 and with a fellow-creature. God's prescience of the event, 
 (besides that no man knows what it is, yet,) whatever it 
 is, 'tis wholly immanent in himself, (as also his decrees,) 
 
 o Rom. ui. 24 &c. 1 Cor. i. 30, 31. Eph. i. 6, 7. Tit. ii. 11—14. 
 
 therefore could have no influence into the event, or be any 
 cause of it; all depended, as hath been shown, on man's 
 own will ; and therefore if God did foresee that man 
 would fall, yet he knew also, that if he would he might 
 stand. 
 
 F'rom both joinUy. 1. Were we once so happy, and 
 have we now undone ourselves 1 how acceptable should 
 this render the means of our recoverv to us ! That 'tis a 
 recovery we are to endeavour, (which implies the formei 
 truth,) that suppo.ses us once happy, who would not be 
 taken with such an overture for the leyainin:: Of a happi- 
 ness, which he hath lost and fallen froml 'Tis a douBle 
 misery to become from a happy estate miserable ; 'tis yet 
 as a double happiness to become happy from such misery ; 
 and proportionably valuable should all means appear to us 
 that tend thereto. Yea, and 'tis a recovery after self-de- 
 struction, (which asserts the former truth,) such ade.struc- 
 tion as might reduce us to an utter despair of remedies, as 
 rendering us incapable to help ourselves, or to expect help 
 or pity from others. O how welcome should the tidings 
 of deliverance now be to us! how joyful an entertainment 
 should our hearts give them upon both these accounts ! 
 How greatly doth Scripture " commend the love and grace 
 of Christ, under the notion of redeeming ! a word that 
 doth not signify deliverance from simple misery onh', but 
 also connote a precedent better state, as they expound it 
 who take the phrase, as Scripture uses it, to allude to the 
 buying out of captives from their bondage. And how 
 should it ravish the heart of any man to have mercy and 
 help offered him by another hand, who hath perished by 
 his own ! how taking should gospel-grace be upon this ac- 
 count ! hoM' should this consideration engage souls to 
 value and embrace it ! It is urged (we see) to that pur- 
 pose, Hos. xiii. 9. O Israel, thou hast destroyed thyself, but 
 in me is thy help ; and, v. 10. it follows, I will be thy King; 
 where is anj^ other that will save thee "? &c. And ch. xiv. 1. 
 O Israel, return unto the Lord, for thou hast fallen by thine 
 iniquity. Now (friends) do but seriously consider this. 
 If you believe the truths you have heard, how precious 
 should Christ be to you ! how precious should the gospel, 
 the ordinances, and ministry of it be ! Do you complain 
 that formerly you were not treated with"? By all the.'^e God 
 now treats with you. Now your own personal consent is 
 called for ; not to any thing that hath the least of hazard in 
 it, but what shall make you certainly happy, as miserable as 
 you have made yourselves ; and there is nothing but your 
 consent wanting, the price of your redemption is already 
 paid ; 'tis but taking Christ for your Saviour and your Lord, 
 and living a life of dependence and holiness for a few days, 
 and you are as safe as if you were in glory. "Will you now 
 stick at this 1 O do not destroy yourselves a second time, 
 and make yourselves doubly guilty of your own ruin. 
 
 2. Was our state so gooi, but mutable 1 What cause 
 have we to admire the grace of God, through Christ, that 
 whom it recovers it confirms ! It was a blessed state, that 
 by our own free will we fell from ; but how much better 
 (even upon this account) is this, which by God's free 
 grace we are invited and recalled to !
 
 A CALM AND SOBER INQUIRY 
 
 CONCERNING THB POSSIBILITY OP 
 
 % 
 
 A TRINITY IN THE GODHEAD, 
 
 IN A LETTER TO A PERSON OF WORTH; 
 
 OCCASIONED BY THE LATELY PUBLISHED CONSIDERATIONS ON THE EXPLICATIONS ON THE DOCTRINE OP 
 THE TRINITY, BY DR. WALLIS, DR. SHERLOCK, DR. S — TH, DR. CUDWORTH, &C. 
 
 TOGETHER WITH CERTAIN LETTERS, 
 
 FORMERLY WRITTEN TO THE REVEREND DR. WALLIS, ON THE SAME SUBJECT, 
 
 Sir, 
 
 I INTEND not this discourse shall be concerned in 
 what this author hath said of the several explications given 
 oy the persons named on his title-page. The only thing 
 it is designed for, is the discoursing with him that single 
 point which he refers to, in his twenty -ninth and thirtieth 
 pages, and which, in this controversy, is on all hands con- 
 fessed to be the cardinal one, viz. Whether a trinity in the 
 Godhead be possible or no 1 
 
 I put not the question about three persons ; both because 
 I will not, in so short a discourse as I intend to make this, 
 be engaged in discussing the unagreed notion of a person ; 
 and because the Scripture lays not that necessity upon me, 
 though I do not think the use of that term, in this affair, 
 either blameable or indefensible. But I shall inquire whe- 
 iher the Father, the Son, or Word, and the Holy Ghost, 
 cannot possibly admit of sufficient distinction from one 
 another to answer the parts and purposes severally assigned 
 them by the Scripture, in the Christian economy, and yet 
 be each of them God, consistently with this most inviola- 
 ble and indubitable truth, that there can be but one God. 
 
 This author concludes it to be impossible in the men- 
 tioned pages of his discourse, and thereupon seems to 
 judge it necessary that two of them be excluded the God- 
 head, as manv others, some going the Arian, some the 
 Photinian, more lately called the Socinian way, have done 
 before him. He acknowledges, page 30, col. 1. there may 
 be "some secret revealed by God, because it was above 
 human capacity to discover it; and sometimes also to 
 comprehend how it can be;" but adds, " there is a vast 
 difference between my not being able to conceive how a 
 thing should be, and a clear apprehension and sight that 
 it cannot be." What he says thus far is unexceptionable, 
 and I heartily concur with him in it. But for what he 
 subjoins, (wherein he might have spoken his mind of the 
 matter in controversy with as much advantage to his cause, 
 without reflecting upon his adversaries, as if they con- 
 sidered these things either with no intention, or with no 
 sincerity, not allowing them even the never so little of the 
 one or the other,) that " three distinct Almighty and All- 
 knowing persons, should be but one Almighty, or but one 
 All-knowing, or but one God, a man, who considers with 
 never so little intention and sincerity, clearly sees that it 
 cannot be. In short, that it is not a mystery, but, as Dr. 
 South speaks, an absurdity and a contradiction." This is 
 that I would consider with him, if he will affix these 
 words of his, " a man who considers, &c. clearly sees it 
 cennot be, and it is an absurdity and a contradiction," to 
 the question a^ I hare set it down above. In the mean- 
 
 time he cannot be ignorant that, as he hath represented the 
 matter, he hath here either not truly, or at least not fairly, 
 given the sense of any of them whom he pretended to 
 oppose. 
 
 For when by those words, " But that three Divine per- 
 sons, or that three distinct Almighty and All-knowing per- 
 sons, should be but one Almighty, but one All-knowing, 
 ar but one God," he would slily insinuate to his unwary 
 and less attentive reader, that the same men held three 
 Almighties, and but one ; he well knows, and elsewhere 
 confesses, (though he might suppose that some readers 
 would not be at leisure to compare one place of his 
 writings with another, but hastily run awaj' with the ap- 
 prehension, that such as were not of his mind spake no- 
 tning but nonsense and contradictions,) that not only his 
 later opposers since P. Lumbard, as he speaks, but divers 
 much more ancient, as Athanasius, and the rest of the 
 Nicene fathers, &c. denied three Almighties, though they 
 affirmed each of the persons to be Almighty, understand- 
 ing omnipotency, as they do omnisciency, to be an attribute 
 not of the person, as such, but of the essence, as such, 
 which they affirm to be but one, i. e. that they are each of 
 them Almighty, by communication in one and the same 
 almighty essence. And if their sentiment be so very ab- 
 surd, he needed the less to fear representing it as it is. 
 
 And the other who seems to grant three Almighties, 
 doth never say there is but one Almighty ; though such 
 say too there is but one God, placing the unity of the God- 
 head in somewhat else, as he hath himself taken notice ; 
 which is remote from express self-contradiction also. But 
 I shall concern myself no further about the one or the 
 other of these ways of explaining the doctrine of the three 
 persons. Only shall inquire concerning the possibility of 
 such a trinity in the Godhead as was above expressed, re- 
 quiting the uncharitableness of this author, in imputing 
 carelessness or insincerity to all that think it possible, 
 with so much charity, as to believe he would not (against 
 the plain tenor of Scripture) have rejected the doctrine of 
 the trinity, as he professes to do that of the incarnation, 
 if he had not thought it every way impossible. And here 
 I premise, 
 
 1. That the present undertaking is not to show that the 
 Father, Son, and Holy Ghost are three, and but one, in 
 the same respect; which I would adventure, in this au- 
 thor's words, to say, no man that considers with never so 
 little intention and sincerity would offer at. But when 
 they are supposed to be but one, in respect of Deity, they 
 are thought to be three in some other respect. 
 
 2. That what I now design is only to represent this
 
 A CALM DISCOURSE OF THE TRINITY &c. 
 
 137 
 
 matter as possible to be some way, and in the way here 
 proposed for ought we know, not as definitely certain to be 
 this way or that. The former is enough to our present 
 purpose, i. e. if any way it can be conceived, without ab- 
 surdity or contradiction, that these may be three with 
 sufiicient distinction to found the distinct attributes which 
 the Scriptures do severally give them, so as some things 
 may be affirmed of some one, and not be afSrmed of the 
 other of them, and yet their unity in Godhead be con- 
 served; our point is gained, and the clamour of this and 
 every other opposer ought to cease, for our asserting what 
 every one, that considers, clearly sees cannot be. 
 
 Now, so much being forelaid, that we may proceed with 
 clearness and satisfaction of mind — If we would under- 
 stand whether it be possible that these three may be suffi- 
 ciently distinguished for the mentioned purpose, and yet 
 be one in Godhead, or in divine being; we are to recollect 
 ourselves, and consider what we are wont, and find our- 
 selves indispensably obliged, to conceive of that ever bless- 
 ed Being, and what is with less certainty or evidence said 
 or thought of it. Therefore, 
 
 I. We cannot but acknowledge, that whereas we do with 
 greatest certainty and clearness conceive of it as an intel- 
 lectual Being, comprehensive, with that, of infinite and 
 universal perfection ; so we do, most expressly, though this 
 be implied in universal perfection, conclude it a Being 
 most necessarily existent : which God hath himself been 
 pleased to signify to us by the appropriated name, I am, or 
 I am what I am. 
 
 Hereby is this most excellent of beings infinitely dis- 
 tinguished from all creatures, or from the whole creation. 
 All created being is merely contingent, i. e. (according to 
 the true notion of contingency) dependent upon will and 
 pleasure. So he hath himself taught us to distinguish ; 
 and with such distinction to conceive of the creation. Rev. 
 iv. II. Thou hast made all things, and for {or by, 6ia) 
 thy pleasure (or will, QiMna an) they are, or were created. 
 Whatsoever being is necessarily existent, the excellency 
 of its nature being such, as that it was necessary to it to 
 exist, or impossible not to exist, is God, or is divine 
 being. Notwithstanding what some have imagined of 
 necessary matter, we might adventure to affirm this uni- 
 versally of all necessary being, that it is divine, taking it 
 to be plainly demonstrable, and to have been demonstrated 
 beyond all contradiction, by the learned Dr. Cudworth, 
 and many others long before him. And doubt not to 
 evince, (though that is not the present business,) that sup- 
 posing the imagination of necessary matter were true, this 
 sensible world could never possibly have been made of it, 
 by any power whatsoever; the only pretence for which it 
 is imagined. But if any have a mind to make this a dis- 
 pute, to avoid being unseasonably involved in it at this 
 time, it will serve my present purpose to assert onl)% what- 
 soever intellectual being is necessarily existent is divine. , 
 
 And on the other hand, whatsoever being is contingent, 
 i. e. such as that it depended on a mere intervening act of 
 will (viz. even the sovereign and supreme will) whether 
 it should be or not be, is created, or is creature. 
 
 II. Whatsoever simplicity the ever blessed God hath 
 by any express revelation claimed to himself, or can by 
 evident and irrefragable reason be demonstrated to belong 
 to him, as a perfection, we ought humbly, and with all 
 possible reverence and adoration, to ascribe to him. But 
 such simplicity as he hath not claimed, as is arbitrarily 
 ascribed to him by over-bold and adventurous intruders 
 into the deep and most profound arcana of the Divine 
 nature, such as can never be proved to belong to him, or 
 to be any real perfection, such as would prove an imper- 
 fection, and a blemish, would render the Divine nature less 
 intelligible, more impossible to be so far conceived as is 
 requisite, as would discompose and disturb our minds, 
 confound our conceptions, make our apprehensions of his 
 other known perfections less distinct or inconsistent, ren- 
 der him less adorable, or less an object of religion, or such 
 as is manifestly unreconcileable with his plain affirmations 
 concerning himself, we ought not to impose it upon our- 
 selves, or be so far imposed upon, as to ascribe to him such 
 simplicity. 
 
 It would be an over-officious and too meanly servile 
 religiousness, to be awed by the sophistiy of presumptuous 
 
 scholastic wits, into a subscription to 'their confident de- 
 termmations concerning the being of God, that such and 
 such thmgs are necessary or impossible thereto, beyond 
 what the plain undisguised reason of things, oi his own 
 express word, do evince : to imagine a sacredne.ssin their 
 rash conclusions, so as to be afraid of searching into them 
 or of examining whether they have any firm and solid 
 ground or bottom ; to allow the schools the making of our 
 Bible, or the foiming of our creed, who license (and even 
 sport) themselves to philosophize upon the nature of God, 
 with as petulant and irreverent a libert3', as they would 
 upon a worm, or any the meanest insect, while yet tbey 
 can pronounce little with certainty even concerning that- 
 hath nothing in it either of the Chri.stian or the man. It 
 will become as well as concern us, to disencumber our 
 minds, and release them from the entanglements of their 
 unproved dictates; whatsoever authority they may have 
 acquired, only by having been long, and commonly, takea 
 for granted. The more reverence we have of God, the 
 less we are to have for such men, as have themselves ex- 
 pressed little. 
 
 III. Such as have thought themselves obliged by the 
 plain word of God to acknowledge a trinity in the God- 
 head, viz. of Father, Son, and Holy Ghost, 'but withal to 
 diminish the distinction of (he one from the other, so as 
 even to make it next to nothing, by reason of the straits 
 into which unexamined maxims have cast their minds, 
 concerning the Divine simplicity; have yet not thought 
 that to be absolute or omnimodo^is. For the allowing ol 
 three sonewhats in the Divine nature (and what less could 
 have been said ?) cannot consist with absolute simplicity 
 in all respects, ina.sinuch as they cannot be three without 
 difl^ering, in some respect, from one anothei . 
 
 Since therefore there is a necessity apprehended of ac- 
 knowledging three such somevhats in the Godhertd, both 
 because the word of God (who best understands his own 
 nature) doth speak of three in it so plainly, that, withom 
 notorious violence, it cannot be understood' otherwise, and 
 because it affirms some things of one or other of t^em, 
 which it affirms not of the rest; it will therefore be neces- 
 sary to admit a true distinction between them, otherwi.se 
 they cannot be three ; and safe to say there is so much, as 
 is requisite to found the distinct affirmations, which we 
 find in God's word, concerning this or that, apart from the 
 other, otherwise we shall, in effect, deny what God af- 
 firms; and modest to confess that how great the distinction 
 is, with precise and particular limitation, we do not know 
 nor dare be curious to determine or inquire : only that as 
 it cannot be less, than is sufficient to sustain distinct pre- 
 dicates or attributions; so it cannot be so great, as to in- 
 trench upon the unity of the Godhead. Which limits, on 
 the one hand, and the other, God hath himself plainly set t.s. 
 
 IV. Therefore since we may ofiend verv highl'v bv an 
 arrogant pretence to the knowledge we have not, biit .shall 
 not offend by confessing the ignorance which we cannot 
 (and therefore need not) remedy, we should abstain from 
 confident conclusions in the dark, and at random, espe- 
 cially concerning the nature of God ; and for instance, 
 from saying. We clearly see a sufficient distinction of 
 Father, Son, and Spirit, in the Godhead cannot be, or is 
 impossible. It expresses too little revei-«nce of God, as 
 if his being had any, or so narrow, limits as tobe presently 
 seen through; an over-magnifying opinion of ourselves, as 
 if our eye could penetrate that vast and sacred darkne.ss, 
 or the glorious light, (equally impervious to us,) wherein 
 God dwells; too great rudeness to the rest of men, more 
 than implicitly representing all mankind besides as stark 
 blind, who can discern nothing of what we pretend clearly 
 to see. 
 
 And it is manifest this cannot be said to be impossible, 
 upon any other pretence, but that it consists not with the 
 vnity of the Godhead, in opposition to the multiplication 
 thereof, or with that simplicity which stands in opposition 
 tothe concurrence in all perfections therein, with distinction 
 greater than hath been commonly thought to belong to 
 divine nature. For the former, we are at a certainty : but 
 for the latter, how do we know what the original, natural 
 state of the Divine Being is, in this respect ? or what 
 simplicity belongs to it 1 or what it may contain or com- 
 prehend in it, consistently with the unity thereof! or so,
 
 138 
 
 A CALM DISCOURSE OF 
 
 but that it may still be but one Divine Being 1 What dis- 
 tinction and unity (conserved together) we can have, 
 otherwise, an idea of without any apprehended inconsist- 
 ency, absurdity, or contradiction, we shall rashly pro- 
 nounce to be impossible (or somewhat imperfectly resem- 
 bled thereby) in the Divine Being, unless we understood 
 it better than we do. Some prints and characters of that 
 most perfect Being may be apprehended in the creatures, 
 especially that are intelligent ; such being expressly said 
 to have been made in the image of God. And if here we 
 find oneness, with dislincLion, meeting together in the same 
 created intelligent being, this may assist our understand- 
 ings in conceiving what is possible to be, (in much higher 
 perfection,) though not to the concluding what certainly 
 is, in the v.ncrealed. 
 
 V. Waving the many artificial unions of distinct things, 
 that united, and continuing distinct, make one thing under 
 one name, 1 shall only consider what is natural, and give 
 instance in what is nearest us, owr very selves ; though the 
 truth is, we know sro little of our own nature, that it is a 
 strange assuming when we confidently determine what is 
 impossible to be in the Divine nature, besides what he hath 
 told us, or made our own faculties plainly tell us, is so; 
 and what he hath made any man's faculties to tell him, he 
 halh made all men's that can use them. 
 
 But so much we manifestly find in ourselves, that we 
 have three natures in us very sufficiently distinguishable, 
 and that are intimately united, the vegetalive, sensitive, and 
 the intellective. So that notwithstanding their manifest 
 distinction, no one scruples, when they are united, to call 
 the whole the huvian nature. Or if any make a difficulty, 
 or would raise a dispute about the distinction of these 
 three natures, I for the present content myself with what 
 is more obvious, not doubting to reach any mark by de- 
 grees, viz. that we are made up of a mind, and a body, 
 somewhat that can think, and somewhat that cannot ; 
 sufficiently distinct, yet so united, that not only every one, 
 without hesitation, calls that thing made up of them, one 
 man ; but also every one that considers deeply, will be 
 transported with wonder by what more than magical knot 
 or tie, two things, so little akin, should be so held together, 
 that the one that hath the power of will and choice cannot 
 sever itself, and return into the same union with the other, 
 at pleasure. But, 
 
 VI. Since we find this is a thing actually done, the 
 making up of two things of so different natures into one 
 thing, that puts the maUer out of doubt that this was a 
 thing possible to be done, 'twas what God could do, for he 
 hath done it. And if that were possible to him, to unite 
 two tilings of so very diflerent natures into one thing ; let 
 any colourable reason be assigned me, why it should not 
 be as possible to him, to unite two things of a like nature ; 
 i. e. if it were possible to him, to unite a spirit and a body, 
 why is it less possible to him to have united two spirits? 
 And then I further inquire, if it were possible to him to 
 unite two, would it not be as possible to unite three ? 
 Let reason here be put upon its utmost stretch, and tell me 
 what in all this is less possible than what we see is ac- 
 tually done ! Will any man say two or three spirits united, 
 being of the same nature, will mingle, be confounded, run 
 into one another, and lose their distinction] I ask, suppos- 
 ing them to pre-exist apart, antecedently to their union, are 
 they not now distinguished by their own individual es- 
 sences ; let ihem be as much united as our souls and bodies 
 are, why should they not as much remain distinct by their 
 singular essences 1 There is no more hazard of their losing 
 their distinction, by the similitude of their natures, than 
 of our soul and body transmuting one another by their 
 dissimilitude. 
 
 I know not but the dictates of so vogued an author with 
 many in this age, as Spinosa, may signify somewhat with 
 some into whose hands this may fall ; who, with design 
 bad enough, says, that from whence one might collect the 
 remaining distinction of two things of the same nature in 
 such a supposed union, were the more easily conceivable of 
 the two, i. e. than of two things of different natures. For 
 in his Posthumous Ethics, de Deo, he lays this down in 
 explication of his second definition, Cogitatio alia cogi- 
 tatione terminatur. At corpus nan terminatur cogitatione, 
 nee cogitatio corpore. Some may regard him in this, and 
 
 it would do our business. For my part, I care not to be 
 so much beholden to him ; for it would, at the long run, 
 overdo it; and I know his meaning. But I see not but 
 two congenerous natures are equally capable of being 
 united, retaining their distinction, as two of a different 
 kind; and that sufficiently serves the present purpose. 
 
 However, let any man tell me, why it should be im- 
 possible to God so to unite three spirits, as by his own 
 power to fix their limits also, and by a perpetual law 
 inwrought in their distinct beings, to keep them distinct, so 
 that they shall remain everlastingly united, but not iden- 
 tified ; and by virtue of that union, be some one thing, 
 which must, yet, want a name, as much, and as truly, as 
 our soul and body united do constitute one man. Nor is 
 it now the question, whether such a union would be con- 
 venient or inconvenient, apt or inapt ; but all the question 
 is, whether it be possible or impossible ; which is as much 
 as we are concerned in at this time. But you will say, 
 Suppose it be possible, to what purpose is all this ? how 
 remote is it from the supposed trinity in the Godhead ! 
 You will see to what purpose it is by and by. I there- 
 fore add, 
 
 VII. That if such a union of three things, whether of 
 like or of different natures, so as that they shall be truly 
 one thing, and yet remain distinct, though united, can be 
 effected, as one may with certainty pronounce, there is no- 
 thing more impossible or unconceivable in it, than we find 
 is actually done, then it is not intrinsically impossible, or 
 objectively ; it is not impossible in itself. No power can 
 effect what is simply and in itself impossible. There is 
 therefore no contradiction, no repugnancy, or inconsist- 
 ency, as to the thing, nor consequently any shadow of ab- 
 surdity in the conception hereof. Whereupon, 
 
 VIII. If such a imion with such distinction be not 
 impossible in itself, so that by a competent power it is suf- 
 ficiently possiblp to be effected, or made ; we are to con- 
 sider whether it will appear more impossible, or whether I 
 shall have a conception in my own mind any thing more 
 incongruous, if I conceive such a union, with such dis- 
 tinction, unmade, or that is original and eternal in an un- 
 raarle or uncreated being. For we are first to consider 
 the thing in itself, abstractly from made or unmade, created 
 or uncreated, being. And if it pass clear of contradiction 
 or absurdity, in its abstract notion, we are so far safe, and 
 are not liable to be charged as having the conception in 
 our minds of an impossible, absurd, or self-repugnant 
 thing. So that clamour and cry of the adversary must 
 cease, or be itself absurd, and without pretence. This 
 now supposed, union with such distinction, must if it be 
 judged impossible, as it is in our thoughts introduced into 
 unmade being, can no longer be judged impo.ssible as it 
 is a union of distinct things, but only as it is unmade, or 
 is supposed to have place in the unmade eternal Being. 
 
 IX. This is that then we have further to consider, whe- 
 ther, supposing it possible that three spiritual beings might 
 as well be made or created in a state of so near union with 
 continuing distinction, as to admit of becoming one spiri- 
 tual being, to be called by some fit name, which might 
 easily be found out, if the thing were produced, as that a 
 spiritual being and a corporeal being may be made and 
 created in a state of so near union with continuing distinc- 
 tion, as to become one spiritual-corporeal being, called by 
 the name of man ; I say, whether, supposing the former of 
 these to be as possible to be done, or created, as the latter, 
 which we see done already, we may not as well suppose 
 somewhat like it, but infinitely more perfect, to be original 
 and eternal in the uncreated Being] If the first be pos- 
 sible, the next actual, what pretence is there to think the 
 last impossible] 
 
 X. I might add, as that -which may be expected to be 
 significant with such as do seriously believe the doctrines 
 both of the incarnation and the trinity, though I know it 
 will signify nothing with them who with equal contempt 
 reject both, that the union of the two natures, the human, 
 made up of a human body and a human soul, which are 
 two exceedingly different natures, with the divine, which 
 is a third, and infinitely more different from both the other 
 in one person, viz. of the Son of God, cannot certainly 
 appear to any considering person more conceivable or pos- 
 sible, than that which we now suppose, but assert not, of
 
 THE TRINITY IN THE GODHEAD. 
 
 J39 
 
 three distinct essences united in the 07ie Godhead, upon 
 any account, but this only, that this is supposed to be an un- 
 made, eternal union, the other made and temporal; which 
 renders not the one less conceivable than the other, as it 
 is union, but only as in the several terms ol'this union it 
 is supposed eternally to have place in the being of God ; 
 whereas that other union, in respect of one of its terms, 
 is acknowledged de novo to have place there. 
 
 In short, here is a spiritual created being, a human soul, 
 setting aside for the present the consideration of the human 
 body, which united therewith made up the man, Christ, 
 confessed to be in hypostatical union with the uncreated 
 spiritual being of God-, not as that being is in the person 
 of the Father, nor as in the person of the Holy Ghost, for 
 then they should have become man too; but as it was in 
 the person of the Son only. Why shall it be thought less 
 possible t4iat three rmcreated spiritual beings maybe in so 
 near a union with each other as to be one God, as that a 
 created spirit, and body too, should be in so near a union 
 with one of the persons in the Godhead only, as therewith 
 to be one person? Will it not hereby be much more easily 
 apprehensible how one of the persons (as the common way 
 of speaking is) should be incarnate, and not the other two 1 
 Will not the notion of person itself be much more unex- 
 ceptionable, when it shall be supposed to have its own in- 
 dividual natm-e 1 And why is a natural, eternal union 
 of uncreated natures, with continual distinction, or with- 
 out confusion, sufficient unto the imity of the Godhead, 
 less supposable, than a temporal contracted union with 
 created natures, without confusion too, that shall be suffi- 
 cient to the unity of a person 1 Will it be any thing more 
 contrary to such simplicity of the Divine nature as is ne- 
 cessarily to be ascribed thereto 1 or will it be Iritheism, 
 and inconsistent with the acknowledged inviolable unity 
 of the Godhead 1 
 
 XI. That we may proceed to speak to both, let these 
 things be considered with seriousness and sobriety of mind, 
 as to ourselves ; with all possible reverence towards the 
 blessed God ; and with just candour and equanimity to- 
 wai'ds other men. And first, we must leave it to any one's 
 future representation (not being hitherto able to discern 
 any thing) what there is in all this that is here supposed 
 any way repugnant to such simplicity, as Grod any where 
 claims to his own being, or that plain reason will constrain 
 us to ascribe to him, or that is really in itself any perfec- 
 tion. We are sure God hath not by his word taught us 
 to ascribe to him universal absolute simplicit}' ; or .sug- 
 gested to us any such notices as directly and evidently in- 
 fer it to belong to him; nor hath seemed at all intent upon 
 cautioning of us lest we should not ascribe it. The v-ord 
 we find not among his attributes mentioned in the Holy 
 Scriptures. The thing, so far as it signifies any general 
 perfection, we are sure belongs to him; but the Scriptures 
 are not written with visible design to obviate any danger 
 of our misconceiving his nature, by not apprehending it to 
 be in every respect most absolutely simple. It doth teach 
 us to conceive of him as most powerful, most wise, most 
 gracious ; and doth not teach us to conceive all these in 
 the abstract, viz. power, wisdom, and goodness, to be the 
 same thing. Yet we easily apprehend, by refleciing upon 
 ourselves, that, without multiplying the subject, these may 
 all reside together in the same man. But our dilhculty is 
 greater to conceive what is commonly taught, that these, 
 without real distinction, or with formal only, as contradis- 
 tinguished to the dilTerence of thing from thing, are in the 
 abstract affirmable of God, that he is power, wisdom, good- 
 ness : that to his being belongs so ab.solute simplicity, that 
 we must not look upon these as things really distinguishable, 
 there, from one another, but as diflFerent conceptions of the 
 .same thing. We must conceive of things as we can, not 
 35 we cannot : and are only concerned to take heed of un- 
 revealed, and undemonstrable, and peremptory' concep- 
 tions concerning that glorious, most incomprehensible, 
 and ever blessed Being; to beware of too curious prying 
 into the nature of God, when it was so penal to look unduly 
 into, or even to touch, that only-hallowed symbol of his 
 presence, his ark, beyond what he hath revealed expressly, 
 or we can most clearly, by generally received light, appre- 
 hend.' When we know there is a knowledge of him so 
 ••eserved from us, whereof our minds are so little receptive, 
 
 that it seemed all one, whether he told us he did dwell in 
 thick darkness, or in inaccessible lighi. 'Twill be a re- 
 proach to us, if we shall need to be taught reverence o£ 
 him by pagans; or that such a document should need to 
 be given us for our admonition, as that very ancient in- 
 scription in one of their temples imported, " lam whatso- 
 ever was, is, or shall be, and who is he that shall draw 
 aside my veil 1" 
 
 XII. If we should .suppose three spiritual necessary be- 
 ings, the one whereof were mere power (or furious might) 
 destitute of either wisdom or goodness ; another mere wis- 
 dom (or craft rather) destitute of euher goodness or power; 
 a third mere goodness (or fond and fruitless kindness) 
 destitute of either power or wisdom; existing separately 
 and apart from each other ; this triple conception would 
 overthrow it.self, and must certainly allow little ease to any 
 considering mind. Nor could any of these be God. Biit 
 if we conceive essential power, wi.-<dom, and goodness con- 
 curring in one spiritual necessarily existent Being, in 
 which are each of these, not only, by the n-coi;;j^ojpr)(r<{ usually 
 acknowledged in the three persons, totally permeating one 
 another, (which signifying but mere presence, as we may 
 express it, is, in comparison, a small thing,) but really and 
 vitally united, by so much a nearer and more perfect union 
 than hath ever<:ome under our notice among created be- 
 ings, of partly corporeal, partly incorporeal, natures, by 
 how much beings of purest spirituality may be apter to the 
 most intimate union, than when one is quite of a different 
 nature from the other, and as whatsoever union is suppo- 
 sable to be, originally, eteinaJly, and by natural necessity^, 
 in the most perfect being, may be thought inexpressibly 
 more perfect than any other. And if, hereupon, we fur- 
 ther conceive the most entire, perpetual, everlasting inter- 
 course and communion of these three, so originally united, 
 that what is conceivable of perfection or excellency in any 
 one of these, is as much the others, for whatsoeveT exer- 
 cises or operations, as his own; I cannot apprehend what 
 there is of repugnancy, contradiction, or absurdii}' in this 
 supposition ; nor any thing that, by any measures he hath 
 given us to govern our conceptions of hirn, appears unbe- 
 commg or unworth)'' of God. There is, 'tis true, less sim- 
 plicity, but more perfection, ascribed hereby to the Divine, 
 Being, entirely considered : and more intelligibly, than if 
 you go about to impose upon yourself the notion of most 
 absolute omnimodous simplicity therein. There would be 
 yet more ab.^^olute simplieity- ascribed unto an eternal Be- 
 ing, if you should conceive in it mere power exclusive of 
 wisdom, and goodness — and so of the rest ; but infinitely 
 less perfection. And, if that would avail any thing, I could 
 easily produce more schoolmen than one, of no small note, 
 concurring in this sentiment, that simplicitas, si sumatiir 
 in totd sua amplitudine, non dicit pcrfectioneni sim.pliciter. 
 But I count it not worth the while. 
 
 XIII. And let it be here again observed, I speak not of 
 this, as any certain determination, that thus things are 
 done in the Deity ; but as a possible supposition of what, 
 for ought we Icnow, mav be. If any say this gives us the 
 notion of a compounded Deity, or of a composition in it; 
 I only say the term, composition, seems to impl}' a pre-ex- 
 isting co7«;;f)n<?«< that brings such things tc«:ether, and sup- 
 poses such and such more simple things to have pre-ex- 
 isted apart or separate, and to be brought afterwards to- 
 gether into a united state. Whereupon I peremptt)rily deny 
 any composition in the being of God. And let any man 
 from what hath been hitherto said, or supposed, infer it, if 
 he can. Imagine this of the Godhead, and you shall, we 
 acknowledge, conceive most untruly, most unworthily, 
 most injuriously of God ; and what is most absolutely im- 
 possible to agree to the Divine Being. And for this rea- 
 son only, that I know of, that carries any shadow of im- 
 portance in it, many have beon .«o apt, without the least 
 warrant from any revelation God hath given of himself, to 
 ascribe to him an unintelligible siynplicity ; apprehending 
 they must otherwise admit a composition in his most sacreii 
 es.sence, i. e. the putting of things together that were sepa- 
 rate, to make it up; which must suppose it a new produc- 
 tion, that once was not, and from an imperfect state by the 
 coalition of things once severed, to have arrived to the 
 perfection we ascribe to the Divine Being; which sort of 
 being cannot, without the most absurd and blasphemous
 
 140 
 
 A CALM DISCOURSE OF 
 
 contradiction, ever admit to be called God. But if we 
 suppose most perfect, essential power, wisdom, love, by 
 original, eternal, and most natural necessity, to have co- 
 existed in that being most intimately united, though dis- 
 tinct ; that seemingly important reason will appear but a 
 shadow, and accordingly vanish as such. 
 
 And indeed this is no more than what, in effect, such as 
 discourse upon this subject do commonly say (though per- 
 haps some may less consider the ducture and sequel of 
 their own pi-ofessed sentiments) when they speak of the 
 incomprehensibleness of God's essence, and how impossi- 
 ble it IS a finite mind should form or receive a full and 
 complete idea of it ; or when they therefore say, that any 
 conceptions we can have of the wisdom, goodness, or any 
 other attribute of the Divine Being, are still but inadequate 
 conceptions ; whereby they must mean, when we consider 
 for instance the wisdom of God, that we not only fall infi- 
 nitely short of conceiving all that belong to the Divine 
 Being, in that kind, but there is also iniinitely more be- 
 longing thereto, in other kinds, ihan it is possible that 
 concepiion can contain or express. And when we have 
 the conception in our minds of the Divine wi.sdom, do we 
 not apprehend there is really somewhat else in the Divine 
 Being, whereof that term hath no signification 1 or will 
 we say his v/isdom and his power are really the same 
 thing? as tliey must either be the same or divers things. 
 If we say they are the same, we must, I doubt, confess our- 
 selves to say what we do not understand, especially when, 
 in the abstract, we affirm them of one another, and of God ; 
 and accordingly say that wisdom is power, and power is 
 wisdom, and the one of these is God, and the other, God. 
 I know a formal distinction is commonly admitted, i. e. 
 that the conception of the one is not included in the con- 
 ception of the other. But are these different conceptions 
 true or false 1 If false, why are they admitted 1 If true, 
 there must be somewhat in the nature of the thing cor- 
 responding to them. But if we say they are distinct, but 
 most intimately and eternally united in the Divine Being, 
 by a necessary natural union, or that it is npt impossible 
 so to be, \vhat we say will, I think, agree with itself, and 
 not disagree with any other conception we are obliged to 
 have concerning the blessed God. 
 
 In the meantime, I profess not to judge, we are under the 
 precise notions of power, wisdom, and goodness, to con- 
 ceive of the Father, Son, and Holy Ghost : nor that the 
 notions we have of those or any other divine perfections, 
 do exactly correspond to what, in God, is signified by these 
 names; but I reckon, that what relief and ease is given 
 our minds by their being disentangled from any appre- 
 hended necessity of thinking these to be the very same 
 things, may facilitate to us our apprehending the Father, 
 Son, and Spirit to be sufficiently distinct, for our affirming, 
 or understanding the affirmation, of some things concern- 
 ing some one, without including the other of them. 
 
 XIV. But some perhaps will say, while we thus ampli- 
 fy the distinction of these glorious three, we shall seem to 
 have too friendl}^ a look towards, or shall say in effect, 
 what Dr. Sherlock is so highly blamed for saying, and 
 make three Gods. I answer, that if with sincere minds we 
 inquire after truth, for its own sake, we shall little regard 
 the friendship or enmity, honour or dishonour, of this or 
 that man. If this were indeed so, doth what was true be- 
 come false, because such a man hath said it 1 But it is re- 
 mote from being so. There is no more here positively as- 
 serted, than generally so much distinction between the Fa- 
 ther, Son, and Spirit, as is in itself necessary tothefound- 
 •ng the distinct attributions, which in the Scriptures are 
 severally given them — that when the Word or Wisdom was 
 said to be Avith God (understanding it, as the case requires, 
 with God the Father) in the creation of all things, we may 
 not think, nothing more is said than that he was with him- 
 self ; that when the Word is said to be made flesh, 'tis 
 equally said the Father was made flesh, or the Holy Ghost ; 
 that when the Hol}^ Ghost is said to have proceeded from, 
 or have been sent, by the Father, or the Son, he is said to 
 have proceeded from himself, or have sent himself. — But, in 
 the meantime, this is offered, without determining precisely 
 how great distinction is necessary to this purpose. It is not 
 here positively said these three are three distinct substances, 
 
 a 1 John T. b John x. 
 
 three infinite minds or spirits. We again and again insist, 
 and inculcate, how becoming and necessary it is to abstain 
 from over-bold inquiries, or positive determinations, con- 
 cerning the limits, or the extent of this distinction, beyond 
 what the Scriptures have, in general, made necessary to 
 the mentioned purpose ; that we may not throw ourselves 
 into guilt, nor cast our minds into unnecessary straits, by 
 affirming this or that to be necessary, or impossible in 
 these matters. 
 
 XV. The case is only thus, that since we are plainly led 
 by the express revelation God hath made of himself to us 
 in his word, to admit a trinal conception oi him, or to con- 
 ceive this threefold distinction in his being, of Father, Son, 
 and Spirit ; since we have so much togreaten that distinc- 
 tion, divers things being said of each of these, that must 
 not be understood of either of the other ; since we have 
 nothing to limit it on the other hand, but the unity of the 
 Godhead, which we are sure can be but One, both from 
 the plain word of God, and the nature of the thing itself; 
 since we are assured both these may consist, viz. this 
 trinity, and this unity, by being told " there are three, 
 and these three (i. e. plainly continuing three) are ev, one 
 thing ; which one thing can mean nothing else but God- 
 head; as is also .^^aid concerning two of them, elsewhere, 
 (there being no occasion, then, to mention the third, b) I 
 and my Father are one thing. We are hereupon unavoid- 
 ably put upon it to cast in CHir own minds (and are con- 
 cerned to do it with the most religious reverence and pro- 
 foundest humility) what sort of thing this most sacred God- 
 head may be, unto which this one?icss is ascribed, with 
 threefold distinction. And manifestly finding there are in 
 the creation made unions, with sufficient remaining dis- 
 tinction, particularly in ourselves, that we are a soul and 
 a body, (things of so very different natures,) that often the 
 soul is called the man, (not excluding the body,) and the 
 body, or our flesh, called the man, (not excluding the soul,) 
 we are plainly led to apprehend, that it is rather more easily 
 possible there might be two spirits (so much more agreeing 
 in nature) so united, as to be one thing, and yet continuing 
 distinct ; and if two, there might as well be three, if the Cre- 
 ator pleased. And hence are led further to apprehend, that 
 if such a made union, with continuing distinction, be possi- 
 ble in created being, it is, for ought we know, not impossible 
 in the uncreated ; that there may be such an eternal unmade 
 union, wilh continuing distinction. And all this being only 
 represented as possible to be thus, without concluding that 
 thus it certainly is, sufficiently serves our purpose, that no 
 pretence might remain of excluding the eternal Word, 
 and the eternal Spirit, the Godhead, as if a trinity therein 
 were contradictious and impossible, repugnant to reason 
 and common sense. Where now is the coincidency "? 
 
 XVI. Nor is there, hereupon, so great a remaining diffi- 
 culty to salve the unity of the Godhead, when the supposi- 
 tion is taken in, of the natural, eternal, necessary union 
 of these three that hath been mentioned. 
 
 And it shall be considered, that the Godhead is not sup- 
 posed more necessary to exist, than these three are to co- 
 exist in the nearest and most intimate union with each 
 other therein. That Spiritual Being which exists neces- 
 sarily, and is every way absolutely perfect, whether it con- 
 sist of three in one, or of only one, is God. We could never 
 have known, 'tis true, that there are such three coexisting 
 in this one God, if he himself had not told us. "= What 
 man knoweth the things of a man, but the spirit of a man 
 that is in him 7 Even so the things of God none knoweth, 
 but the Spirit of God. In telling us this he hath told us 
 no impossible, no inconceivable, thing. It is absurd and 
 very irreligious presumption, to say this cannot be. If a 
 worm were so far capable of thought, as to determine this 
 or that concerning our nature ; and that such a thing were 
 impossible to belong to it, which we find to be in it, we 
 should trample upon it ! More admirable Divine patience 
 .spares us ! He hath only let us know that this is the state 
 of his essence, whereof we should have been otherwise ig- 
 norant. This is its constitution, (q. d. ita se habet compa- 
 ratam) thus it is in and of itself, that there are three in it 
 to be conceived, under the distinct notions of Father, Son, 
 and Spirit, without telling us expressly how far they are 
 distinct, in terms of art, or in scholastic forms of speech. 
 
 c 1 Cor. ii. 11.
 
 THE TRINITY IN THE GODHEAD. 
 
 Ill 
 
 But he considered us as men, reasonable creatures; and 
 ihat when he tells us there are three existing in his being, 
 of each of which some things are said that must not be 
 understood spoken of the other, and yet that there is but 
 one Grod: we are not incapable of understanding, that 
 these three must agree in Godhead ; and yet that they must 
 be snfficienily disiinct, unto this purpose, that we may 
 distinctly conceive ot, apply ourselves to, and expect from, 
 the one and the other of them. And the franie of our 
 religion is therefore ordered for us accordin-gly, i. e. for us 
 to whom he hath revealed so much. Otheis, to whom 
 such notices are not given, he expects should deport them- 
 selves towards him, according to the light which they have, 
 not which they have not. 
 
 XVII. But an hypothesis in this affair, which leaves 
 out the very nexus, that natural, elerval union, or leaves 
 it out of its proper place, and insists upon mutual conscious- 
 ?iess, which, at the most, is but a consequence thereof, wants 
 the principal thing requisite to the salving the unity of the 
 Godhead. If two or three created spirits had never so 
 perfeci a mutual perspection of one another, that would 
 not constitute them one thing, though it probably argue 
 them to be so; and but probably ; for God might, no 
 doubt, give them a mutual insight into one another, with- 
 out making them one ; but if he should create them in as 
 near a union, as our soul and body are in with one another, 
 (and it is very apprehensible they might be created in a 
 much nearer and more permanent one, both being of the 
 same nature, and neither subject to decay,) they would as 
 truly admit to be called one something, (as such a creature 
 might well enough be called, till a fitter name were found 
 out,) notwithstanding their supposed continuing distinc- 
 tion, as our soul and body united, are, notwithstanding 
 their continuing distinction, called otie man. And I do 
 sincerely profess such a union, with perpetual distinction, 
 seems to me every whit as conceivable, being supposed 
 unmade, uncreated, and eternal, as any union is among 
 creatures, that must therefore be a made thing, or a tem- 
 poral production. 
 
 And whereas nece.ssity of existence (most unquestiona- 
 bly of an intellectual being) is a most certain and funda- 
 mental attribute of Deity ; the Father, Son, and Spirit being 
 supposed necessarily existent, in this united state, they can- 
 not but be God ; and the Godhead by reason of this neces- 
 sary union cannot but be one ; yet so, as that when you 
 predicate Godhead, or the name of God, of any one of them, 
 you herein express a trtie but an inadequate conception of 
 God : i. e. the Father is God, not excluding the Son and 
 Holy Ghost ; the Son is God, not excluding the Father 
 and the Holy Ghost; the Holy Ghost is God, not exclud- 
 ing the Father and the Son. Thus our body is the man, 
 MOt excluding the soul ; our soul is the man, not excluding 
 the body. Therefore their union in Godhead being so strict 
 jnd close, notwithstanding their distinction, to say that any 
 one of them is God, in exclusion of the other two, would 
 not be a true predication. 'Tis indeed said,d the Father 
 is the only true God ; but that neither excludes the Son 
 nor the Holy Ghost from being the true God also ; each of 
 them communicating in that Godhead which only is true. 
 It had been quite another thing, if it had been said, Thou, 
 Father, only, art the true God. 
 
 XVIII. The order, moreover, is this way also very clearly 
 preserved and fitly complied with, of priority and posteri- 
 ority, (not of time, as every one sees, but nature,) which the 
 names Father, Son, and Spirit, do more than intimate. 
 For the Father (usually called by the divines Fans trini- 
 tatis) being by this appellation plainly signified to be first 
 in this sacred triad; the Son, as that title imports, to be of 
 the Father; and the Spirit to be of, or from, both the 
 other: let these two latter be considered as being of or 
 from the first, not by any intervening act of will, by which 
 it might have been possible they should not have been so; 
 but by natural, necessary, eternal promanatioii ; so as 
 that necessity of existence is hereby made as truly to agree 
 to them as to the first, which is acknowledged the most 
 fundamental attribute of Deity. This promanutian is 
 hereby sufficiently distinguished from creation; and these 
 two set infinitely above all creatures, or the whole uni- 
 verse of created beings. Nor is there hereby any place 
 
 d John xvii, 3. 
 
 left for that unapt application of a' .son and a grandson 
 deriving themselves from the grandfather, or two brothers 
 from one father. 
 
 And although it be also true, and readily acknowledged, 
 that there are numerous instances of involuntar}- produc- 
 tions among the creatures, and which are therefore to be 
 deemed a sort of natural and necessary productions; yet 
 that necessity not being absolute, but ex hypothesi only, 
 i. e. upon supposition of their productive causes, and all 
 things requisite to those productions, being so, and so, 
 aptly posited in order thereto, all which depended upon 
 one sovereign will at first, so that all might have been 
 otherwise, this signifies nothing to exempt them out of 
 the state and rank of creatures, or invalidate this most 
 unalterable distinction between created being and im- 
 creaied. 
 
 XIX. But if here it shall be urged to me that one indi- 
 vidual, necessarily existent, spiritual Being alone is God, 
 and is all that is signified by the name of God : and there- 
 fore that three distinct individual, necessarily existent, 
 spiritual Beings must unavoidably be three distinct Gods: 
 
 I would say, if by one individual, necessarily existent, 
 spiritual Being, you mean one such Being, comprehending 
 Father, Son, and Holy Ghost, taken together, I grant it. 
 But if by one individual, necessarily existent, spiritual 
 Being, you mean either the Father, Son, or Holy Ghost, 
 taken sejunctly, I deny it ; for both the other are truly 
 signified by the name of God too, as well as that one. 
 
 T therefore say, the terra individual must in this case 
 now supposed (as possible, not as certain) admit of a two- 
 fold application; either to ihedistinct essence of the Father, 
 or of the Son, or of the Holy Ghost; or to the entire 
 essence of the Godhead, in which these three do concur. 
 Each of these conceived by itself are (according to this 
 .supposition) individual essences; but conceived together, 
 they are the entire individual essence of God. For there 
 is but one such essence, and no more ; and it can never be 
 multiplied, nor divided into more of the same name and 
 nature : as the body and soul of a man, are one individual 
 body, and one individual soul, but both together are but 
 one individual man ; and the case would be the same, if 
 a man did consist of two, or three spirits so (or more nearly) 
 united together, as his soul and body are. Especially if 
 you should suppose, which is the supposition of no impos- 
 sible or imconceivable thing, that these three spirits which 
 together, as we now do suppose, do constitute a man, were 
 created with an aptitude to this united co-existence, but 
 with an impossibility of existing separatel)% except to the 
 Divine power which created them conjimct, and might 
 separate them so as to make them exist apart: which yet 
 cannot be the case in respect of three such uncreated spi- 
 ritual Beings, whose union is supposed to be by natural, 
 eternal necessity, as their essences are ; and are therefore 
 most absolutely inseparable. 
 
 XX. Or if it should be said, I make the notion of God 
 to comprehend Father, Son, and Holy Ghost, and a God- 
 head besides common to these three : 
 
 I answer; nothing I have said or supposed, implies any 
 such thing; or that the notion of God imports any thing 
 more of real being, than is contained in Father, Son, and 
 Holy Ghost, taken together, and most intimately, naturally, 
 and vitally, by eternal necessity, united with one another. 
 As in a created being, consisting of more things than one, 
 taken together and united, a man for instance, there is 
 nothing more of real entity, besides what is contained in 
 his body nd his soul united and taken together. 'Tis true 
 that this term, a man, speaks somewhat very diverse from 
 a human body taken alone or a human soul taken alone, 
 or from both, separately taKen; but nothing diverse from 
 both united, and taken together. And for what this may 
 be unjustly collected to imply of composition, repugnant to 
 Divine perfection, it is before obviated. Sect. 13. 
 
 If therefore it be asked, " "What do we conceive under 
 the notion of God, but a necessary, spiritual Being 1" I 
 answer, that this is a true notion of God, and nay be pass- 
 able enough, amongpagans, for a /i/// one. But we Chris- 
 tians are taught to conceive under the notion of God. a 
 necessary, spiritual Being, in which Father. Son, and Spirit 
 do so necessarily co-exist, as to constitute that Being; and 
 e P. I3S. of these ronsidcratioDs.
 
 142 
 
 A CALM DISCOURSE OF 
 
 that when we conceive any one of them to be God, that is 
 but an inadequate, not an entire and full, conception of the 
 Godhead. N.jF will any place remain for that trivial cavil, 
 that if each of these have Godhead in him, he therefore 
 hath a trinity in him ; but that he is one of the three who 
 together are the One God, by necessary, natural, eternal 
 union. 
 
 Which imion is also quite of another kind than that of 
 three men (as for instance, of Peter, James, and John) par- 
 taking in the same kind of nature ; who, notwithstanding, 
 exist separately, and apart from each other. These three 
 are supposed to co-exist in natural, necessary, eternal, and 
 most intimate union, so as to be one Divine Being. 
 
 Nor is it any prejudice against our thus staling the no- 
 lion of the Godhead, that we know of no such union in all 
 the creation, that may assist our conception of this union. 
 What incongruity is there in supposing, in this respect, as 
 well as in many others, somewhat most peculiarly appro- 
 priate to the being of God 1 If there be no such actual 
 union in the creation, 'tis enough to our purpose, if such a 
 one were possible to have been. And we do know of the 
 actual union of two things of very dilTerent natures so as 
 to be one thing, and have no reason to think the union of 
 two or more things of the same sort of nature, with suf- 
 ficient remaining distiaction, less possible or less intel- 
 ligible. 
 
 XXI. Upon the whole, let such a union be conceived 
 in the being of God, with such distinction, and one would 
 think (though the complexions of men's minds do strangely 
 and unaccountably ditfer) the absolute perfection of the 
 Deity, and especially the perfect felicity thereof, should be 
 much the more apprehensible with us. When we consider 
 the most delicious society which would hence ensue, among 
 the so entirely consentient Father, Son, and Spirit, with 
 whom there is so perfect rectitude, everlasting harmony, 
 mutual complacency, unto highest delectation ; according 
 to our way of conceiving things, who are taught by our 
 own nature (which also hath in it the Divine image) to 
 reckon no enjoyment pleasant, without the consociation of 
 some other with us therein ; we for our parts cannot but 
 hereby have in our minds a more gustful idea of a blessed 
 state, than we can conceive in mere eternal solitude. 
 
 God speaks to us as men, and will not blame us for con- 
 ceiving things, so infinitely above us, according to the 
 capacity of our natures ; provided we do not assume to 
 ourselves to be a measure for our conceptions of him, 
 further than as he is himself pleased to warrant, and direct 
 us herein. Some likeness we may (taught by himself) 
 apprehend between him and us, but with infinite (not in- 
 equality only, but) unlikeness. And for this case of de- 
 lectation in society, we must suppose an immense diflerence 
 between him, an all-sufficient, self-sufficient Being, com- 
 prehending in himself the infinite fulness of whatsoever is 
 most excellent and delectable, and ourselves, who have in 
 us but 3 very minute portion of being, goodness, or felicity, 
 and whom he hath made to stand much in need of one 
 another, and most of all of him. 
 
 But when, looking into ourselves, we find there is in us 
 a disposition, often upon no necessity, but sometimes from 
 some sort of benignity of temper, unto conversation with 
 others ; we have no reason, when other things concur, and 
 do fairly induce, and lead our thoughts this way, to ap- 
 prehend any incongruity in supposing he may have some 
 distinct object of the same sort of propension in his own 
 most perfect being too, and therewith such a propension 
 itself also. 
 
 XXII. As to what concerns ourselves, the observation 
 is not altogether unapposite, what Cicero, treating of friend- 
 ship, discourses of perpetual solitude, " that the affectation 
 of it must signify the worst of ill humour, and the most 
 savage nature in the world. And supposing one of so sour 
 and morose a humour, as to shun and hate the conversation 
 of men, he would not endure it, to be without some one 
 or other to whom he might disgorge the virulency of that 
 his malignant humour. Or that supposing such a thing 
 30uld happen, that God should take a man quite out of 
 the society of men, and place him in absolute solitude, 
 supplied with the abundance of whatsoever nature could 
 
 f Prov. viii. g Gi-n. i. 
 
 I John I. m Jolui iii. 
 
 h Prov viii. 
 11 Juhn X. 
 
 i I.sa. ix. 
 o John xxi. 
 
 k Mic. V. 
 p Rom. ix. 
 
 covet besides; who, saith he, is so made of iron, as to 
 endure that kind of life"?" And he introduces Architas 
 Tarentinus reported to speak to this purpose, — " that if 
 one could ascend into heaven, behold the frame of the 
 world, and the beauty of every star, his admiration would 
 be unpleasant to him alone; which would be most deli- 
 cious, if he had some one to whom to express his sense of 
 the whole." 
 
 We are not, I say, strictly to measure God by our-elves 
 in this, further than as he himself prompts and leads us. 
 But if we so form our conception of Divine bliss, as not 
 to exclude from it somewhat, whereof that delight in so- 
 ciety which we find in ourselves may be an imperfect 
 faint resemblance ; it seems not altogether disagreeable to 
 what the Scriptures also teach us to conceive concerning 
 him, when they bring in the eternal Wisdom, saying, as 
 one distinct from the prime Author and Parent of all 
 things,f Then was I by him, as one brought up with him, 
 and daily his delight. 
 
 XXIII. However, let the whole of what hath been 
 hitherto proposed be taken together, and to me, it appears 
 our conception of the sacred trinunity will be so remote 
 from any shadow of inconsistency or repugnancy, that no 
 necessity can remain upon us of torturing wit, and rack- 
 ing invention to the uttermost, to do a laboured and artifi- 
 cial violence (by I know not what screws and engines) to 
 so numerous plain texts of Scripture, only to undeify our 
 glorious Redeemer, and do the utmost despite to the Spirit 
 of grace. We may he content to let the word of God (or 
 what we pretend to own for a Divine revelation) stand as 
 it is, and undistorted speak its own sense. And when 
 we find the? Former of things speaking as We or Us^, 
 when we find another h /, possessed by the Lord, in the 
 beginning of his way, before his works of old ; so as that 
 he says of himself (as distinct from the other) I was set 
 up from everlasting, from the beginning, or ever the earth 
 was — and. When he prepared the heavens I was there, &c. 
 When we find i the Child born for us, the Son given to us, 
 called also the mighty God, and (as in reference to us he 
 fitly might) the everlasting Father. When we are told ^ of 
 the Ruler that was to come out of Bethlehem-Ephrata, 
 that his goings forth were from everlasting : that, The 
 Word was in the beginning with God, and was God — i that 
 all things were made by him, and without him nothing was 
 made that was made — that this Word was made flesh — 
 that his glory was beheld as the glory of the only-begotten 
 Son of the Father, full of grace and truth; even that 
 same he that above was said to have been in the beginning 
 with God, and to be God : — that when he who was said «> 
 to have come down from heaven, was, even while he was 
 on earth, at that time, said to be in heaven : — that we are 
 told by himself," he and his Father are one thing : — that 
 he is not only saido to know the heart, but to know all 
 things : — that even he who p according to the flesh came of 
 the Israelites, is yet expressly said to be over all, God 
 blessed for ever: — that when he was"! in the form of God, 
 he humbled himself to the taking on him the form of a 
 servant, and to be found in fashion as a man : — that 'tis 
 said,' all things were created by him, that are in heaven, 
 and on earth, visible and invisible, thrones, dominions, 
 principalities, powers, — and that all things were created 
 by him, and for him ; than which nothing could have been 
 said more peculiar or appropriate to Deity : — that even of 
 the Son of God it is said,^ he is the true God and eternal 
 life : — that we are so plainly told, heist Alpha and Omega, 
 the first and the last," he that was, and is, and is to come,* 
 the Lord Almighty, the beginning of the creation of God: 
 the searcher of hearts: — that the Spirit of God is said y to 
 search all things, even the deep things of God : — that lying 
 to him is said ^ to be lying to God : — that the great Chris- 
 tian solemnity, baptism, is directed to be in the name of 
 the Father, Son, and Holy Ghost: — that it is so distinctly 
 said,"^ there are three that bear record in heaven, the Fa- 
 ther, the Word, and the Spirit, and that these three are 
 one thing. 
 
 I cannot imagine what should oblige us so studiously to 
 wiredraw all this to quite other meanings. 
 
 XXIV. And for the leaving out of the last mentioned 
 
 q PMl ii. 
 X Cliap. iii. 
 
 r Col. i. 8 1 John v. t Rev. i. u Chap. ii. 
 
 y I Cor. ii. z AcU v. a l John v.
 
 THE TRINITY IN THE GODHEAD. 
 
 143 
 
 text in some copies, what hath been said (not to mention 
 divers others) hjMhe famously learned Dr. Hammond upon 
 that place, is so reasonable, so inod«i ate, so charitable to 
 the opposite party, and so apt to satisfy impartial and un- 
 prejudiced minds, that one would scarce think, after the 
 reading of it, any real doubt can remain concerning the 
 auiheniicness of that 7th verse in 1 John v. 
 
 Wherefore now taking all these texts together; with 
 many more that might have been mentioned, 1 must indeed 
 profess to wonder, that with men of so good sense, as our 
 Socinian adversaries are accounted, this consideration 
 should not have more place and weight, That it being so 
 obvious to any reader of ihe Scriptures to apprehend from 
 so numerous texts, that Deity must belong to the Son of 
 God, and that there wants not sufficient inducement to 
 conceive so of the Holy Ghost also ; there should be no 
 more caution given in the Scriptures themselves to prevent 
 mistake (if there were any) in apprehending the matter ac- 
 cordingly: and to obviate the unspeakable consequent 
 danger of erring in a case of so vast importance. Ho\v 
 unagreeable it is to all our notions of God, and to his 
 usual procedure in cases of less consequence ! How little 
 doth it consist with his being so wise and so compassion- 
 ate a lover of the souls of men, to let them be so fatally 
 exposed unto so inevitable and so destructive a delusion ! 
 that the whole Christian church should through so many 
 centuries of years, be even trained into so horrid and con- 
 tinued idolatry by himself who so severely forbids it! I 
 cannot allow myself to think men of that. persuasion in- 
 sincere in their professing to believe the divine authority 
 of the Holy Scriptures, when the leader and head of their 
 party wrote a book, that is not without nerves, in defence 
 of it. But I confess I cannot devise, with what design they 
 can think those Scriptures were written I or why thej' 
 should count it a thing worthy of infinite wisdom to vouch- 
 safe such a revelation to men, allowing them to treat and 
 use it as they do! And that till some great Socinian wits 
 should arise fifteen hundred years after, to rectifj' their 
 notions in these things, men should generally be in so 
 great hazard of being deceived into damnation by those 
 very Scriptures, v/hich were professedly writ to make them 
 wise to salvation ! 
 
 XXV. Nor is it of so weighty importance in this contro- 
 versy, to cast the balance the other way, that a noted critic 
 (upon what introducement needs not be determined) 
 changed his judgment, or that his posthumous interpreta- 
 tions of some texts (if they were his interpretations) carry 
 an appearance of his having changed it ; because he 
 thought such texts might possibl)^ admit to be interpreted 
 otherwise, than they usually were, by such as alleged them 
 for the trinity, or the (disputed) Deity of the Son or Spirit, 
 or that the cause must be lost, upon his deserting it. or that 
 he was still to be reckoned of the opposite party, (as this 
 author calls it,) and that such texts as we most relied upon, 
 were therefore giv^en up by some of our own. 
 
 And it is really a great assuming, when a man shall ad- 
 venture to pronounce so peremptorily, against the so 
 common judgment of the Christian church, without an}^ 
 colour of proof, that our copies are false copies, our trans- 
 lations, our explications false, and the generality of the 
 wisest, the most inquisitive, most pious, and most judicious 
 assertors of the Christian cause, for so many continued ages, 
 fools, or cheats, for o'WTiing and avowing them ; for no other 
 imaginable reason, but only because they make against 
 him ! How will he prove any copies we rely upon to be 
 false ? Is it because he is pleased to suspect them 1 And 
 is an interpretation false, because the words can possibly 
 be tortured unto some other sense 1 Let him name me the 
 text, wherein any doctrine is supposed to be delivered that 
 is of merely supernatural revelation, of which it is not pos- 
 sible to devise some other meaning, nor more remote, alien, 
 or unimaginable, than theirs, of most of the disputed 
 texts. 
 
 Nor indeed do we need to expect that natural sentiment 
 in itself, that there is but one God, (which this author takes 
 such pains to prove, as if he thought, or would make other 
 men think, we denied it.) For though it is so generally ac- 
 knowledged, doth he not know it is not so generally un- 
 derstood in the same sense 1 Against whom doth he write 1 
 Doth he not know they understand this oneness in one 
 
 sense, he in another 1 they in such a sense as admits a 
 triaily, he in a sense that excludes if? 
 
 But (lor such things as did need a superadded verbal 
 revelation) how easy is it to an inventive, pervicacious wit, 
 to wrest words this way, or that. 
 
 XXVI. The Scriptures were writ for the instruction of 
 sober learners; not for the pastime of contentious wits, 
 that affect only to play tricks upon them. At their rate of 
 interpreting, among whom he ranks himself, 'tis impossible 
 any doctrine can with certainly be founded upon them. 
 Takeihefirstchapterof St. John's Gospel, for instance, and 
 what doctrine can be asserted in plainer words, than the 
 Deity of Christ, in the three first verses of that chapter ? 
 Set any man of an ordinary, unprepossessed undt^rsianding, 
 to read them, and when he finds that by the Word is meant 
 Jesus Christ, (which themselves admit,) see if he will not 
 judge it plainly taught, that Jesus Christ is God, in the 
 most eminent, known sense ; especially when he shall take 
 notice of so many other texts, that, according to their most 
 obvious appearance, carry the same sense. But it is first, 
 through mere shortness of discourse, taken for granted, and 
 rashly concluded on, that it is absolutely impossible, if the 
 Father be God, the Son can be God too, (or the Holy 
 Ghost,) upon a presum.ption, that we can know ever)- thing 
 that belongs to the Divine nature ; and what is possible to 
 be in it, and what not ; and next, there is hereupon not 
 only a license imagined, but an obligation, and necessity, 
 to shake heaven and earth, or tear that divine word that is 
 more stable into a thousand pieces, or expound it tc 
 nothing, to make it comply with that forelaid presumptu- 
 ous determination. Whereas if we could but bend our 
 minds so far to comply with the plain duel u re of that re- 
 velation God hath made unto us of himself; as to appre- 
 hend that in the most only Godhead there may be di.-^iinc- 
 tions, which we particularly understand not, sufficient to 
 found the doctrine of a trinity therein, and very consistent 
 with the unity of it; we should save the Divine word, 
 and our own minds, from unjust torture, both at once. And 
 our task, herein, will be the easier, that we are neither con- 
 cerned nor allowed to determine, that things are precisely 
 so, or so; but only to suppose it possible ihat so they may 
 be, for ought that we know. Which will I am certain not 
 be so hard nor so bold an undertaking, as his, who shall 
 take upon him to prove, that any thing here supposed is 
 impossible. 
 
 Indeed if any one would run the discourse into the 
 abyss of infinity, he may soon create such difficulties to 
 himself, as it ought not "to be thousrht strange, if they be 
 greater than any human understanding can expedite. But 
 not greater than any man will he entangled in, that shall 
 set himself to consider infinity upon other accounts : which 
 yet he will find it imposed upon him unavoidably to ad- 
 mit, whether he will or no: not greater than this author 
 will be equally concerned in, upon his doinsr that right to 
 truth, in opposition to the former leaders of his own party, 
 as to acknowledge the omnipresence of the Divine essence, 
 (p. 32.) which he will find, let him try it when he will : nor 
 yet so great, nor accompanied with so gross, so palpable 
 and horrid absurdities, as he will soon be encountered 
 with, should he retract his grant, or entertain the monstrous- 
 ly maimed, and most deformed, impious conceit of a finite, 
 or limited Deity. 
 
 XXVII. Yet" also in this present case, the impossibility 
 to our narrow minds of comprehending infinity, is most 
 rationallv improveable to our very just advaniaee. It ought 
 to be upbraided to none as a pretext, or a coA'er to sloth, 
 or dulness, 'Tis no reproach to us that we are creatures, 
 and have not infinite capacities. And it ought to quiet 
 our minds, that they may so certainly know they have 
 limits; within which, we are to content ourselves with such 
 notions, about indemonstrable and unrevealcd things, as 
 they can, wiih great ease to themselves, find room for, 
 
 lean reflect upon nothing in what is here proposed, but 
 what is intelligible without much toil, or much metaphysics. 
 As matters, of so common concernment, ought, to our 
 uttermost, to be represented in such a way that they may 
 be so; we need not be concerned in scholastic di.-=quisi- 
 tions about union ; or by what peculiar name to call that 
 which is here supposed! It's enough for us to know there 
 niav be a real, natural, vital, and very intimate union, of
 
 144 
 
 A CALM DISCOURSE OF 
 
 things that shall, notwithstanding it, continue distinct, and 
 that shall, by it, be truly one. Nor do we need to be anx- 
 iously curioua in stating ihe notions oi person ox personality, 
 of suppositum and siuppositality, though I tliink not the 
 term person disallowable in the present case. Nor will I 
 say what that noted man (so noted that I need not name 
 him, and who was as much acquainted with metaphysics 
 as most in his age) published to the world above twenty 
 years ago, that he counted the notion of the schools about 
 suppositum a foolery. For I do well know, the thing itself, 
 which our Christian metaphysicians intended, to be of no 
 small importance in our religion, and especially to the 
 doctrine of redemption, and of our Redeemer. 
 
 XXVIII. But I reckon they that go the more metaphy- 
 sical way, and content themselves with the modal distinc- 
 tion of three persons in the Godhead, say nothing herein 
 that can be proved absurd or contradictious. As to what 
 is commonly urged, that if there be three persons in the 
 Deity, each pers'":. must have ilsAisXmcl individual essence, 
 as well as its distinct personality, I would deny the conse- 
 quence, and say, that though this be true in created per- 
 sons (taking person in the strict metaphysical sense) it is 
 not necessary to be so in uncreated : that the reason is not 
 the same between finite things and infinite ; and would 
 put them to prove, if they can, that the same infinite essence 
 cannot be whole and undivided in three several persons ; 
 knowing there can be nothing more difiicult urged in the 
 case, than may against the Divine omnipresence ; which 
 irrefragable reasons, as well as the plainest testimony of 
 Scripture, will oblige us to acknowledge. 
 
 But I think, though this hypothesis, abstractedly con- 
 sidered, and by itself, is not indefensible, it doth not alto- 
 gether so well square with the Christian economy, nor so 
 easily allow that distinction to the Father, Son, and Holy 
 Spirit, which seems requisite to found the distinct attribu- 
 tions that ate severally given them in the Holy Scriptures. 
 
 XXIX. To conclude, I only wish these things might be 
 considered, and discoursed with less confidence, and pe- 
 remptory determination ; with a greater awe of what is 
 divine and sacred; and that we may more confine our- 
 selves to the plain words of Scripture in this matter, and 
 be content therewith. I generally blame it in the Socini- 
 ans, (who appear otherwise rational and considering men,) 
 that they seem to have formed 'heir belief of things, not 
 ■possible to be known but by the Scriptures, without them ; 
 and then think they are by all imaginable arts, and they 
 care not what violence, (as Socinus himself hath in effect 
 confessed,) to mould and "orm them according to their 
 preconceived sense. Common modesty, and civility, one 
 would have thought, should have made Schlictingius ab- 
 stain from prefixing, and continuing that as a running title 
 to a long chapter : Articulus Eva.ngelicorum de Trinitate 
 ium sensu communi piignat ; engrossing common sense to 
 himself and his party, and reproaching the generality of 
 Christians, as not understanding common sense. They 
 should take upon them less, and not vaunt, as if they were 
 the men, and wisdom must die with them. 
 
 For this author, I congratulate his nearer approach to us, 
 from those who were formerly^ leaders of his party, in the 
 doctrines of God's omnipresence, and the perceptiveness 
 and activity of separate souls. He writes with sprightliness 
 ^/nd vigour, and, I doubt not, believes really, what he 
 writes with so little seeming doubt. And because his 
 spirit appears to be of a more generous, exalted pitch, t^an 
 to comport with any thing against his judgment, for secu- 
 Ar interest and advantage, I reckon it the greater pity it 
 should want the addition of what would be very orna- 
 mental to it, and which he wishes to two of the persons, 
 to whom he makes himself an antagonist, more of the ten- 
 derness and catholic charity of genuine Christianity, (p. 19. 
 col. 2.) to accompany those his abilities and learnicg, 
 which would not thereby be the lesser (as he speaks) nor 
 the less conspicuous. 
 
 I believe few would have thougi^: «'Jt^ to see the less 
 clearly, if he had been content to see for himself, not for 
 mankind. And if he had not talked at that rate, as if he 
 carried the eyes of all the world in his pocket, they would 
 have been less apt to think he carried his own there. Nor 
 had his performance, in this writing of his, lost any thing 
 of real value, if in a discourse upon so grave a subject, 
 
 some lepidities had been left out, as that ol Duhi^inea del 
 Toboso, tf'C. 
 
 And to allude to what he says of Dr. Cudworth, his 
 displeasure will not hurt so rough an author as Arnobius, 
 so many ages after he is dead, if he should happen to 
 ofl^end him, by having once said, Dissoluti — est pectoris in 
 rebus seriis quarere voluptatcm — <f'C. 
 
 But for all of us, I hope we may say without offence to 
 any, common human frailty should be more considered, 
 and that we know but in part, and in how small a part ! 
 We should, hereupon, be more equal to one another. And 
 when it is obvious to every one, how we are strained in 
 this matter, and that we ought to suppose one another in- 
 tently aiming to reconcile the Scripture discovery with 
 natural sentimentt, should not uncharitably censure, or 
 labour to expose tint another, that any seem more satisfied 
 with their own method than with ours. What an odd and 
 almost ludicrous spectacle do we give to the blessed angels 
 that supervi.se us, (if their benignity did not more prompt 
 them to compassion,) when they behold us fighting in the 
 dark, about things we so little understand ; or, when we 
 all labour under a gradual blindness, objecting it to one 
 another, and one accusing another, that he abandons not 
 his own too weak sight, to see only by his (perhaps) blinder 
 eye. 
 
 Thus, Sir, you have my sense what I think safe and 
 enough to be said in this weighty matter. To you, these 
 thoughts are not new, with whom they have been commu- 
 nicated and discoursed heretofore, long ago. And I be- 
 lieve you may so far recollect yourself, as to remember the 
 principal ground was suggested to you, upon which this 
 discourse now rests, — viz. necessity of existence, and con- 
 tingency ; emanations absolutely independent upon any 
 will at all, and the arbitrary productions of the Divine 
 will, — as the sutficient and most fundamental difference 
 between what is uncreated and what is created; ar.d upon 
 this very account, as that which might give scope and 
 room to our thoughts, to conceive the doctrine of the 
 trinity, consistently with the unity of the Godhead ; and 
 so, as that the Son, though truly from the Father, and the 
 Holy Ghost, though truly from both, shall yet appear infi- 
 nitely distinguished from all created beings whatsoever. 
 
 So much you know was under consideration with us above 
 twenty years ago; and was afterwards imparted tamany 
 more ; long before there was any mention or forethought, 
 within our notice, of such a revival of former controver- 
 sies, upon this subject, a^ —e have lately seen. 
 
 This occasion, now given, ...th put me upon revolving 
 anew these former thoughts; and upon digesting them 
 into some order, such as it is, for public view. If they 
 shall prove to be of any use, it appears they will not be 
 out of .season ; and it will be grateful to me to be any way 
 serviceable to so worthy a cause. If they should be found 
 altogether useless, being evicted either of impertinency, 
 or untruth, I' shall not be ungrateful ; for I thank God, I 
 find not a disposition in my mind to be fond of any notions 
 of mine, as they are such ; nor to be more adventurous, or 
 confident, in determining of things hid, not only in so pro- 
 founii, 'c-jLi in most sacred darkness, than I have all along 
 expressed myself. I ought indeed to be the more cautious 
 of offending' in this kind, that being the thing I blame, 
 the positive asserting this or that to be impossible, or not 
 possibly competent, to the nature of God, which by his own 
 word, or the manifest reason of things, doth not plainly 
 appear to be so: much more which his vord doth, as 
 plainly as it is possible any thing can be expressed by 
 word*-, ascribe to him. The only thing I assert is, that, a 
 trinity in me Godhead may be possible, for ought we know, 
 in f.-«e way that I have proposed : at least it is so, for any 
 thing that I do as yet know. And so confident I am of 
 the trurn, and true meaning of his word, reveanng a trinity 
 in his t-iernal Godhead, that I strongly hope, if ever it shall 
 be pioved to be impossible upon these terms that I have 
 here set down, by the same, or by equal light, the possi- 
 bility of it some other wa)"^ will appear too; i. e. that not 
 only a trinity in the unity of the Godhead is a possible 
 thing, but that it is also possible that the Father, Son, and 
 Holy Ghost may be sufficiently distinguished to answer 
 the frame and design of Christianity : and that will equally 
 serve niv nnrT\n<ifi Vnr <:o however, will lue scandal be 
 
 II
 
 THE TRINITY IN THE GODHEAD. 
 
 145 
 
 removed, that may seen, to lie upon our holy religion, 
 through the industrious misrepresentation which is made 
 of it, by sceptics, deists, or atheists, as if it were made 
 up of inconsistencies and absurdities, and were fitter 
 to be entertained with laughter than faith: and being 
 pffertually vindicated, it will be the more successfully 
 
 propagated, and more cheerfully practised : which is ; 
 that is coveted and sought by, 
 Sir, 
 
 Your very respectful, 
 
 himible servant, &c. 
 
 POSTSCRIPT. 
 
 Having the copies of some letters by me, which I wrote 
 to Dr. Wallis between two and three years ago, upon this 
 subject ; I think, Sir, it is not improper, and perhaps it 
 may be some way useful, to let them accompany this to 
 yourself. And here I shall freely tell you my principal 
 inducements (taking notice in some of the Doctor's printed 
 letters of others to him, contained in them) to send him iii- 
 cognito one also; but with that reason against printing it, 
 which you find towards the end of the first letter. 
 
 It was rarely the apprehension, which had long remained 
 with me, that the simplicity, Avhich (if the notion of it were 
 stretched too far) not the Scriptures, but the schools, have 
 taught us to ascribe to the being of God, was that alone 
 which hath given us difficulty, in conceiving a trinity in 
 the only one God. 
 
 It is not the unity or oncliness of the Godhead, but the 
 simplicity of it, as the school-men have stated it, that hath 
 created the matter of dispute. Unity, you know, denies 
 more of the same; simplicity denies more in it. Concern- 
 ing the former, that there could be no more gods that one, 
 we are at a point ; the reason of the thing itself, and the 
 Holy Scriptures so expressly asserting it, leave it out of 
 dispute. 
 
 AH the doubt is about the latter. Not whether such a 
 ihing belong to the nature of God ; but concerning ihe 
 just explication of it. As it is a real excellency, not a 
 blemish ; and not merely a moral, but a natural excellency, 
 there can be no doubt of its belonging to the Divine nature; 
 but if you understand it as exclusive of all variety therein, 
 Vou find not any express mention of such an attribute of 
 God in the Scriptures. They are silent in the matter. It 
 \iath no authority, but of the schools. That and the reason 
 that can be brought for it must give it its whole and only 
 support. It is the only thing that must open, and give way, 
 to admit the doctrine of the trinity ; and it is the only thing 
 \hat needs to do so. For we none of us assert a trinity of 
 Gods; but a trinity in the Godhead. It is the only thing that 
 can to the adversaries of the trinity, with any colourable pre- 
 tence, seem opposite to it. And which therefore I thought 
 the only thing that remained to be sifted and examined, 
 .f they will state it in opposition thereto. And consider, 
 what so mighty and invincible strength of reason it had, 
 whence alone either to shock the authority, or prevent the 
 Tjlain meaning, of the Holy Scriptures, discompose the 
 ^fhole frame of Christian religion, disturb the peace of the 
 church, perplex very thinkmg minds, subvert the faith of 
 some, and turn it into ridicule with too many. 
 
 I reckoned the Dr. (as I still do, notwithstanding the 
 contempt this author hath of him) a parson of a very clear, 
 unmuddied understanding. I found him, by what he cx- 
 
 Eressed in his first letter of the trinity, not apt to be awed 
 y the authority of the schools, nor any bigot to them, as 
 having declined their notion of a person, and fixing upon 
 another, (less answering, as I apprehend, the scheme and 
 design of Christianity,) I thought it easy, and reputable 
 enough to him to add, wliat might be requisite in this 
 matter, without contradicting (directly or discernibly)any 
 thing he had said. I gave him the opportunity of doing 
 it, as from himself, without seeming to have the least thing 
 to that purpose .suggested to him by any other. I had 
 myself, I think, seen and considered the main strength of 
 
 the schoolmen's reasonings concerning that simpliutti, 
 which they will have to be divine ; and, for ought I do 
 yet know, have competently occurred to it in this fore- 
 going letter, and partly in what you will now find I wrote 
 to him. But what there is of real infirmity, or imperti- 
 nency to this case (as it is, and ought to be represented) in 
 their arguings, I reckoned he would both see and evince 
 more clearly than I. 
 
 Therefore I greatly desired to have engaged him upon 
 this point; but I could not prevail. And am therefore will- 
 ing that what I writ then with design of the greatest pri- 
 vacy, should now become public. Not thai I think it hath so 
 great value in itself; but that perhaps it may further serve to 
 excitesome others more able and more at leisure tosearch 
 and inquire into this matter ; and either to improve or 
 disprove what I have essayed. And which of the two it 
 is, 'tis all one to me ; for I have no interest or design, but 
 that of truth, and the service of the Christian cause. 
 
 I was so little apprehensive of any such future use to 
 be made of these letters, that I kept no account of the dates, 
 except that one of the two latter (which both only refer to 
 the first) I find, by the copy I have in my hands, to have 
 been sent December 19th, 1()9I. I remember it was a 
 long time, and guess it might be six or eight weeks ere I 
 heard any thing of the first, after I had sent it. Probably 
 it might have been sent in October, or the beginning ol 
 November, before. I at length heard of it very casuall)', 
 being in a house in London, whither the Doctor's eighth 
 letter was newly arrived (then no secret) in order to im- 
 pression. I then found this ray first letter was lightly 
 touched, but mistaken; which occa.sioned (it being a post 
 night) my second. That was followed by the third, the next 
 post after, when I had a little more time wherein to express 
 my mind, though I still concealed my name, as it is yet 
 fittest to do, my main business in my letter to you lying 
 with a person, who (blamelessly enough) conceals his. 
 
 These two latter of my letters to the Dr. produced some 
 alteration in that paragraph of his eighth letter, which re- 
 lates to my first. But yet no wav answering: the design for 
 which I writ it. You have them noAv together exactlv ac- 
 cording to the copies I have by me, excepting one or two 
 circumstantial things fitly enough left out, or somewhat 
 altered. And they had all slept long enough, if this occa- 
 sion had not brotight them to light. 
 
 But before I give them to you, let me suggest some 
 things further to you concerning the foregoing letter to 
 yourself You may apprehend that some will think it 
 strange (if not an inconsistency) that I should suppose it 
 possible an absolute omnimodous simplicity may not be- 
 long to the Divine Being, when yet I absolutely deny all 
 composition in it. 
 
 And I apprehend too .some may think so, at least awhile; 
 but such as have considered well, will not think so, and 
 such as shall. I presume will not long. For, 
 
 1. If I had denied the simplicity of the Divine nature, 
 had the inference been just, that therefore I must grant a 
 composition ? How many instances mi?ht be given of one 
 opposite not agreeing to this or that thing, when also the 
 other doth as little agree! And moj^i of all doth the tran-' 
 scendent excellency of the Divine nature exempt it from 
 the limiting by partitions to which creatures are subject.
 
 140 
 
 A CALM DISCOURSE OP 
 
 Take reason in the proper sense for arriving gradually by 
 arguinentaliun I'rcm the Knowledge of more evident, to the 
 knowledge of obscurer things, and so we cannot say the 
 Divine nature is rational. But is it therefore to be called 
 irrational. Faith and hope agree not to it. Are we there- 
 fore to think infidelity or despair do not disagree ■? 
 
 It is indeed more generally apprehended, we can scarce 
 have the notion of any thing that strictly, or otherwise than 
 by some very defective analogy, agrees to him, and to us. 
 Some pagans, and some Christians from them, (not in de- 
 rogation, but) in great reverence to the high excellency 
 of the Deity, not excepting the most common notion of 
 all other, even that of being itself, make his being and sub- 
 stance to be superessential, and supersubstantial. 'Tis out 
 of doubt that whatsoever perfection is in us, is not the 
 same thing in him formally, but in an unconceivable tran- 
 scendent eminency only. Do therefore their contraries 
 agree to him 1 
 
 2. I am far from denying the simplicity of the blessed 
 nature of God, which 1 ascribe to him in the highest per- 
 fection which it is capable of signifying. I most peremp- 
 torily affirm not only all the simplicity which he expressly 
 affirms of himself; but all that can by just consequence be 
 inferred from any affirmation of his ; or that can by plain 
 reason be evinced any other way. Whatsoever is any real 
 perfection, &c. Sect. XI. 
 
 'Tis true, while I affirm such a simplicity as excludes all 
 composition, in the sense already given, I affirm not such 
 as excludes all variety: not such as excludes a trinity, 
 which he so plainly affirms, and with such distinction, as 
 his affirmations concerning it imply, and make requisite. 
 
 I further judge, that though the Scriptures do not ex- 
 pressly ascribe simplicity to the being of God, as a natural 
 excellency, they say that which implies it, as such, to be- 
 long to him; as when Ihey bring him in saying of himself, 
 "I am what I am." This must imply his nature to ex- 
 clude every thing that is alien from itself. I take it, as it 
 signifies (besides a moral) a mere natural excellency, to 
 import a most perfect purity of essence. And I under- 
 stand that to be purum, which is plenuvi stti, and qnod 
 nihil habct allcni. I do therefore take the natural simpli- 
 city of the Divine Being to exclude the ingrediency of any 
 thing that can infer in it conflict, decay, chance, dis- 
 turbance, or infelicity in the least degree ; and to include 
 whatsoever infers the contraries of all these ; serenity, tran- 
 quillity, harmony, stability, delight, and joy, in highest 
 perfection; as necessity of existence also doth; and that 
 for all this, it by no means needs to exclude a trinity, but 
 to include it rather. 
 
 But I judge human (and even all created) minds very 
 incompetent judges of the Divine simplicity. We Imow not 
 what the Divine nature may include consistently with its 
 own perfection, not what it must, as necessary thereto. 
 Our eye is no judge of corporeal simplicity. In darkness 
 it discerns nothing but simplicity, without distinction of 
 things : in more dusky light the whole horizon appears 
 most simple, and every where like itself: in brighter light, 
 we perceive great varieties, and much greater if a micro- 
 scope assist our eye. But o-f all the aerial people that re- 
 plenish the region (expect rare appearances to very few) 
 we see none. Here want not objects, but a finer eye. 
 
 'Tis much at this rate with our minds in beholding the 
 spiritual sphere of beings, most of all the uncreated, which 
 is remotest, and furthest above, out of our sight. We be- 
 hold simplicity! and what do we make of that"? vast un- 
 distinguished vacuity ! sad, immense solitude ! only this 
 at first view. If we draw nearer, and fix our eye, we think 
 we apprehend somewhat, but dubiously hallucinate, as the 
 half-cured blind man did, when he thought he saw men 
 like trees. 
 
 But if a voice which we acknowledge Divine, speak to 
 us out of the profound abyss, and tell us of grateful varie- 
 ties and distinctions in it; Good God! shall we not be- 
 lieve it 1 Or shall we say we clearly see that is not, which 
 onhjiee do not see"? This seems like somewhat worse than 
 bliridness ! 
 
 Now follow the Letters. 
 
 LETTERS TO DR. WALLIS. 
 SENT IN 1G9L 
 
 LETTER I. 
 
 Sir, 
 
 I COULD much please myself in revolving in my own 
 own mind the very respectful thoughts and veneration I 
 have long had for you, and in conversing with the grate- 
 ful and entertaining idea which I have not arbitrarily, but 
 by your irresistible imposition, received, and retained of 
 you many years, on the account of your former most use- 
 ful and acceptable performances, and which is both re- 
 newed and heightened greatly by your late clear, prudent, 
 and piously modest discourses, (both letters and sermons,) 
 of that awful mystery, the trinity in the Godhead. Butas 
 I can neither satisfy myself of the fitness of making an 
 encomium of you the matter of a letter to yourself; so nor 
 can I hope to please you by doing a thing in itself so inept, 
 and so insignificant to you. I shall better do both, if I 
 shall offer any thing to you concerning this mentioned 
 subject, your further consideration whereof may prove a 
 further benefit to the world. 
 
 In what you have already said concerning it, you have 
 used that great caution, and so well guarded yourself, as 
 not, so far as I can apprehend, to give an adversary, in 
 this single point, the least advantage. That which I would 
 in the general humbly offer, is, whether you have said so 
 much as with safely might be said, and as the case may 
 require, for the gaining of a just advantage to the common 
 Christian cause. 
 
 We design, in fight, not only to keep ourselves safe, but 
 to overcome ; and not in frcclio only, but in bello. In wars 
 indeed of this sort, both our own safety and victory are 
 less to be valued than truth. Which, being of a piece, can 
 be injured in no part, without some damage to the whole 
 frame of congenerous truth. And as it is very possible, 
 while an enemy is withstood attacking some one fort, a 
 greater loss may not be provided against elsewhere ; it may 
 so fall out in affaiis of this kind too, that the care of de- 
 fending some one truth may be accompanied with a pre- 
 sent not attending to the jeopardy of divers others. The 
 nearer we approach an adversary (within just limits) in 
 these rational decerlations, the less he can have to say 
 against us. But being well resolved ourselves about the 
 main point of disagreement, we then take care not to 
 come so near, as to fall in with him, pass into his tents, 
 and give away our main cause. 
 
 I am, worthiest Sir, far from assuming so much to 
 myself, or detracting so much from you, as to give a judg- 
 ment that this really is done in your discourses about the 
 trinity. I only submit to your own most penetrating judg- 
 ment, what may be further requisite and possible in this 
 matter, to take away any appearances hereof, and prevent 
 ill consequences that may too easily ensue. I have, for 
 my own part, long imposed it upon myself to abstain from 
 any positive conceptions concerning the Godhead, beyond 
 what I find expressly contained in the divine revelation, 
 or what the rea.son of things, either antecedently thereto, 
 or consequentially thereupon, doth most evidently per- 
 suade and require ; and do greatly approve the same cau- 
 tion, which I cannot but observe with you : but desire it 
 may be weighed whether such measures may not and must 
 not lead us further. 
 
 As for the word person, you prudently profess not to be 
 fond of it, the thing being agreed, though you also truly 
 judge it a good word, and sufficiently warranted. For the 
 notion signified by it, you all along seem to decline that of 
 the schools, or the metaphysical one, which, you know, 
 makes it to be a rational, or intelligent, svppositttm ; and 
 to take up with (what I think I may, wanting a fitter, i. e. 
 a more comprehensive word, call) the civil notion of it ; 
 which will allow the same man to be capable of sustain- 
 ing three or more persons, supposing his circumstances or 
 qualifications to be such or such, as lo that purpose you 
 speak both in your letters and sermons.
 
 THE TRINITY IN THE GODHEAD. 
 
 147 
 
 Nowwhereas you have also told us, Letter 1. that hy per- 
 sonality you mean that distinction (whatever it be) by which 
 the three persons are distinguished from each other; that 
 which, with great submission, and most profound respect 
 to you, I propose to your further consideration, will be ca- 
 pable of being resolved into these two inquiries 
 
 1. Whether only such a distinction of the Divine per- 
 sons, as this amounts to, will be sufficient to found the se- 
 veral atlvibutions which the Holy Scriptures give distinct- 
 ly and severally to them, and to preserve the scheme of 
 Christian religion entire, which is wont to be deduced 
 from these sacred writings. 
 
 II. Whether some further distinction may not be ad- 
 mitted as possible, consistently wiih the solved unity of 
 the Godhead. 
 
 As to the former, 1. Whereas, you think the word per- 
 son to be a good word, and sufficiently warranted by Scrip- 
 ture, Heb. i. 3. where the son is called the express image 
 of his Father's person ; alleging that so we render the word 
 hi/postasis which is there used, and do mean by it what you 
 think to be there meant ; I desire you vvoitld please to con- 
 sider whether the word hypnsfasis, according to the com- 
 mon use of it, will admit to be so taken, as you explain 
 yourself to mean by the word person. For though the 
 Latin word persona, as you say, according to the true and 
 ancient sense, may well enough admit to be so taken, as 
 that the same man might sustain three persons, I offer it to 
 your re-consideration, whether ever you have observed 
 the word hypostasis, in any sort of authors, when it signi- 
 fies any person at all, (for 1 know that it frequently signi- 
 fies somewhat else than aperson.) to be taken in that sense. 
 And whether one hypostasis so taken as it uses to be when 
 it signifies aperson, may not be capable of susiaining three 
 of those persons which you here describe. And whether, 
 according to this sense, you mean not God to be only one 
 such hypostasis. 
 
 2. Be pleased further hereupon to consider how well it 
 agrees with this supposition of God's being but one hypos- 
 tasis or intelligent suppcsitum., so frequently to speak, as 
 the Holy Scriptures do, of the Father, Son or Word, the 
 Spirit or Holy Ghost, as three distinct I's or He's. The 
 Lord possessed me (as the Divine Word or Wisdom is 
 brought in speaking) in the beginning of liis way — I was 
 set up from everlasting, Prov. viii. 22, 23. When he pre- 
 pared the heavens I w-as there, ver. 27. Then was I 
 
 by him, ver. 30, &c. The Word — was with God, John i. 
 L He was in the M^orld, ver. 10. We beheld his glory, 
 ver. 14. And of the Spirit. He dwelleth with you, John 
 xiv. 17. The Holy Ghost whom the Father will send in 
 my name, he shall teach you all things, ver. 26. And 
 whom I will send you from the Father, he shall testify of 
 me, chap. xv. 26. And when he is come, he will reprove 
 
 the world chap. xvi. 8. And the observation seems to 
 
 me as weighty, as it is usual, that, in some of the mentioned 
 chapters, the .somewhat hard s?/?i/Ac«s of constructing iKEivni 
 with -r-vfvfia, (even where naptUXrirof is not the nearer suppo- 
 sition, but, in one place, a very remote one, and one 
 would think too remote to be referred to, ver. 13, 14.) is 
 rather chosen to be used than that the Spirit should not be 
 spoken of as a distinct he, or rather than he should be 
 called it, which could not so fitly notify a person. If the 
 same man were a king, a general, and a father, I doubt 
 whether that would give sufficient ground to his being 
 called he, and he, and he. 
 
 2. But the distinct predicates spoken of the three sacred 
 persons in the Godhead seem much more to challenge a 
 greater distinction of the persons than your notion of a 
 person doth seem to admit; that of sending and hein^ sent, 
 spoken so often of \he first in reference to the second, and 
 of the first and second in reference to the third, as not to 
 need the quoting of places. If the same man were a king, 
 a general, and a judge, methinks it would not well square 
 with the usual forms of speaking among men (and God 
 speaks to men as men) to say, that, as the first, he sends 
 the two latter, that is, himselif. 
 
 And one would think our being required to be baptized 
 in the distinct names of the Father, Son, and Holy Ghost, 
 should signify some greater distinction. 
 
 As also that three are said to bear witne.ss in heaven. I 
 doubt that in a cause wherein our law reauires two or more 
 
 witnesses, the same man that should be a father, a bro- 
 ther, and a son, would scarce thereupon be admitted for 
 three witnesses. 
 
 And how the incarnation of the Son can be understood 
 according to your notion of person, without the Father's 
 and Holy Ghost's incarnation also, I confess I cannot appre- 
 hend. Your notion of a person contradistinct to the scho- 
 lastic notion, as was said before, seems to leave the God- 
 head to be but one hypostasis, or person, in the latter sense. 
 How then are we to conceive of the hypostaticaj union 1 
 The assumed nature will be as much hypostatically united 
 with the Father, or the Spirit, as with the Son. 
 
 3. And doth not this civil, or mejely respective, notion 
 of a person, the other being lefi, fall m with the Antiirini- 
 tarian 1 Will it not make us Unitarians only, as they af- 
 fect to call themselves '? Would any of them (as you are 
 pleased to take notice. Letter 6. p. 1, 2.) say, none hut a 
 mad-man would deny there may be three persons in one 
 God, have been .so mad (not yet professing themselves con- 
 verts) as to say so, if they had not supposed their cause 
 not hurt by this notion of a person ? For, (as you well say, 
 Letter 1.) we need not be tbnd of words, so "the thing be 
 agreed ; so have they equal reason to say, wc need not be 
 afraid of words, if in the sense you agree with us. And 
 with one sort of them I only desire you to consider how 
 great an appearance the asserting only of three persons, in 
 the one sense, quitting the other, will carry offan agreement. 
 
 And have they not all the advantage left them which 
 they seek in arguing against the satisfaction made by our 
 Saviour, from the necessity of an allcrity, that in the busi- 
 ness of making satisfaction there must be alter oii/ue alter. 
 one irho satisfies, and avother v:ho is satisfied. I do very 
 well know, what instances are brought of human rulers 
 making satisfaction for delinquents, but there is no parity 
 in tlie cases, they being themselves debtors to the governed 
 community, as God is not, who hath with most undoubted 
 righteousness made all things for himself. 
 
 4. And consider whether by your notion of a person you 
 forsake not the generality of them, who have gone, as to 
 this point, under the repute of orthoi^ox '] who no doubt, 
 have understood by three persons, three intelligent hypos- 
 tasis ; though they have differed in thinking, some of them, 
 that only a rpo'7r.>? I'Tr/ipicus was the gcnitvm or spiratnm as to 
 the two latter: a notion that is either too fine, or too little 
 solid, for some minds to grasp, or take any hold of: others 
 that the Divine nature might itself be some way said to be 
 communicated to them. But I pa.'ss to the 
 
 II. Inquiry, Whether some further distinction may not 
 be admitted as possible 1 The only thing that straitens us 
 here, is the most unquestionable unity or vnicity (as we 
 may call it) of the Godhead. Which, if it cannot be 
 otherwise defended, I must yet for my part, notwith.stand- 
 ing these hardships (and I know no man with wh(>m I 
 could do it with more inclination) fall in with you. But 
 I must crave it of you, so far to tall in with you know not 
 who, as to apply your clearer mind, as I do my more 
 cloudy one, to consider whether it can or no. You will 
 here say, Further than what 1 and what would I have 
 further '1 
 
 To the former of these, I only say, further than the as- 
 serting, in very deed, but one hypostasis, in the Godhead, 
 distinguished no otherwise into three, than b}' certain re- 
 lative capacities, like those which may among men be sus- 
 tained by one and the same man; and which distinction, 
 as you after add, is analogous to what, in created beings, 
 is called distinctio modalis. 
 
 To the latter, I desire you to observe what I generally 
 propose, not that we may positively assert any further 
 determinate distinction as certain and known ; hut only 
 whether we may not admit some further distinction to be 
 possible, in consistency with the unity of the Godhead. I 
 do equally detest and dread to speak with rash and pe- 
 remptory confidence about things both so mysterious and 
 so sacred. But may we not modestly say, thai if to that 
 economy which God hath represented himself in his word, 
 to bear, and keep afoot, towards his creatures, any further 
 distinction than hath been assigned is necessary, it is also 
 possible, and may be, for ought we know: if indeed we 
 know nothing to the contiary. What is iinpossiblc we are 
 sure cannot be 7iccessary. But God himself best and only
 
 148 
 
 A CALM DISCOURSE OF 
 
 K-nows his own nature, and wliat his own meaning is in 
 the representation he hath made to us. If we sincerely aim 
 to understand his meaning, that we may bear ourselves 
 towards him accordingly, he wilt with merciful indul- 
 gence consider our short, or mis-apprehensions. But we 
 need not say there is not this or that distinction, if really 
 we do not know there is not. While we know so little of 
 natures inferior to our own, and even of our own nature, 
 and how things are distinguished that belong to ourselves, 
 we have little reason to be shy of confessing ignorance 
 about the nature of God. 
 
 Therefore I most entirely agree to the two conclusions 
 of the ingenious W. J. wherewith he concludes his letter. 
 But in the meantime (and pursuantly enough thereto) can- 
 not but doubt the concludingness of his very acute rea- 
 sonings against, at least, some of the expressions of that 
 learned person, (Dr. Sherlock,) which he animadverts upon 
 as I perceive you also do, p. 16. of your seventh letter. 
 And even W. J. himself, for with a pious modesty he tells 
 us — concerning infinite natures he presumes not to deter- 
 mine. Letter, p. 8. 
 
 What he objects against that author's having said the 
 Divine persons are three beings really distinct, (wherein 
 I instance, not intending to rim through that elaborate let- 
 ter,) that then there must be three distinct essences — seems 
 to me a irdpcpynv. I doubt not the author will easily admit 
 it. But what will be the consequence 1 That therefore 
 there are three Deities 1 That cannot be his meaning, 
 nor be consequent from it, if he only means that the Deity 
 comprehends in it three such essences. If indeed he think 
 those three beings are as distinct as Peter, James, and John ; 
 what is said by W. J. against him, I think irrefragable, 
 that then they are no otherwise one, than Peter, James, and 
 John ; and by him against himself; for Peter, James, and 
 John, are not mutually self-conscious, as they are asserted 
 to be : which mutual self-consciousness, since it is sup- 
 posed to make the three Divine persons one, cannot be 
 supposed to leave them so distinct, as tl.ey are with whom 
 it is not found. 
 
 As to what is observed of the defective expression of this 
 unitive principle by the word consciousness, that bare 
 consciousness, without consent, is no more than bare om- 
 nisciency; sure it is not so much, for consciousness doth 
 not signify omnisciency. We are conscious to ourselves, 
 yet are not omniscient. But I reckon, (as I find he also 
 doth,) that even consent added to consciousness, would yet 
 leave the expression defective, and still want the unifying 
 power which is sought after. For it would infer no more 
 than a sort of moral union, which, in the kind of it, may 
 be found among men, between whom there is so little of 
 natural union (speaking of the numerical nature) that they 
 are actuall)'^ separate. 
 
 But now may we not suppose (as that which is possible, 
 and actually is, for ought we know) what may be funda- 
 mental to both consciousness and consent, a natural union 
 even of the numerical natures 1 Such a union would not 
 infer a itnity, or identity of these natures, essences, sub- 
 stances, or beings themselves. For, as W. J. hath well 
 urged, (Letter, p. 5, 6.) " Substances upon union are not 
 confounded or identified, or brought to unity of substance, 
 but continuing numerically distinct substances, acquire 
 some mutual community or communication of operations, 
 &c. And deferring the consideration awhile what this 
 would signify towards the unity, notwithstanding, of the 
 Godhead, we shall take notice how accommodatingly to 
 our present purpose W. J. speaks in what I'ollows, where 
 instancing in the chief unions that are known to us, he 
 says, " Our soul and body are tM'o substances really dis- 
 tinct, and in close union with one another. But notwith- 
 standing this, they continue distinct substances under that 
 union. In like manner the human soul of Christ is in 
 union with the Logos, or second person of the trinity, 
 which we call an hyposfatical union. But neither dotli 
 this union make a unity of substance. For the two sub- 
 stances of the Divine and human natures continue dis- 
 tinct under that union." 'Tis true, he adds, " which must 
 not be Eillowed in the unity of the Godhead, where there 
 can be no plurality or multiplicity of substances." Nor do 
 I say that it must, I only say, Do we know, or are we sure, 
 there is no sort uf plurality 7 
 
 But if we are sure that there are temporal unions, (i. e. 
 begun in time,) as in ourselves, for instance, of two sub- 
 stances that make but one man, and in our Saviour a hu- 
 man nature and divine that make but one Emmanuel ; 
 how do we know but that there may be three in the God- 
 head that make but one God"? And the rather, because 
 this being supposed, it must also be supposed that they 
 are necessarily and eternally united, and with a conjunct 
 natural impossibility of ever being, or having been, other- 
 wise, whereof the absolute immutability of God must upon 
 that supposition most certainly assure us. And such a sup- 
 posed union will be most remote from making the Deity 
 an aggregate. And for any thing of composition, I reckon 
 we are mo.st strictly bound to believe every thing of the 
 most perfect simplicity of the Divine Being which his 
 word informs us of, and to assent to every thing that is 
 with plain evidence demonstrable of it. But not every 
 thing which the schools would impose upon us, without 
 such testimony or evidence. For as none can "know the 
 things of a man, but the spirit of man which is in him ; 
 so nor can any know the things of God, but the Spirit of 
 God." Nor can I think the argument concluding from the 
 imperfection of a being, in which distinct things concur 
 that were separate, or are de woro united, to the imperfec- 
 tion of a being, in which things some way di.stinct are ne- 
 cessarily and eternally self-united. Nor can therefore 
 agree with W. J. that we are to look (universally) upon 
 real distinction as a mark of superability ; or that clear 
 and distinct conception is to us the rule of partibility. 
 For though I will not affirm that to be the state of all created 
 spirits ; yet I cannot deny it to be possible that God might 
 have created such a being, as should have in it distinct, 
 (assignable) parts, all of them essential to it, and not se- 
 parable from it without the cessation of the whole. But 
 now, as the accession of the human nature to the Divine 
 in the hypostatical union infer no imperfection to the Di- 
 vine, so much le.ss would what things we may suppose 
 naturally, necessarily, and eternally united in the God- 
 head, infer any imperfection therein. 
 
 I easily admit what is said by W. J., Letter, page 8, 
 That we have no better definition of God, than that he is 
 — a Spirit infinitely perfect. But then, being so far taught 
 by himself my conception of him, I must include in it, 
 this trinal distinction, or a triple somewhat which he af- 
 firms of himself, and without which, or any one whereof, 
 he were not infinitely perfect and consequently not God, 
 and that all together do make one God. As you most apt- 
 ly say of your resemblance of him, a cube, there are in it 
 three dimensions truly distinct from each other, yet all 
 these are but one cube, and if any one of the three were 
 wanting, it were not a cube. 
 
 Set this down then for the notion of God, that he is a 
 Spirit infinitely perfect, comprehending in that omnimo- 
 dous perfection a trinal distinction, or three persons truly 
 distinct, each whereof is God. What will be the conse- 
 quence 1 that therefore there are three Gods 1 Not at all, 
 but that each of these partaking divine nature give us an 
 inadequate, and altogether a most perfectly adequate and 
 entire, notion of God. Nor would the language of this hy- 
 pothesis being pressed to speak out (as he says in his let- 
 ter) he this — these are not fit to be called three Gods; but 
 not possible (with any truth) to be so called. 
 
 And whereas he after tells us, these three beings united 
 b)^ similitude of nature, mutual consciousness, consent, 
 co-operation vmder the greatest union possible ; and in that 
 state of union do constitute the to 9ciov, the entire all-com- 
 prehensive Godhead, and adds, this looks somewhat like 
 a conceivable thing. To this I note two things : 
 
 1. That he makes it not look like so conceivable a thing, 
 as it really may do. For he leaves out the most important 
 thing, that was as supposable as any of the rest, and prior 
 to a mere similitude, viz. a natural union of fhese (sup- 
 posed) distinct essences, without which they are not under 
 the greatest union possible ; and which, being supposed 
 necessary, and eternal, cannot admit these should he more 
 than one God. 
 
 2. I note, that what he opposes to it (.so defectively re- 
 presented) is as defective, that the Christian trinity doth 
 not use to be represented thus, &c. What hurt is therein 
 it, if it can be more intelligibly represented than hath been
 
 THE TRINITY IN THE GODHEAD. 
 
 149 
 
 used 1 Bui his gentle treatment of this hypothesis, which 
 he thought, as he represents it, not altogether unintelligi- 
 bl«, and which with some help may be more intelligible, 
 became one inquiring what might most safely, and with 
 least torture to our own minds, be said or thought in so 
 awful a mystery. It however seems not proper to call this 
 an hypostatical union — much less to say it amounts to no 
 more. It amounts not to so much. For an hypostatical 
 or personal union would make the terms united (the unita, 
 the things or somewhats under this union) become by it 
 one hypostasis or person ; whereas this union must leave 
 them distinct persons or hypostases, but makes them one 
 God. In the use of the phrase hypostatical or personal 
 union the denomination is not taken from the subject of 
 the union, as if the design were to signify that to be divers 
 hypostases, or persons, but from the effect or result of the 
 mentioned union, to signify that which results to be one 
 person or hypostasis. As the matter is plain in the in- 
 stance wherein it is of most noted use, the case of the two 
 natures united in the one person of the Son of God ; where 
 the things united are not suppose^ to be two persons, but 
 two natures so conjoined, as yet to make but one person, 
 which therefore is the negative result or effect of the 
 union, viz. that the person is not muliiplied bj^ the acces- 
 sion of another nature, but remains still only one. But this 
 were a union quite of another kind, viz. of the three hy- 
 postases, still remaining distinct, and concurring in one 
 Godhead. And may not this be supposed without preju- 
 dice to its perfection. 
 
 For the schools themselves suppose themselves not to 
 admit a composition prejudicial to the perfection of the 
 Godhead, when they admit three modes of subsistence, 
 which are distinct from one another, and from the God- 
 head, which they must admit. For if each of them were 
 the very Godhead, each of them (as is urged against us by 
 you know who) must have three persons belonging to it, 
 as the Godhead hath. And yourself acknowledge three 
 somewhats in the Godhead distinct, or else they could not 
 be three. I will not here urge that if they be three some- 
 whats, they must be three things, not three nothings ; for 
 however uneasy it is to assign a medium between something 
 and nothing, I shall waive that metaphysical contest. But 
 yet collect, that simplicity in the very strictest sense that 
 can be conceived, is not, m your account, to be ascribed to 
 God, either according to his own word, or the reason of 
 things. 
 
 It may here be urged, How can we conceive this natural 
 union (as I have adventured to phrase it) of the three per- 
 sons, supposing them distinct things, substances, or spirits 1 
 Is such a union conceivable, as shall make them be but 
 one God, and not be such, as shall make them cease to be 
 three distinct things, substances, or spirits 1 We fmd in- 
 deed the mentioned unions of soul and body in ourselves, 
 and of the two natures in Christ, consistent enough with 
 manifest distinction ; but then the things united are in 
 themselves of most different natures. But if things of .^ 
 congenerous a nature he united, will not their distinction 
 be lost in their union 1 
 
 I answer, 1. That a spirit and a spirit are numerically 
 as distinct, as a body and a spirit. And, 2. That we may 
 certainly conceive it as possible to God to have united two 
 or three created spirits, and by as strict imion as is be- 
 tween our souls and bodies, without confounding them ; 
 and I reckon the union between our souls and bodies 
 much more wonderful than that would have been. Why 
 then is an unmade, uncreated union of three spirits less 
 conceivable as that which is to be pre-supposed to their 
 mutual consciousness "? 
 
 I shall not move, or meddle with, any controversy about 
 the infinity of these three supposed substances or spirits, it 
 being acknowledged on all hands that contemplations of 
 that kind cannot but be above our measure. And well 
 knowing how much easier it is to puzzle oneself upon that 
 question, Anpnssib dari infinitum infinito infinitius, than to 
 speak salisfyinerly and unexceptionabl}' about it to ano- 
 ther. 
 
 And though I will not use the expressions, as signifying 
 my formed judgment, that there are three things, sub- 
 stances, or spirits in the Godhead, (as you that there are 
 three somewhats,) yet, as I have many years thought, I do 
 14 
 
 still think, that what the learned W. J. doth but more 
 lightly touch of the Son and the Holy Ghost being pro- 
 duced (which term I use, but reciting it, as he doth) not 
 by a voluntary external, but by an internal, necessary, and 
 emanalive act, hath great weight in it. 
 
 In short, my sense hath long lain thus, and I submit it 
 to your searching and candid judgment, viz. That though 
 we need not have determinate thoughts, how far the Fa- 
 ther, Son, and Holy Ghost are distinguished ; yet we 
 must conceive them in the general to be so far distia- 
 guished, as is really necessary to the founding the di.stinct 
 attributions which the Scriptures do distinctly give them. 
 And that whatever distinction is truly necessary to that 
 purpose, will yet not hinder the two laUer's part'icipation 
 with the first in the Godhead, which can be but one; be- 
 cause that though we are led by plain Scripture, and the 
 very import of that word, to conceive of the Father as the 
 Fountain, yet the Son being from him, and the Holy 
 Ghost from thein both, not contingently, or dependently 
 on will and pleasure, but by eternal, natural, necessary 
 promanation, these two latter are infiiiitely distinguished 
 from the whole creation ; inasmuch as all creatures are 
 contingent beings, or dependent upon will and pleasure, 
 as the character is given us of created things. Rev. iv. 11. 
 Thou hast made all things, and for thy pleasure they are 
 and were created. But that whatever is what it is neces- 
 sarilj^, is God. For I have no doubt but the dreams of 
 some, more anciently, and of late, concerning necessary 
 matter, and the sophisms of Spinosa and some others, 
 tending to prove the necessity and identitj' of all substance, 
 are (with what they aim to evince) demonstrably false. 
 The sum of all will be this, 
 
 1. That we can be more certain of nothing than that 
 there is but one God. 
 
 2. We are most sure the Father, Son, and Holy Ghost, 
 are sufficiently distinguished to give a just ground to the 
 distinct attributions, which are in the Scripture severally 
 given to them. 
 
 3. We are not sure what that sufficient distinction is; 
 (wherein I find j-ou saying with me over and over) but 
 whereas you rightly make the v.'ord person applicable to 
 God, but in a sense analogous to that which olnains of it 
 with men ; why may it not be said it may be filly applica- 
 ble, for ought we know, in a sense analogous to that no- 
 tion of it among men, which makesa/;c/-5<)7i signify an in- 
 telligent hypostasis, and so three distinct intelligent hypos- 
 tases. 
 
 4. But if that sufficient distinction can be no less, than 
 that there be in the Godhead three distinct intelligent hy- 
 postases, each having its own distinct singular intelligent 
 nature, with its proper personality belonging to it, we 
 know nothing to the contraiy, but that the necessary eter- 
 nal nature of the Godhead may admit thereof. If any can 
 from plain Scripture testimonj*, or cogent reason, evince 
 the contrary, let the evidence be produced. In the mean- 
 time we need notimpcse upon ourselves any formal denial 
 of it. 
 
 5. If the contrary can be evidenced, and that hereupon 
 it be designed to conclude that there can be but one intel- 
 ligent hypostasis in the Godhead, and therefore that the 
 Son and the Holy Ghost are but creatures, the last refuge 
 must be to deny the former consequence, and to allege 
 that though the same finite singular nature cannot well be 
 understood to remain entirely to one, and be communica- 
 ted entirely to another, and another, the case will not be 
 the same, speaking of an infinite nature. ^ 
 
 Sir, 
 
 If what is here said shall occasion to you any new 
 thoughts that you shall judge maj-^ be of common use, I 
 conceive there will be no need of publishing my letter, but 
 only that you be pleased to communicate your ovro. senti- 
 ments, as from yourself which will have so much the 
 more of authoiity and usefulness with them. The most 
 considerable thing that I have hinted, is the necessary pro- 
 manation of the Son, and Holy Ghost, that must distin- 
 guish them from contingent beings, and so from creatures; 
 which if vou think improveable to any good purpose, as it 
 hath been with me a thought many years old. so I suppose 
 it not new to you, and being now' resumed by you, upon
 
 150 
 
 A CALM DISCOURSE OP 
 
 this occasion, you will easily cultivate it to better advan- 
 tage than any words of mine can give it. 
 
 But if you think it advisable that any part of my letter 
 be published, if you please to signify your mind to that 
 
 purpose in one line to marked it will come sealed 
 
 to my view, and will give opportunity of offering my 
 thoughts to you, what parts I would have suppressed, 
 which will be such only, as shall leave the rest the fuller 
 testimony of my being, 
 Sir, 
 
 Your most sincere honourer, and most 
 respectful humble servant, 
 Anonym. 
 
 Poiret's method of proving a trinity in the Godhead, 
 though it call itself mathematical or geometrical, is with 
 me much less convictive, than the plain scriptural way. 
 
 LETTER n. 
 
 Sin, 
 
 Your eighth letter happening to come to my view be- 
 fore it W3,s printed off, I have the opportunity of taking no- 
 tice to you that it quite misrepresents the intent of the let- 
 ter to you subscribed Anonymous, which it makes to be 
 the defending or excusing some expressions of Dr. Sher- 
 lock's ; which indeed was the least considerable thing, if it 
 were any thing at all, in the design of that letter, and not 
 altogether accidental to it. The true design of it was, that 
 there might be a clearer foundation asserted (as possible 
 at least) to the doctrine of the incarnation and satisfaction 
 of the Son of God. Nor can the forti quod sic here be 
 solved by \.\\q forte quod non, the exigency of the case be- 
 ing such, as that if more be possible it will be highly requi- 
 site ; and that it cannot well be avoided to assert more, 
 unless it can be clearly evinced that more is impossible. 
 Nor yet is it necessary to determine how much more is 
 necessarj'. But not only the commonly received frame 
 of Christian doctrine doth seem to require somewhat be- 
 yond what the mere civil or respective notion of the word 
 person imports; but also the plain letter of Scripture, 
 which says, Heb. i. 3, that the Son of God is the express 
 image of the Father's hypostasis, which seems to signify 
 there are two hypostases, and other Scriptures seem to say 
 enough, whence we may with parity of reason collect a 
 third. Now that letter intimates, I think, sufficient mat- 
 ter of doubt, whether hypostasis doth not signify much more 
 than person, in }'our sense. 
 
 The principal thing that letter humbly offered to consi- 
 deration — i. e. whether supposing a greater distinction 
 than you have assigned be necessary, it may not be defend- 
 ed, by the just supposal that the proinanation of the second 
 or third persons (or hypostases rather) howsoever diverse 
 they are, is by natural eternal necessity, not contingent, 
 or depending upon will and pleasure, as all created beings 
 is and doth — is altogether waived. That letter was written 
 with design of giving you the occasion of considering 
 what might be further requisite and possible to bea.sserted 
 for the serving of the truth, and with that sincerity and 
 plenitude of respect to you that it might be wholly iii your 
 own power to do it in such a way, as wherein not at all 
 to disserve yourself. Which temper of mind is still the 
 same with 
 
 Rev. Sir, 
 
 Your most raifeigned honourer, 
 
 and humble servant. 
 Anonym. 
 
 Decemb. 91. 
 
 LETTER III. 
 
 Worthy Sir, 
 I AM v«ry loath troublesomelv to importune you. But 
 »he very little time I had for the view of your eighth let- 
 
 ter, before I wrote mine by the last post, not allowing me 
 fully to write my sense as to that part which concerned 
 my former letter, I take leave now to add, thi-t my design 
 in it (as well as the professed design of the letter itself) 
 was to offer you the occasion of employing that clear un- 
 derstanding, wherewith God hath blest you, above most, 
 in consideringwhether a greaterlatitude cannot be allowed 
 us in conceiving the distinction of the three in the God- 
 head consistently with the unity thereof, than your notion 
 of a person will extend to. And if it can, whether it ought 
 not to be represented (at least as possible) to give a less 
 exceptionable ground to the doctrines of the incarnation 
 and satisfaction of the second person, in order whereto it 
 seems to me highly requisite. This was that I really in- 
 tended, and not the vindicating the sentiments of that au- 
 thor, which 3^ ou might observe that letter animadverts upon. 
 The Scripture seems to allow a greater latitude, by the 
 ground it gives us to apprehend three hypostases ; which 
 so much differ from the notion you give of persons, that 
 one hypostasis may sustain three .such persons as you de- 
 scribe. The only thing that seems to straiten us in this 
 matter, is the usual doctrine of the schools about the Di- 
 vine simplicity. I confess I greatly coveted to have had 
 your thoughts engaged in sifting and examining that 
 doctrine ; so far as to consider whether there be really any 
 thing in it cogent and demonstrable, that will be repug- 
 nant to what is overturned in that letter. And I the rather 
 desired more room might be gained in this matter, appre- 
 hending the unitarians (as they more lately affect to call 
 themselves) might upon the whole, think you more theirs 
 than ours ; and while they agree with you concerning the 
 possibility of such a trinity as you assert, may judge their 
 advantage against the other mentioned doctrines, no less 
 than it was. 
 
 My desiring that letter of mine might not be printed, 
 was most agreeable to what I intended in writing it ; that 
 was, only to suggest to you somewhat (very loosely) that 
 I reckoned you more capable than any man I knew, to 
 cultivate, and improve, to the great service of the common 
 Christian cause. And that you might seem to say, what 
 you might, upon your own search, find safe and fit to be 
 said, as merely from yourself, without taking notice what 
 occasion was given you by any such letter at all. Had I 
 designed it for public view, it should have been writ with 
 more care, and with more (expressed) respect to you. But 
 if, upon the whole, you judge there is nothing in it consi- 
 derable to the purposes it mentions, my further request is, 
 you will please rather to suppress that part of your letter 
 which concerns it, (for which I suppose there is yet oppor- 
 tunity,) and take no notice any such letter came to your 
 hands. I am, 
 
 Reverend Sir, 
 
 Your most respectful, 
 
 humble servant, 
 
 Anonym. 
 
 December 19, 91. 
 
 SUMMARY PROPOSITIONS. 
 
 Collected, owt of the foregoing discourses, more briefly offer- 
 ing to view the substance of what is cowtairied in them. 
 
 1. Of the unity of the Godhead there can be no doubt, 
 it being in reason demonstrable, and most expressly often 
 asserted in Scripture. 
 
 2. That there is a trinity in the Godhead, of Father, 
 Son, or Word, and Holy Ghost, is the plain, obvious sense 
 of so many scriptures, that it apparently tends to frustrate 
 the design of the whole Scripture revelation, and to make 
 it useless, not to admit this trinity, or otherwise to under- 
 stand such scriptures. 
 
 3. That therefore the devising any other sense of such 
 scriptures ought by no means to be attempted, unless this 
 trinity in the Godhead can be evidently demonstrated to 
 be impossible. 
 
 4. That the impossibility of it can never be demonstra-
 
 THE TRINITY IN THE GODHEAD. 
 
 151 
 
 ted from the mere uniti/ ol me Godhead, -vhich may be 
 such, as to admit these distinctions in it, for aught we 
 know. 
 
 5. Nothing is more appropriate to the Godhead than to 
 be a necessarily existent, intelligent Being : since all crea- 
 tures, whether intel igent or unintelligent, are conlingent, 
 depending upon the will of the necessary, intelligent Be- 
 ing. 
 
 6. If therefore the Father, Son, and Holy Ghost do co- 
 exist in the Godhead necessarily, they cannot but be God. 
 
 7. And if the first be conceiv^ed as the fountain, the se- 
 cond as by natural, necessary (not voluntary, promanation 
 from the first, the third by natural, necessary (not volun- 
 tary) spiration, so as that neither uf these latter could have 
 been otherwise ; this aptly agrees with the notions of Fa- 
 ther, Son, and Spirit distinctly put upon them, and infi- 
 nitely distinguishes the two latter from all creatures that 
 depend upon will and pleasure. 
 
 8. Whatever distinction there be of these three among 
 themselves, yet the first being the original, the second be- 
 ing by that promanation necessarily and eternally united 
 with the first, the third by such spiration united necessari- 
 ly and eternally with both the other, inasmuch as eternity 
 and necessity of existence admit no change, this union 
 must be inviolable and everlasting, and thereupon the 
 Godhead which they constitute can be but one. 
 
 9. We have among the creatures, and even in ourselves, 
 instances of very different natures, continuing distinct, but 
 so miited as to be one thing ; and it were more easily .sup- 
 posable of congenerous natures. 
 
 10. If such union with distinction be impossible in the 
 Godhead, it must not be from any repugnancy in the thing 
 itself, since very intimate union, with continuing distmc- 
 tion, is in itself no impossible thing; but from somewhat 
 peculiar to the Divine Being. 
 
 11. That peculiarity, since it cannot be unity (which be- 
 cause it may admit distinctions in one and the same thing, 
 we are not sure it cannot be so in the Godhead) must be 
 that simplicity commonly wont to be ascribed to the Di- 
 vine nature. 
 
 12. Such simplicity as shall exclude that distinction, 
 which shall appear necessary in the present case, is not by 
 express Scripture any where ascribed to God ; and there- 
 fore must be rationally demonstrated of him, if it shall be 
 judged to belong at all to him. 
 
 13. Absolute simplicity is not a perfection, nor is by any 
 ascribed to God. Not by the Socinians themselves, who 
 ascribe to him the several intellectual and moral excellen- 
 cies, that ai'e attributed to him in the Scriptures, of which 
 they give very different definitions, as may be seen in 
 their own Volkelius at large, which should signify them 
 not to be counted, in all respects, the same thing. 
 
 14. That is not a just consequence, which is the most 
 plausible one that seems capable of being alleged for 
 such absolute simplicity, that otherwise there would be a 
 composition admitted in the Divine nature, which would 
 import an imperfection inconsistent with Deity. For the 
 several excellencies that concur in it, howsoever distin- 
 guished, being never put together, nor having ever ex- 
 isted apart, but in eternal, necessar}'^ union, though they 
 may make some sort of variety, import no proper compo- 
 sition, and carry with them more apparent perfection, 
 than absolute omnimodous simplicity can be conceived to 
 do. 
 
 15. Such a supposed possible variety even of individual 
 natures in the Deity, some way differing from each other, 
 infers not an unbounded liberty of conceiving what plu- 
 ralities therein we please or can imagine. The divine reve- 
 lation, which could only justify, doth also limit us, herein, 
 mentioning three distinct I's or He's, and no more. 
 
 16. The several attributes which are common to these 
 three, do to our apprehension, and way of conceiving 
 things, require less distinction; no more, for ought we 
 know, than may arise from their being variously modified, 
 according to the distinction of objects, or other extrinsical 
 things, to which they may be referred. 
 
 We that so little know how our own souls, and the 
 powers and principles that belong to them, do differ from 
 one another, and from them, must be supposed more igno- 
 rant, and should be less curious, in this. 
 
 A LETTER TO A FRIEND, 
 
 CONCERNING A POSTSCRIPT. 
 
 TO THE DEFENCE OE DR. SHERLOCK'S NOTION OF THE TRIN- 
 ITY IN UNITY, RELATING TO THE CALM AND SOBER IN- 
 
 quiky upon the same subject. 
 
 Sir, 
 
 I FIND a postscript to the newly published deience of 
 Dr. Sherlock's notion of the Trinity in Unity, takes no- 
 tice of the inquiry concerning the possibilitv of a trinity 
 in the Godhead. He that writes it seems .somewhat out of 
 humour, or not in such as it is decent to hope is more 
 usual with him : and I can't guess for what, unless that 
 one, whom he imagines a dissenter, hath adventured to 
 cast his eyes that way that he did his. But for that imagina- 
 tion he may have as little ground, as I to think the dean's de- 
 fender is the dean ; and a.s little as he had to saj- the in- 
 quirer took great care that no man should suspect that he 
 favours the dean in his notion. Here he is quite out in his 
 guess ; for the inquirer took no such care at all, but nakedly 
 to represent his own sentiments as they were, whether they 
 agreed with the dean's, or wherein they difiered : and 
 really cares not who knows that he hath not so little kind- 
 ness either for truth or for him, as to abandon or decline 
 what he thinks to be true for his sake, or (as he expressed 
 himself, p. 29. of that discourse) because he said it. 
 
 But the defender represents the dean as much of ano- 
 ther temper, and that he will thank him for not favouring 
 him in his notions. But yet he says, that though the in- 
 quirer doth not in every particular say what the dean says, 
 yet he says what will justify him against the charge of tri- 
 theism. And is there any hurt to him in that 1 What a 
 strange man doth he make the dean ! as if he could not 
 be pleased unless he alone did engross truth! Will he 
 thank a man for not favouring his notions, and yet would 
 blame him for not saying in every particular what he says, 
 though he say what will justify him against the heaviest 
 charge framed against him"? may one neither be allowed 
 to agree with him, nor disagree 1 
 
 But, Sir, the defender's discourse hath no design (nor I 
 believe he himself) to disprove the possibility of a trinity 
 in the ever blessed Godhead. Therefore the inquirer is safe 
 from him as to the principal design he is concerned for, it 
 is all one to him if it still appear possible in what way it 
 be so represented, that is intelligible, consistent with itself, 
 and with other truth ; so that it is hardly worth the while 
 to him, further to inquire whether the dean's In-postasis or 
 his be better, if cither be found imexceptionably safe and 
 good. But because the defender hath, to give preference 
 to the one, misrepresented both with some appearing dis- 
 advantage to the cause itself, what he says ought to be 
 considered. And the whole matter will be reduced to 
 this twofold inquiry : 
 
 1. Whether the inqiiirer hath said more than the dean, 
 or more ihan is defensible, of the distinction of the sacred 
 three in the Godhead. 
 
 2. Whether the dean hath said so much as the inquirer, 
 or so much as was requisite of their union. 
 
 1. For the former, the defender, p. 103. mentions the 
 dean's notion of three infinite minds or spirits ; and makes 
 the inquirer to have been proving three spirits, three dis- 
 tinct essences, three individual natures, in the Godhead; 
 and then adds, " for my part, I cannot tell where the differ- 
 ence is, unless it be in the term infinite." 'Tis indeed 
 strange the inquirer should have said more than the dean, 
 if there were no difference, unless in the term infinite, 
 wherein he must have said infinitely less. 
 
 But he at length apprehends another difference, though 
 he after labours to make it none, riz. that the inquirer 
 disputes, but asserts nothing, and be fancies he doth so to 
 shelter himself from the animadverter, of whom he says 
 he seems to be terribly afraid. Here he puts the dean into 
 a fit of kindness and good nature, allowing the inquirer to 
 partake with him in his fears, though not in his notions, as 
 more sacred. But he herein understands not the inquirer, 
 who if he had been so terriblv afraid, could very easily 
 have said nothing; and who was reallv afraid of a greater 
 animadverter, thinking it too great boldness, under his
 
 152 
 
 A LETTER TO A FRIEND 
 
 eye, to speak confidently of his own peculiarities, and that 
 lay folded up in so venerable darkness. He thought it 
 enough, in oppcsition to the daring person (whoever he 
 was) with whom he was concerned, that so peremptorily 
 pronounced the trinity an absurdity, a contradiction, non- 
 sense, and an impossibility, to represent what he proposed 
 as possible for ought he knew. 
 
 And now the defender will have the dean to have done 
 no more. And with all my heart let him have done no 
 more, if he and his animadverter, and the rest of the world, 
 will so agree it: but he will have the inquirer to have done 
 more, and to be much more exposed to the charge of tri- 
 theism, by asserting three distinct essences, three Individ ual 
 natures, and three spiritual beings in the Godhead. This 
 is indeed very marvellous, that the inquirer should expose 
 himself to the charge of tritheism by asserting all this, 
 when but a few lines before, upon the same page, he is 
 said to have asserted nothing ! But he may as well make 
 the inquirer in asserting nothing to have asserted all this, 
 as the dean in asserting all this to have asserted nothing. 
 And where the inquirer hath said in express words that 
 the sacred three are three distinct substances I can't find. 
 And we must in great part alter the common notion of 
 substance to make it affirmable of God at all, vi^. that it 
 doth substare accidentibiis, which I believe the dean will 
 no more than the inquirer .suppose the Divine Being to 
 admit. But 'tis true, that there is somewhat more con- 
 siderable in the notion of substance, according whereto, if 
 the dean can make a shift to avoid the having of any in- 
 convenient thing proved upon him by consequence, I 
 hope the inquirer may find a way to escape as well. 
 
 But whereas he says, the dean allows but one divme es- 
 sence, and one individual nature, in the Godhead repeated 
 in three persons, but without multiplication, as he says he 
 had already explained it; this hath occasioned me to look 
 back to that explanation, and if he thinks the allowing but 
 one divine essence, and one individual nature, in the God- 
 head, will agree with what the dean hath said in his vindi- 
 cation, I shall not envy him, nor vow go about to disprove 
 it. But I confess I see not how it can agree with what 
 the defender says in this his explanation itself, when, p. 23. 
 he tells us, the Son is the living subsisting image of the 
 Father, and the image and the prototype cannot be the 
 same, but must be two. No man is his own image, nor is 
 an image the image of itself And he adds, this is so 
 self-evident, &c. But whereas the distinction all this while 
 might be understood to be hut modal, and that appears to 
 be the defender's present (whatever was the dean's former) 
 meaning, that the three subsistences differ only in their 
 different manner of subsisting; yet with this meaning his 
 other words do little agree, for he plainly asserts a real 
 distinction of three in the same individual numerical na- 
 ture. And who did ever make a real distinction to be but 
 modall More expressly he had said before, (p. 18.) the 
 Divine nature is one individual nature, but not one single 
 nature, for one single nature can be but one person whe- 
 ther in God or man. 
 
 I shall not here discuss with him the criticism upon 
 which he lays so mighty stress, of one individual nature 
 and one single nature, hut take the terms he chooses, and 
 if the Divine nature be not one single nature, it must be 
 double, it must be triple. And what doth this come to 
 Jess than three natures 1 unless all ordinary forms of speech 
 must be quite abandoned and forsaken. And wherein 
 doth it come short of what is said by the inquirer! p. 141. 
 " This iQvm individual must (in the case now supposed, as 
 possible not as certain) admit of a twofold application, either 
 to the distinct essence of the Father, or of the Son, or of 
 the Holy Ghost; or to the entire essence of the Godhead, 
 in which these three do concur. Each of these conceived 
 by itself, are (according to this supposition) individual es- 
 sences, but conceived together they are the entire indivi- 
 dual essence of God, for there is but one such essence and 
 no more, and it can never be multiplied nor divided into 
 more of the same name and nature." Duplicity, tripli- 
 city, are admitted ; simplicity rejected. If simple and 
 single be of the same signification, where is the differ- 
 ence, but that the one thinks absolute omnimodous simpli- 
 city is not to be affirmed of the Dmne nauire, as lie often 
 
 a Lettor, p. 24, SS. 
 
 speaks : the other says downright, it is not single or sim- 
 ple without limitation. The one denies multiplication of 
 it, so doth the other. The one indeed speaks positively, 
 the other doth but suppose what he says as possible, not 
 certain. And there is indeed some difference between 
 supposing a thing as possible for ought one knows ; and 
 affirming it so po.sitively, as to impute heresy, and non- 
 sense, to all gainsayers. But both bring for proof, the 
 same thing, the incarnation ; as in the postscript, the de- 
 fender takes notice the inquirer doth, p. 102. And so doth 
 he himself in his letter, p. 102. — " The Divine nature was 
 incarnate in Christ, he was perfect God and perfect man ; 
 and if there was but one single Divine nature in all three 
 persons, this one single Divine nature was incarnate, and 
 therefore the Father and the Holy Ghost, who are this sin- 
 gle Divine nature, as well as the Son, must be as much in- 
 carnate as the Son was." He makes the contrary absurd, 
 and brings in (fitly enough) VictorinusAfer teaching, that 
 we ought not to say, nor is it lawful to say, that there is but 
 one substance, i. e. as he paraphrases it, one single sub- 
 sisting nature (therefore there must be three single subsist- 
 ing natures) and three persons. For if this same sub- 
 stance did and suffered all (patri-passiani et nos) we must 
 be Patripassians, which God forbid. 
 
 And what the defender alleges from the ancients, 
 against the Sabellians, allowing only =^ a trinity of names, 
 and his taking the rpoirot v-nap^ecoi in the concrete not in ab- 
 stract^ fully enough speaks the inquirer's sense, his account- 
 ing the contrary too fine and metaphysical for him, was 
 what was writ to Dr. Wallis, (Calm Discourse, p. 147.) 
 too fine or too little solitl, &c. 
 
 In short, till it can be effectually proved, that mind and 
 spirit do not signify somewhat as absolute as nature or es- 
 sence, (or rather more than the former, which signifies the 
 principle of operation as the other of being,) and till it can 
 be as well proved, that asserting a thing as certain, so as 
 to pronounce it heresy and nonsense to think otherwise, is 
 less than only to propose it as possible, or inquire whether 
 it be so or no, the dean must be judged by every one that 
 understands common sense, to have heightened the dis- 
 tinction of three persons at least as much as the inquirer. 
 And whether the inquirer have supposed more than is de- 
 fensible against the defender's objections, will be considered 
 by and by in its proper place. In the meantime let it, 
 
 2. Be examined whether the dean has said as much for 
 salving the unity of the Godhead as the inquirer, or as 
 much as is requisite to that purpose. And here our busi- 
 ness will be short, for it all turns upon that one single point, 
 whether mutual consciou.sness be that union which must 
 be acknowledged, or suppose it only. For which we need 
 only appeal to common reason, whether being do not in 
 the natural order precede even the power of working; and 
 consequently whether being united vitally, precede not the 
 possibility of acting agreeably to that united state: where- 
 upon the inquiry is not concerning actual conscience only, 
 but (as he speaks) consciousness. Is it possible any three 
 persons or intelligent subsistences, should naturally have 
 vital perception of each other's internal motions and sen- 
 sations, without being vitally preunited 1 I say naturally, 
 for that God might give to three created spirits a temporary 
 perception of each other without bringing them into a stated 
 union each with other, is little to be doubted; as a spirit 
 may assume a body and animate it pro tempore without 
 being substantially united with it. And if that body were 
 also a spirit, they might 7;ro tevipore, for ought we know, by 
 extraordinary divine disposition (for within the ordinary 
 course of nature we know of no such intimacy of created 
 spirits to another) be quasi anima: to one another. But if 
 naturally they were so to mingle and transfuse sensations 
 mutually into each other, they must be naturally, first, in 
 vital union with one another. Nor therefore did the in- 
 quirer mistake the dean's notion as the defender fancies 
 in the passage he quotes, p. 104, as if he took mutual con- 
 sciousness for mere mutual perspection. For though scire 
 abstractedly taken, doth not signify more than perspicere, 
 yet the inquirer in that passage, speaking of a never so per- 
 fect mutual perspection, properly enough expressed there- 
 by as great a feeling such spirits were supposed lo have ol 
 each other, in themselves, as mutual consciousness is apt
 
 CONCERNING THE POSTSCRIPT, &c. 
 
 to sigaily, or as the dean can yet be supposed to have 
 meant, that perspection being more perfect which produces 
 gusts and relishes suitable to the object, than that which 
 stays in mere speculation only. 
 
 And upon the whole, it seems very strange the defender 
 should say. " If such an internal, vital sensation, be not an 
 essential union, he believes no man can tell what it is." 
 For how can such adiuil sensation be imagined to be u7iion? 
 As well might the use of sense itself (speaking of any thing 
 singly to which it belongs) be said to be constituent form, 
 or (consequently) the doing any thing that proceeds from 
 reason, to be the form of a man. So the writing a book, 
 should be the author. And whereas he says, " it is certain 
 the dean took it to be so, and therefore he did not leave 
 out a natural eternal union;" it follows, indeed, that he did 
 not leave it out, in his mind and design, but he neveriheless 
 left it out of his book, and therefore said not enough there 
 to salve the unity of the Godhead, but ought to have insist- 
 ed upon somewhat prior to mutual consciousness, as con- 
 stituent of that unity, and which might make the three 
 one, and not merely argue them to be so. 
 
 But now (p. 105) he comes to find as great fault with 
 the inquirer's way of maintaining this unity, and because 
 he is resolved to dislike it, if he can't find it faulty, sets 
 himself to make it so. The temper of mind wherewith he 
 writes to this purpose what follows, (p. 105.) and onwards 
 to the end, so soon and so constantly shows itself, that no 
 man whose mind is not in the same disorder will upon 
 trial apprehend any thing in it, but such heat as dwells in 
 darkness. And he himself hath given the document, 
 which may be a measure to any apprehensive reader :i< 
 " True divine wisdom rests not on an illnatured and per- 
 verse spirit;" I understand it, " while the ill fit lasts." But 
 'lis strange he could write those words without any self- 
 reflection. 
 
 The thing to be revenged is, that the inquirer did freely 
 speak his thoughts, wherein he judged the dean's Ay^o/iie.si's 
 defective, his not taking notice of what he reckoned natu- 
 rally antecedent and fundamental to mutual con.sciousness: 
 a most intimate, natural, necessary, eternal union of the 
 sacred three. If the inquirer spake sincerely, as he under- 
 stood the matter, and him, and it evidently appear the de- 
 fender did not so, I only say the wronged person hath 
 much the advantage, and wishes him no other harm, than 
 such gentle regrets, as are necessary to set him right with 
 himself, and his higher Judge. He says, he (the inquirei) 
 represents this unity by the union of soul and bod}'^, and 
 by the union of the Divine and human nature, &c. 
 
 'Tis true, he partly doth so, but more fully by the (sup- 
 posed union of) three created spirits; (to which he that will 
 may see, he only makes them a lower step;) and he says, 
 (with respect especially to the former of these,) " That a 
 union supposable to be originally, eternally, and by natu- 
 ral necessity in the most perfect Being, is to be thouglit 
 imexpressibly more perfect than any other." But (he adds) 
 " these are personal imions, and therefore cannot be the 
 union of the Godhead." And he very well knew (for he 
 had but little before cited the passage) that the inquirer 
 never intended them so, but only to represent that the 
 union of the three in the Godhead, could not be reasonably 
 thought less possible. 
 
 What he further adds is much stranger, (and yet herein I 
 am resolved to put charity towards him to the utmost 
 stretch, as he professes to have done his understanding,) 
 for he says — as far as he can possibly understand, and that 
 he should be glad to be better informed, though there is 
 some reason to apprehend that former displeasure darkened 
 his understanding, (and even dimmed his eye-sight,) which 
 yet I hope hath its more lucid intervals, and that this dis- 
 temper is not a fixed habit with him. And what is it now 
 that he cannot possibly understand otherwise 1 — that no 
 other union will satisfy him {viz. the inquirer) but such a 
 union of three spiritual beings and individual natures as 
 b)^ their composition constitute the Godhead, as the com- 
 position of soul and body do the man ; i. e. he cannot 
 understand but he means what he expressly denies. Who 
 can help so cross an understanding"? If he had not had 
 his very finger upon the place where the inquirer says"^ in 
 express words, " I peremptorily deny all composition in 
 b Sec his letter, p. 1. e Ca.!m Discmirie. 
 
 153 
 
 the being of God," this had been more excusable ; besides 
 much said to the same purposed elsewhere. It had been 
 ingenuous in any man not to impute that to another, as his 
 lueaning, which in the plainest terms he dLsavows, as none 
 of his meaning : and it had been prudent m the dean Cor of 
 his defender) of all mankind not to have done so in the pre- 
 sent case, as will further be seen in due time. But he takes it 
 for an affront, when he fancies a man to come too near him. 
 He adds, " for this reason he disputes earnest!} against 
 the universal, absolute, omnimodous simplicity of the 
 Divine nature, and will not allow that wisdom, power and 
 goodness, are the same thing in God, and distinguished 
 into different conceptions by us, only through the weak- 
 ness of our understandings, which cannot comprehend an 
 infinite Being in one thought, and therefore must, as well 
 as we can, contemplate him by parts." I know not what 
 he means by earnestly, the matter was weighty, and it is 
 true. He was in writing about it in no disjjosition to jest. 
 But it's said, "he disputed against the universal, absolute^ 
 omnimodous simplicity of the Divine nature." I hope 
 the defender in this rneajis honestly, but he speaks very 
 improperly, for it supposes him to think that the universal, 
 absolute, omnimodous simplicity, so earnestly disputed 
 against, did really belong to the Divine nature ; but I can 
 scarce believe him to think so, and therefore he should 
 have said, his disputation tended to prove it not lo belong. 
 If he {viz. the defender, or the dean) did really think it 
 did, they^ or he, must be very singular in that sentiment, 
 I would have them name me the man that ever laid do-wn 
 and asserted such a po>i(ion. Some I know have said of 
 that sacied Being, that it is summe simpler, or more simple 
 than any thing else; but that imports not universal, abso- 
 lute, omnimodous simplicity, which is impossible to be s. 
 perfection, or therefore to belong to the Divine nature. No 
 man that ever acknowledged a trinity- of persons even 
 modally distinguished, could ever pretend it, for such sim- 
 plicity excludes all modes. Nay, the antitrinitarians them- 
 selves can never be for it, as the Calm Discourse hath 
 shown. And if the dean be, he is gone into the remotest 
 extreme from what he held (and plainly enough seems still 
 to hold) that ever man of sense did. 
 
 But for what is added, that he " will not allow that v%is- 
 dom, power, and goodness, are the same thing in God:" 
 this is not faiil}^ said, civility allows me not to say, untrul}-. 
 There is no word in the place he cites, nor any where in 
 that book, that signifies not allowing; 'tis intimated we are 
 not instructed " by the Scripture to conceive of the Divine 
 nature, as, in every respect, most absolutely simple," or 
 that power, wisdom, goodness in the abstract, are the snme 
 thing, and that our difficulty is great to apprehend tJiem 
 really undistinguishable. And let me serio\isly a.-ik him- 
 .sclf. doth he in good earnest think it is only through the 
 weakness of our understandings that we distinguish the 
 notions of the Divine wisdom, power, and goodness? Cer- 
 tainly it were great weakness of understanding to define 
 them alike. I believe he never met Miih the wri'er yet 
 thai distinguished them less, than ratione ratiocim'.ta In 
 contradistinction to ratiocinmile, which implies somewhat 
 corresponding to our distinct norions of them (eminently 
 and not formally) in iiatura rei. 
 
 And whereas he further says, "This prepared his wnv 
 to make goodness, wisdom, power, — a natural trinitA- in 
 unity," herein the defender is mistaken. This is not the 
 trinitij which the inquirer's discourse was ever intended to 
 terminate in, as he himself hath expressly said, and the 
 defender takes notice of it; which makes me wonder how 
 he could think it v^-tis so intended.citing the very passage,' 
 where the inquirer "professes not to judge, that we ai^ 
 under the precise notions of power, -wisdom, and goodness, 
 to conceive of the Father, Son, and Hoh- Ghost." But 
 why then were these three so much discoursed of before? 
 They are three most celebrated di\ane attributes, wherein 
 we have our most immediate and very principal concern. 
 And some have thought the trinity was most fitly to be 
 conceived by them. The inquirer did not think so : but he 
 thought, first, it would be requisite to have our minds dis- 
 entangled from any apprehended necessity of conceiving 
 them to be in all respects the very same things; nor are 
 they the very same, if they be so "distinguished, as Ls ex- 
 d Calm Disroiitse. e Calm Dneoune.
 
 154 
 
 A LETTER TO A FRIEND 
 
 pressed in the sixteenth of the summary propositions-/ 
 where also they are each of them said to be common to 
 Father Son and Holy Ghost, whence therefore it is im- 
 possible they should be thought to distinguish Father, 
 Son, and Holy Ghost. But that some distinction being 
 adm'itted even of them, this might facilitate to us our con- 
 ception of the greater distinction which must be, of Father, 
 Son, and Spirit, as is expressed p. 140. Indeed he did not 
 think fit to interrupt his discourse by staying to show 
 reasons why he did not rest in that account alone of the 
 trinity, though it might seem plausible, or not absurd, but 
 proceeded further to what was more satisfying to himself, 
 and might be so to other men. And (as the intervening 
 series of his discourse leads thereto) this is more directly 
 done, &c. especially where he comes to speak of the ne- 
 cessary coexistence, and the (as necessary and natural) 
 order of the Father, Son, and Spirit, towards each other. 
 The second being, not by any intervening act of will, but 
 by necessary eternal promanalion, from the first, and the 
 third from both. And the true reason why power, wisdom, 
 and goodness, were not thought expressive of the distinc- 
 tion of Father, Son, and Spirit, but common to each of 
 them (as is said, Summary Prop. 16.) was, that the two 
 latter cannot but be necessary emanations, most connatural 
 to their original, as is truly suggested by the defender, p. HI. 
 If you object, (as the defender brings in the inquirer 
 saying,) That this gives us the notion of a compounded 
 Deity, &c. this, i. e. the supposition that absolute omni- 
 modous simplicity belongs not to it, is the thing which 
 may be thought to give us this notion. And he tells us, 
 he (the inquirer) answers this difficulty, by giving us a 
 new notion of a composituni. And what 's that which he 
 calls a new notion 1 That a compositum seems to imply pre- 
 existing component, that brings such things together; and 
 supposes such and such more simple things to have pre- 
 existed apart, or separate, and to be brought afterwards 
 together into a united state. 
 
 And indeed is this a new notion 1 as new as the creation ? 
 Let him show me an instance through the whole created 
 universe of beings, (and for the uncreated being the de- 
 fender (now at this time) disputes against any composition 
 there, und the inquirer denies any,) first, where there hath 
 been a composituvi without a pre-existing component, or 
 next, the compounded parts whereof, if substantial, did not 
 in order of nature pre-exist separate ; i. e. whether esse 
 simplidter, do not naturally precede esse tale, or which is all 
 one, to our present purpose, whether they were not capable 
 hereof if the Creator pleased. Let any man, I say, tell me 
 where was there ever a.co7nposituni made by substantial union 
 that did not consist of once separate or of separable parts. 
 
 But note his admirable following supposition, that is to 
 say, That if a man, suppose, who consists of body and soul, 
 had been from eternity, without a maker, and his soul and 
 body had never subsisted apart, he could not have been 
 said to have been a compounded creature 1 This is said 
 with design most groundlessly (as we shall see) to fasten 
 an absurd consequence upon the inquirer, and see how it 
 lucks. Did ever any man undertake to reprove an absur- 
 dity with greater absurdity 1 A creature without a maker ! 
 what sort of creature must this be 1 We have a pretty say- 
 ing quoted in the defender's letter; He that writes lies 
 down ; and we are apt enough too, when we write, to trip 
 and fall down, and ought in such cases to be merciful to 
 one another, even though he that falls should be in no 
 danger of hurting his forehead, much more if he be. What 
 was another man's turn now, may be mine next. 
 
 But let the supposition proceed, and put we being in- 
 stead of creature, which no doubt was the defender's mean- 
 ing, for creature he must needs know it could not be that 
 had no maker. And what then 1 " Why he should not" 
 (says he) '" have been said to be compounded, though he 
 would have had the same parts that he has now." We 
 have here a self-confounding supposition, which having 
 done that first, cannot hurt him whom it was designed to 
 confound, being taken in season. Grant one, and you 
 grant a thousand. A being made up of a soul and a bod)'', 
 is so imperfect an entity, as could not be of itself Nothing 
 is of itself which is not absolutely perfect. If he mind to 
 disprove this, let him try his faculty when he pleases against 
 
 f Calm Discourse. 
 
 it, and (which I sincerely believe he never intends) toge- 
 ther with it, against all religion. But besides, he hath 
 destroyed his own supposition himself (to put us out of 
 that danger) by saying in plain words, p. 10. '' We have 
 no notion of an eternal and necessary existence, but in an 
 absolute perfect and infinite nature." Now say I, what is 
 so perfect, and hath whatever belongs to it necessarily, 
 though distinguishable things belong to it, hath no parts; 
 for what are parts, but such things as can be parted 1 Such 
 things as never were parted, and never can be, (as 'tis non- 
 sense to talk of those things being parted that are united 
 necessarily, and of themselves,) are no parts, if partiri, 
 whence they are so called, must not (and herein he cannot 
 so fool the whole Christian world, as to make it concur wiih 
 him) lose its signification to serve a turn. Though the 
 things be real, their partibility is not real. If any indeed 
 will call them parts, because they may be conceived or con- 
 templated apart, as parts merely conceptible are no preju- 
 dice to the perfection of the Divine Being, so are such 
 conceivable parts acknowledged by this author himself in 
 express words ;? " we cannot comprehend an infinite 
 Being in one thought, and therefore must as well as we 
 can contemplate him by parts." God can as little admit 
 to be a part of any thing, as to have any thing a part of 
 him. And yet 'tis no prejudice to the dignity and perfec- 
 tion of his being, to conceive of him conjunctly with other 
 things, as when we make him depart (subject or predicate) 
 of a proposition. All his disputation therefore against 
 parts and composition in the Deity, is against a figment, 
 or no present adversary. For my part I am of his mind, 
 and I should be obliged to thank him that this once he 
 vouchsafes to let me be on his side, when he knows I am, 
 if he did not take so A'ast pains to make others not know 
 it. How hard a thing is it for an angry man (especially 
 when he knows not wh\') to write with a sincere mind. 
 
 But hath he in all this fervent bluster a present concern 
 at this time for the honour of the Divine Being, (as God 
 forbid I should think he never hath,) what is that he sup- 
 poses injurious to it % Is it the words, parts and compounds 1 
 or is it the things supposed to be united in the Divine 
 Being 1 The words he knows to be his own, and let him 
 dispose of them more ineptly if he can tell how : parts 
 that were never put together, never parted, nor ever shall 
 be the one or other ; i. e. that never were or will be parts, 
 and a compound of such parts ! But now for the things 
 upon which he would obtrude these words, — three essences, 
 natures, (or if you please, infinite minds or spirits,) sig- 
 nified by the names of Father, Son, and Holy Ghost, m 
 eternal union, but distinct in the being of God. — Let us 
 consider his disputation against them united, or in union, 
 according to its double aspect: First, upon the hypothesis 
 or supposition of them : Secondly, upon himself. 
 
 First, Consider his disputation as levelled against the 
 hypothesis or supposition of such distinct essences, na- 
 tures, minds, spirits, in necessary, eternal union in the 
 Divine Being. And one of his arguments against it is in 
 those words of his : One principal argument against it (here 
 put out parts and composition which are his own, and we 
 have no more to do with them) is, that God is eternal and 
 unmade, and whatsoever hath parts, (says he,) hath such 
 essences in it, must have a maker. And here let him prove 
 his consequence, and his business is done, viz. both ways, 
 as will be seen by and by. But let him show the incon- 
 sistency between a thing's having such distinct essences 
 naturally and necessarily united in it, (as the supposition 
 to be argued against is, and before ought to have been 
 justly stated,) and it's being eternal and unmade. But how 
 that is to be evinced I cannot so much as guess ; con- 
 fident afl[irmation, against the most obvious tenor of God's 
 own word, is of little account. Who shall ascend into the 
 heavens'? or fathom the depths'? or can have that perspec- 
 tion of God's incomprehensible nature, as without (and 
 visibly against) his own revelation to be able, without great 
 rashness, to pronounce .so concerning him'? Butsotoyishan 
 argument as here follows, is worse than the position ; i. e. 
 when one shall say, that for ought we know there may be 
 three distinct essences by an eternal unmade union, united 
 into one, in the being of God ; any man should say, and 
 be so vain as to expect to be regarded, that because they 
 g His Letter, p. 105.
 
 CONCERNING THE POSTSCRIPT, &c. 
 
 155 
 
 are united by an eternal and unmade union, therefore they 
 are not united by an eternal and natural luiion ! If there 
 be not a contradiction in the terms to disprove a thing, by 
 itself, is to say nothing, or is all one with proving a thing 
 by itself. He proceeds, to what hath nothing in it like an 
 argument, but against its own conceit of parts, and that 
 very trifling too : " There can be but one eternal nature 
 in God; but if there be three — there must be three." This 
 'tis now come to, proving his point by itself Here he 
 makes sure work to have nothing denied, but then nothing 
 is proved, no advance is made; if there be three, there 
 must be three. But if there be three what ? eternal parts ? 
 there must be three different natures, or else they 
 
 would be the same. (What! though distinct?) But this 
 supposes somebody said the lir.st ; and who 1 himself; 
 therefore he is disproving himself If I had said so, I 
 would have denied his consequence, far there may be simi- 
 lar parts; whereas by different, he seems to mean dis- 
 similar. He says, " not only distinct, but different natures." 
 Now j'ou have that wonderful thing talked of sometimes, 
 but never brought to view before, a di.stinction without a 
 difl"erence. 'Tis strange how an}- things should be dis- 
 tinct, and no way different. What distinguishes them if 
 they differ by nothing 1 This different, applied to this pre- 
 sent case, is his own word, coined to introduce a notion 
 that is not new to Christians only, but to all mankind. If 
 by different natures he means (as he seems) of a different 
 kind, who thought of such a difference 1 But I trow, 
 things that differ in number, do as truly differ, (however 
 essentially cohering,) though not so widely. 
 
 His next is, that though we have a natural notion of an 
 eternal Being, we have no notion of three eternal essences 
 (which again I put instead of his parts) which necessarily' 
 coexist in an eternal union. Doth he mean we are to dis- 
 believe every thing of God whereof we have not a natural 
 notion '? Then to what purpose is a divine revelation 1 Is 
 this notion of God pretended to be naturaH 'Tis enough, 
 if such a notion be most favoured by his own revelation, 
 who best understands his own nature, and theie be not 
 evident natural notion against it. He forgot tliat he had 
 said, (Defence, p. 5.) " If every thing which we have no 
 positive idea of must be allowed to contradict reason, we 
 shall find contradictions enough ;" adding, " We must con- 
 fess a great many things to be true, which we have no idea 
 of," &c. He adds, " Once more, we have no notion of an 
 eternal and necessary existence, but in an absolutely per- 
 fect and infinite nature, but if there be" (I here again leave 
 out his three parts, because I design to consider if there be 
 any thing of strength brought against what was supposed 
 possible by the inquirer, not against his fiction, which I 
 trouble not myself any further with) " three spiritual beings 
 — neither of them can be absolutel}^ perfect and infinite," 
 (I would rather have said none, or no one, than neither, 
 since the discourse is of more than two. I thought the 
 meaning of uter and nevler had being agreed long ago,) 
 " though we could suppose their union to make such a per- 
 fect Being, because they are not the same, and (neither) no 
 one of them is the whole," &c. 
 
 This is the only thing that ever came under my notice 
 among the school-men, that hath any appearing strength 
 in it, against the hypothesis which I have proposed as 
 possible for ought I knew. They generally dispute against 
 many sorts of compositions in the being of God, which I 
 am not concerned in: that of matter and form, which is 
 alien from this affair; of quantitative parts, which is as 
 alien: of subject and accident, which touches us not; of 
 act and power, which doth it as little: each suhsistent, 
 being eternally in utmost actuality. And by sundry sorts 
 and methods of argument, whereof only this can seem to 
 signify any thing against the present supposition. And it 
 wholly resolves into the notion of infinity, about which I 
 g^enerally spoke my sense in that first h Letter to Dr. 
 "VVallis. And as I there intimated how much easier it is 
 to puzzle another upon that subject than to satisfy oneself, 
 so I here say, that I doubt not to give any man as much 
 trouble about it in respect of quantitative extension, as he 
 can me, in this. I think it demonstrable, that one Infinite 
 can never be from another by voluntarv production, that 
 ^t cannot by necessary emanation, I think not so. In the 
 
 h Seo Calm Discourse. i Ibid. k Hi« Letter, p. 5. I Calm Disc, 
 
 meantime, when we are told so plainlv bv the divine ora- 
 cles, of a sacred three, that are each of' them God, and of 
 some one whereof some things are spoken that are not nor 
 can be of the others ; I think it easier to count three than 
 to determme of mfiniteness : and accordingly to form one's 
 belief But of this more when we come to compare him 
 with himself ■ And for what he discourses of the aspect 
 this supposition hath upon the Trinity, and the Homo- 
 ousion ; it all proceeds still upon his own fiction of parts, 
 and upon the invidious straining of thai similitude of the 
 union of soul and body, as he himself doth tanhim non con- 
 fess; except that he lessens it by saying most untruly (hat 
 he (the inquirer") doth expressly own the consequence. 
 Therefore if he do not own the consequence, then the de- 
 fender confesses himself to have invidiously devised it. 
 And what is it 1 That if all three by this composition are 
 but one God, neither of them by himself is true and perfect 
 God. The divinity is like the English ; biu both his own. 
 The inquirer denies both antecedent (which he knows) 
 and consequent too. Leave out, by this composition, (his 
 own figinen!,) and his argument as much disproves any 
 trinity at all as it doth the present hypothesis. 
 
 But wherein doth the inquirer own it ? because such a 
 similitude is used (as 'lis often in that discourse) of the 
 union between soul and bod)', (declared elsewhere to be un- 
 expresslj' defective,) that therefore the Father, Son, and 
 Holy Ghost, are each of them by himself no more truly 
 Lord or God, according to the Athanasian creed, or other- 
 wise than in as improper a sense, as the body of a man, 
 excluding the soul, is a man, or a human pei-son. Or as 
 if Deity were no more i-n one of the persons, than huiiianity 
 in a carcass ! Who that looks upon all this with equal eye-s, 
 but will rather choose as doubtful a notion, than so ap- 
 parently ill a spiiit7 Are similitudes ever wont to be 
 alike throughout, to what they are brought to illusirate ? 
 It might as well be said, becaiL<;e he mentions with appro- 
 bation such as illustrate the doctrine of the trinity by a 
 tree and its branches, that, therefore, there we are to expect 
 leaves and blo.ssoms. Is it strange the -created universe 
 should not afford us an exact representation of uncreated 
 Being 1 How could he but think of that ; " To whom do 
 ye liken mel" At least one would have thought he 
 should not have forgot what he had so lately said himself k 
 We must grant we have no perfect example of any a^ich 
 union in nature. What appetite in him is it, that now 
 seeks what nature doth not afford ? A very unnatural one, 
 we mav conclude. 'Twere trifling to repeat what was 
 said, and was so plain, before, that the union between soul 
 and body was never brought to illustrate personal unioa 
 but essential. The former is here imagined without pre- 
 tence, there being no mention or occasion for the mention- 
 ing of persons in the place he allege.--, i But to make out 
 his violent consequence he foists in a supposition, that 
 never came into any man's imagination but a Socinian's 
 and his own : — ^(which I say, contradistinguishing him to 
 them, that the matter may (a.s it ought) appear the more 
 strange. •") If God be a person, he can be but one. Is 
 God the appropriate name of a person? then indeed there 
 will be but one person; but who here says so bin himself? 
 The name of God is the name of the essence, not the distin- 
 guishing name of a person. But if three intelligent natures 
 be united in one Deiiy, each will be persons, and each 
 will be God, and all will be one God ; not by parts, other 
 than conceptible, undivided, and inseparable, as the soul 
 and body of a man are not. Which sufhciently conserves 
 the Christian trinity fiom such furious and impotent at- 
 tacks as these. And the homo-ausiotcs is most entirely 
 conserved too: for what are three spiritual natures no 
 more the same, than (as he grossly speaks) the soul and 
 bodv are ? no more than an intelligent mind, and a piece 
 of clay 1 Bv M-hat consequence is this said, from any thing 
 in the inquirer's hypothesis'? Whereas also he expressly 
 insists, n that the Father, as Fons trinitatis. is first, the Son 
 of the Father, the Holy Ghost from both. Is not the water 
 in the streams the same that was in the fountain 1 and are 
 not the ° several attributes eypressly spolcen of a.s common 
 to these three"? Essential power, wisdom, goodness, 
 (which are denied to be the p ecise notions of Father, Son. 
 and Spirit,) said by more tha n a ^sfUKC^pian, as that may be 
 
 m His Letter r V.i. I Olm Disr. o Ibid.
 
 156 
 
 A LETTER TO A FRIEND 
 
 understood to signify, mere presence, (how intimate soever,) 
 but by real vital union, as much as each one's, as any 
 one's? and all other conceivable perfections besides! Why 
 were these words read with eyes refusing their office, to 
 let them into the reader's mind 1 whence also how fabu- 
 lous is the talk of p power begetting wisdom, &c. against 
 what is so plainly saidi of the order of priority oxiA pos- 
 teriority, &c. 
 
 There had been some prudence seen in all this conduct, 
 if the defender could have taken effectual care, that every 
 thing should have been blotted out of all the copies of that 
 discourse, but what he would have thought fit to be per- 
 mitted to tlie view of other eyes than his own. For then, 
 though in so gross prevarication he had not preserved his 
 innocency, he might have saved in some degree his reputa- 
 tion. Yet also he should have taken some heed that anger 
 might not so have discoloured his eye, as to make so inju- 
 dicious a choice what to confess and what to conceal. For 
 had he not himself blabbed, that it was said, we are not 
 under the precise notions of power, v.'isdom and goodness, 
 to conceive of the Father, Son, and Holy Ghost ; he might 
 more plausibly have formed his odd births, and fathered 
 them where he dolh. But wrath indulged will show its 
 governing pow'er. And all this fury and vengeance (upon 
 the inquirer, and the dean too) he reckoned was due, only 
 because it was so presumptuously thought, that somewhat 
 in his hypothesis (or which he defends) might have been 
 better, and that he (probably) sees it might; so much a 
 greater thing (in some ill fits) is the gratifying a humour 
 than the Christian cause ! 
 
 2. But let us now see ho^v all this turns upon himself. 
 And how directly his ill polished (not to say envenomed) 
 darts, missing their designed mark, strike into that very 
 breast which he undertakes to defend. Whereas there are 
 two things, principally, to be designed in a discourse of 
 this subject, viz. 
 
 1. The explaining the unity of the Father, Son, and 
 Holy Ghost, so as that though they are some way three, 
 they may yet be concluded to l>e in Godhead but one ; 
 
 2. The evincing, notwithstanding that unity, the possi- 
 bility of their sutScient distinction, to admit the disti ict 
 predicates fhat are severally spoken of them in the Holy 
 Scriptures : 
 
 The inquirer's discourse chiefly insists upon these two 
 things. 
 
 1. That necessity of existence is the most fundamental 
 attribute of Deity. And that therefore the Father, as the 
 Fountain, being necessarily of himself, the Son necessarily 
 of the father, the Holy Ghost necessarily from them both; 
 each cannot but be God, and the same one'God. (In refer- 
 ence to the former purpose.) 
 
 2. That absolute omnimodous simplicity, is never as- 
 serted, in Scripture, of the Divine Being, nor capable of 
 being, otherwise, demonstrated of it; and that it is impos- 
 sible, either from Scripture, or rational evidence, accurately 
 to assign the limits thereof, and determine what simplicity 
 belongs to that ever blessed Being, and what not : if it be 
 necessary to our apprehending liow such A^iinci predicates 
 and attributions may severallj^ belong to the Father, Son, 
 and Holy Ghost, that we conceive three distinct essences 
 necessarily coexisting, in an eternal, vital, inseparable 
 union in the Divine Being; the thing may be in itself pos- 
 sible for ought we know. And this is propounded to serve 
 the latter purpose. 
 
 The defender of the dean seems to think otherwise of 
 these two things, viz. of necessity of existence, common to 
 the sacred three, which will prove each of them to be God, 
 and, belonging to them in the mentioned order, as Father, 
 Son, and Spirit, will prove them necessary to be one God. 
 
 And of what is said of simplicity, which might admit 
 their sufficient distinction ; of both these, I say, he seems 
 to think otherwise by neglecting both, lest that discourse 
 should be thought anyway pertinent, or useful to its end; 
 and disputes vehemently against the latter. How strongly 
 and successfully he does it, in respect of the truth of the 
 thing, we have seen. But whether weakly or strongly, 
 that his disputation tends to wound the dean's cause, all 
 that it can, shall now be made appear. 
 
 p Postscript to his Letter, p. Hi. 
 r Ibid. 
 
 q Calm Disc. 
 
 It is notorious the dean hath asserted, so positively, three 
 infinite Minds or Spirits, that the benign interpretation 
 wherewith this defender would salve the matter, (a new 
 vocabulary being to be made for him on purpose, and the 
 reason of things quite altered,) will to any man of sense 
 seem rather ludicrous, than sufficient, without express re- 
 tractation. For which the inquirer thinks he is upon some- 
 what better terms, than he, if there were occasion for it, 
 both by the tenor of his whole discourse, and by what 
 he hath particularly said' in the 28th sect. But after the 
 interpretation offered, see whether such things are not said 
 over and over in the defence, as make the defender (and 
 the dean if he speak his sense) most obnoxious to the 
 whole argumentation in the postscript. So as, if a part 
 was acted, it was carried so untowardly, that it seemed to 
 be quite forgotten what part it was, and all the blows (for it 
 was come now to offending instead of defending) fall di- 
 rectly upon him, whom the actor had undertaken to defend. 
 
 It hath been noted already, that the defender says ex- 
 pressly, « " the Divine nature is one individual nature," 
 fand so says the inquirer, ') — but not one single nature ; 
 (then it must be double and triple, not absolutely simple, as 
 also the inquirer says;) to which he {viz. the defender) 
 adds, " one single nature can be but one person, whether 
 in God or man." Now let any man judge whether all his 
 reasonings are not most directly applicable against him, (if 
 they signify any thing,) which are contained in his post- 
 script, p. 106, 107, 108, &c. 
 
 How furiously doth he exagitate that saying, " " When 
 you predicate Godhead, or the name of God, of any one of 
 them, (viz. Father, Son, or Holy Ghost, ^ you herein express 
 a true but inadequate conception of God," &c. insisting that 
 the whole " undivided Divine nature" (no doubt it is ever- 
 lastingly undivided wherever it is) "subsists entirely in 
 three distinct persons." This the inquirer never denied, 
 though he charges it upon him, that he makes no one of the 
 persons to be^ true and perfect God. But how well doth 
 that agree with what he had himself said, (Defence, p. 2(J.) 
 Though God be the most absolute, complete, independent 
 Being, 3'^et neither the Son, nor the Holy Ghost, can be 
 said to be an absolute, complete, independent God. He 
 falsely charges it upon the inquirer that he makes the per- 
 sons severally not perfect God, and he denies two of them 
 to be complete God. To say not perfect is criminal, (as 
 indeed it is,) to say not complete is innocent ! But his 
 saying the Son and Holy Ghost are not complete God ; 
 how doth it consist with what is said. Postscript, p. 109. 
 " The same whole entire divinity distinctly and insepara- 
 bly subsists in the person of the Son and of the Holy 
 Ghost." What is wanting to make him complete God, 
 in whom " the whole, entire divinity subsists 1" No won- 
 der if he quarrel with all the world who so little agrees 
 with him whose defence he undertakes, or with himself. 
 In the meantime the inquirer hath the less reason to com- 
 plain, when he manifestly treats himself as ill as him. 
 
 I only add, that for his Discourse concerning " the one 
 Divinity, or one Divine Nature, subsisting wholly and en- 
 tirely, three times," (whereas I had thought three persons 
 had subsisted at all times, and all at once,) and the per- 
 sons of the Son and Holy Spirit, not being emanations ; 
 Not the Son, because he is the Father's image; and an 
 image is not an emanation, but a reflection ; (but how 
 should there be a reflected image without an emanation 7) 
 "nor the Holy Ghost, being vpoffoXn, not in the sense of 
 emanation, but of the mysteriotis procession ;" I shall make 
 no guesses about it, (for it concerns not the inquirer,) only 
 I think it very secure against the formidable objection 
 which he mentions, p. 35. of its being too intelligible. 
 
 Upon the whole matter, I see not what service it can do 
 him, to put intelligent persons instead of mind; for I 
 thought every person had been intelligent. Boethius his 
 definition, which he alleges, plainly implies so much, and 
 one would think he must know that it is the usual notion 
 of a person to understand by it suppositvm roiionale or in- 
 telligens. Therefore methinks he should not reckon it ne- 
 cessary to distinguish persons (as he doth by this addition 
 of intelligent) into such as are persons and such as are no 
 persons. 
 
 s Dpfence, p. IS. p. 18. 
 u Post-script. 
 
 t Calm Diacoune. 
 vibid.
 
 CONCERNIXG THE POSTSCRIPT, &c. 
 
 157 
 
 But since he expressly says, (and I think for the most 
 part trul}'',) " that *• ilie three persons or subsistences, in the 
 ever blessed trinity, are three real, substantial subsistences, 
 each of which hath entirely, all the perfections of the Di- 
 vine nature, divine wisdom, power, and g;oodness ; and 
 therefore each of them isciernal, infinite mind, as distinct 
 from each othei as any other three persons ; and this he 
 believes the Dean will no more recant, than he will re- 
 nounce a trinity ; for all the wit of man cannot find a me- 
 dium between a substantial trinity and a trinity of names, 
 or a trinity of mere modes, respects, and relations in the 
 same single essence, v/hich is no trinity at all." As also 
 he had said much to the same purpose before, " that to 
 talk of three subsistences in the abstract, without three that 
 subsist, or of one single nature which hath three subsist- 
 ences, when it's impossible that in singularify there can be 
 more than one subsistence," &c. I believe he will find no 
 small difficulty to name what it is, that with the peculiar 
 distinct manner of subsistence makes a person ; not the 
 very same common nature, for the persons cannot be dis- 
 tinguished from each other by that which is common to 
 them all. Therefore the divine nature which is common 
 to the three, must according to him comprehend three 
 single natures, and not be absolutely simple. Hither must 
 be his resort at last, after all his earnest disputation against 
 it. And these he will have to be parts, which because they 
 are undivided, impartible, inseparable, everlastingly and 
 necessarily united, I do reckon the inquirer did with very 
 sutTicient reason, and with just decency, and doth still con- 
 tinue very peremptorily to deny. 
 
 And whereas he contends that the whole divine nature 
 is entirely in each subsistence, (as he dees again and 
 again,) I think the term whole improper, where there are 
 no proper parts. And I doubt not, when he gives place to 
 cooler thoughts, he will see cause to qualify that assertion 
 For if he strictly mean that every thing that belongs to the 
 Godhead is in each person ; I see not how he will fetch 
 himself from the Socinian consequence, that then each 
 person must have a trinity subsisting in it, and be Father, 
 Son, and Holy Ghost. For I doubt not he will acknow- 
 ledge that the entire divinity includes in it the Father, Son, 
 and Holy Ghost. And thei^efore he must be beholden to 
 an inadequate notion in this very case, when all is done, 
 how much soever he hath contended against it. I do how- 
 ever think it safe and free from any other difficulty, that 
 we unavoidably have in conceiving intiniies, to say. 
 That all perfection is in each subsistent (which I like better 
 than subsistence, as more expressive of the concrete) as far 
 as their natural, necessary, eternal order, towards one an- 
 other, as the first is the fountain or radix, the second from 
 that, and the third from both, can possibly admit. All 
 must be originally in the Father, with whom the other two 
 have that intimate, vital, eternal union, that what is in him 
 the other communicate tlierein, in as full perfection as is 
 inconceivable, and more than it is possible for us or for 
 any finite mind to conceive. Therefore since that differ- 
 ence which only proceeds from that natural, eternal order, 
 is conjecturable only, hut is reallv unknown, unrevealed, 
 and inscrutable; it is better herein to confess the imper- 
 fection of that knowledge which we have, than to boast 
 that which we have not, or aspire to that which we cannot 
 have. 
 
 A VIEW 
 
 OP THAT P.1RT OF 
 
 THE LATE CONSIDERATIONS 
 
 ADDRESSED TO R H. ABOUT THE TRINITY. WHICH COXCERNS 
 THE SOBER INaUIRY ON THAT SUBJECT. 
 
 IN A LETTER TO THE FORMER FRIEND. 
 
 Yon see. Sir, I make no haste to tell you my thoughts of 
 ■what hath been published since my last to you, again.st my 
 sentiments touching the Holy Trinity. I saw the matter 
 
 w Defence, p. 30. 
 
 less required my lime and thoughts, than my other affairs ; 
 and so little, that I was almost indifrerent wheiJKT I took 
 any notice thereof or no. There is really noihing of argu- 
 ment in what I have seen, but what I had suggested before, 
 and objected to myself, in those very discourses of mine, 
 now animadverted on ; which not having prevented, with 
 me, the opinion I am of, can as litile alter it, and should 
 as little any man's else. But a little leisure, as it can, 
 without extortion, be gained from other occasions, I do not 
 much grudge to bestow on this. 
 
 I find my.self concerned in the late considerations on the 
 explications of the doctrine of the trinity — in a letter to H. 
 H. The author is pleased to give me the honour of a 
 name, a lank, unvocal one. It is so contrived, that one 
 may easily guess whom he means; but the rea.son of liis 
 doing so i cannot guess; it is because he knew himself, 
 what he would have others believe. 
 
 But I suppose he as well knew his own name. If he 
 knew not the former, he ran the hazard of injuring either 
 the supposed author, or the true, or both. I could, 1 be- 
 lieve, make as shrewd a guess at his name, and express it 
 as plainly. But I think it not civil to do so; because I 
 apprehend he hath some reason to conceal it, whereof I 
 think he hath a right to be the judge. But I will not pre- 
 scribe to him rules of civility, of which that he is a great 
 judge, I will not allow myself to doubt. 
 
 Yet I will not suppose him to have .^ ver\' diminishing 
 thoughts of our Saviour, as not to acknowledge and rever- 
 ence the authority of that great rule of his. which he knows 
 gained reverence with some who called not themselves 
 Christians, " Whatsoever ye would that men should do to 
 you — &c." Nor can divine what greater reason he should 
 have to hide his own name, than to expose mine, or make 
 the person he indigitates be thought the author of the dis- 
 course he intended to expose; since no man can imagine 
 how, as the Christian world is constituted, any one can be 
 more obnoxious for denying three persons, than for a^^sert- 
 ing three Gods: which latter his impotent attempt aims 
 to make that author do. 
 
 For his censures of that author's style, and difficulty to 
 be understood, the)' ofl'end me not. But so I have known 
 some pretend deafness, to what they were unwilling to 
 hear. There is indeed one place, Sobet Inquiry, in the end 
 of sect. 8. where must should have been left out, upon the 
 adding afterwards q{ can, that might gi^-e one some trou- 
 ble. In which yet, the supposal of an (not unusual) asyn- 
 deton, would, without the help of magic, have relieved a 
 considering reader. And for his compliments, as they do 
 me no real good, so, I thank God, they hurt me not. I 
 dwell at home, and better know my own furniture than 
 another can. For himself, I discern and readily aclcnow- 
 ledge in him, those excellent accomjilishments, for which 
 I most heartily wish him an advocate in a better cause, 
 without despair he will yet prove so; when I take notice 
 of some pa.ssages which look like indications of a serious 
 temper of mind, as of choosing God, and the honour of his 
 name, for our portion and design : and that he lives in vain, 
 who knows not his Alaker, and his God : with the like. 
 
 But on the other hand, I was as heartily sorry to meet 
 with an expression of so different a strain, on so awful a 
 subject, of " making a coat for the moon." That precept 
 whiuh'' Josephus inserts among those given the Jews, 
 doth for the reason it ha;h in it, abstracting from its au- 
 thority, deserve to be considered. It seems to import a 
 decency to the rest of mankind, whose notions of a Deity 
 did not argue them sunk into the lowest degrees of sottish- 
 ness and stupidity. Good Sir, what needed (think you) so 
 adventurous boldness, in so lubricous a case 1 It gains 
 nothing to a man's cause either of strength or reputation 
 with Avise and good men. A sound argument will be as 
 sound without it. Nor should I much value having them 
 on my side, whom I can hope to make laugh at so hazard- 
 ous a jest. I can never indeed have any irreat veneration 
 for a morose sourness, whatsoever affected appearance it 
 may have with it, of a simulated sanctimony or religious- 
 ness; but I should think it no hardship upon me to re- 
 press that levitj', as to attempt dancing upon the brink of 
 so tremendous a precipice. And would always express 
 
 a %\ao<it)uciTO ic uriicii Qtovi ovf voXnf aXAoi )iOf^i^ovai. Lib. i. Jud. 
 Alitiq. '
 
 158 
 
 A VIEW OF THE LATE CONSIDERATIONS 
 
 myself with suspicion, and a supposed possibility of being 
 mistaken, in a case wherein I find many of noted judg- 
 ment and integrity, in the succession of several ages, differ- 
 ing from me. But go we on to the cause itself, where he 
 pretends, 
 
 1. First to give a view of the sober inquirer's hypothesis ; 
 
 2. And then to argue against it. 
 
 As to the former. He doth it, I am loath to say, with 
 less fairness than from a person of his (otherwise) appear- 
 ing ingenuity, one would expect. For he really makes me 
 to have said more than I ever did, in divers instances; 
 and much less than I have expressly said ; and that he 
 cannot have so little understanding as not to know was 
 most material to the cause in hand. 
 
 He represents me, p. 40. col. 1. saying: The persons are 
 distinct essences, numerical natures, beings, substances ; 
 and col. 2. That I hold them to be three spirits ; when in 
 the close of one of those paragraphs, I recite the words 
 of W. J. " In the unity of the Godhead ' there must be no 
 plurality or multiplicity of substances allowed ; and do 
 add, Nor do I say that there must.' And I do not posi- 
 tively say there are three distinct substances, minds, or 
 spirits." I would ask this my learned antagonist, Have 
 saying and not saying the same signification 1 And again, 
 when my words are : I will not use the expressions, as 
 signifying ray formed judgment, that there are three things, 
 substances, or spirits in the Godhead, how could he say, 
 I hold the three persons to be three spirits'? Is any man, 
 according to the ordinary way of speaking, said to hold 
 what is not his formed judgment 1 If he only propose 
 things whereof he doubts, to be considered and discussed 
 by others, in order to the forming of it, and by gentle ven- 
 tilation to sift out truth, it the rather argues him not to hold 
 this or that. 
 
 And I think much service might be done to the common 
 interest of religion, by such a free mutual communication 
 of even more doubtful thoughts, if such disquisitions were 
 pursued with more candmir, and with less confidence and 
 prepossession of mind, or addictedness to the interest of any 
 party whatsoever. If it were rather endeavoured, to reason 
 one another into, or out of, this or that opinion, than either 
 by sophistical collusions to cheat, or to hector by great 
 words, one that is not of my mind. Or if the design were 
 less to expose an adversary, than to clear the matter in 
 controversy. 
 
 Besides, that if such equanimity did more generally ap- 
 pear, and govern, in transactions of this nature, it would 
 produce a greater liberty in communicating our thoughts, 
 about some of the more vogued and fashionable opinions, 
 by exempting each other from the fear of ill treatment in 
 the most sensible kind. It being too manifest, that the 
 same confident insulting genius, which makes a man think 
 himself competent to be a standard to mankind, would 
 also make him impatient of dissent, and tempt him to do 
 worse, than reproach one that differs from him, if it were 
 in his power. And the club or faggot arguments must be 
 expected to take place, where what he thinks rational ones, 
 did not do the business. This only on the by. 
 
 In the meantime, that there is a trinity in the Godhead 
 is no matter of doubt Avith me; but only whether this be 
 the best way of explaining and defending it. If this be 
 not the best, or sufficient, some other will, I believe, or hath 
 been found out b}' some other. Of which I have spoken 
 my sense not onl}^ indefinitely, but particularly of the more 
 common way; not that I did then, or have yet thought it 
 the best, but not indefensible. 
 
 And I must now sincerely profess, that the perusal of 
 these very considerations gives me more confidence about 
 this hypothesis, than I allowed myself before ; finding that 
 the very sagacious author of them, of whose abilities and 
 industry together, I really have that opinion, as to count 
 him the most likely to confute it of all the modern antitri- 
 nitarians, hath no other way to deal with it, than first, both 
 partially and invidiously to represent it, and then, rather to 
 trifle than argue again.st it. He first paints it out in false 
 and ugly colours, before he comes to reasoning; and then, 
 when he should reason, he says nothing that hath so much 
 as a colour. It seems to me an argument of a suspected 
 ill cause on his side, that he thought it needful to pre- 
 possess the reader with the imagination of I know not 
 
 (and I believe he knows not) what gross ideas, as he ro- 
 mances, belonging to this hypothesis. Because from those 
 words, Prov. viii. Then was I by him, as one brought up 
 with him, and daily his delight; the author speaks of the 
 delicious society, which these words intimate, the eternal 
 Wisdom, and the prime Author and Parent of all things, 
 to have each with other. 
 
 For my part, I have little doubt but this ingenious writer 
 is so well acquainted with the gust and relish of intellec- 
 tual delight, that he chose to expose his adversar}^ by using 
 that odd expression of gross idea so causelessly, in accom- 
 modation only to the genius of some other men, whom he 
 thought fit to humour, rather than his own. Nor can he 
 be so little acquainted with the paganish theology, as not 
 to apprehend a vast disagreement between this and that, 
 and a much greater agreement between the paganish notion 
 of the Deity, and his own. 
 
 For the questions which he supposes me to put, and 
 makes me answer as he thinks fit, by misapplied passages 
 of that discourse, I hope it will appear they were either 
 prevented, or answered at another rate. At length he says, 
 "The butt-end of this h^^pothesis," &c. I like not that 
 phrase the worse for the author's sake, of whom it seems 
 borrowed, whose memory greater things will make live, 
 when we are forgot. But let him proceed — The butt-end 
 of this hypothesis is the true strength of it. But that true 
 strength he hath either had the hap not to observe, or 
 taken the care not to represent, i. e. from what is so often 
 inculcated in that discourse, the necessary existence of two 
 hypostases of, and in the first, and of an omnimodous sim- 
 plicity groundlessly supposed in the Divine Being, he 
 hath kept himself at a wary cautious distance, when he 
 might apprehend there was its strength. Therefore I cannot 
 also but observe, that as he hath marked this hjTiothesis, 
 with (most undue) ill characters; so he hath maimed it 
 too, of what was most considerable belonging to it, that he 
 might expose it by the former means, so as to make it 
 need much defence ; and that by the latter it might seem 
 quite destitute of any defence at all. 
 
 And now when (not without some untoward disfigura- 
 tions) it hath thus far escaped his hands, and is (in none 
 of the best shapes) set itp only to be beaten down ; the 
 argument he first attacks it with, is the inartificial one of 
 authority. And yet his argument from this topic, is only 
 negative, that the opinion he would confute wants autho- 
 rity, " that the inquirer was the fir.st that ever dreamt of it, 
 and that no learned divine of any persuasion will sub- 
 scribe to it:" q. d. 'Tis false, and impossible to be true. 
 The inquirer only proposing what he offered, as possible 
 for ought we know, is not otherwise opposed than by as- 
 serting it to be impossible. This therefore he must say, or 
 he saith nothing to the purpose. And whj^ now is it impos- 
 sible 1 Because no body said it before. So, then, was 
 every thing that any man first said; but afterwards, by being 
 often spoken, it might, it seems, at length become true. 
 For any learned divines subscribing to it, I suppose he in- 
 tends that in the strict sense. And so the inquirer never 
 said he would subscribe it himself, otherwise than that his 
 judgment did more incline to it, as liable to less exception 
 than other ways of defending the doctrine of the trinity, or 
 than denying it, which he thought least defensible of all. 
 
 But now supposing one should find learned divines of 
 the same mind, (and perhaps some may be found more 
 confident than he,) I would ask the considerator, whether 
 he will therefore confess a trinity a possible thing 1 If not, 
 he deals not fairly, to put the inquirer upon quoting autho- 
 rities to no purpose; or that he would have them conclude 
 him, by whom he will not be concluded himself. 
 
 He seems indeed himself to have forgot the question 
 (with which afterwards he charges the inquirer) as it is set 
 down, Whether a trinity in the Godhead be a possible 
 thing ? This was the question, not what John, or Thomas, 
 or James such a one thought 1 But while he pretends to 
 think no body else is of the inquirer's mind in the particu- 
 lar point he is now speaking to, i. e. the delicious society 
 the divine hypostases are supposed to have with each other ; 
 give me leave freely to discourse this matter. I would 
 know what it is, wherein he supposes the inquirer to have 
 over-shot his mark ; or of what makes he here so mighty a 
 wonderment "? It can be but one of these two things : —
 
 ADDRESSED TO H. TI. ABOUT THE TRINITY, 
 
 i:.9 
 
 either that there are three divine persons in the Godhead 
 really distinct ; or, — that they have (if there be) a delicious 
 society or conversation with each other. Will he say tlie 
 former is a singular opinion"? or, that 'tis novell Was 
 there never a real trinitarian in the world before 1 Doth 
 he not, in his own express words, sort the inquirer with 
 one, whom he will not deny to be a learned divine, p. 43. 
 of these his present considerations, col. I. " The auihor of 
 the 28 propositions, and Mr. H— w," as he calls the inqui- 
 rer, " are honest men, and real trinitarians." By which 
 former character he hath, I dare say, ten thousand times 
 more gratified his ambition, than by calling him learned too. 
 And I believe he will as little think this a novel opinion, as 
 a singular one. Nor shall 1 thank him for acknowledging 
 it to have been the opinion of the fathers, generally, not 
 only Ante Nicene and Niceiie, but Pust-Nicene too, for some 
 following ages, unto that of P. Lombard, so obvious it is 
 to every one that will but more slightly search. 
 
 For my part, I will not except Justin Martyr himself, 
 whom I the rather mention, both as he was one of the 
 more ancient of the fathers, and as I may also call him, 
 the father of the modalisls ; nor his notion even about the 
 b Homoousian-Trinity, as he expressly styles it. For 
 though it will require more time than I now intend to be- 
 stow, to give a distinct account of every passage throughout 
 that discourse of his, yet his expression of the Tpdiroi vvai>^t<.oi 
 must not be so taken, as if it were to be torn away from 
 its coherence, and from itself. When therefore he says the 
 
 TO jiiv dylvvr)Tov, Kai ysi'i'ijrdi', Koi CxTropevrdv, the being unbc- 
 
 gotlen, begotten, and having proceeded, are not the names of 
 the essence, but (rpdiroi imdfi^twc,') modes of subsisteiwe ; he 
 must mean they are not immediately names of the essence, 
 but mediately they cannot but be so. For what do they 
 modify 1 not nothing. When they are said to be modes of 
 subsistence, what is it that subsists? We cannot pluck 
 away these modes of subsistence from that which subsists, 
 and whereof they are the modes. And what is thai 1 You 
 will say the fiia aaia, the mie essence, which he had men- 
 tioned before ; and that one essence is, 'lis true, as perfectly 
 one as 'tis possible; for what is of itself, and Avhat are 
 from that, to be with each other, i. e. that they are conge- 
 nerous, as the sun and its rays, (according to that, Heb. i. 3. 
 (i-ui.yaT/ia rijf <5i5|/)?, the effulgency of glory, ^ or as mind, and 
 (where there is nothing else but substance) con.substantial 
 thought or word. Therefore this oneness of essence must 
 be taken in so large and extensive a sense, as that it may 
 admit of these differences. For so he afterwards plainly 
 speaks, if " h jiiv, ny€vvr]T<.>i e-^ci ; if the one (the Father) hath 
 his existence without being begotten, 6 yei/unTUM, another 
 (the Son) by being begotten, to M, iKjrif>£OTi:<i_, but that (the 
 Holy Ghost) by having proceeded, here it befalls us to 
 behold differences (rn ni? Sia<popas) or the things that import 
 difference." There must be a sense, therefore, wherein he 
 understood this essence to be most truly one ; and a sense 
 wherein he also understood it to have its differences, and 
 those too not important ones, as being unbegotten, and 
 being begotten, signify no light differences. 
 
 And in what latitude of sense he understood the oneness 
 of essence, whereof he had before spoken, may be seen in 
 his following explication, when what he said he would 
 have be aa.p'rs-epiv, more inanifest ; he makes Adam's pecu- 
 liar mode of subsistence to be that he was » yci-nTng, axXa 
 6ta^XaDcU, not begotten, but inadc by God's own hand; but 
 for them that were from him, he intimates theirs to be, they 
 were begotten, not made. If then you inquire concerning 
 the same essence that was common to him and lliem, you 
 still find that man is the vnoKci^rn'op, the subject, whether of 
 formation, as to him, or of generation, as to them. And 
 who apprehends not in what latitude of sense the human 
 nature is one, which is common to Adam and his poste- 
 rity! Though the Divine nature is incomparably more 
 one, which is common to the Father, Son, and Spirit ; as 
 we have formerly insisted, and shall further show it cannot 
 but be, in all necessary, and continually depending, ema- 
 nations. 
 
 Yet I might, if there were, need, again (as to this part) 
 quote the considerator to himself. For I suppose he will 
 not disown the considerations in 1693, in which, page 15. 
 col. 1. are these words, " Dr. Cudworth, by a great num- 
 
 t> E .9. TTi-. 
 
 ber of very pertinent and home quotations, hath proved 
 that his explication (I mean that part of it which makes 
 the three persons to be .so many distinct essences, or sub- 
 stances) is the doctrine of the principal if not of all the 
 fathers, as well a.s of the Platonisls." And 'tis added, 
 " and I, for my part, do grant it." Upon the whole, then, 
 I reckon that as to this first part, we stand clear not only 
 to the rest of the world, but with this author himself, that 
 to be a real trinitarian is not so unheard of a thing, or what 
 no learned divine of any persuasion ever dreamt of before 
 the inquirer. But now for the 
 
 Second part. The delicious society supposed to be be- 
 tween (or rather among) the three persons. Is this a 
 dream? and so strange a onel Why, good Sir ! can you 
 suppose three persons, i. e. three intellectual subsistences, 
 perfectly wise, holy, and good, coexisting with, inexisting 
 in, one another to have no society'? or that socieiy not to 
 be delicious"? He say.?. How can it be 1 I say. How can 
 it but bel Herein I am sure the inquirer hath far more 
 company than in the former. For whether the three per- 
 sons have all the same numerical essence, or three distinct, 
 all agree they most delightfully converse. Will he pre- 
 tend never to have read any that make love (as it were in 
 tercurrent between the two first) the character of the third 1 
 In short, is it the thing he quarrels with as singular, or 
 the word ? At the thing, supposing three persons, he can 
 have no quarrel, without quarrelling with the common 
 sense of mankind. For the word, he hath more wit and 
 knowledge of language than to pretend to find fault with 
 that. For let him consult expositors (even the known cri- 
 tics) upon the mentioned place, Prov. viii. (whom, in so 
 plain a case, I will not be at the pains to quote and tran- 
 scribe,) and take notice whether none read those words 
 fui in deliciis. Therefore I believe the considerator will 
 be so ingenuous, as to perceive he hath, in this part of his 
 discourse, grossly overshot, or undershot, or shot wide of, 
 his own mark, if indeed he had any, or did not (letting his 
 bolt fly too soon) shoot at rovers, before he had taken 
 steady aim at any thing. In short, all this dust could be 
 raised but with design only, because he could not enlight- 
 en his readers, lo blind them. 
 
 But now, when he should come by solid argument to 
 disprove the hypothesis, by showing that three individual 
 divine natures, or essences, can possibly have no nexus, so 
 as to become one entire divine nature, and, at the same 
 time, (which this hypothesis supposes,) remain still three 
 individual divine natures and essences, he thinks fit to 
 leave it to another to do it for him, who, he sa\'s, if he 
 cannot prove this, can prove nothing. And when we see 
 that proof, it will be time enough to consider it. 
 
 In the meantime, I cannot here but note what I will 
 neither, in charity, call forgery in the considerator, nor, in 
 civility, ignorance, but it cannot be less than great over- 
 sight; hist&\koi thesethree,^oumiedasXo bec^/me o-ne. The 
 inquirer never spake (nor dreamt) of their becoming one, 
 but of their being naturally, necessarily, and eternaHy so. 
 
 Then he comes to put the question, as (he says) it is 
 between the inquirer and the Socinians. And he puts it 
 thus : How three distinct, several, individual divine beings, 
 essences, or substances, should remain three several indi- 
 vidual sub.stances, and yet, at the same time, be united into 
 one divine substance called God 1 One would have 
 thought, when he had so newly waived the former ques- 
 tion, as wherein he meant not to be concerned, he should 
 presently have put a new one, upon which he intended to 
 engage himself But we have the same over again, even 
 with the same ill look of an equivalent phrase unto becom- 
 ing united into one, to insinuate to his reader, as if his an- 
 tagonist thought these three were dc novo united, not in 
 but into one. Which he knew must have a harsh sound, 
 and as well knew it to be most repugnant to the inquirer's 
 most declared sentiment. Nor will it be any presumption, 
 if I take the liberty to set down the question according to 
 the inquirer's mind, who hath as much reason to know it 
 as he; and I am sure it will be more agreeable to the 
 tenor of his discourse now referred to, " Whether the 
 TO Otiov, or the Divine Being, may not possibly, for ought 
 we know, contain three natures, or essences, under the 
 names of Father, Son, and Holy Ghost, so far distinct, as
 
 ICO 
 
 A VIEW OF THE LATE CONSIDERATIONS 
 
 is necessary to found the distinct predications or attributes 
 severally given them in the Holy Scriptures, and yet be 
 eternally, necessarily, naturally, vitally so united, as not- 
 withstanding that remaining distinction, to be one God." 
 And let us now see what he hath to say, first, to the in- 
 quirer's illustrations of it, as possible: secondly^ what he 
 brings to prove it impossible. 
 
 As to the former part, he first falls upon what the in- 
 quirer hath said concerning the vegetative, sensitive, and 
 intellective natures in oursej ves. And upon this he insists 
 so operously, as if the whole weight of the cause had been 
 laid upon it, and seems to think the inquirer had forgot 
 the question, when he mentioned it; because he says, 
 those are only distinct faculties, not persons, or substances, 
 (though persons were not in his question,) without ever 
 taking any notice of the inquirer's waiving it, with these 
 words, " that he would content himself with what was 
 more obvious." But this is all art: to raise a mighty 
 posse, and labour to seem to those that he believed would 
 read what he writ only, not what the other did, most effec- 
 tually to expunge what he saw was neglected, though not 
 altogether useless ; as we shall see anon. 
 
 In the meantime, it is observable how needlessly he slurs 
 himself in this his first brisk onset. He says, " No man 
 ever pretended — that the vegetative, sensitive, and intel- 
 lective faculties (or powers) are so many distinct, indi- 
 vidual persons, substances, or essences, we grant," &c. 
 
 What, did no man ever pretend that these three distinct 
 natures, the vegetative, sensitive, intellective, were in man, 
 three distinct substances, or souls, concurring by a certain 
 subordination in him"? What necessity was there, that to 
 heighten his triumph, in the opinion of his credulous fol- 
 lowers, he should, with so glorious a confidence, put on 
 the vain and false show of having all the world on his side ; 
 and herein either dissemble his knowledge, or grossly be- 
 wray his ignorance in the mere history of philosophy ; and 
 most imprudently suppose all his readers as ignorant, as 
 he would seem 1 ' What, did he never hear of an Averroes 
 in the world 1 Doth he not know that physician and phi- 
 losopher, and his followers, earnestly contended for what 
 he says no man ever pretended to? Or that divers other 
 commentators upon Aristotle, have some abetted, others as 
 vehemently opposed, them in it 1 Not to insist also that 
 some thought the Intelledus Agens, and Palicns, to be dis- 
 tinct substances, belonging to the nature of man, as others 
 had also other conceits about the former 1 And if he look 
 some hundreds of years back, as far as the time and extant 
 work of Nemesius, bishop and philosopher, (as he writes 
 himself,) of the nature of man, (who lived in the time of 
 Gregory Nazianzen, as appears by an epistle of his writ to 
 him, and prefixed to that little book of his,) he will find 
 that author takes notice there were divers that took man 
 to consist of mind, soul, and body, and that some did doubt <= 
 ■whether tke mind supervening to the sovi as one to the other, 
 did not make the latter intelligent. And in several other 
 parts of that work, easy, if it were necessary, to be recited, 
 he speaks it as the judgment of some,^ that the nnreason- 
 ahle nature in man did exist by itself, as being of itself om 
 unreasonaile soul, not a part of the reasonable ;^ accounting 
 it one of the greatest absurdities, that the unreasonable soul 
 should be a part of that which is reasonable. 
 
 And he carries us yet much further back, referring us to 
 f Plotinus, in whom any that will, may read much more to 
 that purpose in many places. It matters not whether this 
 opinion be true or false, but a great mistake (or misrepre- 
 sentation) it was, to say no man ever pretended to it. And 
 be that as it will; if all the readers will suspend their 
 judgments, that a trinity in the Godhead is impossible, till 
 the considerator shall have proved, by plain demonstra- 
 tion, the concurrence of three such spirits (a vegetative, 
 sensitive, and intellective) vitally united in the constitution 
 of man, is a thing simply impossible, I believe he will not, 
 in haste, have many proselytes. 
 
 I, for my part, as his own eyes might have told him, 
 laid no stress upon it; but only mentioned it in transitu, 
 as I was going on to what is obvious, and in view to every 
 man, the union between our soul and body. Nor was I 
 solicitous to find this an exact parallel, as he fancies I 
 
 c TioTipnv Trponc\Ot,>v, o vovi Tt\ l/^ii,\fj (0{ aXXoj aWt] vocpav avrriv 
 sirotriocv, &c cap. I. 
 
 was obliged to do. What if there be no exact parallell 
 Will any man of a sober mind, or that is master of his 
 oivn thoughts, conclude every thing impossible in the un- 
 created Being, whereof there is not an exact parallel in 
 the creation'! If any man will stand upon this, come 
 make an argument of it, let us .see it in form, and try its 
 stren.gth. — Whatsoever hath not its exact parallel in ihe 
 creation, is impossible in God, &c. — He will sooner piove 
 himself ridiculous, than prove his point by such a medium. 
 
 'Tis enough for a sober man's purpose, in such a case as 
 we are now considering, if we iiud such things actually 
 are (or might as easily be, as what we see actually is) 
 among the creatures, that are of as difficult conception, 
 and explication, as what appears represented in the in- 
 quirer's hypothesis concerning a trinity. 'Tis trifling to 
 atcempt to give, or to ask, a parallel exact per omnia. It 
 abundantly serves any reasonable purpose, if there be a 
 parallel quoad hoc, viz. in respect of the facilit}- or difii- 
 culiy of conception. And though the vegeiaiive, sensi- 
 tive, and intellective natures be not so many distinct sub- 
 stances, a trinity is not less conceivable in the Divine Being, 
 than three such natures, or natural powers, in the one hu- 
 man nature. 
 
 And whoever they be that will not simplify the Divine 
 Being into nothing, (as the excellent author of the 28 pro- 
 positions speaks,) must also acknowledge the mo.'st real 
 perfections in the Divine Being, though not univocal, but 
 infinitely transcendent to any thing in us. And are they 
 no way distinct ? Let any sober understanding judge, 
 will the same nothing agree to them alll Is his know- 
 ledge, throughout, the same with his effective power 1 
 Then he must make himself. For who can doubt he knows 
 himself? And is his will the self-same untlisiinguishalile 
 perfection, in him, with his knowledge 1 Then the pur- 
 poses of his will must be to effect all that he can. For doth 
 he not know all that he can do? And the complacencies 
 of his will must be as much in what is evil, as good, even 
 in the most odious turpitude of the vilest, and most im- 
 moral evils! For he knows both alike. I know what is 
 commonly said of extrinsical denominations : but are such 
 denominations true, or false 1 Have they any thing in re 
 correspondent to them, or have they not 1 Then .some dis- 
 tinction there must be of these perfections themselves. If 
 so, how are they distinguished! 
 
 And there appears great reason, from God's own word, 
 to conceive greater distinction of the three hypostases in 
 his being, than of the attributes which are common to 
 them, as is said. Sober Inquiry, page 151. In reference 
 whereto, it is not improper or impertinent to mention such 
 diflferences, as we find in our own being, though they be 
 not distinct substances. Less distinction in ourselves may 
 lead us to conceive the possibility of greater in him in 
 whom we are wont to apprehend nothing but substarce. 
 
 What he adds concerning the union of soul and budy in 
 ourselves, (which he cannot deny to be distinct substances,) 
 is, from a man of so good sense, so surprisingly strange, 
 and remote from the purpose, that one would scarce think 
 it from the same man ; but that he left this part to some 
 other of the club, and afterwards v/rote on, himself, with- 
 out reading it over ; or this was with him (what we are all 
 liable to) some drowsy interval. 
 
 For when he had himself recited as the inquirer's words, 
 or sense, " If there be this union between two so contrary 
 natures and substances, as the soul and bod}', why may 
 there not be a like union between two or three created 
 spirits'?" he, without shadow^ of a pretence, feigns the in- 
 quirer again to have forgot the question, because soul and 
 body are not both intelligent substances. And why. Sir, 
 doth this argiie him to have forgot the question 1 'Tis as 
 if he expected a man to be at the top of the stairs, as soon 
 as he touched the first step. In a series of discourse, mtist 
 the beginning touch the end, leaving out what is to come 
 between, and connect both parts'? What then serve me- 
 diums for'? And so farewell to all reasonings, since no- 
 thing can be proved by itself He expected, it seems, I 
 should have proved " three intelligent natures might be 
 united, because three intelligent natures might be united." 
 
 But say I (and so he repeats) if there be so near union 
 
 (\ Ka9' cavrr/v eivai (Oi Xo}oi/ \pvxif. e T<'Ji' aroiroraTWi', cap. 16. 
 
 f Enn. 6. lib. 7. cap. 5, 8, 7, &c.
 
 ADDRESSED TO II. H. ABOUT THE TRINITY. 
 
 161 
 
 oetween things of so contrarj' natures as soul and body, 
 why not between two or three created spirits 1 The ques- 
 tion is, as he now stales it himself, why may not three 
 intelligent substances be united 1 And hither he (with 
 jialpable violence) immediately refers, the mention of the 
 union of soul and body; and, says he, "Why, Sir, are 
 body and soul intelligent substances!" And, say I, But 
 why. Sir, are not the three (supposed) created spiiits in- 
 telligent substances 1 And now, thinKs he, will my easy 
 admiring readers, tJiat read me only, and not him, say, 
 What a baffle hath he given the inquirer ! What an igno- 
 rant man is this Mr. , to talk of soul and body, as both 
 
 intelligent substances! But if any of them happen upon 
 the inquirer's book too, thei; must ihey say, How scurvily 
 doth this matter turn upon himself! how inconsiderate a 
 prevaricator was he that took upon him the present part of 
 a considerer, so to represent him ! And I myself would 
 say, had I the opportunity of free discourse with him in a 
 corner, (which because I have not, I say it here,) Sir, is 
 this sincere writing 1 Is this the way to sift out truth 1 
 And I niust further say, this looks like a man stung by the 
 pungency of the present question. " If soul and body, 
 things of so contrar)- natures, that is, of an intelligent and 
 unintelligent nature, can be united into one (human) na- 
 ture, why may not three created spirits, all intelligent na- 
 tures, be as well united into some one thing 1 It appears 
 you knew not what to say to it ; and would fain seem to 
 say something, when you really had nothing to say, and 
 therefore so egregiously tergiversate, and feign yourself 
 not to understand it, or that your antagonist did not under- 
 stand himself. The inquirer's scope was manifest. No- 
 thing was to be got by so grossly perverting it. Is there 
 no argument but a pari? Might you not plainly see, he 
 here argued a fortiori ? If contrary natures niight be so 
 united, why not much rather like natures 1 
 
 When 3'ou ask me this question, " Do not bod}'' and soul 
 remain two sulstances, a bodily and a spiritual, not- 
 withstanding their concurrence to the constitution of a 
 manl" I answer, Yes. And I thank you. Sir, for this 
 kind look towards my hypothesis. If thej' were not so, 
 the mention of this union had no way served it. You 
 know 'tis only union, with continuing distinction, that is 
 for m}' purpose. I doubt you nodded a little, when you 
 asked me that question ; and I do annuere. 
 
 But when the discourse was only of a natural union, 
 what, in the name of wonder, made you dream of a Christ- 
 mas-pie 1 Had you writ it at the same time of 3'ear I 
 am now writing, I should have wondered less. Btit either 
 you had some particular, preternatural appetite to that sort 
 of delicate; or you gave your fancy a random liberty, to 
 make your pen write whatever came to your fingers' end, 
 and that whirled you unaware into a pastry, and so, by 
 mere chance, you came to have 3^our finger in the pie. Or 
 you thought to try whether this wild ramble might not issue 
 as luckily for you, as Dr. Echard's jargon of words for- 
 tuitously put together (to ridicule Hobbes's fatal chain of 
 thoughts) at length ending in a napkin ; which was mighti- 
 ly for your turn, in your present case. 
 
 But upon the wliole matter, when you let your mind so 
 unwarily be in palinis, your cookery quite spoiled j'our 
 philosophy. Otherwise, when j'ou had newly read those 
 words in the Sober Inquiry, as I find you had, page 138. 
 " Waiving the many artificial unions of distinct things, that 
 united, and coniinuingdistinct, make one thing under one 
 name, I shall only consider what is natural," you would 
 never let it (3'our mind, I mean so fine a thing) be huddled 
 up, and sopped, with meat, plums, sugar, wine, in a 
 Christmas-pie ; or have thought that the union of a human 
 soul with a human bod}' was like such a jumble as this. 
 I believe when some among the ancients made use of this 
 union of soul and body, (as I find the}' have,) to represent 
 a very sacred, viz. the h3'postatical one, they little thought 
 it would be so debased ; or that any thing would be said 
 of it so extravagant as this. And, if we design doing any 
 body good by writing, let us give over this way of talk, lest 
 people think, what I remember Cicero once said of the 
 Epicureans arguing, that they do not .so much consider, 
 as sortiri, cast lota what to sav. But now 'tis like we may 
 come to some closer discourse. V/e see what is said to 
 the inquirer's elucidation of his h}-pothesi> to represent it 
 
 possible, which b3' mere oversight and incogitance (as I 
 hope now appears) was too hastily pronounced an over- 
 sight, or incogitancy. 
 
 2. We are next to consider what he says to prove it im- 
 possible. And so far as I can apprehend the drift of ihe 
 discourse, what he alleges will be reduced to these two 
 heads of argument, viz. — that three such hypostases (or 
 stibsisients, as I have chosen to call them) can have no 
 possible nexus, by which to be one God: (1.) Because 
 they are all suppo.sed intelligent: (2.) Because they can 
 neither be said to be finite, nor infinite. He should not 
 therefore have said the hypothesis was mere incogitance 
 and oversight ; for he knows 1 saw, and considered them 
 both; (in the Sober Inquiry itself: the former, page 138, 
 the latter, page 143, with page 149,) and thought them un- 
 concluding then, as I still think. Nor do 1 find the con- 
 siderer hath now added any strength to either of them. 
 But I .shall, since he is importune, go to the reconsidera- 
 tion of them with him. And, 
 
 (1.) As to the former, I cannot so much as imagine what 
 should make him, confessing (which he could not help) 
 the actual union of an intelligent and unintelligent being, 
 deny the possible union of intelligent beings. He seems 
 to apprehend many dangeious things in it, that if he can- 
 not reason he may fright, a man out of it, and out of his 
 wits too. It ■will infer associating, discoursing, solacing. 
 But where lies the danger of ail this 1 or to whom is it 
 dangerous? He says it introduces three omniscient, al- 
 mighty Beings, as I expressly call them, associating, &c. 
 But he cites no place where, and I challenge him to name 
 any persons among whom, I so expressly called them. He 
 may indeed tell wheie I blamed him for representing some 
 of his adversaries, as afiirming three Almighties, and de- 
 nying more than one; but that is not expressly calling 
 them so myself And he ma}- know in time 'tis one thing 
 expressly to call them so, and another to put him (as he is 
 concerned) to disprove it. 
 
 Aye, but it will further infer tritheism. It will make 
 three Gods. And if this be not to make three Gods, it can 
 never be made appear that the pagans held moie gods. 
 Yes, if there be no natural, vital ncxvs, if they be united in 
 one, of which the pagans never talked : or, if they be co- 
 ordinate, not subordinate, as Dr. Cudworth .speaks. And 
 I add, if that subordination be, not arbitrary, but by neces- 
 sary, natural, continual emanation of the second from the 
 first, and of the third from both the other ; so as that their 
 goings forth may be truly from everlasting, as is said 
 of the one, and may as well be conceived of another of 
 them. 
 
 I would have the trinitarians be content with tlie re- 
 proach of falling in, quoad hoc, with Plato; and not en^y 
 their antagonists the honour of more closely following 
 Mahomet. And, Sir, there is more paganism in denying 
 this, and the divine revelation upon which it is grounded, 
 than in supposing it. 
 
 No. But there can be no such «i».r«5. Conversation, con- 
 .sociation, mutual harmony, agreement, and delectation — 
 cannot be conceived, but between beings so distinct and 
 diverse, that they can be one in no natural respect, but 
 only in a civil, or economical. This is loud, and earnest. 
 But why can there nof? Setting aside noise and clamour, 
 I want to know a reason, why intelligent beings may not 
 be as intimately and naturally united with one another, as 
 unintelligent and intelligent! and if so, why such union 
 should spoil mutual conversation and delight 1 Perhaps 
 his mind and mine might not do well together ; for he can- 
 not conceive, and I, for my part, cannot but conceive, that 
 most perfect intelligent natures, vitally united, must have 
 the most delightful conversation, harmony, and agreement 
 together ; and so much the more, by how much the more 
 perfect they are, and by how much more perfect their 
 union is. 
 
 Whereas then I expect a reason, why intelligent beings 
 cannot be capable of natural union, and no other is given 
 me, but because they are intelligent. And again, why such 
 beings naturally united cannot converse, and no other is 
 given me, but because they are naturally united, ?". e. such 
 things cannot be, because they cannot be. By 1 ow much 
 the less such reasons have to convince, they have the more 
 to confirm me, that the hypothesis I have proposed is ncl
 
 IbS 
 
 A VIEW OF THE LATE CONSIDERATIONS 
 
 capable of being disproved. And for my increased con- 
 fidence I must profess myself so far beholden to the con- 
 siderator. 
 
 This, in the mean time, I do here declare, that I see not 
 so much as the shadow of a reason from him, why three 
 spiritual or intelligent beings cannot be natvirally and 
 vitally united with each other, with continuing distinction, 
 so as "to be really and truly one thing. If they cannot, 1 
 would know why 1 i. e. Why they cannot as well, or much 
 rather than the soul and body, so as to be one entire man. 
 If they can, such a created union is acknowledged pos- 
 sible; which is all that part of our discourse contends for. 
 And 'tis enough for our present purpose; for this will be 
 a union of o^ooiitna, i. e. of things of the same nature, the 
 soul and body are hepovaia, i. e. things of very different 
 natures. And it sufficiently prepared our way, as was in- 
 tended, to advance further, and add. 
 
 That if such a created or made union be possible, it 
 cannot be understood why a like uncreated or unmade 
 union should be thought impossible. 
 
 And if it be possible, the noisy clamour, that a trinity in 
 the Godhead is impossible, or that it will infer tritheism, 
 must cease, and be hushed into everlasting silence. Or if 
 it shall still be resolved to be kept up, to carry on the 
 begun humour, can only serve to fright children, or un- 
 thinking people ; but can never be made articulate enough, 
 to have any signification with men of sense. For when the 
 Father is acknowledged on all hands to be the original, or 
 fountain-being, existing necessarily and eternally of him- 
 self ; the Son existing by eternal promanation necessarily 
 of, and from, and in the Father ; the Holy Ghost of and 
 in them both ; these, because they all exist necessarily, 
 cannot but be each of them God, and, because they exist 
 in necessary, natural, eternal union, cannot but be one 
 God. 
 
 And he that shall attempt to make tritheism of this, will 
 sooner prove himself not a third part of a wise man, than 
 from hence prove three Gods. We may truly and fitly 
 say, the Father is God, the Son is God, the Holy Ghost is 
 God; but that form of speech, the Father is a God, the 
 Son is a God, the Holy Ghost is a God, I think unjusti- 
 fiable. The former way of speaking well agrees with the 
 hotiiu-ou.notes of the Deity, the substance whereof is con- 
 generous. You may fitly say of three drops of the same 
 water, they are each of ihem water. But if 3'ou should 
 say they are each of them a water, one would understand 
 you to mean they were all drops of so many dilferent sorts 
 of water. I do upon the whole judge the substance or 
 essence of the three hypostases, to be as perfectly one, as 
 can possibly consist with the emanation of some from other 
 of them. But now next, 
 
 (2.) In his way to his second topic of argumentation, he 
 is guilty of a strange sort of omission, i. e. he twice over 
 says he will omit, what he greatly insists upon, as a mighty 
 matter, that this (meaning the inquirer's hypothesis) is 
 heresy among those of his own party, whether they be the 
 nominal or the real trinitarians; who all agree, that each 
 of the divine persons is perfect God, in the most adequate 
 and perfect sense ; and this too, as such person is con- 
 sidered sejunctly, or, as the Athanasian creed speaks, by 
 himself, &c. 
 
 To this I only say, in the first place, that if this weigh 
 any thing, it ought in reason to be as heavy upon him, as 
 me; for I believe the same people that will call this ac- 
 count of the trinity heresy, will call his denial of it heresy 
 much more. But if he be not concerned at that, I am the 
 more obliged to him, that he hath a kinder concern for me 
 than himself And if he really have, let it ease his mind 
 to know, that let the opinion be heresy never so much, I, 
 for my part, am however resolved to be no heretic, as he 
 and they may well enough see, by the whole tenor of that 
 discourse. 
 
 But yet I humbly crave leave to differ from him in this, 
 as well as in greater matters. I am apt enough, indeed, to 
 think that the nominal trinitarians will judge the opinion 
 of the real trinitarians to want truth; and the real will, 
 perhaps, more truly judge theirsio want sense. But neither 
 the one nor the other will say that each of the divine per- 
 sons is perfect God, in the most adequate and perfect 
 g Ciiispsliones aliie. 
 
 sense. For both cannot but agree that God, in the most 
 adequate and perfect sense, includes Father, Son, and 
 Holy Ghost ; but they will none of them say that each, or 
 any, of the persons is Father, Son, and Holy Ghost. And 
 I am very confident, he that shall so represent them, will 
 betray them by it into such inconveniences, and so much 
 against their mind and intent, that if ever they did trust 
 him as I believe they never did this considerator, to ex- 
 press their sense for them, they never will do it more. As 
 for Athanasius himself, whose creed he mentions, though 
 he often speaks of an equality of the persons in point of 
 Godhead : (tom. 2. p. 576.) yet he most expressly excepts 
 the differences (which I take to be very important) of being 
 unbegotten, begotten, and proceeding. And, which is a 
 difference with a witness, in his questions and answers, 
 he asks, "How many causes are there in God 1" (p. 11. 
 TTdaa diria,) and answers, " one only, and that is the 
 Father." And then asks, (CL. 12. vdaa dinuTa) " How 
 many effects, or things caused 1" And answers, " two, the 
 Son and the Spirit." , And adds, •' the Father is called a 
 cause, because he begets the Son, and sends out the Spirit; 
 the Son and Spirit are said to be caused, because the Sou 
 is begotten, and doth not beget; the Spirit is sent forth, 
 and doth not send." Now can he be thought all this 
 while to mean an absolute equality 1 And whereas he uses 
 the term inwaSiKois, which our author renders sejimdhj, or 
 by himself, that he may make it seem opposite to what is 
 said by the inquirer, page 156. I, for my part, say, as 
 Athanasius doth, that each of the.se persons is nova6tKO!i, 
 singly God, and Lord ; but I say not, as he doth not, (and 
 he denies what the Sober Inquiry denies, in the mentioned 
 place,) " that any one of the persons sejunctly, is all that 
 is signified by the name of God ;" which words this author 
 slily leaves out, for what purpose he best knows. But liis 
 ])urpose, be it what it will, can no longer be served by it, 
 than till the reader shall lake the pains to cast back his 
 eye upon the Sober Inquiry, vide page 141. And I must 
 here put the considerator in mind of what I will not sup- 
 pose him ignorant, but inadvertent only, at this time; 
 That one may be sejoined or abstracted from another two 
 ways, or by a twofold abstraction, precisive or negative : 
 that we may truly say of the Father, Son, or Holy Ghost, 
 that the one of them is or is not God, abstracting from 
 both the other, accordingly as you differently abstract. If 
 you abstract any one of the persons from both the other by 
 precisive abstraction, and each of them is God or Lord, 
 jinmiiKioi or Singly considered ; but if by negative abstrac- 
 tion, you sever any one from the other, so as to say the 
 one is God, and not the other, or any one is all that is 
 signified by the name of God, I deny it, as before I did; 
 for so you would exclude the other two the Godhead ; 
 which is but what was expressly enough said. Sober In- 
 quiry, page 141. The Father is God, but not excluding 
 the Son and the Holy Ghost; the Son is God, but not 
 excluding — &c. 
 
 And if (as this author quotes) we are compelled by the 
 Christian verity so to speak, I wonder it should not com- 
 pel him, as it is Christian verity, or at least as it is verit}^ 
 as well as the rest of Christians, or mankind. Why hath 
 he only the privilege of exemption from being compelled 
 by truth 1 Athanasius's word is hvayKa^iiinBa. we are ne- 
 cessitated ; and if the considerator's own translation grieve 
 him, he might relieve himself by considering that all ne- 
 cessity is not compulsive. And because he hath brought 
 me to Athanasius, I shall take the occasion to say, I can- 
 not apprehend him to have any sentiment contrary to this 
 hypothesis. His business was against the Arians, or the 
 Ariomanites (as he often called them, as symbolizing al.so 
 with Manes.) And because Avith them the controversy 
 was, " whether the Son and Spirit were creatures'?" m 
 opposition hereto he constantly as.serts their consubstan- 
 tialitjr with the Father, never intending (for aught that 
 appears) that their being was numerically the same with 
 his ; but of the same kind, uncreated, coessential, coeternal 
 with his own. For so he expressly speaks in his ' other or 
 additional questions, i. e. asking (quest. 6.) " How many 
 essences ndrra? ovfria?, i. c. how many sorts of essence (as the 
 answer will direct us to rmderstnnd it) do you acknowledge 
 in God V
 
 ADDRESSED TO H. H. ABOUT THE TRINITY. 
 
 163 
 
 The answer is, I say, "one essence, one nature, one 
 form," (iiopfhi',) and adds, " one kind," (rV ytw?,) which 
 sufficiently expounds all the rest. He acknowledged no 
 ditferent kinds of essence or nature in the Godhead, but 
 that one only, which was eternal and uncreated ; ai,'reea- 
 blv to what he elsewhere saysh against the followers of 
 Sabellius. " 'Tis impossible things not eternal beings, not 
 partaking Godhead, should be ranked or put in the same 
 order with the Godhead." Afterwards speaking of the 
 Father and the Son, he says, T<novTOi crt" ^mof kukuvo^. the 
 one is such (not the same) as the other, the other such as 
 he. And that the Son was not to be conceived under ano- 
 ther species, (.a9' 'iTt?-}v tX^os,) not under a strange and fo- 
 reign charac:er, {^h'ov yapaKriipa,') but was God as the Fa- 
 ther. And I appeal to any man's understanding and con- 
 science, if that great author believed a numerical sameness 
 of essence, common to the three persons, what should 
 make him blame the Sabellians for i making the Son 
 fiovooiaiov, not 'ojioovaioi>, when by the latter, in that case, he 
 must mean the same thing as by the former 1 
 
 In the forecited questions, he expressl}" says we were to 
 acknowledge in the Deity rpm arojia, three individuals. 
 Answ'jr to question 7. nbi prius. And elsewhere he as 
 distinctly asserts rpia npayfiara, three things. And what 
 could he mean by three things, not three deities, (as he 
 often inculcates,) but he must certainly mean three enti- 
 ties, three essences ; for by three things, he could not pos- 
 sibly mean three non-entities, or three nothings. His 
 great care plainly was to assert the true Deity of the Son 
 and Spirit, or their pre-eternity, or that it could never be 
 said {nv ore o,v jji) there was a time when they were not, 
 which he inculcates in a hundred places, still insisting 
 that one deity, one essence was common to them, but still 
 ■with distinction; andas warmly inveighs against Sabellius 
 and P. Samosatensis, as against Arius, eveiy whit. 
 
 And that which puts his meaning quite out of doubt, k 
 speaking how the Father, Son, and Spirit, though of one 
 and the same sort of essence, are three hypostases, he plainly 
 says the nature wherein they partake is so one, as the hu- 
 man nature is one in all men. We men, saith he, consist- 
 ing of a body and a soul, are all ^lu? fiatoi, *-ui oiaiac,, of 
 one nature and substance, or essence ; but we are many hy- 
 postases. And to the same purpose (Dial. 2. de Trinitate) 
 his anovueos comparing the Father, Son, and Spirit, to a 
 bishop, presbyter, and deacon, he brings in the orthodox 
 saying, they have all the same nature, being each of them 
 man ; as an angel, a man, and a horse, have different na- 
 tures. 
 
 In the mean time, because men are not inseparably and 
 vitally united with one another, as the Divine Persons are, 
 and cannot but be, by reason of the necessary, eternal, per- 
 petual emanation of the two latter from the first, they can- 
 not admit to be called one man, as the three persons in the 
 Godhead are, and cannot but be one God. Insomuch a.s 
 these three Divine Persons partake real Godhead (as ex- 
 isting necessarily each of them) they are each truly God ; 
 but because they partake it in necessary, eternal, vital 
 union ; and so that the first is the radix, the second perpe- 
 tually springing from the first, and the third from both the 
 other, the)' are therefore together one God as branches, 
 though really distinct from each other, and the root, are 
 altogether notwithstanding but one tree, and all hfimoousial, 
 or cnnsnbstajttial to one another : which is an illustration 
 familiar with the ancients. And if there be any, now-a-days, 
 that will call this heresy, (though as I said, I will be no he- 
 retic however,) yet if I must make a choice, I had rather 
 be a heretic with the Ante-Nicene and Nicene fathers, and 
 Post Nicene, for ought appears to the contrary, through 
 some following centuries, than be reputed orthodox with 
 P. Lombard, &c. whom a German divine, not of meanest 
 account, calls "one of the four evangelists of antichrist." 
 
 But having now done with what he said he would omit, 
 but did not, (though he might to every whit as good pur- 
 pose,) we come to what he overlooks not, because (he inti- 
 mates) he cannot. And let us see whether he looks into 
 it, to any better purpose than if he had quite overlooked it. 
 He is indeed the more excusable that he overlooks it not, 
 
 h Contra .Sahellii Gregatcs. 
 
 i EkC -ni-. Tom \ ?'. ^-ll. EMit Paris. 
 
 k. Tractat. de Defiiiitionibus, Tom. 2. 43. ubi. vid. plura. 
 
 because (he says) he could not. In tliat ca.se there is no 
 remedy. Nor do I see how he well could, when the sober 
 inquirer had once and again so directly put it in his view, 
 and, as was said, objected it to himself. But he thinks, 
 however, to make an irrefragable battering ram of it, 
 wherewith to shiver this doctrine of the trinity all to 
 pieces ; and he brings it into play with the two horns before 
 mentioned. The Father, he says, for instance, is either 
 infinite in his substance, his wisdom, his power, his good- 
 ness, or he is not. With the like pompous apparatus, and 
 even in the same terms, i 1 find a series of argumentatioc 
 is by a noted sceptic adorned, and set forth against the be- 
 ing, of any God at all. If there be any Divine Being, 'tis 
 either finite or infinite, tfc. And he reasons upon each 
 head, as the matter could admit, and probably thought as 
 well of the performance as our author doth of his. 
 
 But let us see how much to the purpose our author uses 
 it in the present case. The inquirer had represented»»hree 
 really distinct subsistents in the Godhead as po.ssible, for 
 ought we know, not presuming to determine herein, this 
 way or that, beyond what is plain in itself, or plainly re- 
 vealed. And so still he thinks it may be, for ought he knows ; 
 for he professes not to know any thing to the contrary. Yes, 
 saith the considerator, but I do. No doubt, if any man. 
 But say I, How know you 1 I know, saith he, they can 
 neither be finite nor infinite, therefore there can bo no such 
 thing at all. But, say I, do you know wliat infinite is, or 
 can you comprehend it 1 ™ Yes, very well, says he, for I 
 have an infinite, all-comprehending mind. What a cy- 
 clopic understanding is this! Nay, and he pretends he 
 can comprehend the very being of God (otherwise all re- 
 ligion must cease) after he had granted, "we (including 
 himself) cannot comprehend the least spire of grass." 
 And yet that being of God is nothing el.'-e with him, but 
 existence, {i.e. not to be nothing,) which he there vafrous- 
 ly inserts, but very imprudently ; for every one sees he 
 said it only to avoid the purpose he was to speak to, and 
 so said it not to any present good purpose at all ; as if it 
 had been the bishop's word, and all one with God's being. 
 'Tis true that his being includes his existeijce: but hath 
 he therefore a clear, distinct, and adequate conception what 
 God is, because he, indistinctly, conceives a being, vulgar- 
 ly signified by the name of God, doth exist 1 Bring the 
 matter to creatures, and because he knows, as he may by 
 the sight of his eye, that such a creature exists, doth he 
 therefore understand its nature 1 Existence is to be extra 
 causas, and this is common to all creatures; as to be ne- 
 cessarily, and without a cause, is peculiar to God. If 
 therefore exi.stence and their beingbe all one, all creatures 
 are the same, and differ not from one another ; for to be 
 extra causas is that wherein they all agree. And extend 
 it further, as existence is to be, mrervm natvra, abstract- 
 ing from being caused, oruncaused ; and so God and crea- 
 tures will be all one. And see whether this will not make 
 all religion cease too % 
 
 But if he say, though existence abstractly taken distin- 
 guishes not God from creatures; yet his existence doth 
 distinguish him. Very true ; but that leads us hack to 
 the consideration of his being, of what sort that is. Which, 
 therefore, if he had pleased, he might as well have let 
 stand before as it was; and might have considered that 
 existence, and that which doth exist, are not of the same 
 import. Or that it is not all one, to say that God doth ex- 
 ist, and what he is that doth exist. 
 
 But it will be worth the while to examine alittle further 
 this author's comprehension of infinites. He says it is to 
 have a clear, distinct, and adequate conception of them; 
 so he comprehends the infinite attributes of God. His 
 eternity, i- e. that duration by which he is without all be- 
 ginning and end. This tells us what it is not. But doth 
 it tell us what it is? q. d. An infinite duration is a bound- 
 less duration: a grammatical definition! or rather a mere 
 translation of Latin into English. And so he might teach 
 a mere Latinisi what boundless is, by turning the English 
 back again into Latin. And greatly hath he edified his 
 disciple ! As much as he should, without such change of 
 language, by saying invasion is invasion. And doth he 
 
 1 £1 eart ri Ori-^i; 77701 -KnTepaaftevov ij airetpov, &c. Sext. Empir. advereua 
 Matlinnialiro.5, I.il>. S. 
 ra Considerations on the Lord Bishop of Worcester's Scnnon, p. 7, 8.
 
 164 
 
 A VIEW OF THE LATE CONSIDERATIONS. 
 
 give any better account of infinite wisdom and power 1 
 Are his conceptions of them clear and distinct 1 'Tis pos- 
 sible to know much, and not be very wise. I do not think 
 that therefore, which he gives, a very good account of 
 wisdom. Again, knowing is doing somewhat. He speaks 
 not now of making this or that, but more generally of do- 
 ing any thing. Nor doth any one know any thing, but 
 what he can know. Therefore his wisdom is power ; for 
 so is an ability to know, power, as truly as an ability to do 
 any thing else. Here is confusion, therefore, instead of 
 distinction. And to the comprehending any thing, I 
 should think it as requisite a man's conception be true as 
 distinct. Now when he pretends to have distmct concep- 
 tions of God's infinite wisdom and power, and if also his 
 conceptions be true, those infinite attributes aie distinct. 
 I am sure he comprehends them not, if, whereas, he clear- 
 ly conceives them distinct, they are not so. But if they 
 are dfetinct, they are distinct, what 1 Substances'? or ac- 
 cidents 1 If the former, according to him, distinct divine 
 substances must be distinct Gods. If the latter, let him 
 weather the difliculties as he can of admitting accidents 
 in the Divine Being. Either way, he must as little pre- 
 tend to believe an omnimodous simplicity there, as the in- 
 quirer. But would he then have him give better and ful- 
 ler conceptions of these infinite attributes, or rather of the 
 infinity of them, which is his present business"? No, no, 
 tliat is none of the inquirer's part. He pretends not to 
 comprehend infiniteness. 'Tis enough for o7j,e, among mor- 
 tals, to offer at that ingcns ausum, so great a thing ! 
 
 When again he says his conception of the infinite di- 
 vine wisdom, power, &c. is adequate, telling us they are 
 those properties whereby God knows, and can do, whatso- 
 ver implies not a contradiction to be known, and done. I 
 ask, but doth he comprehend in his mind all those things 
 which it implies not a contradiction for him to know and 
 do ! If not, what is become of his adequate conception 1 
 He may so comprehend all that the most learned book 
 contains, because he knows the title, or something of its 
 cover; and he hath a very adequate conception of all that 
 is contained in the universe, because he has some general 
 notion of what is signified by the word world. Let him 
 then pretend as long as he please to comprehend infinite- 
 ness, no sober man will believe him, and the less because 
 he pretends it. If he put his mind upon the trial, and deal 
 justly and truly when he hath tried, I would ask him, let 
 him put the notion of infiniteness upon what he pleases, 
 space, for instance, whether, as he thinks away any what- 
 soever bounds of it, new ones do not immediately succeed ; 
 and let him think away those, whetlier still he doth not 
 presently conceive new 1 Yes, but he can divert and think 
 no more of it, i. e. he can think what infinite is, by not 
 thinking! And yet, if he did understand infinites never 
 so well, it would be no small spite to him if a man did but 
 assert the infiniteness of one of the persons, (the Father,) 
 and only iT^yf'" as to the other two, as knowing their inti- 
 mate union with him, makes his wisdom, power, &c. as 
 truly theirs, as if it first resided in themselves; his argu- 
 ment is quite undone by it to all intents and purposes. 
 
 But I shall, however, further state and weigh this case 
 of— knowing, or not knowing, three such hypostases can- 
 not be infinite; and, 
 
 1. Show what might cast a thinking man upon suppo- 
 sing they may be all infinite for ought one knows : 
 
 2. Then consider the ditficuUy that is in it. 
 
 1. As to the former. That the Father virtually (or emi- 
 nently rather) comprehends all being, created and uncrea- 
 ted, there is no doubt. Nor asrain, that what is froin him, 
 by perpetual, natural, necessary emanation, cannot but be 
 homoousial to himself, the Athanasian differences only sup- 
 posed, of being unbegotten, and begotten, &.c. Bat how 
 to understand these is the difficulty ; i. e. how the same 
 numerical nature is both begotten and not begotten ; nor 
 will I determine it. Let them do it that can better. I for my 
 part, as I have said, assert nothing in this matter, only have 
 proposed to be considered what may be thought possible 
 nerein. 
 
 But if any would set themselves to consider this matter, 
 I would have them take the difficulty they are to consider, 
 entirely, and as it tinly is in itself; that they may not be 
 n Tliese Considcrationsi, p. 31, 32. 
 
 short in their reckoning. And to that purpose to bethink 
 themselves what is the proper character (as Athanasius, 
 and before him Justin Martyr, phrase it) or modus of the 
 Son (for instance) that 'tis to be begotten. Thi;;, methinks, 
 should bear very hard upon the mere modalisls, who here- 
 upon must say, that to be begotten is the only thing begot- 
 ten ; and so, consequently, that to be begotten, is the thing 
 that is peculiarly said to be incarnate, and that .suflered, 
 (fee. For they must assign that which distinguishes the 
 Son from the Father, otherwise they will make the Father 
 be begotten, which is somewhat harder than to be Patri- 
 pasxians, or to make him to have suffered. 
 
 But it must also be upon the matter even the same diffi- 
 culty, to say, " the same numerical nature, with the modus, 
 is begotten." For then the same numerical nature must still 
 be both unbegotten, and begotten, which is very hard. And 
 if they reply, Yes, but under a distinct modus : Well ; but 
 what IS that distinct modus ? And when they find it is but 
 to be begotten, they must be hugely abashed, as one of less 
 deep thought than they would think. For so, the nature 
 being common both to the Father and the Son, all that is 
 peculiar to the begotten from the begetter, will still be but 
 to be begotten ; i. e. when the question is asked, What only 
 is begottCLn 1 the answer will be but as above. To be begot- 
 ten. It hath hitherto, therefore, been only inquired, whe- 
 ther it will not seem easier to suppose each subsistent to 
 have its own singular nature, though homoousial, as the 
 two latter being by emanation from the first, it cannot but 
 be "? Which hath been often inculcated, and is plain in it- 
 self. Mere arbitrary productions may be very diverse 
 from their original ; but purely natural, especially emana- 
 tive, cannot be so. And then the only considerable difficul- 
 ty which remains is this now before us, vi2. the finiteness or 
 infiniteness, of these three hypostases. 'Tis plain they can- 
 not all be finite. But here our present adversary places 
 his j»rincipal pains and labour, to prove, what he knows 
 nobody will deny, that they cannot be so. And hence he 
 carries awa)' glorious trophies, that three, or three thousand 
 finiies, will never make one infinite. — Spolia ampla. 
 
 But how knows he they are not all infinite 1 That, in 
 short, which he ha!h here to say, is but this, and can be 
 no more than this, till his thoughts have run through and 
 compassed the never-utmost range of infiniteness, Tt^sr. That 
 he knows they are not he knows not what ! But how can 
 he soberly say that 7 How can he either affirm or deny 
 of another what he doth not understand 1 Is this his de- 
 monstration of the im»possibility of a trinity in the God- 
 head 1 Suppose the Father infinite, cannot the other two 
 be infinite also, for ought he knows 1 How doth he know 
 they cannot 1 By the same medium, by which he knows 
 it, he may make other mortals know it too, if he think fit to 
 communicate it. Which, from so mighty confidence, es- 
 pecially \^•ilen he pretends it to be so ea.sy, I have hitherto 
 expected, but in vain. Is it because the first is infinite, 
 therefore the two other cannot be sol I am sure he ought 
 not to say so, whatever others may, or whatsoever the truth 
 of the thing is, (which we shall inquire into by and by,) 
 for lie hath over and over acknowledged more infinites 
 than one; as when he ascribes infinite comprehension to 
 the mind of man, (as hath been noted,) page 8. of these 
 Considerations. He doth not indeed say the mind is sim- 
 ply in itself infinite, but it is so in respect of its compre- 
 hension, which comprehension must therefore be infinite. 
 How agreeable or consistent these terms are, the infinite 
 comprehension of a finite mind, we are not to consider ; 
 let him take care for that, who can easily make light of 
 such trivial difficulties as these. But in the meantime this 
 infinite comprehension is an infinite something, not an infi- 
 nite nothing; and then so many minds, so many comprehen- 
 sions, and so many infinites. No doubt he includes his OAvn 
 mind ; and 'tis possible he may think some other minds as 
 comprehensive as his own. And ought not to think it im- 
 possible, supposing an imcrealed eternal Word, and Spirit, 
 in the Deity, that they may be infinite, as well as the com- 
 prehension of his own and some other minds. " Besides 
 what he seems to grant of infinite guilts, and punishments 
 due, though he doth not grant the Sacrifice of Christ to be 
 an equivalent for them. All .show he thinks there may be 
 many infinites, and even in the same kind.
 
 ADDRESSED TO H. II. ABOUT THE TRINITY. 
 
 165 
 
 But though to him, to whom it is not easy to guess what 
 would be ditficult, this would seem a very vincible diffi- 
 culty ; it is of much greater importance, that we may do 
 right to truth, to consider it as it is in itself. And I ac- 
 knowledge it (as I have said over and over) to be in itself 
 a great difficulty, as all sober men have been wont to do, 
 that have had any occasion to employ their thoughts that 
 way. 
 
 But my part herein hath less of difficulty in it ; which is 
 only to expect, and examine, what another will attempt to 
 prove from this topic, not to assert any thing myself. My 
 opponent takes upon him boldly to pronounce, " there can- 
 not be three distinct hypostases in the Deity." Why 1 say I. 
 Because, saith he, that will suppose each of them infinite, 
 which cannot be. I say. Why can it not be 1 He perhaps 
 may tell me, If any one be infinite, nothing can be added 
 thereto, or be without its compass, much less can there be 
 another infinite added to the former. I only now say, you 
 talk confidently in the dark, you know not what : and so as 
 to involve yourself in contradictions, do what you can : 
 
 1. In saying nothing can be added to what is infinite. 
 
 2. In pretending to know, if any thing can be added, 
 how much or how little can. 
 
 1. In saying nothing can be added to, or be without the 
 compass of, what is infinite. For then there could be no 
 creation, which I cannot doubt him to grant. Before there 
 was any, was there not an infinitude of being in the eternal 
 Godhead 1 And hath the creation nothing in it of real 
 being? Or will you sa}'' the being of the creature is the 
 being of God 1 I know what may be said (and is else- 
 where said) to this, and 'twill better serve my purpose 
 than his. 
 
 2. In pretending to know what can or cannot be added. 
 Or that, in the way of necessary eternal emanation, there 
 cannot be an infinite addition ; though not in the way of 
 voluntary, or arbitrary and temporary, production. The 
 reason of the difference is too obvious to need elucidation 
 to them that can consider. But for your part (I must tell 
 my antagonist) you have concluded yourself, even as to 
 that which carries the greatest appearance of impossibility: 
 come off as you can. You say,° "a body of an inch square, 
 is not only not infinite in extension, but is a very small body; 
 yet it hath this infinite power, to be divisible to infinity." 
 So, I suppose you must say of half that inch, or a quarter, 
 or the thousandth part of it, much more of two, or twenty, 
 or a thousand inches. You say, indeed, " this body itself 
 is not infinite." Nor will I insist upon the trite and common 
 objection against 5rou: "How can any thing- be divisible 
 into parts which it hath not in it 1" Which yet men have 
 not talked away, by talking it often over. Still harct latcri. 
 — Nor of an infinite power^s being lodged in a finite (and so 
 minute a) subject. But, in the meantime, here are infin- 
 ites upon infinites, an infinite power upon an infinite power, 
 multiplied infinitely ; and still these infinite powers greater 
 and less than other, as either the inch is augmented or di- 
 minished. And he saith, p " the mind of man hath the 
 property of infinite or eternal duration." Therefore so 
 many minds, so many infinities. And he must suppose the 
 infinite duration of some minds to be greater than of others, 
 unless he think his own mind to be as old as Adam's ; or 
 do not only hold their pre-existence, but that they were all 
 created in the same moment. Which if he do, I am sure 
 he can never prove. And so, for ought he knows, there 
 may not only be many infinites, but one greater than ano- 
 ther. 
 
 What therefore exceeds all limits that are assignable, or 
 any way conceivable by us, as we are sure the Divine 
 Being doth, it is impossible for as to know what differences 
 that vast infinitude contains. And we shall, therefore, 
 but talk at random, and with much more presumption 
 than knowledge, when we lalce upon us to pronounce it 
 impossible there should be three infinite hypostases in the 
 Godhead. Especially considering that most intimate vital 
 union that they are supposed to have each with other, in 
 respect whereof, the Son is said to be ivz6s-ariH, existing in 
 the Father (as Athanasius's phrase is) agreeably to the lan- 
 guage of Scripture, John xiv. 11. and elsewhere. And 
 which, by parity of reason, is to be conceived of the Holy 
 Ghost too, who is also said to search all things, even the 
 o Considerations, page B. 
 15 
 
 deep things of God, 1 Cor. ii. 10. In respect of which 
 union, and the ifnrcoixi'P'i'Jii, which may thence be collected 
 whatever of real perfection, wisdom, power, goodness, &c! 
 is in any one, is each one's as truly as any one's, all being 
 originally in the Father, as the first and everliving Foun- 
 tain of all. As was said. Sober Inquiry, p. 139. 
 . But whereas the considerator urges, " If the Father be 
 infinite in his substance, in his wisdom, his power, his 
 goodness, he is God in the most adequate and perfect 
 sense of the word." I say. Well, and what then 1 If 
 therefore he mean the Son and the Holy Gho.-t must be 
 excluded the Godhead, let him prove his-consequence if 
 he can. And he may find the answer to it. Sober Inquiry, 
 page 141. I shall not transcribe, nor love, when I have 
 writ a book, to write it over again. His notion may fit 
 pagans well enough, or those who are not otherwise taught. 
 Christians are directed to understand that the Deity in- 
 cludes Father, Son, and Holy Ghost. Their equality I 
 acknowledge with the mentioned Athanasian exception ; 
 notwithstanding which, that they equally communicate in 
 the most characteristic difference, of the Deity, from 
 all creatures, viz. necessity of existence, is conceivable 
 enough. 
 
 To sum up all, the considerator I understand, even by 
 the whole management of his discourse, and especially by 
 the conclusion of that part wherein the inquirer is concern- 
 ed, to have most entirely given up this cause, as ever did 
 man. The inquirer's onh^ undertaking was to maintain 
 " the possibility of a trinity in the Godhead," in opposition 
 to his former daring assertion, of its being impossible, and 
 nonsense. 
 
 He now, in conclusion, says, the inquirer saw there 
 must be a nexus ; intimating, if there can, that he hath 
 gained his point; but, 'tis added, "he durst not venture 
 to say what it was." To which I nuist say. 
 
 That this is most uncautiously said ; I will not say, 
 deceitfully, though I know 'tis said untruly : and he might 
 have known (or remembered) too, that he, (the inquirer) 
 often spoke of it, as a necessary, natural, eternal, vital, 
 and most intimate imion. He further says, he only ex- 
 plains it by the union of soul and body. Which asrain, 
 
 1. Is so great a misrepresentation, that I wonder he 
 would say it here, when he himself but two or three pages 
 off recites as the inquirer's words, " If God could unite 
 into one, two such contrary natures, let any man give me 
 a reason why he might not (much more) first make, and 
 then unite two, and if two, why not three, spirits," &c. Is 
 this only to explain it by the union of soul and body ] 
 
 But by the way, that " first make, and then unite," was 
 none of the inquirer's, but appears thrust in to make what 
 was manifestly po.ssihle, seem impossible. Sic notus — let 
 two substances be created entire, with no nafural propen- 
 sion to each other, they are capable of no natural union, 
 without change of their natures. Who sees not, it were a 
 contradiction to suppose them still the same, and not the 
 same? But suppose them created with mutual aptitudes 
 to union, and united, what should hinder but they may 
 continue united, without being confounded? 
 
 2. And 'tis said impertinently, as well a-s untruly ; for 
 what if he had not explained it at all, is it therefore im- 
 possible, which it belonged to him to prove, or he did 
 nothing; and he hath done nothing towards it. I have 
 asked him before, and now I put it again seriously to him, 
 whether he do in his conscience believe this a good argu- 
 ment : " such a union, i. e. natural, necessar}"^, &c. hath no 
 pattern or parallel in the creation ; therefore it is impossi- 
 ble in the nature of God ?" 
 
 For what he adds, " That the soul and body in a man 
 are not united into one substance or essence, nor possibly 
 can be ;" the cause indeed depends not on it, but lies re- 
 mote from it. Methinks however it is very feat, and shows 
 him pinched, that he can be brought to this ! Haih a man 
 no substance ? Is he a shadow ? Or hath he no essence 1 
 Is he a non-entity ? or is his essence a body ? Then a body 
 is a man. Or his essence a spirit? Then, a spirit is a 
 man. If he sav either of these, I wish he would tell us 
 the quantitv of those propositions, that we may know 
 whether hemeans that everv body is a man, or every spirit 
 is a man ? I am sure where the" essence is, there must be 
 p Considerations, p. S.
 
 166 
 
 A VIEW OF THE LATE CO^^SIBERATIONS, &c. 
 
 the essentiatim. Or whether soul and body united, make 
 nothing different from eiiher, or boih disunited 1 Or whe- 
 ther a man be only such a thinj^ as a pie 1 Or why might 
 not a pudding serve as well, if made up of several in- 
 gredients "? He hath greatly indeed obliged mankind for 
 such an honour done them flf indeed the cause depended 
 on it, he would have good store of philosophers to confute, 
 and ail that have any concern for their own kind, before 
 he could disprove the possibility of the supposed union in 
 the Deity ; and you have nothing for it but his bare word, 
 which (at least, without the addition of his name) will not 
 do the business. -Nor, if he could also bring us a demon- 
 stration against the union of soul and body, can he thereby 
 prove such a union as we suppose in the Godhead im- 
 possible. The case is quite another. The union of the 
 soul and body was never by me called essential ; for I 
 well know, if they were essentially united, in the strict 
 sense, they could never be disuniied. But 'tis commonly 
 called a substantial union, and I called it natural in respect 
 of the principle, nature, in contradistinction to art. As 
 for the supposed union we speak of in the Deity, that, 
 being necessary, original, eternal, it must be essential, or 
 none : but with such distinction as before was supposed. 
 For it was union, not identity, that was meant, which 
 union, with such distinction, till they be proved impossible, 
 the inquirer's cause is untouched. And is certainly to any 
 such pui-pose,^ not in the least touched by the considerator. 
 Whether there be any such union that may admit to be 
 called essential among the creatures, doth neither make 
 nor mar. We have never said there was, nor doth the 
 stress of the cause lie upon it. 
 
 I find indeed an ingenious, merry gentleman, animad- 
 verts upon a postscript writ against the Sober Inquiry, and 
 upon a letter in answer to it, who at a venture calls all 
 essential union, essential contradiction, and substantial 
 nonsense. Who this is, I will not pretend to guess, only 
 I guess him not to be the same with the considerator, for 
 this, besides other reasons, that he calls the author of the 
 considerations a great man ; and I scarce think he would 
 call himself so. His wit and sportful humour, I should 
 have liked better in a less serious affair. For this he bold- 
 Iv pronounces, in immediate reference to the trinity itself, 
 (that the world might know he hath a confidence, at least 
 equal to his wit,) I can easily abstain from asserting that 
 any created unions are to be called strictly essential, be- 
 cause then they must be simply indissoluble. And I see 
 not but whatsoever things the Creator hath united, he ma}' 
 disunite, if he be so pleased. Yet one might have expected 
 this author to have been a little more civil to him whom 
 he styles the late famous Dr. More, who hath published to 
 the world his express sentiments in this matter, that created 
 spirits have real amplitude, made up of indiscerptible parts, 
 essentially united, so as not to be separable, without an- 
 nihilation of the whole. One would think he should not 
 have treated him so, as to make his essential union sub- 
 stantial nonsense. But there are those left in the world, 
 who have that veneration for the Doctor, as to think it no 
 indecent rudeness to this gentleman, not to put his judg- 
 ment in the balance against the Doctor's, or to distinguish 
 between his calling it nonsense, and proving it so. 
 
 But if any wonder that they w'ho think there is no such 
 thing as an essential union among creatures, do yet think 
 there may be in the uncreated Being, they will show them- 
 selves mighty wise in their wonder, i. eAn wondering that 
 the creatures are not God. And if they further hereupon 
 inquire, why we will then make use of unions not essen- 
 tial, among creatures, to illustrate that which is supposed 
 essential in the uncreated being, and expect very particular, 
 distinct accounts of every thing so represented ; they w\\{ 
 show themselves as wise in their expectations, i. e. that 
 
 p Mejiepiiriievas Ex6. tti^. r Liber. Epist ad Atban. »v /(ipifsrai. 
 
 they think nothing can serve to illustrate, unles^it be like 
 in all re>pcc' ■. 
 
 That question still returns. Is every thing to be judged 
 by any man of sense impossible in God, whereof he hath 
 not given distinct and explicit accounts, and illustrations 
 from somewhat in the creatures'? And another will be 
 added. Is there any thing originally in God, not essential 
 to him ] But when the world is so full of instances of 
 substantial unions, without confusion, or identification, 
 that he cannot so much as name me a created substance, 
 that he can be sirre exists absolutely simple, I am sure it 
 can be no contradiction to suppose that there may be un- 
 created, necessary, eternal union, without confusion or 
 identification ; and that it would be, as he phrases it, es- 
 sential contradiction, or substantial nonsense, to say that 
 things united necessarily (though distinct) can possibly 
 ever admit of separation. And if our modern anti-trini- 
 tarians (for I will not call them by the inept name of uni- 
 tarians, which as rightfully belongs to them whose adver- 
 saries the}' are pleased to be, as to themselves, and therefore 
 cannot distinguish the one from the other) would allow it 
 to be their method to understand the doctrine of the or- 
 thodox ancients, before they decry and hoot at it, they 
 W"ould find that as they allow sufficient distinction of the 
 sacred hi/posfases ; so the union they assert, is not such as 
 identifies them, but only signifies them to be inseparable. 
 So speaks Athanasius himself, " we think not, as the Sa- 
 bellians, that the Son is of one and the same essence with 
 the Father, but consubstantial — nor do we assert? three 
 hT/postascs separated as with men, bodily, lest with the 
 Gentiles, we should admit polytheism," &c. 
 
 So do Liberius and he agree in sentiment. The one 
 says, "■ " The Son is not separated from the Father's hypos- 
 tasis." The other, » " We hold not the Son divided from 
 the Father," &c. 
 
 And upon the most impartial, faithful, and diligent search 
 and consideration, I do solemnly declare there needed not 
 more of rationality or intelligibleness in this doctrine, to 
 keep it from being ridiculed, as contradictious, and non- 
 sense; but only less prejudice, and more modesty, in the 
 opposers of it, with more reverence of the Divine Majesty, 
 upon this (obvious) apprehension, that if it be true, it must 
 be sacred, divine truth. 
 
 This author would fain have me with him to the play- 
 house, whither really I have no leisure to accompany him, 
 nor much temptation ; for I perceive it hath filled his mind 
 with ideas not useful to my purpose ; nor, I think, to any 
 good one of his own. If there he learned to jest away 
 that which should be the best part of himself; and of 
 which Socrates, dying, told his friends it would be gone 
 far enough out of their hands, and for that which was left 
 behind, they might bury, or do with it what they pleased ; 
 if there he was taught to ridicule the holy apostle's dis- 
 tinction of an h £V(o, and b t'^w, an inner and an outer man; 
 and when he hath thrown the former of these out of his 
 notion of himself ; for my part, I must think of that which 
 is left, that the silly Indian is the less silly creature of 
 the two. 
 
 And besides as he is too much given to play, to mind 
 any thing of serious discourse, so I find he is not through- 
 out honest in his play neither ; but that even when he 
 pretends to sit out, and be but a spj^ctator, only taking care 
 that there be fair play, he falls in himself, and plays booty. 
 Nor do I find he hath any thing of argument in his dis- 
 course, which hath not been considered already in the dis- 
 course I have had with the considerator. I therefore take 
 leave of them both toge'iher, and of you too, Sir, being in 
 great sincerity, 
 
 Your affectionate humble servant, 
 
 The Inquirer. 
 a Rescript. Ath. ad Lflienon. ov iiaKCx,wpi<7jievov.
 
 ADVERTISEMENT. 
 
 The " Letter to the Clergy of both Universities," came not to my sight, or notice, till some hours after the last 
 sheet of this discourse was brought to me from the press ; I have not time therefore to say much to it, nor yet snould 
 say more than I do had I never so much. The author seems to think what he was now doing, as to the inquiry, super- 
 fluous, because he said it was so fully done by an abler hand, &c. In the meantime, he was in ill case, tliat he was 
 neither able to write to any purpose, nor be silent : a most deplorable double impotency ! But he hath, notwithstanding 
 his modesty, shown a double ability, to invent and make an hypothesis of his own fingers' ends, and then most dexter- 
 ously to combat that shadow. Three inadequate Gods is indeed (to vise his own phrase) his own invention, constantly 
 disavowed by the inquirer, who with the generality of trinitarians, calls the three subsisients in the Godhead, God ; 
 being each of them necessarily existent, but none of them alone, exclusively, a God. 
 
 What art he hath, is shown in fighting this his own figment. As also that of parts of the Deity, other than con- 
 ceptible, which no man can avoid. So we have his dream of a third part of a God, about which he so learnedly raves 
 in his dream, as to disprove, as effectually, any God at all. For I appeal to what sense he hath left himself, whether 
 power alone be God, exclusive of wisdom and goodness 1 Then 'tis an inadequate, or a not complete, notion of God ; 
 then, by his profound reasoning, not eternal. No more are Father, Son, and Holy Ghost parts, unless you be ena- 
 moured of the bull, impartible parts, that never were parted, nor ever can be. As what are neces-sarily united (though 
 unconfounded) cannot, without nonsense and contradiction, be said to be parted. His fiction, that what is from the 
 eternal Father by neces.sary emanation, cannot be eternal, but must have a beginning, is of the same stamp. He did 
 not need when he writ, to have abandoned all logic and common sense, that would have told him rclata sunt simul 
 natura. His so confidently taking it for granted on all hands, that all infinites are equal, shows his little compass of 
 thought, and how unacquainted he is with the diificulties of a controversy, wherein yet he will be so over-meddle- 
 some. Q,ui pauca respicit, tf-c. But who so bold as 1 1 leave him to compound that difference with his abler con- 
 
 siderator, whether one inch and two inches be equal 1 and so bid him good night.
 
 A LETTER 
 
 WRITTEN OUT OF THE COUNTRY TO A PERSON OF aUAUTY IN THE CITY, WHO TOOK OFFENCE AT THE LATB 
 
 SERMON OF DR. STILLINGFLEET, 
 
 (DEAN OF ST. PAUL'S,) BEFORE THE LORD MAYOR. 
 
 CONSIDERING THYSELF LEST THOG ALSO BE TEMPTED. GAL. VI. 1. 
 
 JOHANNES COLETCS, DECANHS aUEM DICUNT, DIVI FAULT, — APUD SUOS ANGLOS ALTER PENE APOSTOLUS PAULUS HABITUS EST. 
 
 POLYD. VIRGIL. 
 
 Sir, 
 I PERCEIVE your mind is disturbed, which my friend- 
 s-hip -^'ith you can no more let me be unconcerned for, 
 than if I heard you were sick ; nor less to study yovtr re- 
 lief. Such may be the cause and measare of your pas- 
 sion, and such the disproportion between the one and the 
 other, as to need it a great deal more, though yet perhaps 
 to deserve it less. For your sickness might be 3'our infe- 
 licity only, but a perturbation that exceeds its cause, can- 
 not bat be j'our faiilt. Which kind of evil, though it be 
 much greater, and therefore needs no application for the 
 removing of it ; yet it can challenge less help from ano- 
 ther, because you are your own aiilicter, and may, by de- 
 pendence on Divine help, when you please, cure yourself, 
 which no man else can do for you. But if another may 
 contribute towards it, by laying before you apt considera- 
 tions which you are yourself to apply, you know you are to 
 expect it from no man's good will more than mine. If 
 indeed you expect much from my ability, that is another 
 fault, entirely your own, and whereto you could have no 
 temptation. 
 
 Thus much I freely profess to you, that I have a great 
 value of an equal temper and composure of mind, not apt 
 to be unduly moved, or entertain anything that occurs 
 with indecent perturbation, or other resentment than is 
 due and suitable to the occasion : and desire it more than 
 either to be in the best external circumstances, or not to 
 be in the worst. As I wish for myself, I wish for you ; 
 and therefore am willing to place my endeavour accord- 
 ingly, where it may be in a possibility of effecting some- 
 what to your advantage, and where it is most desirable it 
 should. 
 
 In the present case, the fault I find with you is, that 
 your resentment of the matter you complain of is undue, 
 and not proportionabfe to the occasion. And whereas you 
 seem to labour imder the distemper and excess of a two- 
 fold passion; of fear, lest a just and good cause (as you 
 and I do both account) should suffer some erreat prejudice, 
 by this opposition of Dr. Stillingfleet; and of anger, that 
 he from whom better things might have been expected, 
 should attempt any thing in this kind. I shall hereupon 
 endeavour to represent to you the causelessness both of 
 your fear, and (in great part) of your anger. And first 
 defend the cause against Dr. Stillingfleet, and then add 
 somewhat in defence of Dr. Stillingfleet against you. 
 
 1. As to the former we are, 
 
 I. To give the plain state of it, with the Doctor's judg- 
 ment against us in it. 
 
 II. To discuss the matter with the Doctor, and show ; 
 1. The indefensibleness of that judgment; 2. The ineffi- 
 cacy of the Doctor's attempt to defend it. 
 
 I. It is first necessary that we have a true state of the 
 cause itself before our eyes; which is plainly this, — That 
 as there are very great numbers of people, beyond what 
 the ministers of parishes, in divers places, can possibly 
 perform ministerial duty unto ; so there are withal very 
 many that cannot be satisfied in conscience, to intrust their 
 souls and their spiritual concernments to the pastoral care 
 and conduct of the parochial ministry only ; though they 
 generally have a reverend esteem of divers who are of it, 
 do, many of them, very frequently partake of some part 
 of their labours, and rejoice in them as great ornaments 
 and real blessings of the Christian church. But these are 
 very unproportionable in number to the necessities of the 
 people, and are by legal restraints tied up one way, as they 
 by conscientious are another, in respect of some principal 
 parts of Christian worship ; without which they should be 
 visibly in the condition of pagans. 
 
 There are also many persons who ha ve been devoted to 
 the service of God and his church in the ministerial func- 
 tion ; some of them in the way which now obtains, others 
 in a way which this reverend author did not disapprove, 
 who are not satisfied in conscience about the terms upon 
 which they might have continued, or may be admitted, 
 parochial incumbents. So that here are numerous flocks 
 scattered without pastors, here are many pastors without 
 flocks. 
 
 The people, it is true, on whose behalf these papers are 
 more especially written, are in this destitute condition by 
 their own scruples. Nor is it the present design to justify 
 all those scruples. But they are, with many, of long con- 
 tinuance, and, for ought appears, unremovable. If they 
 should be deferred, and bidden to use patience, while such 
 further endeavours are used with them as this sermon con- 
 tains, yet death will hav^e no patience, nor be deferred. So 
 that there are multitudes passing into eternity out of a 
 Christian nation, having no benefit of Christian ordinan- 
 ces; no means of instruction in the truth and doctrines of 
 the Christian religion, in order to their salvation. The 
 cau.se which is de facto tnken in this distress for their relief, 
 is that which the reverend author bends himself against in 
 this sermon. And there are two sorts of persons concerned 
 in it. The people ; who, rather than return to the state of 
 paganism, implore the help of these imemployed ministers, 
 desiring them to perform the duty of Christian ministers 
 towards them. And the ministers ; who, rather thaii they
 
 A LETTER CONCERNING DR. STILLINGFLEETS SERMON. 
 
 169 
 
 should cease to be Christians, or themselves always cease 
 from the work of ministers, comply with their desires, and, 
 as they can, allow them their desired help. 
 
 This author doth more directly and professedly speak to 
 the case of the people ; to that of the ministers, only by 
 way of oblique reflection. You and I who (among the 
 former) do often partake in the worship and ordinances of 
 God, in the separate assemblies, (though we are not so 
 squeamish as to balk the public, nor so unjust and un- 
 grateful, as not to thank God for the excellent advantages 
 that are sometimes to be met with there,) are both concern- 
 ed, and led by the Doctor's discourse, to consider what is 
 said as to this case of ours. Which yet I would have us 
 consider not so appropriately, as to exclude them our very 
 compassionate consideration, that are more pinched and 
 contined to narrower limits, by their own scruples, than 
 we are ; and whose number you cannot but apprehend to 
 be so great, as to call for a very large compassion in con- 
 sidering their case. 
 
 It is indeed a case of far-prospect, and which looks 
 down upon after-times. You know how easily it may be 
 deduced all along from the beginning of the English re- 
 formation, when some very eminent among our reformers 
 M'cre not well satisfied with the ceremonial part of the 
 constitution settled at that time; how an unsatisfied party 
 hath gradually increased from age to age among the com- 
 mon people also. They are now grown very numerous. 
 And unless some very overpowering impression upon 
 men's minds (not reasonably to be expected according to 
 common measures) should alter the case, it is still likely 
 to increase in succeeding ages. You are ignorant that no 
 one thing is more commonly scrupled by this unsatisfied 
 party, than the addition of that federal rite in the dedicat- 
 ing of Iheir children to God, the signing them with the 
 sign of the cross; which many (how justly or unjustly I 
 am not now to discuss) esteem so sinful a practice, tiiat, 
 rather than admit it, they will choose not to offer their 
 children to baptism. Nor is it itself of less weight (per- 
 haps 'tis of much greater) that, in this solemn dedication, 
 they have no opportunity of performing the parental duty, 
 of covenanting with God on behalf of their own children ; 
 but that part (with the exclusion of themselves) is to be 
 done by others whom God hath not concerned in the 
 business; and who, after the solemnity is over, are never 
 like to concern themselves. And there are divers other 
 scruples besides, in reference to this and other parts of 
 worship, that, with multitudes, are in no great probability 
 to admit of cure. 
 
 Now let us see what the reverend Doctor's judgment is 
 upon this state of our case, who dissent from the estab- 
 lished way, whether the people, or their ministers ; and 
 that both concerning what they do, and what, by conse- 
 quence from his judgment ujion their case, they are to 
 suffer. For the practice of the people in this case (at least 
 the negative part of it) he hath some charity in his censure, 
 for in their declining to join in the public assemblies, he 
 believes them generall}^ to practice according to their judg- 
 ment, as he professes, page 37 of his sermon. For the 
 ministers, most of them, none at all, who, as he says in 
 the same place, he believes go against theirs. His words 
 are, " I dare say, if most of the preachers at this day in 
 the separate meetings, were soberly asked their judgments, 
 whether it were lawful for the people to join with us in 
 the public assemblies, they would not deny it ; and yet 
 the people that frequent them, generally judge otherwise. 
 For it is not to be supposed, that faction among them 
 should so commonly prevail beyond interest." 
 
 But his judgment concerning what both are to undergo 
 is eventually, and in the sequel, as he states their case, 
 much more hard in respect of the people, who cannot re- 
 lieve themselves ; whereas the ministers, according to the 
 notion he hath of them, presently may. 
 
 We are to attend chiefly to what he says in reference to 
 the lay people, and shall consider, I. How severe he is 
 towards them; and, 2. How well consistent he is therein 
 ■with himself. 
 
 1. His severity towards those of us in respect of what we 
 practise, who put ourselves under the pastoral care of other 
 than the parochial ministers, is to be seen in what he pro- 
 poses to himself to evince, page 20. viz. That our pro- 
 
 ceeding to the forming of separate congregations, t. e. under 
 other teachers, and by other rules, than what the established 
 religion allows, is the present case of separation which he 
 uitends to consider, and to make the sinfulness and mischiel 
 of it appear. He doth, you see, in short, absolutely pro- 
 nounce our practice in this case to be sinful and mis- 
 chievous. 
 
 Now it is hence also to be collected, how hard things he 
 would have us suffer upon supposition of our only remain- 
 ing unsatisfied to join ourselves into the parochial coc- 
 munion. He doth not indeed bespeak for us gibbets, 
 whipping-posts, or dungeons ; nor (directl3-) any thing 
 grievous to our flesh. But to such as consider themselves 
 to have souls made for an everlasting state, the doom which 
 his words imply, in the mentioned place, cannot be 
 thought gentle. Which that^-ou may apprehend the more 
 distinctly; observe that he hath nothing to say against our 
 bare suspending communion in some particular riles which 
 we modestly .scruple, while we use it in what we judge 
 lawful, page 20. (whereas, page 37. he supposesus generally 
 to judge it unlawful to join in the public assemblies,) to 
 which purpose he also speaks in his late dialogues, page 
 171. and 172. (giving his antagonist an accoimt of what 
 he had said in his J/cnicitm to the matter now in discourse,) 
 viz. That some scrupulous and conscientious men, after all 
 endeavours used to satisfy themselves, may remain unsatis- 
 fied a,s trj tlifi lawfulness of some imjiosed rites, but dare 
 not proceed to positive separation from the church, but are 
 willing to comply in all other things save in those rites 
 which they still scruple : and concerning these he puts the 
 question, whether such bare nonconformity do involve 
 such men in the guilt of schism. And this he confesses he 
 resolved negatively (approving or not disavowing that reso- 
 lution.) Thus far indeed he well agrees with iiimself j 
 and seems to have no quarrel with u.s. 
 
 But coiisider the fatal consequence. He well knows 
 that if we suspend communion in the rite of the cross, 
 (upon our never so modest scruple,) m'c cannot have our 
 children ministerially dedicated to God in the ordinance 
 of baptism, nor be so ourselves, if being adult, we remain 
 any of us unbaptized ; (as he may well apprehend many 
 among us are ;) nor if we decline the use of sponsors as to 
 what we conceive should be performed by parents for their 
 children, and by adult persons for themselves. Aotl that 
 if we kneel not before the consecrated elements at the 
 Lord's table, we are not to partake of his holy supper. 
 Yea, and what if we scruple somewhat that is more than 
 ritual, to sit under the ministry of a noted drunkard, or 
 open enemy to godliness, as our teacher and guide, when 
 we might enjoy the fruitful labours of one that hath not 
 his qualifications every Lord's day ? No, by no means, 
 without limitation, or the supposition of any possible case 
 wherein it may be otherwise, a meeting never so little be- 
 sides the established course, he will make appear is sinful 
 and mischievous, and not tolerable upon any terms. 
 
 What then would he have us do 1 He directs us indeed 
 afterw ard to the endeavour of satisfaction. But what shall 
 we do if after our utmost endeavours our dissatisfaction 
 remain ? What, while we are endeavouring 1 which may 
 be all our days in vain. What if we can never be satisfied 
 concerning the established way of baptism for oui-selves 
 and our children, and of partaking the btxly and blood of 
 our Lord and Saviour 1 Nor to hear or give countenance 
 to such a, one pretending to preach the glorious gospel of 
 the blessed God, who either sub.>tantially perverts and de- 
 praves it, or whose profligate life proclaims him an ojjposer 
 and enemy to the holy rules and design of it 1 Nor to 
 commit ourselves to the pastoral care and charge of a less 
 exceptionable person, yea though otherwise never so de- 
 serving, that hath tied his own hands, and is under such 
 restraints that he cannot, or so disinclined that he will 
 not, dispense the ordinances of Christ in such a way, as 
 wherein with satisfaction to our consciences we may enjoy 
 them. ■ . , 
 
 Read over the Doctor's sermon ag-ain and agam, anci 
 you will find no course is prescribed us. but to sit still 
 without any enjoyment of Christian ordinances at all. And 
 with how great "numbers must this be the case! tor him- 
 self professes to believe, that the people that Irequent the 
 separate meetings (who vou know are not a few) do gene-
 
 170 
 
 A LETTER CONCERNING 
 
 rally judge it to be unlawful to join in the public assem- 
 blies. And are we always to sit still thus 1 That is to 
 exchange visible Christianity for visible (at least negative) 
 paganism ! This, if you take the whole compass of it, is a 
 thing of awful importance that so great a limb of a Chris- 
 tian nation, they and their posterity, should be paganized 
 from age to age, and cut of from the whole body of the 
 Christiancommunity ,onlybccause they scruple some things, 
 the least exceptionable whereof are no part of the Christian 
 institution, (as himself, and they whose advocate he is, will 
 freely confess,) nor do necessarily belong to it, being (as 
 they contend) but indifferent things. He seems rather 
 contented we should not be Christians at all, than not to 
 be Christians of this particular mode: that we should 
 rather want the substance of Christ's gospel and sacra- 
 ments, than not have them accompanied with confessedly 
 needless additions, and which we fear to be forbidden us 
 by their Lord and ours. 
 
 We do sincerely profess wherein we decline the commu- 
 nion he invites us to, we only displease him, and those of 
 his way and mind, out of a real fear of otherwise displeas- 
 ing God. We agree with them in far greater things than 
 we can differ in. We are of that one body which they 
 themselves profess to be of, so far as mere Christianity is 
 the distinction, and collective bond of it, and desire to be 
 under the conduct and government of that one Spirit. We 
 are called with them in that one hope of our calling, and 
 earnestly expect (whatever hard tlioughts they have of us) 
 to meet many a one of them in the participation of the 
 blessed hoped end of that calling. We acknowledge that 
 one Lord, that one faith, that one baptism, (or covenant 
 which the bnptism of our Lord"'s appointment seals,) and 
 that one God and Father of all, who is above all, and 
 through all, and in us all. Yet because we cannot, we 
 dare not consent with them to the additions wliich belong- 
 not (and which we fear are unduly affixed) to the religion 
 of Christians, we are adjudged to be (as much as in them 
 is) cut off from Christ, deprived of the dear pledges of his 
 love, and acquisitions of his blood, are driven out from 
 the inheritance of the Lord, and it is effect said to us. 
 Go and serve other gods. Thus far the severity of this 
 reverend author tov/ards us extends. Which while we 
 thus truly represent and recount, let us also, 
 
 2. Consider what agreement it holds with Avhat we else- 
 where observe from him: We have already taken notice, 
 that for our bare nonconformity he acquits "us of the guilt 
 of schism. And, page 20. of this sermon, he says, he doth 
 "not confound bare suspending communion in some par- 
 ticular rites, which persons do modestly scruple, and using 
 it in what Ihey judge to be lawful, with either total, or 
 at least ordinary forbearance of communion in what they 
 judge to be lawful : and proceeding to the forming sepa- 
 rate congregations," &c. 'Tis this latter he severs and 
 singles out for his opposition. Against our suspending 
 communion in some particular rites, (which we judge un- 
 lawful,) if we ttse it in what we judge lawful, (which I, with 
 him, presume the lay-dissentcrs in England generally do,) 
 he hath nothing to say: yea, and undertaking to "show 
 what error of conscience doth excuse a man from sin. in 
 following the dictates of it ; he tells us, page 44. that '" if 
 the error be wholly involuntary, t. e. if it be caused by 
 invincible ignorance," (which he thus explains in the fol- 
 lowing words,) "or after using the best means for due in- 
 formation of his conscience; though the act may be a 
 fault in itself, yet it shall not be imputed to him for a sin, 
 because it wanted the consent of the mind by which the will 
 is determined." And now, Sir, I beseech )'ou consider, 
 
 (L) When he confesses if we be willing to be .satisfied, 
 and our error be involuntary, it shall not be imputed to us 
 for a sin ; why are Ave so severely dealt with for what is 
 not to be imputed to us for a sin 1 If it were any, rae- 
 thinks it should not deserve such rigour at tlie hands of 
 men, that are themselves also liable to mistakes a.nd errors. 
 Is it so very criminal, if every poor illiterate dissenter in 
 England (man or woman) cannot m all their days attain 
 to a better and more seUled judgment in such "dubious 
 matters, than this reverend person had himself arrived to 
 twenty years ago 1 Especially that never had, or were ca- 
 pable of having, tho.se peculiar helps and inducements, to 
 temper and reform their judgments, that he hath enjoyed. 
 
 'Tis a long time that his own judgment has been ripening 
 to that maturity, as, at length, to think it fit and seasonable 
 to say so much as he hath, for the reforming of ours, even 
 in this sermon. Methinks he should not be so very quick 
 and hard towards us, upon so slender a cause, as our 
 scrupling .some particular rites, to adjudge us and ours to 
 be totally deprived of baptism, which themselves count 
 necessary to our salvation, and of the other ordinances of 
 Christ, whichthey donot think unnecessary. And consider, 
 
 (2.) Whereas he says, that if a man err after using the 
 best means for due information of his conscience, — it shall 
 not be imputed to him as a sin. What if we err this error 
 (as he counts it) after using the best means for due infor- 
 mation ; that we ought rather than to return to the state 
 of paganism, to bear our part in the forming of such meet- 
 ings for the worship of God, as wherein we may, with the 
 satisfaction of our own consciences, enjoy all his holy 
 ordinances 1 It will surely be within the compass of this 
 his general position, and not be imputable as a sin. Then it 
 is to be hoped we should rather choose to do so, than pa- 
 ganize ourselves, or live in the wilful neglect of his institu- 
 tions : which to do by our own choice, wlien we might do 
 otherwise, we cannot but think a very great sin. 
 
 If here the Doctor should assume to himself to tell us 
 not only that we err herein, (whereof we are to regard his 
 proof, as it shall be considered by and by, more than his 
 affirmation,) but also that our error is wilful, we shall 
 appeal from him to one that better knows, how willingly, 
 how gladly we should receive information, and admit the 
 belief, tha;t we ought to content ourselves entirely and only 
 with such provisions as the established religion (to use the 
 Doctor's phrase) allows us, if the evidence of the thing it- 
 self did not seem irresistibly and unavoidably to persuade, 
 us otherwise. And for him to say so, were but to suppose 
 men wilful, only for not being of his mind, who can us 
 easily think him so, for not being of theirs. But this can- 
 not be a question between the Doctor and us; whom, as 
 we have taken notice above, he hath so far obliged, as to 
 admit, (page 37.) " that we generally judge as we practise, 
 and that it is not to be supposed that faction among us 
 should so commonly prevail bej'ond interest." But since 
 this appears to be his determination concerning us, and 
 that his assertion seems positive and peremptor}', page 20. 
 " That in this our case, to proceed to the forming of con- 
 gregations under other teachers, and by other rules than 
 what the established religion allows, were a sinful and 
 mischievous separation," — v/e are in the next place, 
 
 II. To discuss the matter with the Doctor; wherein we 
 shall endeavour to show, — 1. The indefensibleness of Ihe 
 judgment the Doctor hath given in this case ; which will 
 both infer, (and in some part excuse) what we are after- 
 wards to discover ; viz. — 2. The infirmity of what is alleged 
 by him in this attempt of his to defend it. 
 
 1. For the former, it being obvious to common observa- 
 tion, that a natural self-indulgence and aptness to decline 
 and waive what is of more terrible import to themselves, 
 doth usually insinuate and influence men's minds in their 
 judging of such cases ; we are the more concerned (because 
 a favourable false judgment will do us no good) with an 
 impartial strictness to hold ourselves to the thing itself. 
 And when we most strictly do so, methinks the doctor 
 should have somewhat a hard province of it. Foi his de- 
 termination amounts to thus much, (ihat we ought to be 
 kept in a .state of damnation for scrupling the ceremonies,) 
 i. e. to be deprived of the necessary means of our salvation. 
 And that, while he accounts our scruple (after the use of 
 due means for our information) not imputable to us as a 
 sin : and not that only, but that M^e ought to consent to 
 our own damnation for this no sin of ours; inasmuch as 
 it would be sinful and mischievous to procure to ourselves 
 the necessary means of our salvation in another way, while 
 we apprehend that, without our sin, we cannot have them 
 in the way which he allows us. 
 
 We are indeed satisfied, that our sin one way or other 
 would contribute little to our salvation. But when also 
 we are satisfied that we cannot enjoy the means of salva- 
 tion in his way without sin ; and he tells us, we cannot 
 without sin enjoy them in our own : we hope every door 
 is not shut up against us, and cannot think the merciiul 
 and holy God hafh so stated our case, as to reduce us to
 
 DR. STILLINGFLEET S iiiERMON. 
 
 171 
 
 a necessity of sinning to get out of a state of damnation. 
 And therefore this reverend author having already deter- 
 mined that our remedy cannot lie (as our consciences are 
 hitherto informed) in coming over to him and his way : 
 for he believes we generally judge itunlav^lul to join with 
 them in the public assemblies, page 37. and says, page 43. 
 "that no man that hath any conscience will speak against 
 the power of it, and he that will speak against it, hath no 
 reason to be regarded in what he .sa3's-" (as no question }ie 
 expected to l)e, otherwise he had not given himself so much 
 trouble;) and concludes, page M. " that we should sin in 
 going against it." As lie also thinks we should in acting 
 with it, which (as is necess-arily implied) we as 3'et see not. 
 Our great hope upon the whole matter is, that our relief 
 must lie in taking the way which Ave do take ; and that it 
 cannot be proved to be sitiful. 
 
 We reckon it is not, and that the Doctor's judgment 
 herein is simply indefensible, because whatsoever is sin- 
 ful must transgress some law immediately divine, or that 
 obliges by virtue of the divine law. And we cannot find 
 that God hath made an;,' law, or enabled any made by 
 others, to oblige us so far, in our present circumstances, 
 as that we sh<.)uld be involved in the guilt of sin, by some 
 variation I'rom the letter of it. For any divine law that 
 can be supposed to oblige us to the use of the things we 
 scruple, or else to live without the worship and ordinances 
 of God, not knowing any sucli ourselves, we must wait 
 till we be informed of it. 
 
 And that his law doth give an obliging force so far to 
 any oihei', we asj'et understand not. Wheresoever he hath 
 been pleased to lodge and intrust the keys of tlie church, 
 we do not find he hath appointed them to that use, to ad- 
 mit us into the communion of his worship and ordinances, 
 or totally to exclude us, upon such terms. And herein v.e 
 suppose we have the Doctor consenting with us; who, in 
 his Irenicum, (j'age 21G.) plaiTily a.sserts, "that the dliice 
 which the power of the keys implies is ministerial, and not 
 authoritative ; declarative, and not juridical." And sa3's 
 in the preface to the same book, that "he that tame to 
 take away the unsupportable yoke uf the Jewis'h eeremo- 
 nies, did never intend to gall the disciples' necks with an- 
 other instead of it." Whereto he immediately adds in the 
 same preface: "And it would be strange the church 
 should require more than Christ himself did ; and make 
 other condiiions of her communion, than our Saviour viid 
 of discipleship. What possible reason can be assigned or 
 given wh}' such things should not be sufficient for com- 
 munion with a church, which are sufficient for eternal 
 saivalion? And certainly those things are suflieient [ov 
 that, which are laid down by our Lord and Saviour in his 
 Avord. AVhat ground can there be why Christians should 
 not stand upon the same terms now, Avhich the}' did -in the 
 timeof Christ and his apostles] Was not religion sutti- 
 ciently guarded and fenced in them 1 Was there ever moi e 
 true and cordial reverence in the worship of God 1 What 
 charter halh Christ given the church to bind men up to 
 more than himself hath done, or to exclude tho^^e ficm 
 lier society, who may be admitted into heaven 1 Will 
 Christ ever thank men at the great day for keeping sncli 
 out from communion with his church, whom he wil! 
 vouchsafe not only crowns of glory to, but it may be avrc- 
 olce too, if there be any such things there "? The grand 
 commission the apostles were sent out with, was only to 
 teach what Christ had commanded them. Not the least 
 intimation of any power given them to impose or require 
 any thing beyond what himself had spoken to them, or 
 thej' were diiected to by the immediate guidance of the 
 Spirit of God. It is not whether the things commanded 
 and required be lawful or no; it is not whether indiffer- 
 ences ina^' be determined or no ; it is not how far Chris- 
 tians are bound to submit to a restraint of their Christian 
 lihert}', which I now inquire after; (of those things in the 
 treatise itself:) but whether they do consult for the church's 
 peace and unitT,' who suspend it upon such thinsrs 1 how 
 lareiiher the example of our Savio'.ir or his apostles doth 
 warrant such rig irons impositions ! We never read the 
 anosiles making laws but of things supposed necessary. 
 When the council of apostles met at Jerusalem for deci- 
 ding a case that disturbed the church's peace, we see they 
 will lay no other burden rXfr nrn- iTzivayKti ruvrotv besides 
 
 these necessar\' things. Acts xv. 29. It was not enough 
 with them that the Things would be necessar)- when they 
 had required them, but they looked on an anlecedem 
 necessity either absolute or for the present slate, Avhich 
 was the only groiuid of iheir imposing those commands 
 upon the Gentile Chi istians. There were, after this, great 
 di'^«rsities of praciice and varieties of observations among 
 Christians, but the Holy Ghost never thought those things 
 fit to be made matters of laws, to which all parties should 
 conform ; all that the apostles required ai; to these, was 
 mutual forbearance and condescen.sion towards each other 
 in them. The apostles valued not differences at all, and 
 tho.se thing.s it is evident they accounted such, which whe- 
 ther men did them or not, was not of concernment to sal- 
 vation. And what reason is there why men should be so 
 stiictly tied up to such things, which they may do or lei 
 alone, and yet be veiy good Christians still ? Without all 
 controversy the main inlet of all the distractions, confu- 
 sions, and -divisions of the Christian world, halh "been by 
 adding other condiiions of church-communion than Christ 
 hath clone." 
 
 Nor am I now inquiring whether the things commanded 
 be lawful or no; nor whether indiderences may be deter- 
 mined 01- no ; nor how far Christians are bound to submit 
 to a restraint of their Christian liberty 1 But only inquir- 
 ing (as he there doth) concerning the charter given by 
 Christ for the binding men up more than himself hath 
 done. And I fuither inquire, by what power they can be 
 bound which Christ hath not given 1 And if iheie be no 
 such power to bind them, suppose the tilings required 
 were all lawful, (which if it can be evinced, I should re- 
 joice to see done,) yet while, lliey cannot in conscience 
 think th'Cy arc, how can they apprehend them.selves bound 
 iobewiihout the means of salvation, which Christ's cliar- 
 ier entitles them to"? I readily giant it is fit a man do 
 many things for peace and common order's sake whiciij 
 othenvise, no law doth formally oblige him to, i. e. suj>- 
 po.^ing he can do those things without intolerable prejudice 
 to himself. And sj it is commonly determined in the 
 inalter of scandals. But can it be thcaight a man is to pnt 
 himself out of the state or way of .salvation in the compli- 
 ment to such as will otherwise take offence ? and be so 
 courteous as to perish for ever, rather than they shall be 
 displeased? 
 
 Yea, and it maybe moreover added, that our course be- 
 ing accounted lawful, must also (as the Doctor speak.*;, in 
 another -case) be tivought ^ duty: for the things that are 
 as means necessary to our salvation, are al.so nece.>-sary by 
 divine precejjt. We are commanded to hear God's woi d, to 
 devote ourselves and our children to God in baptism; and, 
 at the Lord's own table, to remember him, and show forth 
 his death till he come. And if we compare together certain 
 positions of this reverend author, we cannot see but he 
 must, as our case is, aclcnowledge our obligation to the 
 piactiee which he here seems to blame. For in his Ireni- 
 cum (pa<re 100.) he asserts, that every Chiistian is under 
 an oblijiaiii-n to join in chur<'h society with others; l.e- 
 caiise it is his duty to profess himself a Christian, and lo 
 own his religion publicly, and to partake of the ordinances 
 and sacraments of the gospel, which cannot be without so- 
 cieiy wi:h some church or other. And he after adds, on 
 the same page. " It had been a cause, disputed of by some, 
 (particularly by Grotius, the supposed author of a liiile 
 tract, An fcmpcr sit coKumt'iiioinihint per sttniiHiki? when he 
 designed the syncretism with the church of Rome,) whe- 
 ther in a time when churches are divided, it be a Chris- 
 tian's duty to communicate wiih any o{ those parties 
 which divide the church, and not rather to suspend com- 
 munion from all of them." A case not hard lobe decided; 
 for either the person questioning it doih suppose the 
 chuiches di\Tded lo remain true churches, but some to be 
 more pure than oth^^r; in which case, by virtue of hisge- 
 neial oblisation to communion, lie is bound to adhere to 
 that church which appears most to retain its evangelical 
 purity. To which purpo.'^e he further lells us. page J 10. 
 " he knows not whether Chrysostom's act were tt> be com- 
 mended, who after being made a deacon in the church of 
 An-ioch bv Meletius, upon his dearh, bccau-^e Flavianus 
 came in irreorularlv as bishop of the church, woulil nei- 
 ther communicate with him, nor with Paulinu'*, another
 
 172 
 
 A LETTER CONCERNING 
 
 bishof) at tlial time in the city, nor with the Meletians ; 
 but for three years' time withdrew himself from commu- 
 nion with any of them." And, page 113. " Where any 
 church is guilty of corruptions both in doctrine and prac- 
 tice, which it avoweth and professeth, and requireth the 
 owning them as necessary conditions of communion with 
 her, there a non-communion with that church is necessa- 
 ry, and a total and positive separation is lawful and con- 
 venient." What he discourses page HI, 112. upon the 
 question, "Whether it is a sin to communicate with 
 churches true as to essentials, but supposed corrupt in the 
 exercise of discipline 1" many of us will no doubt heartily 
 concur with him in. But it touches not the case of many 
 more, who do not so much fear upon the account of the 
 neglect of discipline, to be involved in the guilt of other 
 men's sin ; (as there seems to be little cause, that part being 
 not incumbent upon us :) nor, if that be his meaning, when 
 he speaks of separating on a pretence of great purity, is it 
 the case with most of us : but we justly fear (and therefore 
 avoid) to be made to sin ourselves, by having such things 
 as we judge to be sinful imposed on us, as the conditions 
 of our communion. And as to this case, this reverend 
 author speaks our sense in this last cited proposition, and 
 pleads our present cause. Nor need we more to be said 
 on behalf of it than what is reducible to that general pro- 
 position ; or particularly, to that second thing, compared 
 with the third, which (page 115.) he says " makes separa- 
 tion and withdrawraent of communion lawful and neces- 
 sary ; viz. corruption of practice, where we say as he doth, 
 we speak not of practice, as relating to the civil conver.sa- 
 lion of men, but as it takes in the agenda of religion ; when 
 unlawful things of that kind are not only crept into a 
 church, but are the prescribed devotion of it : thqse being 
 required (which he adds as an accession to the foregoing) 
 as necessary conditions of communion from all the mem- 
 bers of their church, which makes our withdrawing from 
 them unavoidably necessary, as long as we judge them to 
 be such corruptions as indeed they are." And whereas he 
 instances only in such things as belong to the head of 
 idolatrous customs, (suppressing what might be instanced 
 under the other head, which he also there mentions, viz. 
 superstitious practice,) yet we doubt not if other things 
 also, that appear to be sinful, besides idolatrous customs, 
 be required as necessary conditions of communions, the 
 case will be the same, unless we will distinguish sins into 
 such as be lawful, and such as be unlawful. Or there be 
 any that may be committed, that we may be admitted to 
 the communion of this or that church. 
 
 Now, to reduce things to the method which suits the pre- 
 sent case ; if this reverend author do still judge, — that 
 where sinful conditions of communion are imposed, there 
 non-communion is necessary, (and those things be sinful 
 to us which our consciences judge to be so,) as he hath ac- 
 knowledged: — and again, if he still judge, — that we are 
 under an obligation to join in church-society, so as to own 
 our religion publicly, and to partake of the ordinances and 
 sacraments of the gopsel ; — he must certainly account that 
 our duty, which he taxes in this sermon as our fault, at 
 ]east till our consciences be otherwise informed, whereof 
 many of us have no great hope. 
 
 We are indeed not so stupid, as not to apprehend there 
 are laws, the letter whereof seems adverse to us. Nor are 
 we so ungrateful, as not to acknowledge his majesty's cle- 
 mency in not subjecting us to the utmost rigour of those 
 laws ; whom we cannot, without deep regret, so much as 
 seem not, in every thing, exactly to obey. Nor can it enter 
 into our minds to imagine, that he expects to be obeyed by 
 us at the expense of our salvation. Or that it would be at 
 all grateful to him, that being, as we are, unsatisfied in 
 some things that are by the law made necessary to our par- 
 taking the privileges of the Christian church, we should 
 become pagans in duty to him. His majesty was once 
 pleased to give an ample testimony, by his never to be 
 forgotten gracious declaration of March 15, 1672, how re- 
 mote any such thought was from his royal breast; and 
 though we humbly submit to the exigency of those rea- 
 sons of state from whence it proceeded, that we enjoy not 
 the continued positive favour which his majesty was then 
 pleased to express towards us ; yet we have no reason to 
 doubt, but his pretensions are equally benign as they were. 
 
 Nor, thoiigh it be uncertain to us what laws they are, 
 the authority whereof this reverend person relies upon to 
 make our practice sinful, yei we hope he doth not mean to 
 urge us herein with the laws of the civil government, be- 
 cause those as much forbid our non-communion, (and un- 
 der as severe penalty,) for which, he acquits us from the 
 guilt of schism, or, if we endeavour satisfaction, from any 
 sin imputable to us. 
 
 But if that should be his meaning, we desire it may be 
 considered how unreasonable it seems, that the design of 
 the law relating to that part of our piactice, which the 
 Doctor in this sermon condemns, being declaredly to pre- 
 vent sedition; they should take themselves to be meant 
 who are conscious of no such design or disposition. 
 
 And again, that it is not with any reason, charity, or 
 justice, to be supposed, that when that and other restrictive 
 laws were made, either the temporal ruin of so great a 
 part of the nation, as are now found to be dissenters, was 
 intended by the legislators, or the reducing them to the 
 condition of heathens. But a uniformity in the worship of 
 God, being in itself a thing really desirable, this means 
 was thought fit to be tried, in order to that end. And so 
 are human laws, about such mutable matters, generally 
 designed to be probationary ; the event and success being 
 unforeknown. Whereupon, after a competent time of trial, 
 as his majesty was graciously pleased to declare his own 
 favourable sense and intention, so it is very commonly 
 known, that the like propensions were by common sufiiage 
 expressed in parliament, viz. to gr'ant a relaxation. So 
 that the law, being in its own nature nothing else but an 
 indication of the legislator's will, we may account the thing 
 was in substance done, so far as may satisfy a man's pri- 
 vate reason and conscience concerning the lawgiver's m- 
 tention and pleasure ; though it were not done with that 
 formality as uses (and is generally needful) to be stood 
 upon, by them who are the ministers of the law. And that 
 it was not done with that formality also, seemed rather to 
 be from a disagreement about the manner or method of 
 doing it, than about the thing to be done. And how usual 
 is it for laws, without formal repeal, gently and gradually 
 to expire, grow old, and vanish away, not being longer 
 useful, as the ritual part of the Mosaical law did become 
 an ineffectual and unprofitable thing! And how easy 
 were it to instance in many other laws, the letter of which, 
 they that urge these against the dissenters, do without 
 scruple transgress! and from which no such weighty 
 reasons do urge to borrow now and then a point. How 
 many dispense with themselves in many parts of their re- 
 quired conformity, that have obliged themselves to it ! 
 The priests in the temple transgress the law, and are blame- 
 less. Yea, and he that knows all things, and who is Judge 
 of all, knows how little scruple is made of transgressing 
 the laws by gross immoralities and debaucheries. Men 
 learn to judge of the sacredness of laws by their own in- 
 clinations. Any that can be wire-drawn, and made by tor- 
 ture to speak against religion not modified their way, must 
 be most binding. Such as prohibit the vilest and most 
 open wickedness, bind as the withs did Samson. 
 
 The sum of all is, that whereas we are under the obliga- 
 tion of the divine law to worship God in the use of those 
 his' ordinances which require to be dispensed and attended 
 in society, and that we apprehend we cannot do it without 
 sin in the way this reverend author invites us to. Where- 
 as also we do, with this author, deliberate, whether Christ 
 hath given any power to men to oblige us to the things we 
 scruple, or disoblige us from the things we practise, and 
 judge it unproved. We cannot but reckon the judgment 
 the Doctor hath given in our case (that our practice is sin- 
 ful) is erroneous and indefensible by any man, but least 
 fitly, of most other men, attempted to be defended by him- 
 self. From whom it would little have been expected that 
 he should so earnestly recommend that very thing to us, 
 as the only foundation of union, which he had so publicly 
 told us in his preface to the Irenicum, "was, without con- 
 troversy, the main inlet of all the distractions, confu- 
 sions, and divisions of the Christian world, viz. the adding 
 other conditions of church-communion than Christ hath 
 done." 
 
 And though he hath lately told the world, there are some 
 passages in that book that show only the inconsiderateness
 
 DR. STILLIXGFLEET'S SERMON. 
 
 173 
 
 of youth, and that he seems to wish unsaid, yet he hath 
 not, that we know, declared that these are some of them. 
 However, since this present determination and judgment 
 of his against us is so peremptory and positive, as well as 
 severe, let us, in the next place, 
 
 2. Consider, and carefully examine, as we are concerned, 
 what he hath performed iii defence of it ; and, it is to be 
 hoped, the inefficacy and weakness of his attempt therein 
 will sufficiently appear. What I can find in his sermon 
 hath anv aspect or design that way, is either ad rem, or 
 ad homhiem. And, to my apprehension, his reasonings, 
 of the one kind or the other, are altogether unconcluding. 
 (1.) As to what may be supposed to be ad rem, if you 
 look narrowly, you w'lll find, that the principal things 
 allegf^d by him, "that can, under that notion, give support 
 to his cause, are only affirmed, but not. proved. For in- 
 stance, page 9. when he tells us, that the " apostle sup- 
 posed the necessity of one fixed and certain rule," &c. 
 This had been very material to his purpose; if, 1. He 
 had told us, and had proved, the apostle meant some rule 
 or o'her superadded to the sacred Scriptures ; for then he 
 might, it is to be presumed, as easily have let us know 
 what that rule was, which, most probably, would have 
 ended all our controversy ; it being little to be doubted, 
 we should all most readily have agreed to obey it : or, 
 secondly, If he had proved, that, because the apostle had 
 power to make such a rule, and oblige the churches to 
 observe it, that therefore such church-guides as they, 
 whose cause the Doctor pleads, have an equal power to 
 make other rules divers from his, containing many new 
 things, which he never enjoined, and to enforce them upon 
 the church (though manifestly tending to its destruction, 
 rather than edification.) But these things he doth but 
 suppose himself, without colour of proof 
 
 Again, for his notion of churches, page 16, 17, 18, 19. 
 examine as strictly as you will what he says about it; and 
 see whether it come to any thing more than only to repre- 
 sent a national church a possible thing 1 And whereto the 
 name church may without absurdity be given. His own 
 words seem to him no higher. " Why may there not be 
 one national church from the consent in the same articles 
 of religion, and the same order of worship 1" page 18. 
 " The word was used in the first ages of the Christian 
 church, as it comprehended the ecclesiastical governors, 
 and the people of whole cities. And why many of these 
 cities being united together under one civil government 
 and the same rules of religion, should not be called one 
 national church, I cannot understand," page 19. 
 
 But can it now be inferred thence, that therefore God 
 hath actually constituted every Christian kingdom or na- 
 tion such a church 1 Can it further be inferred, that he 
 hath invested the guides of this church, not chosen by the 
 people (according to Scripture, and primitive practice for 
 some ages) with a power to make laws and decrees, pre- 
 scribing not only thing necessary for common order and 
 decency, but new federal rites, and teaching signs and 
 symbols, superadded to the whole Christian institution; 
 with many more dubious and unnecessarj^ things besides 1 
 And to exclude sober and pious Christians from the pri- 
 vileges that are proper to the Christian church, as such, 
 merely for that out of conscience towards God, they dare 
 not admit into their ■worship those additions to the Chris- 
 tian religion 1 To take order they shall have no pastors, 
 no sacraments, no assemblies for worship 1 And because 
 they will not be so much more than Christians, that they 
 shall not be Christians at all 1 
 
 He that would go about to make these inferences merely 
 from the forementioned ground, would gain to be laughed 
 at by all sober men, instead of a conclusion ; whatsoever 
 better success he should have, who should undertake to 
 prove the same things any other way. 
 
 This reverend author was so wise as not to attempt 
 either of these. But then, in the meantime, what doth the 
 mere possible notion of such a church advantage his 
 cause 1 Because it is possible, there might have been such 
 a Macedonian, or such a Lydian church, is such a one 
 therefore necessary 1 and any other constitution of a 
 Christian church impossible, or unlawful 1 Or because 
 the general meeting of magistrates of the whole city and 
 people together in pagan Athens was called 'Ev.:,\/;Tia, 
 
 therefore such must be the constitution of a Christian 
 church? and therefore such a church hath such powers 
 from Christ as were above mentioned 1 
 
 Here how.soever we make our stand, and say that till 
 the Doctor hath proved these two things ; 
 
 [1.] That such a church as he hath given us the notion 
 of, as of a thing merely possible, is actually a divine in- 
 stitution ; and, 
 
 [2] That God hath given to the ecclesiastical governors 
 in it never chosen by the Christian community, or to any 
 other power, to superadd institutions of the nature above 
 mentioned, and to enforce them under the mentioned 
 penalties : all his reasonings that pretend to be ad rem, are 
 to no purpose, and do nothing at all advantage his cause. 
 
 Yet there are some passages in this part of his dis- 
 course, that though they signify nothing to his main pur- 
 pose, are yet very remarkable, and which 'tis fit we should 
 take some notice of. 
 
 As when, page Ki. he tells us what he means by whole 
 churches ; viz. " The churches of such nations, which 
 upon the decay of the Roman empire, resumed their just 
 power of government to themselves ; and upon their own- 
 ing Christianity, incorporated into one Christian >ocietv, 
 under the same common ties and rules of order and gov- 
 ernment." As if there could be no whole churches in the 
 world that had not been of the Roman empire, or as if 
 those of the Roman empire could not have been \\ hole 
 churches without resumption of the civil government ; as 
 wc suppose he means. 
 
 Or, as if (which he intimates, page 19.) we needed this 
 (so dearly e.spoused notion as a ground) to acquit us from 
 the imputation of schism, in our separating from the church 
 of Rome. Which certainl}' it were not for the advantage 
 of the protestant cause to admit ; for then all that remain 
 within the empire, were bound to continue in the com- 
 munion of the Roman church. And in the other kinsr- 
 doms, where princes have not resumed their just rieht 
 of reforming errors in doctrine and corruptions in wur- 
 ship, all should be schismatics that should separate from 
 the church of Rome. 
 
 Again, when, page 17. he would confute that great 
 mistake, the making the notion of a church barely to re- 
 late to acts of worship ; (a mistake whereof I never knew 
 any man guilty ;) he surely runs into as great an opposite 
 mistake, in making the notion of a church to be no more 
 than of a society of men united together, for their order 
 and government, accoiding to the rules of the Christian 
 religion. Now faith and worship are quite excluded the 
 notion of a church ; and order and government, and the. 
 rules of the Christian religion, but as they refer to these, 
 only included. Whence it will come to pass, thai we can 
 have no notion of one catholic church, fromM'hich yet he 
 argues at the bottom of the same page. 
 
 Nor, though I dislike the thing, do I understand the 
 strength of the Doctor's argument, against making the 
 notion of the church barely to relate to acts of worship; 
 riz. That if this held true, the church must be dissolved 
 as soon as the congregation is broken up. For will it not 
 also follow as well, that if the notion of a church relate 
 only to order and government, ever}- time any meeting for 
 afiairs of order and government is broken up, the church 
 is dissolved 7 And that an assembler of the states in any 
 kingdom or nation cannot break up without a dissolution 
 of the government ? A parliament (at least) not adjourn 
 or be prorogued without being dissolved 1 And whereas 
 he adds. But if they retain the nature of a church, when 
 they do not meet together for worship, then there is some 
 other bond that unites them, and whatever that is. it con- 
 stitutes the church. Is it not possible there mav be such 
 a bond for worship, as well as for government 1 an obliga- 
 tion to meet at stated limes for that purpose, when they 
 are not met 1 And then (if this were all that were to be 
 said to the contrary) why might not that bond as well serve 
 to constitute the church 1 But, 
 
 (2.) For his reasonings ad hominevi, they need not de- 
 tain us long ; he argues from the judgment of the assembly 
 of divines and others. All which arguing must suppose, 
 if it concern us, that we are bound to be of ihe same judg- 
 ment with the ministers that are and have been so and so 
 minded ; which I for my part understand not. But I per-
 
 174 
 
 A LETTRR CONCERNING 
 
 ceive here his intention is, having endeavoured to draw 
 us off Iroin our ministers ; now to move another stone, 
 and try if he can draw them otf from ns. 
 
 For the assembly, I think it fit those that survive of 
 them should be as much concluded by what they then de- 
 termined, as this reverend author by the Irenicum. But I 
 know no reason that such as they represented, nor who 
 ever pretended to be of their party, should be concluded 
 to the world's end. Nor do understand why even the 
 same party may not be as well supposed in a possibility to 
 vary from itself in forty years, as the same man from him- 
 self in less than twenty. If they did incline to deal too 
 hardly with their brethren, that will not justify them who 
 deal more hardly. 'Tis hoped such as have been so in- 
 clined, have been smitten, and suffered the rebukes of the 
 Almighty, repented it, and are become wiser : and when 
 some think themselves grown wiser by prosperity, others 
 by adversity, there is less reason to suspect the latter. 
 
 Yet also this reverend author ought to have considered 
 the great disparity of the cases he would parallel. For 
 when one sort of men are considering of having only such 
 a frame of things settled, as are imposed by Christ him- 
 self, whether they judge rightly or no, that he hath im- 
 posed every part of that frame, yet while they think and 
 judge that he hath, and consequently that nothing is to be 
 abated of it : 'twere very unfitly argued, that therefore 
 another sort professing to impose many things never im- 
 posed by Christ, should abate nothing of their unnecessary 
 impositions. 
 
 For such as the Doctor quotes besides of the nonconform- 
 ists, acknowledging the parish churches true churches, 
 and the lawfulness of holding, sometimes, communion 
 with some of them ; it is not to be thought but among so 
 many parlies as come all under one common notion of 
 dissenters from the public rule, (and whom that rule did 
 not find one, but made them so in that common notion,) 
 there must be great diversity of opinions, and proportion- 
 ably differing practices in these matters. I heartily prefer 
 the most moderate, as I believe you do. But here this 
 reverend author takes occasion for so ignominious reflec- 
 tions upon our preachers, as insincere, dishonest, and un- 
 conscientious, as I doubt not, in one twenty years more, 
 his ingenuity will oblige him to repent more heartily, than 
 ever it permitted him to do of his Irenicum. Because he 
 can allege a very few persons that have spoken to this pur- 
 pose, therefore, first, it must be represented to the world as 
 their common judgment; next they are charged with con- 
 cealing this judgment ; (why is this kept up as such a mighly 
 secret in the breasts of their teachers'? page 37.) and then it is 
 endeavoured to make men think they practise against their 
 own judgments, in preaching to separate congregations. 
 
 Surely you and I are concerned, as we have occasion, to 
 say what we truly can, for the just vindication of our 
 ministers. I doubt riot but you believe, and you have, for 
 some, particular reason to be confident ; it is for our .sakes 
 they expose themselves to the displeasui'e of such men as 
 Dr. St. I must, for my part, sa}', 
 
 [1.] That I believe it to be the judgment of very few, 
 that every parish is, as such, a true Christian church. I 
 am sorry I have such a ground to fear it of one kind, viz. 
 that some may not be so, as not having among them any 
 tolerable understanding of the most confessedly funda- 
 mental principles of Christian religion. What say you to 
 such, where the minister is grossly ignorant of the princi- 
 ples of religion, or habitually vicious, and of a profligate 
 life 1 Do mere orders make him a minister, who (perhaps 
 since he received them) is become destitute of the most es- 
 sential qualifications 1 any more tiian the habit, a monk"? or 
 a beard, a philosopher 1 Can a Mercury be made of every 
 log '? Not to insist that this reverend author can scarce 
 think they are, from a ground of another kind, because 
 they assemble only for worship, and not for government. 
 
 [2.] And- surely, a church may be unfit to be commu- 
 nicated with, although it be a true church; (those words 
 of the reverend and worthy dean of Canterbury carry their 
 own light with them to this purpose ; •') as a man may be 
 truly and really a man, though he have the plague upon 
 him, and for that reason be fit to be avoided by all that 
 wish well to themselves. 'Tis true, there are vastly difler- 
 a Scnnon on Josh. xxiv. 15. 
 
 ent degrees of that unfitness. But I see not how they can 
 apprehend there is the fitness which is simply necessary, 
 who judge there are conditions of communion imposed 
 that are sinful. 
 
 And I believe this reverend author will think it possible 
 a true church may impose some sinful conditions of her 
 communion ; in which case, he hath determined a non- 
 communion with her necessary and unavoidable. 
 
 [3.] For those that are of that judgment, the parochial, 
 a.ssemblies ought to be communicated with so far as is 
 alleged was declared. As I know none of the dissenting 
 ministers, that thought they ought always and only to be 
 communicated with, so I see not wilh what pretence it can 
 be said they keep up their judgment herein, as a mighty 
 secret. If it be so, how came this author to have it re- 
 vealed to him 1 Is printing it to the world keeping it 
 secret 1 Some have published it in that way, as we see is 
 known to the Doctor. Others, by their frequent discourses, 
 and their own practice. And, to my observation, divers of 
 them have in their sermons made it much their business 
 to dispose the minds of their hearers to a truly catholic 
 Christian union, as I have been much pleased to take no- 
 tice, some of the conforming clergy do also. But if this 
 be the Doctor's quarrel with any of our ministers, (who 
 thinly such communion lawful) that they do not constantly, 
 in every sermon, inculcate the business of communicating 
 in the ceremonial way, for my part, I shall blame them as 
 much as he, when once he hath made it very evident, that 
 the ceremonies are more profitable, and likely to do more 
 good to the souls of men, than repentance, the faith of the 
 gospel, the fear of God, a good life in this world, and 
 eternal life in the other; which I confess are the more 
 usual subjects, so far as I have had the opportunity to ob- 
 serve, of their preaching. 
 
 And, let me add, that I can tell you of a secret, which 
 some might be apt to think (as it is really so) is indus- 
 triously and much more unrighteously kept up in one 
 man's breast, that may be conscious of a great design in 
 it. The author of the book, entitled, The Weapon Salve, 
 or Irenicum, seems to have found it some inconveniency 
 to him, to have been the author of so good a book ; where- 
 upon, in a certain soliloquy, (though he is pleased to re- 
 present It as a tripartite dialogue,) he asks himself his own 
 opinion of it, and gives himself this answer : I will tell 
 you freely (as you know men use great liberty in talking 
 with themselves, though prudence would direct that to be 
 done in some cases with great caution, and not to talk in- 
 convenient things too loud, le.st they be too much over- 
 heard) I believe there are many things in it, which if Dr. 
 St. were to write now, he would not have said ; for there 
 are some things which show his youth, and Avant of due 
 consideration ; others, in which he yielded too far, &c. 
 Now here (though I believe he had begun to be inclined 
 to throw away his salve, and use only the weapon for the 
 wounding of sound parts, not the cutting off the incurable, 
 yet) I conceive one may safely enough take it for granted, 
 his intention was not to retract the whole book. But 
 whereas he tells us not what he doth : how would the 
 Doctor take it if one should ask, Why is this kept up as 
 such a mighty secret in his own breast 1 Or, .say the ten- 
 derness cf his mind might, 'tis likely, out of mere shame- 
 facedness, keep him from declaring against what his own 
 conscience tells him is truth ; however, this retractation 
 cannot make that which was true become false. The 
 reason of things is sullen, and will not niter to serve men's 
 conveniences. Perhaps, indeed, his judgment is really 
 altered. If therefore he would acquit himself like an 
 honest and conscientious man, let him tell the world 
 plainly, which be the pernicious principles of that book, 
 that honest and conscientious men, who have thought well 
 of many things in it, (and perhaps the same things which 
 he now disapproves,) may not always be deceived by the 
 shows of reason that deceived him.self, and by which he 
 deceived them. The same justice that obliges not to lay 
 a stumbling-block in the way of the blind, doth also 
 oblige him to remove it who hath laid it : which is to be 
 done, not by professing another opinion, for we depend not 
 on his authority, which he hath himself so much dimin- 
 ished ; but on the reasons he alleged, which if they were
 
 Dll. STILLIXGFLEET'S SERMOX. 
 
 r 
 
 fallacious, let him show wherein, and answer his own 
 reasons. To sa}"- the truth, the gravity and seriousness 
 wherewith that book was written, appears to have so little 
 of the youih in it, in comparison of the jocularity and 
 sportful humour of some of his latter writings, when he 
 hath been discussing the most weighty and important cases 
 of conscience, that it seems as a prodigy in nature, and 
 that he began his life at tlie wrong end ; that he was old in 
 his youth, and reserved his puerility to his n:iore grown 
 age. But we hope there is a great residue behind, wherein 
 he may have opportunity and inclination to show the 
 world, that he did not repent the pious design of that 
 book; or, at least, with a repentance that (can as well as 
 that) ought to be repented of 
 
 [4.) And whereas such of the dissenting ministers, as 
 have most openly declared for communicating at some 
 limes with some of the parochial churches, have also de- 
 clared theii' judgment of the lawfulness and necessity of 
 preaching and hearing, and doing otlier religious duties, in 
 other congregations also : if now either the Doctor discern 
 not the inconsistency of these things, or they discern not 
 their inconsistency ; is there nothing to be said or thouglit, 
 but that they acquit not themselves like honest and con- 
 scientious men '! Must it be taken for a demonstiation of 
 a man's want of honesty and conscience, not to be pre- 
 senth' of the Doctor's opinion in eveiy thing ■? or not to see 
 every consequence which he sees, or thinks he sees 1 
 
 But let us consider the goodness of this consequence, 
 whicli it must be so great a piece of dishonesty not to dis- 
 cern. If it be the duty of some to communicate some- 
 times with some parish churches, (for this is the most the 
 Doctor could make of that relator's concession, whom he 
 cites page 21, 22. of his sermon.) therefore it is the duly 
 of every one to communicate with any parish church 
 where his abode is, so constant!}' and entirely as never to 
 have any communion with any otherwise constituted con- 
 gregation. 
 
 This is the thing must be to his purpose inferred ; yea, 
 and he would have it be from somewhat a lower premise. 
 For he 'ells us, page 37. "that he dare say, if most of the 
 preachers at this day in the separate meetings were soberly 
 asked their judgments, whether it were lawful (only) for 
 the people to join with us in the public assemblies, the}' 
 ■would not deny it." He surely dares not say that their 
 meaning was, that it was lawful constantly to join with 
 them in all their parochial assemblies, unless he dares say, 
 what he hath not, from any of them, the least ground io 
 think. Now hereupon he collects, page 38. that our min- 
 isters cannot declare so much in a separate congregation, 
 but this truth must fly in their faces; because he suppo- 
 scth it repugnant to it, to preach at all in a separate con- 
 gregation; and yet afterwards, on the same ])age, he so 
 well agrees with himself as to bid them, if they \vould ac- 
 quit themselves like honest and conscientious men, tell the 
 people plainly that they look on our churches as true 
 churches, and that they may lawfully communicate with us 
 in prayers and sacranients. And where are they to tell them 
 so, but in the separate congregations 1 Singly and severallv 
 he knows it were impossible. Nor do I think he would 
 reckon honesty and conscience obli2:ed them to come and 
 tell the people so in their congregations. 
 
 Now I am afraid there are but a very few honest and 
 conscientious men in the world at this day, if none are to 
 go for such, but who can perceive the strength and reason- 
 ableness of the above-mentioned consequence. 
 
 And that you mav farther see what reasons our minis- 
 ters may have, notwithstanding all the alleged concessions, 
 to administer in the worship of God in our assemblies; 
 though it were never so much their common universal 
 judgment, that they and we might sometimes communicate 
 in some of the parochial ; let us consider, that in the more 
 populous and frequented places, as with you at London 
 for instance, the churches cannot receive, some not a tenth 
 part, some not half the people belonging to them, few can 
 receive all. Methinks good men should not be otTended 
 that multitudes do in this di.^tress relieve themselves bv 
 resorting to other places for necessary instruction. And 
 though they be the inclinations of the people that divide 
 ihem this way, and that (as it can be nothing else) though 
 places for their resort be not every where mo it couveniemly 
 
 situate for their resort, where there is most need, (which 
 must be taken not always where it were most desirable, 
 but where they can be had,) yet they that have a mind, had 
 better go to places at a more inconvenient distance, than 
 have no whither to go; and it is better the necessities of 
 many should be provided for in such an exigency, than of 
 none. In the meantime, the churches of worthy "conform- 
 ing ministers in such populous places are generally filled, 
 as I have been informed, and have sometimes had occasion 
 to observe. 
 
 Do not necessities of a much lower nature oblige us to 
 recede from stated human rules 1 It is well known there 
 is a law against relieving such as begoiu of their own pa- 
 rishes. But if one find upon the road such a poor wietch 
 ready to perish, am I not bound, notwithstanding, if I can, 
 to relieve him? And who would think, in such a case, I 
 transgressed the true intention of the law? 
 
 Yea, and God's own laws respecting rituals, common 
 order, and the external part of religion, were by his own 
 direction to yield to far less urgent necessities; to the 
 plucking an ass or an ox out of a ditch ; how much more 
 the souls of men ! Have we not read what David did 
 when he was an hungered, and they that were with him, 
 how he entered into the liouse of God, and did eat the 
 shew-bread, which it was not lawful foi'him lo eat, neither 
 for them which were with him, but only for the priests'? 
 How expressly is it alleged by our blessed Saviour, 
 against those nice and punctilious observers and urgers of 
 the letter of the law, the Pharisees, I will have mercy and not 
 sacrifice. And if he were willing to abate a sacrifice lo 
 himself, that there might be room for the exercise of meicy 
 towards men's bodies, how monitory and rcfuehensive 
 should that be to such merciless persons, as would have 
 the very souls of men themselves be sacrificed to theirsliff 
 and unyielding humours ! Positive laws cease to bind 
 when, by accident, they thwart the law of nature. Which 
 binds to nothing more deeply than the endeavour of saving 
 one's own soul, and (within the bounds of his calling) his 
 neisfhbour's as his own. 
 
 What if many of our ministers think it lawful, and, at 
 some times, a duty, to join in soiue of the public assem- 
 blies! It is not then their duty, when an inviiiiig oppor- 
 tunity, and so urging necessities, lay betore them greater 
 duty. This reverend author tells us, very pertinently lo 
 this purpose, when he was declaiming against us and our 
 ministers, page 31. of his sermon: "It is a great fault 
 ajuong some who pretend to great niceness in some posi- 
 tive duties, that they have some little regard to com- 
 parative duties; for that which may be a duty in one case, 
 when it comes to thwart a greater duty, may be none." 
 This doctrine we learn from our blessed Saviour in the 
 case of the obligation of the Sabbath ; which he makes to 
 yield to duties of mercy. And can we think that a duty 
 lying upon us, which, in our circumstances, makes a far 
 greater duty impracticable 1 We acknowledse order and 
 unity very lovely and desirable things, but we think it of 
 greater importance that the ministers with whom such 
 fault is found, conduct men, though not in so accurate 
 order, (which thev cannot help,) to heaven, than let them 
 go in the best order, yea (and as the case is) without any 
 at all, lo hell. 
 
 And what though the necessity of many of us arise from 
 our own scruples, and what though those scruples were 
 without ground, doth it therefore follow we must be aban- 
 doned to perish ? when our very error, if we be willing to 
 admit conviction, (as we sincerely are, could the matter 
 admit it,) is not imputable to us for a sin. This author 
 was once pleased to make it one of his proposals for ac- 
 commodation, page 64. of his Irenicum ; " That no sanc- 
 tions be made, nor mulcts nor penalties be inflicted en 
 sucli, M'ho only dissent from the use of some things, whose 
 lav.tulness they at present scruple, till si'fficient time and 
 means be use<l for their information of the nature and in- 
 differency of the things ; that it may be seen whether it be 
 out of wilf'ul contempt, and obstinacv of spirit, or only 
 weakness of conscience, and dissatisfaction concerning the 
 things themselves, that they disobey. And if it be made 
 evident to be out of contempt, that only such penalties be 
 inflicted as answer to the nature of the ofl^ence." Where 
 he adds, " I am sure it is contrary to the primitive practice.
 
 17G 
 
 A LETTER CONCERNING 
 
 and the moderation then used, to suspend and deprive men 
 of their ministerial function for not conforming in habits, 
 gestures, or the like." Which he makes good by follow- 
 ing instances beyond his own present contradictions. Ii 
 is strange that for such like things, now, it is thought so 
 highly jast, that our ministers are totally to be kept out of 
 the ministry, and we out of the church, and way of salva- 
 tion! Are these unproixjrtionable penalties even where 
 contempt appears 1 And what are they when, through 
 God's mercy, there appears not the least colour of it 1 
 
 Is mere scrupling a human device in the worship of 
 God, an inability to see with other men's eyes, and to 
 mould and form our judgment and consciences as some 
 other men can do theirs, a crime so inexpiable, that nothing 
 less than our eternal ruin can satisfy for it 1 They know, 
 who have read the Turkish history, that mere scruple 
 brought that necessity upon the garrison of Sfetigrade in 
 Scanderbeg's days, that rather than drink of water which 
 they thought polluted, they must either surrender or perish. 
 If another possible way could have been found to supply 
 them, was it fit they and the town should rather be lost, 
 than their unreasonable scruple be borne with 1 Or should 
 they, in that exigency, be stid held to it, to drink of that 
 very water or none 1 We think we have greater reason to 
 urge for our scruples, we think our necessity is greater, 
 the case more important, and God deliver us from such 
 pastors, as will not think so too, and value souls at a 
 higher rate. 
 
 Our case being thus, we apply ourselves to ministers, 
 bound by their calling and office to attend the affairs of 
 the souls of men. They are at leisure, have nothing else to 
 do; they may not live idle and useless in the world. This 
 is their proper business. Whatever their opinion is about 
 the things we scruple, (and we believe it is mostly the same 
 ■with ours,) we see not how they can, or dare, deny us the 
 help of their ministerial labours: we thank God that they 
 dare not. And should they daily .spend their pains upon 
 us to urge us to the ceremonial way, as we believe they 
 would do it very heartles.sly ; (wishing things to be, in that 
 respect, otherwise in the Christian church, as well as we:) 
 so would their labour in that kind be unprofitable, and 
 therefore ungrateful to us. Nor do we think it needs any 
 sort of mortifiedness in them (as we find they are jeered 
 under that notion) not to send us away unedified and 
 grieved from their congregations ; so much as a mortified- 
 ness in their love of souls, and their sense of eternal con- 
 cernments; wherein too many others have attained to a 
 great degree of mortification. 
 
 But now, my honoured friend, what think you of our 
 cause 1 Let us seriously consider it, not according to the 
 appearance which it vvill have to a captious sophistical 
 wit, but as you will apprehend it to look in the eyes of 
 our supreme and final Judge ; considering also the same 
 blessed Jesus, as that mighty Redeemer and Lover of 
 souls, who once suffered, the just for the unjust, to bring 
 them to God. Bring the matter before him, with whom 
 you are to expect no tricks, but most plain and equal deal- 
 ing. And bethink yourself, whether of these two things 
 he will be more likely to have regard unto, — the saving of 
 souls, which he bought with his blood ; or the preserving 
 inviolate certain human institutions and rules, confessed by 
 the devisers of them not to be necessary to the being of 
 the church, which common reason sees unnecessary to its 
 well-being, to its external order and decency, (evidently as 
 great without them,) which this author makes foreign 
 thereto, when he tells us, that matters of order and decency 
 are allowable and fitting, but ceremonies properly taken 
 for actions significative, and therefore appointed because 
 significative, their lawfulness may with better ground be 
 scrupled, Iren. page G8. and which experience shows to 
 be destructive ; as whereby so great numbers, not only 
 of his labourers, are to be discarded, but of living, flou- 
 rishing plants to be torn up by the roots, and all thrown 
 out of his vineyard together 1 
 
 For my own part, I must profess not to have the least 
 doubt concerning the thing itself which Ave and our minis- 
 ters do, and practise ; it is only our common great concern, 
 to be very careful with what temper of .spirit, and with 
 ■what design we do it. It sliould to the uttermost be en- 
 deavoured to be done with all meekness and humility, 
 
 with all possible reverence to authority, abhorrence of the 
 least real contempt, and unfeigned regret there should be 
 any appearance of it, though never so unavoidable ; with 
 a design only to glorify God, and promote the common 
 salvation : not to make or serve a party, or advance any 
 other interest than that of mere substantial Christianity and 
 godliness. Let us covet this temper of mind ; and where 
 we see persons of real worth, and of a true latitude and 
 largenessof spirit, commensurate to the Christian interest, 
 that fall in with the public constitution, value and love 
 them nothing the less, than if their judgments about these 
 lesser things were never so exactly squared with our own, 
 and so much more, by how much they may excel us in 
 far greater and more valuable things. And if it be our lot 
 to suffer under the notion of evil-doers for doing what we 
 take to be our duty, let it be according to the Doctor's 
 wholesome counsel, with an unrepining patience, and with 
 much thankfulness both to God and our rulers, that we 
 have enjoyed so much tranquillity ; and with that cheer- 
 fulness that becomes those that expect a blessed eternity, 
 and to be translated ere long into a pure and peaceful re- 
 gion, where we are to serve God, in society even with 
 many of them who have been offended with us, without 
 scruple or trouble to ourselves or them. If with such dis- 
 positions and aims we persist in our course, while our 
 case is attended with such circumstances as now it is; I 
 have no fear, I sincerely profess to you, of our acceptance 
 with God, and, sooner or later, with all good men. 
 
 Upon the whole matter, I conceive the honest cause you 
 were so deeply concerned for, is really unharmed, and I 
 hope you apprehend it too; and that therefore your fear 
 and despondency was causeless, as if it could not outlive 
 this attempt against it by Dr. St. As you therefore see 
 how capable it is of defence against him, I shall not forget 
 the other part of my undertaking : but shall, 
 
 Secondly, Say somewhat (as yours sufficiently lets me 
 see there is cause) in his just defence against you. And 
 really, Sir, though that be an untoward thing to dispute 
 against, I find it needful to defend him only against your 
 anger, i. e. the excess of it: which, although it can no 
 more harm him, than he hath done the cause, and con- 
 sequently the blunting and breaking its edge (which is the 
 thing I aim at) cannot advantage him, yet it will do him 
 right : and (which was the thing I first intended) 'twill 
 be an advantage and kindness to you. 
 
 I must here indeed tell you, that I cannot blame you for 
 being in some measure offended, as I can excuse the Doc- 
 tor but in part. I do dislike, as well as you, two things 
 especially in his way of managing this business; viz. his 
 too great acrimon)', and too little seriousness. 
 
 For the former, it is too evident, and I heartily pity him 
 for it, that he should so forget, and suffer himself to be 
 transported beyond, the rules of Chris- ianity and prudence ; 
 neither of which would allow him, (and I am sure within 
 the compass of the former, his text would not,) so as to 
 make himself a standard to all other men, as to suppose 
 no man can be honest or conscientious that is not of his 
 mind in the matters he then undertook to controvert, or 
 that sliould not judge of the connexions of things as he did. 
 I cannot think it hath added to his reputation to reflect so 
 grossly before such an assembly, upon a whole party of 
 men that are, many of them, well known in the world ; 
 and who, in point of integrity, are so little liable to be 
 suspected, that an attempt to blemish them upon so slight 
 a pretence, and, in matter of fact, so untrue, could not but 
 recoil upon him.self; especially with them that shall im- 
 partially compare their inducements to prevaricate with 
 what he hath. 
 
 And for the other, it were indeed to have been wished, 
 that upon so grave and solemn an occasion he had forborne 
 jests, especially of that nature; as for instance, such mor- 
 tified and conscientious men, and the most godly — can 
 least endure to be told of their fauhs, &c. AVhich expres- 
 sions, any one that considers his scope, will understand to 
 be ironical ; and that considers the matter, to be somewhat 
 bold ironies; and the occasion, to be cau.seless ones. In- 
 asmuch as it is not impossible, that truly mortified and 
 conscientious men may desire opportunities to do God 
 service in the world, in a way that he dislikes. And it 
 may consist with real godliness not to count all those
 
 DR. STILLINGFLEET"S SERMON. 
 
 177 
 
 things faults which he 'takes to he siich. And indeed, in 
 his dedication, his way of averting the report of lho.se ill 
 men, that he intended tostirupthe magistrates and judges 
 to a persecution of the dissenters, is to any consi(tering 
 man, sportful and ludicrous ; viz. ofiering them only such 
 a way of escaping persecution, as Avhereupon a man may 
 shun suffering, if he please, from any parly of men in the 
 world, as such, by being in every thing of their mind and 
 way : but which in effect grants the charge which he would 
 avoid, that if we will not be so united to his party, we were 
 to expect nothing but utmost rigour. One would rather 
 have thought he should have bedewed that discourse with 
 tears, which had in itself, most manifestly, so awful and 
 tremendous a design, as not only the devoting of so great 
 Eumbers, that might possibl)' not be convinced and per- 
 suaded by him, to a temporal ruin ; but the depriving them 
 of the ordinary means of their salvation. And that, if he 
 thought it necessary for the preserving of order in the 
 church, they should be so dealt with ; he should have spo- 
 ken of their case with the greatest compassion and ten- 
 derness, not with dension and contempt. 
 
 Yet I would have you use lenitives with yourself, and 
 calm your own spirit ; and I wish you were capable of 
 contributing any thing to the moderating and pacifying 
 his too. That though he have been angry unprovoked, 
 and with a sort of men that have ever respected and ho- 
 noured him, as if he had been of themselves; his anger 
 that hath been without cause, (as you know perhaps who 
 in a like expression blames the exorbitancy of another pas- 
 sion,) may not also be without end. At least, I pray you, 
 take heed you do not deserve the like sharp repartee, 
 which the cynic met with from that noble philosopher, 
 that he taxed his pride with greater pride ; that you exceed 
 not the heats whereof you complain. If he will still retain 
 his fervour, let him be angry alone; and his displeasure 
 have its continuance with as little influence or concom- 
 itancy of yours, (and I could wish of any other man's,) 
 as (fur aught I know) it had its beginning. And that 
 since he thinks of being a sacrifice, he may only burn 
 gently in his own flame, which he may moderate as he 
 please, and I hope will seasonably extinguish, before he 
 hath suffered much harm by it. 
 
 For the qualifying of your own too great resentment and 
 offence ; I would have you consider how great reason you 
 have to believe, that this blow came only from the (some- 
 what misgoverned) hand of a pious and good man. Be it 
 far from you to imagine otherwise. If you think he was to 
 blame for intimating suspicions of their sincerity whom he 
 opposes, make not yourself equally blameable, by admit- 
 ting hereupon any concerning his. Which would argue a 
 mean narrow spirit, and a most unwarrantable fondness of 
 a party, as if all true religion and godliness were bound 
 up in it. 
 
 And if it look unlovely in your eyes to see one of so 
 much avowed latitude and enlargedness of mind, and ca- 
 pable upon that account of being the more universally ser- 
 viceable to the Christian church, forsaking that compre- 
 hensive interest, so far as to be ingulfed into a party upon 
 a private and distinct basiS; consider what aspect the same 
 thing would have in yourself And never make his dif- 
 ference with you in this matter, a reason to yourself of a 
 hard judgment concerning him; who can, yoa must consi- 
 der, differ no more from us, than we do from him. 
 
 Believe him, in the substance of what he said, to speak 
 according to his present judgment. Think how gradually 
 and insensibly men's judgments alter, and are formed by 
 their converse ; that his circumstances have made it neces- 
 sary to him to converse most for a long time, with those 
 who are fully of that mind which he here discovers; that 
 his own real worth must have drawn into his acquaint- 
 ance the best and most valuable of them, and such for whom 
 he might not only have a kindness, but a reverence ; and 
 who therefore mu.st have the more power and influence 
 upon him, to conform his sentiments to their own. 
 
 We ourselves do not know, had we been, by our cir- 
 cumstances, led to associate and converse mostly with 
 men of another judgment, what our own would have been. 
 And they that are wont to discover most confidence of 
 themselves, do usually but discover most ignorance of the 
 nature of man ; and how little they consider the power of 
 
 external objects and inducements to draw men's minds 
 this way or that. Nor, indeed, as to matters of this nature, 
 can any man be confident that the grace of God shall cer- 
 tainly incline him to be of this or another opinion or prac- 
 tice in these matters ; because we find those thai we have 
 no reason to believe have greater assistances of divine 
 grace are divided about them, and go not all one wa}-. 
 
 We may indeed be confident that had the same consi- 
 derations occurred to us which have, we should have been 
 of the .same mind and judgment that we are. But it is 
 very supposable that .some accidental occasions might pos- 
 sibly have happened, that might hinder our actual taking 
 up such considerations, though the things to be considered 
 were not unknown to us. And not that onh', but that 
 might prevent our knowing even matters of fact, that have 
 signified not a little to the determining our judgments that 
 way which they now incline to. 
 
 And I do particularly beliex^e, (as I doubt not but God 
 is graciously present with those that in the sincerity of 
 their hearts have chosen to serve him in the way which 
 the law prescribes, so,) that if Dr. St. had known what 
 proofs there are of that same gracious presence, in these 
 so much censured meetings, his thoughts would have been 
 very different of them from that they are. I do not speak 
 of proselj'ting men to a party, which I heartil}- despise a.s 
 a mean and inconsiderable thing: but have known some, 
 and heard of many, instances of very ignorant and profane 
 persons that have been led, perhaps b}' their own curiosity, 
 or, it may be. by the persuasion of some neighbour or friend, 
 to hear and see what was done in such meetings, that have 
 (through God's ble-ssing upon so despised means) become 
 very much reformed men, and (for aught that could be 
 jud?ed) serious and sincere Christians. And whereas 
 some, that have very prejudicial thoughts of all that fre- 
 quent such meetings, may be apt to suspect all effects of 
 that kind, to be nothing else but illusions of fancy, or a 
 disposition (at least) to enthusiasm, or an artificial and in- 
 dustrious hypocrisy; I am very confident that if the Doc- 
 tor had had the opportunity, frequently to observe and 
 converse with such, as we have had, and heard the so- 
 briety and consistency of their discourse, and seen the 
 unaffected simplicity, humility, and heavenliness of their 
 conversation, he could not have allowed himself the liber- 
 ty of such hard censures, but would have judged of many 
 such persons as you and I do. 
 
 Upon supposition of all which, I make little question 
 but it would have been very remote from him to wish that 
 so many persons had rather lived in sin, and perished for 
 ever; than have been brought to repentance and a good 
 life, by being now and then at a separate meeting. 
 
 So that for the substance of what he hath said against 
 such meetings, we have reason to impute it to his judg- 
 ment; and his judgment to such circumstances, veri-mnch, 
 as I have mentioned, that have led him the way he hath 
 taken ; and not given him opportunity to know what might 
 have begot a better opinion in him of the way which he 
 opposes. 
 
 But for the manner of his treating this subject, that I 
 impute to the prevalency of some present temptation ; and 
 hope he did not express in that sermon his habitual tem- 
 per. And am highly confident, notwithstanding what he 
 hath said in it ; if it Avere in his power, we might even 
 safely trust him to prescribe us terms, and should receive 
 no hard ones from him. 
 
 Somewhat it is likely he was expected (and rnisfht be 
 urged) to say to this business. And his own thoughts be- 
 ing set a work, fermented into an intemperate heat, Avhich, 
 it is to be hoped, will in time evaporate. 
 
 If I may freely speak to you my own thoughts, he seems 
 to deal in this business, as one that forced himself to say 
 someAvhat. For though I apprehend he speaks his judg 
 ment, yet the expressing it in this time and manner he 
 might regret. And because it might appear a becoming 
 thing to him to seem earnest, the Temptation prevailed with 
 him, against his habitual inclination,) to supply with 
 sharpness the detect of reason : Avhich the poverty of the 
 cause afforded not. For really his reasonings are faint, 
 unconcluding, and unlike Dr. !5tillingflect. So that if any 
 expected this performance from him, one may think (and 
 this ought in some part to excuse him) that, besides some
 
 178 
 
 A LETTER CONCERNING 
 
 little flourishes of his reading and wit, he seems only to 
 have lent them his name. Which, however, I pray yoii, 
 iCt still be of great value with you. And turn your dis- 
 pleasure into serious earnest praying for him, and that his 
 spirit may not be further harmed ; that amidst his many 
 temptations, he may be delivered and preserved from being 
 at all pulled up, or any way imbittered ; and that so valu- 
 able a person be not lost, or in the least degree rendered 
 less useful, to the church of God. And that all that know 
 his more inward conversation, may discern in his frequent 
 savoury discourses, in his continued serious calling upon 
 God in his family, in his readiness to do good, especially 
 to the souls of men, in his aptness to condescend to those 
 that are much beneath him, how great the efficacy is of 
 divine grace. And that, through the power of it, a great 
 measure of wit, learning, applause, and secular advanta- 
 ges, may not only consist with vivid godliness, and sincere 
 devotedness to the interest of religion, but contribute abun- 
 dantly to the service and diffusion thereof in the world. I 
 am very serious in this advice to you. Nor, thanks be to 
 God, have so low or profane thoughts of prayer, (which 
 hath ever borne so great a part in the religion of all times, 
 nations, and sorts of men,) as to think it will signify no- 
 thing, especially when the design of it is not mean and 
 private, but such wherein all good men will unite. 
 
 I little doubt, but if ever there shall be good days, and 
 a happy state of things, on earth, a factious zeal for parties 
 will become a contemptible thing : and all the discrimina- 
 tive accretions to religion, which arc severally scandalous 
 to all other parties except their own, who embrace any 
 sort of them, (too probably for the sake of some secular 
 interest or other, which is hoped to be gratified and en- 
 gaged thereby,) will be spontaneously quitted and aban- 
 doned by all parties, from an overpowering sense and 
 grateful relish of substantial religion itself; i. e. entire de- 
 votedness to God and the Redeemer, with the joyful ex- 
 Eectation of the blessedness of the other world : and so all 
 ecome one. 
 But is this to be done while Ave sleep and do nothing? 
 Or, have we in our circumstances any thing to do, by 
 which we may hope to contribute so much towards it, 
 as b}'^ prayer 1 By this means (if men of sincere and pious 
 minds, did with universal and abstracted aims, apply 
 themselves to this great duty) we are to reckon the blessed 
 spirit of holiness, love, and peace, would be more and 
 more drawn into consent. Do you your own part herein ; 
 you will find your own present advantage by it ; it will 
 fill you with good thoughts, hopes, and expectations. The 
 kindly benign influences whereof, wiil pleasantly qualify 
 and temper your spirit, and make you know how much 
 more grateful an inhabitant that charity is, which think- 
 eth no evil, beareth all things, believeth all things, hopeth 
 all things, endureth all things, than frowardness, discon- 
 tent, vexation, and anger, at any one that thinks and speaks 
 otherwise than you did expect or wish. Insist upon such 
 things in prayer, as wherein it may reasonably be expected 
 good men shall generally agree with you. You have the 
 more reason to expect being heard ; yea, and ought to hope 
 the spirit of this person, whom ytm have taken such offence 
 at, will be rescued out of temptation, and be drawn into 
 full consent with you. For you have no cause to doubt, 
 but that he hath those principles wrought into the temper 
 of his mind, which need only resuscitation, that they may 
 dispose him to union with the whole body of sober and se- 
 rious Christians of his own way, or of others, (whenso- 
 ever that can be seasonably endeavoured for,) upon more 
 probable and hopeful terms than he halh proposed in this 
 sermon. Therefore be you serious and fervent in requests 
 to this purpose, as you have that love to God and his 
 church, which you profess ; and that value for this worthy 
 person, which I reckon you still ought to have: or (if that 
 can be fit to be added) any kindness for, 
 Sir, 
 
 Your aflectionate servant, &c. 
 
 SmcK my writing these pages, I hear of answers to the 
 dean's sermojv ; which, in so remote a corner, I have had 
 no opportunity to see : what is here written may therefore 
 
 (upon comparing) be communicated, or suppressed, as 
 shall be thought fit. 
 
 And so I should take leave of you, but that it may be 
 needful, whereas I have principally considered in these 
 papers, the case of such as think it unlawful to join in the 
 public assemblies ; to add somewhat (whomsoever it may 
 serve) in reference to their case that think otherwise. For 
 to say the truth, this is here the more common case. And 
 though the Doctor believes they that frequent the separate 
 meetings, do generally judge it unlawful to join in the 
 public ; howsoever it is with you, (and it is likely the Doc- 
 tor speaks of what is more within the compass of his own 
 knowledge, or theirs who inform him.) it is with us in 
 this part of the country quite contrary. And I may truly 
 say, that in this place (and others where I have sometimes 
 occasionally been) the generality of them who come to 
 the other meetings do also attend the public. 
 
 Now these may perhaps think themselves left under 
 blame, and may apprehend the Doctor's consequence is 
 strong against them, (that if occasional communion be 
 lawful, constant communion must be a duty,) which he, 
 no doubt, understands exclusively of any distinct way of 
 communion. - 
 
 And if indeed they judge that consequence strong, I 
 would fain know what hurt they can think it doth theral 
 Why should any man be afraid of his duty 1 or of the 
 truth which makes it known 1 And if hereupon they can, 
 with the satisfaction of their own consciences, waive ill 
 other opportunities of worshipping God with others of tis 
 people, they have the less to do: and why should they 
 complain who are satisfied 1 
 
 But in short, either they apprehend such other addi- 
 tional means a real necessary help and advantage to them, 
 or they do not. If they do not, they have no cause (o 
 trouble themselves, nor to grudge that so much is said for 
 others ; whose, for ought I know, may, as the Doctor thinks, 
 (for I cannot make an estimate from this or that little spot,) 
 be the much more common case. If they do, they have 
 little reason to be concerned about the Doctor's conse- 
 quence : which I must wonder if he himself can think 
 strong. It hath not, you see, been altogether overlooked 
 in the foregoing discourse : and if any feel themselves 
 wounded by it, he is so great an Achilles, that they may 
 have their wound and healing from the same hands. 
 
 For, as hath been noted from him in his preface to the 
 Irenicum, he seems plainly to intimate, that men have no 
 charter, or grant of divine power, to make other conditions 
 of church communion than Christ hath made. If so, then 
 the conditions by which ihis way of communion is distin- 
 guished from the other, (supposing they be lawful,) are 
 still, in themselves, matter of liberty, not of duty : and so 
 'tis left to the prudence of a Christian to determine him 
 (as in all like cases) this way or that ; as will make most 
 for the common good, consistently with that of his own 
 •soul. That is sin or dutv, which in this or that case, will 
 do more hurt or good. There being no particular rule to 
 guide a man's practice, he must have recourse to that ge- 
 neral one : by which it may be my duty, upon some great 
 reason, to do that, at one time, which, for as great reason, 
 I ought not to do in a continued course. And it is highly 
 commendable, when a Christian understands the latitude 
 which the law of Christ hath left him; is, in his own spi- 
 rit, exempt from servile restraints, by other imagined 
 bonds; andean with a generous liberty (pure from base 
 self-respects) turn himself this way or that, as shall make 
 most for the service of the ends he lives for. And when 
 any accordingly use that liberty, 'tis a fancy of none but 
 half-witted persons, to think they must therefore addict 
 themselves to this or that party. 
 
 If a man's case come to be so stated, that he hath rea- 
 son to apprehend it will do more good than hurt to others, 
 that he own a sort of Christians, who have particularly 
 modified theiuselves, otherwise than they needed, by any 
 divine injunction, (or by any tliat God hath empowered 
 men to put them under,) by communicating with them 
 under the common notion of Christians, only, not as so 
 modified : he doth but express the genuine complexion of 
 a truly Christian spirit. But he is not to do so in a conti- 
 nued course, if he find it will be a real damage to his own 
 soul, in comparison of another way that he finds more
 
 DR. STILLINGFLEET'S SERMON. 
 
 179 
 
 edifying. Perhap.s if he will be religious only, after the 
 mode of this or that party, his fare may be either too fine 
 or too coarse for his constant diet. I may, besides my 
 own inclination, drink a single glass of Avine out of civility 
 to one person, or of water, to another, when I am not, for 
 any man's pleasure, to destroy my health by tying myself 
 to drink nothing else. And whatever Christian conde- 
 scendingness and goodness of temper may prompt a man 
 to, who makes not what others do, but what they ought 
 to do, his rule and measure ; they have least reason to 
 expect much compliance from others, who bind them- 
 selves up within their own party, are enwrapped as levia- 
 than in his scales, call themselves the church, (as many 
 say, Here is Christ and there is Christ,) and call all men 
 separatists that will not be of their chuich. And perhaps 
 they assume and appropriate the name with no more pre- 
 tence or colour, and with no better sense, than if a hu- 
 moursome company of men should dislingiiish themselves 
 from others, by wearing a blue or a yellow girdle, and call 
 themselves mankind ! Do not too many in our days dis- 
 tinguish their church and Christian communion, by things 
 no more belonging to a church, or to Christianity, than a 
 girdle of this or that colour to human nature'? And which 
 no more qualify for Christian society, than that doth for 
 human 1 If, however, an ingenuous, free-spirited man, out 
 of respect to his present company, or for any other va.u- 
 abte reason, should in such a case put on the blue girdle, I 
 shd.l find no fault with him. But if any should go about 
 to pmch him too close with it, so as would be inconvenient 
 
 to his ease and liealth, or oblige him to protest against the 
 true humanity of all that neglect it, I doubt not he would 
 throw it away with scorn. Much less would he be a con- 
 federate with them that use it, if they professedly combine 
 for the destruction of the rest of mankind that use it not, 
 when many of them that refuse it apprehend it a real griev- 
 ance. Especially, when they that would impose it, live 
 with many of the rest under the government of a just and 
 sovereign prince, from whom they have no charter for their 
 imposition, but who hath declared he will not have his 
 subjects so imposed upon. 
 
 In sum, we are all indispensably obliged by our Lord 
 Jesus Christ, the sovereign Prince and Rulerof his church, 
 to the substance of all Christian ordinances. As to unin- 
 stituted modes thereof, we are free. And they that under- 
 stand their liberty, may use or not use them as is more ft r 
 their own and the common good. They that understand 
 it not, and think themselves under an obligation from 
 Christ not to admit questionable, devised additions, into 
 their worship ; they are not thei-efore to deprive themselves 
 of the substantial ordinances of the Christian religion, 
 whereof there is no question. 
 
 I shut up all with the words of the great apostle, Rom. 
 xiv. 2, 3. One believeth that he may eat all things : an- 
 other, who is weak, eateth herbs. Let not him that eatetb 
 despise him that eateth not, for God hath received him. 
 Verse 13. Let us not therefore judge one another any 
 more: but judge this rather, that no man put a stumbling- 
 block, or an occasion to fall, in his brother's way.
 
 SOME CONSIDERATION 
 
 PREFACE TO AN INaUIRY CONCERNING THE 
 
 OCCASIONAL CONFORMITY OF DISSENTERS, &c. 
 
 I HOPE your public challenge, Mr. Prefacer, (as you only 
 allow me to call you,) was given with an honest intention. 
 Yet with what kindness, or equity, you could make your 
 first onset in the view of the world ; by hiding your own 
 name, and exposing mine, designing yourself to fight in 
 the dark, and expecting me to do it in open light, I leave 
 to your own (perhaps calmer) second thoughts. I might 
 hereupon, as I promise myself, be justified in the opinion 
 of competent and impartial judges, if I had disappointed 
 you in not writing; but I am apt to think I shall disap- 
 point you more, in what I shall write upon this occasion. 
 Yet not at all for this reason : for I thank God, I hold no 
 opinion which I am ashamed to own to the world ; but 
 for what is with me of far greater weight. I have, for a 
 long time, had an habitual aversion in my own mind, from 
 perplexing myself, or disturbing others, by being concern- 
 ed in agitating the controversies that have been on foot, 
 about the circumstantials of our religion. I hope it will 
 ofl'end nobody, if I recite somewhat of what I wrote al- 
 most thirty years ago, in the epistle prefixed to a treatise of 
 delighting in God, viz. thus; 
 
 " 1 have reflected and considered with some satisfaction, 
 that this hath been my way, and the temper of my mind, 
 among you," viz. to recommend the serious practice of the 
 great things of religion, which are known, and least liable 
 to question, without designing to engage you to, or against, 
 any party of them that differ about circumstantial matters. 
 Great reason I have to repent, that I have not with greater 
 earnestness pressed upon you, the known and important 
 things wherein serious Christians do generally agree; but 
 I repent not, that I have so little engaged in the hot con- 
 tests of our age, about the things wherein tliey differ: for 
 as I pretend to little light in these things, (whence I could 
 not have much confidence to fortify me unto such an un- 
 dertaking,) so I must profess have liltie inclination to con- 
 tend about matters of that kind. Nor yet am I indiffer- 
 ent as to those smaller things, that I cannot discern to be 
 in their own nature so. But though I cannot avoid to 
 think that course right, which I have deliberately chosen 
 therein, I do yet esteem that but a small thin?, upon 
 which to ground an opinion of my excelling them that 
 think otherwise, as if I knew more than they. For I have 
 often recounted thus seriously with myself, that of every 
 differing party (in those circumstantial matters) I do par- 
 ticularly know some persons, by whom I find myself 
 much excelled in far greater things than is the matter of that 
 difference. I cannot ('tis true) thereupon say and think 
 every thing that they do; which is impossible, since they 
 differ from one another as well as me. And I understand 
 well, there are other measures of truth, than this or that 
 excellent person's opinion. But I thereupon reckon, I 
 have little reason to be conceited of any advantage I have 
 
 a Tlio inhal)itaiit9 of Torringtoii, ma^3frate<! and people, to whom tliis dia- I 
 couree was dcclicatcHl- 
 
 of such, in point of knowledge, (even as little as he should 
 have, that can sing, or play well on a lute, of him that 
 knows how to command armies, or govern a kingdom,) 
 and can with the less confidence differ from them, or con- 
 tend with them. Being thereby, though I cannot find 
 that I err in these matters, constrained to have some sus- 
 picion lest I do; and to admit it possible enough, that 
 some of them who diflTer from me, having much more 
 light in great matters, may have so, in these also. Be- 
 sides, that I most seriously think, humility, charity, and 
 patience would more contribute to the composing of these 
 les.ser differences, or to the good estate of the Christian 
 interest under them, than the most fervent disputes and 
 contestations. I have upon such considerations little con- 
 cerned myself, in contending for one way, or another, 
 whilst I was among you ; or in censuring such as have 
 diflTered from me in such notions or practices as might 
 consist with our common great end, or as imported not 
 manifest hostility thereto. Contenting myself to follow the 
 course, that to my (preponderating) judgment seemed best, 
 without stepping out of my way to justle others." 
 
 This was long before, and hath been ever since, the con- 
 stant temper of my mind, in reference to matters of this 
 kind. I have contented myself by the best means I could 
 be furnished with, and the best use God enabled me to 
 make of them, so far to form and settle my judgment, as 
 was absolutely necessary to my own practice; not taking 
 my measures from what I was to hope or fear, of worldly 
 advantage or disadvantage, reputation or disreputation; 
 but in what way, as my case was to be circumstanced, I 
 might walk most agreeably to the common Christian rule, 
 the holy word of God, and best serve the proper ends of 
 life ; do most good in the world, and, as my calling obliged 
 me, most promote the common salvation. And that 
 judgment, once formed, and preponderating to the way I 
 chose, I have endeavoured faithfully to follow. Herein 
 my heart reproaches me not, and, I hope, shall not as long 
 as I live. 
 
 In the meantime, I have abstained from censuring 
 others, who have taken a difierent way. I have rejoiced 
 in the seriousness and success of any such, in their minis- 
 terial work, and in the liberty they had for public service, 
 which I had not. I usually pray for a blessing upon their 
 labours, as upon my own. My converse hath been as 
 free, and pleasant, with divers of them, as with others, that 
 were entirely agreed with me in circumstantial matters. 
 Nor have I felt any inclination in my mind, to controvert 
 with them the matters of difference between us, but have 
 even, in our converse, forgot what we differed, having no 
 more cause to suspect hurt from them, than they from me. 
 Where is the man that can say, I ever persuaded him to 
 conform, or not to conform 1
 
 CONSIDERATION ON A PREFACE, &c. 
 
 181 
 
 This disinclination wilh me to controversies of any such 
 kind, hath proceeded from sundry reasons. My judgment 
 was already so far settled in the,>e things, as was necessary 
 to my own practice. I reckoned an unproportionable 
 measure of the short time we liave to live in this world, 
 was not to be taken up about them: that it consisted not 
 with a man's designed progress towaids his end, to be 
 always, or too long, inquiring about his way : that disputes 
 of that kind have little savour in them, compared with the 
 great, agreed matters of our faith and hope. I was loth to 
 disquiet others, or cast stumbling-blocks before them, who 
 seemed as well satisfied, in their way, as I was in mine. 
 I observed such altercations seldom better men's spirits, 
 but that often they make them worse. I had a great reve- 
 rence for divers that differed from me in these things: I 
 knew several of them to be much superior to me, in all 
 sorts of more valuable knowledge ; as also I did of them 
 that therein agreed with me. Comparisons I thought 
 odious and vain. I could not be ol' every worthy and 
 good man's mind, when they were not all of the same 
 mind. I had enough, I thought, to satisfy myself in refer- 
 ence to my own practice, not enough to change theirs; or 
 enable me to set up to be a decider of such controversies. 
 It was remote from me to think sincere religion, either con- 
 fined to any party, distinguished by these little things, or 
 excluded from any. That the kingdom of God consisted 
 not in them, but in righteousness, peace, and joy in the 
 Holy Ghost. I have thought, that as things that were most 
 necessary were most plain ; so things that were so very 
 little plain were the less necessary. Those particles of 
 matter must have very little of real entity in them, that 
 escape theacies, and discerning, of the finest and quickest 
 eye. I have hardly known any point in metaphysics or 
 scholastic divinity, disputed with greater niceness and sub- 
 tlety, than our controversy about the ceremonies; and 
 though I never thought myself to be any of the quickest in 
 the art of disputing, yet I think, taking which side I will 
 in this disputation, I could easily puzzle the most, of plain 
 people, and that are but of an ordinary understanding, about 
 them; much more easily than I could convince, or satisfy 
 them, (or perhaps, did myself,) the one way, or the other. 
 The matter were indeed easy, if (for instance) in a select 
 gathered church (of one or other whereof I suppose you 
 are) one conscience, or a few men's, would serve for the 
 whole body ; or by parity of cases, of a whole parish or 
 nation. But when we consider, that every one must give 
 an account of himself to God; and that in matters which 
 concern our own duty Godward, we are no more capable 
 of having it done by another for us, than (as a noted per- 
 son in our time aptly speaks) of being represented by 
 another in the day of judgment ; this will bring the matter 
 with weight, upon our spirits, lest we should be found 
 transgressors in Bethel, and to have offered strange fire, in- 
 stead of a sacrifice, on the one hand ; or needlessly, on the 
 other hand, set on fire the temple itself. This will, in 
 God's time, I doubt not, be considered by such as can 
 make the occasion cease, of such difficulties. In the mean 
 time, it is of great consolation to those that sincerely fear 
 God, that if with upright minds they principally study to 
 approve themselves to him, and if they mistake, do only 
 err for fear of erring ; he will not Math severity animad- 
 vert upon the infirmity of a weak and merely misguided 
 judgment. 
 
 It is a most sure truth, and worth all this world, that to 
 an honest unbiassed heart, 'tis a far easier thing to please 
 God, than men. — I have also considered, that some that 
 can contend fervently, and conclude positively, concerning 
 church power, where it is lodged, and how far it can ex- 
 tend, in making rules, and inflicting censures, discover too 
 often more confidence than knowledge and solid judgment, 
 in those very things themselves ; but much oftener, little 
 of the Spirit of Christ and the Gospel ; little of that meek- 
 ness, humility, charity, that are most essential, and inward 
 to true Christianity; and are too apt to magnify the tithing 
 of mint, annis and cummin, above faith, mercy, and the 
 love of God. — I have sometimes thought that to be some- 
 what instructive, which is storied of Plato,i' that having one 
 in his academy that had great skill in driving a chariot, 
 wilh that exactness, as not to swerve one jot from the 
 
 b 5:1. Var. Hist. 
 
 16 
 
 lines on which the wheels were, verj' swiftly to move ; 
 nor could be satisfied till he had prevailed with that great 
 man to be the spectator of his performance herein, he was 
 so far from applaud mg him, that turning away with con- 
 tempt, he said, "they that mind, -with such exactness, 
 little things, will never mind great." — I detract nothing 
 from the exact care that ought to be had in observing God's 
 own revelations and injunctions, if j^ou understand aright 
 under what notion, anil for what ends, he intended them. 
 Nothing is to be thought little in religion, that truly be- 
 longs to it. But, Sir, if you should take upon you to de- 
 vise rules and measures of your own and then put a 
 sacredness upon them ; j'ea more, insist to have them 
 observed with greater strictness, and for more distinguish- 
 ing purposes, than ever God intended divers of his own 
 revelations for ; tliis I must tell you were bold, and extra- 
 vagant. And how you are concerned herein, we shall see 
 in the progress of this discourse. 
 
 To come somewhat closer to you therefore, Mr. Prefa- 
 cer, I shall first consider how reasonably and justly you 
 offer to engage me in this quarrel ; and this will lead me 
 on to take a view of your treatment of that honorable per- 
 son, against whom your quarrel is more principally meanf- 
 As to your endeavour to involve me in this affair, 1 iniik' 
 before you had offered at it, you should have been well 
 assured of these two things ; at least of the one or the ol^vr 
 of them: 1. That I really did concern myself to advise, 
 one way or other, as to the lawfulness or unlawfulness of 
 that occasional conformity, about which you contend. 
 2. That I ought to have done so. If neither of these can be 
 made to appear, I cannot but think it was a distemper of 
 mind, an immoderate scripturiency, or what shall I call it 1 
 too great an affectation of intermeddling beyond any call 
 you had, that could lead you to it. And whereas you think 
 you have not exceeded, herein, the rules of charity or good 
 manners ; as to the point of manners, I will not take upon 
 me to be your judge; I believe you guess me to be no 
 master of ceremonies. But as to the much greater busi- 
 ness of chanty, I must tal'K with you more about that be- 
 fore we part. For it is a matter of much greater compa.ss. 
 And in your measures and exercise whereof the generality 
 of serious Christians are concerned as well as I. But as 
 concerning myself, can }'0U make either of these appear! 
 
 1. As to the former, I am sure yon cannot, nor any man. 
 Nor ought you to have presumed it, unless j'ou had been 
 sure of the 2nd, That I ought. I, for my part, judged I 
 ought not. Whether I did truly judge or no, that leads 
 into the main cause, that will lie between us, wherein I 
 shall be no less cautious tfian you, though therein I shall 
 not so far compliment you, as to pretend I more follow 
 your example in it, than my own inclination ; i. e. I shall 
 not undertake to determine, whether the action (as circum- 
 stanced) of that honourable personage you principally re- 
 flect upon, were lawful or unlawful. This I meddle" not 
 with ; and you pretend to decline it too ; (either j'ou, or the 
 author you recommend and follow, which is all one to me ;) 
 viz. the question, whether this or that commiuiion be law- 
 ful or unlawful ; but are so little true to that pretence, as 
 to judge that person who occasionally partakes in the le- 
 gally established church's communion, unfit, ever after, to 
 be received, otherwise than as a penitent, to any other 
 Christian communion. And I think no man is to do the 
 part of a penitent, hut for what was unlawful, or a fault. 
 
 Now I, for my part, shall not take so much upon me as 
 to determine, not being called, if I were never so compe- 
 tent, whether there were anything faulty in that action or 
 no. But in this I am neither in doubt, nor without a suffi- 
 cient occasion to declare, that I can judge it no such fault 
 (if it be one) as should exclude one, that in all other re- 
 spects appears a serious and an orderly Christian, from any 
 other Christian communion, to which he may have thought 
 fit to adjoin himself And that I may se"t in view the 
 ground for my not judging otherwise, and for the follow- 
 ing discourse, we must distinguish, 
 
 I. Of the obligation of precepts negative, and affirma- 
 tive, or against sins, and unto duties, r/~. against or unto, 
 such things, as, bv those precepts, become sins or duties. 
 And of these, I shall speak only so far, as concerns our 
 present purpose,!, e. as they are" to come under considera-
 
 183 
 
 CONSIDERATION ON A PREFACE. 
 
 tion in foroecclesia, or in a visible church of Christ. And 
 so, there are sins consistent with the Christian state. And 
 vhere are sins inconsistent with it ; or destructive of it. 
 Duties that are matter of simple pTecept, and duties that 
 are also conditions of Christian communion. We are 
 also to distinguish the obligation of negative and affirm- 
 ative precepts, as 'tis usual and common, viz. that the for- 
 mer bind (unless the precept were repealed) semper, et ad 
 semper, always, and to every point of time. The latter, 
 always, while the precept stands in force, but not to every 
 point of time. Of this we shall make the proper use, in the 
 lit place. 
 
 2. Of the different notions under which, or causes for 
 which, men of different sentiments or persuasions may 
 decline the communion of this or that church : viz. Some 
 may decline the communion of this or that church, as 
 judging it essentially defective ; so as not to have in it the 
 essentials of a Christian church. (Whether that judgment 
 be right or wrong, true or false, is not now the question ; 
 or under our present consideration.) Others may decline 
 it, as judging it defective in respect of some accidentals, 
 or circumstances; either simply considered, or compared 
 with some other Christian church, that they may appre- 
 hend to come nearer the Christian rule ; and wherein the 
 administration of Christ's ordinances may be more profit- 
 able, and tend more to their advantage and benefit, in their 
 spiritual concernments. 
 
 These distinctions we shall consider severally, both by 
 way of explication and application to the present case. 
 
 1. For the former, when we speak of sins consistent or 
 inconsistent with the Christian state; of duties that are 
 merely such ; or that also are required as necessary to 
 Christian communion; we intend the distinction as refer- 
 ring to visible Christianity. And mean, that as there are 
 sins inconsistent with visible Christianity : avowed atheism, 
 open idolatry, infidelity, apostacy, total, or in respect of 
 some or other known fundamental or Christian religion ; 
 contumacious and continuing rebellion against the autho- 
 rity and known laws of Christ; which, without visibly 
 serious repentance and reformation, slur and deface a 
 man's character, as a visible Christian : so there may be 
 faults that do it not ; which may yet come under common 
 notice, or view. I only instance in what is more agreeable 
 to our present case, as misjudging in some circumstantial 
 matters, and very disputable, that are extra-essential to the 
 substance of Christianity ; and practising according to 
 that erring and mistaken judgment ; even though the mis- 
 take be continued, never discerned, and never repented of 
 or reformed as long as one lives. 
 
 Such were the differences in judgment and practice about 
 meats and days, Rom. xiv. 2, &c. wherein there could not 
 but be right and wrong. Both sides could not be in the 
 right, i. e. referring their practice to their judgment. The 
 question being, whether such and such things were lawful 
 or unlawful, and that the one side judged them lawful, 
 the other, unlawful. The one side must be in the wrong. 
 The things about which they differed, could not be both 
 lawful and unlawful. It must be sin to judge and do 
 amiss ; duty, to judge aright, and practice accordingly. 
 And what was now to be done in this easel Were they 
 to excommunicate, and curse, and damn one another! 
 Some that presided in the Christian church did, 'tis true, 
 in process of time, come to use an unchristian severity in 
 such cases. As when some tied themselves to the eating 
 of herbs only, and abstained from flesh (whether they de- 
 rived their opinion from the school of Pythagoras, or how- 
 ever they came by it, matters not.) And it was determined 
 concerning them, (I could show where and when were it 
 needful,) that if they would use abstinence, upon other 
 considerations, they might; but if upon a judgment, or 
 opinion, that the eating of flesh was unlawful, they should 
 be excommunicated. And this was thought a sufficient 
 reason for that hard censure, because they denied Christ 
 to have given that liberty, as tomcats, which he had really 
 given. But was this according to the mind of God 1 No, 
 quite contrary ; we see it otherwise determined by apos- 
 tolical authority. Him that is weak in the faith, receive 
 ye, but not to doubtful disputations, Rom. xiv. 1. The case 
 follows. The charge is, Receive them, take them into 
 yx>ur communion, and dispute not his doubting judgment 
 
 with him, or pass you no judgment upon it, so as to vex 
 or disquiet him with iL Let him alone with his judg- 
 ment and practice together ; but receive him. And the 
 forementioned rigour, we find to have been corrected in 
 after-time. 
 
 And the like charges are elsewhere given in reference 
 to the differences between the Jewish and the Gentile 
 Christians, the circumcised and the uncircumcised ; i. e. 
 that in the Christian state, no distinction was to be made 
 of Jews or Greeks, circumcision or uncircumcision, them 
 that used or disused the Jewish rites and ceremonies ; but 
 all were to be esteemed as one in Christ Jesus, or Christ 
 to be all in all among them. Gal. iii. 28. Col. iii. 11. i. e. 
 God makes no difference, supposing they be good men, 
 sincere Christians, or become new creatures ; he stands 
 neither upon their being circumcised, or uncircumcised, 
 Gal. vi. 15. Retaining or quitting the subsequent judaical 
 observances ; so tenderly, and by so gentle a hand, did the 
 Divine wisdom and goodness draw off the judaizing Chris- 
 tians from those things, whereof he designed the total 
 abolition ; whereof they had more pretence to be tenacious, 
 being things enjoined by God himself. Therefore God 
 treats them with more indulgence. And what example 
 should we rather choose to follow 1 especially, what indul- 
 gence doth the case itself challenge, in not pressing, under 
 penalty, what there can be no pretence of divine authority 
 for 1 And we find this is the measure according to which 
 we are to go, in receiving persons into our communion. 
 We are to receive such as we have reason to think God 
 receives ; in the forecited, Rom. xiv. 3. Do not judge, 
 but receive him, for God hath received him. 
 
 There are therefore two plain rules, laid down by that 
 great apostle, in reference to such dubious and small mat- 
 ters ; viz. one concerning such scrupulous persons them- 
 selves, that they be fully persuaded in their own minds, 
 (ver. 5.) and do nothing against the judgment of their own 
 consciences, in those matters ; which he enforces, verse 
 23. The other concerning the carriage of fellow Chris- 
 tians tovva-i-ds them, that they judge them not, but receive 
 them, verse 1, 2, 3 — 10. Whereupon Mr. Prefacer, I con- 
 ceive myself clear in not judging. And you will be clear 
 in judging, if not only you are an abler judge, (which I 
 will never dispute with you,) but also, that you were 
 called to judge ; and that your judgment is most assuredly 
 true. If God have authorized you, and revealed to you, not 
 only what was right or wrong, in the case itself, but the 
 secrets of his heart, whom you judge ; and that he prac- 
 tised what he thought to be wrong : i. e. that he is a hypo- 
 crite, and that he hath, against his conscience, yielded to 
 do that for (an unprofitable) preferment, probably to his 
 great loss, (as some have found it,) which he himself 
 thought unlawful ; if you know him to be of so vam and 
 light a mind, that not for any real advantage, but for a little 
 temporary, evanid honour and gayety,he hath offered this 
 violence to the judgment of his own conscience ; if God 
 revealed this to you, and charged you to proclaim it to the 
 world ; then hath he indeed set you over him, and far above 
 him ; placed you in a much higher seat of judicature, than 
 that wherein he is seated ; dignified you with an authority 
 superior to what he ever conferred upon any apostle, or on 
 the whole Christian church, or on any, besides his own Son. 
 
 But if there be nothing of all this; then, though your 
 judgment should happen to be true, yet if it were without 
 any ground, upon which you could know it to be true; 
 and so it were only right by chance : if it were without 
 call ; if you had nothing to do with the matter ; if it come 
 among the exempted cases reserved by the great God to 
 his o%vn tribunal, and which he hath subjected to no 
 ecclesiastical nor human cognizance; being, as to the 
 matter itself, very minute, not so much as a doubtful ac- 
 tion; but the circumstance of an action, and that touches 
 not any vital of religion ; as to the lawfulness of that cir- 
 cumstance, disputable ; a ceremony ; one of them, that were 
 not less disputed, by men of excellent wisdom, and piety 
 on both sides, than the Jewish ones, in the time when they 
 were matter of controversy to the Christian church : and 
 after all that di.sputation, determinable, for aught I know, 
 chiefly, by the majus or minus btmum ecclesia ; as in the 
 time when that Jewish rite of circumcision was the occa- 
 sion of so much disquiet to the primitive Christians, St.
 
 RELATING TO OCCASIONAL CONFORMITY. 
 
 183 
 
 Paul circumcised Timothy, for the greater service of the 
 Christian interest; and being, as to the inward intention, 
 motive, and inducement, secret, and liable only to the 
 Divine view; then, I say, upon all this, even siipposmg 
 the thing you censure were faulty, yet it is no such fault 
 as can slur the character of a man, otherwise appearing a 
 serious Christian. If the contrary were duty, 'tis no such 
 duty as is necessary to entitle a man to any Christian com- 
 munion. Yea, and I add, your censuring it, as you do, is 
 a thousand-fold (even unconceivably) more faulty. And 
 if you could truly say, as Diogenes did, trampling upon 
 Plato's rich bed, calco Platonisfastum, I tread upon Plato'' s 
 pride, it might more justly be replied, as the latter did 
 reply, sed majori fastu, bid you do it ivith greater pride. 
 You take upon you to invade the throne of the Most High ; 
 and may take that as said to you, Who art thou that judg- 
 est another's servant T Why dost thou judge thy brother"? 
 We must all stand before the judgment-seat of Christ, 
 Rom. xiv. 4 — 10. And I wonder you did not dread those 
 awful words, of that very Judge, Matt. vii. 1. Judge not 
 that ye be not judged. And shall more wonder, if yet 
 you perceive not, when you thought a mote was in ano- 
 ther's eye, that there was a beam in your own, as verse 3. 
 A thing that among heathens ■= has been animadverted on 
 with just severity. Nor shall I recharge you in the fol- 
 lowing words, Thou hypocrite, (for I know not your heart 
 in this matter,) but I would have 5'ou re-consider, with 
 how little warrant you have broadly charged that worthy 
 person your quarrel is about, with hypocrisy ; that he acted 
 against his own conscience, because he acted not accord- 
 ing to yours: as if yours were to be the standard, and the 
 conscience-general to mankind ! But that you may appre- 
 hend it not impossible for a man to follow the dictate of 
 conscience, and perhaps as good a one as yours, though 
 he do not follow yours; I shall yet have recourse to a 
 second distinction, before laid down, viz. between the dif- 
 ferent notions under which, or causes for which, men of 
 different sentiments may decline the communion of this, 
 or that church, viz. some, as thinking it essentially defec- 
 tive — others, as judging it defective in some circumstances 
 only. — Now, Sir, if any man decline the communion of 
 what is (however) vulgarly called a church, as counting 
 it really no church at all, his withdrawing or abstaining 
 from its communion, must be total and constant, he can 
 have no communion with it as a Christian church at all. 
 But if one avoid more ordinary communication with a 
 church, as judging it, though not essentially defective, yet 
 to want or err in some circumstances so considerable, as 
 that he counts another church comes nearer the common 
 Christian rule, the Holy Scriptures ; and finds its admin- 
 istrations more conducing to his spiritual advantage; he 
 may be led, by the judgment of his conscience ; both, 
 sometimes, upon weighty and important reasons, to com- 
 municate with the former, and continue therein, accord- 
 ing as those reasons shall continue urgent upon him ; and 
 yet, sometimes, as the cessant or diminished weight of 
 such reeisons shall allow, to communicate with the other. 
 They that will not admit of this distinction, thus gene- 
 rally proposed, as a ground of such different practice in 
 the general, as is here expressed ; hut judge not only es- 
 sential perfection, but a perfection by the concurrence of 
 all desirable accidents, to be necessary also unto Christian 
 communion, can have no communion with a^y Christian 
 church on earth ; for where is any to be found every way 
 perfect 1 'Tis true, that accidental defects may be more 
 or less, and it requires great accuracy to apply what is 
 here generally said to particular cases; nor shall that be 
 my present business ; I have somewhat else of greater im- 
 portance to do. All that I concern myself for, is only to 
 have it considered, that a man of conscience may, upon 
 the grounds generally mentioned, vary his communion as 
 hath been said, while he keeps himself within the limits 
 of a Christian church, essentially true, and that hath no 
 additions destructive of that essence. And if he mistake 
 in making application hereof to a particular case, it proves 
 him not to be a man of a profligate conscience, or of none 
 at all. He may have arguments so specious, that, suppos- 
 
 c Cum tua pemdeas ociili.<i mala lippus inunctis, 
 Cur in araicorum vitiis tain cernis acutuni. 
 
 ing he err, may impose upon the judgment, and thereby 
 direct the practice of a very intelligent, discerning, and 
 upright-hearted man : so as to make him think that which 
 is perhaps an error, his present duty; and so not ofier vio- 
 lence to his conscience, in what he so doth. As, judging 
 such a church true, as to essentials, he may think (occa- 
 sion inviting) he hath greater reason, though it be defec- 
 tive in accidents, to communicate with it sometimes, than 
 to shun its communion always; since those Christians 
 that agree in all the essentials of Christianity, agree in 
 far greater things than it is po.ssible for them to disagree 
 in. He must have mean and misshapen thoughts of 
 Christian religion, that thinks not the great doctrines of 
 faith, ordinances of worship, and rules of daily practice 
 (common to us all) unspeakably more valuable, than this 
 or that external mode, or form, of religion, that is but ac- 
 cidentally, and mutably, adherent thereto. And what if 
 some have thought that alone a sufficient reason for their 
 occasional communion with a church, with which they 
 have not constant communion, that they ma}' do it and 
 themselves that right before the world, as to testify, they 
 decline it not as no church ; but so far practically, own it, 
 as the reason of the thing requires: why may they not be 
 supposed to do this, as thinking it a good reason, whether 
 it be really so or no, without going against conscience 
 herein ? And yet the same person may, perhaps, think the 
 communion of another church preferable, and, for ordi- 
 nary resort, rather to be chosen, as wherein he finds the 
 same essence, with more regular, grateful, and advanta- 
 geous modes and ways of administration. 
 
 And if hereupon it should be said. But since. Sir, you 
 think it not unlawful to communicate with such a church 
 sometimes, why should you not, for common order's sake, 
 do it always 1 
 
 May he not reply, Pardon me in that, good Sir, if I 
 think I owe more to what I take for Christ's rule, and to 
 the discernible advantage of my own soul ; judging, in 
 these respects, that communion to be best, which I more 
 constantly adhere to. I say, why may not an honest well- 
 meaning man reason thus; and do accordingly, (whether 
 his sentiments herein be right or wrong,) without gainsay- 
 ing his own conscience 1 And the rather, for that the 
 church itself, with which he more ordinarily communi- 
 cates not, (as comprehended in the states of the realm,) so 
 far gives him the liberty of his choice, a^; to reckon his 
 doing herein what is more for his satisfaction, and advan- 
 tage, no punishable thing. Why may he not conscienti- 
 ously say, Let me be excused, if I do not compliment away 
 things that are, to me, of so great importance ; and which 
 they to whom I give it, cannot but count a profane sort of 
 compliment ? 
 
 duestion. But should not the latitude of a Christian 
 carry him to fix his communion with the larger and more 
 extensive church 1 
 
 Answer. What ! Should the latitude of a Christian 
 bind him to one sort of Christians, with exclusion of all 
 other ■? Never was that noble principle of true Christian 
 latitude more perverted, or turned even against itself, than 
 if it be used to train men into a religious bigotry ! As if 
 the apostle's professing to be all things to all men, to the 
 Jews as a Jew, &c. must signify, that he take one side, and 
 engage with the Jews, against the Gentiles ! They that 
 refuse confinement to the largest church may avoid it, not 
 because they should, otherwise, express too much latitude, 
 but too little. 
 
 Some may here, perhaps, say, " What one judges best, 
 ought to be chosen alwa^-s." And indeed nothing is more 
 easy, or ordinary, than for them that have little compass 
 of thought, to pronounce hastily, and conclude peremp- 
 torily, even bevond seven men that can render a reason. 
 How would such a one stare, if one should oppose a down- 
 right negative to his confident assertion ! and say. What 
 is best, in matter of practice, is not to be chosen and done 
 always 7 'Tis not enough to justify such a choice, and 
 practice, that it be in itself, or simply best ; but that it be 
 best, in present circumstances, and all things considered, 
 that ought to be considered, in the present juncture. 
 
 Quam aquila, aut serpens Epidaurius? — Hor. 
 (And many others of them abound with like passaees.)
 
 184 
 
 CONSIDERATIONS ON A PREFACE. 
 
 Let here another distinction be remembered, before laid 
 down. Negative precepts oblige to every point of time. 
 Affirmative do not so. He that is always under obliga- 
 tion to pray solemnlv, is not obliged to be always solemnly 
 at prayer. The worship of God is better than most actions 
 of our lives ; yet the saving of a town or house from fire, 
 yea, the plucking of a sheep or an ox out of a ditch, is 
 sometimes to be preferred. The most sacred external 
 act of duty becomes a sin, when it excludes that which is 
 more a duty at that time. How fatal, how totally destruc- 
 tive an error might it have proved, before, to the Jewish 
 nation, always to have thought it unlawful to defend them- 
 selves on the sabbath-day ! d How long was sacramental 
 obsignation in the wilderness omitted 1 How much more 
 may attending upon such an institution, in, what some 
 may think, a more eligible manner ; if there be a reason 
 that outweighs; Avhen, not the substance of the ordinance 
 is wanting, but what is counted (perhaps by you) a fitter 
 modus I 
 
 To be plain with you, Mr. Prefacer, suppose yon judge 
 kneeling at the Lord's table a sin, (as cautious as you 
 are, not to seem to take this, or that side, in these contro- 
 versies, wherein you, however, unwarily betrayed your- 
 self, as hath been noted ; yet my supposing it doth you no 
 hurt,) and suppose you judge another gesture a duty ; sup- 
 pose you judge concurrence in the use of the liturgy a sin, 
 and the unprescribed way (by human authority) a duty ; 
 yet who hath empowered you to make such sins (if they 
 were such) exclusive from Christian communion 1 or such 
 duties, conditions of it 1 Sometime, surely, it will be un- 
 derstood how bold an adventure it is, to make terms of 
 Christian communion, which Christ hath never made. 
 There are sins and duties, immediately by God's law itself, 
 that he never intended to be so charaeteristical, viz. of the 
 unfit or fit subjects of Christian communion. For what ! 
 hath God forbidden any to be admitted to Christian com- 
 munion, but such as are perfect in knowledge and holi- 
 ness 1 How bold a self-assuming then is it in you, not only 
 to make sins and duties which God hath never made so; 
 but also to make them distinguishing terms of Christian 
 communion ! which is far higher, and the more insolent 
 usurpation I You know, or it is meet for you so fo judge, 
 that many pious men dare not partake of the L( rd's sup- 
 per, otherwise than kneeling. And I have been sufficiently 
 assured concerning divers of eminent sanctity, that they 
 have been as greatly affected, and had as high elevations 
 of soul, in the use of the common prayer, as others in any 
 other way of devotion. 
 
 Now, Mr. Prefacer, ought another man's gust to have 
 been the measure of theirs 1 would you have these men 
 excluded from all Christian worship, viz. in society with 
 Christian worshippers 1 To say, Let them worship God 
 with those of their own way, isto say you know not what. 
 For if (as by your rule it seems to be determined) the 
 things are unlawful and exclusive from all Christian com- 
 munion in worship, there ought to be none of any such 
 way, that they can worship with. And now, Sir, if that 
 be your conscience, that supposing there be never so many 
 thousands in a Christian nation that cannot worship God 
 in your way, you would have them paganized, made as 
 heathens and publicans, Gk)d bless me from your con- 
 science ! And shall this be your way of recommending 
 yourself to Christian communion 1 Wheresoever such a 
 spirit appears of zeal against such and such external forms ; 
 (or if it be for them, 'tis all one to me ;) of pride and self- 
 esteem, for so contemptibly little things ; of malice and 
 cruelty, that they could persecute even to the death, if it 
 were in their power, or into strange countries, such as 
 differ from them in things of no greater moment : I would 
 sooner be of a fellowship with drunkards, or other sensua- 
 lists, (though I hope God will keep me from both,) than 
 wath them ; as much, as I count a devil somewhat a worse 
 thing than a brute. Nor can it be said, that herein Satan 
 is transformed into an angel of light ; his transformation 
 is, at least, in this, very inartificial. He apparently 
 enough show.s himself to belong to the darkest region. 
 And whereas some such may talk of offering strange fire, 
 because it comes not from their altar ; their fire is as much 
 
 d As it was once said to have been, Plutarch de SiipCTst. 
 
 stranger than Nadab's and Abihu's, as common tmconse- 
 crated fire differs from infernal. 
 
 You will say. These human forms, and other devices 
 they are so much set upon, are sins. Sins ! but I ask, Do 
 they unchristian a man 1 They will be much more over- 
 magnified, by so fervent opposition, than by serious use. 
 But what would I do in such a case 1 would I not reject 
 a man from the Lord's table, how serious soever, that 
 would not communicate otherwise than kneeling 1 No, 
 God forbid ! Let him use his own freedom, and be fully 
 persuaded in his own mind ; he shall not offend me. And 
 though there was a time when Christians were forbidden 
 kneeling at all on the Lord's day ; I had rather that human 
 institution were neglected, than any good man debarred 
 of so useful an ordinance. I should never quarrel with 
 any man for that gesture itself. But I should like no one's 
 choice of it the better, that should pretend to choose it for a 
 moral reason. For instance, as expressive of greater re- 
 verence; because a moral reason must immediately bind 
 conscience ; and is of universal extent, must equally con- 
 cern all ; whence, this would imply an accusation of all 
 other Christian churches that use not this gesture, as ir- 
 reverent, or less reverent than they ought to be. Nor can 
 there be any other measure of debitum, or of that which 
 ought to be, but some law or other ; nor can there be any 
 law of universal obligation, but by a universal law-giver. 
 This would therefore insinuate an accusation of our Lord 
 himself of neglect, in not making such a law, and in al- 
 lowing a different gesture to his disciples, when he first 
 appointed that ordinance. For though their gesture was 
 not sitting, it is more probable to have been such, as was 
 used in those times and countries for their ordinary table 
 gesture. And this other I should use, being in commu- 
 nion with those that use it, rather not to offend them, than 
 please the master of the house, or to satisfy my own con- 
 science, as if it were in itself a sin not to use it. But for 
 them that use it on that account, i. e. of conscience towards 
 God ; I should, according to the mentioned rule, not judge, 
 but receive them. 
 
 And whereas some may think it would introduce con- 
 fusion into the church, that all should not he confined tc 
 one gesture in such an act of worship, it would be a worse 
 confusion to have serious Christians, because their con- 
 science obliges them to kneel, when others do not, mingled 
 with Turks and infidels. Nor is that oneness of gesture 
 more necessary to any order that is itself necessary, than 
 that all that partake together in such an ordinance, be ol 
 one stature, size, or sex ; or wear all garments of the same 
 shape or colour. I hope for a time, when Christianity 
 will be the religion of the world. While it is cramped it 
 will never grow. I hope it not to prevail in the world, by 
 having all the world, in every minute thing, reduced to the 
 modefof this or that parly. How absurdly arrogant would 
 he be, that .should pray that all the world might be of one 
 mind, by being all brought to be, in every nice punctilio, 
 of his mind. When Lsee partition-walls taken down, 
 truly catholic Christianity coming into repute, a readiness 
 and promptness of mind, to be all things to all men in the 
 apostle's true meaning; when the great things of religion 
 do more engage men's minds, and they cease to magnify 
 trifles ; when as to faults, (real or supposed,) men no lon- 
 ger strain at gnats and swallow camels; when the love of 
 God comes to govern the Christian church, and reign in 
 the hearts of men ; then will the kingdom of God come 
 with power. For I am sure the spirit of love is the spirit 
 of poMer, and of a sound mind. In the meantime, I de- 
 clare myself (as I have often) to be of no party, self-dis- 
 tinguished by so little things. Nor, when the visible 
 church of Christ on earth comes to be confessedly com- 
 posed (as of old) only of three sorts, catechumens, peni- 
 tents, and the fideles, with their infants, can it be any 
 great or insuperable difficulty, whom we are to receive 
 into our communions, and whom we are to exclude. 
 
 And thus, Mr. Prefacer, I have said all I intend, as to 
 the main of your cause, i. e. Whether they that shall not 
 be of your mind, when such a case occurs to them, as that 
 about which you litigate, and shall practise otherwise, (i. «. 
 shall not please you,) should therefore, except they repent» 
 
 \
 
 RELATING TO OCCASIONAL CONFORMITY, 
 
 im 
 
 be excluded all other Christian communion ? I shall say 
 no more to it, except what may occasionally fall in, upon 
 my giving some short remarks as to the manner of your 
 treating such worthy persons, whose judgment and prac- 
 tice agree not with yours. Herein, because I never in- 
 tended to answer your book, (thinking what I have said 
 makes that needless,) I shall only note some passages from 
 it, here and there. 
 
 And I begin with the title-page. Where, I pray you 
 inquire of your own heart, what you meant by that sug- 
 gestion " in cases of preferment 1" Was it not to insinuate, 
 that preferment was the inducement to that worthy per- 
 son, to act against his own conscience in that case "? when 
 it was his known judgment, testified by his practice seve- 
 ral years before. Herein you should have been sure. You 
 meddled with a two-edged weapon, wherewith you vainly 
 aimed to wound him, (for a sincere conscience is invnlne- 
 rable,) but have most certainly wounded yourself. You 
 may in time feel the wound; 'tis worse while you don't. 
 If he can sincerely appeal to the Searcher of hearts, (as for 
 ought you know, he can,) Lord, thou knowest this man 
 hath wronged me: I would not have such an appeal Ij'ing 
 in heaven against me for all the world ! How can you tell 
 but that such a thing was designed, and done with a sin- 
 cere aim and intention of mind 1 Among heathens it hath 
 not been unknown, that some having honorary coronets 
 conferred upon them, consecrated them to their gods.« Is 
 It impossible somewhat like it should be done by a Chris- 
 tian to the true and living God 1 Are you so much a 
 stranger to a devoted life, as not to think this possible 1 You 
 have wronged him, when, without ground, you judged 
 otherwise : but you wronged the great God infinitely more, 
 whose throne you presumed to usurp. And you should 
 have been able, before you concluded with so rash con- 
 fidence, to prove the act in its circumstance unlawful. If 
 it were lawful, go among them }'ou thought to gratify, 
 and inquire who of them will think a consequent prefer- 
 ment could make it unlawful ? Therefore your insinua- 
 tions, except wherein it is spiieful and mischievous, is idle 
 and vain. 
 
 Again, your subjoined text oi" Scripture, " If the Lord 
 be God, follow him ; but if Baal" — for what purpose was 
 it set there ■? What! to signify, that the God of the dis- 
 senters, and of the established church, differ as the living 
 God and Baall Did you take this for a piece of wit ! 'twas 
 uncharitable. Uncharitable! that's a trifle in comparison; 
 'twas profane and most impious wit; yet you are mighty 
 fond of the conceit, and we have it over and over in the 
 book, that the conformists and dissenters serve two Gods 
 (as the one of them is miscalled) and have two religious! 
 The Lord that hath chosen Jerusalem, and as truly the 
 congregations of England, to place his name in tliem, (and 
 whom, as invocated in many, and for ought appears you 
 intend in most of them, you blaspheme as a senseless 
 idol,) rebuke, and forgive you ! 
 
 This may occasion some idle people to cry out, " What ! 
 at church in the forenoon, and at a meeting-house in the 
 afternoon ! This is fine ! and what will now become of 
 our religion 7" And what is, already, become of his reli- 
 gion who so exclaims 1 Do the religion of the church and 
 of the meeting-house make two religions 1 Wherein do 
 they differ 1 The substance of the same religion is common 
 to them both. Therefore the modes and accidents, wherein 
 onl)'' they differ, are this man's religion. And can any man 
 be the better for such a religion, that consists of modes 
 and accidents 1 'Tis true, that religion may possibly be so 
 ludicrously disguised and misrepresented, as scarce to be 
 fitly owned for any religion at all. But this cannot be said 
 of most (if of any) of the congregations of England, of 
 either sort. And they that have any thing of charity, or 
 the fear of God, about them, will be very wary how, for a 
 misplaced word, or indecent action, or expression, they 
 censure one or another of these two sorts of solemn wor- 
 shipping a.ssemblies, as having nothing of God, or true 
 religion, among them. 
 
 Thirty-nine articles are given us for the summary of our 
 religion, and of what is thought to appertain to it. Thirty- 
 six contain the substance of it, wherein we agree : three, 
 the additional appendices, about which we have some 
 e Athen. Deipnos. cum Animadvere. Is. Caaaub. 
 
 difference. With such a man, the three weigh more than 
 all the thirty-six. And if his eyes and understanding were 
 useable things with him, he would see the chuich is a 
 meeting-house, and the meeting-hou.se a church. How 
 remote are these men from the temper of spirit they were 
 directed to be of, that had far greater diflierences among 
 them than ours, to count themselves all one in Christ 
 Jesus ! But throughout the book, such as are of this Chris- 
 tian latitude and bcnisrnity of mind towards one another, 
 and not so stingily bigoted to a party, as he, are treated 
 with this sort of charity, to be styled painted hypocrites; 
 such as play bo-peep with God Almighty; that, if such 
 an occasion offer it.self to any of them to serve God and 
 their country, in a public station, do what the law requires, 
 and which they think they maj' sinlessly do in order to it, 
 do trespass upon their consciences, and danm their own 
 souls to serve their country. And they that censure them 
 not, as he doth, are induced to forbear it, only by their 
 gold ring, or fine apparel. 
 
 And that he would have all such as use that liberty, 
 which their consciences and the divine law, as they think, 
 allow them, in order to their serving God and their coun- 
 try, to be disfranchised, and made incapable of doing 
 public service to either, i. e. for doing that, which as wise 
 men as he count indifferent ; and which can therefore 
 make no one either a better or worse man, or Christian. 
 And would draw that odium upon the established church, 
 to represent it as if it sought to engross all power to itself^ 
 as such, even in civil affairs, upon so insignificant a pre- 
 tence! than which he could not attempt doing it a greater 
 mischief, or more directly tending to make it intolerable 
 to the prince, nobility, gentry, and to the whole body of 
 the nation itself. No such arts need to be used to expose 
 the clergy to the ill-will of the people, and raise in nobler 
 minds what some may count a just and generous disdain 
 of being so enslaved. The nature of man, in his lapsed 
 state, is so alienated from God, as to have little regard for 
 an}' sacredness of persons and things, by which only they 
 become related to him. 
 
 The church of Rome hath not gained JHUch upon kinss 
 and princes, of later years, by affecting to make them de- 
 pendent on her. And it is not difficult to pre-apprehei.*, 
 what may at length engage them against her, to her final 
 ruin : i. e. to make them hate her, eat her flesh, and bum 
 her with fire. In that church, this caprice first began in 
 their dnmin'mvi tempo rale, in gratia fvndalum ; and thence 
 by a strangely wide sort of stride or skip, even of a hea- 
 venly width, from pole to pole, 'twas got quite among an- 
 other sort of men, treading antipodes to the former, m the 
 immodest, rude claim, and appropriation to themselves, of 
 the entire privilege and prerogative of the saints' reign. 
 'Tis the easiest thing in the world, when any sort or party 
 of men have got power into their hands, to saint them- 
 selves, and unsaint all other men, at their own pleasure. 
 But do the civil rights of men depend upon such (?'. e. 
 so easily abusable) pretences ? We are saying nothing now 
 of their rights, claimable from God himself, but from one 
 another ; and even such rights none could have, i. e. that 
 are claimable from their fellow-creatures, or their (con- 
 cives) felluw-members, under any government, but by 
 some original grant, one way or other conveyed from the 
 Supreme Ruler, who is the fountain of all rights. 
 
 But hath he ever given Christians, (or saints,) as such, a 
 right to seize the rights and properties of other menl The 
 notion of the saints' reign, because we find it in the Holy 
 Bible, is not to be torn out, but must have its true sense 
 assigned it. And if there be a time yet to come, wherein 
 it shall have plfce; it must mean, that a more general 
 pouring forth of the Spirit shall introduce a supervening 
 sanctity upon rulers, as well as others; not to give every 
 man a right to rule, (for who should then be ruled T) but 
 to enable and incluie them that shall duly have a right, to 
 rule better. And so the kingdom will be the saints, when 
 it is administered, by some, and for others, who are so. If 
 God have allowed to men, as men, any rights, i. e. that are 
 claimable against other men ; and should again give a right 
 to Christians in other men's properties; to what a strait 
 and distress were the rest of the world reduced ! Might 
 not any of them say, Since one must be a man before he
 
 186 
 
 CONSIDERATION ON A PREFACE, &c. 
 
 can be a Christian, what am I to do in this case 1 must I 
 umnan myself, and lose the rights I have, as such, that I 
 may recover them by being a Christian 1 I had them as a 
 man before, sufficiently to secure me against the claim of 
 all others. What! but not against Christians'? Then are 
 they an unmanned sort of men ! And whereas obligations 
 accompany rights, what lawless men are these Christians ! 
 But whereas God hath in great compassion to the world 
 appointed it to be Christianized, he hath with equal wis- 
 dom chosen the fittest methods for it ; i. e. not to commis- 
 sion Christians to divest other men of their all, unless they 
 become Christians ; but to let men see, Christianity had 
 no design to disturb the world, or disquiet them in their 
 former possessions, though they should not be Christians ; 
 but that they might enjoy them with higher advantage, if 
 they be, in order to another world. If God had made 
 Christianity the measure of civil rights to mankind, his 
 sovereignty were not to be disputed ; but he never exerts 
 acts of sovereignty, but by the direction of his wisdom. 
 Wheresoever the sound of the Christian name comes, if it 
 carried that avowed principle with it, that Christians, as 
 such, had a right to out all other men of their birth-rights ; 
 instead of becoming the religion of the world, nothing 
 could more directly tend to engage and inflame all the 
 world against it, and make them endeavour its utter extir- 
 
 Eation, as a thing intolerable to mankind. Nor could they 
 ave any so plausible pretence against it besides ; having 
 nothing in itself, but what must render it most amiable 
 and self-recommending. Did the Spaniards' methods for 
 Christianizing America, recommend the Christian faith to 
 that miserable people 1 And if God himself would never 
 give such a power, for introducing the very substance of 
 Christian religion itself; how intolerable must it be for 
 any sort or church of Christians, to claim and use it for 
 the inti'oduction of their own additions to Christianity, as 
 the church of Rome hath notoriously long done ! And 
 lime will show the event, as common reason doth the ten- 
 dency of it. 
 
 And, Sir, though the strain of your discourse shows your 
 no great kindness to this established church, the compli- 
 ments which here and there you besiow upon it, too 
 broadly show, as if, under a colour of kindness, you would 
 tempt it, to aim at loading itself with such a weight of 
 power and greatness as, you may think, must finally sink 
 it. Its more real friends, our civil rulers, are more wisely 
 kind to it, and give it no more interest in the civil govern- 
 ment, than it may more safely bear. They never exact 
 jn order to any one's having a share therein, a total, con- 
 stant conformity to all its rites, as you would have them. 
 And have only designed by the limits they have set, the 
 excluding that sort of men, whose known principles make 
 them more incapable of human society, than mere pagans. 
 But especially, 'lis not to be let pass, that you, or your 
 author, industriously represent the primitive English puri- 
 tans, (concerning whom it were in some respects well for 
 you, if, as the great author you mention speaks, your 
 soul were with theirs,) as if they were generally of your 
 stingy narrow spirit. I wonder how you could think to im- 
 pose upon the world in a matter of so recent memory. This 
 
 attempt had been more prudently deferred till three or 
 four ages hence ; especially if great care had been taken, 
 in the meantime, that all books were burnt, or buried, 
 that give any account of them. How notorious is it, that 
 generally they that continued in their native land, as far 
 the greater number did, looked not upon the church of 
 England as no church ! That they wished her more re- 
 formed ; but in great part kept in her communion, (their 
 principal leaders and the people,) taking other opportimi- 
 ties of spiritual improvement, as they could ; for which 
 they often ran great hazards. In 62, the same spirit and 
 sentiment afresh appeared; when most of the considerable 
 ejected London ministers met, and agreed to hold occa- 
 sional communion with the (now) re-established church: 
 not quitting their own ministry, or declining the exercise 
 of it, as they could have opportunity. And as far as I could 
 by inquiry learn, I can little doubt this to have been the 
 judgment of their fellow-sufferers through the nation, in 
 great part, ever since. How could you have the confi- 
 dence to represent this as a new thing; and an apostacy 
 from primitive puritanism! that hath so much in it of the 
 spirit of primitive Christianity ; such largeness of mind ! 
 such reverence of what bears a divine stamp and signa- 
 ture upon it, undefaced ! such benignity, even towards 
 them by whom they suffered ! How strangely inverted. 
 Sir, do things lie in your mind ! must we accordingly 
 transpose the names of virtue and vice 1 And by how 
 much more illustrious any render themselves by the emi- 
 nent virtues of pride, fury, self-conceit, censoriousness, to 
 the damning of every body, that in all things do not think, 
 and do, as they ! Are these things with you characters of 
 the most excellent sorts of Christians '? 
 
 If I had seen any thing in your book that needed, or 
 deserved, a particular answer, I should not have balked 
 it. But seeing nothing that looks like reasoning, but 
 what is so idly sophistical, that any one of common sense 
 can see through it ; such as that, " How can a man dissent 
 and conform at the same time V when all the world 
 knows, or may, conformity consists of numerous parts; 
 and is it such a miracle for a man to conform, in some 
 part, and not in every part? conscientiously to scruple 
 constant entire conformity, and not scruple some part of 
 it, at some time 1 If any think such talk needs further 
 answering, let them seek it elsewhere. And for your re- 
 plying, I shall not prescribe to you ; only I can as.sure 
 you, that thereby, neither you, nor any man else, shall 
 divert me from my much more important, pleasant work ; 
 unless I see somewhat that shall make it worth my while. 
 The person you criminate, may yet, notwithstanding what 
 you have said, be in the right for ought I see. And there- 
 fore, to any such whose case this is, or may be, I can 
 only say, that their rule having been consulted with seri- 
 ous diligence, as I hope it hath ; and their end a secret 
 between God and them, which, if it be sincere, is enough 
 for them ; they have no cause to be discouraged, but go on, 
 and prosper. But, Mr. Prefacer, if your judgment, upon 
 the case itself, be true ; I conceive that truth, accompa- 
 nied with your temper of spirit, is much worse than their 
 error.
 
 THE 
 
 BLESSEDNESS OF THE RIGHTEOUS OPENED, 
 
 AND FORTHBR 
 
 RECOMMENDED FROM THE CONSIDERATION 
 
 VANITY OF THIS MORTAL LIFE. 
 IN TWO TREATISES, 
 
 ON PSALM XVIL 15. AND PSALM LXXXIX. 47. 
 
 WHEN HE SHALL APPEAR, WE SHALL BE LIKE HIM, FOR WE SHALL SEE HIM AS HE IS, 1 JOHN HI. 8. 
 
 AXXo TO. xaxa oi SvvarSv in Benii l^pv(T6at ti)i» Se OvTjrijv ^iniv, icai tSv8c rov rSirov irtptvoXcT «| dvayxni. Aii xai vtipaoBat XP^ 
 iv6ev!c Utiat (pnyeiv on ravi^a. $»)J| ie hjioiw<Tis Oc<S Kara to 6vvaTev, bftolaxrti ie StKaiov. xai S<no» utra ^eoirjatoi; yiytrdoi. 
 
 Plat, in Thecet.
 
 TO THE READER. 
 
 1 AM not at all solicitous, that the world should know the history of the conception of this treatise. If there be any 
 thing that shall recompense the pains of such as may think fit to give themselves the trouble of perusing it, in the 
 work itself, I should yet think it too much an undervaluing of them, if I did reckon the minuter circumstances rela- 
 ting thereto, fit matter for their entertainment. Nor am I more concerned to have it known what were the induce- 
 ments to the publication of it. Earnest protestations and remonstrances of our good intentions in such undertakings, 
 as they leave men still at liberty to believe or doubt at their pleasure; so they gain us little if they be believed. It is 
 no easy matter, to carry one even, constant tenour of spirit through a work of time. Nor is it more easy to pass a 
 settled invariable judgment concerning so variable a subject; when a heart that may seem wholly framed and set for 
 God this hour, shall look so quite like another thing the next, and change figures and postures almost as often as it 
 doth thoughts. And if a man should be mistaken in judging himself, it would little mend the matter, to have de- 
 ceived others also into a good opinion of him. But if he can approve himself to God in the simplicity of an honest 
 and undeceived heart, the peace that ensues is a secret between God and him. ♦They are theatre enough to one 
 another, as he said to his friend. 'Tis an enclosed pleasure : a joy which the stranger cannot intermeddle with. 
 
 'Tis therefore any man's concernment herein rather to satisfy himself than the world. And the world's, rather to 
 understand the design of the work than the author ; and whither it tends, rather than whereto he meant it. And 'tis 
 obvious enough, to what good purposes discourses of this nature may serve. This is, in the design of it, wholly prac- 
 tical ; hath little or nothing to do with disputation. If there be any whose business it is to promote a private, divided 
 interest; or who place the sum of their religion in an inconsiderable and doubtful opinion; it doth not unhallow their 
 altars, nor ofl'er any affront to their idol. It intends no quarrel to any contending, angry party; but deals upon things 
 in the substance whereof Christians are at a professed agreement. And hath therefore the greater probability of doing 
 good to some, withotit the offence of any. 'Tis indeed equally matter of complaint and wonder, that men can find so 
 much leisure to divert from such things, wherein there is so much both of importance and pleasure, unto (what one 
 would think ^ould have little of temptation or allurement in it) contentious jangling. It might rather be thought its 
 visible fruits and tendencies should render it the most dreadful thing to every serious beholder. What tragedies hath 
 it wrought in the Christian church ! Into how weak and languishing a condition hath it brought the religion of pro- 
 fessed Christians ! Hence have risen the intemperate, preternatural heats and angers that have spent its strength and 
 spirits, and make it look with so meagre and pale a face. We have had a greater mind to dispute than live ; and to 
 contend about what we know not, than to practise the far greater things we know; and which more directly tend to 
 nourish and maintain the divine life. The author of that ingenious sentence,t (whoev^er he were,) hath fitly expressed 
 what is the noisome product of the itch of disputing. It hath begot the ulcerous tumours, which, besides their own 
 offensive soreness, drain the body, and turn what should nourish that into nutriment to themselves. And its effects are 
 not more grievous than the pleasures which it affects and pursues are uncouth and unnatural. *The rough touch of an 
 ungentle hand. That only pleases which exasperates, (as the moralist aptly expresses some like disaffection of diseased 
 minds.) Toil and vexation is their only delight. What to a sound spirit would be a pain, is to these a pleasure. 
 
 Which is, indeed, the triumph of the disease, that it adds unto torment, reproach, and mockery, and imposes upon 
 men by so ridiculous a delusion (while they are made to take pleasure in punishing themselves) that even the most 
 sober can scarce look on in a fitter posture, than with a compassionate smile. All which were yet somewhat more 
 tolerable, if that imagined, vanishing pleasure were not the whole of their gain ; or if it were to be hoped, that so great 
 a present real pain and smart, should be recompensed with as real a consequent fruit and advantage. But we know, 
 that generally by how much any thing is more disputable, the less it is necessary or conducible to the Christian life. 
 God hath graciously provided that what we are to live by, should not cost us so dear. And possibly, as there is less 
 occasion of disputing aboiu the more momentous things of religion ; so there may be somewhat more of modesty and 
 awe in reference to what is so confessedly venerable and sacred, (though too many are over bold even here also,) than 
 so foolishly to trifle with such things. Therefore more commonly, where that humour prevails, men divert from 
 those plainer things, with some slighter and superficial reverence to them, but more heartily esteeming them insipid 
 and jejune, because they have less in them to gratify that appetite, and betake themselves to such things about which 
 they may more plausibly contend : and then, what pitiful trifles oftentimes take up their time and thoughts ; ques- 
 tions and problems of like weighty importance, very often, with those which, the above named author§ tells us, this 
 disease among the Greeks prompted them to trouble themselves about, as, " What number of rowers Ulysses had 1 
 Which was written first, the Iliad or the Odysses, &c. ? So that (as he saith) they spent their lives very operously doing 
 nothing. Their conceits being such, that if they kept them to themselves, they could yield them no fruit ; and if they 
 published them to others, they should not seem thereby the more learned, but the more troublesome" to this purpose 
 he truly speaks. And is it not to be resented, that men should sell away the solid strength and vital joy which a seri- 
 ous soul would find in substantial religion, for such toys ! Yea, and not only famish themselves, but trouble the world, 
 and embroil the church with their impertinencies ! If a man be drawn forth to defend an important truth against an 
 injurious assault, it were treacherous self-love to purchase his own peace by declining it. Or if he did sometimes turn 
 his thoughts to some of our petty questions, that with many are so hotly agitated, for recreation-sake, or to try his wit 
 
 Pnuitus dispntandi scabies Ecclesioe. 
 nocitiiras mamis appetunt et tactu gav - - - 
 
 - - ^ velut malaulcprfl pninpnint- vnlnntnti pQo 
 
 § Sen. de Brev. Vit. 
 
 I yt ulcera piiapdam nocitiiras maniis appetunt et tactu gaudent, et fedam corporum gcabiem deleetat quicquid exaaperat : Non aliter dixerijn hi» menti- 
 buain quas voluptates velut mala ulcera eruperunt, voluptati esse laborcm, vexationemque. Sen. de TranquiUitate Animi.
 
 TO THE READER. 189 
 
 and exercise his reason, without stirring his passions to the disturbance of others or himself; 'twere an innocent di- 
 vertisement, and the best purpose that things of that nature are capable of serving. But when contention becomes a 
 mail's element, and he cannot live out of that fire ; strains his wit and racks his invention to find matter of quarrel ; 
 is resolved, nothing said or done by others shall please him, only because he means to please himself m dissenting; 
 disputes only that he may dispute, and loves dissention for itself: this is the unnatural humour that hath so unspeak- 
 ably troubled the church, and dispirited religion, and filled men's souls with wind and vanity ; yea, with fire and fury. 
 This hath made Christians gladiators, and the Christian world a clamorous theatre, while men have equally aflfected 
 to contend, and to make ostentation of their ability so to do. 
 
 And, surely, as it is highly pleasurable to retire oneself, so it is charitable to call aside others out of this noise and 
 throng' to consider silently and feed upon the known and agreed things of our religion ; which immediately lead to 
 both the duties and delights of it. Among which there are none more evident and undoubted, none less entangled 
 •with controversy, none more profitable and pleasant, than the future blessedness of the righteous, which this discourse 
 treats of The last end is a matter so little disputable, that 'tis commonly thought (which is elsewhere more distinctly 
 spoken to) not to be the object of election, and so not of deliberation consequently, but of simple intention only, because 
 men are supposed to be generally agreed as touching that. And the knowledge and intention of it is apparently the 
 very soul of religion ; animates, directs, enlivens, and sweetens the whole thereof. Without which, religion were the 
 vainest, most irrational, and most unsavoury thing in the world. For what were there left of it, but an empty unac- 
 countable formality, a series of spiritless and merely scenical observances and actions without a design 1 For whereas 
 all men's actions else, mediately tend to the last end, but that not being in view with the most, they pitch upon oiher 
 intervenient ends ; which, though abstracted from the last, should not be ; yet they are actually to them the reason of 
 their actions, and infuse a vigour and liveliness into them : religion aiming immediately at the last end, that being 
 taken away, hath no rational end or design at all. And it cannot but be a heartless business, with great solemnity, in 
 a continued course, to do nothing but professedly trifle, or keep up a custom of certain solemn peiformances which 
 have no imaginable scope or end. And because the more clearly this our last end is understood, the more powerfully 
 and sweetly it attracts and moves the soul, this treatise endeavours to give as plain and positive a state and notion of 
 it as the text insisted on, compared with other Scriptures, would afford to so weak an eye. 
 
 And because men are so apt to abuse themselves with the vain and self-contradicting hopes of attaining this end, 
 without ever having their spirits framed to it, or walking in the way that leads thereto, as if they could come to heaven 
 by chance, or without any design or care of theirs ; the proportion is endeavoured to be shown, between that Divine 
 likeness, in the vision and participation whereof this blessedness consists, and the righteousness that disposes £md leads 
 to it. Which may it be monitory to the ungodly and profane, who hate and scorn the likeness of Grod wherever ihey 
 behold it. And let me tell such from (better-instructed) pagans. That* there is nothing more like or more aaept/ible 
 to God, than a man that is in the temper of his soul truly good, icho excels other men, as he is himself excelled (pardon his 
 hvperbole) fry the immortal God. TTiat ^' between God and good men there is a friendship, by means of virtue ; a friend- 
 ship, yea, a kindred, a likeness ; in as much truly as the good man differs from God but in time, (here sprinkle a grain 
 or two,) being his disciple, imitator, and very off-spring. That t God is full of indignation against such as reproach 
 one that is like to him, or that praise one that is contra riiy affected ; (or unlike ;) but such is the good man (i. e. he is one 
 like God.) A good man (as it shortly after follows) is the holiest thing in the world, and a wicked man the most polluted 
 thing. 
 
 And let me warn such haters of holiness and holy men in the words of this author immediately subjoined ;§ And 
 this I say for this cause, that thou being but a inan, the son of a man, no more offend in speaking against a hero, one who 
 is a san, of God. 
 
 Methiiiks men should be a'^hamed to profess the belief of a life to come, while they cannot behold without indigna- 
 tion, nor mention but with derision, that holiness without which it can never be attained, and which is indeed the seed 
 and principle of the thing itself But such are not likely much to trouble themselves with this discourse. There is 
 little in it indeed of art or ornament to invite or gratify such as the subject itself invites not. And nothing at all but 
 what was apprehended might be some way useful. The affectation of garnishing a margin with the names of authors, 
 I have ever thought a vain pedantry; yet have not declined the occasional use of a few that occurred. He that writes 
 to the world, must reckon himself debtor to the wise and unwise. If what is done shall be found with any to have 
 promoted its proper end ; his praises to God shall follow it (as his prayers do that it may) who professes himself, 
 
 A well-wilier to the souls of men. 
 
 J. HOWE. 
 
 * Nihil est Deo siitiilius ant gratius qnam vir animo perfecte bonus. &c Apul. de Deo Socratis. 
 
 * Intel bono9 viros jc Deum Aniicilia est, nonciliante \irtute amicitiam dico? etiam necessitudo, et similitudo, &c Sen. de Pror. 
 
 ; ^i^caa yap o 6cos orai/ m Ipe} J] th. fa'i7-coi oy.oiov, rj ntaivrj tov eavnoi tcuiriois c\ovTa, £$-' (5' uvTOi o O) aaoj, — nat'TOJt' icpdirarov e^lv avapciivot 
 ayad)s,Kat ftiapdiTarov o TToi'np'i. Plat, in Minoe. 
 i ToVTOv i' evixa (ppacrcu, ti/a ur/ anOpwiros wf avQpwnov, £ij rjpu) Aioi vtov Aoj w e^apapravris.
 
 CHRISTIAN READER. 
 
 You whose hearts are set on heaven, who are daily laying up a treasure there, here is a welcome messenger, to tell 
 you more than perhaps you have well considered, of the nature of your future blessedness, and to illustrate the map 
 of the land of promise, and to bring you another cluster of its grapes : here is a useful help to make you know that 
 holiness doth participate of glory, and that heaven is at least virtually in the seed of grace. Though this life be 
 properly called a life of faith, as contradistinct from the intuition and fruition hereafter, as well as from the lower 
 life of sense ; yet is it a great truth, and not sufficiently considered and improved, that we have here more than faith, 
 to acquaint us with the blessedness expected. Between faith and glory, there is the spirit of holiness, the love of God, 
 the heavenly desires, which are kindled by faith, and are those branches on which the happy flower and fruit must 
 grow : they are the name and mark of God upon us : they are our earnest, our pledge, and the first fruits. And is not 
 this more than a word of promise only 1 Therefore though all Christians must live by faith, marvel not that I tell 
 you, that you may, you must, have more than faith. Is not a pledge and earnest, a first-fruits, more 1 Therefore 
 have Christians not only a Spirit to evidence their title, but also some foretaste of heaven itself. For faith in Christ 
 is to recover us to God ; and so much as we have of God, so much of fruition ; and so much as faith hath kindled in 
 you of the love of God, so much foretaste you have of heaven ; for you are deceived, if you think, that anyone notion 
 speaketh more to you of heaven, and of your ultimate end, than the love of God. And though no unsound ill-grounded 
 faith will serve to cause this sacred love, yet when it is caused, it over-tops this cause ; and he that perceiveth the 
 operations of a strong effectual love, hath an acquaintance with God and heaven which is above that of believing. 
 Faith seeth the feast, but love is the tasting of it. And therefore it is, that the holiest souls stick closest unto Grod, be- 
 cause (though their reasoning faculty may be defective) they know him by the highest and most tenacious kind of 
 knowledge which this world afibrdeth, (as I have lately shown elsewhere.) Here you have described to you, the true 
 witness of the Spirit ; not that of supposed internal voices, which they are usually most taken up with, who have the 
 smallest knowledge, and faith, and love, and the greatest self-esteem, or spiritual pride, with the strongest phantasies 
 end passions: but the objective and the sealing testimony, the divine nature, the renewed image of God, whose children 
 are known by being like to their heavenly Father, even by being holy as he is holy. This is the Spirit of adoption, 
 by which we are inclined, by holy love to God, and confidence in him, to cry Abba Father, and to fly unto him : the 
 Spirit of sanctification is thereby in us the Spirit of adoption ; for both signify but the giving us that love to God, 
 which is the filial nature, and our Father's image. 
 
 And this treatise doth happily direct thee to that faithful beholding God in righteousness, which must here begin 
 this blessed assimilation, which full intuition will for ever perfect. It is a happy sign that God is about to repair 
 our ruins and divisions, when he stirreth up his servants to speak so much of heaven ; and to call up the minds of 
 impatient complainers, and contentious censurers, and ignorant self-conceited dividers, and of worldly, unskilful, and 
 unmerciful pastors, to look to that state where all the godly shall be one; and to turn those thoughts to the furtherance 
 of holiness, to provoke one another to love and to good works, which too many lay out upon their hay and stubble ; 
 and to call men from judging and despising each other (and worse than both those) about their meats and drinks, and 
 days, to study righteousness and peace, and joy in the Holy Ghost. For he that in these things serveth Christ (in which 
 his kingdom doth consist) is acceptable to God, and approved of men, that are wise and good. Let us therefore follow 
 after the things which make for peace, and things wherewith one may edify another. Whilst the contentious for 
 meats will destroy the work of God, (Rom. xiv. 17—20.) the union between peace and holiness is so strict, that he 
 that truly promoteth one promoteth both, Heb. xii. 14. Jam. iii. 17. The true way of our union is excellently de- 
 scribed, Eph. iv. 11 — 16. If any plain, unlearned readers shall blame the accurateness of the style, they must remem- 
 ber, that those persons have not the least need to hear of heaven, and to be drawn up from the vanities of earth, who 
 cannot digest a looser style. As God hath endued the worthy author with a more than ordinary measure of judicious- 
 ness, even soundness and accurateness, of understanding, with seriousness, spirituality, and a heavenly mind ; so we 
 have for our common benefit the effects of all these happy qualifications, in this judicious, heavenly discourse. And 
 if my recommendations may in any measure further your acceptance, improvement, and practising of so edifying a 
 treatise, it will answer the ends of him who waiteth with you in hope for the same salvation. 
 
 RICHARD BAXTER. 
 
 Acton, May 30.
 
 THE 
 
 BLESSEDNESS OF THE RIGHTEOUS. 
 
 PSALM XVII. 15. 
 
 AS FOR ME, I WILL BEHOLD THY FACE IN RIGHTEOUSNESS : I SHALL BE SATISFIED WHEN I AWAKE WITH THY LIKENESS. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 A PROEMIAL DISCOtTRSE. A REFLECTION UpoN SOME FOREGOING VERSES OF THE PSALM, BY WAY OF INTRODUCTION TO THJ5 
 TEXT. A CONSIDERATION OF ITS SOMEWHAT VARIOUS READINGS, AND OF ITS LITERAL IMPORTANCE. A DISCCSSION OF ITS REAL 
 IMPORTANCE SO FAR AS IS NECESSARY TO THE SETTLING THE SUBJECT OF THE PRESENT DISCOURSE. 
 
 The continual mixture of good and evil in this present 
 state of things, with its uncertain fluctuations, and subjec- 
 tion to perpetual changes, do naturally prompt a con- 
 sidering mind to the belief and hope of another, that may 
 be both more perfect and more permanent. For certainly 
 it could never be a design adequate (or any way agree- 
 able) to the Divine wisdom and goodness, that the blessed 
 God should raise such a thing as this lower creation out of 
 nothing, only to give himself the temporary pleasure of 
 beholding the alternate joys and sorrows of (the best part 
 thereof) his reasonable creatures seated in it : nor a delight 
 at all proportionable to an eternally happy Being, when he 
 hath connaturalized such a creature to this sensible world ; 
 only to take notice how variously the passions he hath 
 planted in him, may be moved and stirred by the variety 
 of occasions which he shall thence be presented with ; and 
 what sudden and contrary impressions may be made upon 
 his easy passive senses, by the interchanged strokes and 
 touches of contrary objects; how quickl)' hecan raise him 
 into a transport of high contentment and pleasure, and 
 then how soon he can again reduce him to a very parox- 
 ysm of anguish and despair. It would discover us to 
 have very vile and low thoughts of God, if we did not 
 judge it altogether unanswerable to his perfections, to 
 design no further thing in creating this world, and placing 
 such a creature as man in it, than only to please himself 
 for a while with such a spectacle, and then at last clear 
 the stage, and shut up all again in an eternal, silent dark- 
 ness. If we could suppose a man furnished with such 
 power, he would surely add little to the reputation of his 
 being wise or good be)'ond other men, by a design so to 
 use it. Much less can we think it worthy of God to per- 
 petuate such a state of things as this, and continue a suc- 
 cession of such persons and actions as we now behold in 
 the world, through eternal generations, only to perpetuate 
 to himself the same pleasure in the exercise of his im- 
 mense power upon created natures, over which he hath so 
 infinite advantage. 
 
 And indeed nothing can be more unconceivable, than 
 that the great Creator and Author of all things should 
 frame a creature of so vast comprehension as the spirit of 
 man, put into it a capacity of knowing and conversing 
 with himself, give it some prospect of his own glory and 
 blessedness ; raise thereby, in many, boundless unsatisfied 
 desires after him, and unexpressible pleasure in the pre- 
 conceived hope of being received into the communion of 
 that glory and blessedness ; and yet defeat and blast so 
 great an expectation, by the unsuspected reducement of 
 the very subject of it again to nothing. Yea, and that he 
 should deal herein (as in that case he must) the most 
 
 n, 'El fiev ovv a/iO rati oaiiiaci Siakvoftcvoii xai to Tin ipiixfJio J"' ^^ ^ore sotiv ekcwo cvviiaXvtTai, &c. Dionys, Halicar. Antiq. Rom. lib. S. 
 
 hardly with the best ; and that such souls, whose mere 
 love and devotedncss to him had made them abandon the 
 pleasures of this life, and run through whatsoever diflicul- 
 ties for his sake, should fare worse than the very worst ; 
 were, beyond all the rest, most utterly unimaginable, and 
 a thought which Pagan reason hath not known how to 
 digest or entertain. If (saith one," and he speaks the 
 sense of many others, as well as his own) u-ith the dissolu- 
 tion of our bodies, the essence of the soul, whatsoerer that be 
 shoaild be dissolved too, and forever cease to be any thing 
 I knoio not hoio I can account them blessed, that never hat- 
 ing enjoyed any good as the reward of their virtue, have 
 even perished for virtue itself. 
 
 Wherefore it is consequent, that this present state is only 
 intended for a trial to the spirits of men, in order to their 
 attainment as of a better state in a better world: that is, 
 inasmuch as the infinitely wise and blessed God had given 
 being to such a creature as man, in which both worlds 
 (the material and the immaterial) did meet ; and who, in 
 respect of his earthly and spiritual natures, had in him 
 somewhat suitable to each. And whereas this creature had 
 lost (with his interest) his very inclination to the spiritual 
 objects and enjoyments of the purer immaterial world, 
 (wherein alone his true blessedness could consist,) suflered 
 a vile depression of his spirit unto this gross corporeal 
 world, and hereby brought himself under a necessity of 
 being miserable, his nobler part having nothing now to 
 satisfy it, but what it was become unsuitable and disaf- 
 fected to. His merciful Creator, being intent upon his 
 restitution, thought fit not to bring it about by a sudden 
 and violent hand ; (as it were to catch him into heaven 
 against his will;) but to raise his spirit into its just domi- 
 nion and sovereignty in him, bj' such gradual methods as 
 were most sititable to a rational, intelligent nature ; that 
 is, to discover to him, that he had such a thing as spirit 
 about him; whence it M^as fallen, how low it was sunk, to 
 what state it was yet capable to be raised, and what he had 
 designed and done for its happy recover}-. And hence, by 
 the secret and powerful insinuations of his own light and 
 grace, to awaken his drowsy and slumbering reason, and 
 incline his perverse and wayward will to the consideration 
 and choice of such things as that felicity consists in; 
 which that better world can aflbrd, and his better part enjoy. 
 
 And while he propounds such things to him. how rea- 
 sonable and agreeable was it, that he should keep him 
 sometimes under a just probation, (yea, how much was 
 there in it of a gracious and compassionate indulgence, often 
 to renew the trial,) whether he would yet bestir himself, and 
 (having so great hopes before him, and such helps and 
 aids afforded him, and ready to be aflbrded) apply, at
 
 m 
 
 THE BLESSEDNESS OP THE RIGHTEOUS. 
 
 Chap. I. 
 
 last, his intellectual and elective powers, to mind and 
 close with so gracious overtures, in order to his own 
 eternal advancement and blessedness 1 Nor was it an un- 
 reasonable expectation that he should do so. For, how- 
 ever the temporal good and evil that may constantly alfect 
 his sensitive part and powers be present and near, but 
 the eternal misery or blessedness of his soul, future and re- 
 mote ; yet, inasmuch as he is capable of understanding the 
 vast disproportion of time and eternity, of a mortal flesh 
 and an immortal spirit, how preposterous a course were 
 it, and unworthy of a man ; yea, how dishonourable and 
 reproachful to his Maker, should he prefer the momentary 
 pleasures of narrow, incapacious sense, to the everlasting 
 enjoyments of an enlarged comprehensive spirit ! or, for 
 the avoiding the pains and miseries of the former kind, in- 
 cur those of the latter ! Whence also the holy God doth 
 not expect and require only, that men should make that 
 v.'iser choice ; but doth most justly lay the weight of their 
 eternal states upon their doing or not doing so. And in 
 that day when he shallb render to every one according to 
 their works, make this the rule of his tinal judgment, to 
 allot to them, who by a patient continuance in well-doing 
 seek for honour, glory, and immortality, eternal life. To 
 the rest, indignation and wrath, tribulation and anguish, 
 &c. and that whether they be Jews or Gentiles. Nor is it 
 a new thing in the world, that some among the children of 
 men should in this comply with the righteous will of God, 
 and so judge and choose for themselves, as he is pleased 
 to direct and prescribe. 'Tis a course approved by the con- 
 current suffrage of all them, in all times and ages, into 
 whose minds the true light hath shined, and whom God 
 hath inspired with that wisdom whereby he maketh wise 
 to salvation. That numerous assembly of the perfected 
 spirits of the just, have agreed in this common resolution; 
 and did in their several generations, ere they had passed 
 this state of trial, with an heroic magnanimity, trample this 
 present world under their feet, and aspire to the glory of 
 the world to come ; relieving themselves against all the 
 grievances they have suffered from such, whose portion is 
 in this life, with the alone hope and confidence of what 
 they were to enjoy in another. 
 
 And hereof we have an eminent and illustrious in- 
 stance in this context, where the ground is laid of the fol- 
 lowing discourse. For introduction whereto, observe that 
 — the title speaks the Psalm a prayer of David. The mat- 
 ter of the prayer is, preservation from his enemies. Not to 
 go over the whole Psalm, we have in the 13 and 14 verses, 
 the sum of his desires, with a description of the persons 
 he prays to be delivered from : in which description every 
 character is an argument to enforce his prayer. 
 
 Prom the wicked : q. d. they are equally enemies to thee 
 and me ; not more opposite to me by their cruelty, than 
 by their wickedness they are to thee. Vindicate, then, at 
 once thyself and deliver me. 
 
 Thy sivord, thy hand. Thou canst as easily command 
 and manage them, as a man may wield his sword, or move 
 his hand. Wilt thou suffer thine own sword, thine own 
 hand, to destroy thine own servant. 
 
 Men of the world, which have their portion in this life : 
 time and this lower world bound all their hopes and fears. 
 They have no serious believing apprehensions of any thing 
 beyond this present life ; therefore have nothing to with- 
 hold them from the most injurious violence, if thou with- 
 hold them not : men that believe not another w^orld, are 
 the ready actors of any imaginable mischiefs and tragedies 
 in this. 
 
 Whose belly thou fillest : i. e. their sensual appetite ; as 
 oftentimes that term is used'^ Withthy hid treasures: rf^-. the 
 riches which either God is wont to hide in the bowels of 
 the earth, or lock up in the repository of Providence, dis- 
 pensing them at his own pleasure. 
 
 They are full of children. So it appears, by that which 
 follows, it ought to be read, and not according to that 
 gross,d but easy mistake of some transcribers of the Seventy. 
 
 b Rom. ii. 6, 7, 8, 9. 
 
 c Rom. xvi. 18. Pliil. iii. 19. 
 
 d vui' for vtosv. , . 
 
 einji-^n V'pna njjaiTN i^js nrnN pi!(2 >3n Sept. Ekw^c ev diKato(TMt.n 
 
 0(pdrianiint, twi Tpr'acJTTi.ii aov xopTacQ^anpiai Cf rroc ovqaai rm' oofai' 
 oov. The vuUrar Latin, B^o autein in ju-stitia apparcho conspecfui tuo, 
 satlnbor cum np-paruerit gloria ttta. Exactly following the Seventy, as 
 doth the Btiuopic. The Chaldee paraphnue disagrees little ; the Arabic 
 
 As if in all this he had pleaded thus : " Lord, thou hast 
 abundantly indulged those men already, what need they 
 more 1 They have themselves, from thy unregarded boun- 
 ty, their own vast swollen desires sufficiently filled, enough 
 for their own time ; and when they can live no longer in 
 their persons, they may in their posterity, and leave not 
 strangers, but their nmnerous offspring, their heirs. Is it 
 not enough that their avarice be gratified, except their ma- 
 lice be also 1 that they have whatsoever they can conceive 
 desirable for themselves, unless they may also infer what- 
 ever they can think mischievous on me ?" To this descrip- 
 tion of his enemies, he ex ojrposito, subjoins some account 
 of himself in this his closure of the Psalm : As for me. 
 Here he is at his statique point; and, after some appearing 
 discomposure, his spirit returns to a consistency, in con- 
 sideration of his own more happy state, which he opposes 
 and prefers to theirs, in the following respects. Timl they 
 were wicked, he righteous. " I will behold thy face in 
 righteousness." That their happiness was worldly, terrene, 
 such only as did spring from the earth; his heavenly and 
 divine, such as should result from the face and image of 
 God. Theirs present, temporary, compassed within this 
 life; his future, everlasting, to be enjoyed when he should 
 awake. Theirs partial, defective, such as would but grat- 
 ify their bestial part, fill their bellies ; his adequate, com- 
 plete, (the ivSiii^wvia Tov avvBiTov,') such as should satisfy the 
 man. " I shall be satisfied," &c. 
 
 The variety of rendering this verse (to be seen by com- 
 paring the original and translation noted in the margin*^) 
 need not give us any trouble, the differences not being ol 
 great moment, nor our own reading liable to exception. 
 The word niion about which is the greatest diversity, 
 hath the significancy we here give it, in the second com- 
 mandment, and constantly elsewhere. And then, what 
 more proper English can this text be capable of, than it 
 hath in our Bibles 1 Each word hath its true and genuine 
 import ; and the syntax is suflficiently regular and gram- 
 matical of the whole. Only as to the former, that usual 
 and obvious observation must here have place ; that the a 
 prefixed to |5^x and which with it we read in righteousness, 
 doth often signify among its various acceptations, by or 
 through ; and that not only as denoting instrumentality, 
 but more at large, the place of any medium necessary to 
 the attainment of the end it subserves to ; whence the same 
 use of the Greek v, that answers thereimto, is wont to go 
 for a Hebraism. 
 
 And as to the latter, the only thing liable to controversy, 
 is whether the gerundf ■i>pr^2 is to be construed with the 
 person speaking, when I awake ; or in my awaking , or with 
 the thing ; the likeness or image spoken of in the awaking 
 of thine image, or when thine image shall awake : and I 
 conceive we need not discuss it, but following our own 
 translation, leave the judgment of it to the ear itself, which, 
 (as Elihu tells us,) trieth words. 
 
 In the meantime, the rea't, importance of this scrip- 
 ture more calls for discussion than the literal ; concerning 
 which, a threefold inquiry will be necessary tor the settling 
 the subject of the following discourse. — 1. What relation 
 this righteousness must be understood to have to the vision 
 of God's face, and the other consequent blessedness. — 2. 
 What time or state awaking refers to, and — 3. What is 
 intended by the likeness of God. To the first. It is only 
 necessary to say at present, that the already noted import 
 of the preposition? in being supposed most suitable to this 
 text, (as apparently it is,) righteousness must be looked 
 upon in reference to this vision, not as in an idle or merely 
 casual concomitancy, or as an imconcerned circumstance, 
 that hath nothing to do with the business spoken of; but as 
 in a close and intimate connexion therewith ; being, 1. 
 antecedent, 2. conducible, 3. necessary thereto. Nor can 
 I better express its place, and reference to it, generally and 
 in one word, than in saying it qualifies for it; which how 
 It doth, will be more proper to consider hereafter. It mny 
 now suffice to say, those words give us the qualified sub- 
 less ; the SsTiac mistook, it seems, l~i3''Dn for ^^3^D^l and so read that word 
 faith \vhicl\ we read likeness. 
 
 f HieronymiLS (juStta Hebr.) reads the words exactly as we do: Ego in 
 juntitia vklebofaciern tumii. i»iiplebor. cum evigilaveio, simiHtvdine tva. 
 
 g pTS3 seems best to be rendered here, by, or through righteousness, as by the 
 condition in which he may e.vpect the return of God's mercies here, or the eter- 
 nal nsion of him hereafter, &c. So the learned Dr. Hammond, AJinot. in loc. 
 quoting also Castellio to the same purpose.
 
 Chap. 1. 
 
 THE BLESSEDNESS OF THE RIGHTEOUS. 
 
 193 
 
 ject of this blessedness, " I in righteousness," a righteous 
 person as such. To the secand : Taking it for granted, 
 that none will understand this awakening as opposed to 
 natural sleep; in the borrowed or tropical sense, it must 
 be understood to intend either some better state in this 
 life, in comparison whereof the Psalmist reckons his pre- 
 sent state but as a sleep ; or the future state of blessedness 
 in the other life. There have been some who have under- 
 stood it of the former, and thought the Psalmist to speak 
 only of a hoped freedom from his present temporal afflic- 
 tions; but then, that which will be implied, .seems not so 
 specious : that trouble and affliction should be signilied by 
 the necessarily pre-supposed sleep, which sure doth more 
 resemble rest than trouble. 
 
 I conceive it less exceptionable to refer awaking to the 
 blessed state of saints after this life. For, that saints, at 
 that time when this was writ, had the knowledge of such 
 a state, (indeed a saint not believing a life to come, is a 
 perfect contradiction,) no doubt can be made by any that 
 hath ever so liltle read and compared the Old and New 
 Testament. We are plainly told, that those excellent per- 
 sons mentioned in the famous roll,h lived by that faith, 
 which was the substance of things hoped for, and the evi- 
 dence of things not seen. That of them, Abraham, Isaac, 
 and Jacob, while they lived in Canaan, yet sought abetter, 
 a heavenly country, confessing themselves pilgrims, and 
 strangers on earth. We know it was the more general 
 belief of the Jews in our Saviour's time. And whence 
 should they have it, but from the Old Testament 1 Thither 
 our iSaviour remits them to search it out, and the way to 
 it. The apostle Saint Paulk gives it as the common faith 
 of the twelve tribes, grounded upon ihe promise made to 
 their forefathers; and thence prudentially he herein states 
 the cause wherein he was now engaged; supposing it 
 would be generally resented, that he should be called in 
 question for avowing (only) so known and received a truth. 
 Sure they were beholden "to these .sacred writings they had 
 then among them, for so common a belief; and since it is 
 out of question, from our Saviour's express words, they do 
 contain the ground of that belief; what cause have we to 
 be so shy of so interpreting scriptures that have a fair as- 
 pect that way % It is, that we can devise to fasten here and 
 there another sense upon divers such 1 I wonder what one 
 text can be mentioned in all the Old Testament to this pur- 
 pose, wherein one may not do so. And what then would 
 be the tendency of this course, but to deny in all the par- 
 ticulars, what, upon so clear evidence, we are in the general 
 forced to admit 1 and to put Moses, and Abraham, and 
 David, in a lower class than Pythagoras, and Socrates, and 
 Plato 1 And I think if would not be easy to find one text 
 in all that part of the Bible, where both the words thereof, 
 and the context, do more fairly comply, than in this, so as 
 not only to admit, but even to invite, that interpretation. 
 
 For the term awake, about which the present inquiry is, 
 how apt and obvious is the analog}^ between our awaking 
 out of natural sleep, and the holy soul's rising up out of 
 the darkness and torpor of its present state, into the en- 
 livening light of God's presence 1 It is truly said so to 
 awake, at its first quitting these darksome regions, when it 
 lays aside its cumbersome night-vail. It doth so more 
 perfectly, in the joyful morning of the resurrection-day, 
 when mortalitjr is swallowed up in life, and all the yet 
 hovering shadows of it are vanished and fled away. And 
 how knowTi and usual an application this is of the meta- 
 phorical terms of sleeping and awaking in holy writ, I 
 need not tell them who have read the Bible. Nor doth 
 this interpretation less fitly accord to the other contents of 
 this verse : for to what state do the sight of God's face, 
 and satisfaction with his likeness, so fully agree, as to that 
 of future blessedness in the other world ? But then the 
 contexture of discourse in this and the foregoing verse to- 
 gether, seems plainly to determine us to this sense : for 
 what can be more conspicuous in them, than a purposed 
 comparison and opposition of two states of felicity mutually 
 each to other 1 That of the wicked, whom he calls 7«c?i of 
 time, (as the words are rendered byi one, and do literall)- 
 signify,) and whose portion, he tells us, is in this life: and 
 
 h Heb. ri. 1,9. !3, 14, 15, 16. i Jolin v. 39. 
 
 k Acts xxvi. & 6. 7. compared with the 8- 
 
 I Tyno OTioO. Hominee de tempore. Pagnin. 
 
 the righteous man's, his OAvn ; which he expected not to 
 be till he should awake, i.e. not till after this life. 
 
 Thirdly. It is farther to be inquired, how we are here to 
 understand the likeness of God ? I doubt not but we are 
 to understand by it, his glor\'. And the only difficulty 
 which it will be necessar)' at present to consider about it, 
 is, whether we are to take it objective!}', or subjectively ; 
 for the glory to be represented to the blessed soul, or the 
 glory to be impressed upon it ; the gloiy which it is to 
 behold, or the glory it shall bear. And 1 conceive the 
 difference is more easily capable of accommodation, than 
 of a strict decision on either part. By /«c€ is undoubtedly 
 meant objective glory, and that in iis most perfect repre- 
 sentation ; the face being, as we know with men, the chief 
 seat of aspectable majesty and beauty. Hence when Moses 
 desires to see God's glory^ though he did vouchsafe some d i - 
 covery of it, yet he tells him his face cannot be seen. Here- 
 upon, therefore, the next expression, thy likeness, might 
 the more plausibly be restrained to subjective glor\-,.soas to 
 denote the image of God now in its most perfect impressiun, 
 on the blessed .soul. But I hat I insist not on. Supposing, 
 therefore, that what is signified by face, be repeated oyer 
 again in this word likeness, yet I conceive the expression 
 is not varied in vain ; but having more to say than only 
 that he expected a stale of future vision, viz. that he assured 
 himself of satisfaction too, another word was thought fit 
 to be used, that might signify also somewhat that must 
 intervene in order to that satisfaction. 'Tis certain the 
 mere objective representation and consequent intuition of 
 the most excellent (even the Divine) glory, cannot satisfy 
 a soul remaining disafl^ected and unsuitable thereunto. It 
 can only satisfy, as being represented ; it forms the soul 
 into the same image, and attempers it to itself, q. d. " I 
 expect hereafter to see the blessed face of God, and to be 
 myself blessed or satisfied by his gloiy, at once appearing 
 to me, and transfusing itself upon me." In short, there- 
 fore, I understand by that term, the glor\' of God a.s trans- 
 forming, or as impressive of itself. If therefore glory, the 
 object of the soul's vision, shall by any be thought to be 
 intended in it, I contend not; supposing only, that the 
 object be taken not materially, or potentially only, for the 
 thing visibly in itself considered : but formally, and in 
 esse actuali objccti, that is, as now, actvally iynprcssing it- 
 self or as connoting such an impression upon the behold- 
 ing soul; for so only is it productive of such a pleasure 
 and satisfaction to it, as must ensue. As in this form of 
 speech, " such a man takes pleasure in knowledge," it is 
 evident knowledge must be taken there both objec- 
 tively, for the things known, and subjectively, for the 
 actual perception of those things ; inasmuch as^ apparently, 
 both must concur to work him delight. So it will appear, 
 to any one that attentively considers it, glory must be taken 
 in that passage,™ "We rejoice in hope of the glory of God." 
 'Tis divine glory both revealed and received ; his exhibition 
 and communication of it, according to his ivimcnsihr, and 
 our panicipation of it, accordingto our measvrc, that must 
 concur to our eternal satisfaction. Herein the Platonic 
 adage » haih evident truth in it ; Pleasure is here certain- 
 ly made vp of something finite and something infinite, viecting 
 together. 'Tis not (as the philosopher speaks) a ^iooktov, 
 but a KTTiron Ti ; not any thing separate from the soul, but 
 something it possesses, that can make it happy. 'Tis not 
 happy by an incommunicate happiness, nor glorious by an 
 incommunicale irUuy. Indeed, the discovery of such a 
 glorv to an inglorious, unholy soul, must rather torment 
 than satisfv. The future glory of saints is therefore called 
 o a glory to be revealed in them (or into them, as the word 
 signifies.) And in the foregoing words, the apostle assures 
 Christ's fellow-suffiiers, that they shall be glorified toge- 
 ther with him. Surely the notation of that word, the for- 
 mal no'ion of glorification, cannot import so little as only 
 to be a .spcctattir of glory ; it must signify a being made 
 glorious. 
 
 Nor is the common and true maxim otherwise intelligible, 
 that grace and glory difler only in degree. For certainly it 
 could never enter into the mind of a sober man (though 
 how dangerously some speak, that might possibly haTf 
 
 m Rom. V ?. 
 
 n Vohiptiitis srenpititio pst ex hifiniti ct finiti copulatione. 
 
 o Roni. viii. IS. cis q/Kii.
 
 194 
 
 THE BLESSEDNESS OF THE RIGHTEOUS. 
 
 Chap. II. 
 
 been so if too much learning had not made them mad, will 
 be animadverted in its p.ace,) that objective glory, and 
 grace in saints, were the same specific (much less the 
 same numerical) thing. 'Tis true, that Scripture often ex- 
 presses the future blessedness, by vision of God. But where 
 that phrase is used to signify it alone, 'tis evident, (as within 
 the lower regions of grace, words of knowledge do often 
 imply ali'ection, and correspondent impressions on the soul) 
 it must be understood of afi'ective transformative vision, 
 such as hath conformity to God most inseparably conjunct 
 with it. And, that we might understand so much, they 
 are elsewhere both expre.ssly mentioned together, as joint 
 ingredients into a saint's blessedness; as in those words so 
 full of clear and rich sense : " When he shall appear, we 
 shall be like him, for we shall see him as he is." Which 
 text 1 take for a plain comment upon this ; and methinks 
 it should not easily be supposable, they should both speak so 
 near the same words, and not intend the same sense. — 
 You have in both, the same season, "When he shall appear, 
 When I shall awake:" the same i-wiyVc^, The rigAteoMi per- 
 son born of God ; (compare the close of the former chapter 
 with the beginning of this ;) and, " I in righteousness ;" the 
 same vision, " We shall see him as he is, I shall behold 
 his face:" the same assimiiatimi, "We shall be like him ; 
 I shall be satisfied with his likeness" (concerning the x^'^'s 
 or habitude this vision and assimilation mutually have to 
 one another, there will be consideration had in its place.) 
 I therefore conceive neither of these notions of the Divine 
 likeness to exclude the other. If it be inquired, which is 
 principally meant 1 That needs not be determined. If the 
 latter, it supposes the former ; if the former, it infers the 
 latter. Without the first, the other cannot be; without 
 the other, the first cannot satisfy. 
 
 If any yet disagree to this interpretation of this text, let 
 them affix the doctrine propounded from it, to that other 
 last mentioned, (which only hath not the express mention 
 of a consequent satisfaction, as this hath ; whence, therefore, 
 as being in this respect fuller, my thoughts were pitched 
 upon this.) Only withal let it be considered how much 
 more easy it is to imagine another sense, and suppose it 
 possible, than to disprove this, or evince it impossible. — 
 5How far probable it is, must be left to the judgment of the 
 indifferent : with whom it may not be insignificant to add, 
 that thus It hath been understood by interpreters (I might 
 adventure to say the generality) of all sorts. However, the 
 iew annexed? (for I neither apprehend the necessity, nor 
 have the present conveniency, of alleging many) will suf- 
 fice to avoid any imputation of singularity or novelty. 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 A summarj' proposal of the doctrine contained in tliis scripture. A distri- 
 linlion of it into tliree distinct heads of discourse : viz : 1. The qnaUtied 
 suliji'Ct. 2. The nature. 3. The seasoEi of tlie blessedness here spoken of 
 The tirst of these talcen into consideration where the qualification, righte- 
 ousness, is treated of About whicli is shown, 1. What it is. 2. How it 
 quuUfied. 
 
 Now the foregoing sense of the words being supposed, 
 it appears that the proper argument of the scripture is, — 
 The blessedness of the righteous in the other life, consisting 
 in the vision and participation of the Divine glory, with the 
 satisfaction that resulteth thence. In which summary ac- 
 count of the doctrine here contained, three general heads 
 of discourse offer tiiemselves to our view : — The subject, 
 the nature, and the season of this blessedness : — Or to 
 
 p A^itur de re'iirrectione et manifestatione glorise ccplestis. Ruffin in loc— 
 Cum appamerit gloria tua, i. e. gloria resurrectionis. Bed. Comment, in 
 Psalm. . , 
 
 How the Jews were wont to understand it. may be seen at one view in that 
 of Petnis (iaialinns in loc Duo mi Capnio me hie per prisca.s Judaorum 
 Scripturas osfendere liortaris. et generalem mortnonmi resurrectionem fijtu- 
 ram esse et earn per Me.'siam (actum in, prim.um itaque patet non solum 
 ptrsacrae script urae testimonia venmi etiam per Talmndistarum dicla. Nam 
 illuil quidom, Vfa\. xvii dictum ego injiislilia— &c. sic e.vponunt, et presertim 
 Ral)l>i Aliraham Aven Ezra et Rabbi .Solomo, ifcc. And so he goes on to re- 
 cite their words, De Arcanis Catholicse veritatis. 
 
 Opponis hpec, iis quae de impiis dixerat. Illi Sapiunt teiTena Saturantur 
 filiis et portionem suam in hac vita ponunt, milii vero contenipta est ha>c 
 vita ; ad futuram festino, ubi non in divitiis, sed in justitia yidebo, non 
 tcrrcna hsec transitura, sed ipsam faciemtuam. nee saturaborin (iliis camis sed 
 cum evi'.'ilavero tua similitudine, sicut. 1 Job. lii. 2. — Cum appamerit, &c. 
 Liith. in PsnI. „ . .,. ... , 
 
 R"=uigam e mnrtuis — videbo de r>erfecti.93ime sicut es, Similis cro tibt. Jun. 
 and Tremel on Psalm 17. 
 
 whom it belongs, wherein it consists, and when it shall be 
 enjoyed. 
 
 FHrst, then, we begin with the consideration of the sub- 
 ject unto whom this blessedness appertains. And we find 
 it expressed in the text, in these only words, " I; in righte- 
 ousness ;" which amounts to as much as, a righteous per- 
 son as such. They represent to us the subject of this bless- 
 edness in its proper qualifications ; wherein our business 
 is to consider his qualification, righteousness, under which 
 notion only he is concerned in the present discourse ; and 
 about which, two things are to be inquired — What it im- 
 ports, and — How it qualifies. 
 
 First, What it imports. I take righteousness here to be 
 opposed to wickedness in the foregoing verse ; (as was 
 intimated before;) and so understand it in equal latitude, 
 not of particular, but of universal righteousness. That is, 
 not that particular virtue which inclines men to give every 
 one their right, (unless in that every one, you would in- 
 clude also the blessed God himself, the sovereign common 
 Lord of all,) but a universal rectitude of heart and life, 
 comprehending not only equity towards men, but piety 
 towards God also. A conformity to the law in general, in 
 its utmost* extent, adequately opposite to sin, (which is in- 
 deed of larger extent than wickedness; and in what dif- 
 ferent respects righteousness is commensurate to the one 
 and the other, we shall see by and by,) as that is, generally, 
 said to be avofna, ha transgression of the law. Among 
 ■^moralists, such a comprehensive notion of righteousness 
 as is incliLsive of all other virtues, is not unknown. But 
 in Scripture, it is its much more ordinary acceptation. To 
 give instances, were to suppose too much ignorance in 
 the reader ; and to enumerate the passages in which this 
 term is taken in that extensive sense, were too great an 
 unnecessary burden to the writer. It were indeed to tran- 
 scribe a great part of the Bible. How familiar is the op- 
 position of righteous and wicked, and righteous and sinner, 
 in sacred language ! And how fully co-extent righteousness 
 is, in the scripture notion of it, to the whole law of God, 
 that one passage sufficiently discovers ; where 'tis said of 
 Zacharias and Elisabeth, d that they were both righteous 
 before God, walking in all the commandm.ents and ordi- 
 nances of the Lord blameless. 'Tis true, indeed, that when 
 the words godliness or holiness are in conjunction with this 
 term, its significancy is divided and shared with them; so 
 as that they signify in that case, conformity to the will of 
 God in the duties of ihe first table, and this is confined to 
 those of the second: otherwise, being put alone, it signifies 
 the whole duty of man, as the other expressions also do in 
 the same case, especially the latter of them. 
 
 As it seems not to be within the present design of the 
 context to take notice of any imputed wickedness of the 
 opposite sort of persons, other than what was really in 
 them; and whereby they might be fitly characterized; so 
 I conceive, that imputed righteousness is not here meant, 
 lliat is inherent in the person of the Mediator; but that 
 which is truly subjected in a child of God, and descriptive 
 of him. Nor must any ihink it strange, that all the requi- 
 sites to our salvation are not found together in one text of 
 Scripture. The righteousness of him, whom we are to 
 adore as made sin for us, that we might be made the 
 righteousness of God in him, hath a much higher sphere, 
 peculiar and appropriate in itself. This of v.'hich we now 
 speak, in its own inferior and subordinate place, is neces- 
 sary also to be both had and understood. It must be un- 
 derstood by viewing it in its rule, in conformity whereto it 
 stands ; which must needs be some law of God. There 
 
 Mollenis thinks it ought not to be restrained to life eternal, hut saith, some un- 
 dc-stand of the glory, qua nmahuntur pii in \'ita fetema And adds, — etquidem 
 non male In — Ego vero et omncs clecfi tui — pie et juste vivimus in hoc s«- 
 culo, ut aliquando in fiituro sseculovideamus faciem tuam, et easatiemur cum 
 sc a pulvere terrae e\igila\ erimus et reformat! fuerimus ad similitudinem Christi 
 tui. .Srb Muiis'er in notis in loc. 
 
 Ciuii i-(i ail iiiiauinem tuani conditus resurrexero. Vatablus : though he adds, 
 alii ail rrsurrcrTinncni non reterunt. 
 
 De liitm-i ^]l.•l■ frlicitate^ait, satiabor quum expergiscnr, i. e. quum resurgam 
 e mortui-i—lSimilitudine tua, hoc est videbo de perfecti.ssime, sicuti es ; et Sinii- 
 lis ero fibi qiuim patefactus Christus glorioso adventu suo. 1 John iii. 2. Fabrit. 
 Cone, in Psal. 17 «lt. 
 
 Descril)it his verbis Psalmographus beatitudenem a»temam filiorum Dei. Ges- 
 nerus in loc. 
 
 a 1 John i. 9. x > o . ''1 John iii. 4. 
 
 c E ■ f5f ci^moavvri avAAr,pdriv ttco' apcr' lart. 
 
 d Luke i. 5, 6.
 
 Chap. II. 
 
 THE BLESSEDNESS OF THE RIGHTEOUS 
 
 195 
 
 hath been a twofold law given by God to mankind, as the 
 measure of a universal righteousness, the one made for in- 
 nocent, the other for lapsed man ; which are distinguished 
 by the apostle under the names of the 'law of works, and 
 the law of faith. It can never be possible, that any of the 
 apostate sons of Adam should be denominated righteous 
 by the former of these laws, the righteousness thereof con- 
 sisting in a perfect and sinless obedience. The latter there- 
 fore is the only measure and rule of this righteousness, viz. 
 the law of l*aith ; not that part of the gospel-revelation 
 which contains and discovers our duty, what we are to be 
 and do in order to our blessedness ; being, as to the mat- 
 ter of it, the whole moral law, before appertaining to the 
 covenant of works, attempered to the state of fallen sinners, 
 by evangelical mitigations and indulgence, by the super- 
 added precepts of repentance and faith in a Mediator, with 
 all the other duty respecting the Mediator, as such ; and 
 clothed with a new form as it is now taken into the con- 
 stitution of the covenant of grace. This rule, though it be 
 in the whole of it capable of coming under one common 
 notion, as being the standing, obliging law of Christ's me- 
 diatory kingdom ; yet according to the different matter of 
 it, its obligations and annexed sanctions are different. As 
 to its matter, it must be understood to require : 
 
 1. The mere being and sincerity of those gracious prin- 
 ciples, with their essential acts (as there is opportunity) 
 expressed therein, in opposition to the nullity and insin- 
 cerity of them. 
 
 2. All the possible degrees and improvements of such 
 principles and acts, in opposition to any the least failure 
 or defect. In the former respect, it measures the very 
 essence of this righteousness, and enjoins what concerns 
 the being of the righteous man as such. In the latter, it 
 measures all the super-added degrees of this righteousness, 
 (which relations, where they have a mutable foundation, 
 admit,) enjoining what concerns the perfection of the right- 
 eous man. In the former respect, righteousness is opposed 
 to wickedness, as in that of the Psalmist, fl have kept the 
 ways of the Lord, and have not wickedly departed from 
 my God — therefore hath the Lord recompensed me ac- 
 cording to my righteousness. In the latter to sin, with 
 which the apostle makes unrighteousness co-extent, in 
 these words. If we say we have no sin, we deceive our- 
 selves, &c. If we confess our sins, he is faithful and just 
 to forgive us our sins, and to cleanse us from all unrighte- 
 ousness. Accordingly are its sanctions divers. For wherein 
 itenjoins the former of these, the essence of this righteous- 
 ness, in opposition to a total absence thereof, it is consti- 
 tutive of the terms of salvation, and obligeth under the 
 penalty of eternal death. So are faith, repentance, love, 
 subjection, &c. required : "If ye believe not that I am he, 
 ye shall die in your sins. He that believeth not is con- 
 demned already. — The wrath of God abideth on him. — hlf 
 ye repent not, ye shall all likewise perish. iRepent, that 
 your sins may be blotted out — Him hath God exalted to 
 be a prince and a Saviour, to give repentance and remission 
 of sins, klf any man love not the Lord Jesus Christ, let 
 him be anathema maran-atha. iHe that loveth father or 
 mother more than me, is not worthy of me, &c. "'If any 
 man come to me, and hate not his father and mother, and 
 wife and children, and brethren and sisters, yea, and his 
 own life also, (that is, as the former scripture expounds 
 this, loves them not less than me,) he cannot be my dis- 
 ciple ; i. e. while he remains in that temper of mind he now 
 is of, he must needs be wholly unrelated unto me, and 
 incapable of benefit by me, as well as he is indocible, and 
 not susceptible of my further instructions, neither capable 
 of the precepts or privileges belonging to discipleship. "He 
 is the author of eternal salvation to all them that obey him ; 
 and will come in flaming fire to take vengeance of those 
 that know not God, and obey not his gospel ; who shall 
 be punished with everlasting destruction from the presence 
 of the Lord, &c. W-.ere it is only the sincerity of those 
 several requisites, »bat is under so severe penalty exacted 
 and called for ; ina,smuch as he that is sincerely a believer, 
 a penitent, a lo^^r of God or Christ, an obedient subject, 
 is not capable ol the contrary denomination, and therefore 
 
 f p."!. xviii. 21, St e Rom. iii. 27. 
 
 ^ Jolin viii. 24. chap. iii. 18, 26. h Luke xiii 3. 5. 
 
 • Acts iii. 19. chap. v. 31. k 1 Cor. xvi. 22. 
 
 not liable, according to the tenor of this law, to be pun- 
 ished as an infidel, an impenitent person, an enemy, a rebel. 
 
 When it enjoins the latter, viz. all the subsequent duty, 
 through the whole course whereof the already sincere soul 
 must be tending towards perfection ; though it bind not 
 thereto under pain of damnation, further than as such neg- 
 lects and miscarriages may be so gross and continued, as 
 not to consist with sincerity, yet such injunctions are not 
 wholly without penalty; but here it obliges, under less 
 penalties, the hiding of God's face, and other paternal se- 
 verities and castigations. They that thus only offend, "are 
 chastened of the Lord, that they may not be condemned 
 with the world. Their iniquity is visited with the rod, and 
 their transgression with stripes, though loving-kindness be 
 not taken away. — Yea, and while they are short of perfect 
 holiness, their blessedness is imperltect also ; which is to 
 be acknowledged a very grievous penalty, but unconceiv- 
 ably short of w-hat befalls them that are simply unrighte- 
 ous. That it obliges thus diversely, is evident ; for it doth 
 not adjudge unto eternal death without remedy, for 'he 
 least defect ; for then what other law should relieve against 
 the sentence of this 1 or wherein were this a relieving law 1 
 Yet doth it require perfection, that we Pperfect holiness in 
 the fear of God ; that we be perfect as our Father in 
 heaven is perfect. And otherAvise, did it bind to no other 
 duty than what it makes simply necessary to salvation ; 
 the defects and miscarriages that consist with sincerity 
 were no sins, not being provided against by any law that 
 is of present obligation (unless we will have the law of na- 
 ture to stand by itself as a distinct law, both from that of 
 works, and of grace ; which is not necessary ; but as it did 
 at first belong to the former, so it doth now to the latter, 
 as shall further be shown by an' oy.) For to suppose the 
 law of works in its own proper form and tenor, to be still 
 obliging, is to suppose all under hopeless condemnation, 
 inasmuch as all have sinned. And besides, it should oblige 
 to cast off all regard to Christ, and to seek blessedness 
 without him ; yea, and it should oblige to a natural im- 
 possibility, to a contradiction, to make that not to have 
 been, which hath been ; a sinner to seek happiness by 
 never having sinned. It cannot therefore entirely, in its 
 own form, as it was at first made and laid upon man, be 
 of present and continuing obligation to him. But in what 
 part and respect it is, or is not, comes now more distinctly 
 to be shown. Here know, the law of nature, with fit ad- 
 ditionals, became one formed constitution ; which being 
 violated by the apostacy, became unuseful to the end it 
 was made for, the containing of man within the bounds of 
 such duty as should be conjunct with his ble.sseilness. 
 Therefore was the new constitution of the law of grace 
 made and settled, which alters, adds to, takes from it, re- 
 laxes, or re-enforces it, according as the matter of it, the 
 exigency of man's case, and God's gracious purpose and 
 design, could admit, and did require. For the promise, 
 (implied in the threatening) it ceased ; sin having disobliged 
 the promiser. For the precept, the expressed positive part 
 is plainly abrogated. i For the natural part, as it was not 
 necessary, so nor was it possible it should be so ; its tbunda- 
 tions being more stable than heaven and earth. For the 
 commination, we must understand two things in it : first, 
 that for every transgression, a proportionable punishment 
 must become due : secondly, that this debt be in event 
 exacted; or, that God do actually inflict the deserved 
 penally entirely and fully upon the oft'ending person. 
 
 The former of these is in the strictest and most proper 
 sense natural, and therefore also unalterable. This dueness 
 arising immediately from the relation of a reasonable crea- 
 ture offending, to his Maker. Whence also it is discern- 
 ible to mere natural light. Pagans are said (Rom. i. 3'2.) 
 to have known the righteous judgment of God, that they 
 who commit such things (as are there mentioned) are worthy 
 of death. And hence was the mention and dread of a 
 Nemesis, and an ti^ifcnv oftfia. a vindictive Deity, and a re- 
 vengeful eye, over them, so frequent with them. " If there- 
 fore (as the learned Grolius speaks') there hail never been a 
 penal law ; yet a human act, having in it.>;elf a pravity, 
 whether intrinsical, from the immutable nature of the thing,- 
 
 1 Matt. X. 37. m Luke .viv. 56. n Hfb. v. 9. S Thes. 1, S. 9. &c. 
 o I Cor. >i. Psol. Ixxxix. p 2 Cur. vii. 1. IVIau. v. 
 
 q 1 Tim. ir. 4. r Dc Satisf. cap. 3.
 
 19G 
 
 THE BLESSEDNESS OF THE RIGHTEOUS. 
 
 Chap. II. 
 
 or even extrinsical, from the contrary command of God, 
 had deserved punishmem, and that very grievous." Now 
 what an arbitrary constitution did not create, it could not 
 nullify ; but might add strength, and give a confirmation 
 to ii. But now for the latter, that this debt be entirely 
 and fully exacted of the sinner himself; though that be 
 also natural, yet not in the strictest and most proper sense, 
 i. e. it is convenient and agreeable to the nature of the 
 thing ; not what it doth so necessarily require, that it can 
 upon no terms be dispensed with. It is so natural, as that^ 
 the son inherit from his father, which yet may, sometimes, 
 for just causes be ordered otherwise. It is what, if it were 
 done, justice could not but approve ; not what it doth 
 strictly and indispensably require ; or, is a debt which it 
 might exact, but which may, without injustice, upon valu- 
 able considerations be remitted. The former of these, there- 
 fore, the new constitution doth no way infringe or weaken, 
 but confirm and reinforce. The latter it so far dispenses 
 with, as that, for the satisfaction made by the Redeemer, 
 the debt incurred by sin, be remitted to the sinner that 
 truly repents and believes, and continues sincerely (though 
 imperfectly) to obey for the future. So that his after-de- 
 linquencies, consisting with such sincerity, do not actu- 
 ally, or in event, subject him to other penalties, than the 
 paternal rebukes and chastenings before mentioned. But 
 this latter part considerable in the commination, the deter- 
 mination of the full penalty to the very person of the 
 transgressor : it doth not dispense with to others (i. e. of 
 the adult, and of persons in a present natural possibility 
 of understanding the Lawgiver's pleasure herein) than 
 such before described ; but says expressly,' He that be- 
 lieveth not the Son, shall not see life, but the wrath of 
 God abideth on him. That indignation and wrath, tribu- 
 lation and anguish, shall be upon every soul of man that 
 doth evil. 
 
 Therefore the morally preceptive part of the law of works 
 is not in force as man's rule of duty, considered in con- 
 junction with the promise: that is, it doth not now say to 
 any man, Do this, i. e. perfectly obey without ever hav- 
 ing sinned, that thou may'st live. Both which he was 
 obliged to eye conjunctly; the former as containing the 
 rule ; the other the end, in part, of his obedience. But it is 
 m force even by the new constitution itself, as God's rule 
 of judgment, considered in conjunction with the commina- 
 tion, upon all whom the law of grace relieves not, as not 
 coining up to the terms of it; whom also this supervening 
 law brings under a supervening aggravated condemnation. 
 For where the obligation to obedience is violated, the obli- 
 gation to punishment naturally takes place. We see then 
 how far the law' of works is in force, and how far not. But 
 that so far as it is in force, it is to be looked on as taken 
 into the new constitution of the law of grace, is evident. 
 For it is new modified, and hath received a new mould 
 and stamp by this law : which is now become (so far as it 
 is promulgate) the standing rule of government over the 
 lapsed world. The principal modifying act herein, is dis- 
 pensation. Now this, 'tis true, may be so understood, or 
 may be taken in such a sense, as wherein it will only be- 
 long to the executive part of government : that is, when it 
 is not the act of the same power that made the law ; as 
 where only the execution of a deserved penalty is dispensed 
 with, which may be done, in some cases, by a judge that 
 is only a minister of the law, and not the maker of it; 
 being (as may be supposed) enabled thereto by that law 
 itself, or by an authority annexed to his office ; or by virtue 
 of instructions, which leave to him some latitude of man- 
 aginglhe afTairsof his judicaturein a discretionary way, as 
 present occasions shall dictate. And yet by none of these 
 would any change be made in the laM^ : but this is dispen- 
 sation in a le.ss proper sense. In the proper and more 
 famous sense, dispensation belongs to the legislative part 
 of government, being the act of the same power that made 
 the former law, now dispensed with ; and an act of the 
 same kind, viz. legislation ; the making of a new law that 
 alters the former which it halh relation to: whence it was 
 wont to be reckoned among those things that make a 
 change in a law." And so the case is here. The former 
 law is dispensed with by the making of a new one; which 
 
 a Grot Iliid. 
 
 u Vid. Suarez de Legibiis. 
 
 t John iii. 36. Rom. ii. 8. 9. 
 V Matt. V 22. 
 
 so alters and changes it in its matter and frame, and more 
 immediate end, as hath been shown: and a changed law 
 is not the same. 
 
 Nor is it at all strange, that the minatory part of the law 
 of works related to the preceptive, so as with it to constitute 
 the debt of punishment, should be now within the compass 
 of the Redeemer's law. For by this applied and urged 
 on the consciences of sinners, he performs a necessary pre- 
 paratory part of his work for their recovery, riz. the awa- 
 kening, the humbling them ; and reducing them to a just 
 and useful despair of relief and help, otherwise than by 
 his merciful hand and vouchsafement ; and the rendering 
 them hereby capable of his following applications. Cutting 
 or lancing, with other such severities, are as proper and 
 useful a part of the chirurgeon's business, as the applying 
 of healing medicines: nor have they the same design and 
 end for which wounds are inflicted by an enemy, the taking 
 away of life, but the .saving of it. And the matter is out 
 of doubt, that the most rigorous determination of the pen- 
 alty that shall be understood duly belonging to the least 
 sin, hath a place, and doth stand visibly extant to view in 
 the publicly avowed declaration, and among the placita 
 or decretals of the Redeemer. We there read, that who- 
 soever shall say to his brother," fool, shall be in danger of 
 hell-fire : (yea, and that lower degrees of the same kind 
 of sin, do expose to lower degrees of the same kind of pun- 
 ishment, as our Saviour's words must be understood, if we 
 attend the plain meaning of his allusive and borrowed 
 phrase of speech :) *That the wages of sin is death. That 
 as many as are of the works of the law, are under the 
 curse: for it is written. Cursed is every one that continueth 
 not in all things written in the book of the law to do them. 
 And we are told,^ that the Scripture (which is the word uf 
 Christ, and was written not for innocent but lapsed man) 
 hath concluded all under sin. Where also we find what 
 is the true intent and end of this rough and sharp dealing 
 with men, the shutting them up, like sentenced malefac- 
 tors, as in order to execution, (which seems to be the im- 
 port of the word ^here used,) viz. that the promise by faith 
 of Jesus Christ might be given to them that believe (or to 
 them believing, as the words may be read.) And more- 
 over the Spirit, which breathes not in the law of works, 
 as such, but in the law of grace, performs that operation 
 which belongs to it, as it hath the name of the spirit of 
 bondage, by applying and binding on the sentence of death, 
 as due to the guilty person. 
 
 Therefore we must understand the Redeemer's consti- 
 tution to have two parts. 1. An assertion and establish- 
 ment of the ancient determined penalty due for every 
 transgression ; and to be certainly inflicted on all such as 
 accept not the following offer of mercy upon the terms 
 prescribed. Whereby the honour and justice of the Cre- 
 ator is salved and vindicated, in reference to that first co- 
 venant made with man. And the case of the sinner is 
 plainly stated before him, that he may have a distinct and 
 right apprehension of it. 2. The grant of pardon and 
 eternal life to those that repent unfeignedly of their sins, and 
 turn to God ; believing in the Mediator, and resigning 
 themselves to his grace and government, to be by him con- 
 ducted, and made acceptable to God in their return, and 
 that continue sincere herein to the end. Whereby the won- 
 derful mercy of God in Christ is demonstrated, and the 
 remedy is provided and ascertained to the, otherwise, lost 
 and hopeless sinner. And these two parts therefore are to 
 be looked on in this constitution, though distinctly, yet not 
 separately. The sinner is, at once, to consider the same 
 penalty as naturally, and by divine sanction, due to him ; 
 but now graciou.sly to be remitted : the same blessedness 
 as justly lost, but mercifully to be restored, with a high 
 improvement. And to own both these jointly, as the voice 
 of the Redeemer in his gospel. Death is due to thee; 
 blessedness forfeited by thy having sinned ; but if thou 
 sincerely repent, believe, and obey for the future, thou art 
 pardoned, and entitled to everlasting life. 
 
 It therefore now appears, that as the law or dictates of 
 pure nature, comprehended together with other fit addi- 
 tionals, became at first one entire constituti(m aptly suited 
 to the government of man in his innocent state, unto which 
 
 w Rom vi 23. Gal. iii. 10. 
 X Vers? 22. 
 
 y avvetycictv. Ibid.
 
 Chap. II. 
 
 THE BLESSEDNESS OF THE RIGHTEOUS. 
 
 197 
 
 the title did well agree of the law or covenant of works ; 
 so the same natural dictates, transcribed and made express, 
 (because now sullied, and not so legible in the corrupted 
 nature of man,) do, with such allays and additions as the 
 case required, compose and make up the constitution which 
 bears the title of the law or covenant of grace, or the law 
 of faith, or the gospel of Christ, and is only suitable to the 
 state of man lapsed and fallen ; as the measure of that 
 righteousness which he is now to aim at, and aspire unto. 
 The rule of this righteousness therefore being evidently the 
 law of faith, the gospel revelation, wherein it is perceptive 
 of duty; this righteousness can be understood to be no- 
 thing but the impress of the gospel upon a man's heart and 
 life: a conformity in spirit and practice to the revelation 
 of the will of God in Jesus Christ ; a collection of graces 
 exerting themselves in suitable actions and deportments 
 towards God and man ; Christ formed in the soul, or put 
 on ; the new creature in its being and operations ; the 
 truth learned as it is in Jesus, to the putting of!" the old 
 man, and the putting on the new. More distinctly, we 
 may yet see wheiein it lies, upon a premised view of some 
 few things necessary to be fore-known in order thereunto. 
 As, That this righteousness is a renewing righteousness, 
 or the righteousness of one formerly a sinner, a lapsed 
 perishing wretch, who is by it restored into such a state 
 towards God, as he was in before that lapse (in respect 
 of certain great essentials, though as yet his state be 
 not so perfectl}^ good, while he is in his tendency and 
 motion ; and shall, by certain additionals, be unspeak- 
 ably better, when he hath attained the end and rest he is 
 tending to.) 
 
 That a reasonable creature, yet untainted with sin, 
 could not but have a temper of mind suitable to such 
 apprehensions as these, fiz. That as it was not the author 
 of being to itself, so it ought not principalh' to study the 
 pleasing and serving of itself, but him who gave it being ; 
 that it can no more continue and perfect itself unto 
 blessedness, than it could create itself; and can therefore 
 have no expectation hereof, but from the same author of 
 its being ; and hence, that it must respect and eye the great 
 Grod-, its Creator and Maker, as — the sovereign authority 
 whom it was to fear and obey, and — the sovereign good 
 whom it was to love and enjoy. But because it can per- 
 form no duty to him, without knowing what he will have 
 it to do; nor have any particular expectation of favours 
 from him, without knowing what he will please to bestow; 
 and is therefore obliged to attend to the revelations of his 
 will concerning both these; it is therefore necessary, that 
 he eye him under a notion introductive and subservient 
 to all the operations that are to be exerted towards him, 
 under the two former notions ; i. e. as the eternal never- 
 failing trvth, safely to be depended on, as intending no- 
 thing of deceit in anj' the revelations, whether of his right- 
 eous will, concerning matter of duty to be done; or of 
 his good will, concerning matter of benefit to be expected 
 and enjoyed: That man did apostatize and revolt from 
 God, as considered under these several notions; and re- 
 turns to him, when a holy rectitude is recovered, and he 
 again becomes righteous, considered rmder the same : That 
 it was not agreeable to God's wisdom, truth, and legal 
 justice, to treat with man a sinner in order to his recovery, 
 but through a mediator ; and that therefore he was pleased 
 in wonderful mercy to constitute and appoint his own Son 
 Jesus Christ, God-man, unto that office and undertaking ; 
 that through him, man might return and be reconciled to 
 himself, whom he causelessly forsook ; designing that he 
 shall now become so affected towards himself, through the 
 Mediator ; and firstly therefore towards the Mediator's own 
 person, as he was before, and ought to have been towards 
 himself immediately. 
 
 Therefore, whereas God was considerable in relation to 
 man, both in his innocency and apostacy, under that fore- 
 mentioned twofold notion of the supreme authority and 
 goodness ; he hath also set up and exalted our Lord Jesus 
 Christ, and represented him to sinners under an answerable 
 twofold notion of a Prince and a Saviour; i. e. a medi- 
 ating Prince and Saviour; to give repentance first, to bow 
 and stoop the hearts of sinners, and reduce them to a sub- 
 ject posture again ; and then by remission of sins to restore 
 iRom. av. IT. a PhiJ. i. 11. 
 
 17 
 
 I them to favour, and save them from the wrath to come. 
 i Him hath the father clothed with his own authority, and 
 I filled with his grace; requiring sinners to submit them- 
 selves to his ruling power, and commit themselves to his 
 saving mercy ; now both lodged in this his Son : to pay 
 him immediatclij all homage and obedience, and through 
 him idtimo.ldij \o hirnst-lf; from him immediately to ex- 
 pect salvation and blessedness, and through him ultimately, 
 from himself. That whereas the spirits of men are not to 
 be wrought to this temper, but by the intervention of a 
 discover^' and revelation of the Divine will to this purpose ; 
 our Lord Jesus Christ is further appointed by the Father 
 to reveal all this his counsel to sinners, and is eminently 
 spoken of in Scripture upon this account, under the notion 
 of the truth ; in which capacity he more effectually recom- 
 mends to sinners both his authority and his grace. So that 
 his threefold (so much celebrated) office of King, Priest, 
 and Prophet, (the distinct parts of his general office as 
 mediator,) which he manages in order to the reducement 
 of lost sinners, exactly correspond (if you consider the more 
 eminent acts and properties of each office) to that threefold 
 notion under which the spirit of man must always have 
 eyed and been .acted towards God, had he never fallen : 
 and hence this righteousness, which consists in conformity 
 to the go.spel, is the former righteousness, which was lost ; 
 with such an accession as is necessary, upon considera- 
 tion that it was lost, and was only to be recovered by a 
 mediator. 
 
 Therefore you may now take this short and as compen- 
 dious an account as I can give of it, in what follows. Il 
 includes so firm and imderstanding an assent to the truth 
 of the whole gospel revelation, as that the soul is thereby 
 brought, through the power of the Holy Ghost, sensibly 
 to apprehend its former di.sobedience to God, and distance 
 from him, the reasonableness of subjection to him, and de- 
 sirableness of blessedness in him; the necessity of a Re- 
 deemer to reconcile and recover it to God ; the accomplish- 
 ments and designation of the Lord Jesus Christ to that 
 purpose : and hence, a penitent and complaccntial return 
 to God, as the supreme authority and sovereign good, an 
 humble and jovful acceptance of our Lord Jesus Christ, as 
 its Prince and Saviour, with submission to his authoritj^, 
 and reliance on his grace; (the exercise of both which are 
 founded in his blood;) looking and pitching upon him, as 
 the only medium, through which he and his duties can 
 please God, or God and'his mercies approach him; and 
 through wliich he hath the confidence lo venture upon a 
 covenant acceptance of God, and surrender of himself to 
 him, afterward pursued to his uttermost, by a continiied 
 course of living in his fear and love, in obedience to him, 
 and communion with him through the Mediator; always, 
 while he is passing the time of his pilgrimage in this world, 
 groaning under remaining sin, and pressing after perfect 
 holiness ; with an earnest expectation (animating him to a 
 persevering patience through all difficulties) of a blessed 
 eternity in the other world. That such a conformity to the 
 gospel'should be expressed by the name of righteousness, 
 cannot seem strange to such as acquaint themselves with 
 the language of the Scripture. That gracious frame which 
 the gospel (made effectual) impresses upon the soul, is the 
 kingdom of God, in the passive notion of it, his kingdom 
 received, and now actually come with power upon our 
 spirits. And this kingdom (sometimes also by an am s}-nec- 
 doche called judgment in the same notion) is .said to con^ 
 sist in righteousness ; whence then result also,^ peace and 
 joy in the Holy Ghost. The same holy impressions and 
 consequent operations are mentioned by the apostle under 
 the name of^* fruits of righteousness, wherewith he prays 
 his Philippians might be filled. It was Elvmas's opposi- 
 tion to the gospel, that stigmatized him with that brand, 
 " Thou enemy of all righteousness." To yield ourselves 
 servants to righteousness, in opposition to a former servi- 
 tude to sin, is"b obeying from the heart the doctrine of the 
 o-ospel into the type or mould whereof we have been cast 
 or delivered. And sure, both the seal and the impression, 
 God's revelation and holiness, (however now more explicit 
 and distinctlv conspicuous in all their parts.) are the same, 
 with us substantiallv, and in David's time: whence wa 
 need make no difficiilty to own this latter, when we meet 
 b Rom. \i. 17.
 
 199 
 
 THE BLESSEDNESS OF THE RIGHTEOUS. 
 
 Chap. III. 
 
 with it, as here, under the same name. By what hath 
 hitherto been said, it may be already seen in part, how 
 exactly this righteousness corresponds to the blessedness 
 for which it qualities; whereof we shall have occasioa 
 hereafter to take further notice. ■ In the meantime, it will 
 be requisite to show, which was promised to be done in 
 the next place. 
 
 How it qualifies. To which I say (very briefly) that it 
 qualifies for this blessedness two ways : 
 
 1. Legally, or in gencre Morali, as it describes the per- 
 sons, who by the gospel-grant have, alone, title thereunto. 
 — <= The righteous into life eternal.— The imrighteous shall 
 not inherit the kingdom of God. Say to the righteous it 
 shall be well with them. The righteousness of the righte- 
 ous shall be upon him. — In his righteousness he shall live. 
 In which last words, how this righteousness conduceth to 
 life, is expressed by the same preposition as in the text. 
 In this kind it is not at all casual of this blessedness, but 'tis 
 that which the free, and wise, and holy Law-giver thought 
 meet, by his settled constitution, (besides what necessity 
 there is of it, upon another account,) to make requisite 
 thereto. The conformity of our Lord Jesus Christ to that 
 severer law, under which he is said to have been made, is 
 that which alone causes, merits, purchases, this blessed- 
 ness ; which yet is to be enjoyed, not by all indiscrhnina- 
 tim, or without distinction, but by such alone, as come up 
 to the terms of the gospel ; as he did fully satisfy the 
 strict exactions of that other rigid law, by doing and suffer- 
 ing for their sakes. 
 
 2. Naturally, or in gencre Physico. In this kind it may 
 be said to be some way casual, that is, to be a ca.usa male- 
 rialis disposiliva, by a proper positive influence, disposing 
 the siibject unto this blessedness; which that it shall, yet, 
 enjoy, is wholly to be resolved into the Divine good plea- 
 sure ; but it is put by this holy rectitude in that temper and 
 posture that it may enjoy it, through the Lord's gracious 
 vouchsafement ; when without it, 'twere naturally impossi- 
 ble that any should. An unrighteous impure soul, is in a 
 natural indisposition to see God, or be blessed in him. 
 That depraved temper averts it from him ; the steady bent 
 of its will is set another way, and 'tis a contradiction that 
 any {in sensu composiio) should be happy against their 
 wills, i. e. while that aversion of will yet remains. The un- 
 righteous banish themselves from God, they shun and hate 
 his presence. Light and darkness cannot have communion. 
 The sun doth but shine, continue to be itself, and the dark- 
 ness vanishes, and is fled awa}'. When God hath so de- 
 termined, that only the pure in heart shall see him ; that 
 \vithout holiness none shall ; he lays no other law upon 
 unholy souls, than what their own impure nature lay upon 
 themselves. If therefore it should be inquired, Why may 
 not the unrighteous be subjects of this blessedness, see 
 God, and be satisfied with his likeness, as well as the 
 righteous 1 the question must be so answered, as if it were 
 inquired. Why doth the wood admit the fire to pass upon 
 it, suffer its flames to insinuate themselves till they have 
 introduced its proper form, and turned it into their own 
 likeness ; but we see water doth not so, but violently re- 
 sists its first approaches, and declines all commerce with 
 it 7 The natures of these agree not. And is not the con- 
 trariety here as great 1 We have then the qualified subject 
 of this blessedness, and are next to consider this blessed- 
 ness itself. 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 The nature of this blessedness, propoundetl unto consideration, in the three 
 ingredients (here mentioned) whereof it consists. 1. Vision of God's face. 
 2. Assimilation to him. 3. The satisfaction resulting thence. These pro- 
 pounded to be considered, 1. Absolutely and singly each by itself. 2. Rela- 
 tively, in their mutual respects to each other. The first of these, Vision of 
 God's face, discoursed of I. The object. 2. The act. 
 
 Now for the nature of this blessedness, or the inquir}^ 
 wherein it lies, so far as the text gives us any account of 
 it, we are invited to tuiTi our thoughts and discourse to it. 
 And we have it here represented to us in all the particulars 
 that can be supposed to have any nearer interest in the 
 
 r Matt. XXV. 1 Cor vi. Isa. iii. Ezek. x\iii. 
 
 d Numb, xli 8. Etseh i. 28. Exod. xxiiv. xxxv &c. 
 
 business of blessedness, or to be more intimate and intrin- 
 sical thereimto. For (the beatific object supposed) what 
 more can be necessary to actual, complete, formal blessed- 
 ness, than the sight of it, an adaptation or assimilation to 
 it, (which is nothing else but its being actually communi- 
 cated and imparted to the soul, its being united and made 
 as it were one with it,) and the complacential fruition the 
 soul hath of it so communicated, or having so transformed 
 it into itself. 
 
 And these three are manifestly contained in the text: (the 
 beatific object being involved with them :) the first in the 
 former cause, " I shall behold thy face;" the second and 
 third in the latter, " I shall be satisfied with thy likeness ;" 
 where, being made like to God hath been discovered to be 
 supposed ; and the satisfaction, the pleasant contentful re- 
 lishes consequent thereto, plainly expressed. We shall 
 therefore have stated the entire nature of this blessedness 
 in the handling of these three things ; — vision of the face 
 of God, — participation of his likeness, and — satisfaction 
 therein. 
 
 And I shall choose to consider them, 1. Absolutely, and 
 singly, each by itself. 2. Relatively, in the mutual respects 
 (by way of influence and dependence) they may be found 
 to have towards each other. 
 
 Therefore first, in the absolute consideration of them 
 severally, we begin with. 
 
 First, the \ision of God's face, where — the object, the 
 face of God, and — the act of seeing and beholding it, are 
 distinctly to be spoken to. 
 
 1. The face of God, the object of this vision, -w^hich is 
 his glory represented, offered to view. And this object or 
 exhibited glory is twofold: — 1. Sensible, such as shall 
 incur and gratify (after the resurrection) the bodily eye — 
 2. Intellectual, or intelligible; that spiritual glory that 
 only comes under the view and contemplation of the glo- 
 rified mind. 
 
 1. A sensible glory (to begin with what is lower) is 
 fitly in our way to be taken notice of, and may well be 
 comprehended (as its less principal intendment) within the 
 significancy of the expression; the face of God. So in- 
 deed it doth evidently signify, Exod. xxxiii. 11. And if 
 we look to the notation of the word, and its frequent use 
 as applied to God, it may commodiously enough, and will 
 often, be found to signify, in a larger and more extended 
 sense, any aspect or appearance of God. And though it 
 may be understood, ver. 23. of that chapter, to signify an 
 overcoming spiritual glory, as the principal thing there 
 intended, such as no soul dwelling in flesh could behold, 
 without rending the vail, and breaking all to pieces; yet, 
 even there also, may such a degree of sensible glory be 
 secondarily intended, as it was not consistent with a state 
 of mortality to be able to bear. And supposing the other 
 expression, " Thy likeness," to signify, in any part, the 
 objective glory saints are to behold ; it is veiy capable of 
 being extended so far, as to take in a sensible appearance of 
 glory also, which it doth in these words,d " The similitude 
 of the Lord shall he behold:" yet even that glory also was 
 transformative and impressive of itself: Moses so long 
 conversed with it, till he became incapable, for the present, 
 of converse with men, as you know the storj' relates. 
 
 Such a glory as this, though it belong not to the being 
 of God, yet it may be some umbrage of him, a more sha- 
 dowy representation, as a man's garments are of the man, 
 which is the allusion in that of the Psalmist,* Thou art 
 clothed with majesty and honour : Thou coverest thyself 
 with light as with a garment. And inasmuch as that spi- 
 ritual body (f the house not made with hands) wherewith 
 the blessed are to be clothed upon, must then be under- 
 stood to have its proper sensitive? powers and organs 
 refined to that degree, as may be agreeable to a state of 
 glory ; so must these have their suitable objects to con- 
 verse with. A faculty without an object, is not possible 
 in nature, and is altogether inconsistent with a state of 
 blessedness. The bodies of saints will beh raised in glory, 
 fashioned like Christ's glorious body; must bear the 
 image of the heavenly; and this will connaturalize them 
 to a region of glory, render a surrounding sensible glory 
 necessary and natural to them, their own element : they 
 
 e Psal. civ. 1, 2. f 2 Cor. v. 1. g Cuilibet potentifp acti\-ip respon- 
 
 det passiva, sive objcctiva. h i Cor. w. 43. Phil. iii. 21.
 
 Chap. III. 
 
 THE BLESSEDNESS OF THE RIGHTEOUS. 
 
 199 
 
 will, as it were, not be able to live but amidst such a 
 glory. Place is conservative of the body placed in it, by 
 its suitableness there. Indeed every created being (inas- 
 much as it is not self-sufficient, and is obliged to feich in 
 continual refreshings from without) must always have 
 somevi^hal suitable to itself to converse with, or it presently 
 languishes. By such a harmony of actives and passives, 
 the world consists and holds logether. The least defect 
 thereof then, is least of all supposablein the state of bless- 
 edness. The rays of such a glory have often shone down 
 into this lower world. Such a glory we know showed itself 
 upon the Mount Sinai ; afterwards often about the taber- 
 nacle, and in the temple ; such a glory appeared at our 
 Saviour's birth, baptism, and transfiguration ; and will do 
 at his expected appearance ; which leaves it no miimagin- 
 able thing to us, and shows how facile it is to God to (do 
 that which will then be, in some sort, necessary) create a 
 glory meet for the entertainment and gratification of any 
 such faculty, as he shall then continue in being. But, 
 
 2. The intellectual glory, that which perfected spirits 
 shall eternally please themselves to behold, calls for our 
 more especial consideration.! This is the glory that ex- 
 celleth, hyperbolical glory, as that expression imports; .such, 
 as in comparison whereof, the other is said to be no glory : 
 as the apostle speaks, comparing the glory of the legal with 
 that of the evangelical dispensation ; M'here the former was, 
 we must remember, chiefly a sensible glory, the glory that 
 shone upon Mount Sinai ; the latter a purely spiritual 
 glory ; and surely, if the mere preludes of this glory, the 
 primordia, the beginnings of it, the glory — yet shining but 
 through a glass, (as he there also speaks of this glory,) were 
 so hyperbolicaliy glorious, what will it be in its highest 
 exaltation, in its perfected state Ik The apostle cannot 
 speak of that, but with hyperbole upon hyperbole in the 
 next chapter. As though he would heap up words as 
 high as heaven to reach it, and give a just account of it. 
 Things are as their next originals. This glory more im- 
 mediately rays forth from God, and more nearly represents 
 him. 'Tis his more genuine production. He is styled thei 
 Father of glory : every thing that is glorious issome way 
 like him, and bears his image. But he is as well the" 
 
 i VKcnBaWovBiqi So^rji. 2Cor. iii. 10. 
 
 k Ka9' V!Tcpl3o\r\v eis virepP >\r]ti. 2 Cor. iv. 17. 
 
 1 Uph. i. 
 
 m Heh. xii. 
 
 n Not being willing to trouWe a discourse wholly of another nature and de- 
 sign with any thing of controversy, I have chosen only to annex a marginal di- 
 pression, wherein somewhat to animadvert upon tlie over-bold disputes and de- 
 finitions of the scholastic generation, touching what we have now under con- 
 .<;i(leratiori .Some of whose writings seem the very springs of the putid conceits 
 (there not wanting those, that are ollicions enough to serve the illiterate, in 
 accommodating things of that kind to their genius and language) so greedily 
 imbibed hy mcxlern enthusiasts. 
 
 'Tia a question nnich a;.'ilatod among the school-men. Whether the Divine 
 essence be exluliitiii to ilic xipwul' \\v blessed in heaven, in itself immedi- 
 ately, or by the iiiicrvoniiun iif any rn^ated likeness or similitude? Had it 
 been agreed to Pirbi'ai looking within this vail, (the rude attempt whereof, 
 rather rends than draws it aside, and to shut up all discourse of this kind) in a 
 modest awful silence ; or had the adventures some have made been foolish only, 
 not pernicious, this present labour had been sp.ircd. Cut when iiiiii speak oi 
 things above their reach, not to no piirpnsf Imirly. but lo very bad. what they 
 say ought to be considered. The Di\ in, . --( w,-:-. say Ibc Thomists. (and the 
 Scotist-s here disagree not,) is itself iiniiir<li;iii \\ uni;ed to the inlellcct of the 
 blessed rn ratione Speciei intellisihiiis-, -,, w-. ijirre is no place for any inter- 
 vening likeness, or representation. Ipia Divhm ensentia fsr. qiiir riileliir et 
 quo ■eidf.tur. Thorn. Sum. prima parte, q. 12. Art. 2. 3. contr. (ieiitc^. c. 15. 
 Now they assert concerning the species intelliglhUeii, in general, that they have 
 not Locum objccti, inteVectionem terminantes ; (which they make the place 
 and office of the verbiim mentis per inteltectione^n proOuctunt .) but former 
 tantnm et actus priinr ; and that the understanding so acts liy them, as fire 
 by its proper form. Thorn. Sum. prima parte, q. 85. Art. Q. (the contrary 
 whereto is asserted by Scotus in l. Seutent. (li.^tinct. 3, q, 6 ) Yea, and Ca- 
 jet, affirms 1. p. <\. "6. Art. 1. That lln- intellect and the iiuelii^'jlile species 
 are Tnore one than the matter and form in Ihr ei)iu]iir<)tu)n. For. saitli he, (or 
 to that purpose, not havinffhim now at hand.) the matter is not turned into the 
 form, nor e contra, but the intellect, which is in itself mere power, doth, in 
 g'evf.re inteUicrihiH. turn into its ver,' intellieible object; and the intelligi- 
 ble object iiself is after a certain manner imbibed in the intellect. So Le- 
 demm de Divin. perfect, q. 3. Art. 5. unum transit in aliud. exqvn se- 
 qui'ur. quod unum sit aHurt. And h^nce. say ibcy, apiilyinrr this doctrine 
 to the present purpose, et secundum i.^tum niodum. in cnujunctione ilia 
 inrffabUi divina- essevtia- cum intellectu crealo. Jit unum asrens inte- 
 grum, acW. intellecru.9 crcntu^ factus Deu<t mirabili modo. Intellccttis in 
 visione beatijica, est potentia 1am deificata. per lumen s'loria: Cajet. 
 prima parte, q. 12. Art. 2. ex I.edes. q. s. Art. 8. For besides this immedi- 
 ate union of the Di\-ine essence itself with the intellect, thev assert a lumen 
 ^InricF,. an accident superadded, without which the \'ision cannot be per- 
 formed ; which additional the .-^colists n-iert. .'-ionie. Ilion^h thev admit it. 
 think the vision may be without it. and that it doth not iitiplirare contra- 
 dictionem, viKionem hentifiram fieri sine lumine sriorifp. cum solo .^peciali 
 Dei auxilio. quod item n^ierunt multi ex schola.it ids. Palud. in 1. dist. 49. 
 q. 1. Art. 3. Concl. 2 Thnni. de Arsrent. q. 2. Art. 1. Maior. q. 4. Henr. 
 qunlibet. 7. Zu)nel. 1. ;). q. 12. Art. 5. disp. 2. r.oncl. 3. Ita Onuplir. de rir- 
 tule prrnitentia. Whether there be any ve.rbmn creatmn, the product of in- 
 tellection, the Thomists are themselves divided. Their more connnon opinion 
 is, that there is none, as Lede.vna a.osures us ; telling us also his reason, why 
 he conceives there can be none. Beati non formant vcrbum in videndo 
 
 Father of spirits, as the Father of glory ; and that glory 
 which is purely .spiritual, hath most in it of his nature and 
 image : as beams but in the next descent from the body of 
 the sun. This is his un vailed face, and emphatically, the 
 divine likeness. Again, things are as the faculties which 
 they are to exercise and satisfy ; this glory must exercise 
 and satisfy the noblest faculty, of the most noble and ex- 
 cellent creature. Intellectual nature, in the highest im- 
 provement 'tis capable of in a creature, must here be gra- 
 tified to the uttermost ; the most enlarged contemplative 
 power of an immortal spirit finds that wherein it termi- 
 nates here, with a mo.st contentful acquiescence. 'Tis true 
 it must be understood not totally to exceed the capacity 
 of a, creature, but it must fully come up to it. Should it 
 quite transcend the sphere of created nature, and .surpass 
 the model of a human understanding, (as the Divine glory 
 undoubtedly vonld, did not God consider us in the manner 
 of exhibiting il to our view,) it would confound, not sat- 
 isfy. A creature even in glory is still a creature, and must 
 be treated as such. After the blessed God hath elevated 
 it to the highest pitch, he must infinite!}' condescend; it 
 cannot otherwise know or converse with him. He must 
 accommodate his glory to the weaker eye, the fainter and 
 more languid apprehensions, of a poor finite thing. I had 
 almost said, nothing; for what is any creature, }'ea, the 
 whole creation in its best state, compared with the I AM, 
 the being (as he justly appropriates to himself that name) 
 the All in All 1 We must be careful then to settle in our 
 own thought such a state of this glorj', (in forming that 
 indeterminate notion we have now of it,) as may render it 
 (though confessedly above the measure of our present un- 
 (ierstandings as to a distinct knowledge of it) not mani- 
 festly incompetent to any created understanding whatso- 
 ever, and as may speak us duly shy of ascribing a deilj' to 
 a worm, of affixing an\' thing to the creature which shall 
 be found agreeing to the b'essed God himself alone. Their 
 expressions therefore who over-magnify (even deify) the 
 creature'assumed into glory, must be heard and reati with 
 caution and abhorrency, as the high-swelling words of 
 bla,sphemous vanity." Is it not enough that perishing 
 wretches, that were within one hand's breadth of hell, are 
 
 Deo, sed plris vident qiiam verba creato dicere posswnt nam ieatu.i 
 
 per visionem beatam qvamvis non videat infinite ridet tamen infinitum 
 
 (which is their great argument against any intelligible species : ) and be 
 
 further adds, sicut ri^io Dei. quce est in ipso Deo. habet pro principio et 
 .specie iutelUsibili ipsam dirinam Essentiam, et pro termino ipsom Di- 
 vinam Essentiam ; sic vi.'iio beatorum est ita supernatural is. et dirini or- 
 dinis. et participatio diviner risionis ita perfecta. lit ipsa etiam haleat pro 
 principio et specie intelliscihili, divina?n Essentiam. et pro tennino sire 
 verba producto, ipsamet dirinam Essentiam. So tirat the principal and tcmi 
 of this vision are owned to be nothing else but the simple Divin" essonie. Con- 
 cerning thejbmial act it.self it is much disputed, whether the creature's in- 
 tellect do at all effectually concur to it, or whether God himself be not the only 
 efficient or a^ent in this vision. Some stick not In affirm the latter. Marsil. 
 in 3. q. 1. Palud in i. dist. 49._7. 1. Art. 2. (rrferrnte Ledfsma.) and say 
 plaiidy. that the action of the inferior agent wholly reases. and the su|)erior 
 only acts ; the same thing that D. i\l. CausaUiu in bis Enthusiasm charges 
 one Ma.\imus with, who in a book entitled Kt^a\aia StoXo) uu writes thus : 
 rqn aiuaov X(</?t.)i' tfoiatv —pos rov Oet)v vnvi rqv rowoeiv Kai vneicOat 
 Tiii-rfXoij Si'i'it/Kf s\£: cyo^ai^nvaat. That the soul taken into immediate 
 union with God, loses all its K-nowinff potrer : (though this be not distinct 
 ively spoken of the state fif sinry :) and what doth this amount to? but tliat 
 while they are eagerly couteuiling about the saints' blessedness, and loo cu- 
 riously labouring to explicate Ihe manner of their seeing Goil, they unawares 
 destroy the subject of the ciuestion. and deny that they sec him at all ; and .so 
 upon the whole, dispute themselves into a worse than paganish infidelity. 
 And even the rest, that agree in the sense of the pa--sages alxive reciteS 
 will not be easily able to avoid the charge of as intolerable consequences 
 which it is my business here only to discover, and not to determine any thine 
 in this controversy, whiles I tax the too much Ixjldness of others, who adven- 
 ture it. And here not to insist on the absurdity of what they say concerning 
 the inlelliuible species in general, let it be considered. 1. That the Divine es- 
 si'ucc is said to Ire nnileil to Ihe intellect of the ble.sscd. as an intelligiiile spe- 
 cies. 2. That the inlelli^'ilile species, in the business of intellection, and tlie 
 intellect, become one another; do not remain distinct things uniied.bul are 
 identified 3. That hence in understanding GchI, the intellect is deified and 
 becomes God. which naturally follows from the two former, and is moreover 
 expressly asserted in plain words. What need is there to press this doctrine 
 with hard consequences ? or how can it look worse than it doth already, with 
 its owii natural face? Nor can I apprehend w hich way it should be made look 
 l)etter. For should it lay claim to that favour, to be understood according to 
 the usual sense of the peripatetic maxim, intellectu.s. intelli^cndo. sit om- 
 nia : it will be fi)und manifestly to have precludr<l itself That maxim is wont 
 to be understood thus: That the mtellcct becomes that which it understands 
 representative, by putting- on the species or likeness of its nliject. the n-presen- 
 talionof it. For iust;mce. when I form in my mind the notion of a mountain, 
 my understanding becomes an ideal or spiritu.al mountain : it bcfomcs that 
 species (which is liable to more exception too than I .shall now insist on. and 
 looks more like tlie laniniace of a poet than a philosonheri that is new formed 
 then': and not ilie material mountain itself Bnt how shall this a.ssertion. 
 The undeistanduiL'. bvits act of undeistandins GimI. becomes God. l>e cap,".hle 
 of ibat intenr.tation / e. It becomes his likeness, his idea, his representation 
 now f.iirii.-d in it. when any such inter\enins likeness or representation is ut- 
 lerlv denied : and Ibatsupposed si>ecies is saiil to be the sinuMe Divine essence 
 itself: and if the Divine e.ssenw itselflK! th.af s|x-cies by which 'tis mtderslood, 
 w ill it n<it follow from that other Aristotelian axiom, iwhicli with them must 
 signify as much as a text from Saint Paul,) scibile et sciauia sunt idem :
 
 200 
 
 THE BLESSEDNESS OF THE RIGHTEOUS. 
 
 Chap. HI. 
 
 saved, except they oe also deified too 1 that they become 
 happy, unless they also become gods 1 The distance even 
 of a glorified creature from the glorious God, is still infi- 
 nitely greater, than between it and the silliest worm, the 
 minutest atom of dust. 
 
 And by how much moire we shall then knoAv of his 
 glory, so much more shall we understand that distance. 
 Yet as he shall then enlarge the capacity of the soul he 
 glorifies to a very vast comprehension, so shall the exhibi- 
 tion of his glory to it be fully adequate to its most enlarged 
 capacity. They are as yet but obscure glimmerings we 
 can have of this glory ; but so far as, without too bold cu- 
 riosity, we may, and wherein Scripture light will give us 
 any pre-apprehension of it, let us consider awhile the na- 
 ture and the excellency of it. We cannot indeed consider 
 these separately; for we can no sooner understand it to 
 be glory, than we conceive it excellent : glory, in the 
 proper notion of it, being nothing else but resplendent ex- 
 cellency, the lustre of excellency, or real worth made con- 
 spicuous. Yet as there is an excellency conceivable in 
 *he nature of it, that excellency whereof it is the splen- 
 dour and brightness ; so we must conceive a peculiar ex- 
 cellency of that very radiation, that splendour itself, 
 wherewith it shines unto blessed souls. In its^ very nature 
 it is the brightness of divine excellencies; in its present 
 appearance, it shines in the highest excellency of that 
 brightness ; in its nature it excelleth all things else ; in its 
 present exhibition, compared with all its former radia- 
 tions, it excelleth itself. 
 
 As to the nature of this glory, 'tis nothing else but the 
 conspicuous lustre of divine perfections. We can only 
 guide our present conceptions of it, by the discovery God 
 hath already given us of himself, in those several excel- 
 lencies of his being, the great attributes that are convertible 
 and one with him. When Moses besought him for a sight 
 of his glory, he answers him with this, " I will proclaim 
 my name before thee." His name, we know, is. the col- 
 lection of his attributes. The notion therefore we can 
 hence form of this glory, is only such as we may have of 
 a large volume by a brief synopsis or table; of a magni- 
 ficent fabric, by a small model or platform; a spacious 
 country, by a little landscape. He hath here given us a 
 true representation of himself, not a full ; such as will se- 
 cure our apprehensions, being guided thereby, from error, 
 not from ignorance. So as they swerve not in apprehending 
 this glory, though they still fall short. We can now apply 
 our minds to contemplate the several perfections which the 
 blessed God assumes to himself, and whereby he describes 
 to us his own being ; and can in our thoughts attribute 
 them all to him, though we have still but low defective 
 conceptions of each one. As if we could at a distance 
 distinguish the streets and houses of a great city; but 
 every one appears to us much less than it is. We can ap- 
 
 That our very knowledge of God must be God too ? or would they disown f)iat 
 maxim, sure when once the faculty i.-i su|i|mW(1 d.'ififd, tlic ;tct inunanent in it 
 cannot be a created accident: norcmi ilint mii\ini (niKliTsldiul ol'tli:' ,«r/' /V: 
 representativtim, or the species scibilis) \w ilrnicil hy (hmi And snrr if ilie 
 saints' laiowledge of God, the hkeiicss of him in tlvir iiiimls. lie Cud; tlirir 
 holiness, tlie likeness of Iiim in their hearts, must be ho too Hmv yhsiird then 
 would it he. to use that scripture lansriiase, and speak fif tlie<:e under the 
 names of God's image or likeness, when similitude and hinititii arc notions 
 so vastly disaereeing: and since a saints' knowledge and bdliness here and in- 
 heaven diifer but in degree : they can tie here on enrth. ndlliiiii; hut God dwell- 
 ing in them. And stspposing that Scotus Imvc luflir d.ll mlod tlian his ad- 
 Tersaries impimgedthe real identity of the soul and its fiirultics. that must Ije 
 deified too. However, what could be imaKJnod nicur absurd, ibari lliat tiie 
 substance of the soul should be a creature ;incl its faculty Uiid i V\'hiii(i-, then. 
 io we think that modem Famdists hiLVr tile lird llinr adndrcd iicrrseiisc' 
 Whom have they had their original insfriictdrs' nr who have tnuf,'lit tluni 
 thatljrave, magnificent language of being (ioddi'd with Gdd, and ('hristcd 
 with Christ, but these J Nor, sure, need they blush to l>p found t'lulty of so pro- 
 foiuidly learned inconsistencies, or to speak ahsurdly atbr surb pnlrims. And 
 what should occasion these men so to involve themselves I caiinnt tind or di- 
 vine uiori- tbiin this, that they were not able to fasten upon anv more tolrralde 
 sense of the word KnQo>i, I Cor. xiii. 12. 1 John iii. 2. but taking,' that in its 
 highest pit eh of significancy, all their arguments are generally levelled at this 
 mark, to prove that no created species can possibly n pn-.^i'iit God sicnti pst, 
 aiid thence infer, that he cannot be seen by any eretitcd species in the glorified 
 state, where he is to be seen sicuti est. But could we rnnlcnt ourselves with 
 a moilest interpretation of these words, and understand them to speak not of a 
 ■parily but of a similitude only, between God's knowledge and ours, nor of an 
 absolute omnimodous similitude, but comparative only ; that is, that comparing 
 our future with our present state, the former shall so fkr excel this, that m 
 comparison thereof it may be said to be a knowing of God as we are known, 
 and as he is ; insomuch as our future know lcdi;c of him shall approach so im- 
 .speakalily nearer to his most perfect knowLdj/e of iis, and the truth of the 
 tli>ng, than our present knowledi'c dolh or can: by such an interiireta- 
 tion we are cast u|(on no such difficulties. For admit that no species 
 can represent God as he is in the highest sense of these words ; yet sure in 
 the same sense wherein he ran lie seen by us as ho is, he may he repre- 
 sented to us as he is. And what can be more frivolous than that fore-recited 
 
 prehend somewhat of whatsoever he reveals to be m him- 
 self ; yet when all is done, how little a portion do we take 
 up of him I Our thoughts are empty and languid, strait 
 and narrow, such as diminish and limit the Holy One. 
 Yet so far as our apprehensions can correspond to the 
 discovery he aflbrds us of his several excellencies, we have 
 a present view of the Divine glory. Do but strictly and 
 distinctly survey the many pprfections comprehended in 
 his name, then gather them up, and consider how glorious 
 he is ! Conceive one glory resulting from substantial 
 wisdom, goodness, power, truth, justice, holiness, that is, 
 beaming forth from him who is all these by his very es- 
 sence, necessarily, originally, infinitely, eternally, with 
 whatsoever else is truly a perfection. This is the glory 
 blessed souls shall behold for ever. 
 
 For the excellency of it, 'tis called by way of discrimi- 
 nation, o " The excellent glory." There was glory put 
 upon Christ in the transfiguration; of which, when the 
 apostle speaks, having occasion to rhention withal the glory 
 of heaven itself, from whence the voice came ; he adds to 
 this latter, the distinguishing note of the excellent. He 
 himself was eye-witness of the honour, and majesty, and 
 glory, which the Lord Jesus then received ; but beyond 
 all this, the glory from whence the voice came, was the 
 Pexcellent or stately glory, as the word imports. 'Tis a 
 great intimation how excellent a gloiy this is, that 'tis said 
 to be a glory lyet to be revealed; as if it had been said, 
 whatever appearances of the Divine glories are now offered 
 to your view, there is still somewhat undiscovered, some- 
 what behind the curtain, that will outshine all. You have 
 not seen so much, but you are still to expect unspeakably 
 more. Glory is then to shine in its noon-day strength and 
 vigour : 'tis then in its meridian. Here, the riches of 
 glory are to be displayed, certain trea-sures of glory, the 
 plenitude and magnificence of glory. We are here to .see 
 him as he is; to know him as we are known of him. 
 Certainly, the display of himself, the rays of his discovered 
 excellency, must hold proportion with that vision, and be 
 therefore exceeding glorious. ■" 'Tis the glory Christ had 
 with the Father before the foundations of the world were 
 laid ; into the vision and communion whereof holy souls 
 shall now be taken, according as their capacities can ad- 
 mit : that wherewithal his great achievements and high 
 merits shall be rewarded eternally ; that wherewith he is 
 to be glorified in heaven, in compensation of having glo- 
 rified his Father on earth, and finished the work whereto 
 he was ajtpointed. This cannot but be a most transcendent 
 glory. 'Tis in sum, and in the language of the text, the 
 glory of God's own face, his most aspectdble, conspicuous 
 glory. Whose transforming beams are productive of the 
 glory impressed, the next ingredient into this blessedness, 
 which will presently come to be spoken of, after we have 
 given you some short account of, 
 
 rensotring to the contrary? "There can be no created representation of God 
 (sicuti est) adequate to the vision the blfcS9«d have of him ; but they see more 
 than any created representation can contain, for they see injinitiim, though 
 not infinite. For how must we understand the infinitum they are said to 
 see? Materially or formally? Must we understand by it him that is infinite 
 oidy, or as he is infiiute? If it be said the latter, that is to say they see infi- 
 nite too If the former only, do not saints on earth see Wz. mentally, which 
 is the Wsion we are speaking oO him who is infinite, in their present slate, 
 where it is acknowledgi'd the knowledge is by species. 
 
 Vet wouH 1 not hence conclude that the knowledge saints shall have of God 
 hereafter shall be by species; lor my design in all this is hut to discover the 
 vanity (jf too |iositive and definitive conceptions concerning it, beyond the 
 nieusure of (iod's r< \elatinn. and the ducture of clear and unentanglcd reason. 
 All knowle(L'e batli been thoiight to be by assimilation, i. e. by recer\ing the 
 species or iina^'es of the tilings known. So the intellect is not really turned 
 info the things which it understands, hut only receives their siiecics, wherewith 
 It is united so closely, that it is therefore said to be hke to them. Virtuosi of 
 France, confer. 65. 
 
 One way or other it hath been judged necessary the mind should he furnished 
 with such images of fhe thing it is said to understand ; which therefore some 
 have Ihongbt aninate : others supplied by sense totally : others by a separate 
 i»lc!l)Cli/.i offnis : which some have thought to be God himself: others one 
 common intelligence ; others a particular genius. So indispensably necessary 
 it hath !)eeu reckoned unto intellection, that the office of furnishing llie mind 
 wirh the imasres of the things to Ite understood, should be perfonned by one 
 or other If any clearer exjilication can be given, or better way assigned, of 
 the soul's knowing tilings, it cannot but be welcome to rational men. But 
 I see no necessity or reason it should have a specifically distinct way ot 
 knowing here and in heaven. Much less that we should imagine to our- 
 selves such a one as to that other state, as is altogether unaccountable and 
 capable of no rational explication ; and reckon if nuich more becoming fo be 
 silent, than on pretence of any mysteriousness in the things we discourse of, 
 to talk absurdly and uninfellipibty about them A confessed ignorance in this 
 case is liecoming, fo say with that great apostle. If doth not apficar what «e 
 shall be ; but fo conclude and defuic such matters, is surely ippovciv trap o act 
 ^>p'n>ctv. 
 
 o 2 Pet. i. 17. p McjtXoJrptn-fjf. 
 
 q 1 Pet. iv. 13. r .lohn xvii.
 
 Chap. IV. 
 
 THE BLESSED^fESS OF THE RIGHTEOUS. 
 
 201 
 
 2. The act of beholding: the vision or intuition itself, 
 by which intervening the impression is made. Glory 
 seems to carry in it a peculiar respect to the visive power ; 
 (wliether corporeal or mental, as it is itself of the one kind 
 or the other;) 'tis something to be contemplated, to be 
 looked upon. And being to transmit an impression and 
 consequent pleasure to another subject, it must necessarily 
 be so, it can neither transform nor satisfy but as it is be- 
 held. And here the sensitive intuition I shall not insist 
 on, as being less intended in the text, and the discourse 
 of it less suitable to such as with a spiritual mind and 
 design set themselves to inquire into the nature of the 
 saints' blessedness. Yet, as this is the most noble, com- 
 prehensive, quick, and sprightly sense, so is the act of it 
 more considerable, in the matter of blessedness, than any 
 other of the outward man, and the most perfect imitation 
 of the act of the mind ; whence also this so often borrows 
 the name of the other, and is called seeing. 'Tis an act 
 indeed very proper and pertinent to a state of glory. By 
 how much more any sensible object is glorious, (supposing 
 the sensorium to be duly disposed and fortified, as must be 
 here supposed,) so much is it the fitter object of sight ; 
 hence when we would express a glorious object, we call it 
 conspicuous ; and the less glorious or more obscure any 
 thing is, the less visible it is, and the nearer it approaches 
 to invisibility; whence that saying in the common phi- 
 losophy,' " To see blackness is to see nothing." What- 
 soever a glorified eye, replenished with a heavenly vitality 
 and vigour, can fetch in from the many glorified objects 
 that encompass it, we must suppose to concur to this bless- 
 edness. Now is the eye satisfied with seeing, which be- 
 fore never could. 
 
 But 'tis intellectual sight we are chiefly to consider 
 here, that whereby we see him that is invisible, and ap- 
 proach the inaccessible light. tThe word here used, some 
 critics tell us, more usually signifies the sight of the mind. 
 And then, not a casual, superficial glancing at a thing, but 
 contemplation, a studious, designed viewing of a thing 
 when we solemnly compose and apply ourselves thereto; 
 or the vision of prophets, or such as have things discovered 
 to them by divine revelation, (thence called chozim, seers,) 
 which imports (though not a previous design, yet) no less 
 intention of mind in the act itself And so it more fitly 
 expresses that knowledge which we have, not by discourse 
 and reasoning out of one thing from another, but by im- 
 mediate intuition of what is nakedly, and at once, offered 
 to our view, which is the more proper knowledge of the 
 blessed in heaven. They shall have the glory of God so 
 presented, and their minds so enlarged, as to comprehend 
 much at one view; in which respect they may be said, in 
 a great degree, to know as they are known, inasmuch as 
 the blessed God comprehends all things at once, in one 
 simple act of knowing. Yet that is not to be understood 
 as if the state of glory should exclude all ratiocination, 
 more than our present state doth all intuition ; (for firs.' and 
 indemonstrable principles we see by their own lie-'if, with- 
 out illation or argument;) nor can it be inco'^venient to 
 admit, that while the knowledge the blesspj have of God, 
 is not infinite, there may be use of their discursive faculty 
 -with great fruit and pleasure. "Pare intuition of God 
 without anv mixture of reasoni--«g, is ack-nowledged (by 
 such as are apt enough to be over-ascnbmg to the creature) 
 peculiar to God alone. V'^i as the blessed God shall con- 
 tinually aflTord (if we «iay spealf of continuity in eternity, 
 which yet we cannot otherwise apprehend) a clear dis- 
 covery of him?rilf, so shall the principal exercise and fe- 
 licity of the blessed soul consist in that less laborious and 
 more pieasant way of knowing, a mere admitting or enter- 
 taining of those free beams of voluntary light, by a grateful 
 intuition ; which way of knowing, the expression of sight, 
 or beholding, doth most incline to, and that is, we are sure, 
 the ordinary language of Scripture* about this matter. 
 
 s kxiat. in 3. Meteorolog. Cap. de Iride. 
 
 tnn. 
 
 u CoffDoacere Deum clare et intuitive eat proprium ct naturale soli Deo, sicut 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 The second ingredient into this blessedness considered, Assimilation to Gf«l, 
 or his glory imprest. Wherein it consists, discoveredui suwii^'proriositiuiis. 
 riie third infrtdient. Tho satisfaction aiul pleasure wliich r^ulte, staled 
 and opeiieu. 
 
 And now, upon this vision of the blessed face of God, 
 next follows, in the order of discourse, 
 
 The soul's perfect assimilation unto that revealed glory, 
 or its participation thereof; (touching the order the things 
 themselves have to one another, there will be consideratioa 
 had in its proper place ;) and this also must be considered 
 as a distinct and necessary ingredient into the state of 
 blessedness we are treating of Distinct it is, for though 
 the vision now spoken of doth include a certain kind of 
 assimilation in it, as all vision doth, being only a reception 
 of the species or likeness of the object seen ; this assimi- 
 lation we are to speak of, is of a very different kind. That, 
 is such as affects only the visive and cognitive power, ajid 
 that not with a real change, biU intentional <inly, nor for 
 longer continuance than the act of seeing lasts; but this, 
 is total, real, and permanent. And surely it is of equal 
 necessity to the soul's blessedness, to partake the glory of 
 God, as to behold it ; as w' ell as to have the Divine likeness 
 imprest upon it, as represented to it. After so conta- 
 gious and overspreading a depravation as sin hath diffused 
 through all its powers, it can never be happy without a 
 change of its very crasis and temper throughout. A diir- 
 eased, ulcerous body would take little I'elicity in gay and 
 glorious sights : no more would all the glory of heaven 
 signify to a sick, deformed, self-loathing soul. 
 
 It must therefore be all glorious within, have the Divine 
 nature more perfectly commimicated, the likeness of God 
 transfused and wrought into it. This is the blessed work 
 begun in regeneration ; but how far it is from being per- 
 fected, we may soon find by considering, how far short we 
 are of being satisfied in our present state, even in the con- 
 templation of the highest and most excellent objects. How 
 tasteless to our souls are the thoughts of God ! How little 
 pleasure do we take in viewing over his glorious attributes ! 
 the most acknowledged and adorable excellencies of his 
 being] And whereunto can we impute it but to this, that 
 our spirits are not yet sufficiently connaturalized to them 1 
 Their likeness is not enough deeply iustamped on our 
 souls. Nor will fJiis be, till we awake. When we see 
 better, we shall become better : wh«n he appears, we shall 
 be like him, for w"e shall see him as he is. But do we 
 indeed pretend to such an expectation! Can we think 
 Avhat Gr^ is, and what we are in our present state, and 
 not confess these words to carry with them an amazing 
 scund " we shall be like him !" How great a liope is thisi 
 How strange an errand hath the gospel into the world ! 
 How admirable a design ! to transform men and make 
 them like God ! Were tlie dust of the earth turned into 
 stars in the firmament, were the most stupendous poeti- 
 cal transformations assured realities; Avhat could equal 
 the greatness and the wonder of this mighty change ? Yea, 
 and doth not the expectation of it seem as presumptuou.>5, 
 as the issue itself would he strange 1 Is it not an over-bold 
 desire; too daring a thought; a thing unlawful to be 
 affected, as it seems impossible to be attained "? It must 
 be acknowledged there is an appearance of high arrogance 
 in aspiring to this, to be like God. And the very wish or 
 thought of being so, in all respects, were not to be enter- 
 tained without horror. 'Tis a matter therefore that requites 
 some disquisition and explication, wherein that impressed 
 likeness of God consists, which must concur to the saints' 
 blessedness. In order hereunto then take the foDowing 
 propositions : 
 
 Prop. 1. There is a sense wherein to be like God j^ 
 altogether impossible, and the ver\- desire of it the mo- 
 horrid wickedness. The prophet" in the name of G<i 
 charges the proud prince of Tyre with this, as an incxr.i 
 able arrogance, that he did set his heart as the heart t 
 God; andupon this scorechallenges and entersthelistsw/k 
 
 est pTopriiim ieni calefacere et soli iUuminarc. Ledcsm. de dirin. pertect ■; \ 
 Art. 7. 
 X Matt. V. S. Ileb. xii. 14.
 
 302 
 
 THE BLESSEDNESS OF THE RIGHTEOUS. 
 
 Chap. IV 
 
 him : Come, you that would fain be taken for a god, 
 I'll make a sorry god of thee ere I have done ; ^ Because 
 thou hast set thy heart as the heart of God, I will set those 
 upon thee, that shall draw their swords against the beauty 
 of thy wisdom, and that shall defile thy brightness : And 
 "what ! Wilt thou yet say in the hand of him that slayeth 
 thee, I am a godi Thou shalt be a man and no god, in 
 the hand of him that slayeth thee ; — I have spoken it, saith 
 the Lord God. He will endure no such imitation of him, 
 as to be rivalled in the point of his Godhead. This is the 
 matter of his jealousy; b " They have moved me to jea- 
 lousy with not-God," so 'tis shortly and more smartly 
 spoken in the original text. And see how he displays his 
 threats and terrors hereupon in the following verses. This 
 was the design and inducement of the first transgression, 
 to be as gods. And indeed all .sin may be reduced hither. 
 What else is sin (in the most comprehensive notion) but 
 an undue imitation of God 1 an exalting of the creature's 
 will into a supremacy, and opposing it as such to the Di- 
 vine ? To sin, is to take upon us, as if we were supreme, 
 and that there were no Lord over us; 'tis to assume to 
 ourselves a deity, as if we were under no law or rule ; as 
 he is not under any, but what he is to himself. Herein, 
 to be like God, is the very core and malignity of sin. 
 
 2. There is a just and laudable imitation of God, a like- 
 ne.ss to him, that is matter of command, praise, and pro- 
 mise, as wherein both the duty, excellency, and blessedness 
 of the reasonable creature doth consist ; and which is in 
 some respect inseparable from the nature of man. ^We 
 are required to be followers of God, as dear children, imi- 
 tators the word is. David is commended as a man after 
 God's own heart; though but now we saw in another, 
 with what disdain and indignation it was resented, that he 
 did set his heart as the heart of God. The d new crea- 
 ture, the new man, the fir.st-fruits, as he is called, the 
 flower of creation, is made after God. Saints expect, upon 
 the assurance of his word, to be more fully like him, as 
 we see in the text, and parallel places. Yea, man was 
 made at first with a concreate similitude to God, which 
 we know was the counsel of heaven, and the result and 
 issue of that counsel. Gen. i. 26, 27. This is evident 
 enough in itself, and needs no more words. But to make 
 a further step in this business, observe next, 
 
 3. There can be no allowable imitation of any one, but 
 with an exception as to some peculiarities that may belong 
 to his special station, relation, and other circumstances of 
 the condition in which he is ; or with limitation to such 
 things as are of common concernment unio both.« 'Tis 
 commonly observed how naturally a people form their 
 manners and fashions to the example of the prm^^e; and 
 there is no well-disposed ruler, but would take ii well, 
 to be imitated in things that are of common conceiiw 
 ment to him and his subjects, that is, that concern him, 
 not as he is a king, but as he is a man, or a Christian. To 
 behold the transforming power of his own example, where 
 it is such as begets a fair and unreproachful impress ;f 
 how his virtues circulate, (his justice, temperance, love of 
 religion,) and produce their likeness among his people ; 
 'twill be a glory, and cannot but be resented with some de- 
 light. We cast an honour upon them whom we imitate; 
 for we acknowledge an excellency in them, (which is all 
 that honouring imports in the first notion of' it,) and that 
 naturally is received with pleasure. But now, should sub- 
 jects aspire to a likeness to their prince, in the proper ap- 
 pendages and acts of sovereignty; and because he is a 
 glorious king, they will be such too ; and assume the pe- 
 
 a Ezek. x.wiii. 6—10. 
 
 b Dent, xsxii. 21. c Eph. i. 5. in/iiiTai. d Jam. i. 18. Eph. iv. 24. 
 
 e Re?is ad exemplum totiis componiturorbis. 
 
 f Nam faci^re rpct > bonus ririnceps facieiuio docet. Ciimnue sic imperio max- 
 iiniis, r\cm;.l.) major e<Jt. Velleius Patereulus, Rom. Hist. 1. 2. 
 
 s Intrr IliMim it creaturam nihil est commune. 
 
 li MiiltH oriim mi)dis dici res possunt similes Deo; alias secundum virtutem, 
 et saiiientiam, factfe; quia in ipso est virtus et sapientia non facta ; aJiae in 
 quantinn solum vivunt, qui ille summe et primo vivit ; alia; in quantum sunt, 
 quia ille summe? et primitus est. Aug. 80 ; quest, p. (milii) 211. 
 
 i TOii 1 ap ycvoi; cctjizv. 
 
 k P. ]\Iolineus de cognitione Dei. 
 
 1 Hcatbetis have dMained and declaimed asainst go unworthy thoughts of 
 God. T" t)c OiiOf avTO anparov oipOa'Kixoii. appr\TOv (pMvn, avacpes (raoKt, 
 &c. Maximus Tyr. Dissert. 1. The same author warns us to take heed, that 
 we ascribe to God, Mnre peyetraos, prjre xpcJ/'a, pits axipa, piTt aX\o Ti 
 vXns TTiidag. Ibid. 
 
 tJnto which purpose is that decantate distich of Homer, 'O') yap airov, &c. 
 And that savins of Pliny, Qua prryprer effigieni Dei formamque qiitBrcre ; 
 tmbecUlltatis humancs rear, applied by Zaiich de opcribus Dei. And we 
 
 culiar cognizances of regality ; ascend the throne, sway 
 the sceptre, wear the crown, enact laws, &c. There cannot 
 be more of dutifulness and observance in the former imi- 
 tation than there is of disloyalty and treason in this. A 
 father is pleased to have his son imitate him, within such 
 limits before mentioned ; but, if he will govern the family, 
 and fill up his room in all relations, this will never be 
 endured. 
 
 4. There are some things to be found in the blessed 
 God, not so incommunicable and appropriate, but that his 
 creatures may be said to have some participation thereof 
 with him ; and so far, to be truly like him. This partici- 
 pation cannot be univocal ; as the nature of a living crea- 
 ture in general, is equal in men and brutes ; so, it is a 
 self-evident principle, that s nothing can be common to God. 
 and, an inferior being. Nor is it only an equivocal, a 
 participation of the same name, when the natures signified 
 thereby are altogether diverse ; but analogical, inasmuch 
 as the things spoken, under the same names, of God and 
 the creature, have a real likeness, and conveniency in na- 
 ture with one another: and they are in God, primarily; in 
 the creature, by dependence, and derivation : in him es- 
 sentially, as being his very essence; in them but as acci- 
 dents, (many of them,) adventitious to their beings ; and 
 so while they cannot be said to be the same things in them, 
 as in him, are fitly said to be his likeness. 
 
 5. This likeness, as it is principally found in man, 
 among all the terrestrial creatures ; so hath it, in man, for 
 its seat and subject, his soul or spiritual part. The effects 
 of Divine wisdom, power, goodness, are every where visible 
 throughout the whole creation ; and as there is no effect, 
 but hath something in it corresponding to its cause, (where- 
 in it was its cause,) so every creature doth, some way or 
 other, represent God. Some in virtues, some in life, some 
 inbeingh only. The material world represents him, as a 
 house the builder ; but spiritual beings, as a child the fa- 
 ther." Other creatures (as onek fitly expresses it) carry 
 his footsteps ; these, his image ; and that, not as drawn 
 with a pencil, which can only express figure and colour ; 
 but as represented in a glass, which imitates action and 
 motion. To give the pre-eminence therefore,! in this 
 point, to the body of man, was a conceit so gross, that one 
 would wonder how it should obtain, at least in the Chris- 
 tian world. 
 
 Yet we find it expressly charged by"" St. Augustin upon 
 the anthropomorphites of old, (or melitonians, as he calls 
 them, from one Alelito the father of them,) not only, that 
 they imagined God in a human shape, (which was their 
 known conceit,) but that they stated God's image in 
 man, in his body, not his soul. Nor are Van Helmont's 
 fancies, about corporeal likeness, capable of excuse by any 
 thing, but that they were a dream, (as they are fitly styled,) 
 ^nd not likclv to impose upon the waking reason of any 
 mt«i. 
 
 6. This image or likeness of God in the spirit of man, 
 represenim^ what is communicable in him, is either natural 
 or moral. 'Ihere is first a natural image of God, in the 
 soul of man, which is inseparable from it ; and which it 
 can never " divest >self of. Its very spiritual, immortal 
 nature itself, is a representation of his. Its intellective and 
 elective powers are the irr.age of what we are constrained 
 to conceive under the notion of the same powers in him. 
 Yea, the same understanding, with the memory and will, 
 in one soul, are thought a lively resemblance of the » tri- 
 une Deity. But there is further a similitude of him in 
 respect of moral p virtues or perfections answering to 
 
 may see much of the like import alleged by Natal. Com lib. i p 13 Which 
 (by the way) discovers how flatly opposite the idolatry forbidden in Ae second 
 commandment, is to the light of nature itself Which halh been also iiie iust 
 apology of the ancient patrons of the Christian cause, forthe simplicity of xVeir 
 worsiap in this respect ; and their not Imitating the pompous vanity of pagan 
 image-worship. Ovh Bcias eiKovas vn-o\ap0aiiopev civai ra ayaXpara, arc 
 nopipriv aoparov Oeov Kai aawparov pr) SiaypadiopTtS- Origen contr. Cel- 
 sum lib. 7. ; 
 
 To which purpose see at large, Min. Felix, ftuod simulacnira Deo fingam ? 
 &c. 
 
 And surely it is as improvable against the same piece of Christian paganism. 
 The usually assigned diflerenccs would easily be shown to be trifling miperti- 
 nences. 
 
 m Corpus hominis non animum esse imaginem Dei : Aug. (if it be Augus 
 tine's) hb. de haeresibus. See Dr. Charleton of his image of God in man. 
 
 n Est Dei similitudo qua-dam, quam nemo vivens, nisi cum vita exuit : quam 
 habct homo et volens, et nolens, «!kc. Bernard, de vita Solitar. 
 
 o D. Aug. (fuse) lib. 10. de Trinitat. 
 
 p Se<l est alia, niagis Deo propinqua, similitudo, quae in virtutibus consistiU 
 Bernard.
 
 Chap. IV. 
 
 THE BLESSEDNESS OF THE RIGHTEOUS. 
 
 what we conceive ia him, under that notion ; his wisdom, 
 (so far as it hath the nature of a moral virtue,) his mercy, 
 truth, righteousness, holiness, &c. These two kinds or 
 parts (as they may be called) of the Divine impress upon 
 the spirits of men, are distinguished by some (I see not 
 how properly) by the distinct names of image, denoting 
 the former, and similitude the latter; answering, as is 
 thought, to two Hebrew words of the like import;') but 
 the things themselves are evidently enough distinct, 
 viz. what perfects the nature of man in ge/iere physico, 
 as he is such a particular being in the universe; and 
 what perfects him, in generemorali, as he is considerable in 
 reference to a law or rule guiding him to blessedness, as 
 his end. 
 
 7. 'Tis a likeness to God in respect of those moral ex- 
 cellencies or perfections, that is especially considerable by 
 us, in reference to our present purpose; as more immedi- 
 ately relating to the soul's blessedness in God. By the 
 former it hath a potentiality, by the latter a habitude, in 
 reference thereunto. Or (to use terms, more liable to com- 
 mon apprehension) by the former it hath a remoter capa- 
 city, by the latter a present fitness; or, as the apostle 
 expresses it, is made meet to be partaker of the inheritance 
 of the saints in light, i. e. considering this likeness as be- 
 gun in the soul. 
 
 8. Besides what is thus (in the sense before expressed) 
 communicable between God and man, there are some 
 things so peculiarly appropriate to God, as that, in respect . 
 of them, there can be no formal likeness in the creature : 
 and it would be impious boldness to aspire thereto. Many 
 things of this kind might be mentioned; I shall only in- 
 stance in two, wherein there is a manifest competition of 
 the apostate world with him ; ajid which are therefore more 
 relative to practice ; his sovereign authority, and his inde- 
 pendency. In these, while men affect to imitate, thej' 
 wickedly affront him. And here is the great controversy 
 between the glorious God and the degenerous children of 
 men. Every man would catch at a Godhead, and either 
 assume it to himself, or cast it, many times, upon other 
 creatures viler and more ignoble than himself; snatch the 
 reigns of government out of God's hand, and exalt their 
 own wills into an absoluteness, as liable to control from 
 none; place and settle their dependence on their own wit, 
 power, fortitude, industry ; or, if that be a more hopeless 
 course, (for they often find an entire Godhead too much for 
 one creature, and are therefore constrained to parcel it out 
 among many,) place their confidence and expectations in 
 something else without them ; do often that ridiculous 
 thing, so worthy to be hooted at, make the congested dirt 
 of the earth their trust, (rthe righteous shall laugh at him, 
 and say, Lo! this is the man that trusted in riches,) their 
 wealth their strong tower; which only the name of the 
 Lord is to his righteous ones. Yet, all the while, self is 
 the centre and end in which all must meet and terminate. 
 This at last carries away the assumed fictitious deity. 
 And this thing, that is thus now made like God, is an idol, 
 (which indeed signifies so much,) and this imitation of him, 
 wicked idolatry ; than which nothing more debases a rea- 
 sonable soul, or divests man of himself, that till they re- 
 dress this,^ they give no proof of their being men. Thi-^ 
 assimilation of ourselves to God is very remote then f.-pra 
 being a perfection; it is a most reproachful defo-mily: 
 as we know imitations, if they be visibly affected, and 
 strained too far, are always thought ridicul^tis by wise 
 men. 
 
 9. Though, in respect of these incoiP'minicable things, 
 there cannot be a proper, formal, im-nediate similitude to 
 God; yet, there ought to be a correspondency; which 
 must be measured and estimatt^t by the consideration of 
 his state, and ours: whence it will appear, that what so 
 properly appertains to him, and what ought to correspond 
 thereto in us, do agree to each, upon one and the same 
 intervening reason. 
 
 For instance, is he absolutely supreme inasmuch as he 
 
 q r-iini d'?'$ Zancb. 
 
 r Psal. lii. S, 7. 
 
 R lia. nlvi. 8. 
 
 t Tlii'3 .Salmu. de Deo immenso. 
 
 II v^i' Which some tliink to be theNiphal of the same word notwitlistaaidins 
 the (Hflfrrent pimctimlion of the S'. 
 
 w How iit a symbol it ia of God's sabbatic rest, see Dr. Moro's defence of his 
 Philosophical Cabbala from Philo Judscus. 
 
 is the first being 1 the correspondent impression with us, 
 and upon the same reason, must be a most profound, hum- 
 ble self-subjfcction, disposing our souls to constant obedi- 
 ence to hiin. Agaiii, is he simply independent, as being 
 self-sufficient and all in all "? tb« impre.ssion with us must 
 be a nothingness, and self-emptiness, engaging us U) quit 
 ourselves, and live in him. This is the only conformity to 
 God, which with res^sect lo his incommunicable excellen- 
 cies, our creature-state can admit. It may be also styled a 
 likeness to him, being a real conformity to his will con- 
 cerning us, and his very nature as it respects us. We may 
 conceive of it, as of the likeness between a seal and the 
 stamp made by it ; especially, supposing the inequality of 
 parts in the seal to be by the protuberancy of what must 
 form the signature. In that case there would be a like- 
 ness, aliquatetms^ that is, an exact correspondency; but 
 what would then be convex or bulging out in the seal, 
 would be, as we know, concave or hollow in the impres- 
 sion. Such is the pro))orlion between sovereignty and sub- 
 jection, between self-fulness and self-emptiness. Whereas 
 a similitude to God, in respect of his co;nmunicable per- 
 fections, is as that between the face and its picture, where 
 no such difference is wont to appear. 
 
 10. Assimilation, ar conformity to God, in both these 
 respects, composes that excellent frame of moral perfections, 
 which the Divine glory, beheld, impresses upon the soul ; 
 and which immediately conduces to its satisfaction and 
 blessedness. I say, moral perfection, because that only is 
 capable of being impressed by the intervening ministry of 
 our own understanding ; viz. by its vision, intimated, as 
 was formerly observed, in that of the apostle, "We .sliall 
 be like — for we shall see him," &c. Its natural perfections 
 are antecedent and presupposed, therefore not so fitly to be 
 understood here. And I say, both these ways ; for, as we 
 cannot form an entire idea of God, withonjt taking in, to- 
 gether, his perfections of both sorts, communicable and in- 
 communicable, (the former whereof must serve instead of 
 a genus ; the latter of a diffcretitia, in composing ihfi 
 notion of God ;') so nor wii^ his impress on us be eniiie, 
 without something in it respecting both, in the senses 
 already given. What it will contribute to future blessed- 
 ness, we shall shortly see, in its place, when we have made 
 a brief inquiry (which is the next thing, according to our 
 order proposed) concerning, 
 
 Thirdly, The satisfaction that shall hence accrue. Where 
 it will not be besides our purpose, to take some notice of the 
 significancy of the word. And not to insist on its affinity 
 to" the word used for swearing, or rather, being sworn," 
 (which, an oath being the end of controversies, and be- 
 yond which we go no further, nor expect more, in way of 
 testifying, would the more fitly here represent to us the 
 soul in it's non-uUra; having attained the end in all its 
 motions and contentions,) its equal nearness to the word 
 signifying the number of seven, is not altogether un worthy 
 observatio'i- That number is, we know, often used in 
 Scriptiife, as denoting plentitude and perfection ; and God 
 hath, as it were, signalized it, by his rest on the seventh 
 day:" and if this were not designedly pointed at here 
 in the present use of this word, (as it must be acknow- 
 ledged to be frequently used where we have no reason to 
 think it is with such an intendment) it may \-et occasicai 
 us to look upon the holj' soul now entered into the eternal 
 sabbath,^ the rest of God: which (secluding all respect to 
 that circumstance) is, yet, the very .substance and true no- 
 tion of the thing itself, (to the consideration whereof I now 
 pass,) under the word held forth to tts. For this satisfac- 
 tion is the soul's rest in God: its perfect enjoyment of the 
 most perfect good ; the expletion of the whole capacity of 
 its will; the total filling up of that vast enlarged appetite ; 
 the perfecting of all its desires in delight and joy. Now 
 delight or joy (for they differ not, save that the latter word 
 is thought something more appropriate to reasonable na- 
 ture) is fitly defined, the rest of the desiririg faculti/ in the 
 ihitiir desircd.y Desire and delight are but two acts of love, 
 
 a. c 30. \id. eund i\o civit. V)i.-\. 1. 17. c. 4. 
 y Quies appititiis in Hppf>fibili. Aquin Sun.
 
 804 
 
 THE BLESSEDNESS OF THE RIGHTEOUS. 
 
 Chap. V. 
 
 diversified only by the distance or presence of the same 
 object : which, when 'tis distant, the soul, acted and 
 prompted by love, desires, moves towards it, pursues it; 
 when present and attained, delights in it, enjoys it, stays 
 upon it, satisfies itself in it, according to the measure of 
 goodness it finds there. Desire is therefore love in motion ; 
 delight is love in rest. And of this latter, delight or joy. 
 Scripture evidently gives us the notion ,^ he will rejoice 
 over thee with joy, (unto which is presently added as exe- 
 getical,) he will rest in his love ; which resting can be but 
 the same thing with being satisfied. This satisfaxtion 
 then is nothing else but the repose and rest of the soul 
 amidst infinite delights ; its peaceful acquiescence, having 
 attained the ultimate term of all its motions, beyond which 
 it cares to go no further ; the solace it finds in an ade- 
 quate, full good ; v;hich it accounts enough for it, and 
 beyond which, it desires no more ; reckons its state as good 
 as it can be, and is void of all hovering thoughts, (which 
 perfect rest must needs exclude,) or inclination to change. 
 And so doth this being satisfied, not only generally signify 
 the soul to be at rest; but it specifies that rest ; and gives 
 us a distinct account of the nature of it. As, that it is not 
 a forced, violent rest ; such as proceeds from a beguiled 
 ignorance, a droM'sy sloth, a languishing weakness, or a 
 desire and hope of happiness, by often frustrations baflled 
 into despair, (to all which, the native import and propriety 
 of that Avord satisfaction doth strongly repugn.) But it 
 discovers it to be a natural rest ; I mean, from an internal 
 principle. The soul is not held in its present state of en- 
 joyment by a strong and violent hand ; but rests in it by 
 a connaturalness thereunto ; is attempered to it, by its own 
 inward constitution and frame. It rests not as a descend- 
 ing stone, intercepted by something by the M^ay, that holds 
 and stop.s it ; else it would fall further : but as a thing 
 would rest in its own centre ; with such a rest as the earth 
 is supposed to have in its proper place ; that, being hung 
 upon nothing, is yet unmoved, pondcribus librata suis, 
 equally balanced by Us own weight every tcay. 
 
 It is a roMonal, judicious rest ; upon certain knowledge 
 that its present state is simply best, and not capable of 
 being changed for abetter. The soul cannot be held un- 
 der a perpetual cheat, so as ahvays to be satisfied with 
 a shadow. It may be so befooled for a while, but if 
 it remain satisfied, in a state that never admits of change, 
 that state must be such, as commends itself to the most 
 thoroughly informed reason and judgment. It is hence a 
 free, voluntary, chosen rest; such as God professes his own 
 to be in ZionV This is my rest, here will I dwell, for I 
 have desired it. It is a comjilaccntial rest, wherein the 
 soul abides steady, bound only tr/ the chords of love ; a 
 rest in the midst of pleasantness ; i-The Lord is my por- 
 tion, the lots are fallen to me in arridnitatibus ; it cannot 
 be more fitly expressed than amidst •pleasantnesses ; and this 
 speaks not only what the Psalmist's condition was, but 
 the sense and account he had of it. That teni-per of mind 
 gives us some idea of that contentful, satisfied aix^de with 
 God, which the blessed shall have. He intimates, how 
 undesirous he was of any change. <=Their sorrows (he told 
 us above) should be multiplied that hasten after anothf 
 god. Hereafter there will be infinitely less appearance of 
 reason for anv such thought. Now, it is the sense of a 
 holy soul, " Whom have I in heaven but thee 1 and there 
 is none I desii'e on earth besides thee :" q. d. Heaven and 
 earth yield not a tempting object, to divert me from thee : 
 'tis now so, at some times, when faith and love are in their 
 triumph and exaltation (but the Lord knows how seldom !) 
 but mtich more when we see him as he is, and are satisfied 
 with his likeness! It's an active, vigorous rest. Action 
 about the end shall be perpetuated "here, though action 
 towards it ceases. 'Tis the rest of an awakened, not of a 
 drowsy, sluggish soul; of a soul satisfied, by heavenly 
 sensations and fruitions, not incapable of them, or that 
 
 I Zeph. iii. 17. a Psal. cxxxii. 14. 
 
 t) Psal. xvi. 8. Q'^n^yn. c Ver. 4. 
 
 d I think it not worth the while to engage in tlie dispute (so much agitated 
 l)etvvcLMi the Thomi?t3 and Scotists) whether blessedness do formally consist 
 in this sntisfying fniition, or in the antecedent vision ; this satisfaction is cer 
 tainly inseparable from it, and I see not how to be excluded out of its formal 
 notion ; 'tis not vision as vision, but as satisfying, that makes us hapny ; and 
 to talk oftlie satisfaction or pleasure which the understanding hath in knowing 
 18 uiaipid ; while the soul understanding, i. e. the mind, knows, 'tis the soul 
 finioyinir, i. e. tlie wiU, is pleased and finds content ; and till tlie soul be fully 
 
 hath its powers bound up by a stupifying sleep. It's the 
 rest of hope, perfected in fruition, not lost in despair ; of 
 satisfied, not defeated, expectation. dDespair may occasion 
 rest to a man's body, but not to his mind ; or a cessation 
 from further endeavours, when they are constantly found 
 vain, but not from trouble and disquiet ; it may suspend 
 from action, but never satisfy. This satisfaction therefore 
 speaks both the reality and nature of the soul's rest in 
 glory; that it rests; and with what kind of rest. 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 The relative consideration of these tliree ingredients of the saints' blessedness ; 
 where it is propounded to show particularly, 1. What relation vision hathte 
 assimilation. 2. What both these have to satisfaction. The relation between 
 the two former, inqiiired into. An entrance upon the much larger discourse, 
 what relation and iiiHuence the two former have towards the third : What 
 vision of God's face or glory, contributes towards satisfaction, estimated from 
 the consideration, l. Of the object, the glory to be beheld; as 'tis divine, 
 entire, permanent, appropriate. 
 
 Thus far have we viewed the parts or necessary concur- 
 rence, of which the blessedness of the saints must be 
 composed absolutely and severally each from other : we 
 proceed. 
 
 Secondly, To consider them relatively, viz. in the mu- 
 tual respects they bear one to another ; as they actually 
 compose this blessed state. Wherein we shall show par- 
 ticularl}-^ : 1. The relation, by way of influence, and de- 
 pendence, between vision, and assimilation: and — Be- 
 tween both these and the satisfaction that ensues : which 
 latter I intend more to dwell upon • and only to touch the 
 former, as a more speculative ana less improvable sub- 
 ject of discourse, in my way to this. 
 
 1. First, It may be considered — What relation there may 
 be between vision of God, and assimilation, or being made 
 like to him ; and it must be acknowledged (according to 
 what is commonly observed of the mutual action of the 
 understanding and will) that the sight of God, and like- 
 ness to him, do mutually contribute each towards other. 
 The sight of God assimilates, makes the soul like unto 
 him ; that likeness more disposes it for a continued re- 
 newed vision. It covild never have attained the beatifical 
 vision of God, had it not been prepared thereto, by a gra- 
 dual previous likeness to him.^ For righteousness (which 
 we have shown qualifies for this blessedness) consists in a 
 likeness to God ; and it could never have been so prepared, 
 had not some knowledge of God introduced that confor- 
 mity and yielding bent of heart towards him. For the 
 entire frame of thcb new man, made after the image of God, 
 is renewed in knowledge. But, as notwithstanding the 
 circular action of the understanding and will upon one 
 another, there must be a beginning of this course some- 
 where, and the understanding is usually reckoned the 
 hycjioviKov, the first mover, the leading faculty : so, notwith- 
 standing the mutual influence of these two upon each 
 other, seeing hath a natural precedency, and must lead the 
 way unto being like ; which is sufficiently intimated in 
 the text, " I shall behold thy face," and then " I shall be 
 satisfied with thy likeness ;" and more fully in that pa- 
 rallel scripture, " We shall be like him, for we shall see 
 him," 6co,. From whence also, and from the very nature 
 of the thii.jr^ "we way fitly state the relation of the first of 
 these to the =^cond, to be that of a cause to its eflect ; 
 sight begets likeness, is antecedent to it, and productive 
 of it. That is, the face or glory of God seen ; that glory 
 in conjunction with our vision of it ; for the vision ope- 
 rates not, but according iq the efficaciousness of the thing 
 seen ; nor can that glory have any such operation, but by 
 the intervention of vision. 'Tis therefore the glory of God 
 seen, as seen, that assimilates, and impresses its likeness 
 
 contented, it is not blessed ; and it is by being so, when it saith "Now I am 
 fully sati.sfied, I have enough, I desire no more." ' 
 
 a Which nece.ssity of a iikene,ss to God t/> dispose for the vi.iion of him, is 
 excellently expressed by a Platonic pliilosopher. The Di\ine nature to (isiov, 
 which he saith, is liable to no sense, fiovoM f,c rwi ttjj ij/i)\i?? ),a,\>(s-(tii Ka\ 
 KaQapoiTariM. Kai vocp-.naTMi Kill kov<j>ot.ii,h, Kai TrpeofSxnariM op'nrov 
 df ofioiornTa, &c. is yet visible to that in the smd, which is most beavtiful, 
 ?iiost pure, vwst jien^phuimm. most subtmie, most noble, in respect ofacer- 
 tain similitiide and cognation that is betxceen thein. Ma.i Tyr 
 
 b Col. iii. 10.
 
 Chap. V. 
 
 THE BLESSEDNESS OF THE RIGHTEOUS, 
 
 205 
 
 upon the beholding soul ; and so its causality is that of an 
 objective cause, (which, whether it belong to the eflicient 
 or final, I shall not here dispute) that operates only as it is 
 apprehended: so introducing its own Ibrm and similitude 
 into the subject it works upon. Such a kind of cause 
 were Jacob's streaked rods of the production that ensued : 
 and such a cause is any thing whatever, that begins an 
 impression upon an apprehensive subject, by the mediation 
 and ministry, whether of the fancy or unders-tanding. — 
 This kind of causality the word hath in its renewing, 
 transforming work ; and the sacraments, wherein they 
 are causal of real physical mutations on the subjects of 
 them. So much of the image of God as is here impressed 
 upon souls by gospel -dispensations, so much is impressed 
 of his glory. The work of grace is glory begun. And now, 
 as glory initial, and progressive in this life, enters at the eye ; 
 ((^beholding as in a glass the glory of the Lord, we are 
 changed ; .so doth perfect and consummate glory in the other 
 life. For we have no reason to imagine to ourselves any 
 alteration in the natural order the powers of the soul have 
 towards each other, by its passing into a state of glory. 
 
 The object seen, is unspeakably ethcacious; the act of 
 intuition is full of lively vigour ; the subject was prepared 
 and in a disposition before ; and what should hinder, but 
 this glorious effect should immediately ensue 1 as the sun 
 no sooner puts up his head above the hemisphere, but all 
 the vast space, whither it can diffuse its beams, is presently 
 transformed into its likeness, and turned into a region of 
 light. What more can be wanting to cause all the dark- 
 ness of atheism, carnality, and every thing of sin, forever 
 to vanish out of the awakening soul, and an entire frame 
 of holiness to succeed; but one such transforming sight of 
 the face of God 1 One sight of his glorious majesty pre- 
 sently subdues, and works it to a full subjection ; one sight 
 of his purity makes it pure ; one sight of his loveliness 
 turns it into love; and such a sight always remaining, 
 the impress remains always actually (besides that it is in 
 itself most habitual and permanent, in the soul's noAV con- 
 firmed state) fresh and lively. 
 
 The object hath quite another aspect upon a wicked soul, 
 when it awakes; and the act of seeing is of another kind; 
 therefore no such effect follows. Besides, the subject is 
 otherwise disposed ; and therefore a.s the sun enlightens 
 not the inward parts of an impervious dunghill, but it en- 
 lightens air ; so the sight of God transforms and assimi- 
 lates at last, not a wicked, but it doth a godly, soul. That 
 which here makes the greate.st difference in the temper of 
 the subject is love. I look upt)n the face of a stranger and 
 It moves me not; but upon a friend, and his face presently 
 transforms mine into a lively cheerful aspect. dAs an iron 
 sharpens iron, so doth the face of a man his friend ; puts 
 a sharpness and quickness into his looks. The soul that 
 loves God, opens itself to him, admits his influences and 
 impressions, is easily moulded and wrought to his will, 
 yields to the transforming power of his appearing glory. 
 There is no resistant principle remaining, when the lov:e 
 of God is perfected in it; and so overcoming is the first 
 sight of his glory upon the awaking soul, that it perfects 
 it, and so his likeness, bofh at once. But enmity fortifies 
 the soul against him, as with bars and doors ; averts it 
 from him; carries with it a horrid, guilty consciousness, 
 which fills it with eternal despair and rage, and inwraps 
 it in the blackness of darkness forever. 
 
 2. Both the vision of God, and likeness to him, must be 
 considered in their relation to the consequent sa.tisfaclion. 
 and the influence they have in order thereto. I say, both ; 
 for though this satisfaction be not expre.ssly and directlv 
 referred by the letter of the text, to the sight of God's face": 
 yet its relation thereto, in the nature of the thing, issurti 
 ciently apprehensible and obvious ; both mediate, in respect 
 of the influence it hath towards the satisfying assimilation ; 
 and immediate, (which we are now to consider,) a.s it is so 
 highly pleasurable in itself; and is plainly enough intima- 
 ted in the text; being applied, in the same breath, to a 
 thing so immediately and intimately conjunct with this 
 vision, as we find it is. Moreover, supposing that likeness 
 here do (as it hath been granted it may) signify objective 
 
 c 2 Cor. iu. 18, d prov. xxvii. 17. 
 
 e Psal. xv\. H. 
 
 t Acta ii. 38. which indeed is the Seventy's reading of llie PsaUnist's words. 
 
 glory also, as well a.s subjective, and repeat what is con- 
 tained in the former expression, " the face of God," the re- 
 ference satisfaction hath to this vision (which the re-men- 
 tion of its object, though under a varied lorm ol expres- 
 sion, supposes) will be more express, therefore we shall 
 show, 1. What the vision of the Divine glory contributes 
 to the satisfaction of the blessed soul, and what felicity it 
 inust needs take herein: which caruiot but be very great, 
 whether we respect — the glory seen, the object of this 
 vision ; or — the act of vision, or intuition itself. 
 
 L The object, the glorj' beheld. What a spring of 
 pleasure is here ! what rivers of pleasures flow hence ! 
 "■In thy presence (saith the Psalmist) is fulness of joy: at 
 thy right hand are pleasures for evermore. The awaking 
 soul, having now passed the path of life, (drawn through 
 Sheol itself, the state of deadly-head,) appears imme- 
 diately in this presence; and what makes this presence so 
 joyous, but the pleasant brightness of this face "? To be 
 in the presence of any one, and before his face, in con- 
 spectu, are equivalent expressions ; therefore the apostle, 
 quoting this passage, renders it thus, fThou hast filled me 
 with gladness, by thy countenance ; now in this glorious 
 presence, or within view of the face of God, is fulne.ss of 
 joy, i. e. joy under satisfaction. And the Apostle Jude, 
 speaking of this presence under this name, (a presence of 
 glory,) tells as of an ' exceeding joy, a jubilation, (an 
 liyiUtao-i?,") that shall attend the presentment of saints 
 there. Tne holy .soul now enters the divine hShechinah, 
 the chamber o. presence of the great King, the habitation 
 of his holiness and glory, the place where his honour 
 dwelleth. Here his glory surrounds it with encircling 
 beams; 'tis beset with glory, therefore surely also filled 
 with joy. When the vail is drawn a-side; or we are 
 within the vail; in that very presence whither Jesus the 
 forerunner is for us entered, (through that path of life,) O 
 the satisfying overcoming pleasure of this sight ! Now 
 that is to us revealed or unvailed glory, which was hid- 
 den before. Here the ^glory set in majesty, (as the expres- 
 sion is, concerning the glory of the temple) is presented to 
 view openly and without umbrage. God is now no longer 
 seen through an obscuring medium. They are not now 
 shadowed glimmerings, transient, oblique glances, but ihe 
 direct beams of full-e3'ed glory, that shine upon us. The 
 discovery of this glory is the uUimate product of that in- 
 finite wisdom and love, th-at have been working from e;er- 
 nity, and for so many thousand years, through all the 
 successions of time, towards the heirs of salvation. The 
 last and complete issue of the great achievements, sharp 
 conflicts, glorious victories, high merits of our mighty 
 Redeemer. All these end in the opening of heaven (the 
 laying of this glory as it were common) to all believers. 
 This is the upshot and close of that great design: will it 
 not, think ye, be a satisfying glory ? The full blessedness 
 of the redeemed, is the Redeemer's reward. He cannot 
 be satisfied in seeing his seed, if they should be unsatisfied. 
 He cannot behold them with content if his heart tell him 
 not, that he hath done well enough for them. tGod wouhl 
 even be ashamed to be called their God. had he not made 
 provision for their entertainment worthy of a God. 'Tis 
 the season of Christ's triumphs, and saints are to enter into 
 his joy. 'Tis the appointed jitbilee, at the finishing of all 
 God's works from the creation of the world, when he shall 
 purposely show himself in his most adorable majesty, and 
 when CTirist shall appear in his own likeness ; (he appeared 
 in another likeness before ;) surely glory must be in its 
 exaltation in that day. But take a more distinct account, 
 how grateful a sight this glory will be, in these following 
 particulars: 
 
 L It is the Divine glory. Let your hearts dwell a 
 little upon this consideratrLin. 'Tis the glory of God, i. e. 
 the glory which the blessed God both enjoys and affords, 
 which he contemplates in himself, and which rays from 
 him to his saints; 'tis the felicity of the Divine Being. It 
 satisfies a Deity, will it not a worm ? 'Tis a glory that 
 results and shines from him : and in that sense alsi> divine, 
 (which here I mainly intend,) the beauty of his own face, 
 the lustre of divine perfections ; every attribute bears a 
 
 I Ezck, vii. 
 
 h Ver 94. 
 k Heb. zi. l
 
 •206 
 
 THE BLESSEDNESS OP THE RIGHTEOUS. 
 
 Chap. V 
 
 part, all concur to make up this gloi-y. And here pre- j 
 termitting those which are less liable to our apprehension, ' 
 his eternity, immensity, simplicity, &c. (of which, not 
 having their like in us, we are the more incapable to form 
 distinct conceptions, and consequently of perceiving the 
 pleasure that we may hereafter, upon the removal of 
 other impediments, find in the contemplation of them,) let 
 us bethink ourselves, how admirable and ravishing the 
 glory will be. 
 
 1. Of his unsearchable wisdom, which hath glory pe- 
 culiarly annexed and properly belonging to it. Glory is, 
 as it were, by inheritance, due to wisdom. iThe wise shall 
 inherit glory. And here now, the blessed souls behold it 
 in its first seat, and therefore in its prime glory : wisdom, 
 counsel, understanding, are said to be with him; as if no 
 where else. Twice we have the apostle describing glory 
 to God, under the notion of ™only wise ; which is but an 
 acknow>3dging him glorious in this respect. Wisdom, we 
 know, is the proper and most connatural glory of intel- 
 lectual nature ; whether as it relates to speculation, when 
 we call it knowledge; or, action, when 'tis prudence. How 
 pleasant will the contemplation be, of the Divine wisdom, 
 in that former notion ! When in that glass, that speculum 
 alernitatis, we shall have the lively view of all that truth, 
 the knowledge whereof can be any way possible and 
 grateful to our natures ; and in his light, see light ! When 
 all those vast treasures of wisdom and knowledge which 
 already, by their alliance to" Christ, saints are interested 
 in, shall lie open to us ! When the tree of knowledge shall 
 be without enclosure ; and the most voluptuous epicurism, 
 in reference to it, be innocent ! Where there shall neither 
 be lust, nor forbidden fruit ; no withholding of desirable 
 knowledge, nor affectation of undesirable ! When the 
 pleasure of speculation shall be without the toil ; and that 
 maxim be eternall)'^ antiquated, that increased knowledge 
 increases sorrow ! As to the other notion of it ; how can 
 it be less grateful to behold the wisdom that made and 
 governed the world ; that compassed so great designs "^ and 
 this, no longer in its effects, but in itself 1 Those Avorks 
 were honourable and glorious, sought of all them that have 
 pleasure in them. What will be the glory of their cause 1 
 It would gratify some men's curiosity to behold the unusi;al 
 motion of some rare autcmaton; but an ingenious person 
 would, with much more pleasure, pry into the secret springs 
 of that motion, and observe its inward frame and parts, 
 and their dependence and order to each other. 'Tis come- 
 ly to behold the exterior economy of a well governed peo- 
 ple, when great affairs are, by orderly conduct, brought to 
 happy issues ; but to have been at the helm; to have seen 
 the pertinent, proper application of such and such maxims 
 to the incident cases ; to have >.nown all the reasons of 
 state ; heard debates ; observed with what great sagacity 
 inconveniencies have been foreseen, and with w^hat dili- 
 gence prevented; would much more gratify an inquiring 
 genius. When the records of eternity shall be exposed to 
 view ; all the counsels and results of that profound wisdom 
 looked into : how will it transport ! when it shall be dis- 
 cerned, Lo ! thus were the designs laid ; here were the 
 apt junctures, and admirable dependencies of things ; 
 which, when acted upon the stage of the world, seemed so 
 perplexed and cross, so full of mysterious intricacy ! If 
 St. Paul were so ravished at those more obscure appear- 
 ances of Divine wisdom, which we find him admiring, 
 (Rom. xi. 33.) O the depths, &c. what satisfaction will it 
 yield, to have a perfect model of the deep thoughts and 
 counsels of God presented to open view ! How is the 
 happiness of Solomon's servants magnified, that had the 
 privilege continually to .stand before him, and hear his 
 wisdom ! But this happiness will be proportionably greater, 
 as Solomon's God is greater than he. 
 
 2. The glory of his power will add comeliness to the 
 object of this vision. Power duly placed and allayed is 
 lovely. Beauty consists much in a symmetry or proportion 
 of parts. So must there be a concurrence of Divine per- 
 fections, to compose and make up the beautiful complexion 
 of his face ; to give us a right a.spect, the true idea of God : 
 and here his power hath a necessary ingrediency. How 
 
 1 Prov. iii 35. Job xii. m Rom. xvi. 27. 1 Tim. i. 17 
 
 n Col. ii. 3. o Kparoi rns dJ^m- <"ol. i. 11. 
 
 P Rom. vi. 4. q Cliap. iii. 16. r Job %xvi. 9. 
 
 incoherent, and disagreeing with itself, were the notion 
 of an impotent God ! His power gives lively strokes to his 
 glor)'. 'Tis called" glorious power, or the power of glory; 
 yea, 'tis simply called glory itself: the apostle tells usp 
 Christ was raised from the dead by the glory of the Father, 
 when 'tis plain he means power. And the same apostle 
 prays on the behalf of the lEphesians, 'that God would 
 grant them according to the riches of his glory to be 
 strengthened with might, &c. How frequently are power 
 and glory ascribed to him in conjunction ! intimating that, 
 as he is powerful, he is glorious. And certainly, even this 
 glory cannot but cast a grateful aspect upon the blessed 
 soul, and be infinitely pleasant to behold. What triumphs 
 doth it now raise in gracious spirits, to behold the " exer- 
 tions of it in his works ; to read its descriptions in his 
 word ; while as yet he holds back the face of his throne ; 
 while the countenance of enthroned majesty cannot be 
 seen ; when so little a portion is heard of him, and the 
 thunder of his = power so little understood ! The infi- 
 nitely fainter rays of this power in a creature ; power in 
 that unspeakable diminution and abatement ; that derived, 
 precarious power; when 'tis innocently used, is observed 
 with pleasure. Here is power in the throne, power in its 
 chief and highest seat ; essential, and self-originated power ; 
 the root and fountain, the very element of power ; power 
 in its proper situation, in its native place, to which it be- 
 longs. t God hath spoken once, twice have I heard this, 
 that power belongeth unto God. It languishes in a crea- 
 ture, as in an alien subject. If I speak of strength, lo, 
 he is strong, " saith Job ; q. d. " Created power is not 
 woTth the speaking of; here is the power that deserves 
 the name, that is so indeed." How satisfying a pleasure 
 will this afford, to contemplate this radical power I this 
 all-creating, all-ruling power, the principle of all action, 
 motion and life, throughout the whole creation ! This wil. 
 be as natural a pleasure, as the child takes in the mother's 
 bosom, and in embracing the womb that bare it. How 
 grateful to behold whence the vast fi ame of nature sprang . 
 what stretched out the heavens, established the earth, sus- 
 tained all things ! what turned the mighty wheels of Pro- 
 vidence, throughout all the successions of time ! what or- 
 dered and changed times and seasons, chained up devils 
 restrained the outrages of a tumultuous world, preserved 
 God's little flock ! especially, what gave being to the 
 new creation 1^ (the exceeding greatness of power that 
 wrought in them that believed, &c.) what made hearts 
 love God, embrace a Saviour ! what it was that over- 
 camey their own, and made them a willing people in that 
 memorable day ! How delightful a contemplation to 
 think, with so enlarged an understanding, of the possible 
 effects of this power; and so far as a creature can range 
 into infinity, to view innumerable creations, in the creative 
 power of God ! And yet how pleasant to think, not only of 
 the extents, but of the restraints of this power ; and how, 
 when none could limit, it became ordinate, and did limit 
 itself! that since it could do so much, it did no more ; turned^ 
 not sooner a degenerous world ^into flames ; withheld itself 
 from premature revenge, that had abortived the womb of 
 love, and cut off all the hopes of this blessed eternity that 
 is now attained ! This also speaks the greatness of power : 
 "^ Let the power of my Lord be great, according as thou 
 hast spoken, the Lord is gracious, long-suffering, &c. — 
 This was his mightiest power, whereby he overcame him- 
 self : Portior est qui se, &c. 
 
 3. And what do we think of the ravishing aspects of his 
 love, when it shall, now, be open faced, and have laid 
 aside its vail ! when his amiable smiles shall be checkered 
 with no intermingled frowns ; the light of that pleasing 
 countenance be obscured by no intervening cloud ! when 
 goodness, which is love issuing into benefaction, or doing 
 good ; grace, which adds freeness unto goodness ; mercy, 
 which is grace towards the miserable ; shall conspire in 
 their distinct, and variegated appearances to set off each 
 other, and enhance the pleasure of the admiring soul ! 
 when the wonted doubts shall all cease, and the difficulty 
 vanish, of reconciling (once necessary) fatherly severity 
 with love ! when the full sense shall be unfolded to the 
 
 s Ver. It. 
 
 u Chap xxvi. 
 
 z Posse et nolle iiobilo. 
 
 t Psal I.\ii. 11. Power to God, Hcbr. 
 X Eplu i. 19, 20. y Psal. ex. 3. 
 
 a Numb. xiv. 17,18.
 
 CriAP. V. 
 
 THE BLESSEDNESS OF THE RIGHTEOUS. 
 
 207 
 
 life, ofthatdesci'iption of the Divine nature, "God is love;" 
 and the soul be no longer put to rtad ihe love of God in 
 his name, (as Moses was when the sight of his face could 
 not yet be obtained,) shall not need to spell it by letters and 
 syllables; but behold it in his very nature itself, and see 
 how intimately essential it is to the Divine Being ! How 
 glorious will this appearance of God be, (we, now, hear, 
 something of the glory of his grace,) and how satisfying the 
 tuition of that glory! Now is the proper season for the full 
 exercise and discovery of love. This day hath been long 
 expected, and lo, now 'tis dawned upon the awakening soul ; 
 it's now called forth; its senses unbound ; all its powers in- 
 spirited, on purpose, for love-visions and enjoyments: 'tis 
 now to take its fill of loves. The apostle's ecstatical prayer 
 is now answered to the highest degree possible with re- 
 spect to such a one. He is now, "^according to the riches 
 of Divine glory, strengthened with might, by the Spirit, 
 in the inner man — to comprehend with all saints, what 
 is the breadth, and length, and depth, and height ; to 
 know that love that passeth knowledge, &c. He shall now 
 no longer stand amazed, spending his guesses, what manner 
 of love this should be ; and expecting fuller discoveries, 
 further effects of it, that did not yet appear ; but sees the 
 utmost, all that his soul can bear, or wish to see. He hath 
 now traced home the rivulets to their fountain, the beams 
 to the very sun of love. He hath got the prospect, at last, 
 into that heart, where the great thoughts of love were 
 lodged from everlasting ; where all its counsels and de- 
 signs were formed. He sees what made God become a 
 man ; what clothed a Deity with human flesh ; what made 
 eternity become the birth of time, when come to its partu- 
 rient d fulness ; what moved the heart of the Son of God 
 to pitch his tabernacle among men ; what engaged him to 
 the enterprise of redeeming sinners; what moved him so 
 earnestly to contest with a perishing world, led him at last 
 to the cross, made him content to become a sacrifice to 
 God, a spectacle to angels and men, in a bitter reproachful 
 death, inflicted by the sacrilegious hands of those whom 
 he was all this while designing to save. The amazed soul 
 now sees into the bottom of this design ; understands why 
 itself was not made a prey to Divine revenge; whence it 
 was, that it perished not in its enmity against God ; that 
 he was not provoked by the obstinacy of its disobedience, 
 and malice of its unbelief, beytmd the possibility of an 
 atonement; why he so long suffered its injurious neglects 
 of him, and unkind repulses of a merciful Saviour; and 
 persuaded, till at last he overcame, made the averse heart 
 yield, the careless disaffected soul cry out, "Where is my 
 God ?" Now a Christ, or I perish 1 All this is now re- 
 solved into love ; and the adoring .soul sees how well the 
 effects agree to their cause, and are owned by it. Nothing 
 but heaven itself, that gives the sense, can give the notion 
 of this pleasure. 
 
 4. Nor will the glory of holiness be less resplendent ; 
 that great attribute which, even in a remote descent from 
 its original, is frequently mentioned with the adjunct of 
 "^beauties. What loveliness will those beauties add to this 
 blessed face ! Not here to insist (which is besides my pur- 
 pose) upon the various notions of holiness :f real holiness 
 Scripture states in purity, an alienation from sin ; 'tis set 
 in opposition to all filthiness, to all moral impurity: and 
 in that notion it best agrees to God; and comprehends his 
 righteousne.ss and veracity, and indeed, whatever we can 
 conceive in him, under the notion of a moral excellency. 
 This may therefore be styled a transcendental attribute, 
 that as it were runs through the rest, and casts a glory 
 upon every one: 'tis an attribute of attributes. Those 
 are fit predications, holy power, holy truth, holy love, 
 &c. And so it is the very lustre and glory of his other 
 perfections; ?he is glorious in holiness. Hence in mat- 
 ters of greatest moment, he is sometimes brought in i> 
 swearing by his holiness, (which he is not wont to do 
 by any one single attribute,) as though it were a. fuller 
 
 b Eph. i. 6. c Epti. iii. 16, 17, 18, 19. 
 
 d Gal. iv. 4. e Psal. ex. 3, &c. 
 
 f 2 Cor. vii. I. s Exod. xv. 11. 
 
 li Psal. hxxix. 35. Amos iv. 2. 
 
 i 1 .Sam. \i. 
 
 k Exod. XV. 11. 1 Sam. ii. 2. Psal. xxx. ). xcvii 12. 
 
 I Si ergo pnlihritndo di\ina noiidiim visa, sed solum crcdita et sporala, tan- 
 turn i^em desiderii c.xcitat : Quid taciet cum. romnto vplo. ut est iu sp ron- 
 ipicitur'Omiiiiio id faciei ut torreute voluptatis illiua iiiebriuti, neijue veliiiuis. 
 
 ezyression of himself, an adaquatior conceptits, than any of 
 the rest. 
 
 What is of so great an account with him, will not be of 
 least account with his holy ones, when they appear in his 
 glorious presence. Their own holiness is a conformity to 
 his ; the likeness of it. And a.s their beholding it forms 
 them into that likem;.ss; so that likeness makes them 
 capable of beholding it with plea.sure. Divine holiness 
 doih now more ravish than affright. This hath been the 
 language of sinful dust.i Who can stand before this holy 
 God'! when holiness haih appeared armed with terrors, 
 guarded with flames, and the Divine Majestj' been repre- 
 sented as a consuming fire. Such apprehensions sin and 
 guilt naturally beget; the sinners of Sion were afiaid. 
 But so far as the new man is put on, created after God, 
 and they, who were darkness, are made light in the Lord, 
 he is not under any notion more acceptable to them, than 
 as he is the Holy One. They love his lav, because holy ; 
 and love each other because holy; and hate themselves 
 because they are no more so. Holiness hath still a pleasing 
 aspect when they find it in an ordinance, meet it in a sab- 
 bath; every glimpse of it is lovely. But with what tri- 
 umphs hath the holiness of God himself been celebrated 
 even by saints on earth Ik Who is a God like unto thee, 
 glorious in holiness ! There is none holy as the Lord, for 
 there is none besides thee. Sing unto the Lord, all ye saints 
 of his, and give thanks at the remembrance of his holiness. 
 What thoughts will they have of it,i when their eyes can 
 behold that glory ; when they immediately look on the 
 archet>T)al holiness, of which their own is but the image ; 
 andean view that glorious pattern, they were so long in 
 framing to 1 How joyfully will they then fall in with the 
 rest of the heavenly host ; and join in the same adoration 
 and praise, in the same acclamation and triumphant song, 
 Holy, holy, holy. Lord God of Sabaoth ! How uncon- 
 ceivable is the pleasure of this sight ; when the dvrn Ka>6v, 
 the first pulchritude, the original beauty offers it.self to 
 view! Holiness is intellectual beauty; Divine holiness is 
 the most perfect and the measure of all other; and what is 
 the pleasure and satisfaction, of which we speak, but the 
 perfection and rest of love "? Now" love, as love, respects 
 and connotes a pulchritude in its object. And then the 
 most perfect pulchritude, the ineffable and immortal pul- 
 chritude, that cannot be declared by words, or seen with 
 eyes, (they are a heathen's" expressions concerning it,) 
 how can it but perfectly and eternally plea.-^e and satisfy 1 
 
 And we are told by the great pagan theologue," in what 
 state we can have the felicii}'^ of that s^jectacle. Not in our 
 present state; when we have, indeed, but obscure repre- 
 sentations of such things as are, with souls of highest ex- 
 cellency ; but when we are associated to the llcsscd quire ;P 
 When we are delivered from the body; (which we now 
 carry about, as the oyster doth its'^ shell ;) M'hen we are no 
 longer sensible of the evils of time. When we wholly ap- 
 ply ourselves to that blessed vision; are admitted to the 
 beholding of the simple permanent sights ; and behold 
 them,'' being ourselves pure, in the pure light : then have 
 we the view of the bright shining jmlchriiude, &c. 
 
 2. It is an entire or united glory. We have some- 
 thing of the Divine glory shining now upon us; but the 
 many interpositions cause a various refraction of its light. 
 We have but its dispersed rays, its scattered, dishevelled 
 beams : we shall then have it perfect and full. 'TIS the 
 eternal glory we are hereafter to behold. Eternity (as 
 the notion of it is wont to be stated) is a duration that ex- 
 cludes both succession and end. And if it be an unsnc- 
 cessive duration, (thou£:h it is more difficult to apprehend 
 how the being or enjoyments of a creature can come under 
 that mensuration, or how there can he any such,) the glory 
 presented to the view of a blessed soul, cannot be presented 
 by parcels, but at once.^ In our temporary state, while we 
 are under the measure of time, we are not capable of the 
 fulness of blessedness or misery ; for time exists not altc 
 
 neque possimus, vcl nd punctum tpmix)ris, oculos ab ea djvcrtarp. Bollami- 
 dc asceus. mentis ad Deimi, grad. 2. 
 
 in Max. Tyr dissert. 11. n Id. ibid. 
 
 o Plato in Phsrdro pa.4sim. (Though he there sptalis these tilings as the 
 memoirs of his supix)sed pre-existciit soul.) 
 
 p E"('"i/ioii \"(J<J. 
 
 q 'Orptov TfjitTTiif. 
 
 r 'E" jm r)t KaOapai, iadaooi nrrf?, urnAXoj >a/ir/Ooi'. 
 
 s .lEteriiitus est intemiiiiabiiis vita tola siniul et periccta jiossessio. Boeth.
 
 208 
 
 THE BLESSEDNESS OF THE RIGHTEOUS. 
 
 Chap. VI 
 
 gether but by parts. And indeed we can neither enjoy 
 nor suffer more, at once, than can be compassed within one 
 moment; for no more exists together. But our relation 
 to eternity (according to this notion of it) will render the 
 same invariable appearance of glory, always presentaneous 
 to us, in the entire fulness of it. We read indeed' of cer- 
 tain ir^pfifara iri^ eoj(, aftcrhigs of faith, {a.s it may he signifi- 
 cantly enough rendered, let but the novelty of the expres- 
 sion be pardoned,) things lacking we read it ; but there 
 will be here no Wf^pftjiara Jtff/j;, afte rings of glory. What is 
 perfect admits no increase; 'tis already "full : and why 
 should not a full glory satisfy ? There is here no expecta- 
 tion of (greater) future, to abate the pleasure of present 
 discoveries. Why therefore shall not this satisfaction be 
 conceived full and perfect 1 It must be the fulness of joy. 
 
 3. 'Tis permanent glory ; a never fading, unwithering 
 glory," (a^Oa^ros anapavTix;,) glory that will never be sullied, 
 or obscured, never be in a declination. This blessed face 
 never grows old ; never any wrinkle hath place in it. 'Tis 
 the eternal glory, (in the other part of the notion of eter- 
 nity,) as it imports an endless duration, neither subject to 
 decay, in itself, nor to injury, or impairment,'' from with- 
 out. As stable as the Divine Being; Thy God, thy glory; 
 the Lord thy everlasting light : if that have a true sense 
 with respect to any of the church militant on earth, it must 
 needs have a more full sense, in reference to it triumph- 
 ing in heaven. As, therefore, full entire glory affoids ful- 
 ness of joy ; permanent, everlasting glory affords y plea- 
 sures for evermore. 
 
 4. An appropriate glory, even to them 'tis so ; a glory 
 wherein they are really interested. 'Tis the glory of their 
 God, and tlieir happiness is designed to them from it. 
 They are not unconcerned in it, as 'tis the glory of God. 
 It cannot but be grateful to them to behold the shining 
 glory of their God; whom they feared and served before, 
 while they could have no such sight of him. That glory 
 of his was once under a cloud, concealed from the world, 
 wrapt up in obscvrrity : it now breaks the cloud, and jus- 
 tifies the fear and reverence of his faithful and loyal ser- 
 vants, against atheistical rebels, that feared him not. 'Tis 
 infinitely pleasing to see him now so glorioiis, whom they 
 thought to have a glory beyond all their conceptions before ; 
 while others would not think so of him, but judged it safe 
 to slight and set him at nought. Subjects share in their 
 prince's glory, children in their father's. But besides that 
 collateral interest, that interest by reflection, they have a 
 more direct interest in this glory. A true and real right, 
 upon a manifold title : the Father's gift. Son's purchase. 
 Holy Ghost's obsignation and earnest ; the promises' ten- 
 der ; their faith's acceptance ; their forerunner's prepos- 
 session: yea, 'tis their ^ inheritance; they are children and 
 therefore heirs, heirs of God and joint heirs with Christ, to 
 the same glory with him. They are by him received to 
 the glory of God, called to his kingdom and glory. Will 
 it not contribute exceedingly to their satisfaction, when they 
 shall look upon this glory, not as unconcerned spectators, 
 but as interested persons'! This is my happiness, to be- 
 hold and enjoy this blessed God ! What a rapturous ex- 
 pression is that,m God our own God shall bless us ; and 
 that, Thy God thy glory ! Upon interest in God, follows 
 their interest in his glory and blessedness ; which is so 
 much the dearer, and more valuable, as it is theirs: their 
 glory, from their God. They shall be blessed by God, 
 their own God ; drink waters out of their own well. How 
 endearing a thing is propriety ! Another man's son is in- 
 genious, comely, personable, this may be a matter of envy ; 
 but mine own is so, this is a joy. I read in the life of a 
 devout nobleman of France," that receiving a letter from a 
 friend, in which were inserted these words, Dcus vieus, et 
 omnia; My God, andviy all ; he thus returns back to him, 
 " I know not what your intent was, to put into your letter 
 these words, Dcus mens, et omnia, ; My God, and my all ; 
 only you invite me thereby to return the same to you, and 
 
 1 1 "DiesB. iii. 10. 
 
 u 1 Pet. i. 3. 2 Cor. iv. 17. 2 Tim. ii. 10. 1 Pet. v. 10. 
 
 X Isa. Ix. 14. y P.sat xvi. 11. 
 
 z Rom. viii. 17. cli. rv. 7. 1 Thees. ii. 12. 
 
 ni Psalm Ixvii. 6. 
 
 n Monsieur de Renti. 
 
 a Res simt perfectiores vel imperfectiorcs prout a summa perfecfione mapiB 
 vclminime abscedunt. Pet. Moliii. <Ie cogiiitione Dei. See Culvei-wel of llie 
 lii'ht of natiuc, spcaliing (as I remember) to tliw purpose, c. 17. Quocirca et 
 
 to all creatures; My God, and my all; my God, and my 
 all ; my God, and my all. If perhaps you take this for 
 your motto, and use it to express how full your heart is of 
 it; think you it possible I should be silent upon such an 
 invitation, and not express my sense thereof 1 Likewise, 
 be it known unto you therefore, that he is my God and my 
 all ; and if you doubt of it, I shall speak it a hundred 
 times over. I shall add no more; for any thing else is 
 superfluous, to him that is truly penetrated with my God, 
 and my all. I leave you therefore in this happy state of 
 jubilation ; and conjure you, to beg for me, of God, the 
 solid sense of these words." And do we think. My God 
 and my all, or my God, and my glory, will have lost its 
 emphasis in heaven 1 or that it will be less significan. 
 among awaked souls 1 These things concur then, concern- 
 ing the object: 'tis most excellent, (even divine,) entire 
 permanent, and theirs: how can it but satisfy! 
 
 CHAPTER VL 
 
 What the vision of God's face contributes to the soul's satisfaction, estimated 
 from the consideration of tJie act of vision itself Wherein this pleasure sur- 
 passes that of sense. A comparison pursued more at large, between thia 
 intuition and discoiu^e, between it and faith. Tlils intuition more absolutely 
 con*iidered: Its characters, and what they contribute to the satisfaction of 
 the blessed soul; That it is, Viz. efficacious, compreliensive, lived, appro- 
 priative. 
 
 2. The act of vision, or intuition itself. How great the 
 pleasure will be that accrues to the blessed from this sight 
 of God's face, is very much also to be estimated from the=^ 
 nature of the act, as well as the excellency of the object. 
 Inasmuch as every vital act is pleasant, the most perfect 
 act of the noblest faculty of the soul must needs be at- 
 tended with highest pleasure. 'Tis a pleasure that most 
 nearly intimates divine pleasure. And every thing is more 
 perfect, as it more nearly approaches divine perfections. 
 Intellectual pleasure is as much nobler than that of sense, 
 as an immortal spirit is more noble than a clod of earth. 
 The pleasure of sense is drossy, feculent, the pleasure of 
 the mind refined and pure ; that is faint and languid, this 
 lively and vigorous ; that, scant and limited, this, ample 
 and enlarged ; that, temporary and fading, this, durable 
 and permanent ; that, flashy, superficial, this, solid and in- 
 tense ; that, raving and distracted, this, calm and composed. 
 Whence even that great reputed sensualist, Epicurus him- 
 self, professedly disclaims, or is represented as disclaim- 
 ing, the conceit of placing happiness in sensual delights. 
 
 And as the pleasure of intellection excels all the plea- 
 sure of sense ; so doth the pleasure of intuition excel all 
 other intellectual pleasure. Let us, to this purpose, but 
 consider, generally, this way of knowing things, and com- 
 pare it with those two other ways, by discourse and by 
 faith. 
 
 1. Discourse. I mean (that I be not mistaken by the 
 vulgar reader) the discourse of the mind, or ratiocination ; 
 that way of attaining the knowledge of things, by compa- 
 ring one thing with another, considering their mutual rela- 
 tions, connexions, dependencies ; and so arguing out, what 
 was more doubtful and obscure, from what was more known 
 and evident. To the altogether unlearned it will hardly 
 be conceivable, and to the learned it need not be told, how 
 high a gratification this emplo3anent of his reason naturally 
 )delds to the mind of a man ; when the harmonious con- 
 texture of truths with truths, the apt coincidence, the 
 secret links and junctures of co-herent notions, are clearly 
 discerned : when effects are traced up to their b causes, 
 properties lodged in their native subjects, things sifted to 
 their principles. What a pleasure is it, when a man shall 
 apprehend himself regularly led on (though but by a slen- 
 der thread of discourse) through the labyrinths of nature ; 
 when still new discoveries are successfully made, every 
 further inquiry ending in a further prospect, and every new 
 
 ciun universe voluptatem beatse vitae esse finem dicimus ; longe profecto absu- 
 mus, lit cas voUiptates, (juie sunt vironmi lu.\u diffluentium, aut alioruni ctioni, 
 qiiatenus spectantur in ipsa motione, actioneve fniendi ; qua nimimm seraus 
 jiicunde dulciterque afficitiu', inielligamus ; veluti nuidam rem ignorantes, aut a 
 nobis dissentientes, aut ahoquin adversum nos male aiteeti. intcrpretantur : sed 
 iiliid duntnxat (ut res itcrum dicatur) intellifimus : non dolen' corpore ; animo 
 nnn jierturbari. Gaseend. Syntag. Philos. Epicur. See liis Epistle to Mcno- 
 ccus in D. Laert. 
 b Felix qui potuit rerum cognoscere causos.
 
 Chap. VI. 
 
 THE BLESSEDNESS OF THE RIGHTEOUS. 
 
 309 
 
 scene of things entertaining the mind \\ itli a fresh delight I 
 How many have suffered a voluntary banishment from the 
 world, as if they were wholly strangers, and unrelated to 
 it; rejected the blandishments of sen.'re; macerated them- 
 selves with unwearied studies, for this pleasure ; making 
 the ease and heaUh of their bodies to give place to the 
 content aird satisfaction of their minds! But how much 
 intuition hath tlie advantage, above this way of knowledge, 
 may be seen in these two obvious respects. 
 
 1. 'Tis a more facile way of knowing. ''Here is no need 
 of a busy searcii, a tiresome indagation, (the diJiiculty 
 whereof makes the more slothful rather trust than try,) a 
 ciiaining together of consequences. The soul hath its 
 clothing (its vestment of light) upon as cheap terms as the 
 lilies theirs; doth neither toil nor spin for it; and yet 
 Solomon, in all the glory of his famed wisdom, was not 
 arrayed like it. This knowledge saves the expense of 
 study ; is instantaneous, not successive. The soul now sees 
 more, at one view, in a moment, than before in a life's-lime : 
 as a man hath a speedier and more grateful prospect of a 
 pleasant country, by placing himself in some commodious 
 station, that commandsthe whole region, than by travelling 
 through it. 'Tis no pains to look upon what offers itself 
 to my eye. Where there is a continued series of conse- 
 quences, that lie naturally connected, the soul pleasingly 
 observes this continuity ; but views the whole frame, the 
 whole length of the line, at once, (so far as its limited ca- 
 pacity can extend,) and needs not discuss every particle, 
 severally, in this series of truths, and proceed gradatim, 
 from the knowledge of one truth to another ; in which case 
 only one, at once would be present to its vie■w^ It sees 
 things that are connected, not because they are so: A& a 
 mail, conrcnienlly placed in sovic eminent station, may pos- 
 sibly sec, at one vicu-', all the successive parts of a gliding 
 stjxam .-(i but he that sits by the water's side, not changing 
 Ms place, sees the same pai'ts, only because they succeed ; and 
 these that pass, make way for them that follow , to come under 
 his eye : so doth a learned man describe the unsucccssive 
 knowledge of God; of which the glorified soul's way of 
 knowing, is an imitation ; as the very words seeing and 
 beholding (which it is so frequently set forth by in Scrip- 
 ture) do naturally import. Yet that, as to them, all ratio- 
 cination shall be excluded that state, I see no reason to 
 admit; though with God it can have no place. And, as 
 he is reckoned to live a pleasanter life, that spends upon a 
 plentiful estate, than he that gets his bread by the sweat 
 of his brows; so thi-s more easy way of knowing, must 
 needs be reckoned more pleasing. This knowledge i.s as 
 Jacob's venison, not hunted for but brought to hand. The 
 race is not here to the swift. The unlearned idiot knows 
 as much as the profoundest Rabbi ; (at least with as much 
 satisfaction ;)"> and all arms are of an equal size ; or are 
 content with their own measure. 
 
 2. 'Tis more certain. For what do we use to reckon so 
 certain as what we see with our eyes'? Better (even in this 
 respect) is the sight of the eyes, than the wandering of the 
 desire. While here the mind is carried, with most earnest 
 desire, to pursue knowledge, it very often mistakes its way, 
 and miserably wanders. In our most wary ratiocinations, 
 we many times shoot at rovers ; but when we know by 
 this vision, our mark is immediately presented to our eye. 
 We are in no danger to be imposed upon by delusive ap- 
 pearances of things. We look through no fallacious mo- 
 diums, are held in no suspense ; puzzled with no doubts, 
 whether such consequences will hold, such conclusions be 
 rightly inferred ; and so are not retarded from giving a 
 present unwavering assent. Here are no perplexing in- 
 tricacies, no dubious hallucinations, or uncertain guesses. 
 We see things, as they are, by a simple and undeceiving 
 light, with both subjective and objective certainty, being 
 secure both from doubt and error. 
 
 2. Faith. How magnificent things doth Scripture speak 
 of this grace ! which the experience also of such as have 
 been wont to live by it {i. e. to make it the governing prin- 
 ciple of their lives) doth abundantly confirm. Hovv clear 
 
 c Niinniilli tapcUo investisniKias veritatis, cuililtet opinioni potiii.'s ignavi 
 Bucciimbiiiiti (inam in e.xploranda veritate, pertinaci diligentfa perseverare 
 volunt. Min. Folix. Oct. 9. 
 
 d Atoue ut lioinini .fedenti ad ri(i«m fluminis. sola aqua presens est qufe 
 ei hoc tennwris puiictnio otiyenatiir ; eidcni vero tiomini, tntnm flumen 
 presens eswt, ui supra sumniatn aeris regionem crectiis, iiiio aspnctii fontini 
 
 are its apprehensions ! f 'tis the evidence of things not .seen : 
 how sweet its enjoyments !& whom not seeing ye love; 
 and though now ye see him not, yet believing, ye rejoice, 
 with joy unspeakable, and full of glory. Even the heathen 
 theology hath magnified it above knowledge. "What 
 is it (saith one) that unites us with the self-goodne.ss, and 
 so joins us ihet eto, that it quiets or gives rest to all our 
 action and motion 1 I will express it in one word ; 'lis 
 (ail h itself, which unspeakably, and after a hidden manner, 
 doth unite and conjoin happy souls with the self-good. 
 For (saith he) it concerns us not, either in the way of sci- 
 ence, !■ or tcith any imperfection, to inqv.ire after the good ; 
 but to behold ourselves in the Divine light, and so shutting 
 our eyes, to be placed in the un^;nov:n and secret unity of 
 being's." And a later writer gives us this, as a conclusion 
 from that former author, That as faith, which is credulity,i 
 is below science ; so that faith, which is truly so called, is, 
 super-subsianlially, above science and intelligence, imme- 
 diately uniting us to God. But 'tis evident, intuitive 
 knowledge far exceeds even faith also. 
 
 1. 'Tis more distinct and clear. Faith is taking a thing 
 upon jeport ;ii Who hath believed our report 1 And they 
 are more general, languid apprehensions we have of thing.-s 
 this way. Faith enters at the ear;' it comes by hearing. 
 And if we compare the perceptions of these two external 
 senses, that of hearing, and sight ; the latter is unspeaka- 
 bly more clear, and satisfying. He that hath knowledge 
 of a Ibreign country, only by report of another, liath very 
 indistinct apprehensions of if, in comparison of him who 
 hath travelled it himself While the queen of Sheba only 
 heard of Solomon's glory, she could not .satisfy herself 
 without an avri'ipm, the sight of her own eye; and, when 
 she saw it, she saith, the one half was not told her of what 
 she now beheld. The ear more slowly and gradually re- 
 ceives, and the tongue more defectively expresses to an- 
 other, an account of things; than one's ocular in.spection 
 would take it in. But, as to the excellency of this intuitive 
 knowledge above faith ; the comparison "lies not between 
 knowing by the ministry of a more noble sense, and a less 
 noble ; but knowing by dependence on a less noble, and 
 wiinout dependence upon any at all. When God hath been 
 pleased to afford discoveries, in that way of vision, to men in 
 the body, (his prophets, &c.) he hath usually bound up their 
 senses, by sleep or trances; sense hath had no p>art or lot 
 in this matter; unto believing it must necessarily concur. 
 
 2. More effective. What we see, even with our exter- 
 nal eye, much more powerfully moves our heart, than what 
 we only give credit to upon hearsay. The queen of Sheba 
 much admired, no doubt, Solomon's famed splendour and 
 magnificence, while she only heard of it ; but when she 
 saw' it, it put her into an ecstasy; it ravished away her 
 soul ; she had no more spirit, &c. What would the sight 
 of the Divine glory do, if God did not strengthen with all 
 might; were there" not as well glorious power to support, 
 as powerful glory to transform ! Job had heard of God 
 by the hearing of the ear, but when once his eye saw him, 
 (whether that were by the appearance of any sensible glory; 
 which is probable enough, for 'tis said, the Lord answered 
 him out of the whirlwind ; or whether by a more immedi- 
 ate revelation, 'lis less material,) what work did it make in 
 his soul ! The devils believe, and tremble; so impressive 
 are the pre-apprehensions of judgment to come, and the 
 consequents thereof, with them; yet their present torment, 
 thence, is no torment, in comparison (art thou come to 
 torment us before the time]) of what they expect. Let 
 wicked men consider this ; (they will have their intuition 
 in hell too;) were yourbelief and terrortheicupon, with re- 
 ference to the eternal judgment, and the impendent wrath 
 of God, equal to what the devils themselves have, upon 
 the same accoimt; actual sensation will make you more 
 exceed yourselves in point of misery, than the devils do 
 now exceed you. There is, no doubt, a proportionable 
 difference between the impressions of present faith, and 
 future vision, with holy souls. Now, not seeing, yet be- 
 lievi/ig, they rejoice, with joy unspeakable. Their present 
 
 ct ostium fluniinis posset aspicere : Ita oculo Di'i. *c. P. INloliiieus de 
 cogiiit. r>ii. 
 
 e Hprticrl. f EXfj-ynj. Heb. xi 1. g 1 Pet i. S. 
 
 hoc ) r.'CdfWf, ovAe aT£>(OS, aXX'iniOJi'TUf.tavrot'S rioi OcKot vton, &c. 
 Prnrliio in Plat Tiieol. 
 
 i I'iciw Mirand. k Isa. liii. 1. 1 Rom. .x. 16.
 
 310 
 
 THE BLESSEDNESS OF THE RIGHTEOUS. 
 
 Ciup. vr. 
 
 joy cannot be spoken ; their future then cannot be thought ! 
 Experience daily tells us, how greatly sensible, present 
 objects have the advantage upon us, beyond those that are 
 spiritual and distant, though infinitely more excellent and 
 important. When the tables are turned, the now sensible 
 things disappear; a new scene of things, invisible and 
 eternal, is immediately presented to our view ; when the 
 excellency of the objects, the disposedness of the subjects, 
 the nature of the act, shall all multiply the advantages, on 
 this part. How affective will this vision be, beyond what 
 we have ever found the faint apprehensions of our so much 
 disadvantaged faith to amount to ! A kind message from 
 an indulgent father, to his far-distant son, informing of his 
 welfare, and yet continuing love, will much affect; but 
 the sight of his father's face, will even transport, and over- 
 come him with joy. 
 
 But further consider this intuition a little more particu- 
 larly and absolutely in itself So, you may take this 
 somewhat distincter account of it, in some few particulars, 
 corresponding to those, by which the object (the glory to 
 be beheld) was lately characterized. — 1. It will be a vi- 
 gorous, cfficacioits intuition ; as that which it beholds is the 
 most. excellent ; even the Divine glory. Such an object 
 cannot be beheld, but with an eye full of lively vigour; a 
 sparkling, a radiant eye : a weak eye would be struck 
 blind, would fail, and be closed up at the first glance. 
 We must suppose, then, this vision to be accompanied with 
 the highest vitality, the strongest energy, a mighty plenitude 
 of spirit and power, no less than the Divine : nothing but 
 the Divine power t-an sufficiently fortify the soul to behold 
 Divine glory. When the apostle speaks only of his desire 
 of glory, He that hath wrought us to this self-same thing 
 (saith he) is God, he that hath moulded us, suitably framed 
 us (as the word signifieth) for this thing, is God : 'tis the 
 work of a Deity to make a soul desire glory : certainly, 
 then, 'tis his work to give the power of beholding it. And 
 by how much the more of power, so much the more of 
 pleasure in this vision. Weak sight would afford but lan- 
 guid joy : but when the whole soul, animated with divine 
 power and life, shall seat itself in the eye ; when it shall 
 be, as it were, all eye, (as one said of God, whom now it 
 perfectly imitates,) and be wholly intent upon vision ; ap- 
 ply itself thereto with all its might, as its only business;'" 
 what satisfying joys doth it now taste ! renewed by every 
 repeated view! how doth it now, as it were, prey upon 
 glory ; as the eye of the eagle upon the beams of the sun ! 
 We meet with the expression of aurcs bibula ; here will be 
 oculi hibuli, f.hirsty eyes; a soul ready to drink in glory at 
 the eye. If vision be by intromission, what attractiv^e eyes 
 are here, drawing in glory, feeding upon glory ! If by ex- 
 tramission, what piercing, darting eyes, sending forth the 
 soul at every look to embrace the glorious object! 
 
 There is a great power that now attends realizing though ts 
 of God : whether it appear in the consequent working of 
 the soul directly towards God ; or by way of reflection 
 upon itself. If directly towards God ; how mightily is he 
 admired ! " Who is a God like unto thee 1" If by reflec- 
 tion upon our own sin, and vileness; how deeply doth it 
 humble ! — " Now mine eye seeth thee, therefore I abhor 
 myself — Wo is me, I am undone, — mine eyes have seen 
 the Lord of glory." If by way of reflection, upon our in- 
 terest in him, or relation to him ; how mightily doth it 
 support and comfort !» " I will look to the Lord, — my 
 God will hear me." How full of rich sense is that scrip- 
 ture," They looked to him and were lightened ! One look 
 clothed them with light, cast a sflory upon their souls, filled 
 them with life and joy ; 'twas but a thought, the cast of an 
 eye, and they were as full as hearts could hold. O the 
 power then of these heavenly visions, when we dwell in 
 the views of that transforming glory ! — 2. This will be a 
 comprehensive intuition ; as its object is entire glory. I 
 mean comparatively, not absolutely comprehensive. More 
 of the Divine glory will be comprehended, unspeakably, 
 than before. 'Tis called, we know, by the schoolmen, the 
 knowledge of comprehensors, in contradiction to that of 
 viators. W^e shall better be able to discern the Divine ex- 
 cellencies together; have much more adequate concep- 
 
 m S. Hipronyni. 
 n Mic. vii. 7. 
 o P»al. xx.viv. .">. 
 
 tions ; a fuller, and more complete notion of God : we shall 
 see him as he is. 'Tis too much observable, how in our 
 present state, we are prejudiced by our partial conceptions 
 of him; and what an inequalit}' they cause in the temper 
 of our spirits. For wicked men, the very notion they have 
 of God proves fatal to their souls, or is of a most destruc- 
 tive tendency ; because they comprehend not together what 
 God hath revealed of himself Most usually, they confine 
 those few thoughts of God they have, only to his mercy; 
 and that exclusively, as to his holiness and justice; hence 
 their vain and mad presumption. The notion of an unholy 
 (or a not-holy, and not-just) God, what wickedness would 
 it not induce ! " Thou thoughtest I was altogether such a 
 one as thyself:" a God after their own hearts; then the 
 reins are let loose. More rarely, when the conscience of 
 guilt hath arrested the self-condemned wretch, God is 
 thought of under no other notion, than of an irreconcilable 
 enemy and avenger; as one thirsting after the blood of 
 souls, and that will admit of no atonement. So without 
 all pretence, and so flatly contrary to all his discoveries of 
 himself, do men dare to affix to him black and horrid cha- 
 racters, forged only out of the radicated and inveterate 
 hatred of their ow-n hearts against him, (that never take 
 up good thoughts of any one,) only because they have no 
 mind to acquaint themselves with him ; and that they may 
 have some colour for their affected distance ; and so, per- 
 haps, never return ; but perish under a horrid wilful despair. 
 And even the people of God themselves are too apt some- 
 times, so wholly to fix their eye upon love and grace, that 
 they gro-w into an unbecoming, uncreaturely familiarity ; 
 while the thoughts of infinite majesty, adorable greatness 
 and glory, are asleep : sometimes, possibly, ihey apprehend 
 vindictive justice, the indignation and jealousy of God 
 against sin, (precluding meanwhile the consideration of his 
 indulgent compassions towards truly humble and penitent 
 souls,) to that degree of affrightment and dread, that they 
 grow into an unchildlike strangeness towards him, and 
 take little pleasure in drawing nigh to him. But when, 
 nmo, our eye shall take in the discovery of Divine glory 
 equally, how sweet and satisfying a pleasure will arise 
 from that grateful mixture of reverent love, humble joy, 
 modest confidence, meek courage, a prostrate magnanimity, 
 a triumphant veneration; a soul shrinking before the Di- 
 vine glory into nothing, yet not contenting itself W'ith any 
 less enjoyment, than of him, who is all in all ! 
 
 There is nothing here in this complexion, or temper of 
 soul, but hath its warrant, in the various 8ispect of the face 
 of God comprehensively beheld ; nothing but what is (even 
 by its suitableness) highly grateful and pleasing. — 3. 'Twill 
 be fixed, steady intuition, as its object is permanent glory. 
 The vision of God can neither infer, nor admit weariness. 
 The e)'e cannot divert ; its act is eternally delectable, and 
 affords an unvariable, undecaying pleasure. Sensual de- 
 lights soon end in loathing; quickly bring a glutting sur- 
 feit ; and degenerate into torm^ents,? when they are con- 
 tinued and unintermittent. A philosopher, i in an epistle 
 which he writes to a friend, from the court of Dionysius, 
 where he was forcibly detained, thus bemoans himself, 
 " We are unhappy, O Anlisthenes, beyond measure! and 
 how can we but be unha,ppy, that are hirdened by the tyrant 
 every day with suviptuons feasts, plentifid compotations, 
 precious ointments, gorgeous apparel ? and I knew as soon 
 as I co.nie into this island amd city, hoxc unilMppy my life 
 would be." This is the nature and common condition of 
 even the most pleasing sensible objects : they first tempt, 
 then please a little, then disappoint, and lastly vex. The 
 eye that beholds them, blasts them quickly, rifles and de- 
 flowers their glory ; and views them with no more delight 
 at first, than disdain afterwards. Creature-enjoyments 
 have a bottom, are soon drained and drawn dry: hence 
 there must be frequent diversions ; other pleasures must 
 be sought out ; and are chosen, not because they are better, 
 but because they are new. 
 
 This demonstrates the emptiness and vanity of the 
 creature. Affection of variety only proceeds from sense of 
 want; and is a confession, upon trial, that there is not in 
 suet an enjoyment what was expected. Proportionably, 
 
 p Proba istaa. qiiae voluptales vocantiir, ubi modum transcomlorint, pa'nas 
 
 es.ae. Sen. Ep. 83. „ . « 
 
 q K'UoJ(ii/< .vjvuef, w Avriadcve;, ov jiSTpius, &c. 3ocraticorum. Epist. 9.
 
 ClTAP. VII. 
 
 THE BLESSEDNESS OF THE HIGHTEOUS. 
 
 211 
 
 in the state of glory, a constant indeficient fulness, renders 
 the blessed soul undesirous of any change. There is no 
 need of varieties, or diversions : what did once please, can 
 never cease to do so. This glory cannot fade, or lose any 
 thing of its attractive power. The faculty cannot languish, 
 or lose the disposition, by which it is contempered and 
 made proportionable thereto. Hence no weariness can en- 
 sue. What ! a soul in which the love of God is perfected, 
 grow weary of beholding him ! The sun will sooner grow 
 weary of shining; the touched needle of turning itself to 
 its wonted point ; every ihing will sooner grow weary of 
 its centre ; and the most fundamental laws of nature be 
 sooner antiquated and made void for ever. The eye of the 
 fool, Solomon tells as,"- is in the ends of the earth. His, 
 only, is a rolling wandering eye, that knows not where to 
 fix. Wisdom guides, and fixes the eye of the holy soul ; 
 determines it unto God only :« I will bless the Lord, who 
 hath given me counsel, my reins also instruct me, — I have 
 set the Lord always before me. Surely heaven will not 
 render it less capable of dijudication; of passing a right 
 judgment of the excellency and worth of things. And here, 
 a rational judgment will find no want; and an irrational 
 will find no place. Therefore, as permanent glory will 
 certainly infer a perpetual vision ; perpetuated vision will 
 as certainly perpetuate the soul's satisfaction and blessed- 
 ness. — 4. 'Twill be a possessive intuition : as 'tis an appro- 
 priale glory which it pitches upon. 'Twill be the language 
 of ever)^ look, " This glory is mine." The soul looks not 
 upon it shyly, as if it had nothing to do with it ; or with 
 slight and careless glances : but the very posture of its eye 
 speaks its interest, and proclaims the pretensions it hath 
 to this glory. With how different an aspect doth a stran- 
 ger passing by, and the owner, look upon the same house, 
 the same lands ! A man's e3'e lays his claim for him and 
 avows his right. A grateful object that one can say is his 
 own, he arrests it with his eye; so do saints with appropri- 
 ative looks behold their God, and the Divine glory. Even 
 with such an eye as he was wont to behold them;' To 
 this man will I look, &c. that is, as the place of my rest, 
 mentioned before ; he designs him with his eye. Which 
 is the import of that expression," The Lord knows who 
 are his; his eye marks them out ; ot\tis them as his own : 
 as concerning others, whom he disowns, the phrase is, I 
 know you not. And how vastly different is such an intu- 
 ition, from that, when I look upon a thing with a himgry, 
 lingering eye, which I must never enjoy, or never expect 
 to be the better for ! This vision is fruitive, imites the 
 soul with the blessed object : which kind of sight is meant, 
 when actual blessedness is so oflen expressed by seeing 
 God. We see then what vision, the sight of God's face, 
 contributes to the satisfaction of blessed souls. 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 Wherein assimilation (the likeness or glory of God impressed) contributes imto 
 satisfaction : where is particularly propounded to be showTi, Wliat pleasure 
 it involves, what it disposes to : What it involves in the «.?«(; of it, what in 
 the cognosci. 1 The pleasure of being like God discovered. 1. Showing 
 concerning the image of God (generally considered) that it is the soul's health 
 and soundness restored ; that it is a vital, an intimate, a connatiu'al, a per- 
 fect image. 
 
 2. OoR next business is to discover, what assimilation, 
 or the impressed likeness of God, may further add to this 
 satisfied state ; or, what satisfying pleasure the blessed 
 soul finds in this, that it is like God. And here we are 
 distinctly to inquire into — the pleasure which such an as- 
 similation to God involves in itself, and — that which it 
 tends and disposes to. 
 
 I. The pleasure it involves in itself; or, which is taken 
 in it abstractedly considered ; which we may more par- 
 ticularly unfold by showing — the pleasure involved, 1. in 
 being like God : and — 2. in knowing or reflecting upon 
 the same : the esse and the cognosci of this assimilation. 
 
 1. The pleasure in being like God ; which may be dis- 
 
 r Prov. xvii. 24. s Psal. xvi, 7, 8. 
 
 t Isa. Ixvi. 1,9. , H 2 Tim. ii 19. 
 
 a TiiJt'tirepov xpvxri amnaro';, to ie rifiibiTcpov ayaQov fxcti^ov, to fie T(ot 
 liCiZovt, ayaOioi euavTioi', ficiZnv KOKOvayadov Se jxet^ovvi ctn xpvxm vyaas 
 ooijiaTOi, jiei^nv ovv kukov vooji ipv\r}s, voirov acofiaTOi, I'Offos \pv\rii fiox- 
 dnpia, &c. Max. Tyr. dissert. 41. 
 
 covered both by a general consideration hereof, and by in- 
 stancing in some particulars, wherein blessed souls shall 
 be like him. 
 
 L It is obvious to suppose an inexpressible pleasure in 
 the very feeling, the inward sensation, the holy soul will 
 have of that happy frame in general, whereinlo it is now 
 brought ; that joyful harmony, that entire rectitude, it finds 
 within itself. You may as soon separate light from a sun- 
 beam, as plea.sure from such a state. This likeness or 
 conformity to God is an cvKpaaio, a perfect temperament; 
 an athletic healthine.ss ; a strong sound consiitution of 
 soul. Do but imagine, what it is to a man's body, after a 
 wasting sickness, to find himself well. Frame a notion of 
 the pleasure of health and .soundness, when both all the 
 parts and members of the body are in their proper places 
 and proportions, and a lively, active vigour, a sprightly 
 strength, possesses every part, and actuates the whole ; how 
 plea.sant is this temper ! If we were all body, there could 
 be no greater felicity than this. But by how much the 
 more noble an)' creature is, so is it capable of more exqui- 
 site pains, or pleasures. ''Sin is the sickness and disease 
 of the soul ; enfeebles all its powers, exhausts its vigour, 
 wastes its strength. You know the restless tossings, the 
 weary roslings to and fro, of a diseased languishing body ; 
 such is the case of a sinful soul. Let it but seriously be- 
 think itself, and then speak its own sen.se; (but here is the 
 malignity of the disease, it cannot be serious, it always 
 raves ;) What will it bel "01 can take no rest !" The 
 way of wickedness is called ba way of pain : sinners 
 would find it so, if the violence of the disease had not be- 
 reft them of sense: Nothing savours with me; I can take 
 comfort in nothing. The wicked are as a troubled sea (as 
 their name imports") that cannot rest, whose waters, &.c. 
 The image of God, renewed in holiness and righteousness, 
 is health restored, after such a consuming sickness; which 
 ■u'hen we awake, when all the drowsiness that attends our 
 disease is shaken ofl^, we find to be perfect. The fear of the 
 Lord, (an ordinary paraphrase of holiness or piet\',) is said 
 to be health to the navel and marrow to the bones. Our Lord 
 Jesus invites'^ wearied sinners to come to him, to take his 
 yoke on them, to learn of him, that is, to imitate him, to be 
 like him ; and promises the}' shall find rest to their souls. 
 How often do we find grace and peace in conjunction in 
 the apostles' sahitations and benedictions ! We are told 
 that the ways of Divine wisdom {i. e. which it prescribeth) 
 are all<J pleasantness and peace. That in keeping the 
 commandments of God there is great reward. That they 
 are not grievous, i. e. (forthereseemstobea7?ic/o.';!5 in the 
 expression,) are joyous, pleasant. And what are his com- 
 mandments, but those expresses of himself, wherein we are 
 to be like him, and conform to his will 1"= The kingdom of 
 God (that holy order which he settles in the spirits of men, 
 his law transcribed and impressed upon the soul ; which is 
 nothing else but its conformation and likeness to himself:) 
 is righteousness, and then peace. The ippovniia YltivitaTOij 
 that notion, and judsmcnt, and saroitr of things, that ex- 
 cellent temper of mind and heart, (for that is the extent of 
 the expression,) whereof the Holy Spirit of God is both 
 the -author and pattern, is life and peace, involves ihcm in 
 itself When one thing is thus, in casu recto, predicated 
 of another, it speaks their most intimate connexii>n, as 
 Rom. xiv. 17. above : so 1 John v. 3. This is love iha', 
 &c. So here, such a mind is life and peace (though the 
 copula be not in the original, it is fitly supplied in the 
 translation.) You cannot separate {q. d.) life and peace 
 from such a mind: it hath no principle of death or trouble 
 in it. Let such as know any thing of this blessed temper 
 and complexion of soul, compare this scripture and their 
 own experience together ; when at any time they find their 
 souls under the blessed empire and dominion of a spiritual 
 mind, Avhen spirituality wholly rules and denominates 
 them. Arenot their souls the very region of life and peace 1 
 both these in conjunction, life and peace 1 not raging life, 
 not stupid peace ; but a placid, peaceful life, a vital, vigor- 
 ous rest and peace: 'tis not the life of a fury, nor peace of 
 
 b 2:f J7 Tit Psal. cxxxix. 84. V&'"' Isa. Uii. 20. Hinc ilbid rt tspdium et di.spli- 
 ceutia sui, et nusqiiam residentis aiiimi volutatio, &c. Sen. ile Tranqu. 
 aninii. 
 
 c Mat, xi. 2S. 
 
 d Prov. iii 1.'?. P.<al xix. 1 John v. 3. 
 
 e Horn. .\iv 17. f Rom. viii. S.
 
 212 
 
 THE BLESSEDNESS OF THE RIGHTEOUS. 
 
 Chap. VII. 
 
 a stone: life that hath peace in it, and peace that hath life 
 in it. Now can the soul say, " I feel myself well ; all is 
 now well with me."s Nothing afllicts the spiritual mind 
 so far, and while 'lis such; 'tis wrapt up and clothed in its 
 own innocency and purity, and hereby become invulner- 
 able, not liable to hurtful impressions. Holiness (under 
 the name of light, for that is by the context the evident 
 meaning of the word there) is by the apostle h spoken of as 
 the Christian's armour. Put on, saiih he, the armour of 
 light, in opposition to the works of darkness, which he had 
 mentioned immediately before. Strange armour ! that a 
 man may see through. A good man's armour is, that i he 
 needs none: his armour is an open breast; that he can 
 pxpose himself, is fearless of any harm. Who is he that 
 shall harm you if )'e be followers of that which is good 1 
 It should be" read imitators, so the word signifies ; and so 
 whereas following is either of a pattern or an end, the for- 
 mer must be meant here, by the natural importance of that 
 word. And hence, by k " that which is good," is not to be 
 understood created goodness; for it is not enough to imi- 
 tate that goodness, for so we must be good ; but the words 
 are capable of being read, him that is good, or (which is 
 all one) the good.i And so 'tis the increate good, the bless- 
 ed God himself, formally considered under the notion of 
 good. Nothing can harm you if you be like God, that's 
 the plain sense of this scripture. Likeness to God is ar- 
 mour of proof ; i. e. an imitation of him, viz. in his moral 
 goodness, which holiness (as a general name of it) com- 
 prehends. A person truly like God is secure from any 
 external violence, so far as that it shall never be able to 
 invade his spirit. He is in spirit far raised above the tem- 
 pestuous stormy region, and converses where winds and 
 clouds have no place. 
 
 Nor can, so far as this temper of soul prevails, any evil 
 grow upon such a mind within itself. It is life and peace, 
 it is light and purity, for 'tis the image, the similitude of 
 God.™ God is light, and with him is no darkness at all. 
 Holy souls were darkness, but they are light in the Lord. 
 He the Father of light," they the children of light. They 
 were darkness: not in the dark; but in the abstract, 
 " darkness;" as if that were their whole nature, and they 
 nothing else but an impure mass of conglobated darkness." 
 So, Ye are light : as if they were that and nothing else ; no- 
 thing but a sphere of light. Why suppose we sucli a thing 
 as an entire .sphere of nothing ei.se but pure light 1 What 
 can work any disturbance here, or raise a storm within it : 
 A calm, serene thing, perfectly homogeneous, void of con- 
 trariety, or any self-repugnant quality: how can it disquiet 
 itselfl We cannot yet say, that thus it is with holy souls 
 in their present state, according to the highest literal im- 
 port of these words. Ye are light : but thus it will be wlien 
 they awake; when they are satisfied with this likeness. 
 They shall then be like God fully, and throughout. O the 
 joy and pleasure of a soul made after such a similitude ! 
 Now glory is become as it were their being, they are glo- 
 rified. Glory is revealed into them, transfused through- 
 out them. Every thing that is conceivable under the no- 
 tion of an excellency, competent to created natur.^, is now 
 to be found with them ; and they have it in-wrought into 
 their very beings. So that in a true sense it may be said, 
 that they are light; they not only have such excellencies, 
 but they are them:? as the moralist saith of the wise or 
 virtuous man, that he not so properly hath all thhigs, as is 
 all things. 'Tis said of man, in respect of his naturals, he 
 is the image 1 and glory of God. As for his supernatural 
 excellencies, though they are not essential to man, they 
 are more expressive of God ; and are now become so in- 
 separable from the nature of man too, in this his glorified 
 state, that he can as soon cease to be intelligent as hol5^ 
 The image of God, even in this respect, is not separable 
 from him, nor blessedness, (surely,) from this image. As 
 the divine excellencies, being in their infinite fulness in 
 God, are his own blessedness, so is the likeness, the parti- 
 cipation of them in the soul th.at now bears this image its 
 
 glnviilni-rabilft est non quod non fpiitur. scJ i|ii:)d iion lictliliir. Sen. de con- 
 Btantial sat'ion'i?. aive qaod in ?Rpicnlein non cadit injuria. 
 
 h Uom xiil 1-2. 
 
 i In(o?iT vjtie scHlpris'iueiHirna. fie,. Hor. M'/ii77rti. Wav ayaOov. 
 
 1 \s PlaN) anil his followers uaed the e.\prt.'Ssion, rnyaOov, fully according to 
 the si'n«.-nf Matt, xix. \T. 
 
 m t Joliii i. n Ei>h. v. Jamea i. 
 
 blessedness. Nothing can be necessary to its full satisfac- 
 tion which it hath not in itself, by a gracious vouchsafe- 
 ment and communication. The good man, (in that de- 
 gree which his present state admits of,) Solomon tells us,' 
 is satisfied from himself: he doth not need to traverse the 
 world, to seek his happiness abroad ; he hath the matter 
 of satisfaction, even that goodness which he is now en- 
 riched with, in his own breast and bosom ;= yet he hath it 
 all by participation from the fountain-goodness. But that 
 participated goodness is so intimately one with him, as 
 sutficiently warrants and makes good the assertion, he is 
 satisfied from himself: viz. from himself, not primarily, 
 or independently ; but by derivation from him who is all 
 in all, and more intimate to us than we ourselves. And 
 what is that participated goodness, but a degree of the 
 Divine likeness 1 But when that goodness shall be fully 
 participated, when this image and imitation of the Divine 
 goodness shall be complete and entire, then shall we know 
 the rich exuberant sense of those words. How fully will 
 this image or likeness satisfy then ! And yet more dis- 
 tinctly, we may apprehend how satisfying this likeness or 
 image impressed will be, if, a little further deferring the 
 view of the particulars of this likeness which we have de- 
 signed to instance in, we consider these general properties 
 ofit. 
 
 1. 'Tis a vital image : not the image only of him that 
 lives, the living God ; but it is his living and soul-quick- 
 ening image. 'Tis the likeness of him, in that very res- 
 pect; an imitation and participation of the life of God ; by 
 which, once revived, the soul lives that wa.s dead before. 
 'Tis not a dead picture, a dumb show, an unmoving statue ; 
 but a living, speaking, walking image ; that wherewith the 
 child is like the father : the veiy life of the subject where 
 it is ; and by which it lives as God, speaks and acts con- 
 formably to him. An image, not such a one as is drawn 
 with a pencil, that expresses only colour and figure ; but 
 such a one as is seen in a glass, ' that represents life and 
 motion, as v.'as noted from a worth}^ author befcue. 'Tis 
 even, in its first and moi'e important draught, an analogi- 
 cal participation (as we must understand it) of the" Divine 
 nature; before which first tincture, those preludious 
 touches of it upon the spirit of man, his former state is 
 spoken of as ^ an alienation from the life of God ; as having 
 no interest, no communion therein. The y putting on of 
 the new man, which after God is created in righteousness 
 and true holiness, is presently mentioned, in direct oppo- 
 sition to that dismal state, implying that to be a participa- 
 tion of the Divine life: and certainly, so far as it is so, 'tis 
 a participation of the Divine blessedness too. 
 
 2. 'Tis an image most intimate, therefore, to its subject. 
 Glory it is ; but not a superficial skin-deep glory; such as 
 shone in Moses's face, which he covered with a vail. 'Tis 
 thoroughly transformative ; changes the soul throughout; 
 not in external appearance, but in its very nature. All 
 outward embellishments would add little felicity to a ptt- 
 trid, corrupt soul. That would be but painting a sepul- 
 chre ; this adds ornament unto life; and both, especially 
 to the inward man. 'Tis not paint in the face, while death 
 is at the heart; but 'tis the radication of such a principle 
 within as will soon form and attemper the man univer- 
 sally to itself. 'Tis glory, blessedness, participated, brought 
 home and lodged in a man's own soul, in his own bosom; 
 he cannot then but be satisfied. A man may have a rich 
 stock of outward comforts, and while he hath no heart to 
 enjoy them, be never the happier. But 'tis impossible, 
 that happiness should be thus lodged in his soul, made so 
 intimate, and one with him ; and yet, that he should not 
 be satisfied, not be happy. 
 
 3. An image connatural to the spirit of man. Not a 
 thing alien, and foreign to his nature, put into him pur- 
 posely, as it were, to torment and vex him ; but an ancient 
 well-known inhabitant, that had place in him from the 
 beginning. Sin is the injurious intruder ; which there- 
 fore puts the soul into a commotion, and permits it 
 
 o Xdaipa t/."XJjf aiinfM/j?, orav firiTe CKTCivrirai Jiri ti, iirtre eato (rvvrpe- 
 XI, finrf avvi^ai'ri, aWa (biOTi \afi7rr]Tat, &c. Marc. Antonin. lib. U. 
 
 p Omnia non tain habere quam esse. Sen. 
 
 q I Cor. xi. 7. r Prov. xiv. M. 
 
 s Intimo nostro intimior. Essenostnim laudahile. Giliienf. He libertate, ci. 
 Plat ct. An?. tSir ocnios. sic ille nianns. sic era ferebaf. 
 
 u 2 1'ct. i. X Eph. iv. IS. y Ver. 83, 34.
 
 Chap. v't. 
 
 THE BLESSEDNESS OF THE RIGHTEOUS. 
 
 213 
 
 not to rest, while it hath any being there. This image 
 calms it, restores it, works a peaceful, orderly composure 
 within; returns it to itself, to its pristine, blessed state; 
 being reseated there, as in its proper, primitive subject. 
 For though this image, in respect of corrupted nature, be 
 supernatural; in respect of institute, and undefiled nature, 
 it was in a true sense natural, a.s hath been demonstrated 
 by divers of ours against the papists ; and upon the matter, 
 yielded by some of the more moderate among themselves.^ 
 At least it was connate with human nature, consentaneous 
 to it, and perfective of it. We are speaking, it must be 
 remembered, of that part of the Divine image that con- 
 sists in moral excellencies; there being another part of it, 
 as hath been said, that is, even in the strictest sense natu- 
 ral. There is nothing in the whole moral law of God, (in 
 conformity whereunto this image did, ab origine, consist,) 
 nothing of what he requires from man, that is at all destruc- 
 tive of his being, prejudicial to his comforts, repugnant to 
 his most innate principles: nothing that clashes with his 
 reason, or is contrary to his interest ; or that is not, most 
 directly conservative of his being and comforts, agreea- 
 ble to his most rational principles, subservient to his best 
 and truest interest, for what "doth God the Lord require, 
 but fear and love, service, and holy walking from an en- 
 tire and undivided soul 1 what, but what is good; not only 
 in itself, but for us ; and in respect whereof, his law is 
 said to beb holy, just and good 1 And what he requireth, 
 he impresseth. This law, written in the heart, is this like- 
 ness. How grateful, then, will it be, when, after a long 
 extermination and exile, it returns and re-possesses the 
 soul, is recognized by it, becomes to it a new nature, (yea, 
 even a divine, )■= a vital, living law, the law of the spirit 
 of life in Christ Jesus ! What grievance, or burden, is it 
 to do the dictates of nature 1 actions that easily and free- 
 ly flow from their own principles 1 and, when blessedness 
 itself is infolded in those very acts and inclinations ■? How 
 infinitely satisfying and delightful will it be, when the soul 
 shall find itself connaturalized to every thing in its duty ; 
 and shall have no other duty incumbent on it than to be 
 happy ! when it shall need no arguments and exhortations 
 to love God: nor need be urged and pressed, as hereto- 
 fore, to mind him, to fear before him! when love, and re- 
 verence, and adoration, and praise ; when delight, and 
 joy, shall be all natural acts ! Can you separate this, in 
 your own thoughts, from the highest satisfaction ■? 
 
 4. This image will be now perfect; every way, fully 
 perfect. — L In all its parts, as it is in the first instant of 
 the soul's entrance into the state of regeneration ; the 
 womb of grace knows no defective maimed births. And 
 yet here is no little advantage," as to this kind of perfec- 
 tion. For now those lively lineaments of the new creature 
 all appear, which were much obscured before : every line 
 of glory is conspicuous, every character legible, the whole 
 entire frame of this image is, in its exact symmetry and 
 apt proportions, visible at once. And 'tis an unspeakable 
 addition to the pleasure of so excellent a temper of spirit, 
 that accrues from the discernible entireness of it. Here- 
 tofore, some gracious dispositions have been to seek, 
 (through the present prevalence of some corruption or temp- 
 tation,) when there was most need and occasion for their 
 being reduced into act. Hence the reward and pleasure 
 of the act, and improvement of the principle were lost to- 
 gether. Now, the soul will be equally disposed to every holy 
 exercise that shall be suitable to its state. Its temper shall 
 be even and symmetral; its motions uniform and agree- 
 able: nothing done out of season; nothing seasonable 
 omitted, for want of a present disposition of spirit thereto. 
 There will be not only an habitual, but actual entireness 
 of the frame of holiness in the blessed soul. — 2. Again 
 this image will be perfect in degree ; so as to exclude all 
 degrees of its contrary, and to include all degrees of itself. 
 There will be now no longer any colluctation with contra- 
 ry principles; no law in the members warring against the 
 law of the mind ; no lustings of the flesh against the spi- 
 rit. That war is now ended in a glorious victory, and 
 eternal peace. There will be no remaining blindness 
 
 z As may \w seen liy rnmparinir wliat Estiussaysto tlic two question?. I. An 
 gratia fuorit prirno liomini naturalis ? 2. Utrum originalis justitia fui-rit tiomi- 
 ni supematuralis ? I. 2. (list. 25. 
 
 a Deut. X. 18. Mic. vi. 3. b Rom. ni. 12. 
 
 18 
 
 of mind, nor error of judgment, nor perver.seness of will, 
 nor irregularity or rebellion of affections : no ignoranceof 
 God, no aversation from him, or disaffection towards him. 
 This likeness removes all culpable dissimilitude orunlike- 
 ness. This communicated ^ory fills up the whole soul, 
 causes all clcjuds and darkness to vanish, leaves no place 
 for any thing that is vile or inglorious ; 'tis pure glory, 
 free from mixture of any thing that is alien to it. And it 
 is itself full. The soul is replenished, not with air)', eva- 
 nid shadows; but with substantial, solid glor}',(i a massive, 
 weighty glory ; for I know not but subjective glory may 
 be taken in within the significancy of that known scripture, 
 if it be not more principally intended ; inasmuch as the 
 text .speaks of a glory to be wrought out by afflictions, which 
 are the files and furnaces, as it were, to polish or refme 
 the soul into a glorious frame. 'Tis cumulated glory, glory 
 added to glory. Here 'tis growing, progressive glory,' we 
 are changed into the same- image from glory to glory. It 
 shall, now, be stable, consistent glory ; that carries a self- 
 fulness with it: (which some include also in the no- 
 tion of purity :)f 'tis full itself, includes every degree re- 
 quisite to its own perfection. God hath now put the last 
 hand to this glorious image, added to it its ultimate ac- 
 complishments. Now a conformity to Christ, even in the 
 resurrection from the dead, in his glorious state, is fully 
 attained. That prize of the high calling of God is now 
 won. And the humble sense of not having attained as 
 yet, and of not being already perfect, (in which humility 
 the foundation of the temple of God in a saint Ls laid, and 
 the building raised.) is turned into joyful acclamations, 
 " Grace, grace !" for the laying on of the top stone, the 
 finishing of this glorious work. And when ihis temple is 
 filled with the glory of the Lord, the soul itself reple- 
 nished with the divine fulness, will not its joys be full tool 
 For here is no sacrifice to be offered but that of praise, 
 and joy is the proper seasoning for that sacrifice. 
 
 Now, the new creature hath arrived to the measure of 
 the stature of a perfect man in Christ Jesus. The'first 
 formation of this spiritual, as well as of the natural man, 
 was hidden and secret, it was curiously wrought, and in a 
 way no more liable to observation, than that of framing 
 the child in the womb; as that is as hidden as the con- 
 coction of minerals, or precious stones, in the lower parts 
 of the earth. No secrets of nature can outvie the mysteries 
 of godliness. Its growth is also by ver}' insensible de- 
 grees, as it is with the products of nature : but its arrival 
 to perfection is infinitely more strange than any thing in 
 nature ever was. How sudden and wonderf'ul is the 
 change, when, in the twinkling of an eye, the blessed 
 soul instantly awakes out of drowsy languishings, and mi- 
 serable weakness, into perfect strength and vigour !? As a 
 man is, so is his strength; and as his strength is, so is his 
 joy and pleasure. The sun is said to go forth as a strong 
 man, rejoicing to run his race. When a man goes, in the 
 fulness of his strength, upon anj' enterprise, how doth his 
 blood and spirits triumph before-hand! No motion of 
 hand or foot, is without a sensible delight. The strength 
 of a man's spirit, is, unspeakably, more than that of the 
 outward man ; its faculties and powers more refined and 
 raised; and hence arc rational or intellectual exercises 
 and operations much more delightful than corporeal ones 
 can be. But (still as the man is, so is his strength) 'tis an 
 incomparably greater strength that attends the heaven-born 
 man. This man born of God, begotten of God, after his 
 own likeness ; this hero, this son of God, was born to 
 conflicts, to victories, to triumphs. While he is yet but in 
 his growing age, he overcomes the world; (as Hercules 
 the serpents in his cradle ;") overcomes the wicked one, and 
 is at last more than conqueror. A mighty power attends 
 godliness; "a spirit of power, and of a sound mind; 
 but how much this divine creature grows, so much the 
 more like God : and being perfect, conflicts cease : he had 
 overcome and won the crown before. And now all his 
 strength runs out into acts of plea.^ure. Now when he 
 shali go forth in his might to love God, (as we are re- 
 quired to love him now with all our might, and every act 
 
 c Rom. viii. 2. d 2 Cor. iv. 17. e 2 Cor. iii. 18. 
 
 f Puniin est quod est plenum sui, et quod minimum babet aUem. 
 g Psal. xi-x.
 
 V!14 
 
 THE BLESSEDNESS OF THE RIGHTEOUS. 
 
 CHip. VIII. 
 
 of praise shall be an act of power, done with a fulness of 
 strength, (as 'tis said their praises, at the bringing home of 
 the ark, were with all their might,) O ! what will the 
 pleasure be that shall accompany this state of perfection ! 
 Perfect power and perfect pleasure are here met, and shall 
 for ever dwell together, and be always commensurate to 
 one another. They are so here, in their imperfect state : 
 our feeble, spiritless duties, weak, dead prayers ; they have 
 no more sweetness than strength, no more pleasure than 
 power in them. Therefore we are listless, and have no 
 mind to duties, as we find we are more frequently desti- 
 tute of a spiritual liveliness and vigour therein. When a 
 spirit of might and power goes on with us in the wonted 
 course of our converses with God, we then forecast oppor- 
 tunities, and gladly welcome the season, when it extraor- 
 dinarily occurs, of drawing nigh to him. It cannot be 
 thought, that the connexion and proportion between these 
 should fail in glory ; or that, when every thing else is per- 
 fect, the blessed soul itself made perfect, even as God him- 
 self is perfect, in this bearing his likeness, should be unlike 
 him in bliss ; or its satisfaction be imperfect. 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 The satisfaction carried in the glory of God impressed, further shown by in- 
 stances. Certain particulars of this ; impression instanced in a dependent 
 frame of spirit, subjection or self devoting, love, purity, liberty, tranquil- 
 hty. 
 
 But besides the general consideration of this likeness, 
 we shall instance in some of the particular excellencies 
 comprehended in it, wherein the blessed shall imitate and 
 resemble God : whence we may farther estimate the plea- 
 sure and satisfaction that being like God will afford. — 
 Only here let it be remembered, that as we all along in 
 this discourse, speak of likeness to God in respect of mo- 
 ral excellencies; so by likeness to him, in respect of these, 
 we understand, not only a participation of those which are 
 communicable ; but a correspondent impress also as to 
 those that are incommunicable ; as hath been more dis- 
 tinctly opened in the propositions concerning this likeness. 
 "Which being premised, I shall give instances of both kinds, 
 to discover somewhat of the inexpressible pleasure of being 
 thus conformed to God. And here, pretermitting the im- 
 press of knowledge of which we have spoken imder the 
 former head of vision, we shall instance, 
 
 1. In a dependent frame of spirit, which is the proper im- 
 press of the Divine all-sufficiency and self-fulness, duly ap- 
 prehended by the blessed soul. It is not easy to conceive a 
 higher pleasure than this, compatible to a creature, — the 
 pleasure of dependance; yea, this is a higher than we can 
 conceive. Dependance (which speaks the creature's 
 Tx^c'i or habitude to its principle, as the subserviency which 
 imports its habitude to its end) is two-fold. — I. Natural : 
 which is common and essential to all creatures ; even when 
 no such thing is thought on, or considered by them. The 
 creatures live, move, and have their beings inGod, whether 
 they think of it or no. — 2. Vohmtary, or rational : which 
 is de facto, peculiar; and de jure, common to reasonable 
 creatures as such. A dependance that is, Ik Tzpoaipiinwi, 
 elective f and, with a foregoing reason, (which I under- 
 stand by elective, not a liberty of doing, or not doing it,) 
 and concomitant consideration of what we do, and animad- 
 version of our own act : when knov/ingly and willingly, 
 understanding ourselves in what we do,"we go out of our- 
 selves, and live in God. This is the dependance of which 
 I speak. And it cannot but be attended with transcendant 
 pleasure in that other state, when that knowledge and ani- 
 madversion shall be clear and perfect: both, as this depen- 
 dance imports— a nullifying of self— and magnifying (I 
 may call it omnifying) of God, a making him all in all. — 
 As it imports (which it doth most evidently) a self-anni- 
 hilation, ap^tre nullifying of self , 'tis a continual recogni- 
 tion of my own nothingness, a "momently, iterated confes- 
 sion, that my whole btnng is nothing, but a mere puff of 
 precarious breath, a bubble raised from nothing, by the 
 arbitrary fiat of the great Creator ; reducible, had he so 
 a Gal. ii. 20. 
 
 pleased, any moment to nothing again. These are true 
 and just acknowledgments, and to a well-tempered soul 
 infinitely pleasant, when the stale of the case is thoroughlj' 
 understood, (as now it is,) and it hath the apprehension 
 clear ; how the creation is sustained, how, and upon whai 
 terms, its own being, life and blessedness are continued to 
 it; that it is every moment, determinable upon the con- 
 stancy of the creator's will, that it is not simply nothing. 
 'Tis not possible that any thing should hinder this consi- 
 deration from being eternally delightful, but that diaboli- 
 cal uncreaturely pride, that is long since banished heaven, 
 and that banished its very subjects thence also. Nothing 
 can suit that temper, but to be a god; to be wholly inde- 
 pendent, to be its own sufficiency. The thoughts of living 
 at the will and pleasure of another, are grating; but they 
 are only grating to a proud heart, which here, hath no 
 place. A soul naturalized to humiliations, accustomed to 
 prostrations and self-abasements, trained up in acts of 
 mortification, and that was brought to glory through a 
 continued course and series of self-denial ; that ever since 
 it first came to know itself, was wont to depend for every 
 moment's breath, for every glimpse of light, for every 
 fresh influence, ("I live, yet not I — ) with what pleasure 
 doth it, now, as it were, vanish before the Lord ! what de- 
 light doth it take to diminish itself, and as it were, disap- 
 pear ; to contract and shrivel up itself, to shrink even into 
 a point, into a nothing, in the presence of the Divine glo- 
 ry ; that it may be all in all ! Things are now pleasant, 
 (to the soul, in its right mind) as they are suitable ; as 
 they carry a comeliness and congruity in them ; and no- 
 thing now appears more becoming, than such a self-annihila- 
 tion. The distances of Creator and creature, of infinite 
 and finite, of a necessary and arbitrary being, of a self- 
 originated and a derived being, of what was from ever- 
 lasting, and what had a beginning ; are now better imder- 
 stood than ever. And the soul, by how much it is now 
 come nearer to God, is more apprehensive of its distance. 
 And such a frame and posture doth, hence, please it best, 
 and doth most fitly correspond thereto. Nothing is so 
 pleasing to it, as to be as it ought. That temper is most 
 grateful that is most proper, and which best agreed with 
 its state. Dependance therefore is greatly pleasing, as it 
 is a self-nullifying thing. And yet it is, in this respect, 
 pleasing, but as a means to a further end. The pleasure 
 that attends it, is higher and more intense, according as it 
 more immediately attains that end, viz. the magnifying 
 and exalting of God : which is the most connatural thing 
 to the holy soul ; the most fundamental and deeply im- 
 pressed law of the new creature. Self gives place, 
 that God may take it : becomes nothing, that he may be 
 all : it vanishes, that his glory may shine the brighter. — 
 Dependance gives God his proper glory. 'Tis the peculiar 
 honour and prerogative of a Deity, to have a world of 
 creatures hanging upon it, staying themselves upon it ; to 
 be the fulcrum, the centre of a lapsing creation. When 
 this dependance is voluntary and intelligent, it carries m 
 it a more explicit owning and acknowledgment of God. 
 By how much more this is the distinct and actual sense of 
 my soul, Lord, I cannot live but by thee ; so much the 
 more openly and plainly do I speak it out. Lord, thou art 
 God alone; thou art the fulness of life and being; the only 
 root and spring of life ; the everlasting I AM ; the Being 
 of beings. 
 
 How unspeakably pleasant, to a holy soul, will such a 
 perpetual agnition or acknowledgment of God be ! when 
 the perpetuation of its being shall be nothing else than a 
 perpetuation of this acknowledgment; when every renewed 
 aspiration, every motion, every pulse of the glorified soul, 
 shall be but a repetition of it; when it shall find, itself, in 
 the eternity of life, that everlasting state of life which it 
 now possesses, to be nothing else than an everlasting testi- 
 mony that God is God : He is so, for, I am, I live, I act, 
 I have the power to love him; none of which could 
 otherwise be. When amongst the innumerable myriads 
 of the heavenly host, this shall be the mutual, alternate 
 testimony of each to all the rest throughout eternity, will 
 not this be pleasant 1 when each shall feel continually 
 the fresh illapses and incomes of God, the power and 
 sweetness of Divine influences, the enlivening vigour of
 
 Chip. VIII. 
 
 THE BLESSEDNESS OF THE RIGHTEOUS. 
 
 215 
 
 that vital breath, and find in themselves, thus we live and 
 are sustained : and are yet as secure, touching the con- 
 tinuance of this state of life, as if every one were a god to 
 himself; and did each one possess an entire godhead. 
 When their sensible dependance on him, in their glorified 
 state, shall be a perpetual triumph over all the imaginary 
 deities, the fancied AVm/i*/, wherewith he was heretofore 
 provoked to jealousy; and he shall now have no rival left, 
 but be acknowledged and known, to be all in all. How 
 
 Eleasant will it then be, as it were, to lose themselves in 
 im ! and to be swallowed up in the overcoming sense of 
 his boundless, all-sufficient, every-where flowing fulness ! 
 And then add to this ; they do by this dependance ac- 
 tually make this fulness of God their own. They are now 
 met in one common principle of life and blessedness, that 
 is sufficient for them all. They no longer live a life of 
 care, are perpetually exempt from solicitous thoughts, 
 which here they could not perfectly attain to in their 
 earthly state. They have nothing to do but to depend ; to 
 live upon a present self-sufficient good, which alone is 
 enough to replenish all desires ; else it were not self-suffi- 
 cient. bHow can we divide, in our most abstractive 
 thoughts, (he highest pleasure, the fullest satisfaction, from 
 this dependance ] 'Tis to live at the rate of a God ; a God- 
 like life : a living upon immense fulness, as he lives. 
 
 2. Subjection; which I place next to dependance, as 
 being of the same allay ; the product of impre.ssed sove- 
 reignty ; as the other, of all-sufficient fulness. Both im- 
 pressions upon the creature, corresponding to somewhat in 
 God, most inconomunicably appropriate to him. This is 
 the soul's real and practical acknowledgment of the 
 supreme Majesty ; its homage to its Maker ; its self-dedi- 
 cation : than which nothing more suits the state of a crea- 
 ture, or the spirit of a saint. And as it is suitable, 'tis 
 pleasant. 'Tis that b}'' which the blessed soul becomes, 
 in its own sense, a consecrated thing, a devoted thing, 
 sacred to God : its very life and whole being referred and 
 made over to him. With what delightful relishes, what 
 sweet gusts of pleasure, is this done ! while the soul tastes 
 its own act; approves it with a full ungainsaying judg- 
 ment ; apprehends the condignity and fitness of it ; assents 
 to itself herein; and hath the ready suffrage, the harmo- 
 nious concurrence, of all its powers ! When the words are 
 no sooner spoken, "Worthy art thou, O Lord, to receive 
 glory, honour, and power, for thou hast created all things, 
 and for thy pleasure they are and were created ;" but they 
 are resounded from the penetralia, the mmpst bmreh, the 
 most intimate receptacles and secret chambers of the soul, 
 O Lord, thou art worthy: worthy, that I, and all things, 
 should be to thee : worthy, to be the Omega, as thou art 
 the Alpha, the last, as thou art the first ; the end, as thou 
 art the beginning, of all things; the ocean into which all 
 being shall flow, as the fountain from which it sprung. My 
 whole self, and all my powers, the excellencies now im- 
 planted in my being, the privileges of my now glorified 
 state, are all worth nothing to me but for thee ; please me 
 only, as they make me fitter for thee. O the pleasure of 
 these sentiments, the joy of such raptures; when the soul 
 shall have no other notion of itself, than of an everlasting 
 sacrifice, always ascending to God in its own flames. 
 
 For this devotedness and subjection speak not barely 
 an act, but a state ; a "^being to the praise of grace ; a living 
 to God. And 'tis no mean pleasure that the sincere soul 
 finds, in the imperfect beginnings, the first essays of this 
 life, the initial breathings of such a spirit, its entrance into 
 this blessed state ; when it makes the first tender and 
 prosent of itself to God ; (as the apostle expresses it ;) when 
 it first begins to esteem itself a hallowed thin?, separate 
 and set apart for God ; its first act of unfeigned self-resig- 
 nation ; when it tells God from the very heart, "I now 
 give up myself to thee to be thine." Never was marriage- 
 covenant made with such pleasure, with so complacential 
 consent. This quitting claim to ourselves, parting with 
 ourselves upon such terms, to be the Lord's for ever : O 
 the peace, the rest, the acquiescence of spirit that attends 
 it I When the poor soul that was weary of itself, knew 
 not what to do with itself, hath now on the sudden found 
 
 b T'l i^t aiiTO/wrEf TiOcjxtv, o tiovovfievov aiperov rroici tov fftoi', oai ftriSc 
 V .? evocai. Arist. dc mor. lib. l. c. 4. 
 c Rom. xii. I. dRom. vi. 13. e Ver. 16. 
 
 this way of disposing itself to such an advantage ; there is 
 pleasure in this treaty. Even the previous breakings and 
 releniings of the .soul towaids God are pleasant. But O 
 the pleasure of consent ! ofd yielding ourselves to God, 
 as the apostle's expression is ; when the soul is overcome, 
 and cries out, " Lord, now I resign, I yield ; possess now 
 thy own right, I give up myself to thee." That j-ielding is 
 subjection, .self-devoiing; in order to future service and 
 obedience, ^To whom ye yield ourselves servants to obey 
 &c. And never did any man enrol himself, as a servant 
 to the greatest prince on earth, with such joy. What plea- 
 sure is there in the often iterated recognition of these trans- 
 actions ; in multijjlying such bonds upon a man's own 
 soul (though done faintly, while the fear of breaking 
 checks its joy in taking them on !) When in the uttering 
 of these words, f I am thy servant, O Lord ; thy servant, 
 the son of thine hand-maid, i. e. thy born-servant, (allud- 
 ing to that custom and law- among the Jews,)? thy servant 
 devoted to thy fear ; a man finds they fit his spirit, and 
 are aptly expressive of the true sense of his .soul ; is it not 
 a grateful thing "? And how pleasant is a state of life con- 
 sequent and agreeable to such transactions and covenants 
 with God ! When 'tis meat and drink to do his will ! 
 When his zeal eats a man up ; and one shall find himself 
 secretly consuming for God ! and the vigour of his soul 
 exhaled in his service ! Is it not a pleasant thing bo to 
 spend and be spent 1 When one can in a measure find that 
 his will is one with God's, transformed into the Divine will: 
 that there is but one common will, and interest, and end 
 between him and us; and so, that in serving God we 
 reign with him ; in spending ourselves for him, we are per- 
 fected in him. Is not this a pleasant Ufe"? Some heathens 
 have spoken at such a rate of this kind of life, as might 
 make us wonder and blush. One speaking of a virtuous 
 person saith, " iii/e is a good soldier that bears wovnds, and 
 numbers scars; and at last, smitten through with darts, 
 dying, will love the emperor for whom he falls ; he will 
 (saith he) keep in mind that ancient precept, Follow God. 
 But there are that complain, cry out and groan, and arc 
 compelled by force to do his commands, and hurried into 
 them against their will ; and what a madness is it (said he) 
 to be drawn rather than follow !" And presently after sub- 
 joins, " We are born in a kingdom ; to obey God is liberty." 
 The same person writes in a letter to a friend : " ilf thou 
 believe me when I most freely discover to thee the most 
 secret fixed temper of my soul, in all things my mind is 
 thus formed : I obey not God so properly as I assent to 
 him. I fallow him with all my heart, not because I cannot 
 avoid it." And another, " kLead me to whatsoever I am 
 appointed, and I will follow thee cheerfully; but if I re- 
 fuse, or be unwilling, I shall follow notwithstanding." 
 
 A soul cast into such a mould, formed into an obedien- 
 tial subject frame, what sweet peace doth it enjoy ! how 
 pleasant rest! Every thing rests most composedly in its 
 proper place. A bone out of joint knows no ease, nor 
 lets the body enjoy any. The creature is not in its place 
 but when 'tis thus subject, is in this subordination to God. 
 By flying out of this subordination, the world of mankind 
 is become one great disjointed body, full of weary toss- 
 ings, unacquainted with ease or rest. That soul that is, 
 but in a degree, reduced to that blessed state and temper, 
 is as it were in a new world ; so great and happy a change 
 doth it now feel in itself But when this transformation 
 shall be completed in it; and the will of God shall be no 
 sooner known than rested in with a complacential appro- 
 bation; and every motion of the first and great Mover 
 shall be an efficacious law, to guide and determine all our 
 motions; and the lesser wheels shall presently run at the 
 first impulse of the great and master-wheel, without the 
 least rub or hesitation ; when the law of sin shall no 
 longer check the law of God ; when all the contentions of 
 a rebellious flesh, all the coimtcr-strivings of a perverse, 
 ungovernable heart, shall cea.<e forever; O unconceivable 
 blessedne.ss of this consent, the pleasure of this joyful har- 
 mony, this peaceful accord ! Obedience, where 'tis due but 
 from one creature to another, carries its no small advan- 
 tages with it, and conducibleness to a pleasant imsolicit- 
 
 f Psal. cxvi. 16. g Psal,. cxix. 33. 
 
 li 8eneca de vita twala, lib. .xv. Et ut bonus miles teret vulnera, &c 
 
 iEpist. xcvi. kEpictet. Etichir.
 
 216 
 
 THE BLESSEDNESS OF THE RIGHTEOUS. 
 
 Chap. VIII. 
 
 ous life. To be particularly prescribed to in things 
 about which our minds would otherwise be tost with 
 various apprehensions, anxious, uncertain thoughts ; how 
 great a privilege is it ! I cannot forget a pertinent passage 
 of an excellent person of recent memory. i And (saith he) 
 for pleasure, I shall profess myself so far from doting on 
 that popular idol liberty, that I hardly think it possible 
 for any kind of obedience to be more painful than an un- 
 restrained liberty. Were there not true bounds of magis- 
 trates, of laws, of piety, of reason in the heart, every man 
 Avould have a fool, I add, a mad tyrant, to his master, that 
 would multiply more sorrows, than briers and thorns did 
 to Adam, when he was freed from the bliss at once, and 
 the restraint of paradise ; and was sure greater slave in the 
 wilderness, than in the enclosure. Would but the Scrip- 
 ture permit me that kind of idolatry, the binding my faith 
 and obedience to any one visible infallible judge or prince, 
 were it the Pope, or the Mufti, or the Grand Tartar ; 
 might it be reconcilable with my creed, it would be certainly 
 with my interest, to get presently into that posture of 
 obedience. I should learn so much of the barbarian am- 
 bassadors in Appian, which came on purpose to the Ro- 
 mans to negotiate for leave to be their servants. 'T would 
 be my policy, if not my piety ; and may now be my wish, 
 though not my faith, that I might never have the trouble 
 to deliberate, to dispute, to doubt, to choose, (those so 
 many proiitless uneasiness,) but only the favour to re- 
 ceive commands, and the meekness to obey them. How 
 pleasurable then must obedience be to the perfect will of 
 the blessed God, when our wills shall also be perfectly 
 attempered and conformed thereunto ! Therefore are we 
 taught. Thy will be done in earth, as it is in heaven.™ What 
 is most jJcrfect in its kind, gives rule to the rest. 
 
 3. Love. This is an eminent part of the image or like- 
 ness of God in his saints ; as it is that great attribute of 
 the Divine being that is, alone, put to give us a notion of 
 God :" God is love. This is an excellency (consider it 
 whether in its original, or copy) made up of pleasantnesses. 
 All love hath complacency or pleasure in the nature and 
 most formal notion of it. To search for pleasure in love 
 is the same thing as if a man should be solicitous to find 
 water in the sea, or light in the body of the sun. Love to 
 a friend is not without high pleasure, when especially he 
 is actually present and enjoyed ; love to a saint rises higher 
 in nobleness and pleasure, according to the more excellent 
 qualification of its object. 'Tisnowinits highest improve- 
 ment, in both the.se aspects of it; where whatsoever tends 
 to gratify our nature, whether as human, or holy, will be 
 in its full perfection. Now doth the soul take up its staled 
 dwelling in love, even in God, who is love, and as he is 
 love ; 'tis now enclosed with love, encompassed with love, 
 'tis conversant in the proper region and element of love. 
 The love of God is now perfected in it. That love which 
 is not only participated from him, but terminated in him, 
 that "perfect love, casts out tormenting fear; so that here 
 is pleasure withoixt mixture. How "naturally will the 
 blessed soul now dissolve and melt into pleasure! It is 
 new-framed on purpose for love-embraces and enjoyments. 
 It shall now love like God, as one composed of love. It 
 shall no longer be its complaint and burden, that it can- 
 not retaliate in this kind ; that being beloved it cannot 
 love. 
 
 4. Purity. Herein also must the blessed soul resemble 
 God, and delight itself Every one that hath this hope, 
 (mz. of being hereafter like God, and seeing him as he is,) 
 purifieth himself as he is pure. A God-like purity is in- 
 timately connected with the expectation of future blessed- 
 ness, niuch more with the fruition. " Blessed are the pure 
 in heart ;" besides the reason there annexed, " for they shall 
 see God ;" (which is to be considered under the other head, 
 the pleasure under which this likeness disposes;) that pro- 
 position carries its own reason in itself It is an incom- 
 parable pleasure that purity carries in its own nature ; as 
 sin hath in its very nature, besides its consequent guilt 
 and sorrow, trouble and torment beyond expression. What- 
 
 I Dr. Hammond's Sermon of Christ's easy yoke. 
 
 m Pertectissimum in siio genere est mensura reliiiuorum 
 
 "'John IV. 8,16. olJohniv. 
 
 p Whose doctrme, as to this matter of pleasure, is not so much to be blamed 
 M his practice, if both be nghtly represented to us. 'Ovk can n&wc Cm avev 
 Tov^sontjiMs Kat dixaccos. Ex. Cicer. L de Fin. 
 
 soever defiles, doth also disturb; nor do any but pure plea- 
 sures deserve the name. An Epicurus himself will tell us,p 
 there cannot be pleasure icithout vrisdom, honesty, and rights 
 eousness. 'Tis least of all possible there should, when once 
 a person shall have a right knowledge of himself, and 
 (which is the moral impurity whereof M'e speak) the filthi- 
 ness of sin. I doubt not but much of the torment of hell 
 will consist in those too late and despairing self-loathings, 
 those sickly resentments, the impure wretches will be pos- 
 sessed with, when they see what hideous deformed mon- 
 sters their own wickedness hath made them. Here the 
 gratifications of sense that attend it, bribe and seduce their 
 judgments into another estimate of sin: but then it shall 
 be no longer thought of under the more favourable notion 
 of a. y\vKtTTtKp(ii/ ; they shall taste nothing but the gall and 
 worm-wood. 'Tis certainly no improbable thing, but that 
 reason being now so fully rectified and undeceived, vizors 
 torn oflT, and things now appearing in their own likeness ; 
 so much will be seen and apprehended of the intrinsic 
 evil and malignity of their vitiated nature, as will serve 
 for the matter of further torment ; while yet such a sight 
 can do no more to a change of their temper, than the 
 devils' faith doth to theirs. Such sights being accompanied 
 with their no-hope of ever attaining a better state, do 
 therefore no way tend to mollify or demulce their spirits, 
 but to increase their rage and torment. It is however out 
 of question, that the purity of heaven will infinitely en- 
 hance the pleasure of it : for 'tis more certain, the intrin- 
 sical goodness of holiness (which term I need not among 
 these instances; inasmuch as the thing admits not of 
 one entire notion, but lies partly under this head, partly 
 under the second, that of devotedness to God) will be 
 fully understood in heaven, than the intrin.sical evil of sin 
 in hell : and when it is understood, will it not effect 1 
 will it not please 1 Even here, how pleasing are things to 
 the pure, (but in degree so,) that participate of the Divine 
 purity ! "iThy word is very pure, saith the Psalmist, there- 
 fore thy servant loveth it. Under this notion do holy ones 
 take pleasure each in other; because they see somewhat of 
 the Divine likeness, their Father's image, in one another : 
 will it not be much more pleasing to find it each one per- 
 fect in himself? to feel the ease, and peace, and rest, (hat 
 naturally goes with it ? A man that hath any love of clean- 
 liness, if casually plunged into the mire, he knows not 
 what to do with himself, he fancies his own clothes to 
 abhor him ; (as ""Job rhetorically speaks ;) so doth as natural 
 a pleasure attend purity : it hath it even in itself ^The 
 words of the pure (saith the wise man) are pleEisant words ; 
 words of pleasantnesses, it might be read. That pure 
 breath that goes from him, is not without a certain pleasura- 
 bleness accompanying it. And if so to another, much 
 more to himself, especially when everything corresponds; 
 and (as the expression is) he finds himself clean throughout. 
 5. Liberty, another part of the Divine likeness, wherein 
 we are to imitate God, cannot but be an unspeakable 
 satisfaction. Supposing such a state of the notion of 
 liberty as may render it really a perfection ; which other- 
 wise it would be a wickedness to impute to God, and an 
 impossibility to partake from him. I here speak of the 
 moral liberty of a saint, as such ; not of the natural liberty 
 of a man, as a man : and of the liberty consummate of 
 saints in glory ; not of the inchoate, imperfect liberty of 
 saints on earth. And therefore the intricate controversies 
 about the liberty of the human will lie out of our way, 
 and need not give us any trouble. 'Tis out of question 
 that this liberty consists not (whatever may be said of any 
 other) in an equal propension to good or evil ; nor in the 
 will's independency on the practical understanding ; nor 
 in a various uncertain mutability, or inconstancy; nor is it 
 such as is opposed to all necessity ; 'tis not a liberty from 
 the government of God,' nor from a determination to the 
 simply best and most eligible objects. But it is a liberty 
 from the servitude of sin, from the seduction of a mis- 
 guided judgment, and the allurement of any insnaring 
 forbidden object; consisting in an abounded amplitude 
 
 q Psal. cxix. HO. r Job ix. 
 
 s Prov XV. 26. 
 
 t Wliich is a no more desirable state than that which, I remember, the histo- 
 rian tells us was the condition of the Annenians ; who having cast off the go- 
 vernment that was over them, became Incerti, soluliciue, et mngis sine Domino 
 quam in lil'e-fate. Tacit. Ann. t. 8.
 
 Chap. VIII. 
 
 THE BLESSEDNESS OF THE RIGHTEOUS. 
 
 217 
 
 and enlargedness of soul towards God, and indetemiination 
 to any inferior good: resulting" trom an entire subjection 
 to the Divine will, a submission to the order ol God, and 
 steady adherence to him. And unto which the many de- 
 scriptions and elogies agree most indisputably, which from 
 sundry authors are congested together by Gibieuf, in that 
 ingenious tractate of liberty. As that, He is free that lives 
 as he will (from Cicero, insisted on by S. Aug. de Civit. 
 Dei, lib. 14. c. 25.) — i. c. who neither wishes any thing, nor 
 fears any thing ; who in all things acquiesces in the will of 
 God; who minds nothing but his own things, and accounts 
 nothing his own but God; who favours nothing but God; 
 who is moved only by the will of God. Again ; He is 
 free, that cannot be hindered, being willing, nor forced, 
 being unwilling (from Epictetus) — i. e. who hath always his 
 will; as having perfectly subjected it to the will of God, 
 as the same author explains himself Again ; He is free 
 that is master of himself (from the Civilians) i. e. (as that 
 liberty respects the spirit of a man) that hath a mind in- 
 dependent on any thing foreign and alien to himself That 
 only follows God (from Philo Judceus ;) That lives accord- 
 ing to his own reason (from Aristotle:) with many more 
 of like import ; that alone does fully and perfectly suit that 
 state of liberty the blessed soul shall hereafter eternally 
 enjoy ; as that author often acknowledges. 
 
 This is the glorious liberty of the children of God ; the 
 liberty wherewith the Son makes free. Liberty indeed, 
 measured and regulated by the royal law of liberty, and 
 which is perfected only in a perfect conformitj'^ thereto. 
 There is a most servile "liberty, a being yfree from right- 
 eousness, which under that specious name and .show, 
 2 enslaves a man to corruption : and there is as free a ser- 
 vice, by which a man is still the more free, by how much 
 the more he serves, and is subject to his superior's will, 
 and governing influences; and by how much the less pos- 
 sible it is he should swerve therefrom.* The nearest aj> 
 proaches therefore of the soul to God ; its most intimate 
 union with him, and entire subjection to him in its glorified 
 state, makes its liberty consummate. Now is its deliverance 
 complete, its bands are fallen ofl'; 'tis perfectly disentangled 
 from all the snares of death, in which it was formerly 
 held; 'tis imder no restraints, oppressed by no weights, 
 held down b}^ no clogs ; it hath free exercise of all its 
 powers ; hath every faculty and affection at command. 
 How unconceivable a pleasure is this! With what delight 
 d(ith the poor prisoner entertain himself, when his manacles 
 and fetters are knocked off! Avhen he is enlarged from his 
 loathsome dungeon, and the house of his bondage ; breathes 
 in a free air ; can dispose of himself, and walk at liberty 
 whither he will ! The bird escaped from his cage, or freed 
 from his line and stone, that resisted its vain and too feeble 
 stragglings before; how pleasantly doth it range! with 
 what joy doth it clap its M'ings, and take its flight ! A 
 faint emblem of the joy, wherewith that pleasant cheerful 
 note shall one day be sung and chanted forth. C)nr soul 
 is escaped, as a bird out of the snare of the foAvler ; the 
 .snare is broken and we are escaped. There is now no 
 place for such a complaint, I would, but I cannot ; I 
 would turn my thoughts to glorious objects, but I cannot. 
 The blessed soul feels itself free from all confinement: 
 nothing resists its will, as its will doth never resist the 
 will of God. It knows no limits, no restraints; is not 
 tied up to this or that particular good ; but expatiates 
 freely in the immen.se, universal, all-comprehending good- 
 ness of God himself And this liberty is the perfect image 
 and likeness of the liberty of God, especially in its con- 
 summate state. In is progress towards it, it increases as 
 the soul draws nearer to God : which nearer approach is 
 
 u Lilierfas nostra non e^t sutyectio ad Deum formalifer, sed amplitudo con- 
 Beqiiens earn. Gibieuf. De libcrt. Dei et creatune. lib. 1. c. 32. 
 
 X ftuam invexere isibi, adjuvant sa-\ituleni. Et .sunt, qiiodammodo, propria 
 Libertate captivi. Boeth. ex Gib. Nectit qua valcattiuhi catenam. ?en. Trag. 
 
 y Rom. vi. 20. z 2 Peter ii 
 
 a Lil)erior quo divina; gratise subjectior. Priinum Libenim arbitrium, quod 
 homini datum est, quando primum creatus est rectus, potuit non peccare ; sed 
 potuit et peccare. Hoc antem no\-i8simum eo potent lus eril, quo peccare non 
 potuit. Aug. de Civ itat. Dei. lib. 22 c. 30. 
 
 b Libertas nostra inhseret di\infE. utexemplari. et in perpctua ejus imifatione 
 versatur. sive ortum. sive progressum, sivc cinisunimatidnrni <iu^ iiiliifaris . 
 Liberta-s nostra, in ortu, est capacitas Dei In pmsressu. Uhirlas rr^ est lon- 
 geclarior: progre.ssus enim attendiuir penes acoossum homini.* ad Deum: (|ni 
 quid.-ni non locali pn.pinquitate, sed iniitationo et a.s.iimiiati<ine cons'iif , el oa 
 utinue imitatione. et assiniilatione sorundum quam, sicuf Dens est sublimis. ot 
 cxcclsu* scipso i italionio c-tf sublimis, ct cxctlsus Doo, ct altitudo ejus Deiu 
 
 not in respect of place or local nearness, but likeness and 
 confoimity to him ; in respect whereof, as God is most 
 sublime and excellent in himself, so is it in him.b Its 
 consummate liberty is, when it is.^o fully transformed into 
 that likeness of God, as that he is all to it, as to himself: 
 so that as he is an infinite satisfaction to himself; his like- 
 ness in this resjject, is the very satisfaction itself- of the 
 blessed soul. 
 
 6. Tranquillity. This also is an eminent part of that 
 assimilation to God, wherein the blessedness of the holy 
 soul must be understood to lie : a perfect composure, a 
 perpetual and everlasting calm, an eternal vacancy from 
 all unquietness or perturbation. Nothing can be supf<f)sed 
 more inseparably agreeing to the nature of G<xl ihan this: 
 whom Scripture witnesses to be without variableness or 
 shadow of change. There can be no commotion wi'hout 
 mutation, nor can the least mutation have place in a per- 
 fectly simple and uncompounded nature: whence even 
 pagan reason hath been wont to attribute the most undis- 
 turbed and mialterable tranquillity to the nature of God. 
 Balaam knew it was incompatible to him to lie, or repent. 
 And (supj)osing him to .speak this from a present inspira- 
 tion) it is their common doctrine concerning God. Any, 
 ike least Irmibles and tempests, saith one.^ are far exiled 
 from the tranquillity of God ; for all the inJuibitants oj 
 heaven do ever enjoy the same stable tenovr, crcn an elemal 
 equality of mind. And a little after speaking of God. saith 
 he, "'Tis neither possible he should be moved by the force 
 of another, for nothing is stronger i ban God ; nor of his own 
 accord, for nothing is perfecter than God." And wherea.s 
 there is somewhat that is mutable and subject to change; 
 somewhat that is stable and fixed: In xrhich of those na- 
 tures, saith another,d sludl we j)larx God? riivsl ve not in 
 thalwhicJi is more stable and fixed, and free from this fiuid- 
 ness and mvtability? For vha.t is there among all beings, 
 that can be stable or consist, if God do not by his own touch 
 stay and sustain the n-at-are of U 2 
 
 Hence it is made a piece of deformity, of likeness to God, 
 by another who tells his friend," It isahigh and great thing 
 n-hick thou desirest, and even bordermg upon a Deity : iiot 
 to be moved. Yea so hath this doctrine been insisted on 
 b}' them, that (while other Divine perfections have been 
 less understood) it hath occasioned the Stoical assertion of 
 fatality to be introduced on the one hand, and the Epicurean 
 negation of providence on the other ; lest any thing should 
 be admitted that might seem repugnant to the tranquillity 
 of their numina. But we know that our God doth what- 
 soever pleaseth him, both in heaven and earth; and that 
 he doth all accoiding to the wise counsel of his holy will; 
 freely, not fatally, upon the eternal provision and foresight 
 of all circumstances and events ; so that nothing can occur 
 that is new to him, nothing that he knows not how to im- 
 prove to good; or that can therefore infer an3" alteration of 
 his counsels, or occasion to him the least perturbation or 
 disquiet in reference to them. 
 
 Holy souls begin herein to imitate him, as soon as they 
 first give themselves up to his wise and gracious conduct. 
 'Tis enough that he is wise for himself and them. Their 
 hearts safely trust in him. They commit themselves with 
 unsolicitous confidence to his guidance; knowing he can- 
 not himself be misled, and thai he will not mislead ihem: 
 as Abraham followed him, not knowing whither he went. 
 And thus, by faith, they enter into his rest. They do now 
 in their present state only enter into it, or hover about the 
 borders: their future assimilation to God in this, gives 
 them a stated settlement of spirit in this rest. They before 
 did owe their tranquillity to their faith; now to their actual 
 fruition. Their former acquiescency, and sedate temper, 
 
 est, ut inquit D. Augustinus. Consummatio deniqne liliertatis est. cum honwi 
 in Deum. lelicisfimo gloria- ctplcstis statu transtbrnuitur; et Deus onuiia ille 
 csseincipit. Uu! Muidem postremus status, eo ditiert a priore; — quipjie lionn) 
 turn noil nindo in illiiratus est crcatnris. sed iK-c circa illas ncgotialur. ctiam 
 refcrondo in tiiiini— nor in crcatnris se infnndit. nee i«^r illas proceilit ut faeit4iat 
 cnni cssel viator : sed in solo Deo. et con(|uip.scit et eftiindit se placn'if.sime- et 
 niotus ejus, cum sit ad presentis-.inium et cunjunclissununi Ixiiuun. similior ei=t 
 quieti quam motui. Gib. I 2. c. 14. 
 
 c Omnes turbula- temin^state^ qua- procul a Deonmi ccelestium tranqiviutate 
 exidant, &c. Apuleius de Deo Socrafis. 
 
 il _■£ -,)7(/),i TO'i' ipvptwv TOVTutv Tov Btov TaKTCOv : opit ovK ti' ^act- 
 H(:irep'i v'li li'^iKnOuTCpa, xai anriWo} jicvi} TOV pcvfiOTOS tovtov, 4c. Max. 
 Tvr. disser. 1. 
 
 e Quod desidc-as autem magnum, sunimiim est. Deocjue vicnuun ; noa 
 concuti. Sen. do tranquil. Animi.
 
 218 
 
 THE BLESSEDNESS OF THE RIGHTEOUS. 
 
 Chap IX. 
 
 was hence, that they believed God would deal well with 
 them at last; their present, for that he hath done so. Those 
 words have now their fullest sense, (both as to the rest 
 itself which they mention, and the season of it,) 'Return 
 to thy rest, O my soul, for the Lord hath dealt bountifully 
 with thee. The occasions of trouble, and a passive temper 
 of spirit, are ceased together. There is now no fear with- 
 out, nor terror within. The rage of the world is now al- 
 layed, it storms no longer. Reproach and persecution have 
 found a period. There is no more dragging before tribu- 
 nals, nor haling into prisons ; no more running into dens 
 and deserts ; or wandering to and fro in sheepskins and 
 goatskins. And with the cessation of the external occa- 
 sions of trouble, the inward dispositions thereto are also 
 reased. All infirmities of spirit, tumultuating passions, 
 unmortified corruptions, doubts, or imperfect knowledge 
 :)i" the love of God, are altogether vanished, and done 
 away for ever. And indeed, that perfect cure wrought 
 within, is the soul's great security from all future dis- 
 quiet. A well tempered spirit hath been wont strangely to 
 pieserve its own peace in this unquiet world. Philosophy 
 hath boasted mi:ch in this kind ; and Christianity per- 
 formed more. The philosophical (yaXrivri, or) calnmess of 
 mind, is not without its excellency and praise : " That 
 stable settlement and fixedness of spirit, that aiOv/jin, (as 
 I f,e moralists tells us, it was wont to be termed among 
 ttie Gtecians, and which he calls tranquillity,) ■when the 
 mind is always equal, and goes a smooth, even course, is 
 propitious to itself, and beholds the things that concern it 
 with pleasure, and interi'upts not this joy, but remains in 
 a placid state, never at any time exalting or depressing 
 itself." But how far doth the Christian peace surpass it ! 
 '' that peace which passeth all understanding ; that amidst 
 surrounding dangers, enables 'he holy soul to say, (with- 
 out a proud boast,) 'None of all these things move me: 
 the peace that immediately residts from that faith which 
 unites the soul with God, and fixes it upon him as its firm 
 basis; when 'lis ''kept in perfect peace, by being stayed 
 upon him, because it trusts in him ; when the heart is 
 fixed, trusting in the Lord ; filled full of joy and peace, 
 or of joyous peace, (by an in dia ivoTn,) in believing. And 
 if philosophy and (which far transcends it) Christianity, 
 reason and faith, have that statique power, can so com- 
 pose the soul, and reduce it to so quiet a consistency in 
 the midst of storms and tempests ; how perfect and con- 
 tentful a repose, will the immediate vision and enjoyment 
 of God afford it, in that serene and peaceful region, 
 where it shall dwell for ever, free from any molestation 
 from without, or principle of disrest w^ithin ! 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 Tiio iiloasiirc arising from knowing, or consideiiiii? ourselves to be like God ; from 
 riiii-iiliriiiLMl. 1. Absolutely, 2. Comparatively, or respectively ; To the for- 
 niiM si. Ill' of the soul, To the state ot lost souls. To its pattern, To the way 
 of aOLiMuitishinent, To the soul's own expectations, To what it secures. 
 The pleasure whereto it disposes, of union, communion. A comparison of 
 tliis righteousness, with tliis blessedness. 
 
 2. Here is also to be considered, the pleasure and satis- 
 faction involved in this assimilation to God, as it is known 
 or reflected on, or that arises from the cognosci of this like- 
 ness. We have hitherto discoursed of the pleasure of being- 
 like God, as that is apprehended by a spiritual sensation, 
 a feeling of that inward rectitude, that happy pleasure of 
 souls now perfectly restored : we have yet to consider a 
 further pleasure, which accrues from the soul's animadver- 
 sion upon itself, its contemplating itself thus happily trans- 
 formed. And though that very sensation be not without 
 some animadversion, (as indeed no sensible perception can 
 be performed without it,) yet we must conceive a consequent 
 animadversion, which is much more explicit and distinct ; 
 and which therefore yields a very great addition of satis- 
 faction and delight : as when the blessed soul shall turn 
 its eye upon itself, and designedly compose and set itselt 
 to consider its present state and frame; the consideration 
 it shall now have of itself, and this likeness impressed upon 
 it, may be either— absolute, or— comparative and respective. 
 
 f Psal. cxvi. 7. 
 i Acts XX. 24. 
 
 g Sen. de Tranquil. Anini. h Phil. iv. 7. 
 
 K Isa. xx\i. 3. Psal. cxii. 7. Rom. xv. 13. 
 
 1. Absolute. How pleasing a spectacle will this be, 
 when the glorified soul shall now inientively behold its own 
 glorious frame ! when it shall dwell in the contemplation 
 of itself! view itself round on every part, turn its eye from 
 glory to glory, trom beauty to beauty, from one excellency 
 to another ; and trace over the whole draught of this image, 
 this so exquisite piece of divine workmanship, drawn out 
 in its full perfection upon itself ! when the glorified eye, 
 and divinely enlightened and inspirited mind, shall apply 
 itself to criticise, and make a judgment upon every several 
 lineament, every touch and stroke ; shall stay itself, and 
 scrupulously insist upon every part; view at leisure every 
 character of glory the blessed God hath instamped upon it; 
 how will this likeness now satisfy ! And that expression 
 of the blessed apostle, (taken notice of upon some other 
 occasion formerly,) "the glory to be revealed in us," .seems 
 to import in it a reference to such a self-intuition. What 
 serves revelation for, but in order to vision 1 what is it, but 
 an exposing things to view? And what is revealed in us, 
 is chiefly exposed to our own view. All the time, from 
 the soul's first conversion till now, God hath been as it 
 were at work upon it, (" He that hath wrought us to, &c.) 
 hath been labouring it, shaping it, polishing it, spreading 
 his own glory upon it, inlaying, enamelling it with glory : 
 now at last, the whole work is revealed, the curtain is 
 drawn aside, the blessed soul awakes. " Come now," 
 saith God, " behold my work, see what I have done upon 
 thee, let my work now see the light ; I dare expose it to 
 the censure of the most curious eye ; let thine own have the 
 plea.sure of beholding it." It was a work carried on in a 
 mystery, secretly wrought (as in the lower parts of the 
 earth, as we alluded before) by a spirit that came and 
 went no man could tell how. Besides, that in the general 
 only, we knew we should be like him, it did not yet ap- 
 pear what we should be ; now it appears : there is a reve- 
 lation of this glory. O the ravishing pleasure of its first 
 appearance ! And it will be a glory always fresh and 
 flourishing, (as Job's expression is, " my glory was fresh in 
 me,") and will afford a ft-esh, undecaying pleasure for ever. 
 
 2. The blessed soul may also be supposed to have a 
 comparative and respective consideration of the impressed 
 glory. That is, so as to compare it with, and refer il to, 
 several things that may come into consideration with it : 
 and may so heighten its own delight in the contemplation 
 thereof 
 
 1. If we consider this impression of glory, in reference 
 to its former loathsome deformities that were upon it, and 
 which are now vanished and gone; how unconceivable a 
 pleasure will arise from this comparison ! When the soul 
 shall consider at once what it is, and what once it was, 
 and thus bethink itself: I that did sometimes bear the ac- 
 cursed image of the prince of darkness, do now represent 
 and partake of the holy, pure nature of the Father of lights : 
 I was a mere chaos, a hideous heap of deformity, confu- 
 sion, and darkness,'' but he that made light to shine out of 
 darkness, shined into me, to give the knowledge of the 
 light of his own glory in the face of Jesus Christ ; and 
 since, made my'' way as the shining light, shining brighter 
 and brighter unto this perfect day. I was a habitation for 
 dragons, a cage for noisome lusts, that, as serpents and 
 vipers, were winding to and fro through all my faculties 
 and powers, and preying upon my very vitals. Then 
 was I hateful to God, and a hater of him ; sin and vanily 
 had all my heart. The charming invitations and allure- 
 ments of grace were as music to a dead man ; to think a 
 serious thought of God, or breathe forth an affectionate 
 desire after him, was as much against my heart, as to 
 pluck out mine own eyes, or offer violence to mine own 
 life. After I began to live the spiritual, new life, how slow 
 and faint was my progress and tendency towards perfec- 
 tion ! how indisposed did I find myself to the proper ac 
 tions of that life ! To go about any holy, spiritual work, 
 was, too often, as to climb a hill, or strive against the 
 stream; or as an attempt to fly without wings. I have 
 sometimes said to my heart. Come, now let's go pray, 
 love God, think of heaven; but.O how listless to these 
 things ! how lifeless in them ! Impressions made, how 
 quickly lost ! gracious frames, how soon wrought off and 
 
 a 2 Cor. V. 5. 
 c Prov. iv. 18. 
 
 b 2 Cor. iv. 6.
 
 Chap. IX. 
 
 THE BLESSEDNESS OF THE RIGHTEOUS. 
 
 219 
 
 gone ! characters of glory razed out, and overspread with 
 earth and dirt 1 Divine comeliness hath now at length 
 made me perfect : the glory of God doth now inclothe me ; 
 they are his ornaments I now wear. He hath made me, 
 that lately lay among the pots, as the wings of a dove co- 
 vered with silver, and her feathers with yellow gold ; he 
 hath put another nature into me, the true likeness of his 
 own holy divine nature ; he hath now perfectly mastered 
 and wrought out the enmity of my heart against him : now 
 to be with God is my very element ; loving, admiring, 
 praising him, are as natural as breathing once was. I am 
 all spirit and life, I feel myself disburdened, and unclogged 
 of all the heavy, oppressive weights that hung upon me ; 
 no body of death doth now encumber me, no deadness of 
 heart, no coldness of love, no drowsy sloth, no averseness 
 from God, no earthly mind, no sensual inclinations or 
 affections, no sinful divisions of heart between God and 
 creatures: he hath now the whole of me : I enjoy and 
 delight in none but him : O blessed change ! O happy 
 day ! 
 
 2. If in contemplating itself, clothed with this likeness. 
 It respect the state of damned souls, what trani^ports must 
 that occasion ! what ravishing resentments ! When it com- 
 pares human nature in its highest perfection, with the same 
 nature in its utmost depravation ] An unspeakably more 
 unequal comparison than that would be, of the most ami- 
 able lovely person, flourishing in the prime of youthful 
 strength and beauty, with a putrified rotten carcass, de- 
 formed by the corruption of a loathsome grave. When glo- 
 rified spirits shall make such a reflection as this: Lo, here 
 we shine in the glorious brightness of the Divine image ; 
 and behold yonder deformed accursed souls : they were as 
 capable of this glory as we ; had the same nature with us, 
 the same reason, the same intellectual faculties and 
 powers; but what monsters are they now become ! They 
 eternally hate the eternal excellency. Sin and death are 
 finished" upon them. They have each of them a hell of 
 horror and wickedness in itself. Whence is this amazing 
 difference 1 Though this cannot but be an awful wonder, 
 it cannot also but be tempered with pleasure and joy. 
 
 3. We may suppose this likeness to be considered in re- 
 ference to its pattern, and in comparison therewith ; which 
 will then be another way of heightening the pleasure that 
 shall arise thence. Such a frame and constitution of spirit 
 is full of delights in itself; but when it shall be referred to 
 its original, and the correspondency between the one and 
 the other be observed and viewed; how exactly they ac- 
 cord, and answer each other, as face doth face in the wa- 
 ter; this cannot still but add pleasure to pleasure, one de- 
 light to another. When the blessed soul shall interchange- 
 ably turn its eye to God, and it.self; and consider the 
 agreement of glory to glory; the several derived excel- 
 lencies to the original: He is wise, and so am I; holy, 
 and so am I : I am now made perfect as my heavenly Fa- 
 ther is: this gives a new relish to the former pleasure. 
 How will this likeness please under that notion, as it is 
 his; a likeness to him! O the accent that will be put 
 upon those appropriative words, to be made partakers of 
 his holiness, and of the Divine nature ! Personal excel- 
 lencies in themselves considered, cannot be reflected on, 
 but with some pleasure ; but to the ingenuity of a child, 
 how especially grateful will it be, to observe in itself such 
 and such graceful deportments, wherein it naturally imi- 
 tates Its father! So he was wont to speak, and act, and 
 demean himself. How natural is it unto love to affect and 
 aim at the imitation of the person loved ! So natural it 
 must be to take complacency therein-, when we have hit 
 our mark, and achieved our design. The pursuits and at- 
 tainments of love are proportionable and correspondent 
 each to other. And what heart can compass the greatness 
 of this thought, to be made like God ! Lord, was there no 
 lower pattern than thyself, thy glorious blessed self, ac- 
 cording to which to form a worm ! This cannot want its 
 due resentments in a glorified state. 
 
 4. This transformation of the blessed soul into the like- 
 ness of God, may be viewed by it, in reference to the way 
 of accomplishment; as an end, brought about by so ama- 
 zing stupendous means: which will certainly be a pleasing 
 contemplation. When it reflects on the method and course 
 d Phil. ii. 7. e 2 Pet. i. 4. 
 
 insisted on, for bringing this matter to pass ; views over 
 the work of redemption in its tendency to this end, dthe 
 restoring God's image in souls; considersChrist manifest- 
 ed to us, in order to his being revealed and formed in us: 
 that God was made in the likeness of man, to make men 
 after the likeness of God; that he partook with us of the 
 human nature, that we might with him partake of the di- 
 vine ; that he assumed our flesh, in order to impart to us 
 his Spirit : when it shall be con.sidered, for this end had 
 we so many •'great and precious promises; for this end did 
 the glory of the fLord shine upon us through the glass of 
 the gospel ; that we might be made partakers, &c. that we 
 might be changed, &c. Yea, when it shall be called to 
 mind, (though it be far from following hence, that this is 
 the only or principal way, wherein the life and death of 
 Christ have influence, in order to our eternal happiness,) 
 that our Lord Jesus lived for this end, that we might learn 
 so to walk, as he also walked ; that he died that we might 
 be conformed to his death ; that he rose again that we 
 might with him attain the resurrection of the dead ; that 
 he was in us the hope of glor>', that he might be in us (that 
 is, the same image that bears his name) our final consum- 
 mate glory itself also: with what pleasure will these har- 
 monious congruities, these apt correspondencies, be looked 
 into at last ! Now may the glorified saint say, I here see 
 the end the Lord Jesus came into the world for ; I see for 
 what he was lift up, made a spectacle ; that he might be a 
 transforming one: what the effusions of his Spirit were 
 for; why it so earnestly strove with my wayward heart. 
 I now behold in my own soul, the fruit of the travail cf 
 his soul. This was the project of re<leeming love, the de- 
 sign of all-powerful gospel-grace. Glorious achievement! 
 blessed end of that great and notable undertaking! happy 
 issue of that high design ! 
 
 5. With a reference to all their own expectations and 
 endeavours. When it shall be considered by a saint in 
 glory ; the attainment of this perfect likeness to God, was 
 the utmost mark of all my designs and aims; tli-e term of 
 all my hopes and desires : this is that I longed and laboured 
 for; that which I prayed and waited for ; which I so ear- 
 nestly breathed after, and restlessly pursued : it was but to 
 recover the defaced image of God ; to be again made like 
 him, as once I was. Now I have attained my end ; I have 
 the fruit of all my labour and travails ; I see nowthe truth 
 of those (often) encouraging words, blessed aK they that 
 hunger and thirst after righteousness, for they shall be 
 filled. Be not wearv in well-doing, for ye shall reap, if 
 ye faint not. What would I once have given for a steady, 
 abiding frame of holiness, for a heart constantly bent and 
 biassed toward God ; constantlv serious, constantly tender, 
 lively, watchful, heavenly, spiritual, meek, humble, cheer- 
 ful, self-denying! How'have I cried and striven for this, 
 to get such a heart ! such a temper of spirit! How have 
 I pleaded with God and my own soul, in order hereto ! 
 How often over have I spread this desire before the 
 Searcher and Judge of hearts! Turn me out of all my 
 worldly comforts, so thou give me but such a heart ; let 
 me spend my davs in a prison, or a desert, so I have but 
 such a heart ; I refuse no reproaches, no losses, ne tortures, 
 may I but have such a heart. How hath my soul bcea 
 sometimes ravished with the very thoughts of such a tem- 
 per of spirit, as hath appeared amiable in my eye, but I 
 could not attain! and what a torture a?ain hath it been 
 that I could not ! What grievance in all the world, in all 
 the days of mv vanitv, did I ever find comparable to this ; 
 to be able to tVame to myself by Scripture, and rational 
 light and rules, the notion and idea of an excellent temper 
 of spirit ; and then to behold it, to have it in view, and not 
 be able to reach it, to possess my soul of it ? What indig- 
 nation have I sometimes conceived against mine own soul, 
 when I have found it wandering, and could not reduce ii; 
 hoverins, and conld not fix it ; dead, and could not quicken 
 it; low, and could not raise it ! How earnestly have I ex- 
 pected this blessed dav, when all those distempers should 
 be perfectly healed, and mvsoul recover a healihv. lively, 
 spiritual frame ! What fresh ebullitions of joy will here be. 
 when all former desires, hopes, endeavours, are crowned 
 with success and fruit!' This joy is the joy of harvest 
 ?They that have sown in tears, do now reap in joy. They 
 f 2 Cor. iii. IS. ? P^a'- ''"^ ^-
 
 220 
 
 THE BLESSEDNESS OF THE RIGHTEOUS. 
 
 Chap. IX. 
 
 that went out weeping, bearing precious seed ; now with 
 rejoicing, bring their sheaves with them. 
 
 6. In reference to what this impressed likeness shall for 
 ever secure to it : an everlasting amity and friendship with 
 God; that it shall never sin, nor he ever frown more. — 
 1. That it shall sin no more. The perfected image of God 
 in it, is its security for this ; for 'tis holy throughout ; in 
 every point conformed to his nature and will ; there re- 
 mains in it nothing contrary to him. It may therefore cer- 
 tainly conclude, it shall never be liable to the danger of 
 doing any thing, but what is good in his sight : and what 
 solace will the blessed soul find in this ! If now an angel 
 from heaven should assure it, that from such an hour it 
 shall sin no more, the world would not be big enough to hold 
 .such a soul. It hath now escaped the deadliest of dangers, 
 the worst of deaths, (and which even in its present state, 
 upon more deliberate calmer thoughts, it accounts so,) the 
 sting of death, the very deadliness of death ; the hell of 
 hell itself. The deliverance is now complete, which can- 
 not but end in delight and praise.— 2. That God can never 
 frown more. This 'tis hence also assured of. How can 
 he but take perfect, everlasting complacency in his own 
 perfect likeness and image; and behold with pleasure his 
 glorious workmanship, now never liable to impairment or 
 decay ! How pleasant a thought is this, " The blessed God 
 never beholds me but with delight ! I shall always behold 
 his serene countenance, his amiable face never covered 
 with any clouds, never darkened with any frown ! I shall 
 now have cause to complain no more; My God is a stran- 
 ger to me, he conceals himself, I cannot see his face ; lo, 
 he is encompassed with clouds and darkness, or with 
 flames and terrors." These occasions are for ever ceased. 
 God sees no cause, either to behold the blessed soul with 
 displeasure, or with displeasure to avert from it, and turn 
 oft" his eye. And will not this eternally satisfy ] When 
 God himself is so well pleased, shall not we "? 
 
 3. The pleasure it disposes to. Besides that the in-be- 
 ing and knowledge of this likeness are so satisfying; it 
 disposes, and is the soul's qualification for a yet further 
 pleasure : — that of closest union, and most inward commu- 
 nion with the blessed God. 
 
 1. Union : which (what it is more than relation) is not 
 till now complete. Besides relation it must needs import 
 presence : not physical, or local ; for so nothing can be 
 nearer God than it is : but moral and cordial, by which 
 the holy soul with will and affections, guided by rectified 
 reason and judgment, closes with, and embraces him; and 
 he also upon wise forelaid counsel, and with infinite de- 
 light and love, embraces it : so friends are said to be one 
 (besides their relation as friends) by a union of hearts. A 
 union between God and the creature, as to kind and na- 
 ture higher than this, and lower than hypostatical or per- 
 sonal union, I understand not, and therefore say nothing 
 ofit.h 
 
 But as to the union here mentioned: as, till the image 
 of God be perfected, it is not completed ; so it cannot but 
 be perfect then. When the soul is perfectly formed ac- 
 cording to God's own heart, and fully participates the Di- 
 vine likeness, is perfectly like him ; that likeness cannot 
 but infer the most intimate imion that two such natures 
 can admit : that is, (for nature,) a love union ; such as that 
 which our Saviour mentions, and prays to the Father to 
 perfect, between themselves and all believers, and among 
 believers mutually with one another. Many much trouble 
 themselves about this: scripture ; but sure that can be no 
 other than a love-union. For, (1.) 'Tis such a union as 
 Christians are capable of among themselves ; for surely 
 he would never pray that they might be one with a union 
 whereof they are not capable. (2.) 'Tis such a union as 
 may be made visible to the world. Whence 'tis an obvious 
 corollary, that the union between the Father and the Son, 
 there spoken of as the pattern of this, is not their union or 
 oneness in essence, (though it be a most acknowledged 
 thing that there is such an essential union between them;) 
 for, who can conceive that saints should be one among 
 themselves, and with the Father and the Son, with such 
 a union as the Father and the Son are one themselves, if 
 the essential union between Father and Son were the 
 
 h 1 would fnin knowwiiat tlie Tertiimt shall be, resuhing from the physical 
 union, some speak of. 
 
 union here spoken of: but the exemplary or pattern union, 
 here meniioned between the Father and Son, is but a union 
 in mind, in love, in design, and interest; wherein he 
 prays, that saints on earth might visibly be one with them 
 also, that the world might believe, &c. 'Tis yet a rich plea- 
 sure that springs up to glorified saints from that love-union 
 (now perfected) between the blessed God and them. 'Tis 
 mentioned and shadowed in Scripture, under the name 
 and notion of marriage-union ; in which the greatest mu- 
 tual complacency is always supposed a necessary ingredi- 
 ent. To be thus joined to the kLord, and made as it were 
 one spirit with him; for the eternal God to cleave in love 
 to a nothing-creature, as his likeness upon it engages him 
 to do ; is this no pleasure, or a mean one 1 
 
 2: Communion : unto which that union is fundamentaJ, 
 and introductive ; and which follows it upon the same 
 ground, from a natural propensity of like lo like. There is 
 nothing now to hinder God and the holy soul of the most in- 
 ward fruitions and enjoyments ; no animosity, no strange- 
 ness, no unsuitableness on either part. Here the glorified 
 spirits of the just have libert)'- to solace themselves amidst 
 the rivers of pleasure at God's own right hand, without 
 check or restraint. They are pure, and these pure. They 
 touch nothing that can defile, they defile nothing they can 
 touch. They are not now forbidden the nearest ap- 
 proaches to the once inaccessible Majesty ; there is no holy 
 of holies into which they may not enter, no door locked 
 up against them. They may have free admission into the 
 innermost secret of the Divine presence, and pour forth 
 themselves in the most liberal eflfusions of love and joy : as 
 they must be the eternal subject of those infinitely richer 
 communications from God, even of immense and bound- 
 less love and goodness. Do not debase this pleasure by 
 low thoughts, nor frame too daring, positive apprehen- 
 sions of it. 'Tis yet a secret to us. The eternal converses 
 of the King of glory with glorified spirits, are only known 
 to himself and them. Tliat expression, (which we so often 
 meet in our way,) " It doth not yet appear what we shall 
 be," seems left on purpose to check a too curious and 
 prying inquisitiveness into these unrevealed things. The 
 great God will have his reserves of glory, of love, of plea- 
 sure for that future state. Let him alone awhile, with those 
 who are already received into those mansions of glory, 
 those everlasting habitations : he will find a time for those 
 that are yet pilgrims and wandering exiles, to ascend and 
 enter too. In the mean time," what we know of this com- 
 munion may be gathered up into this general account, the 
 reciprocation of loves ; the flowing and reflowing of ever- 
 lasting love, between the blessed soul and its infinitely 
 blessed God; its egress towards him, his illapses into it. 
 Unto such pleasure doth this likeness dispose and qualify: 
 you can no way consider it, but it appears a most pleasur- 
 able, satisfying thing. 
 
 Thus far have we shown the qualification for this bles- 
 sedness, and the nature of it; What it prerequires, and 
 wherein it lies : and how highly congruous it is, that the 
 former of these should be made a prerequisite to the latter, 
 will sufficiently appear to any one that shall, in his own 
 thoughts, compare this righteousness and this blessedness 
 together. He will indeed plainly see, that the natural .state 
 of the case and habitude of these, each to other, make this 
 connexion unalterable and eternal; so as that it must 
 needs be simply impossible, to be thus blessed without be- 
 ing thus righteous. For what is this righteousness other 
 than this blessedness begun, the seed and piinciple of it"? 
 And that with as exact proportion (or rather sameness of 
 nature) as is between the grain sown and reaped ; which 
 is more than intimated in that of the apostle, i Be not de- 
 ceived, God is not mocked ; for whatsoever a man soweth, 
 that shall he also reap : for he that soweth to his flesh, 
 shall of the flesh reap corruption ; (there is the same pro- 
 portion too ;) but he that soweth to the Spirit, shall of the 
 Spirit reap life everlasting : which though it be spoken to 
 a particular case, is yet spoken from a general rule and 
 rea.son applicable a great deal further. And as some con- 
 ceive (and is undertaken to be demonstrated) that the seeds 
 of things are not virtually only, but ^actually and formal- 
 ly, the very things themselves; so is it here also. The very 
 
 i Jnhnxvii. 21, vor. 11. 21. 
 1 Gill. vi. 7, 3. 
 
 k 1 Cw. vi. 16. 
 m Dr. Haw. de Ovo.
 
 Chap. X. 
 
 THE BLESSEDNESS OF THE RIGHTEOUS. 
 
 221 
 
 parts of this blessedness are discernible in this righteous- 
 ness, the future vision of God in present knowledge of 
 him: for this knowledge is a real initial part of righteous- 
 ness; the rectitude of the mind and aj)prehensions con 
 earning God, consisting in conformity to liis revelation of 
 himself. Present holiness, including also the future assi- 
 milation to God: and the contentment and peace that at- 
 tends it, the consequent satisfaction in glory. But as in 
 glory, the impression of the Divine likenes.-s is that which 
 vision subserves, and whence satisfaction results ; so is it 
 here (visibly) the main thing also. The end and design of 
 the gospel revelation, " of whole Christianity, (I mean 
 systematically considered,) of all evangelical doctrines and 
 knowledge, is to restore God's likeness and image ; from 
 whence joy and peace result of course, when once the 
 gospel is believed. The gospel is the instrument of im- 
 pressing God's likeness, in order whereunto it must be 
 understood, and received into the mind. Being so, the 
 impression upon the heart and life are Christianity, habi- 
 tual and practical, whereupon joy and pleasure (the belief 
 or thorough reception of the gospel thus intervening) do 
 necessarily ensue, Rom. xv. 13. So aptly is the only way 
 or method of seeing God's face, so as to be satisfied with 
 his likeness, said to be in or through righteousness. 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 The season of this satisfaction, wliich is twofold ; at death and at the re- 
 surrection. The former spoken too; wherein is shown, That this life is 
 to the soul (even of a saint) but as a sleep : That at death it awakes. As 
 to the latter ; Tliat there is a considerable accession to its happiness at the 
 resurrection. 
 
 3. The season of this blessedness comes next to be con- 
 sidered; which (as the words, "when I awake," have 
 been concluded here to import) must, in the general, be 
 stated, beyond the time of this present life. Holy souls 
 are here truly blessed, not perfectly ; or their present bless- 
 edness is perfect only in nature and kind, not in degree. 
 'Tis, in this respect, as far short of perfection as their holi- 
 ness is. Their hunger and thirst are present, their being 
 filled is yet future. The experience of saints in their best 
 state on earth, their desires, their hopes, their sighs and 
 groans, do sufficiently witness they are not satisfied ; or if 
 they be in point of security, they are not in point of enjoy- 
 ment. The completion of this blessedness is reserved to 
 a better state, as its being the end of their way,* their rest 
 from their labours, the reward of their work, doth import 
 and require. Therefore many scriptures that speak of their 
 present rest, peace, repose, satisfaction, must be understood 
 in a comparative, not the absolute highest sense. More par- 
 ticularly, in that other state, the season of their blessedness 
 is twofold ; or ihere are two terms from whence (in respect 
 of some gradual or modal diversifications) it may be said 
 severally to commence, or bear date, r?ir. — The time of their 
 entrance upon a blessed immortalitj'^, when they shall have 
 laid down their earthly bodies in death ; and — of their con- 
 summation therein, when they receive their bodies glorified 
 in the general resurrection. Both these may not unfitly 
 be signified by the phrase in the text, " when I awake:" 
 for, though Scripture doth more directly apply the term 
 of awakmg to the latter, there will be no violence done to 
 the metaphor, if we extend its signification to the former 
 also. To which purpose it is to be noted, that it is not 
 death formally, or ihedisanimatingof thebody, we would 
 have here to be understood by it, (which indeed sleeping 
 would more aptly signify than awaking,) but, what is co- 
 incident therewith in the same period, the exuscitation, 
 and revival of the soul. When the body falls asleep, then 
 doth the spirit awake ; and the eye-lids of the morning, 
 even of an eternal day, do now first open upon it. 
 
 1. Therefore v,'e shall not exclude from this season the 
 introductive state of blessedness, which takes its beginning 
 from the blessed soul's first entrance into the invisible 
 stale. And the fitness of admitting it will appear by clearing 
 
 n U<o{ ovv yivoucBa xaO njioiMoiv; ta T<t)v enay}c\ion', Ti rsT' \pi~iiii'- 
 iiTftoi : R'lv nuoihiatf : Kara ro eiihxniisuon ai/Opdnrov ij>voci. Greg. Nyss. 
 in vertia Faciamus hominein, &c. Orat. l. 
 
 a Matt. V. 6. b 1 Thess. v. 6. Eph. v. U. 
 
 these two things, — 1. That its condition in this life, even 
 at the best, is in some sort but a sleep: 2. That when it 
 passes out of it into the invisible regions, 'tis truly said to 
 awake. 
 
 1. Its abode in this mortal body, is but a continual sleep ; 
 its senses are bound up; a drowsy slumber posses.'-es and 
 suspends all its faculties and powers. Before the reno- 
 vating change, how frequently doth the Scripture speak 
 of sinners as men asleep! bLet not us sleep a.s do oihers. 
 Awake thou that sleepest, and stand up from the dead, &c. 
 They are in a dead sleep, under the sleep of death: they 
 apprehend things a.s men asleep. How slight, obscure, 
 hovering notions have they of the most momentous things ! 
 and which it most concerns them to have thorough real 
 apprehensions of! All their thoughts of God, Christ, hea- 
 ven, hell, of sin, of holiness, are but uncertain, wild gues.scs, 
 blind hallucination.s. incoherent fancies ; the absurdity 
 and inconcinnity whereof, they no more reflect upon than 
 men asleep. They know not these things, but only dream 
 of them. They put darkness for light, and light for dark- 
 ness; have no senses exercised to discern between good 
 and evil. The mo.st substantial realities are with them 
 mere shadows, and chimeras ; fancied and imagined dan- 
 gers startle them, (as 'tis wont to be with men in a dream,) 
 real ones, though never so near them, they as little fear 
 as they. The creature of their own imagination, the lion 
 in the" way, which they dream of in their slothful slumber, 
 aff'rights them; but the real roaring lion that is ready to 
 devour ihem, they are not afraid of 
 
 And conversion doth but relax, and intermit; it doth 
 not totally break off this sleep: it, as it were, attenuates 
 the consopiting fumes, doth not utterly dispel them. What 
 a difficulty is it to watch but one hour! There are some 
 lucid and vivid intervals, but of how short continuance ! 
 how soon doth the awakened soul close its heavy eyes and 
 falls asleep again ! how often do temptations surprise even 
 such, in their slumbering fits, while no sense of their dan- 
 ger can prevail with them to w'atch and pray (with due 
 care and constancy) lest they enter thereunto! -^Hitherare 
 most of the sins of our lives to be imputed and relerred ; 
 not to mere ignorance, that we know not sin from duty, or 
 what will please God and what displease him ; but to a 
 drowsy inadvertency, that we keep not our spirits in a 
 watchful considering posture. Our eyes that should be 
 ever towards the Lord, will not be kept open, and though 
 w^e resolve, we forget ourselves ; before we are aware, we 
 find ourselves overtaken ; sleep comes on upon us like an 
 armed man, and we cannot avert it. How often do we 
 hear, and read, and prav, and meditate as persons asleep, 
 as if we knew not what we were about? How remarkable 
 useful providences escape either our notice or due improve- 
 ment, amidst our secure slumbers! How many visits from 
 heaven are lost to us, when we are a-s it were, between 
 sleeping and waking !'i I sleep, but my heart waketh, and 
 hardly own the voice that calls upon us, till our beloved 
 hath withdrawn himself 1 Indeed, what is the whole of 
 our life but a dream"? the entire scene of this sensible world 
 but a vision of the night ; where every man-^ walks but in 
 a vain show 1 Where we are mocked with shadows, and 
 our credulous sense abused by impostures and delusive 
 appearances "? Nor are we ever secure from the most de- 
 structive, mischievous deception, further than as our souls 
 are possessed with the apprehensions, that this is the very 
 truth of our case ; and thence instructed to consider, and 
 not to prefer the shadows of time before the great realities 
 of eterniiy. 
 
 Nor is this sleep casual, but even connatural to our pre- 
 sent state, the necessarv result of so strict a union and 
 commerce with the bodv, which is to the in-dwelling spirit 
 as a dormitory or charnel-house rather than a mansion. A 
 soul drenched in sensualitv,) a Lethe that hath too little of 
 fiction in it, and immured "in a slothful, putrid flesh, ^jeeps 
 as it were by fate, not by chance, and is only capable of 
 full relief by sufterinir a dissolution ; which it hath reason 
 to welcome' as a jubilee, and in the instant of departure to 
 sacrifice as he did, f (with that ea^y and warrantable 
 
 c So well doth the apostle's watch-word suit our case. Awake to riffhteous- 
 no^s. and sin not, &c. 1 Cor. xv. 34 , • , 
 
 d ran' V 2 e Psal. xxnx. «. 
 
 f V7-. Seneca. Wlw at the time of liis Ut ath sprinkled water upon the ser-
 
 932 
 
 THE BLESSEDNESS OF THE RIGHTEOUS. 
 
 Chap. X. 
 
 change, to make a heathen expression scriptural,) Jehoi-a. 
 libcratori, to adore and praise its great Deliverer: at least 
 (accounts being once made up, and a meetness in any mea- 
 sure attained for the heavenly inheritance, &c.) hath no 
 reason to regret or dread the approaches of the eternal 
 day, more than we do the return of the sun after a dark 
 and longsome night. But as the sluggard doth nothing 
 more unwillingly than forsake his bed, nor bears any thing 
 with more regret than to be awaked out of his sweet sleep, 
 though you should entice him with the pleasures of a pa- 
 radise to quit a smoky, loathsome cottage ; so fares it with 
 a sluggish soul, as if it were lodged in an enchanted bed : 
 'tis so fast held by the charms of the body, all the glory of 
 the other world is little enough to tempt it out, than which 
 there is not a more deplorable symptom of this sluggish, 
 slumbering state. So deep an oblivion (which you know 
 is also naturally incident to sleep) hath seized it of its own 
 country, of its alliances above, its relation to the Father 
 and world of spirits, it takes this earth for its home, where 
 'tis both in exile and captivity at once : and (as a prince 
 stolen away in his infancy and bred up in a beggar's shed) 
 so little seeks, that it declines a better state. This is the 
 degenerous, torpid disposition of a soul lost in flesh, and 
 inwrapt in stupifying clay, which hath been deeply resented 
 by some heathens. So one brings in Socrates pathetically 
 bewailing this oblivious dreaming temper of his soul, 
 " which (saith he) had seen that pulchritude (you must 
 pardon him here the conceit of its pre-existence) that nei- 
 ther human voice could utter, nor eye behold ; but that 
 now, in this life, it had only some little remembrance 
 thereof, as in a dream ; being both in respect of place and 
 condition, far removed from so pleasant sights, pressed 
 down into an earthly station, and there encompassed with 
 all manner of dirt and filthiness, &c. And to the same 
 purpose Plato often speaks in the name of the same person, 
 and particularly of the winged slate of the good soul? 
 when apart from the body, carried in its triumphant flying 
 chariot, (of which he gives a large description, somewhat 
 resembling Solomon's rapturous metaphor, ii " Before I 
 was aware, my soul made me as the chariots of Ammina- 
 dab ;") but being in the body, 'tis with it as with a bird that 
 hath lost its wings, it falls a sluggish weight to the earth. 
 Which indeed is the state even of the best, in a degree, 
 within this tabernacle. A sleepy torpor stops their flight ; 
 they can fall, but not ascend ; the remains of such drow- 
 siness do still hang even about saints themselves. The 
 apostle therefore calls upon such toi awake out of sleep ; 
 from that consideration, (as we know men are not wont to 
 sleep so intensely towards morning,) that now their salva- 
 tion was nearer than when they believed, i. e. (as some 
 
 vants about him, addita voce, se Uqnorem ilium libare Jovi lijjeratori. Tacit 
 Aniial. 
 
 e TT-repiOjia. In Ph«dro. h Cant, vi 13. i Rom. xiii. 11. 
 
 k Aretius, Beza, &c. IPsal xxx. 5. m In his Saint's Rest. p. 2, c 10. 
 
 n Luke xxiii. 43. o 2 Cor. v. 8. p Phil. i. 23. q Heb. xii 23. 
 
 r 'Tis true, that divers of the fathers and others have spoken, some dubiously, 
 Bome very diminishingly, of the blessedness of separate .souls ; many of whose 
 word.s may be seen together in that elaborate tractate of the learned Parker, 
 De Descena. 1 secund. p. 77 Yea, and his own assertion in that very page (be 
 it spoken with reverence to the memory of so worthy a person) argues some- 
 thing gross, and I conceive, unwarrantable tlwjughts of the soul's dependence 
 on a body of earth. His words are Tertium viilnim. (speaking of tlie preju- 
 dices the soul receives by its separation ftoui the budy.) onmes operationes 
 etiam svoji, outE^untprasertiinad extra, extingiiit. Wliere he makes it a 
 difliculty to allow it any operations at all, as appears by the prasertim insert- 
 ed. He first indeed denies it all operations, and then, more confidently and 
 especially, those ad extra. And if he would be understood to exclude it only 
 from its operations ad extra, (if he takes operations ad extra as that phrase is 
 wont to l)e taken,) he must then mean by it all such operations as have their 
 objects, not only those that have their terms to which without the agent, i. e. not 
 only all transient, but all imminent, acts that have their objects without them. 
 As when we say, all God's acts ad ^xtra are free : we nn-an it even of his im- 
 manent acts that have their objects without him. llviiifli they do not ponere 
 tenninum extra Deum; as his election, hi.^ Icivi" of llie elect And so he 
 must be understood to deny the separate snuN (and Ibiit with a pra-^ei-tim too) 
 the operations ofknowing God, of loving him. anddilieliting in him ; which are 
 all operations ad extra, as having their objects extra animmn, though their 
 terminus ad quern be not so : which makes the condition of the separate souls 
 of saints unspeakably inferior to what it was in the body, and what should 
 occasion so dismal thoughts of that state of separation. I see not. Scripture 
 gives no ground for them, but evidently enoughspeaks Ihe contrary. Reason 
 and philosophy offer nothing that can render the sense we put upon the afore- 
 mentioned plain scripture, self-contradictious or impossible. Yea, such as 
 had no other light or guide, have thought the facility of the soul's operations, 
 being separate from its earthly body, much greater by that very separation. 
 And upon this score doth St. Augustine, with great indignation, inveigh against 
 the philosophers, (Plato more especially.) because they judged the separation 
 of the soul from the body necessary to its lili'^^i-dnoss. Qid rideUcet ejusper- 
 feetam beatitudinem tunc illi Jleri e.rlnlhtwiit cxni nnnti prornis corpore 
 exuta, ad Dctim simplex, etsola etr/'irylinnimKln iimln rlJierit, (De civif Dei. 
 1. 13 c 16. )unto which purpose the words ot PbilolausPythagoricus.of Plato.of 
 Porphyrius, are cited by Ludovicus Vives, in his comment upon that above-men- 
 
 judicious interpretersk understand that place,) for that 
 they were nearer death and eternity than when they first 
 became Christians; though this passage be also otherwise, 
 and not improbably, interpreted. However, 
 
 2. The holy soul's release and dismission from its earth- 
 ly body, which is that we propounded next to be con- 
 sidered, will excuss and shake off this drowsy sleep. Now 
 is the happy season of its awaking into the heavenly, vital 
 light of God; the blessed morning of that long desired day 
 is now dawned upon it, the cumbersome night-vail is laid 
 aside, and the garments of salvation and immortal glory 
 are now put on. It hath passed through the trouble 
 and darkness of a wearisome night, and now is joy arrived 
 wiih the morning, as we may be permitted to allude to 
 those words of the i Psalmist, though that be not supposed 
 to be the peculiar sense. I conceive myself here not con- 
 cerned operously to insist in proving, that the souls of 
 saints sleep not in the interval between death and the ge- 
 neral resurrection, but enjoy present blessedness. It being 
 besides the design of a practical discourse, which rather in- 
 tends the propounding and improvement of things acknow- 
 ledged and agreed, for the advantage and benefit of them 
 wiih whom they are so, than the discussing of things du- 
 bious and controversible. And what I here propound in 
 order to a consequent improvement and application, should, 
 methinks, pass for an acknowledged truth among them that 
 professedly believe, and seriously read and consider, the 
 Bible ; (for mere philosophers that do not come into this 
 account, 'twere impertinent to discourse with them from a 
 text of Scripture ;) and where my design only obliges me 
 to intend the handling of that, and to deliver from it what 
 may fitly be supposed to have its ground there, unless 
 their allegations did carry with them the show of demon- 
 strating the simple impossibility of what is asserted thence 
 to the power of that God whose word we take it to be ; 
 which I have not found any thing thej' say to amount to. 
 That we have reason to presume it an acknowledged thing, 
 among them that will be concluded by Scripture, That the 
 soul (ioth not sleep when it ceases to animate its earthly 
 body, many plain texts do evince, which are amassed to- 
 gether by the reverend Mr. Baxter ;"> some of the princi- 
 pal whereof I would invite any that waver in this matter 
 seriously to consider: as the words of our Saviour to the 
 thief on the cross," This day shalt thou be with me in pa- 
 radise. That of the apostle," we are Willing rather to be 
 absent from the body, and present with the Lord. And 
 that,P I am in a strait, having a desire to depart, and to be 
 with Christ. That passage,<) The spirits of just men 
 made perfect, &c. Which are expressions so clear, that it 
 is hard for an industrious caviller to find what to"' except 
 
 lioned passage. The first speaking t\ms—Deposito corpore kominem Deum rm- 
 mortalemfieri. Thesecond Mwis—Trahinos a corpore ad iwa,et a cogitatiorte 
 superarum rerwn subinde revocari: ideo relin/iuendiiin corpus, et hicquan- 
 twm pnssuwus et in altera vitaprorsum, ut libcri et expediti, vervtn ipsi 
 videamus et optimum amemiis. The third denies— AUteryi.eri beatv-m quen- 
 qiiani posse, nisi relinqvat corpits et affigatitr Deo. I conceive it by tho 
 way not improbable, that the severity of that pious father against the dogma of 
 the philosophers, tnight proceed upon this ground, that what they said of the 
 impossibiliiv nf liring happy in an earthly body, he unders'ood meant by them 
 of an-inip(nsilijlity to be happy in any body at all ; when 'tis endently the com- 
 mon opinion of the Pl.atonists, that the soul is always united with some body 
 or other, and that even the daemons have bodies, (aerial or sEtherial ones,) which 
 Plato himself is observed by St. Augustine to affirm, whenre he would fasten a 
 contradiction on him. ibid not considering ('tis likely) that he would much 
 less have made a difficulty, to concede such bodies also to human souls after 
 they had lost their terrestrial ones, as liis sectatots do not ; who hold they 
 tlien presently become daemons In the meantime 'tis evident enough, the 
 doctrine of the separate soul's present blessedness, is not destitute of the patron- 
 age and suffi-aee of philosophers. And 'tis indeed the known opinion of as ma- 
 ny of them as ever held its immortality, (which all of all ages and nations have 
 done, a very few excepted.) for inasmuch as they knew notliingof the resurrec- 
 tion of the body, they could not dream of a sleeping intenal. And 'tis at least 
 a shrewd presumption, that nothing in reason lies against it, when no one in- 
 stance can he given, among them tliat professedly gave up themselves to its 
 onlv guidance, of any one, that granting the immortality of the soul, and its 
 separableness from its terre.strial body, ever denied the immediate blessednes.? 
 of good souls in that state of separation. Nor (if we look into the thing itselt) 
 is it at all more unapprehensible that the soul should be independent on the body 
 in its operations than in its existence. If it be possible enough to form an un- 
 exceptionable notion of a spiritual being distinct and sef.arable from any cor- 
 poreal substance, (which the learned Doctor More hath sufficiently demon- 
 strated in his treatise of the Immortality of the Soul,) with its prmier attributes, 
 and powers peculiar to itself: what can reasonablji withhold me from asserting, 
 that being separate from the body, it may as well operate alone, (I mean exert 
 such operations as are proper to such a being.) as exist alone? That we find it 
 here de facto, in its present state, acting only with dependence on aboily. will 
 no more infer, that it can act no otherwise, than its present existence in a body 
 will tlutt it can never e_xist out of it. neither whereof amounts to more than the 
 trifliiiL'PMiloded argument « woness*' ad «»n posse, and would be as good sense 
 as to sav. .-^nch a rme walks in his clothes, therefore out ofthem he cannot move a 
 foot Yea. and the very use itself which the soul nowmakesof corporeal organs 
 I and instruments, plainly evidences, that it doth exert some action wherein they
 
 Chap. X. 
 
 THE BLESSEDNESS OP THE RIGHTEOUS. 
 
 223 
 
 to them; and, indeed, the very exceptions that are put in, 
 arc so frivolous lliat they carry a plain confession there is 
 nothing colourable to be said. Yea, and most evident it 
 is from those texts, not only that holy souls sleep not, in 
 that state of separation ; but that they are awaked i)y it, 
 (as out of a former sleep,) into a much more lively and 
 vigorous activity than they enjoyed befoie; and translated 
 into a state as much better than their former, as the tor- 
 tures of a cross are more ungrateful than the pleasures 
 of a paradise; these joys fuller of vitality, than those sick- 
 ly dying faintings ; as the immediate presence and close 
 embraces of the Lord of life, are more delectable than a 
 niournlbl disconsolate absence from him, (which the apos- 
 tle therefore tells us he desired as far better, and with an 
 emphasis which our English too faintly expresses: for he 
 uses a double comparative, ttoXAu fiaXXov Kptiaaoi — by mvch 
 more better ;) and, as a perfected, i. e. a crowned triumph- 
 ant spirit, that hath attained the end of its race, (as the 
 words import in the agonistical ^ notion,) is now in a more 
 vivid joyous state, than when, lately, toiling in a tiresome 
 way, it languished under many imperfections. And it is 
 observable, that in the three former scriptures, that phrase, 
 of being with Christ, or, being present with him, is the 
 same which is used by the apostle, (1 Thess. iv. 17.) to 
 express the state of blessedness after the resurrection ; in- 
 timating plainly, the sameness of the blessedness before 
 and after. And though this phrase be also used to signify 
 the present enjoyment saints have of God's gracious pre- 
 sence in this life ; which is also in nature and kind the 
 same; yet it is plainly used in these scriptures (the two 
 latter more especially) to set out to us such a degree of 
 that blessedness, that in comparison thereof, our present 
 being with Christ is a not-being with him ; our presence 
 with him now, an absence from him: While we are at 
 home in the body, we are absent from the Lord, and, I am 
 in a .strait betwixt two, desiring to depart, (or having a de- 
 sire unto dissolution,) and to be with Christ, &c. How 
 strangely mistaken and disappointed had the blessed apos- 
 tle been, had his absence from the body, his dissolution, 
 his release, set him further oil" from Christ, or made him 
 less capable of converse with him, than before he was ! 
 And how absurd would it be to say, the spirits of the just 
 are perfected, by being cast into a stupifying sleep; yea, 
 or being put into any state, not better than they were in 
 before ! But their stale is evidently far better. The body 
 of death is now laid aside, and the weights of .sin, that did 
 so easily beset, are shaken off ^ flesh and sin are laid down 
 together; the soul is rid of its burthensome bands and 
 shackles, hath quitted its filthy darksome prison, (the usual 
 place of laziness and sloth,) is come forth of its drowsy 
 dormitory, and the glory of God is risen upon it. 'Tis 
 now come into the world of realities, where things appear 
 as they are, no longer as in a dream, or vision of the 
 night. The vital quickening beams of Divine light are 
 darting in upon it on every side, and turning it into 
 their own likeness. The shadows of the evening are va- 
 nished, and fled away. It converses with no objects but 
 what are full themselves, and most apt to replenish it with 
 energy and life. This cannot be but a joyful awaking, a 
 
 assist it not. For it supposes an nprration upon tlii>ni antpceilcnt to any opor- 
 ation by them. Nothing can beth'- in^triiMimt wliich ii tk.I first tlip sulji-ct of 
 my action ; as when I use a pen. I m-i iinim it in order to inv aelion hv it, L f. 
 I impress a motion upon it, in order wliereiiiito I u.*e nnl that or any oiiii r such 
 instrument ; and though I cannot proilircethe designed efi'eot. leave such charac- 
 t<>re so and so figured, without it ; my hand can yet. without it, perform its own 
 action, proper to itself, and produce many nobler effects When, therefore, the 
 soul makes use of a bodily organ, its action upon it mivst needs at last tie with- 
 out tlie ministry of any organ, unless you multiply to it body upon body '" hit!- 
 nitinm. And if, possibly, it perform not some meaner and grosser pieces of 
 drudgery when out of the liody, wherein it made iL«e of its help and service be- 
 fore; that is no more a disparagement or diminution, than it is to the magis- 
 trate, that law and decency permit him not to apprehenil or execute a male- 
 factor with his own liand. It may yet perform those operations which are pro- 
 per to itself: that is. such as are more noble and excellent, and immediately con- 
 ducive to its own felicity. Which sort of actions, as cogitation for instance, 
 and dilection, though being done in the body, there is conjunct w itli them an agi- 
 tation of the sjiirits in the brain and heart : it yet seems' to me more reasona- 
 ble, that as tn those acts, the spirits are rather subjects than instruments at all 
 of tliem ; that the whole essence of these acts is antecedent to the motion of 
 the spints ; and that motion cert.ainly (but accidentallv) conseoucnt, only by 
 reason of the present, but soluble, imion the soul hath with the body And that 
 the purity and refinedness of those spirits doth only remove what would hinder 
 such acts, rather than contribute posit iveJy thereto. And so little is ttie alliance 
 between a thought, and any bodily tiling, even those very finest snirits tliiio- 
 8clves : that I dare say whoev.->r s.'ts himself closely and strictly to consi- 
 der and debate the matter with his own faeid'ies will find it much mor.' easily 
 apprchoHiiible how the acts of intelleclionand volition may be t>erfonne(l \miIi- 
 
 blesscd season of satisi"action and delight indeed, to the 
 enlightened, revived soul. But, 
 
 II. It must be acknowledged, the further and rore emi- 
 nent season of this blessedness will be the general resur- 
 rection day, which is more expressly signified in Scripture 
 by this term of av-aking ; as is manifest in many plain 
 texts, t where 'tis either expressly thus used, or implied to 
 have this meaning in the opposite sen.se of the word sleep. 
 What additions shall then be made to the saints blessed- 
 ness, lies more remote from our apprehension ; inasmuch 
 as Scripture states not the degree of that blessedness 
 which shall intervene. We know, by a too sad instructive 
 experience, the calamities of our present state, and can 
 therefore more easi'y conceive, wherein it is capable of 
 betterment, by the deposition of a sluggish, cumbersome 
 body, where those calamities mostly have their spring: 
 but then we know less where to fix our foot, or whence 
 to take our rise, in estimating the additional felicities of 
 that future state, when both the states to be compared are 
 so unknown to us. But that there will be great additions 
 is plain enough. The full recompense of obedience and 
 devotedness to Christ, of foregoing all for him, is affixed 
 by his promise to the resurrection of the just ; The judg- 
 ment-day gives every one his portion according to his 
 works. Then must the holy, obedient christian hear from 
 his Redeemer's mouth, Come ye blessed of the father, in- 
 herit the kingdom, &c. Till then the devils think their 
 torment to be before their time. 'Tis when he shall appear 
 we shall be like him, and see him as he is. That noted 
 day is the day of being presented faultless with exceeding 
 joy. And divers things there are obviously enough to be 
 reflected on, which cannot but be understood to contribute 
 much to the increase and improvement of this mchoate 
 blessedness. The acquisition of a glorified body. For 
 our vile bodies shall be so far transfigured, as to be made 
 like " [conform toj the glorious bodyof the Saviour, the 
 Lord Jesus Christ : and this shall be when he shall 
 appear from heaven, where saints here below are required 
 to have their commerce, as the enfranchised citizens there- 
 of, and from whence they are to continue looking for him 
 in the meantime. When he terminates and puts a period 
 to that expectation of his saints on earth, then shall that 
 great change he made, i. e. when he actually appears, at 
 which time the trumpet sounds, » and even .sleeping dust 
 itself awakes; the hallowed dust of them that slept in 
 Jesus first, who are then to come with him. This change 
 may well be conceived to add considerably to their felici- 
 ty. A natural congruity and appetite is now answered 
 and satisfied, which did either lie dormant, or was under 
 somewhat an anxious restless expectation before; neither 
 of which could well consist with a state of blessedness, 
 every way already perfect. And that there is a real de- 
 sire and expectation of this t^hange, seems to be plainly in- 
 timated in those words of Job, y All the daj's of my ap- 
 pointed time will I wait till my change come ; where he 
 must rather be understood to speak of the resurrection 
 than of death ; (as his words are commonly mistaken, and 
 mi.sapplied;) as will appear by setting down the context 
 from the seventh verse, for there is hope of a tree, if it be 
 
 out those very corporeal spirits than by IJiem. However. euppo.»e them never 
 so indisi>ensably necessarj- to those more noble operations of the soul, it may 
 easily be furnished with Ihi-m. and in ereater pleiitv and puritv, fKim the am- 
 bient air, <or a-ther.) than from a dull, torpid body ; with some part of which 
 air, if we simpose if to contract a vital union. I know no rational principle that 
 is wronged by the supposition, thrii-h neither do I know any that c-nn neces- 
 sarily infer i'. As therefore the doctrine of the sou!'- actintyoul of this earth- 
 ly body, hath fn\ our and friinil-hip enouch from philosoiiliers : so I doubt not, 
 but upon the nio-t strict niiii ridd disquisition, it would be as much befViendcd 
 (orr,atlier ru-'lit.ili by pliil<.s,ii.ln itself; and that tlu-ir reason would afford it 
 as ilirect. .and riiore cnnsi.lerabli' defence, than their authority. 
 
 In the meantime, it deserves to l)e considered with siune resentment, that 
 this doctrine should find the generali'y of learned p,icans more fii'-ward advo- 
 cates than some learned and worthy patrons of the Christian faith : wlu'ch 
 is only imputable to the imdue measure and e.wess of an otherwise jn.st zeal, 
 in these latter, tor the resurrection of the b<idy ; so far transnortinc them, that 
 they became willing to let so one truth, that they mieht hold anotWr the fast- 
 er ; and to r.ansom this at the too dear (and unnecessary) expense of tlie tor* 
 mer: accountiu!;, they could ne\er make sun^enoushlhervsurrrction ofthelKxiy, 
 without makiru tlie soul's dependance on it so alisotutc and necessar>-, that it 
 should be able to do nothing- but sli>ep in tjie meanwhile. Whereas it seems a 
 gn^at deal mon' unconcei' able, how such a being as the -oul is, once auit of the 
 entanglements and encumbrances of the body, should sleep at all, than how it 
 should act without th.- body. 
 
 s .-^f)!' Dr Hammond's Annot in loc. 
 
 t nan. xii. a. John xiv. 12. 2 Cor. xv. -2 Thess. iv. &c. 
 
 ti M '"oyajiaTicsi, tTvuuooiior. Phil iii. 30, 01. 
 
 .X 1 Tlie-ss iv. 14, 15, 16. y Chap. xiv. H.
 
 224 
 
 THE BLESSEDNESS OF THE RIGHTEOUS. 
 
 Ciup. XI. 
 
 cut down, that it will sprout again, and that the tender 
 branch thereof will not cease. Though the root thereof 
 wax old in the earth, and the slock thereof die in the 
 ground: yet through the scent of water, it will bud and 
 bring forth boughs like a plant. But man dieth and was- 
 teth away ; yea, man giveth up the ghost, and Avhere is he 1 
 As the waters fail from the sea, and the flood decayeth, and 
 drieth up ; so man lieth down, and raiseth not till the hea- 
 vens be no more : they shall not be awakened nor raised 
 out of their sleep. O that thou wouldst hide me in the 
 grave, that thou wouldestkeep me secret till thy wrath be 
 past, that thou wouldest appoint me a set time, and remem- 
 ber me ! If a man die, shall he live again ? All the days 
 of my appointed time will I wait tilt my change come. 
 Thou shalt call, and I will ansM'er thee ; thou wilt have a 
 desire to the work of thy hands. He first speaks accord- 
 ing to common apprehension, and sensible appearance, 
 touching the hopeless state of man in death ; as though it 
 were less capable of reparation than that of some inferior 
 creatures, unto the end of ver. JO. And then gradually 
 discovers his better hope ; betrays this faith, as it were, 
 obliquely, touching this point; lets it break out, first, in 
 some obscure glimmerings, (ver. II, 12.) giving us, in his 
 protasis, a similitude not fully expressive of his seeming 
 meaning, for waters and floods that fail may be renewed ; 
 and in his apodosis more openly intimating, man's sleep 
 should be only till the heavens were no more : which till 
 might be supposed to signify never, were it not for what 
 follows, ver. 13, where he expressly speaks his confidence 
 by way of petition, that at a set and appointed time, God 
 would remember him, so as to recall him out of the grave : 
 and at last, being now minded to speak out more fully, puts 
 the question to himself. If a man die, shall he live again 1 
 and answers it, All the days of my appointed time, i. e. 
 of that appointed time which he mentioned before, when 
 God should revive him out of the dust, will I wait till 
 ray change come ; i. e. that glorious change, when the cor- 
 ruption of a loathsome grave should be exchanged for 
 immortal glory; which he amplifies, and utters more 
 expressly, ver. 15. Thou shalt call, and I will answer; 
 thou shalt have a desire to the work of thy hands : Thou 
 wilt not always forget to restore and perfect thy own crea- 
 ture. 
 
 And surely that waiting is not the act of his inanimate 
 sleeping dust ; but though it be spoken of the person 
 totally gone into hades, into the invisible state, 'fis to be 
 understood of that part that should be capable of such an 
 action ; q. d. I, in that part that shall be still alive, shall 
 patiently await thy appointed time of reviving me in that 
 part also, which death and the grave shall insult over (in 
 a temporary triumph) in the meantime ; and so will the 
 words carry a facile commodious sense, without the unne- 
 cessary help of an imagined rhetorical scheme of speech. 
 And then, that this waiting carries in it a desirous expec- 
 tation of some additional good, is evident at first sight ; 
 which therefore must needs add to the satisfaction and bless- 
 edness of the expecting soul. And wherein it may do 
 so, is notaltogether unapprehensible. Admit, that a spirit, 
 had it never been embodied, might be as well without a 
 body, or that it might be as well provided of a body out 
 of other materials ; 'tis no unreasonable supposition, that 
 a connate aptitude to a body, should render human souls 
 more happy in a body sufficiently attempered to their most 
 noble operations. And how much doth relation and pro- 
 priety endear things, otherwise mean and inconsiderable 1 
 Or why should it be thought strange, that a soul connatu- 
 ralized to matter, should be more particularly inclined to a 
 particular portion thereof? so as that it should appropri- 
 ate such a part, and say 'tis mine 1 And will it not be a 
 pleasure, to have a vitality difflised through what even 
 more remotely appertains to me, to have every thing be- 
 longing to the suppositvvi perfectly vindicated from the 
 tyrannous dominion of death"? The returning of the spi- 
 rits into a benumbed or sleeping toe or finger, adds a con- 
 tentment to a man which he wanted before. Nor is it 
 hence necessary the soul should covet a re-union with 
 every effluvious particle of its former body: a desire im- 
 planted by God in a reasonable soul will aim at what is 
 convenient, not what shall be cumbersome or monstrous. 
 
 z 1 Cor. XV a 2 Thess i. 10 
 
 And how pleasant will it be to contemplate and admire 
 the wisdom and power of the great Creator in this so glo- 
 rious a change, when I shall find a clod of earth, a heap 
 of dust, refined into a celestial purity and brightness 
 '- when what was sown in corruption shall be raised in in- 
 corruption ; what was sown in dishonour, is raised in glo- 
 ry ; what was sown in weakness, is raised in power; what 
 was sown a natural body, is raised a .spiritual body ! when 
 this corruptible shall have put on incorruption, and this 
 mortal, immortality, and death be wholly swallowed up in 
 victor}^ ! So that this awaking may well be understood 
 to carry that in it, which may bespeak it the proper sea- 
 son of the saints' consummate satisfaction and blessedness. 
 But besides what it carries in itself, there are other (more 
 extrinsical) concurrents that do farther signalize this sea- 
 son, and import a greater increase of blessedness then to 
 God's holy ones. The body of Christ is now completed, 
 the fulness of him that filleth all in all, and all the so near- 
 ly related parts caimot but partake in the perfection and 
 reflected glory of the whole. There is joy in heaven at 
 the conversion of one sinner, though he have a trouble- 
 some scene yet to pass over afterwards, in a tempting, 
 wicked, unquiet world; how much more when the many 
 sons shaJl be all brought to glory together ! The designs 
 are all now accomplished, and wound up into the most 
 glorious result and issue, whereof the Divine Providence 
 had been, as in travail, for so many thousand years. 'Tis 
 now seen how exquisite wisdom governed the world, and 
 how steady a tendency the most intricate and perplexed 
 methods of Providence had, to one stated and most worthy 
 end. Specially the constitution, administration, and ends 
 of the Mediator's kingdom, are now beheld in their exact 
 aptitudes, order, and conspicuous glory ; when so blessed 
 an issue and success shall commend and crown the whole 
 undertaking. The Divine authority is now universally 
 acknowledged and adored ; his justice is vindicated and 
 satisfied; his grace demonstrated and magnified to the ut- 
 termost. The whole assembly of saints solemnly acquit- 
 ted b}"- public sentence, presented spotless and without ble- 
 mish to God, and adjudged to eternal blessedness. 'Tis 
 the day of solemn triumph and jubilation, upon the finish- 
 ing of all God's works, from the creation of the world 
 wherein the Lord Jesus* appears to be glorified in his 
 saints, and admired in all that believe : upon which envies 
 the resignation of the Mediator's kingdom, b (all the ends 
 of it being now attained,) that the Father himself may be 
 immediately all in all. How aptly then are the fuller ma- 
 nifestations of God, the more glorious display of all his at- 
 tributes, the larger and more abundant effusions of himself, 
 reserved (as the best wine to the last) unto this joj'ful day ! 
 Created perfections could not have been before so absolute, 
 but they might admit of improvement ; their capacities 
 not so large, but they might be extended further ; and then 
 who can doubt but that divine communications may also 
 have a proportionable increase, and that upon the concourse 
 of so many great occasions they shall have so 1 
 
 CHAPTER XL 
 
 An introduction to the use of the doctrine liitherto proposed. The use divided 
 into Inferences of truth, Rules of duty. 1. Inference, That blessedness con- 
 sists not in any sensual enjoyment. 2. Inference. The spirit of man (since 'tis 
 capable of so high a blessedness) is a being of high excellency. 
 
 Use. And now is our greatest work yet behind ; the im- 
 provement of so momentous a truth, to the affecting and 
 transforming of hearts ; that (if the Lord shall so far vouch- 
 safe his assistance and blessing) they may taste the sweet- 
 ness, feel the power, and bear the impress and image of it. 
 This is the work, both of greatest necessity, difficulty, and 
 excellency, and unto which, all that hath been done hi- 
 therto, is but subservient and introductive. Give me 
 leave, therefore, reader, to slop thee here, and demand of 
 thee ere thou go further; hast thou any design, in turning 
 over these leaves, of bettering thy spirit, of getting a more 
 refined, heavenly temper of souH Art thou weary of thy 
 dross and earth, and longing for the first fruits, the begin- 
 nings of glory "? Dost thou wish for a soul meet for the 
 
 b 1 Cor XV. 28.
 
 Chap. XI. 
 
 THE BLESSEDNESS OF THE RIGHTEOUS. 
 
 225 
 
 blessedness hitherto described 1 What is here written is 
 designed for thy help and lurlherancc. But if thou art 
 looking on these pages with a wanton rolling eye, hunting 
 for novelties, or what may gratify a prurient wit, a coy 
 and squeamish fancy; go read a romance, or some piece 
 of drollery : know here's nothing for thy turn ;^ and dread 
 to meddle with matters of everlasting concernment with- 
 out a serious spirit ; read not another line till thou liave 
 sighed out this request, " Lord, keep me from trifling with 
 the things of eternity.'' Charge thy soul to consider, that 
 what thou art now reading; must be added to thy account 
 against the great day. 'Tis amazing to think, with what 
 vanity of mind the most weighty things of religion are 
 entertained amongst Christians. Things that should 
 swallow up our souls, drink up our spirits, are heard as a 
 tale that is told, disregarded by most, scorned by too many. 
 What can be spoken so important, or of so tremendous 
 consequence, or of so confessed truth, or with so awful 
 solemnity and premised mention of the sacred name of 
 the Lord, as not to find either a very .slight entertainment 
 or contemptuous rejection ; and this by persons avowing 
 themselves Christians '! We seem to have little or no 
 advantage, in urging men upon their own principles, and 
 with things they most readily and professedly assent to. 
 Their hearts are as much untouched, and void of impres- 
 sion by the Christian doctrine, as if they were of another 
 religion. How unlike is the Christian world to the Chris- 
 tian doctrine ! The seal is fair and excellent, but the im- 
 pression is languid, or not visible. Where is that serious 
 godliness, that heavenliness, that purity, that spirituality, 
 thai righteousness, that peace, unto which the Christian 
 religion is most aptly designed to work and form the spi- 
 rits of menl We think to be saved by an empty name; 
 and glory in the show and appearance of that, the life and 
 power whereof we hate and deride. 'Tis a reproach with 
 us not to be called a Christian, and a greater reproach to 
 be one. If such and such doctrines obtain not in our pro- 
 fessed belief, we are heretics or infidels; if they do in our 
 practice, we are precisians and fools. To be so serious, 
 and circum.spect, and strict, and holy, to make the prac- 
 tice of godliness so much our business, as the known and 
 avowed principles of our religion do plainly exact from 
 us, (yea, though we come, as we cannot but do, unspeak- 
 ably short of that required measure,) is to make one's self 
 a common derision and scorn. Not to be professedly reli- 
 gious is barbarous, to be so in good earnest ridiculous. In 
 other tilings men are wont to act and practise according to 
 the known rules of their several callings and professions, 
 and he would be reckoned the common fool of the neigh- 
 bourhood that should not do so ; the husbandman that 
 should sow when others reap, or contrive his harvest into 
 the depth of winter, or sow fitches and expect to reap 
 wheat ; the merchant that should venture abroad his most 
 precious commodities in a lealry bottom, without pilot or 
 compass, or to places not likely to afiford him any valuable 
 return. In religion only it must be accounted absurd, to 
 be and do according to its known, agreed principles, and 
 he a fool that shall but practise as all about him profess to 
 believe. Lord ! whence is this apprehended inconsistency 
 between the profession and practice of religion 1 What 
 hath thus stupified and unmanned the world, that serious- 
 ness in religion should bethought the character of a fooH 
 that men must visibly make a mockery of the most funda- 
 mental articles of faith onlj^ to save their reputation, and 
 be afraid to be serious lest they should be thought mad ? 
 Were the doctrine here opened believed in earnest, were 
 the due proper impress of it upon our spirits, or, (as the 
 pagan moralist's expression is,h) were our minds transfi- 
 gured into it, what manner of persons should we be in all 
 holy conversation and godliness 1 But 'tis thought enough 
 to have it in our creed, though never in our hearts ; and 
 such as will not deride the holiness it should produce, yet 
 endeavour it not, nor go about to apply and urge truths 
 upon their own souls to any such purpose. What should 
 turn into grace and spirit and life, turns all into notion and 
 talk; and men think all is well if their heads be filled and 
 
 a Dis3<)luti est pectoris in rebus seriis quserere voluptafem. Amob. 
 
 1) Srientiam qui didicit, et facicnda ct \itanda prsecepit, nondum sapiens est, 
 ni.si in ea (luae didicit transfipirahis est animus. 
 
 c Non prodeat cibus, m.-c conwri ucccdit, (jui stalim suniptiis emittitiir. Sen. 
 Epi^t. 
 
 their tongues tipt with what should transform their souls 
 and govern their lives. How are the most awful truths, 
 and that should have greatest power upon men's spirits, 
 trifled with as matters only of speculation and discourse ! 
 They are heard but as empty airy words, and presently 
 evaporate, pass away into words again ; like food (as "^Se- 
 neca speaks) t/uit cumes up presently, the same that it iras 
 taken in ; which (as he saith) profits not, nor makes any ac- 
 cession to the body at all. A like case, (as another ingeni- 
 ously speaks,'i) o.s if sheep, when they liad been feeding, 
 should present their shepherds with the very grass itself which 
 they hud cropt, and shoio how much they liud eaten. No, 
 .saith he, they concoct it, a/iid so yield them wool and milk. 
 And so, saith he, do not you {viz. when you have been in- 
 structed) presently go and utter words among the more ig- 
 norant, (meaning they should not do so in a way of osten- 
 tation, to show how much they knew more than others,) 
 "but works that follow upon the concoction of what hath 
 been by words made known to them." Let Christians be 
 ashamed that they need this instruction from heathen 
 teachers. 
 
 Thy words were found and I did eat them, (saith the 
 prophet,) and thy word was to mc the joy and rejoicing of 
 my heart. Divine truth is only so far at present grateful, 
 or useful for future, as 'tis received by faith and consider- 
 ation, and in the love thereof, into the ver}' h?art, and 
 there turned in succum et sangninem — into real nutriment 
 to the soul ; so shall man live by the word of God. Hence 
 is the application of it (both personal and ministerial) of 
 so great neces.sity. If the truths of the gospel were of the 
 same alloy with some parts of philosophy, whose end is 
 attained as soon as they are known; if the Scripture doc- 
 trine (the whole entire s)'stem of it) were not a doctrine 
 afier godliness, if it were not designed to sanctifj' and 
 make men holy ; or if the hearts of men did not reluctate, 
 were easily receptive of its impressions; our work were as 
 soon done as such a doctrine were nakedly proposed : but 
 the state of the case in these respects is known and evident. 
 The tenour and aspect of gospel truth speaks its end ; and ex- 
 perience too plainly speaks the oppositeness of men's spirits. 
 All therefore we read and hear is lost if it be not urgently 
 applied : the Lord grant it be not then too. Therefore, 
 reader, let thy mind and heart concur in the following im- 
 provement of this doctrine, which will be wholly compre- 
 hended under these two heads, — Inferences of truth, and — 
 Rulesof duty, — that are consequent and connatural thereto. 
 
 1. Inferences of truth deducible from it. 
 
 1. Infer. True blessedness consists not in any sensual 
 enjovment. The blessedness of a man can be but one ; 
 most only one. He can have but one highest and best 
 good. And its proper character is, that it finally satisfies 
 and gives rest to his spirit. This the face and likeness of 
 God doth ; his glory beheld and participated. Here then 
 alone his full blessedness must be understood to lie. 
 Therefore as this might many other ways be evinced to be 
 true ; so it evidently appears to be the proper issue of the 
 present truth, and is plainly proved by it. But, alas! it 
 needs a great deal more to be pressed than proved. O that 
 it were but as much considered as it is known ! The ex- 
 perience of almost six thousand years, hath (one would 
 think sufficiently) testified the incompetency of every 
 worldly thing to make men happy ; that the present plea- 
 sing of our senses, and the gratification of our animal part, 
 is not blessedness; that men are still left unsatisfied not- 
 withstanding. But the practice and course of the world 
 are such, as if this were some late and rare experiment; 
 which (for curiosity) every one must be trying over again. 
 Every age renews the inquiry after an earthly felicity: the 
 design is entailed, (as the Spanish designs are said to be.) 
 and reinforced with as great a confidence and vigour from 
 age to age, as if none had been baffled or defeated in it be- 
 fore ; or that they were very likely to take at last. Had this 
 been the alone folly of the first age, it had admitted some 
 excuse ; but that the world should still be cheated by the 
 same so oft repeated impostures, presents us with a sad 
 prospect of the deplorable state of mankind.*^ This their 
 
 d 'Erf( Kai ra -zpojiaTa, ov xoprov (pepov-a rots ^oipcoty crriSttKytvei iro- 
 aovt<payti\ aXXa Tr)v vopr)vta(j) irtxl/avra. tpiov e^co (pfoci >cat y a\a icat ov 
 TOivvv,pri ruxcoK pttpara rati tStioratf iiriSeiKici'r, oAXaar' avrtoy rr^ 
 9fvr<ov Til fP) ''. Epictot. 
 
 e P.-atm xlix.
 
 THE BLESSEDNESS OF THE RIGHTEOUS. 
 
 Chap. XI. 
 
 way is their folly, yet their posterity approve, &c. The 
 wearied wits and wasted estates, laid out upon the philo- 
 sopher's stone, aflbrd hut a faint, defective representation 
 of this case. What chemistry can extract heaven out of a 
 clod of clay 1 What art can make blessedness spring and 
 grow out of this cold earth 1 If all created nature be vexed 
 and tortured never so long, who can expect this elixir 1 
 Yet after so many frustrated attempts, so much time and 
 strength and labour lost, men are still as eagerly and vain- 
 ly busy as ever ; are perpetually tossed by unsatisfied de- 
 sires, labouring in the fire, wearying themselves for very 
 vanity, distracted by the uncertain, and often contrary, mo- 
 tions of a ravenous appetite, and a blind mind, that would 
 be happy and knows not how. With what sounding 
 bowels, with what compassionate tears, should the state of 
 mankind be lamented by all that understand the worth of 
 a soul ! What serious heart doth not melt and bleed for 
 miserable men, that are (through a just nemesisf) so per- 
 petually mocked with shadows, cheated with false dehi- 
 sive appearances, infatuated and betrayed by their own 
 senses. They walk but in a vain show, disquieting them- 
 selves in vain ; their days flee away as a shadow, their 
 strength is only labour and sorrow ; while they rise up 
 early and lie down late, to seek rest in trouble, and life in 
 death. They run away fromblessedness while they pretend 
 to pursue it, and suflTer themselves to be led down without 
 regret to perdition, "as an ox to the slaughter, and a fool 
 to the correction of the stocks, till a dart strikes through 
 their liver:" descend patiently to the chambers of death, 
 not so much as once thinking, whither are we going ? 
 dream of nothing but an earthly paradise, till they find 
 themselves amidst the infernal regions. 
 
 2. Infer. The spirit of man, inasmuch as 'tis capable of 
 such a blessedness, appears an excellent creature.' Its na- 
 tural capacity is supposed; for the Psalmist speaks of his 
 own numerical person, the same that then writ ; I shall be- 
 hold; shall be satisfied : take away this supposiium, and it 
 could not be so said : or as in Job's w^ords ; I shall behold 
 him, and not another for me ; it would certainly be another, 
 not the same. Judge hence the excellency of a human soul 
 (the principal subject of this blessedness) without addition 
 of any new natural powers ; 'tis capable of the vision of 
 God ; of partaking unto satisfaction the Divine likeness. 
 And is not that an excellent creature, that is capable not 
 only of surveying the creation of God, passing through the 
 several ranks and orders of created beings ; but of ascend- 
 ing to the Being of beings, of contemplating the Divine 
 excellencies, of beholding the bright and glorious face of 
 the blessed God himself; till it have looked itself into his 
 very likeness, and have his entire imagcinwrought into it. 
 The dignity then of the spirit of man is not to be estimated 
 by the circumstances of its present state, as 'tis here clad 
 with a sordid flesh, inwrapped in darkness, and grovelling 
 in the dust of the earth : but consider the improvableness 
 of its natural powers and faculties ; the high perfections it 
 may attain, and the foundations of how glorious a state 
 are laid in its very nature. And then who can tell, whe- 
 ther its possible advancement is more to be admired, or its 
 present calamity deplored. Might this consideration be 
 permitted to settle and fix itself in the hearts of men ; could 
 any thing be so grievous to them, as their so vast distance 
 from such an attainable blessedness ; or any thing be so in- 
 dustriously avoided, so earnestly abhorred, as that viler 
 dejection and abasement of themselves : when they are so 
 low already by Divine disposition, to descend lower by 
 their own wickedness ; when they are already fallen as 
 low as earth, to precipitate themselves a.s low as hell. How 
 generous a disdain should that thought raise in men's spi- 
 rits, of that vile servitude to which they have subjected 
 themselves, a servitude to brutal lusts, to sensual inclina- 
 tions and desires; as if the highest happiness they did pro- 
 ject to themselves were the satisfaction of these 1 Would 
 
 f Ira Dei r^t ista vita niortalis, ubi homo vanifati similis factu.s est, et dies 
 ejus voliit iHiilira iira>tereiint, &c Auiz ilc Tiv Oil, 1 •i'i c. 24. 
 
 p Nut thai thi^^ lilt'ssedness can beattairicill)v incri' liiirnan iTuIi^avours. (more 
 whfroor.ji'r uiiiliT the next inference.) b' it Ihrrr is aiiiiicliiiatioii. a certain pon 
 dimnaturiE, (as .some school-men speali,) by which it propcnds towards it ; 
 or Iliore is the radix, or fundamrnf inn. or capncitas, (as some others,) f. e. 
 that it not only may receive it ; but that it may be elevated by grace, actively 
 to concur, by its natural powers, as \ital principles towards the attainment of 
 it, according to t!iat known saying of Saint Augustine Posse credere natnne 
 est hominis, i-c. 
 
 they not with an heroic scorn turn away their eyes from 
 beholding vanity, did they consider their own capacity of 
 beholding the Divine glory ? could they satisfy themselves 
 to become b like the beasts that perish, did they think of 
 being satisfied with the likeness of God 1 And who can 
 conceive unto what degree this aggravates the sin of man, 
 that he so little minds (as it will their misery, that shall 
 fall short of) this blessedness ! They had spirits capable of 
 it. Consider, thou sensual man, whose happiness lies in 
 colours, and tastes, and sounds, (as the moralist ingeniously 
 speaks,) that herdest thyself with brute creatures, and aim- 
 est no higher than they ; as little lookest up, and art as 
 much a stranger to the thoughts and desires of heaven : thy 
 creation did not set thee so low ; they are where they were ; 
 but thou art fallen from thy excellency. God did not make 
 thee a brute creature, but thou thyself Thou hast yet a 
 spirit about thee, that might understand its own original, 
 and alliance to the Father of spirits ; that hath a designa- 
 tion in its nature to higher converses and employments. 
 Many myriads of such spirits, of no higher original excel- 
 lency than thy own, are now in the presence of the highest 
 Majest}'^ ; are piying into the Eternal glory, contemplating 
 the perfections of the Divine nature, beholding the un- 
 vailed face of God, which transfuses upon them its own 
 satisfying likeness. Thou art not so low-born, but thou 
 mightest attain this state also. That sovereign Lord and 
 Author of all things calls thee to it ; his goodness invites 
 thee, his authority enjoins thee, to turn thy thoughts and 
 designs this way. Fear not to be thought immodest or pre- 
 sumptuous: ''tis but a dutiful ambition ; an obedient a.s- 
 piring. Thou art under a law to be thus happy ; nor doth 
 it bind thee to any natural impossibility ; it designs instruc- 
 tions to thee, not delusion; guidance, not mockery. When 
 thou art required to apply and turn thy soul to this blessed- 
 ness, 'tis not the same thing as if thou wert bidden to re- 
 move a mountain, to pluck down a star, or create a world. 
 Thou art here put upon nothing but what is agreeable to 
 the primeval nature of man ; and thorigh it be to a vast 
 height, thou must ascend: 'tis by so easy and familiar me- 
 thods, by so apt gradations, that thou will be sensible of no 
 violence done to thy nature in all thy wa}'. Do but make 
 some trials with thyself; thou wilt soon find nothing is the 
 hinderance but an nnwilling heart. Try however (which 
 will suffice to let thee discern thy own capacity, and will 
 be a likely means to make thee willing) how far thou canst 
 understand and trace the way (complying with it at least 
 as reasonable) that leads to this blesseilness. Retire a little 
 into thyself; forget awhile thy relation to this sensible 
 world ; summon in thy self-reflecting and considering pow- 
 ers : thou wilt presently perceive thou art not already hap- 
 py, thou art in some part unsatisfied ; and thence wilt easily 
 tinderstand, inasmuch as thou art not happy in thyself, 
 that it must be something, as yet without thee, must make 
 thee so : and nothing can make thee happy, but what is 
 in that respect better than thyself; or hath some perfection 
 in it, which thou findesl wanting in thyself A little fur- 
 ther discourse or reasoning with thyself, will easily per- 
 suade thee, thou ha.st something better about thee than that 
 luggage of flesh thou goest with to and fro ; for thou well 
 Imowest, thatk is not capable of reason and discourse : and 
 that the power of doing so is a higher perfection than any 
 thou canst entitle it to; and that therefore, besides thy 
 bulky, material part, thou must have such a thing as a spi- 
 rit or soul belonging to thee, to which that, and thy other 
 perfections, not compatible to gross matter, may agree. 
 Thou wilt readily assent, that thou canst never be happy, 
 while thy better and more noble part is unsatisfied; and 
 that it can only be satisfied with something suitable and 
 connatural to it. That therefore thy happiness must lie in 
 something more excellent than this material or sensible 
 world, otherwise it cannot be grateful and suitable to thy 
 soul, yea, in something that may be better, and more ex- 
 
 h Volnptas honnm pecoris est Hunc tu (non dico infer viros scd) inter ho- 
 mines numeia-s? cuius siimmum bonum saporibus, ac coloribus, ac sonis con- 
 stat? cxcedat ex hoc animalium nnmoro pulcberrimo, ac diis secundo ; mutis 
 ag^cgetur animal pabiilo natiim. Sen. Ep. 92. 
 
 i Hie Deos aequat, illo tendit, originis suae meraor. Nemo, improlx", eo co- 
 natur asccndere unde descenderat — socii eis sumus et membra, &c. Sen. Ep. 
 92. 
 
 k \oytt7^o^ ?iZKatvov^^oVK£Ti raxna (Toypari St^byatp nvra^Kat •yapep')OV 
 auriJi'OD (!i upyavoiv TtXttrat ron ooiiiaTOi Cfino^iov yap tovto, £»rif avro) 
 ev rati (TKCif/cat npoxpMTo. Plotin. Ennead. 4. lib. 3.
 
 Chap. XII. 
 
 THE BLESSEDNESS OF THE RIGHTEOUS. 
 
 227 
 
 cellent than thy soul itself, otherwise how can it better and 
 perfect that.i As thou canst not but acknowledge thy 
 soul to be spiritual and immaterial, so if thou attend ihou 
 wilt soon see cause to acknowledge a spiritual or immate- 
 rial being, better and more perfect than thy own soul. For 
 its perfections were not self-originate, they were therefore 
 derived from something, for that reason confessedly more 
 excellent ; whence at last also thou wilt find it unavoidably 
 imposed upon thee, to apprehend and adore a Being abso- 
 lutely perfect, and than which there cannot be a more 
 perfect; the first subject and common fountain of all per- 
 fections, which hath them underived in himself, and can 
 derive them unio inferior created beings.™ Upon this eter- 
 nal and self-essential Being, the infinitely lilessed God, 
 thou necessarily dependest, and owest therefore constant 
 subjection and obedience to him. Thou hast indeed of- 
 fended him, and art thereby cut off" from all interest in 
 him, and intercourse with him ; but he hath proclaimed in 
 his gospel, his willingness to be reconciled, and that through 
 the sutferings, righteousness, and intercession of his only- 
 begotten Son, thy merciful Redeemer, the way is open for 
 th)-^ restitution and recovery ; that thou mayst partake from 
 him whatever perfection is wanting to thy blessedness. 
 Nothing is required from thee in order hereunto, but that, 
 relying on and submitting to thy Redeemer's gracious con- 
 duct, thou turn thy mind and heart towards thy God, to 
 know him, and conform to him; to view aad imitate the 
 Divine perfections; the faithful endeavour and inchoation 
 whereof, will have this issue and reward, the clear vision 
 and full participation of them. So that the way and work 
 differ not, in natttre and kind, from thy end and reward; 
 thy duty from thy blessedness. Nor are either repugnant 
 to the natural constitution of thy own soul. What violence 
 is there done to reasonable nature in all this 1 or what can 
 hinder thee herein, but a most culpably averse and wicked 
 heart 1 Did thy reason ever turn off thy soul from God 1 
 was it not thj' corruption only 1 What vile images dost 
 thou receive from earthly objects, which deform thy soul, 
 while thou industriously avertest thy Maker's likeness 
 that would perfect it ! How full is thy mind and heart of 
 vanity! how empty of God! Were this through natural 
 incapacity, thou wert an innocent creature; it were thj^ 
 infelicity, (negative I mean,) not thy crime; and must be 
 resolved into the sovereign will of thy Creator, not thy own 
 disobedient will. But when this shall appear the true 
 state of thy case, and thou shalt hear it from the mouth 
 of th}^ Judge, " Thou didst not like to retain me in thy 
 knowledge or love; thou hadst reason and will to use 
 about meaner objects, but none for me; thou couldst 
 sometimes have spared me a glance, a cast of thine eye at 
 least, when thou didst rather choose it should be in the 
 ends of the earth : a thought of me had cost thee as little, 
 might as soon have been thought, as of this or that vanity; 
 but thy heart was not with me. I banish thee, therefore, 
 that presence which thou never lovedst. I deny thee the 
 vision thou didst always shun, and the impression of my 
 likeness which thou didst ever hate. I eternally abandon 
 thee to the darkness and deformities which were ever 
 grateful to thee. Thine is a self-created hell ; the fruit of 
 thy own choice ; no invitations or persuasions of mine 
 could keep thee from it." How wilt thou excuse thy fault, 
 or avert thy doom! what arguments or apologies shall 
 defend thy cause against these pleadings 1 Naj'', what ar- 
 mour shall defend thy soul against its ow^n wounding 
 self-reflections hereupon 1 when every thought shall be a 
 dart ; and a convicted conscience an ever-gnawing worm, 
 a fiery serpent with endless involutions ever winding about 
 thy heart 1 
 
 It will now be sadly thought on, how often thou sawest 
 thy way and declinedst it ; knewest thy duty and didst waive 
 it ; vmderstoodest thy interest and didst slight it ; appro- 
 vedst the things that were more excellent, and didst re- 
 ject them. How often thou didst prevaricate with thy 
 light, and run counter to thine own eyes; while things, 
 
 1 SicHt non est ac ame, spd super campm, ouod camem facit vivere : sic non 
 est ab homme. «ed super hominem, quod hominem, facit beate vivere. D. Aug. 
 de CiWt. Dei. lib. 19. c. 25. 
 
 m Ut in ordine causanim efficientium, ita et in gradibus \irtutis et perfec- 
 tioni?. non datur proereAsus in infinitmii : sed oportet sit aliqua prima et Fumma 
 perfpciio: Pet. Molin de cocniiione Dei. Not to insist upon wlmt hath been 
 much urged by learned men of farmer and latter (yea, and of the prvicir) 
 
 confessedly most worthy of thy thoughts and pursuits, 
 were overlooked, and empty shadows eagerly pursued. 
 Thy own heart will now feelingly tell thee, ii was not want 
 of capacity, but inclination, that cut thee off" from blessed- 
 ness. Thou wilt now bethink th5'.self, that when life and 
 immortality were brought to light before thy eyes in the 
 gospel, and thou wast told of this future blessedness of the 
 saints, and pressed to follow holiness, as without which 
 thou couldst not see God ; it was a rea.sonable man was 
 .spoken to, that had a power to understand, and judge, and 
 choose ; not a stone or a brute. Thy capacity of this 
 blessedness makes thee capable also of the most exquisite 
 torment; and reflected on, actually infers it. How pas- 
 sionately, but vainly, wilt thou then cry out, "O that I 
 had filled up the place of any the meanest creature through- 
 out the whole creation of God, that I had been a gnat, or 
 a fly, or had never been, rather than to have so noble, 
 abused powers eternally to reckon for ! Yea, and thou 
 must reckon for not only the actual light and good impres- 
 sions thou hadst, but even all thou wast capable of and 
 mightest have attained. Thou shalt now recount with an- 
 guish and horror (and rend thy own soul with the thoughts) 
 what thou mightest now have been ; how excellent and 
 glorious a creature ! hadst thou not contrived thy own 
 misery, and conspired with the devil again.st thyself, how 
 to deform and destroy thy own soul. While this remem- 
 brance shall always afresh ret urn, that nothing was enjoined 
 thee as a duty, or" propounded as thy blessedness, but what 
 thou wast made capable of; and that it was not fatal ne- 
 cessity, but a walful choice, made thee miserable. 
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 Inference 3. That a change of heart is necessary to this blessedness. The 
 pretences of ungodly men, whereby they would avoid the necessity of thia 
 change Five considerations proposed in order to the delecting the vanity 
 of such pretences. A particidar discussion and refutation ol those pre- 
 tences. 
 
 3. 'Tis a mighty change must pass upon the souls of 
 men in order to their enjoyment of this blessedness. This 
 equally follows from the consideration of the nature and 
 substantial parts of it, as of the qualifying righteousness 
 pre-required to it. A little reflection upon the common 
 state and temper of men's spirits, will soon enforce an 
 acknowledgment that the vision of God, and conformity 
 to him, are things above their reach, and which they are 
 never likely to take satisfaction in, or at all to savour, 
 till they become otherwise disposed than before the reno- 
 vating change thev are. The text expresses no more in 
 stating the qualified subject of this blessedness in rigUe- 
 ousnfus, than it evidently implies in the account it gives of 
 this blessedness itself, that it lies in seeing God. and being 
 satisfied with his likeness. As soon as it is considered, 
 that the blessedness of souls is stated here, what can be a 
 more obvious reflection than this ; Lord, then how great 
 a change must they undergo ! What, such souls he blessed 
 in seeing and partaking the divine likeness, that never 
 loved it ! were so much his enemies! 'Tis true they are 
 naturally capable of it, which speaks their original excel- 
 lency ; but they are morally uncapable, i e. indisposed and 
 averse, whichas truly, and most sadly speaks, their present 
 vileness; and the sordid, abject temper they now are of. 
 They are destitute of no natural powers necessary to the 
 attainment of this blessedness; but in the mean time have 
 them so" depraved by impure and vicious tinctures, that 
 they cannot relish it," or the means to it. They have rea- 
 sonable souls, furnished with intellective and elective fa- 
 culties, but labouring under a manifold distemper and dis- 
 affection ; that theyb cannot receive, they cannot savour, 
 the things of God, or what is spiritual. They want the 
 ti'^ea'ta. (as we express it,) the well-disposedncss for 
 the kingdom of Gfod, intimated Luke ix. 62. the 'iKavorin, 
 
 time.— that whossoever denies the existence of an absolute perfect being, con- 
 tradicts himself in the denial, inasmucli as necessity of existence is included 
 in tlie very suliiecl of the ne^tion, — some accounting it sophism, and it beiop 
 uiiso!i.<onal)le here to discuss it. j • e, 
 
 a Capa.\ est noster animus, pcrfortiir illo, si \itui non depnmant Sen. 
 Ei'ist. 9-2. 
 
 b I Cor. ii. 14. Rom.- viii. 5.
 
 228 
 
 THE BLESSEDNESS OF THE RIGHTEOUS. 
 
 Chap. XII, 
 
 the meetness, the aptitude, or idoneity for the inheritance 
 of the saints in light, Col. i. 12. 
 
 A settled aversion from God hath fastened its roots in 
 the very spirits of their minds ; (for that is stated <= as the 
 prime subject of the change to be made ;) and how can they 
 take pleasure in the vision and participation of his glory 1 
 Whereas by beholding the glory of the Lord, they should 
 be changed into the same image; a veil is upon the heart 
 till it turn to the Lord, as was said concerning the Jews, 
 2 Cor. iii. 11. The God of this world hath blinded their 
 minds, lest (that transforming light) the light of the glo- 
 rious gospel of Christ, who is the image of God, should 
 shine unto them, chap. iv. 4. They are alienated d from 
 the life of God, through their ignorance and blindness of 
 heart. The life they choose is to be liOeot h Kdafios, atheists, 
 or « without God in the world. They like not to retain 
 God in their knowledge, are willingly ignorant of him, say 
 to him, " Depart from us, we desire not the knowledge of 
 thy ways." The Lord looks down from heaven upon the 
 children of men, to see if any will understand, if any will 
 seek after God ; and the result of the inquiry is, there is 
 none that doth good, no not one. They are f haters of God, 
 as our Saviour accused the Jews, and Saint Paul the Gen- 
 tiles;' are lovers of pleasure more than lovers of God. 
 Their understandings are dark, their minds vain, their 
 wills obstinate, their consciences seared, their hearts hard 
 and dead, their lives one continued rebellion against God 
 and a defiance to heaven. At how vast a distance are 
 such souls from such blessedness ! The notion and nature 
 of blessedness must sure be changed, or the temper of 
 their spirits. Either they must have new hearts created, 
 or a new heaven, if ever they be happy. And such is the 
 stupid dotage of vain man, he can more easily persuade 
 himself to belie\ ?, that the sun itself should be transformed 
 into a dunghill, that the holy God should lay aside his 
 nature, and turn heaven into a place of impure darkness ; 
 than that he himself should need to undergo a change. O 
 the powerful infatuation of self-love, that men in the gall 
 of bitterness should think 'tis well with their spirits, and 
 fancy themselves in a case good enough to enjoy divine 
 pleasure ; that (as the toad's venom offends not itself) their 
 loathsome wickedness, which all good men detest, is a 
 pleasure to them; and while 'tis as the poison of asps 
 under their lips, they roll it as a dainty bit, revolve it in 
 their thoughts with delight ! Their wickedness speaks 
 itself out to the very hearts h of others, while it never alTects 
 their own; and is foimd out to be hateful, while they still 
 continue flattering themselves. And because they are 
 without spot in their own eyes; they adventure so high, 
 as to presume themselves so in the pure eyes of God too ; 
 and instead of designing to be like God, they already ima- 
 gine him i such a one as themselves. Hence their allot- 
 ment of time (in the whole of it, the Lord knows, little 
 enough) for the working out of their salvation spends apace ; 
 while tney do not so much as imderstand their business. 
 Their measured hour is almost out ; an immense eternity 
 is coming on upon them ; and lo ! they stand as men that 
 cannot find their hands. Urge them to the speedy, serious 
 endeavour of a heart-change, earnestly to intend the busi- 
 ness of regeneration, of becoming new creatures; they seem 
 to understand it as little as if they were spoken to in an 
 unknown tongue ; and are in the like posture with the 
 confounded builders of Babel, they know not what we 
 mean, or would put them upon. They wonder what we 
 would have them do. " They are (say they) orthodox 
 Christians: they believe all the articles of the Christian 
 creed : they detest all heresy and false doctrine : they are 
 no strangers to the house of God ; but diligently attend 
 the enjoined solemnities of public worship : some possibly 
 can say, they are sober, just, charitable, peaceable; and 
 others that can boast less of their virtues, yet say, they are 
 sorry for their sins, and pray God to forgive them." And 
 if we urge them concerning their translation from the state 
 of nature to that of grace, their becoming new creatures, 
 their implantation into Christ : they say they have been 
 baptized, and therein regenerate, and what would we have 
 morel 
 
 c Epli. iv 23. 
 c Cnnp ii. VI. 
 f John XV. 
 
 d EpH. IV. I^. 
 .2^. 2Pei. Ui. Jobxxi. 14. PsaJ. liii. 
 g Rom. i. h Psal. xx\i. 1, 2. 
 
 But to how little purpose is it to equivocate with God ! 
 to go about to put a fallacy upon the Judge of spirits ! or 
 escape the animadversion of his fiery flaming eye ! or 
 elude his determinations, and pervert the true intent and 
 meaning of his most established constitutions and laws ! 
 Darest thou venture thy soul upon if? that this is all God 
 means, by k having a new heart created, a right spirit 
 renewed in us : by being made God's i workmanship, 
 created in Christ Jesus unto good works; bym becoming 
 new creatures, old things being done away, all things made 
 new ; by n so learning the truth as it is in Jesus, to the put- 
 ting off the old man, and putting on the new which after 
 God is created in righteousness and true holiness; by" 
 being begotten of God's own will by the word of truth, to 
 be (the dnapx<^) the chief excellency, the prime glory, (as 
 certainly his new creature is his best creature,) the first- 
 fruits, or the devoted part of all his creatures ; by p having 
 Christ formed in us; by partaking the Divine nature, the 
 incorruptible .seed, the seed of God; by being born of God, 
 spirit of Spirit, as of earthly parents we are born flesh of 
 flesh. When my eternal blessedness lies upon it, had I 
 not need to be sure that I hit the true meaning of these 
 scriptures'? especially, that at least I fall not below it, and 
 rest not in any thing short of what Scripture makes indis- 
 pensably necessary to my entering into the kingdom of 
 God "? I professedly wave controversies ; and 'tis pity so 
 practical a business as this I am now upon, and upon which 
 salvation so much depends, should ever have been encum- 
 bered with any controversy. And therefore, though 1 shall 
 not digress so far, as to undertake a particular and distinct 
 handling here of this work of God upon the soul, yet I 
 shall propound something in general, touching the change 
 necessarily previous to this blessedness, (wherein that 
 necessity is evidenceable from the nature of this blessed- 
 ness which is the business I have in hand,) that I hope 
 will pass among Christians for acknowledged truth, not 
 liable to dispute, though the Lord knows it he little con- 
 sidered. My design being rather to awaken souls to the 
 consideration of known and agreed things, than to perplex 
 them about unknown. Consider therefore: 
 
 First, That the Holy Scriptures, in the forementioned 
 and other like passages, do plainly hold forth the necessity of 
 a real change to be made in the temper and dispositions of 
 the soul : and not a relative only, respecting its state. This 
 cannot be doubted by any that acknowledge a real inherent 
 depravation, propagated in the nature of man. No, nor 
 denied by them that grant such a corruption to be general 
 and continued among men ; whether by imitation only, or 
 what way soever. And willing I am to meet men upon 
 their owii principles and concessions, however erroneous 
 or short of the truth they may be, while ihey are yet im- 
 provable to their own advantage. Admit that regeneration 
 or the new-birth includes a change of our relation and state 
 God ward ; doth it therefore exclude an intrinsic, subjective 
 change of the inclinations and tendencies of the soul 1 And 
 if it did, yet other terms are more peculiarly appropriate 
 to, and mo.st expressly point out, this very change alone ; as 
 that of conversion, or of turning to God ; of being renewed 
 in the spirit of the mind ; of putting off the old man that 
 is corrupt by, &c. and putting on the new man, which is 
 created in righteousness andtrueholiness,&c. of partaking 
 the Divine nature. It matters not if this or that ex- 
 pression be understood by some, more principally in 
 another sense, the thing itself, of which we speak, is as 
 clearly expressed, and as urgently pressed, (as there was 
 cause) as any other matter whatsoever throughout the 
 whole book of God. But men are slower of belief, as 
 to this great article of the Christian doctrine, than to 
 most (I might say any) other. This truth more directly 
 assaults the strong holds of the devil in the hearts of men, 
 and is ofmore immediate tendency to subvert his kingdom; 
 therefore they are most unwilling to have it true, and most 
 hardly believe it. Here they are so madly bold, as to give 
 the lie to all divine revelations ; and though they are never 
 so plainly told without holiness none shall see God, they 
 will yet maintain the contrary belief and hope, till " Go, ye 
 cursed," vindicate the truth of God, and the flame of hell 
 
 i Psal 1. k P.sal. Ii. 
 
 m 2 Tor. V. 17. n Eph. iv. 23, 24. 
 
 p Gal. iv. 19. 2 Pet. i. 1. 1 Pet. i. Joto iii. S. 
 
 1 Eph 
 
 o Jam. i. 18.
 
 Chap. XII. 
 
 THE BLESSEDNESS OF THE RIGHTEOUS. 
 
 229 
 
 be their eternal confutation. Lord I that so plain a thing 
 will not enter into the hearts of men ; that so urgent incul- 
 cations will not yet make them apprehend that their souls 
 must be renewed oi" perish! that they will still go dream- 
 ing on with that mad conceit, that (whatever the word of 
 God says to the contrary) they may yet with unsanctified 
 hearts get to heaven ! How deplorable is the case, when 
 men have no other hope left them, but that the God of 
 truth will prove false, and belie his word ; yea, and over- 
 turn the nature of things to save them in their sins ! Thou 
 that livest imder the gospel, hast thou any pretence for 
 thy seeming ignorance in this matter 1 couldst thou ever 
 look one quarter of an hour into the Bible, and not meet 
 with some intimation of this truth? What was the ground 
 of thy mistake 1 What hath beguiled thee into so mischiev- 
 ous a delusion"? How could such an imagination have 
 place in thy soul : that a child of wrath by nature could 
 become a child of God without receiving a new nature ; 
 that so vast a change could be made in thy stale, without 
 any at all in the temper of thy spirit. 
 
 Secondly, Consider, that this change is in its own nature, 
 and the design of God who works it, dispositive of the soul 
 for blessedness.' Tis sufficiently evident from the consider- 
 ation of the state itself of the unrenewed soul, that a change 
 is necessary for this end ; such a soul in which it is not 
 wrought, when once its drowsy, stupifying slumber is 
 shaken off, and its reflecting power awakened, must needs 
 be a perpetual torment to itself. So far it is removed from 
 blessedness, it is its own hell, and can fly from misery and 
 death no faster than from itself Blessedness composes 
 the soul, reduces it to a consistency ; it infers, or rather is, 
 a self-satisfaction, a well-pleasedness and contentment 
 with one's self, enriched and filled with the Divine ful- 
 ness. Hence 'tis i at rest, not as being pent in, but content- 
 edly dwelling with itself, and keeping within its own 
 bounds of its o^vn accord. The unrenewed soul can no more 
 contain itself within its own terms or limits, is as little self- 
 consistent, as a raging flame, or an impetuous tempest. In- 
 deed its own lusts perpetually, as so man}' vultures, rend and 
 tear it ; and the more when they want external objects : then 
 as hunger, their fury is all turned inward ; and they prey 
 upon intestines, upon their own subject ; but unto endless 
 torment, not satisfaction. In what posture is this soul for 
 rest and blessedness 1 The nature of this change sufficiently 
 speaksitsown design. 'Tis an introduction of the^jriraor^^m, 
 the very principles, of blessedness. And Scripture as plainly 
 speaks the design of God -j He regenerates to the unde- 
 filed inheritance ; makes meet for it ; works, forms, or 
 fashions the soul unto that self-same thing, viz. to desire 
 and groan after that blessed state ; and consequently to 
 acquiesce and rest therein. Therefore, vain man, that 
 dreamest of being happy without undergoing such a change ; 
 how art thou trying thy skill to abstract a thing from itself! 
 for the pre-required righteousness whereunto thou must be 
 changed, and this blessedness, are in kind and nature the 
 same thing, as much as a child and a man. Thou pretend- 
 est thou wouldst have that perfected which thou canst not 
 endure should ever be begun ; thou settest thyself to pre- 
 vent and suppress what, in its own nature, and by divine 
 ordination, tends to the accomplishment of thy own pre- 
 tended desires. Thou wouldst have the tree without ever 
 admitting the seed or pl-ant: thou wouldst have heat, and 
 canst not endure the least warmth : so besotted a thing is 
 a carnal heart ! 
 
 Thirdly, That inasmuch as this blessedness consists in 
 the satisfactory sight and participation of God's own like- 
 ness, unto wham the soul is habitually averse, this change 
 must chiefly stand in its becoming holy or godly, or in the 
 alteration o£ its dispositions and inclinations as to God. 
 Otherwise the design and end of it is not attained. We 
 are required to follow peace with all men, (but here the 
 accent is put,) and holincxs, without which no man shall 
 see God, Heb. xii. 14. 'Tis therefore a vain thing, in re- 
 ference to what we have now under consideration, viz. the 
 possibility of attaining this blessedness, to speak of any 
 other changes that fall short of, or are of another kind from, 
 the right disposition of heart Godward. This change we 
 are now considering, is no other than the proper adequate 
 
 rlPer. i. 3, 4. 2Cor. V. «. Col. i. 12. 
 
 19 
 
 impress of the gospel di.scovery upon men's spirits, as we 
 have largely shown the righteousness is, in which it termi- 
 nates. The sum of that discovery is, that God is in Christ 
 reconciling the world unto himself,* the proper import of 
 it, therefore, is the actual reconciliation of the soul to God 
 through Christ; a friendly well-affected posture of spirit 
 towards God, our last end and highest good ; and towards 
 Christ, our only way, since the apostacy, of attaining and 
 enjoying it. To rest therefore in any other good disposi- 
 tions or endowments of mind, is as much besides the bu- 
 siness, as impertinent to the present purpose, a.s if one de- 
 signed to the government of a city, should satisfy himself 
 that he hath the skill to play well on a lute, or he that 
 intends physic, that he is well seen in architecture. The 
 general scope and tenour of the gospel tells thee, O man, 
 plainly enough, what the busines-s is thou must intend (if 
 thou wilfully overlook it not) in order to thy blessedne.s.s 
 'Tis wriuen to draw thee into' fellowship with the Father 
 and the Son, that thy joy may be full. It aims at the 
 bringing of thee into a state of blessedness in God through 
 Christ; and is therefore the instrument by which God 
 would form thy heart thereto ; the seal by which to make 
 the first impression of his image upon thee, which will 
 then as steadily incline and determine thy soul towards 
 him, as the magnetic touch a.scertains the posture of the 
 needle. Wherefore doth he there discover his own heart, 
 but to melt, and win, and transform thine ? The word of 
 grace is the seed of the new creature. Through the ex- 
 ceeding great and precious promises, he makes souls par- 
 take of the Divine nature. Grace is, firstly, revealed la 
 teach the denial of ungodliness, &c. Turn thy thoughts 
 hither then, and consider what is there done upon thy 
 soul by the gospel to attemper and conform it to God 1 
 Wherein has thy heart answered this its visible design and 
 intendment 1 Thou art but in a delirious dream till thou 
 seriously bethinkest thyself of this. For otherwise how 
 can the aversion of thy heart from him escape thy daily 
 observation 1 Thou canst not be without evidences of it. 
 What pleasure dost thou take in retirmg thyself with God ; 
 what care to redeem time only for converse with him 1 
 hadst thou not rather be any where elsel In a lime of 
 vacancy from business and company, when thou hast so 
 great a variety of things before thee, among which to choose 
 an object for 'thy thoughts, do they not naturally fall upon 
 any thing rather than God 1 Nor do thou think to shift 
 ofi" this by assigning the mere natural cause; for if there 
 were not somewhat more in the matter, why is it noi so 
 with all ? He upon whom this change had passed could 
 say," My soul shall be satisfied as with marrow and fat- 
 ness; and my mouth shall praise thee with joyful lips, 
 when I remeriiber thee upon my bed, and meditate on thee 
 in the night-watches.'; My meditation of him shall be 
 sweet ; I will he glad in the Lord.y How precious are 
 thy thousfhts unto me, O God ! how great is the sum of 
 them ! If I should count them, they are more in number 
 than the sand ; when I awake, I am still with iliee.^ Yea, 
 in the way of thy judgments, O God, have we wailed for 
 thee; the'desire of our soul is to thy name, and to the re- 
 membrance of thee. With my soul have I desired thee in 
 the night, yea, with my spirit "within me will I seek thee 
 earlv, &c. "Therefore plain it is, there is a sinful distemper 
 to be wrought out, an ungodly disposition of heart, which 
 it concerns thee not to rest till thou see removed. 
 
 Fourihlv, Consider, that to become godly, or this change 
 of inclinations and dispositions towards God, is that which 
 of all other the soul doth most strongly reluctate and 
 strive against ; and which therefore it undergoes Avilh 
 greatest difficulty and regret. 'Tis a horrid and amazing 
 thing it should be so, but Scripture and experience leave 
 it undoubted that so it is. What ! that the highest excel- 
 lency, the most perfect beauty, loveliness, and love itself, 
 should so little attract a reasonable, spiritual being that 
 issued thence 1 His o\m offspring so unkind ! what more 
 than monstrous unnaturalness is this, so to disafleot one's 
 own original! 'Twere ea^jMo accumulate and heap up 
 considerations that would renderthis aslonishiugly strange. 
 So things are reckoned upon several accounts, either as 
 thev are more rare and unfrequent, (which is the vulgar 
 
 1 1 John i. 1 — t. 
 
 y Psal. cxxxix. 17, 19. 
 
 u Psal. Lviii. B, 6. 
 
 X FsaL civ. 34. 
 : ba. xiri. 1
 
 230 
 
 THE BLESSEDNESS OF THE RIGHTEOUS. 
 
 Chap. XII. 
 
 way of estimating wonders,) or as Iheir causes are of more 
 difficult investigation ; or (if they are moral wonders) as 
 they are more imreasonable or causeless. Upon this last 
 account,'' Christ marvelled at the Jews' unbelief; and so 
 is this hatred justly marvellous; as being t altogether 
 without a cause. But thence to infer there is no such 
 thing, were to dispute against the sun. No truth hath 
 more of light and evidence in it, though none more of ter- 
 ror and prodigy. To how many thousand objects is the 
 mind of man indifferent ; can turn iiself to this or that ; nm 
 with facility all points of the compass, among the whole 
 universe of beings : but assay only to draw it to God, and it 
 recoils ; thoughts and affections revolt, and decline all con- 
 verse with that blessed object ! Towards other objects it 
 freely opens and dilates itself, as under the benign beams 
 of a warm sun: there are placid, complaceutial emotions; 
 amicable, sprightly converses and embraces. Towards 
 God only it is presently contracted and shut up ; life retires, 
 and it becomes as a stone, cold, rigid, and impenetrable: 
 the quite contrary to what is required, (which also those 
 veiy precepts do vainly imply,) 'tis alive to sin,"^ to the 
 world, to vanity ; but crucified, mortified, dead to God and 
 Jesus Christ. 
 
 The natures of many men that are harsh, fierce, and 
 savage, admit of many cultivations and refinings ; and by 
 moral precept, the exercise and improvement of reason, 
 with a severe animadvei'sion and observance of themselves, 
 they become mild, tractable, gentle, meek. The story of 
 the physiognomist's guess at the temper of Socrates is 
 knowTi. But of all other, the disaffected soul is least incli- 
 nable ever to become good-natured towards God, wherein 
 grace or holiness doth consist. Here 'tis most unpersuad- 
 able, never facile to this change. One would have thought 
 no affection should have been so natural, so deeply in- 
 wrought into the spirit of man, as an affection towards the 
 Father of spirits; but here he most of all discovers himself 
 to be without natural affection : surely here is a sad proof, 
 that such affection doth not ascend. The whole duty of 
 man, as to the principle of it, resolves into love. That is 
 the fulfilling of the law. As to its object; the two tables 
 divide it bet ween God and our neighbour ; and accordingly 
 divide that love. Upon those two branches whereof, love 
 to God, and love to our neighbour, hang all the law and 
 the prophets. The wickedness oi^ the world hath killed 
 this love at the very root, and indisposed the nature of 
 man to all exercises of it, either way, whether towards 
 God or his neighbour. It hath not only rendered man 
 unmeet for holy communion with God, but in a great 
 measure for civil society with one another. It hath de- 
 stro3'ed good nature : made men false, envious, barbarous ; 
 turned the world, especially the dark places of the earth, 
 where the light of the gospel shines not, into habitations 
 of cruelty. But who sees not the enmity and disaffection 
 of men's hearts towards God, is the more deeply rooted 
 and less superable evill 
 
 The beloved apostle gives us a plain and sad intimation 
 how the case is, as to this, when he reasons thus ; He that 
 loveth not his brother whom he hath seen, how can he 
 love God whom he hath not seen 1 He argues from the 
 less to the greater ; and this is the ground upon which his 
 argument is built, that the loving of God is a matter of 
 gj-eater difficulty, and from which the spirit of man is more 
 remote, than loving of his neighbour. And he withal in- 
 sinuates an account why it is so, God's remoteness from 
 our sense, which is indeed a cause, but no excuse : it is a 
 peccant, faulty cause. For is our so gross sensuality no 
 sin 1 that nothing should affect our hearts, but what we 
 can see with our eyes 1 as if our sense were the only mea- 
 sure or judge of excellencies. We are not all flesh : what 
 have we done with our souls "? If we cannot see God with 
 our eyes, why do we not with our minds'? at least so much 
 of him we might, as to discern his excellency above all 
 things else. How come our souls to lose their dominion, 
 and to be so slavishly subject to a ruling sense 1 But the 
 reason less concerns our present purpose ; that whereof it 
 is the reason, that implied assertion, that men are in a 
 less disposition to the love of God than their neighbours, 
 
 a Mark vi. s. 
 r P.om vi. 11. 
 e Chap. V. 2. 
 
 b John XV. 25. 
 d I Johii ui. H. 
 
 is the sad truth we are now considering. There are certain 
 homiletical virtues that much adorn and polish the nature 
 of man, urbanit}', fidelity, justice, patience of injuries, com- 
 passion towards the miserable, &c. and indeed without these, 
 the world would break up, and all civil societies disband ; 
 if at least they did not in some degree obtain. But in the 
 mean time men are at the greatest distance imaginable 
 from any disposition to society with God. They have some 
 love for one another, but none for him. And yet it must 
 be remembered, that love to our neighbour, and all the 
 consequent exertions of it, becoming duty by the divine 
 law, ought to be performed as acts of obedience to God, 
 and therefore ought to grow from the stock and root of a 
 divine love ; I mean, love to God. They are otherwise but 
 spurious virtues, bastard fruits, (men gather not grapes of 
 thorns, &c.) they grow from a tree of another kind ; and 
 whatever semblance they may have of the true, they want 
 their constituent form, their life and soul. Though dlove 
 to the brethren is made a character of the regenerate state, 
 of having passed from death to life ; 'tis yet but a more 
 remote, and is itself brought to trial by this higher and 
 more immediate one, and which is more intimately con- 
 natural to the new creature, even the love of God ; «By 
 this we know we love the children of God, when we love 
 God, and keep his commandments. A respect to God 
 f specifies every virtue and duty. Whatever is loved and 
 served, and not in him and for him, {servato or dine finis, as 
 the school phrase is,) becomes an idol; and that love and 
 service is idolatry. And what a discovery is here of dis- 
 affection to God ; that in the exercise of such (the above- 
 mentioned) virtues, one single act shall be torn from itself, 
 from its specifying moral form, only to leave out him. A 
 promise shall be kept, but without any respect to God, 
 for even the promises made to him are broken without any 
 scruple. That which is another's shall be rendered to him; 
 but God shall not be regarded in the business. An alms 
 given, for the Lord's sake left out. That which concerns 
 my neighbour often done, but what concerns God therein, 
 as it were, studiously omitted. This is what he that runs 
 may read, that though the hearts of men are not to one 
 another as they should, they are much more averse to- 
 wards God. 
 
 Men are easier of acquaintance towards one another, 
 they slide insensibly into each other's bosoms ; even the 
 most churlish, morose natures, are wrought upon by as- 
 siduous repeated kindnesses, (gutta cavat lapidem,) &c. as 
 often-falling drops at length wear and work into very 
 stones ; towards God their hearts are more impenetrable 
 than rocks, harder than adamants. He is seeking with 
 some an acquaintance all their days : they live their whole 
 age under the gospel, and yet are never won. They 
 hearken to one another, but are utterly unpersuadable to- 
 wards God ; as the deaf adder that hears not the voice of 
 the charmer, though charming never so wisely. The 
 clearest reason, the most powerful arguments, move them 
 not ; no nor the most insinuative allurements, the sweetest 
 breathings of love : s" Howoften would I have gathered thee, 
 as the hen her chickens under her wings, and ye would not." 
 God draws with the cords of a man, with the bands of love ; 
 but they still perversely keep at an unkind distance. Men 
 use to believe one another, (were there no credit given to 
 each other's words, and some mutual confidence in one ano- 
 ther, there could be no human converse, all must affect soli- 
 tude, and dwell in dens and deserts as wild beasts,) but 
 how incredulous are they of all divine revelations, though 
 testified with never so convincing evidence ! Who hath 
 believed our report ! The word of the eternal God is re- 
 garded (O amazing wickedness) as we would the word of 
 a child or a fool ; no sober, rational man, but his narrations, 
 promises, or threatenings, are more reckoned of Men are 
 more reconcilable to one another when enemies, more 
 constant when friends. How often doth the power of a 
 conquering enemy, and the distress of the conquered, work 
 a submission on this part, and a remission on that. How 
 often are haughty spirits stooped by a series of calamities, 
 and made ductile ; proud arrogants formed, bj'' necessity 
 and misery, into humble supplicants, so as to lie prostrate 
 
 f Proinde Wrtute.s quas sil>i \'idetnr hat)ore, nisi ad Deumretulcrit, etiam iosa 
 ntia suntpotius qnam virtutes. Aug. de Civit. Dei, 1. 19. r. 25. 
 i; Matt, xxiii. 37. See Psal. Ix.vxi. 8—13. Prov. i. »)— w, &c. Hos. jii. 4.
 
 Chap. XII. 
 
 THE BLESSEDNESS OF THE RIGHTEOUS. 
 
 231 
 
 at the feet of a man that may help or hurt them ; while 
 still the same persons retain indomitable unyielding spirits 
 towards God, under their most afflictive pressure. Though 
 his gracious nature and infinite fulness promise the most 
 certain and liberal relief, 'tis the remotest thing from their 
 thoughts to make any address to him. hThey cry because 
 of (he oppression of the mighty, but none says. Where is 
 God my Maker, who giveth songs in the night 1 rather 
 perish under their burthens than look towards God, when 
 his own visible hand is against them, or upon them, and 
 their lives at his mercy; they stand it out to the last 
 breath; and are more hardly humbled than consumed; 
 sooner burn than weep; shrivelled up into ashes sooner 
 than melted into tears; i scorched with great heat, yet re- 
 pent not to give glory to God ; gnaw their tongues for 
 pain, and yet still more disposed to blaspheme than pray 
 or sue for mercy. Dreadful thought ! As to one another 
 reconciliations among men are not impossible or unfre- 
 quent, even of mortal enemies; but they are utterly im- 
 placable towards God ! Yet they often wrong one another: 
 but they cannot pretend God ever did them the least 
 wrong, yea, they have lived by his bounty all their days. 
 They say to God, " Depart from us," yet he filleth their 
 houses with good things. So true is the historian's i< obser- 
 vation, " Hatred is sharpest where most unjust." 
 
 Yea, when there seems at least to have been a recon- 
 ciliation wrought, are treacheries, covenant breakings, 
 revolts, strangeness, so frequent among men towards one 
 another, as from them towards God 1 How inconsistent 
 with friendship is it, according to common estimate, to be 
 always promising, never performing ; upon any or no oc- 
 casion to break off intercourses, by unkind alienations or 
 mutual hostilities ; to be morose, reserved each to other ; 
 to decline or disaffect each other's converse; to shut out 
 one another from their hearts and thoughts. But how 
 common and unregretted are these carriages towards the 
 blessed God ! It were easy to expatiate on this argument, 
 and multiply instances of this greater disaffection. But in 
 a word, what observing person may not see, what serious 
 person would not grieve to see, the barbarous sooner put- 
 ting on civility; the riotous, sobriety; the treacherous, 
 fidelity; the morose, urbanity; the injurious, equity; the 
 churlish and covetous, benignity and charity ; than the un- 
 godly man, piety and sincere devotedness unto God 1 Here 
 is the principal wound and distemper sin hath infected 
 the nature of man with : though he have suffered a uni- 
 versal impairment, he is chiefly prejudiced in regard of his 
 habitude and tendency towards God, and what concerns 
 the duties of the first table. Here the breach is greatest, 
 and here is the greatest need of repair. True it is, an 
 inoffensive, winning deportment towards men, is not 
 without its excellency, and necessity too. And it doth 
 indeed unsufferably reproach Christianity, and unbecome 
 a disciple of Christ; j^ea, it discovers a man not to be 
 led by his Spirit, and so to be none of his; to indulge 
 himself in immoral deportments towards men ; to be un- 
 dutiful towards superiors ; unconversable towards equals ; 
 oppressive towards inferiors ; unjust towards any. Yet is 
 a holy disposition of heart towards God most earnestly 
 and in the first place to be endeavoured, (which will then 
 draw on the rest,) as having in it highest equity and ex- 
 cellency, and being of the most immediate necessity to our 
 blessedness. 
 
 Fifthly, Consider, that there may be some gradual ten- 
 dencies, or fainter essays, towards godliness, that fall short 
 of real godliness, or come not up to that thorough change 
 and determination of heart Godward, that is necessary to 
 blessedness. There maj'' be a returning, but not to the 
 Most High, I and wherein men maybe (as the prophet im- 
 mediately subjoins) like a deceitful bow, not fully bent, that 
 will not reach the mark; they come not home to God. 
 Many may be almost persuaded, and even within reach of 
 heaven, not far from the kingdom of God ; may seek to 
 enter, and not be able ; their hearts being somewhat in- 
 clinable, but more averse ; for they can onlv be unable as 
 they are unwilling. The soul is in no possibility of taking 
 up a complacential rest in God, till it be brought to this, 
 
 h Job xxxv. i Rpv. \\i. 
 
 k Tacitus speaking of the hatred of Tilx'rius und Augiista against Gemiaiii- 
 eus, the causers whereof, saith he, wcro acriorcs, tjuia iniquie. 
 
 to niove toward him spontaneously, and with, as it were, a 
 self-motion. And then is it self-moved towards God, when 
 its preponderating bent is towards him. As a ma.ssy stone 
 that one attempts to displace, if it be heaved at till it pre- 
 ponderate, it then moves out by its own weight; other- 
 wise it reverts, and lies where and as it did before. So 'tis 
 with many men's hearts, all our lifting at them is but the 
 rolling of the returning stone; they are moved, but not re- 
 moved : sometimes they are lifted at in the public ministry 
 of the word; sometimes by a private, sea.sonable admo- 
 nition ; sometimes God makes an affliction his minis- 
 ter ; a danger startles them; a sickness shakes thern ; and 
 they think to change their course: but how soon do they 
 change those thoughts, and are where they were ! What en- 
 lightenings and convictions, what awakenings and terror, 
 what remorses, what purposes, what tastes and reli.shes, 
 do some find in their own hearts, that yet are blasted and 
 come to nothing ! How many miserable abortions after 
 travailing pangs and throes, and fair hopes of a happy birth 
 of the new creature ! Often somewhat is produced that 
 much resembles it, but is not it. No gracious principle but 
 may have its counterfeit in an ungracious heart; whence 
 they deceive not others onh', but themselves, and think verily 
 they are true converts while they are yet in their sins. How 
 many wretched souls, that lie dubiously struggling a long 
 time under the contrary alternate impressions of the gos- 
 pel on the one hand, and the present evil world on the 
 other; and give the day to their own sensual inclinations 
 at last! In some degree,™ escape the corruptions of the 
 world, by the knowledge of our Lord and Saviour Jesus 
 Christ, but are again entangled and overcome, so as their 
 latter end is worse than their beginning. Such a man is 
 so far from being advantaged by his former faint inclina- 
 tions towards God, that he M'ould be found at last under 
 this aggravated wickedness beyond all other men ; that 
 when others wandered from God through inadvertency 
 and inconsideration, this man will be found to have been 
 his enemy upon deliberation, and against the various 
 strivings of his convinced heart to the contrary. This is 
 more eminent!}^ victorious and reigning enmity ; such a 
 one takes great pains to perish. Alas 'lis not a slight 
 touch, an overly superficial tincture, some evanid senti- 
 ments of piety, a few good thoughts or wishes, that be- 
 speak a new man, a new creature. 'Tis a thorough pre- 
 vailing change, that quite alters the habitual posture of a 
 man's soul, and determines it towards God, so as that the 
 after-course of his life may be capable of that denomina- 
 tion, a living to God, a living after the spirit ; that exalts 
 the love of God into that supremacy in him, that it be- 
 comes the governing principle of his life, and the reason 
 and measure of his actions; that as he loves him above all 
 things else, better than his own life, so he can truly (though 
 possibly sometimes with a doubtful, trembling heart) re- 
 solve the ordinary course of his daily walking and practice 
 into that love, as the directive principle of it. 1 pray. I 
 read, 1 hear, because I love God. I desire to be just, 
 sober, charitable, meek, patient, because I lore God. 
 This is the perfection and end of the love of God, (there- 
 fore that must needs be the principle hereof.) obedience to 
 his will.n Herein appears that power of godliness de- 
 nied (God knows) by too many that have the form : the 
 spirit of lov^e, power, and of a sound mind. That only is 
 a sound mind in which such love rules in such power. 
 Is not love to God often pretended by such that, whenever 
 it comes to an actual competition, discover they love their 
 ovm flesh a great deal more"? that seldom ever cross their 
 own wills to do his, or hazard their own fleshly interest to 
 promote his interest 1 We may justly say. (as the apostle, 
 in a case fitly enough reducible hither,)" how dwells the 
 love of God in that man"? Notwithstanding such a sub- 
 dued ineffectual love to God, such a one shall be denomi- 
 nated and dealt with as an enemy. 'Tis not likely any man 
 on earth hates God so perfectly as those in hell. And is not 
 every quality, not yet perfect in its kind, and that is yet grow- 
 ing more and more intense, in the meantime allayed by 
 some degree of its contrarj'"? Yet that over-masicred de- 
 gree denominates not its subject, nor ought a man from 
 
 1 Hos. \'ii. 16. 
 
 n John ii. 5. TtrfXfiojrai. 
 
 m SPet. il 
 
 o 8 Tim. iii. 5. chap. J.
 
 239 
 
 THE BLESSEDNESS OF THE RIGHTEOUS. 
 
 Chap. XII. 
 
 such a supposed love to God to have the name of a lover 
 of him. That principle is only capable of denominating 
 the man, that is prevalent and practical, that hath agovern- 
 ing influence on his heart and life. He in whom the love 
 of God halh not such power and rule, whatever his fainter 
 inclinations may be, is an ungodly man. 
 
 And now melhinks these several considerations com- 
 pared and weighed together, should contribute something 
 to the settling of right thoughts in the minds of secure 
 sinners, touching the nature and necessity of this heart- 
 change; and do surely leave no place for the foremen- 
 tioned vain pretences that occasioned thera. For (to give 
 you a summary view of what hath been propounded in 
 those foregoing considerations) it now plainly appears, — 
 That the holy Scripture requires in him that shall enjoy 
 this blessedness, a mighty change of the very temper of 
 his soul, as that which must dispose him thereto; and 
 which must therefore chiefly consist, in the right framing 
 of his heart towards God; towards whom it is most 
 fixedly averse, and therefore not easily susceptible of such 
 a change. And that any slighter or more feeble inclina- 
 tion toward God will not serve the turn ; but such only 
 whereby the soul is prevalently and habitually turned to 
 him. And then what can be more absurd or unsavoury, 
 what more contrary to Christian doctrine, or common 
 reason, than instead of this necessary heart-change, to in- 
 sist upon so poor a plea, as that mentioned above, as the 
 only ground of so great a hope 1 How empty and frivo- 
 lous will it appear in comparison of this great soul-trans- 
 forming change, if we severally consider the particulars of 
 it. As for orthodoxy in doctrinals, 'tis in itself a highly 
 laudable thing; and in respect of the fundamentals (for 
 therefore are they so called) indispensably necessary to 
 blessedness. As that cannot be without holiness, sonor 
 holiness without truth.? But, (besides that this is that 
 which every one pretends to,) is every thing which is ne- 
 cessary sufftcienf? As to natural necessity, (which is that 
 we now speak to,) reason and intellectual nature are also 
 necessary; shall therefore all men, yea, and devils too, be 
 saved 1 Besides, are you sure you believe the grand arti- 
 cles of the Christian religion'l Consider a little, — the 
 grounds and effects of that pretended faith. 
 
 First, Its grounds. Every assent is as the grounds of it 
 are. Deal truly here with thy soul. Can you tell where- 
 fore you are a Christian 1 What are thy inducements to be 
 of this religion! are they not such as are common to thee 
 with them that are of a false religion? (I am here hap- 
 pily prevented by a worthy author,<i to which I recommend 
 thee, but at the present a little bethink thyself,) Is it not 
 possible thou mayest be a Christian for the same reasons 
 for which one may be a Jew, or a Mahometan, or a mere 
 pagan? as, f z^.education, custom, law, example, outward ad- 
 vantage, &c. Now consider, if thou find this upon inquiry 
 to be thy case, the motives of thy being a Christian admit 
 of being ca.st together into this form of reasoning. That 
 religion which a man's forefathers were of, which is estab- 
 lished by law, or generally obtains in the countrv where 
 he lives, the profes.sion whereof most conduces to', or best 
 consists with, his credit, and other outward advantages, 
 that religion he is to embrace as the true religion. But 
 such I find the Christian religion to be to me; therefore, 
 / &:c. The proposition here is manifestly false ; for it con- 
 tains grounds common to all religions, publicly owned, 
 and professed throughout the world ; and sure all cannot 
 be true : and hence the conclusion (though materially 
 considered it be true, yet) formally considered, as a con- 
 clusion issuing from such premises, must needs be false. 
 And what then is become of the orthodoxy; when, as to 
 the formal object of thy faith, thou believest but as Maho- 
 metans and pagans do? when thou art of this faith, by 
 fate or chance only, not choice or rational inducement? 
 
 Next, as to the effects of thy faith: let them be inquired 
 into also, and they will certainly bear proportion to the 
 grounds of it. The>- Gospel is the power of God to 
 
 p John xvii 17. q Mr. Pink's Trial of sincere love to Christ. 
 
 r Rom. 1. 10. 1 Thes. u. la s Heb. vi. t Rom. vi. 17. 
 
 u Matt \ix. X 1 .John vi. 
 
 y That moral incapacity is also in some sense tnilv natural, that is, in the 
 M-iiie scn-se vvliPrfin wp are said to be by nature the childrrn of WTatli, Eph. ii. 3. 
 Theretnre human natme miL-st be considered as created by God. and a^ pro- 
 Pasa'ed by man. In tlu- fomipr sen.se, as God is the author of it. 'tis taken in 
 this distinction, of moral and natural impotoQcv, which needs not furtlier expli- 
 
 salvation to every one that believes ; to them that believe 
 it not, it signifies nothing. The word of God received 
 with a divine faith, as the word of God, works effectually 
 upon all that so receive it, i. e. all that believe. What 
 such efficacious workings of it hast thou felt upon thy 
 soul 1 Certainly, its most connatural efl^ect is that very 
 change of heart, and inclination Godward, of which we 
 have been speaking. What is so suitable to the gospel- 
 revelation, as a good temper of heart Godward ? Ani 
 how absurd is it to introduce the cause on purpose to ex- 
 clude its genuine inseparable effect! But evident it fs, 
 (though true faith cannot,) that superficial, irrational assent, 
 in wliich alone many glory, may too well consist with a 
 disaffected heart towards God : and can it then signify 
 any thing towards thy blessedness ? Sure to be so a solifi- 
 dian is to be a nullifidian. Faith not working by love is 
 not faith ; at least profits nothing. For thy outward con- 
 formity in the solemnities of worship, 'tis imputable to so 
 corrupt motives and principles, that the thing itself, ab- 
 stractively considered, can never be thought characteristical 
 and distinguishing of the heirs of blessedness. The worst 
 of men may perform the best of outward duties. Thy 
 most glorious boasted virtues, if they grow not from the 
 proper root, love to God, they are but splendid sins, a.s 
 above appears, and hath been truly said of old. Thy re- 
 pentance is either true or false ; if true, it is that very 
 change of mind and heart I speak of, and is therefore 
 eminently signalized by that note, 'tis repentance towards 
 God; if false, God will not be mocked. For thy regene- 
 ration in baptism ; " what can it avail thee, as to this 
 blessedness, if the present temper of thy heart be unsuit- 
 able thereto? Didst thou ever know any that held, that 
 all the baptized should be saved ? Will thy infant sanc- 
 tity excuse the enmity and disaffection to God of thy 
 riper age? 
 
 In short, if we seclude this work of God upon the soul, 
 how inconsiderable is the difference between the Christian 
 and the heathen world! Wherein can it then be under- 
 stood to lie, but in some ineffectual notions, and external 
 observances? And can it be thought that the righteous, 
 holy God, will make so vast a difference in the states of 
 men hereafter, who differ so little here? or that it shall so 
 highly recommend a man to God, that it was his lot to be 
 born, and to have lived upon such a turf or soil, or in such 
 a clime or part of the world ? His gracious providence 
 is thankfully to be acknowledged and adored, ihat hath 
 assigned us our stations under the Gospel : but then it 
 must be remembered, the Gospel hath the goodness, not of 
 the end, but of the means ; which, as by our improvement 
 or non-improvement, it becomes effectual or ineffectual, 
 doth acquit from, or aggravate, condemnation : and that it 
 works not as a charm or spell, we know not how, or why, 
 or when we think not of it ; but by recommending itself, 
 in the demonstration and power of the Holy Ghost, to our 
 reason and consciences, to our wills and affections,' till we 
 be delivered up into the mould or form of it. Surely 
 were it so slight a matter, as too many fondly dream, that 
 must distinguish between them that shall be saved and 
 shall perish, there would need no striving to enter in at the 
 strait gate ; and the disciple's question would never have 
 been, Who then shall be saved? but rather. Who shall not 
 be saved? nor would it have been resolved by our Saviour 
 into the immediate power of him alone," to whom all 
 things are possible, that any are saved at all; nor have 
 been so earnestly asserted by him, that "none could come 
 to him hut whom his Father draws. The obvious import 
 of which passages is such, that if careless sinners could 
 once obtain of themselves seriously to consider them, 
 methinks they would find little rest in their spirits, till 
 they might discern a work wrought there, in some degree 
 worthy of God ; an impression some way proportionable to 
 the power of an almighty arm, and that might speak God 
 its author. For notwithstanding the soul's natural capa- 
 cities before asserted and inferred, its y moral incapacity, 
 
 cation ; yet you may take this account of it from Dr. Twisse. Impofenfia fa- 
 ciendi (|uod Deo pratum est et acreiitinn. non est impotentia natur<e, sed monun. 
 Nulla eteiiim nol)is doest facultas natune per peocalum originale, juxta iUud 
 Augustini ; Nnlli agnoscendie veritatis abstulit facultatem. Adhuc rpmanet 
 potentia, qua facerc possiuniL< qua'Cimiuie voliunus. Vind I. 3. errat. 9. sect. 6. 
 Naturalem potentiani, quidlriiet ap'ndi pro arhilrio iiwonmi. dicimiis ad omne3 
 transmitti, non autem potentiani moraaera. Vindic. Criminal. 3. S. 1. diia-. i 
 chap. 3.
 
 ClIAP. XIII. 
 
 THE BLESSEDNESS OF THE RIGHTEOUS. 
 
 233 
 
 I mean its wicked aversion from God, is such as none but 
 God himself can overcome. Nor is that aversion the less 
 culpable, for that it is so hardly overcome, but the more. 
 'Tis an aversion of will; and who sees not, that every 
 man is more wicked, accordin;^ as his will is more wick- 
 edly bent 1 Hence his impoteucy or inability to turn to 
 God, is not such as that he cannot turn if he would"? but 
 it consists in this, that he is not willing. He afiectsa dis- 
 tance from Gud. Which shows therefore the necessity 
 still of this change. For the possibility of it, and the en- 
 couragement (according to the methods wherein God is 
 wont to dispense his grace) the sinner hath to hope and 
 endeavour it, will more fuly fall into consideration else- 
 where. 
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 Fourth Inference. That the soul in wliieh such a change is wrought, rest- 
 lessly pursues this blessedness til! it he attained. Fitlh Inference. That the 
 knowing of God, and conformity to him, are satisfying things, and do now 
 in a degree satisfy, according to the measure wherein they are attained. 
 Sixth Inference. That the love of God towards his people is great, tliat hath 
 designed for them so great, and even a satisfying good. 
 
 4. Infer. 'Tis further to be inferred, that a soul wherein 
 such a change is wrought, pursues this blessedness with 
 restless, supreme desire, till it attain to the fulness thereof. 
 We have here a plainly implied description of the posture 
 and tendency of such a soul (even of a sanctified holy soul, 
 which had therefore undergone this blessed change) to- 
 wards this state of blessedness. I shall (saith he) be satis- 
 fied with thy likeness, q. d. I cannot be satisfied other- 
 wise. We have seen how great a change is necessary to 
 dispose the soul to this blessedness, which being once 
 wrought, nothing else can satisfy it. Such a thing is this 
 blessedness ; (I speak now of so much of it as is previous 
 and conducing to satisfaction, or of blessedness mate- 
 rially considered, the Divine glory to be beheld and par- 
 ticipated;) 'tis of that nature, it makes the soul restless, 
 it lets it not be quiet, after it hath got some apprehension 
 of it, till it attain the full en]0}^ment. The whole life of 
 such a one, is a continual seeking God's face. So at- 
 tractive is this glory of a subject rightly disposed to it : 
 while others crave corn and wine, this is the sum of the 
 holy soul's desires, ^ Lord, lift thou up the light of thy 
 countenance, &c. The same thing is the ol)ject of its pre- 
 sent desires tliat shall be of its eternal satisfaction and en- 
 joyment. This is now its one thing, the request insisted 
 on, bto behold the beauty of the Lord, &c. and while in 
 any measure it doth so, 3''et 'tis still looking for his blessed 
 hope, still hoping to be like him, see him as he is. The 
 expectation of satisfaction in this state, implies the restless 
 working of desire till then; for what is this satisfaction, 
 but the fulfilling of our desires, the perfecting of the soul's 
 motions in a complacential rest? Motion and rest do ex- 
 actly correspond each to other. Nothing can naturally 
 rest in any place, to which it was not before naturally in- 
 clined to move. And the rest is proportionably more coiu- 
 posed and steady, according as the motion was stronger 
 and more vigorous. By how much the heavier any body 
 is, so much the stronger and less resistible is its motion 
 downward : and then accordingly it is less moveable when 
 it hath attained its resting place. 'Tis therefore a vanity 
 and contradiction, to .speak of the soul's being satisfied in 
 that which it was not before desirous of.<= And that state 
 which it shall ultimatel}'^ and eternally acquiesce in, (with a 
 rest that must therefore be understood to be most composed 
 and sedate,) towards it must it needs move M'ith the 
 strongest and most unsatisfied desire, a desire that is su- 
 preme, prevalent, and triumphant over all other desires, 
 and over all obstructions to itself; least capable of diver- 
 sion, or of pitching upon any thing short of the term aimed 
 at. Ask therefore the holy soul. What is thy supreme de- 
 sire 1 and so far as it understands itself, it must answer, 
 "To see and partake the Divine glory; to behold the 
 blessed face of God, till his likeness be transfused through 
 all my powers, and his entire image be perfectly formed in 
 
 aPsal. iv. bPsal. xxvii. 
 
 c Apliludinally. I mean, and ex hyi)Othe=i, i. e. supposina the knowledge of 
 the object : otherwise as to actual explicit desires, God doth give ua beyond 
 
 me : present to my view what else you will, I can be satis- 
 fied in nothing else but this." Therefore this leaves a 
 black note upon those wretched souls that are wtiolly stran- 
 gers to such desires; that would be better satisfied to 
 dwell always in dust; that shun the blessed face of God 
 as hell iuself ; and to whom the most despicable vanity is 
 a more desirable sight than that of Divine glor}'. Miser- 
 able souls ! Consider your state : can that be your blessed- 
 ness which you desire notl or do j'ou think' God will re- 
 ceive any into his blessed presence, to whom it shall be a 
 burden! Methink.s, upon the reading of this 3-ou should 
 presently doom 3'ourselves, and see your sentence written 
 in your breast. Compare your hearts with this holj' 
 man's; see if there be any thing like this in the temper of 
 your spirits ; and never think well of yourselves till you 
 find it so. 
 
 5. Infer. The knowledge of God, and conformity to 
 him, are in their own nature apt to satisfy the desires of 
 the soul, and even now actually do so, in the meeisure 
 wherein they are attained. Some things are not of a satis- 
 fying nature; there is nothing tending to satisfaction in 
 them. And then the continual heaping together of such 
 things, doth no more towards satisfaction, than the accu- 
 mulating of mathematical points would towards the com- 
 pacting of a solid body; or the multiplication of c\-phers 
 only, to the making of a sum. But what shall one day 
 satisfy, hath in itself a power and aptitude thereto. The 
 act, whenever it is, supposes the power. Therefore tite 
 hungry craving soul, that would fain be happy, but knows 
 not how, needs not spend its days in making uncertain 
 guesses, and fruitless attempts and trials: it may fix its 
 hovering thoughts; and upon assurance here given, say, I 
 have now found at la.st where satisfaction ma}- be had; 
 and have only this to do, to bend all my powers hither, 
 and intend this one thing, the possessing myself of this 
 ble.ssed rest ; earnestly to endeavour, and patiently to wait 
 for it. Happy discovery ! welcome tidings! I now know 
 which way to turn my eye, and direct my pursuit. I shall 
 no longer spend myself in dubious, toilsome wanderiiig.s, 
 in anxious, vain inquiry. I have found! I have found J 
 blessedness is here. If I can but get a lively, eflicacious 
 sight of God, I have enough — Show me the Father, and 
 it sutiiceth. Let the weary, wandering soul bethink itself, 
 and retire to God; he will not mock thee with shadows, 
 as the world hath done. This is eternal life, to know him 
 the only true God, and Jesus Christ whom he hath sent. 
 Apart from Christ thou canst not know nor see him with 
 fruit and comfort; but the gospel revelation (which is the 
 revelation of God in Christ) gives tliee a lovely prospect of 
 him. His gloiy shines in the face of Jesus Christ ; and 
 when bv beholding it thou art changed into the samelike- 
 ne.ss, and findest thy.self graduall^v changing more and 
 more from glory to glory, thou wilt find thyself accordingly 
 in a gradual tendency towards satisfaction and blessed- 
 ness : that is, do but seriously set thyself to study and eon- 
 lempla'e the being and attributes of God; and then look 
 upon him as through the Mediator, he is willing to be re- 
 conciled to thee, and become thy God ; and so long let 
 thine eye fix and dwell here, till it affect thy heart, and the 
 proper impress of the gospel be by the Spirit of the Lord 
 instamped upon it ; till thou find thyself wrought to a com- 
 pliance with his holy will, and his image formed in ihce; 
 and thou shalt soon experience thou art entering into his 
 rest ; and wilt relish a more satisfying pleasure in this 
 blessed change, than all thy worldly, sensual enjoyments 
 did ever afford thee before. 
 
 Surelv, if the perfect vision and perception of his glo- 
 rious likeness will yield a complete satisfaction at last, the 
 initial and progressive tendencies towards the former will 
 proportionably infer the latter. 'Tis obvious hence to 
 collect, who are in this world (ordinarily and, ccrteris pari- 
 bus, where more unusual violent temptations hinder not) the 
 most satisfied and contented persons ; even those that have 
 most of the clarifying sights of G^d, and thence partake 
 most of his image (incleed Scripture only vouchsafes the 
 name to such sights of God; dHe that doth evil hath not 
 seen God.) Such as have most of a godly frame wrought 
 
 what we can ask or think. But 'tis impossible the soul shmdd r^t satisfied in 
 thiit. which upon knowledge it is luidesirous of, and doih or woind rejt-ct. 
 d 1 John iii. 6. 3 Julia 11
 
 234 
 
 THE BLESSEDNESS OF THE RIGHTEOUS. 
 
 Chap. XIII. 
 
 into their spirits, and that have hearts most attempered and 
 conformed to God ; these are the most contented persons 
 in the world. Content is part of the gain that attends god- 
 liness ; it concurring, renders the other a great gain ; 'god- 
 liness with contentment : the form of expression discovers 
 how connatural contentment is to godliness ; as if they 
 were not to be mentioned apart. Godliness, as if he had 
 said, is a very gainful thing, but if you would comprehend 
 the gainfulness of it fully, do not abstract too curiously, 
 take in with it that which is of so near an alliance, that you 
 will hardly know how to consider them apart ; let its inse- 
 parable adjunct, contentment, go along with it, and you 
 will find it a gainful thing indeed. The true knowledge 
 of God so directly tends to holiness, and that to contcnta- 
 tion, that it may be too evidently concluded, that a dis- 
 contented person hath little of the one or the other, not 
 much knowledge, and less grace; he is so far from being 
 like God, that in the apostle's language above we may 
 say, he hath not seen him. Doth that person know God, 
 or hath ever seen him, that falls not into the dust, admir- 
 ing so glorious a Majesty! that subjects not himself to 
 him, with loyal affections, accounting it his only grand 
 concernment to please and serve him 1 But the discontented 
 person takes upon him, as if he were God alone, and as if 
 he expected every creature to do him homage, and thought 
 the creation were made for the pleasure and service of 
 none but him. Hath that person ever seen God, that 
 acknowledges him not a sufficient portion, a full, all-com- 
 prehending good 1 Hath he seen him, that sees not reason 
 to trust him, to commit all his concernments to himl 
 Hath he seen him that loves him not, and delights not in 
 his love"? Hath he seen him thai quits not all for him, 
 and abandons not every private interest to espouse his? 
 And how evidently do these things tend to quiet and com- 
 pose the soul ! Discontent proceeds from idolizing thoughts 
 of ourselves : 'tis rooted in self-conceit, in self-dependence, 
 self-love, self-seeking, all which despicable idols (or that 
 one great idol, self, thus variously served and idolized) 
 one sight of the Divine glory would confound and bring 
 to nothing. The sights of God melt the heart, break it 
 under a sense of sin, and hence compose it to a meek, 
 peaceful humility; but the discontented spirit is an un- 
 broken, proud, imperious spirit. The sights of God pu- 
 rify the soul, refine it from the dross of this vile world, 
 make it daily aspire to a conformity unto the pure and 
 spiritual nature of God. But a discontented spirit is a 
 sensual, terrene spirit 1 (for what but such objects are the 
 usual matter of most men's discontents 1) taking sensuality 
 in its just latitude, 'tis a low dunghill spirit, fit for nothing 
 but to rake and scrabble in the dirt. 
 
 I insist upon this, apprehending (what deserves more 
 lamentations than it hath observation) that too many an- 
 nex a profession of eminent godliness and spirituality to 
 an indulged querulous, impatient temper of spirit ; join a 
 splendid appearance of piety, to an unreformed perverse 
 frowardness ; (which agree as well as a jewel of gold to a 
 swine's snout ;) nothing pleases them, their mercies are not 
 worth the acknowledgment ; their afflictions intolerable, 
 not to be borne. They fall out and quarrel with all occur- 
 rences, actions, events; neither man nor God doth any 
 thing good in their sight. The world is not well governed ; 
 nothing falls out well as to themselves. What can possi- 
 bly be thought on more repugnant to (he knowledge of 
 God, the grand design of all religion, and the very spirit 
 of the Gospel, than this temper 1 Which way do these 
 tend and aim, but to lead souls to blessedness ; to bring 
 them into a peaceful, happy, satisfied state and frame 1 
 And must we, because that end cannot be attained here, 
 therefore go the quite contrary way 7 or pretend we are 
 going to heaven with our backs turned upon it 1 Sure the 
 discoveries God now makes of himself to us, and by which 
 he impresses his likeness upon his own: (though they 
 ultimately design our satisfaction and blessedness in 
 heaven, as intermediate thereunto;) they aim at the bring- 
 ing us into a heaven upon earth ; to form us unto a 
 life agreeable, and that hath analogy with that of heaven; 
 unto which nothing is more analogous in our present state, 
 than that peace and serenity which result from Divine 
 knowledge and holiness; nothing more inconsistent, than 
 e 1 Tim. vi. 6. 
 
 a peevish, fretful, turbulent spirit. The one is a partici- 
 pation of a bright and mild light from heaven ; the other, 
 of a dark and raging fire from hell. 'Tis only God's face, 
 his glorious likeness reflected on our souls, that shall sa- 
 tisfy hereafter, and make heaven heaven. He doth not 
 now wholly conceal himself from us, not altogether hide 
 his face. The shining of the same face (in what degree he 
 now vouchsafes it) will make this earth a heaven too. 
 One glance towards him may transmit a lively pleasant 
 lustre upon our spirits, f they looked on him, and were 
 lightened. And we live in the expectation of clearer and 
 more impressive eternal visions. It will become us to ex- 
 press a present satisfiedness, proportionable to our present 
 sights and expectations ; and to endeavour daily to see 
 more, and to be more like God; that we may be daily 
 more and more satisfied; while we cannot yet attain, to 
 be making gradual approaches towards that blessed state. 
 By how much any have more of the vision and likeness 
 of God in their present state, so much they approach 
 nearer unto satisfaction. 
 
 6. Infer, We infer ; The love of God to his people is great, 
 Avhich hath designed for them so great, and even a satisfying 
 good. We cannot overlook the occasion this doctrine gives 
 us, to consider and contemplate awhile the love of God. If 
 this shall be the blessedness of his saints, 'tis a great love 
 that shall be the spring and source of it. Two things here 
 before our eyes discover the greatness of his love : — thai it 
 designs satisfaction to the persons meant ; and — that they 
 shall be satisfied with the Divine vision and likeness. 
 
 1. It designs their satisfaction. This is as far as love 
 can go. 'Tis love to the uttermost : it doth not satisfy itself 
 till it satisfies them. 'Tis love to spare an enemy, to relieve 
 a stranger; but to satisfy for ever them that were both, 
 this sure exceeds all the wonted measures of love. Much 
 love is shown in the forgiveness of sin, in the supply of 
 necessities; but herein (as the apostle speaks in another 
 case) is the love of God perfected, as to its exercise: it 
 hath now perfectly attained its end, when it hath not left 
 so much as a craving desire, not a wish unsatisfied ; the 
 soul cannot say, " I wish it were better ; O that I had but 
 this one thing more to complete my happiness." It hath 
 neither pretence nor inclination to think such a thought. 
 Divine love is now at rest. It was travailling (big with 
 gracious designs) before ; it hath now delivered itself It 
 would rather create new heavens every moment, than not 
 satisfy; but it hath now done it to the full; the utmost 
 capacity of the soul is filled up ; it can be no happier than 
 it is. This is love's triumph over all the miseries, wants, 
 and desires of a languishing soul : the appropriate peculiar 
 glory of Divine love. If all the excellencies of the whole 
 creation besides were contracted into one glorious creature, 
 it would never be capable of this boast, I have satisfied 
 one soul. The love of God leaves none unsatisfied, but 
 the proud despisers of it. Now is the eternal sabbath of 
 love. Now it enters into rest, having finished all its 
 works ; it views them over now with delight, for, lo ! they 
 are all good : its works of pardon, of justification, and adop- 
 tion ; its works of regeneration, of conversion, and sanc- 
 tification ; its establishing, quickening, comforting works ; 
 they are all good, good in themselves, and in this their 
 end, the satisfaction and repose of blessed souls. Now 
 Divine love puts on the crown, ascends the throne, and 
 the many myriads of glorified spirits fall down about it 
 and adore ; all profess to owe to it the satisfying pleasures 
 they all enjoy. Who can consider the unspeakable satis- 
 faction of those blessed .spirits, and not also reflect upon 
 this exalted greatness of Divine love ! 
 
 2. 'Tis again great love, if we consider wherewith they 
 shall be satisfied. The sight and participation of the Di- 
 vine glory, his face, his likeness, his represented and im- 
 pressed glory. There may be great love that never under- 
 takes nor studies to satisfy all the desires of the persons 
 we cast our love upon, especially where nothing will satisfy 
 but high and great matters. The love of God knows no 
 difficulties ; nor can be overset. The greater the perform- 
 ance or vouchsafement, the more suitable to Divine love. 
 It hath resolved to give the soul a plenary satisfaction, 
 perfectly to content all its desires; and since nothing else 
 can do it, but an eternal beholding of the glorious face of 
 
 f Psal. x.\xiv. 6.
 
 Chap. XIV. 
 
 THE BLESSEDNESS OF THE RIGHTEOUS. 
 
 235 
 
 the Divine Majesty, and a transformation into his own 
 likeness, that shall not be withheld. Yea, it hath created 
 refined, enlarged its capacity on purpose, that it might be 
 satisfied with nothing less. Great love may sometimes be 
 signified by a glance ; the ofl[ered view ol' a willing face. 
 Thus our Lord Jesus invites his church to discover her 
 own love, and answer his, Let me see thy face, &c. Cant. 
 ii. 14. Love is not more becomingly expressed or gratified, 
 than by mutiial looks, iili amor, ibi octilus. How great is 
 that love that purposely lays aside the vail, that never 
 turns away its own, nor permits the aversion of the behold- 
 er's eye throughout eternity. Now we see in a glass ; then 
 face to face, as if never weary of beholding on either part; 
 but on that part the condescension lies, is the transcendant 
 admirable love. That a generous, beneficent, the other 
 (till it be satisfied here) a craving, indigent love. And 
 how inexpressible a condescension is this ! Poor wretches ! 
 many of whom, possibly, were once so low, that a strutting 
 grandee would have thought himself affronted by their 
 look, and have met with threatening rebukes their over- 
 daring venturous eye -, lo, now they are permitted (to stand 
 before princes ; that's a mean thing) to feed their eyes with 
 Divine glory, to view the face of God. He sets them be- 
 fore his face for ever. And that eternal vision begets in 
 them an eternal likeness ; they behold and partake glory 
 at once, that their joy may be full. They behold not a 
 glorious God with deformed souls ; that would render 
 them a perpetual abomination and torment to themselves. 
 Love cannot permit that heaven should be their affliction ; 
 that they should have cause to loath and be weary of them- 
 selves in that presence. It satisfies them, by clothing and 
 filling them with glory ; by making them partake of the 
 Divine likeness, as well as behold it. 'Tis reckoned a great 
 expression of a complying love, but to give a picture ; 
 when the parties loved only permit themselves to view in 
 a mute representation a vicarious face. This is much more 
 a vital image, (as before,) God's own livingness propagated 
 in the soul ; the inchoation of it is called the Divine love, 
 the seed of God. What amazing love is this, of the great 
 God to a worm ! not to give over till he have assimilated 
 it to his own glory; till it appear as a ray of light begotten 
 of the Father of lights ! s Every one, saith the apostle, that 
 doth righteousness is born of him ; and then it follows, 
 h behold what manner of love — to be the sons of God ; to be 
 like him, to see him as he is, &c. How great a word is that 
 (spoken in reference to our present state) — > to make us 
 partakers of his holiness. And (as well it might) 'tis in- 
 stanced as an efl^ect and argument of love, (for sure chas- 
 tening itself, abstracted from that end of it, doth not import 
 love,) whom the Lord loveth he chasteneth, — and then by 
 and by, in the same series and line of discourse, is added, 
 — to make us partakers of his holiness. Love alwaj's either 
 supposes similitude, or intends it; and is sufficiently argued 
 by it either way. And sure, the love of God cannot be 
 more directly expressed, than in his first intending to make 
 a poor sonl like him, while he loves it with compassion ; 
 and then imprinting and perfecting that likeness, that he 
 may love it with eternal delight. Love is here the first 
 and the last, the beginning and end in all this busmess. 
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 7. Inference. That since tliis blessedness is limited lo a qualified subject, " I 
 in righteousness," the unrighteous are necessarily left excluded. 8. Inference. 
 That righteousness is no vain thing, ina.smuch as it hath so happy an issue, 
 and ends so well. 
 
 7. Infer. Considerino this blessedness is not common, 
 but limited to a qualified subject, " I in righteousness," a 
 person clothed in righteousness ; it evidently follows, the 
 unrighteous are necessarily excluded and shut out, can 
 have no part nor portion in this blessedness. The same 
 thing that the apostle tells us, without an inference ; "Know 
 ye not that the unrighteous shall not inherit the kingdom 
 of God, &c. Intimating that to be a most confessed known 
 thing : know ye not 1 is it possible ye can be ignorant of 
 this! The natural necessit}' of what hath been here in- 
 ferred, hath been argued already from the consideration 
 g 1 John ii. ult. h iii. 1. i Ilcb, .vii. 
 
 of the nature of this blessedness. The legal necessity of 
 it, ari.sing from the Divine will and law, is that I mamly 
 intend at present. By such a necessity also, they are exclil- 
 ded, who by God's rule (according to which the supreme 
 judgment must be managed) shall be found unrighteous: 
 those that come not up to the terms of the gospel-covenant ; 
 never accepted the oilers, nor submitted to the commands 
 of it ; and that hence consequently are unrelated to Christ, 
 and ununited to him; no way capable of advsmtage by his 
 most perfect and all-sufficient righteousness, that alone 
 fully answers all the exactions and demands of the cove- 
 nant of works : and so, who are at last found unrighteous 
 by the old law and the new, the law both of the Creator 
 and Redeemer too. There is the same necessity these 
 should be excluded, as that God should be just and true. 
 The word is gone forth of his mouth in righteou.sness, and 
 cannot return. He did not dally with sinners, when he 
 settled those constitutions, whence this necessity results. 
 He is not a man, that he should lie ; nor the son of man, 
 that he should repent. A heathen understood so much of 
 the nature of God. 
 
 I have thought sometimes, with much wonder, of the 
 stupid folly of unsanctified hearts ; they are even con- 
 founded in their own wishes; and would have (in order to 
 their security) they know not what. Were the question 
 faithfully put to the very heart of such a one, What 
 wouldst thou have done in order to thy eternal .safety from 
 Divine wrath and vengeance 1 would not the answer be, O 
 that God would re-call those severe constitutions he nath 
 made; and not insist so strictly on what he halh required 
 in the gospel, in order to the salvation of sinners. But 
 foolish wrelch ! dost thou know what thou sayest? wouldst 
 thou have God repeal the Gospel, that thou rnayst be the 
 more secure 1 in what a case art thou then 1 Hast thouno 
 hope if the gospel stand in force 1 what hope wilt thou have 
 if it do not f Must the hopes of all the world be ruined to 
 establish thine 1 and yet leave them involved in the com- 
 mon ruin too 1 What but the go.spel gives the least hope 
 to apostate sinners'? There is now hope for thee in the 
 gospel-promise, if thou return to God. tLet the wicked 
 forsake his way, and the unrighteous man his thoughts - 
 and let him turn to the Lord, and he will have mercy upon 
 him ; and to our God, and he will abundantly pardon. But 
 take away the gospel, and where art thou 1 Were it pos- 
 sible for thee to repent, and become a new man ; what set- 
 tles the connexion between repentance and salvation, but 
 the gospel-promise 1 Will the violated law of works ac- 
 cept thy repentance instead of obedience 1 Doth it not ex- 
 pressly'preclude any such expectation 1 Doth it give any 
 ground to look for any thing but death after sin 1 Thou 
 must therefore fly to the Gospel, or yield th5'self lo*.t. And 
 know, it contains none but faithful and true sayings, that 
 have more stability in them than the foundations of heaven 
 and earth : therefore expect notliing to be altered for thy 
 sake. The gospel-constitution was settled long before 
 thou wast born : thou comest loo late with thy exceptions 
 (if thou hadst any) asrainst it. Remember therefore this is 
 one of the ui alterable determinations of this gospel, with- 
 out holiness thou shall never see God, or (which amounts 
 to the same) thou canst not behold his face but in right- 
 eousness. There is no word in all the Bible of more cer- 
 tain truth than this. In this also how apt are sinners fool- 
 ishly to entangle themselves ! The Gospel is true, and to 
 be believed, till they meet with something that crosses 
 them, and goes against the hair, and then they hope it is 
 not so. But vain man ! if once thou shake the truth of God, 
 what wilt thou stay thyself upon 1 Is God true when he 
 promises 1 and is lie not as true when he threatens? If 
 that be a tnic saving, " Say to the righteous, it shall be 
 well with him," — is not that as much to be regarded, 
 " Wo to the wicked, it shall be ill with him 1 The right- 
 eousness of the risrhteous shall be upon him. and the wick- 
 edness of the wicked shall he upon him." Are not these of 
 equal authority 1 If thoTi hadst any reason to hope tboii 
 mayst be happy though thou never be righteous ; is there 
 not" as much i-eason^ to fear thou mightst be miserable 
 though thou be ; since the one is as much against the flat 
 express word of God as the other"? Let not thy love to sin 
 betray thee out of all religion and thy wits together. 
 a 1 Cor. vi. b Isa. Iv.
 
 336 
 
 THE BLESSEDNESS OP THE RIGHTEOUS. 
 
 Chap. XIV. 
 
 Wherein wilt thou beliere one upon the bare value of his 
 word, that will lie to thee in any thing! Yea, and as it is 
 the same authority that is affronted in every command, 
 whence disobedience to one is a breach of all ; so is the 
 same vera'city denied in every truth, and the disbelief of one 
 belies all; and wilt thou believe him in any thing, thou 
 hast proclaimed a liar in every thing 1 Therefore, so little 
 hast thou gained by disbelieving the divine revelation in 
 this thing, that thou hast brought thyself to this miserable 
 dilemma; If the word of God be false, thou hast no fotm- 
 datmn of any faith left thee ; if it be true, it dooms thee to 
 eternal banishment from his blessed face, while thou re- 
 mainest in thy unrighteousness. It will not be thy advan- 
 tage then to disbelieve this gospel-record, but to consider 
 it "and take it to heart ; 'twill prove never the less true at 
 last, fur that thou wilt not believe it ; shall thy unbelief 
 make the truth of God of none effect 1 And if thou wouldst 
 but reasonably consider the case, methinks thou shouldst 
 soon be convinced. Since thou acknowledgest (as I sup- 
 pose thee to do) that there are two states of men in the 
 other world, a state of blessedness, and a state of misery ; 
 and two sorts of men in this world, the righteous and the 
 unrighteous ; let thy reason and conscience now judge who 
 shall be allotted to the one state, and who to the other. 
 Sure, if thou acknowledge a righteous Judge of all to the 
 world, thou canst not think he will turn men piomiscu- 
 ously into heaven or hell at random, without distinction ; 
 much less canst thou be so absurd and mad, as to think all 
 the unrighteous shall be saved, and the righteous perish. 
 And then what is left thee to judge but that which I am 
 now urging upon thee, that when the righteous shall be 
 admitted to the vision of God's blessed face, the unright- 
 eous shall be driven forth into outer darkness. 
 
 It may be some here will be ready to say, " But to what 
 purpose is all this, they were of the same mind before, 
 and cannot think that any one would ever say the contra- 
 ry." Nor do I think so either ; but 'tis one thing not to be- 
 lieve a conclusion to be true, and another to profess a con- 
 trary belief; and one thing to believe a conclusion, ano- 
 ther to think we believe it. Men often know not their own 
 minds. In practical matters, 'tis best known what a man's 
 belief is by his practice: for when any profess to believe 
 this or that practical truth, relating to their salvation, if 
 they believe it not practically, i- e. with such a belief as 
 will command their suitable practice, it matters not what 
 belief they are of, or whether they were of that judgment 
 or no: yea, it will prove in the issue better for them they 
 had been of another, when their own professed belief shall 
 be urged against them. But let us consider a little, how in 
 practical matters of less concernment we would estimate a 
 man's belief You meet a traveller upon the way, who tells 
 you, the bridge over such an unpassable river is broken 
 dov/n, and that if you venture you perish ; if you believe 
 him, you return ; if you hold on, he reasonably concludes 
 you believe him not; and will therefore be apt to say to 
 you, if you will not believe me you may make trial. Your 
 physician tells you a disease is growing upon you, that in 
 a short time will prove incurable and mortal, but if you 
 presently use the means he shall prescribe, 'tis capable of 
 an easy remedy; how would yoti yourself have your be- 
 lief of your physician judged of in this case 1 Would you 
 expect tobe believed, if you should say, you do not at all dis- 
 trust your physician's integrity and judgment, but yet you 
 resolve not to" follow his directions ; unless you would have 
 us believe too, that you are weary of your life, and would 
 fain be rid of if? There is no riddle or mystery in this. 
 How ridiculous would men make themselves, if in mat- 
 ters of common concernment they should daily practise di- 
 rectly contrary to their professed belief! How few would 
 Believe them serious, or in their wits'? But however, call 
 this believing, or what you will, we contend not about the 
 name ; the belief of such a thing can no further do you 
 pood, you can be nothing the better for it, further than as 
 it engages 5^ou to take a course suitable and consequent to 
 such a belief To believe that there is a hell, and run into 
 it; that unrighteousness persisted in will damn you, and 
 yet will live in it. To what purpose is it, to make your 
 boasts of this faith 1 But since you are willing to call this 
 believing: all the foregoing reasoning is to engage you to 
 
 c Job XXXV, 
 
 consider what you believe. Do you believe that unright- 
 eousness will be the death of your soul ; will eternally se- 
 parate you from God, and the presence of his glory 1 and 
 when you have reasoned the matter with yourself, you find 
 it to be certainly so : should not ':ach a thing be more 
 deeply pondered 1 The bare proposal of an evident truth 
 commands present assent ; but if I further bend my mind 
 to reason out the same thing to myself, I am occasioned 
 to take notice of the grounds, dependencies, the habitudes 
 of it, what it rests upon, and whither it tends, and thence 
 more discern its importance, and of what moment it is, 
 than I should have done, if upon first view I had Eissented 
 only, and dismissed it my thoughts. And yet is it po.ssi- 
 ble, you should think this to be true, and not think it a 
 most important truth 1 Is it a small matter in your ac- 
 count, whether you shall be blessed or miserable for ever! 
 whether you be saved or perish eternally ! Or is it consi- 
 dered by you, according as the weight of the matter re- 
 quires, that as you are found righteous or rmrighteous, so 
 will it everlastingly fare with you 1 
 
 You may possibly say, you already conclude yourself 
 righteous, therefore no further employ your thoughts about 
 it. But methinks, you should hardly be able however to 
 put such a thing out of your thoughts ; while as yet the 
 final determination is not given in the case. If a man have 
 a question yet depending, concerning his life or estate ; 
 though his business be never so clear, he will hardly forget 
 it, the trial not being yet past. And though in this matter, 
 you have no reason to suspect error or corruption in your 
 Judge, (through which many honest causes may miscarry 
 in a human judicature,) yet have you no reason to suspect 
 yourself! If the Holy Spirit hath assured you, it hath not 
 stupified you; but as you have then the less of fear, you 
 have the more of love and joy. Therefore you will not 
 thence mind such a concernment the less, but with the 
 more delight ; and therefore also, most probably, with the 
 more frequency and intension. What a pleasure will it 
 be to review evidences, and say, Lo! here are the medi- 
 ums by which I make out my title to the eternal inherit- 
 ance. Such and such characters give me tne confidence to 
 number myself among God's righteous ones. And do you 
 lead that heavenly raised life 1 do you live in those sweet 
 and ravishing comforts of the Holy Ghost, that may be.'^] eak 
 you one whom he hath sealed up to the day of redemption 1 
 If you pretend not to any such certainty, but rely upon your 
 own judgment of your case ; are you sure you are neither 
 mistaken in the notion of the righteousness required, nor 
 in the application of it to )'^our own soul 1 Possibly, you 
 may think yourself, because in your ordinar}^ dealing you 
 wrong no man, (yourself being judge,) a very righteous 
 person. But evident it is, when the Scripture uses this term 
 as descriptive of God's own people, and to distinguish be- 
 tween them that shall be saved and perish, it takes it in 
 that comprehensive sense before explained. And, however, 
 it requires at least much more of thee, under other expres- 
 sions, as thou canst hardly be so ignorant but to know. 
 And do but use thy reason here a little, and demand of 
 thyself: Is he to be accounted a righteous person, that 
 thinks it fit to avoid wronging a man, but makes no con- 
 science at all of wronging God 1 More particularly : Is it 
 righteous, to live all thy days in a willing ignorance of the 
 Author of thy being, never once to inquire, >= Where is God 
 my Maker 1 Is it righteous to forget him days without 
 number, not to have him from day to day in all thy thoughts'? 
 Is it righteous to estrange thyself from him, and live as 
 without him in the world, while thou livest, movest, and 
 hast thy being in him 1 not to glorify him in whose hands 
 thy breath is ? to be a lover of pleasure more than God! a 
 worshipper, in thy very soul, of the creature more than the 
 Creator 1 Is it righteous to harden thy heart against his 
 fear and love "? to live under his power, and never reve- 
 rence it 1 his goodness, and never acknowledge it 1 to af- 
 front his authority, to belie his truth, abuse his mercy, im- 
 pose upon his patience, defj' his justice ; to exalt thy own 
 interest against his ; the trifling petite interest of a silly 
 worm, against the great all-comprehending interest of the 
 common Lord of all the world 1 to cross his will, to do thy 
 own "? to please thyself, to the displeasing of him'? Whence 
 hadst thou thy measures of justice, if this be just 1
 
 Ciup. XIV. 
 
 THE BLESSEDNESS OF THE RIGHTEOUS. 
 
 237 
 
 Again, is it righteous to deny the Lord that bought thee, 
 to neglect that great salv^ation which he is the author ol"? 
 And whereas he came to bless thee in turning thee from 
 thine iniquities, wilfully to remain still in an accursed ser- 
 vitude to sin? when he was made manifest to destroy the 
 works of the devil, still to yield thyself a captive at his 
 will ■? Whereas he died that thou mighlcst not any longer 
 live to thyself, but to him that died for thee, and rose 
 again; and that he might redeem thee from thy vain con- 
 versation ; and that thou art so expressly told, that such as 
 still lead sensual lives, mind earthly things, have not their 
 conversation in heaven, are enemies to the cross of Christ. 
 Is it no unrighteousness, that in these respects thy whole 
 life should be nothing else but a constant contradiction to 
 the very design of his dying? a perpetual hostility, a very 
 tilting at his cross 7 Is there no unrighteousness in thy 
 obstinate infidelity, that wickedly denies belief to his glo- 
 rious truths, acceptance of his gracious offers, subjection 
 to his holy lawsl No mirighteousness in thy obslinate, 
 remorseless impenitency 1 thy heart that cannot repent 1 
 that melts not, while a crucified Jesus, amidst his agonies 
 and dying pangs, cries to thee from the cross, O sinner, 
 enough, thy hard heart breaks mine ! yield at last, and turn 
 to God. Is it righteous, to live as no way under law to 
 Christ "? to persist in actual rebellion against his just go- 
 ^'•ernraent, which he died, and revived, and rose again, to 
 establish over the livang and the deadl yea, and that 
 while thou.pretendest thy.self a Christian 1 In a word : Is 
 it righteous to tread imder foot the Son of God, to vilify 
 his blood, and despise his Spirit 1 Is this the righteous- 
 ness that thou talkest of? Are the.se thy qualifications for 
 the everlasting blessedness 1 If thou say, thou confessest 
 thou art in thyself, in these several respects, altogether 
 unrighteous, but thou hopest the righteousness of Christ 
 will be sufficient to answer for all ; no doubt Christ's 
 righteousness is abundantly available to all the ends for 
 which it was intended by the Father and him; but it shall 
 never answer all the ends that a foolish, wicked heart will 
 fondly imagine to itself. 
 
 In short, it serves to excuse thy non-performance of, 
 and stands instead of thy perfect sinless obedience to, the 
 law of works; but itserv^es not instead of thy performance 
 of what is required of thee, as the condition of the gospel- 
 covenant. That is, it shall never supply the room of faith, 
 repentance, regeneration, holiness, the loving of Christ 
 above all, and God in him; so a.s to render these unneces- 
 sary, or salvation possible without them. There is not 
 one tola or little in the Bible, that so much as intimates 
 an unregenerate person, an unbeliever, an impenitent or 
 unholy person, shall be saved by Christ's righteousness ; 
 but enough to the contrary, everyone knows, that hath the 
 least acquaintance with the Scriptures. Vain man! what, 
 is Christ divided, and divided against himself; Christ 
 without against Christ within "? his sufferings on the cross 
 and foregoing obedience, against his Spirit and govern- 
 ment in the soul "? Did Christ die to take away the neces- 
 sity of our being Christians'? And must his death serve 
 not to destroy sin out of the world, but Christianity 1 
 Who hath taught thee so wickedly to misunderstand the 
 design of Christ's dying 1 And when the Scripture so 
 plainly tells thee, d that God so loved the w^orld, that he 
 gave his only-begotten Son, that whosoever believeth in 
 him should not perish, but have everlasting life ; and •■ that 
 he became the author of eternal salvation to them that 
 obey him ; yea, and that he will come in flaming fire 
 to take vengeance on them that know and obey him 
 not ; what should induce thee to think thou mayest be 
 saved by him, whether thou believest and obeyest or 
 not ■? No, if ever thou think to see God, and be happy 
 in him, thou must have a righteousness in thee resembling 
 his; the very product, the thing wrought in the work of 
 regeneration, f If ye know that he is righteous, ye know 
 that every one that doeth righteousness is born of him. 
 Whereupon follows the description of the blessedness 
 
 d John iii. 16. 
 K John V. 37. 
 
 e Heb. v. 9. 
 h Prov. X. 16. 
 
 fl Johnii. 29. 
 i Ch. xi. 14, 18. 
 
 of such righteous ones, in the beginning of the next 
 
 chapter, They are sons they shall be like, &.c. 
 
 So that in a word, without some sight oi God here, there 
 is no seeing him hereafter; without some likeness to him 
 how, none hereafter. And such as are destitute of that 
 heart-conformity to the gospel, wherein ihe evangelical 
 righteousness stands, are so far from it, that we may say 
 to them as our Saviour to the Jews,? Ye have neither 
 heard his voice, nor seen his shape, i. e. you have never 
 had right notion, or any the least true glimpse of him; 
 your hearts are wholly destitute of all divine impressions 
 whatsoever. 
 
 8. Infer. We may further infer, from this qualification of 
 the subject of blessedness, that righteousness is novain 
 thing. That is not in vain, that ends so well, and ha'th so 
 happy an issue at last. Scripture tells us,h that the labour 
 of the righteous tendeth to life : and that we may under- 
 stand it of their labour as they are righteous, we are more 
 plainly told, that i righteousness tendeth to life ; t and that 
 to thein that sow righteousness shall be a sure reward. 
 That the righteous shall shine as the sun in the kingdom 
 of their Father. The righteous into eternal life, i And 
 we here see that righteousness ends in the bles.sed sight of 
 God's glorious face, in being satisfied with the Divine 
 likeness. Fool-ish sinners are justly upbraided that they 
 spend their ■" labour for that which satisfies not ; take 
 much pains to no purpose. Such are all the works of sin, 
 toilsome, fruitless :■> What fruit had ye of those things {viz. 
 which ye wrought when you were free from righteousness) 
 whereof ye are now ashamed ; for the end of those things 
 IS death. " But (it follows) being now made free from sin, 
 and become servants to God, (which is paraphrased above 
 by servants to righteousness,) ye have your fruit unto ho- 
 liness, and the end everlasting life. The fruit is a con- 
 tinual increase of holiness, a growing more and more like 
 God ; till at last everlasting life, satisfaction with his like- 
 ness, do crown and consummate all. 
 
 You have now what to answer to the atheist's profane 
 query. What profit is it to serve Godi to what purpose 
 to lead so strict and precise a life 1 You may now see to 
 what purpose it is ; and whereunto godliness (which right- 
 eousness here includes) is profitable, a* having, besides 
 what it entitles to here, the promise of that life which is 
 to come. There needs no more to discover any thing not 
 to be vain (inasmuch as nothing can be said to be so, 
 but in reference to an end, as being good for nothing) than 
 the eviction of these two things :— that it aims at a truly 
 worthy and valuable end; and — that its tendency thereto 
 is direct and certain. In the present case, both these are 
 obvious enough at the first view. For as to the former of 
 them: all the world will agree, without disputing the mat- 
 ter, that the last end of man (i. e. which he ultimately pro- 
 pounds to himself) is his best good: and that he can de- 
 sign no further good to himself than satisfaction ; nothing 
 after or bevond that : and what can afford it, if the vision 
 and participation of the Divine glory do not 1 As to the 
 latter: besides all that assurance given by Scriplure-con- 
 stitution to the righteous man, concerning his future re- 
 ward, let the consciences be consulted of the most besotted 
 sinners, in any lucid interval, and they will give their 
 suftYage, (Balaam, that so earnestly followed the reward 
 of unrighteousness, not excepted,) that the way of right- 
 eousness is that only likely way to happiness ; and would 
 therefore desire to die, at "least, the righteous man's death, 
 and that their latter end should be like his. So is wisdom 
 (I might call it righteousness too; the wicked man is the 
 Scripture fool, and the righteous the wise man) justified 
 not by her children only, but by her enemies also. And 
 sure,' 'tis meet that she should be more openly justified by 
 her children, and that they learn to silence and repress 
 those misgiving thoughts;'" Surely I have washed my 
 hands in vain, &c. ; and p be steadfast, unmoveable, always 
 abounding in the work of the Lord, forasmuch as they 
 know their labour is not in vain in the Lord. 
 
 k Matt. xiii. 13. 
 n Rom. vi. 20, 21. 
 
 I Chap. XXV. 4«. 
 o Psal. 1x301. 
 
 m Isa. Iv. 2. 
 p 1 Cor. XV. 58.
 
 S38 
 
 THE BLESSEDNESS OF THE RIGHTEOUS. 
 
 Chap. XV. 
 
 CHAPTER XV. 
 
 Two other inferences, from the consideration of the season of this blessedness : 
 The former, that inasmuch as this blessedness is not attained in this life, 
 the present happiness of saints must in a great part consist in hope. The 
 latter, that great is the wisdom and sagacity of the righteous man, which 
 waives a present temporary happiness, and cliooses that which is distant and 
 future. 
 
 Inasmuch as the season of this blessedness is not on this 
 side the grave, nor expected by saints till they awake ; we 
 may further infer, 
 
 9. Infer. Ninthly, That their happiness in the meantime 
 doth very much consist in hope ; or that hope must needs 
 be of very great necessity and use to them in their present 
 state for their comfort and support. It were not otherwise 
 possible to subsist in the absence and want of their highest 
 good, while nothing in this lower world is, as to kind and 
 nature, suitable to their desires, or makes any colourable 
 overture to them of satisfaction and happiness. Others 
 (as the Psalmist observes) have their portion in this life ; 
 that good, which as to the species and kind of it, is most 
 grateful to them, is present, under view, within sight ; and 
 (as the aposlle^) Hope that is seen is not hope, for what a 
 man seeth, why doth he yet hope for it 1 But those whose 
 more refined spirits, having received the first fruits of the 
 Holy Spirit of God, prompt them to groan after something 
 beyond time, and above this sublunary sphere ; of them 
 the apostle there tells us, that they are saved by hope. 
 They (as if he should say) subsist by it ; they were never 
 able to hold out, were it not for their hope ; and that a 
 hope too, beyond this life, as is the hope of a Christian ; 
 b if in this life only we had hope in Christ, &c. The hope 
 of a Christian, as such, is suitable to its productive cause, 
 the resurrection of Christ from the dead ; begotten to '^ a 
 lively hope by the resurrection, &c. Thence is it the hope 
 of a renewed, never-dying life, the hope of a blessed im- 
 mortality; whereof Christ's resurrection was a certain 
 argument and pledge. 
 
 Indeed the new creature is, ab orighie, and all along, a 
 hoping creature, both in its privmvi and its porro esse : 
 'tis conceived, and formed, and nursed up in hope. In 
 its production, and in its progress towards perfection, 'tis 
 manifestly influenc d thereby. In the first return of the 
 soul to God, hope, being then planted as a part of the holy, 
 gracious nature, now manifestly discovers itself; when the 
 soul begins to act, (as turning after the reception of the 
 Divine influence is its act,) hope insinuates itself into (or 
 induces rather) that ver}^ act. Returning is not the act of 
 a despairing, but hoping soul. 'Tis God apprehended as 
 reconcilable, that attracts and wins it; while he is looked 
 upon as an implacable enemy, the soul naturally shuns 
 him, and comes not nigh, till drawn d with those cords of 
 a man, the bands of love. While it says. There is no hope, 
 it says withal, (desperately eaough,) " I have loved stran- 
 gers, and after them will I go. But if there be any hope 
 in Israel, concerning this thing : if it can yet apprehend 
 God willing to forgive, then f Let us make a covenant, &c. 
 This presently draws the hovering soul into a closure and 
 league with him. And thus is the union continued, s Un- 
 Eteadfastness in the covenant of God, is resolved into this 
 not setting or fixing of hope in him ; or (which amounts to 
 the same) setting of hope in God is directed as a means to 
 h steadfastness of spirit with him, and a keeping of his 
 covenant. Revolting souls are encouraged to turn to the 
 Lord upon this consideration, that salvation is i hoped for 
 in vain from any other ; the case being indeed the same in 
 all after-conversions as in the first. God as multipljungto 
 pardon, and still retaining the same name,k The Lord, the 
 Lord gracious and merciful, (which name in all the seve- 
 rals that compose and make it up, is in his Christ,) invites 
 back to him the backsliding sinner, and renews his thoughts 
 of returning. And so is he afterwards under the teachings 
 of grace, led on by hope, through the whole course of re- 
 ligion towards the future glory. Grace appears, teaching 
 sinners to deny ungodliness, &c. and in the i looking for 
 the blessed hope, the glorious appearing of the great God, 
 
 a Rom. viii. 24. 
 
 b 1 Cor. XV. 19. 
 
 c 1 Pet. i. 3. 
 
 n 1 John iii. 3. 
 
 d Hos. xi. 
 
 e Jer. ii. 
 
 f Ezra X. 2, 3. 
 
 (] 1 Thess. V. 8. 
 
 r Psal. Ixxnii. 7, 13. 
 K Exod. xxxiv. 6. 
 
 h Vcr. 10. 
 
 i Jer. iii. 22, 23. 
 
 s Hab. u. 4. 
 
 ITit. ii. 1), 12, 13. 
 
 m Rom. ii. 7. 
 
 u 2 Cor. iv. 16, 18 
 
 &c. So do they keep themselves in the love of God, look- 
 ing for the mercy of our Lord Jesus Christ unto eternal 
 life. Thus is the new creature formed in hope, and nour- 
 ished in hope ; and if its eye were upon pardon at first, 'tis 
 more upon the promised glory afterwards. And yet that 
 last end hath in a degree its attractive influence upon it, 
 from the first formation of it ; 'tis even then taught to de- 
 sign for glory. 'Tis begotten to the lively hope, (where 
 though hope be taken objectively, as the apposition shows 
 of the following words, to an inheritance, yet the act is 
 evidently connoted ; for the thing hoped for, is meant under 
 that notion, as hoped for,) and its whole following course 
 is an aiming at glory; a'" seeking glory, honour, immor- 
 tality, &c. Thus is the workof sanctification carried on ;" 
 He that hath this hope purifieth himself Thus are losses 
 sustained ; ° The spoiling of goods taken joyfully through 
 the expectation of the better and enduring substance. The 
 most hazardous services undertaken, even an apostleship 
 to a despised Chri.st, — p In the hope of eternal life, which 
 God that cannot lie hath promised. All difficulties en- 
 countered and overcome, while thei helmet is the hope of 
 salvation. All worldly evils are willingly endured ; and all 
 suc/i good things quitted and forsaken, for Christ's sake and 
 his elect's. And if the question be asked, (as it was once of 
 Alexander, when so frankly distributing his treasures 
 among his followers,) What do vou reserve for yourself 1 
 The resolved Christian makes (with him) that short and 
 brave reply, HOPE. He lives upon things future and un- 
 seen. The objects any one converses with most, and in which 
 his life is as it were bound up, are suitable to the ruling 
 principles of life in him. ' They that are after the flesh, do 
 .savour the things of the flesh ; they that are after the Spirit, 
 the things of the Spirit. The principle of the fleshly life is 
 sense : the principle of the spiritual life is faith. Sense is 
 a mean, low, narrow, incomprehensive principle, limited to 
 a point, this centre of earth, and to vw, this note of time ; it 
 can reach no higher than terrene things, nor further than 
 present things ; so brutish is the life of him that is ltd by 
 it ; wholly confined to matter and time. But the righteous 
 live by faith. Their faith governs and maintains their life. 
 They steer not their course according to what they see, but 
 according to what they believe : and their daily sustenance 
 is by the same kind of things. Their faith influences not 
 their actions only, but their comforts and enjoyments. 
 They subsist by the things they believe, even invisible and 
 eternal things ; but it is by the intervening exercise of hope, 
 whose object is the same. The apostle having told us from 
 the prophet, that the ^ just shall live by faith, presently sub- 
 joins a description of that faith they live by, I'iz. that it is 
 ' the substance of things hoped for, and the evidence of 
 things not seen; it substantiates and realizes, evidences 
 and demonstrates those glorious objects, so far above the 
 reach and sphere of sense. It is constantly sent out to 
 forage in the invisible regions for the maintenance of this 
 life; and thence fetches in the provisions upon which hope 
 feeds, to the strengthening of the heart, the renewing of life 
 and spirits. Our inward man, (saiththe apostle)" is renewed 
 day by day ; while we look, or take aim (which is next in 
 the series of the discourse, for the intervening vei'se is ma- 
 nifestly parenthetical) not at the things that are seen, but 
 at the things that are not seen; for the things that are seen 
 are temporal, but the things that are not seen are eternal. 
 And the word here rendered^ ^ooA: doth plainly signify the 
 act of hope as well as that of faith ; for it doth not import 
 a mere intuition or beholding, a taking notice or assenting 
 only that there are such things, but a designing or scoping 
 at them (which is the very word) with an appropriative 
 eye ; as things that, notwithstanding their distance, or what- 
 soever imaginable difficulty, are hoped to be attained to and 
 enjoyed. And here are evidently the distinct parts of fait li 
 and hoj)e in this business ; faith, upon the authority and 
 credit of the Divine word and promise, persuades the heart 
 that there is such a glorious state of things reserved for the 
 saints in general, (faith can go no further, for the word of 
 promise goes no further,) and so serves instead of eyes in 
 the Divine light, to view those glories; or it presents them 
 
 o Heb. X. 34. p Tit. i. 1, a. 
 
 r Rom. vlii. 5. 
 t Heb. xi. 1. 
 
 X CKOTTOVVTbll/. 
 
 j
 
 Chap. XV. 
 
 THE BLESSEDNESS OF THE RIGHTEOUS. 
 
 239 
 
 (as so many substantial realities,) demonstrates tliem, sub- 
 mits them to view, whence hope reaches Ibrih to them ; 
 contends against and triumphs over all attending difficul- 
 ties, and pcvssesses them; gives the soul an early antici- 
 pated fruition of them, for its present support and relief. 
 So that it y rejoices m the hope of the glory of God. It 
 might well therefore be said, I had fainted, if I had not 
 believed, or who can express how sad my case had been, 
 if I had not believed 1 for there is an elegant aposiopesis 
 in the Hebrew text, the words " I had fainted" being sup- 
 plied in the translation. If I had not believed, what had be- 
 come of me then '\ q. d. Inasmuch as faith feeds, as it 
 were, those hopes wliich more immediately, the Lord makes 
 use of, for the strengthening his people's hearts, as it was 
 intimated in the following words, compared with Psal. xxxi. 
 24. In the present case; faith a.scertains the heart of the 
 truth of the promises, so that thus the soul states the case 
 to itself. Though I have not walked to and fro in those 
 upper regions, nor taken a view of the heavenly inheri- 
 tance; though I have not been in the third heavens, and 
 seen the ineffable glory; yet the gospel revelation, which 
 hath brought life and immortality to light, the word of the 
 eternal God, who hath told me this is the state of things in 
 the other world, cannot but be true : my faith may therefore 
 be to me instead of eyes : and the Divine testimony must 
 supply the place of light : both together, give, methinks, a 
 fair prospect of those far distant, glorious objects which I 
 have now in view. Now this awakens hope, and makes 
 it revive, and run to embrace what faith hath discovered 
 in the promise : ^ In the hope of eternal life, which God 
 that cannot lie hath promised. 'Tis " the word of God that 
 causes the soul to hope, (i. e. believed, for disbelieved, it 
 signifies nothing with it,) and that not only as it contains 
 a narration, but a promi.se concerning a future state. I 
 may without much emotion of heart, hear from a travel- 
 ler the description of a pleasant country, where I have not 
 been; but if the lord of that country give me, besides the 
 account of it, an assurance of enjoying rich and ample 
 possessions there, this presently begets a hope, the plea- 
 sure whereof would much relieve a present distressed es- 
 tate ; and which nothing but that of actual possession, can 
 exceed. That 'tis not more so with us here, admits of no 
 excuse. Is God less to be believed than a manl Will 
 we deny him the privilege of being able to discover his 
 mind, and the truth of things credible, which we ordina- 
 rily allow to any one that is not a convicted liar 1 Christ 
 expects his disciples should very confidently assure them- 
 selves of the preparations made for them in another world, 
 upon that very ground alone, that he had not told them the 
 contrary : b Let not your hearts be troubled, ye believe in 
 God, believe also in me. In my Father's house are many 
 mansions, if it were not so, I would have told you. I go 
 to prepare, &c. intimating to them, they ought to have 
 that opinion of his plainness and sincerity, as never to 
 imagine he would have proselyted them to a religion that 
 should undo them in this world, if there were not a suffi- 
 cient recompense awaiting them in the other, but he would 
 certainly have let them knov\Ti the worst of their case : 
 much more might he expect, they should be confident 
 upon his so often and expressly telling them, that so it is. 
 If his silence might be a ground of hope, much more his 
 word. And surely so grounded a hope cannot but be con- 
 solatory and relieving in this sad interval, till the awa- 
 jjing hour. 
 
 10. Infer. Lastly, Since this blessedness of the riglite- 
 ous is, as to the season of it. future, not expected till they 
 awake, we may infer, that 'tis great wisdom and sagacity 
 that guides the righteous man's choice ; while he waves a 
 present and temporary, and chooses this future and ex- 
 pected, blessedness. 'Tis true, that philosophy hath been 
 wont to teach us, that choice or election hath no place 
 about the end, because that is but one, and choice always 
 implies a competition. But that very reason evinces, that 
 in our present stale and case, choice must have place about 
 the end. That philosophy might have suited better the 
 state of innocent Adam ; when there was nothing to blind 
 and bribe a man's judgment, or occasion it to deliberate 
 
 about the supreme end, (then it might be truly said, deli- 
 beration itself was a defection,) nor to pervert and misin- 
 cline his will ; and so its action, in proposing its end, 
 would be simple intention, not choice. But so hath the 
 apostacy and sin of man blinded and befooled him, that he 
 is at a loss about nothing more than what is the chief good. 
 And though St. Augustine "= reduce Varro's two hundred 
 and eighteen differing .sects about it to twelve, that's enough 
 to prove (but daily experience doth it more convincing- 
 ly, and sadly) a real, though most unjust competition. 
 Therefore a sinner can never be blessed without cnoosing 
 his blessedness ; and therein it highly concerns him to 
 choose aright, and that a spirit of wisdcjrn and counsel 
 guide his choice. While man had not as yet fallen, to de- 
 liberate whether he should adhere to God or no, was a 
 gradual declension, the very inchoation of his fall ; but 
 having fallen, necessity makes that a virtue which was 
 a wickedness before. There is no returning to God 
 without considering our ways. The so much altered 
 state of the case, quite alters the nature of the things. 
 It was a consulting to do evil before ; now to do good. 
 And hence also, d choosing the Lord to be our God, be- 
 comes a necessary duty. Which is to make choice of this 
 very blessedness, that consists in the knowledge, likeness, 
 and enjoyment of him. And now, inasmuch a.s this bless- 
 edness is not fully attained by the longing soul, till time 
 expire and its eternity commence ; here is a great disco- 
 very of that wisdom which guides this happy choice. This 
 is great wisdom in prospect ion; in taking care of the future; 
 and at how much the further distance one can provide, so 
 much the greater reputation of wisdom is justly acquired 
 to him ; yea, we seem to place the sum of practical wisdom 
 in this one thing, while we agree to call it providence, un- 
 der the contracted name of prudence. The wise man makes 
 it at least an evidence or part of wisdom, when he tells us ' 
 the prudent foreseeth, &c. The righteous man so far ex- 
 cels in this faculty, as that his eye looks through all the 
 periods of time, and penetrates into eternity, recommends 
 to the soul a blessedness of that same stamp and alloy, that 
 will endure and last forever. It will not content him to be 
 happy for an hour, or for any space tliat can have an end; 
 after which it shall be possible to him to look back and 
 recount with himself how happy he was once: nor is he 
 so much solicitous what his present state be, if he can but 
 find he is upon safe terms as to his future and eternal slate. 
 As for me, saith the Psalmist, (he herein sorts and severs 
 himselt from them whose portion was in this life.) ( I shall 
 behold — I shall be satisfied, when I awake ; he cauld vot 
 say it u-as veil with him, bid shall be, q. d. Let the purblind, 
 short-sighted sensualist embrace this present world, who 
 can see no further: let me have my portion in the world 
 to come ; may my soul always lie open to the imprecision 
 of the powers of the coming world ; and in this, .':o use 
 every thing as to be under the power of nothing. What 
 are the pleasures of sin, that are but for a season ; or what 
 the sufferings of this nmo, this moment of affliction, to 
 the glory that shall be revealed, to the exceeding and eter- 
 nal glory 1 He considers, patient afflicted godliness will 
 triumph at last, when riotous raging wickedness shall la- 
 ment for ever. He may for a time weep and mourn, while 
 the world rejoices; he may be sorrowful, but his sorrow 
 shall be turned into joy, and his joy none shall take from 
 him. Surely? here is wisdom; this is the wisdom that is 
 from above, and tends thither. This is to be wise unto 
 salvation. The righteous man is a judicious man ; he 
 hafh in a measure that judgment (wherein the apostle 
 prays the Philippians might ii abound) to approve things 
 that are excellent, and accordingly to make his choice. 
 This is a sense (little thought of by the author) wherein 
 that sober speech of the voluptuous philosopher is most 
 certainly true, > A man cannot live happily, without living 
 •wisely. No man shall ever enjoy the eternal plea.sures 
 hereafter, that in this acquits not himself wisely here, even 
 in this choosing the better part, that shall never be taken 
 from him. In this the plain righteous man outvies the 
 greatest sophies, the scribe, the disputer, the politician, thr, 
 prudent mammonisi, the facete wit; who, in their several 
 
 y Rom. V. 2. xii. 
 fa John xiv. 1,2. 
 d Josh. xxiv. 15. 
 
 P.9al. x.\vii. 13. 14. 7. Tit. i. 2. a Psal. xi.\. 49. 
 c DeCivit. Dei, lib. 19. 
 
 e Prov. xxii. 3. 
 
 f E.St bene non potuit dir«re dicit erit. 
 
 g John xn. 20, 22. h Phil. i. 9, 10. 
 
 i EviiruruB.
 
 240 
 
 THE BLESSEDNESS OP THE RIGHTEOUS. 
 
 Chap. XVI. 
 
 kinds, all think themselves highly to have merited to be 
 accounted wise : and that this point of wisdom should es- 
 cape their notice, and be the principal thing with him, can 
 be resolved into nothing else but the Divine good pleasure! 
 In this contemplation our Lord Jesus Christ is said to have 
 rejoiced in spirit, (it even put his great comprehensive soul 
 into an ecstacy,) k Father 1 thank thee, Lord of heaven and 
 earth, that thou hast hid these things from the wise and 
 prudent, and revealed them to babes; even so Father, 
 because it pleased thee ! Here was a thing fit to be reflect- 
 ed on, as a piece of Divine royally ; a part worthy of the 
 Lord of heaven and earth. And what serious spirit would 
 it not amaze, to weigh and ponder this case awhile ; to 
 see men excelling in all other kinds of knowledge, so far 
 excelled by those they most contemn, in the highest point 
 of wisdom ; such as know how to search into the most ab- 
 struse mysteries of nature ; that can unravel, or see through 
 the most perplexed intrigues of state ; that know how to save 
 their own stake, and secure their private interest in what- 
 soever times ; yet so little seen, (often, for not many wise) 
 in the matters that concern an eternal felicity ! It puts me 
 in mind of what I find observed by some, the particular 
 madness, (a dementia quo ad hoc,) as 'tis called ; when per- 
 sons, in every thing else, capable of sober, rational dis- 
 course, when you bring them to some one thing, (that in 
 reference to which they became distempered at first) they 
 rave and are perfectly mad. How many that can manage 
 a discourse with great reason and judgment about other 
 matters, who, when you come to discourse with them 
 about the affairs of practical godliness, and which most 
 directly tend to that future state of blessedness, they are 
 as at their wit's end, know not what to say; they savour 
 not those things ! These are things not understood, but by 
 such to whom it is given ; and surely that given Avisdom is 
 the most excellent wisdom. Sometimes God doth, as it 
 were, so far gratify the world, as to speak their own lan- 
 guage, and call them wise that affect to be called so, and 
 that wisdom which they would fain have go under that 
 name ; Moses, it is said, was skilled in all the i wisdom of 
 Egypt, &c. But at other times he expressly calls those 
 wise men fools, and their wisdom, folly and madness ; or 
 annexes some disgraceful abject for distinction sake ; or 
 applies those appellatives ironically, and in manifest deri- 
 sion. No doubt, but any such person as was represented 
 in the parable, would have thought himself to have done 
 the part of a very wise man, in entertaining such delibe- 
 ration and resolves, as we find he had there with himself. 
 How strange was that to his ears, >" Thou fool, this night 
 shall they require thy soul, &c. Their wisdom is some- 
 times said to be foolish ; or else called the wisdom of the 
 flesh, or fleshly wisdom; said to be earthly, sensual, devil- 
 ish ; they are said to be wise to do evil ; while to do good 
 they have no understanding ; they are brought sometimes 
 as it were upon the stage with their wisdom, to be the 
 matter of Divine triumph ; where is the wise 7 and that 
 which they account foolishness is made to confound their 
 wisdom. And indeed do they deserve to be thought wise, 
 that are so busily intent upon momentary trifles, and trifle 
 with eternal concernments 1 that prefer vanishing shadows 
 to the everlasting glory "? that follow lying vanities, and 
 forsake their own mercies 1 Yea, will they not cease to be 
 wise in their own eyes also, when they see the issue, and 
 reap the fruits of their foolish choice 1 when they find the 
 happiness they preferred before this eternal one is quite 
 over ; and nothing remains to them of it, but an afflictive 
 remembrance 1 that the torment they were told would fol- 
 low, is but now beginning, and without end 1 when they 
 hear from the mouth of their impartial Judge, Remember, 
 you in your life-time had your good things, and my faith- 
 ful servants their evil; now they must be comforted, and 
 you tormented 1 when they are told, " you have received 
 the consolation ; you were full, ye did laugh, now you must 
 pine, and mourn, and weep'? Will they not then be as 
 ready to befool themselves, and say as they, " See, those 
 (righteous ones) are they whom we sometimes had in de- 
 rision, and for a proverb of reproach: we fools counted 
 their life madness, and that their end was without honour; 
 but now, how are they numbered among the sons of God, 
 
 k Luke X. 21. 
 II Luke xi. at, i». 
 
 1 Aotg vii. 22. 
 
 o Wisd. V. 3. &c. 
 
 ra Luke .\ii. 20. 
 p 1 Cor. i. 21. 
 
 and their lot is among the saints ? They that were too wise 
 before, to mind so mean a thing as religion (p the world 
 through wisdom knew not God ; strange wisdom !) that 
 could so wisely baffle conscience, and put fallacies upon 
 their own souls ; that had so ingenious shifts to elude ■> 
 conviction, and divert any serious thought from fastening' 
 upon their spirits ; that were wont so slyly to jeer holi- 
 ness, seemed as they meant to laugh religion out of coun- 
 tenance ; ithey will now know, that a circumspect walk- 
 ing, a faithful redeeming of time, and improving it in or- 
 der to eternity, was to do, not as fools, but as wise; and be- 
 gin to think of themselves, now at last, as all wise and so- 
 ber men thought of them before. 
 
 CHAPTER XVI. 
 
 The second general head of the improvement or use of the doctrine propound- 
 ed from the text, containing certam rules or prescriptions of duty connatural 
 thereto. 1. That we settle in our minds the true notion of this blessedness. 
 2. That we compare the temper of our own spirits with it, and labour thence 
 to discern whether we may lay claim to it or no. 
 
 Thus far we have the account of the truths to be con- 
 sidered and weighed that have dependence on the doctrine 
 of the text. 
 
 Next follow the duties to be practised and done in refer- 
 ence thereto, which I shall lay down in the ensuing rules 
 or prescriptions. 
 
 1. That we admit and settle the distinct notion of this 
 blessedness in our own minds and judgments ; that we fix 
 in our own souls apprehensions agreeable t-o the account 
 this scripture hath given us of it. This is a counsel lead- 
 ing and introductive to the rest; and which if it obtain 
 with us, will have a general influence upon the whole 
 course of that practice which the doctrine already opened 
 calls for. As our apprehensions of this blessedness are 
 more distinct and clear, it may be expected more powe>r- 
 fully to command our hearts and lives. Hence it is, in 
 great part, the spirits and conversations of Christians have 
 so little savour and appearance of heaven in them. We 
 rest in some general and confused notion of it, in which 
 there is little either of efficacy or pleasure ; we descend 
 not into a particular inquiry and consideration what it is. 
 Our thoughts of it are gloomy and obscure ; and hence 
 it is our spirit is naturally listless and indifferent towards 
 it, and rather contents itself to sit still in a region all light- 
 some round about, and among objects it hath somepresent 
 acquaintance with, than venture itself forth as into a new 
 world which it knows but little of. And hence our lives 
 are low and carnal ; they look not as though we were 
 seeking the heavenly country ; and indeed who can be in 
 good earnest in seeking after an unknown state ? This 
 is owing to our negligence and infidelity. The blessed 
 God hath not been shy and reserved ; hath not hidden or 
 concealed from us the glory of the other world ; nor locked 
 up heaven to us ; nor left us to the uncertain guesses of 
 our own imagination, the wild fictions of an unguided 
 fancy ; which would have created us a poetical heaven 
 only, and have mocked us with false elysiums : but though 
 much be yet within the vail, he hath been liberal in his 
 discoveries to us. Life and immortalit)' are brought to 
 light in the gospel. The future blessedness (though some 
 refined heathens have had near guesses at it) is certainly 
 apprehensible by the measure only of God's revelation of 
 it ; for who can determine, with certainty, of the eflfects 
 of Divine good pleasure ('tis your Father's good pleasure 
 to give you a kingdom ?) Who can tell beforehand what 
 so free and boundless goodness will do, further than as 
 he himself discovers it ? The discovery is as free as the 
 donation. The things "that eye hath not seen, and ear not 
 heard, and which have not entered into the heart of man, 
 God hath revealed to us by his Spirit ; and it follows, ver. 
 12. We have received the spirit of God, that we might 
 know the things freely given us of God. The Spirit is both 
 the principle of the external revelation, as having inspired 
 the Scriptures which foreshow this glory, and of the inter- 
 nal revelation also, to enlighten blind minds that would 
 otherwise (/luuml^sn') never be able to discover things at so 
 
 n Folly is joy to him that is destitute of wisdom. Prov. xv. 
 a 1 Cor. ii. 9.
 
 Chap. XVI. 
 
 THE BLESSEDNESS OF THE RIGHTEOUS. 
 
 341 
 
 great a distance, see afar off; therefore called the spirit of 
 wisdom and revelation, by which bihe eyes of the under- 
 standing are enlightened to know tiie hope of that calling, 
 and the riches of the glory of his inheritance among the 
 saints, as the ck there is most fitly to be rendered. 
 
 But this internal discovery is made by the mediation 
 and interveniency of the external ; therefore having that 
 before our eyes, we are to apply our minds to the study and 
 consideration of it ; and in that way to expect the free 
 illumination of the Holy Spirit. In the meantime we must 
 charge our ignorance, and the darkness of our cloudy 
 thoughts, touching these things, upon our carelessness, 
 lhat\vc do not attend; or our incredulity, that we will 
 not believe what God hath revealed concerning them : 'tis 
 therefore a dutiful atlenlion, and reverential faith, that must 
 settle and fix the notion of this blessedness. If we will 
 not regard nor give credit to what God hath discovered 
 concerning it, we may sit still in a torpid, disconsolate 
 darkness, which we ourselves are the authors of, or (which 
 is no less pernicious) compass ourselves with sparks beaten 
 out of our own forge, walk in the light of our own fire, 
 cheat our souls with the fond dream of an imagined 
 lieaven, no where to be found, till we at length lie down 
 in soriow. How perverse are the imaginations of men 
 in this (as in reference to the way, so) in respect of the 
 end also; for as they take upon them to fancy another way 
 to happiness quite besides and against the plain word of 
 God ; so do they imagine to themselves another kind of 
 happiness, such as shall gratify only their sensual desires ; 
 a Alahometan, indeed a fool's, paradise; or at best 'tis but 
 a negative heaven ; they many times entertain in their 
 thoughts (of which their sense too is the only measure) a 
 state wherein nothing shall offend or incommode the flesh ; 
 in which they shall nor hunger, not thirst, nor feel want : 
 and when they have thus stated the matter in their own 
 thoughts, we cannot beat them out of it, but that they desire 
 to go to heaven; {viz. the heaven of their own making;) 
 when, did they conceive it truly and fully, they would find 
 their hearts to abhor from it, even as hell itself Therefore 
 here we should exercise an authority over ourselves, and 
 awaken conscience to its proper work and business ; and 
 demand of it. Is it not reasonable these divine discoveries 
 should take place with rael hath not God spoken plainly 
 enough 1 why should my heart any longer hang in doubt 
 with me, or look wishly towards future glory, as if it were 
 an uncouth thing 1 or is it reasonable to confront my own 
 imaginations to his discoveries 1 Charge conscience with 
 the duty it owes to God in such a case ; and let his reve- 
 lations be received with the reverence and resignation which 
 they challenge ; and in them study and contemplate the 
 blessedness of awakened souls ; till you have agreed with 
 yourself fully how to conceive it. Run over every part of 
 it in your thoughts ; view the several divine excellencies 
 which you are hereafter to see and imitate ; and think 
 v/hat every thing will contribute to the satisfaction and 
 contentment of your spirits. This is a matter of unspeak- 
 able consequence. Therefore, to be as clear as is possible, 
 you may digest what is recommended to you in these more 
 particular directions. 
 
 1. Resolve with yourselves, to make the divine reve- 
 lation of this blessedness the prime measure and reason 
 of all your apprehensions concerning it. Fix that purpose 
 in your own hearts, so to order all your conceptions about 
 It, that when you demand of yourselves, what do I con- 
 ceive of the future blessedness 1 and why do I conceive 
 sol the divine revelation may answer both the questions. 
 I apprehend what God hath revealed, and because he hath 
 so revealed. The Lord of heaven sure best understands 
 it, and can best help us to the understanding of it. If it 
 be said of the "^origin of this world, 7rts-£< vooiitcv, it may 
 much more be said of the state of the other, we under- 
 stand it by faith : that must inform and perfect our intel- 
 lectuals in this matter. 
 
 2. Therefore reject and sever from the notion of this 
 blessedness, whatsoever is alien to the account Scripture 
 gives us of it. Think not that sensual pleasure, that a 
 
 b Eph. i. 17. c Heb. xi. 3. 
 
 d Yvl^riv dtois 'Zvl^n ('t Oenis o avvcxbis Scikvvs cavTOi; rriv cavTov \lAi\r]v 
 apcTKOfitvrjv fitvTZ roii airovtjiopicvoif : -noiovrrav 6e oaa Pox'Xctoi n iai/iMV, 
 ovCKa^uiTrpos'aTm't&c.—.'vroifees'iveKas'ovvovsKat Xoyof. Marc. Ant. 1. 5. 
 
 liberty of sinning, that an exemption from the divine 
 dominion, distance and estrangedness from God (which by 
 nature you wickedly aflect) can have anyingrediency into, 
 or consistency with, this stale of blessedness. 
 
 3. Gather up into it whatsoever you can find by the 
 Scripture-discovery to appertain or belong thereto. Let 
 your notion of it be to your uttermost, not only true^ but 
 comprehensive and full, and as particular and positive, as 
 God's revelation will warrant : especially remember 'tis a 
 spiritual blessedness, that consists in the refining and per- 
 fecting of your spirits by the vision and likeness of the 
 holy God, and the satisfying of them thereby for ever. 
 
 4. Get the notion of this blessedness deep imprinted 
 in your minds; .so as to abide with you, that you may not 
 be always at a loss, and change your apprehensions every 
 time you come to think of it. Let a once well-formed 
 idea, a clear, full state of it be preserved entire, and be (as 
 a lively image) always before your eyes, which you may 
 readily view upon all occasions. 
 
 2. J?K^^. That having well fixed the notion of this blessed- 
 ness in your minds, you seriously reflect upon yourself, and 
 compare the temper of your spii it with it ; that you may 
 find out how it is affected thereto; and thence judge in 
 what likelihood you are of enjoying it. The general aver- 
 sion of men's spirits to this so necessary work of self- 
 refleclion, is one of the most deplorable s],Tnptoms of 
 lapsed degenerated humanity. The wickedne.ss that hath 
 overspread the nature of man, and a secret consciousness 
 and misgiving, hath made men afraid of themselves, and 
 studiously to decline all acquaintance with their own souls ; 
 to shun themselves as ghosts and spectres; they cannot 
 endure to appear to themselves. You can hardly impose 
 a severer task upon a wicked man, than to go retire an 
 hour or two, and commune with himself : he knows not 
 how to face his own thoughts ; his own soul is a devil to 
 him, as indeed it will be in hell, the most frightful, tor- 
 menting devil. Yet, what power is there in man, more 
 excellent, more appropriate to reasonable nature, than that 
 of reflecting, of turning his thoughts upon himself! Sense 
 must here confess itself outdone. The eye that sees other 
 objects cannot see itself: but the mind, a rational sun, 
 cannot only project its beams, but revert them ; make its 
 thoughts turn inward. It can see its own face, contemplate 
 itself And how useful an endowment is this to the nature 
 of man ! If he err, he might perpetuate his error, and 
 wander infinitely, if he had not this self-reflecting power; 
 and if he do well, never know without it the comfort of a 
 rational self-approbation : which comfort paganish morality 
 hath valued so highly, as to account it did associate a man 
 with the inhabitants of heaven, and make him lead his life 
 as among the gods (as their pagan language is) ; though the 
 name of the reflecting power, conscience, they were less ac- 
 quainted with; the thing itself they reckoned as a kind of 
 indwelling deity, as may be seen at large in those discourses 
 of Maximus Tyrius, and Apuleius, both upon the same 
 subject, concerning the god of Socrates. And another 
 giving this precept, a Familiarize thyself with the gods, 
 adds, (ind this shall thou <to if thou bear thy viind bc- 
 emningly tovards ihcvi, being icell pleased %i-ilh the things 
 they give, and doing the things that mny please thy damon 
 or genius, irhovi (saiih he) the most high God (which they 
 mean by Jupiter) hath put into ever}' viati as a deriration 
 or extraction from himself {ii-dtrrrnaim) to he his president 
 and guide ; viz. every one's own viind and reason. And this 
 mind or reason in that notion'of it, as we approve ourselves 
 to it, and study to please it, is the same thing we intend 
 by the name of conscience. And how high account they 
 had of this work of self-reflection, may appear in that they 
 entitled the oracle to that document, 'inotr thyself, esteem- 
 ing it above human discovery, and that it could have no 
 lower than a divine original ; and therefore con.secrating 
 and Mriting it up in golden characters in their Delphic 
 temple (as Pliny informs f lis) for a heavenly inspired 
 dictate. 
 
 Among Christians that enjoy the benefit of the gospel- 
 revelation, in which men may behold themselves, as one 
 
 e F. civlo desceiidif, yvomOc ataVTOv. 
 
 f Hi.st. Miiniii. Tlie wisdom and sigaiificancy of which dedication Plato also 
 (in Alcibiad. 1.) takes notice of.
 
 a42 
 
 THE BLESSEDNESS OF THE RIGHTEOUS. 
 
 Chap. XVI. 
 
 may his natural face in a glass, how highly should this 
 self-knowledge be prized, and how fully attained ! The 
 gospel discovers, at the same time, the ugly deformities of 
 a man's soul, and the means of attaining a true spiritual 
 comeliness ; yea, it is itself the instrument of impressing 
 the Divine image and glory upon men's spirits ; which when 
 it is in any measure done, they become most sociable and 
 conversable with themselves, and when 'tis but in doing, 
 it so convincingly, and with so piercing energy, lays open 
 the very thoughts of men's hearts, so thoroughly rips up 
 and dissects the soul, .^so directly turns and strictly holds 
 a man's eye intent upon himself; so powerfully urges and 
 obliges the sinner to mind and study his own soul ; that 
 where it hath effected any thing, been any way operative 
 upon men's spirits, they are certainly supposed to be in a 
 good measure acquainted with themselves, whatever others 
 are. Therefore the apostle bids the Corinthians, if they 
 desire a proof of the power and truth of his ministry, to 
 consult themselves : n Examine yourselves, and presently 
 subjoins, know ye not your own selves 1 intimating, it was 
 an insupposable thing they should be ignorant. What ! 
 Christians and not know yourselves! Can you have been 
 imder the gospel so long, and be strangers to yourselves 1 
 none can think it. Sure 'tis a most reproachful thing, a 
 thing full of ignominy and scandal, that a man should 
 name himself a Christian, and yet be under gross ignorance, 
 touching the temper and bent of his soul. It signifies, that 
 such a one understands little of the design and tendency 
 of the very religion he pretends to be of, that he was a 
 Christian by mere chance, that he took up and continues 
 his profession in a dream. Christianity aims at nothing, 
 it gets a man nothing, if it do not procure him a better 
 spirit; 'lis an empty insignificant thing, it hath no design 
 in it at all, if it do not design this. It pretends to nothing 
 else. It doth not offer men secular advantages, emolu- 
 ments, honours ; it hath no such aim to make men in that 
 sense rich, or great, or honourable, but to make them holy, 
 and fit them for God. He therefore loses all his labour 
 and reward, and shows himself a vain trifler in the matters 
 of religion, that makes not this the scope and mark of his 
 Christian profession and practice; and herein he can do 
 nothing without a constant self-inspection. As it therefore 
 highly^concerns, it well becomes, a Christian under the 
 gospel, to be in a continual observation and study of him- 
 self, that he may know to what purpose he is a Christian ; 
 and take notice, what (or whether any) good impressions 
 be yet made upon his spirit ; whether he can gain any 
 thing by his religion. And if a man enter upon an in- 
 quiry into himself, what more important question can he 
 put than this, In what posture am I as to my last and 
 chief end 1 how is my spirit framed towards it 1 This is the 
 intendment and business of the gospel, to fit souls for 
 blessedness ; and therefore, if I would inquire. What am I 
 the better for the gospell this is the sense and meaning 
 of that very question, Is my soul wrought by it to any 
 better disposition for blessedness 1 Upon which the reso- 
 lution of this depends, Am I ever likely to enjoy it, yea or 
 no 1 That which may make any heart not deplorably stu- 
 pid, shake and tremble, that such a thing should be drawn 
 into question ; but the case with the most requires it, and 
 it must be so. 'Tis that therefore I would fain here 
 awaken souls to, and assist them in; that is, propound 
 something, (in pursuance of the present direction,) which 
 might both awaken them to move this great question, and 
 help them in discussing it. Both which will be done in 
 showing the importance of this latter ultimate question in 
 itself, and then the subserviency of the former subordinate 
 one, towards the deciding it. iThese two things therefore 
 I shall a little stay upon :— -1. To show and urge the re- 
 quisiteness of debating with ourselves, the likelihood or 
 hopefulness of our enjoying this blessedness. 2. To dis- 
 cover that the present habitude, or disposedness of our 
 spirits to it, is a very proper apt medium, whereby to 
 judge thereof 
 
 First, As to the former of these. Methinks our business 
 should do itself; and that the very mention of such a 
 blessedness, should naturally prompt souls to bethink 
 themselves, Doth it belong to mel have I any thing to 
 do with it ? Methinks every one that hears of it should be 
 
 8 Hob. iv 13. 
 
 h 2 Cor. xiii. 5, 
 
 beforehand with me, and prevent me here. Where is that 
 stupid soul that reckons it an indifferent thing to attain 
 this blessed state, or fall short of if? When thou hearest 
 this is the common expectation of saints, to behold the 
 face of God, and be satisfied with his likeness, when th-ey 
 awake; canst thou forbear to say with thyself, And what 
 shall become of me when I awake 1 what kind of awaking 
 shall I havel shall I awake amidst the beams of glory, or 
 flames of wrath 1 If thou canst be persuaded to think 
 this no matter of indifferency,then stir up thy drowsy soul 
 to a serious inquiry, how 'tis likely to fare with thee for 
 ever ; and to that purpose put thy conscience to it to give 
 a free, sincere answer to these few queries. 
 
 1. Canst thou say thou art already certain of thy eter- 
 nal blessedness 1 Art thou so sure, that thou needest not 
 inquire ] I know not who thou art that now readest these 
 lines, and therefore cannot judge of thy confidence whether 
 it be right or wrong; only that thou mayst not cinswer too 
 hastily, consider a little, that i certainty of salvation is no 
 common thing ; not among (I speak you see of subjective 
 certainty) the heirs of salvation themselves. How many 
 of God's holy ones, that cannot say they are certain ; yea, 
 how few that can say they are ! That exhortation to a 
 church of saints, Work out your salvation with fear and 
 trembling, (they of whom he expresseth such confidence, 
 chap. i. 6. over whom he so glories, chap. iv. 1.) implies 
 this to be no common thing ; so doth Christ's advice to 
 his disciples, Strive to enter in at the strait gate ; and St. 
 Peter to the scattered Jews, (that he saith had obtained 
 like precious faith, &c.) Give diligence to make your call- 
 ing and election sure ; with many more passages of like 
 import. Yea, how full is the Scripture of the complaints 
 of such crying out of broken bones, of festering woimds, of 
 distraction by divine terrors. Now what shall we say in 
 this case, when so eminent saints have left us records of 
 the distresses and agonies of their spirits, under the appre- 
 hended displeasure of God ? May it not occasion us to 
 suspend awhile, and consider! have we much more reason 
 to be confident than theyl and do we know none that 
 lead stricter and more holy lives than w^e, that are yet in 
 the dark, and at a loss in judging their spiritual states 1 I 
 will not say, that we must therefore think ourselves bound 
 lo doubt, because another possibly better than we doth so. 
 UnknoMTi accidents may much vary the cases. But who 
 would not think, that reason and modesty had quite for- 
 saken the world, to hear (where the odds is so vastly 
 great) the vain boast of the loose generality, compared 
 with the humble, solicitous doubts of many serious know- 
 ing Christians'? to see such trembling about their soul- 
 concernments, who have walked with God, and served 
 him long in prayers and tears ; when multitudes that have 
 nothing whereon to bottom a confidence but pride and ig- 
 norance, shall pretend themselves certain ! If drawing 
 breath awhile, thou wilt suspect thou have reason not to 
 be peremptory in thy confidence, thou wilt sure think 
 thyself concerned to inquire further. Urge thy soul then 
 with this question again and again, Art thou yet certain, 
 yea, or no 1 
 
 2. Is it a comfortable slate to be uncertain, or to have 
 before thee apparent grounds of a rational and just doubt 1 
 For causeless doubts may sooner vanish, when their cause- 
 lessness is once discovered ; and so they are less likely to 
 keep a person that is capable of understanding his own 
 case, under a stated discomfort. But I suppose thee, in 
 order to the ansM-ering the foregoing query, to have in some 
 measure considered the c£ise ; and that with a preponder- 
 ating apprehension of danger in it, thou returnest it uncer- 
 tain. Uncertain, man! And what, wilt thou remain un- 
 certain 1 wilt thou sit still so, till thou perish 1 shall thy 
 life hang in doubt, and thy soul be in jeopardy every 
 hour, till the everlasting flames resolve the doubt, and put 
 the matter out of question with theel What course canst 
 thou apply thyself to, but to inquire and search further 
 into thy own state, to avoid the torture of thy own fears, 
 the pangs and dreadful expectation of a palpitating, mis- 
 giving heart 1 'Tis true, that inquisitive diligent doubtful- 
 ness hath hope and comfort in it ; but doubtfulness joined 
 with a resolution of casting off all further care, is utterly 
 desperate and disconsolate. What remains to thee in that 
 
 i Phil. u. 12.
 
 Chap. XVI. 
 
 THE BLESSEDNESS OF THE RIGHTEOUS. 
 
 243 
 
 case, but a fearful looking for of fiery indiemation 1 How 
 canst thou pass an hour in peace, while thou apprehendest 
 it unlikely, thou shalt see the face, and be saiisiied with 
 the image of God 1 Do not thy own thoughts represent to 
 thee the amazing sights, the horrid images which shall for 
 ever entertain and possess thy soul 1 Art thou not daily 
 haunted with divine horrors ? When thou say'st at night, 
 thy bed shall refresh thee, art thou not terrified with dreams 
 and aflVighted with visions 1 Dost thou not say in the morn- 
 ing, Would to God it were evening; and in the evening 
 say. Would to God it were morning"? and while thou know- 
 est not what else to do, meditate only changes instead of 
 remedies 1 Or if thou find no such trouble invading thy 
 mind, let me further ask: 
 
 3. Is it reason.able to be secure in such a state of uncer- 
 tainty 1 Debate this matter a little while with thyself Is 
 It thy reason, or thy sloth, that makes thee sit still and for- 
 bear to look into thy spiritual afiairs 1 Is it any rational 
 consideration, or not rather the mere indisposition of a 
 soul, afraid to know its own state, that suspends thee from 
 inquiring 1 What hast thou to say, that looks like a reason 1 
 Is it that it will disturb thy thoughts, interrupt thy plea- 
 sures, fill thee with anxious cares and fears, which thou 
 art as loth to admit, as burning coals into thy bosom 1 Is it 
 that thou canst not endure to look upon so dreadful an ob- 
 ject, as the appearing danger, or possibility of thy being 
 miserable to eternity 1 And art thou therefore resolved to 
 shut thine eyes, and cry peace, peace 1 This is to avoid 
 a present inconvenience, by an eternal mischief, (a gross 
 overstraining the paradox !) for avoiding the present fear 
 of hell to run into it ; as if because a man cannot bear the 
 thoughts of dying, he should pri^sently cut his own throat. 
 Vain man ! canst thou not bear the thoughts of eternal 
 misery ; how wilt thou bear the thing ? And how long- 
 lived dost thou think that peace shall be, that thou purchasest 
 upon so dear and hard terms'? canst thou promise thyself 
 an hour 1 mayst thou not lose thy purchase and price to- 
 gether the next moment 1 canst thou defer thy misery by 
 forgetting it ; or will thy judgment linger, and thj^ damna- 
 tion slumber, while thou securely lingerest and slumber- 
 est 1 canst thou wink hell into nothing ; and put it out of 
 being, by putting it out of thy thoughts 1 Alas, man ! 
 open thy eyes when thou wilt, thou shalt find thou hast 
 not bettered thy case by having them fast closed. The 
 bitterness of death is not yet past. The horrid image is 
 still before thee. This is not a fancied evil, ■which a man 
 mav dream himself into, and eudem opera, with as little 
 difficulty, dream himself out of it again. No, thy case is 
 miserable and dangerous when thou composest thyself to 
 sleep ; if thou awakest thou wilt find it still the same ; 
 only thou did'st not apprehend it before, for then thou 
 woiildst not have slept : as the drunkard that kills a man, 
 and after falls asleep in his drunken fit, he awakes and un- 
 derstands his wretched state. Would his sleeping on, till 
 the officer's arrest had awaked him, have mended the matter 
 with him 1 But thou wilt possibly say, is it not better here 
 to have a little quiet now, than to be miserable by sad 
 thoughts here, and miserable by actual sufl^ering hereaf- 
 ter too 1 Is not one death enough 7 Why should one 
 kill himself so often over; and hasten misery, as if it 
 came on too slowly 7 Better, man 1 A hard choice. Sup- 
 posing thou art to be eternally miserable, (if thou imder- 
 standest that word eternity,) the good or evil of this little 
 inch of time, will signify so little with thee, as hardly to 
 weigh any thing in the scale of a rational judgment. But 
 what, art thou now dreaming while thou thus reasonest 1 
 Dost thou yet no better understand thy case ? Art thou 
 not under the Gospel 1 Is it not the day of thy hope, and 
 of the Lord's grace and patience towards thee 1 It was 
 said that sleeping would not better thy case ; but it was not 
 said that awaking would not ; but all that is here said, is 
 designed to the awakening of thee, that thou mayst know 
 thy case, and endeavour a redress. Dost thou think any 
 man in his sober wits would take all this pains thus to rea- 
 son with thee, if that were the acknowledged and agreed 
 state of thy case, that it were already taken for granted 
 thou must perish "? We might as well go preach to devils, 
 and carry down the Gospel into hell. But dost thou think 
 the hoh^ merciful God sent his Son and his ministers to 
 mock men ; and to treat with them about their eternal 
 
 concernments, when there is no hope "? Were that thy 
 case, thou hadst as good a pretence as the devil had, to 
 complain of being tormented before thy time. But if thou 
 be not wilfully perverse, in mistaking the matter we are 
 reasoning about, thou mayst understand, thy reason is here 
 appealed to in this ; whether having so fair hopes before 
 thee, as the gospel gives, of this blessedness we are dis- 
 coursing of, it be leasonable from the apprehension of a 
 mere possibility of miscarrying, (which can only be 
 through thy wilful security and neglect,) to give up thy- 
 self to a supine negligence, and indulge that security 
 which is so sure to ruin thee, and exchange a pcssible 
 hoped heaven for a certain hell ; or whether rather it be 
 not reasonable to stir up thy soul to consider in what pos- 
 ture thou art, towards the attamment uf this blessedness, 
 that thou may'st accordingly steer thy course in order to 
 it 7 If an accusation or a disease do threaten thy life, or a 
 suspected flaw thy title toth)' estate, wouldst thou not think 
 it reasonable to inquire into thy easel And is it not much 
 more desirable, in a matter of this consequence, to be at 
 some certainty 1 and prudent to endeavor it, if it may pos- 
 sibly be attained 1 Whence let me further ask : 
 
 4. Canst thou pretend it to be impossible 1 Hath God 
 left thee under a necessitated ignorance in this matter 1 or 
 denied thee sufficient means of knowing how 'tis with thee 
 in respect of thy spiritual estate "? Though he have not gi- 
 ven thee a list, or told thee the number or names of his sanc- 
 tified ones, yet hath he not sufficiently described the persons, 
 and given the characters b}- which they may be known 1 
 And hath he not furnished thee with a self-reflecting power, 
 by which thou art enabled to look into thyself, and di.scern 
 whether thou be of them or no 1 Doth he not offer ami 
 affbid to serious, diligent souls, the assisting light of his 
 blessed Spirit to guide and succeed the inquiry 1 And if 
 thou find it difficult to come to a speedy, clear issue, to 
 make a present certain judgment of thy case ; ought not 
 that to engage thee to a patient continued diligence, rather 
 ihan in a rash despairing madness to desist and cast off 
 all 1 inasmuch as the difficulty, though great, is not insu- 
 perable ; and the necessity and advantage incomparably 
 greater. And (though divers other things do confessedly 
 fall in) the principal difficulty lies in thy aversation and 
 unwillingness. Thou art not put to traverse the creation 1 
 to climb heaven, or dig through the earth ; but thy work 
 lies nigh thee, in th}' own heart and spirit; and what is so 
 nigh, or should be so familiar to thee, as thyself? 'Tis 
 but casting thy eye upon thy own soul, to discern which 
 way 'tis inclined and bent, thou art urged to. Which is 
 that we propounded next to discover : viz. 
 
 Secondly, That we are to judge of the hopefulness of our 
 enjoying this blessedness, by the present habitude or dispo- 
 sedness of our spirits thereto. For what is that righteous- 
 ness which qualifies for it, but the impress of the Gfospel 
 upon the minds and hearts of men 1 The gospel-revela- 
 tion is the only rule and measure of that righteousnes - : it 
 must therefore consist in conformity thereto. And look 
 to the frame and design of the gospel-revelation, and 
 what doth so directly correspond to it, as that veiy ha- 
 bitude and disposcdness of spirit for this blessedness where- 
 of we speak 1 Nothing so answers the Gospel, as a pro- 
 pension of heart towards God gratified, in part now, and 
 increasing till it find a full satisfaction: a desire of know- 
 ing him and of being like him. 'Tis the whole design of 
 the Gospel, which reveals his glory in the face of Jesus 
 Christ, to work and form the spirits of men to this. They 
 therefore whose spirits are thus wrought and framed, are 
 righteous by the gospel-measure, and by that righteousness 
 are evidently entitled and fitted for this blessedness. Yea, 
 that righteousness hath in it (or rather is) the elements, the 
 first principles, the seed of this blessedness. There can 
 therefore be no surer rule or mark whereby to judge our 
 states, whether we have to do Avith this blessedness, may ex- 
 pect it vea or no, than this. How stand we affected towards 
 it 1 in what disposition are our hearts thereto 1 Those fruits 
 of righteousness, by which the soul is qualified to appear 
 without offence in the day of Christ, the several graces of 
 the sanctifying Spirit, are nothing else but so many holy 
 principles, all disposing the soul towards this blessedness, 
 and the way to it ; mortification, self-denial, and godlj 
 sorrow, take it off from other objects, the world, self, ana
 
 244 
 
 THE BLESSEDNESS OF THE RIGHTEOUS. 
 
 Chap. XVII. 
 
 sin ; repentance (that part of it which respects God) turns 
 the course of its niution towards God the end ; faith dii'ects 
 it through Christ the way ; love makes it move freely; de- 
 sire, earnestly; joy, pleasantly; hope, confidently; humili- 
 ty, evenly ; fear, circumspectly ; patience, constantly and 
 pe'rseveringly. All conspire to give the soul a right dis- 
 position towards this blessedness. The result of them all 
 is heavenliness, a heavenly temper of spirit. For they all, 
 (one way or other,) as so many lines and rays, have respect 
 to a blessedness in God (which is heaven) as the point at 
 which they aim ; and the cuspis, the point in which they 
 meet, in order to the touching of that objective point, is 
 heavenliness. This is the ultimate and immediate aispo- 
 sition of heart for this blessedness ; the result, the terviinus 
 prodiiclus, of the whole work of righteousness in the soul ; 
 by which 'tis said to be, as it were, nata ad gloriam, begot- 
 ten to the eternal inheritance. Concerning this therefore 
 chiefly institute thy inquiry. Demand of thyself, Is my 
 soul yet made heavenly, bent upon eternal blessedness, or 
 no "? " And here thou mayst easily apprehend, of how great 
 concernment it is, to have the right notion of heaven, or 
 future blessedness, as was urged under the foregoing rule. 
 For if thou take for it another thing, thou missest thy 
 mark, and art quite beside thy business ; but if thou retain 
 a right and scriptural notion of it, the rule thou art to judge 
 by is sure. They shall have heaven whose hearts are intent 
 upon it, and framed to it. Scripture is every where preg- 
 nant and full of this. 
 
 The apostle plainly intimates, this will be the rule of God's 
 final judgment. Certainly it cannot be unsafe for us to 
 judge ourselves by the same rule. He tells us, when God 
 shall judge every one according to his works, (the great 
 business of the judgment day, eternal life shall be the por- 
 tion of them, k who, by patient continuance in well-doing, 
 sought glory, and honour, and immortality ; which are but 
 other expressions of the same thing. What can be more 
 plain 1 They shall have eternal life and glory that seek 
 it ; whose hearts are towards it. Again, speaking of true 
 Christians, oiaKotTiK'ji;, {i. e. in a way of contradistinction 
 from Pseudo-Christians, such as he saith were enemies' of 
 the cross,) he gives us among other, this brand of these 
 •alter, that they did mind earthly things, and tells us, 
 their end should be destruction ; but gives us this opposite 
 character of the other, i our conversation is in heaven ; 
 our trade and business, our daily negocialions, as well as 
 the privileges of our citizenship, lie there, as his expres- 
 sion imports; and thence intimates the opposite end of 
 such, whence we look for a Saviour ; not destruction, but 
 salvation. And in the same context of Scripture, where 
 they that are risen with Christ, m and who shall appear with 
 him in glory, are required to set their mind on things above, 
 and not on things on the earth. That we may understand 
 this, not to be their duty only, but their character, we are 
 immediately told, they who follow not this counsel, and 
 mortify not their earthly members, (those lusts that dis- 
 pose men towards the earth, and to grovel in the dust, as 
 the graces of the Spirit dispose them heavenward, and to 
 converse with glofy,) are the children of disobedience, 
 upon whom the wrath of God cometh. The faith the just 
 live by, " is the substance of things hoped for, &c. Such 
 believers are confessed, avowed strangers on earth ; and 
 seekers of the better, the heavenly country, whence 'tis 
 said God will not be ashamed to be called their God ; 
 plainly implying, that as for low, terrene spirits, that love 
 to creep on the earth, and embrace dunghills, God will be 
 ashamed of them ; he will forever disdain a relation to 
 them, wAiZe and as such. And if we will be determined by 
 the express word of our great Redeemer, to whom we owe 
 all the hopes of this blessedness ; when he had been advi- 
 sing not to lay up treasure on earth, but in heaven, he 
 presently adds, <> where your treasure is, there will your 
 hearts be also. If thy treasure, thy great interest, thy pre- 
 cious and most valuable good be above, that will attract 
 thy heart, it will certainly be disposed thitherward. 
 
 "Yet here it must carefully be considered, that inasmuch 
 as this blessedness is thy end, i. e. thy supreme good, (as 
 the notion of treasure also imports,) thy heart must be set 
 upon it above any other enjoyment ; else all is to no pur- 
 pose. 'Tis not a faint, slight, over-mastered inclination that 
 
 k Rom. ii. 6, 7. 1 Phil. iii. 18, 19, 20. m Col. ill. 1,2, 3, 4. 
 
 will serve the turn, but (as all the fore-mentioned Scrip- 
 tures import) such as will bespeak it a man's business to 
 seek heaven, his main work ; and give ground to say of 
 him, his heart is there. If two lovers solicit the same per- 
 son, and speaking of them in comparisons she say, this 
 hath my heart; is it tolerable to understand her, as mean- 
 ing him she loves less 1 So absurd would it be to under- 
 stand Scriptures, that speak of such an intention of heart 
 heaven-ward, as if the faintest desire, or coldest wish, or 
 most lazy inconstant endeavour, were all they meant. No, 
 'tis a steady, prevalent, victorious direction of heart towards 
 the future glory, in comparison whereof, thou despisest all 
 things else, (all temporal terrene things, that must be the 
 evidential ground of thy hope to enjoy it. And therefore 
 in this, deal faithfully with thy own soul, and demand of it. 
 Dost thou esteem this blessedness above all things else 1 
 Do the thoughts of it continually return upon thee, and thy 
 mind and heart, as it were, naturally run out to it 1 Are 
 thy chiefest solicitudes and cares taken about it, lest thou 
 shouldst fall short and suffer a disappointment "? Dost thou 
 savour it with pleasure 1 hath it a sweet and grateful relish 
 to thy soul ■? Dost thou bend all thy powers to pursue and 
 press on towards it 1 Urge thyself to give answer truly 
 to such inquiries ; and to consider them seriously, that 
 thou mayst do so. Such whose spirits are either most 
 highly raised and lifted up to heaven, or most deeply de- 
 pressed and sunk into the earth, may make the clearest 
 judgment of themselves. With them that are of a middle 
 temper, the trial will be more difficult, j'et not fruitless, if it 
 be managed with serious diligence, though no certain con- 
 clusion or judgment be made thereupon. For the true de- 
 sign and use of all such inquiries and reflections upon our- 
 selves (which, let it be duly considered) is, not to bring us 
 into a state of cessation from further endeavours ; as if we 
 had nothing more to do (suppose we judge the best of our 
 state that can be thought) but to keep us in a wakeful tem- 
 per of spirit ; that we may not forget ourselves in the great 
 business we have yet before us, but go on M'ith renewed 
 vigour through the whole course of renewed endeavours, 
 wherein we are to be still conversant, till we have attained 
 our utmost mark and end. Therefore is this present in- 
 quiry directed, as introductive to the further duty, that in 
 the following rules is yet to be recommended. 
 
 CHAPTER XVII. 
 
 Rule 3 Directing such as upon inquiry find, or see cause to suspect, a tolal 
 aversalion in themsolves to ttiis blesseitness, to be speedy and restless in their 
 endeavours to have the temperof their spirits altered and made suitable to it. 
 Doubts and objections concemine the use of such endeavours, in such a 
 case, answered. Some considerations to enforce this direction propounded 
 and pressed. 
 
 3. Rule. That if upon such reflection we find or suspect 
 ourselves wholly disaffected and unsuitable to this blessed- 
 ness, we apply ourselves to speedy, incessant endeavours to 
 get the temper of our spirits changed and fitted thereto. The 
 state of the case speaks itself, that there is no sitting still here. 
 This is no condition, soul, to be rested in ; unless thou art 
 provided to encounter the terrors of eternal darkness, and 
 endure the torture of everlasting burnings. Yet am I not 
 unapprehensive how great a difficulty a carnal heart will 
 make of it to bestir itself in order to any redress of so de- 
 plorable a case. And how real a difiiculty it is, to say arty 
 thing that will be thought regardable to such a one. Our 
 sad experience tells us, that our most efficacious words are 
 commonly wont to be entertained as neglected pufts of 
 wind ; our most convictive reasonings and persuasive ex- 
 hortations lost (yea, and though they are managed too in 
 the name of the great God) as upon the deaf and dead: 
 which is too ofte.i apt to tempt into that resolution, of 
 " speaking no more in that name." And were it not that 
 the dread of that great Majesty restrains us, how hard 
 were it to forbear such expostulations ; " Lord, why are we 
 commonly sent upon so vain an errand 1 why are we re- 
 quired to speak to them that will not hear, and expose thy 
 sacred truths and counsels to the contempt of sinful worms ; 
 to labour day by day in vain, and spend our strength for 
 nought 1" — Yea, we cannot forbear to complain, "None so 
 
 n Heb. xi. 1, 13, 16. o Matt. \\. 19, 20, 21.
 
 Chap. XVII. 
 
 THE BLESSEDNESS OF THE RIGHTEOUS. 
 
 245 
 
 labour in vain as we : of all men none so generally un- 
 prosperous and unsuccessful. Others are wont to see the 
 fruit of their labours, in proportion to the expense of 
 strength in them : but our strength is labour and sorrow 
 (for the most part) without the return of a joylul fruit. 
 The husbandman ploughs in hope, and sows in hope, and 
 is commonly partaker of his hope : we are sent to plough 
 and sow among rocks and thorns, and in the high-Avay; 
 how seldom fall we upon good ground ! Where have we 
 any increase 1 Yea, Lord, how often are men the harder 
 for all our labours with them, the deader for all endeavours 
 to quicken them 1 Our breath kills them whom thou send- 
 est us to speak life to; and we often become to them a 
 deadly savour. Sometime, when we think somewliat is 
 done to purpose, our labour all returns, and we are to begin 
 again ; and when the duties we persuade to, come directly 
 to cross men's interests and carnal inclinations, the)' revolt 
 and start back, as if we were urging them upon flames, or 
 the sword's point ; and their own souls and the eternal 
 glory are regarded as a thing of nought : then heaven and 
 hell become with them fancies and dreams ; and all that 
 we have said to them false and fabulous. We are to the 
 most as men that mock, in our most serious warnings and 
 cotmsels ; and the word of the Lord is a reproach. We 
 sometimes fill our mouths with arguments, and our hearts 
 with hope, and think, sure they will now yield ; but they 
 esteem our strongest reasonings (as Leviathan doth iron 
 and brass) but as straw and rotten wood ; and laugh at Di- 
 vine threatenings as he doth at the shaking of the spear. 
 Yea, and when we have convinced them, yet we have done 
 nothing ; though we have got their judgments and con- 
 sciences on our side and their own, their lusts only reluc- 
 tate and carry all. They will now have their way though 
 they perish. We see them perishing under our very eye, 
 and we cry to them (in thy name, O Lord) to return and 
 live, but they regard us not. For these things, sometimes 
 we weep in secret, and our eyes trickle down with tears ; 
 yea, we cry to thee, O Lord, and thou hearest us not ; thy 
 hand seems shortened, that it cannot save ; it puts not on 
 strength as in the days of old : it hath snatched souls by 
 thousands, as firebrands out of the fire ; but now thou hidest 
 and drawest it back. Who hath believed our report 1 To 
 whom is the arm of the Lord revealed 1 Meanwhile even 
 the devil's instruments prosper more than we ; and he that 
 makes it hisbusiness to tempt and entice down souls to hell, 
 succeeds more than we that would allure them to heaven." 
 
 But we must speak, whether men will hear or forbear ; 
 though it concerns us to do it with fear and trembling. 
 Oh, how solemn a business is it to treat with souls ! and 
 how much to be dreaded, lest they miscarry through our 
 imprudence or neglect ! I write with solicitude what shall 
 become of these lines ; with what effect they will be read 
 (if they fall into such hands) by them whom they most 
 concern : yea, and with some doubt, whether it were best 
 to write on or forbear. Sometimes one would incline to 
 think it a merciful omission, lest Ave add to the account 
 and torment of many at last ; but sense of duty towards all, 
 and hope of doing good to some, must oversway. Consi- 
 dering therefore the state of such souls I am now dealing 
 with, I apprehend there may be obstructions to the enter- 
 tainment of the counsel here recommended, of two sorts; 
 partly in their minds, partly in their hearts ; something of 
 appearing reason, but more of real perverse will. That 
 which I shall do in pursuance of it, will fall under two 
 answ^erable heads; 1. A reply to certain doubts and ob- 
 jections, wherein to meet with the former : and — 2. The 
 proposal of some considerations, wherein to contend 
 against the latter. 
 
 As to the first : It appears, men are grown ingeniously 
 wicked, and have learned how to dispute themselves into 
 hell ; and to neglect what concerns their eternal blessed- 
 ness with some colour and pretence of reason. It will 
 therefore be worth the while to discuss a little their more 
 specious preteno^e, and consider their more obvious (sup- 
 posable) scruples, which will be found to concern, either 
 the po.ssibility, lawfulness, advantage, or necessity of the 
 endeavours we persuade to. 
 
 Doubt 1. Is it a possible undertaking you put us upon ; 
 or, is there any thing we can do in order to the change of 
 our own hearts'? We find ourselves altogether undesirous 
 20 
 
 of those things wherein you state blessedness, and they are 
 without savour to us. If therefore the notion you give us 
 of blessedness be right, all the work necessary to qualify 
 us for it is yet to be done ; we yet remain wholly destitute 
 of any principle of life, that may dispose us to such re- 
 lishes and enjoyments. If the new creature (as you say) 
 consist in a suitable temper of spirit unto such a state as 
 this, 'lis as yet wholly unformed in us : and is there any 
 thing to be done by a dead man in order to lifel Can a 
 child contribute any thing to its first formation"? or a 
 creature to its coming into being 1 
 
 Reply. If you were serious in what you say, methinks 
 you should have little mind to play the sophisters, and 
 put fallacies upon yourselves, in a matter that concerns 
 the life of your soul. And what else are you now doing! 
 For sure, otherwise one would think it were no such diffi- 
 culty to understand the difference between the esse simpli- 
 citer, the viere being of any thing, and the esse tale, its Icing 
 such or such ; by the addition of somewhat afterward to 
 that being. Though nothing could contribute to its own 
 being simply; yet sure when it is in being, it may contri- 
 bute to the bettering or perfecting of itself, (even as the 
 unreasonable creatures themselves do :) and if it be a crea- 
 ture naturally capable of acting v.ith design, it may act 
 designedl}' in order to its becoming so or so qualified, or 
 the attaining of somewhat yet wanting to its perfection. 
 You cannot be thought so ignorant, but that 3'ou know the 
 new creature is only an additional to your former being ; 
 and though it be true, that it can do no more to its own pro- 
 duction than the unconceived child, (as nothing can act 
 before it is,) doth it therefore follow, that 3'our reasonable 
 soul, in which it is to be formed, cannot use God's pre- 
 scribed means in order to that blessed change 1 You can- 
 not act holily as a saint ; but therefore can you not act ra- 
 tionally as a manl I appeal to your reason and conscience 
 in some particulars. Is it impossible to you to attend upon 
 the dispensation of that gospel, which is God's power 
 unto salvation, the seal bj- which he impresses his image, 
 the glass through which his glory shines to the changing 
 souls into the same likeness 1 Are you not as able to go to 
 church as the tavern ; and to sit in the assembly of saints as 
 of mockers'? Is it impossible to you, to consult the written 
 word of God, and thence learn what you must be, and do, 
 in order to blessedness "? Will not )'our eyes serve you to 
 read the Bible as well as a gazette or play-book 1 Is it 
 impossible to inquire of j'our minister, or an understand- 
 ing Christian neighbour, concerning the way and terms of 
 blessedness "? Cannot your tongue pronounce these words, 
 What shall I do to be saved, as well as those, Pray what 
 do you think of the weather "? or. What news is there go- 
 ing 1 Yet further : Is it impossible to apply your thoughts 
 to what you meet with suitable to your case, in your at- 
 tendance upon preaching, reading, or discourse 1 Have 
 all such words a barbarous sound in your ear "? Can you 
 not consider what sense is carried under them ; what they 
 import and signify 1 Can you not bethink yourself, Do 
 the doctrines of God and Christ and the life to come, 
 signif}' something or nothing '? or do they signifj' any 
 thing worth the considering, or that 'tis fit for me to take 
 notice of 1 
 
 And yet to proceed a little further with you : I pray you 
 once more demand of yourselves, and put j'our consciences 
 closely to it. whether, when they have told you (as no 
 doubt the}' will) that such things deserve your considera- 
 tion, it be impossible to you to use your considering power 
 thus, and employ it even about these things'? Do but 
 make this easy trial, and then say, whether it be impossi- 
 ble. See if you cannot select one hour on purpose, where- 
 in to sit down by yourselves alone, with this resolution ; 
 Well, I will now spend this hour in considering my eter- 
 nal concernments. When you have obtained so much of 
 j'ourself ; set your thoughts on work, (you will find them 
 voluble and unfixed, very apt to revolt and fly ofl^ from 
 things you have no mind to, but) use vour authority with 
 yourself, tell your soul (or let it tell" itself) these things 
 concerning tliy life. At least, taking this prepared matter 
 alons: with thee, (that thou mavst not have this pretence, 
 thouknowcst not what to think of,) try if thou canst not 
 think of these things, now actually suggested and offered 
 to thy thoughts : as namely, Consider, that thou hast a rea-
 
 246 
 
 THE BLESSEDNESS OP THE RIGHTEOUS. 
 
 Chap. XVII. 
 
 sonable, immortal soul, which as it is liable to eternal 
 misery, so it is capable of eternal blessedness: that this 
 blessedness thou dost understand to consist only in the 
 vision of the blessed God, in being made like to him, and 
 in the satisfaction that is thence to result and accrue to 
 thee. Consider, (what thy very objection snpposeth,) that 
 thou findest the temper of thy spirit to be altogether indis- 
 posed and averse to such blessedness. Is it not sol is not 
 this thy very easel feel now again thy heart ; try, is it not 
 at least coldly affected towards this blessed state 1 
 
 Is it not then obvious to thee to consider, that the tem- 
 per of thy Spirit must be changed, or thou art undone 1 
 that inasmuch as thy blessedness lies in God, this change 
 must lie in the alteration of thy dispositions and the pos- 
 ture of thy spirit towards himl Further, Canst thou not 
 consider the power and fixedness of thy aversation from 
 God, and with how mighty a weight thy heart is carried 
 and held down from him 1 Try, lift at thy heart, see if it 
 will be raised God- ward and lieaven-ward 1 Dost thou not 
 find it is as if thou wert lifting at a mountain, that it lies 
 as a dead Aveight and stirs not 1 Ponder thy case in this re- 
 spect. And then, is it not to be considered, that thy time 
 is passing away apace 1 that if thou let thyself alone, 'tis 
 likely to be as bad with thee to-morrow as this day, and as 
 bad next day as to-morrow 1 And if thy time expire and 
 thou be snatched away in this state, what will become of 
 thee 1 And dost thou not therefore see a necessity of con- 
 sidering whatever may be most moving and most likely to 
 incline thy heart God-ward, of pleading it more loudly and 
 importunately with thyself 1 And canst thou not consider 
 and reason the matter thus 1 " O my soul, what is the rea- 
 son that thou so drawest back and hangest off from thy 
 God 1 that thou art so unwillmg to be blessed in him 1 that 
 thou shouldst venture to rim thyself upon eternal perdition 
 rather 1 What cause hath he ever given thee to disaffect 
 him 1 What is the ground of thy so mighty prejudice? 
 Hath he ever done thee hurt 1 Dost thou think he will not 
 accept a returning soull That is to give the lie to his Gos- 
 pel! and it becomes not a perishing wretch so to provoke 
 him in whom is all its hope. Is the eternal glory an un- 
 desirable thing 1 or the everlasting burnings tolerable 1 
 Canst thou find away of being forever blessed without God; 
 or whether he will or no 1 or is there a sufficient pleasure in 
 thy sinful distance from God, to outweigh heaven and hell 1 
 Darest thou venture upon a resolution of giving God and 
 Christ their last refusal ; or say, thou wilt never hearken to, 
 or have to do with them morel or darest thou venture to 
 do what thou darest not resolve; and act the wickedness 
 thou canst not think ofl scorn eternal majesty and love; 
 spurn and trample a bleeding Saviour 1" Commune thus 
 awhile with thyself ; but if^'et thou find thy heart relent 
 nothing, thou canst yet further consider, that it lies not in 
 thy power to turn thy own heart, (or else how comest thou 
 thus to object 1) And hence, canst thou avoid considering 
 this is a distressed case 1 that thou art in great straits ; liable 
 to perish, (yea, sure to do so if thou continue in that ill tem- 
 per of spirit,) and wholly vmable to help thj-self 1 Surely 
 thou canst not but see this to be a most distressed case. 
 
 I put it now to thy conscience, whether being thus led 
 on, thou canst not go thus far 1 See whether upon trial thy 
 conscience give thee leave to say, I am not able thus to do 
 or think : and be not here so foolish, as to separate the 
 first cause and the second, in judging thy ability. Thou 
 mayst say, No, I cannot think a good thought without God ; 
 true, so I know thou canst not move thy finger without 
 God ; but my meaning in this appeal to thy conscience is, 
 ■whether upon trial thou findest not an assistance sufficient 
 to carry thee thus far 1 Possibly thou wilt say, Yea, but 
 what am I the better 1 I am only brought to see myself in 
 a distressed perishing condition, and can get no further. I 
 answer, 'Tis well thou art got so far, if thou indeed see 
 thyself perishing, and thy drowsy soul awake into any 
 sense of the sadness of thy case. But I intend not thus to 
 leave thee here; therefore let me furthermore demand of 
 thee, What course wouldst thou take in any other distress, 
 wherein thou knowest not what to do to help thyself 1 
 would not such an exigency, when thou findest thyself 
 pinched and urged on every side, and every way is shut 
 up to thee, that thou art beset with calamities", and canst no 
 
 a Audio vulgiis cum ad coelum manu9 tendunt nilul aliud quet* Deum dicunt, 
 
 way turn thyself to avoid them ; would not .such an exigency 
 force thee down on thy knees, and set thee a-crying to the 
 God of mercy for relief and help 1 Would not nature itself 
 prompt to this 1 Is it not natural to lift up hands and eyes to 
 heaven when we know not what to do 1 "^ Therefore having 
 thus far reasoned with thee about thy considering power; 
 let me demand of thee if thou canst yet go somewhat further 
 than considering 1 that i-s, in short, Is it impossible to thee to 
 obey this dictate of nature 1 Imean, represent the deplorable 
 case of th}' soul before him that made it : and crave his mer- 
 ciful relief. Do not dispute the matter ; thou canst not but 
 see this is a possible and a rational course as thy case is. 
 Should not a people seek unto their God 1 Fall down 
 therefore low before him ; prostrate thyself at the foot- 
 stool of his mercy seat. Tell him, thou understandest him 
 to be the Father of spirits, and the Father of mercies ; that 
 thou hast heard of his great mercy and pity towards the 
 spirits of men in their forlorn lapsed state : what a bless- 
 edness he hath designed for them ; what means he hath de- 
 signed to bring them to it. Tell him thou only needest a 
 temper of spirit suitable to this blessedness he invites thee 
 to 1 that thou canst not master and change thy sensual, 
 earthly heart ; thou knowest he easily can ; thou art to im- 
 plore his help, that his blessed and Holy Spirit may de- 
 scend and breathe upon thy stupid, dead soul ; and may 
 sweetly incline and move it towards him ; that it may 
 eternally resi in him ; and that thou may'st not perish, 
 after so much done in order tO thy blessedness, only for 
 want of a heart to entertain it. Tell him, thou comest 
 upon his gracious encouragement, having heard he is as 
 ready to give his Spirit to them that ask him, as parents 
 bread to their craving children rather than a stone : that 
 'tis for life thou beggest : that 'tis not so easy to thee, to 
 think of perishing for ever; that thou canst not desist and 
 give up all thy hopes ; that thou shalt be in hell shortly if 
 he hear and help thee not. Lastly, If thus thou obtain 
 any communication of that holy, blessed Spirit, and thou 
 find it gently moving thy dead heart, let me once more de- 
 mand of thee : Is it impossible to forbear this or that ex- 
 ternal act of sin at this time, when thou art tempted to it 1 
 sure thou canst not say, 'tis impossible. What necessitates 
 thee to it 1 And then certainly thou may'st as well ordi- 
 narily withhold thyself from running into such customary 
 sensualities, as to tend to grieve the Spirit, debauch con- 
 science, stupify thy soul, and hide God from thee. And 
 if thou canst do all this, do not fool thy slothful soul with 
 as idle a conceit, that thou hast nothing to do, but to sit 
 still, expecting till thou drop into hell. 
 
 Doubt 2. But have I not reason to fear, I shall but add 
 sin to sin in all this 1 and so increase the burden of guilt 
 upon my soul ; and by endeavouring to better my case, 
 make it far worse. Two things I consider, that suggest to 
 me this fear, — the manner and end of the duties you put 
 me upon, as they will be done by me in the case wherein 
 I apprehend myself yet to lie. — 1. Manner. As to the 
 positive action you advise to, I have heard, the be.st actions 
 of an unregenerate person are sins, through the sinfulness 
 of their manner of doing them ; though as to the matter of 
 the thing done, they be enjoined and good : and though it 
 be true, that the regenerate cannot perform a sinless duty 
 neither; yet their persons and works being covered over 
 with the righteousness of Christ, are looked upon as having 
 no sin in them, which I apprehend to be none of my case. 
 — 2. End. You put upon me these things in order to the 
 attaining of blessedness; and to do such things with intu- 
 ition to a reward, is to be (as maybe doubted) unwarrant- 
 able, mercenary, and servile. 
 
 Rcphi. First, As to this former reason of your doubt, 
 methinks the proposal of it answers it. Forasmuch as you 
 acknowledge the matter of these actions to be good and 
 duty, (and plain it is they are moral duties, of common 
 perpetual concernment to all persons and times,) dare you 
 decline or dispute against your duty 1 Sure if we compare 
 the evil of what is so substantially in itself, and what is 
 so circumstantially, only by the adherence of some undue 
 modus or manner : it cannot be hard to determine which 
 is the greater and more dreadful evil. As to the pre.'^ent 
 case ; shouldst thou when the great God sends abroad his 
 proclamation of pardon and peace, refuse to attend it, 
 vulgi iste naturalis est genno. Min. FeJ. Octav.
 
 Chap. XVII. 
 
 THE BLESSEDNESS OF THE RIGHTEOUS. 
 
 247 
 
 to consider the contents of it, and thy own case in re- 
 ference thereto, and thereupon to sue to him lor the life of 
 thy own souH Dost thou not plainly see thy refusal must 
 needs be more provoking than thy defective performance"? 
 This, speaks disability, but that, rebellion and contempt.b 
 Besides, dost thou not see, that thy objection lies as much 
 against every other action of thy life '] The wise man tells 
 us,<= the ploughing of the wicked is sin ; (if that he literally 
 to be understood ;) and what, wouldst thou therefore sit still 
 and do nothing 1 Then how soon would that idleness 
 draw on gross wickedness ! And would not that be a 
 dreadful confutation of thyself, if thou who didst pretend 
 a scruple, that thou mightest not pray, read, hear, meditate, 
 shalt not scruple to play the glutton, the drunkard, the 
 wanton, and indulge thyself in all riot and excess 1 Yea, if 
 thou do not break out into such exorbitancies, would any 
 one think him serious that should say, it were against his 
 conscience to be working out his salvation, and striving to 
 enter in at the strait gate ; seeking first the kingdom of 
 God, &c. Would not this sound strangely 1 And espe- 
 cially, that in the meantime it should never be against 
 his conscience, to trifle away his time, and live in perpetual 
 neglects of God, in persevering atheism, infidelity, hardness 
 of heart, never regretted or striven against; asif these were 
 more innocent 1 And what thou sayst of the different 
 case of the regenerate, is impertinent ; for as to this matter 
 the case is not diflerent, they that take themselves to be 
 such, must not think that by their supposed interest in the 
 righteousness of Christ, their real sins cease to be such, 
 they only become pardoned sins ; and shall they therefore 
 sin more boldly than other men, because they are surer of 
 pardon 1 
 
 Secondly, As to the other ground of this doubt, there 
 can only be a fear of sinning, upon this account, to them 
 that make more sins and duties than God hath made. The 
 doubt supposes religion inconsistent with humanity : and 
 that God were about to rase out of the nature of man, one 
 of the most radical and fundamental laws written there, — 
 a desire of blessedness ; — and supposes it against the ex- 
 press .scope and tenor of his whole gospel revelation. For 
 what doth that design, but to bring men to blessedness 1 
 And how is it a means to compass that design, but as it 
 tends to engage man's spirits to design it too 1 unless we 
 would imagine they should go to heaven blindfold, or be 
 rolled thither as stones that know not whither they are 
 moved; in which case the gospel, that reveals the eternal 
 glory, and the way to it, were a useless thing. If so express 
 words had not been in the Bible, as that Moses had respect 
 to the recompense of reward ; yea, that our Lord Jesus 
 himself, for the joy set before him endured the cross, &c., 
 this had been a little more colourable, or more modest. 
 And what, do not all men, in all the ordinary actions of 
 their lives, act allowably enough, with intuition to much 
 lower endsl even those particular ends which the works 
 of their several callings tend to, else they should act as 
 brutes in every thing they do. And would such a one scru- 
 ple, if he were pining for want of bread, to beg or labour 
 for it for this end, to be relieved 1 'Tis the mistaking of the 
 notion of heaven that hath also an ingrediency into this 
 doubt, if it be really a doubt. Whaf? is it a low thing to be 
 filled with the Divine fulness 1 to have his glory replenish- 
 ing our souls 1 to be perfectly freed from sin? in every 
 thing conformed unto this holy nature and will 1 That our 
 minding our interest in this, or any affairs, should be the 
 principal thing with us, is not to be thought; our supreme 
 end must be the same with his, who made all things for 
 himself, of whom, through whom, and to whom all things 
 are, that he alone might have the glory. But subordinates 
 need not quarrel. A lower end doth not exclude the higher, 
 but serves it : and is, as to it, a means. God is our end as 
 he is to be glorified and enjoyed by us : our glorifying 
 him is but the agniiion of his glory ; which we do most in 
 beholding and partaking it; which is therefore in direct 
 subordination thereto. 
 
 Doitbt 3. But it may further be doubted. What if it be 
 acknowledged, that these are both things possible and law- 
 ful ; yet to what purpose will it be to attempt any thing in 
 
 b Therefore as to that fbnn of expression— tliat such acts of unregenerate 
 men are sm<i.~that is a catachrestical piece of rhetoric, whicli boineso under- 
 ■tood, is harmless ; but to use it iii propriety of speech, and thence to go 
 
 this kind 1 O what assurance have I of success 1 Is there 
 any word of pr(.iinise lor the encouragement of one in my 
 case 1 Or is God under any obligation to reward the en- 
 deavours of nature with special grace 1 Wherefore, when 
 I have done all I can, he may withhold his influence, and 
 then I am but where I was, and may perish notwithstand- 
 ing. And suppose thou perish notwithstanding ■? Do but 
 yet consult a little with thy own thoughts: which is more 
 tolerable and easy to thee ; to perish, as not attaining what 
 thy fainter stragglings could not reach ; or lor the most 
 direct, wilful rebellion, doing wickedly as thou couldst 1 
 Or who shall have, thinkest thou, the more fearful con- 
 demnation 1 He that shall truly say when his Master 
 comes to judgment, " I never had indeed, Lord, a heart so 
 fully changed and turned to thee, as should denote me to 
 be the subject of thy saving, pardoning mercy; but thou 
 knowest (whoknowest all things) I longed (and with some 
 earnestness) did endeavour it. Thou hast been privy to 
 my secret desires and moans, to the weak strivings of a 
 listless distempered spirit, not pleased with itself, aiming 
 at a better temper towards thee. I neglected not thy pre- 
 scribed means ; only that grace which I could not chal- 
 lenge, thou wast pleased not to give: thou didst require 
 what I must confess myself to have owed thee ; thou didst 
 withhold only what thou owedst me not ; therefore must I 
 yield myself a convicted, guilty wretch, and have nothing 
 to say why thy sentence should not pass." Or he that shall 
 as truly hear from the mouth of his Judge, " Sinner, thou 
 wast often fore-warned of this approaching day, and called 
 upon to provide for it ; thou hadst precept upon precept, 
 and line upon line. The counsels of life and peace were 
 with frequent importunity pressed upon thee, but thou re- 
 jectedst all with proud contempt, didst despise with the 
 same profane scorn the ofi'ers, commands, and threats, of 
 him that made thee ; hardenedst thy heart to the most ob- 
 stinate rebellion against his known laws; didst all the 
 wickedness to which thy heart prompted thee, without re- 
 straint ; declinedst every thing of duty which his autho- 
 rity, and the exigency of thy owTi case, did oblige thee to; 
 didst avoid as much as thou couldst to hear or know any 
 thing of my will; couldst not find one serious, considering 
 hour in a whole life-time, to bethink thyself, what was 
 likely to become of thee when thy place on earth should 
 know thee no more. Thou mightst know, thou wast at my 
 mercy, thy breath in my hand, and that I could easily 
 have cut thee ofl^ an}^ moment of that large space of time 
 my patience allowed thee in the world ; yet thou never 
 thoughtest it worth the while to sue to me for thy life. De- 
 struction from the Lord was never a terror to thee. Thou 
 wouldst never be brought upon thy knees ; I had none of 
 thy addresses ; never didst thou sigh out a serious request 
 for mercy ; thy soul was not worth so much in thy ac- 
 count. Thy blood, wretch, be upon thy guilty head : De- 
 part, accursed, into everlasting flames," &c. 
 
 Come now^, use thy reason awhile, employ a few sober 
 thoughts about this matter ; remember, thou wilt have a 
 long eternity wherein to recognise the passages of thy life, 
 and the state of thy case in the last judgment. Were it 
 supposable, that one who had done as the former, should 
 be left finally destitute of Divine grace and perish; yet in 
 which of these cases wouldst thou choose to be found at 
 last 1 But why yet should.st thou imagine so bad an issue, 
 as that after thine utmost endeavours, grace should be 
 withheld, and leave thee to perish ; because Grod hath not 
 bound himself by promise to thee 1 What promise have 
 the ravens to be heard when they cryl But thou art a 
 sinner: true, otherwise thon wert not without promise; the 
 promises of the first covenant would at least belong to thee. 
 Yet experience tells the world, his unpromised mercies 
 freely flow everywhere : The whole earth is full of his 
 goodness; yea, but his special grace is conveyed b)- pro- 
 mise only, and that only through Christ ; and how can it 
 be communicated Ihrough him to any but those that are in 
 him 1 What then, is the first in-being in Christ no special 
 grace 1 or is there any being in him before the first, that 
 should be the ground of that gracious conmiunication % 
 Things are plain enough, if we make them not intricate, 
 
 alx)ut to make men believe, that 'tis a sin to do their duty, is void bioth of 
 trutli and sense, and full of danger unto tlwj souls of men. 
 c Prov. xsi. 4.
 
 248 
 
 THE BLESSEDNESS OF I'HE RIGHTEOUa 
 
 CiiAP. XVII. 
 
 or entangle ourselves by foolish subtleties. God promises 
 sinners indefinitely, pardon and eternal lite, fortiie sake of 
 Christ, on condition that they believe on him. He gives 
 of his good pleasure that grace whereby he draws any to 
 Christ, without promise directly made to them, whether 
 absolute or conditional ; though he give it for the sake of 
 Christ also. His discovery of his purpose to give such 
 grace to some, indefinitely, amounts not to a promise 
 claimable by any : for if it be said to be an absolute pro- 
 mise to particular persons, who are they 1 whose duty is 
 it to believe it made to him 1 If conditional, what are the 
 conditions upon which the first grace is certainly promis- 
 ed 1 who can be able to assign them 1 Bnt, poor soul ! 
 thou needest not stay to puzzle thyself about this matter. 
 God binds himself to do what he promises; but hath he 
 any where bound himself to do no morel Did he promise 
 thee thy being ; or that thou shouldst live to this day 1 did 
 he promise thee the bread that sustains thee, the daily 
 comforts of thy life 1 Yea, (what is nearer the present 
 purpose,) did he promise thee a station under the gospel 7 
 or that thou shouldst ever hear the name of Christ 1 If 
 ever his Spirit have in any degi'ee moved upon thy heart, 
 inclined thee at all seriously to consider thy eternal con- 
 cernments, did he before-hand make thee any promise of 
 that 1 A promise would give thee a full certainty of the 
 issue, if it were absolute, out of hand ; if conditional, as 
 soon as thou findest the condition performed. But what! 
 canst thou act upon no lower rate than a foregoing cer- 
 tainty, a pre-assurance of the event 1 My friend, consider 
 a little, (what thou canst not but know already,) that 'tis 
 hope (built with those that are rational, upon rational pro- 
 babilities, with many, oftentimes upon none at all) is the 
 great engine that moves the world, that kee])s all sorts of 
 men in action. Doth the husbandman foreknow when he 
 plows and sows, that the crop will answer his cost and 
 pains 1 Doth the merchant foreknow, when he embarks 
 his goods, he shall have a safe and gainful return 1 Dost 
 thou foreknow, when thou eatest, it shall refresh theel 
 when thou takest physic, that it shall recover thy health, 
 and save thy life 1 Yea, further, can the covetous man 
 pretend a promise, that his unjust practices shall enrich 
 him"? the malicious, that he shall prosper in his design of 
 revenge 1 the ambitious, that he shall be great and ho- 
 nourable 1 the voluptuous, that his pleasure shall be always 
 unmixed with gall and wormwood 1 Can any say, they 
 ever had a promise to ascertain them that profaneness and 
 sensuality would bring them to heaven 1 that an ungodly, 
 dissolute life would end in blessedness 1 Here the Lord 
 knows men can be confident and active enough without a 
 promise, and against many an express threatening. Wilt 
 thou not upon the hope, thou hast before thee, do as much 
 for thy soul, for eternal blessedness, as men do for uncer- 
 tain riches, short pleasures, an airy, soon blasted name 1 
 yea, as much as men desperately do to damn themselves, 
 and purchase their own swift destruction 1 Or canst thou 
 pretend, though thou hast no pre-assuring promise, thou 
 hast no hope 1 Is it nothing to have heard so much of 
 God's gracious nature 1 Is it suitable to the reports and 
 discoveries he hath made of himself, to let a poor wretch 
 perish at his feet, that lies prostrate there, expecting his 
 mercy 1 Didst thou ever hear he was so little a lover of 
 souls ? Do his giving his Son, his earnest unwearied 
 strivings with sinners, his long patience, the clear beams 
 of Gospel light, the amiable appearance of his grace, give 
 ground for no better, no kinder thoughts of him 1 yea, 
 hath he not expressly styled himself the God hearing 
 prayers, taking a name on purpose to encourage dall flesh 
 to come to him. Wilt thou dare then to adopt those pro- 
 fane words, « What profit is it to pray to him"? and say, 
 'tis better to sit still, resolving to perish, than address "to 
 him, or seek his favour, because he hath not by promise 
 assured thee of the issue, and that, if he suspend his grace, 
 all thou dost will be in vain 1 How wouldst thou judge of 
 the like resolution, if the husbandman should say, When 
 I have spent my pains and cost in breaking up and pre- 
 paring the earth, and casting in my seed ; if the sun shine 
 not, and the rain fall not in season, if the influences of 
 heaven be suspended, if God withhold his blessing, or if 
 
 d Psal. \%v. 3. e Job xxi. 15. 
 
 1 NcctiSBitas tnedii 
 
 an invading enemy anticipate my harvest, all I do and ex- 
 pend is to no purpose ; and God hath not ascertained me of 
 the contrary, by express promise ; 'lis as good therefore sit 
 still 1 Censure and answer him and thyself both together. 
 
 Dovbt 4. But thou wilt yet, it may be, say, that though 
 all this may be possible true, yet thou canst not all this 
 while be convinced of any need so earnestly to busy thy- 
 self about this affair. For God is wont to surprise souls 
 by preventing acts of grace, to be found of them that 
 sought him not, to break in by an irresistible power, which 
 they least thought of And to go about to anticipate his 
 grace, were to detract from the freeness, and so from the 
 glory, of it. 
 
 Ri:ply. But art thou not in all this afraid of charging 
 God foolishly 1 When the merciful God, in compassion 
 to the souls of men, hath given his Gospel ; constituted 
 and settled a standing office to be perpetuated through all 
 ages for the publication of it ; invited the world therein to 
 a treaty with him, touching the concernments of their 
 eternal peace ; required so strictly their attendance to, and 
 most serious consideration of his proposals and offers; en- 
 couraged and commanded their addresses to him, set up 
 a throne of grace on purpose ; wilt thou dare to say, all 
 this is needless 1 When God speaks to thee, is it needless 
 for thee to hear him, or regard what he saith % or when 
 he commands thee to pour forth thy soul to him, wilt thou 
 say, 'tis a needless thing 1 Dost thou not plainly see, that 
 the peculiar, appropriate aptitude to the things pressed 
 upon thee, speaks them fnecesxary, as means to their de- 
 signed end ; whence they are fitly called s means of 
 grace 1 Is not the word of God the immortal seed 1 Are 
 not souls begotten by that word to be the first-fruits of his 
 creatures l Is it not the type, the mould, or print by 
 which Divine impressions are put upon the soul; the in- 
 strument by which he sanctifies! Are not the exceeding 
 great and precious promises, the vchicula, the conveyancers 
 h of the Divine nature 1 And what can be the means to 
 mollify and melt the obdurate heart of a sinner, to assuage 
 its enmity, to overcome it into the love of God, to trans- 
 form it into his image, but the gospel discovery of God's 
 own gracious and holy nature 1 And can it operate to this 
 purpose w^ithout being heard, or read, or understood, and 
 considered, and taken to heart 1 Do but compare this 
 means God works by, with the subject to be wrought upon, 
 and the effect to be wrought, and nothing can be conceived 
 more adequate and fitly corresponding. But inasmuch 
 as there hath been an enmity between God and sinners, 
 and that therefore the whole entire means of reconcilia- 
 tion must be a treaty; and that a treaty cannot be ma- 
 naged or conceived without mutual interlocution ; there- 
 fore must the sinner have a way of expressing its own 
 sense to God, as well as he speaks his mind to it ; which 
 shows the necessity of prayer too ; and therefore, because 
 the peace begins on his part, (though the war began on 
 ours,) he calls upon sinners to open themselves to him ; 
 i Come now, let us reason together ; he invites addresses ; 
 Seek the Lord while he may be found, and call upon him 
 while he is nigh, &c. And doth not the natural relation 
 itself between the Creator and a creature require this, be- 
 sides the exigency of our present easel Every creature 
 is a supplicant ; its necessary dependance is a natural 
 prayer. The eyes of all things look up, &c. 'Tis the 
 proper glory of a Deity to be depended on and addressed 
 to. k Should not a people seek unto their God 1 'Tis an 
 appeal to reason; is it not a congruous thing 1 
 
 Further, Dost thou not know thy maker's will i made 
 known infers upon thee a 7iecessity of obeying ; unless thou 
 think the breach between God and thee is better to be 
 healed by rebellion ; and that the only way to expiate 
 wickedness, were to continue and multiply it. Is it a 
 needless thing to comply with the will of him that gave 
 thee breath and being? and whose power is so absolute 
 over thee, as to all thy conceinments, both of time and 
 eternity 1 Again, while thou pretendest these things are 
 needless, come now, speak out freely; what are the more 
 necessary affairs wherein thou art so deeply engaged, that 
 thou canst not suffer a diversion "? What, is the service 
 and gratification of thy flesh and sense so important a 
 
 g 1 Pet i 23. Jam i. IS. Rom. n. 17. Jolin xvii. 17. h 2 Pet. i. 
 
 I Isa. i chap. Iv. k Isa. viit. 19. 1 Necexsitas pnecepti.
 
 Chap. XVII. 
 
 THE BLESSEDNESS OF THE RIGHTEOUS. 
 
 219 
 
 business, that thou canst be at no leisure forthat more need- 
 less work of saving thy soul 1 Where is thy reason and mo- 
 desty 1 Dost ihou mind none other, from day to da)'^, but 
 necessary ailairs 1 Dost thou use, when thou art templed 
 to vain dalliances, empty discourses, intemperate indul- 
 gence to thy appetite, so to answer the temptation. Is it 
 not necessary 1 Or art thou so destitute of all conscience 
 and shame, to think it unnecessary to work out thy salva- 
 tion, to strive to enter in at the strait gate that leads to 
 life 1 but most indispensably necessary to be very critically 
 curious about what thou shalt eat and drink, and put on; 
 and how to spend thj' time with greatest ease and pleasure 
 to thy flesh, that it may not have the least cause to complain 
 it is "neglected 1 Thy pretence, "• that God is wont to be 
 found of them that sought him not, to the purpose thou 
 intendest it, is a most ignorant or malicious abuse of 
 Scripture. The prophet is, in that text, foretelling the 
 calling of the Gentiles, who, while they remained such, 
 did not ('tis true) inquire after God ; but "then he expressly 
 tells us, (personating God,) I am sought of them that 
 asked not for me, (that is, after the gospel came among 
 them,) and then it is added, I am found (upon this seek- 
 ing, plainly) of them, that sought me not (i. e. who once 
 in their former darkness, before I revealed myself in the 
 Gospel dispensation to them, sought me not:) q. d. I am now 
 sought of a people that lately sought me not, nor asked 
 after me, and I am found of them. But what is this to 
 thy case; whom God hath been, in the Gospel, earnestly 
 inviting to seek after him, and thou all this while refusest 
 to comply with the invitation '? 
 
 And suppose thou hear of some rare instances of per- 
 sons, suddenly snatched by the hand of grace out of the 
 midst of their wickedness, as fire-brands out of the fire, is 
 it therefore the safest course to go on in a manifest rebel- 
 lion against God, till possibly he may do so by thee also 1 
 How many thousands may have dropped into hell since 
 thou heardest of such an instance 1 as a worthy person 
 speaks to that purpose, n If thou hast heard of one Elijah 
 fed by ravens, and of some thousands by our Saviour's 
 miracles, canst thou thence plead a repeal of that law to 
 the world, They that will not labour shall not eat 1 Or is 
 it a safer or wiser course to wait till food drop into thy 
 mouth from heaven, than to use a prudent care for the 
 maintenance of thy life 'I If thou say, thou hearest but of 
 few that are wrought upon in this way, of their own fore- 
 going expectation and endeavour ; remember, (and let the 
 thought of it startle thee,) that there are but few that are 
 saved. And therefore are so few wrought upon in this 
 way, because so few will be persuaded to it. But canst 
 thou say, (though God hath not bound himself to the mere 
 natural endeavours of his creature neither,) that ever any 
 took this course, and persisted with faithful diligence, but 
 they succeeded in it 1 What thou talkest of the freeness of 
 God's grace, looks like a hypocritical pretence. Is there 
 no way to honour his grace, but by aflfronting his autho- 
 rity! but to sin, that grace may abound 1 Sure grace will 
 be better pleased by obedience, than by such sacrifice. 
 For a miserable, perishing wretch, to use GckI's means to 
 help it.self, doth that look like merit 1 Is the beggar afraid 
 thou shouldst interpret his coming to thy door and seeking 
 thy alms, to signify, as if he thought he had deserved them 1 
 I hope thou wilt acknowledge thyself less than the least 
 of all God's mercies, and that thou canst not deserve from 
 him a morsel of bread; mayst thou not therefore in thy 
 necessity labour for thy living, lest thou shouldst intrench 
 upon tlie freeness of Divine bounty"? With as much wis- 
 dom and reeison mightst thou decline the use of all other 
 means to pneserve thy life, (which thou must owe always 
 to free mercy,) to eat when thou art hungry, to take physic 
 when thou art sick, lest thou shouldst intimate thyself to 
 have merited the strength and health sought thereby. Nor 
 can I think of any rational pretence that can more platisi- 
 bly be insisted on, than these that have been thus briefly 
 discussed. And it must needs be difficult to bring any 
 appearance of reason for the patronage of so ill a cause, 
 xs the careless giving up of a man's soul to perish eternally, 
 that is visibly capable of eternal blessedness. And cer- 
 tainly were we once apprehensive of the case, the attempt 
 of di.sputing a man into such a resolution, would appear 
 m ba. Ixv. I. n Mr. Baxter. 
 
 much more ridiculous, than if one should grav<r]y urge 
 arguments to all the neighbourhood, to persuade them to 
 burn their houses, to put out their eyes, to kill their chil- 
 dren, and cut their own throats. And sure, let all ima- 
 ginable pretences be debated to their uttermost, and it 
 will appear, that nothing withholds men from putting forth 
 all their might in the endeavour of getting a spirit suitable 
 to this blessedness, but an obstinate!}' perverse and sluggish 
 heart, despoiled and naked of all show of reason and ex- 
 cuse. And though that be a hard teusk to reason against 
 mere will, yet that being the way to make men willing, 
 and the latter part of the work proposed in pursuance of 
 this direction, 1 shall recommend only such considerations 
 as the text itself will suggest, for the stirring up and per- 
 suading of slothful, reluctant hearts, choosing those as the 
 most proper limits, and not being willing to be infinite 
 herein, as amidst so great a variety of considerations to 
 that purpose, one might. 
 
 That in general which I shall propose, shall be only the 
 misery of the unrighteous ; whereof we may take a view 
 in the opposite blessedness here described. The contra- 
 dictories whereto will afford a "negative, the contraries a 
 positive, description of this misery. So that each consider- 
 ation will be double; which I shall now rather glance at 
 than insist upon. 
 
 1. Consider then. If thou be found at last unqualified 
 for this blessedness, how wilt thou bear it to be banished 
 eternally from the blessed face of God 1 There will be 
 those that shall behold that face in righteousness ; so shalt 
 not thou: the wicked is driven away in his wickedness, 
 with a " Never more see my face." Again, What amazing 
 visions wilt thou have! What ghastly, frightful objects to 
 converse with, amidst those horrors of eternal darkness; 
 when the devil and his angels shall be thy everlasting 
 associates ! What direful images shall those accursed, 
 enraged spirits, and thy own fruitful parturient imagina- 
 tion, for ever entertain thee witli, and present to thy view! 
 
 2. Is it a small thing with thee, to be destitute of all 
 tho.se inherent excellencies which the perfected image ol - 
 God, whereof thou wast capable, comprehends 1 View 
 them over in that (too defective) account some of the for- 
 mer pages gave thee of them. Thou art none of those 
 bright stars, thcee sons of the morning, those blessed, glo- 
 rified spirits taou mightest have been. But consider, 
 What art thou 1 What shalt thou for ever be 1 What 
 image or likeness shalt thou bear! Alas, poor wretch, 
 thou art now a fiend! conformed to thy hellish partners; 
 thou bearest their accursed likeness. Death is now finish- 
 ed in thee ; and as thou sowedst to the flesh, thou reapest 
 corruption. Thou art become a loathsome carcass; the 
 worms that never die, abound in thy putrified, filthy soul. 
 Thou hast a hell in thee. Thy venomous lusts are now 
 grown mature, are in their full-grown state. If a -world 
 of iniquity, a fulness of deadly poison, tempered by hell- 
 fire, is here sometimes to be found in a little member, 
 what will there then be in all thy parts and powers! 
 
 3. Consider, how blessed a satisfaction dost thou lose % 
 how pleasant and delightful a rest, arising both from the 
 sight of so much gloiy, and so peaceful a temper and 
 constitution of spirit ! Here thou mightst have enjoyed 
 an eternal undisturbed rest. But for rest an J satisfaction, 
 thou hast vexation and endless torment, both by what thoti 
 beholdest, and what thou feelest wiihin thee. Thy dread- 
 ful visions shall not let thee rest ; but the chiefcst matter 
 of thy disquiet and torment is in the verj' temper and con- 
 stitution of thv soul. Thy horrid lusts are fuller of poison- 
 ous energy, and are destitute of their wonted objex"ts, 
 whence they turn all their power and lim* upon thy mise- 
 rable self. Thy enraged passions would fly in the face of 
 God, but they spend themselves in tormenting the soul 
 that bred them. Thy curses and blasphemies, the en- 
 venomed dans pointed at heaven, are reverberated and 
 driven back into thv own heart. And therefore, 
 
 4. Consider, what awaking hast rhou ! Thou awakest 
 not into the mild and cheeri'ul light of that blessed day, 
 wherein the saints of the Most High hold their solemn, 
 joyful triumph. But thou awakest into that great and 
 tei-rible dav of the Lord, (dost thou desire it, for what end 
 is it to thee !) a day of darkness, and not light ; a gloi'iny 
 
 o PcMia Damni— Sensm.
 
 250 
 
 THE BLESSEDNESS OF THE RIGHTEOUS. 
 
 Chap. XVIII. 
 
 and stormy day. The day of thy birth is not a more hate- 
 ful than this is a dreadful day. Thou awakest and art 
 beset with terrors, presently apprehended and dragged be- 
 fore thy glorious, severe Judge, and thence into eternal 
 torments. O happy thou, mightst thou never awake, 
 might the grave conceal, and its more silent darkness 
 cover thee for ever. But since thou must awake then, 
 how much more happy wert thou, if thou wouldst suffer 
 thyself to be awakened now ! What, to lose and endure 
 so much, because thou wilt not now a little bestir thyself, 
 and look about thee 1 Sure thy conscience tells thee, thou 
 art urged but to what is possible, and lawful, and hope- 
 ful, and necessary. Methinks, if thou be a man, and not 
 a stone, if thou hast a reasonable soul about thee, thou 
 shouldst presently fall to work, and rather spend thy days 
 in serious thoughts, and prayers, and tears, than run the 
 hazard of losing so transcendent a glory, and of suffering 
 misery, which as now thou art little able to conceive, 
 thou wilt then be less able to endure. 
 
 CHAPTER XVIII. 
 
 Rule 4. Directing to the endeavour of a gradual improvement in such a dis- 
 posedness of spirit (as shall be found in any measure already attained) to- 
 wards this blessedness. That 'tis blessedness begim which disposes to the 
 consummate state of it. That we are therefore to endeavour the daily increase 
 of our present knowledge of God, conlbrmity to him, and the satisfiedness of 
 our spirits therein. 
 
 4. Rule. That when we find ourselves m any disposition 
 towards this blessedness, we endeavour a gradual improve- 
 ment therein, to get the habitual temper of our spirits 
 made daily more suitable to it. We must still remember 
 we have not yet attained, and must therefore continue 
 pressing forward =^ to this mark, for the prize of the high 
 calling of God in Christ Jesus. That prize (not price, as 
 we commonly mis-read it in our Bibles) of which the 
 apostle here speaks, is (as may be seen by looking back to 
 Yerse 8, 9, &c.) the same with the blessedness in the text. 
 Such a knowledge of Christ, as should infer at last his 
 participation with him in his state of glory; or of the re- 
 surrection of the dead. This is the ultimate term, the 
 scope or end of that high calling of God in Christ; so 'tis 
 also stated elsewhere. Who hath b called us unto his eter- 
 nal glory by Christ Jesus. Now we should therefore fre- 
 quently recount how far short we are of this glory, and stir 
 up our souls to more vigorous endeavours in order to it. 
 Our suitableness to this blessedness stands in our having 
 the elements and first principles of it in us ; 'tis glory only 
 that fits for glory ; some previous sights and impressions 
 of it, and a pleasant complacential relish thereof, that 
 frame and attemper us by degrees to the full and consum- 
 mate state of it. This is that therefore we must endeavour, 
 A growing knowledge of God, conformity to him, and 
 satisfiedness of spirit therein. What we expect should be 
 one day perfect, we must labour may be, in the meantime, 
 always growing. 
 
 1. Our knowledge of God. The knowledge of him I 
 here principally intend, is not notional and speculative, 
 but (which is more ingredient to our blessedness, both in- 
 choate and perfect) that of converse, that familiar know- 
 ledge which we usually express by the name of acquaint- 
 ance. See that this knowledge of him be increased daily. 
 Let us now use ourselves much with God. Our know- 
 ledge of him must aim at conformity to him; and how 
 powerful a thing is converse in order hereto ! How insen- 
 sibly is it wont to transform men, and mould anew their 
 spirits, language, garb, deportment ! To be removed from 
 the solitude or rudeness of the country to a city or univer- 
 sity, what an alteration does it make 1 How is such a 
 person divested by degrees of his rusticity, of his more 
 uncomely and agrest manners ! Objects we converse 
 with, beget their image upon us;<^ They walked after 
 vanity, and became vain, said Jeremiah; and Solomon, d 
 lie that walketh with the wise, shall be wise. Walking 
 is a usual expression of converse. So to converse with 
 the holy is the way to be holy, with heaven, the way to 
 
 a Pha. iii. 14. Bpa0€iov. b 1 Pet. v. 10. 
 
 c Jer. ii. 5. d Prov. xiii 20. e Prov. iv. 13. f Hos. vi. 3. 
 
 be heavenly, with God, the way to be God-like. Let us 
 therefore make this our present business, much to ac- 
 quaint ourselves with God. We count upon seeing him 
 face to face, of being always in his presence beholding his 
 glory; that speaketh very intimate acquaintance indeed. 
 How shall we reach that pitch 1 What, to live now as 
 strangers to him 1 Is that the way 1 « The path of the 
 righteous is as the shining light, that shineth more and 
 more unto the perfect day. The text shows us the right- 
 eous man's end. To behold the glory of God's face, &c. 
 'tis easy to apprehend then, his way must needs have in it 
 a growing brightness, as he comes still nearer this end. 
 Every nearer approach to a lucid thing infers (to us) an 
 increase of light from it. We should therefore be follow- 
 ing on to know the Lord, and we shall see his going forth 
 will be before us as the morning, f He will be still visit- 
 ing us with renewed, increasing light, (for such is rnorning- 
 light, fresh and growing-light,) and ere long it will be per- 
 fect day. Labour we to improve our knowledge of God 
 to such a degree of acquaintance as our present state can 
 admit of: to be as inward with him as we can, to fami- 
 liarize ourselves to him. His gospel aims at this, to make 
 those that were afar off nigh. Far-distant objects we can 
 have no distinct view of. He can give us little account of 
 a person that hath only seen him afar off; so God beholds 
 the proud afar off, that is, he will have no acquaintance 
 with them: whereas with the humble he will be familiar; 
 ' he will dwell (as in a family) with them. So the ungodly 
 behold God till he bring them in, and make them nigh ; 
 then they are no longer strangers, but of his family and 
 hou.sehold, now thoroughly acquainted. Several notes 
 there are of a thorough acquaintance which we should 
 endeavour may concur in our acquaintance with God, in 
 that analogy which the case will bear: — To know his 
 natvre ; or (as we would speak of a man) what will please 
 and displease him, so as to be able in the whole course of 
 our daily conversation to approve ourselves to him : to 
 have the skill so to manage our conversation, as to con- 
 tinue a correspondence, not interrupted by any of our offen- 
 sive unpleasing demeanours : to walk worthy of God unto 
 all well-pleasing. It concerns us most to study and en- 
 deavour this practical knowledge of the nature of God ; 
 what trust, and love, and fear, and purity, &c. his faithful- 
 ness and greatness, his goodness and holiness, &c. do 
 challenge from us: what may in our daily walking be 
 agreeable, what repugnant, to the several attributes of his 
 being. To know his secrets ; to be as it were of the cabi- 
 net-council, h (The word used by the Psalmist hath a pecu- 
 liar significancy to that purpose; to signify, not only 
 counsel, but a council, or the consessus of persons that 
 consult together.) This is his gracious vouchsafemcnt, to 
 humble reverential souls. The secret of the Lord is with 
 them that fear him ; such acquaintance with him is to be 
 sought, to know the (communicable) secrets both of his 
 mind and heart. Of his mind ; his truths, gospel-myste- 
 ries, that were kept secret from ages and generations. 
 We have the mind of Christ. This is great inwardness. 
 Of his heart ; his love, his good-will, his kind bosom 
 thoughts towards our souls. To know his methods, and the 
 course of his dispensations towards the world, his church, 
 and especially our own spirits. This is great knowledge of 
 God, to have the skilLto trace his footsteps, and observe 
 by comparing times with times, that such a course he more 
 usually holds ; and accordingly, with great probability, 
 collect from what we have seen and observed what we may 
 expect. What order and succession there is of storms of 
 wrath, to clouds of sin ; and again of peaceful, lucid inter- 
 vals, when such storms have inferred penitential tears. 
 In what exigencies, and distresses, humble mourners may 
 expect God's visits and consolations. To recount in how 
 great extremities former experience hath taught us not to 
 despair; and from such experience still to argue ourselves 
 into fresh reviving hopes, when the state of things (whether 
 public or private, outward or .spiritual) seems forlorn. To 
 know the proper seasons of address to him ; and how to 
 behave ourselves most acceptably in his presence, in w'hat 
 dispositions and postures of spirit we are fittest for his 
 converse, so as to be able to come to him in a good hour, i 
 
 g Isa. Ivii. 15. 
 1 Psal. xxxii. 6. 
 
 h Psal. XYV. 14.
 
 Chap. XVIII. 
 
 THE BLESSEDNESS OF THE RIGHTEOUS. 
 
 251 
 
 in a time when he maybe found. To know hisroice; this 
 discovere acquaintance, k The ear trieih word.s, as the 
 mouth tasteth meats. God's righteous ones, that are filled 
 with the fruits of righteousness, do proportionably abound 
 in 1 kiioiolcdge, and in all sense. They have quick, naked, 
 unviiiated senses, to discern between good and evil ; yea, 
 and can have the suffrage of several senses concerning ihe 
 same object ; they have a kind of taste in their ear. They 
 taste the good word of God, even in his previous workings 
 on them. Being new-born, they are intimated to have tasted 
 in the word how gracious the Lord is. As they grow up 
 thereby, they have still a more judicious sense,"" and can 
 more certainly distinguish, when God speaks to them, and 
 when a stranger goes about to counterfeit his voice. " They 
 can tell at first hearing, what is grateful and nutritive, 
 what offensive and hurtful, to the di\ine life ; what is har- 
 monious and agreeable, what dissonant, to the gospel 
 already received, so that an angel from heaven must expect 
 no welcome, if he bring another. To know his inward mo- 
 tions and impulses; when his hand toucheth our hearts, 
 to be able to say. This is the finger of God, there is some- 
 thing divine in this touch. "My beloved put in his hand 
 by the hole of the door, and my bowels were moved. This 
 .speaks acquaintance, when the soul can say, I know his 
 very touch; the least impression from him, I can distin- 
 guish it from thousands of objects that daily beat upon my 
 heart. To understand his looks; to know the meaning 
 of his aspects, and glances of the various casts, as it were, 
 of his eye. p Such things intimate friends can, in a sort, 
 talk by, Avith one another; I will guide thee by mine eye ; 
 that implies an intelligent teachable subject. We have 
 now no full-eyed appearances of God; he shows himself, 
 looks in upon us through the lattice, through a veil or a 
 shadow, or a glass. That measure of acquaintance with 
 him to be able to discern and own him in his appearances, is 
 a great participation of heaven, utter unacquaintancewiih 
 God is expressed by the denial of these two. Ye have neither 
 heard his voice, nor seen his shape, John v. 37. 
 
 Finally, which brings us home to the text, to keep our 
 eye intentively fixed on him, not to understand his looks 
 only as before, but to return our own. Intimate acquaint- 
 ance (when such friends meet) is much expressed and im- 
 proved by the eye, by a reciprocationof glances, or (which 
 speaks more inwardness) more fixed views; when their 
 eyes do even feed and feast upon each other. Thus we 
 should endeavour to be as in a continual interview with 
 God. How frequent mention have we of the fixed posture 
 of his eye towards saints. To this man will I ok; I have 
 Ibund out, q. d. that which shall be ever the delight of 
 mine eye, do not divert me. Towards him I will look. 
 What he speaks of the material temple is ultimately to be 
 referred to that which is typified, "J his church, his saints, 
 united with his Christ, Mine eyes and my heart shall be 
 there perpetually; and elsewhere. He withdraweth not 
 his eyes from the righteous ; he cannot (admirable grace) 
 allow himself to look off, to turn aside his eye : and he 
 seems impatient of the aversion of theirs, ^ Let me see thy 
 countenance, (saiih he,) for it is comely. 
 
 Is it not much more reasonable it should be thus with 
 us towards him 1 that we should be more delighted to be- 
 hold real comeliness than he with what is so, only by his 
 gracious vouchsafement and estimation 1 How careful 
 should we be, that our eye may at every turn meet his; 
 that he never look toward us, and find it in the ends of the 
 earth, carelessly wandering from him ! How well doth it 
 become us, «to set the Lord always before us; to have 
 our eye ever towards the Lord ! This you see is the initial, 
 leading thing in this blessedness of heaven. So it must 
 have also a prime ingrediency into our heav^en on earth. 
 It is a part of celestial blessedness ; but it is not peculiar to 
 it. The present blessedness the righteous enjoy here is a 
 participation of heaven. It hath something in it of every 
 thing that is ingredient into that perfect blessedness. Our 
 present knowledge of God is often expressed by vision, or 
 sight, as we have had occasion to observe in many pas- 
 sages of Scripture. He hath given us such a visive power, 
 
 k Job .\ii. II, 
 
 1 Phil i. 9. atadnrnpta ycyv^vniTutva. Heb. v. all. Heb. \-i. 
 ra 1 Pet. i. 2. 3. n John \. o Cant. v. 4. 
 
 pSo we apprehend God proporlioiiablyniore clearly, as the idea we have of 
 nperaon is moro distinct that we have of him by thesi^lit of hi:f picture or face 
 
 and made it connatural to that heavenly creature, begotten 
 of lum, in all the true subjects of his blessedness. ' We 
 know that we are of God, and presently it follows, He hath 
 giv^en us an understanding to know him that is true. This 
 new man is not born blind. The bles.sed God himself is 
 become liable to the view of his regenerate, intellectual 
 eye, clarified, and filled with vigour and spirit fron. him- 
 self. He therefore that hath made, that hath new-formed 
 this eye, shall not he be seen by it 1 shall not we turn it 
 upon him 1 Why do not we more frequently bless our eye 
 with that sight "? This object (though of so high excellen- 
 cy and glory) will not hurt, but perfect and strengthen it. 
 They are refreshing, vital beams thatis.sue from it. Sure 
 M'e have no excuse that we eye God so little, t. e. that we 
 mind him no more. Why have we so few thoughts of 
 him in a day? What, to let .so much time pa.ss, and not 
 spare him a look, a thought 1 Do we intend to employ 
 ourselves an eternity in tlie visions of God, and is our 
 present aversion from him, and intention upon vanity, our 
 best preparation thereto 1 This loudly calls for redress. 
 Shall God be wailing all the day, as on purpose to catch 
 our eye, to intercept a look, and we studiouslj'' decline 
 him, and still look another way, as of choice 1 And what 
 is it but choice 1 Can we pretend a necessity to forget him 
 all the day 1 How cheap is the expense of a look ! How 
 little would it cost us J And yet how much of duty might 
 it express 1 how much of comfort and joy might it bring 
 into us ! 
 
 How great is our offence and loss, that we live not in 
 such more constant views of God ! Herein we sin and 
 suffer both at once, things both very unsuitable to heaven. 
 Mindfulness of God is the living spring of all holy and 
 pleasant affections and deportments towards him; sets all 
 the wheels a going ; makes the souls a^ the chariots of 
 Aminadab. These wheels have their e3'es also, are guided 
 by mind, by an intellectual principle. Knowing, intelli- 
 gent beings (as we also are by participation and accoiding 
 to our measure) so act mutually towards one another. We 
 cannot move towards God but with an open eye, seeing 
 him and our way towards him. If we close our eyes we 
 stand still, or blindly run another course, we know not 
 whither. All sin is darkness, whether it be neglect of 
 good, or doing of evil : its way is a way of darkness; as a 
 course of holy motion is walking in the light. Our shut- 
 ting our eyes towards God creates that darkness ; surrounds 
 us with a. darkness comprehensive of all sin. Now is every 
 thing of enjoined duty waived, and any evil done, that sin- 
 ful nature prompts us to. Well might it be said, " He that 
 sinneth hath not seen God. When we hare made our- 
 selves this darkness, we fall of course under Satan's em- 
 pire, and are presently within his dominions. He is the 
 prince of darkness, and can rule us now at his will. 
 Perishing lost souls are such as in whom the god of this 
 world hath blinded their minds. — To open their eyes, and 
 turn them from darkness to light, is, to turn them also 
 from the power of Satan unto God. What a hell of wick- 
 edness are we brought into, in the twinkling of an eye! 
 We are without God in the world, as if a man wink, though 
 at noo:.-day he hath as it were put out the sun, 'tis with 
 him as if there were no such thing. When we have 
 banished God out of our sight and Ibrgotten him, 'tis wiih 
 us as if there were no God. If such a state grow habitual 
 to us, (as \ve know every sinful aversi^)n of our eye from 
 God tends thereto.) what wickedness is there that will not 
 lurk in this darkness ? How often in Scripture is forget- 
 ting God used as a character, yea, as a paraphrase, a full, 
 thousfh summary expression of sin in general ! as if the 
 wickedness, the malignity, the very hell itself of sin, were 
 whollv included (and not connoted only) here. ^ Now 
 consider this, (after so dreadful an enumeration, so black 
 a catalogue,) all that forget God. And (as deep calleth to 
 deep, one hell to another.) >" The wicked shall he turned 
 into hell, and all the people that forget God. That heap, 
 that mass of wickedness, of pride, of persecution, cursins:, 
 blasphemv, deceit, and mischief, all meet in one that hath. 
 not God in all his thoughts. 
 
 fh'onpha glass, beyond that which we have by hearing a reported descriptioB 
 of him. thoiiijh by himself unseen. This is acquaintance with God. 
 
 q 1 Kinffs ix 3. Job x.xxvi. 7. Psal .wxiii- 18. and ixxiv. IS. 
 
 r Cant ii u. s Psal. rvi ?. xw. 15. 1 1 John v. 19, SO. 
 
 u 1 John iii. S. x Psal. 1. T P««' ix.
 
 THE BLESSEDNESS OF THE RIGHTEOUS. 
 
 Chap. XVIII 
 
 But who is so hardy to look the holy God in the face, 
 and sin against him ! What an astonishment is it, when 
 he watches over present sin, or brings forth former sins 
 out of secret darkness, and sets them in the light of his 
 countenance ! Who that understands any thing of the na- 
 ture and majesty of God, dare call him for a witness of 
 his sinning"? The worst of men would find themselves 
 under some restraint, could they but obtain of themselves, 
 to sit down sometimes, and soleimaly think of God. Much 
 more would it prove an advantage to them, (whom I most 
 intend,) such as sin within the nearer call and reach of 
 mercy ; that sin not to the utmost latitude ; even such as 
 lead the strictest lives, and are seldomer found to transgress. 
 Are not their sins wont to begin with forgetting Godl 
 Did they eye God more, would they not sin less frequent- 
 ly, and with greater regret 1 You his saints, that have 
 made a covenant with him by sacrifice, that profess the 
 greatest love and devotedness to him, and seem willing 
 yourselves to become sacrifices, and lay down your lives 
 for his sake ; what, is it a harder thing to give him a look, 
 a thought ! or is it not too common a thing, without ne- 
 cessity, (and then not without injury,) to withhold these 
 from him "? Let us bethink oui'selves, are not the princi- 
 pal distempers of our spirits, and disorders yet observable 
 in our lives, to be referred hither 1 As to enjoined ser- 
 vices ; what should we venture on omissions, if we had 
 God in our eye 1 or serve him with so declining, backward 
 hearts 1 Should we dare to let pass a day, m the even 
 whereof we might write down, Nothing done for God this 
 day 1 Or should we serve him as a hard master, with 
 sluggish, despondent spirits 1 The apostle forbids ser- 
 vants to serve with eye-service, as men-pleasers ; meaning 
 they should eye men less, and God more. Sure, as to 
 him, our service is not enough eye-service. We probably 
 eye men more than we should ; but we do not eye him 
 enough. Hence such hanging of hands, such feebleness 
 of knees, such laziness and indifferenc}', so little of an ac- 
 tive zeal and laborious diligence, so little fervency of spirit 
 in serving the Lord. Hence also such an aversion to 
 hazardous services, such fear of attempting any thing 
 (though never so apparent important duty) that may prove 
 costly, or hath danger in it. We look not to him that is 
 invisible. And as to forbidden things ; should we be so 
 proud, so passionate, so earthly, so sensual, if we had God 
 more in view 1 should we so much seek ourselves, and 
 indulge our own wills and humours, drive a design with 
 such solicitude and intention of mind for our private in- 
 terests "? Should we walk at such a latitude, and more con- 
 sult our own inclination than our rule, allow ourselves in 
 so much vanity of conversation, did we mind God as we 
 ought 1 And do we not sensibly punish ourselves in this 
 neglect 1 What a dismal chaos is this world while we see 
 not God in it ! To live destitute of a Divine presence, to 
 discern no beam of the heavenly glory ; to go up and 
 down day by day, and perceive nothing of God, no glim- 
 mering, no appearance; this is disconsolate as well as 
 sinful darkness. What can we make of creatures, what 
 of the daily events of Providence, if we see not in them 
 the glory of a Deity ; if we do not contemplate and adore 
 the Divine wisdom, power, and goodness, diffused every 
 where 1 Our practical atheism, and inobservance of God, 
 make the world become to us the region and shadow of 
 death, states us as among ghosts and spectres, makes all 
 things look with a ghastly face, imprints death upon every 
 thing we see, encircles us with gloomy, dreadful shades, 
 and with uncomfortable apparitions. To behold the 
 tragical spectacles always in view, the violent lusts, the 
 rapine and rage of some, the calamitous sufferings, the 
 miseries and ruins of others; to hear every corner re- 
 sounding Avith the insultations of the oppressor, and the 
 mournful groans of the oppressed ; what a painful con- 
 tinuing death were it to be in the world without God ! At 
 the best, all things were but a vanishing scene, an image 
 seen in the dark. The creation a thing the fashion whereof 
 were passing away, the whole contexture and system of 
 Providence were mere confusion, without the least con- 
 cinnity or order; religion an acknowledged trifle, a mere 
 mockery ! What, to wink ourselves into so much darkness 
 
 z Sio certe vivendura est tanciuam in conspectu vivamus, &c. Sen. Epist 
 lifxiu. 
 
 and desolation, and by sealing up our eyes against the Di- 
 vine light and glory, to '•'.nfirm so formidable mis?rie? 
 upon our own soul* ' How dreadfully shall we herein re- 
 venge our own folly, in nullifying him to ourselves, who 
 is the all in all ! Sure there is little of heaven in all this ! 
 But if now we open our eyes upon that all-comprehending 
 glory, apply them to a steady intuition of God, how heaven- 
 ly a life shall we then live in the world ! To have God 
 always in view, as the director and end of all our actions ; 
 to make our eye crave leave of God, to consult him ere we 
 adventure upon any thing, and implore his guidance and 
 blessing; upon all occasions to direct our prayers to him 
 and look up ; to make our eye wait his commanding look, 
 ready to receive all intimations of his will ; this is an an- 
 gelic life. To be as those ministers of his that are always 
 ready to do his pleasure ; to make our eye do him homage, 
 and express our dependance and trust ; to approve our- 
 selves in every thing to him, and act as always in his pre- 
 sence, observing still how his eye observes us, and expo- 
 sing ourselves willingly to its inspection and search, con- 
 tented always he should see through and tlirough us ; 
 surely there is much of heaven in this life; so we should 
 endeavour to live here. I cannot omit to give you this 
 instruction in the words of a heathen. ^ We ought, (saith 
 he) so to live, as always within view, order our cogitatiims 
 as if some one might or ca.n look into the very inwards of our 
 breast. Por to what purpose is it, to hide any thing from 
 man 7 from God nothing can he hid ; he is continually pre- 
 sent to our spirits, and comes amidst our inmost thoughts, &c. 
 
 This is to walk in the light, amidst a serene, placid, 
 mild light, that infuses no unquiet thoughts, admits no 
 guilty fears, nothing that can disturb or annoy us. To 
 eye God in all our comforts, and observe the smiling as- 
 pects of his face, when he dispenses them to us ; to eye him 
 in all our afflictions, and consider the paternal wisdom 
 that instructs us in them ; how would this increase our 
 mercies, and mitigate our troubles ! To eye him in all 
 his creatures, and observe the various prints of the Cre- 
 ator's glory stamped upon them; with how lively a lustre 
 would it clothe the world, and make every thing look with 
 a pleasant face ! What a heaven were it to look upon God, 
 as filling all in all ! and how sweetly would it, ere-while, 
 raise our souls into some such sweet seraphic strains, 
 "" Holy, holy, — the whole earth is full of his glory ! To 
 eye him in his providences, and consider how all events are 
 with infinite wisdom disposed into an apt subserviency to 
 his holy will and ends; what difficulties would hence be 
 solved ! what seeming inconsistencies reconciled ! and 
 how much would it contribute to the ease and quiet of our 
 minds ! To eye him in his Christ, the express image of 
 his person, the brightness of his glory ; and in the Chris- 
 tian economy, the gospel revelation and ordinances, 
 through which he manifests himself; to behold him in the 
 posture wherein he saves souls, clad with the garments of 
 salvation, girt with power, and apparelled with love, 
 travelling in the greatness of his strength, mighty to save : 
 to view him addressing himself to allure and win to him 
 the hearts of sinners, when he discovers himself in Christ, 
 upon that reconciling design, makes grace that brings sal- 
 vation appear, teaching to deny ungodliness, &c. to behold 
 him entering into human flesh, pitching his tabernacle 
 among men, hanging out his ensigns of peace, laying his 
 trains, spreading his net, the cords of a man, the bands ol 
 love: to see him in his Christ, ascending the cross, lifted 
 up to draw all men to him ; and consider that mighty love 
 of justice and of souls, both so eminently conspicuous in 
 that stupendous sacrifice; here to fix our eyes looking to 
 Jesus, and beholding him whom we have pierced : to see 
 his power and glory, as they were wont to be seen in his 
 sanctuaries; to observe him in the solemnities of his wor- 
 ship, and the graceful postures wherein he holds com- 
 munion with his saints, when he seats himself amidst them 
 on the throne of grace, receives their addresses, dispenses 
 the tokens and pledges of his love : into what transports 
 might these visions put us every day! 
 
 Let us then stir up our drowsy souls, open our heavy 
 eyes, and turn them upon God, inure and habituate them 
 to a constant view of his (yet veiled) face, that we may not 
 
 a laa. vi, % 3.
 
 Chap. XVIII. 
 
 THE BLESSEDNESS OF THE RIGHTEOUS. 
 
 253 
 
 see him only by casual glances, but as those that seek his 
 face, and make it ourbusine.ss to gain a thorough knowledge 
 of him. But let us remember, that all our present visions 
 of God must aim at a furtlier conformity to him; they 
 must design imitation, not the satisfying of curiosity : our 
 looking must not therefore be an inquisitive, bu.sy prying 
 into the unrevealed things of God. Carefully abstain from 
 .such over-bold presumptuous looks. But remember, we 
 are to eye God as our pattern. Wherein he is to be so, 
 he hath plainly enough revealed and proposed himself to 
 us. And consider, this is the pattern, both to which we 
 ought and to which we shall be conformed, if we make it 
 our business ; so will sense of duty and hope of success 
 concur to fix our eye and keep it steady. Especially, let 
 us endeavour to manage and guide our eye aright, in be- 
 holding him, that our sight of him may most effectually 
 subserve this design of being like him ; and herein nothing 
 will be more conducible, than that our looks be qualified 
 with — reverence, and — love. 
 
 1. Let them be reverential looks. We shall never be 
 careful to imitate a despised pattern, or that we think meanly 
 of When this is the intimate sense of our soul. Who is a 
 God like unto thee in holiness "? there is none holy as the 
 Lord : this will set our powers on work ; such sights will 
 command and over-awe our souls into conformity to him. 
 Subjects have sometimes afliected to imitate the very im- 
 perfections and deformities of their adored prince. Let us 
 greaten our thoughts of God. Look to him with a sub- 
 missive, adoring eye. Let every look import worship and 
 subjection. Who can stand before apprehended sovereign 
 majesty with such a temper of soul as shall signify an aff"ront 
 to it ? This will make every thing as suitable to God, yield 
 and render our souls susceptible of all divine and holy im- 
 pre.ssions. 
 
 2. Let them be friendly and (as far as may consist with 
 that reverence) amorous looks. 'Tis natural to affect and 
 endeavour likeness to them we love. Let love always sit 
 in our eye, and inspirit it ; this will represent God always 
 amiable, will infinitely commend us to his nature and at- 
 tributes, and even ravish us into his likeness. The loving 
 spouse often glories to wear her beloved husband's picture 
 on her breast. The love of God will much more make us 
 affect to bear his image in our hearts. His law is a true 
 representation of him, and lave is the fulfilling of that law, 
 an exemplification of it in ourselves. Love will never 
 enter a quarrel, nor admit of any disagreement with God. 
 His more terrible appearances will be commendable in the 
 eye of love. It thinks no evil. But so interprets and com- 
 ments upon his severer aspects, whether through his law 
 or providence, as to judge all amiable, and frame the soul 
 to an answerable deportment. 
 
 2. In this way then let us endeavour a growing con- 
 formity unto God. It hath been much (and not unneces- 
 sarily) inculcated already, that the blessedness of the right- 
 eous hereafter, doth not consist merely in beholding an ex- 
 ternal, objective glory, but in being also glorified. They 
 are happy by a participated glory; by being made like 
 God, as well as seeing his glorious likeness ; whereby the 
 constitution of their spirits is changed and reduced to that 
 excellent, harmonious, agreeable temper, that holy com- 
 posure and peaceful state, from which blessedness is inse- 
 parable. As far as we are capable of blessedness in this 
 world, it must be so with us here. Glory without us will 
 not make us happy in heaven; much less will any thing 
 without us make us happy on earth. 'Tis an idle dream, 
 of sickly, crazy minds, that their blessedness consists in 
 some external good, that is separable and distant from them ; 
 which therefore as they blindly guess, they uncertainly pur- 
 sue ; never aiming to become good, without which thev 
 can never know what it is to be blessed What felicity are 
 men wont to imagine to themselves in this or that change 
 of their outward condition ! were their state such orsuch, 
 then they were happy, and should desire no more. As the 
 child's fancy suggests to it, if it were on the top of such a 
 hill, it could touch the heavens, but when with much toil 
 It hath got thither, it finds itself as far off as before. We 
 have a shorter and more compendious way to it, would we 
 
 b Epist. 92. 
 
 c Max. Tjr. dissert. 2. who adds, For a good man cannot receive detiimeiit 
 from an evil man. 
 
 allow ourselves to understand it. A right temper fif mind 
 involves blessedness in itself; 'tis this only change we 
 need to endeavour. We wear out our days in vanity and 
 misery, while we neglect this work, and busy ourselves to 
 catch a fugitive shadow, that hovers about us. It can 
 never be well, till our own souls be a heaven to us. and 
 blessedness be a domestic, a home dwelling inhabitant 
 there. Till we get a settled principle of holy quietude into 
 our own breasts, and become the sons of peace, with whom 
 the peace of God may find entrance and abode ; till we 
 have that treasure within us, that may render us insensible 
 of any dependence on a foreign good, or fear of a foreign 
 evil. Shall that be the boa.st and glory of a philosojdier 
 only, I carry all my goods with me wherever I go 1 and 
 that, A virtuous, good man, is liable to no hurt 1 f Seneca 
 thinks "they discover a low spirit, that .say, exieri.als can 
 add any thing (though but a very liule) to the felicity of an 
 honest "mind; asif(saith he) men could not be content 
 with the light of the sun without the help of a candle or a 
 spark." And speaking of the constancy of the virtuous man, 
 (saith he,) " They do ill that say, such an evil is tolerable 
 to him, such a one intolerable, and that confine the great- 
 ness of his mind within certain bounds and limits. Adver- 
 sity (he tells us) overcomes us, if it be not wholly over- 
 come. Epicurus, (saith he,) the very patron of your sloth, 
 acknowledges yet, that unhappy events can seldom disturb 
 the mind of a virtuous person, (and he adds,) how had he 
 almost uttered, the voice of a man ! 1 pray, (saith he,)speak 
 out a little more boldly, and say he is above them altoge- 
 ther. "= Such apprehensions the more virtuous heathens 
 have had of the efficacy and defensative power of n;oral 
 goodness, however defective their notion might be of the 
 thing itself Hence Socrates the pagan martyr is reported to 
 have cried out, (when those persons were persecuting him to 
 death,) Anytus and Meletus can kill me, but they cannot 
 hurt me. And Anaxarchus the philosopher, having sharply 
 reproved Nicocreon, and being by him ordered to be beaten 
 to death with iron mallets, bids. Strike on, strike on, thou 
 mayest (saith he) J break in pieces this vessel of Anaxar- 
 chus, but Anaxarchus himself thou canst not touch. 
 
 Shall Chri-stianity here confess itself outvied ? shall we, 
 to the reproach of our religion, yield the day to pagan mo- 
 rality, and renew the occasion of the ancient complaint, 
 « that the faith of Christians is out-done by the huithcn infide- 
 lity'} It is, I remember, the challenge of Cicilius in Mi- 
 nutius. " There is Socrates (saith he) the prince of wis- 
 dom, whosoever of you Christians is great enough to at- 
 tempt it, let him imitate him if he can." Methinks we should 
 be ambitious to tell the world in our lives, (for Christians 
 should live great things, not speak them,f) that a greater 
 than Socrates is here : to let them see in us our represent- 
 ed pattern: to show forth higlier virtues than those of 
 Socrates; even his, who hath called us out of darkness 
 into his glorious and marvellous light. Certain it is, thai 
 the sacred oracles of the gospel set before us a more ex- 
 cellent pattern, and speak things not less magnificent, but 
 much more modest and perspicuous; with less pomp of 
 words they give us a much clearer account of a far more 
 excellent temper of mind, and prescribe the direct and 
 certain way of attaining it. (Do but view over the many 
 passages of Scripture occa.sionally glanced ai. Chap. 7.) 
 But we grope as in the dark for blessedness; we stumble 
 at noon-day as in the night, and wander as if we had no 
 eyes ; we mistake our business, and lay the scene of a 
 happy state at a great distance f'rom us, in thines which 
 we cannot reach, and which if we could it were to little 
 purpose. 
 
 Not to speak of greater sensualists, (whom at present I 
 have less in my eye,) is there not a more refined sort of 
 persons, that neglecting the great business of inspecting, 
 and labouring to better and improve their spirits, are 
 wholly taken up about the affairs of another sphere ; that 
 are more solicitous for better times, for a better world, than 
 better spirits ; that seem to think that all the hajipiness they 
 are capable of on earth, is bound up in this or that exter- 
 nal state of things 1 Not that the care of all public con- 
 cernments should be laid aside; least of all, a just solici- 
 
 d Dio?en. Laert. Anaxarctius. 
 
 e Non pnnstat fides quod pra-stitit infidelitas. 
 
 r A3 tliis author's exprc.-sioii is.
 
 254 
 
 THE BLESSEDNESS OP THE RIGHTEOUS. 
 
 Chap. XVIII. 
 
 tude for the church's welfare : but that should not be pre- 
 tended, when our own interest is the one thing with us. 
 And when we are really solicitous about the church's in- 
 terests, we should state them aright. God designs the af- 
 flictions of his people for their spiritual good, therefore 
 that is a much greater good, than their exemption from 
 suffering these evils ; otherwise his means should cat up 
 his end, and be more expensive thaji that will countervail ; 
 which were an imprudence no man of tolerable discretion 
 would be guilty of We should desire the outward pros- 
 perity of Sion, for it is a real good; but inasmuch as it 
 hath in it the goodness, not of an end, but only (and that 
 but sometimes neither) of a means ; not a constant, but a 
 mutual goodness; not a principal, but a lesser subordinate 
 goodness ; we must not desire it absolutely, nor chiefly, 
 but with submissive limited desires. If our hearts are 
 grieved to hear of the sufl^erings of the church of God in 
 the world, but not of their sins ; if we more sensibly re- 
 gret, at any time, the persecutions and oppressions they 
 undergo, than their spiritual distempers, their earthliness, 
 pride, cold love to God, fervent animosities towards each 
 other; it speaks an uninstructed carnal mind. We take 
 no right measure of the interests of religion, or the church's 
 welfare, and do most probabl}' mistake ourselves as much 
 in our judging of our own ; and measure theirs by our own 
 mistaken model. 
 
 And this is the mischievous cheat many put upon their 
 own souls, and would obtrude too often upon others too ; 
 that overlooking the great design of the gospel, to trans- 
 form men's spirits and change them into the Divine like- 
 ness, they think 'tis religion enough to espouse a party, 
 and adopt an opinion; and then vogue themselves friends 
 to religion according to the measure of their zeal for their 
 own party or opinion ; and give a very pregnant proof of 
 that zeal, by magnifying or inveighing against the times, 
 according as they favour or frown upon their empty, un- 
 spirited religion. It being indeed such (a secret conscious- 
 ness whereof they herein bewray) as hath no other life 
 in it, than what it owes to external favour and countenance. 
 And therefore all public rebukes are justly apprehended 
 mortal to it ; whereas that substantial religion that ade- 
 quately answers the design, and is animated by the spirit 
 of the gospel, possesses the souls of them that own it, with 
 a secure confidence, that it can live in any times, and hold 
 their souls in life also. Hence they go on their way with 
 a free unsolicitous cheerfulness, enjoying silently in their 
 own bosoms that repose and rest which naturally results 
 from a sound and well-composed temper of spirit. They 
 know their happiness depends upon nothing without them.s 
 That they hold it by a better tenure than that of the 
 world's courtesy. They can be quiet in the midst of 
 storms, and abound in the want of all things. They can in 
 patience possess their own souls, and in them a vital spring 
 of true pleasure, when they are driven out of all other 
 possessions. They know the living sense of these words. 
 That the good man is satisfied from himself: That to be 
 spiritually-minded is life and peace: That nothing can 
 harm them that are followers of the good : That the way 
 to see good days, is to keep their tongues from evil, and 
 their lips from speaking guile, to depart from evil and do 
 good, to seek peace and pursue it. They cannot live in 
 bad times ; they carry that about them that will make the 
 worst days good to them. Surely they can never be happy 
 in the best times, that cannot be so in any. Outward 
 prosperity is quite besides the purpose to a distempered 
 soul ; when nothing else troubles, it will torment itself 
 Besides, we cannot command at pleasure the benign as- 
 pects of the world, the smiles of the times ; we may wait 
 a life's-time, and still find the same adverse posture of 
 things towards us from without. What dotage is it to 
 place our blessedness in something to us impossible, that 
 lies wholly out of our power ; and in order v.'hereto we 
 have nothing to do, but sit down and wish ; and either 
 faintly hope, or ragingly despair 1 We cannot change times 
 and seasons, nor alter the course of the world, create new 
 heavens and new earth. Would we not think ourselves 
 mocked, if God should command us these things in order 
 
 gl^itOTOV s'aaii Kai xapaKrrip,ov6i:7roTC £j eavTov TrpoaioKa axpcXciav r/ 
 fi\il3riv, aXX' aiTO tuivcI^m <pt\o(TO(pnvTC'<"i Kai x<ipo-KTr\p, irairav upeXctav 
 Kat ffXajiriv c^ caiTOV TzooaSoKa. Epict. 
 
 to our being happy 1 'Tis not our business, these are not 
 the affairs of our own province (blessed be God 'tis not so 
 large) further than as our bettering ourselves may conduce 
 thereto, and this is that which we may do and ought, 'tis 
 our proper work, in obedience and subordination to God 
 as his instruments, to govern and cultivate our own 
 spirits, to intend the affairs of that his kingdom in us, 
 (where we are his authorized viceroys,) that consists in 
 righteousness, and peace, and joy in the Holy Ghost. We 
 can be benign to ourselves, if the world be not so to us ; 
 cherish and adorn our inward man ; that though the out- 
 ward man be exposed daily to perish, (which we cannot 
 help, and therefore it concerns us not to take thought 
 about it,) the inward may be renewed day by day. We 
 can take care that our souls may prosper, that through our 
 oscitant neglect they be not left to languish and pine away 
 in their own iniquities. They may be daily fed with the 
 heavenly hidden manna, and with the fruits of the para- 
 dise of God ; they may enjoy at home a continual feast, 
 and with a holy freedom luxuriate in divine pleasures, the 
 joys wherewith the strangers intermeddle not, if we be not 
 unpropitious and unkind to ourselves. 
 
 And would we know wherein that sound and happy 
 complexion of spirit lies, that hath so much of heaven in 
 it : 'Tis a present gradual participation of the Divine like- 
 ness. It consists in being conformed to God ; 'tis, as the 
 moralist tells us,h If one would give a short compendious 
 model of it, such a temper of mind as becomes God ; or to 
 give an account of it in his own words who prescribes it, 
 and who is himself the highest pattern of this blessed 
 frame,i 'Tis to be transformed intherenewingof our minds, 
 so as to be able to prove what is the good, and perfect, and 
 acceptable will of God ; that is, experimentally to find it 
 in ourselves, impressed and wrought into our own spirits, 
 so as to have the complacential relish and savour of its 
 goodness, excellency, and pleasantness diff'used through 
 our souls. Where remember, this was written to such as 
 were supposed saints ; whence it must be understood, of a 
 continued progressive transformation, a renewing of the 
 inward man day by day (as is the apostle's expression 
 elsewhere.) ^Tis a more perfect reception of the impress 
 of God, revealing himself in the gospel ; the growth and 
 tendency of the new creature, begotten unto the eternal 
 blessedness, towards its mature and most perfect state and 
 stature in the fruition thereof. 
 
 And 'tis this I am now pressing ; inasmuch as some ac- 
 count hath been already given (according as we can now 
 imperfectly guess at it, and spell it out) what the constitu- 
 tion of the holy soul is in its glorified state, when it per- 
 fectly partakes the Divine likeness ; that when we find in 
 ourselves any principles and first elements of that blessed 
 frame, we would endeavour the gradual improvement 
 thereof, and be making towards that perfection. This there- 
 fore being our present work, let it be remembered wherein 
 this participated likeness of God hath been said to consist, 
 and labour now the nearest approach to that pitch and 
 state. Your measures must be taken from what is most 
 perfect, come now as near it as you can, and as that pa- 
 gan's advise is ; k" If yet thou art not Socrates, however, 
 live as one that would fain be Socrates." Though yet thou 
 art not perfect, live as one that aims at it, and M^ould be so. 
 Only it must be considered, that the conformity to God, of 
 our present state, is in extent larger and more comprehen- 
 sive than that of our future ; though it be unspeakably less 
 perfect in degree. For there is no moral excellency (that 
 we have any present knowledge oi'^ belonging to our glori- 
 fied state, which is not in some degree necessarily to be 
 found in saints on earth. But there are some things which 
 the exigency of our present state makes necessary to us 
 here, which will not be so in the state of glory ; repent- 
 ance, faith, as it respects the Mediator, in order to our fu- 
 ture happiness ; patience of injuries, pity to the distressed, 
 &c. These things, and whatsoever else, whose objects 
 cease, must be understood to cease with them. In short, 
 here is requisite all that moral good which concerns both 
 our end and way ; there, what concerns our end only. 
 
 Yet is the whole compass of that gracious frame of spirit, 
 
 h Doniniip iit breviter tibi fomiiilnm scribam ; talis animis sapioritis viri ossc 
 debet qualis Deum deceat. Sen. Epiat. 
 i Kom. xii. 2. k Epictet.
 
 Chap. XVIII. 
 
 THE BLESSEDNESS OF THE RIGHTEOUS. 
 
 2S5 
 
 requisite in this our present state, all comprehended in 
 conformity to God. Partly, ina-smuch as .some of these 
 graces which will cease hereafter in their exercise, as not 
 having objects to draw them forth into act, have their pat- 
 tern in some communicable attributes of God, which will 
 cease also, a-s to their denomination and exercise; their 
 objects then ceasing loo, as his patience towards siimers, 
 his mercy to the miserable. Partly inasmuch as other of 
 those graces now required in us, though they correspond 
 to nothing in God that is capable of the same name, as 
 faith in a Saviour, repentance of sin, (which can have no 
 place in God,) they yet answer to something in his nature, 
 that goes under other names; and is ihe reason wherefore 
 he requires such things in us. He hath in his nature that 
 faithfulness and all-sutficient fulness, that challenges our 
 faith; and that hatred of sin, wliich challenges our repent- 
 ance for it, having been guilty of it. His very nature 
 obliges him to require those things from us, the state of 
 our case being considered. So that the sum even of our 
 
 f resent duty lies in receiving ihis entire impression of the 
 >ivine likeness (in some part invariablj' and eternally ne- 
 cessary to us, in some part necessarj' with respect to our 
 present state.) And herein is our present blessedness also 
 involved. If therefore we have any design to better our 
 condition in point of blessedness, it must be our business 
 to endeavour after a fuller participation of that likeness, in 
 all the particulars it comprehends. You can pitch your 
 thoughts upon no part of it, which hath not an evident 
 direct tendency to the repose and rest of your spirits. I 
 shall commend only some few instances, that you may see 
 how little reason and inducement a soul conformed to the 
 holy will of God, hath to seek its comforts and contents 
 elsewhere. Faith corresponds to the truth of God, as it 
 respects divine revelations. How pleasant is it to give 
 Up our understandings to the conduct of so safe a guide ; 
 to the view of so admirable things as he reveals ! It cor- 
 responds to his goodness, as it respects its offers. How 
 delectable is it to be filling an empty soul from the Divine 
 fulness 1 What pleasure attends the exercise of this faith 
 towards the person of the Mediator, viewing him in all his 
 glorious excellencies, receiving him in all his gracious 
 communications by this eye and hand. How pleasant is 
 it to exercise it in reference to another world ! living by it 
 in a daily prospect of eternity ; in reference to this world, 
 to live without care in a cheerful dependance on him that 
 hath undertaken to care for us ! 
 
 Repentance is that by which we become like the holy 
 God ; to whom our sin hath made us most unlike before. 
 How sweet are kindly relentings, penitential tears, and the 
 return of the soul to its God, and to a right mind ! And 
 who can conceive the ravishing pleasures of love to God ! 
 wherein we not only imitate, but intimately unite with him 
 who is love itself How pleasant to let our souls dissolve 
 here, and flow mto the ocean, the element of love ! Our 
 fear corresponds to his excellent greatness. And is not 
 (as it is part of the new creature in us) a tormenting ser- 
 vile passion, but a due respectfulness and observance of 
 God-^ and there is no mean pleasure in that holy awful 
 seriousness unto which it composes and forms our spirits. 
 Our humility, as it respects him, answers his high excel- 
 lency ; as it respects our own inferiors, his gracious con- 
 descension. How pleasant is it to fall before him ! And 
 how connatural and agreeable to a good spirit, to stoop 
 low, upon any occasion to do good ! Sincerity is a most 
 God-like excellency ; an imitation of his truth, as ground- 
 ed in his all-sufliciency ; which sets him above the neces- 
 sity or possibility of any advantage by collusion or deceit ; 
 and corresponds to his omnisciency and heart-searching 
 eye. It heightens a man's spirit to a holy and generous 
 boldness ; makes him apprehend it beneath him to do an 
 unworthy, dishonest action, that should need a palliation, 
 or a concealment. 1 And gives him the continual pleasure 
 of self-approbation to God, whom he chieflv studies and 
 desires to plea.se. Patience, a prime glory of the Divine 
 Majesty, continues a man's possession of his own soul, his 
 liberty, his dominion of himself He is (if he can suffer 
 
 1 A3 that noble Roman whom his architect (about to build liim a house) 
 promised to contrive it free from all his neighbours' inspection ; he replies, Nay, 
 if thou have any art in thee, build my house so that all may see what I do. 
 Veil. Pal p. 82. 
 
 nothing) a slave to his vilest and most sordid passions at 
 home, his own base fear, and brutish anger, and etlcminate 
 grief, and to any man's lusts and humours besides that he 
 ajiprehends can do him hurt. It keeps a man's soul in a 
 peaceful calm, delivers him from (that most unnatural) 
 self-torment, defeats the impotent malice of his most im- 
 placable enemy, who fain would vex him, but cannot. 
 Justice, the great attribute of the judge of all the earth, as 
 such ; so far as the impression of it takes place among 
 men, preserves the common peace of the world, and the 
 private peace of each man in his own bosom, so that the 
 former be not disturbed by doing of mutual injuries, nor 
 the latter by the conscience of having done them. The 
 brotherly love of fellow-Christians; the impression of that 
 special love, which God bears to them all, admits them 
 into one another's bosoms, and all the endearments and 
 pleasures of a mutual communion. Love to enemies, the 
 express image of our heavenly Father; by which we ap- 
 pear his children, begotien of him; overcomes evil by 
 goodness, blunts the double edge of revenge; at least the 
 sharper edge; (which is always towards the author of it ;) 
 secures ourselves from wounding impressions and resent- 
 ments; turns keen anger into gentle piiy ; and substitutes 
 mild pleasant forgiveness, in the room of the much un- 
 easier thoughts and study of retaliation. Mercifulness to- 
 ward the distressed, as our Father in heaven is merciful, 
 heaps blessing upon our souls, and evidences our title to 
 what we are to live by, the Divine mercy. A universal be- 
 nignity and propension to do good to all : an imitation of 
 the immense, diffusive goodness of God, is but kindness 
 to ourselves, rewards it.self by that greater pleasure is in 
 giving than in receiving; and associates us with God in 
 the blessedness of this work, as well as in the disposition 
 to it; who exercises loving-kindness in the earth, because 
 he delighteth therein. 
 
 Here are some of the //ifiijf/ara r^s Qcias ^oii??, or the things 
 vhercin consists that our conformity to the Divine nature 
 and irili, which is proper to our present state. And now, 
 who can estimate the blessedness of such a soul"? Can (in 
 a word) the state of that soul be imhappy that is full of the 
 Holy Ghost, full of love, joy, peace, long-suffering, gentle- 
 ness, goodness, faith, meekness, temperance, those blessed 
 fruitsof that blessed Spirit? Blessedness is connaturalized 
 unto this soul; every thing doth its part, and all conspire 
 to make it happy. This soul is a temple, a hahiiaiion oi 
 holiness. Here dwells a Deity in his glory. 'Tis a para- 
 di'^e, a garden of God. Here he walks and converses 
 daily, delighted with its fragrant fruitfulness. He that hath 
 those things and aboundeth, is not barren or unfruitful in 
 the knowledge of our Lord and Saviour Jesus; he is the 
 sun, and the knowledge of him the quickening beams that 
 cherish and ripen these fruits. But the soul that lacketh 
 these things is a desert, a habitation of devils. Here is 
 stupid, disconsolate infidelity, inflexible obstinacy and re- 
 solvedness for hell, hatred and contempt of the Sovereign 
 Majesty; whom 3'et, its secret misgiving thoughts tell it, 
 will be too hard for it at last. Here is swollen pride and 
 giddy vain-glory, disguised hypocrisy and pining en\y, 
 raging wrath and ravenous avarice, with what you can 
 imagine besides, leading to misery and desolation. 
 
 You have then some prospect of a happy temper of 
 spirit. It can now be no difficulty to you, to frame an 
 idea of it in your thoughts, to get a notional image (or this 
 likeness in the notion of it) into your minds ; but that will 
 avail you litile, if you have not the real image also ; that 
 is, your spirits really fashioned and formed according 
 thereto: if having the knowledge of these things, (as the 
 pagan moralist's expression, before mentioned, is of virtu- 
 ous rules and precepts,)™ they become not habitual to \'ou, 
 and yiiur spirits be not transfigured in them. But now, I 
 treat with such as are supposed to have some such real im- 
 pressions, that they may be stirred up to endeavour a fur- 
 ther perfecting o4' them. In order whereto, I shall add but 
 this two-fold advice : 
 
 1. Be very careful that this living image (such you 
 have been formerly told it is) may grow equally in every 
 
 m Pliilosophia h«c dividitur in scientiam. et hsbitum animi. unam illam qui 
 didicit et facitnda ac viianda piaccpit nondum sapiens est. nisi in ea quae di- 
 dicit animus ejus tr&nstiguiatus est Sen. ex Aerippa, Epist 94.
 
 S56 
 
 THE BLESSEDNESS OF THE RIGHTEOUS. 
 
 Chap. XVIII, 
 
 part. See that the impression of this likeness be entire, 
 that it be not a maimed thing ; if it be, God will never own 
 it as his production. Integrity is the glory of a Christian ; 
 to be entire, lacking nothing. This is the soundness of 
 heart that excludes a blushing consciousness and misgiv- 
 ing, exempts it from the fear of a shameful discovery. 
 "Let my heart be sound in thy statutes, is paraphrased, by 
 having respect to all God's commandments ; to which is 
 opposite, that being " partial in the law, spoken of by the 
 prophet, by way of complaint concerning the priests of 
 that time. A thing hateful in the eye of God, and as un- 
 comfortable to ourselves, as to be without a leg or an arm. 
 And see that it be preserved entire by a proportional and 
 uniform growth, that fresh life and motion may daily ap- 
 pear in every limb of this heavenly new creature. How 
 odious a deformity is it, when a show of moral virtues ex- 
 cludes godliness : And how much more odious (inasmuch 
 as there is more impudent falsehood in it, and more dis- 
 honourable reflection upon God) when under a high pre- 
 tence of godliness, any shall allow themselves in visible 
 immorality 1 What, to be oppressive, envious, conten- 
 tious, deceitful, proud, turbulent, wrathful, morose, mali- 
 cious, fretful, and peevish, and yet a Christian 1 What 
 serious person, that shall have no fairer representation of 
 Christianity than such do give, would not be ready to say 
 rather, Sit anima tnea cum philosophis, If this be Ckristian 
 religion, give me honest paganism ? A Christian that hath 
 received the proper, uniform, entire impress of the gospel 
 of Christ, is the most meek, mild, calm, harmless thing in 
 the world Never mention ,so venerable a name, if you 
 will not be very jealous of the honour of it. Will you give 
 God occasion to charge you, Wretch, I never had had this 
 dishonour, if thou hadst never been called a Christian ; 
 thou art a Christian to no purpose, or to very had; it does 
 thee no good, and it injures me 7 But (which is more 
 directly considerable as to our present purpose) the neglect 
 and consequent decay of any gracious principle, infers a 
 languor, a consumption and enfeeblement of all. Any 
 such perverse disposition doth not affect that part only, is 
 not only an impairment to the contrary gracious principle, 
 but (as a cancer in some exterior part of the body) it gra- 
 dually creeps up till it invade the vitals. Can the love of 
 God live and grow in an unquiet, angry, uncharitable 
 breast 1 Consider Jam. i. 26. 1 John iii. 17. 
 
 2. Be constantly intent upon this business of spiritual 
 growth. Mind it as a design, make a solemn purposed 
 business of it, your great daily business. You do not till 
 your ground by chance, as a casual thing; but you do it 
 industriously, and of set purpose. The apostle speaking of 
 his own method of pursuing conformity to Christ, tells us, 
 P he did, in comparison, count all things else loss and dog's 
 meat; he threw every thing else aside. Then next he re- 
 counts with himself, how far short he was ; ' not as if I 
 had already attained, &e. (where by the waj'^ he intimates, 
 that to stand still, and give over further endeavours, im- 
 plies that gross absurdity, as if we thought ourselves to have 
 attained already, to be already perfect ; are we not ashamed 
 to seem so conceited of ourselves 1) and then, ■" still as he 
 did attain in this pursuit he forgot what was behind ; and 
 held on his course with fresh and constant vigour, slill 
 reaching forth and pressing onward towards his designed 
 mark. 
 
 In this great business we, alas ! seem to dream. He that 
 hath been observed ten or twenty years ago to be proud, 
 and covetous, or passionate, still remains so, and we ap- 
 prehend not the incongruity of it. What, always learn- 
 ing, and yet never come to the knowledge of the truth as 
 it is in Jesus, to the putting off the old man, and putting 
 on the new '] Who would meddle with any profession 
 upon such terms, to be always doing and yet to do no- 
 thing 1 Surely it must he imputed to this, we design not, 
 we do not seriously intend the perfecting of holiness, to 
 make a real progress in our way and work, and to get still 
 nearer heaven, as we draw nearer to the end of our days on 
 earth. We too contentedly confine ourselves within certain 
 limits, and aim not, as we should, at a spiritual excellency. 
 
 n Psal. cxix. G, 80. o Mai. ii. 9. 
 
 p Phil. iii. 8 q Ver. 9, 10. r Ver. 12, 13. 
 
 s Tiheriiis. Npque enim eminentes virtules scctalialur, et rursiim vitia 
 oderat. Tacit. Aiinal. 
 
 This is the temper of many that have long trodden the 
 path of (at least an external) religion ; they will go but 
 their own pace, and that within a self-prescribed round or 
 circle. They perform their stated task of religious exer- 
 cises, and shun the grosser vices of the time ; and resolve 
 never of go higher : much like the character that was once 
 given of a great man,^ that he folloivednot the more eminent 
 virtues, and yet that he hated vice. And 'tis a true censure 
 that a ' barbarian is said to have given of that middle tem- 
 per, that dull indifferency : What is equally distant from 
 being the matter either of praise or punishment, is upon no 
 terms to be accounted a virtue. At least, we drive not on a 
 design of growth and self-improvement in our spiritual 
 states with that constancy we ought ; we are off and on ; 
 our spirits are not steadily intent " we are unstable as 
 water, how can we excel "? God hath not put us, sure, 
 upon so fruitless a task, wherein our utmost labour and 
 diligence shall profit nothing. Therefore strive more vi- 
 gorously, and pray with more earnest importunity. Con- 
 sider and plead it with God, that he hath set before thee 
 the hope of such a state, wherein thou art to be perfectly 
 like him ; and shalt thou (that must hereafter be like God) 
 be now like a clod of earth 1 Thou art now a child begot- 
 ten of him ; and though thou art yet in the minority, yet 
 may not somewhat be spared out of so fair an estate, here- 
 after designed for thee, as that thou mayst now live worthy 
 of such a Father, and suitable to thy expected inheritance. 
 3. And now, a contented, satisfied temper of spirit, as 
 I have told you, results from the other two; and will 
 therefore follow, of course, upon growing knowledge of 
 God, and conformity to him, as the latter of these also 
 doth upon the former. Yea, 'tis a part of our conformity 
 to God ; but a part consequent to the impression of the 
 things mentioned under the former head, as knowledge also 
 is a part previous and antecedent thereto. 'Tis in the state 
 of glory we see something superadded. The likeness im- 
 pressed is pre-supposed ; satisfaction follows thereupon. 
 The case is so too in our present state; contentment is 
 spoken of as a thing consequent and superadded ; godli- 
 ness with contentment. A satisfied contented spirit, when 
 'tis the result of godliness, (of the Divine image impress- 
 ed,) is indeed great gain. Yet as to this I shall only say 
 these two things. 
 
 1. Be distinct and explicit in the proposal of it as an 
 end. Religion doth not brutify men, but make men more 
 rational. Its business is to guide them to blessedness. It 
 must, therefore, pitch their eyes upon it, as the mark and 
 end they are to aim at, and hold them intent there. 'Tis 
 ingenuous and honourable to God, that we should express- 
 ly avow it. We come to him for satisfaction to our 
 spirits, not knowing whither else to apply ourselves. We 
 turn our eyes upon him, we lay open our souls to receive 
 impressions from him, for this very end. This is an ex- 
 plicit acknowledgment of him as God, our highest sove- 
 reign good. 
 
 2. Actually apply and accommodate divine visions and 
 communications to this purpose. Say, " O my soul, now 
 come, solace thyself in this appearance of God ; come, 
 take thy allowed pleasure in such exertions of God, as 
 thou dost now experience in thyself." Recount thy hap- 
 piness ; think how great it is, how rich thou art; on pur- 
 pose that thy .spirit may grow more daily into a satisfied, 
 contented frame. Often bethink thyself, What is the great 
 God doing for me, that he thus reveals and imparts- him- 
 self to my soul 1 O how great things do those present 
 pledges pre-signify to me 1 that thou mayst still more and 
 more like thy portion, and account it fallen in pleasant 
 places, so as never to seek satisfaction in things of another 
 kind ; though thou must still continue expecting and desiring 
 more of the same kind. And remember to this purpose, 
 there cannot be a greater participation of the misery of 
 hell before-hand, than a discontented spirit perpetually 
 restless and weary of itself; nor of the blessedness of 
 heaven, than in a well-pleased, satisfied, contented frame 
 of spirit. 
 
 t Thespesion, Tlav yap n Tijirff tc, Kai Tti-iO'pias wov al'ts-rixev, ovvu apt- 
 rn. Pliiioiitr. in vit. Apollon. Tyan. 
 u Goti. xli.v. 4
 
 Chap. XIX. 
 
 THE BLESSEDNESS OF THE RIGHTEOUS. 
 
 257 
 
 CHAPTER XIX. 
 
 Rule 5. Directing to raise our desires above the actual or possible attain- 
 nieiits of this our present, and terminate tliem upim the future (■onsMui- 
 mate state of blessedness. The rule explained and pressed by sundry 
 considerations. Rule 6. That we add to a desirous pursuit, a joyful ex- 
 piectation of tliis blessedness, which is pursued in certain subordinate direc- 
 tions. 
 
 Rule 5. That notwith.standing all our pre.'jent or passi- 
 ble attainments in this imperfect state on earth, we direct 
 fervent vigorous desires towards the perfect and consum- 
 mate state of glory itself; not designing to ourselves a 
 plenary satisfaction and rest in any thing on this side of 
 it. That is, that forgetting what is behind, we reach forth 
 not only to what is immediately before us, the next step 
 to be taken ; but that our eye and desire aim forward at 
 the ultimate period of our race, terminate upon the eternal 
 glorj'' itself; and that not only as a measure, according to 
 which we would some way proportion our present attain- 
 ments, but as the very mark, M-hich (itself) we would fain 
 hit and reach home to. And that this be not only the 
 habitual bent and tendency of our spirits; but that we 
 keep up such desires, in frequent (and, as much as is po.s- 
 sible) continual exercise. Yea, and that such actual de- 
 sires be not only faint and sluggish wishes, but full of 
 lively efficacy and vigour; in some measure proportion- 
 able to our last end and highest good ; beyond and above 
 which we neither esteem nor expect any other enjoyment. 
 Whatsoever we may possibly attain to here, we should 
 still be far from projecting to ourselves a state of rest on 
 this side consummate glory, but still urge ourselves to a 
 continual ascent ; so as to mount above, not only all enjoy- 
 ments of any other kind, but all degrees of enjoyment in 
 this kind, that are beneath perfection. 
 
 Still it mu.st be remembered, this is not the state of our 
 final rest. The ma.ss of glory is yet in reserve ; we are 
 not yet so high as the highest heavens. If we gain but the 
 top of mount Tabor, we are apt to say, 'Tis good to be 
 here, and forget the longer journey yet before us, loth to 
 think of a further advance; when, were our .spirits right, 
 how far soever we may suppose ourselves to have attained, 
 it would be matter of continual joy to us to think, high 
 perfections are still attainable ; that we are yet capable of 
 greater things than what we have hitherto compassed ; our 
 souls can yet comprehend more. Nature intends what is 
 most perfect in every creature ; methinks the divine nature 
 in the new creature, should not design lower, or cease 
 aspiring, till it have attained its ultimate perfection, its 
 culminating point; till grace turn into glory. Let us, 
 therefore. Christians, bestir ourselves; let us open and 
 turn our eyes upon the eternal glory. Let us view it 
 well, and then demand of our own souls, whj'' are our de- 
 sires so faint and slothful 1 why do they so seldom pierce 
 through the intervening distance, and reach home to what 
 they professedly level at; so rarely touch this blessed 
 mark 1 How can we forbear to be angry with ourselves, 
 that so glorious an end should not more powerfully attract ; 
 that our hearts should not more sensibly find themselves 
 drawn, and all the powers of the soul be set on work by 
 the attractive power of that glory 1 It certainly concerns 
 us, not to sit still under so manifest a distemper. But if 
 the proposal of the object, the discourse (all this while) of 
 this blessed state, do not move us to make some further 
 trials with ourselves, see what urging and reasoning with 
 our souls, what rubbing and chafing our hearts will do. 
 And there is a two-fold trial we may in this kind make 
 upon our spirits : — "What the sense of s/wme will work 
 with us; whether our hearts cannot be made sensible to 
 suppose how vile and wretched a temper it is to be unde- 
 sirous of glory. And then what sense of praise can elfect, 
 or what impression it may make upon us to consider the 
 excellency and worth, the high reasonableness, of that tem- 
 per and posture of soul which I am now persuading to, a 
 continual desirousness of that blessed, glorious state. 
 
 I. As to the former: Let us bethink ourselves, Can 
 we answer it to God or to our own souls, that we should 
 indulge ourselves in a continual negligence of our eternal 
 blessedness 1 a bles.sedness consisting in the vision and 
 participation of the Divine glory 1 Have we been dream- 
 
 mg, all this while, that God hath been revealing to us this 
 glorious state, and setting this lovely prospect before our 
 eyes'? Did it become us not to open our eyes while he 
 was opening heaven to us, and representing the state 
 which he designed to bring us to"? or will we say. We 
 have .seen it and yet desire it notl Have we been deaf 
 and dead while he hath been calling us into eternal 
 glory 1 have all our senses been bound up all this while 1 
 Hath he been speaking all along to senseless slalues, to 
 stocks and .stones, while he expected reasonable, living 
 souls should have received the voice, and have relumed 
 an obedient, complying answer 1 And what answer could 
 be expected to such a call (a call to his glory) below this, 
 We desire it, Lord, we would fain be there. And if we 
 say we have not been all this while asleep, we saw the 
 light that shone upon us, we heard the voice that called to 
 us; wherewith shall we then excuse ourselves, that our 
 desires were not moved, that our souls were not presently 
 in a flame 1 Was it then, that we thought all a mere 
 fiction; that we dur.st not give credit to his word, when 
 it brought us the report of the everlasting glory 1 Will we 
 avow this? Is this that we will stand by 1 Or what else 
 have we left to say 1 Have we a more plausible reai^on to 
 allege, that the discovery of such a glory moved us not 
 to desire it, than that we believed it notl Sure this is the 
 truth of our case. We should feel this heavenly fire 
 always burning in our breasts, if our infidelity did not 
 quench the coal. If we did believe, we could not but de- 
 sire. But doth not the thoughts of this shake our verj' 
 souls, and fill us with horror and trembling 1 We that 
 should be turned into indignation, and ready to burn our- 
 selves with our own flame, and all about us, if one should 
 give us the lie; that we should dare to put the lie upon 
 the ctertml tndfi: upon him whose word gave stability 
 and being to the world, who made and sustains all things 
 by it ! That awful word ! That word that shivers roclcs, 
 and melts down mountains, that makes the animate crea- 
 tion tremble, that can in a moment blast all things, and 
 dissolve the frame of heaven and earth (which in the mean- 
 time it upholds:) is that become with us fabulous, lying 
 breath 1 Those God-breathed oracles, those heavenly re- 
 cords, which discover and describe this blessed state, are 
 they false and foolish legends 1 Must that be pretended at 
 last (if men durst) that is so totally void of all pretences'? 
 What should he the gain or advantage accruing to that 
 eternal, all-sufficient Being'? What accession should be 
 made to that infinite self-fulness by deluding a worm"? 
 Were it consistent with his nature; what could be his 
 design to put a cheat upon poor mortal dust ? If thou dare 
 not impute it to him ; such a deception had a beginning, 
 but what author canst thou miagine of it, or what end ■? 
 Did it proceed from a good man or a bad'? Could a good 
 and honest mind form so horribly wicked a design, to 
 impose a universal delusion and lie upon the world, in 
 the name of the true and holy Godi Or could a wicked 
 mind frame a design so directly levelled against wicked- 
 ness'? Or is there any thing so aptly and naturally tend- 
 ing to form the world to sobriety, holiness, purity of con- 
 versation, as the discovery of this future state of glory "? 
 And since the belief of future felicity is knox^ii to obtain 
 universally among men, whu could be the author of so 
 common a deception 1 If thou hadst the mind to impose 
 a lie upon all the world, what course wouldst thou lake 1 
 HoM" wouldst thou lay the design 1 Or why dost thou in 
 this case imagine, what thou knowest not how to imagine'? 
 And dost thou not without scruple believe many things 
 of which thou never hadst so unquestionable evidence 1 
 Or must that fiiith, which is the foundation of thy religion 
 and eternal hopes, be the most suspected, shaking thing 
 with thee ; and have, of all other, the least stabiliiy and 
 rootedness in thy soul ? If thou canst not excuse thy in- 
 fidelir\', be a.shamed of thy so cold and sluggish desires of 
 this glorious state. 
 
 And doth it not argue a low, sordid spirit, not to desire 
 and aim at ihe perfection thou art capable of; not to desire 
 that blessedness which alone is suitable and satisfying to 
 a reasonable and spiritual being"? Bethink thyself a little; 
 How low art tliou sunk into the dirt of the earth ! how 
 art thou plunged into the mirv ditch, that even thine own 
 clothes might abhor thee ! Is the Father of spirits thy
 
 258 
 
 THE BLESSEDNESS OF THE RIGHTEOUS. 
 
 Chap. XIX. 
 
 father 1 is the world of spirits thy country 1 hast thou any 
 relation to that heavenly progeny 1 art thou allied to that 
 blessed family ; and yet undesirous of the same blessed- 
 ness 1 Canst thou savour nothing but what smells of the 
 earth 1 Is nothing grateful to thy soul, but what is cor- 
 rupted by so vicious and impure a tincture 1 Are all thy 
 delights centred in a dunghill ; and the polluted pleasures 
 of a filthy world better to thee than the eternal visions 
 and enjoyments of heaven? What, art thou all made of 
 earth? Is thy soul stupified into a clodl Hast thou no 
 sense with thee of any thing better and more excellent 1 
 Canst thou look upon no glorious thing with a pleased 
 eye 1 Are things only desirable and lovely to thee, as they 
 are deformed 1 O consider the corrupted, distempered 
 state of thy spirit, and how vile a disposition it hath con- 
 tracted to itself! Thine looks too like the vmndane spirit ; 
 the spirit of the world. The apostle speaks of it * <5ia(cpiTC(fi?s, 
 by wa7j of distiiiction ; We have not received the spirit of 
 the world, but the spirit that is from God, that we might 
 know, or see (and no doubt 'tis desire that animates that 
 eye ; 'tis not bare speculative intuition and no more) the 
 things freely given us of God. Surely he whose desire 
 doth not guide his eye to the beholding of those things, 
 hath received the spirit of the world only. A spirit that 
 conforms him to this world, makes him think only thoughts 
 of this world, and drive the designs of this world, and 
 speak the language of this world. A spirit that connatur- 
 alizes him to the world, makes him of a temper suitable to 
 it : he breathes only worldly breath, carries a worldly as- 
 pect, is of a worldly conversation. O poor low spirit, 
 that such a world should withhold thee from the desire 
 and pursuit of such glory! Art thou not ashamed to think 
 what thy desires are wont to pitch upon, while they de- 
 cline and waive this blessedness 1 Methinks thy very 
 shame should compel thee to quit the name of a saint or a 
 man: to forbear numbering thyself with any that pretend 
 to immortality, and go seek pasture among the beasts of 
 the field, with them that live that low, animal life that 
 thou dost, and expect no other. 
 
 And when thou so fallest in with the world, how highly 
 dost thou gratify the pretending and usurping god of it ! 
 The great fomenter of the sensual, worldly genius ;b the 
 spirit itself that works in the children of disobedience, and 
 makes them follow the course of the world, holds them 
 fast bound in worldly lusts, and leads them captive at his 
 will ; causes them (after his own serpentine manner) to 
 creep and crawl in the dust of the earth. He is most inti- 
 mate to this apostate world ; informs it (as it were) and 
 actuates it in every part; is even one great soul to it. 
 <^ The whole world lies in that wicked one; as the body, 
 by the best philosophers, is said to be in the soul. The 
 world is said to be d convicted when he is judged. He 
 having fallen from a state of blessedness in God, hath in- 
 volved the world with himself in the same apostacy and 
 condemnation ; and labours to keep them fast in the bands 
 of death. The great Redeemer of souls makes this his 
 business, «to loose and dissolve the work of the devil. 
 With that wicked one thou compliest against thy own soul 
 and the Redeemer of it, while thou neglectest to desire 
 and pursue this blessedness. This is thy debasement, and 
 his triumph ; the vile succumbency gives him the day and 
 his will upon thee. He desires no more than that he may 
 suppress in thee all heavenly desires, and keep thee thus a 
 slave and a prisoner (confined in thy spirit to this low, 
 dark dimgeon) by thy own consent. While thou remain- 
 est without desire after heaven, he is secure of thee, as 
 knowing then thou wilt take no other way, but what will 
 bring ihee unto the same eternal state with himself in the 
 end. He is jealous over thee, that thou direct not a de- 
 sire nor glance an eye heaven-ward. While thou dost 
 not so, thou art entirely subject, and givest as full obe- 
 dience to him, as thy God requires to himself in order to 
 thy blessedness. But is it a thing tolerable to thy thoughts, 
 that thou shonldst yield that heart-obedience to the devil 
 against God 1 And this being the state of thy case, what 
 more significant expression canst thou make of the con- 
 tempt of Divine goodness 1 O the love that thou neglect- 
 est, while the most glorious issue and product of it is with 
 thee an undesired thing! Yea, this the thing itself speaks, 
 
 a 1 Cor. ii. 12. tiioifiev. b Epb. ii. 2, 3. 
 
 were there no such competition. What, that when eter- 
 nal love hath conceived, and is travailing to bring forth 
 such a birth ; that when it invites thee to an expectation of 
 such glory shortly to be revealed, the result of so deep 
 counsels and wonderful works, this should be the return 
 from thee, I desire it not? Is this thy gratitude to the 
 Father of glory, the requital of the kindness, yea, and of 
 the blood, of thy Redeemer 1 If this blessedness were not 
 desirable for itself, methinks the offerer's hand should be 
 a sufficient endearment. But thou canst not so divide or 
 abstract, it consists in beholding and bearing his glorious 
 likeness who invites thee to it; and therefore in the neg- 
 lect of it thou most highly aff'rontest him. 
 
 Yea, further, is it not a monstrous unnaturalness towards 
 thyself, as well as impiety towards God, not to desire that 
 perfect, final blessedness '\ Doth not every thing naturally 
 tend to its ultimate perfection and proper end! What 
 creature would not witness against thee, if thou neglect, 
 in thine own capacity and kind, to aim at thine 1 Surely 
 thou canst not allow thyself to think any thing beneath 
 this, worthy to be owned by thee, under that notion, of thy 
 highest good and thy last end. But that thy spirit should 
 labour under an aversion towards thy highest good, to- 
 wards thy blessedness itself, is not that a dismal token 
 upon theel If thou didst disaffect and nauseate the things 
 in which thy present life is bound up, and without which 
 thou canst not live, wouldst thou not think thy case de- 
 plorate ? What dost thou think will become of thy soul, 
 whose everlasting life is bound up in that very good which 
 thou desircst not ; which cannot live that life without that 
 good, nor with it, if thou hast no desire to it 1 O the eternal 
 resentments thy soul will have of this cruelty ! to be witli- 
 held from that wherein its life lies ! Wouldst thou not 
 judge him unnatural that should kill his brother, assassin 
 his father, starve his child 1 What shall be said of him 
 that destroys himself? How may that soul lament that ever 
 it was thine ; and say, O that I had ratlier been of any such 
 lower kind, to have animated a fly, to have inspirited a 
 vile worm, rather than to have served a reasonable beast, 
 that by me knew the good it would never follow, and did 
 not desire! But if thou hast any such desires, in a low 
 degree, after this blessedness, as thou thinkest may entitle 
 thee to the name thou bearest, of a saint, a Christian ; is 
 it not still very unnatural to pursue a good, approved by 
 thy stated judgment as best in itself, and for thee, with so 
 unproportionable, so slothful desires ? For the same rea- 
 son thou dost desire it at all, thou shouldst desire it much; 
 yea, and still more and more, till thou attain it, and be 
 swallowed up into it. Thy best and last good thou canst 
 never desire too much. And let it be considered by thee, 
 that the temper thou thinkest thyself innocent of, an habi- 
 tual prevalent disafl'ection to the true blessedness of saints, 
 may for ought thou knowest be upon thee ; while it ap- 
 pears thou art so very near the borders of it ; and it appears 
 not with such certainty that thou partakest not in it. It is 
 not so easy a matter, critically to distinguish and conclude 
 of the lowest degree (in hypothesi, or with application to 
 thy own case) of that desire which is necessary to qualify 
 thee for the enjoyment of this blessedness. And is it not 
 a matter both of shame and terror, that thou shouldst de- 
 sire thy blessedness so faintly, as not to know whether thou 
 truly desire it at all. 'Tis true, that a certainty, amongst 
 such as may be sincere, is very little common ; but whence 
 proceeds it, but from their too common, indulged sloth; 
 out of which all this is designed to awaken thee. And the 
 commonness whereof doth as little detract from the re- 
 proach and sinfulness, as from the danger of it. 'Tis but 
 a poor defence, for what is intrinsically evil in itself, that 
 it is common. 
 
 But further, as the case is, this is so reproachful a thing, 
 even in common estimate, — not to desire heaven and eter- 
 nal glory, or to desire it with very cold and careless desires 
 — that there are few will profess it, or own it to be their 
 temper ; much fewer that will undertake to excuse or 
 justify it. 'Tis so evilly thought of, that among merely 
 sober and rational men, it can never find an advocate, or 
 any that will afford it patronage. The generality pretend 
 a desire of going to heaven, and being with God. If any 
 be so observant of themselves as to Know, and so ingenu- 
 
 c 1 John V. 19. 
 
 i John xvi. 
 
 e 1 John iii 8.
 
 Chap. XIX. 
 
 THE BLESSEDNESS OF THE RIGHTEOUS. 
 
 259 
 
 ous as to confesi it otherwise with them, they complain of 
 it as their fault, and say, they would fain have it redressed, 
 but are far from assuming that conlidence, to defend or 
 plead for it. Consider then, wilt thou persist in such a 
 temper and disposition of mind as all men condenm ; and 
 be guilty of so odious a thing, as shall be censured and 
 blamed by the common concurrent vote and judgment of 
 mankind 1 Thou wouldst be ashamed to stand forth and 
 profess openly to men, that thou desirest an earthly feli- 
 city more than a blessedness in heaven ; or at least, that 
 thou art so indifferent, and the scales hang so even with 
 thee, that thou canst hardly tell which way they incline 
 most. And art thou not ashamed that this should be thy 
 usual temper; how much soever thou conceal it from the 
 notice and observation of the worlds Moreover, how can 
 it escape thy serious reflection, that if thou pretend it 
 otherwise with thee, 'tis but to add one sin to another, and 
 cover thy carnality with hypocrisy and dissimulation ! 
 Yea, while thou continuest in that temper of spirit, not to 
 desire this blessedness as thy supreme end, the whole of 
 thy religion is but an empty show, an artificial disguise; 
 it carries an appearance and pretence, as if thou wast aim- 
 ing at God and glory, while thy heart is set another way, 
 and the bent of thy soul secretly carries thee a counter- 
 course. Hath not religion an aspect toM'ards blessedness'! 
 What mean thy praying, thy hearing, thy sacramental 
 communion, if thou have not a design for eternal glory 1 
 What makest thou in this way, if thou have not thy heart 
 set towards this end 1 
 
 Nor is it more dishonest and unjust, than it is foolish 
 and absurd, that the disposition and tendency of thy soul 
 should be directly contrary to the only design of the reli- 
 gion thou professest and doth extei'nally practise. Thy 
 profession and desires are nothing but self-contradiction. 
 Thou art continually running counter to thyself; outward- 
 ly pursuing what thou inwardl}^ declines!. Thy real end 
 (which can be no other than what thou really desirest and 
 seltest thy heart upon) and thy visible way are quite con- 
 trary : so that while thou continuest the course of religion, 
 in which thou art engaged, having taken ilown from before 
 thine eyes the end which thou shouldst be aiming at, and 
 which alone religion can aptly subserve, thy religion hath 
 no design or end at all, none at least which thou wouldst 
 not be ashamed to profess and own. Indeed this temper 
 of heart I am now pleading against, an undesirousness or 
 indilTerency of spirit towards the eternal glory, renders re- 
 ligion the vainest thing in the world. For whereas all the 
 other actions of our lives have their stated, proper ends, 
 religion hath in this case none at all ; none to which it 
 hath any designation in this nature, or any aptness to sub- 
 serve. This monstrous absurdity it infers, (and howslrange 
 is it, that it should not be reflected on 1) That whereas if 
 you ask any man of common understanding, what he doth 
 this or that action for, especially if they be stated actions, 
 done by him in an ordinary course, he can readily tell 
 you, for such and such an end : but ask him why he con- 
 tinues any practice of religion, he cannot say (in this case) 
 for what. For can any man imagine what other end reli- 
 gion naturally serves for, but to bring men to blessedness 1 
 W nich being no other thing than what hath been here de- 
 scribed ; such as are found not to desire it really and su- 
 premely, as their end, can have no real attainable end of 
 their being religious at all. To drive on a continued 
 course and series of actions in a visible pursuit of that 
 W'hich they desire not, and have no mind to, is such apiece 
 of folly, so fond and vain a trifling, that as I remember 
 Cicero reports Cato to have said concerning the sooth- 
 sa3^ers of his time, he did wonder they could look in one 
 another's faces and not laugh ; (being conscious to each 
 other's impostures, and the vanity of their profession ;) so 
 one would as justly wonder that the generality of carnal 
 men (who may shrewdly guess at the temper of one an- 
 other's minds,) do not laugh at each other, that they are 
 jointly engaged in such exercises of religion, to the design 
 whereof the common and agreed temper of their spirits do 
 so little correspond. As if all were in very good earnest 
 for heaven, when each one knows for himself, and may 
 (possibly with more truth than charity) suppose of the 
 
 f Heb xi. 16. 
 h 2 Cor. V. i. 
 
 e » Theas. ii. 12. 
 i Heb. iii. I. 
 
 rest, that if they might alwa)'s continue in their earthly 
 stations, they had rather never come there. And therefore 
 that they desire it not supremely, and so not a.s their end 
 at all; consider it then, that thy no-desire of this blessed 
 state quite dispirits thy religion, utterly ravishes away its 
 .soul, leaves it a dead, foolish, vain thing, renders it an idle 
 iinpertinency, not a mean to a valuable end. This desire 
 is the life of religion ; all duties and exercisesof piety are 
 without it, but empty formalities, solemn pieces of pagean- 
 try; every service done to God, but the sacrifice of a fool, 
 if not animated by the desire of linal blessedness in bim, 
 and be not part of our way thither, a means designed to 
 the attainment of it ; which nothing can be, that we are 
 not put upon by the virtue of the desired end. Without 
 this, religion is not itself. A continuance in well-doing 
 is as it were the body of it ; and therein a seeking honour, 
 glory, and immortality, the soul and .spirit. The desire of a 
 heavenly country must run through the whole course of 
 our earthly pilgrimage : it were olherwi.se a continued er- 
 ror, an uncertain wandering, no steady tending towards our 
 end : so that thou art a mere vagrant, if this desire do not 
 direct thy course towards thy Father's house. And me- 
 thinks ail this should make thee even ashamed of thyself, 
 if thou canst not find this desire to have a settled resi- 
 dence, and a ruling power in thy soul. Then, 
 
 2. Sense of praise should signify something too, as the 
 apostle, Whatsoever things are— pure, lovely, &c. If there 
 be any virtue, — any praise, think of these things. And 
 hath not the eternal glory those characters upon it of pu- 
 rity and loveliness beyond all things 1 Is it not a laudable 
 and praiseworthy thing, to have a heart and mind set 
 upon that 1 The blessed God puts a note of excellency 
 upon this temper of spirit : f But they desire a better coun- 
 trv, that is, a heavenly ; wherefore God is not ashamed to 
 be called their God, &c. This renders them a people wor- 
 thy of him who hath called them to his kingdom and glo- 
 ry ; = fit for him to own a relation to. Had they been of 
 low, terrene spirits, he would have accounted it a shame 
 to him, to have gone under the name and cognizance of 
 their God. But ina.smuch as they desire the heavenly 
 country, have learned to trample this terrestrial world, 
 cannot be contained within this lower sphere, nor satisfy 
 themselves in earthly things ; they now discover a certain 
 excellency of spirit, in respect whereof, God is not ashamed 
 to own a relation to them, before all the world to be callefl 
 their God; to let men see what account he makes of such 
 a spirit. Yea, this is the proper, genuine spirit and tem- 
 per of a saint, which agrees to him as he is such. He is 
 begotten to the eternal inheritance. A disposition (and 
 therein a desire) to it is in his very nature, (the new nature 
 he hath received,) implanted there from his original. He 
 is born spirit of Spirit, and by that birth is not entitled 
 only, but adapted and suited also to that pure and spirit- 
 ualstate of blessedness. That grace, by the appearance 
 whereof men are made Christians, teaches also, instructs 
 to this very thing, to look for this blessed hope, the glori- 
 ous appearance of the great God and our Saviour Jesus 
 Christ ; that which ymi know consummates that blessed- 
 ness. For when Christ, who is their life, shall appear, 
 then shall they also appear with him in glory ; by the par- 
 ticipation of the divine nature, their spiiiis escape and get 
 up above this corrupt, impure world. That new nature 
 is a holy flame that carries their hearts upwards towards 
 heaven. 
 
 Further, such desires appear hence to be of divine ori- 
 ginal, an infusion from the blessed God himself That 
 nature is from him immediately in which they are implant- 
 ed. The apostle speaking of his earnest, panting desire h 
 to have mortality swallowed up of life,prcsentl3' adds, He 
 that wrought us to the self-same thing is God. They arc 
 obedient desires ; the soul's present answer > to the heaven 
 ly call, by which God calls it to his kingdom and glory 
 k This glory is (as hath been formerly noted)the very term 
 of that callin?. i The God of all grace hath called ns into 
 his eternal glory, by Christ Jesus\ The glorified state if 
 "'the mark, the prize of the high callingof God in Christ 
 'Tis the matter of the apostle's thanksgiving unto God. 
 on the behalf of the Thessalonians, that " they were called 
 
 k 1 Tlioss. ii. 15. 
 Ill Phil. iii. U. 
 
 I 1 Pet. V. 15. 
 n 8 Thess. ii. 12.
 
 260 
 
 THE BLESSEDNESS OF THE RIGHTEOUS. 
 
 Chap. XIX. 
 
 by his Gospel, to the obtaining of the glory of our Lord 
 Jesus ChriM. When the soul desires this glory, it obedi- 
 ently answers this call. This is a compliance and subjec- 
 tion of heart to it. How lovely and becoming a thing is 
 this, when God touches the heart with a stamp and im- 
 press of glory, and it forthwith turns itself to that very 
 point, and stands directly bent towards the state of glory ; 
 is not wayward or perverse, bat herein yields itself to 
 God, and complies with the Divine pleasure. Such de- 
 sires have much in them of a child-like ingenuity ; to de- 
 sire the sight of a father's face ; when this is the intimate 
 sense of the soul. Show me the Father and it suffices. 
 To desire the fullest conformity to his nature and will, to 
 be perfect as that heavenly Father is perfect, what doth 
 better become a child "? They are generous desires ; they 
 aim at perfection, the highest that created nature is capa- 
 ble of; not contented to have had some glances of Divine 
 glory, some strokes and lines of his image, but aspiring to 
 lull-eyed visions, a perfect likeness. They are victorious 
 desires ; they (as it were) ride in triumph over the world 
 and every sublunary thing; they must be supposed to 
 have conquered sensual inclinations, to have got the mas- 
 tery over terrene dispositions and affections. With what 
 holy contempt and scorn of every earthly thing doth that 
 lofty sou! quit this dirty world and ascend, that is power- 
 fully carried by its own desire towards that blessed state 1 
 The desire of such a knowledge of Christ, as might trans- 
 form into his likeness, and pass the soul through all degrees 
 of conformity to him, till it attain the resurrection of the 
 dead, and become like a risen, glorified Jesus ; such a de- 
 sire I say, if it make all things seem as loss and dung in 
 comparison, (even a formal, spiritless religion itself,) will 
 it not render this world the most despicable dunghill of all 
 the resf? Try such a soul if you can, tempt it down to 
 enjoy a flattering, kind world, or to please it when angry 
 and unkind. When desires after this glory are once awa- 
 kened into an active, lively vigour, when the fire is kin- 
 dled, and the flame ascends, and this refined spirit is jo)^- 
 fully ascending therein, see if you can draw it back, and 
 make it believe this world amoreregardabie thing. Why 
 should not all those considerations make thee in love with 
 this blessed frame of spirit, and restless till thou find thy- 
 self incapable of being satisfied with any thing but divine 
 Jikeness 1 
 
 6. Rule. That while we cannot as yet attain the mark 
 and end of our desires, we yield not to a comfortless des- 
 pondency in the way, but maintain in our hearts a lively 
 joy, in the hope that hereafter we shall attain it. We are not 
 all this while persuading to the desire and pursuit of an 
 imattainable good. Spiritual desires are also rational, and 
 do therefore involve hope with them ; and that hope ought 
 to infer and cherish joy. Hopeless desire is full of tor- 
 ment, and must needs banish joy from that breast which it 
 hath got the possession of. 'Tis a disconsolate thing, to 
 desire what we must never expect to enjoy, and are utter- 
 ly unlikely ever to compass. But these desires are part 
 of the new creature, which is not of such a composition, 
 as to have a principle of endless trouble and disquiet in it- 
 self. The Father of mercies is not so little merciful to 
 his own child, to lay it under a necessity, from its very 
 natural constitution, of being for ever miserable by the de- 
 sire of that which it can never have. It had been verj' 
 unlike the workmanship of God, to make a creature to 
 which it should be necessary to d sire, and impossible to 
 enjoy the same thing. No ; but as he has given holy souls, 
 (as to the present case,) great incentives of desire, so dolh 
 he afford them proportionable encouragement of hope 
 also; and that hope intervening, can very well reconcile 
 desire and joy, and lodge them together in the same bosom. 
 So that as it is a thing capable of no excuse, to hear of this 
 blessedness and not desire it ; so it would be, to desire and 
 not expect it, to expect it, and not rejoice in it, even while 
 we are under that expectation. And it must be a very 
 raised joy that shall answer to the expectation of so great 
 things. Kone should give a stranger to Christianity an 
 account of the Christian hopes, and tell him what they 
 expect to be and enjo}', ere long; he would sure promise 
 himself, lo find so many angels dwelling in huuian flesh, 
 and reckon when he came among them he should be as 
 o P9al. i 3. 
 
 amidst the heavenly choir ; every one full of joy and 
 piaise. He would expect to find us living on earth, as the 
 inhabitants of heaven, as so many pieces of immortal 
 glory lately dropped down from above, and shortly again 
 returning thither. He would look to find, everywhere in 
 the Christian world, incarnate glory sparkling through the 
 over-shadowing veil ; and wonder how this earthly sphere 
 should be able to contain so many great souls. But when 
 he draws nearer to us, and observes the course and carriage 
 of our lives, when he sees us walk as other men, and con- 
 siders the strange disagreement of our daily conversation 
 lo our so great, avowed hopes, and how little sense of joy 
 and pleasure we discover ourselves to conceive in them; 
 would he not be ready to say, " Sure some or other (will- 
 ing only to amuse the world with the noise of strange 
 things) have composed a religion for these men, which they 
 themselves understand nothing of. If they do adopt and 
 own it for theirs, they understand not their own pretences; 
 they are taught to speak some big words, or to give a faint 
 or seeming assent to such as speak them in their names, 
 but 'tis impossible they should be in good earnest, or be- 
 lieve themselves in what they say and profess." And what 
 reply then should we be able to make 1 For who can think 
 that any who acknowledge a God, and understand at all 
 what that name imports, should value at so Ioav a rate, as 
 we (visibly) do, the eternal fruition of his glory, and a pre- 
 sent sonship to him, the pledge of so great a hope. He that 
 is born heir to great honours and possessions, though he 
 be upon great uncertainties as to the enjoyment of them, 
 (for how many interveniences may prevent him !) yet 
 when he come to understand his possibilities and expec- 
 tancies, how big doth he look and speak ! Avhat grandeur 
 doth he put on ! His hopes form his spirit and deportment. 
 But is it proportionably so with us 1 Do our hopes fill our 
 hearts with joy, our mouths with praise, and clothe our 
 faces with a cheerful aspect, and make a holy alacrity ap- 
 pear in all our conversations'? 
 
 But let not the design of this discourse be mistaken. 'Tis 
 not a presumptuous confidence I would encourage, nor a 
 vain ostentation, nor a disdainful over-looking of others 
 whom we fancy ourselves to excel. Such things hold no 
 proportion with a Christian spirit. His is a modest, hum- 
 h\e exultation ; a serious, severe joy ; suitable to his solid, 
 stable hope. His spirit is not pufled up and swollen with 
 air, it is not big by an inflation, or a light and windy tu- 
 mour, but 'tis really filled with effectual pre-apprehensions 
 of a weighty glory. His joy accordingly exerts itself with 
 a steady, lively vigour, equally removed from vain light- 
 ness ami stupidity, from conceitedness, and insensiblencss 
 of his blessed state. He forgets not that he is less than the 
 least of God's mercies, but disowns not his title to the 
 greatest of them. He abases himself to the dust, in the 
 sense of his own vileness; but in the admiration of Divine 
 grace, he rises as high as heaven. In his humiliation he 
 affects to equal himself with worms, in his joy and praise, 
 M'ith angels. He is never unwilling to diminish himself, 
 but afraul of detracting anything from the love of God, or 
 the issues of that Jove. But most of all he magnifies (as 
 he hath cause) this its last and mo.st perfect issue. And 
 by how much he apprehends his own unworthiness, he is 
 the more wrapt up into a wonderful joy, that such bless- 
 edness should be his designed portion. But now, how lit- 
 tle do we find in ourselves of this blessed frame of spirit ! 
 How remote are we from it ! Let us but inquire a little 
 into our own souls : are there not too apparent .symptoms 
 with us of the little joy we take in the fore-thoughts of fu- 
 ture blessedness? For, 
 
 First, How few thoughts have we of it ! What anj'- delight 
 in, they remember often. 'Tis said of the same person, 
 that "his delight is in the law of the Lord, and that in his 
 law he doth meditate day and night. And when the 
 Psalmist professes his own delight in God's statutes, he 
 adds, P I will not forget thy word. Should we not be as 
 unapt to forget heaven, if our delight were there '? But do 
 not days pass with us, wherein we can allow ourselves no 
 leisure to mind the eternal glory; when yet vanities throng 
 in upon us, without any obstruction or check? And (what 
 is consequent hereupon) how seldom is this blessed state 
 the subject of our discourse ! How oAen do Christians 
 p PsaL cxu. 16.
 
 Chap. XIX. 
 
 THE BLESSEDNESS OF THE RIGHTEOUS. 
 
 261 
 
 meet, and not a word of heaven ! O heavy, carna) hearts ! 
 Our home and eternal blessedness in this, appears to be 
 forgotten among us. How often may a person converse 
 with us, ere he understood our relation to the heavenly 
 country ! If exiles meet in a foreign land, what pleasant 
 discourse have they of home ! They suffer not one ano- 
 ther to forget it. Such was their remembrance of Sion, 
 who sat together bemoaning themselves by the rivers of 
 Babylon, a making mention of it, as the phrase is often 
 used. And methinks (even as to this remembrance) it 
 should be our own common resolution too; If we forget 
 thee, O Jerusalem ; if we forget to make mention of thee, 
 O thou city of the luang God ; let our right hand forget 
 her cunning ; our tongue shall sooner cleave to the roof 
 of our mouth : and so it would be, did we prefer that hea- 
 venly Jerusalem above our chief joy. 
 
 Again, How little doth it weigh with us! It serves not 
 to outweigh the smallest trouble; if we have not our car- 
 nal desire in every thing gratified, if any thing fall out 
 cross to our inclinations, this glory goes for nothing with 
 us. Our discontents swallow up our hopes and joys ; and 
 heaven is reckoned as a thing of nought. If when outward 
 troubles afflict or threaten us, we could have the certain 
 prospect of better days, that would sensibly revive and 
 please us. Yea, can we not please ourselves with very 
 uncertain groundless hopes of this kind, without promise 
 or valuable reason 1 But to be told of a recompense at 
 the resurrection of the just, of a day when we shall see the 
 face of God, and be satisfied M-ith his likeness ; this is in- 
 sipid and without savor to us, and affords us but cold com- 
 fort. The imcertain things of time signify more with us 
 than the certain things of eternity. Can we think 'tis all 
 this while well with us 1 Can we think this a tolerable 
 evil, or suffer with patience such a distemper of spirit 1 
 Methinks it should make us even weary of ourselves, and 
 solicitous for an effectual, speedy redress. 
 
 The redress must be more in our own doing (striving 
 with our souls and with God for them) than in what any 
 man can say. Most of the considerations under that fore- 
 going rule; are with little variation applicable to this pre- 
 sent purpose. I shall here annex only some few subordi- 
 nate directions; which may lead us into this blessed state 
 of life, and give us some joyful foretastes of the future 
 blessedness, according as our spirits shall comply with 
 them. But expect not to be cured by prescriptions, with- 
 out using them ; or that heavenly joy can be the creature 
 of mortal, unregarded breath ; we can only prescribe 
 means and methods through which God maybe pleased to 
 descend, and in which thou art diligently to insist and 
 wait. And because I cannot well suppose thee ignorant, 
 where much is said to this purpose, I shall therefore say 
 little. 
 
 1. Possess thy soul with the apprehension, that thou art 
 not at liberty in this matter; but that there is a certain 
 spiritual delectation, which is incumbent on thee as indis- 
 pensable duty. Some, whose morose tempers do more 
 estrange them from delights, think themselves more espe- 
 cially concerned, to banish every thing of that kind from 
 their religion, and fancy it only to consist in sour and 
 righteous severities. Others seem to think it arbitrary and 
 indifferent; or that, if they live in a continual sadness and 
 dejection of spirit, 'tis only their infelicity, not their fault ; 
 and apprehend not the obligation that is upon them by a 
 divine law, otherwise to manage and order their spirits. 
 But what then, are such words thought to be spoken at 
 random : Her i ways are ways of pleasantness ; The Lord 
 is the portion of mine inheritance : The lines are fallen to 
 me in pleasant places, (or, in the midst of pleasantness, as 
 the expression hath been noted to signify:) Do such pre- 
 cepts carry no sense with them 1 ' Delight thyself in the 
 Lord : Rejoice in the Lord alwa3's, and again I say, re- 
 joice ; with many more"? Do all passages of this kind in 
 Scripture stand for ciphers, or were they put in them by 
 chance 7 Is there sucii a thing as an aptitude to delecta- 
 tion in our natures ; and doth the sanctification thereof en- 
 title the joy of saints to a place among the fruits of the 
 Spirit ; « and yet is the exercise of it to have no place in 
 their hearts and practice ? Do not think you are permitted 
 
 q Prov. iii. 17. 
 s Gal. V. 22. 
 
 21 
 
 r Psal. x.\x\Ti. 4. 
 t 1 John i. 4. 
 
 Pliil. iv. 4. 
 
 u 2 Cor. iv 
 
 SO to extinguish or frastrate so considerable a principle of 
 the divine life. Know, that the due exercise of it is a part 
 of the order and discipline of God's family : that it is a 
 constitution of the Divine goodness and wisdom both to 
 cherish his own, and invite in strangers to him : yea, that 
 is the scope and aim of the whole gospel revelation, that 
 what is discovert;d to us of the word of life, wa.s purposely 
 written to draw souls into fellowship with the Father and 
 the Son, that their joy might be full: 'that the ministers 
 of this go.spel are therefore styled the " helpers of tiieir joy. 
 Therefore, though here it be not required nor allowed, that 
 you should indulge a vain, trifling levity, or a sensual joy, 
 or that you should rejoice )-ou know not why, (imitating 
 the laughter of a fool,) or inopportunely, when your state 
 admits it not, or when the Lord calls to mourning ; yet 
 settle however this persuasion in your hearts, that the se- 
 rious, rational, regular, seasonable exercise of delight and 
 joy is matter of duty, to be charged upon conscience, from 
 the authority of God ; and is an integral part in the reli- 
 gion of Christians. And then sure )'ou will not think any 
 obj(^ct more proper and suitable for it to be exercised upon, 
 than the foreseen state of blessedness, which is in itself a* 
 fulness of joy ; the joy of our Lord. And is, in the pre- 
 apprehensionsof it, a more considerable matter of joy than 
 our present state affords us besides ; and without relation 
 whereto we have no rational joy at all. 
 
 2. Keep faith in exercise; both in that act of it which 
 persuades the soul of the truth of the gospel revelation, 
 and that act of it which unites it to God through the Me- 
 diator. The apostle prays on the behalf of his Roman 
 Christians, that they might be y filled with joy and peace 
 in believing; and we are told, how efiectually (as to this) 
 it supplied the place of sight. Such as had not seen 
 Christ, (which was the privilege of many other Christians 
 of that time,) yet ^ believing, did rejoice with joy unspeak- 
 able and glorious. Faith directly tends, in that double 
 office before mentioned, to excite and foment this joy. 
 As it assents to the truth of the gospel revelation, it 
 realizes the object, is the substance and evidence of the 
 invisible glory." As it unites the soul wuh God through 
 Chri.st, in a fiducial and obediential closure, it ascertains 
 our interest therein, and is our actual acceptance of our 
 blessedness itself; for when we take God through Christ 
 to be our God, what is it, but to accept him as our eter- 
 nal and satisfying portion, whom we are after fully to en- 
 joy, in the vision and participation of his glorious excel- 
 lencies and infinite fulness 1 Which two acts of faith we 
 have mentioned together in one text, — the)' were per- 
 suaded of the promises, and embraced them; the former 
 respecting the truth of the promises, the latter the good- 
 ness of the thin? proniised. And hereupon they confessed 
 themselves (as it follows) pilgrims and strangers on earth; 
 which abdication of the earth, as none of their counir)--, 
 could not be, but that through their faith they had a joy- 
 ous pre-apprehension of that betterstate. That confession 
 did manifestly involve in it a lively joy, springing from 
 the sight and embrace of that more taking, distant good, 
 which the promise presented them with ; whence they 
 could not think it enough, to be such to themselves iii 
 their own thoughts and the temper of their minds; but 
 they cannot forbear (so overcomins: were their sights and 
 tastes) to give it out, to speak, and look, and live, as those 
 that were carried up in their spirits above this earth, and 
 who did even disdain to own themselves in any other re- 
 lation to it than that of foreigners and strangers. 
 
 Set thy faith on work, soul, and keep it a-work, and 
 thou wilt hnd this no riddle; it will be so with thee too. 
 We have much talk of faith among us, and have the name 
 often in our mouths, but how few are the real lively be- 
 lievers ! Is it to be thought that such blessedness should 
 not more aflect our hearts 1 nay, would it not ravish away 
 our very souls, did we thoroughly believe it 1 And were 
 it our present daily work, to renew the bonds of a vital 
 union with the blessed God, in whom we expect to be 
 blessed for ever, could that be without previous gusts of 
 pleasure? 'Tis not talking of faith, but living by it, that 
 will give us the experience of heavenlv delights and jo}'^. 
 
 3. Take heed of going in thy practice against thy 
 
 X Psal. x\i. Matt. xxv. 
 z 1 Pet. i. 8. 
 
 y Rom. XV. 13. 
 a Heb. xi. 1-
 
 262 
 
 THE BLESSEDNESS OP THE RIGHTEOUS. 
 
 Chap. XX. 
 
 light ; of persisting in a course of known or suspecteJ sin, 
 that states thee in a direct hostility and rebellion against 
 heaven, and can never siitfer thee to think of eternity and 
 the other world with comfort ; will fill thy mind with 
 frightful apprehensions -of God, render the sight of his 
 face the most terrible thing to thy thoughts thou canst 
 imagine, and satisfaction with his likeness the most im- 
 possible thing. Let a good understanding and correspond- 
 ence be continued between God and thee, (which is not 
 possible, if ihoa disobeyest the dictates of thy conscience, 
 and takest the liberty to do what thou judgest God hath 
 forbidden thee,) that this may be ttiy rejoicing, b the testi- 
 mony of a good conscience ; that in simplicity and godly 
 sincerity, not according to fleshly wisdom, but the 
 grace of God, thou hast had thy conversation. Take God 
 for a witness of thy ways and walkings ; approve thyself 
 to his jealous eye ; study lo carry thyself acceptably to- 
 wards him, and unto all well pleasing. Let that be thy 
 ambition, to stand right in his thoughts, to appear gracious 
 in his eyes. Hold fast thine integrity, that thy heart may 
 not reproach thee as long as thou livest. If iniquity be in 
 thy hand, put it away ; then shalt thou lift up thy face 
 without spot and without fear. Be a faithful subject of 
 that kingdom of God, (and here conscience rules under 
 him,) which consists first in righteousness, and then in 
 peace and joy in the Holy Ghost. Thou wilt, so, daily 
 behold the face of God in righteousness and with pleasure ; 
 but wilt most of all please thyself to think of thy final 
 appearance before him, and the blessedness that shall 
 ensue. 
 
 4. Watch and arm thyself against the too forcible 
 strokes and impressions of sensible objects. Let not the 
 savour of such low vile things corrupt the palate of thy 
 soul. A sensual earthly mind and heart cannot taste 
 heavenly delights ; they that are after the flesh do savour 
 the thmg-s of the flesh; they that are after the Spirit, the 
 things of the Spirit. Labour to be thoroughly mortified '■ 
 towards this world and the present state of things. Look 
 upon this scene and pageant d as passing away ; keep na- 
 tural appetites under restraint, (the world and the lusts of 
 it pass away together,) sensuality is an impure thing. 
 Heavenly refined joy cannot live amidst so much filth. 
 Yea, and if thou give thy flesh liberty too far in things 
 that are (in specie) lawful, it will soon get advantage to 
 domineer and keep thy soul in a depres^sing servitude. 
 Abridge it then, and cut it short, that thy mind may be 
 enlarged and at liberty, may not be thronged and prepos- 
 sessed with carnal imaginations and aflections. ^ " Let 
 thy soul" (if thou wilt take this instruction from a heathen) 
 " look with a constant erect mind into the undefiled light, 
 neither darkened nor borne down towards the earth ; but 
 stopping its ears, and turning its eyes, and all other senses 
 back upon itself; and quite abolishing out of itself all 
 earthly sighs, and groans, and pleasures, and glories, and 
 honours, and disgrace ; and having forsaken all these, 
 choose for the guides of its way, true reason and strong 
 love, the one whereof will show it the way, the other 
 make it easy and pleasant." 
 
 5. Having voided thy mind of what is earthly and car- 
 nal, apply and turn it to this blessed theme. The most 
 excellent and the vil(•^t objects are alike to thee, while 
 thou mindest them not. Thy thoughts possibly bring thee 
 in nothing but vexation and trouble, which would bring 
 in as soon joy and pleasure, didst thou turn them to proper 
 objects. A thought of the heavenly glory is as soon thought 
 as of an earthly cross. We complain the w« Id troubles 
 us ; then what do we there 1 Why get we not up, in our 
 spirits, into the quieter region 1 What trouble would the 
 thoughts of future glory be to us 1 How are thoughts and 
 wits set on v/ork for this flesh! BiU we would have our 
 souls flourish as the lilies, without any thing of their own 
 care. Yea, we make them toil for torture, and not for 
 joy, revolve an affliction a thousand times before and after 
 it comes, and have never done with it, when eternal bless- 
 edness gains not a thought. 
 
 6. Plead earnestly with God for his Spirit. This is 
 joy in the Holy Ghost ; or whereof he is the author. 
 Many Christians (as they must be called) are such stran- 
 
 b 2 Cor. i. 12. c 1 Cor. tii. 31, 
 
 e Max, TjT. in Duseit n o dcoi Kara nXarcovof. 
 
 d I John ii 17. 
 
 gers to this work of imploring and calling in the blessed 
 Spirit, as if they were capable of adopting these words, 
 We have not so much as heard whether there be a Holy 
 Ghost. That name is with them as an empty sound. 
 How hardly are we convinced of our necessary depend- 
 ance on that free Spirit, as to all our truly spiritual opera- 
 tions! The Spirit is the very earnest of our inheritance. 
 The foretastes and first-fruits we have here of the future 
 blessedness, the joy and pleasure, the complacential relishes 
 we have of it beforehand, are by the gracious vouchsafe- 
 ment and work of this blessed Spirit. The things that eye 
 hath not seen, nor ear heard, and which have not entered 
 into the heart of man, are revealed by this Spirit. 
 Thereforp doth the apostle direct his prayer on the behalf 
 of the Ephesians, to the Father of this glory,f that he 
 would give them this Spirit of wisdom and revelation, — 
 to enlighten the eyes of their undeistanding, that they 
 might know the hope of his calling, and the riches of the 
 glory of his inheritance in (or among) the saints. And 
 its revelation is such as begets an impression ; in respect 
 whereof, 'tis said also, to seal up to the day of redemption. 
 Therefore, pray earnestly for this Spirit ; not in idle, 
 dreaming words of course, but as being really apprehen- 
 sive of the necessity of prevailing ; and give not over till 
 ihou find that sacred fire diffusing itself through thy mind 
 and heart, to enlighten the one and refine the other, and 
 so prepossess both of this glory, thot thy soul may be all 
 turned into joy and praise. And then let me add here, 
 (without the formality of a distinct head,) that it concerns 
 thee to lake heed of quenching that Spirit, by either resist- 
 ing or neglecting its holy dictates, or, as the same precept 
 is otherwise given, of grieving the Spirit : he is by name 
 and ofllce the Comforter. The primitive Christians, 'tis 
 said, walked in the fear of God, and in the comfort of the 
 Holy Ghost. Is it equal dealing, to grieve him whose 
 business it is to comfort thee 1 Or canst thou expect joy 
 where thou causest grief? AValk in the Spirit: adore its 
 power. Let thy soul doit homage within thee. Wait for 
 its holy influences, and yield thyself to its ducture and 
 guidance; so wilt thou go as the redeemed of the Lord, 
 with everlasting joy upon thy head, till thou enter that 
 pre-ence where is fulness of joy, and pleasures for ever- 
 more. 
 
 Nor do thou think it improper or strange, that thou 
 shouldst be called upon to rejoice in what thou dost not 
 yet possess. Thy hope is instead of fruition ; 'tis an an- 
 ticipated enjoyment. We are commanded to? rejoice in 
 hope; and saints have professed to do so, toh rejoice even 
 in the hope of the glory of God. Nor is it unreasonable 
 that should be thy present highest joy. For though yet it 
 be a distant thing, and distinctly revealed, the excellency 
 of the object makes compensation for both, with an abun- 
 dant surplusage. As any one would much more rejoice 
 to be assured by a great person of ample possessions he 
 would make him his heir to, (though he knew not distinct- 
 ly what they should be,) than to see a shilling already Ms 
 own, with his own eyes. 
 
 CHAPTER XX. 
 
 Tlie aditilion of two niJes. ttiat more specially respect the yet future season of 
 this blessedness, after this life ; viz., Rule 7. That we patiently wait for it 
 until death. Rule 8. That we love not too much this present life. 
 
 There are yet two more rules to be superadded, that 
 respect the season of this blessedness, — when we awake, — 
 i. e. not till we go out of time into eternity, not till we 
 pass out of the drowsy darkness of our present state, till 
 the night be over with us, and the vigorous light of the 
 everlasting day do shine upon us. Hence therefore it will 
 be further necessary, 
 
 Rule 7. That while the appointed proper season of this 
 blessedness is not yet come, (i. e. till God shall vouchsafe 
 to translate us from our present earthly state,) we compose 
 our spirits to a patient expectation of it. Upon a twofold 
 account, the exercise of patience is very requisite in the 
 
 f Eph. i. 
 
 g Rom. rii. 12. 
 
 h Rom. V. S.
 
 Chap. XX. 
 
 THE BLESSEDNESS OP THE RIGHTEOUS. 
 
 263 
 
 present case, viz. both in respect of this very expectation 
 Itself, and also in respect of the concomitant miseries of 
 this expecting state, la ihe forjticr respect, an absent good 
 is the matter o{ our patience; in the latter, present, and incum- 
 bent evil. It fails more directh' in our way, to speak to the 
 exercise of patience upon the former account, yet as to the 
 latter, (though it be more collateral as to our present 
 purpose,) it cannot be unseasonable briefly to consider 
 that also. 
 
 First, therefore, The very expectation itself of this bless- 
 edness, renders patience very requisite to our present 
 state. Patience hath as proper and necessary an exercise 
 in expecting the good we want and desire, as in enduring 
 the evil that is actually upon us. The direction, (it must 
 be remembered,) intends such only as apprehend and de- 
 sire this blessedness as their greatest good, whose souls 
 are transported with earnest longings fully to enjoy what 
 they have foretasted. I am apprehensive enough, that 
 others need it not. There is no use of patience in expect- 
 ing what we desire not. But as to those who desire it 
 most, and who therefore are most concerned in this ad- 
 vice, it may possiblj"^ become a doubt, how since there is 
 sin in our present ignorance of God and unlikeness to 
 him, this can be ihe matter of any patience. We must 
 therefore know, that as our knowledge of God, and con 
 formity to him, are both our duty and blessedness, the mat- 
 ter both of our endeavour and of God's vouchsafement ; 
 so our ignorance of him, and unlikeness to him, are both 
 our sin and our misery; which misery, though God hath 
 graciously removed it in part, yet also he continues it up- 
 on us in part", (as our sad experience tells us,) by his just 
 and wise dispensation, which we cannot except against. 
 Now therefore, looking upon the defect of our knowledge 
 of God and likeness to him, under the former noti'jn, 
 though we are to reflect upon ourselves with great displea- 
 sure and indignation ; yet looking on them in the latter 
 notion, we are to submit to the righteous dispensation of 
 God with a meek, unrepining patience. By this patience, 
 therefore, I mean not a stupid succumbency under the re- 
 maining disease and distemper of our spirits, in this our 
 present state ; a senseless indiflerency and oscitant cessa- 
 tion from continual endeavours of further redress; but a 
 silent and submissive veneration of Divine wisdom, and 
 justice, and goodness, that are sweetly complicated in this 
 procedure with us, with a quiet, peaceful expectation of 
 the blessed issue of it. This being premised, I shall briefly 
 show, — that we have need of patience, and — that we have 
 reason for it in this present case. 
 
 I. That we have need of it, (supposing our souls are in- 
 tent upon glory, that we are in earnest in this pursuit,) 
 will appear upon sundry accounts. 
 
 First, The greatness of the thing we expect. To be- 
 hold the face of God, to be satisfied with his likeness. 
 What serious heart, apprehensive of its own concerns, 
 can without much patience, hold out under such an ex- 
 pectation 1 How do lovers that expect the marriage-da)^, 
 tell the hours, and chide the sun that it makes no more 
 haste! But how can that soul contain itself, that expects 
 the most intimate fruition of the Lord of glory. 
 
 Again, consider the continual representation and fre- 
 quent inculcations of this glory. Its vigorous, powerful 
 beams are, by often repeated pulsations, continually beat- 
 ing upon such souls as are intent towards it. Life and 
 immortality are brought to light in the Gospel ; and they 
 are obliged by command and inclijiation to attend its dis- 
 coveries. The eye that 's once smitten, looks again and 
 again, 'tis not satisfied with seeing; and every renewed 
 look meets with still fresh rays of glory ; thej'' have fre- 
 quent foretastes and prelibaiions, which still give life to 
 new desires. To lie under the direct stroke of the powers 
 of the world to come, this requires mttch patience, to sus- 
 tain the burden of such an expectation. Life itself were 
 otherwise a bitter and a wearisome thing. * And the want 
 of such foretastes, (for alas they are not constant,) makes 
 desire sometimes more restless, and expectation moie bit- 
 ter and grievous. 
 
 a Canerem tibi angelica voce thmnomm ; qimm mirifica, semper in patria 
 dulcedine repleamur ; nisi vercrer, ne forte, ponlhac. lantaa dulcedinis hujus cum- 
 paralione, Iota tibi in terria \-ita non Fgoliimamarisaima, verumetiam amaiitudo 
 ipso penitus videatur. M. Ficin. Epist. 
 
 Moreover, Consider the nature and spring of these de- 
 sires, that work in heavenly souls towards this glcrj'. They 
 are of a divine nature and original ; he that hath wrought 
 us to this self-same thing is God, 2 Cor. v. 5. Observe the 
 tenor of this proposition; God is not the subject of pre- 
 dication, but the predicate. The action is not predicated 
 of God, a-s it would in this form of words, God hath 
 wrought us, &c. but God is predicated of this agent, q. d. 
 this is the work of a Deity ; none but God could be the au- 
 thor of such desires. That a soul .should be acted towards 
 glory by the alone power of an almighty hand! here 
 needs a divine patience to .sustain it, and make it strong 
 and able to endure such a motion, where there is divine 
 power to act and move it forward. The frame could aot 
 hold else, it must dissolve. The apostle, li therefore, pray- 
 ing for the Thessalonians, that God would direct their 
 hearts into the love of him.self, (which could not but in- 
 flame their souls with a desire of a perfect vision and en- 
 joyment,) presently adds, and into the patient waiting for 
 of Christ. Where we cannot by the way but reflect upon 
 the admirable constitution and equal temper of the new 
 creature, as to the principles that are ingredient into the 
 composition of it, fervent desires allayed with meek sub- 
 mission, mighty love with strong patience. If we consi- 
 der it in actu signato, or in its abstract idea, this is its tem- 
 perament; and of these there is a gradual participation, 
 wherever )'ou find it actually existing. God hath other- 
 wise formed a creature (the prime of his creatures) so as 
 by its most intrinsical constituent principles to be a tor- 
 ment to itself 
 
 Lastly, The tiresome nature of expectation in itself, is 
 not least considerable.' It carries ('tis true) pleasure (if it 
 be hoping expectation) wuth it ; but not without a great 
 admixture of pain. It brings a kind of torture to the mind, 
 as a continued exertion or stretching forth of the neck (by 
 which it is expressed) <■ doth to the body. Therefore it is 
 most significantly said b}' the wise man, <i Hope deferred 
 makes the heart sick. All these, I say, together discover 
 the truth of what the apostle tells us. ^ We have need of 
 patience, that when we, &c. we may inherit the promise. 
 
 2. And as we have need of it, so we have also reason 
 for it upon many accounts. It is no piece of rigorous se- 
 verity to be pitt upon the exercise of some patience, to be 
 kept awhile in a waiting posture for the completion of this 
 blessedness. For, 
 
 First, The thing you expect is sure. You have not to 
 do in this matter with one who is inconstant, or likely to 
 change. If such a one should make us large promises, 
 we should have some cause never to think ourselves se- 
 cure, till we had them made good to us. But since we 
 f live in the hope of eternal life, which God who cannot 
 lie, and who we = know is faithful, hath promised, we may 
 be confident, and this confidence should quiet our hearts. 
 What a faithful friend keeps for us, we reckon as safe in 
 his hands, as in our own. He that believes makes not 
 haste. An impatient haste argues an unbelieving jealou- 
 sy and distrust. Surely, there is an er.d, and thy expecta- 
 tion will not be cut ofli". 
 
 And then 'tis a happiness that •will recompense the most 
 wearisome expectation. 'Twere good sometimes to con- 
 sider with ourselves, what is the object of our hope ? are 
 our expectations pitched upon a valuable good, that will 
 be worth while to expect 1 So the Psalmist, h What wait 
 I for 1 and he answrrs himself. My hope is in thee. Sure 
 then that hope will not make ashamed. 'Twere a con- 
 founding thing to have been a long time full of great hopes 
 that at last dwindle into some petite trifle, but when we 
 know beforehand the business is such as will defray itself, 
 bear its own charges, who would not be contented to 
 wait! 
 
 Nor will the time of expectation be long — when I shall 
 awake — when he shall appear. Put it to the longest term, it 
 was said, sixteen hundred years ago, to be but a little while : 
 three times over in the shutting up of the Bible, he tells us, I 
 come quicklv. He seems to foresee he should be something 
 impatiently expected : and at last, Surely I come quickly, 
 
 b 2 Thess. iii. 5. 
 d Prov. ra\. 12. 
 f Tit i. 2. 
 h Psal. .xxxix. 7. 
 
 c 1 Rom. viiL 19. 
 e Heb. x 36. 
 g Heb. X. 33.
 
 THE BLESSEDNESS OP IHE RIGHTEOUS. 
 
 264 
 
 p. d. What will you not believe me 1 Be patient, saith the 
 apostle, i to the coming of the Lord : and presently he 
 adds, be patient, slablish your hearts, for the coming ot 
 the Lord draweth nigh. 
 
 Yea, and amidst the many troubles of that short time of 
 expectation many present comforts are intermixed. Hea- 
 ven is open to us. We have constant liberty of access to 
 God. He disdains not our present converse. We may 
 have the constant pleasure of the exercise of grace, the 
 heavenly delights of meditation, the joy of the public so- 
 lemnities of worship, the communion and encouragement 
 of fellow-Christians, the light of that countenance where- 
 of we expect the eternal vision, the comforts of the Holy 
 Ghost, the continual- prospect of glory all the way thither. 
 What cause have we of impatience or complaint 1 
 
 Further, Saints of all ages have had their expecting 
 time. We are required to be followers of them who through 
 faith and patience have inherited the promises. Our Sa- 
 viour himself waited a life's time for his glorification. I 
 have (saith he) glorified thee on earth ; I have finished 
 the work thou gavest me to do ! And now. Father, glori- 
 fy me with thine own self, &c. 
 
 And while we are waiting, if it be not our fault, our 
 glory will be increasing. We may be glorifying God in 
 the meantime, which is the end of our beings : we need 
 not live here to no purpose. 
 
 Again, we were well enough content, till God more 
 clearly revealed that other state, to live always as we do. 
 'Tis not now ingenious to be impatiently querulous about 
 the time of our entering into it. 'Tis his free vouchsafe- 
 ment; we never merited such a thing at his hands. 'Tis 
 not commendable among men, to be over qtiick in exact- 
 ing debts even where there was an antecedent right, much 
 less where the right only shall accrue by promise, not yet 
 sueable; would it not shame us to have God say to us. 
 Have patience with me, and I will pay you all 1 And our 
 former state should be often reflected on. If you had pro- 
 mised great things to a wretch lately taken off the dung- 
 hill, and he is every day impatiently urging you to an un- 
 timely accomplishment, would you not check his over-bold 
 haste, by minding him of his original 1 It becomes not 
 base and low-born persons to be transported with a prepos- 
 terous, over-hasty expectation of high and great things. 
 And if God k bear with the sinfuhiess of our present state, 
 is it not reasonable we should bear with the infelicity of it 
 to his appointed timel Besides that, we should much in- 
 jure ourselves by our impatiency; imbitter our present 
 condition, increase our own burden, dissipate our strength, 
 retard our progress towards the perfection we profess to 
 aim at ; for patience must have its perfect work, that we 
 may be perfect. 
 
 And others, that have had as clear apprehensions and 
 vigorous desires (at least) of the future state of glory as we 
 can with modesty pretend to, have yet herein moderated 
 themselves so, as to intend their present work with com- 
 posed spirits. Take that one instance of the blessed apos- 
 tle, who, whilst in this earthly tabernacle he groaned, 
 being burthened, to be clothed with glory, and to have 
 mortality swallowed up of life, being sensible enough, that 
 during his abode or presence in the body, he was absent 
 from the Lord ; yet notwithstanding the fervour and vehe- 
 mency of tJiese longings, with the greatest calmness and 
 resignation imaginable, as to the termination or continu- 
 ance of his present state, he adds, that though he had ra- 
 ther be absent from the body, i to be present with the Lord, 
 it was yet his chief ambition, (as the word he uses signifies,) 
 whetlier present or absent, (as if in comparison of that, to 
 be present or absent were indifl^erent, though otherwise, 
 out of that comparison, he had told us, he would be absent 
 rather,) to be ™ accepted, to appear grateful and well- 
 pleasing in the eye of God ; such that he might delight 
 and take content in, as his expression imports. As if he 
 had said, Though I am not apprehensive of the state of 
 my case, I know well I am kept out of a far more desira- 
 ble condition, while I remain in this tabernacle ; yet, may 
 I but please and appear acceptable in the sight of God, 
 whether I be sooner dismissed from this thraldom, or long- 
 er continued in it, I contend not. His burden here, that 
 
 i Jam, V. k Jam. i. 1 2 Cor. v. 8. tpi^orijiovficda. 
 
 Chap. XX 
 
 so sensibly pressed him, was not a present evil so much as 
 an absent good. He was not so burthened by what he felt 
 and could not remove, as by what he saw and could not 
 enjoy. His groans accordingly were not brutal, as those 
 of a beasi under a too heavy load ; but rational, the groans of 
 an apprehensible spirit panting after an alluring, inviting 
 glory, which he had got the prospect of but could not yet 
 attain. And hence the same spiritual reason which did 
 exercise, did also, at once, moderate his desires ; so that, 
 as he saw there was reason to desire, so he saw there was 
 reason his desires should be allayed by a submissive, inge- 
 nious patience, till they might have a due and seasonable 
 accomplishment. And that same temper of mind we find 
 in him, when he professes to be in a » strait between two, 
 having a desire to be dissolved, and to be with Christ, 
 which he thought to be far better, and yet apprehended 
 his longer abode in the world to be needful for the service 
 of the church ; whereupon he expresses his confidence, 
 that he should abide longer, and therein discovers how 
 well contented he was it should be so. Therefore, as in 
 reference to this very expectation itself, there is great need 
 of patience ; so the exerci.se of it in this case hath nothing 
 harsh or unreasonable in it, or which the spirit of a sain' 
 may not well comport with. 
 
 2. And for the exercise of patience upon the latter ac- 
 count ; the concomitant miseries of this our present ex- 
 pecting state ; I need not insist to show how needful it is, 
 this being that which our own sense will sufficiently in- 
 struct us in. We are not to expect the future stateof bless- 
 edness in a state of present ease and rest, in a quiet, friend- 
 ly world, in a calm and peaceful region, under placid and 
 benign influences from men and times ; but amidst storms, 
 and tempests, and troubles on every side, under frowns and 
 displeasure, threats and dangers, harsh and rough severi- 
 ties, ill and ungentle usages, flouts and scorns, wrongs and 
 injurious dealings, wants and pressures in many kinds. 
 When the world is once forsaken by us, it grows angry ; it 
 we disclaim it, and avow ourselves not to be of it, become 
 confessed strangers and pilgrims in it, set ourselves se 
 riously and visibly to mind and design something abovi^ 
 and beyond it, discover ourselves to be of them that aro 
 callL-d out of it: from the same principle that it loves its 
 ov/ti, it will hate us; Vvhen once God calls us his sons, 
 the world will not know us." We see in this context we 
 are discoursing from, what the Psalmist's condition was, 
 while as yet he remained under this blessed expectation ; 
 he found the men of time, whose portion was in this life, 
 to be deadly enemies, wicked oppressors, proud insulters ; 
 they were to him as greedy lions, as a blood-thirsty sword. 
 His cries to be delivered from them, show what he 
 met with at their hands, or thought he had reason to 
 fear. Nor can so raging enmity and hate ever cease 
 to meditate mischiefs and cruelties. The same principle 
 still remains in all the serpent's brood, and will still be put- 
 ling forth itself in suitable practices, which cannot but in- 
 fer to the contrary seed continual trouble and matter of 
 complaint. 
 
 And, in short, whatever is here the matter of your com- 
 plaint, ought to be the matter of y( ur patience. Whence 
 it cannot be doubted the matter of it will be very copious; 
 so as to require the all of patience ; (as the apostle speaks ;) 
 which his addressing this solemn request to God on the 
 behalf of these Colossian Christians plainly intimates. 
 He prays that p they may be strengthened with all mi^ght 
 according to the glorious power of God unto all patience, 
 «&c. Patience is the Christian's sulferingpower, 'tis passive 
 fortitude, an ability to suffer: and so apprehensive he is of 
 their great need of a full and ample supply of this power, 
 that he prays that they might be strengthened in this kind 
 with might, with all might: that they might be even al- 
 mighty sufl^erers ; strengthened M'ith a might according and 
 corresponding to the gloriouspowers of God himself ; such 
 as might appear the proper impress and image of Divine 
 power, "whereof the Divine power might be both the prin- 
 ciple and the pattern (for the patience whereby God bears 
 the wrongs done to him is called the power too; Let the 
 power of the Lord be great as thou hast spoken, saying. 
 The Lord is long suffering, forgiving, &c.) And this unto 
 
 ul craoCTOi. 
 
 o 1 John iii. 1. 
 
 p Col. i. 11.
 
 Chap. XX. 
 
 THE BLESSEDNESS OF THE RIGHTEOUS. 
 
 CG5 
 
 all patience, where patience is put for an act of this power, 
 or must be understood of patience in exercise, actual bear- 
 ing. Nor are we to look upon the expressions of this 
 prayer as so many hyperbolical strains, or rhetorical 
 schemes of speech. He prays according to the apprehen- 
 sion he had of the necessity of suffering Christians. 
 
 And yet how much soever the need is, the reason is not 
 less, 'tis a thing as possible as it is necessary ; yea, there 
 is more in the power of the cause, than to work this single 
 effect. I mean it not only of the efficient cause mentioned 
 before, but of the objective or final (as having such a 
 superabundant sufficiency in its kind also) hinted in the 
 close of the following verse. He doth not utter vain and 
 groundless wishes, when he prays, that to that all of pa- 
 tience they might add joyfulness too, and giving of thanks; 
 no, the matter (as if he had said) will bear it, even the 
 inheritance of the saints in light, the very expectation ob- 
 jective, I am speaking of. It hath enough in it to induce, 
 not only patience, but joy, not a contented bearing only, 
 but giving of thanks too, i to him that hath made you meet 
 for that inheritance. True it is indeed, that the very need 
 we have of patience, and the gain that would accrue by it, 
 is itself a reason, why we should labour to frame our spi- 
 rits to it: for if such evils must be undergone, how much 
 better is it to bear them alone, than to have the disease of 
 a wounded, impatient spirit to bear also as an additional 
 burden. The law of patience is certainly a most indul- 
 gent, merciful law, a gracious provision (as much as can 
 be made by a law) for the quiet and ease of our spirits, 
 under the sharpest and most aillictive sufferings. As 
 might at large be shown, were it suitable to fall into a dis- 
 course of patience in itself considered ; and to treat of 
 that rest and pleasure, that liberty of spirit, that possession 
 and dominion of one's own soul, which it carries in it . 
 but that were too much a digression. It only falls directly 
 here in our way to consider, that as we have many griev- 
 ances and pressures to undergo, while we are expecting 
 the future blessedness, which render the exercise of pa- 
 tience very requisite, so that there is enough of v/eight and 
 worth in that very expectation {i. e. in what we expect) 
 to outweigh them all, and to render the exercise thereof 
 highly reasonable upon that account. •■ I reckon (saith 
 the apostle) that the sufferings of this present time are not 
 worthy to be compared with the glory that shall be reveal- 
 ed in us. Thus (saith he) I reckon, i. e. it is my stated, 
 settled judgment, not a sudden, rash thought. When I 
 have reasoned the matter with myself, weighed it well, 
 considered the case, turned it round, viewed it exactly on 
 every side, balanced advantages and disadvantages, pon- 
 dered all things which are fit to come into consideration 
 about it, this is the result, the final determination^ that 
 which I conclude and judge at last, (judgment is the last 
 product and issue of the most exquisite inquiry and de- 
 bate, the ultimate and most perfect act of reason,) that the 
 sufferings of this now of time are of no value ; things not 
 fit, as it were, to be mentioned the same day with the glory 
 to be revealed, &c. It can therefore be no hard law, no 
 unreasonable imposition, that shall oblige us to the exer- 
 cise of patience, under such sufferings, in the expectation 
 of so transcendent glory. For, consider, — First, These 
 sufferings are but from men; (for the sufferings of which 
 the apostle here speaks, are such as wherein we suffer 
 together with Christ, i. e. for his name and interest, on 
 behalf of the Christian cause;) but this glory is from God. 
 How disproportionable must the effects be of a created 
 and increated cause. — Again, these sufferings reach no 
 further than the bone and flesh, (fear not them that kill 
 the body, and after they have done that, can do no more, 
 &c.) but this glory reaches unto and transforms the soul. 
 How little can a clod of earth suffer, in comparison of 
 what an immortal spirit may enjoy ! — And further, There 
 is much mixture in our present sufferings ; the present 
 state of suffering saints is not a state of total misery; there 
 are, as it were, rays of glory interlaced with their' present 
 afflictions : but there will be nothing of affliction mingled 
 with their future glory. 
 
 Yea, and (what may not only convince, but even trans- 
 port us too) these suifferings are but temporary, nay but 
 
 q Col. i. 13. 
 8 3 Cor. iv. 17. 
 
 r Rom. viii 19. 
 t Heb. xii. 1. 
 
 momentary, this glory eternal. What heart is big enough 
 lo comprehend the full sense of these words," Our light 
 affliction which is but for a moment, workcth for us a far 
 more exceeding and eternal weight of glory. How might 
 I dwell here upon every syllable, light affliction, weighty 
 glory, exceeding v^eipht, affliction for a moment, eternal 
 weight of glory ! O then, how unworthy is it of the Chris- 
 tian name and hopes, that we should have an impatient 
 resentment of this method God follows with us, (as he did 
 with our great Redeemer and Lord,) that we should suffer 
 first, and then enter into glory ! Heaven were a poor hea- 
 ven, if it would not make us savers. It were high time 
 for us to give over the Christian profession, if we do not 
 really account, that its reward and hope do surmount its 
 reproach and trouble; or do think its cross more weighty 
 than its crown. Is the price and worth of eternal glory 
 fallen 1 It hath been counted worth suffering for. There 
 have been those in the world that would not accept de- 
 liverance from these sufferings, that they might obtain the 
 better resurrection. Are we grown wiser 1 Or would we 
 indeed wish God should turn the tables, and assign us 
 our good things here, and hereafter evil things 1 Ungrate- 
 ful souls! How severe should we be to ourselves, that 
 we should be so apt to complain for what we should ad- 
 mire and give thanks! What, because purer and more 
 refined Christianity in our time and in this part of the 
 world, hath had public favour and countenance, can we 
 therefore not tell how to frame our minds to the thoughts 
 of sufferings 1 Are tribulation and patience antiquated 
 names, quite out of date and use with us, and more un- 
 grateful to our ears and hearts, than heaven and eternal 
 g\orj are acceptable 1 And had we rather (if we were in 
 danger of suffering on the Christian account) run a hazard 
 as to the latter, than adventure on the former 1 Or do we 
 think it impossible we should ever come to the trial, or 
 be concerned to busy ourselves with such thoughts'? Is 
 the world become so stable and so unacquainted with 
 vicissitudes, that a state of things less favourable to our 
 profession can never revolve upon us 1 It were, however, 
 not unuseful to put such a case by way of supposition to 
 ourselves. For every sincere Christian is in affection and 
 preparation of his mind a mart}-r. He that loves not 
 Christ better than his own life, cannot be his disciple. We 
 should at least inure our thoughts more to a suffering state, 
 that we mav thence take some occasion to reflect and judge 
 of the temper of our hearts towards the name and cause 
 of Christ. 'Tis easy suffering indeed, in idea and contem- 
 plation ; but something may be collected from the obser- 
 vation, how we can relish and comport with such thoughts. 
 'Tis as training in order to fight; which is done often upon 
 a verv remote supposition, that such occasions may possi- 
 bly fall out. 
 
 Therefore, What now do we think of it if our way into 
 the kingdom of God shall be through many tribulations 1 
 If, before we behold the smiles of his blessed face, we 
 must be entertained with the less pleasing sight of the 
 frowning aspect and visage of an angry world 1 If we 
 first bear the imaffe t/ a crucified Christ, ere we partake 
 of the likeness of a glorious God 1 What, do we regret 
 the thoughts of it ? Do we account we shall be ill dealt 
 with, and have a hard bargain of it 1 O how tender are 
 we grown, in comparison of the hardiness and magna- 
 nimitv of primitive Christians! We have not the patience 
 to think of what they had the patience to endure. We 
 should not yet forgctourselvea, that such a thing belongs 
 to our profession, even in this way to testify our fidelity to 
 Christ, and our value of the inheritance purchased by his 
 blood, if he call us thereunto. We must know it is a thing 
 inserted into the religion of Christians, and (with respect 
 to their condition in this world) made an essential thereto. 
 He cannot be a Christian, that doth not deny himself and 
 take tip the cross. How of^en when the active part of a 
 Christian's duty is spoken of, is the passive part studiously 
 and expresslv annexed! Let us run ui-ith patience the 
 race that is set before us. The good ground brought forth 
 fruit, ^loUh patience, eternal life is for them that by» a 
 patient continuance in well-doing seek after it. Yea, and 
 hence the word of Christ is called ^the word of his pa- 
 
 u Matt. XV* X Rom. u. 
 
 y Ror. iii.
 
 266 
 
 THE BLESSEDNESS OF THE RIGHTEOUS. 
 
 Chap. XX. 
 
 Hence. And the stj'le -wherein the beloved disciple speaks 
 of himself and his profession, is this, ^ 1 John, a companion 
 in tribulation and in the kingdom and patience of Jesus 
 Christ. Do we mean to plead prescripiion against all 
 this ■? or have we got an express exemption 1 Have we a 
 discharge to show, a manumission from all the suftcring 
 part of a Christian's duty"? and is it not a discharge also 
 from being Christians as much'? Will we disavow our- 
 selves to belong to that noble society, of them that through 
 faith and patience inherit the promises'? Surely we are 
 highly conceited of ourselves, if we think we are too good 
 to be numbered among them of whom the w^orld was not 
 worthy. Or we design to ourselves a long abode here, 
 while we so much value the world's favour, and a freedom 
 from worldly trouble: or eternity is with us an empty 
 sound, and the future blessedness of saints an airy thing, 
 that we should reckon it insufficient to counterpoise the 
 fiufferings of a few hasty days that will soon have an end. 
 'Tis X sad symptom of the declining state of religion, when 
 the powers of the world to come are so over-mastered by 
 the powers of this present world, and objects of sense so 
 much outweigh those of faith. And is not this appa- 
 rently the case with the Christians of the present age "? Do 
 not your thoughts run the same course with theirs that 
 meditated nothing but sitting on the right and left hand of 
 Christ, in an earthly dominion, while they never dreamt 
 of drinking of his cup, or being baptized with his baptism ! 
 How many vain dreamers have we of golden mountains, 
 and (I know not what) earthly felicity ; whose pretended 
 prophecies about a (supposed) near approaching prosperity 
 to the church on earth, gain easier belief, or are more 
 savoury and taking, with too many, than all that the sacred 
 oracles discover about its glorious state in heaven ! Hence 
 are our shoulders so unfitted to Christ's yoke, (like the un- 
 accustomed heifer,) and the business of suffering will not 
 enter into our hearts. Methinks the belief and expectation 
 of such a slate hereafter, should make us even regardless 
 of what we see or sulTer here; and render the good or evil 
 things of time as indifferent to us. Yet neither plead I for 
 an absolute stoical apathy, but for patience. A great fol- 
 lower of that sect acknowledges, » " It is not a virtue tobear 
 what we feel not, or have no sense of. Stupidity under 
 Providence is not a Christian temper ;" as that moralist 
 says of the wise man, " 'Tis not the hardness of stone or 
 ,iron that is to be ascribed to him." But lest any should 
 'run into that more dangerous mistake, to think, that by the 
 patience we have been all this while persuading to (in the 
 expectation of tlie blessedness yet to come) is meant a love 
 of tlus present world, and a complacential adherence of 
 heart to the earth ; (which extreme the terrene temper of 
 many souls may much incline them to ;) it will be necessary 
 upon that account to add (in reference also to the yet 
 future expected season of this blessedness) this further and 
 concluding instruction, i-iz. 
 
 8. Rule. That (however we are not to repine at our being 
 held so long in this world in an expecting state, yet) we let 
 not our souls cleave too close to their terrestrial stations, 
 nor be too much in love with the body, and this present 
 low state of life on earth. For evident it is, that notwith- 
 standing all the miseries of this expecting state, the most 
 are yet loth to leave the world, and have hearts sordidly 
 hankering after present things. And surely there is much 
 difference between being patient of an abode on earth, and 
 being fond of it. Therefore since the true blessedness of 
 saints consists in such things as we have shown, and can- 
 not be enjoyed till we awake, not within the compass of 
 time and this lower world ; it will be very requisite to in- 
 sist here awhile in the prosecution of this last rule. And 
 what I shall say to it shall be by way of — caution — and 
 enforcement. 
 
 I. For caution : that we misapprehend not that temper 
 and disposition of spirit, we are in this thing to endeavour 
 and aim at. And it especially concerns us to be cautious 
 about the — inducements, and — degree, of that desire of 
 leaving this world, or contempt of this present life, which 
 we either aspire to, or allow ourselves in. 
 
 First, Inducements. Some are desirous, others at least 
 
 « Re». i. a Sen. do Constant, sapientis. 
 
 b Jonah iv. S c Job vii. 15. 
 
 d Demite naufragium, mors mibi muniis crit. 0\i<l 
 
 content, to quit the world upon ver}' insufficient, or indeed 
 wicked considerations. 
 
 1. There are, who desire it merely to be out of the way 
 of present troubles, whereof they have either too impatient 
 a sense, or an unworthy and impotent fear. Many times 
 the urgency and anguish of incumbent trouble impresses 
 such a sense, and utters itself in such language, as that, 
 b Now, O Lord, take I beseech thee my life from me, for 
 it is better for me to die than to live. Or that, ^ My soul 
 chooseth strangling and death rather than life : makes 
 men long for death, and dig for it as for hid treasure; re- 
 joice and be exceeding glad when they can find the grave. 
 
 Yea, and the very fear of troubles that are but impend- 
 ent and threatening, makes some wish the grave a sanc- 
 tuary, and renders the clods of the valley sweet unto their 
 thoughts. They lay possibly .so humoursome and fanciful 
 stress upon the mere circumstances of dying, that they are 
 earnest to die out of hand to avoid dying so and so ; as 
 the poet would fain persuade himself^ it was not death 
 he feared, but shipacreck : it would not trouble Ihcni to die, 
 but to die by a violent hand, or to be made a public spec- 
 tacle ; they cannot endure the thoughts of dying so. Here 
 is nothing commendable or worthy of a Christian in all 
 this. It were a piece of Christian bravery to dare to live 
 in such a case, even when there is a visible likelihood of 
 dying a sacrifice in the midst of flames. How much this 
 glory was affected in the earlier days of Christianity is 
 sufficiently known : though I confess there were excesses 
 in that kind, altogether unimitable. But if God call a 
 man forth to be his champion and witness, to lay down a 
 life, in itself little desirable, in a truly worthy cause, the 
 call of his providence should be as the sound of the trum- 
 pet to a truly martial spirit ; it should fill his soul with a 
 joyful courage and sense of honour, and be complied with 
 cheerfully, with that apprehension and resentment a stout 
 soldier would have of his general's putting him upon some 
 very hazardous piece of service, viz. he would say, « (as 
 the moralist expresses his sense for him,) My general hath 
 not deserved ill of me, Imt it appears he judged well. It 
 should be counted all joy f to fall into such trials ; that is, 
 when they become our lot by a providential disposition, not 
 by a rash precipitation of ourselves. And as it is a wicked- 
 ness inconsistent with Christianity, to be of that habitual 
 temper, to choose to desert such a cause for the saving of 
 life ; so it is a weakness very reproachful to it, to lay down 
 one's life in such a case with regret, as unwilling in this kind 
 to glorify him who laid down his for us. We are no more 
 to die to ourselves than to live to ourselves. Our Lord Jesus 
 hath purchased to himself a dominion over both states, of 
 the living and dead, and whether 'we live, we must live 
 to him, or die, we must die to him. 'Tis the glory of a 
 Christian to live so much above the world, that nothing 
 in it may make him either fond of life, or weary of it. 
 
 2. There are others who are (at least) indifferent and 
 careless how soon they die, out of either a worse than 
 paganish infidelity, disbelieving the concernments of an- 
 other world ; or a brutish stupidity, not apprehending 
 them; or a gross conceited ignorance, misunderstanding 
 the terms of the g spel, and thinking themselves to be in 
 a good condition, as to eternity, when the case is much 
 otherwise with them. Take heed thy willingness to die 
 be from no such inducements, but a mere desire of being 
 with God, and of attaining this perfection and blessedness, 
 which he hath engaged thee in the pursuit and expecta- 
 tion of And then, having made sure it be right as to the 
 rise and principle. 
 
 Be careful it be not undue in point of degree ; i. e. a 
 cold intermittent velleity is too little on the one hand, and 
 a peremptory, precipitant hastiness is too much on the 
 other. The middle and desirable temper here is a com- 
 placential submission to the Divine will in that affair, 
 with a preponderating inclination on our part, towards 
 our eternal home, if the Lord see good. For we have two 
 things to attend in this business, and by which our spirits 
 may be swayed this way or that, i. c. the goodness of the 
 object to be chosen, and the will of God which must 
 guide and overrule our choice; the former whereof we 
 
 e Imperator de me non male meruit, sed bene judicavit. Sen. 
 f Jam. i. S. g Rom. xiv. 8.
 
 Chap. XX. 
 
 THE BLESSEDXESS OF THE RIGHTEOUS. 
 
 2C7 
 
 are permitted to eye in subordination to the latter, and not 
 otherwise. Now our apprehension uC tlie desirableness and 
 intrinsic goodness of the object ought to be such, (we are 
 infidels else, if we have not that account of it,) that no- 
 thing we can e)'e under the notion of a good to us, may 
 be reckoned so eligible as that, ri^. our final and complete 
 blessedness in the olher world; which because we know 
 we cannot enjoy without dying, death also must be judged 
 more eligible than life, that is, our blessedness must be 
 judged eligible for itself, and death as requisite to make it 
 present. So that the entire object we are discoursing of 
 being present blessedness, consider it in comparison with 
 any thing else, that can be looked upon by us as a good 
 which we ourselves are to enjoy, it ought to be preferred 
 and chosen out of hand, inasmuch as nothing can be so 
 great a present good to us as that. And this ought to be 
 the proper habitual inclination of our spirits, their con- 
 stant frame and bent, as they respect only our interest and 
 welfare. But considering God's dominion over us, and 
 interest in our lives and beings, and that as well ingenuity 
 as necessity binds us to be subject to his pleasure, we 
 should herein patienth' sufl'er ourselves to be overruled 
 thereby, and not so abstractly mind our own interest and 
 contentment in this matter, as if we were altogether our 
 own, and had no Lord over us. Plato, who a,bounds in 
 discourses of the desirableness of d3dng, and of the blessed 
 change it makes with them that are good, yet hath this 
 apt expression of the subjection we ought to be in to the 
 Divine pleasure as to this matter, h •' That the soul is in 
 the body as soldiers in a garrison, from whence they may 
 not withdraw themselves without his order and direction 
 who placed them there:" and expostulates thus, " If (saith 
 he) a slave of yours should destroy his own life without 
 your consent, would you not be displeased ; and if there 
 had been any place lefi for revenge, been apt enough for 
 that too V So he brings in Socrates discoursing ; and dis- 
 covers himself herein to have had more light in this mat- 
 ter, touching that subordinate interest only men have in 
 their own lives, and the unlawfulness of self-murder, (as 
 he had in other things too,) than most heathens of the 
 mure refined sect ever arrived to. 
 
 If therefore God would give us leave to die, we should 
 upon our own account be much more inclined to choose it ; 
 but while he thinks fit to have it deferred, should yield to 
 his will wiih an unrepining submission. Only it ought 
 not to resi at all on our part, or that as to ourselves we find 
 any thing more grateful to us in this world, that we are 
 willing to stay a day longer in it. That for our own sakes 
 we should affect a continuance here, would argue a ter- 
 rene, sordid spirit. But then such should be our dutiful 
 filial love to the Father of our spirits, that in pure dcvoted- 
 ness to his interests, we would be content to dwell (if he 
 would have it so) a Methuselah's age in an earthly taber- 
 nacle for his service ; that is, that we may help to pre- 
 serve his memorial in a lapsed world, (overrun with athe- 
 ism and ignorance of its Maker,) and win him hearts and 
 love (to our uttermost) among his apostate, disloyal crea- 
 tures ; and in our capacities be helpful to the encourage- 
 ment of such as he continues in the world for the same 
 purposes. This is the very temper the apostle expresses; 
 when in that strait. Which way the poise of his own 
 spirits inclined him, in the consideration of his own inte- 
 rest, and what was simply more eligible to him, he ex- 
 presses with high emphasis ; To be with Christ, saith he, 
 is more, more desirable to be, (for there are two compara- 
 tives in the Greek text,) and therefore he professes his own 
 desire in order thereto, to be dissolved ; but that private de- 
 sire was not so peremptory and absolute, but he could make 
 it yield and give place to his duty towards God and his 
 church, as it follows. So we know 'tis possible, that re- 
 spects to a friend may overswaj'a man's own particular in- 
 clination ; and the inclination remain notwithstanding, but 
 is subdued only; otherwise, had any reason or argument 
 that did respect myself persuaded me to change it, I 
 should then follow but ray own proper inclmatiou still, 
 and so my friend hath nothing to thank me for. 
 
 So it ought to be with us here. Our inclination should 
 preponderate towards a present change of our slate ; only 
 our dcvotedness to his interest and pleasure, whose we 
 b In Phaed. Vid. ct Plotin. T£Ot tlayioyrjs, Encad I. 
 
 are, should easily overrule it. This is the lovely tempei 
 of a giacious spirit, as to this thing, that to die inight be 
 our choice, and to live in the meantime submitted to as 
 our duty. As an ingenuous son whom his father hath em- 
 ployed abroad in a foreign country, though duty did bind 
 him cheerfully therein to comply with his father's will, 
 and the necessity of his affairs; yet, when his father shall 
 .signify to him, that now he understands no necessity of his 
 longer continuance there, and therefore he may if he 
 please return, but he shall have leave to follow his own 
 inclination, 'lis not hard to conjecture, that the desire of 
 seeing a father's face would soon determine the choice of 
 such a son that way. But how remote are the generality 
 of them that profess themselves God's children from that 
 pious ingenuity ! We have taken root in the earth, and 
 forgotten our heavenly originals and alliances. We are £is 
 inhabitants here, not pilgrims ; hardly persuaded to enter- 
 tain with any patience the thoughts of leaving our place.-? 
 on earth; which yet, do we what we can, shall shortly 
 know us no more. In short, then, that vile temper of 
 spirit, against which I professedly bend mvself in the fol- 
 lowing discourse, is, when men, not out of any sense of 
 duly toward God, or solicitude for their own souls, but a 
 mere sordid love to the body, and affixedness of heart to 
 the earth and terrene things, cannot endure the thoughts 
 of dying. And that which I persua-de to is, that having 
 the true prospect of the future blessedness, before our ej-es, 
 and our hearts possessed with the comforia'ble hope of at- 
 taining to it, we shake off our earthlj- inclinations, and 
 expect with desire and joy the time of our dismission 
 hence, that we may enjoy it ; which is the design of what 
 was promised in the next place, viz. 
 
 2. The inforceraent of this instruction. Suffer we there- 
 fore ourselves to be reasoned with about this matter ; and 
 let us consider whether we can in good earnest think such 
 an aversation, as we discover, to our blessed translation 
 hence, an excusable, a tolerable temper ; or wliether it be 
 not highl)' reasonable, that we should entertain the 
 thoughts, at least, with more content and patience (if not 
 with more fervent desire) of our departure hence and in- 
 troduction into that other state. Let me demand of thee, 
 dost thou thus regret the thoughts of death, as being un- 
 willing to die at all, or as being unwilling to die as yet 1 
 Is it the thing itself, or only the circumstance of time that 
 thou exceptest against 1 'Tis likely thou wilt say that which 
 will seem more plausible, and so fix only on the latter; and 
 that thou wilt not profess to desire an eternity on earth, 
 but onl)'^ more time. Well, let that for the present be sup- 
 posed, as It is a more modest, so to be a true account ol 
 thy desires : yet what is the reason of this moderation 
 v/ith thee herein; and that thou so limitest thyself? Is it 
 thai thou believest the blessedness of the other state will 
 prove better than any thing thou canst enjoy here ; and 
 that thou art not willing eternally to be deprived of 1 But 
 dost thou not think it is noic better also 1 And what canst 
 thou pretend, whv what is now the best and most desirable 
 good, should not be now chosen and desired out of hand 1 
 Or is it that thou thinkest it unbecomes t'nee to cross the 
 supreme will of him that made thee, who hath determined, 
 that all men once shall die I And then, how knowest thou 
 but he hath also determined concerning thee that thou shalt 
 die the next davor hour? and it is only a present willing- 
 ness to die, in subordination to the Divine will, or upon 
 supposition of it, thou art persuaded to. AVhy, art thou 
 not afraid, lest thy present unwillingness should cross his 
 present will 1 Dost thou not think that sovereign power 
 is as sufficient to determine of the circumstance, as the 
 thin*^ itseJf 1 And art thou not ashamed to pretend an 
 a?ree"ient with God about the thing itself, and yet differ 
 ^^n;h him about a circumstance 1 Shall that be a ground of 
 ■quarrel between him and thee 1 
 
 But while thou only professes! that more modest desire 
 of more lime in the world, what security canst thou give, 
 that when that desire hath been liberally gratified, it shall 
 be at lenglh laid down, and tumultuaieno more 1 What 
 bounds wilt thou fix to it, which thou darest undertake it 
 shall no; ]>ass 1 Art thou sure, when thou shalt have kin 
 at the world's breast ten or twenty years longer, thou Tilt 
 then imagine thyself to have drawn it dry ; or that -.ten 
 i Phil. i.
 
 268 
 
 THE BLESSEDNESS OF THE RIGFITEOUS. 
 
 Chap. XX. 
 
 thou shall begin to nauseate the w&rld and wish for heaven 1 
 Or hast thou not reason from thy former experience to 
 suspect, that the longer thou dwellest on earth, the more 
 terrene thou wilt grow ; and that if thou be indisposed to 
 leave it this day or year, thou wilt be more so the next ; 
 and so thy desire become boundless and infinite, which is 
 to desire to be here always, the thing which thou seemedst 
 so unwilling to own 1 And if that prove at last the true 
 state of thy case, art thou then a Christian, or art thou a 
 man, that thou harbourest in thy breast so irreligious and 
 irrational, yea, so sordid a wish 1 What ! wish eternally 
 to be affixed to a clod of earth 1 Is that at length become 
 thy Godi Or wilt thou say, he is thy God whom thou 
 never desirest to enjoy 1 Or, that thou hast already enough 
 of him, but not of the world, and yet that he is thy God 1 
 Or wouldst thou overturn the laws of nature, and subvert 
 the most sacred divine constitutions, abortive the designs 
 of eternal wisdom and love, evacuate and nullify the great 
 achievements of thy merciful and mighty Redeemer, only 
 to gratify a sensual, brutish humour 1 But evident it is, 
 thou dost only in vain disquiet thyself, thou canst not dis- 
 turb the settled order of things. Eternal laws are not re- 
 pealable by a fond wish. Thou settest that dreadful thing, 
 death, at nothing the further distance, by thine abhorrency 
 of it. It will overtake thee whether thou wilt or no ; and 
 methinks thine own reason should instruct thee to attemper 
 and form thyself to what thou canst not avoid, and possess 
 thee with such thoughts and desires as those of tliat dis- 
 creet pagan. k " Lead me, O God, (saith he,) whither thou 
 wilt, and I will follow thee willingly ; but if I be rebel- 
 lious and refuse, I shall follow thee notwithstanding." 
 What we cannot decline, 'tis better to bear willingly, than 
 with a regret, that shall be both vain and afflictive. 
 
 And what hast thou hitherto met M'ith in the world, that 
 should so highly endear it to tliee 1 Examine and search 
 more narrowly into thy earthly comforts ; what is there in 
 them to make them self-desirable, or to be so for their own 
 sakes ] What is it to have thy flesh indulged and pleased 1 
 to have thy sense gratified ? thy fancy tickled '? What so 
 great good, worthy of an immortal, reasonable spirit, can.st 
 thou find in meats and drinks, in full barns and coflers, in 
 vulgar fame and applause, that should render these things 
 desirable for themselves 7 And if there were any real fe- 
 licity in these things for the present, whilst thou art per- 
 mitted to enjoy them, yet dost thou not know, that what 
 thou enjoyest to-day thou mayst lose to-morrow, and that 
 such other unthought-of evils may befall thee, as may in- 
 fuse a bitterness into all thou enjoyest, which causes im- 
 mediately the enjoyment to cease, while the things them- 
 selves remain, and will be equal to a total loss of all 1 
 And thus, as the moralist i ingeniously speaks, "thou wilt 
 continually need another happiness to defend the former, 
 and new wishes must still be made on the behalf of those 
 which have already succeeded." But canst thou indeed 
 think it worth the while that the Maker of the universe 
 should create a soul, and send it down into the world on 
 purpose to superintend these trivial affairs, to keep alive a 
 silly piece of well-figured earth Mobile it eats and drinks, 
 to move it to and fro in chase of shadows, to hold it up 
 while others bow the knee and do it homage, if it had not 
 some higher work to mind in reference to another state 1 
 Art thou contented to live long in the world to such pur- 
 poses 1 What low worthless spirit is this, that had rather 
 be so employed than in the visions of his Maker's face • 
 that chooses thus to entertain itself on earth rather thari 
 partake the effusions of Divine glory above ; that had 
 rather creep with worms than soar with angeW; associate 
 with brutes than with the spirits of just men made perfect 1 
 Who can solve the phenomenon, or give a rational account 
 why there should be such a creature as man upon the 
 earth, abstracting from the hopes of another world 7 Who 
 can think it the effect of an infinite wisdom ; or accoitnt 
 it a more worthy design, than the repre.senting of such a 
 scene of actions and affairs by puppets on a stage 1 For 
 my part, upon the strictest inquiry, I see nothing in the 
 life of man upon earth, that should render it, for itself, 
 more the matter of a rational election (supposing the free 
 option given him in the first moment of his being) than 
 presently again to cease to be the next moment. 
 k Epiclet. 1 Sen. de Brev. Vit. 
 
 Yea, and is there not enough obvious in every man's ex- 
 perience, to incline him rather to the contra y choice ; and 
 supposing a future blessedness in another world, to make 
 him passionately desirous (with submission to the Divine 
 pleasure) of a speedy dismi.?.sion into it 1 Do not the bur- 
 dens that press us in this earthly tabernacle teach our very 
 sense, and urge oppressed natures into involuntary groans, 
 while as yet our consideration doth not intervene 1 And 
 if we do consider, is not every thought a sting, making a 
 much deeper impression than what only toucheth our flesh 
 and bones 1 Who can reflect upon his present state and 
 not presently be in pangs 1 The troubles that follow hu- 
 manity are many and great, those that follow Christianity 
 more numerous and grievous. The sickness, pains, losses, 
 disappointments, and whatsoever afflictions that are, in the 
 apostle's language,™ human, or common to men, (as are 
 all the external sufferings of Christians, in nature and 
 kind, though they are liable to them upon an account pe- 
 culiar to themselves, which there the apostle intimates,) 
 are none of our greatest evils ; yet even upon the account 
 of them, have we any reason to be so much in love with so 
 unkind a world 1 Is it not strange, our very bridewell 
 should be such a heaven to us 1 But these things are little 
 considerable in comparison of the more spiritual grievances 
 of Christians, as such ; that is, those that afflict our souls 
 while we are (under the conduct of Christ) designing for 
 a blessed eternity; if we indeed make that our business, 
 and do seriously intend our spirits in order thereto. The 
 darkness of our beclouded minds ; the glimmering ineffec- 
 tual apprehension we have of the most important things; 
 the inconsistency of our shattered thoughts, when we would 
 apply them to spiritual objects ; the great difficulty of 
 working off an ill frame of heart, and the no less difficulty 
 of retaining a good; our being so frequently tossed as be- 
 tween heaven and hell ; when we sometimes think our- 
 selves to have even attained and hope to descend no more, 
 and all on a .sudden plunged in the ditch, so as that our 
 own clothes might abhor us ; fall so low into an earthly 
 temper, that we can like nothing heavenly or divine, and 
 because we cannot, are enforced justly most of all to dislike 
 ourselves 1 are these things little with us? How can we 
 forbear to cry out of the depths, to the Father of our spirits, 
 that he would pity and relieve his own offspring ! Yea, are 
 we not weary of our crying ; and yet more weary of hold- 
 ing in ■? How do repelled temptations return again, and 
 vanquished corruptions recover strength ! We know not 
 when our work is done. We are miserable that we need 
 to be always watching, and more miserable that we cannot 
 watch, but are so often .surprised and overcome of evil. 
 We say sometimes with ourselves, we will seek relief in 
 retirement, but we cannot retire from ourselves; or in 
 converse with godly friends, but they sometimes prove 
 snares to us and we to them, or we hear but our own mise- 
 ries repeated in their complaints. Would we pray 1 How 
 faint is the breath we utter ! How long is it ere we can 
 get our souls possessed with any becoming apprehensions 
 of God, or lively sense of our own concernments'? Would 
 we meditate 1 We sometimes go about to compose our 
 thoughts, but we may as well assay to hold the winds in 
 our fist. If we venture forth into the world, how do our 
 senses betray us 1 how are we mocked with their impos- 
 tures ? Their nearer objects become with us the only real- 
 ities, and eternal things are all vanished into airy shadows. 
 Reason and faith are laid asleep, and our sense dictates to 
 us what we are to believe and do, as if it were our only 
 guide and lord. And what, are we not yet weary 1 Is it 
 reasonable to continue in this state of our own choice 1 Is 
 misery become so natural to us, so much our element, that 
 we cannot aflfect to live out of it 1 Is the darkness and 
 dirt of a dungeon more grateful to us than a free open air 
 and sun 1 Is this flesh of ours so lovely a thing, that we 
 had rather suffer so man}' deaths in it, than one in putting 
 it off and mortality with it 1 While we carry it about us, 
 our souls impart a kind of life to it, and it gives them death 
 in exchange. Why do we not cry out more feelingly," O 
 wretched man that I am, who shall deliver me from this 
 body of death 1" Is it not grievous to us to have so cum- 
 bersome a yoke-fellow, to be tied (as Mczenlius is said to 
 have done) the living and the dead together. Do we not 
 m I Cor. X. 13.
 
 Chap. XX. 
 
 THE BLESSEDNESS OF THE RIGHTEOUS. 
 
 269 
 
 find the distempers of our spirits are mostly from these 
 bodies we are so in love with, either as the proper springs 
 or as the occasion of them ? From what cause is our 
 drowsy sloth, our eager passions, our aversion to spiritual 
 objects, but from this impure flesh ; or what else is the 
 subject about which our vexatious cares, or torturing fears, 
 our bitter griefs, are taken up day by day 1 
 
 And why do we not consider, that 'tis only our love to it 
 that gives strength and vigour to the most of our tempta^ 
 tions, as wherein it is most immediately concerned, and 
 which makes them so often victorious, and thence to be- 
 come our after-afflictions 1 He that hath learned to mortify 
 the inordinate love of the body,will he make it the business 
 of his life to purvey for it ? "Will he offtiv violence to his 
 own soul, to secure it from violence 1 Will he comply with 
 men's lusts and humours for its advantage and accommo- 
 dation ; or yield himself to the tyranny of his own avarice 
 for its future, or of his more sensual lusts for its present, 
 content 1 Will it not rather be pleasing to him, that his 
 outward man be exposed to perish, while his inward man 
 is renewed day by day 1 He to whom the thoughts are 
 grateful of layingit down, will not (though he neglect not 
 duty towards it) spend his days in its continual service, 
 and make his soul a hell by a continual provision for the 
 flesh and the lusts of it. That is cruel love that shall en- 
 slave a man, and subject him to so vile and ignoble a ser- 
 vitude. And it discovers a sordid temper to be so imposed 
 upon. How low are our spirits sunk, that we di,sdain not 
 so base a vassalage ! God and nature hath obliged us to 
 live in bodies for a time, but they have not obliged us to 
 measure ourselves by them, to confine our desires and de- 
 signs to their compass, to look no further than their con- 
 cernments, to entertain no previous joys in the hope ot 
 being one day delivered from them. No such hard law is 
 laid upon us. But how apt are we to become herein a 
 most oppressive law to ourselves ; and not only to lodge 
 in filthy earthen cottages, but to love them and confine 
 ourselves to them, loth so much as to peep out. 'Tis the 
 apt expression of a ■> philosopher, upbraiding that base, 
 low temper. The degenerous soul, (saith he,) buried in the 
 body, is as a slothful creeping thing, that loves its hole and 
 is loth to come forth. 
 
 And methinks, if we have no love for our better and more 
 noble self, we should not be altogether unapprehensive of 
 an obligation upon us, to express a dutiful love to the Au- 
 thor of our beings. Doth it consist with the love we owe to 
 him, to desire always to lurk in the dark, and never come 
 into his blessed presence 1 Is that our love, that we never 
 care to come nigh him "? Do we not know, " that while we 
 are present in the body, we are absent from the Lord"? 
 Should we not therefore be willing rather to be present 
 with the Lord, and absent from the bodyl Should we 
 not put on a confidence, a holy fortitude, (as 'tis there 
 expressed, we are confident, or of good courage, and 
 thence, willing, &c.) that might carry us through the grave 
 to him. As is the brave speech of that last-mentioned 
 philosopher, God will call thee ere long, expect his call, p 
 Old age will come upon thee, and show thee the vmy 
 thither ; and death, which he that is possessed with a base 
 fear, lameiils and dreads as it draws on, but he that is a 
 lover of God e.zpecls it loith joy, and with courage meets it 
 when it comes. Is our love to God so faint and weak, that 
 it dares not encounter death, nor venture upon the imagin- 
 ary terrors of the grave, to go to him ? How unsuitable is 
 this to the character which is given i of a saint's love ! 
 And how expressly are we told, that he who loves his life 
 better than Christ, or that even hates it not for his sake, 
 (as certainly he cannot be said to do, that is not willing to 
 part with it to enjo}"^ him,) cannot be his disciple ! If our 
 love to God be not supreme 'tis none, or not such as can 
 denominate us lovers of him; and will we pretend to be 
 so, when we love a putrid flesh and this base earth better 
 than himl And have we not professedly, as a fruit of our 
 avowed love to him, surrendered ourselves "? Are we not 
 his devoted ones'? Will we be his, and yet our own 1 
 or pretend ourselves dedicated to his holy pleasure, and 
 will yet be at our own dispose, and so dispose of our- 
 
 n H Ji" iziKr] xpuxn KarOjXdpvyfjtvrj cv oMfiaTi, <o{ epnerov V(o6ei eis 
 (pixiXcov, lii^et Tov ipuiXeov, &c. Max. Tyr. Diss. 41. 
 o i Cor. V. 6 B. p .:\:(Xo( oivficrai, tie. Itfm. Dibs. 1. 
 
 selves too, as that we may be most ungrateful to him, and 
 most incapable of converse with him ? How doth this 
 love of a perishing life and of a little animated clay stop 
 all the effusions of the love of God, suspend its sweet 
 and pleasant fruits, which should be always exerting 
 themselves towards him I Where is their love, obedi- 
 ence, joy, and praise, who are through the fear of death 
 all their lives subject to bondage, and kept under a con- 
 tinual dismal expectation of an unavoidable dissolution! 
 But must the great God lose his due acknowledgments 
 because we will not understand wherein he deals well with 
 us! Is his mercy therefore no mercy 1 As we cannot 
 nullify his truth by our imbelief, so nor his goodness by 
 our disesteem. But yet consider, doth it not belter become 
 thee to be grateful than repine that God will one day un- 
 bind thy soul and set thee free, knock off" thy fetters and 
 deliver thee out of the house of thy bondage ; couldst thou 
 upon deliberate thoughts judge it tolerable, should he doom 
 thee to this earth for ever 1 He hath hovever judged other- 
 wise, (as the pagan emperor and philosopher excellently 
 speaks, r) who is the author both of the first compositio-a of 
 thy present being and noio of the dissolution of it; thou 
 wert the cause of neither, therefore depart and be thankful, 
 for he that dismisseth thee dealelh kindly with thee. If yet 
 thou understandest it not, yet remember, it is thy Father 
 that disposes thus of thee. How unworthy is it to dis- 
 trust his love ; what child would be afraid to compose it- 
 self to sleep in the parent's bosom? It expresses nothing 
 of the duty and ingenuity, but much of the frowardness 
 and folly, of a child : they sometimes cry vehemently in 
 the undressing ; but should their cries be regarded by the 
 most indulgent parent 1 or are they fit to be imitated by us 1 
 
 We have no excuse for this our frowardness. The 
 blessed God hath told us his gracious purposes concerning 
 us, and we are capable of understanding him. What if 
 he had totally hidden from us our future state 1 and that 
 we knew nothing, but of going into an eternal, silent dark- 
 ness 1 the authority of a Creator ought to have awed us 
 into a silent submission. But when we are told of such 
 a glory, that 'tis but drawing aside the fleshly veil and we 
 presently behold it, methinks the blessed hour should be 
 expected not with patience only, but with ravishing joy. 
 Did we hear of a country in this world, where we might 
 live in continual felicity, without toil, or sickness, or grief, 
 or fear, who would not wish to be there, though the pas- 
 sage were troublesome 1 Have we not heard enough of 
 heaven to allure us thither? Or is the eternal truth ot 
 suspected credit with us ? Are God's own reports of the 
 future glory unworthy our belief or regard ? How many, 
 upon the credit of his word, are gone already triumphantly 
 into glory ! ' that only by seeing the promises afar off", were 
 persuaded of them, and embraced them; and never after 
 owned themselves under any other notion than of pilgrims 
 on earth, longing to be at home in their most desirable, 
 heavenly country. We are not the first that are to open 
 heaven , the main body of saints is already there ; 'tis, in 
 comparison of their number, but a scattering remnant that 
 are now alive upon the earth. How should we long to be 
 associated to that glorious assembh' ! Methinks we should 
 much more regret our being left behind. 
 
 But if we should desire still to be so, why may not all 
 others as well as we, and as much expect to be gratified as 
 we"? And then we should agree in desiring, that our Re- 
 deemer's triumph might be deferred, that his body might 
 vet remain incomplete, that he might still be debarred of 
 the long expected fruit of the travail of his soul, that the 
 name of God might be still subjected to the blasphemy 
 and reproach of an atheistical world, who have all along 
 said with derision. Where is the promise of his coming 1 
 Would we have all his designs to be still unfinished, and 
 so mighty wheels stand still for us, while we sport ourselves 
 in the diist of the earth, and indulge our sensual inclina- 
 tion, which sure this bold desire must argue to he very 
 predominant in us; and take heed it argue not its habitual 
 prevalency. At least, if it discover not our present sen- 
 suality, it "discovers our former sloth and idleness. It may 
 be, we may excuse our averseness to die by our unpre- 
 
 q Cant, v-iii. ^ . . . 
 
 r .'NI. Aurel. Ant. de Vit. Sua, 1. 18. airiSi iXeuf ot aroAvuy (Arcjf. 
 
 g Heb. xi. 13, 16.
 
 27d 
 
 THE BLESSEDNESS OF 'J'HE RIGHTEOUS. 
 
 Ciup. XX, 
 
 paredness, i. e. one fault with another ; though that be be- 
 sides the case I am speaking of. What then have we 
 been doing all this while 1 What ! were the affairs of thy 
 soul not thought of till now '\ Take then thy reproof from 
 a heathen, that it may convince thee the more: " No one 
 (saith he) ' divides away his money from himself, biU yet 
 men divide away their very life. — But doth it not sliame 
 thee (he after adds) to reserve only the relics of thy life 
 to thyself, and to devote that time only to a good mind 
 which thou canst emjjloy upon no other thing ; How late 
 is it to begin to live when we should make an end; and 
 defer all good thoughts to such an age as possibly few do 
 ever reach to. The truth is (as he speaks) we have not 
 little time, but we lose much, we have time enough were 
 it well employed, therefore we cannot say we receive a 
 short life, but we make it so, we are not indigent of time, 
 but prodigal : what a pretty contradiction is it to complain 
 of the shortness of time, and yet do what we can to pre- 
 cipitate its course ; to hasten it by that we call pastime ! 
 If it have been so with thee, art thou to be trusted with 
 more time 1" But as thy case is, I cannot wonder that 
 the thoughts of death be most unwelcome to thee ; who 
 art thou that thou shouldst desire the day of the Lord ? I 
 can only say to thee, hasten thy preparation, have recourse 
 to rule second, and third, and accordingly guide thy.self 
 till thou find thy spirit made more suitable to this blessed- 
 ness ; that it become savoury and grateful to thy soul, and 
 thy heart be set upon it. Hence thoumayst be reconciled 
 to the grave, and the thoughts of death may cease to be a 
 terror to thee. 
 
 And when thou art attained so far, consider thy great 
 advantage in being willing and desirous to die upon this 
 further account, That thy desire shall now be pitched upon 
 a thing so certain. Thine other desires have met with 
 many a disappointment. Thou hast set thy heart upon 
 other things, and they have deceived thy most earnest, 
 thirsty expectations. Death will not do so. Thou wilt 
 now have one certain hope ; one thing in reference whereto 
 thou mayst say, " I am sure." Wait awhile, this peaceful 
 sleep will shortly seize thy body and awaken thy soul. It 
 will calmly period all thy troubles, and bring thee to a 
 blessed rest. But now, if only the mere terror and gloom- 
 iness of dying trouble thy thoughts, this of all othei seems 
 the most inconsiderable pretence against a willing surren- 
 der of ourselves to neath. Reason hath overcome it, natu- 
 ral courage, yea, some men's atheism; shall not faith '? 
 Are we not ashamed to consider, what confidence and de- 
 sire of death some heathens have expressed 1 Some that 
 have had no pre-apprehension or belief of another state, 
 (though there were very few of them,) and so no hope of a 
 consequent blessedness to relieve them, have yet thought it 
 unreasonable to disgust the thoughts of death. What 
 wouldst thou think if thou hadst nothing but the sophisms 
 of such to oppose to all thy dismal thoughts 1 I have met 
 with one " arguing thus, " Death, which is accounted the 
 most dreadful of all evils, is nothing to us, (saith he,) be- 
 cause while we are in being death is not yet present, and 
 when death is present we are not in being ; so that it neither 
 concerns us, as living, nor dead ; for while we are alive, it 
 hath not touched us, when we are dead we are not. — 
 Moreover (saith he) the exquisite knowledge of this, that 
 death belongs not to us, makes us enjoy this mortal life 
 with comfort ; not by adding any thing to our imcertain 
 time, but by taking away the desire of immortality." Shall 
 they comfort themselves upon so wretched a ground, with 
 a little sophistry, and the hope of extinguishing all desire 
 of immortality ; and shall not we, by cherishing this bless- 
 ed hope of enjoying shortly an immortal glory 1 
 
 Others of them have spoken magnificently of a certain 
 contempt of this bodily life, and a not only not fearing 
 but desiring to die, upon a fixed apprehension of the dis- 
 tinct and purer and immortal nature of the soul, and the 
 preconceived hope of a consequent felicity. I shall set 
 down some of their words, added to what have been occa- 
 sionally mentioned, (amongst that plentiful variety where- 
 
 t Sen. u Epicurus in Gassend. Sjiit. 
 
 X Plato in Pliedone; from whom I adjoin what (to tliem that understand 
 it) is more elegant in his own language : oi/ i^rn ayavaKTovvTa ficXXovra 
 anoOavetaOat ovK ap <ptXoao(j>oi aWa ns ^lAoooj^aros. Ibid. Ajpiwi" 
 epojToiv. 
 
 y Porphyrius. Plotinus EnneaJ. vii. lib. 6. whom, though a just admirer of 
 
 with one migni fill a volume,) purposely to shame the 
 more terrene temper of many Chiistians. 
 
 " The soul (saith one of them ==) is an invisible thing, 
 and is going into another place, suitable to itself, that is 
 noble, and pure, and invisible, even into hades, indeed, to 
 the good and whe God, whither also my soul shall shortly 
 go, if he see good. But this (he saith in what follows) be- 
 longs only to such a soul as goes out of the body pure, 
 that draws nothing corporeal along with it, did not will- 
 ingly communicate with the body in life, but did even fly 
 from it, and gather up itself into itself, always meditating 
 this one thing. A soul so affected, shall it not go to some- 
 thing like itself, divine, (and what is divine, is immortal 
 and wise,) whither when it comes, it becomes blessed, free 
 from error, ignorance, fears, and wild or enormous loves, 
 and all other evils incident to men." 
 
 y One writing the life of that rare person Plotinus, says, 
 That he seemed as if he were in some sort ashamed that 
 he was in the body ; which, (however it would less become 
 a Christian, yet,) in one that knew nothing of an incarnate 
 Redeemer, it discovered a refined, noble spirit. The same 
 person speaks almost the language of the apostle, concern- 
 ing his being wrapt up into the third heaven, and tells of 
 such an alienation of the soul from the body : " That 
 when once it finds God (whom he had before been speak- 
 ing of under the name of the to AoXof, or the beauty) shi- 
 ning in upon it, it now no longer feels its body, or lakes 
 notice of its being in the body, but even forgets its own 
 being, thai it is a man, or a living creature, or any thing 
 else whatsoever, for it is not at leisure to mind any thing 
 else, nor doth it desire to be: yea, and having sought him 
 out, he immediately meets it presenting itself to him. It 
 only views him instead of itself, — and would not now 
 change its state for any thing, not if one could give it the 
 whole heaven in exchange." 
 
 " And elsewhere discussing, whether life in the body be 
 good and desirable, yea or no, he concludes it to be good, 
 not as it is a union of the soul and body, but as it may 
 have that virtue annexed to it, by which what is really evil 
 may be kept off'. But yet, that death is a greater good : 
 that life in the body is in itself evil ; but the soul is by vir- 
 tue stated in goodness; not as enlivening the body with 
 which it is compounded, but as it severs and sejoins itself 
 from it ; meaning so, as to have as little communion as 
 possibly it can with it." To which purpose is the expres- 
 sion of another: " Th t the soul of a happy man so col- 
 lects and gathers up itself out from the bod}' while it is 
 yet contained in it ; — and that it was possessed of that for- 
 titude, as not to dread its departure from it."^ 
 
 Another gives this character of a good man : " That as 
 he lived in simplicity, tranquillity, purity, not being of- 
 fended at any that they believed him not to live so; he 
 also comes to the end of his life, pure, quiet, and^ easy to 
 be dissolved, disposing himself without any constraint to 
 his lot." Another is brought in speaking thus:b " If God 
 should grant me to become a child again, to send forth 
 my renewed infant cries from my cradle, and having even 
 run out my race, to begin it again, I should most earnestly 
 refuse it; for what profit hath this life'? and how much 
 toil ! Yet I do not repent that I have lived, because I hope 
 that I have not lived in vain. And now I go out of this 
 life, not as out of mv dwelling-house, but my inn. O 
 blessed day ! when I shall enter into that council and as- 
 sembly of souls, and depart from this rude and disorderly 
 rout and crew," &c. 
 
 I shall add another, (of a not much unlike strain" and 
 rank, as either being not an open, or no constant friend to 
 Christianity,) that discoursing who is the heir of divine 
 things, saith, " He cannot be, who is in love with this ani- 
 mal, sensitive life ; but only that purest mind that is in- 
 spired from above, that partakes of a heavenly and divine 
 portion, that oirly d&spises the body,"«fcc. with much more 
 of like import. 
 
 Yea, so have some been tran.sported with the desire of 
 immortality, that (being wholly ignorant of the sin of self- 
 
 hini, would fain have men reckon to have been a Christian, because he writes 
 much against the pseudo-Cbristian gnostics, nothing against Chrislianity, vet 
 it appears not be ever made profession of it. Ennead. i. lib. 7. 
 
 z Marin. Proclus. 
 
 a EuXiirof. M. Aur. Ant. 
 
 b Cato in Cicerone do Senect c Philo Judajus.
 
 Chap. XX. 
 
 THE BLESSEDNESS OF THE RIGHTEOUS. 
 
 271 
 
 murder) they could not forbear doing violence on them- 
 selves. Among the Indians,(t two thousand years ago, 
 were a sort of wise men, as they were called, that held it 
 a reproach to die of age, or a disease, and were wont to 
 burn themselves alive, thinking the flames were polluted 
 if they came amidst them dead. The story of "Cleorn- 
 brotus is famous, who hearing Plato discourse of the im- 
 mortality of the soul, by the sea-side, leaped from him into 
 the sea, that he might presently be in that state. And 'tis 
 storied, that fNero refused to put ApoUonius to death, 
 though he were very much incensed again.st him, only 
 uj)on the apprehensions he had that he was very desirous 
 to die, because he would not so far gratify him. 
 
 I only make this improvement of all this : — Christian 
 principles and rules do neither hurry nor mi.sguide men, 
 but the end (as we have it revealed) should much more 
 powerfully and constantly attract us. Nothing is more 
 unsuitable to Christianity our way, nor to that blessedness 
 the end of it, than a terrene .spirit. They have nothing of 
 the true light and impress of the gospel now, nor are they 
 ever like to attain the vision of the blessed face of God, 
 and the impress of his likeness hereafter, that desire it not 
 above all things, and are not willing lo quit all thingselse for 
 it. And is it not a just exprobation of our earth liness and 
 carnality, if mere philosophers and pagans should give 
 better proof than we of a spirit erected above the world, 
 and alienated from what is temporary and terrene 1 Shall 
 their Gentilism outvie our Christianity 1 Methinks a gene- 
 rous indignation of this reproach should inflame our souls, 
 and contribute somewhat to the refining of them to a bet- 
 ter and more spiritual temper. 
 
 Now, therefore, O all you that name yourselves by that 
 worthy name of Christians, that profess the religion taught 
 by l.im that was not of the earth, earthly, but the Lord 
 from heaven; you that are partakers of the heavenly call- 
 ing, consider the great Apostle and High Priest of your 
 profession, who only took our flesh that we might partake 
 of his Spirit, bore our earthly, that we might bear his 
 heavenly image, descended that he might cause us to as- 
 cend. Seriously bethink yourselves of the scope and end 
 of his apostleship and priesthood. He was sent out from 
 God to invite and conduct you to him, to bring you into 
 the communion of his glory and blessedness. He came 
 upon a message and treaty of peace : to discover his 
 Father's love and wi)i yours: to let you know how kind 
 thoughts the God of love had conceived to you-wards; 
 and that, however you had hated him without cause, and 
 were bent to do so without end, he was not so afl'ected to- 
 wards you : to settle a friendship, and to admit you to 
 the participation of his gloi}'. Yea, he came to give an 
 instance, and exemplify to the world, in his own person, 
 how much of heaven he could make to dwell in mortal 
 flesh ; how possible he could render it to live in this world 
 a.s unrelated to it; how gloriously the divine life could 
 triumph over all the infirmiiies of frail humanity. And so 
 leave men a certain proof and pledge to what perfections 
 human nature should be improved by his grace and Spirit, 
 in all them that should resign themselves to his conduct, 
 and follow his steps; that heaven and earth were not so 
 far asunder but he knew how to settle a commerce and in- 
 tercourse between them; that a heavenly life M'as possible 
 to be transacted here, and certain to be gloriously rewarded 
 ajid perfected hereafter. 
 
 And having testified these things, he seals the testi- 
 mony, and opens the way for the accomplishment of ail 
 by his death. Your heavenly Apostle becomes a Priest 
 and a Sacrifice at once ; that no doubt might remain 
 among men of his sincerity, in what, even d3'ing, he 
 ceased not to profess and avow. And that by his own 
 propitiatory blood a mutual reconciliation might be 
 wroiight between God and you; that your hearts might 
 be won to him, and possessed with an ingenuous shame 
 of your ever having been his enemies. And that his dis- 
 pleasure might ever cease towards you, and be turned into 
 everlasting friendship and love: that eternal redemption 
 being obtained, heaven might be opened to you, and you 
 finally be received to the glory of God; your hearts being 
 bent thitherward, and made willing to rim through what- 
 
 d a. Curt, lili 8. e Cicor Qutest TusciU. 
 
 f Scil. Dominanus aliquofica ."iic <lictu3. Pliiloslr. in vit. Apoil. Tyxn^t. 
 
 soever difficulties of life or death to attain it. Do not 
 think that Christ came mio the world and died to procure 
 the pardon of your sins, and so translate you to heaven 
 while your hearts should still remain cleaving lo the earth 
 He came and returned to prepare a way for you ; and then 
 call, not drag you thither : that by his precepts, and pro- 
 mises, and example, and Spirit, he might form and fashion 
 your souls to that glorious state; and make you willing tc 
 abandon all things for it. And lo! now the God of all 
 grace is calling 3'ou by Jesus Christ unto his eternal 
 glory. Direct then your eyes and hearts to that mark, the 
 prize of the high calling of God in Christ Jesus. 'TLs 
 ignominious, by the common sufi'rage of the civilized 
 world, not to intend the proper business of our calling. 
 'Tis your calling to forsake this world and mind the other; 
 make haste then to quit yourselves of your entanglements, 
 of all earthly dispositions and affections. Learn to live in 
 this world as those that are not of it, that expect every day, 
 and wish to leavo it, whose hearts are gone already. 
 
 'Tis dreadful to die with pain and regret; to be forced 
 out of the body; to die a violent deaih, and go away with 
 an unwilling reluctant heart. The wicked is driven away 
 in his wickedness. Fain he would stay longer, but can- 
 not. He hath not power over the spirit, to retain the spirit, 
 nor hath he power in death. He must away whether he 
 will or no. And indeed much against his will. So it 
 cannot but be, where there is not a previous knowledge 
 and love of a better state, where the soul understands it 
 not, and is not eflfectually attempered and framed to it. 
 
 O get then the lovely image of the future glory into 
 your minds. Keep it ever before your eyes. Make it 
 familiar to your thoughts. Imprint daily there these 
 words, I shall behold thy face, I shall be satisfied with 
 thy likeness. And see that your souls be enriched with 
 that righteousness, have inwrought into them that holy 
 rectitude, that may dispose them to that blessed state. 
 Then will you die with your own consent, and go away, 
 not driven, but allured and drawn. You will go, as the 
 redeemed of the Lord, with everlasting joy upon their 
 heads ; as those that know whither you go, even to a state 
 infinitely worthy of your desires and choice, and where 
 'tis best for you to be. You will part with your souls, 
 not by a forcible separation, but by a joyful surrender and 
 resignation. They will dislodge from this earthly taber- 
 nacle, rather as putting it off" than having it rent and torn 
 away. Loosen yourselves from this body by degrees, as 
 we do any thing we would remove from a place where it 
 sticks fast. Gather up your spirits into themselves. Teach 
 them to look upon themselves as a distinct thing. Inure 
 them to the thoughts of a dissolution. Be continually as 
 taking leave. Cross and disprove a conmion maxim, 
 and let your hearts, which they use to say are wont to die 
 last, die first. Prevent death, and be mortified towards 
 every earthly thing beforehand, that death may have no- 
 thing to kill but your body; and that you may not die a 
 double death in one hour, and suffer the death of your 
 body and of your love to it both at once. Much less that 
 this should survive to your greater, and even incurable, 
 misery. Shake off your bands and fetters, the terrene 
 aff^ections that so closely ronfine you to the house of your 
 bondage. And lift up your heads in expectation of the 
 approaching jubilee, the day of your redemption ; when 
 you are to go out free, and enter into the glorious liberty 
 of the sons of God ; when you shall serve, and groan, and 
 complain no longer. Let it be your continual song, and 
 the matter of your daily praise, that the time of your happy 
 deliverance is hastening on ; that ere long you shall be 
 absent from the body, and present with the Lord. That 
 he hath not doomed you to an everla5ting imprisonment 
 within those close and clayey walls, wherein you have 
 been so long shut up from the beholding of his sight and 
 glory. In (he thoughts of this, M-hile the outward man 
 is sensibly perishing, let the inward revive and be renewed 
 day by day. " What prisoner would be sorry to see the 
 walls of his prison-house (so a heathen speaks?) moulder- 
 ing down, and the hopes arriving to him of being delivered 
 out of that darknc'is that had buried him, of recovering his 
 liberty, and enjoying the free air and light. What cham- 
 e Max. TjT Dissert. 41.
 
 272 
 
 THE BLESSEDNESS OF I'HE RIGHTEOUS. 
 
 Chap. XX. 
 
 pion inured to hardship, would stick to throw ofi rotten 
 rags, and rather expose a naked, placid, free body, to naked, 
 placid, free air 1 The truly generous soul (so he a little 
 above) never leaves the body against its will." Rejoice 
 that it is the gracious pleasure of thy good God, thou 
 shalt not always inhabit a dungeon, nor lie amidst so im- 
 pure and disconsolate darkness ; that he will shortly ex- 
 
 change thy filthy garments for those of salvation and praise. 
 The end approaches. As you turn over these leaves, so 
 are your days turned over. And as you are now arrived 
 to the end of this book, God will shortly write /wis to the 
 book of your life on earth, and show you your names 
 written in heaven, in the book of that life which shall 
 never end.
 
 THE 
 
 VANITY OF THIS MORTAL LIFE; 
 
 OF MAN, CONSIDERED IN HIS PRESENT MORTAL STATE. 
 
 TO THE DESERVEDLY HONOURED 
 
 JOHN UPTON, OF LUPTON, ESCt- 
 
 WITH THE MANY SURVIVING BRANCHES THAI FORMERLY SPRUNG OUT OF THAT RELIGIOUS FAMILY, AND THE WORTHY 
 
 CONSORTS OF ANY OF THEM. 
 
 Since it is the lot of the following pages to be exposed to public view, there is somewhat of justice in it, to yourselves 
 or me, that the world do also know wherein divers of you have contributed thereto; that if anything redound hence 
 to public advantage, it may be understood to be owing in part to you; or if it shall be reckoned a useless trouble, in 
 this way to represent things so obvious to common notice, and whereof so much is already said, all the blame to the 
 publication be not imputed (as it doth not belong) to me only. But I must here crave your excuse, that, on this ac- 
 count, I give you a narrative of what (for the most part) you already know, and may possibly not delight to remem- 
 ber; both because it is now become convenient that others should know it too, and not necessary to be put into a dis- 
 tinct preface ; and because to yourselves the review of those less pleasing passages may be attended with a fruit which 
 may be some recompense for their want of pleasure. 
 
 Therefore give the reader leave to take notice, and let it not be grievous to you that I remind you, that after this 
 }our near relation* (whose death gave the occasion of the ensuing meditations) had from his youth lived between 
 twenty and thirty years of his age in Spain, your joint importunity had at length obtained from him a promise of re- 
 turning; whereof, when you were in somewhat a near expectation, a sudden disease in so few days landed him in 
 another world, that the first notice you had of his death or sickness, was by the arrival of that vessel (clad in mourn- 
 ing attire) which, according to his own desire in his sickness, brought over the deserted body to its native place of 
 Lupton; that thence it might find a grave, where it first received a soul ; and obtain a mansion in the earth, where 
 first it became one to a reasonable spirit. A little before this time, the desire of an interview among yourselves (which 
 the distance of your habitations permitted not to be frequent) had induced divers of you to appoint a meeting at some 
 middle place, whereby the trouble of a long journey might be conveniently shared among you. But, before that 
 agreed resolution could have its accomplishment, this sad and most unexpected event intervening, altered the place, 
 the occasion, and design of your meeting; but eflected the thing itself, and brought together no less than twentv, the 
 brothers and sisters of the deceased, or their consorts, besides his many nepheM-s and nieces and other relations, "to the 
 mournful solemnity of the interment. Within the time of our being together upon this sad account, this passage of 
 the Psalmist here insisted on, came into discourse among us; being introduced by an occasion, which (though then, 
 it may be unknown to the most of you) was somewhat rare, and not unworthy observation ; viz. that one of your- 
 selves having been some time before surprised with an unusual sadness, joined with an expectation of ill tidings, 
 upon no known cause, had so urgent an inculcation of these words, as not to be able to forbear the revolving them 
 much of the former part of that day, in the latter part whereof the first notice was brought to that place of this so 
 near a relation's decease. 
 
 Certain months after, some of you with whom I was then conversant in London, importuned me to have somewhat 
 from me in writing upon that subject. Whereto I at length agreed, with a cautionary request, that it might not come 
 into many hands, but might remain (as the occasion was) among yourselves. Nor will I deny it to have been some 
 inducement to me to apply my thoughts to that theme, that it had been so suggested as was said. For such presages and 
 abodings, as that above mentioned, may reasonably be thought to owe themselves to some more steady and univer- 
 sal principle than casualty or the party's own imagination : by whose more noble recommendation (that such a gloomy 
 premonition might carry with it not what should only afflict, but also instruct and teach) this subject did seem oflered 
 to our meditation. Accordingly, therefore, after my return to the place of my abode, I hastily drew up the substance 
 of the following discourse ; which, a year ago, I transmitted into their hands who desired it from me, without reserving 
 to myself any copy. Hereby it became diihcult to me presently to comply (besides divers considerations I might have 
 against the thing itself) with that joint request of some of you, (in a letter, which my removal into another kingdom 
 occasioned to come long after to my hands,) that I would consent these papers might be made public. For as 1 have 
 reason to be conscious to myself ofdisadvantages enough to discourage any undertaking of that kind; so I am more 
 
 * Mr. Anthony Upton, the son of John L'pton, of Lupton, Esq.
 
 274 THE EPISTLE DEDICATORY. 
 
 especially sensible, that so cursory and superficial a management of a subject so important, (though its private occasion 
 and design at first might render it excusable to those few friends for whom it was meant,) cannot but be liable to the 
 hard censure (not to say contempt) of many whom discourses of this kind should more designedly serve. And there- 
 fore, though my willingness to be serviceable in keeping alive the apprehension and expectation of another slate, my 
 value of your judgments who conceive what is here done may be useful thereto, and my peculiar respects to your- 
 selves, the members and appendants of a family to which (besides some relation) I have many obligations and endear- 
 ments, do prevail with me not wholly to deny; yet pardon me that I have suspended my consent to this publication, 
 till I should have a copy transmitted to me from some of you, for m)^ necessary view of so hasty a production, that I 
 might not offer to the view of the world, what, after I had penned it, had scarce passed my own. And now, after so 
 long an expectation, those papers are but this last week come to my hands : I here return them with little or no alte- 
 ration ; save, that what did more directly concern the occasion, towards the close, is transferred hiiher ; but with the 
 addition of almost all the directive part of the use : which I submit together to your pleasure and dispose. 
 
 And I shall now take the liberty to add, my design in consenting to this request of yours (and I hope the same of 
 you in making it) is not to erect a monument to the memory of the deceased, (which how little doth it signify !) nor to 
 spread the fame of your family ; (though the visible blessing of God upon it, in the fruitfulness, piety, and mutual love, 
 wherein it hath flourished for some generations, do challenge observation, both as to those branches of it which grow 
 in their own more natural soil, and those, as I have now occasion to take further notice, that I find to have been trans- 
 planted into another country ;) but that such into whose hands this little treatise shall fall, may be induced to consider 
 the true end of their beings; to examine and discuss the matter more thoroughly with themselves, what it may or can 
 be supposed such a sort of creatures was made and placed on this earth for : that when they shall have reasoned them- 
 selves into a settled apprehension of the worthy and important ends they are capable of attaining, and are visibly de- 
 signed to, they may be seized with a noble disdain of living beneath themselves and the bounty of their Creator. 
 
 It is obvious to common observation, how flagrant and intense a zeal men are often want to express for their per- 
 sonal reputation, the honour of their families, yea, or for the glory of their nation : but how few are acted by that 
 more laudable and enlarged zeal for the dignity of mankind ! How few are they that resent the common and vile 
 depression of their own species ! Or that, while in things of lightest consideration they strive with emulous endeavour, 
 that they and their relatives may excel other men, do reckon it a reproach if in matters of the greatest consequence 
 they and all men should not excel beasts! How few that are not contented to confine their utmost designs and ex- 
 pectations within the same narrow limits ! through a mean and inglorious self-despiciency confessing in themselves 
 (to the truth's and their own wrong) an incapacity of greater things ; and with most iry'urious falsehood, proclaiming 
 the same of all mankind besides. 
 
 If he that amidst the hazards of a dubious war betrays the interest and honour of his country be justly infamous, 
 and thought worthy severest punishments ; I see not why a debauched sensualist, that lives as if he were created only 
 to indulge his appetite ; that so vilifies the notion of man, as if he were made but to eat, and drink, and sport, to 
 please only his sense and fancy ; that in this time and state of conflict between the powers of this present world, and 
 those of the world to come, quits his party, bids open defiance to humanity, abjures the noble principle and ends, for- 
 sakes the laws and society of all that are worthy to be esteemed men, abandons the common and rational hope of 
 mankind concerning a future immortality, and herds himself among brute creatures ; I say, I see not why such a 
 one should not be scorned and abhorred as a traitor to the whole race and nation of reasonable creatures as a fugitive 
 from the tents, and deserter of the common interest of men ; and that both for the vileness of his practice, and the 
 danger of his example. 
 
 And who, that hath open eyes, beholds not the dreadful instances and increase of this defection 1 When it hath 
 prevailed to that degree already, that in civilized, yea, in Christian countries, (as they yet affect to be called,) the 
 practice is become fashionable and in credit, which can square with no other principle than the disbelief of a future 
 state, as if it were but a mere poetic or (at best) a political fiction. And as if so impudent infidelity would pretend 
 not to a connivance only but a sanction, 'tis reckoned an odd and uncoiUh thing for a man to live as if he thought 
 otherwise; and a great presumption to seem to dissent from the profane infidel crew. As if the matter -were already 
 formally determined in the behalf of irreligion, and the doctrine of the life to come had been clearly condemned in 
 open council as a detestable heresy. For what tenet was ever more exploded and hooted at, than that practice is 
 which alone agrees with this 1 Or what series or course of repeated villanies can ever be more ignominious than (in 
 vulgar estimate) a course of life so transacted as doth become the expectation of a blessed immortality 1 And what, 
 after .so much written and spoken by persons of all times and religions for the immortality of the human soul, and so 
 common an acknowledgment thereof by pagans, Mahomedans, Jews, and Christians, is man now at last condemned 
 and doomed to a perpetual death, as it were, by the consent and suff'rage even of men ; and that too without trial or 
 hearing ; and not by the reason of men, but their lusts only"? As if (with a loud and violent cry) they would assas- 
 sinate and stifle this belief and hope, but not judge it. And shall the matter be thus given up as hopeless ; and the 
 victory be yielded to prosperous wickedness, and a too successful conspiracy of vile miscreants against both their 
 Maker and their own stock and race1 
 
 One would think whosoever have remaining in them any conscience of obligation and duty to the common Parent 
 and Author of our beings, and remembrance of our divine original, any breathings of our ancient hope, any sense of 
 human honour, any resentments of so vile an indignity to the nature of man, any spark of a just and generous indig- 
 nation for so opprobrious a contumely to their own kind and order in the creation, should oppose themselves with an 
 heroic vigor to this treacherous and unnatural combination. And let us (my worthy friends) be provoked, in our 
 several capacities, to do our parts herein ; and, at least, .so to live and converse in this world, that the course and tenor 
 of our lives may import an open asserting of our hopes in another ; and maj' let men see we are not ashamed to own 
 the belief of a life to come. Let us by a patient continuance in well-doing (how low designs soever others content 
 themselves to pursue) seek honour, glory, and immortality to ourselves ; and by our avowed, warrantable ambition 
 in this pursuit, justify our great and bountiful Creator, who hath made us not in vain, but for so high and great 
 things; and glorify our blessed Redeemer, who amidst the gloomy and disconsolate darkness of this wretched world, 
 when it was overspread with the shadow of death, hath brought life and immortality to light in the Gospel. Let us 
 labour both to feel and express the power of that religion which hath the inchoation of the (participated) divine life 
 for its principle, and the perfection and eternal perpetuation thereof for its scope and end. 
 
 Nor let the time that hath since elapsed be found to have worn out with you the useful impressions which this 
 monitory .surprising instance of our mortality did first make. But give me leave to inculcate from it what was said to 
 you when the occasion was fresh and new : that we labour more deeply to apprehend God's dominion over his crea- 
 tures; and that he made us principally for himself, and for ends that are to be compassed in the future state ; and not 
 for the temporary satisfiiction and pleasure of one another in this world. Otherwise providence had never been guilty 
 of such a solecism, to take out one from a family long famous for its exemplary mutual love, and dispose him into so 
 remote a part, not permitting to most of his near relations the enjoyment of him for almost thirty years (and therein all 
 the flower) of hi.5 age, and at last when we were expecting the man, send you home the breathless frame wherein he 
 
 J
 
 THE VANITY OF MAN AS MORTAL, 
 
 2-^5 
 
 lived. Yet it was not contemptible thai you had that, and that dyin;?(as Joseph) in a strange land, he gave also com- 
 mandment concerning his bones; that though in his life he was (n)ostly) separated from his brethren, he mit'ht in 
 death be gathered to his fathers. It was some evidence (though you wanted not better) that amidst the traffic of Spain 
 he more esteemed the religion of England, and therefore would rather his dust should associate with theirs, with 
 whom also he would rather his spirit should. But whatever it did evidence, it occasioned so much, that you had that 
 so general meeting with one another, which otherwise probably you would not have had, nor are likely again to 
 have, (so hath Providence scattered you,) in this woild ; and that it proved a more serious meeting than otherwise it 
 might: for however it might blamelessly have been designed to have met together at a cheerful table, God saw it 
 fitter to order the meeting at a mournful grave; and to make the house that received you (the native place to many 
 of you) the house of mourning rather than of feasting. The one would have had more quick relishes of a present 
 pleasure, hut the other was likely to yield the more lasting sense of an after profit. Nor was it an ill errand to come 
 together (though from afar for divers of you) to learn to die. As you might, by being so sensibly put in mind of it, 
 though you did not see that very part acted itself. And accept this endeavour, to further you in your preparations 
 for thatchange, as some testimony of the remembrance I retain of your most obliging respects and love, and of my 
 still continuing 
 
 Your affectionate and respectful kinsman, 
 
 and servant in our common Lord 
 
 J. HOWE. 
 
 Antrim, 
 April 12, 1671, 
 
 THE 
 
 VANITY OF MAN AS MORTAL 
 
 PSAL. LXXXIX. 47, 48. 
 
 REMEMBER HOW SHORT MY TIME IS : WHEREFORE HAST THOU MADE ALL MEN IN VAIN. WHAT MAN IS HE THAT LIVETH, AND 
 SHALL NOT SEE DEATH 1 SHALL HE DELIVER HIS SOUL FROM THE HAND OF THE GRAVE 1 SELAH. 
 
 We are not concerned to be particular and curious in 
 the inquiry, touching the special reference or occasion of 
 the foregoing complaints, from the 37th verse. It is enough 
 to take notice, for our present purpose, that besides the 
 evil which had already befallen the plaintiff, a further 
 danger nearly threatened him, that carried death in the 
 face of it, and suggested somewhat frightful apprehensions 
 of his mortal state, which drew from him this quick and 
 sensible petition in reference to his own private concern, 
 "Remember how short my time is," and did presently di- 
 rect his eye with a sudden glance from the view of his 
 own. to reflect on the common condition of man, whereof 
 he expresses his resentment, first, in a hasty expostulation 
 with God, " Wherefore hast thou made all men in vain V 
 — Then, secondly, in a pathetic discourse with himself, 
 representing the reason of that rough charge, " What 
 man is he that liveth, and shall not see death 7 shall he 
 deliver," &c. q. cl. When I add to the consideration of my 
 short time, that of dying mankind, and behold a dark and 
 deadly shade universally overspreading the world, the 
 whole species of human creatures vanishing, quitting the 
 stage round about me, and disappearing almost as soon as 
 they showMhemselves; have I not a fair and plausible 
 ground for that (seemingly rude) challenge 1 Why is 
 there so unaccountable a phenomenon, such a creature 
 made to no purpose 1 the noblest part of this inferior cre- 
 ation brought forth into being without any imag-inable de- 
 sign 1 I know not how to untie the knot, upon this only 
 view of the case, or avoid the absurdity. 'Tis hard sure 
 to design the supposal, (of what it may yet seem hard to 
 suppose,) that all men were made in vain. 
 
 It appears, the expostulation was somewhat passionate, 
 and did proceed upon the sudden view of this disconsolate 
 
 case, very abstractly considered, and by iteslf only : and 
 that he did not in that instant look bej'ond it to a better 
 and more comfortable scene of things. An eye bleared 
 with present sorrow, sees not so far, nor comprehends so 
 much at one view, as it would at another time, or as it 
 doth, presently, when the tear is wiped out, and its own 
 beams have cleared it up. We see he did quickly look 
 further, and had got a more lightsome prospect, when in 
 the next words we find him contemplating God's " sworn 
 loving-kindness unto David : the truth and stability 
 whereof he at the same time expressly acknowledges, while 
 only the form of his speech doth but seem to import a 
 doubt — " Where are they 1" But yet — they were sworn in 
 truth. Upon which argument he had much enlarged in the 
 former part of the psalm ; and it still lay deep in hissoul, 
 though he were now a little diverted from the present con- 
 sideration of it. Which, since it turns the scales with him, 
 it will be needful to inquire into the weight and import of 
 it. Nor have we any reason to think, that David was 
 either so little a prophet or a saint, as in his own thoughts 
 to refer those magnificent things (the instances of that 
 loving-kindness, confirmed by oath, which he recites from 
 the 19th verse of the psalm to the 38ih, as spoken from the 
 motxth of God, and declared to him by vision) to the dig- 
 nity of his own person, and the grandeur and perpetuity 
 of his kingdom ; as if it were ultimately meant of himself, 
 that God would b make him his first-born, higher than the 
 kings of the earth, when there were divers greater kings, and 
 (in comparison of the little spot over which he reigned) a 
 vastly spreading monarchy that still overtopped him aJl 
 his time; (as the same and successive monarchies did his 
 successors;) or that it was intended of the secular glory 
 and stability of his throne and family ; that God would
 
 276 
 
 THE VANITY OF MAN AS MORTAL. 
 
 luake them «=to endure for ever, and be as the days of hea- 
 ven ; that they should be as the sun before him, and be es- 
 tablished forever as the moon, and as a faithful witness in 
 heaven. 
 
 That God himself meant it not so, experience and the 
 event of things hath shown ; and that these predictions 
 cannot otherwise have had their accomplishment, than in 
 the succession of the spiritual and everlasting kingdom of 
 the Messiah (^whom God raised up out of his loins to sit 
 on his throne) unto his temporal kingdom. Wherein 'tis 
 therefore ended by perfection rather than corruption. 
 These prophecies being then made good, not in the kind 
 which they literally imported, but in another (far more 
 noble) kind. In which sense God's covenant with him 
 must be understood, which he insists on so much in this 
 psalm, ^ even unto that degree, as to challenge God upon 
 it, as if in the present course of his providence he were 
 now about to make it void : though he suflicienlly express- 
 es his confideucef both before and after, that this could 
 never be. But 'tis plain it hath been made void long 
 enough ago, in the subversion of David's kingdom, and in 
 that we see his throne and family not been established for 
 ever, not endured as the days of heaven ; if those words 
 had no other than their obvious and literal meaning. And 
 if any, to clear the truth of God, would allege the wick- 
 edness of his posterity, first making a breach and disoblig- 
 ing him, this is prevented by what we find inserted in re- 
 ference to this very case: ^If his children forsake my law, 
 and walk not in my judgments, &c. Then will I visit 
 their iniquity with the rod, &c. Nevertheless my loving- 
 kindness will I not ujterly take from him, nor suffer my 
 faithfulness to fail. My covenant will I not break, nor 
 alter the thing that is gone out of my lips. All which is 
 solemnly sealed up with this, hOncc have I sworn in my 
 holiness, that I will not lie unto David. So that, they that 
 will make a scruple to accuse the holy God of falsehood, 
 in that which with so much solemnity he hath promised 
 and sworn, must not make any to admit his further in- 
 tendment in these words. And that he had a further 
 (even a mystical and spiritual) intendment in this cove- 
 nant with David, is yet more fully evident from that of 
 the prophet Isaiah : sHo every one that thirsteth, come ye 
 to the waters, <fec. Incline your ear and come to me. And 
 I will make an everlasting covenant with 3'ou, even the 
 sure mercies of David. Behold, I have given him for a 
 witness to the people, a leader and commander, &c. What 
 means this universal invitation to all thirsty persons, with 
 the subjoined encouragement of making with them an 
 everlasting covenant, (the same which we have here, no 
 doubt, as to the principal parts, and which we find him 
 mentioning also, 2 Sam. xxiii. 5. with characters exactly 
 corresponding to these of the prophet,) even the sure mer- 
 cies of David 7 The meaning sure could not be, that 
 they should be all secular kings and princes, and their 
 posterity after them for ever ; which we see is the verbal 
 sound and tenor of this covenant. 
 
 And now since it is evident God intended a mystery in 
 this covenant, we may be as well assured he intended no 
 deceit, and that he designed not a delusion to David by 
 the vision in which he gave it. Can we think he went 
 about to gratify him with a solemn fiction, and draw him 
 into a false and fanciful faith ; or so to hide his meaning 
 from him, as to tempt him into the belief of what he never 
 meant 1 And to what purpose was this so special revela- 
 tion by vision, if it were not to be understood truly, at 
 least, if not yet perfectly and fully 1 It is left us therefore 
 to collect that David was not wholly uninstructed how to 
 refer all this to the kingdom of the Messiah. And he hath 
 given sufficient testimony in that part of sacred writ, 
 whereof God used him as a penman, that he was of 
 another temper than to place the sum and chief of his ex- 
 pectations and consolations in his own and his posterity's 
 worldly greatness. And to put us out of doubt, our Sa- 
 viour (who well knew his spirit)expressly enough tells us, 
 tiiat khe in spirit called him Lord, when he said, iThe 
 Lord said unto my Lord, Sit thou at my right hand, till I 
 make thy enemies thy foot-stool. A plain discovery how 
 
 c Verse 29, 36, 37. 
 
 d Acts ii. 30. 
 
 e Verse 28—34. 
 
 I Psal. c.T. 
 
 f Verse 39. 
 
 g Verse 30—34. 
 k Matt. xxji. 
 
 Ii Verse 35. 
 
 n Vorse 25 
 
 ilsa. Iv. 1-6. 
 
 
 p Verse 31 
 
 he understood God's revelation touching the future con- 
 cernments of his kingdom, (and the covenant relating there- 
 to,) viz. as a figure and type of Christ's, who must reign 
 till all his enemies be subdued. Nor was he in that igno- 
 rance about the nature and design of Christ's kingdom, 
 but that he understood its reference to another world, and 
 siate of things, even beyond all the successions of time, and 
 the mortal race of men ; so as to have his eye fixed upon 
 the happy eternity which a joyful resurrection must intro- 
 duce, and whereof Christ's resurrection should be the great 
 and most assuring pledge. And of this we need no fuller 
 an evidence than the express words of the apostle St. Pe- 
 ter,>n who after he had cited those lofty triumphant strains 
 of David, Psal. xvi. 8 — 11. I have set the Lord always 
 before me : because he is at my right hand, I shall not be 
 moved. Therefore my heart is glad, and my glory re- 
 joiceth : my flesh also shall rest in hope. For thou wilt 
 not leave my soul in hell, (or in the state of darkness,) 
 neither wilt thou suffer thy Holy One to see corruption. 
 Thou wilt show me the path of life. In thy presence is 
 fulness of joy, at thy right hand there are pleasures for 
 evermore. All which, he tells us, "was spoken concern- 
 ing Christ. He more expressly subjoins," that David be- 
 ing a prophet, and knowing that God had sworn with an 
 oath to him, that of the fruit of his loins, according to 
 the flesh, he would raise up Christ to sit on his throne. 
 He seeing this before, spake of Pthe resurrection of Christ, 
 (it appears he spake not at random, but as knowing and 
 seeing before what he spake,) that his soul was not left in 
 hell, &c. nor can we think he thus rejoices, in another's 
 resurrection, forgetting his own. 
 
 And yet we have a further evidence from the apostle St. 
 Paul, who affirms, ''that the promise made to the fathers, 
 God had fulfilled to their children, in that he had raised 
 up Jesus again ; as it is also written in the second psalm. 
 Thou art my Son, this day have I begotten thee. And as 
 concerning that he raised him up from the dead, now no 
 more to return to corruption ; he said on this wise, I will 
 give you the sure mercies of David. Which it is now ap- 
 parent must be understood of eternal mercies ; such as 
 Christ's resurrection and triumph over the grave doth in- 
 sure to us. He therefore looked upon what was spoken 
 concerning his kingdom here, as spoken ultimately of 
 Christ's, the kingdom whereby he governs and conducts 
 his faithful subjects through all the troubles of life and ter- 
 rors of death (through both whereof he himself as their 
 king and leader hath shown the way) unto eternal blessed- 
 ness ; and iMon the covenant made with him as the co- 
 venant of God in Christ, concerning that blessedness and 
 the requisites thereto. And (to say no more in thLs argu- 
 ment) how otherwise can we conceive he should have that 
 fulness of consolation in this covenant when he lay a dy- 
 ing, as we find him expressing, 2 Sam. xxiii. 5. (for these 
 were some of the last words of David, as we see, verse 1.) 
 He hath made with me an everlasting covenant, ordered 
 in all things and sure; for this is all my salvation, and all 
 my desire." Wliat so great joy and solace could a dying 
 man take in a covenant made with him, when he had done 
 with this world, and was to expect no more in it, if he took 
 it not to concern a future blessedness in another world 1 
 Was it only for the hoped prosperity of his house and fa- 
 mily when he was gone ? This (which is the only thing 
 we can fasten on) he plainlj-- secludes in the next words, — 
 although he make it not to grow. Therefore it was his re- 
 flection upon those loving-kindnesses mentioned in the for- 
 mer part of the psalm, contained in God's covenant, and 
 confirmed by his oath, but understood according to the 
 sen^e and import already declared, that caused this sudden 
 turn in David's spirit -^^ and made him that lately spoke as 
 out of a Golgotha, as if he had nothing but death in his 
 eye and thoughts, to speak now in so different a strain, 
 and (after some additional pleadings, in which his faith 
 further recovers itself) to conclude this psalm with solemn 
 praise ; Blessed be the Lord for evermore. Amen and Amen. 
 
 We see then the contemplation of his own and all men's 
 mortality, abstractly and alone considered, clothed his soul 
 with black, wrapped it up in gloomy darkness, makes the 
 
 m Acts ii. v. 25, &o- 
 
 o Verse 30. 
 
 q Acts xiii. 38—34.
 
 THE VANITY OF MAN AS MORTAL. 
 
 277 
 
 whole kind of human creatures seem to him an obscure 
 shadow, an empty vanity ; but his recalling into his 
 thoughts a succeeding stale of immortal life, clears up the 
 day, makes him and all things appear in another hue, 
 gives a fair account why such a creature as man was made ; 
 and therein makes the whole frame of things in this inferior 
 world look with a comely and well-composed aspect, as 
 the product of a wise and rational design. Whence there- 
 fore we have this ground of discourse fairly before us in 
 the words themselves :— that the short time of man on 
 earth, limited by a certain unavoidable death, if we con- 
 sider it abstractly by itself, without respect to a future state, 
 carries that appearance and a.spect with it, as if God had 
 made all men in vain. — That is said to be vain, according 
 to the importance of the word here used, "• which is either 
 false, a fiction, an appearance only, a shadow, or evanid 
 thing; or which is useless, unprofitable, and to no valuable 
 purpose. The life of man, in the case now supposed, may 
 be truly styled vain, either way. And we shall say some- 
 what to each ; but to the former more briefly. 
 
 1. It were vain, i. e. little other than a show, a mere 
 shadow, a semblance of being. We must indeed, in the 
 
 K resent case, even ahstract him from himself, and consider 
 im only as a mortal, dying thing ; and as to that of him 
 which is so, what a contemptible nothing is he ! There is 
 an appearance of somewhat ; but search a little, and in- 
 quire mto it, and it vanishes into a mere nothing, is found 
 a lie, a piece of falsehood, as if he did but feign a being, 
 and were not. And so we may suppose the Psalmist 
 speaking, upon the view of his own and the common case 
 of man, how fast all were hastening out of life, and laying 
 down the being which they rather seemed to have assumed 
 aud borrowed, than to possess and own : Lord, why hast 
 thou made man such a fictitious thing, given him such a 
 mock-being "? Why hast thou brought forth into the light 
 of this world such a sort of creatures, that rather seem to 
 be than are ; that have so little of solid and substantial 
 being, and so little deserve to be taken for realities ; that 
 only serve to cheat one another into an opinion of their 
 true existence, and presently vanish and confess their false- 
 hood! What hovering shadows, what uncertain entities 
 are they ! In a moment they are and are not, I know not 
 when to say I have seen a man. It seems as if there were 
 some such things before my eyes; I persuade myself that 
 I see them move and walk to and fro, that I talk and con- 
 verse with them ; but instantly my own sense k ready to 
 give my sense the lie. They are on the sudden dwindled 
 away, and force me almost to acknowledge a delusion. I 
 am but mocked with a show ; and what seemed a reality 
 proves an imposture. Their pretence to being, is but fic- 
 tion and falsehood, a cozenage of over-credulous, unwary 
 sense. They only personate what they are thought to be, 
 and quickly put off their very .selves as a disguise. This 
 is agreeable to the language of Scripture elsewhere, ^ Surely 
 men of low degree are vanity, and men of high degree are 
 a lie, &c. In two respects may the present state of man 
 seem to approach near to nothingness, and so admit this 
 rhetorication of the Psalmist, as if he were in this sense a 
 vain thing, a figment, or a lie, viz. in respect to the — mi- 
 nuteness, and — instability of this, his material and perish- 
 able being. 
 
 1. The minuteness, the small portion or degree of be- 
 ing which this mortal part of man hath in it. It is truly 
 said of all created things. Their non-esse is more than their 
 esse, they have more no-being than being. It is only 
 some limited portion that they have, but there is an infi- 
 nitude of being which they have not. And so coming 
 infinitely nearer to nothingness than fulness of being, they 
 may well enough wear the name of nothing. Wherefore 
 the first and fountain-being justly appropriates to himself 
 the name, I am ; yea, tells us, He is, and there is none be- 
 sides him ; therein leaving no other name than that of 
 nothing unto creatures. And how much more may this 
 be said of the material and mortal part, this outside of 
 man, whatever of him is obnoxious to death and the grave ! 
 Which alone (abstractly looked on) is the subject of the 
 Psalmist's present consideration and discourse. By how 
 much any thing hath more of matter, it hath the less of 
 
 r tf^v. 
 
 t Plotin. En. 2. 1. 6. 
 
 22 
 
 u lBa.xI. 
 
 B Psal. Ixii. 9. 
 
 X Job xx\ii. 19. 
 
 actual essence. Matter being rather a capacity of being, 
 than being itself, or a dark umbrage or shadow of it, actu- 
 ally nothing, but tuiwXuv, xptviui, (as are the expressions of a 
 noble ' philosopher,) a mere semblance, or a lie. And it is 
 the language not of philosopliers only, but of the Holy 
 Ghost concerning all the nations of men, " They are as 
 nothing, less than nothing, and vanity. What a scarcity 
 then, aud penury of being, must we suppose in each indi- 
 vidual ! especially if we look alone upon the outer pait, 
 or rather the umbrage or shadow of the man. 
 
 2. The instability and fluidness of it. The vi.sible and 
 corporeal being of man hath nothing steady or consistent 
 in it. Consider his exterior frame and composition, he is 
 no time all him.self at once. There is a continual deflu- 
 ence and access of parts; so that some account, each 
 climacteric of his age changes his whole fabric. Whence 
 it would follow, that besides his statique individuating 
 principle, (from which we are now to abstract,) nothing of 
 him remains; he is another thing; the former man is 
 vanished and gone; while he is, he hastens away, and 
 within a little is not. In respect to the duration as well 
 as the degree of his being, he is next to nothing. He opens 
 his eye, and is not. »Gone in the twinkling of an eye. 
 There is nothing in him stable enough, to admit a fixed 
 look. So it is with the whole scene of things in this ma- 
 terial world. As was the true maxim of an ancient, t 
 All things flow, nothing stays; after the manner of a 
 river. The same thing which the apostle's words more 
 elegantly express ; ^ The fashion of this world passeth 
 away. The scheme, the show, the pageantry of it. He 
 speaks of it but as an appearance, as if he knew not whe- 
 ther to call it something or nothing, it was so near to 
 vanishing into nothinsr. And therefore he tliere requires, 
 that the aflections which mutual nearness in relation chal- 
 lenges, be as if tiiej' were not ; that we rejoice in reference 
 to one another, (even most nearly related, as the occasion 
 and scope of his discourse teach us to understand him,) 
 but as if we rejoiced not, and to weep as if we wept not. 
 Which implies, the objects merit no more, and are them- 
 selves as if they were not. Whence, therefore, a continued 
 course of intense passion, were very incongruous towards 
 so discontinuing things. And the whole state of man be- 
 ing but a show, the pomp and glittering of the greatest 
 men make the most splendid and conspicuous part of it ; 
 yet all this we find is not otherwise reckoned of, 'than an 
 image, a dream, a vision of the sight; every man at his 
 best state is altogether vanity, walketh in a vain show, 
 disquieteth himself in vain, &c. Of all without exception, 
 'tis pronounced, Man is like to vanity, his days are as a 
 shadow that passeth away. As Ecclesiastes often, of all 
 sublunary things. Vanity of vanities, &c. 
 
 2. But yet there is another notion of i:ain, as it signi- 
 fies useless, unprofiiable, or to no purpose. And in this 
 sense also, if we consider the universal mortality of man- 
 kind without respect to a future state, there was a spe- 
 cious ground for the expostulation, Why hast thou made all 
 men in vain 1 Vanity in the lormer notion speaks the 
 emptiness of a thing, absolutely and in itself considered ; 
 in this latter relatively, as it is referred to and measured 
 by an end. That is, in this sense, vain, which serves to 
 no end ; or to no worthy and valuable end, which amounts 
 to the same. For inasmuch as all ends, except the last, 
 are means also to a further end ; if the end immediately 
 aimed at be vain and worthless, that which is refer- 
 red to it, as it is so referred, cannot but be also vain. 
 Whereupon now let us make trial what end we could in 
 this case think man made for. Which will best be done by 
 taking some view, — 1. Of his nature. — 2. Of the ends for 
 which, upon that supposition, we must suppose him made. 
 
 1. Of the former (neglecting the strictness of philo.^o- 
 phical disquisition) no more is intended to be said than 
 may comport with the design of a popular discourse. 
 And it shall suffice, therefore, only to take notice of what 
 is more obvious in the nature of man, acid subservient to 
 the jiresent purpose. And yet we are here to look fur- 
 ther than the mere surface and outside of man, which we 
 only considered before ; and to ^iiew his nature, as it is in 
 itself; and not as the supposition of its having nothing 
 
 y Heracl. z I Cor. vii. 
 
 a Job XX. 7, 8, 9. Psal. Ixxiii. 80. XAiut. 8, 0.
 
 278 
 
 THE VANITY OF MAN AS MORTAL. 
 
 but what is mortal belonging to it, would make it : for as 
 the exility (and almost nothingness) of man's being, con- 
 sidered according to that supposition, did best serve to ex- 
 press the vanity of it, in the former notion that hath been 
 given of a vain thing; so the excellency and solid sub- 
 stantiality of it, considered as it is in itself, will conduce 
 most to the discovery of its vanity in this latter notion 
 thereof. That is, if we first consider that, and then the 
 supposition of such a creature's being only made to perish. 
 And if what shall be said herein, do in the sequel tend to 
 destroy that above-mentioned disposition, (as it, being 
 established, would destroy the prime glory of human na- 
 ture,) it can only be said magna est Veritas, 4'C- In the 
 meantime we may take a view, in the nature of man, 
 
 1. Of his intellective powers. Hereby he frames notions 
 of things, even of such things as are above the sphere of 
 sense ; of moral good and evil, right and wrong, what is 
 virtuous and what is vicious; of abstract and universal 
 natures. Yea, and of a first being, and cause, and of the 
 wisdom, power, goodness, and other perfections, which 
 must primarily agree to him. Hereby he atiirms and de- 
 nies one thing of another, as he observes them to agree and 
 disagree, and discerns the truth and falsehood of what is 
 spoken or denied. He doth hereby infer one thing from 
 another, and argue himself into firm and unwavering as- 
 sent to many things, not only above the discovery of sense, 
 but directly contrary to their sensible appearances. 
 
 2. His power of determining himself, of choosing and 
 refusing, according as things are estimated, and do appear 
 to him. Where also it is evident how far the objects which 
 this faculty is sometimes exercised about, do transcend the 
 reach of all sensible nature ; as well as the peculiar noble- 
 ness and excellency is remarkable of the faculty itself. 
 It hath ofien for its object things of the highest nature, 
 purely spiritual and divine, virtue, religion, God himself. 
 So as that these (the faculty being repaired only by sancti- 
 fying grace, not now first put into the nature of man) are 
 chosen by some, and, where it is not so, refused ('tis true) 
 by the most; but not by a mere not-willing of them, (as 
 mere brutal appetite also doth not-will them, which no 
 way reaches the notion of a refusal,) but by rejecting them 
 with a positive aversion and dislike, wherein there is great 
 iniquit}'' and sin : which could not be but in a nature 
 capable of the opposite temper. And it is apparent, this 
 facult}' hath tiie privilege of determining itself, so as to be 
 exempt from the necessitating influenceof any thing foreign 
 to it ; upon the supposal whereof, the manager)'- of all 
 human affairs, all treaties between man and man, to induce 
 a consent to this or that, the whole frame of government, 
 all legislation and distribution of public justice, do depend. 
 For take away this supposition, and these will presently 
 appear most absurd and unjust. With what solemnity are 
 applications and addresses made to the will of man upon 
 all occasions ! How is it courted, and solicited, and sued 
 unto ! But how absurd were it so to treat the other crea- 
 tures, that act by a necessity of nature in all they do ! to 
 make supplications to the wind, or propound articles to a 
 brute ! And how unjust, to determine and inflict severe 
 penalties for unavoidable and necessitated actions and 
 omissions ! These things occur to our first notice, upon 
 any (a more sudden and cursory) view of the nature of 
 man. And what should hinder, but we may infer from 
 these, that there is farther in his nature, 
 
 3. A capacity of an immortal state, i. e. that his nature 
 is such, that he may, if God so please, by the concurrent 
 influence of his ordinary power and providence, without 
 the help of a miracle, subsist in another state of life after 
 this, even a state that shall not be liable to that impairment 
 and decay that we find this subject to. More is not (as 
 yet) contended for ; and so much methinks none should 
 make a difficulty to admit, from what is evidently found 
 in him. For it may well be supposed, that the admitting 
 of this (at least) will seem much more easy to any free and 
 unprejudiced reason, than to ascribe the operations before 
 mstanced in, to alterable or perishable matter, or indeed 
 to any matter at all. It being justly presumed, that none 
 will ascribe to matter, as such, the powers of ratiocination 
 or volition. For then every particle of matter must needs 
 be rational and intelligent (a high advance to what one 
 would never have-thought at all active.) And how un- 
 
 conceivable is it, that the minute particles of matter, in 
 themselves, each of them destitute of any such powers, 
 should by their mutual intercourse with one another, be- 
 come furnished with them 1 that they should be able to 
 understand, deliberate, resolve, and choose, being assem- 
 bled and duly disposed in counsel together ; but, apart, 
 rest all in a deep and sluggish silence ! Besides, if the 
 particles of matter, howsoever modified and moved, to the 
 utmost subtilty or tenuity, and to the highest vigour, shall 
 then become intelligent and rational, how is it that we 
 observe not, as any matter is more subtil and more swiftly 
 and vigorously moved, it makes not a discernibly nearer 
 approach (proporlionably) to the faculty and power of rea- 
 soning! And that nothing more of an aptitude or tendency 
 towards intelligence and wisdom is to be perceived in an 
 aspiring flame or a brisk wind, than in a clod or a stone 1 
 If to understand, to define, to distinguish, to syllogize, be 
 nothing else but the agitation and collision of the minute 
 parts of rarified mailer among one another ; methinks, some 
 happy chemist or other, when he hath missed his designed 
 mark, should have hit upon some such more noble pro- 
 duct, and by one or other prosperous sublimation have 
 caused some temporary resemblance (at least) of these 
 operations. Or, if the paths of nature, in these affairs of 
 the mind, be more abstruse, and quite out of the reach and 
 road of artificial achievement, whence is it, that nature 
 herself (that is vainly enough supposed by some to have 
 been so happy, as by some casual strokes to have fabricated 
 the first of human creatures, that have since propagated 
 themselves) is grown so effete and dull, as never since to 
 hit upon any like effect in the like way: and that no re- 
 cords of any time or age give us the notice of some such 
 creature sprung out of some epicurean womb of the earth, 
 and elaborated by the only immediate hand of nature, so 
 disposing the parts of matter in its constitution, that it 
 should be able to perform the operation belonging to the 
 mind of man. But if we cannot, with any tolerable pre- 
 tence or show of reason, attribute these operations to any 
 mere matter, that there must be somewhat else in man to 
 which they may agree, that is distinct from his corruptible 
 part, and that is therefore capable, by the advantage of its 
 own nature, of subsisting hereafter (while God shall con- 
 tinue to it an influence agreeable to its nature, as he doth 
 to other creatures.) And hence it seems a modest and 
 sober deduction, that there is in the nature of man, at least, 
 a capacity of an immortal state. 
 
 2. Now, if we yet suppose there is actually no such 
 •State for man hereafter, it is our next business to view the 
 ends for which, upon that supposition, he may be thought 
 to have been made. Whence we shall soon see, there is 
 not any of them whereof it may be said, this is that he was 
 created for, as his adequate end. And here we have a 
 double agent to be accommodated with a suitable end ; — 
 Man now made ; and — God who made him. 
 
 1. Man himself For it must be considered, that inas- 
 much as man is a creature capable of propounding to him- 
 self an end, and of acting knowingly and with design to- 
 wards it, (and indeed incapable of acting otherwise as a 
 man,) it would therefore not be reasonable to speak of him 
 in this discourse, as if he were merely passive, and to be 
 acted only by another: but we must reckon him obliged, 
 in subordination to his Maker, to intend and pursue (him- 
 self) the proper end for which he appointed and made him. 
 And in reason we are to expect that what God hath ap- 
 pointed to be his proper end, should be such as is in itself 
 most highly desirable, suitable to the utmost capacity of 
 his nature, and attainable by his action; so carrying with 
 it sufficient inducements, both of desire and hope, to a 
 vigorous and rational prosecution of it. Thus we must, 
 at least, conceive it to have been in the primitive institu- 
 tion of man's end, unto which, the expostulation hath re- 
 ference, — Wherefore hast thou made all men in vain 1 And 
 we can think of no ends which men either do or ought to 
 propound to themselves, but by the direction of one of 
 these principles, sense, reason, or religion. 
 
 1. Sense is actually the great dictator to the most of 
 men, and de facto, determines them to the mark and scope 
 which they pursue, and animates the whole pursuit. Not 
 that sense is by itself capable of designing an end, but it 
 too generally inclines and biasses reason herein. So that
 
 THE VANITY OF MAN AS MORTAL. 
 
 279 
 
 reason hath no other hand in the business, that only as a 
 slave to sense, to form the design and contrn-e the methods 
 which may most conduce to it, I'ur the graiificaiion of sen- 
 sual appetite and inclination at last. And the appeiitions 
 of sense (wherein it hath so much mastery and dominion) 
 are but such as we find enumerated, 1 John ii. 16. The 
 last of the flesh, the lust of the eye, the pride of life. Or 
 (if we understand the apostle to" use the name of lust ob- 
 jectively) the objects sutficiently connote the appeiitions 
 themselves. All which may fitly be referred to sense: 
 either the outward senses, or the fancy or imagination, 
 which as deservedly comes under the same common de- 
 nomination. 
 
 Now, who can think the satisfying of these lusts the 
 commensurate end of man 1 Who would not, upon the 
 supposition of no higher, say with the Psalmist, Where- 
 fore hast thou made all men in vain 1 To w^hat purpose 
 was it for him to live in the world a few years, upon this 
 account only, and so go down to the place of silence? 
 What is there in the momentary satisfaction of this mortal 
 flesh; in his pleasing view of a mass of treasure, (which 
 he never brought with him into the world, but only heaped 
 together, and so leaves not the world richer or poorer than 
 he found it,) what is there in the applause and admiration 
 of fools, (as the greater part always are,) that we should 
 think it worth the while for man to have lived for these 
 things'? If the question were put. Wherefore did God 
 make man 1 Who would not be ashamed so to answer it, 
 He made him to eat, and drink, and take his pleasure, to 
 gather up w^ealth for he knows not who; to use his in- 
 ventions, that each one may become a talk and wonder to 
 the rest; and then when he hath fetched a few turns upon 
 the theatre, and entertained the eyes of beholders with 
 a short scene of impertinencies, descend and never be 
 heard of more 1 What, that he should come into the world 
 furnished with such powers and endowments for this 1 It 
 were like a case, as if one should be clad in scarlet to go 
 to plough, or curiously instructed in arts and sciences to 
 tend hogs. 
 
 Or, 2dly, If we rise higher, to the view of such ends as 
 more refined reason may propose, within the compass only 
 of this present state : we will suppose that it be either, 
 the acquisition of much knowledge, the furnishing his 
 understanding with store of choice and well-digested no- 
 tions; that he may please himself in being (or in having 
 men think him) a learned wight. Death robs away all his 
 gain. And what is the world the better 1 How little shall 
 he enrich the clods, among which he must shortly lie 
 down and have his abode ! Or how little is the gain, when 
 the labour and travail of so many years are all vanished 
 and blown away with the last puff of his dying breath, 
 and the fruit that remains, is to have it said b)'^ those that 
 survive, " There lies learned dust ?" That an}' part of his 
 acquisitions, in that kind, descends to others, little betters 
 the case, Avhen thej'' that succeed are all hastening down 
 also into the same ignoble dust. Besides, that the increase 
 of sorrow, both because the objects of knowledge do but 
 increase the more he knows, do multiply the more upon 
 aim, so as to beget a despair of ever knowing so much 
 as he shall know himself to be ignorant of; and a thou- 
 sand doubts, about things he hath more deeply consider- 
 ed, which his more confident (undiscovered) ignorance 
 never dreamt of or suspected. And thence an unquiet- 
 ness, an irresolution of mind, w^hich they that never drove 
 at any such mark are (more contentedly) unacquainted 
 with. And also, because that by how much knowl- 
 edge hath refined a man's soul, so much it is more sen- 
 sible and perceptive of troublesome impressions from the 
 disorderly state of things in the world; -which they 
 that converse only with earth and dirt, have not spirits 
 clarified and fine enough to receive. So that, except a 
 man's knowing more than others were to be referred to 
 another state, the labour of attaining thereto, and other 
 accessary disadvantages, would hardlv ever be compen- 
 sated by the fruit or pleasure of it. And unless a man 
 would suppose himself made for torment, he would be 
 shrewdly tempted to think a quiet and drowsy ignorance 
 a happier state. 
 
 Or if that man's reason, with a peculiarity of temper, 
 guide him to an active negociating life, rather than that of 
 
 contemplation ; and determine him to the endeavour of 
 serving mankind, or the community to which he belongs: 
 by how much the worthier actions he performs, and by 
 how much more he hath perfected and accomplished him- 
 self with parts and promptitude for such actions; the loss 
 and vanity is but the greater thereby, since he and those 
 he affected to .serve, are all going down to the silent grave. 
 Of how little use are the politician, the statesman, the se- 
 nator, the judge, or the eloquent man, if we lay aside the 
 consideration of their subserviency to the keeping the 
 world in a more composed and orderly stale, for the prose- 
 cution of the great designs of eternity, w^hen ere long all 
 their thoughts shall perish 1 what matter were ii what be- 
 came of the world, whether it be wise or foolish, rich or 
 poor, quiet or unquiet, governed or ungoverned 1 Who- 
 ever should make their order and tranquillity their study, 
 or that should intend their thoughts and endeavours to the 
 finding out the exactesl methods and rules of gtivernment 
 and policy, should but do as they that should use a great 
 deal of pains and art in the curious adorning and trimming 
 up of a dying person ; or as if some one, among many con- 
 demned persons, should be very solicitous to have them 
 march with him in very exact order to the place of execu- 
 tion. If the world be not looked upon as a tiring room to 
 dress one's self in, for an appearance on the eternal stage; 
 but only as a great charnel-house, where they undress and 
 put off" themselves, to sleep in everlasting darkness ; how 
 can we think it worth a thought, or to be the subject of 
 any rational design or care 1 Who would not rather bless 
 himself in a more rational neglect and regard lessness of 
 all human affairs; and accoimt an unconcerned indiffer- 
 ency the highest wisdom"? 
 
 Yea, 3dlij, If we suppose religion (which we need not 
 (because it is mentioned in this order) conceive exclusive 
 of reason, but rather perfective of it: reason having first 
 found out God, religion adores him) to become with any the 
 ruling principle, and to have the direction and government 
 of the man, as to his way and end: how would even that 
 languish with the best, were the consideration of a future 
 slate laid aside, which with so few, notwithstanding it, hath 
 any efficacy at all to command and govern their lives'. 
 Religion terminates upon God ; and upon him under a 
 double notion, either as we design service and honour to 
 him, or as from him we design satislaction and blessedness 
 to ourselves. Now if a man's thoughts and the intention 
 of his mind be carried towards God under the former no- 
 tion, how great an allay and abatement must it needs be to 
 the vigour and zeal of his affection, who shall with the 
 most sincere devotedness apply himself to serve his inter- 
 est and glory, to reflect upon the universal mortalit)' of 
 himself and mankind, without anj' hope of compensation 
 to it by a future immortality ! 
 
 It is agreed on all hands, that the utmost contributions 
 of creatures can add nothing to him ; and that our glorify- 
 ing him doth only consist, either in our acknowledging 
 him glorious ourselves, or representing him so to others. 
 But how little doth it signify, and how flat and low a thing 
 would it seem, that 1 should onl}- turn mine eye upwards 
 and think a few admiring thoughts of God this hour, while 
 I apprehend myself liable to lose my very thinking power 
 and whole being the next ! Or if we could spread his just 
 renown, and gain all the sons of men to a concurrence 
 with us in the adoring of his sovereign excellencies, how 
 would it damp and stifle such loyal and dutiful affection, 
 to consider, that the universal testimony, so deservedly 
 given him, shall shortly cease for ever, and that infinitelj' 
 blessed Being be ere long (again, as he was from eternity 
 before) the only witness of his own glory ! And if the pro- 
 pension of a man's soul be towards God under the latter 
 notion also, in order to a satisfaction that shall thence ac- 
 crue to himself, (which design, both in the pursuit and exe- 
 cution of it, is so conjunct with the former that it cannot 
 be severed,) it cannot but he an unspeakable diminution 
 and check to the highest delights in this kind, to think how 
 soon they shall have an end ; that the darkness and dust of 
 the grave shall shortl}' obscure and extinguish the glory of 
 this lightsome scene. 
 
 To think every tinje one enters that blessed presence, 
 for ought I know I shall approach it no more! This is 
 possibly my last sight of that pleasant face, my last taste
 
 2ei^ 
 
 THE VANITY OF MAN AS MORTAL, 
 
 of those enravishing pleasures ! "What bitterness must this 
 infuse into the most delicious sweemess our state could 
 then admit! And by how much more free and large grace 
 should be in its present communications, and by how 
 much any soul should be more experienced in the life of 
 God and inured to divine delights, so much the more grie- 
 vous and afflictive resentments it could not but have of the 
 approaching end of all ; and be the more powerfully tempt- 
 ed to say, Lord, why was I made in vain 1 How faint and 
 languid would endeavours be after the knowledge of that 
 God whom I may but only know and die ! How impotent 
 and ineflectual would the attractions of this end be to man 
 in this terrene state to raise him above the world, and res- 
 cue him from the power of sensible things, to engage him 
 in the pursuit of that sanctity and purity which alone can 
 qualify him for converse with God, to bear him out in a 
 conflict against the (more natural) inclinations of sense, 
 when if with much labour and painful striving, much 
 self-denial and severity to the flesh, any disposition should 
 be attained to relish divine pleasures, it be considered all 
 the while, that the end of all may be as soon lost as it is 
 gained ; and that possibly there may be no more than a 
 moment's pleasure to recompense the pains and conflicts of 
 many years! Although, in this case, the continual hope 
 and expectation of some further manifestation and fruition 
 might much influence a person already holy, and a great 
 lover of God, unto a steadfast adherence to him ; yet how 
 little would it do to make men such, that are yet unsuit- 
 able and disaffected to him ! or even to recover such 
 out of their lapses and drowsy fits, that are not altoge- 
 ther so ! 
 
 And 'tis further to be considered, that since God hath 
 given man a being capable of subsisting in another state ; 
 (as doth appear by what hath been already said ;) and 
 since he is therefore capable of enjoying a greater happi- 
 ness than his present state can admit of; that capacity will 
 draw upon him a most indispensable obligation to intend 
 that happiness as his end. For admit that there be no fu- 
 ture state for him, it is however impossible any man should 
 know there is none; and upon an impartial view of the 
 whole case, he hath enough to render it, (at least) far more 
 likely to him that there is. And certainly he cannot but 
 be obliged to pursue the highest good (even by the law of 
 nature itself) which his nature is capable of; which pro- 
 bably he may attain, and which he is no where forbidden 
 by his Creator to aspire unto. Whence therefore, if we 
 now circumscribe him within the limits of this present 
 mortal state ; or if, for argument's sake, we suppose even- 
 tually there is no other; we must not only confess that ca- 
 pacity to be given him in vain, but that he is obliged also 
 to employ the principal endeavours of his life and all his 
 powers in vain ; (for certainly his principal endeavour 
 ought to be laid out in order to his principal end ;) that is, 
 to pursue that good which he may attain, but never shall ; 
 and which is possible to him, but not upon any terms fu- 
 ture. And if it be admitted, that the subject state of man 
 must silence all objections against any such inconsisten- 
 cies, and make him content to act in pure obedience to his 
 Maker, (whether he signify his will by the law of nature 
 only, or by any positive precept,) though he shall not here- 
 after enjoy any permanent state of blessedness as the con- 
 sequent reward : that virtue and goodness, a holy recti- 
 tude of inclinations and actions, are reward enough to 
 themselves : and there is that justice and sweetness in re- 
 ligion, to oblige him to love and reverence and adore the 
 Divine Majesty this moment, though he were sure to perish 
 for ever and be reduced to nothing the next ; I say, admit- 
 ting all this, yet, 
 
 2. Since the blessed God himself is to be considered as 
 the principal Agent and Designer in this inquiry, " Why 
 hast thou made all men in vain V It is with modest and 
 humble reverence to be considered, what end worthy of 
 that infinitely perfect Being, he may be supposed to have 
 propounded to himself in forming such a creature of so 
 improveable a nature, and furnished with so noble faculties 
 and powers, for so transient and temporary a state ? and 
 how well it will consist with the most obvious and unques- 
 tionable notions we can have of an absolutely perfect Be- 
 ing and the attributes which he most peculiarly challenges 
 b Jor. iz. 9i. 
 
 and appropriates to himself, (so as not only to own, but to 
 glory in them,) that he should give being not to some few 
 only, but to the whole species of human creatures, and 
 therein communicate to them a nature capable of know- 
 ing, of loving, and enjoying himself in a blessed eternity 
 with a design to continue them only for some short space 
 on earth, in a low, imperfect state, wherein they shall be 
 liable to sink still lower, to the vilest debasement of their 
 natures; and yet not for their transgression herein, (for 
 'tis the mortality of man, not by sin, but by creation or the 
 design of the Creator only, that is now supposed,) but for 
 his mere pleasure to bereave them of being, and reduce 
 them all again to nothing 1 It is to be considered , Whether, 
 thus to resolve and do, can any way agree to God, accord- 
 ing to our clearest and most assured conceptions of him ; 
 not from our reasoning only, but his discovery of him- 
 self 1 For otherwise we see the imputation falls where 
 we should dread to let it rest, of having made man in 
 vain. 
 
 He is, in common account, said to act vainly, who acts 
 beneath himself, so as to pursue an end altogether unwor- 
 thy of him, or none at all. 'Tis true, that some single acts 
 may be done by great persons as a divertisement, without 
 dishonourable reflection, that may seem much beneath them. 
 And if any do stoop to very mean offices and employ- 
 ments to do good, to help the distressed and relieve the 
 miserable, it is a glorious acquest; and the greater they 
 are, the higher is the glory of their condescending good- 
 ness. Benignity of nature and a propension to the most 
 imexpected acts of a merciful self-depression, when the 
 case may require it, are the most comely ornaments of 
 princely greatness, and outshine the glory of the richest 
 diadem. But a wonted habitual cour.«e of mean actions 
 in great persons, that speak a low design or no design at 
 all, but either a humour to trifle, or a mischievous nature 
 and disposition, w-ould never fail to be thought inglorious 
 and infamous; as may be seen in the instances of Sarda 
 napalus's spinning, and Domilian's killing of flies. 
 
 When wisdom and goodness are in conjunction with 
 power and greatness, they never persuade a descent but 
 upon such terms and for such purposes that a more glo- 
 rious advancement shall ensue. Wisdom foreseeing that 
 end, and goodness readily taking the way, which (though 
 it were most undesigned, or not aimed at as an end) could 
 not fail to effect it. Nor are any attributes of the Divin** 
 Being more conspicuous than these ; more testified by 
 himself, or more generall)^ acknowledged b}'^ all men that 
 have not denied his existence. Or if any have done that 
 violence to their own minds, as to erase and blot out thence 
 the belief of an existing Deity, yet at least, while they de- 
 ny it, they cannot hut have this notion of what they deny, 
 and grant that these are great perfections, and must agree 
 to God, upon supposition that he do exist. If therefore he 
 should do any thing repugnant to these, or we should 
 suppose him to do so, we should therein suppose him 
 to act below a God, and so as were very unworthy of 
 him. And though it becomes us to be very diffident of 
 our own reasonings concerning the counsels and designs 
 of that eternal Being; so, as if we should find him to 
 assert any thing expressly of himself, which we know not 
 how to reconcile with our own preconceived thoughts, 
 therein to yield him the cause, and confess the debility of 
 our understandings ; yet certainly, it were great rashness 
 and void of all pretence, to suppose any thing which nei- 
 ther he saith of himself, nor we know how, consistently, 
 to think. Nor are we, in judging of his designs, to bring 
 him down to our model, or measure him by man, w^hose 
 designs do for the most part bespeak only his own indi- 
 gency, and are levelled at his own advantage and the bet- 
 tering some way or other of his present condition. What- 
 soever the great God doth towards his creatures, we must 
 understand him to do, though with design, yet from an 
 exuberant fulness of life and being, by which he is inca- 
 pable of an accession to himself And hence that he 
 can, in reference to himself, have no other inducement to 
 such action, besides the complacency which he takes in 
 diffusing his free communications, (for ^ he exercises loving 
 kindness, judgment, and righteousness in the earth, be- 
 cause he delighteth in these things,) and the maintaining 
 
 i
 
 THE VANITY OF MAN AS MORTAL. 
 
 281 
 
 the just honour and reputation of his government over his 
 creatures, who as they are '^of him, and through him, 
 must be all to him, that he may have glory for ever. 
 
 Now, though it be most undoubtedly true, that the 
 sovereignty of his power and dominion over his creatures 
 (of which he hath no need, and to whom he so freely gave 
 being) is so absolute and unlimited, that if we consider 
 that only, we must acknowledge, he might create a man 
 or an angel, and annihilate him presently ; yea, that he 
 might, if he so pleased, raise up many thousand worlds of 
 intelligent and innocent creatures into being in one 
 moment, and throw them into nothing again the very next 
 moment. Yet how unwarrantably should we maim the 
 notion of God, if we should conceive of him only accord- 
 ing to one attribute, secluding the consideration of the 
 rest ! How misshapen an idea should we bear of him in 
 our minds ! And how would it deform the face of Pro- 
 vidence, and spoil the decorum of his administrations, if 
 ihey should be the effects of one single attribute only, the 
 other having no influence on the affairs of the world ! If 
 nothing but viercy should appear in his dispensatiims 
 towards sinful man, so that ev'ery man might do what were 
 good in his own eyes, without cause of fear to be called 
 to account; if the most dissolute and profane were equally 
 assured of his favour, with those who are most holy and 
 strictly regular in all their conversation, what would be 
 thought of God and religion 1 Or how should we savour 
 ihe notion of an impure deity, takmg pleasure to in<lulge 
 the wickedness of men 1 And if jiistice alone have the 
 whole management of affairs, and every act of sin be fal- 
 lowed with an act of sudden vengeance, and the whole 
 world become a flaming theatre, and all men held in a 
 hopeless expectation of fiery indignation and of judgment 
 without mercy, what would become of that amiable repre- 
 sentaiion, and the consolatory thoughts we have of God, 
 and of that love and duly which some souls do bear 
 towards him 1 Or if poicer should affect daily to show 
 itself in unusual appearances and effects, in changing ever}' 
 hour the shapes of the terrestrial creatures, in perpetual 
 quick innovations of the courses of the celestial, with a 
 ■:..ousand more kinds of prodigious events that might be 
 the hourly effects of unlimited power, how were the order 
 of the world disturbed, and how unlovely an idea would 
 It beget in every intelligent creature, of him that made and 
 rules it ! Yet is it from no defect of meraj, that all men 
 are not equally favoured and blessed of God; nor oi jus- 
 tice, that a speedy vengeance is not taken of all ; nor of 
 pov)er, that the world is not filled with astonishing won- 
 ders every day ; but rather from their unexcessiveness, 
 and that they make that blessed temperature where they 
 reside, and are exercised in so exact proportion, that 
 nothing is ever done unworthy of him, who is, at once, 
 both perfectly merciful, and just, and powerful, and wise, 
 and hath all perfections eminently comprehended and 
 united in his own most simple Being. It were therefore 
 besides the purpose to insist only what sovereign power, 
 considered apart, might do ; but we are to consider what 
 may be congruous to him to do, who is infinitely wise and 
 good, as well as powerful. 
 
 1. And first, let it be weighed, how it may square with the 
 Divine wisdom, to give being to a world of reasonable crea- 
 tures, and giving them only a short time of abode in being, 
 to abandon them to a perpetual annihilation. Wisdom 
 in any agent must needs suppose the intention of some 
 valuable end of his action. And the Divine wisdom, 
 wherein it hath any end diverse from that which his pure 
 goodness and benignity towards his creatures would in- 
 cline him to, (which also we must conceive it most intent 
 to promote and further,) cannot but have it chiefly in de- 
 .sigii ; it being determined that his goodness should open 
 itself and break forth into a creation, and that of reason- 
 able creatures, so to manage his government over these 
 (which indeed are the only subjects of government in the 
 strict and proper notion of it) as may most preserve his 
 authority, and keep up his just interest in them, both by 
 recommending him to their fear and love ; to pos.sess them 
 with that due and necessary reverence of him that mav 
 restrain them from contemptuous sinning; and so endear 
 his government to them, as to engage them to a placid and 
 
 c Rom. in. 38. 
 
 free obedience. But how little would it agree with this 
 design of the Divine wisdom, to have made man only for 
 
 this temporary state ! For, 
 
 1. How little would it tend to the begetting and set- 
 tling that fear of God in the hearts of men, that were ne- 
 cessary to preserve his authority and government from a 
 profane contempt ; whereas daily experience shows, that 
 there is now no difTcrence made between them that fearGod 
 and them that tear him not, unless wherein the former are 
 worse dealt with and more exposed to sufferings and 
 wrongs: that, at least, 'tis often (3'ea for the most part) 
 so, that to depart from iniquity is to make oneself a yrey ; 
 that those who profess and evidence the most entire devot- 
 edness to God, and pay the greatest observance and duly 
 to him, become a common scorn upon this very account, 
 and are in continual danger to be eaten up as bread by 
 those that call not upon God; while in the meantime the 
 tabernacles of robbers prosper, and they that provoke God 
 are secure, are not plagued as other men, nor in trouble as 
 other men. And judgment is not here executed for wicked 
 works in this world. If also nothing is to be expected, 
 either of good or evil, in another, who is likely to be in- 
 duced, in this case, to fear God or to be subject to him 1 
 And how unlike is this to the wisdom of the Supreme 
 Ruler, to expose his most rightful and sovereign authority 
 to the fearless and insolent affronts of his own revolted 
 creatures, without any design of future reparation to it ; as 
 if he had created ihem on purpose only to curse him and 
 die ! But he hath prevented the occasion of so reproach- 
 ful a censure, and thought fit to fill his word and the 
 consciences of guilty sinners with threats and dreadftil 
 presages of a future judgment and slate of punishment. 
 To which he is no less concerned, both in point of wisdom 
 and veracity, (and I may add of legal justice,) to make 
 the event correspond, that he may neither be found to 
 have omitted any due course for preventing or redress 
 of so great an evil; and that, if the threatening do 
 not effectually over-awe sinners, the execution may at 
 least right himself: and that, in the meantime, he do 
 not (that which would least of all become him, and which 
 were most repugnant to his nature) make use of a solemn 
 fiction to keep the world in order, and maintain his govern- 
 ment by falsehood and deceit, that is. by threatening what 
 he knows shall never be. 
 
 2. Nor were there (in the case all along supposed) a 
 more probable provision made, to conciliate and procure to 
 the Divine majesty the love which it is requisite he should 
 have from the children of men. And this cannot but be 
 thought another apt method for his wisdom to pitch upon, 
 to render his government acceptable, and to engage men to 
 that free and complaceniial subjection which is suitable to 
 God. For how can that filial and dutiful affection ever 
 be the genuine product or impress of such a representation 
 of the case between God and them; that is, that they shall 
 be most indispensably obliged to devote their whole being 
 and all their powers entirely to his service and interest; 
 exactly to observe his .strictest laws, to keep under the se- 
 verest restraint their most innate, reluctant inclinations; 
 and in the meantime expect the administrations of Provi- 
 dence to be such, towards them, that they shall find harder 
 usage all their days than his most insolent and irreconcil- 
 able enemies, and at last lose their very beings, they know 
 not how soon, and therewith (necessarily) all possibilities 
 of any future recompense. Is this a likely way to procure 
 love, and to captivate hearts into an affectionate and free 
 obedience '? Or what is it probable to produce, but a sour 
 and sullen despondency, the extinction of all generous 
 affection, and a temper more agreeable to a forced enthral- 
 ment to some malii^nant, insulting genius, than a willing 
 subjection to the God of all grace and lovel And every 
 one will be ready to say. There is little of wisdom in that 
 government, the administration whereof is neitlier apt to 
 beget fear nor love in those that are subject to it ; but 
 either through the want of the one to he despised, or 
 to be regretted through the want of the other. And this 
 being the very case, upon supposition of no future state, it 
 seems altogether unworthy of the Divine Avisdom, that such 
 a creature should ever have been made as man, upon 
 which no end is attainable, (as the course of providence
 
 283 
 
 THE VANITY OF MAN AS MORTAL. 
 
 commonly runs in this world,) in comparison whereof, it 
 were not better and more honourable to his Maker, (whose 
 interest it is the part of his wisdom to cunsult,) that he 
 had never been. And therefore, as to God and the just 
 and worthy designs of his glory, he would seem, upon this 
 supposition, wholly made in vain. 
 
 2. And secondly. How congruous and agreeable would 
 this supposition prove to the goodness of Godi As that 
 other attribute of wisdom doth more especially respect his 
 own interest, so doth this the interest of his creatures : 
 that is, if it be understood, not in a metaphysical, but in a 
 moral, sense ; as it imports a propensity and steady bent 
 of will unto benefaction, according to that of the Psalmist, 
 Thou art good, and dost good.d And this free and gene- 
 lous principle it is, which gives the first rise and begin- 
 ning to all the designs any way respecting the well-being 
 and happiness of creatures ; which then infinite wisdom 
 forms and manages to their full issues and accomplishment, 
 guiding (as it were) the hand of almighty power in the ex- 
 ecution of them. 
 
 That there should be a creation, we may conceive to be 
 the first dictate of this immense goodness, which afterwards 
 diflTuses itself through the whole, in communications agree- 
 able to the nature of every creature. So that even this in- 
 ferior and less noble part, the earth, is full of the goodness 
 of the Lord.« It creates first its own object, and then pours 
 ibrth itself upon it with infinite delight, rewarding the ex- 
 pense with the pleasure of doing good. Now if we should 
 suppose such a creature as man made only for that short 
 time and low state which we see to be allotted him in this 
 world, it were neither difficult nor enough to reconcile the 
 hypothesis with strict justice, which upon the ground of ab- 
 solute dominion may do what it will with its own : but the 
 ill accord it seems to have with so large and abounding 
 goodness, renders it very unlike the dispensation of the 
 blessed God ; no enjoyment being in that case afforded to 
 this sort of creatures, agreeable to their common nature 
 and capacity, either in degree or continuance. 
 
 Not in degree. : for who sees not, that the nature of man 
 is capable of greater things than he here enjoys "? And 
 where that capacity is rescued from the corruption that 
 narrows and debases it, how sensibly do holy souls resent 
 and bewail their present state, as a state of imperfection ! 
 With how fervent and vehement desires and groans do 
 they aspire and pant after a higher and more perfect ! We 
 that are in this tabernacle do groan, being burdened ; not 
 for that we would be unclothed, f (that is not enough, to 
 be delivered out of the miseries of life, by laying doAvn 
 this passive part, is not that which will terminate their de- 
 sires,) but clothed upon, that mortality might be swallowed 
 up of life. Theirs are not brutal groans, the complaint of 
 oppressed sensitive nature under a present evil ; but ra- 
 tional and spiritual, the expressions of desire strongly car- 
 ried to pursue an apprehended suitable good. The "truest 
 notion we can yet have of the primitive nature and capacity 
 of man, is by beholding it in its gradual restitution. And 
 is it agreeable to the goodness of God, to put such a nature 
 into any, and withhold the suitable object 1 As if it were 
 a pleasure to him, to behold the work of his hands spending 
 itself in weary strugglings towards him, and vexed all the 
 while it continues in being, with the desire of what it shall 
 never enjoy ; and which he hath made it desire, and there- 
 in encouraged it to expect 1 
 
 Nor in contlnvance: for I suppose it already evident, 
 that the nature of man is capable (in respect of his principal 
 part) of perpetuity, and so of enjoying a felicity hereafter 
 that shall be permanent and know no end. And it seems 
 no way congruous to so large goodness, to stifle a capacity 
 whereof it was itself the author, and destroy its own work. 
 For if the being of man is intended for so short a continu- 
 ance, either he may have the knowledge of this determina- 
 tion concerning him, or not. If he cannot have the know- 
 ledge of it, why should any one say what they cannot 
 know ; or put such a thing upon God, that is so vilely 
 reflecting and dishonourable to him 1 If he may have the 
 knowledge of it, then doth he seem a creature made for 
 torment, while by an easy reflection upon himself he may 
 discern, he is not incapable of a perpetual stale, and is yet 
 brought forth into the light to be ere long extinguished 
 d P3al. exix. S8. e Psal. xxxiii. 5. 
 
 and shut up in everlasting darkness. And who can thmk 
 this a thing worthy of infinite and eternal goodness 1 Be- 
 sides, (as hath been insisted before,) that this torture, pro- 
 ceeding from so sad an expectation, cannot but be most 
 grievous and afflictive to the best. Whence the apostle 
 tells us,' that Christians, if in this life only they had hope, 
 were of all men most miserable : so that it were more de- 
 sirable never to have been. If any yet fall hereafter into a 
 state to which they would prefer perpetual annihilation, 
 inasmuch, as it is wholly by their own default, it no way 
 reflects upon Divine goodness. But it would be a dis- 
 honourable reflection rather upon that Author and Foun- 
 tain of all goodness, if he should not express himself wise 
 and just as well as good ; as it would upon a man, espe- 
 cially a ruler over others, if that which we call good-nature 
 were conjunct with stolidity, or an insensibleness of what- 
 soever affronts to his person and government. Upon the 
 Avhole, therefore, it seems most repugnant to these great 
 attributes of the Divine Being, to have made man only for 
 this present state. That to think so, were to conceive un- 
 worthily, of him, as if he had acted much beneath himself, 
 and done a vain thing in making such a creature, no end 
 being attainable by it, which we can suppose either his 
 wisdom or goodness to aim at. 
 
 If any would imagine to themselves an expedient, by 
 supposing an eternal succession of human generations, 
 upon whom the wisdom and goodness of God might have a 
 perpetual exercise in the government and sustentation ol 
 them for their appointed times : this would be far from sa- 
 tisfying as to either, but would rather increase the difficulty ; 
 for there would be the same temptation upon all the indi- 
 viduals, to contemn or regret the government of their 
 Maker. So that he should hereby even eternize his own 
 reproach ; and should always, in every succession, have 
 still the same craving appetites returning, and expectations 
 never to be satisfied, which were as repugnant to all he 
 hath discovered to us of his nature, as any thing we can 
 suppose. Though some persons of a light and desultory 
 humour, might imagine to themselves a pleasure in it, if 
 they had the power to make such a rotation of things, 
 rising and falling, coming and passing awa)', at their beck 
 and command ; and such as were of a .'sanguinary temper, 
 might sport themselves in raising up and lopping ofif lives 
 at pleasure with an arbitrary hand : yet sure they would 
 never gain by it the esteem of being either wise or good; 
 and would, 'tis like, in time grow weary of the sport. But 
 to form to ourselves such ideas of the blessed God, were 
 an injury not inferior to the very denial of his being. 
 
 His providence towards the inferior creatures hath no 
 resemblance of any such thing ; whom his bounty sustains 
 agreeably to their natures, who have no foresight of their 
 own cessation from being, to keep them in a continual 
 death by the expectation of it ; and who serve to valuable 
 and reasonable purposes while they are continued ; for they 
 are useful, partly to the sustentation of man, and partly to 
 his instruction, in order to his higher ends. And though 
 each individual of them do not actually so, it is sufficient 
 that the several kinds of them are naturally apt thereto, 
 which are propagated according to a settled course and law 
 of nature, in their individuals. And if all immediately 
 serve not man, yet they do it mediately, in serving those 
 that more immediately do. Besides, that when such a 
 work was to be done, as the furnishing out and accom- 
 plishing this lower world; it was meet all things should 
 be in number, weight, and measure, and correspond in 
 every part. As if one build a house for entertainment, 
 though the more noble rooms only do come in view, yet all 
 the rest are made answerably decent, on supposition that 
 they may. It was becoming the august and great Lord of 
 this world, that it have in it, not only what may sustain 
 the indigent, but gratify the contemplative by fresh variety ; 
 who would be apt to grow remiss by conversing only with 
 what were of every day's observation. Nor was that a low 
 end, when such contemplation hath so direct a tendency to 
 raise a considering mind to the sight, and love, and praise 
 of the Supreme Being, that hathstamped so lively signatures 
 and prints of his own perfections upon all his works. If it 
 be said, man might be in the same kind serviceable to the 
 contemplation of angels, though he were himself never to 
 
 f 1 Cor. V. 4. g 1 Cor. xv. 19.
 
 THE VANITY OF MAN AS MORTAL. 
 
 •2S3 
 
 knoTV any other than this mortal state ; 'tis true that he 
 might so; but yet the incongruities were no way salved, 
 of God's putting a capacity and expectation into his na- 
 ture of a better state: of his dealing so hardly with them, 
 that he hath procured to love him: of his never vindica- 
 ting their high contempt that spent their days in rebellion 
 against him. Besides, that these were ill precedents, and 
 no pleasant themes for the view of an angelical mind. 
 And if they see a nature extinct, capable of their stale, 
 what might they suspect of their own 1 So that, which 
 ■way soever we turn our thoughts, we still see that man's 
 mortality and Uableness to an unavoidable death, ab- 
 stracted from the thoughts of another state, carry that 
 constant aspect, as if all men were made in vain. 
 
 Wtiat remains then, but that we conclude hence, we 
 ought not too much, or too long, thus to abstract, nor too 
 closely confine our eye to this dark and gloomy theme, 
 death and the grave, or withhold it from looking further. 
 For far be it from us to think the wise and Hol)^ God hath 
 given being to man (and consequently exercised a long 
 continued series of providence through so many successive 
 ages towards him) in vain. Nothing but a prospect of an- 
 other state can solve the knot and work through the pre- 
 sent ditiiculty, can give us a true account of man and what 
 he was made for. Therefore since it would be profane 
 and impious, sad and uncomfortable, a blasphemy to our 
 Maker, a torture to ourselves, to speak it as our settled ap- 
 prehension and judgment, that God hath made man to no 
 purpose; we are obliged and concerned, both in justice to 
 him and compassion to ourselves, so to represent the case, 
 as that we may be able to remove so unworthy and black 
 a thought to the greatest distance from us, both in itself 
 and whatsoever practice would be consequent thereto : that 
 is, to conclude, That certainly there must be another state 
 after this, and accordingly steer our course. — The Im- 
 provement then of the foregoing discourse will have a dou- 
 ble aspect : — on our judgments, and practice. 
 
 1. On our judgments. To settle this great principle of 
 truth in them. The certam futurity of another state after 
 this lite is over, unto which this present state is only pre- 
 paratory and introduetive. For whereas we can nevergive 
 a rational account why such a creature as man was made, 
 if we confine all our apprehensions concerning him to his 
 present state on earth: let them once transcend those nar- 
 row limits, fly over into eternity, and behold him made for 
 an everlasting state t'creafter, and the difficulty now van- 
 ishes, the whole affair looks with a comely and befitting 
 aspect. 
 
 For we may now represent the case thus to ourselves : 
 that man was put into this terrestrial state and dwelling, by 
 the wise and righteous designation of his great Creator ami 
 Lord, that his loyalty to him, amidst the temptations and 
 enticements of sensible things, might be tried awhile : that 
 revolting from him, he is only left to feel here the just 
 smart of his causeless defection; that yet such further me- 
 thods are used for his recovery, as are most suitable to his 
 so unpaired state. An allayed light shines to him in the 
 midst of darkness, that his feebler eye may receive a gra- 
 dual illumination, and behold God in those more obscure 
 discoveries which he now vouchsafesof himself till by de- 
 grees he be won to take up ^ood thoughts of him, and re- 
 turn into an acquaintance and friendship with him ; which 
 once begun here, shall be hereafter perfected in eternal 
 fruitions. The offence and wrong done to his Maker, he 
 in a strange unthought-of way makes compensation of to 
 himself; and testifies his reconcileableness, and persuades 
 a reconciliation upon such terms, and b}^ so endearing me- 
 diums, as might melt and mollify hearts of adamant ; and 
 shall effectually prevail with many to yield themselves 
 the subjects and instances of his admired goodness for ever; 
 while others lie only under the natural consequents and 
 just resentments of their unremedied enmity and folly. So 
 are the glorious issues of God's dis^pensation towards man, 
 and the wise and merciful conduct of his equal govern- 
 ment, worthily celebrated through the days of eternity with 
 just acclamation and praises. We can fasten upon nothing 
 exceptionable or unaccountable, yea, or that is not highly 
 laudable and praise-worthy, in this course of procedure. 
 Therefore, though now we behold a dark cloud of mortal- 
 ity hanging over the whole human race ; though we see the 
 
 grave still devouring and still unsatisfied, and that all are 
 successively drawn down into it ; and we puzzle ourselves 
 to assign a reason why such a creature was made a rea- 
 .sonable being, capable of an everlasting duration, to visit 
 the world only and vanish, to ccm verse a short space with 
 objects and affairs so far beneath it, and retire we know 
 not whither: if yet our eye follow him thmugh the dark 
 paths of the region of death, till at the next appearance we 
 behold him clothed with inimorlality and fitted to an end- 
 less state, the wonder is over, and our amasement quickly 
 ceases. 
 
 Wherefore let us thus bethink ourselves, and consider : 
 Surely he that made this great universe, and disposed all 
 the sorts, stations, and motions of creatures in it in so ex- 
 quisite order and method, cannot but be a most perfectly 
 wise and intellectual agent, and therefore cannot be sup- 
 posed to have done any thing to no purpose; much less 
 when all the inferior creatures have ends visibly answer- 
 ing the exigency of their natures, to have made so excel- 
 lent a creature as man (the nobler part of his lower crea- 
 tion) in vain; that he only should be without his propor- 
 tionable end, and after a .short continuance in being, re- 
 turn to nothing, -without leaving it conjeclurable what he 
 was made for. This were so intolerable an incongruity, and 
 .so unlike the footsteps that every where else appear in the 
 Divine wisdom and goodness, that we cannot but inquire 
 further into this matter, and conclude at la.st, that he was 
 made for some higher purposes than arc within the reach of 
 our sight, and hath his principal part 3-et to act upon an- 
 other stage, within the veil, that shall never be taken down. 
 The future immortality of man seems therefore so cer- 
 tainly grounded upon what is discovered and generally ac- 
 knowledged touching the nature of God and his most pe- 
 culiar and essential perfections, that unless we were fur- 
 ther put to prove the existence of a God, (which to them 
 that are rational need not, and to them that are not were in 
 vain,) there can no reasonable doubl remain concerning it 
 
 2. Wherefore the further use we have to make of the 
 matter proposed, is in reference to our practice : which it 
 may fitly serve both to correct and reprove, and also U> 
 direct and guide. 
 
 I. It administers the ground of just rebuke ; that since, 
 if we terminate our thoughts and designs upon things onl)' 
 on this side the grave, it would seem we were wholly 
 made in vain; and we do yet so generally employ our 
 cares and endeavours about such things, and even the vi- 
 lest and most despicable of these; and so live not to our 
 own dishonour only, but to tiie reproach of our IMaker, as 
 if he made us for no more worthy ends. And let us but 
 impartiall)' debate the matter with ourselves ; Can we, in 
 sober reason, think we were made only for such eiids as 
 the most only pursue? have we an)' pretence to think sol 
 or can it enter into our souls to believe it ? Would not 
 men be ashamed to profess such a belief; or to have it 
 written in their foreheads, these are the onVy ends they ar-e 
 capable of? Then might one read, such a man born to put 
 others in mind of his predecessor's name, and only lest 
 such a family should want an heir : such a one loconsvune 
 such an estate, and devour the provenue of so man}' farms 
 and manors: such a one to fill so man}' bags and coffers 
 to sustain the riot of him that su'-ceeds; some created lo 
 see ai)d make sport; to run after hawks and dogs, or spend 
 the time which their weariness redeems from converse 
 with brutes, in making themselves such, by drinking 
 away the little residue of wit and reason they liave left; 
 mixing with this genteel exercise, their impure and scur- 
 rilous drolleries, thai they may ! efriend one another \\\\h. 
 the kind occasion of proving themselves to be yet of human 
 race, by this only demonstration remaining to them, that 
 they can laugh ; which medium, if the wisdom of (he just 
 were known, would be found sopregnant as to afford them 
 a double conclusion, and be as effectual, oftentimes, to 
 {)rove them fools as men. Others one might read born to 
 trouble the world, to disquiet the neighbourhood, and be 
 the common plague of all about them ; at least, if they 
 have any within their reach and power that are wiser and 
 more sober than tliemselvcs, or that value not their souls 
 at so cheap a rate as they : others made to blaspheme their 
 Maker, to rent the sacred name of God, and make proof 
 of their high valour and the gallantry of their bravespirits.
 
 284 
 
 THE VANITY OP MAN AS MORTAL. 
 
 by bidding a defiance to Heaven, and proclaiming their 
 heroic contempt of the Deity and of all religion. As if 
 they had persuaded themselves into an opinion, that be- 
 cause they have had so prosperous success in the high 
 achievements of conquering their humanity, and baffling 
 their own fear, and reason, and conscience, death also will 
 yield them as ea.sy a victory, or be afraid to encounter men 
 of so redoubted courage; that the God of heaven, rather 
 than offend them, will not stick to repeal his laws for their 
 sakes, or never exact the observance of them from persons 
 of their quality; that they shall never be called to judg- 
 ment, or be complimented only there with great respect, 
 as persons that bore much sway in their country, and could 
 number so many hundreds or thousands a year; that at 
 least, the infernal flames will never presume to touch so 
 worthy personages; that devils will be awed by their 
 greatness, and fear to seize them, lest they should take it 
 for an affront. No conceit can be imputed to these men 
 absurd enough to over-match the absurdity of their prac- 
 tice. They can themselves think nothing more gross and 
 shameful than what they daily are not ashamed to act. 
 For what absurdity can be compassed in a thought greater 
 than what appears in acourseof life managed in perpetual 
 hostility to all principles of reason and humanity 1 And 
 either they must own all the impious folly of such thoughts, 
 or confess, upon other accounts, an equal infatuation in 
 their thinking faculty itself. For either they think their 
 course justifiable, or they do not. If they do, how fatally 
 are all things inverted in their depraved minds ! Wisdom 
 and folly, virtue and vice, good and evil, seem to them 
 transformed into one another, and are no longer to be 
 known by their own names. The common notions of all 
 mankind are but blind fancies in comparison of their later 
 and clearer illumination : and the ancient religious senti- 
 ments of all former ages, dreams and follies to their ad- 
 mired new light. Their wise and rare discoveries, that 
 they and all things came by chance, that this world hath 
 no owner or Lord, (because they never had wit or patience 
 to consider the nonsense of them ; and though they never, 
 any of them, had the luck to see one clod of earth, or 
 grain of sand, start up into being out of nothing ; much 
 less ground to think, that such a world should of itself do 
 so.) are reason enough with them, to mock at the Eternal 
 Being, and attempt to jeer religion out of the world, and 
 all other men out of their reason and wits, as they have 
 themselves. And sure this must be their only pretence, 
 and their atheism the best reason, upon which to justify 
 their constant practice. For who can think (while he sees 
 them not yet in chains) they should be so perfectly mad, as 
 to acknowledge only such a Deity (the Author and Ruler 
 of all things) whose favour were worth nothing, or to be 
 procured by affronts ; to whom contempt were a sacrifice, 
 and the violation of whatsoever is sacred, the most effect- 
 ual propitiation 1 or acknowledge him for a God, whom 
 they hope to overpower, and to prosper in a war against him 1 
 And if they acknowledge none at all, and this be the 
 fundamental article of their creed, that there is indeed 
 none : (hen can no man charge them with any thought more 
 grossly foolish than their own ; nor can they devise to say 
 any thing, by which more certainly to argue themselves 
 bereft of the common understanding of men. For who 
 that is not so, if he only take notice of his own being, may 
 not as certainly conclilde the existence of a God, as that 
 two and two make four 1 Or what imagination can be too 
 absurd to have place in that mind, that can imagine this 
 creation to be a casualty? He would be thought besides 
 himself that should say the same of the composition of a 
 clock or a watch, though it were a thousand times more 
 supposable. But if they do not jtistify themselves, to what 
 purj)ose is it further to press them with absurdities, that 
 persist in constant self-contradiction; or that have not so 
 much left them of rational sensation, as to feel in their own 
 minds the pressure of the very greatest absurdity 1 If they 
 only presume they do well, because they have never asked 
 themselves the question, or spent any"thoughts about it; 
 this speaks as much a besotted mind as any of the rest, 
 and is as unworthy of a reasonable creature. Why have 
 they the power of thinking 1 Or who do in any case more 
 generally incur the censure of imprudence and folly, than 
 they who have only this plea for their actions, that they 
 
 did not consider 1 Especially when the case is so plain, 
 and the most sudden reflection would discover the iniquity 
 and danger of their course. And one would think nothing 
 should be more obvious, or more readily occur to the mind 
 of a man, than to contemplate himself, and taking notice 
 there is such a creature in the world, furnished with such 
 abilities and powers to consider, what was I made for 1 
 what am I to pitch upon as my proper end 1 nor any thing 
 appear more horrid to him, than to cross the very ends oi 
 his creation. 
 
 2. It may also be improved to the directing of our prac- 
 tice. For which purpose we may hence take this general 
 rule, that it be such as becomes the expectation of a future 
 state : — for what else is left us, since in our present state 
 we behold nothing but vanity 1 We see thus stands out 
 case, that we must measure ourselves by one of these ap- 
 prehensions; either — we are made in vain, or — we are 
 made for a future state. And can we endure to live ac- 
 cording to the former, as if Me were impertinencies in the 
 creation, and had no proper business in if? What ingen- 
 uous person would not blush to be always in the posture 
 of a useless hang-by ; to be still hanging on, where he hath 
 nothing to do ; that if he be asked. Sir, what's your busi- 
 ness here 1 he hath nothing to sa)\ Or how can we bear 
 it, to live as if we came into the world by chance, or rather 
 by mistake, as though our creation had been a misadven- 
 ture, a thing that would not have been done had it been 
 better thought on 1 And that our Maker had overshot 
 himself, and been guilty of an oversight in giving us such 
 a being 1 Who, that hath either just value for himself, or 
 any reverence for his Maker, could endure either to un- 
 dergo the reproach, or be guilty of the blasphemy, which 
 this would import 1 And who can acquit himself of the 
 one or the other, that lives not in some measure agreeably 
 to the expectation of somewhat beyond this present lifel 
 Let us, therefore, gird up the loins of our minds, and set 
 our faces as persons designing for another world ; so sha- 
 ping our course, that all things may concur to signify to 
 men the greatness of our expectations. We otherwise 
 proclaim to the world (to our own and our Creator's 
 wrong) that we have reasonable souls given us to no pur- 
 pose. We are, therefore, concerned and obliged both to 
 aim at that worthy end, and to discover and make it visi- 
 ble that we do so. 
 
 Nor is a design for an immortal state so mean and in- 
 glorious, or so irrational and void of a solid ground, that 
 we have any cause either to decline or conceal it ; either 
 not to retain, or to be ashamed of our hope. Nor is there 
 any thing to be done in prosecution of it, so unworthy as 
 to need a comer, or merit to be done as a work of dark- 
 ness. Neither yet is it a vain- glorious ostentation, or the 
 affectation of making show of an excellency above the vul- 
 gar pitch, that I persuade to, but a modest sober avowing 
 of our design and hope; neither making any near approach 
 to a proud arrogance on the one hand, nor a mean pusil- 
 lanimity on the other. Truly great and generous spirits 
 know how to carry under secular honour with that pru- 
 dent and graceful decorum, as shall signify a just owning 
 of themselves without insolence towards others. Real 
 worth, though it do not vaunt, will show itself; and while 
 it doth not glare, yet cannot forbear to shine. We should 
 endeavour the excellency of a spirit refined from earth and 
 dross, and aspiring towards a state of immortalitj^, may ex- 
 press itself, and shine in its native lustre ; with its mvn, 
 not with borroved beams; with a constant, even, natural, 
 not with an unequal, artificial light; that all that will may 
 see, by the steady tendency of our course, that we are aim- 
 ing at the great things of another world ; though we all 
 the while are not so much solicitous to have our end and 
 purpose known, as to obtain it. 
 
 And verily, since the vile sons of the earth, the men of 
 sense, that aim at no other end than to gratify their brutal 
 appetite with such pleasure as is only to be compassed 
 within a short life's time in this world, and who live to the 
 reproach of their Maker and of mankind ; do not go about 
 to hide the infamy of their low design, or conceal the de- 
 generous baseness of their mean spirits; but while they 
 make their belly their God, and only mind earthly thing.s, 
 do also glory in their shame ; how much were it beneath 
 the state and spirit of the sons of God, that are worthily
 
 THE VANITY OF MAN AS MORTAL. 
 
 285 
 
 designing for a glorious immortality, to be ashamed of 
 their glory, or think of stealing a passage to heaven in the 
 dark ! No : let them know, it is not only too mean a thing 
 for them to involve themselves in the common spirit of the 
 sensual world, but even to seem to do so : and that this is 
 so foul and ignominious a thing, as vi'hereof they are 
 concerned, not to be free from the guilt only, but the sus- 
 picion. Those worthy souls that in former and darker 
 days were engaged in seeking the heavenly country, 
 thought it became them to confess themselvesn pilgrims 
 and strangers on the earth ; and therein to declare plainly, 
 that they were seeking that better country. Which con- 
 fession and plain declaration we need not understand to be 
 merely verbal, but practical and real also ; such as might be 
 understood to be the language of their lives, and of a con- 
 stant uniform course of actions agreeable to such a design. 
 
 Let us, therefore, bethink ourselves, what temper of 
 mind and manner of life may be most conformable to this 
 design, and best become persons pretending to it; where- 
 upon we should soon find our own thoughts instructing us, 
 that such things as these would be most becoming and fit 
 in reference thereto ; and which we may therefore take as 
 so many particular directions how to govern our spirits, 
 and behave ourselves answerable to so great an expectation. 
 
 1. That we endeavour for a calm indifferency and dis- 
 passionate temper of mind towards the various objects and 
 affairs that belong to this present life. They are very nar- 
 row limits already set, by the nature of the things them- 
 selves, to all the real objective value that such things have 
 in them ; and it is the part of wisdom and justice to set 
 the proportionable bounds to all the thoughts, cares, and 
 passions we will suffer to stir in our minds in reference to 
 them. Nothing is a more evident acknowledged character 
 of a fool, than upon every slight occasion to be in a trans- 
 port. To be much taken with empty things betokens an 
 empty spirit. It is a part of manly fortitude to have a soul 
 so fenced against foreign impressions, as little to be moved 
 with things that have little in them : to keep our passions 
 under a strict and steadj' command, that they be easily re- 
 tractable and taught to obey ; not to move till severe reason 
 have audited the matter, and pronounced the occasion 
 just and valuable. In which case the same manly temper 
 will not refuse to admit a proportionable stamp and im- 
 press from the occurring object. For it is equally a pre- 
 varication from true manhood to be mov^ed with every 
 thing and with nothing : the former would speak a man's 
 spirit a leather, the latter a stone. A total apathy and in- 
 sensibleness of external occurrents hath been the aim of 
 some, but never the attainment of the highest pretenders. 
 And if it had, yet ought it not to have been their boast ; 
 as upon sober thoughts it cannot be reckoned a perfection. 
 But it should be endeavoured, that the passions which are 
 not to be rooted up, (because they are of nature's plant- 
 ing,) be yet so discreetly checked and depressed, that they 
 grow not to that enormous tallness as to overtop a man's 
 intellectual power, and cast a dark shadow over his soul. 
 A rational authority must be maintained, a conlinency and 
 dominion of one's self, that there be not an impotent pro- 
 fusion, and we be never so affected with any thing, but 
 that the object may still be able to warrant and justify the 
 affection, both for the nature and degree of it. Which 
 rule, if we strictly observe and apply it to the present case, 
 we shall rarely meet with any temporal concern that ought 
 to move us much ; both for the littleness of such things 
 themselves, and that we have so unspeakably greater 
 things in our view and design. 
 
 In conformity therefore to our so great expectation, we 
 ought more particularly to watch and repress our inclina- 
 tions, appetites, and affections towards each several sort 
 and kind of objects, which time and this present state hath 
 within the confines of it. As, how contemptuouslv should 
 we look upon that empty vanity of being rich 'l How 
 coldly and carelessly should we pursue, how unconcern- 
 edly should we lose, any thing that might entitle us to that 
 name ! The pursuit of so despicable a trifle, with violent 
 and peremptory desire, so as hereby to suffer a diversion 
 from our design for another world, as to make our eternal 
 hope less than nothing (for to any man's calm and .sober 
 thoughts, this will be found as little ;) and so will amount 
 b Heb. xi. 
 
 to a total quitting of all our pretensions to a better, future 
 state; that is, wiien so we indulge this odd irrational, this 
 wildly fanciful, and purely hurnoursome appetite, (of which 
 no man can give any tolerable account,) that it becomes 
 ravenous, when it devours a man's time, his thoughts, the 
 strength and vigour of his spirit, swallows up his nobler 
 designs, and makes an idle doting about he knows not 
 ■what, or why, his main business. Especially when con- 
 science itself becomes a sacrifice to this impure unhallowed 
 idol ; and the question is wholly waived, " is this thing just 
 and honest V and nothing is considered, but that it is com- 
 modious and gainful. Yet, (if herein we will take upon 
 us to pass a judgment upon other men,) it will be no way 
 ingenuous or just, that in smaller and disputable matters, 
 we make our own apprehensions a measure and standard 
 to them. They are commonly aptest to do so, who liave 
 least studied the matter, and have nothing but their igno- 
 rant confidence to entitle them to the dictator's chair ; 
 M'here, however, having placed themselves, they liberally 
 besiow their censures and reproaches on all that think it 
 not fit to throw away their own eyes, and see with their 
 bad ones ; and conclude them to have no conscience, who 
 go not according to theirs ; and that they cannot but have 
 some ba.se design, who in any thing presume to swerve 
 from their judgment, especially if the advantage, in any 
 temporal respect, happen to lie on that side from which 
 they dissent. 
 
 Nothing can indeed so comport with the spirit and de- 
 .sign of one who believes himself made for another world, 
 as a brave and generous disdain of stooping to the lure of 
 present emolument, so as thereby to be drawn into any the 
 least thing which he judges not defensible by the severest 
 rules of reason and religion; which were to quit a serene 
 heaven for mire and dirt. There is nothing in this world 
 of that value, or worthy to be bought so dear, as with the 
 loss and forfeiture of the rest and repose of a mind, quiet, 
 benign, peaceful, and well pleased with itself. It is 
 enough, if one find himself, by difficulties which he can- 
 not master, constrained to dissent from persons above ex- 
 ception wise and pious, placidly, and without unbecoming 
 confidence, to go on in the way which his present judg- 
 ment allows, carr3'ing with him a modest sense of human 
 infirmity, and how possible it is, the error may lie on his 
 o^^^l part ; having yet to relieve him against that supposi- 
 tion, the clearness of his own spirit, the conscience of his 
 innocency of any ill disposition or design, of his instruct- 
 ibleness and preparedness to admit a conviction if he err. 
 And be he never so full}' persuaded about the thing in 
 difference, yet to consider the smallness of it, and how 
 little cause he hath of glorying, if he know in this matter 
 more than others, who possibly know ten times more than 
 he, in far greater and more important matters. But, in 
 matters clearly determined by common agreed principles, 
 to prevaricate out of an indulgence to mere appetite, tc 
 give up oneself to practices apparently immoral and fla- 
 gitious, only to comply with, and lest he should not satisfy 
 sensual desires, is the character of one who hath abandon- 
 ed the common hope of all good men ; and who, that he 
 may have his lot with beasts in this world, dreads not to 
 have it with devils in the other. And it is upon the same 
 ground, equallv unbecoming them that pretend to this 
 hope, to be visiblv concerned and discomposed for losses 
 and disappointments they mav meet with in this kind, 
 when unexpected events withstand their having much oi 
 this world, or deprive them of what they have. It becomes 
 them that reckon their good things are to come hereafter, 
 to show by their equal deportment and cheerful aspect ir. 
 any such case, that they apprehend not themselves touch- 
 ed in their most considerable interests. Yea, though they 
 suffer not losses only, but injuries ; and besides that they 
 are damnified, (as much as such things can signifv.) they 
 find themselves wronged •, and thouirh further trouble and 
 danger threaten them in the same kind, they should evi- 
 dence how much it is above the power either of chance or 
 malice, not only to make them miserable, but even to dis- 
 turb or make them sad; that they are not happy by n 
 casualty ; and that their happiness is not in the command 
 of them who cannot command their own ; that it only de- 
 pends on the inward constitution and frame of their own
 
 iJ8C 
 
 THE VANITY OF MAN AS MORTAL. 
 
 spirits, attempered to the blessed objects of the invisible 
 world, whereby they have the assurance of enjoying them 
 fully hereafter, and the present grateful relishes thereof in 
 the meantime. And hence, that they can be happy with- 
 out the world's kindness, and in despite of its imkindness ; 
 that they hav^e somewhat within them, by which they are 
 enabled to rejoice in tribulation ; being troubled on every 
 side, yet not to be distressed; to " take joyfully the spoil- 
 ing of goods, knowing within themselves they have in 
 heaven a better and enduring substance;" not to suffer or 
 discover any perturbation or disquiet; not to have their 
 souls ruffled, or put into disorder ; nor let any cloud sit on 
 their brow, though dark and dismal ones seem to hang 
 over their heads. 
 
 And the same absurdity it would be to indulge to them- 
 selves an unbounded liberty of sensual pleasures. For 
 that looks like a despair of futurity; as if a day were a 
 mighty gain for eating and drinking, because to-morrow 
 we must die. An abstemious shyness here is comely; a 
 tasting only the delights, whereof others suffer themselves 
 to be ingulfed ; a prudent reservedness and restraint, so as 
 that what shall cause with others an unbeseeming transport 
 and diffusion of themselves, be entertained not with a 
 cynical morosity, but a pleasant composure and well-order- 
 ed complacence ; keeping a due and even distance between 
 levity and sourness. Yet there is a natural retiredness in 
 some men's tempers; and in others an aversion to plea- 
 sures, proceeding only of a rational estimate of their 
 emptiness and vanity m themselves ; which may, however, 
 much fall short of what the present case requires ; the ex- 
 igency whereof is no way satisfied, but where such a mo- 
 deration is the product of a comparative judgment be- 
 tween the delights of the present and those of the future 
 state ; when one so enjoys any thing in this world, as to be 
 under the power of nothing because of the more prevailing 
 influence he is under from the power of the world to come ; 
 when his faith is the parent of his sobriety, and his denial 
 of worldly lusts flows from the expectation of the blessed 
 hope; when, because he more highl}' prizes, and lest he 
 forfeit, eternal pleasures, he so behaves himself towards all 
 temporary ones, as neither to abu.se those that are lawful, 
 nor to be abused by the unlawful ; not to exceed in the one, 
 nor to touch with the other. 
 
 Thus also ought we to look upon secular honours and 
 dignity; neither to make them the matter of our admira- 
 tion, affectation, or envy. We are not to behold them with 
 a libidinous eye, or let our hearts thirst after them ; not to 
 value ourselves the more for them, if they be our lot, nor 
 let our eye be dazzled with admiration, or distorted with 
 envy, when we behold them the ornaments of others. We 
 are not to express that contempt of them, which may make 
 a breach on civility, or disturb the order and policy of tlie 
 communities whereto we belong. Though this be none of 
 our own country, and we are still to reckon ourselves but 
 as pilgrims and strangers while we are here ; yet it becomes 
 not strangers to be insolent or rude in their behaviour, 
 where they sojourn, how much soever greater value they 
 may justly have of their own country. We should pay to 
 secular greatness a due respect, without idolatry, and 
 neither despise nor adore it ; considering, at once, the re- 
 quisiteness of such a thing in the present state, and the ex- 
 celling glory of the other. As though in prudence and 
 good manners we would abstain from provoking affronts 
 towards an American sachem, or sagamore, if wedid travel 
 or converse in their country; yet we could have no great 
 veneration for them, having beheld the royal pomp and 
 grandeur of our own prince ; especially he who were him- 
 self a courtier and favourite to his much more glorious 
 sovereign, whom he is shortly to attend at home, could 
 have no great temptation to sue for oflices and honours, or 
 bear a very profound intrinsic homage, to so mean and un- 
 expressive an image of regality. 
 
 It can surely no way become one who seeks and expects 
 the i honour and glory which is conjunct with immortality, 
 to be fond of the airy titles that poor mortals are wont to 
 please themselves with ; or to make one among the obse- 
 quious servile company of them whose business it is to 
 court a vanishing shadow, and tempt a dignified trifle 
 into the belief it is a deity : to sneak and cringe for a 
 i Rom ii. 7. 
 
 smile from a supercilious brow, and place his heaven in 
 the disdainful favors of him, who, it may be, places his 
 own as much in thy homage, so that it befalls into the sup- 
 plicant's power to be his creator, who.se creature he affects 
 to be. What eye would not soon spy out the grossness of 
 this absurdity! And what ingenuity would not blush to 
 be guilty of it ■? Let then the joyful expectants of a bless- 
 ed immortality pass by the busy throng of this fanciful 
 exchange; and behold it with as little concern, as a grave 
 statesman would the sports and ludicrous actions of little 
 children ; and with as little inclination of mind, as he 
 would have to leave his business and go play with them; 
 bestowing there only the transient glance of a careless or 
 a compassionate eye, and still reserving their intent steady 
 views for the glorious hope set before them. And with a 
 proportionable unconcernedness should they look on, and 
 behold the varied alterations ol political affairs, no fur- 
 ther minding either the constitution or administration of 
 government, than as the interest of the universal Ruler, 
 the weal and safety of their prince or country, are con- 
 cerned in them. But how many under the specious pre- 
 tence of a public spirit, make it their whole business to 
 inspect and pry into these affairs, even with a most meanly 
 private and interested one; watching over the public be- 
 yond the bounds of their own calling ; and with no other 
 design, than to catch at an opportunity of serving their 
 own turns ! How many that stand perpetually at a gaze, 
 in a suspenseful expectation how things will go ; either 
 joying or hoping to behold any favourable prognostics to 
 the party -whereto they have thought fit to addict them- 
 selves ! glad or desirous to see it engross power, and grasp 
 the sum of things, not from any sense of duties towards 
 God's vicegerents, not from love of justice or study of 
 public advantage, but that the happier lot may befall or re- 
 main to themselves. These men are absorbed, and .swal- 
 lowed up by the spirit of this world, contempered only to 
 this sublunary region, concorporate with the earth, so as to 
 partake in all its pangs, and paroxysms, and tremulous 
 motions. By the beating of their pulse you may know the 
 state of things in this lower world, as if they were of the 
 same piece, and had but one soul with it. Let them see 
 times and a state of things on earth suitable to their genius, 
 and you put a new life and soul into them. Reduce them 
 to a despair here, and (so little communion have they with 
 the affairs of that other country) the most specious inviting 
 representation that can be made to them of the world to 
 come hinders not, but their hearts languish and die, and 
 become as stones within ihcm. 
 
 But that lofty soul that bears about with it the living 
 apprehensions of its being made for an everlasting state, 
 so earnestly intends it, that it shall ever be a descent and 
 vouchsafemeni Avith it, if it allow itself to take notice what 
 busy mortals are doing in their (as they reckon them) grand 
 negociations here below. And if there be a suspicion of 
 an aptness or inclination to intermeddle in them to their 
 prejudice to whom that part belongs, can heartily say to it, 
 (as the philosopher to the jealous tyrant,) We of this aca- 
 demy are not at leisure to mind so mean things; we have 
 somewhat else to do than to talk of you. He hath still the 
 image before his eye, of this world vanishing and passing 
 away ; of the other, with the everlasting affairs and con- 
 cernments of it, even now ready to take place and fill up all 
 the stage: and can represent to himself the vision (not 
 from a melancholic fancy or crazed brain, but a rational 
 faiih and a sober well instructed mind) of the world dis- 
 solving, monarchies and kingdoms breaking up, thrones 
 tumbling, crowns and sceptres lying as neglected things. 
 He hath a telescope through which he can behold the glo- 
 rious appearance of the Supreme Judge; the solemn stale 
 of his majestic person; the splendid pomp of his magnifi- 
 cent and vastly numerous retinue; the obsequious throng 
 of glorious celestial creatures, doing homage to their 
 eternal King; the swift flight of his royal guards, sent 
 forth into the four winds to gather the elect, and covering 
 the face of the heavens with their spreading wings ; the 
 universal silent attention of all to that loud sounding 
 trumpet that shakes the pillars of the world, pierces 
 the inward caverns of the earth, and resounds from every 
 part of the encircling heavens; the many myriads of
 
 THE VANITY OF MAN AS MORTAL. 
 
 28": 
 
 joyful expectants arising, changing, putting on glory, taking 
 wing, and contending upwards, to join themselves to the 
 triumphant heavenly host: the judgment set; the books 
 opened ; the Irightlul amazed looks of surprised wretches ; 
 the equal administration of the final judgment; the ad- 
 judication of all to their eternal stales; the heavens rolled 
 up as a scroll; the earth and all things therein consumed 
 and burnt up. 
 
 And now, what spirit is there any more left in him to- 
 wards the trivial atl'airs of a vanishing world ? How in- 
 different a thing is it with him who bears himself highest 
 in a state of things whereof he foresees the certain hasten- 
 ing end ! Though he will not neglect the duty of his own 
 place, is heartily concerned to have the knowledge and fear 
 of God more generally obtained in this apostate world, 
 and is ready to contribute his utmost regular endeavours 
 for the preservation of common peace and order in sub- 
 serviency hereto; yet abstractedly from these considera- 
 tions, and such as have been before mentioned, he is 
 no more concerned who is uppermost, than one would, 
 passing by a swarm of flies, which hath the longest wings, 
 oi which excels the rest in sprightliness or briskness of 
 motion. And for himself, he can insert this amongst his 
 most serious thanksgivings, that while the care is incum- 
 bent on others, of watching over the public peace and 
 safety, he may sit siill and converse with God and his 
 own more sedate thoughts. How secure is he in this, that 
 infinite wisdom governs the world! that all things shall 
 be disposed the best way, to the best and most valuable 
 ends! that an afflicted state shall never befall unto good 
 men, but when it is fittest and most conducible it should 
 do sol that the prosperity carnal appetite covets, is never 
 denied them, but when it would be pernicious ! How calm 
 is he in the midst of external troubles ! how placid and 
 serene a spirit inhabits his peaceful breast! When all 
 things are shaken round about him, he is not shaken. He 
 bears all sorts of troubles, but creates none to others, nor 
 is disturbed by any himself. But they that delight to see 
 this world rolling or fixed, as they most serve their private 
 purposes, and have a perpetual quarrel with it, while it 
 looks not kindly upon them ; their life is bound up in it, 
 and their pretences to another are but the languid, faint no- 
 tions of what they never heartily believe nor desire. Upon 
 the whole matter; nothing is more agreeable to this great 
 expectation, than a steady restraint and moderation of our 
 passions towards things without us ; that is, all the seve- 
 ral sorts of external objects and affairs, that so variou.sly 
 invite and tempt our observation and regard in this our 
 present state. 
 
 2. I next add: a further congruity, if we pretend to 
 this expectation, is, that we be not over-much taken up in 
 minding the body. For this looks like a design (or that 
 inconsistent wish) to have our present state perpetuated; 
 and that the thoughts are remote from us of a change for 
 a better. As if notwithstanding all that the Divine good- 
 ness hath promised concerning the future inheritance of 
 the free and heaven-born seed, this did still lie nearest to 
 our hearts, O that Ishmael might live in thy sight ! And 
 that the belief did miserably languish with us, of any 
 better portion than what our eyes do already behold; to- 
 gether with the apprehension of a spiritual being in us, to 
 be ripened into a complete and actual capacity of enjoy- 
 ing what is better. It is true, that all the exorbitant work- 
 ing of those meaner and ignoble passions that are moved 
 by objects and occasions without and foreign to us, have 
 the body for their first and last, their spring and source, 
 their centre and end. But thence it becomes the more 
 proper and requisite, that we draw nearer this their seat 
 and centre, and strike at the root ; and in killing that inor- 
 dinate love and solicitude for the body, mortifj' them all at 
 once. We are indeed so far to comply with the pleasure 
 of our Maker, as not to despise the mean abode which he 
 hath assigned us for awhile in the body. But withal, to 
 take heed lest we so cross and resLst it, asto make caring for 
 the body our whole business ; which he hath only enjoined 
 us in subserviency to an unspeakably greater "and more 
 important business. Its health and "welfare ought upon 
 very valuable accounts to be carefully preserved bv all 
 prudent means ; but to indulge its slothful desires," and 
 k Noil qua euiidum est Bed qua itur. Sen. 
 
 comply with its licentious wild cravings, is far beneath us, 
 a base unmanning of ourselves, and would signify, as ii 
 so absurd a conceit had passed with us into a settled 
 judgment, that a reasonable immortal spirit was created 
 only to tend and serve a brute. It is monstrous to behold, 
 with how common consent multitudes that professedly 
 agree in the belief of the immortal nature of their souls, 
 do yet agree to debase and enslave them to the meanest 
 servility to their mortal bodies ; so as these are permitted 
 to give laws to them, to ])rescribe them rules of living, and 
 what their daily employment shall be. For observe the 
 designs they drive, and what is the tendency of their ac- 
 tions and affairs, (whence the judgment is to be made 
 concerning their inward thoughts, deliberations, and re- 
 .•<olves,) and is not the body the measure and mark of them 
 all 1 What import or signification is there in this course, 
 of a design for futurity "? And (which incresises the folly 
 of it to a wonder) they can make a shift to go on thus 
 from year to year, and take no notice, of the absurdity ! 
 They agree to justify each one himself, and one another. 
 The commonness of the course takes away all sense of the 
 horrid madness of it. And because each doth as the rest 
 do, they seem to imagine they all do well, and that there 
 is nothing exceptionable in the case ; and go on, as the silly 
 sheep,!' 7iot the way they ought, but which they see others go 
 before them. 
 
 But, if any place could be found for calm and sober 
 thoughts, what would be reckoned a greater impertinency, 
 than to be at so great pains for maintaining a bodily life, 
 without considering what that life shall serve fori to em- 
 ploy our utmost care to live, but to live for we know not 
 what 1 It becomes us to be patient of the body, not fond : 
 to treat and use our bodies as things shortly to be put off 
 and laid aside: to care for them, not for their own, but 
 the work's sake we have to do in them, and leave it to them 
 to indulge and pamper the body, who expect never to live 
 out of it: not to concern ourselves, that the circumslance.s 
 of our bodily stale be such as will gratify our appetites, 
 but answer the ends for which our Maker thought fit we 
 should live awhile in the body : reckoning with ourselves, 
 we are lodged in these mean receptacles (though some- 
 what commodiously, yet) but for a little while, and fc-r 
 great purposes; and more minding our journey and home, 
 than our entertainment in our inn: contentedly beaiii.g 
 the want of bodilj' accommodations that are not easily to 
 be compassed, and the pressure of unavoidable bodily in- 
 firmities ; not much pitying ourselves because of them ; 
 nor deeply regretting it, if wants and pains pinch our 
 flesh ; nay, though we seethe outward man perishing, so 
 we can but find the inward renewing day by day. 
 
 3. That we set ourselves with the whole intention of 
 our souls, to mind the concernments of the future state, 
 the invisible things of the other world ; and direct the 
 main stream of our thoughts, desires, hopes, and joys, 
 thitherward. For how highly justifiable and becoming is 
 it, that we principally mind the state and things we are 
 made fori We should therefore make these familiar to 
 ourselves, and use our spirits to those more noble and 
 pleasant themes: recounting often, how unworthy it is of 
 them to grovel in the dust, or choose the objects of their 
 converse by such measures only as are taken from sense. 
 It is an iniquity which, though God may be so gracious 
 to us as to forgive, we should not easily forgive to our- 
 selves, that we have so often chosen to converse with empty 
 trifles, while so great things have invited our thoughts in 
 vain. Their remoteness from sense hath little of excuse 
 in it, and unworthy a reasonable creature. Meihinks they 
 should be ashamed to allege it, who consider themselves 
 furnished with an intellectual power, that doih, in many 
 ' other instances, control the judgment of sense, and im- 
 peach it of falsehood. Would we not b ush to profess it 
 for a principle, that there is nothing real that exceeds the 
 sphere of our sense 1 We would reckon it a part of mo- 
 desty not to ascribe too much to our own understandings, 
 or presume too far upon our intellectual ability, against the 
 judgment of sage and knowing persons. How is it then, 
 that we think it not immodest, to oppose the apprehensions 
 of our dull and incapacious sense to the common faith and 
 reason of all good and wise men that are or have been in
 
 288 
 
 THE VANITY OF MAN AS MORTAL. 
 
 the world, as well as our own 1 If we have not seen what 
 the state of things is in the other world, are we not told ? 
 and have we not enough to assure us, that, 'tis he hath 
 told us, whose nature cannot suffer him to impose upon 
 us, or represent things otherwise than they are 1 Who else 
 can be the author of so common a persuasion 1 If any 
 man had been the first inventor of the opinion, — that there 
 is another state of things to succeed to this, would he not 
 have assumed it lo himself, that he was so? would he not 
 have owned it, and gloried in iti Or would not some or 
 other of his proselyted disciples have preserved his name 
 and memory, and transmitted them to posterity 1 Could 
 so vast a sect be without a head or master, known and 
 celebrated among men 1 
 
 Less plausible opinions find some owners; why is it 
 not said, who was the first broacher of this ? And if he 
 can find no other parent for it, but he who was the Parent 
 of our beings, how grateful should such a discovery be to 
 us, both for his sake and its own 1 Upon his account, we 
 should surely think it worthy to be believed ; and upon 
 its own, to be considered and seriously thought on, with 
 greatest delight and sense of pleasure. 
 
 Many things that we reckon considerable upon much 
 lower accounts, we so believe, as to let them engage our 
 hearts, and influence our practice, upon much lower evi- 
 dence. How entirely are men'.s spirits taken up many 
 times about meaner matters, whereof they have only a 
 (much more uncertain and fallible) report from one ano- 
 ther 1 What pretence can we have, less to regard the tes- 
 timony of him that made us, discovering to us things so 
 great, so important, so rational in themselves, even though 
 they had not been so expressly revealed ? Let us there- 
 fore drive the matter to a clear and short issue, and come 
 to a resolution with ourselves. Have we reason to believe 
 such things, or no "? If we can so far impose upon our- 
 selves, as to think we have not; or be tempted into so 
 abject, so unrequired, and so unwarrantable a self-denial, 
 so base an esteem of our own beings, as to account the 
 things of this earth and present world have enough in 
 them to answer any ends we can suppose ourselves made 
 for; let us no longer mock the world, by pretending to 
 believe what we believe not. But if this be our settled 
 judgment, and we will avow and own it, that we believe 
 these things; let us no longer expose and make ourselves 
 ridiculous, by counteracting our own professed belief in 
 matters of such moment, pretending to believe and disre- 
 garding them at the same time. 'Tis absurd and foolish, 
 to believe such things, and not mind them much, or not 
 let our souls and our practice be commanded and govern- 
 ed by them : not to have our desires, and cares, and hopes, 
 and joys, influenced thereby to the uttermost. How 
 rational is it, here to be deeply solicitous, that by the un- 
 suitableness of our own spirits we defeat not our own ex- 
 pectations ! How pleasant and delectable (that danger 
 being provided against) to sit down and compare our pre- 
 sent with our expected state, what we are, with what we 
 hope to be ere long! to think of exchanging shortly, in- 
 firmity, pollution, darkness, deformity, trouble, complaint ; 
 for power, purity, light, beauty, rest, and praise ! How 
 pleasant, if our spirits be fitted to that state ! The endea- 
 vour whereof is a further congruity in the present case, 
 viz. 
 
 4. That we make it our principal business to intend our 
 spirits, to adorn and cultivate our inward man. What 
 can more become us, if we reckon w^e have somewhat 
 about us made for immortality, than to bestow our chief 
 care upon that immortal part? Therefore, to neglect our 
 spirits, confessedly capable of so high an estate, to let them 
 languish under wasting distempers, or lie as the sluggard's 
 field, overgrown with thorns and briers, is as vile a slur as 
 we can put upon ourselves and our own profession. We 
 should therefore make this the matter of our earnest study. 
 What would be the proper improvements and ornaments 
 of our spirits, and will most fitly qualify them for the state 
 we are going into ; and of our daily observation how such 
 things thrive and grow in us. Especially, we should not 
 be satisfied, till we find in ourselves a refinedness from 
 this earth, a thorough purgation from all undue degrees of 
 sensual inclination and affection, the consumption of our 
 dross by a sacred fire from heaven, a spirit of judgment 
 
 and of burning, an aptitude to spiritual exercises and en- 
 joyments, high complacency in God, fervent love, a wor- 
 shipping posture of soul, formed to the veneration of the 
 eternal wisdom, goodness, power, holiness ; profound hu- 
 mility and abnegation of ourselves, a praiseful frame of 
 spirit, much used togratulations and thanksgivings, a large 
 and universal love, imitating as much as is possible the 
 divine, a proneness to do good to all, a steady composure 
 and serene temper of spirit, the repose and rest of a con- 
 tented mind, not boisterous, nor apt unto disquiet, or to 
 create storms to ourselves or the world, every way suitable 
 to the blissful regions, where nothing but perfect purity, 
 entire devotedness to God, love, goodness, benignity, well- 
 pleasedness, order, and peace, shall have place for ever. 
 
 This we ought to be constantly intent upon, as the 
 business of our lives, our daily work, to get our spirits so 
 attempered and fitted to heaven, that if we be asked. 
 What design we drivel What are we doing 1 we may be 
 able to make this true answ^er, We are dressing ourselves 
 for eternity. And since nothing is required hereto, that 
 is simply impossible, nothing but what is agreeable to our 
 natures, and would be a perfection to them: how worthy 
 and commendable an ambition were it, to be always aspir- 
 ing ! not to rest or take up beneath the highest pitch 
 of attainable excellency in these kinds ! reckoning every 
 degree thereof a due to our natures, and that they have 
 not what belongs to them, while any thing of real intrinsic 
 moral goodness is yet wanting ; and not only due but ne- 
 cessary, and what we shall have need of in reference to the 
 state we are shortly to enter upon ; that except such things 
 be in us, and abound, we cannot have an abundant en- 
 trance into the everlasting kingdom. And should we, 
 pretending to such an expectation, omit such endeavours 
 of preparing ourselves, it were a like thing as if an unbred 
 peasant should go about to thrust himself, with an expec- 
 tation of high honours and preferments, into the prince's 
 court ; or as if a distracted man should expect to be em- 
 ployed in the greatest and most intricate affairs of state ; 
 or an uninstructed idiot take upon him to profess and 
 teach philosophy. 
 
 Therefore let us consider: Are we conscious of no un- 
 fitness for that blessed state? to dwell in the presence of 
 the holy God ? to be associated with the heavenly assem- 
 bly of pure intellectual spirits? to consort and join with 
 them in their celebrations and triumphant .songs 1 Can we 
 espy no such thing in ourselves, as an earthly mind, aver- 
 sation to God, as pride, disdain, wrath, or envy, admira- 
 tion of ourselves, aptness to seek our own things with the 
 neglect of others, or the like ? And do not our hearts then 
 misgive, and tell lis we are unready, not yet prepared to 
 approach the Divine presence, or to enter into the habita- 
 tion of his holiness and glory? And what then have we 
 to do, but set ourselves to our preparatory works; to set 
 our watches, make our observations, take strict notice of 
 all the deflections and obliquities of our spirits, settle our 
 methods, hasten a redress ? Do not we know this is 
 the time and state of preparation ? And since we know it, 
 how would the folly torture us by reflection, of having be- 
 trayed ourselves to a surprisal ! None are ever wont to 
 enter upon any new state without some foregoing prepara- 
 tion. Every more remarkable turn or change in our lives, 
 is commonly (if at all foreknown) introduced by many 
 serious forethoughts. If a man be to change his dwelling, 
 employment, condition, common discretion will put him 
 thinking how to comport with the place, business, con- 
 verse, and way of living he is next to betake himself to. 
 And his thoughts will be the more intense, by how much 
 more momentous the change. If he be to leave his coun- 
 try, with no probability of returning; if he be designed to 
 a station, the circumstances whereof carry any thing of 
 awfulness inthem; if to public business; if on court atten- 
 dances; with what solemnity and address are such things 
 undertaken ! How loth and ashamed would one be to go 
 into such a condition, being totally unapt, not at all know- 
 ing how to behave himself in it ! But what so great 
 change as this can the nature of man admit, that a soul 
 long shut up in flesh, is now to go forth from its earthly 
 mansion, and return no more; expecting to be received 
 into the glorious presence of the Eternal King, and g:o 
 act its part among the perfected spirits that attend his
 
 THE VANITY OF MAN AS MORTAL. 
 
 289 
 
 throne ! How solicitous endeavour of a very thorough 
 preparation doth this case call for ! But how ill doth the 
 common coarse of men agree to this, who never have such 
 matters in their thoughts, who so much neglect not their 
 very hogs as they do their spirits ! 
 
 5. That we have much conversation with God. He is 
 the only full and permanent good ; therefore the endea- 
 vour of becoming very inward with him, doth best agree 
 with the expectation of a state perfectly good and happy. 
 To expect this, and converse only with sliadows and van- 
 isiiing things, is to expect to be happy without happiness ; 
 or that our happiness should betide us as a casual thing, 
 or be forced upon us at last whether we will or no. But 
 since our happiness in God is on his part not necessary, 
 but vouchsafed and gratuitous, dependmg on mere good 
 pleasure ; is it our best way of ingratiating ourselves with 
 him, to neglect him and live as without him in the Avorld ; 
 to keep ourselves strangers to him all our days, with a 
 purpose only of flying to him at last, when all things else 
 that were wont to please us are vanished and gone 1 And 
 if we could suppose his wisdom and justice to admit his 
 forgiving so provoking contempt of him, and receiving an 
 exiled soul forced out of its earthly abode, that to the last 
 moment of if would never look after him, or have to do 
 with him ; yet, can it be supposed that his own habitual 
 aversation to him could allow it to be happy in him 1 Es- 
 pecially being increased and confirmed by its conscious- 
 ness and sense of guilt 1 How can these but make it banish 
 itself, and in a sullen enmity and despair perpetually flee 
 the Divine presence 1 What can in this case be more na- 
 tural to it, than to give up itself to eternal solitary wan- 
 derings, as a fugitive from God ; to affect to be ever in- 
 wrapt in its own darkness, and hidden from his sight, and 
 be an everlasting tormentor to itself 1 Can' we be happy 
 in him whom we do not love 1 or love whom we will not 
 know, or be acquainted with 1 
 
 What sure ground of hope can we imagine to ourselves, 
 that our reconciliation and acquaintance with God shall 
 ever be brought about, if it be not done while we are here 
 in the body 1 Will we be so vain as to cherish a hope that 
 not only affronts the visible import of God's revelation, 
 but the very reason of things, and the natural tendency of 
 our own spirits ■? Nor indeed (if we would consider belter) 
 can we possibly hope for what we desire not, or whereto 
 our hearts are in an habitual disaffection, otherwise than 
 (in the present case) negatively, and that our infidelity 
 permits us not to fear the contrary. Yea, and the lively 
 hope of a blessedness in God, as it includes desire, would 
 certainly infer that purity (the image of his own) that 
 could never fail to incline our hearts to him, and which 
 would habituate us to a course of walking with him in 
 inward communion. And this were comely and agreea- 
 ble to our pretences, if while we profess ourselves made 
 for another state, we retire ourselv^es from the fading 
 things that put a vanity into this, and single out, by our 
 own choice, the stable good which we expect ever to en- 
 joy. How befitting is it, to pass by all things with neglect, 
 and betake ourselves hither with this sense ! " Lord, I 
 have viewed the world over, in which thou hast set me ; 
 I have tried how this and that thing will fit my spirit and 
 the design of my creation ; and can find nothing in which 
 to rest, for nothing here doth itself rest, but such things 
 as please me for awhile, in some degree, vanish and flee 
 as shadows from before me. Lo, I come to thee, the eter- 
 nal Being, the Spring of life, the Centre of rest, the Stay 
 of the creation, the Fulness of all things! I join myself 
 to thee, with thee I will lead my life and spend my days, 
 with whom I am to dwell for ever, expecting Avhen 
 my little time is over to be taken up ere long into thy 
 eternity." 
 
 And since we who live under the Gospel, have heard 
 of the Redeemer, of the dignity of his person, of his high 
 oflSce and power, of his merciful design and great achieve- 
 ments for the restoring of lapsed and lost souls. 
 
 6. It is most agreeable to our apprehensions of the va- 
 nity of this present slate, and our expectations for the fu- 
 ture, that we commit ourselves to him : that with entire 
 tru.st and love, devotedness and subjection, we give our- 
 selves up to his happy conduct, to be led by him to God, 
 and instated into that eternal blessedness which we look 
 
 for. His kingdom is not of this world ; as we profess not 
 to be. We cannot be innocently ignorant, that its consti- 
 tution and frame, its laws and ordinances, its aspect and 
 tendency in itself, and the whole course of its administra- 
 tion, are directed to that other state. " He hath overcome 
 death, and him that had the power of it ; hath brought 
 life and immortality to light ; is the first-begotten from the 
 dead, and the finst-fruits of them that .slept; hath opened 
 heaven to us, and is himself ascended and entered as our 
 victorious, triumphant Captain and Forerunner. He is 
 adorned with highest power, and hath set up a universal 
 kingdom, extended to the utmost bounds of this apostate 
 world, and the vaster regions of innocent and constantly 
 loyal spirits. His proclamations are issued out, his en- 
 signs displayed, to invite and call in whosoever are weary 
 of the sin and v^anity of this wretched world, of their alien- 
 ation from the life of God, of living in the midst of death; 
 to join themselves to him, the Prince and Lord of life, 
 and be led by him to the immortal state. If the present 
 state of things appear dismal to us ; if we reckon it a wo- 
 ful spectacle to behold sin and death reigning, wickedness 
 and immorality acting their combined parts, to waste the 
 world and lay it desolate ; if we would deliver ourselves 
 and escape from the common ruin, are seriously designing 
 for heaven, and that world in which death hath no place, 
 nor any shadow of death; let us betake ourselves to him, 
 enroll our names, put ourselves under his banners and 
 discipline, strictly observing the laws and following the 
 guidance of that our invisible Lord, who will be Author 
 of eternal salvation to them that obey him, and save to the 
 utmost all that come to God through him. How dear 
 should he be to us ! How cheerfully should we trust him, 
 how dutifully serve him, how faithfully adhere to him, 
 both for his own sake, and that of the design he ha'h in 
 hand for us, and the pleasant savour of heaven and immor- 
 tality which breathes in both ! But if we neglect him, and 
 disown our relation to him ; or if we let days or years go 
 over our heads, wherein we drowsily slumber; roll our- 
 selves in the dust of the earth ; and while we call ourselves 
 Christians, forget the reason and importance of our ovra 
 name, and think not of our being under his call and con- 
 duct to the eternal kingdom and glory : this is perversely 
 to reject what we say (only) we seek ; to disclaim and re- 
 nounce our pretences to immortality ; to blast and damn 
 our own great hopes. 
 
 7. Lastly, It is congruous to our expectation of so great 
 things after death, that we live in a cheerful, pleasant ex- 
 pectation of it. For what must necessarily intervene, 
 though not grateful in itself, should be reckoned so, for the 
 sake of that which is. This onl}' can upon the best teims 
 reconcile us to the grave, that our greatest hopes lie be- 
 yond it ; and are not hazarded by it, but accomplished. 
 Although, indeed, nothing were to be expected hereafter; 
 )'et so little suitable entertainment doth this world aflbrd 
 to a reasonable spirit, that the mere weariness of behold- 
 ing a scene of vanity and folly, might well make a recess 
 acceptable. For is it so grateful a thing to observe the 
 confused scramble and hii^rry of the world 1 how almost 
 every one makes it his business to catch from another 
 what is worth nothing'? With what toil, and art, and vio- 
 lence men pursue, what when they embrace they find a 
 shadow! To see deluded mortals, each one intent upon 
 his own particular design, and most commonly interfering 
 with another's: some imposed upon bv others' over-reach- 
 ing wit, and all by their own folly : some lamenting their 
 losses, others their short and unsatisfying acquisitions : 
 many pleasing themselves with being mocked, and con- 
 tentedly hugging the empty cloud, till death comes and 
 ends the story, and ceases the busy agitation ; that is, with 
 so many particular persons, not with the world : a new 
 succession still springing up, that continue the interlude, 
 and still act ore?- the same parts, ad iadivm iisquc ! 
 
 What serious person, who that is not in love with imper- 
 tinencyand foolery, Avould much regret it, to close his eyes, 
 to have the curtains drawn, and bid good-night to the world 
 without ever wishing to see the morning of such another 
 day1 And even they that have the world most in their 
 power, and can command what they please for the gratify- 
 ing of their appetites, without the contradiction and con- 
 trol of othei-s, what can they enjoy more to-morrow than
 
 290 
 
 THE VANITY OF MAN AS MORTAL. 
 
 they did yesterday ; or the next year than this 1 Is it so 
 much worth the while lo live, to see a few more persons 
 bow the knee '] to extend power a little further 1 to make 
 another essay, what pleasure sense can taste in some or 
 other hitherto unexperimented rarity 1 What more pecu- 
 liar gusto this or that thing will afford ; and try the other 
 dishl or to renew the same relishes over again! He 
 wliose creative fancy could make him golden moimtains 
 in a dream, create him a prince of nations, g:ive him to en- 
 joy the most delicious pleasures of the world in idea, might, 
 with some plausible show of reason, be deemed the hap- 
 pier man, than he that hath and is all this mdeed : for his 
 toil is less, and his victories imbloody, his pleasures not 
 so impure. However, one would think, that to such whose 
 utmost attainments end only in the pleasure of their sense, 
 and have but this epiphonema, " Now let us sit down, eat, 
 drink, and be merry." A little time might suffice for bu- 
 siness of no more weight ; and that no man, after he hath 
 once seen the course of the world and tasted of its best 
 delicacies, should greatly wi.sh for a renewal or long-con- 
 tinued repetition of so fulsome vanities. 
 
 But the most find not the world so kind, and are not so 
 much exercised in the innovating of pleasures as miseries ; 
 (changes being their only remedies, as the moralist speaks ;) 
 or in bearing (more sadly) the same every day's burden ; 
 and drawing out the series of their calamities in the same 
 kind through the whole course of their time. And surely, 
 these things considered, there wants not what might per- 
 suade a sceptic, or even a perfect infidel, as to another 
 world, not much to be in love with this. For upon the 
 whole, let but the case be 'bus put ; is it not as good to do 
 nothing, as to be busy to no purpose 1 And again, is it 
 not as good to be nothing, as to be, and do nothing 1 
 Sober reason would judge, at least, there were but little 
 odds. But now; if such considerations as have been men- 
 tioned, would suffice to state the matter in cequilibrio, to 
 make the scales even ; ought the rational sober belief of a 
 blessed immortality to do nothing to turn the balance! 
 Ought the love of God to do nothing'? The desire and 
 hope of a state perfectly good and happy, quiet and peace- 
 ful ; of living in the region of undefiled, innocent love and 
 pleasure; in the communion of holy and blessed spirits; 
 (all highly pleased, not in their own only, but one another's 
 happiness ; and all concentring in the admiration and 
 praise of their common Parent and Lord ;) ought all this 
 nottiing to alter the case with us ; or signify nothing to 
 the inclining our minds to the so unspeakably better part 1 
 Meihinks since we acknowledge such an order of intelli- 
 gent (and already happy) creatures, we should even blush 
 to think they should be spectators of our daily course and 
 ^loo plainly discovered) inclinations, so difform and un- 
 agreeable to all the laws and dictates of reasonable nature. 
 What censures, may we think, do they pass upon our fol- 
 lies 1 Are those things great in their eyes, that are so in 
 ours 1 In lesser matters (as some interpret that passage) 
 I indecencies are to be avoided, because of those blessed 
 spirits. May we not then be ashamed, that they should 
 discern our terrene dispositions ; and see us come so un- 
 willingly into their comfort and happy slate 1 Although 
 our present depressing circumstances will not suffer us to 
 oe in all things, as yet, conformable to their high condi- 
 tion, we should however carry it as candidates thereto, 
 studying to approve ourselves, waiting and longing to be 
 transumed and taken up into it. 
 
 And since we have so high and great an expectation, 
 and 'tis understood and known, that the very perfection 
 and end of our beings is no otherwise attainable, than by 
 putting off our sordid flesh, and laying aside this earthly 
 appurtenance ; that yet there should be so fixed and pre- 
 vailing an aversion to it, is a most unaccountable thing, 
 and one of the greatest problems in nature. I say, pre- 
 vailing; for admit, what is like to be alleged, that an ad- 
 dictedness to the body is by natural inclination, ought not 
 the laws of a superior to prevail over those of the inferior 
 nature 1 And is not the love of God a higher natural law 
 than that of the body; to whom here our service is little, 
 yea, our disservice much ; and from whose most desirable 
 commerce we suffer so uncomfortable a disclusion by the 
 sad circumstance of our bodily state 1 Are we more 
 1 1 Cor. viii. 
 
 nearly allied to a piece of clay, than to the Father of ou.* 
 spirits'? And again, is not every '.hing nearest tc itself 
 and obliged to place love there, rather than on an inferior 
 thing (at least) how nearly soever tmited ; since there can 
 be no pretence of any such nearer union, than of a thing 
 with itself? And are not our souls and our bodies (though 
 united, yet) distinct things 1 Why then should not our 
 souls, that are capable of understanding their own interest, 
 mind that first, intend most their own perfection and im- 
 provement, and begin their charity at home"? It is not 
 strange, that what is weaker and more ignoble, should 
 affect union with what is above it, and a spring of life to 
 it ; but when it is found burdensome, nothing forbids, but 
 that the superior being may be well content, upon fair and 
 allowabhe terms, to be rid of the burden. Therefore, 
 though flesh and blood may reluctate and shrink at it, 
 when we think of laying it down ; yet it becomes immor- 
 tal spirits to consider their own affairs, and be (more 
 principally) intent upon what will be their own advantage. 
 If so mean a creature as a sorry flea, finding it can draw 
 a suitable aliment from our bodies, affect to dwell there, 
 and is loath to leave us ; it were a ludicrous pity to be there- 
 fore content to endure its troublesome vellications, because 
 we fear the poor animal should be put to its shifts, and 
 not be otherwise able to find a subsistence. 
 
 'Tis true, that the great Creator and Lord of the uni- 
 verse, hath not permitted us the liberty of so throwing off 
 our bodies when we will, which otherwise are in dignity 
 far more beneath our spirits than so despicable a creature 
 is beneath them. And to his dispose that hath ordered 
 this conjunction for a time (whether we look upon it as 
 an effect of his simple pleasure, or of his displeasure) we 
 must yield an awful and a patient submission, till this 
 part of his providence towards us have run its course and 
 attained its ends. And then, how welcome should the 
 hour of our discharge and freedom be, from so troublesome 
 an associate "? Which upon no other account, than that ol 
 duty towards the Author of our beings, one would more 
 endure ; than to have the most noisome offensive vermin 
 always preying upon his flesh. At least, (though the con- 
 sideration of our own advantage had no place with us in 
 this matter,) the same sense of duty towards our great 
 Creator, which should make us patient of an abode in the 
 body while he will have it so, should also form our spirits 
 to a willing departure when it shall be his pleasure to re- 
 lease us thence. But, that neither a r^ard to his pleasure, 
 nor our own blessedness, should prevail against our love 
 to the body, is the unaccountable thing I speak of. And 
 to plead only, in the case, the corruption of our natures 
 that sets us "at odds with God and ourselves, is to justify 
 the thing by what is itself most unjustifiable ; or rather 
 (as some that have affected to be styled philosophers hare 
 been wont to expedite difficulties, by resolving the matter 
 into the usual course of nature) to resolve the thing into 
 itself, and say, it is so because it is so, or is wont to be ; 
 and indeed, plainly to confess there is no account to be 
 given of it. This being the very thing about which we 
 expostulate, that reasonable nature should so prevaricate. 
 The commonness whereof doth not take away the wonder, 
 but rather render it more dreadful and astonishing. 
 
 The truth is, the incongruity in the present case is only 
 to be solved by redress; by earnest strivings with God, 
 and our own souls, till we find ourselves recovered into a 
 right mind ; into the constitution and composure whereof 
 agenerous fortitude halh a necessary ingrediency; that 
 usually upon lower motives refuses no change of climate, 
 and will carry a man into unknown countries, and through 
 greatest hazards in the pursuit of honourable enterprises, 
 of a much inferior kind. It is reckoned a brave and manly 
 thin?, to be in the temper of one's mind a citizen of the 
 world ; (meaning it of this lower one ;) but why not rather 
 of the universe 1 And 'tis accounted mean and base, that 
 one should be so confined by his fear or sloth to that spot 
 of ground where he was born, as not upon just inducement 
 to look abroad, and go for warrantable and worthy pur- 
 poses (yea, if it were only honest self-advantage) as far as 
 the utmost ends of the earth: but dare we not venture a 
 little further'? These are too narrow bounds for a truly 
 great spirit. Anv thing that is tinctured with earth, or
 
 THE VANITY OF MAN AS MORTAL. 
 
 291 
 
 savours of mortality, we should reckon too mean for as ; 
 and not regret it, that heaven and immortaliiy are not lo 
 oe attained but b\j dying : so should the love of our own 
 souls, and the desire of a perpetual state of lif^, triumph 
 over the fear of death But it may be alleged by some, 
 tji at 'tis only a solicitous love to their souls, that makes 
 them dread this change. They know it will no! fare with 
 all alike hereafter, and know not what their own lot shall 
 be. And is this indeed our case"? Then, what have we 
 been doing all this while 7 And how are we concerned 
 to lose no more time 1 But too often a terrene spirit lurks 
 under tliis pretence ; and men allege their want of assur- 
 ance of heaven, when the love of this earth, which they 
 cannot endure to think of leaving, holds their hearts. 
 
 And, (a little to discuss this matter,) what would Ave 
 have to assure usl Do we expect a vision or a voice 1 
 Or are we not to try ourselves ; and search for such cha- 
 racters in our own souls, as may distinguish and note us 
 out for heaven 1 Among these, what can be more clear 
 and certain than this, that we have our hearts much set 
 upon it"? They that have their conversations in heaven, 
 may from thence expect the Saviour, ■" who shall change 
 their vile bodies, ("the bodies of their humiliation, or low 
 abject state,) and make them like his own glorious body. 
 God, who will render to every man according to his works, 
 will give them ° that by patient continuance in well-dning 
 seek honour and glory and immortality, eternal life. They 
 that P set their affections (or minds) on the things above, 
 not those on the earth; when Christ shall appear, who is 
 their life, shall appear with him in glory. Mistake not the 
 notion of heaven, or the blessedness of the other world ; 
 render it not to yourselves a composition of sensual en- 
 joyments: understand it (principally) to consist in perfect 
 holiness and communion with God ; (as his own word re- 
 presents it, and as reason hath taught even some pagans 
 to reckon of it ;) and you cannot judge of your own right 
 by a surer and plainer rule, than that eternal blessedness 
 shall be theirs, whose hearts are truly bent and directed 
 towards it. Admit we then this principle ; and now let 
 us Treason with ourselves from it : We have a discovery 
 made to us of a future state of blessedness in God, not as 
 desirable only in itself, but as attainable and possible to 
 oe enjoyed, (the Redeemer having opened the way to it 
 
 m Phil. iiL 20, : 
 
 n Gr. 
 
 by his blood, and given us, at once, both the prospect and 
 the offer of it,) so that it is before us as the object of a 
 reasonable desire. Now either our hearts are so taken 
 with this discovery, that we above all things desire this 
 state, or not. If they be, we desire it more than our 
 earthly stations and enjoyments, are willing to leave the 
 world and the body to enjoy it; and so did falsely accuse 
 ourselves of a prevailing aversion to this change. If they 
 be not, the thing is true, that we are upon no terms will- 
 ing to die : but the cause is falsely, or partially, assigned. 
 It is not so much because we are unassured' of heaven, 
 but (as was above suspected) because we love this world 
 better, and our hearts centre in it as our most desirable 
 good. 
 
 Therefore we see how unreasonably this is often said, 
 we are unwilling to change states, because we are unas- 
 sured. The truth is, they are unassured, because they are 
 unwilling. And w-hat then ensues"? They are unwilling 
 because they are unwilling. And so they may endlessly 
 dispute themselves round, from unwillingness to unwill- 
 ingness. But is there no way to get out of this unhappy 
 circle 1 In order to it, let the case be more fully under- 
 stood : either this double unwillingness must be referred 
 to the same thing, or to divers : if to the same thing, it is 
 not sense; they saj' what signifies. nothing ; for being to 
 assign a cause of their unwillingness to quit the body, to 
 say, because they are unwilling, {viz. of that,) is to assign 
 no cause, for nothing can be the cause of itself: but if 
 they refer to divers things, and say, they are unwilling to 
 go out of the body, because they are unwilling to forsake 
 earth for heaven ; the case is then plain, but sad, and not 
 alterable, but with the alteration of the temper of their 
 spirits. Wherefore let us all apply ourselves (since with 
 none this is so fully done that no more is needful) to the 
 serious endeavour of getting our souls purged from the 
 di'oss of this world, and enamoured of the purity and 
 blessedness of heaven. So the cause and effect will 
 vanish together ; w^e shall find that suitableness and m- 
 clination in our spirits to that blessedness as may yield 
 us the ground of a comfortable persuasion that it be- 
 longs to us ; and then not be unwilling, though many 
 deaths stood in our way, to break through to attam it. 
 
 9 Rom. ii 6, 7. 
 
 p Col. iii. 2, 3, 4.
 
 DISCOURSE 
 
 ! 
 
 RELATING TO THE 
 
 EXPECTATION OF FUTURE BLESSEDNESS. 
 
 WITH AN APPENDIX. 
 
 HEBREWS X. 36. 
 
 FCR YE HAVE NEED OP PATIENCE, THAT, AFTER VE HAVE DONE THE WILL OF GOD, YE MIGHT RECEIVE THE PROMISE. 
 
 It is evident, the Creator of this lower world never in- 
 tended it to be the perpetual dwelling-place of its inha- 
 bitants, if man had continued innocent; inasmuch as sin 
 and death, by inseparable connexion, entered together; 
 had sin never entered, aeath would never have had place 
 here. And wheieas, by the blessing of God, multitudes 
 had been continually born into this world, and none have 
 ever died out of it ; by consequence it must have been, in 
 time, so over-peopled, as not to contain its inhabitants. 
 Whereupon, man having been created in a state of proba- 
 tion, as his fall showed, and a candidate for a better state 
 in some nobler region ; the time of probation being over 
 (the limits whereof, considering the sad events that soon 
 ensued, it was to no purpose for us to know, nor conse- 
 quently for God to reveal) it could not be, but that nature 
 itself, being, in every one, pure and genuine, must prompt 
 him to continual aspirings towards the highest perfection, 
 whereof, by the Divine will, he should find himself ca- 
 paole. Though yet it could not consist with the sinful- 
 ness of his present state to be over-hasty ; but the con- 
 science of his being a debtor for all his present attainments 
 to the freest and most munificent bounty, must oblige him 
 to a dutiful compliance with the wise and sovereign plea- 
 sure of his blessed Lord; to a cheerful contentation, and 
 willingness, that he should make what further use ol him 
 he should see fit, for transmitting a holy life and nature to 
 such as should come after him ; and to a most calm, se- 
 rene, and pleasant expectation of being seasonably trans- 
 lated higher. 
 
 But now sin and death having invaded this world and 
 spread through it, into how horrid a gulf have they turned 
 this part of God's creation ! Men having by their own 
 apostacy cut themselves off from God, do each of them 
 grasp at deity ; every one attempts to fill up his room, and 
 is so profanely insolent, as to affect being a god to him- 
 self, his own first and last. And all having withdrawn 
 themselves from God, and abandoned his interest, which 
 the law of their creation, and their dependent state, obliged 
 them to serve; they have no common interest left: where- 
 upon every one makes his own his only interest. And that 
 sovereign principle of divine love being extinct, whereby 
 they were to love God with all their hearts, souls, minds, 
 and might, which is the first and great command; the 
 second branch, like the former, by which they were all, for 
 his sake, to love each other, as himself, naturally fails and 
 dies. Whence every one sets up himself, in exclusion to 
 God, and all oilier men. And that self (all concern for 
 their better and nobler part, which could only have its 
 support and satisfaction in God, being sup))ressed and lost) 
 »s only their baser, their carnal self 'Tis this alone they 
 are concerned lor. And every one seeks to catch and en- 
 gross all that he can, for the service and gratification of 
 this vile, sensual self, out of this sensible world ; which, 
 
 because it is all empty vanity, and hath not enough in it to 
 satiate so enormous and ungoverned an appetite, this 
 makes them tear this world in pieces; every one snatching 
 what he can of it for himself Hence are wars, and fight- 
 ings, James iv. 1, 4. And as by friendship, every one 
 seeks to contract with this world separately, and alone, so 
 as to engross it to himself, apart from other men, they 
 make themselves enemies to God ; so they become devils 
 to one another. And thus are men generally drowned in 
 perdition and destruction. But the merciful God hath ap- 
 pointed his own Son a Redeemer for us, who gave himself 
 for our sins, to deliver us (to take us out from. Gal. i.4. as 
 the word signifies) this present evil world; whose first law, 
 and most deeply fundamental to the whole Christian state, 
 as the case before stated required, is that of self-denial; 
 which, so far as it obtains, doth truly restore us to our- 
 selves, and to our first and primitive state, and place, in 
 God's Creation. For having suffered once for us, the just 
 for the unjust, to bring us to God, 1 Pet. iii. 18. and 
 having redeemed us to God by his blood. Rev. v. 9. when 
 he shall have obtained this his end upon us, all things fall 
 right with us as to him, ourselves, and one another. 
 
 Yet because the wise and God-becoming methods, which 
 are used in pursuance of the Redeemer's design, do not 
 generally take place, or prevail against the spirit of this 
 world ; but men, through their own wicked inclination, 
 obstinately adhere to this world, seeking their all from it; 
 and the usurping God of this world blinding their minds, 
 that the glorious light of the gospel of Christ should not 
 shine to them, (2 Cor. iv. 4.) and being an in working spirit 
 in (he children of disobedience, (Ephes. ii. 2.) leading them 
 captive at his will, (2 Tim. ii. ult.) and that this prince of 
 the darkness of this world, made up of malice and envy 
 against God, and of malignity and mischief against men, 
 as their common Apollyon, and destroyer, doth with all 
 his legions haunt and infest this lower world, till the time 
 of their torment come ; and that thus enmity against God 
 and his Christ is fomented, and naturally propagated from 
 age to age in this world ; it is therefore God's righteous 
 and declared pleasure, to put an end to this state of things ; 
 not to continue this world, as the stage of his perpetuated 
 dishonours ; but to shut it up by the final judgment, and 
 at last consume it with fire. In the meantime, while he is 
 gradually consuming sinners out of this earth, he is, by 
 equal degrees, gathering home his own out of it. And to 
 them, how great a privilege is it to be taken out from this 
 present evil world ! Which that they may apprehend with 
 savour and relish, their blessed Lord hath let them have a 
 foiesight of death abolished, and of life and immortality 
 brought to light in his gospel ; and gives them the spirit of 
 wisdom and revelation, that they may know the hope of 
 their calling, (Ephes. i. 17, 18.) endowing them Aviih that 
 faith, which is the substance of the things they hope for
 
 OF PATIENCE, IN EXPECTATION OF FUTURE BLESSEDNESS. 
 
 293 
 
 Heb. xi. 1. Whereupon, having all the glories of the 
 other world in v'iew, and the representation of a state, 
 which they have reason to apprehend as much more bliss- 
 ful and glorious, than, in the way of even primitive nature, 
 they could have attained to ; in proportion as the second 
 Adam duth excel the first in dignity, performances, and 
 glory. Here, therefore, their need of patience, in expecting 
 this "fin al^ issue of things, to themselves in particular, and 
 to the whole redeemed community, is most conspicuous, 
 and appears great, even as it relates to this expecialion, 
 though they did not labour under the pressure of very 
 grievous evils besides, which yet must increase that need. 
 
 But it is this expectation itself, to which I intend prin- 
 cipally to confine the present discourse. In reference 
 whereunto, the greater the pleasure is of our fore-sight, the 
 greater need we sfiall have of this patience ; i. e. as our 
 fore-sight, though beholding the tei rible things, death, and 
 the final dissolution of all things, which must intervene, 
 doth yet terminate on the blessed consequents thereof 
 And those consequents, viz. the enjoyments and blessed- 
 ness of the future state, it is plain the apostle did intend 
 in these words, as the context evidently shows, i. e. whe- 
 ther you consider the foregoing or the following context. 
 For that great recompense of reward, mentioned in the 
 immediately foregoing ver. 35. and the salvation of our 
 souls, in the close of this chapter; and the things hoped 
 for, and not seen, in the very beginning of the next, do 
 plainly show, the discourse being of a piece, that the pro- 
 viise to be received, must be the promise of that blessed- 
 ness, that is not to be enjoyed, in the fulness of it, but by 
 intervening death; nor by all holy men together till the 
 end of all things, chap. xi. 13. And whereas we have here 
 the expression oi receiving i\ie promise, it is plain the pro- 
 mise must be understood objectively ; i. e. that transcen- 
 dent good that was promised ; viz. that principally, where- 
 in all the promises do finally and lastly centre : which, it 
 is plain, the apostle here most especially intends, as being 
 eminently called the promise. Whereupon, there are 
 now two things that offer themselves to our observation 
 from this Scripture : — 1. That the business of a sincere 
 Christian in this world, is to be doing the will of God: — 
 2. That patience, in expecting the consequent blessedness 
 of the future state, is a needful requisite in every sincere 
 and thorough Christian. The former of these I shall not 
 insist upon ; but only touch transiently. 
 
 I need not tell you that, by the will of God, we are to 
 understand the object of his will, or that which he wills, 
 viz. the thing willed ; not his will itself, which is not a 
 thing yet to be done, but eternal, as his own very being 
 itself. And again, that you may easily apprehend, it is 
 our duty willed by him, and not mere events, that must be 
 understood to be the object of this will, -viz. wherein we 
 have a part to act ; otherwise, how are we said to do his 
 will! Of this, every sincere Christian must be the active 
 instrument. All creatures, whether they will or no, whe- 
 ther they design any such thing, or design it not, must be 
 the passive .subjects, upon which his will takes place. But 
 10 be the active instrument thereof, is, in fact, the business 
 only of a devoted person, one given up to God in Christ. 
 Such only are in an immediate capacity or promptitude to 
 do the will of God, intentionally, and with their own de- 
 sign ; though it be the imdoubted duty of all, who are 
 naturally capable thereof. 
 
 Will this rebel-world never consider this, that are in a 
 continual war with him in whose hands is their breath, on 
 this high point, whose will shall be supreme 1 and dread 
 not the i.ssue of so unequal a combat, between omnipotence 
 and an earthen potsherd 1 Nor bethink themseh^es what 
 woes impend and hang over their gitilly heads, for so mad 
 insolence, as striving with their maker 1 Isa. xlv. 9. Will 
 they never consider it, that pretend subjection to him, 
 when their very pretence is a mockery'? and that aff"ront 
 him with the frequent repetition of that ludicrous petition, 
 " Thy will be done on earth," amidst their open, con- 
 temptuous oppositions thereto 1 
 
 2. But I shall apply myself to consider the latter of 
 these ; that patience, in the expectation of the blessedness 
 of the heavenly estate, is very needful to every sincere 
 and thorough Christian. — And in speaking to this, I shall 
 — 1. Give .some account of this patience, according as it 
 23 
 
 is to have this exercise, in expecting future blessedness ; 
 — 2. Labour to evince to you the necessity of it; how 
 needful a thing it is to any serious and thorough Chris- 
 tian. And so the use will ensue. 
 
 I. I .shall give some account of this patience, as it is to 
 be exercised in the present case. We might, indeed, as- 
 sign a third occasion of exercising patience, besides suffer- 
 ing present incumbent evils, and expecting a future hoped 
 good, riz. doing the good which belongs to the duty of our 
 present slate, which the text points out to us in what it in- 
 terposes, "after ye have done the willof God, "and which 
 is intimated, when we are charged not to be weary of 
 well-doing, (Gal. vi. 9.) and, by a patient continuance in 
 well-doing to seek honour, glory, immortality, &c. (Pcom. 
 ii. 7.) and to run with patience the race set before us, 
 (Heb. xii. 1.) when also the good ground is .said to bring 
 forth with patience, Luke viii. 15. But Coii^iiicring the 
 pleasure which doing good contains in itself, and that the 
 patience it gives occasion for is accidental, and arises 
 from the other two; either the sufferings to which doing 
 good often exposes, or the expectation of a greater good 
 in a perfect state ; when also all indisposition and lassi- 
 tude shall perfectly cease ; we need not make this a dis- 
 tinct head. Or, however, our present design confines us, 
 chiefly, to the patience that is to be exercised in the ex- 
 pectation of our final good, — viz. blessedness. And in 
 speaking hereto, I shall — 1. Lay down some things more 
 generally, and — 2. Thence proceed to what will more 
 particularly concern the matter in hand. 
 
 1. There are some things more generally to be consi- 
 dered which, though more remotely, will aptly serve our 
 purpose. 
 
 1. That the natural constitution of the human soul dis- 
 poseth it, equally to covet and pursue a desirable good, as 
 to regret and shun a hurtful evil. This is plain to any 
 that understand their own natures, and take any notice of 
 the most connatural motions and operations of their in- 
 ward man. 
 
 2. That the want of such a desirable and suitable good, 
 understood to be so, is as truly afflicting and grievous, as 
 the pleasure of a present evil. 
 
 3. That an alii'lity to bear that want, is as real and 
 needful an endowment, as the fortitude by which we en- 
 dure a painful evil. Yea, and it maybe as sensibly pain- 
 ful, the pain of thirst being as grievous as that of a wound 
 or bruise. Therefore the ability to bear it without des- 
 pondencv, or any perturbation or discomposure of spirit, 
 call it by what name you wall, is a most desirable advan- 
 tage and benefit to any man. 
 
 4. That, therefore, it equally belongs to patience, to be 
 exercised in the one case, as well as in the other. And 
 the general nature of it being found in each, as we shall 
 further see hereafter, the name is, with equal fitness, com- 
 mon to both, and to be given alike to either of them. For 
 what do names serve for, but to express the natures of 
 things as near as we can"? These generals being thus 
 premised, I shall, 
 
 2. Proceed more distinctly to give account of patience, 
 according to this notion of it, by showing — what it sup- 
 poses, and — wherein it consists. 
 
 1. What it supposes, as it hath its exercise this way, 
 viz. in the expectation of the blessedness of the future 
 state. 
 
 2. Wherein, so considered, it consists. 
 1. What, thus taken, it supposes. 
 
 1. That blessedness, truly so called, be actually under- 
 stood and apprehended by the expectants, as a real and 
 most desirable good to them. They can, otherwise, never 
 think themselves to need patience, in expecting it. To the 
 blind, befooled world, true blessedness is a frightful thing. 
 They run from it as a wo/wo, or some terrible appearance. 
 Religion, i. e. nearness to God, and inward conversation 
 with'him, (which we will not say hath affinity with it, but 
 contains it, or is the same thing^) thev dread as a formi- 
 dable dark-ness, or the shadow of death. Therefore they 
 say to God. " Depart from us." Whereupon it is not the 
 want of this blessedness, but the thing itself, so monstrous- 
 Iv misunderstood, that gives exercise to their patience; 
 nor have they patience enough for it. The Di-vine pre- 
 sence they cannot endure.
 
 294 
 
 OF PATIENCE, IN EXPECTATION 
 
 2. The delays and deferring of this blessedness must be 
 an afflicting and felt grievance. Otherwise patience can 
 have no place or exercise about it. Paganish morality 
 hath taught us,^ Nulla est Virtus quiz noti sentis perpeti : 
 it is no virtue at all to bear that which J do not feel. A 
 stone, if it bears the most heavy weight, yet feels it not. 
 And, saith that instructive writer, we ascribe not to the 
 virtuous man the hardness of a stone. If I have no feel- 
 ing of a grievance in the deferred blessedness of the future 
 State, I have no use for patience in expecting it. Hope 
 deferred (saith one divinely wise) makes the heart sick. 
 There will be a sickness at the heart, by the delay of what 
 I hope for, most of all, when the sum of my blessedness 
 is the thing hoped for, and still deferred. The delay must 
 be as grievous, as the attainment is pre-apprehended to be 
 pleasant and joyous ; viz. that when it comes, it is a tree 
 of life : so iiie gratefulness of enjoyment is, in the oppo- 
 site sentence, (Prov. xiii. 12.) set against the heart-sick- 
 ness of expectation. They that never felt their hearts 
 sick with the desire of heaven, and the blessedness of that 
 state, cannot conceive of it a tree of life before-hand, nor 
 ever know what patience in expecting it signifies, in the 
 meantime. These things being supposed unto this pa- 
 tience, we next come to show, 
 
 2. Wherein it consists. And are here to consider, that 
 its more special nature cannot be understood, without 
 taking some previous short notice of its general nature, 
 or what it hath in it common to it with other patience un- 
 der the same name. Its more general notion seems not 
 capable of any fitter expression, than an ability becoming- 
 ly to endure. But because that may be without or with 
 reference to God ; this latter we are to single out, for the 
 subject of our present discourse, as that which the text 
 expressly intends : Ye have need of patience, that after ye 
 have done the will of God ye may receive the promise. 
 And its reference to God may be twofold, viz. both as he 
 is the Author and the Object of it. 
 
 1. As he is the Author. Inasmuch as it is a most tise- 
 ful principle and disposition of soul, which, with a com- 
 passionate regard to the exigency of our present state, God 
 is pleased to implant in such as he hath a favour for, that 
 they may not be exposed, as a vessel in a wide and stormy 
 sea, unable otherwise to endure, and under a necessity of 
 sinking, or of being broken in pieces. In their make and 
 frame they are fitted to their state, even by gracious vouch- 
 safement ; and therefore is this fitly reckoned a divine 
 grace. We find it placed among the fruits of the Spirit, 
 (Gal. V. 22.) and are therefore to count it, as that is the 
 Spirit of grace, a most needful and excellent grace of that 
 blessed Spirit, by which, duly exercised, the soul is com- 
 posed unto a right temper, not only in bearing the evils of 
 this present .state, but in waiting for the blessedness of the 
 future. And thus we consider it as not only a rational 
 temperament, that may, in great part, take its rise from 
 ourselves, and the sober use of our own thoughts, (which 
 yet it unbecomes us not to employ to this purpose,) but 
 also as a gratuitous donation, a gift of the good Spirit of 
 God. And hereof there is anot obscure intimation in the 
 text, telling us we have need of patience. 'Tis grace, of 
 merciful vouchsafement, that considers what we do need. 
 Whence, therefore, we hear of a throne of grace, whither 
 we are to come for mercy and grace to help in time of 
 need, Heb. iv. 16. 
 
 And, as such, how fitly is its nature signified in the 
 mentioned place by the word jiaKpoBvfiin/longanimitv ; 
 which we read, less properly, long-suffering, there being 
 no notion of suffering in the word ; taking also B\<fto(, or 
 animus, in present composition, as not only signifying 
 mind, as that denotes the understanding faculty, or mere 
 intellect ; but lively desire, a certain vigour and strength 
 of spirit, zeal, hope, courage, fortitude, an unaptness to a 
 yielding succumbency ; and this (as the other word signi- 
 ifies) through a long space or tract of time. When desire 
 and hope are lengthened and continued, without despon- 
 dency, even to the appointed term, and during the pre- 
 scribed season of expectation. And so the word doth 
 rather incline to express patience, as it refers unto a 
 desired good, that we are expecting and wailing for. And 
 yon find it mentioned with other graces, (2 Pet. i. 5, 6.) 
 a Seneca. 
 
 by the word in the text, imfiovh, which is equally apt to ex- 
 press a permanent waiting, or expectation of good, as suf- 
 fering of incumbent evil. But also, if we consider that 
 context, we there may discern its heavenly descent, and 
 its being a part of the offspring of God among men. For 
 immediately upon the mention of a divine nature partici- 
 pated, (or a godly frame and habit of soul,) that carries a 
 man up, or enables him to emerge and escape the pollu- 
 tions of this impure world ; besides this escape are to be 
 added (not without our own intervening diligence) the 
 several following gracious principles, as branches, into 
 which that divine nature shoots forth, exerts, and spreads 
 itself, of which this patience is one. 
 
 And, to show its divine original, God is pleased to style 
 himself in his word, the God of patience, (Rom. xv. 5.) it 
 is his very image in the soul. For is not the Divine pa- 
 tience one of the great attributes by which we are to know 
 him, and for which we are to adore him 1 It is that, by 
 which he suffers not hurt, whereof the Divine Being is 
 not capable; but by which he bears much wrong from his 
 injurious revolted creatures. Whence it is a mighty 
 power that is said to lie in the Divine patience. Let the 
 power of my Lord be great, according as tliou hast spoken, 
 the Lord is long-suffering, &c. Numb. xiv. 17, 18. It is, 
 indeed, his power over himself, by which he restrains his 
 anger, his omnipotent anger, that would otherwise go 
 forth to consume offending creatures. We cannot, in- 
 deed, conceive any such passion in God which he finds a 
 difficulty in restraining, though speaking to men, he uses 
 their language, and bespeaks them in their own idioms 
 and forms of speech. But 'tis owing to the necessary 
 self-originate concurrence of all perfections in his nature 
 and being, that nothing unbecoming Deity can have place 
 there. In the meantime, since the new creature is God- 
 like, the image of God, we hence are taught to conceive 
 of patience, (a part of ihat production,) not under the no- 
 tion of dull and sluggish impotency, but of power, an 
 ability to endure, as before, and that as having its original 
 and pattern in the blessed God himself 
 
 2. And it is also specified by a respect to God as the ob- 
 ject. For a deference to his holy pleasure in ordering the 
 occasions of such exercise, is carried in the notion of it. 
 It hath in it submission to the will of God. And by this 
 it comes to be taken into religion, or religion must be 
 taken into it, and be comprehended in our conception of 
 it. True and gracious patience, and every exercise of it, 
 is to be looked upon as a part of piety and godliness. 
 We are here not to suppose that patience, in expecting 
 good, and in bearing evils, must have distinct notions, but 
 exercises only. And, though these exercises are distinct, 
 yet as the suffering of^ many incumbent evils is, in our pre- 
 sent state, complicated with the absence and expectation 
 of the good we desire ; these exercises are scarce ever to 
 be separated. It is, therefore, the less to surprise us, that 
 this ingredient into the nature of patience, submission to 
 God, should run into both, as we find a mixture in the 
 occasions thereof. As when the Psalmist complains of 
 them that breathed cruelty against him, he says, ' he had 
 fainted' (as we translate, for those words " I had fainted" 
 are not in the Hebrew text, but concealed in a more em- 
 phatical aposiopcesis : q.d. it cannot be expressed how de- 
 plorable my case had been, if I had not believed) to see 
 the goodness of the Lord. And adds. Wait on the Lord, 
 he shall strengthen thine heart, &c. Psal. xxvii. 13, 14. 
 
 This, in the meantime, is the voice of patience. It is 
 the Lord ; and, in the present case, 'tis he that disposes, 
 and orders I should so long bear and wait ; that overawes 
 my soul, and brings it down to a peaceful and dutiful ac- 
 quiescence in his good pleasure; peaceful to myself, duti- 
 ful toM'ards him. Let him do what seems him good. Since 
 it is his pleasure that I should wait so long, before I shall 
 become a blessed creature, I shall admire and praise him, 
 that I hope I shall be so at last : but, with profound sub- 
 mission unto his purpose and determination herein, wait, 
 till he .shall think fit to fulfil this good pleasure of his 
 goodness towards me, in accomplishing my desires, and in 
 answering my expectations fully at la,st ; when I shall be 
 brought into that state where is fulness of joy, and be 
 placed at thy right band, O Lord, where are rivers of
 
 OF FUTURE BLESSEDNESS. 
 
 295 
 
 pleasure for evermore I The thing is wholly from him, 
 and it is fit the time should be also. And now, as true 
 patience hath belonging to it what is so special, viz. a 
 respect to God, which we understand to be casual of it, in 
 its proper kind; so we may give a further short account of 
 ii, considering it — 2dly, In its peculiar effect ; (or, as it is 
 called, James i. 4.) the work of patience, viz. that it gives 
 a man a mastery and conquest over all undue and 
 disorderly passions. It fixes the soul in a composed 
 serenity, creates it a region of sedate and peaceful rest ; 
 infers into it a silent calm; allays or prevents all turbu- 
 lent agitations ; excludes whatsoever of noisy clamour; 
 permits no tumults, no storm or tempest within ; whatso- 
 ever of that kind, in this our expecting state, may beset a 
 man from without. And this most connatural effect of pa- 
 tience, we see how most aptly it is expressed by our Sa- 
 viour, (Luke xxi. 19.) In your patience possess ye your 
 souls, q. d. it is patience that must give a man the domi- 
 num sui ; and keep him, under God, in his own power. 
 He intimates, if you have not patience, you are outed of 
 yourselves ; you are no longer masters of your own 
 souls, can have no enjoyment of yourselves, and there- 
 fore are much less to expect a satisfying enjoyment of him. 
 
 Thetemper of spirit it introduces, in oppo.sition to angry 
 and querulous repinings, is a pitiful silence. I was 
 dumb, and opened not my mouth, because thou didst it, 
 Psal. xxxix. 'J. In opposition to fear, it is fortitude. Wait 
 on the Lord; be of good courage, and he shall strengthen 
 thine heart; wait, I say, on the Lord, Psal. xxvii. 14. In 
 opposition to a despairing dejection of mind, confidence ; 
 as in this context. Cast not away your confidence, you 
 have need of patience. In opposition to immoderate sor- 
 row, for your deferred felicity, complacency. Strength- 
 ened with all might, according to his glorious power, unto 
 all patience and long-suffering, with joyfulness; giving 
 thanks to the Father, who hath made us meet to be parta- 
 kers of the inheritance of the saints in light, (Col i. 11, 
 12.) q. d. O blessed be God for our prospect ! and that we 
 have a firm ground whereupon to live, rejoicing in hope 
 of the glory of God, Rom. v. 2. It is that by which, with 
 this composure of soul, we expect, and are still looking 
 for, the blessed hope, and the glorious appearing of the 
 great God, and our Saviour Jesus Christ, (Titus ii. 13.) 
 knowing, that to them who look for him, he shall appear 
 the second time, without sin unto salvation, (Heb. ix. 28.) for 
 then it is that our blessedness is complete, when he shall ap- 
 pear a second time. Then all those many things concur, 
 that are requisite to the making the work of our salvation 
 most perfect and consummate work. And patience is to 
 have its perfect work, in commensuration thereto. But 
 while we are present in these earthly bodies, we are ab- 
 sent from the Lord; and many things are wanting to the 
 happiness we expect. This is the patience we are to ex- 
 ercise in the meantime. We may thus shortly sum up the 
 matter, viz. that in reference to the delay of the blessed- 
 ness we expect — 1. We ought not to be without sense, as 
 if it were no grievance, which were stupidity, and not pa- 
 tience ; and — 2. That we ought not to have an excessive 
 sense of it, which were mere peevishness and impatience. 
 Therefore having given this account what this patience, 
 considered in this exercise, imports; I come, 
 
 2. To show the necessity of it, in a serious and thorough 
 Christian, from the consideration of — the principles, from 
 whence this necessity arises, and — the ends, which it is 
 necessary unto. It must, indeed, be acknowledged, that 
 the form of speech here used in the Greek, ■xphai' e^en', 
 doth directly lead us to consider the latter of these, useful- 
 ness to such or such purposes, rather than the intrinsical 
 necessity of a thing in itself But it cannot be denied, 
 that, to make a man a complete Christian, must be taken 
 in, as a primary and fundamental part, the use of patience, 
 subservient to all the re.st. And we find it recommended 
 upon this account, (James i. 4.) Let patience have its per- 
 fect work, that ye may be perfect, and entire, lacking no- 
 thing. Therefore, what shows its necessitv, as belonging 
 to the inward frame and constitution of a Christian, can- 
 not be irrelative to our purpose. 
 
 And this appears from its intimate connexion with se- 
 veral things, that most confessedly belong, as principles, to 
 the most inward frame and constitution of a Christian. 
 
 The principles we shall here refer to, are either subordi- 
 nate, or sovereig-n and supreme. And they both make it 
 necessary, and produce it. 
 
 1. Those that are subordinate, concur in the constitu- 
 tion of a truly Christian frame, and thereDpon,both make 
 this exercise of patience necessary, and exi.stent ; or make 
 way for it, that it may obtain, and take place with them in 
 a man's soul. They are such as these : 
 
 1. raith of the unseen state. That faith, which in this 
 very context, the beginning of the next chapter, is called 
 the substance of things hoped for, and the evidence of 
 things not seen. This faith of a Christian tells him, God 
 hath made report to me of the glory and blessedness of 
 the unseen world ; and I believe it, take his word, rely 
 upon it. I do, as the apostle says, hope for eternal life, 
 which God, that cannot lie, hath prcjmised, Titus i. 2. 
 This realizes Ihe things themselves, makes them that are 
 future as present. It serves me instead of eyes, and pre- 
 sent sense. They are things, in reference whereto, we 
 must walk by faith, and not by sight. That faith makes 
 a supply for vision, as we find it did, in reference to an 
 unseen Christ, 1 Pet. i. 8. One great part of the expected 
 blessedness of the other state is that beatific sight of him 
 which we shall have; and which believed, and hoped for, 
 maintains present life and vigour in us towards him; 
 though we have not had the privilege of seeing him in 
 the flesh as divers had in time past; yet, not having so 
 seen, we love him ; and, for that other sight of him in glo- 
 ly, how far off that may be, in time to come, we know 
 not. But though so too we now, or as yet, see him not, 
 believing, we rejoice, with jov unspeakable, and full of 
 glory, 1 Pet. i. 8. If I do, with my whole heart and soul, 
 believe God, telling me that thus it shall be, this faith will 
 operate to this height, a glorious joy ; much more to this 
 depth, a soul-composing patience. Therefore are these 
 two, faith and patience, so often paired, and put tosether 
 in Scripture ; and particularly, with reference to this ex- 
 pectation of inheriting the promises, Heb. vi. 12. And 
 how plainly is the affinity and near alliance of these two 
 signified, (James v. 7, 8.) where the apostle exhorting to 
 the patience of expectants saith, Bepatieni, brethren, behold 
 the husbandman waiteth, — be you also patient, — subjoins 
 the proposal of the great object of their faith, the coming 
 of the Lord draws nigh. It is the faith of the unseen 
 state (which commences to the whole Christian commu- 
 nity, at their Lord's coming) that makes patience, at once, 
 both necessary and possible; yea, and actual too: neces- 
 sary, because the prospect it gives is so glorious ; possible, 
 because it is so sure. Upon the former account, without pa- 
 tience, the delay could not be endured ; upon the latter, be- 
 cause it afibrds continual relief, and strength, that one may 
 be capable of enduring, and actually endure. We more 
 easily bear the delay of the most excellent things, where- 
 of we are sure at last. Out of the very eater itself comes 
 forth meat and sweetness. 
 
 2. Nor shall we unfitly add hope to faith. We learn 
 them to be distinguishable, finding them distinctly men- 
 tioned, as two of that great triad of principles, said to 
 abide, 1 Cor. xiii. 13. Nor shall he at a loss how to dis- 
 tinguish them, if we consider faith, as more directly re- 
 specting the ground upon which we rest, the divine testi- 
 mony or revelation ; hope, the object unto which we, 
 thereupon, reach forward in desire and expectation. And, 
 as we see how this latter is complicated with faith : so we 
 may see how it connects with patience, Rom. viii. 24, 25. 
 We are saved by hope ; but hope that is seen is not hope ; 
 for what a man seeth why doth he yet hope for it. But if 
 we hope for that which we see not, then do we, with pa- 
 tience, wait for it. 
 
 And if we follow the thread of discourse through this 
 context, and observe how it begins ; We are saved hyfiope; 
 and how it terminates in patience : it is obvious to collect, 
 that were it not for patience, we were lost ! And may so 
 learn how further to understand our Saviour's words, 
 Luke xxi. 19. In your patience possess you your own 
 souls; viz. as possessing, or keeping, stands opposed to 
 losing. They that cannot endure to the end, cannot be 
 saved. So is the new creature composed by a contexture 
 of principles, to be, under God, a self-preserving thing 
 
 3. Love is another great constituent of the Christian
 
 296 
 
 OF PATIENCE, IN EXPECTATION 
 
 frame, as such, that makes patience necessary ; as much 
 patience is requisite to make them endure one another's 
 absence, who are very cordial lovers of one another. No- 
 thing is more essential in the constitution of a sincere 
 Christian, than divine love: it is the very heart and soul 
 of the new creature. Love desiring after God, as my su- 
 preme good ; love delighting and acquiescing in him above 
 all, according to my present measureof enjoyment of him; 
 which being very imperfect, makes my patience most ab- 
 solutely necessary, till it can be perfect. If I have not pa- 
 tience, how can I endure the absence of him, whom I love 
 better than myself"? And that love of him doth connote, 
 and carry along with it, the extinction of the love of this 
 present world, so that it shall not longer be predominant; 
 its predominancy being inconsistent with the love of God. 
 Love not this world — if any man love this world, the love 
 of the Father is not in him, 1 John ii. 15. Now when a 
 soul is mortified to the love of this world, it is not hereby 
 quite stupified ; love is not destroyed, but turned to ano- 
 ther, and its more proper object ; and is so much the more 
 intense Godward, by how much the more it is drawn and 
 taken off from all inferior things. Thereupon it must be 
 so much the more grievous to be kept off from him ; and 
 that grievance cannot be borne without patience. For 
 that which aggrieves is the absenceof my best good, which 
 can have no equivalent; and the want whereof nothing 
 can supply, or fill up its room. God cannot be loved with- 
 out" being known ; nor can he be known to be God, biU as 
 the best good. Though I can never know him perfectly, 
 yet so much I must be supposed to know of him, that he is 
 better than all things else ; that nothing that is not supe- 
 rior in goodness to all things besides, even infinitely supe- 
 rior, can be God ; and nothing but such an uncreated good 
 can make me a happy creature. And what patience do I 
 need, to make me content not to be happy 1 But he were 
 not such a good, goodness itself, if he could impose it up- 
 on me to choose to be miserable, or never to be happy. 
 He only requires, that I wait awhile, that I be patient of 
 some delay. 
 
 And hereupon, if my love be such as it ought, it doth 
 not only make patience necessary, but facile too. It cor- 
 responds not to its glorious and most excellent object, if it 
 be not very reverential and most obsequious love, full of 
 duty towards him on whom it is placed; if it hath not in 
 it a regard to the blessed God, as well under the notion of 
 the sovereign Ruler, as the sovereign Good. And there- 
 upon my patience, as hath been said, carrying religion in 
 it, t. e. a dutiful di.sposition towards God ; the same princi- 
 ple which makes it necessary, makes it practicable also. 
 When he, whose devoted servant I am, hath signified to 
 me his good pleasure, viz. he finally intends me to able.s.s- 
 ed state ; but that in the state, wherein I now am, he hath 
 present service for me to do ; or that he sees it requisite 
 before he translates me out of this state, further to prepare 
 me for abetter; and requires, in the meantime, I seek ho- 
 nour, glory, and immortality, by a patient continuance in 
 well-doing : my love to him itself, which makes it to ap- 
 pear necessary, makes it also appear to me the most rea- 
 sonable thing in all the world ; and that my heart say 
 within me, even from the power and spirit of Divine love, 
 when he imposes this expectation, though tedious, and 
 when he inflicts any thing grievous, I was dumb, O Lord, 
 and opened not my mouth, because thou didst it, (Psal. 
 xxxix. 8.) though I could not have taken it from another. 
 We further add, not as a single, but most comprehensive 
 principle, 
 
 4. Holiness, which impressed upon the soul, suits it un- 
 to the heavenly slate, and so makes it covet it more ear- 
 nestly. All things naturally tend to the perfection of that 
 state, unto which they are predisposed, which is more con- 
 generous to them, or whereto they have an agreement in 
 their natures. It is so in the new nature, as well as that 
 which is common toother creatures. All things naturally 
 tend to their like. It cannot be less thus with the new 
 creature, whose nature is improved, heightened, and per- 
 fected beyond that of other creatures. It is the Divine ho- 
 liness impressed upon the soul, that suits it unto the parti- 
 cipation of the heavenly inheritance. None ever come to 
 heaven, but they that are made meet to partake of the 
 inheritance of the saints in light, Col. ii. 12. They that are 
 
 made meet for heaven, suited in the temper of their spirits 
 to it, cannot but long for it, and do therefore need patience, 
 while they are wailing. It is indeed but that to which they 
 are begotten. Holiness in general is the product of rege- 
 neration. And we find, that in 1 Pet. i. 3. we are said to be 
 begotten unto the lively hope. Hope must be taken there ob- 
 jectively by what follows. To an inheritance incorruptible, 
 and undefiled, and that fadeth not away, reserved in heaven 
 for you, ver. 4. A disposition to it is in our very nata- 
 litia : we are begotten lo it by the implantation of this prin- 
 ciple, of the new, divine, and heavenly birth. Such are 
 born for that country, born with a suitableness to that in- 
 heritance, therefore cannot but have earnest longings after 
 it ; and therefore cannot but need patience, that they may en- 
 dure the delay. And that also connotes and carries 
 with it these two things, — 1. Hatred of the opposite, 
 and — 2. A tendency unto the improvement and perfection 
 of itself. 
 
 1. Hatred of the opposite, sin. And this makes a serious 
 Christian groan : I have a body of death hanging about 
 me. I cannot get rid of the impurities which I hate. And 
 because the very habit of their soul is now so far changed, 
 that they are made holy, they cannot but hate the contrary. 
 You that love the Lord, hate evil ; it belongs to your cha- 
 racter to do so, Psal. xcvii. 10. And they know, that they 
 shall never be quite rid of it, as long as they are here. 
 And though as sin is an evil against God, it is not to be 
 the object of their patience; yet, as it is a grievance to 
 themselves, the remainders of it are, so far, to be the ob- 
 ject about which their patience may be exercised, that they 
 are not to enter into any quarrel, that he doth not imme- 
 diately made them perfect in the very first moment of their 
 conversion. And as there is conjunct with this frame of 
 holiness, hatred of the opposite, so there is, 
 
 2. A tendency to the improving and heightening itself: 
 for every thing naturally affects its own perfection, or the 
 perfection of its own proper kind. As nature, in every 
 thing that grows, aims at a certain pitch, at a certain u*^*; ; 
 so where there is an inchoate holiness, there cannot bu* 
 be a tendency unto consummate perfect holiness. The pre- 
 cept, therefore, agrees to the temper of their mind, to 
 whom it is given, perfecting holiness, in the fear of God, 2 
 Cor. vii. 1. This is having the law written in our heart, 
 and put into the inward part. But as holiness includes 
 conformity to the preceptive will of God, so it doth to his 
 disposing will, being made known. Therefore, when we 
 understand it to be his pleasure, we should wait : the holy 
 nature itself, which prompts us so earnestly to desire the 
 perfection of our state, must also incline us (it were other- 
 wise made up of contradictions) patiently to expect it, our 
 appointed time. Herein we are to be subject to the Father 
 of our spirits ; as to the fathersof our flesh, when they shall 
 think fit to give a full portion, Heb. xii. 9. 
 
 2. Besides all these subordinate principles, we are to 
 consider the co-operation of a sovereign and supreme 
 principle with them, and that is the blessed spirit of God 
 himself. He begets, raises, and cherisheth such desires 
 after the blessedness of the heavenly state, as makes this 
 patience most absolutely necessary. You find in 2 Cor. v. 4. 
 where the apostle is speaking of his earnest aspiring, and 
 groaning, not tobe unclothed of this flesh, this earthly taber- 
 nacle; but tobe clothed upon, q. d. To be unclothed, is too 
 low and mean a thing ; hereby I only avoid the troubles of 
 life. This can by no means terminate desires of so high a 
 kind, and of so divine and heavenly an original. These were 
 only the desires of a brute, oppressed by a sensible, too 
 heavy burthen. But the thing I aspire to, and groan after, 
 is to be clothed upon. 'Tis somewhat positive, and much 
 higher, viz. the perfection of that state I am designed to, 
 and by grace made capable of, wherein mortality is to be 
 swallowed up of life. These are desires proceeding not 
 from the sense of what we feel, but from the attraction of 
 what we see ; and not from a brutal, but a divine nature. 
 So he next tells us, ver. 5, whence they were. Now he 
 that hath wrought us for this self same thing is God, who 
 also hath given unto us the earnest of the Spirit. It is the 
 Spirit of God working in us, that makes us thus restlessly 
 aspire and groan. He that hath wrought us for this self- 
 same thing is God. It is more than if it had been barely 
 said, God hath wrought us for this selfsame thing. So he
 
 OF FUTURE BLESSEDNESS. 
 
 297 
 
 might express a work common to him with other agents; 
 as if it had been said, He hath wrought us for this self- 
 same thing, and so might another. But Ae that hath 
 wrought us for this self-same thing is God. This is a far 
 more emjihatica) way of speaking, i. e. it doth assert Deity 
 to him that doth this work, q. d. "None but God could do 
 such a thing." Therefore observe the form of expression 
 here used, that we lose not the emphasis of it. The act — 
 working us for the same thing — is not affirmed of God, as 
 it would in this form, — God hath wrought us. — But being 
 God, or Godhead, is affirmed of the agent, q. d. he cannot 
 but be a God, that doth work this upon us. The other 
 way of expression would serve to represent an action that 
 were common, indefinitely, to one or another agent ; as if 
 we say, " The king walks, speaks," &c. but to express an 
 act peculiar to majesty, we would say, " He that reigns is 
 'he king." This expression, then, doth not only ascribe 
 nut appropriate the work done to God. What 1 that moles, 
 such dunghill worms, should thus aspire! He is a God 
 that hath done this ! For that such a work should be done 
 upon such creatures! to mould them into such a frame, 
 that now nothing terrestrial, nothing temporary, nothing 
 wiihin the region of mortality, will satisfy; but they are 
 restless for that state, wherein mortality shall be swallow- 
 ed up of life. He that hath wrought us for this self-same 
 thing is God. This is the work of a Deity. 
 
 Therefore also, are so solemn thanksgivings tendered to 
 the Father, for his having made us meet to be partakers 
 of the inheritance of the saints in light, (Col. i. 12.) which 
 he doth not only by bringing life and immortality to light 
 in the gospel, (I Tim. ii. 10.) but by giving the Spirit of 
 wisdom and revelation — by enlightening the eyes of our 
 understanding, that we may know the hope of our calling. 
 (Eph. i. 17, 18.) shining into our souls with such a vivific, 
 penetrative, and transforming light, as should change their 
 whole frame, and fully attemper them thereto. Now if it 
 be a divine power that hath excited such desires, and given 
 such a disposition ; it must be a divine power that must 
 moderate them too; by giving also that patience, that shall 
 enable us to wait for the fulfilling of them. And the ra- 
 ther doth there need the interposition of a God in the case, 
 to make us endure and patiently expect the state he hath 
 wrought us for, inasmuch as the same Spirit that frames 
 us for that state (as we see recurring to the place before 
 mentioned) doth assure us of it; who hath given us the 
 earnest of the Spirit. His Spirit, working in us. not only 
 gives us a clear signification of the truth of the thing, but 
 of our title ; and therefore makes us so earnestly aspire, 
 and groan for it. Wherefore patience cannot but be the 
 more necessary; and (the whole being entirely his work, 
 who doth no inconsistent things) the easier too. And so 
 we find in Rom. viii. 23, 24. where it is said. That they 
 that have received the first-fruits of the Spirit, do groan 
 within themselves ; they have the same aspirings that this 
 apostle here speaks of, they groan earnestly within them- 
 selves, waiting for the adoption, the redemption of their 
 body. The adoption ; that is an allusion unto a known 
 usage among the Romans, to whom the apostle here writes ; 
 and therefore they were the more capable of understanding 
 it. There was anjong them a twofold adoption : — 1. Pri- 
 vate ; when such a patron did design to adopt such a one 
 for his son, and express his purpose to such as were con- 
 cerned, as he judged it convenient ; which was but to in- 
 choate adoption : — 2. Public ; when the action was solemn, 
 in fore, and enrolled, a register kept of it. And this was 
 the adoption the apostle here alludes to; the manifestation 
 of the sons of God, as ver. If), of this chapter. Whereto 
 agrees the expression of another apostle, Yet it doth not 
 appear what we shall be ; but when he shall appear, we 
 shall be like him, 1 John iii. 2. When the sons of God 
 are to be manifested, they shall appear like themselves, 
 and like their Father. This is their public solemn adop- 
 tion, when before men and angels they are declared sons 
 of God. And this is that we groan for, says the apostle, 
 having received the first-fruits of the Spirit. We groan 
 for this, the perfection of our state ; and thereupon would 
 accordingly enter upon the inheritance, being a.-isured that 
 all his chilclren are heirs, heirs of God, and joint-heirs with 
 Christ (as before in the same chapter, ver. 17) But now, 
 whereas, from these passages, He that wrought us for the 
 
 self-same thing is God; that it is he that made us meet for 
 this inheritance; that the first-fruits of tiis Spirit made us 
 groan for it ; we collect, that it is divine power which gives 
 this aptitude and inclination, and limits it. What is it, 
 that doth so qualify divine power, but divine power 1 
 
 It is, indeed, twj plain, that the influence of this power 
 received into such a subject, a mind in too great part yet 
 carnalized, and situated amidst a sensible templing woiid, 
 meets with sufficient allays, and enough to obstruct its 
 tendencies towards an object )-et out of sight. But all this 
 obstruction, such a power can easily overcome. There- 
 fore we are equally to admire the wisdom of God, as his 
 power ; nor as simply omnipotent, though it be so ; but as 
 having its place and exercise in the most perfect Divine 
 nature, in which all excellencies meet; and which there- 
 fore is not exerted ad idtivium, so as to do all that almighty 
 power can do, but what is convenient and fit to be done ; 
 that can moderate it.self, can move forward, and sistere se, 
 stop its motion at pleasure, so as to provide that desire and 
 patience may, in our present state, consist ; and that whilst 
 God hath work for us to do, and a station to fill up in this 
 present world, wc may not be weary of life ; or by the ex- 
 pectation of blessedness in the other world, be made im- 
 patient of serving his purposes here, as long as it is his 
 pleasure to continue us in this. So doth he all things, ac- 
 cording to the coun.sel of his will ! Thus from the prin- 
 ciples whence patience proceeds, you may collect how 
 absolutely necessar}^ it is. 
 
 2. You may collect it too, from the ends which it serves. 
 And I shall mention but these two, which are in the text: 
 that which is nearer and more immediate — our doing the 
 will of God ; — remoter, and ultimate — our inheriting the 
 promise. 
 
 1. This nearer end is manifestly supposed to be so ; and 
 withal, that patience is necessary thereto. For when we 
 are told, " Ye have need of patience, that when ye have 
 done the will of God," it is plainly signified, patience con- 
 duces to our doing: God's will ; and that without patience 
 we cannot do it. Not that patience is the proper principle 
 of doing it, but active vigour ; yet the concomitancy of 
 patience is requisite hereto; not directly, in respect to the 
 thing to be done; but the time through which the doin? of 
 it must be continued, and the expectation which, as ha'h 
 been said, is complicated therewith. To the former, vigor- 
 ous activity, a promptitude and suitableness of mind and 
 spirit to the Divine will, even a love of holiness, whereof 
 that will revealed is the measure, must be reckoned the 
 genuine, requisite principle ; as patience is to the latter. 
 Therefore do we find labour ascribed to love, and patience 
 to hope, 1 Thess. i. 3. !f v:t have run Tvell ; and :'. ::. ±z 
 will of God we shall lengthen out our course by a patient 
 continuance in well-doing; and not express only a present 
 agility, but patience in running the race; without this we 
 do not the will of God. 
 
 2. But we are more largely to insist on the remoter and 
 more ultimate end — that we may inherit that promise— 
 which we see is represented, as the end of that former 
 end : and patience made necessary to the latter, as it is ne- 
 cessary to the former. And can we in good earnest think 
 of inheriting the promise, which is all of grace, whether 
 God will or nol And, if he will the end, doth it not equally 
 belons: to him to will the way and method of our attaining 
 ill To he here somewhat particular. Two things, we may 
 conclude, God doth ordinarilv will concerning the wav, 
 wherein he conduc's, and leads on those that peculiarly 
 belong to him, to the blessed end, and consummate state he 
 designs them to. the one whereof is also requisite to the 
 other, viz. — 1. Their gradual growth and improvement in 
 holine.'^s, and all dutiful dispositions towards him, till they 
 come nearer to maturity for glory, and a meekness for the 
 heavenly state : and — 2. Their maintaining an intercourse 
 with himself, in order hereto. — These things he wills us to 
 design through our whole course, though te is at liberty 
 to shorten or lengthen our course, as to him seems meet. 
 
 1. Our own gradual improvement. Hereto such pa- 
 tience is necessary ; for perpetual fretting must naturally 
 hinder our growth. Let patience have its perfect work, 
 that ye may be perfect, James i. 4. It cannot have its per- 
 fect work, if it have not its work and exercise this way, as 
 well as others ; that ye may be perfect, and entire, wanting
 
 SOS 
 
 OF PATIENCE, IN EXPECTATION 
 
 nothing. If you have not patience, that you can endure 
 such a delay, you will never grow, will be always starve- 
 lings. Do we not observe the method, wherein the Divine 
 wisdom brings all things to their d-c,if), or perfect state '? 
 vegetables'? sensitive creatures'? in the several kinds of 
 bofh'? Do we not observe it in ourselves"? and in our chil- 
 dren 1 whom (as the comedian) we should most absurdly 
 expect to be born old men. And as to our spiritual states, 
 after conversion, or regeneration, what are the gifts vouch- 
 safed by our glorified Lord meant for, but our growth to a 
 perfect man"? Conversion, 'tis true, till work of that kind 
 be all over, perfects the whole body ; but the increase of 
 knowledge, and grace, perfects each particular member 
 or part. 
 
 And, besides the improvement of habitual principles, 
 there is a fulness of actual duty and service, to be to our 
 utmost endeavoured, that we may stand complete, and per- 
 fect in all the will of God, Col. iv. 12. Every one hath 
 his pensu7?i, his allotment of work and time assigned him 
 in this world, though some come not into the vineyard till 
 the eleventh hour. What a sharp reproach is that, (Rev. 
 iii. 2.) I have not found thy works filled up !— How glori- 
 ous a character is that of the man after God's own heart, 
 that after he had — by the will of God — served his genera- 
 tion, run through the course of service, which the Divine 
 will had measured out to him for his own age wherein he 
 lived, he at length so seasonably fell asleep ; was gathered 
 to his fathers, as a shock of corn fully ripe. This is the 
 state of growth and service ; the other, the state of perfec- 
 tion and retribution. And to improvement and progress, 
 patience is necessary, not only as being itself a part of our 
 duty, the want whereof, therefore, must infer a maim; but 
 as, also, it hath influence upon all other garts, and without 
 which, therefore, there would be a universal languor and 
 debility upon the whole new man ; which is evident from 
 what is to be added. 'Tis through the Lord alone we are to 
 make mention of his name, Isa. xxvi. 13. Without him 
 we can do nothing, (John xv. 5.) neither grow, nor serve. 
 Therefore further is our patience necessary, 
 
 2. That so our communion and intercourse with God 
 here, according as in our present state we are capable, may 
 be continued, and his communications to us therein, which 
 we daily need, may not be obstructed. Herein lies the 
 very life of our spirits, a continued intercourse between 
 God and us. But of this, without such patience, we shall 
 be incapable. See how the apostle argues, (Heb. xii. 9.) 
 The fathers of your flesh chastised you, and you gave them 
 reverence ; how inuch more shall we not be subject to the 
 Father of our spirits and live '? Shall we not be subject 
 IG the F"thsr of cur spiri'.s? W'^ Jiitis^t reiTieoiber, that he, 
 whom the apostle here calls by a more general title, the 
 Father of spirits, doth elsewhere vouchsafe to be styled 
 (Numb, xxvii. 16.) the God of the spirits of all flesh. A 
 most condescending expression ! That he, who hath so 
 innumerable myriads of spirits, whose dwelling is not 
 with flesh, replenishing the spacious realms and regions 
 of light and bliss above, should also not disdain to own a 
 relation to this inferior sort of spirits, that are so meanly 
 lodged, even in frail and mortal flesh ; and to express a con- 
 cern about them, that somewhat of tolerable order might 
 be preserved among them, in their low and abject state; 
 and therefore allow himself to be called the God of such 
 spirits ! This is admirable vouchsafement. And, because 
 he is (in this other place) generally called the Father of 
 spirits, comprehending these with the rest ; upon both ac- 
 counts, it belongs to him by prerogative, to determine what 
 spirits shall dwell in flesh, and what shall not ; how long 
 any such spirits shall dwell in flesh, and when they shall be 
 removed, and taken out of this fleshly state. And observe 
 what follows, "shall we not be subject to the Father of 
 spirits, and live'?" The impatient will contend; they that 
 cannot bear delay will quarrel, and that will be deadly to 
 Ihem. If we be not subject, we cannot live. He is the uni- 
 versal Father of spirits; all spirits are his offspring. And 
 shall not he determine concerning the spirits he hath made, 
 which shall, and how long they shall, inhabit flesh ; as well 
 the time, as the thing itself; or who shall, and who shall 
 not 1 It is his pleasure, that my spirit should so long ani- 
 mate and inhabit such a piece of clay; if I am not subject 
 to him, I shall not live. This is severely monitory ! and ex- 
 
 tends far. It admonishes me of danger, as to my final state. 
 For what is here said, hath reference to what is after said 
 of the future vision of God ; and our association to the in- 
 numerable compan}' of angels, and the spirits of just men 
 made perfect ; whereof want of the patience prescribed, 
 (ver. 1.) through all the whole race set before us, hazards 
 our falling short. But how are we, by impatience, endan- 
 gered, as to our final and eternal state of life ! 'Tis inti- 
 mated, that without being patient, and subject, we cannot 
 live now. Intercourse will be broken off between him and 
 us; he will retire, and withhold his influence: and if he 
 do so, and we pine away in our sins, how shall we then 
 live 1 (as their misgiving hearts presage, Ezek. xxxiii. 10.) 
 
 But if spiritual life already fail, which is of the same 
 kind with blessed eternal life, and is therein perfected, 
 what shall become of that life itself, which is but the per- 
 fection of the other"? If we cannot live now, how shall we 
 live eternally "? If not a day, how for ever 1 'Tis true, we 
 are kept by the power of God ; but it is, through faith, 
 vmto salvation, (1 Pet. i. 5.) and faith is necessary to sup- 
 port our patience, as hath been noted. This our Saviour 
 prayed for to Peter, that amidst all his winnowings, his 
 faith might not fail. And all this with this final reference, 
 that we might be followers of them, who, through faith 
 and patience, have inherited the promises, (Heb. vi. 12.) 
 which plainly shows what is God's ordinary method of 
 bringing his own, at last, to that inheritance. And this, in 
 the context, which we were last considering, (Heb. xii.) is 
 copiously illustrated by the method observed in families ; 
 wherein a prudent father considers how long it is fit a son 
 should be under discipline, whereof, while he is patient, he 
 is under paternal care, and enjoys the provisions of the 
 family ; but, if he will not be subject, how shall he live "? 
 This prudent conduct is not always observed by the fathers 
 of our flesh. They use, sometimes, harsh severities, more 
 for their own pleasure, and to gratify their own passion, 
 than the child's profit. But with the Father of spirits no 
 rash passions can have place. He only designs our profit, 
 and improvement, in the highest and most excellent kind, 
 i. e. to make us partakers of his holiness ; to make us more 
 and more God-like, and fit, at length, to be admitted into 
 the presence of his glory. And whereas the mere defer- 
 ring of our expected felicity is some chastisement and re- 
 buke upon us, for our yet-continuing impurities and dis- 
 orders; there are also other afflictions that befall us in this 
 our expecting state, which, though they proceed from this 
 world's hatred, may proceed from the love of God, and are 
 meant to work out for us greater glory, (2 Cor. iv. 17.) as 
 now they tend to make us partakers, in a greater measure, 
 of his holiness; which, as it is his glory, will be ours; and 
 by his influence, a peaceful fruit of righteousness accrues 
 to us, and grows up in us, upon which we are to feed and 
 live. Now what conversation can there be between a fa- 
 ther in a family, and a son in minority and under disci- 
 pline, but by wise and tender care on the part of the former, 
 and the dutiful submission of the latter'? Or can the son 
 hope the sooner to come by his inheritance, by wayward 
 and contentious behaviour towards such a father 1 So that 
 both from the principles whence such patience proceeds, 
 and the e7ids which it serves, we may collect the necessity 
 of it unto every serious Christian. 
 
 And now how copious use might we make of so impor- 
 tant subject ! But we must contract. We may learn from it, 
 
 1. The desperate condition of those wretched creatures, 
 that are of terrene minds, whose hearts, by habitual and 
 prevailing inclination, cleave to this earth, and this earthly 
 state. They can apprehend no need of patience, in ex- 
 pecting the blessedness of heaven. It is no grievance to 
 them not to partake therein. They had rather live where 
 they are ; are better pleased with their present state of life. 
 Tell them of patience in waiting for the heavenly felicity ! 
 'Tis language they understand not ! Oh the wretched 
 state of those forlorn souls, whose habitual temper makes 
 them incapable of the exercise or need of this patience ! 
 It may be said indeed, of many a good man, that he doth 
 not covet death, (which, for itself, no man can,) but it 
 cannot be said of any good man, that he doth not covet 
 blessedness, which, in a general, indeterminate notion, 
 every man covets. But there is no truly good man, none 
 that is regenerate, and born of God, who doth not particu-
 
 OF FUTURE BLESSEDNESS. 
 
 2oy 
 
 larly covet that, wherein blessedness truly lies, and doth 
 consist. For all such are begotten to the lively hope — of 
 the undefiled inheritance, reserved in heaven for them, 
 (1 Pet. i. 3, 4.) nor can be supposed, when they covet bless- 
 edness, not to covet perfect blessedness. Such may, indeed, 
 not yet covet to die ; because yet they may be under some 
 doubt concerning their present state God-ward. And so 
 such a one doth not know, whether, if he die, he shall 
 enter upon a blessed state, or no. But, in the meantime, 
 it cannot be said of any good man, that he doth not covet 
 to be blessed ; though tor that single reason, because he 
 doubts of his title io the heavenly blessedness, he covets 
 not death. Therefore that doubt doth not extinguish his 
 desire of blessedness, but suspends only the desire of death, 
 as an uncertain way to it ; because it is equally the en- 
 trance to a state of misery, to them who have no title to 
 blessedness, as it is unto a blessed state, to them that have 
 a title. And concerning their present title, they are still 
 in doubt ; which way they hope, by Divine assistance, if 
 they have more time, may yet be gained. Whereas, upon 
 supposition that doubt were removed, they would be glad 
 to be gone. But this is their miserable case, whose hearts 
 cleave to this earth, that they prefer it before all the bless- 
 edness and glory of heaven-, and rather bless themselves 
 from it, than desire to be blessed by it. If they can but 
 live pleasantly, and as long as they would do here, take 
 heaven, and all the blessedness and glory of it, that will 
 for them ! I would fain have you apprehend the deplora- 
 ble condition of such men, upon sundry accounts. 
 
 1. Their temper differs from that of all the children of 
 God; they are quite of another complexion from the 
 whole family that belongs to him. For all that are the 
 sons of God, as they are born from above, (/ivajeti-, John iii. 
 3.) they are born with a disposition heavenward. There- 
 fore, if such a man could but view, and behold himself, he 
 could not but cry out, affrighted and amazed, God be mer- 
 ciful to me ! what sort of creature am 1 1 If God be not 
 merciful to me, to change me, his mercy can never own 
 me for his ; I am quite of a different make from all that 
 ever had leave to call him Father! They all love heaven 
 more than earth, and I love earth more than heaven ! 
 That a man's own temper should distinguish him from all 
 the Divine offspring ! Methinks it should be considered 
 v/itli dread and horror ! That there should be a sort of 
 men in this world, that are all lovers of God, as their best 
 good, and longing to be at home with him in the heavenly 
 state, and I to be severed from them all ! My heart being 
 strange to him, and always tending downward! This is 
 a dismal thing; a sad reflection to any one, that can, and 
 will reflect ; and be so true to himself, as to own this to be 
 his sense, " I had rather live amidst the vanities of this 
 world, than partake in the glories of heaven ! I had rather 
 please my flesh and sense on earth, than enjoy the felicity 
 of saints and angels above!" A fearful case ! For now 
 you have nothing to do with this character, belonging to 
 holy men, of standing in sensible need of patience, that 
 you may inherit the promise! nor, 
 
 2. Can you inherit. For as all, so only, God's children 
 are his heirs. They are no heirs who are not his children. 
 Cast out the bondwoman and her son ; he cannot inherit 
 with the son of the promi,se. The children of Jerusalem 
 above are free; the rest are slaves. Can it be thought 
 worthy of God to have bondmen, and slaves to vile ter- 
 rene affections, for his sons'? can they inherit the blessed- 
 ness of heaven, that never loved, desired, or chose it; that 
 always preferred this earth before it ? Can any be brought 
 to heaven violently, whether they will or no 1 Whoever 
 have come thither, first sought it, as the better country. 
 Therefore God was not ashamed to be called their God, 
 (Heb. xi. 16.) which implies he would be ashamed to be 
 called the God of an earthly-minded generation of men. 
 And will he ever do the thing that he would be ashamed 
 of? so ignominious a thing as to take base sons of the 
 earth into his kingdom (who may all say in regno vMi fu- 
 vius, we are horn of the kingdom we belong to) for his chil- 
 dren and heirs 1 
 
 3. Notwithstanding their obstinate inclination and ad- 
 herence to this earth, they still live in the continual fear of 
 being removed out of it, viz. if they bethink themselves. 
 And what .sort of felicity is that, that can be blasted and 
 
 extinguished by a thought! that depends cily upon a 
 present forgetfulness! How afflicting a mi-ery lo be 
 united in affection with that, as my best good, which 1 
 continually fear to lose, and to have rent away from me ! 
 
 4. Such addictedness to this earth, i. e. the desire of a 
 perpetual abode here; which is the complexion of all 
 earthly-minded men, who herein never limit themselves; 
 but .should they live here never so many ages, they would 
 be always of the same mind, I say, their earthly propen- 
 sion is liable to be encountered continually, not with fear 
 only, but despair; and is therefore most vain, irrational, 
 absurd, and tormenting to themselves. Vain, for it contri- 
 butes nothing to their end. Can any man's adhesion to 
 this earth, be it never so peremptorj', perpetuate, or pro- 
 long his abode upon it"? Irrational, for what is there in 
 this state itself, to be alleged as a plausible reason, why 
 one should desire it to be everlasting 1 Absurd, for it is to 
 set one's heart upon a known impo.ssibility. What can be 
 more ludicrous, than to contend with necessity, which will 
 at last be too hard for me "? lo cherish a desire in my soul, 
 wherein I know I must at length be disappointed'? And 
 it cannot, in the issue, but be tormenting, and even in the 
 foresight of it; fear afflicts, but despair cannot do less 
 than torment. How amazing is the forethought of being 
 plucked away from one's dwelling-place ; rooted out from 
 the land of the living! (Psal. lii. 5.) An immortal spirit 
 torn out of mortal flesh, unto which 'tis now, however, so 
 inwardly connaturalized, as to have no thought, but witli 
 abhorrence, of any other state or dwelling! That one's 
 soul should sit trembling on the lip, and muttering, " I fain 
 would stay, but must go, and leave behind me whatsoever 
 I loved best ! and not only quit all my former known de- 
 lights and wonts, but pass into unknown darkness and 
 woes !" Animula vagula, blandula, <f«c. (as he desperately) 
 Omy poor wandering, self-Jl altering soul, whit/ier art thou, 
 going — into what dismal, horrid places, where thou shall 
 not jest as thou wast wont ! 
 
 That a man should thus recount with himself; I have 
 had my good things ! my pleasant days are all over, never 
 to return more ! And now must I finish them by so vio- 
 lent a death ! Driven away (as the wicked is said to be) 
 out of light into darkness, and chased out of the world, 
 John xviii. 5, 18. How calamitous is this case ! And 
 how much the more, that it scarce leaves room for a 
 rational, or even for a religious pity. For we read in the 
 mentioned Psal. lii. when we are told, ver. 5. of God's 
 plucking and rooting such out of their dwelling-place, &c 
 That the righteous shall see and fear, and laugh at them. 
 At once they reverence God, and deride them, ver. 6. 
 And are justified herein W what follows, ver. 7. Lo, 
 this is the man that made not God his strength, but trusted 
 in the abundance of his riches, and strengthened himseli 
 in his wickedness, riz. that he acted so foolish a part, in 
 so plain a case ; imagining, that wealth and wickedness, 
 in conjmiciion, could signify more than all the mercy and 
 justice of a Deity \ And did therefore that ridiculous 
 thing, so deservedl}' to be laughed at by all that are wise 
 and just, as to attempt by so much earth to fill up the room 
 of God ' That a reasonable and immortal mind should 
 place its supreme desire np'^n a terrene good, from which 
 it shortly must be plucked away, against the stroiigest 
 reluctance ! Veneration of the Divine juviesis orercomes 
 comjiassion in this ease. Pity towards them is not ex- 
 tinguished, but its exercise suspended only, by religion 
 towards God. 
 
 5. This temper of mind (which ought to signifv' with 
 professed Christians) hath in it a downright repugnancy 
 unto whole Christianity. For consider, and compare 
 things. Here is a heart cleaving to this earth : but did 
 Christ establish his religion to plant men in the earth 1 
 Was it not to prepare them for heaven, and then translat-e 
 them thither'? He died, the just for the unjust, to bring 
 us to God, 1 Pet. iii. 18. And he hath redeemed us to 
 God by his blood. Rev. v. 9. And to deliver us from this 
 present world, Gal. i. 4. His kingdom, in the whole con- 
 stitution and frame of it, is avowedl}' not of this world; 
 but terminates upon eternity, and an everlasting state. 
 And, therefore, they that mind earthly things, are said tc 
 be enemies to the cross of Christ, Phil. iii. 18, 19. Their 
 whole business is nothing else but fighting again?'; tilting
 
 300 
 
 OF PATIENCE, IN EXPECTATION 
 
 at the cross! i. e. counteracting the design for which 
 Christ was crucified. And can it enter into the imagina- 
 tion of any man, that hath not forfeited the repute of an 
 intelligent creature, or quite lost his understanding ; or 
 (if he retain any thing of reason) that hath not abandoned 
 his religion; to think, that the Son of God should come 
 down from heaven, and die on earth, to counteract him- 
 self, or only to procure, that such as we might be rich 
 men, be in friendship with this world and enmity with 
 Qodi here live, eat, drink, trade, gather wealth; and 
 forget who made us, and redeemed us with his blood! 
 Was this the end for which the world was to be Christian- 
 ized 1 and Christianity set up among men 1 and for the 
 founding whereof, the Head and Author of this profession 
 died upon the cross 1 What an insolent absurdity is it in 
 such as call themselves Christians, to live in so open, con- 
 'inual, and direct opposition to the very end for which 
 Christ died. 
 
 6. And in the mentioned case, their very frame carries 
 with it a direct opposition and contradiction to their own 
 profession, i. e. supposing they live under the gospel, and 
 profess the Christian religion. They fight not only against 
 Christ, even dying, but themselves. And this is that 
 which the apostle considers with so deep sense, and ten- 
 derness, in that mentioned, Phil. iii. There are some, of 
 whom I have told you often, and now tell you weeping, 
 they are enemies to the cross of Christ — they mind earthly 
 things. But, in opposition to men of this character, he 
 adds. Our conversation is in heaven. All runs into this 
 at last, they that are Christians indeed, have their conver- 
 sation in heaven. I now tell you of these earthly-minded 
 ones, even weeping, that they unchristian themselves! 
 What compassion doth it challenge ! to see men baptized 
 into Christ's death; to behold immortal spirits united with 
 bodies washed with pure water, therein renouncing this 
 world, and all its pollutions, yet sunk into carnality ! 
 buried in flesh ! where they should but dwell ; living under 
 the gospel, where life and immortality are brought to light, 
 regardless of immortal life ; afraid to die, yet void of any 
 inclination to the way of living for ever ! And that while 
 they pretend to it, and do really love their death, which 
 their profession obliges them to shun, and dread ! (Prov. 
 viii. 36.) So are they made up of contradictions, and in- 
 consistencies with themselves ! In the foremenlioned con- 
 text, (Phil, iii.) the way and course of walking, which the 
 blessed apostle observed, and lamented with tears, was 
 such, as none of them that took it could be supposed to 
 avow. They were not professed enemies to Christ and 
 Christianity, of whom he complains. It could be no sur- 
 prise to him, or strange thing, to sec men practise accord- 
 ing to their known principles. But that enmity to Christ, 
 and his great design, should appear in the lives of Chris- 
 tians, pierced his very soul ; and the more for what there 
 follows : 
 
 7. That their end will be destruction. For they w^ere 
 to be treated, and dealt with at last, not according to what 
 they did falsely pretend, but what they truly were ; besides, 
 that their destruction naturally follows their earthly incli- 
 nation. They have that dealli-mark upon them, w'hich is 
 also the true cause why ihcy eariUot live. All their de- 
 signs and inclinations terminale upon earth, that hath 
 nothing in it that souls can live by ; and they are enemies 
 to the cross of Christ, i. e. to the design of his death there- 
 on, in compliance wherevv-ith stands their very life. For, 
 if they are crucified with him, they live, Gal. ii. 20. The 
 love of this world must be deadly to them excluding Di- 
 vine love, which is their life. In the same degrees where- 
 in this world, and all worldly lusts, are crucified by the 
 cross of Christ, (Gal. vi. 14.) their true life is renewed and 
 improved. Who can think less is meant by saying so ex- 
 pressly, to be carnally minded is death — to be spiritually 
 minded is life, and peace 1 Rom. viii. 6. When death is 
 consummate, and finished, their lusts grown mature, and 
 wanting external objects, turn inward with most intense 
 fury, as never-dying worms, on the miserable creature 
 itself;, here is the fulness of death ! 
 
 8. Their destruction must be so much the more grievous 
 for having lived under the Gospel, where the state and the 
 way of life are so plainly revealed. There God's design 
 is laid open, only to continue them under such a dispen- 
 
 sation here, as the means of discovery, and operation, to 
 reveal heaven to them, and prepare and fit them for the 
 heavenly state, that they may seasonably be removed 
 thither. But this would never enter into their hearts, while 
 the amusements of their present earthly state have more 
 powerfully diverted them, disposed them to dream and 
 trifle away the precious hours of their gospel-day, rather 
 than improve them to their proper end. To have their 
 spirits remain imimpressed by the Gospel; they have got 
 nothing by it, of what is intended, and aimed at : to have 
 lived so many years, twenty, thirty, forty years, or more, 
 under the Gospel, and have got nothing of a correspondent 
 frame to so glorious a ministration : a Gospel, which calls 
 men to God's eternal kingdom and glory, to be so defeated 
 of its great design ! how is this to be accounted fori That 
 is the final term of this call, viz. the eternal kingdom, and 
 glory of God, 1 Thess. ii. 12. 1 Pet. v. 10. He calls to 
 repentance, faith, and holiness, and to the fellowship of his 
 Son Jesus Christ: but the ultimate term of this calling is, 
 his eternal kingdom, and glory, and by Jesus Christ, as it 
 is there expressed, and from the all or fulness of grace; 
 the God of all grace. But now, to have an ear invincibly 
 deaf to this call, that stones might as well have been called 
 to heaven, clogs of earth to turn themselves into stars, and 
 fix themselves in the highest orbs ; what a deplorable case 
 is this ! what serious heart would it not melt, and dissolve 
 into tears, that from under such a Gospel souls should be 
 dropping down into perdition continually, and we have no 
 way to help it! And if this be a compassion able case to 
 them that behold it, their misery is great that shall endure 
 it. 
 
 Great, if we consider how great the salvation was 
 which they neglected. Great, if it be considered, how pro- 
 voking the affront was to its great prime Revealer, as 
 well as Author, which began to be spoken by the Lord ; 
 and the divine attestation afforded to the after-publishers, 
 being confirmed by them that heard him ; God also bear- 
 ing thein witness, Heb. ii. 3, 4. Whereupon it is demand- 
 ed, how can the ncglecters escape 1 Great, if we consider 
 their odious and ignominious comparison, and preference 
 of the vanities of this earth, to the Divine and heavenly 
 glory ! And add, that they perish in sight of this glorious 
 state ; not far from the kingdom of God ! having it in 
 view ! 
 
 2. Let us see, on the contrary hand, the blessedness of 
 them, whose hearts are supremely set upon the heavenly 
 felicity ; and who, therefore, only need patience, that they 
 may wait till God sees fit to translate them to it. There 
 are many things to be considered here. 
 
 1. Their spirits are attempered to the heavenly state ; 
 hereupon they may daily reflect, and view the kingdom of 
 God begun within them, and live in a very pleasant, com- 
 fortable expectation, that the first-fruits will be followed 
 by a blessed harvest; that the kingdom within them, con- 
 sisting in righteousness, peace, and joy in the Holy Ghost, 
 (Rom. xiv. 17.) will issue in their being at last received 
 into a most perfectl}' glorious kingdom ; that he, who is 
 working them for that self-same thing, (the state, wherein 
 mortality shall be swallowed up of life,) hath given them 
 the earnest of the Spirit, and thereby assured to them the 
 inheritance itself, 2 Cor. v. 4, 5. 
 
 2. They feel, therefore, within themselves, that their 
 patience is not indiflerence ; much less, that it imports 
 aversion to the state they profess to be waiting for ; that 
 they love not this present world, and are loth to leave it. 
 Herein communing with themselves, they can appeal to 
 the kind eye of their gracious Lord ; and say, thou know- 
 est all things, thou knowest that I love thee : and that with 
 so superlative a love, that there is nothing in all this 
 world, which I hey would not willingly leave, to be with 
 him, as that which for themselves, and considering their 
 own interest only, they count to be best of all. Whereupon 
 also, therefore, 
 
 3. Their hearts will bear them this testimony, that their 
 expectation with patience is imderstood, and designed by 
 them, as their duty. They exercise it in compliance with 
 the Divine pleasure. They dare notprescribe to him about 
 the time, when he will take them up. He enables them 
 patiently to wait, as having formed their hearts to a govern- 
 able temper, and to be subject to the Father of spirits.
 
 OF FUTURE BLESSEDNESS. 
 
 301 
 
 And apprehending, that as he is also peculiarly styled the 
 God ol'the spirits of all flesh, it must belong to him to de- 
 termine, both what spirits shall sojourn in flesh, and what 
 shall not; as also to limit the time of their abode there; 
 how long they shall continue in that mean (hvelling, and 
 when they shall leave it. Conscience of duty, in this very 
 case, is in itself a pleasant reflection, and sensation! 
 Whence it appearing, that it is a matter of duty; this is 
 further to be considered by them, 
 
 4. That their very expectation itself will be rewarded ; 
 that since they were willing to wait, though they had real, 
 vivid desires to be dissolved, and to be with Christ; and 
 that their willingness to wait was not idle, but conjunct 
 with a willingness also to serve him in this world, they 
 shall have so much the more ample reward in heaven; 
 their very heaven itself will be so much the more grateful ; 
 and they shall have so much the more abundant entrance 
 into the everlasting kinerdom and glory. They may, there- 
 fore, encourage themselves from that consolatory exhorta- 
 tion of the apostle, 1 Cor. xv. ult. Therefore, my beloved 
 brethren, be steadfast, unmoveable, always abounding in the 
 work of the Lord ; forasmuch as you know 3'our labour 
 shall not be in vain in the Lord. And if no part of that 
 work shall be in vain, nothing of it, according to that con- 
 nexion which tiie grace of God hath settled between work 
 and reward, shall be without its recompense ; nor conse- 
 quently any part of that time, in this our state of expecta- 
 tion, which we had for the doing of such work, shall pass 
 without its relative consideration thereto; if only we had 
 opportunity to give one cup of cold water to a disciple, in 
 the name of a disciple. 
 
 Therefore, to shut up all : let us now appl}'' and bend 
 ourselves to this one thing ; to get into such a temper of 
 soul, as that we may find, and feel, we need patience to 
 wait for the blessedness of heaven. If we do not sensibly 
 need patience, we are dead, there is no life in us. If we 
 live that life that tends towards God, and will end in eter- 
 nal life, that life will have sense belonging to it, and that 
 sense will make us feel our need of patience ; we shall 
 wait, not like-stupid stocks, but like obedient children. 
 And when we see this to be the genuine temper of a Chris- 
 tian spirit, how uneasy should it be to us, not to be able to 
 say, Bles.sed be God, it is our temper ! Which, if we do 
 find, our own sense not letting us doubt, that, upon the 
 mentioned account, we need patience ; our next care must 
 be, that we have it; which will not exclude our feeling 
 the need of it. For when we find, that through (he mercy 
 of God, in some competent measure, we have it, our sense 
 of the need of it will not cease, i. c. we shall never account 
 that we have it as an unnecessar}'^ or needless thing. We 
 shall, indeed, truly judge, with just gratitude, that we do 
 not altogether want it ; but shall apprehend we need it 
 still, as that we cannot be without. Yea, and the more v>'e 
 have of it, and are under its dominion and possessive 
 power, the more we shall apprehend its value and excel- 
 lency, and how needful it is to us. But that when we 
 feel our need, we piay not he destitute of it, ought to be 
 our great and verj' principal care. Nor are we to content 
 ourselves with the mere self-indulgent opinion, that we 
 have it laid up (as in a napkin) in he dull and lazy habit ; 
 but must take care, that we have it in act and exercise ; 
 which is the express import of that apostolical exhortation, 
 James i. 4. Let patience have its perfect work, q. d. take 
 care, not merely, that you have the principle; as where 
 one good and holy principle belonging to the new creature 
 is, there all are ; but that we have it in its present use and 
 operation, or in an acttial prompiiitule, and readiness for 
 use and exercise, as the occasions that call for it shall 
 occur; that then we be not as men of might that (though 
 not supposed to want) cannot find their hands, i. e. have 
 them not ready for present use. 
 
 Moreover, we are here also to consider, that though 
 patience is needful as that text imports, upon the account 
 of mere absence, and expectation of the good, i. e. princi- 
 pally the final blessedness contained in fhc promise; and 
 that this alone is a true ground, upon which patience is 
 necessary, if we look upon the ca.se abstractly, and in thest, 
 or in the theoric, and conteinplation : vet when we come 
 to the exercise of patience, we actuallv find no such case, 
 wh'^rein the expectation of this promised good is alone ; 
 
 but variously complicated with many other occasions, in 
 this our present state, while we dwell in such a woild,and 
 in such bodies, that must increase our need of patience. 
 For, taking the whole matter, as may be said, in concrelo, 
 and as comprehending all our present circumstances, we 
 may be put to expect the promised good, under much suf- 
 fering for the sake of Christ and a good conscience, as is 
 signified in this context, ver. 32, 33, 34. Enduring a great 
 fight of afflictions — made gazing stocks, by reproaches on 
 ourselves, and as the companions of others so used — su!- 
 fering the spoiling of our goods, even our all, as to this 
 world; so as nothing shall remain to us, but the (expected) 
 better, the enduring heavenly substance. And we may 
 thus be obliged to expect, amidst great bodily pains and 
 languishings, the concussions and shakings of our earthly 
 tabernacles, while, as yet, they come not down; the out- 
 ward man daily perishing, but we know not how long it 
 will be ere it actually perish ; besides, the more grievous 
 distempers of the inw ard man, that not being so sensibly 
 renewed, as with many it is not, da)'' by day, 2 Cor. iv. 16. 
 And thus, if we had not others' burdens, we are burden 
 enough to ourselves. Whereupon, the greater our need of 
 patience is, the more earnestly we should endeavour for 
 it. And we are to use very earnest endeavours in order 
 hereto, both with God, and with ourselves. 
 
 With God, by incessant prayer, as the God of all grace ; 
 that, as the apostle speaks in another instance, we may 
 abound in this grace also. Another apostle, St. James, (ch. 
 i. 4, 5.) speaks of this Christian excellency under the name 
 of wisdom. 'Tis plain he .so intends; for having (ver. 4.) 
 given the exhortation. Let patience have its perfect work — 
 he subjoins, (ver. 5.) If any man lack wisdom, i. c. as is 
 evident, this wisdom, patiently to acquiesce in the Divine 
 pleasure, under whatsoever exercises, or of what continu- 
 ance soever ; than which no part of wisdom can be more 
 necessary, or any thing more apparently wise. But we 
 see what his further direction is upon that suppo^^ition, if 
 any man lack this wisdom, let him ask it of God, &c. 
 Agreeably whereto he is pleased to be styled the God of 
 patience, (Rom. xv. 5.) to let us know whether, in this 
 apprehended and felt necessity, our great resort must be. 
 And how kind and compassionate is the encouragement 
 given in the following words of that former text, James i. 
 5. that he giveth to all men liberally, and upbraideth not ; 
 is not apt to reproach frail creatures with the folly of their 
 impatient freltings, but freely, upon their request, to give 
 them that composure of mind which may show them to be 
 truly wise ; and wherein their wisdom doth eminently 
 consist. Moreover, we find that elsewhere experience is 
 appealed to for further encouragement, and as a demon- 
 stration of God's faithfulness in this case, 1 Cor. x. 13. 
 No temptation hath befallen you but what is common to 
 man, or incident to our present state, and for the bearing 
 whereof you had divine support. And God is faithful, who 
 will not suffer you to be tempted, or tried, above what you 
 are able, or beyond the alnlity which he will graciously 
 afford you ; but will, with tlie trial, make a wav to escape, 
 that you be able to bear it ; i. e. such a wa)- of escape, 
 as will not avoid bearing, but consist with it; and wherein 
 a vouchsafed ability to bear shall consist; so as that you 
 come off" unharmed, and without real hurt or prejudice. 
 And since patience is this ability to bear, how rea5onable 
 is it, with a filial faith and (onfidence, to supplicate for it. 
 
 Yet, as we are thus by fervent prayer to strive and 
 wrestle with God ; it will argue we are grossly neglectful, 
 or very ignorant of God's usual methods of communicat- 
 ing his gracious assistances, if also we do not, by proper 
 and suitable means, strive, and take pains with ourselves, 
 that we may obtain what we praj' for. And nothing can 
 be more suitable to reasonable creatures, that are not to 
 he wrought upon as stocks or stones, but as men and 
 Christians, capable of consideration and thought : and of 
 such thoughts and considerations, as God"s own word, 
 which we profess to believe, hath given ground for; of 
 which considerations there are many, wherewith we should 
 urge our own souls to the exercise of such patience as the 
 present case calls for; i.e. while as vet we are to continue 
 expectants, waiting his time, for our receiving the promise. 
 In this way we should therefore commune, and discourse 
 this matter with ourselves : Am not I God's creature, the
 
 302 
 
 OF PATIENCE, IN EXPECTATION, &c. 
 
 work of his hands 1 Hath he not given nie breath and 
 being? "Was it not for his pleasure, or by his will, that I, 
 with the rest of his creatures, am and was created? Did it 
 not depend upon his will, whether I should be or not be ? 
 have any place in his creation 1 be any thing or nothing 
 for ever? Did not his own free choice determine in what 
 rank or order of creatures I should be placed ? Whether 
 among frogs, toads, serpents, or men ? Could I choose my 
 place and station in the creation of God ? How favourable 
 a vouchsafement was it, that he made me a creature capa- 
 ble of thought, of design, of felicity, of immortality, and 
 eternal life! of receiving such a promise, as I am now 
 expecting to be accomplished and fulfilled unto me ! What 
 could be considered here but the good pleasure of God's 
 goodness ? How impossible was it that no arbitrary and 
 royal bounty should be prescribed unto ! And shall I 
 not now wait with patience for the final result and issue 
 of it? 
 
 But how overpowering a consideration should it be 
 with me, to think, I am not only his creature, but one that 
 had offended him, and how unexpressibly what I expect 
 is above the condition of a revolted creature ! One fallen 
 from God! in rebellion against him! and by nature a 
 child of wrath ! One engaged in the common conspiracy 
 of the apostate sons of Adam, against their sovereign 
 rightful Lord ! that were agreed, in one sense, to say 
 to God, Depart from us, we desire not the knowledge 
 of thy ways : and were all best pleased, to be as without 
 God in the world ! Whence is it to me ! one of that vile, 
 degenerate, rebellious crew ! that a promise should be be- 
 fore me, and in view, pointed at me, (as it is to all that 
 do not disbelieve or despise it) of entering into the blessed 
 rest of God himself! Heb. iv. 1. Or, according to the 
 nearer and more immediate reference of the words we 
 have in hand, chap. x. ver. 34. of having in heaven the 
 better and enduring substance ! And shall I not patiently 
 wait for it ? Why am I so over hasty, to snatch at what I 
 am but dutifully to receive! and with highest admiration, 
 of the rich grace of the glorious Giver ! 
 
 Is the gift itself wholly in his power, and not the time? 
 Did it not entirely depend upon his pleasure, to give, or 
 not to give ? And doth it not as much belong to him to 
 determine when his gift shall take place ? Is the substance 
 in his choice, and not the circumstance ? The thing itself 
 was infinitely above expectation ; and shall it now be 
 grievous to expect the appointed time? There was a time 
 and state of things, when with me, an offender, an ob- 
 stinate, impenitent rebel, no other expectation could re- 
 main, but of wrath, and fiery indignation. It is of mere 
 gracious vouchsafement that I comfortably expect at all ; 
 and shall I count it a hardship, that I am not presently 
 told how long ? And how relieving a thing should it be 
 agamst the weariness of such an expectation, that so great a 
 good IS sure at last, tnz. as that contained in the promise ! 
 For is not he faithful who hath promised ? And hath he 
 not so graciously condescended, as to add to his promise 
 his oath, that by two immutable things, by which it is im- 
 possible for God to lie, the heirs of promise might have 
 strong consolation ? Heb. vi. 17, 18. And when this 
 assurance is given to the heirs of promise, ver. 17. i. e. to 
 the regenerate; for if children then heirs, Rom. viii. 17. 
 nothing can he surer than this, in the general, (hat all that 
 are regenerate, or sincere Christians, .shall inherit at one 
 time, or other. Nothing is left doubtful, but the time 
 when, i. e. the time when they shall die. For they that 
 die in Christ are past danger. And the method is pre- 
 scribed us, of making our calling and election sure. 
 
 When, therefore, this is done, how great is the consola- 
 tion, that one time or other I am sure to die ! What can 
 be surer ? It is not in the power of all the world, not of the 
 greatest enemy I can hav^e in it, to keep me alM'ays there, 
 or hinder my going out of ir, at my appointed time. Such 
 therefore our Saviour, under the name of his friends, (Luke 
 xii.) forbids to fear them that kill the body, and, after that, 
 have no more that they can do. Which is a triumph over 
 the impotency of the utmost human malice against good 
 men ; the greatest hurt they have it in their own power to 
 do them, is to put it out of their own power ever to hurt 
 
 b Miser est quicunq ; nonvult, mundo secum meriente, mori. Sen- Trag. 
 
 them more ! and to put them into the possession of the 
 most blesstxl state ! 
 
 This consideration, therefore, should, at once, both make 
 us patient of death, when expected as an apprehended 
 evil ; and of the expectation of the consequent good, to 
 which it is an appointed, unalterable introduction. Of 
 death, as that which must intervene, and in reference 
 whereto itself, we have need of patience, that we may in- 
 herit the promise. For that which is sown is not quick- 
 ened, except it die. It is necessary we be reconciled to 
 this wise and equal law of our sovereign Lord, by which 
 it is appointed for all men once to die : — that we be satis- 
 fied and well pleased, that this world be not continued 
 always, for the production and s^rstenance of men born in 
 sin : that rebels against heaven are not to be everlastingly 
 propagated here on earth : that God shall not thus perpe- 
 tuate his own dishonours, and prevent the judgment that 
 is to shut up this scene, and set all things right between 
 him and his revolted creatures, after apt and suitable 
 means used for their reduction and recovery. With how 
 dutiful submission and complacency should we yield, for 
 our parts, to this constitution ! so as for ourselves, not to 
 wish for an exemption. For how can we harbour a desire 
 in our hearts, which we cannot form into a prayer ? And 
 how would such a prayer sound, " Lord, when all this 
 world is to die round about me, let me be an excepted in- 
 stance ? Let me live here always?" How presumptuous a 
 request were it ! And how foolish ! For is not the course 
 of God's procedure herein, from age to age, a constant 
 avowing of the righteousness and of the immutability of 
 his counsel, in reference to it? 'Tis a wretched thing to 
 be engaged in a war with necessity made by righteousness 
 itself, and the most invincible reason ! A pagan, repre- 
 sented in the heig'ht of madness, was not so mad as not to 
 see this,i> that he is a ivretched creature, that is vnvrilling 
 to die, when the world is every where dying with him ! Our 
 patience possessing our souls, will not endure there should 
 be such a pugna, a reluctant disposition, not overcome 
 against this inviolable statute and determination ; which 
 disposition must be equally disloyal to our Maker and 
 uncomfortable to ourselves. 
 
 And this consideration should make us patient in ex- 
 pecting the consequent good, whereto death is the intro- 
 duction ; that the expected good is so ascertained to the 
 friends of Christ, that death intervening cannot be hurtful, 
 or be any bar to our attainment of the good promised; 
 nor is rationally formidable ; since we cannot suppose our 
 Lord would forbid our fearing what we have reason to fear. 
 But unto his friends he forbid the fearing of them that 
 can kill the body only, and after that have no more that 
 they can do ; but requires them to fear him, that can cast 
 soul and body into hell. It is plainly implied, that killing 
 the body is no hurt or damage to the soul; it cannot se- 
 parate from the love of God, which is in Christ Jesus our 
 Lord, Rom. viii. 38, 39. No, nor the principalities and 
 powers which, in that juncture, in that very article, or in- 
 stant of dying, will be sure to do their uttermost to work 
 that separation. And considering this bodily death as an 
 introduction to blessedness, it not only can infer no dam- 
 age, but it must be our great advantage. Which is implied 
 in the mentioned context, Luke xii. 8. Whosoever shall 
 confess me before men, him will the Son of man confess 
 before the angels of God. For though it is not the lot of 
 every Christian to be an actual martyr, yet every true 
 Christian is an habitual one. Whosoever, therefore, dies 
 with a fixed disposition of spirit never upon any terms, to 
 deny Christ, he a.ssures us he will solemnly own them, 
 even before all the angels; which must include their being 
 admitted into a most blessed state. When also such are 
 expressly told, that all things are theirs, (lCor.iii.21, 22.) 
 and death is reckoned into the account of the all things, 
 this cannot but signify ihat death is to be, not only no de- 
 triment to them, but their advantage and gain ; which is 
 also plainly spoke out, Phil. i. 21. For to me to live is 
 Christ, and to die is gain. And that most gainful good 
 being so fully assured to them, they have all the reason in 
 the world to expect it with patience. 
 
 Moreover, how consolatory must it be to them, that
 
 AN APPENDIX TO THE PRECEDING DISCOURSE. 
 
 303 
 
 have any taste of spiritual and heavenly things, that so 
 pleasant a way is prescribed them of living, through the 
 whole time of their expecting state, i. e. as long as they 
 liv£ in the flesh, tnz. to live by faith in the Son of God, 
 Gal. ii. 20. How unspeakable is the joy and pleasure of 
 that way of living ! That all the days of our abode in the 
 flesh, we have so great a one as the glorious ever-ble.ssed 
 Son of God to depend upon ; by continual, and often re- 
 peated vital acts, resigning ourselves to his conduct and 
 government, and deriving from that fulness, which it 
 pleased the Father should dwell in him, all needful sup- 
 plies of grace, spirit, life, and righteousness; and that we 
 are taught to consider him, not as a stranger, or one un- 
 related to us, or unconcerned for us ; but who hath loved 
 us, and (which is the highest evidence hereof) given him- 
 self for us, that great, rich, and glorious self! In whom, 
 therefore, our faith may not only repose, and acquiesce, 
 but triumph and glory ! " And that we may do thus, not by 
 
 rare, unfrequent, and long intermitted intervals; but as 
 long as we breathe in mortal flesh, even to the last breath! 
 Should such a way of living be tedious, and irksome to 
 usl Though we expect long, we are not toexpect as for- 
 lorn creatures, without Chri.st, and without hope, and 
 without God in the world! Therefore, in how high trans- 
 ports of spirit should we exult, and bless God, who hath 
 so stated our case ; endeavouring to our uttermost and ear- 
 nestly aspiring to that excellent temper of spirit, (Col. i. 
 11, 1'2.) — to be. strengthened with all might, according to 
 his glorious power, unto all patience, and long-suffering, 
 with joyfnlness, giving thanks. — And how overpowering a 
 consideration should this be with us '. What ! am I to 
 aim at that high pitch of all patience, and long-suffering 
 with joyfuIne.ss; and, in.stead of repining, to give thanks; 
 and have I not attained so far, as to meet patience 1 My 
 not being able to endure the enjoined expectation, should 
 make me not endure myself! 
 
 AN APPENDIX, 
 
 CONTAINING SOME MEMORIAL 
 
 OF DOCTOR HENRY SAMPSON, 
 
 A LATE NOTED PHYSICIAN IN THE CITY OF LONDON- 
 
 Although the foregoing discourse is grounded upon 
 the same text of Scripture that was insisted on soon after 
 the notice was brought me of this worthy person's decease, 
 and upon the occasion thereof; yet this discourse itself 
 cannot admit to be called a funeral sermon. The frequent 
 and inward conversation I had with him, divers years, 
 gave me ground to apprehend, that the temper and com- 
 plexion of his mind and spirit did very much agree with 
 the sense and import of this text ; which, when I heard of 
 his death, first led my thoughts to«t; and was my induce- 
 ment to say something of it in public, with some particu- 
 lar reference to him, in whom I had seen an exemplifi- 
 cation of it in an eminent degree. But of what was then 
 said, I could now give no distinct account. For having 
 then no thought of its further publication, and my own 
 long languishings presently ensuing, what was spoken 
 upon that occasion, was with me lost. Nor was it after- 
 wards decent to olTer at publishing a sermon, for the 
 funeral of one, though very dear to me, that was deceased 
 so long before. Yet God affording me, at length, some 
 respiration from the extremity of those painful distempers 
 that had long afflicted me; apprehending, that a discourse 
 upon this subject might be of some use to divers others 
 besides the present hearers, I did, by intervals, set myself 
 to reconsider it. And only now take this occasion to 
 annex some memorial of this excellent person, that first 
 drew my thoughts to it. He was long a member, and 
 lived in communion Avi'th many of us, in the same church, 
 viz. by the space of thirty years, under the pastoral inspec- 
 tion of the Reverend Doctor Jacomb, and of him who, 
 with great inequality, succeeded him. This he signified 
 himself, in a paper written by his own hand, and delivered 
 to me when we were entering upon the administration of 
 the Lord's supper, the last time that God ordered him 
 that opportunity with ns. The paper was thus : 
 
 " Sir, 
 "It is my request to you, that you will please to ac- 
 quaint the congregation with the great sense I have of 
 the mercy of God, that hath afforded me communion 
 with them, and their ministry, for thirty years together. 
 But now being, by the providence of God, deprived of 
 
 my health in the city, I am to seek relief thereof in the 
 country air, and shall thereby be, in a great measure, de- 
 prived of those blessings ; yet I earnestly desire their 
 prayers for me, and my family, that in some sort of such 
 intercourse, our communion may continue still, if not in 
 body, yet in spirit. 
 
 Your servant, 
 
 HENRY SAMPSON." 
 
 He now found himself constrained by his declining age, 
 and growing distempers, to retire from us (but not with- 
 out very great reluctancy) into a village at no great dis- 
 tance from the city; but which, for change of air, was 
 necessary, and, as he found, relieving to him. From 
 thence his earnest desire to visit his relations, and native 
 country, engaged him in a long journey, as far as Notting- 
 hamshire. And that journey brought him into the better, 
 even the heavenly country: God so ordering it, that near 
 the place where he drew his first breath, he should draw 
 his last; and end a very holy useful life, not far from the 
 very spot where he began to live. For reaching the seat 
 of a reverend brother of his, near to that of his birth, he 
 there found, but for a very few days, a temporal, and there 
 entered upon his eternal rest. So falling a liiile short ol 
 the {patrias sede^) the place that had been the dwelling ot 
 his earthly parents, by a joyful anticipation, he sooner ar- 
 rived at his heavenly Father's house, and found his place 
 among the many mansions, and everlasthig habitations, 
 where was to be his proper and perpetual home. It 
 is not now my design to write the history of his life, the 
 former part, and therefore the longer course and tract 
 whereof, must have been more known to divers of our 
 society, than it could be to me ; though I have had much 
 opportunity also, within the space of twenty years past, to 
 understand and know much of it. But that must contain 
 many things which, though useful in their kind, my cir- 
 cumstances allow me not to relate. Nor shall I enlarge 
 in giving his character, though the subject is copious; for 
 my" present infirmities will make my limits narrow, 
 whether I will or no. 
 
 But a man of so real value, and usefulness in his sta- 
 tion, and of so instructive, and exemplary a conversation,
 
 304 
 
 APPENDIX TO THE PRECEDING DISCOURSE. 
 
 ought not to be neglected, or be let slide off the stage from 
 among us, without some such observation, as may some 
 way answer a debt owing to his memory; and be a real 
 gain and advantage to ourselves. He began his course, 
 favoured by the Author of nature, with very good natural 
 parts; and very early enriched with communications of 
 the more excellent kind, by the God of all grace. Here- 
 with, having his spirit seasoned, and deeply tinctured be- 
 times, the fear of the Lord, which is the beginning of 
 wisdom, became, near the beginning of liis course, the 
 governing principle thereof. His choice was, therefore, 
 of that way and state, wherein he, in the general, conceived 
 he might most glorify God, and do most good to men. And 
 because, he thought, he might serve those ends best, in 
 that high and noble emplo^^nent, wherein he should be 
 obliged principally, and most directly, to intend the saving 
 of men's souls, thither he more immediately bent and di- 
 rected his preparatory endeavours. 
 
 And, therefore, though in his academical studies, wherein 
 he spent several years, he neglected no part of that rational 
 learning, which was most fitly conducing and serviceable 
 to this his purpose ; yet he most earnestly applied himself 
 to the gaining a thorough acquaintance with those lan- 
 guages, wherein the Holy Scriptures were originally wjit- 
 ten ; and spared no cost to procure great variety of the 
 best and most celebrated editions of both the testaments, 
 with other helps, for the attaining of that most necessary 
 knowledge ; whereof his library, so richly furnished in 
 that kind, did appear, after his decease, a full evidence ; to 
 the bettering of divers other libraries, of such as he had 
 formerly been wont to hear, and among them, as I must 
 with gratitude acknowledge, by his special kindness and 
 bequest, my own. Accordingly this had been his calling, 
 if the way of managing it could as much have been the 
 matter of his choice, guided by his judgment and con- 
 science, as the calling itself had been. 
 
 But things falling out, in this respect, otherwise, before 
 he could solemnly enter upon it ; he seasonably diverted 
 from it, to that which he judged the ne.xt best; and 
 wherein the persons of men were still to be the objects of 
 his care. Things of higher excellency than lands and 
 riches ; as life and the body are, by the verdict of our Sa- 
 viour, of more worth than their perquisites, food and rai- 
 ment, unto which, ample estates and revenues are but 
 more remotely subservient. And the vicinity of this to 
 that other most excellent calling, is so near, that it is an 
 easy step from it to the affairs of the other. Which we see 
 exemplified in that excellent person, a dear and most 
 worthy * relative of the deceased ; unto whose historical 
 account of him, subjoined to this discourse, I refer the 
 reader for fuller information : whose most useful and 
 elaborate works may not only occasion us to consider the- 
 ology as every one's business, or the calling of a divine as 
 in some respect transcendental, and running through ev^ery 
 man's calling ; but that of a physician, as more nearly 
 allied to it than any other ; many excellent speculations 
 being common, and, as those works show, of great impor- 
 tance, to both. And in which performance that accurate 
 writer doth not, indeed, preach to the vulgar, but instructs 
 a Dr. Grew. 
 
 preachers. And, as it hath been sometime thought a 
 greater thing to make a king, than to be one, he hath at- 
 tained a higher degree, above being, himself, one single 
 preacher, in doing that whereby now, and in future time, 
 he may contribute to the making of many. 
 
 These are some instances, and blessed be God, 'lis to 
 be hoped there are others, which show, that Religio Me- 
 dici is not always opprobrious, or a note of ignominy and 
 reproach ; and that a beloved physician, on the best ac- 
 count, was not appropriate to the first age. That calling 
 gives very great opportunity to a man of a serious spirit, of 
 doing good to men's souls; and I know, it hath been 
 improved by some, to discourse, and to pray with their 
 dying patients ; and when their art could not immortalize 
 their bodies, they did all that in them lay for the saving 
 their immortal souls. And this, I have reason to think, 
 was a great part of the practice of this worthy man. In 
 the proper business of this calling, he sincerely studied the 
 good of mankind ; endeavouring to his utmost, to lengthen 
 out their time in this world, in order to their further pre- 
 paration for the other. And herein his skill v/as not 
 unequal to his sincerity ; nor his charity to his skill : for 
 being applied to, upon no former acquaintance, when the 
 cases of extreme illness and extreme poverty have met to- 
 gether, he hath most cheerfully embraced the opportunity 
 of doing such good ; declaring, he was ready as well to 
 serve the poor, when he was to receive nothing, as the rich, 
 from whom he might expect the largest fees : his visits 
 have been there repeated with equal constancy and dili- 
 gence. He equally rejoiced in the success of such endea- 
 vours, whereof he had no other recompense, than the satis- 
 faction of having relieved the distressed and the miserable. 
 And of such, some do survive him, to whom the remem- 
 brance of his name is still grateful and dear. Nor were 
 the great advantages lost, which he had gained, for the 
 instructing a congregation, (had the state of things and his 
 judgment concurred thereto,) for they eminently appeared 
 to such as had the privilege of living under his roof, and 
 of partaking in the instructions which his great acquaint- 
 ance with the Holy Scriptures enabled him to giv^e ihem 
 from time to time : which, together with his daily fervent 
 prayers, and holy conversation, made his family as a well 
 ordered and a watered garden, compared with the howling 
 wilderness of too many others. 
 
 But in all my conversation with him, nothing was more 
 observable, or more grateful to me, than his pleasant and 
 patient expectation of the blessed state, which he now 
 possesses. The mention whereof would make joy sparkle 
 in his eye, and clothe his countenance with cheerful looks; 
 accompanied with such tokens of serenity, and a composed 
 temper of mind, as showed and signified submission, with 
 an unreluctant willingness to wait for that time, which the 
 wisdom and goodness of God should judge seasonable for 
 his removal out of a world, which he loved not; nor yet 
 could disatfect from any sense of its unkindness to him, 
 but only from the prospect he had of a better. Which 
 made rne think him a fit example of what is treated of in 
 the foregoing discourse.
 
 THE WORTHY 
 
 DOCTOR GREW'S ACCOUNT 
 
 OF THIS HIS EXCELLENT BROTHER-IN-LAW. 
 
 Doctor Henry Sampson was the son and heir of a reli- 
 gious gentleman, Mr. William Sampson of South-Lever- 
 lon, in Nottinghamshire ; and nephew to those two emi- 
 nent linguists, Mr. John and Mr. Samuel Vicars, the joint 
 authors of the Decapla on the Psalms. In his minoritj^, 
 he was first under the government of his most virtuous 
 mother. Upon her re-marriage of his father-in-law, the 
 very reverend Doctor Ohadiah Grew of Coventry ; by 
 whom he was committed, at the age of fifteen, to the tutor- 
 age of Mr. William Moses, then fellow, and some time 
 after the learned and worthy master, of Pembroke Hall, 
 in Cambridge. Under whom, his proficiency was such, 
 as preferred him to be the moderator of his year. So soon 
 as he was of sufficient standing, he was chosen fellow of 
 the same Hall. And, not long after, had one of the best 
 livings in the gift of the college bestowed upon him, viz. 
 that of Framlingham in Suflfolk. Here he wa.s, when he 
 published that correct edition of the learned Thesis of 
 Mr. Thoma.s Parker, entitled, Methodus Divinse Gratiae, 
 &c. a golden book, with a golden epistle of his own pre- 
 fixed to it ; both of them havinc a great deal of weight in 
 a little room. While he continued here, he made several 
 visits to Coventry, where he often preached for the Doctor, 
 his father-in-law, with great acceptation, as well as among 
 his own people. In both which places his name is as a pre- 
 cious ointment, and his memory had in honour unto this 
 day. Upon the restoration of King Charles, being obliged 
 to leave his people, he resolved, as well because he was 
 never a:!iained, as tor ^cv.\s other reasons, to qualify him- 
 
 self for the practice of physic. In order whereunto, 
 having visited several universities, famous for medicine 
 abroad, he stayed first at Padua, and then at Leyden, for 
 some time. In the latter of which he became very well 
 acquainted with that eminent person, the Lord Chief Jus- 
 tice St. John, who bore a singular respect to him, as long 
 as he lived. Having here taken his degree, he returned 
 home and settled in this city. Where also, for order's 
 sake, he entered himself of the College of Physicians, as 
 an honorary fellow. Among the members whereof, he 
 justly obtained the repute of being substantially learned in 
 all the parts of his profession Besides other improvements 
 he aimed at, he laid up a considerable treasure of obser- 
 vations made of diseased bodies, dis.sected with his own 
 hand. Nor did he lose any of his spare hours : as ap- 
 pears by many historical papers relating to theology, left 
 behind him. All which, though they have been long sup- 
 pressed, partly through his own great modesty, and partly 
 the infirmities of his latter years, which permitted him to 
 finish but few, if any, of them; 3'et it is hoped, that some 
 of both kinds may ere long see the light. His reading 
 and speculation were ever in order unto action. By 
 which means, as he became, under all relations, in every 
 station of his life, desirable and exemplary unto others ; so 
 he cnjoj^ed the happiness of continual peace within. And 
 as he lived, he died; his last hours being very composed, 
 and concluding with that ivOavaaia, euthanasia, for which 
 he had often prayed.
 
 A DISCOURSE 
 
 CONCERNING THE 
 
 REDEEMER'S DOMINION OVER THE INVISIBLE WORLD, 
 
 AND THE ENTRANCE THEREINTO BY DEATH. 
 
 SOME PART WHEREOF WAS PREACHED ON OCCASION OF THE DEATH OF JOHN HOGHTON, ESa 
 
 ELDEST SON OF SIR CHARLES HOGHTON, OF HOGHTON TOWER, IN THE 
 
 COUNTY OF LANCASTER, BARONET. 
 
 TO THE MOST DESERVEDLY HONOURED AND TRULY HONOURABLE 
 
 SIR CHARLES AND THE LADY MARY HOGHTON, 
 
 OF HOGHTON TOWER. 
 Grace, mercy, and peace, &c. 
 
 Yon will, I know, covmt it no indecency, that, when God hath so nearly, many years ago, joined you in relation, In 
 affection, and now so lately, in the affliction equally common to you both, I do also join your names on the same 
 paper, and make this solemn address to you together. 
 
 It is by the inestimable favour of Heaven, that the mutual interest God hath given you in each other, as it obligeth, 
 d>th also (as I have great reason to hope) effectually dispose and enable you so not only to partake in the comforts, 
 but in the sorrows, that are common to you both, as that the former shall be greatly increased, and the latter propor- 
 tionably allayed and mitigated, thereby. Thus is the advantage of your conjugal state both represented in God's de- 
 signation, and apprehended in your own experience. 
 
 And you are to consider the blessing of God herein as having a peculiarity in it, not being extended to all so related, 
 neither to all that were great in this world, nor to all that were pious and good. Great worldly felicity hath been 
 rendered insipid and spiritless, great calamities much the more bitter, by the want of a meet mutual helpfulness be- 
 tween such relations. 
 
 A great and a good man,* in his time, a prince, as he is thought to have been, in his country ; " a man that was per- 
 fect and upright, one that feared God, and eschewed evil ;" when he lost not one, not the eldest only, of his numerous 
 offspring, (as you have,) but all at once, seven sons and three daughters, with such concomitant circumstances of ac- 
 cumulated afflictions, as, blessed be God, are not in your case ; and might now expect some relief from his other self, 
 the nearest and most inward companion of his life, and partaker of his joys and sorrows; all the succour he had from 
 her, was an impious endeavour to provoke and irritate his spirit ; that taunting scoff, " Dost thou still retain thy in- 
 tegrity 1" and that horrid advice, "Curse God and die." "Whereas that rational, religions, soul-composing thought, 
 " Shall we receive good things at the hand of God, and not also evil things?" was deeply fixed in the mind of the one . 
 how much more effectually relieving had it been, if it had circulated between both the relatives; and they had alter- 
 nately propounded and enlarged upon it to one another ! 
 
 With you, I cannot doubt, it hath been so ; and that you have made ii. your business to improve your mutual interest, 
 not to aggravate, but to alleviate your affliction each to other. 
 
 You have both of you great occasion and obligation to revolve and recount to each other the many good things you 
 have received at the hand of God, to mitigate what there is of evil in this dispensation. 
 
 Both of you have sprung of religious and honourable families, favoured of God, valued and beloved in the countries 
 where he had planted them. They have been both seats of religion, and of the worship of God : the resorts of his ser- 
 
 ants: houses of mercy to the indigent, of justice to the vicious, of patronage to the sober and virtuous, of good ex- 
 ample to all about them. 
 
 You were both dedicated to God early, and he gave early testimony of his accepting the dedication. He began 
 with you both betimes, blessing your education, and owning you for his, by disposing and forming your spirits to own 
 betin ps the God of your fathers. He hath blessed you indeed, adding the spiritual blessings in heavenly things to 
 your many earthly comforts. Which Jabez might mean, not content with a common blessing; and the more proba- 
 bly, from the acceptance he found, 1 Chron. iv. 9, 10. God granted his request, as Solomon's, when his request was 
 as little vulgar, 1 Kings iii. 10. 
 
 You both concurred in the dedication of this ycur son, as in the rest of yonrs ; and I doubt not with great serious- 
 ness, 5'ou covenanted with God in Christ, to be his God. And if he enabled you to be in good earnest herein, even 
 that was of special grace and favour, and ought to come into the account of the many good things you have received 
 of God's hand ; as offering to God willingly did in the estimate of David, when the oblation was of a meaner kind, 
 1 Chron. xxix. 14. 
 
 But then you ought to consider, what the import and meaning was of that your covenant, wherein you accepted God 
 in Christ to be the God of your so.i ; and dedicated him to God through Christ to be his. Was it not absolute, and 
 
 » Job i. 1.
 
 DEDICATION. 307 
 
 without limitation, that God should be a God to him entirely and without reserve, and that he should be his absolutely, 
 and be disposed of by him at his pleasure'? Otherwise, there was a repugnancy and contradiction in the very terms 
 of your covenant. To be a God to him ! Is not God the name of a Beinj^ incapable of limitation 1 Doth it not sig- 
 nify infinite, unlimited power and goodness ? To be a God to any one, therefore, under restriction, is to be a God \o 
 him, and no God. And so to covenant with God, can neither have sincerity in it, nor good sense. He can be under 
 no restraint in the exercises of his power and gooaness towards any to whom he vouchsafes to be their God in cove- 
 nant; but what he is pleased to lay upon himself, which must be from his own wisdom and good pleasure, to which 
 in covenanting we refer ourselves; with particular i'diiih. — in reference to what he hath expressly promised; and with 
 general — that all shall be well, where his promise is not express. But from ourselves, nothing can be prescribed to 
 him. He must be our all, or nothing ; in point of enjoyment, as our sovereign, all-comprehending good ; in point of 
 government, as our sovereign, all-disposing Lord. So we take him, in covenanting with him for ourselves and ours : 
 for he sij propounds and otfers himself to us. If we accept and take him accordingly, there is a covenant between 
 him an;, us ; otherwise we refuse him, and there is no covenant. When he promises, as to his part, he promise.- hi.-> 
 all ; to be God all-sutficient to us ; to be ours in all his fulness, according lo our measure and capacity : we are not 
 straitenei in him, but in ourselves. He undertakes to be to us, and do for us, all that it belongs to him, as a G. ', to 
 be and do. To give us ♦ grace and glory, about which, there can be no dispute or doubt : they are always and immu- 
 tably good ; and to withhold from us no good things: here, are comprehended, with the former, inferior good things, 
 aboiit which, because they are but mutably, and not always good, there may be a doubt, whether now, and in present 
 circumstances, they will be good for us, or no. And now, it belongs to him, as he is to do the part of a God to us, to 
 judge and determine for us, (for which he alone is competent, as being God onl}' wise, and otherwise he were not God 
 all-sufficient,) and not to leave that lo us, who are so apt to be partial and mistaken in our judgment. 
 
 But when he makes his demand from us, of what we on our part are to be, and do, he demands our all, absolutely ; 
 that we surrender ourselves and ours, whatsoever we are and have, to his pleasure and dispose, without other excep- 
 tion or restriction than by his promise he hath laid upon himself. 
 
 Nor are we to think it strange there should be this difference, in the tenor of his covenant, between his part and ours. 
 For we are to remember, that the covenant between him and us is not as of equals. He covenants as God ; we, as 
 creatures: He, according to the universal, infinite perfection and all-sufficiency of a God ; we, according, to the insuf- 
 ficiency, imperfection, and indigency of creatures. 
 
 These things were, I doubt not, all foreknown, and I hope considered, by you, when you so solemnly transacted 
 with God, concerning this your son; wherein you could not but then take him for your God, as well as his God. It 
 needs now cniy to be applied to the present case ; and it manifestly admits this application, viz. That this his disposal 
 of him, in taking him now up to himself, to be glorified by him, and to glorify him in the heavenly state, was a thing 
 then agreed upon by solemn covenant, between God and you. It was done by your own virtual and unretracted con- 
 sent. The substance of the thing was agreed to expressly ; that God should be his God, and finally make him happy 
 and blessed in himself But if you say, you would only have had his complete blessedness yet a while deferred ; 
 I will only say. Could you agree with that God whose he was, and whose you are, about the substance of so great a 
 transaction ; and now differ with him about a circumstance 1 And besides, all circumstances must be comprehended 
 in your agreement. For, taking him to be your God, you take him to be supreme Disposer in all things, and his will 
 to be in every thing the rule and measure of yours; which you have expressly consented to as often as you have 
 prayed, either in the words, or after the tenor, of that prayer, wherein our Lord hath taught us to sum up our desires, 
 and represent the sense of our hearts. 
 
 But besides the duty that is, both by his law, and by covenant-agreement, owing to God, it is also to be considered 
 as a high dignity put upon yoa, to be the covenanted parents of a glorified son ; a matter of greater boast, than if you 
 could say, " Our son" (to repeat what I formerly wrote) " is one of the greatest princes on earth !" 
 
 How far should paganism be outdone Iry Christianity, which exhibits to our view death abolished, life and immor- 
 tality brought to light, by Jesus Christ, in the Gospel ! 2 Tim. i. 10. "Which sets before us all the glories of the other 
 world in a bright representation ! Which, if we believe, that faith will be to us the substance of what we hope for, 
 and the evidence of what we see not. Thus, though you saw not the kind reception and abundant entrance of this son 
 of your delights into the everlasting kingdom, it will yet be a thing evident to you, and your faith will render it a 
 great and most substantial reality. Pagans had but obscure glimmerings of such things ; and in such afflicting cases, 
 when they have occurred, comparatively lank and .slender supports; yet such as were not to be despised. 
 
 Should I transcribe what I find written in way of consolatio'n, by Plutarch to Apollonius, upon the loss of a son, you 
 would see what would give both instruction and admiration. I shall mention some passages. He praises the young 
 person deceased, for his comeliness, sobriety, piety, dutifulness towards parents, obligingness towards friends ; acknow- 
 ledges that sorrow, in the case of losing such a son, hath {>pv<T.Khv lipx''") ^ principle in nature, and is of the things thai 
 are {ovk i(p' jV''") not in our poioer, or which we cannot help ; that to be destitute of it is neither possible nor fit ; that 
 an apathy, or insensibleness, in such a case, is no more desirable than that we should endure to have a limb, a part of 
 ourselves, cut or torn oflTfrom us, without feeling it. But yet affirms, that immoderate sorrow, upon such an occasion, 
 is (tuoo (pvcriv) preternatural, and hath a pravity in it, and proceeds from a misinformed mind : that we ought in any 
 such case to be neither {inraBeii, nor ^va-naQni') uimffccted, nor ill affected. He tells his friend a story (the meaning 
 whereof is more considerable to us, than the credit of it, as perhaps it was to him) concerning two Grecian youths, 
 Cleobis and Biton, whose mother having a duty to perform in the temple of .Tuno, and the mules not being at hand, in 
 the instant when she expected them to draw her chariot thither, they most officiously drew it themselves ; with which 
 act of piety, their mother was so transported, that she made her request to Juno, on their behalf, that if there were any 
 thing more desirable unto mortals than other, she would therewith reward her sons ; who, thereupon, threw them into 
 a sleep, out of which they awaked no more : thereby signifying, that death was the best gift that could be bestowed 
 upon persons of such supposed piety as they! 
 
 To which purpose, is what he relates concerning the death of Euthraous, an Italian, referred to towards the close 
 of the following discourse, son and heir to the ample estate of Elysius, a person of principal dignity amc ng the Teri- 
 nae.ans; to whom, anxiously inquiring of diviners concerning the cause of this calamity, the spectre of his son, intro- 
 duced by the father of the latter, appeared in his sleep, showing him certain Greek verses, the sum whereof was. Thy 
 inquiry was foolish. 
 
 The minds of men are vain, Euthvnous rests by a kindly decreed death, 
 Because his living longer had neither been good for him nor his parents. 
 
 He afterwards adds, A good man, when he dies, is worthy, not so much of lamentations, as of hymns and praises. 
 
 He animadverts upon the aptness of parents to quarrel with any circumstances of a son's death, bo they what they 
 will. If he die abroad, then the aggravation is, that neither the father nor the mother had opportunity to close Ms 
 eyes; if at home, then. How is he plucked away, even out of our hands ! 
 
 » Ps. l.\.\xiv. u
 
 308 DEDICATION. 
 
 He gives divers memorable instances, of sundry great persons, bearing, with strange composure of mind, the same 
 kind of affliction ; 1 umit what he wrote to his wife on their loss of a child ; as also to recite many very instructive 
 passages out of Seneca writing to Marcia, on the same account, viz. by way of consolation for her loss of a son, and 
 to Helvia, for her loss in the same kind; to Polybius, having lost a near relation, &c. 
 
 But we have the oracles of God, and do, too commonly, less need to receive instruction from Heathens than deserve 
 to be reproached by them ; that there is so frequent cause for the complaint of that ancient worthy * in the Christian 
 church ; Non prccdat fides quod prccslitit infidelitas — 7%e infidelity of pagans perfonns greater things than the faith, 
 of Christians. Their sedate temper, their mastery over turbulent passions, n>ay in many instances shame our impo- 
 ency and want of self-government, in like cases. 
 
 For who of them have ever had, or could have, so great a thing to say, as is said to us by the word of the Lord, 
 1 Thess. iv. 13. for this very purpose, " that we may not sorrow conc-erning them that are asleep, even as others who 
 have no hope :" i. e. ver. 14. " If we believe that Jesus died, and rose again, even so, them also which sleep in Jesus 
 will God bring with him. For (ver. 15.) this we say to you," (and 'tis said by the forementioned authority ; the Lord 
 himself having revealed it to this great apostle, and directed him to say it,) " that we who are alive, and remain unto 
 the coming of the Lord, shall not prevent them which are asleep." Ver. 16. " For (he Lord himself shall descend from 
 heaven with a shout, with the voice of the archangel, and with the trump of God ; and the dead in Christ shall rise first." 
 Ver. 17. " Then we which are alive, and remain, shall be caught up, together with them, in the clouds, to meet the 
 Lord in the air : and so shall we ever be with the Lord." Ver. 18. " Wherefore comfort one another with these words." 
 
 I have transcribed these few verses, that they might readily appear to present view. And because all their efficacy, 
 and all our advantage by them, depend upon our believing them, let us closely put the question to ourselves, Do we 
 believe them, or do we not 1 The apostle seems to design the putting us upon this self-reflection, ver. 14. by inserting 
 the supposition, Jfjoe believe, q. d. This will effectually do the business of allaying all our hopeless sorrow. For if we 
 believe that one fundamental truth, (and therefore let us see whether we do or no,) of Christ's dying and rising again, 
 it will draw such a train of consequences, all tending to fill our souls with a vital joy, as will leave no place for undue 
 sorrow any longer. That faith will be still urging and carrying us forward, will make us wholly intent upon pros- 
 pect and expectation. What are we now to look for upon such a foundation, so firmly laid, and fully believed 1 If 
 we believe that Jesus died ! He did not submit to die without a design ; and his rising again, speaks him master of 
 his design, and that he hath it now entirely in his power. He died not for himself, but for them he was to redeem ! 
 And being now risen again, what must become of them 1 All that follows, is now matter of glorious triumph ! 
 
 If Plato, Plutarch, or Seneca, had but once had such a revelation from heaven as this, and had that ground to be- 
 lieve it that we have, ho\v full would their writings have been of it ! How had they abounded in lofty paraphrases 
 upon every period and word of it ! 
 
 The faith of such things would surely make a trul}^ Christian heart so earnestly press forward in the expectation of 
 the great things still to ensue, as to leave it little leisure for retrospection. And this is the source of all our intempe- 
 rate sorrow, in such a case as this — our framing to ourselves pleasing suppositions of being as we were, with such and 
 such friends and relatives about us as we heretofore enjoined. As hope of what is future and desirable feeds our joy; 
 so memory of good things past doth our sorrow. In such a case as this, which the apostle here speaks to, the decease 
 of our dear friends and relatives fallen asleep, we are apt to look back with a lingering e)'e upon that former state of 
 things, and to say, as he, O mihi preteritos — O that God would recall for me the years that are gone over ! — Or, as in sa- 
 cred language, " O that I were as in months past — when the t secret of God was upon my tabernacle; when the 
 Almighty was yet with me; when my children were about mc !" 
 
 What pleasant scenes do we form to ourselves afresh, of past things, on purpose to foment present sorrow! And 
 whether we have that design or no, we are more prone to look back to former things we have known, than forward 
 to future we know not ; especially, if the further we look back the less we find of trouble intermingled in our 
 former course. A smooth and pleasant path we would go over again, if reason and the necessity of afiairs do not 
 recall us, and urge us forward. 
 
 And so. Sir, might you find matter for a very copious and not ungrateful recollection, to call over again, and re- 
 volve in your thoughts, the pleasures of your youth, (more innocent than of many others,) when you were encumber- 
 ed with no cares, entertained with various delights of one sort and another, in this or that pleasant seat of your pa- 
 riQts. But how remote is it from you, upon consideration, to wish yourself back into your juvenile state and circum- 
 stances ! How much more generous and Godlike pleasure is it, to be doing good in the world, and still to abound 
 therein ; to go forward, and do still more and more ! 
 
 And, Madam, who could have a more pleasant retrospect upon former days than you'? recounting your Antrim de- 
 lights, the delight you took in your excellent relations, your garden-delights, your closet-delights, j^our Lord's-days de- 
 lights ! But how a much greater thing is it to serve God in your present station ; as the mother of a numerous and 
 hopeful offspring ; as the mistress of a large family ; where you bear your part, with your like-minded consort, in sup- 
 porting the interest of God and religion, and have opportunity of scattering blessings round about you! 
 
 But our business is not recurring, or looking back. God is continually calling us forward. Time is a stream run- 
 ning on towards the vast ocean. Tending backward, is vain striving against the stream. And as it is the course and 
 method of nature, of providence, and grace, to tend forward, and carry us from less to greater things in this world; 
 so do all these conspire to carry us on (because our av/i?;, our highest pitch, cannot be here) to yet far greater things in 
 the greater world. Of which vast world, it is the design of the following discourse to give you some account ; though, 
 God knows, it is but a very imperfect one. Such as it is, if God only make it an occasion to you, of fixing your 
 minds and hearts upon that mighty theme, you will find it easy and pleasant to you to amplify upon it and enlarge it 
 to yourselves. And thereby, through God's blessing, I doubt not, arrive to a fulness oi' satisfaction concerning this 
 late dispensation, which hath a gloominess upon it ; but is in very deed only gloom}^ on one side, viz. downwards, 
 and towards this wretched world, this region of sorrow and darkness : but on the side upwards, and towards that other 
 world which casts its lu.stre upon it, its phasis and appearance will be altogether bright and glorious. And the more 
 you look by a believing intuition into that other world where our blessed Redeemer and Lord hears rule in so tran- 
 scendent glory, the more will you be above all the cloudy darkness of this event of Providence towards yourselves 
 and your family. Herein your perusal of this very defective essay may be of some use to you. And I reckoned it 
 might be of more lasting and permanent use to you, and yours after you, and to as many others into whose hands it 
 might fall, as a little book, than as one single sermon. 
 
 You will, however, I doubt not, apprehend in it the sincere desire to assist you in this your present difiicult trial ; 
 followed by the faithful endeavour of. 
 
 Most honoured in the Lord, 
 Your very respectful and obliged servant, 
 
 in him, and for his sake, JOHN HOWE. 
 
 • Hierom. t Job xxu. 1—5.
 
 THB 
 
 REDEEMER'S DOMINION, &c. 
 
 REV. I. 18. 
 
 AND HAVE THE KEYS OF HELL (haDES, OR THE UNSEEN WORLd) AND OF DEATH. 
 
 The peculiar occasion of this present solemnity (I mean, 
 ;hat is additional to the usual business of the Lord's day) 
 may be somewhat amusing to narrower and less consider- 
 ing minds; i. e. That I am now to take notice to you of 
 'what the most would call) the premature or untimely 
 death of a most hopeful young gentleman, the heir of a 
 very considerable family, greatly prepared by parts and 
 pious sentiments, and further preparing by study and con- 
 versation, to be useful to the age, cut off in his prime, when 
 the mere showing him « to the world had begun to raise 
 an expectation, in such as knew him, of somewhat more 
 than ordinary hereafter from him, his future advantageous 
 circumstances being considered, of which you will hear 
 further towards the close of this discourse. 
 
 Nor did I know any passage in the whole sacred volume, 
 more apt to serve the best and most valuable purpose in 
 such a case, than the words now read ; none more fitted to 
 enlarge our minds, to compose them, and reduce to a due 
 temper even theirs who are most concerned, and most 
 liabl'^ CO be disturbed, or to instruct us all how to interpret 
 and comment aright upon so perplexing and so intricate a 
 providence as this, at the first and slighter view, may seem 
 unto us. 
 
 In order whereto, our business must be to explain and 
 apply this most weighty awful saying, 
 
 First, For the explication, these three things are to be 
 inquired into. 
 
 I. Who it is that claims and asserts to himself this 
 power here spoken of 
 
 II. What it is about which this claimed power is to be 
 conversant. 
 
 III. What sort of power it is that this emblematical ex- 
 pression signifies to belong to him. 
 
 I. Who it is that claims the power here spoken of; 
 where the inquiry is not so much concerning the person 
 that makes this claim, which all the foregoing context 
 puts out of question to be our Lord Christ ; but touch- 
 ing the special notion and capacity wherein he claims it, 
 and according whereto it must be understood to belong to 
 him. 
 
 And whereas he is described by very distinct titles and 
 attributes, promiscuously interwoven in the preceding 
 verses of the chapter, viz. that sometimes he is introduced 
 speaking in the style of a God; (as v. 8. I am Alpha and 
 Omega, the beginning and the ending, saith the Lord, 
 which is, and which was, and which is to come, the Al- 
 mighty. And again, v. IL I am Alpha and Omega ;) but 
 that sometimes he is represented in the form of a man, 
 and accordingly described even from head to foot, and 
 a Ostendunt terns hunc tantum, fata nee ultra ease sinunt. 
 
 24 
 
 said to appear in the vision that exhibits him as one .iKe 
 unto the Son of man, that we might certainly understand 
 him so to be, v. 13 — 16. And such things said of him as 
 are incident to a mortal man, the sheddmgof his blood, ■». 
 5. and that he was dead, v. IS, fonner part. Yea, and ex- 
 pressions of this different import intermingled, that we 
 might know it was the same Person that was continually 
 spoken of under these so vastly different characters ; as, I 
 am the first and the last; I am he that liveth and was 
 dead, v. 17, 18. We may thereupon very reasonably con- 
 clude that he is not here to be conceived under the one no- 
 tion or the other, neither as God nor as man, separately 
 or exclusively of each other ; but as both together, as Gf-h- 
 dptoKOf, as God-man, under which conjunct notion, he re- 
 ceives and sustains the office of our Redeemer, and Medi- 
 ator between God and man. 
 
 Which will enable us the more clearly to answer the 
 third inquir)', when we come to it, concerning the kind of 
 that power Avhich is here claimed; and which, because 
 there can be no doubt of the justice of his claim, we are 
 hereby taught to ascribe to him. 
 
 For the management whereof, we are also hence to 
 reckon him every way competent ; that he was parvegotio, 
 that it was not too big for him : no expressions being used 
 to signify his true humanity, but which are joined with 
 others, as appropriate to deity. And that nothing therefore 
 obliges us to narrow it more than the following account 
 imports, which we are next to inquire abotu ; viz. 
 
 II. The large extent of the object about which the power 
 he here claims is to be conversant; i. c. Hades (as we read 
 hell, but which is truly to be read the unseen world) and 
 death. 
 
 The formerof these we, with a debasing limitation, and 
 (as I doubt not will appear) very unreasonablv, do render 
 hell. 
 
 The power belonging to Christ, we are elsewhere taught 
 to conceive, is of unspeakably greater latitude. And here 
 we are not taught to confine it to so vile and narrow limits, 
 as this translation gives it. All things in the context con- 
 spire to magnify him, and, agreeably hereto, to magnifj' 
 his dominion. When therefore the apparent design is to 
 speak him ureal, that he should only be represented as the 
 Jailer of devils, and their companions, is. tome, unaccount- 
 able; unless a very manifest necessity did induce to it. 
 
 For the word '',^t<:, there can be no pretence for it. 
 Though it ought to be extended, it is by no means to be re- 
 strained to that sense ; which as it is the ignoblest, so it 
 will appear but a very small, minute part of its significa- 
 tion ; whether we consider the literal import, or the com- 
 mon use, of the word.
 
 3HJ 
 
 THE REDEEMER'S DOMINION 
 
 Literally, it signifies but what we see not, or what is 
 out of our sight. And as the word of which it is compound- 
 ed signifies also to know, as well as to see, it may lurther 
 signily, thai state of things which lies without the compass 
 of our knowledge, even out of the reach of our mental 
 sight ; or concerning which, though we are to believe what 
 is revealed, we cannot immediately or distinctly know it; 
 and in reference whereto, therefore, we are to walk by 
 faith, not by sight, 2 Cor. v. 7. 
 
 And the common use of the word hath been very agree- 
 able hereto, with the writers of all sorts ; i. e. to signify 
 indefinitely the unseen world ; or the state of the deceased 
 out of our world, who are, consequently, gone out of our 
 sight, whether they were good or bad; so as not peculiarly 
 to signify hell, or any place or state of torment only. 
 
 It were easy to abound in quotations to this purpose, if 
 It were either needful or proper in a discourse of this na- 
 ture. 
 
 What I intend in this kind, I shall only set dawn on the 
 bye in the margin, upon which they that will may cast 
 their eye ; b that the discourse be not interrupted as to 
 others, that either have no need to be informed in this 
 matter, having known as much before as can be now told 
 them ; or no inclination to be diverted from their present 
 purpose in reading; apprehending that what is generally 
 told them, only concerning the usual signification of a 
 word, is not said without some ground. And let texts of 
 Scripture be consulted about that, how hades, and the cor- 
 respondent word in the Old Testament, sheol, are used 
 there. If we take the help of interpreters, the impartial 
 reader is to judge of their fidelity and ability who go our 
 way.'^ 
 
 Upon the whole, it being most evident that hell is but a 
 small and mean part of what is signified by hades, it will 
 be very unreasonable to represent or conceive of the 
 power here ascribed to our Lord, according to that nar- 
 row notion of it. And would be a like incongruity, as if, 
 to magnify the person of highest dignity in the court of a 
 mighty prince, one should say, " He is the keeper of the 
 dungeon." 
 
 The word itself, indeed, properly taken, and according 
 to its just extent, mightily greatens him, i. e. 'lis as much 
 
 b And here it may suffice to take notice, that Greek writers, poets, philo.so- 
 phers, historian.^, and other wrilors, that have made only occasional mention 
 of this word udm, or of the words ne.\t akin to it, ati, or atSni, or lexicogra- 
 phers, that have purposely given an account of it, from Greek authors, that 
 mu^t bo supposed be.st to uJidcrstand tlie use of words in their own tongue ; 
 generally such as have not been engaged in a contniversv, that obliges men 
 usually to tortui-e words to tlieir own sense, or to ^itm- the hypothesis which 
 they had espoused; have lieen remote from cunliuini; tins, or the cognate 
 words, to that narrow sense as only to signify a place or stale of torment for 
 bad men, but understood it as comprehending, also, a state of felicity for the 
 pious and gO(jd. 
 
 For such as have been concerned in interpreting this or other like words with 
 reference to the known and famous controversy, which I need not metition, 
 their judgments must weigh according to tlie reputation they are of with the 
 reader. 
 
 The Greeks no doubt, best understood their own language. And among 
 them can we think that Ilomer in the beginning of his 1 Iliad'y when he speaks 
 of the many brave souls of liis heroes, those iipOijioi ipvxai, which the war he 
 is describing sent into the invisible regions, aiii 7i/)0(ni//£r, that he ever dreamt 
 they were all promiscuously despatched away to a place of tormenf Not to 
 mention otlier passages where he uses I lie words aim to the same purpose. 
 Divers others of the Greek poets are cited by several ready to our hands, with 
 which I shall not cumber tliese pages That one is enough, and nothing can 
 be luller to our purpose, which is quoted bv Clem. Alexand. Str. 1. 5 as well as 
 by sum ry others, and ascribed to the comic Diphilus, though by others to an- 
 otlior Philemon. 
 
 Ki( yap KaQ' nSriv Svo rpil^ovivojiii^Ojicv 
 Miav 6iKaiu)v, Kintpav aaeffuiv oian. 
 
 In hades we reckon there are two paths, the one of the righteous, the other 
 ol the wicked : plainly showiiiL' that liaries was understood to contain heaven 
 and hell. Plato, vvlwn m hi.; Plnn/n lie tells us that he that comes into hades, 
 anunms Km arfXcs-"?, not iiHl„iti.,l aiidduly prepared, is thrown into Bofl/?o- 
 flof, a stinking, ake. hut he that comes into it fitly puntied, shall dwell with 
 the gods ; as expressly signihes /lades to include the same opposite states of 
 mis«ry and felicity. In that dialogue called Axiochus, though supposed not to 
 be his, written by one that sufficiently knew the meaning of such a word, we 
 are told that when men die they are brought into tlie Utiiuv aXr^detag, the field 
 of truth, where sit judges that examine Tiva (iiiiv, what manner of life every 
 one lived while he dwelt in the body, that they who, while they lived here, were 
 inspired by a good ge^niiis or spirit, go into the resion of nious men, having be- 
 fijre they came into ft(w/es been purified. Such as led their lives wickedly are 
 hurried by tunes up and down chaos, in the region of tlie wicked In the Ihhd 
 Book de Repub Plato blames the poets that they represent the state of things 
 m/wte too frightfully, when they should /mXXoi/ ETrai-cir, pr.aise it rather. 
 P/imrchde Su.perst. bnngs m Plato si.eaking of fwdes. as a person or a god, 
 /)«, or P/«?o. as they frequently do, and says he is (iX nep-.jTr .5, beni:rn or 
 friemUytomen; therefore not a tormenlor of them only. Cce.UvsKhndii^in 
 fiuoles this saiTie passage ol Plutarch, and takes no'ice that our Saviour speaks 
 i;-l,'i ?. "*^?°™fnl by another word, not hade^Mxt Gehenna; which suffi- 
 ciently shows how he understood it himself 
 
 „^^',. '^J'J^e ^^t^^ "^ "■'"' ^^^V,^l to "'i^ notation of this word, that 
 nak^-s It signify unsieii as some will fetch from the Hebrew, ajid go as far 
 
 as to say. His dominion is of unknown limits; such as no 
 eye can measure. We think with a sort of veneration, of 
 what is represented as too big for our knowledge. We 
 have a natural awe and reverence for unsearchable dark- 
 ness. But in tlte meantime we herein suifer a just dimi- 
 nution of ourselves, that when our inquiry stops, and can 
 proceed no further, it being but a very little part of the 
 universe that lies within our compass, having tired our 
 inquiring eye and mind ; upon all the rest we write, 
 Hades; call it ii-nsccn, or wnknmcn. And because we call 
 it so, in reference to us, God himself calls it so too ; it be- 
 ing his way, (as is observed by that noted d Jew) speaking 
 to men, to use the tongue of the children of men, to speak 
 CO them in their own language, and allow them 10 coin 
 their own words : which at first they often do very occa- 
 sionally ; nor, as to this, could they have a fairer or a 
 more urgent occasion, or that is more self-justifying, than 
 in one word to say of that other world, that it is hades, or 
 invisible, when that is truly all that they have to say, or 
 can have an}' immediate notice of about it. 
 
 It hath therefore its rise from ourselves, and the penury 
 of oitr knowledge of things ; and is at once both an inge- 
 nuous confession, with some sort of modest cover, and ex- 
 cuse of our own ignorance : as with geographers, all that 
 part of this globe which they cannot describe, is terra in- 
 cognila ; and with philosophers, such phenomena in na- 
 ture as they can give no account of, they resolve shortly 
 and in the most compendious way into some or other oc- 
 cult quality, or somewhat else, as occult. 
 
 How happy were it, if in all matters that concern reli- 
 gion, and in this, as it doth so, they would shut up in a 
 sacred venerable darkness what they cannot distinctly 
 perceive; it being once by the undeceiving word expressly 
 asserted that it is, without therefore denying its reality, 
 because they clearly apprehend not what it is. 
 
 With too many their religion is so little, and their pride 
 and self-conceit so great, that they think themselves fit to 
 be standards ; that their eye or mind is of a size large 
 enough to measure the creation, yea, and the Creator too. 
 And by how much they have the less left them of mind, or 
 the more it is sunk into earth and carnality, the more ca- 
 pable it is of being the measure of all reality, of taking 
 
 back aa Adam in their search, alleging for this the authority of an old sibyl, 
 will have it go for a')o»)s, and signify as aTCpTrris, unpleasant ; nothing is, 
 plainer than that this other is the common notion, w hich (though fancy hath 
 not a greater dominion in any thing than in etjmology) would make one shy ol 
 stretching invention to find now to difl'er from the generality. Therefore Cale- 
 pin, upon this word, tells us that the Greek grammarians do, against the na- 
 ture of the EtytiKni, (which plainly enough shows what they understood that 
 to be,) generally direct its beginning to be written with the asper spirit, but yet 
 he makes it signify obscure, or not visible. And though Plato is endeavoured 
 to be hooked in to the deriving it from Adam ty a very far fetch ; yet it is plain 
 that his calling it roiruv a6ri\ov, in a place bef(>re referred to, shows he under- 
 stood it to signify invisible; and so lexicons will commonly derive it (Ytilgo, 
 says Ceelius Rhodig.) But its extensiveness, as comprehending a state ol 
 happiness, is our principal concern, which way (as we might show by many 
 more instances) the common stream carries it Pausanias in his 'APKAiil- 
 KA. speakingof Hermes (according to Homer) as Aiof <!ia*0'ni/, and that he 
 dill l,"ad souis "to tov fSl", could not be thought to mean that they were then 
 univrr-ally miserable. Sext Empir. is an authority good enough for the mean- 
 ing of a Greek word. When (Adversus Mat hem ) he tells us, though by way 
 of objection, all,meu have a common notion ircpi tmv tv aiiv, (using the gen- 
 itive wilh ti, as Homer and others do, another word, house or abode, in the 
 dative, belng,understood,) and yet, as to the Ihing, he afterwards distinguishes 
 poets' fables, and what, from the nature of the soul itself, all have a coniinon 
 apprehension of As also Diog La^rt. hath the same phrase, mentioning the 
 WTitings of Protagoras, who, he says, wrote one book Trcpi tmv cv niiv, using 
 the genitive, as here, after £'', as hath been usual, on the mentioned account. 
 And though his books were burnt by the Athenians, because of thedul ious title 
 of one of them concerning the gods, so that we have not opportunity to know 
 what his opinion uf hades was, we have reason more than enough, to think 
 he understood it not of a state of torment only for evil spirits. 
 
 c Primate Usher's judgment may be seen in his answer to the Jesuits' chal- 
 tenge, that this word properly signifies the other world, the place or state of th.e 
 dead — so that heaven itself may be comprehended in it. Grot on Luke xvi. 
 23. makes hades most certainly to signify a place withdrawn from cur sight ; 
 si)oken ofthe body, the grave ; of the soul, all that region wherein 'tis.^ei a'ate 
 from the body- So (bat as Dives was in hades, so was Lazanis too, hut in se- 
 parate roL'iiins : for botli paradise, and hell, or, as the Grecians were wont to 
 speak, E'.i/sii, and Tartara, were in hades. You may have in him more nuo- 
 tationsfrom the poets, the sense ofthe Essenes from Josephus, and passagis 
 from divers ofthe fathers to the same f)urpose. Dr Hammond's mind was the 
 same, copiously expressed on Matt, xi. 23. but differs from Grot, i" ascribing to 
 Philemon the iniiibirks; above ncitf-d, which the other rives to Dirhihis Dr 
 I.iL'hiC.ol j< full to Dip s.-inie i..npos.-.on the -lib Artr-le of the Creed And 
 IlKiiiL'bBelliiniihiwill li.Mve Ibis word alvvavs signily/; (7/; (which, if it do wilh 
 nheol the rorrespondriit word ; .Tacob desired lo go to hell to his son, as D- H. 
 arsnies ;) Camero, as good a judge, thinks, except once, it never does If any 
 desire to see more to this purpose with little trouble to themselves, let them pe 
 ruse Marlinius's Lexic en tlie word inferus, or infernus. I could refer to 
 many more whom I forbear to mention. 
 
 Only if any think in some or other text of Scripture this wod must signify 
 hell only, since it is of that latitude as to signify- heaven m other places, an 
 impartial view of the circumstances of the text must determine whether there 
 it be meant ofthe one, or the other or both. 
 
 d Matmonides,
 
 OVER THE INVISIBLE WORLD. 
 
 311 
 
 the compass of all being, created and uncreated. And so 
 that of the philosopher takes place in the worst sense that 
 can be put upon it; "to see darkness is to see nothing." 
 All is nullity that their sense reaches not. Hades is with 
 such, indeed, empt\', imaginary darkness ; or in plainer 
 English, there is neither heaven nor hell, because they see 
 them not. 
 
 But we ought to have the greater thoughts of it, not the 
 less, for its being too big, too great, too glorious, for our 
 present view ; and that it must as yet rest as to us, and so 
 let it rest awhile, under the name of Hades, the unknown 
 dominion of our great Lord ; according to that most ex- 
 press account he at his ascension gave of the existence of 
 both parts together, that less known to us, and that more 
 known. Matt, xxviii. 18. All power is given to me both in 
 heaven and earth. 
 
 That death is added, as contained also within the limits 
 of our Lord's dominion, doth expressly signify his custody 
 of the passage from this visible world to the invisible, viz. 
 as he commands the entrance into each distinct part of 
 hades, the invisible icorld, consisting of both heaven and 
 hell, so he hath power over death too, which is the common 
 outlet from this world, and the passage unto both. 
 
 But it withal plainly implies his very absolute power 
 over this visible world of ours also ; for it signifies he hath 
 the power of measuring every one's time here, and how 
 long each inhabitant of this world shall live in it. If it 
 belong to him to determine when anyone shall die, it must 
 by consequence belong to him to assign the portion and 
 dimensum of time that every one shall live. Nor is there 
 any conceivable moment in ihe time of any one's life, 
 wherein he hath not this power of putting a period by death 
 thereunto, at his own pleasure. He is therefore signified 
 to have the power of every man's life and death at once : 
 and the power of life and death is very high and great 
 power. He therefore herein implicitly claims, what is else- 
 where expressly ascribed to him, Rom. xiv. 7 — 9. None 
 — lives to himself, {i. e. de jure, no man should,) or dies 
 to himself: for "whether we live, we live unto the Lord, 
 or whether we die, we die to the Lord ; whether we live 
 therefore or die, we are the Lord's. For to this end Christ 
 both died, and rose again, and revived, that he might be 
 Lord, both of the dead and livin?." 
 
 In sum, here is asserted to him a dominion over both 
 worlds; this in which we live, and that into which we die, 
 whether the one or the other part of it. And so in refer- 
 ence to men, who once have inhabited this world, the sense 
 of this text, and that we are insisting on, is the same. 
 Though hades is of vastly larger extent than only to be the 
 receptacle of such as have lived here; it having also, in 
 both the parts of it, innumerable inhabitants who never 
 had a dwelling assigned them in this world of ours at all. 
 
 But thus far we have the vast extent of our Lord Christ's 
 dominion completely cleared to be the proper intendment 
 of this text ; and that it never meant so faint and minute 
 a representation of it, as only to make him Keeper of the 
 bottomless pit ; thoiigh of that also he hath the kej'', as we 
 shall further take notice : but we are now to inquire of, 
 what will take up less time, 
 
 III. The kind of that power over so vast a realm, or 
 manifold realms, signified by this emblematical expression, 
 of having the keys, tf-c. 
 
 Every one knows that the keys are insignia ; some of 
 the tokens of power ; and according to the peculiarity of 
 the object, may be of Divine power. 
 
 The .Tews, as some writers of their affairs say, appro- 
 priate the keys of three, others of four things, to God only : 
 of life, or the entrance into this world ; of the rain, or the 
 treasures of the clouds; of the earth, say some,'' as of the 
 granary of corn ; and of the grave ; " Of which, "says one 
 of their own,f " the Holy, Blessed One hath the kej^s of 
 the sepulchres in his hand," &c. And as we may be sure 
 he admits thither, so he emits from thence ; and, as he 
 says, " In the future age, the H. B. One will unlock the 
 treasures of souls,~ and will open the graves, and bring 
 every soul back into its own body," &o. 
 
 Nor is this key of the vast hades, when it is in the hand 
 of our Redeemer, the less in the hand of the Holv, Blessed 
 One ; for so is he too. But it is in his hand as belonging 
 e Wecras. 
 
 to his office of Mediator between God and man, as was 
 before said. And properly the phrase signifies ministerial 
 power, being a manifest allusion to the common usage, La 
 the courts of princes, of intrusting to some great minister 
 the power of the keys; as it was foretold of Eliakim, (Isa. 
 xxii.) that he should be placed in the same high station in 
 Hezekiah's court, wiierein Shebna was, of whom so severe 
 things are there said ; and that the key of the house of 
 David should be laid upon his shoulder, &c. v. 20 — 22. 
 And the house of David being a known type of the house 
 or church of God, and he himself of Christ, who as the 
 Son, hath power over the whole house, according to this 
 typical way of speaking, our Lord is said (Rev. iii. 7.) to 
 have the key of David, to open so as none can shut, to shut 
 so as none can open ; i. e. to have a final, decisive power 
 in all he doth, from which there is no appeal. 
 
 Nor could any thing be more congruous, than that 
 having the keys of the celestial house of God, the heavenly 
 palace of the Great King, the habitation of his holiness and 
 glory, (in which are the everlasting habitations, the many 
 mansions, the places prepared for his redeemed,) he should 
 also have the keys of. the terrestrial Bethel; which is but 
 a sort of portal, or vestHulum, to the other ; the house of 
 God, and the gate of heaven. And as he is implied to have 
 the keys of this introductive, preparatory kingdom of hea- 
 ven, (as the keys of the king's palace, where is the throne 
 or seat of government, and the ke3'S of the kingdom, must 
 mean the same thing,) when he is said to give them to the 
 apostle Peter, and the other apostles ; this was but a pre- 
 lude, and a minute instance of his power of those ke3's of 
 hades, and of the glorious heavenly kingdom itself contain- 
 ed therein, which he was not to delegate, but to manage 
 himself immediately in his own person. 
 
 If moreover he were signified b^' the angel, (Rev. xx. 1.) 
 who was said to have the key of the bottomless pit ; that> 
 also must import a power, though great in itself, verv little 
 in comparison of the immense hades, of which he is here 
 said to have the keys. So remote is it. that the power Eis- 
 cribed to him there, should be the measure of what he here 
 asserts to himself; and the difference must be vastly greater 
 than it is possible for us to conceive, or parallel by the 
 difference between having power over the palace, and all 
 the most delightful and most spacious territories in the 
 vastest empire of the greatest prince, and onh' having 
 power over a dungeon in some obscure corner of it ; which, 
 for the great purposes whereto all this is to be applied, wp 
 can scarcely too much inculcate. 
 
 And to such application let us now, with all possible seri- 
 ousness and intention of spirit, address ourselves. Which 
 will consist in sundry inferences or deductions, laying be- 
 fore us some suitable matter, partly of our meditation, 
 partly of practice; the former whereof are to prepare and 
 lay a ground for the latter. 
 
 1. Divers things we may collect, that will be verj' proper 
 for deep mediation; wiiich I shall propose not as things 
 that we can be supposed not to have kno^^Ti before, but 
 which are too commonly not enough thought on or con- 
 sidered. 
 
 And here Ave shall somewhat invert the order wherein 
 things lie in the text, beginning with what is there latter 
 and lower, and thence arisnig, with more advantage, to 
 what is higher and of greater concernment ; as, 
 
 1. That men do not die at random, or by some uncer- 
 tain, accidental bye-stroke, that, as by a slip of the hand, 
 cuts off the thread of life : but by an act of divine deter- 
 mination, and judgment, that passes in reference to each 
 one's death. For as the key signifies authority and power, 
 the turning this key of death, that gives a man his exit 
 out off this world, is an authoritative act. And do we con- 
 sider in what hand this power is lodged"? We cannot but 
 apprehend every such act is the effect of counsel and judg- 
 ment. 
 
 What philosophers are wont to discourse of fortuitous 
 events in reference to rational agents, or casual, in refer- 
 ence to natural, must be understood but with relation tc 
 ourselves, and signifies only our own ignorance of futuri- 
 ties, but can have no place in the all-comprehending mind, 
 as if anv thing were a contingency unto that. For them 
 that live as if they thought they came into this world by 
 f Pirke. R. Eliezer. Edit, pei G. H. Vorst. C. F.
 
 Sl-i 
 
 THE REDEEMER'S DOMINIOIS 
 
 chance, 'tis very natural to them to think they shall die 
 and go out of it by chance too, but when and as it happens. 
 This is worse than paganish blindness; for besides what, 
 from their poets, the vulgar have been made to believe con- 
 cerning the three fatal Sisters, to whom they ascribed no 
 less than deity concerned in measuring every one's life, 
 the grave discourses which some of them have writ con- 
 cerning Providence, and its extent to the lesser interme- 
 diate concerns of life, much more to that their final great 
 concern of death, will be a standing testimony against the 
 too prevailing Christian scepticism (they ought to excuse 
 the solecism who make it) of this wretched age ! But such 
 among us as will allow themselves the liberty to thin'i, 
 want not opportunity and means by which they maybe as- 
 sured, that not an imaginary, but real, deity is immediately 
 and constantly concerned in measuring our time in this 
 world. What an awful thought is this ! And it leads to a 
 
 2. Inference. That it is a great thing to die. The Son 
 of God, the Redeemer of man, hath an immediate presi- 
 dency over this. He signalizes himself by it, who could 
 not suppose he should be magnified by a trifle ! We slightly 
 say, Such a one is dead ! Consider the matter in itself, 
 and 'tis great. A reasonable soul hath changed states ! 
 An intelligent spirit is gone out of our world ! The life 
 of a gnat, a fly, (those little auloviata, or self-moving 
 things,) how admirable a production is it 1 It becomes no 
 man to despise what no man can imitate. We praise the 
 pencil that well describes the external figure of such an 
 OMimalculum, such a little creature ; but the internal, 
 vital, self-moving power, and the motion itself, what art 
 can express ! But a human life, how important a thing is 
 it ! 'Twas one of Plato's thank.sgivings, that God had 
 made him a man ! How careful a guard hath God set 
 over every man's life, fencing it by the severest law ! " If 
 any man shed man's blood, by man shall his blood be 
 shed ;" and how weighty is the annexed reason ! " For in 
 the image of God he made man." This then highly 
 greatens this matter. He therefore reserves it wholly to 
 himself, as one of his peculiarities, to dispose of such a 
 life. " I am he that kills and makes alive." We find it 
 one of his high titles — " The God of the spirits of all flesh." 
 He had what was much greater to glory in, that he was 
 " the Father of spirits," indefinitely spoken. When he 
 hath all the heavenly regions, the spacious hades, peopled 
 with such inhabitants, " whose dwelling is not with flesh ;" 
 and, for vast multitudes of them, never was, that yet, look- 
 ing down into this little world of ours, this minute spot of 
 his creation, and observing that here were spirits dwelling 
 in flesh, he should please to be styled also the God of 
 those spirits, signifies this to be with him too an appro- 
 priate glory, a glory which he will not communicate fur- 
 ther than he communicates Godhead ; .and that he held it 
 a divine right to measure the time unto each of them of 
 their abode in flesh, and determine when they shall dis- 
 lods'e. 
 
 This cannot be thought on aright, without a becoming 
 most profound reverence of him on this account. How 
 sharp a rebuke is given to that haughty prince,» " The 
 God in whose hands thy breath is, hast thou not glorified." 
 That would prepare the way, and we should be easily led 
 on, were we once come to think with reverence, to think 
 also with pleasure of this case, that our life and every 
 breath we draw are under such a divine superintendency. 
 The holy Psalmist speaks of it with high complacency, as 
 the matter of his song, that he had a God presiding over 
 his life. So he tells us he would have each vvxQfiiiit:(>ov, 
 composed not more of night and day, than of prayer and 
 prais^, directed to God under this notion, as the God of 
 his life, Psal. xlii. 8. And he speaks it not grudgingly, but 
 as the ground of his trust and boast, Psal. xxxi. 14, 15. — 
 " I trusted in thee, O Lord; I said. Thou art my God, my 
 times are in thy hand." That this key is in the hand of 
 the great EmmaniiM — God with us, will be thought on with 
 frequency, when it is thought on with delight. 
 
 3. Our life on earth is under the constant strict observa- 
 tion of our Lord Christ. He waits when to turn the key, 
 and shut it up. Through the whole of that time, which, 
 by deferring, he measures out to us, we are under his eye 
 as in a state of probation. He takes continual notice 
 
 g Dan. 7. 23. 
 
 how we quit ourselves. For his turning the key at last ii 
 a judicial act ; therefore supposes diligent observation, 
 and proceeds upon it. He that hath this key, is also said 
 in the next chapter, {v. 18.) to have eyes like a flame of 
 fire. With these he observes what he hath against one 
 or another, (y. 20.) and with most indulgent patience 
 gives a space of repentance, (v. 21.) and notes it down if 
 any then repent not, as we there also find. Did secure 
 sinners consider this, how he beholds them with a flame in 
 his eye, and the key in his hand, would they dare still to 
 trifle! If they did apprehend how he, in this posture, 
 stands over them, in all their vain dalliances, idle imper- 
 tinencies, bold adventures, insolent attempts against his 
 -aws and government, presumptuous affronts of his high 
 authority; yea, or but in their drowsy slumberings, their 
 lingering delays ; did they consider what notice he takes 
 how they demean themselves under every sermon they 
 hear, in every prayer wherein they are to join with others, 
 or which, perhaps, for custom's sake, they put up alone by 
 themselves; how their hearts are moved, or unmoved, by 
 every repeated call that is given them to turn to God, and 
 get their peace made by application of their Redeemer's 
 reconciling blood ; in what agonies would they be, what 
 pangs of trembling would they feel within themselves, 
 lest the key should turn before their great work be 
 done ! 
 
 4. Whatsoever ill designs by this observation he dis- 
 covers, 'tis easy to him to prevent. One turn of this key 
 of death, besides the many other ways that are obvious to 
 him, disappoints them all, and in that day all their 
 thoughts perish. 'Tis not, therefore, from inadvertency, 
 indifference, or impotency, but deep counsel, that they are 
 permitted to be driven on so far. He that sitteth in the 
 heavens laughs, and he knows their day is coming. Fie 
 can turn this key when he will. 
 
 5. His power as to every one's death cannot be avoided 
 or withstood. The act of this key is definitive, and ends 
 the business. No man hath power over the spirit to retain 
 the spirit; nor hath he power in death, Eccl. viii. 8. 'Tis 
 in vain to struggle when the key is turned; the power of 
 the keys, where 'tis supremely lodged, is absolutely deci- 
 sive, and their effect permanent and irrevocable. That 
 soul, therefore, for Avhose exit the key is turned, must 
 thereupon then forthwhh depart, willing or unwilling, 
 ready or unready. 
 
 6. Souls that go out of this world of ours, on the turn 
 of this key, go not out of being. He that hath this key of 
 death hath also the key of hades, a key and a key. When 
 he uses the former, to let them out from this, he uses the 
 latter, to give them their inlet into the other world, and 
 into the one or the other part of it ; into the upper or the 
 lower hades, as the state of their case is, and doth require. 
 
 Our business is not now with Pagans, to whom the 
 oracles of God are unknown. If it were, the best and 
 wisest of them who so commonly speak of souls going into 
 hades, never thought of their going no whither; nor there- 
 fore that they were nothing. They had reasons, then, 
 which they thought cogent, they induced them, though un- 
 assisted with divine revelation, to conclude they survived 
 their forsaken bodies. And what else could any unbribed 
 understanding conclude or conceive "? When we find they 
 have powers JDelonging to them, which we can much more 
 easily apprehend capable of being acted without help from 
 the body than by it, we are sure that can form thoughts, 
 purposes, desires, hopes ; for it is matter of fact they do 
 it ; and coherent thoughts, and thoughts arising from 
 thoughts, one from another: yea, and thoughts abstracted 
 from any thing corporeal, the notions of right and wrong, 
 of virtue and vice, of moral good and evil, with some 
 agreeable resolves ; thoughts quite above the sphere oi 
 matter, so as to form a notion of the mind itself of a spi- 
 ritual iieing, as unexceptionable a one as we can form of 
 a body; yea, of an original self-subsist ent Mind and 
 Spirit, the Former and Maker of all other. 'Tis much 
 more apprehensible, since we certainly know that all this 
 is done, that it is done without any help of the body, than 
 how flesh, or blood, or bones, or nerves, or brains, or any 
 corporeal thing, should contribute to such methods of 
 thinking, or to any thought at all. And if it can be con-
 
 OVER THE INVISIBLE WORLD. 
 
 313 
 
 «eived that a spirit can act without dependence on a 
 body, what should hinder but we may as well conceive it 
 lo subsist and live without such dependence 1 And when 
 we find this power of thought belongs to somewhat in us 
 that lives, since the deserted carcass thinks not; how rea- 
 sonable is it to suppose, that as the body lives not of itself, 
 or life is not essential to it, for life may be retired and gone, 
 and it remain, as we see it doth, the same body still ; that 
 the soul to which the power of thought belongs, lives of 
 itself, not independently on the first cause, but essentially, 
 so as to receive life and essence together from that cause, 
 or life includad in its essence, so as that it shall be the 
 same thing to it to be and to live. And hereupon how 
 obvious is it to apprehend that the soul is such a thing as 
 can live in the body, which when it doth, the body lives 
 by it a precarious, borrowed life ; and that can live out of 
 the body, leaving it, when it doth so, to drop and die. 
 
 These sentiments were so reasonable, as generally to 
 prevail with the more deeply-thinking part of mankind, 
 philosophers of all sorts, (a few excepted, whose notions 
 were manifestly formed by vicious inclination,) in the 
 pagan world, where was nothing higher than reason to 
 govern. But we have life and immortality brought to light 
 in the gospel, h and are forewarned by it that these will be 
 the measures of the final judgment, to give eternal life at 
 lasti to them who, by a patient continuance in well-doing, 
 seek honour, glory, and immortality. To the rest,i< indig- 
 nation and wrath, &c. because! there is no respect of per- 
 sons with God. As supposing the discovery of another 
 world, even by natural light, much more by the addition 
 of supernatural, to be so clear, as that the rule of the uni- 
 versal judgment, even for all, is most righteou.sly lo be 
 taken from hence, and that there is nothing but a resolu- 
 tion of living wickedly, to be opposed to it. 
 
 It is also no slight consideration, that a susceptibleness 
 of religion should, among the creatures that dwell on 
 earth, be so appropriate and peculiar to man, and (some 
 rare instances excepted) as far diffused as human nature ; 
 so as to induce some very considering men, of the an- 
 cients as well as moderns, both pagans and Christians, 
 to think religion the more probable specifying difference 
 of man than reason. And whence should so common an 
 impression be, but from a cause as common 1 Or how can 
 we avoid to think that this signature upon the soul of man, 
 a capacity of religion, should be from the same hand that 
 formed the spirit of man within him, and that a natural 
 religiousness, and human nature itself, had the same Au- 
 thor ? But who sees not that™ religion, as such, hath a 
 final reference to a future state 1 He was no despicable 
 writer, though not a Christian, that positively affirmed 
 hope towards God to be essential to man ; and that they 
 that had it not, were not partakers of the rational nature. 
 
 'Tis so much the moreadeplorable and monstrous thing, 
 that so many, not only against the light of their own rea.son, 
 but of divine revelation, are so industrious to unman them- 
 selves : and having so effectually in a great degree done it 
 really and in practice, aim to do it in a more compendious 
 way notionally and in principle too; and make use or show 
 of reason to prove themselves not to be reasonable creatures ; 
 or to divest themselv^es of the principal dignity and distinc- 
 tion of the rational nature : and are incomparably herein 
 more unnatural than such as we commonly count felons 
 upon themselves, who only act against their own bodily 
 life, but these against the much nobler life of their soul ; 
 they against the life of an individual, these against their 
 own whole species at once. And how deplorable is their 
 case, that count it their interest to be in no possibility of 
 being happy ! when yet their so great dread of a future 
 state, as to urge them upon doing the most notorious vio- 
 lence to their own faculties to rid themselves of it, is a 
 very convictive argument of its reality; for their dread 
 still pursues and sticks close to them. This shows it lies 
 deep in the nature of things which they cannot alter. The 
 terrible image is still before their eyes ; and their principal 
 refuge lies only in diverting, in not attending to it. And 
 they can -SO little trust to their sophistical reasonings against 
 It, that when they have done all they can, they must o^\■Tl 
 what they have of ease and quiet in their own minds, not 
 
 h 2 Tim. i. 10. 
 k Veriio 3. 
 
 i Rom. ii. 7. 
 1 Veree 11. 
 
 so much to any strength of reason they apprehend in their 
 own thoughts, as in not thinking. A buld je.-^i may .some- 
 times provoke others' laughter, when it doth not extinguish 
 their own fear. A suspicion a formido oppositi will still 
 remain ; a mi.sgiving that they cannot nullify the great 
 kades, pull down the spacious labric of heaven, or under- 
 mine the profound abyss of hell, by a profane scoff. They 
 will in time discern the difference between the evanid pas- 
 sion of a sudden fright, that takes its rise from imagination, 
 and the reason of things; as one may between a fright in a 
 dream, and the dread of a condemned criminal, with whom, 
 sleeping and waking, the real state of his case is still the 
 same. 
 
 Nor are the things themselves remote or unconnected ; 
 God's right to punish a reasonable creature that hath lived 
 in contempt of him, and his own reasonable apprehension 
 hereof, of his conscience both of the fact and desert. They 
 answer as face to face, as the stamp on the seal, and the 
 impression on the wax. They would fain make their rea- 
 son a protection against their fear, but that cannot serve 
 both ways; the reason of the thing lies against them al- 
 ready, and there cannot be an eternal war between the 
 faculty and the object. One way or other the latter will 
 overpower the former, and draw it into consent with it.self ; 
 either by letting it see there is a just, true cause of fear, 
 or, assisted by Divine grace, prevail for the change of 
 the sinners' course. Whereupon that troublesome fear, 
 and its cause, will both upon the best terms cease to- 
 gether. And that what hath been proposed to consideralioa 
 under this head, may be the more effectually considered, 
 to this ble.ssed purpose, I add that, 
 
 7. The discovery of the invisible world, and the disposal 
 of affairs there, ha^e a most encouraging aspect upon tliis 
 world ; for both the discovery and the disposal are by our 
 blessed Redeemer, in whom mercy and might are met in 
 highest perfection. How fragrant breathings of grace, how 
 glorious a display of power, are there in what he here sa)'s ! 
 " Fear not J I am the first and the last ; I am he that liv- 
 eth and was dead, and I am alive for evermore. Amen. 
 And I have the keys of hades and of death." He hath 
 opened the ce'^stial hades to our view, that it might be 
 also open to our safe entrance and blissful inhabitation. 
 He who was dead, but liveth, and had made his victorious 
 triumphant entrance before us, and for us; he who had 
 overcome him that had the power of death, — conquered the 
 gigantic mon.ster at the gate, gained the keys, and designed 
 herein their deliverance from the fear of death, who were 
 therebv subject to bondage ; (Heb. ii. 14, 15.) he who 
 hath abolished death, and brought life and immortality to 
 light in the Gospel; (-2 Tim. i. 10.) 'tis he who bids us 
 lift up our eyes, and behold the heavens opened, and him- 
 self standing at the right hand of God. The horrid infer- 
 nal hades he hath discovered too, only that we might fear 
 and shun it. But yet more distinctly consider, why doth 
 he here represent himself under this character, " He that 
 liveth and was dead," but that he might put us in mind of 
 that most convictive argument of his love, his submitting 
 to die for us; " Greater love hath no man:" and that he 
 might at once put us out of doubt concerning hi^ power, 
 that he yet survives, and is sprung up alive out of that 
 death, victorious over it. How amiable is the representa- 
 tion of such power in conjunction with such love! The 
 same person having a heart so replenished with love, a 
 hand so armed with power, neither capable of ■unkind de- 
 sign, nor unable to effect the most kind. Behold him in 
 this representation ! Who would not now fall at his foot 
 and adore 1 Who would hesitate at resigning to him, or be 
 appalled at his disclosure of this unknoT^Ti world 1 
 
 Do but consider him who makes the discovery, and 
 who would not expect from him the utmost efforts of love 
 and goodness? From him who is the Brightness of his 
 Father's glory, and the express Image of his person! His 
 essential image, who is Love ! From him who came into 
 this wretched world of ours, full of grace and truth! And 
 who could not have come but by the inducement of com- 
 passion to our miseries. From "him who knows all things, 
 and whose eve penetrates into every recess of the vast 
 hades; all his own empire; in whom are hid all the 
 
 m Philo Judsptis, Quod deter, potion insid. soleat, «s tojv fin sXtiCoih-wk
 
 314 
 
 THE REDEEMER'S DOMINION. 
 
 treasures of wisdom and knowledge ; but who only knows 
 not to deceive : who hath told us, in his Father's house 
 are many mansions, and if it were not so, would have told 
 US that, John xiv. 2. From him into whose mouth guile 
 never entered, but into whose lips grace was poured, and 
 is poured out by them ; so that the ear that hath heard 
 him hath borne him witness, and filled with wonder those 
 that heard the gracious words which came out of his 
 mouth. Who haih told us all concerning that nnseen 
 world, that in this our present state it was fit for us to 
 know; and enough, in telling all that will be his fol- 
 lowers, that where he is, there he will have them be, John 
 xvii. 24. 
 
 And consider the manifest tendency of the discovery 
 itself. What doth it mean or tend to, but to undeceive 
 miserable mortals, whom he beholds from his high throne 
 mocked with shadows, beguiled with most delusive im- 
 postures, and easily apt to he imposed upon 1 foolish, 
 deceived, serving divers lusts and pleasures ; feeding upon 
 ashes, and wearying themselves for very vanity ; sporting 
 themselves in the dust of this minute spot of earth ; wast- 
 ing their little inch of time, wherein they should prepare 
 for translation into the regions of imseen glory. To these 
 he declares he hath formed a kingdom for all that covet to 
 mend their states, and that his kingdom is not of this 
 world ; that for such as will be of this kingdom, he will 
 provide better, having other worlds, the many heavens, 
 above all which he is ascended, at his dispose, Eph. iv. 
 10. But they must seek this kingdom and the righteous- 
 ness of it in the first place, and desist from their care 
 about other things. He counsels and warns them not to 
 lay up their treasure on earth, but in heaven; and to let 
 their hearts be there with their treasure. And what can 
 withstand his power, who having been dead, liveth victo- 
 rious over him that had the power of death, and is alive 
 for evermore, possessed of an eternal state of life 1 
 
 And have we not reason to expect the most equal and 
 most benign disposal of things in that unseen wotld, when 
 he also declares, I have the keys, righful authority, as 
 well as mighty power, to reward and punish 1 None but 
 who have a very ill mind can fear from him an ill manage- 
 ment. He first became capable of dying, and then yielding 
 himself to die, that he might obtain these keys for gracious 
 purposes. He had them befi)re to execute just vengeance, 
 as he was originally in the form of God, and without rob- 
 bery equal with God ; an equal sharer in .sustaining the 
 wrong that had been done by apostate rebels, and an 
 equal sharer in the right of vindicating it. 
 
 But that he might have these keys to open the heavenly 
 hades to reduced apostates, to penitent, believing, self-de- 
 voting sinners, for this it was necessary he should put on 
 man, be found here in fashion as a man, take on him the 
 form of a servant, become obedient to death, even that ser- 
 vile punishment the death of the cross, Phil. ii. 7, 8. For 
 this he is highly exalted into this power, that every knee 
 might bow to him, in hope of saving mercy, i\ 9, 10. com- 
 pared with Isa. xlv. 22, 23. He "had the keys without 
 this of the supernal hades, to shut out all offenders, and 
 of the infernal, to shut them up for ever. But that he 
 might have them to absolve repenting believers, ad- 
 mit them into heaven, and only to shut up in hell implac- 
 able enemies— for this he must die, and live again. He 
 was to be slain and hanged on a tree, that he might be a 
 Prince and a Saviour to give repentance and remission of 
 sin, Acts V. 30, 31. That to this intent he might be the 
 Lord of the dead and the livmg, he must both die and 
 ri,se, and live so as to die no more, Rom. xiv. 9. The.se 
 keys for this purpose, he was only to have upon these 
 terms. He had a right to punish as an offended God, 
 but to pardon and save as a meditating, sin-expiating 
 God-man. 
 
 But as he was to do the part of a Mediator, he must 
 act equally between the disagreeing parties: he was to 
 deal impartially on both sides. To render back entire to 
 the injured Ruler of the world his violated rights, and to 
 obtain for us his forfeited favour, as entire. And under- 
 took therefore, when as a sacrifice he was to be slain, to 
 redeem us to God by his blood, Rev. v. 9. To give him 
 back his revolted creature, holy, pure, subject, and service- 
 n Gal iii. 13, U. Rom. .wui. 3, 4. 
 
 able, as by his methods he shall be at last ; and procure 
 for him pardon, acceptance, and eternal blessedness. 
 
 When therefore he was to do for us the part of a Re- 
 deemer, he was to redeem us from the curse of the law, 
 not from the ccmmand of it; to save us from the" wrath 
 of God, not from his government. Had it been otherwise, 
 so firm and indissoluble is the connexion between our 
 duty and our fel'/:ity, that the sovereign Ruler had been 
 eternally injured, and we not advantaged. Were we to 
 have been set free from the preceptive obligation of God's 
 holy law, then most of all from that most fundamental pre- 
 cept, " Thou shalt love the Lord thy God with all thine 
 heart, soul, might, and mind." Had this been redemption, 
 which supposes only what is evil and hurtful, as that we are 
 to be redeemed from 1 This were a strange sort of self-re- 
 pugnant redemption, not from sin and misery, but from 
 our duty and felicitJ^ This were so to be redeemed as to 
 be still lost, and every way lost, both to God and to our- 
 selves for ever. Redeemed from loving God ! What a mon- 
 strous thought ! Redeemed from what is the great active 
 and fruitive principle ; the source of obedience and bless- 
 edness; the eternal spring, even in the heavenly state, of 
 adoration and fruition I This had been to legitimate ever- 
 lasting enmity and rebellion against the blessed God, and 
 to redeem us into an eternal hell of horror and misery to 
 ourselves ! This had been to cut off" from the Supreme 
 Ruler of the world for ever, so considerable a limb of his 
 most rightful dominion, and to leave ns as miserable a.s 
 everlasting separation from the Fountain of life and bless- 
 edness could make us. 
 
 When therefore our Lord Jesus Christ was to redeem 
 us from the curse of the law, it was that the promised 
 Spirit might be given to us, (Gal. iii. 13, 14.) who should 
 write the law in our hearts ; (Jer xxxi. 33. Ezek. xxxvi. 
 27.) fulfil the righteousness of it in us, by causing us to 
 walk after his dictates, according to that law ; regenerating 
 us, begetting us after God's image, and making us par- 
 takers of a Godlike nature. So we through the law be- 
 come dead to the malediction and curse of it, that we 
 may live to God more devoted lives than ever. Gal. ii. 19. 
 Thus is God's lost creature given back to him with the 
 greatest advantage also to itself. 
 
 With this design it is apparent our Lord redeemed us, 
 and by his redemption acquired these keys. Nor are we 
 to doubt, but in the use of them, he will dispense exactly 
 according to this just and merciful design. And what "a 
 perverse distorted mind is that, which can so much as 
 wish it should be otherwise ! tiz. That he should save us 
 to the eternal wrong of him that made us, and so as that we 
 should be nothing the belter ; i. e. that he should save us 
 without saving us. 
 
 And hath this no pleasant comfortable aspect upon a 
 lost world, that he who hath the keys will use them for 
 such purposes! i. e. to admit to eternal bliss, and save to 
 the uttermost, all that will come to God by him ; (not will- 
 ing to be everlastingly alienated from the life of God ;) be- 
 cause he ever li-es to make intercession, or to transact and 
 negociate for them, (a.s that word signifies,) and that in a 
 rightful way, and even by the power of these keys ! 
 
 8. That there must be some important reason why the 
 other world is to us unseen, and so truly bears the name 
 of Hades. This expresses the state of the case as in fact it is, 
 that it is as a world lying out of our sight, and into which our 
 dim and weak eye cannot penetrate. That other state of 
 things is spoken of therefore as hidden from us b);- a vail. 
 When our Lord Jesus is said to have passed into the heavens, 
 (Heb. iv. 14.) he is also said to have entered into that within 
 the veil ; (Heb. vi. 19, 20.) alluding to that in the temple of 
 Solomon, and before that, in Moses's tabernacle ; but ex- 
 pressly signifying, that the holy places into which Christ 
 entered, not those made with hands, which were the figure 
 of the true, but heaven itself, filled with the glorious pre- 
 sence of God, where he appears for us, (Heb. ix. 24.) is 
 also veiled from us. As also the glory of the other state 
 is said to be a glorv as yet to be revealed, Rom. viii. 18. 
 And we are told, (Job xxvi. 9) the g-reat God holdeth 
 back the face of his throne ; and above, v. 6. 'tis represent- 
 ed as a divine prerogative, thatsAe^/, which is there ground- 
 lessly rendered hell, the vast hades, is only naked before
 
 OVER THE INVISIBLE WORLD. 
 
 3iS 
 
 him, lies entirely open to his view, and therein the dark 
 and horrid part of it, dcslruclion, by which peculiarly must 
 be meant hell, is to him without a covering, not more hid- 
 den from his eye. 
 
 Which shows this to be the Divine pleasure ; so God 
 will have it be, who could have exposed all to common 
 view, if he had pleased. 
 
 But because he orders all things according to the coun- 
 sel of his will, (Eph. i. 11.) we must conceive some 
 weighty reason did induce hereto, that whatsoever lies be- 
 yond this present state of things should be concealed from 
 our immediate view, and so come iino nomme, to be call- 
 ed hades. And if the reason of God's conduct, and the 
 course of his dispensation herein, had been equally hidden, 
 as that state itself is, it had been a bold presumption to 
 inquire and pry into it; modesty and reverence should 
 have restrained us. But when we find it holds a manifest 
 agreement with other parts of his counsel, that are suffi- 
 ciently revealed; and that the excellency of the Divine 
 wisdom is most conspicuous, and principally to be beheld 
 and admired, in ordering the apt congruities and corres- 
 pondencies of things with each other, and especially of 
 the ends he proposes to himself, with the methods and 
 ways he takes to effect them ; 'twere very great osci- 
 tancy, and an undutiful negligence, not to observe them, 
 when they stand in view, that we may render him his due 
 acknowledgments and honour thereupon. 
 
 'Tis manifest that as God did not create man, at first, in 
 that which he designed to be his final state; but as a pro- 
 bationer, in a state of trial, in order to a further state ; so 
 when he apostatized and fell from God, he was graciously 
 pleased to order for him a new trial, and put him into the 
 hands of his merciful Redeemer, who is intrusted with 
 these keys, and with the power of life and death over him, 
 to be managed and exercised according to the terms plainly 
 set down and declared in his Gospel. AVheresoever he is 
 with sufficient evidence revealed ana made known, men im- 
 mediately come under obligation lo believe in him; to in- 
 trust and commit themselves into the same hands; to rely 
 upon the truth of his word in every thing he reveals, as the 
 ground of their submitting to his authority in every thing 
 he requires. What concerns their present practice he hath 
 plainly shown them ; so much as it was requisite they 
 should pre-apprehend of future retributions, rewards and 
 punishments, he hath revealed also; not that they should 
 have the knowledge hereof bj' immediate inspection, but 
 by taking his word. That as their first transgression was 
 founded in infidelity, that they did not believe God, but a 
 Iving spirit against him ; their first step in their recovery 
 and return to God should be to believe him, and take his 
 word about things they have themselves no immediate 
 sight or knowledge of. This point was by no means lo be 
 quitted to the first apostates. As if God's saying to them, 
 " If you transgress, you shall die, or go into hades, was 
 no sufficient enforcement of the precept, unless he had 
 given them a distinct view of the state of felicity or 
 miserj'^, which their obedience or disobedience would lead 
 them into. This had been to give away the whole cause 
 to the revolted rebels, and rather to confess error and over- 
 sight in the Divine government, than impute fault to the 
 impugners of it ! 
 
 This being the state of the case, how suitable had it 
 been to the design of this second trial to be made with 
 men, to withdraw the veil, and let every one's own eyes 
 be their informers of all the glories of the heavenly statel 
 and hereupon proclaim and preach the Go.spel to them, 
 that they should all partake herein that would entirely 
 deny themselves, come off from their own bottom, give 
 themselves up absolutely to the interest, love, service, and 
 comnmnion of their Redeemer, and of God in him 1 To 
 fortify themselves against the a.ssaults and dangers of their 
 earthly pilgrimage by reversing that rule, The just shall 
 livi by faith ; even that " faith which is the substance of 
 things hoped for, and the evidence of things not seen; or 
 by inverting the method, that in reference to such things? 
 we are to walk by faith, not by sight, and letting it be, 
 We are to walk by sight, not by faith 1 And that lest any 
 should refuse such compliance with their ijreat Lord, 
 whole hades should be no longer so, but made naked be- 
 
 o Heb. X. 3S.— ch. ri. I. p S Cor. v. r. 
 
 fore them, and the covering of hell and destruction be 
 taken off, and their own e3'es behold the infernal horrors, 
 and their own ears hear the shrieks and bowlings, of ac- 
 cursed creatures, that having rejected their Redeemer, are 
 rejected by him. We ar not here to consider, what 
 course would most certainly efiect their salvation, but 
 what most became the wise holy God, to preserve the dig- 
 nity of his own government, and save them too; other- 
 wise Almighty power could save all at once. As therefore 
 we have cause to. acknowledge the kindness and compas- 
 sion of our bles.sed Lord, who hath these keys, in giving 
 us for the kind, such notices as he hath, of the state of the 
 things in hades ; so we have equal cause to admire his 
 wisdom, that he gives us not those of another kind, (hat 
 should more powerfully strike the sense and amaze us 
 more, but instruct us less; that continues it lo he hades 
 still, a state of things to us unseen as yet. As the case 
 would have been on the other supposition, the most gene- 
 rous, noble part of our religion had been sullied or lost; 
 and the trial of our faith, which is to be found unto praise, 
 honour, and glory, at the appearing of Jesus Christ, even 
 upon this acroimf ; that they who had not seen him in his 
 mean circumstances on earth, nor did lujw see bim, amidst 
 all the glories of his exalted state, yet believing, loved 
 him, and rejoiced in him with joy unspeakable, and full 
 of glory, 1 Pet. i. 7, 8. This faith, and all the glorious 
 trials of it, with its admirable achievements and perform- 
 ances, whereby the elders heretofore 'i obtained so good a 
 report, and high renown on earth, and which filled the 
 world with wonder, had all vanished into obscurity and 
 darkness ; i. e. if they had believed no more, or no greater 
 things, than every man besides had Llie iminediale view of 
 by his own eye-sight. 
 
 And j'et the trial had been greater, on another account, 
 than the Divine wisdom, in conjrmction with goodness and 
 compassion, thought fit ordinarily to put sincere Chris- 
 tians upon. For who could with any tolerable patience 
 have endured longer abode on earth, after they should 
 once have had the glory of the heavenly state immediately 
 set in view before Uieir ej'es % especially considering, not 
 so much the sufferings, as the impurities, of their present 
 slate 1 What, for great reason, was a special vouchsafe- 
 ment to one aposlle, was, for as great, to be common to 
 all Christians. How great is the wisdom and mercy of 
 our blessed Lord in this partial concealment of our future 
 state, and that while so much as is sufficient is revealed, 
 there is yet a hades upon it, and it may still be said, It 
 doth not yet appear what we shall be, 1 John iii. 2. 
 
 But as these majestic life-breathing words of our great 
 Lord do plainly offer the things that have been mentioned, 
 and many more such that might occur, to our thoughts 
 and meditation ; so will tl>ey be thought on in vain, if 
 they be not followed and answered by suitable disposi- 
 tions and actions of heart and life. Therefore the further 
 use we are lo make of this great subject will be to laj' down, 
 
 2. Divers correspondent things to be practised and 
 done, which must also suppose dispositions and frames of 
 heart and spirit agreeable thereto. 
 
 1. Let us live expecting a period to be ere long put to 
 our life on earth. For remember, there are keys put into 
 a great hand for this ver)- purpose, that holds them not in 
 vain. His power is of equal extent with the law he is to 
 proceed b)'. And by that it is ■• appointed for all once to 
 die. Therefore, as in the execution he cannot exceed, so 
 he will not come short of this appointment: when that 
 once shall be, it belongs to him to determine. And from 
 the course we may observe him to hold, as it is uncertain 
 to all, it can be very remote to none. How short is the 
 measure of a span ! 'Tis an abs\ird vanity to promise 
 ourselves that which is in the power of another. How 
 wise and prudent a thing to accommodate ourselves com- 
 posedly to his pleasure, in whose power we are; and to 
 live as men continually expecting to die ! There are bands 
 of death out of whichwhen they once take hold, we can- 
 not free ourselves. But there are also bands of life, not 
 less troublesome or dangerous. 'Tis our great concern 
 to be dailv, bv decrees, loosening and disentangling our- 
 selves from these bands; and for preventing the necessity 
 of a violent rupture, to be daily disengaging our hearts 
 
 q Heb. xi, 9. r Heb. u. 27.
 
 316 
 
 THE REDEEMER'S DOMINION 
 
 from an ensnaring world, and the too close embraces of an 
 over-mdulged body. Tell them resolutely, I must leave 
 them whensoever my great Lord turns the key for me ; aud 
 I know not how soon that may be. It is equally unhappy 
 and foolish to be engaged in the pursuit of an impossibility, 
 or in a war with necessity ; the former whereof cannot be 
 obtained, the latter cannot but overcome. We owe so 
 much to ourselves, and to the ease and quiet of our own 
 minds, to be reconciled, at all times, to that which may befall 
 us at any time. How confounding a thing is surprisal by 
 that which ourselves regret and dread ! How unaccount- 
 able and ignominious must it be to pretend to be surprised 
 with what we have so great reason always to expect, and 
 whereof we are so oft forewarned ! Is it no part of Chris- 
 tian watchfulness to wait for such an hour 1 Though that 
 waiting all the days of our appointed time, mentioned Job 
 xiv. 14. refers to another change than that of death, viz. 
 (as the foregoing and following verses show,) that of the 
 resurrection, yet it cannot but be equally requisite, upon 
 a no less important reason. And the requests that the 
 Lord would make us know our end, and the measure 
 of our days, that we may know how frail we are, (Ps. 
 xxxix. 4.) and that he would teach us so to number our 
 days that we may apply our hearts to wisdom, (Ps. xc. 
 12.) are equally monitory to the same purpose, as the 
 most express precepts ; as also the many directions we 
 have to watch and wait for our Lord's appearance and 
 coming are as applicable to this purpose. For whensoever 
 his key opens our passage out of this world, and these 
 bodies, hades opens too, and he particularly appears to us, 
 jn as decisive a judgment of our case, as his universal ap- 
 pearance and judgment will at last give for all. The 
 placid agreement of our minds and spirits with divine 
 determination, both as to the thing, and time, of our de- 
 parture hence, will prevent the trouble and ungratefulness 
 of being surprised ; and our continual expectation of it, 
 will prevent any surprisal at all. Let this then be an 
 agreed resolution with us, to endeavour being in a posture, 
 as that we may be capable of saying, " Lord, whensoever 
 thou shalt move thy key, and tell me this night, or this 
 hour, I'll require thy soul, thou shalt not, O Lord, pre- 
 vent mine expectation, or ever find me counting upon 
 many years' enjoyment of any thing this w^orld can enter- 
 tain me with." 
 
 In further pursuance hereof, 
 
 2. Be not over-intent on designs for this present world ; 
 which would suppose you to count upon long abode in 
 it. Let them be always laid with a supposition, you may 
 this way, even by one turn of this key, be prevented of 
 bringing them about: and let them be pursued with indif- 
 ferency, so as that disappointment even this way may not 
 be a grievance. A thing made up of thought and design, 
 as our mind and spirit naturally is, will be designing one 
 way or other; nor ought we to attempt that violence upon 
 our own natures, as to endeavour the stupifying of the in- 
 telligent, designing mind, which the Author of nature hath 
 put into us. Only let us so lay our designs, as that how- 
 many soever we form that may be liable to this sort of 
 disappointment, we may still have one greater and more 
 important, so regularly and surely laid, that no turn of this 
 key shall be in any possibility to frustrate, but promote it 
 rather. The design for the kingdom of God to be first 
 sought, with his righteousness, (Matt. vi. 33.) or which is 
 pursued by seeking glory, honour, and immortality, to the 
 actual attainment of eternal life, (Rom. ii. 7.) may, if pre- 
 scribed methods be duly observed, have this felicity always 
 attending it, to be successfully pursued while we live, and 
 effected when we die. 
 
 But this is an unaccountable vanity under the sun, that 
 men too generally form such projects, that they are disap- 
 pointed both when they do not compass theni, and when 
 they do. If they do not, they have lost their labour; if 
 they do, they are not worth it. They dream they are eat- 
 ing, and enjoying the fruit of their labour ; but they awake, 
 and their soul is empty. And if at length they think of 
 laying wiser and more valuable designs, the key turns, and 
 pot having fixed their resolution, and begun aright, they 
 and all their thoughts, foolish, or more wise, perish toge- 
 ther. Because there is a fit season t'^^ "very fit undertak- 
 8 Jam. iv. 13— lb 
 
 ing, a time and judgment for every purpose, or a critical 
 time, such as is by judgment affixed to every such purpose, 
 fEccl. viii. 6.) and because also men know not their time, 
 (ch. ix. 12.) therefore their misery is great upon the earth, 
 and as birds caught in a snare, they are snared in an evil 
 time that falleth suddenly upon them. O miserable, 
 miserable mortals ! So are your immortal spirits misem- 
 ployed and lost ! 
 
 Their most valuable design for another world is seldom 
 thought on in season ; their little designs for this world 
 they contrive and prosecute with that confidence, as if 
 they thought the world to be theirs, and themselves their 
 own, and they had no Lord over them. This rude inso- 
 lence that holy apostle animadverts uj)on, of such as say,» 
 " To-day or to-morrow we will go to such a city, and con- 
 tinue there a year, and buy and sell, and get gain ; where- 
 as they know not what shall be on the morrow : and 
 what is their life 1 A vapour," &c. So much of duty and 
 becoming behaviour is in the meantime forgotten, as to 
 say, " If the Lord will we shall live," &c. This is to 
 bear themselves as absolute masters of their own lives 
 How bold an affront to their sovereign Lord ! They feel 
 themselves well in health, strength, and vigour, and seem 
 resolved it shall be a trial of skill who hath the power, or 
 to whom the keys belong, till it come to the last irrefrag- 
 able demonstration, that he changes their countenance, 
 and sends them aw^ay ; (Job xiv. 20.) and then they go, 
 driven, plucked, and torn away from their dwelling-place, 
 rooted out from the land of the living, Ps. lii. 5. 
 
 But if any premonitory decays make them doubt the 
 perpetuity of their own abode here, they somewhat ease 
 their minds by the pleasure they take in thinking, when 
 they have filled their own bellies, (Ps. xvii. 14.) what they 
 shall leave of their substance to their babes, and to them 
 that shall come after. And " their inward thought is, 
 that their houses shall continue for ever, and their dwell- 
 ing-places to all generations; and they call their lands 
 after their own names, and their posterity approve their 
 sayings," think and act as wisely as they, (Ps. xlix. 11, 
 12.) Thus they take upon them, and reckon they for 
 their time, and theirs after them, shall still dwell in theii 
 own. A wise thought ! They are the owners, when an- 
 other keeps the keys. 
 
 Several other things of like import I shall more lightly 
 touch, that may be collected from what hath been already 
 more largely said, and leave to be further enlarged upon 
 in your own thoughts ; and shall dilate more upon some 
 other, as they are either more material, or less thought on 
 by the most. 
 
 3. Be not prodigal of your time on earth, which is so 
 little in your power. Because you are not to expect 
 much, make the best use you can of your little. 'Tis so 
 precious a thing that it is to be redeemed ; 'tis therefore 
 too precious to be embezzled and trifled away. The con- 
 nexion of those two precepts, (Eph. v. 15, 16.) of walking 
 circumspectly, not as fools, but as wise, and that of redeem- 
 ing the time, more than intimates, that to squander time 
 is a foolish thing. Of the several sorts of things that we 
 make ourselves, their shape and frame show their use and 
 end. Are we to make a less judicious estimate of the 
 works of God 1 If we therefore contemplate ourselves, and 
 consider what a sort of production man is, can we allow 
 ourselves to think God made him a reasonable creature on 
 purpose to play the fool 1 Or can we live as if we thought 
 so, without reproaching otir Maker 1 But whereas he who 
 hath been the Author to us of such a nature, capable of 
 improving a life's time in this world unto most valuable 
 purposes, hath also been the Author of such a law, re- 
 quiring us to redeem time ; the reproach will be wholly 
 turned off from him upon ourselves, and our consequent 
 ruin be upon our own guilty heads. And he will find 
 some among ourselves, who by the advantage only of the 
 reasonable nature, common to us and them, that are in- 
 structors to us not to waste our days in vanity, and will 
 be witnesses against us if we so foolishly consume what 
 we cannot command. 
 
 Some such have unanswerably reprehended the com- 
 mon folly of those that dread the thought of throwing 
 away their whole life at once, that yet have no regret at
 
 OVER THE INVISIBLE WORLD. 
 
 317 
 
 throwing it all away by parcels and piecemeal. Aiid hare 
 told us, A wise mo.n can find nothing of that value, for 
 which to barter away his time.'- 
 
 And we are to consider, that as we are reasonable 
 creatures, we are accountable. That we are shut up in 
 these bodies as in workhouses. That when he that keeps 
 the keys lets us out, we are to " receive the things done 
 in the body, according to what we have done, whether 
 good or evil," 2 Cor. v. 10. That it belongs to him that 
 measures our time to censure it too, and the use we have 
 made of it. 
 
 4. Let him be at once both great and amiable in our 
 eyes, who hath so absolute power over us, and so gracious 
 propensions towards us; i. e. who hath these key.s, and 
 who acquired them with so merciful intentions, even upon 
 such terms as could not but signify the greatest compas- 
 sion and good will towards such as we. 
 
 Reconsider what hath been offered as matter of medita- 
 tion, to both these purposes. And now, hereupon, let us 
 endeavour to have a correspondent sense inwrought into 
 our hearts, and to bear ourselves towards him accordingly. 
 The power and efficacy of whole Christianity depends 
 upon this, and do very principally consist in it. What a 
 faint, impotent, languishing thing is our religion, how doth 
 it dwindle into spiritless, dead form, without it ! The 
 form of knowledge is nothing else but insipid, dead no- 
 tion, and our forms of worship only fruitless, unpleasant 
 formality, if we have not a vivid sense in our hearts both 
 of his glorious greatness, and of his excellent loving-kind- 
 ness. As much as words can signify towards the impress- 
 ing such a sense into our hearts, we have in these words, 
 uttered from his own mouth ; so that he may say, as that 
 memorable type of him once did, You may plainly per- 
 ceive," " It is my mouth that speaketh to you. I am the 
 first and the last. I am he that liveth and was dead, and 
 behold I am alive for evermore." And hereto he now 
 sets his solemn ratifying seal. Amen. Wherewith he 
 leaves us to pause, and collect, that thus it was brought 
 about, that he could add, " And I have the keys of the 
 vast hades, the whole unseen v^orld, and of death." 
 
 And God forbid that, now, these words should be with 
 us an empty sound, or a dead letter ! Let us cast in our 
 minds what manner of salutation this should be ! Doth 
 the Son of God thus vouchsafe to bespeak miserable ab- 
 jects, perishing, lost wretches 1 How can we hereupon 
 but bow our heads and worship 1 What asfitations of af- 
 fection should we feel within! How sliould all our inter- 
 nal powers be moved, and our whole souls made as the 
 chariots of Amminadab ! What can we he now unwilling 
 of, that he would have us be, or do 1 And as that, where- 
 of we may be assured he is most willing. 
 
 5. Let us entirely receive him, and absolutely resign 
 ourselves to him, as our Prince and Saviour. Who 
 would not covet to be in special relation to so mighty and 
 so kind a Lord"? And can you think to be related to him 
 upon other terms'? And do you not know that nyion these 
 you may, when in his Gospel he offers himself, and de- 
 mands you 1 What can that mean, but that you are to 
 receive him, and resign yourselves 1 The case is now 
 brought to this state, that you must either comply, or re- 
 bel. And what ! rebel against him who hath these keys, 
 who is in so high authority over the whole unseen world, 
 who is the Head of all principality and power, who is 
 gone into the heavens, the glorious upper hades, and is 
 at the right hand of God, angeh, authorities, powers, be- 
 ing made subject to him! 1 Pet. iii. 22. We little know 
 or can conceive, as yet, the several orders and distinc- 
 tions of the celestial inhabitanis, and their great and illus- 
 trious princes and potentates, thrones, dominions, &c. that 
 all pay him a dutiful and a joyful subjection and obedi- 
 ence. But do we not know God hath given him a name 
 above every name ! and ihat in his name, or at it, as it 
 mav be read, i. e. in acknowledgment of his sovereign 
 power, ev^ery knee must bow, of things in heaven, on 
 earth, and under earth, and all confess that he is Lord, to 
 the praise and glory of God the Father ? And who art 
 thou, perishing wrech! that darest dispute his title"? or 
 that, when all the creation must be subject to him, wilt 
 except thy.self* 
 
 t Neque qiucquamreperttdi^um.quod cviin tempore suo permutarct. Sen. 
 
 And when it cost him so dear, tliat his vast power might 
 be subservient to a design of grace, and thou must at last 
 be saved by him, or lost for ever, wliat can tempt thee to 
 stand out against such power and such grace 1 
 
 If thou wert to gratify thy ambiiion, how glorious a 
 thing is it to be a Christian ! a subject, a devoted homager, 
 to so mighty a Prince ! If to provide against thy necessity 
 and distress, what course can be so sure and successful, 
 as to fly for refuge to so compa.'^sionate a Saviour 1 And 
 dost thou not know there must be, to this purpose, an ex- 
 press transaction between him and thee 1 Wonder he 
 will condescend to it ! To capitulate with du.st and ashes ! 
 To article with his own creature, with whom he may do 
 what he will ! But his merciful condescension herein is 
 declared and known. If there shall be a special relation 
 settled between him and thee, he hath told thee in what 
 way it must be, i. e. by way of covenant-transaction and 
 agreement, as he puts his people of old in mind his way 
 was with them ; " I entered into covenant with thee, and 
 thou becamest mine," Ezek. xvi. 8. This I insi.st upon 
 and press, as a thing of the greatest importance imagin- 
 able, and the least thought of: nor the strange incongruity 
 animadverted on, viz. that we have the seals of such a 
 covenant among us; but the covenant itself slips through 
 our hands. Our baptism soon after we were born, with 
 some federal words then, is thought enough, as if we were 
 a nation of always minors. Whoever therefore thou art, 
 that hearest these words, or readcst these lines, know that 
 the great Lord is express towards thee in his gospel-pro- 
 posal—" Wilt thou accept me for thine, and resign thysell 
 as mine V He now expects and requires thy express an- 
 swer. Take his gospel as from ih° cross, or take it as from 
 the throne, or as from both, 'tis the same Gospel, inter- 
 woven of grace and authority ; the richest grace, and the 
 highest authority, at once inviting and requiring thee to 
 commit and submit thyself unto him. Take heed lest his 
 key turn before thou' hast given thy complying answer, 
 importing at once both thy trust and thy subjection. 
 
 Give not over pleading with thyself, with thy wayward 
 stupid heart, till it can say to him, " Lord, I yield ; thou 
 hast overcome." Till with tender relentings thou hast 
 thrown thyself at his feet, and told him, •' Lord, 1 am 
 ashamed, I am confounded within myself, thai thou 
 shouldsl die upon a cross to obtain thy high power, and 
 that thou art now ready to use it for the saving so vile a 
 miscreant as I : that when thou hast so vast an unknown 
 world, so numberless myriads of excellent creatures in thy 
 obedience, thou shouldst yet think it worth thy while to 
 look after me ; and that I should so long have withstood 
 thy kind and gracious overtures and intendments ! O for- 
 give my wicked aversion ! I now accept and resign."^ 
 
 And'now this being sincerely done, with fulness of con- 
 sent, with deep humility, with yearning bowels, with un- 
 feigned thankfulness, and an "inward complacency and 
 gladness of heart ; 
 
 6. Let your following course in this world be ordered 
 agreeably hereto, in continued dependence and subjection. 
 As we have received Christ Jesus the Lord, so we are to 
 walk in him. Col. ii.- 6. Take him according to the titles 
 here given him, as Christ, a Person anointed, authorized, 
 qualified to be both Jesus, a Saviour, so we are to walk, 
 according to our first reception of him, in continual de- 
 pendence on his saving mercy, and to be a Lord, or, as 
 'tis here exprest, with eminency, the Lord, so we are to 
 walk in continual subjection to his governing power. 
 Otherwise our receiving him, at first, under these notions, 
 hath nothing in it but mockery and collusion. 
 
 But if his obtaining these keys, upon the terms here ex- 
 prest, as having been dead, and now living, and having 
 overcome death, as 'tis also Rom. xiv. 9. did signity his 
 having them for saving purposes, as it must, .since for 
 other purposes he had them sufficiently before : and if w 
 reckon this a reasonable inducement to receive him. and 
 commit and intrust ourselves to him as a Saviour, that he 
 died, and overcame death : (for his grace in yielding to 
 die, had not rendered him a competent object of trust, 
 otherwise than in conjunction with his power in overcom- 
 ing death, and so gaining into his hands these keys ;) then 
 the same reason still remaining,how constant an encourage- 
 u Gen. xlv.
 
 318 
 
 THE REDEEMERS DOMINION 
 
 ment have we to continue accordingly walking in him all 
 our days! How potent an argumeni should it be to us, to 
 live that life which we live in ihe flesh, by faith in the Son 
 of God, who loved us, and gave himself for us ! (Gal. ii. 
 20.) i. e. inasmuch as having been crucified with him, 
 (wnich is also there exprest,) we feel ourselves to live ne- 
 vertheless; yet so as that 'tis not so much we that live, as 
 Christ that liveth in us; who could not live in us, or be 
 to us a spring of life, if he were not a perpetual spring of 
 life in himself 
 
 And consider, how darest thou live otherwise in this 
 flesh, in this earthly house, whereof he keeps the keys, 
 and can fetch thee out at his pleasure "? When he hath 
 warned thee to abide in him, that when he shall appear, 
 thou mayst have confidence, and not be ashamed at his 
 coming, 1 John ii. 28. He will certainly then appear, 
 when he comes to open the door, and dislodge thee from 
 this flesh; (though there be here a further and final refe- 
 rence to another appearance and coming of his ;) and if 
 he then find thee severed and disjoined from him, (thy first 
 closure with him not having been sincere, truly unitive 
 and vital, ^ how terribly will he look ! how confoundedly 
 wilt thou look in that hour ! 
 
 Neither hast thou less reason to live in continual subjec- 
 tion to him, considering that as he died, and overcame 
 death, that he might have these keys, so he now hath them, 
 and thou art under his governing power. The more thou 
 considerest his right to govern, the less thou wilt dispute 
 it. When he was spoken of as a Child to us born, that 
 he might become a Maa of sorrows, and be sorrowful 
 unto the death, and have all the sorrows of death come 
 upon him, he is at the same time said to be the mighty 
 God, and it was declared the » government should be upon 
 his shoulders. As he was the first-begotton from the dead, 
 ■viz. both submitting to death, and conquering it, so he was 
 the Prince of the kings of the earth, (a small part of his 
 kingdom too,) his throne being founded on his cross, his 
 governing power in his sacrifice; i. e.the power whereby 
 he so governs, as that he may also save ; making these 
 two things, the salving the rights of the Godhead, injured 
 by sin, and the delivering of the sinner from an eternal 
 ruin, to agree and consist with one another. 
 
 What an endearing obligation is this to obey! That he 
 will be the author of eternal salvation to them that obey 
 him I Inasmuch as, while our obedience cannot merit the 
 least thing from him, yet his vouchsafing to govern us doth 
 most highly merit from us. For he governs by writing his 
 law in the heart, which makes our heart agree with the 
 law ; and by implanting divine love in us, which van- 
 quishes enmity and disaffection, and virtually contains in 
 itself our obedience, or keeping his commandments, John 
 xiv. 15, 23. and 1 John v. 3. Therefore this government 
 of his, over us, is naturally necessary to our salvation and 
 blessedness, and is the inchoation and beginning of it: as 
 our perfected lov^e to God, and conformity to his nature and 
 will, do involve and contain in themselves our complete 
 and perfect blessedness, with which a continued enmity, 
 or a rebellious mutinous disposition against God, is natu- 
 rally inconsistent, and would be to us, and in us, a per- 
 petual, everlasting hell. 
 
 There can therefore be no enthralling servitude in such 
 obedience, but the truest liberty, that by which the Son 
 makes us free indeed, John viii. 36. Yea, a true sort of 
 royalty : for hereby we come, in the most allowable sense, 
 to live as we will, our will being conformed to the will of 
 God. Whereupon that was no high extravagant rant, but 
 a sober expression, " We are born in a kingdom ; to serve 
 God is to reign." 
 
 And we know this to be the will of God, y that all 
 should honour the Son, as they honour the Father. Here- 
 with will the evangelically obedient comport with high 
 complacency; accounting him most highly worthy that it 
 should be so. Wherein therefore the Christian law seems 
 strictest and most rigorous in the enjoined observance of 
 our Lord Christ, herein we shall discern an unexception- 
 able reasonableness, and comply with a complacential ap- 
 probation. And let us put our own hearts to it, and see 
 that without regret or obmurmuration they can readily 
 consent to the equity of the precept. 
 
 S Isa. ix. 6, y John v. 23. 
 
 'Tis enjoined us, constructively at least, that because 
 Christ died for us, when we were dead, quite lost in death, 
 we that live, hereupon should settle this with ourselves as 
 a fixed judgment, and upon that intervening judgmeilt 
 yield to the constraint of his love, so as hencel'orth no more 
 to live to ourselves: q. d. God forbid we should henceforth 
 be so profane ! We must now for ever have done with that 
 impious, unlawful way of living. What ! after thi?, that 
 we have so fully understood the state of our case, that we 
 should be so assuming as ever again to offer at such a thing 
 as living to ourselves, to make ourselves deities to our- 
 selves; or to live otherwise than unto him who died for 
 us, and rose again ! 2 Cor. v. 14, 15. This is high and 
 great, and may seem strict and severe. What 1 to have the 
 whole stream of all the actions and aims, the strength and 
 vigour of our lives, to be carried in one entire, undivided 
 current unto him, and (as it must be understood. Gal. ii. 
 19.) to God in him, so as never more to live to ourselves, 
 a divided, separate life apart from him, or wherein we shall 
 not finally and more principally design tor him ! How higl 
 is his claim, but how equal and grateful to a right mind 
 With what a plenitude of consent is every divine command 
 (taking this into the account) esteemed to be right in all 
 things ! So as that whatsoever is opposite, is hated as a false 
 way, Psal. cxix. 128. And as the precept carries its own 
 visible reason, the keeping of it carries its own reward in 
 itself, Psal. xix. 11. And is it too much for him who 
 bears these keys, and obtained them on such terms, and 
 for such ends, to be thus aflfected towards himi 
 
 We are required, without exception, without limitation 
 or reserve, whatsoever we do, whether in word or work, to 
 do all in the name of our Lord Jesus Christ, Col. iii. 17. 
 
 Inquire we. Do our hearts repine at this law ■? Do not 
 we 1 Doth not this world owe so much to him 1 Whj'' 
 are we allowed a place and a time here 1 Why is not 
 this world a flaming theatre 1 Is it not fit every one should 
 know under whose government they live; by whose bene- 
 ficence, under whose protection, and in whose name they 
 may act so or so, and by whose authority ; either obliging, 
 or not restraining them, requiring, or licensing them to do 
 this or that 1 Doth this world owe less to him, that bears 
 these keys, than Egypt did to Joseph, when thus the royal 
 word went forth in reference to him, " I am Pharaoh, and 
 without thee shall no man lift up his hand or foot in all 
 the land of Egypt 1" How pleasant should it be to our 
 souls, olten to remember and think on that name of his 
 which we bear, (Isa. xxvi. 8. Mai. iii. 16.) and draw in as 
 vital breath, the ' sweet odours of it, Cant. i. 3. How glo- 
 rious a thing should we count it, because he is the Lord 
 our God, to walk in his name forever and ever, as all peo- 
 ple will walk every one in the name of their god, Mic. iv. 
 5. And then we shall account it no hard law, whatever 
 we do, to do all in the name of our Lord Jesus, giving 
 thanks to God the Father by him, and for him; blessing 
 God every day, that we are put by him under the mild 
 and merciful government of a Redeemer. Then we shall 
 rejoicingly avow, as the apostle doth, (1 Cor. ix. 21.) that 
 we are not without law to God, but under law to Christ. 
 
 Whereupon, when you find your special relation is thus 
 settled atid fixed unto the great Lord both of this present 
 visible world, and of hades, or the invisible world, also by 
 your solemn covenant with him, and evidenced by the 
 continued correspondency of your heart and life, 3'our dis- 
 positions and actions, thereunto, 
 
 7. Do not regret or dread to pass out of the one world 
 into the other at his call, and under his conduct, though 
 through the dark passage of death ; remembering the ke)'^s 
 are in so great and so kind a hand; and that his good 
 pleasure herein is no more to be distrusted, than to 
 be disputed or withstood. Let it be enough to you, 
 that what you cannot see yourself, he sees for you. 
 You have oft desired your ways, your motions, your 
 removals from place to place, might be directed by him 
 in the world. Have you never said. If thou go not 
 with me, carry me not hence 1 How safely and fear- 
 lessly may you follow him blindfold or in the dark any 
 whither; not only from place to place in this world, but 
 from world to world ; how lightsome soever the one, rmd 
 gloomy and dark the other may seem to you. Darkness 
 
 I Psal. slv. 6—11, John XX. 23.
 
 OVER THE INVISIBLE WORLD. 
 
 319 
 
 and light are to him alike. To him, hades is no Iuide$, nor 
 is the dark way lliat leads into it lu him an untrodden path. 
 Shrink not at ilie thoughts of this translation, though it be 
 not by escaping death, but even through the jaws of it. 
 
 We commonly e.vcuse our aversion to die, by alleging 
 that nature regrets it. But we do not enough consider, 
 that in such a compounded sort of creature as we are, the 
 word nature must be ambiguous. There is in us a sensi- 
 tive nature that regrets it ; but taking the case as it is now 
 stated, can we think it tolerable, that it should be regretted 
 by the reasonable nature ? Unto which, if we appeal, can 
 we suppose it so untrue to itself, as not to assert its own 
 superiority "? Or to judge it fit that an intelligent, im- 
 mortal spirit, capable of so great things in another world, 
 should be content with a long abode here, only to keep a 
 well-figured piece of flesh from putrelying, or give it the 
 satisfaction of tasting meats and drinks that are grateful 
 to it, for a few years ? And if for a few, why not for ma- 
 ny 1 And when those many were expired, why not for as 
 many more ] And the same reason always remaining, 
 why not for always 1 The case is thus put, because the 
 common meaning of this allegation, that nature regrets or 
 abhors this dissoluiion, is not that they are concerned for 
 their souls how it may fare with them in another world, 
 which the most little mind or trouble themselves about ; 
 but that they are lo have what is grateful to them in this 
 world. And was this the end a reasonable spirit was made 
 for, when, without reason, sense were alike capable of the 
 same sort of gratifications ? What law, what equity, what 
 rule of decency, can oblige the soul of a man, capable of 
 the society and enjoyment of angels, to this piece of self- 
 denial, for the sake of his incomparably baser body "? or 
 can make it fit that the nobler and more excellent nature 
 should be eternally subservient to the meaner and more 
 ignoble 1 Especially, considering thai if, according to the 
 case supposed, the two last foregoing directions be com- 
 plied with, there is a sort of divine nature superadded to 
 the whole human nature, that cannot but prompt the soul 
 ennobled by it, to aspire to suitable, even to the highest, 
 operations and enjoyments whereof it is capable, and which 
 are not attainable in this present bodily state. 
 
 And if there were still a dispute between nature and 
 nature, 'tis enough that the great Lord of hides, and of this 
 present sensible world too, will determine it. In a far 
 lower instance, when the general of an army commands 
 it upon an enterprise, wherein life is to be hazarded, it 
 would be an ill excuse of a cowardly beginning, lo .'ay, 
 their nature regrets and dreads the adventure. The thing 
 is necessary. Against what is so unavoidable as death, 
 that is an abject mind that reluctales.'' 
 
 Come, then, let us imbolden ourselves ; and, when he 
 brings the key, dare to die. It is to obey and enjoy him, 
 who is our life and our all. Say we cheerfully each of 
 us, Lord Jesus, receive my spirit ; into thy hands I com- 
 mit it, who hast redeemed it. 
 
 8. Let us quietly submit to Divine disposal, when our 
 dear friends and relatives are by death taken away from 
 us. For consider into what hands this affair is put, of or- 
 dering ever}' one's decease, and removal out of this into 
 the other world, and who hath the^e keys. 'Tis such a 
 one, whose right, if we use our thou<jhts, vve w ill not allow 
 ourselves to dispute; or to censure his administration. His 
 original right, is that of a Creator and a God. " For all 
 things were created for him, and by him," Col. i. 16. 
 "And without him was nothing made that was made," 
 John i. 3. " The first and the last" to all things, Rev. i. 17. 
 
 His supervening right was tliat of a Redeemer, as hath 
 been already noted from this context, and as such he had 
 it by acquisition, dying to obtain it, and overcoming death ! 
 "I am he that liveth and was dead." And tlien, as he 
 elsewhere declares, by constitution, "All power is given 
 me bo'h in heaven and on earth," Matt, xxviii. 18. The 
 word (;^«ai/i) imports rishtfnl pnirer. And who are we, or 
 any relatives of ours, whom all ihe power of heaven and 
 earth ha'h no right to touch 1 What exempt jurisdiction 
 can we pretend ourselves to belong unto 1 
 
 Or will we adventure to say, not denying his right. He 
 did not use it well in this case ] Who is more fitly quali- 
 fied to judge, than he that hath these keys? And let this 
 
 a Miser est quicunque non vult, Muiido secummorionle, inori. .Sen. Tr. 
 
 matter be yet more thoroughly discussed. What is it that 
 we find fault with in the renjoval of this or that person, 
 that was near and delightful to usl Is it that he was to 
 die at all 1 Or that he died .so soon 1 If we say the for- 
 mer ; do we blame the constitution appointing all men 
 once to die, by which this world is made a portal to ano- 
 ther, for all men, and whence it was necessary none should 
 stay long in this, but only pass through, into that world 
 wherein every one is to have his everlasting abode 1 Or 
 is it that, when we think it not unfit this should be the ge- 
 neral and common course, there should yet have been a 
 particular di.'<pensation for this friend or relation of mine 1 
 
 Let the former be supposed the thing we quarrel at, and 
 consider the intolerable consequences of the matter's being 
 otherwise, as the case is with this apostate sinful world. 
 Such as upon second, better weighed thoughts, we would 
 abhor to admit into our mind^, even as the matter of a 
 wish. What ! would we wish lo mankind a sinning im- 
 mortality on this earth, before which a wise heathen ''pro- 
 fessed to prefer onedayvirttiously spent 1 Would we wish 
 this world to be the everlasting stage of indignities and 
 affronts to him that made hi Would we wish there should 
 never be a judgment-day, and that all the wi.se and righte- 
 ous counsels of heaven should be transversed and over- 
 turneil, only to comport with our terrene and sensual incli- 
 nations 1 Is this our dutifulness and loyal affection to our 
 blessed Lord, the Author of our beings, and the God of our 
 lives, whose rights and honours should be infinitely dear- 
 er to us than ourselves 1 Is it our kindness to ourselves, 
 and all others of our kind and order, that are all naturally 
 capable, and many, by gracious vouchsafement, fitly qua- 
 lified, to enjoy a perfect felicity in another world, that we 
 would have altogether confined for ever lo this region of 
 darkness, impurity, and misery 1 
 
 Or if it displease us, that our relatives are not, by some 
 special dispensation, excepted from the common law of 
 mortality, we would surely as much have expected an ex- 
 emption ourselves ; otherwise, our dying away from them, 
 would make the so much regretted separati*n, as well as 
 theirs from us. And what then, if we were required to 
 draw up our petition, to put it into express words, to U:rn 
 our wish for ourselves, and all our relatives and pe'u- 
 liar friends, into a formed, .solemn prayer, lo this eflect, 
 that we are content the law stand in "force, that all the 
 world should die, with only the exception of some few 
 names; viz. our own, and of our kindred and more in- 
 ward friends'? What ashamed confounded creatures should 
 we be upon the view of our own request I Wouhl we not 
 presently be for quelling and suppressing it, and easily 
 yield to be non-suited, without more ado ? What pretence 
 can we have not to think others as api to make ihe same 
 request for them and theirs ^. And if all the rest of the 
 world shall die, would we and our friends dwell here alone, 
 or would we have this world be continued habitable only 
 on this private account, to gratify a family 1 And if we 
 and our friends be holy, heavenly-minded per.sons, how 
 unkind were it lo wish to ourselves and them, when fit for 
 the .society of angels and blessed spirits above, a perpetual 
 abode in this low earthly state ! Would we not row, upon 
 riper, second thoughts, rather be content that things should 
 rest as they are, and he that hath these keys, use ihem his 
 own way. 
 
 But if by all this we are put quite out of conceit with 
 the desire of a terrestrial immortality, all that the matter 
 finallv results into is, that we think such a relative of 
 ours died too soon. We would not have coveted for him 
 an eternity on earth, but only more time. And how 
 much more 1 Or for what 1 If we were lo set the time, 
 'tis like that when it comes, we should be a.s averse to a se- 
 paration, if coexistent, then, as now ; and so we revolve 
 into the exploded desire of a terrestrial immortality back 
 again at last. If we were to assign the rea.son of our de- 
 sire, that would seem, as in the present case, a plausible 
 one lo some, which is mentioned by Plutarch in his con- 
 solation to Apollonius for the loss of his son, concerning 
 another such ca^e, (as he instances in many,) of one Ely- 
 sius, an Italian, whose loss of his .son Euthynouswas much 
 aggravated by this, that he was a great heir. But what 
 was said to that, there, and what is further to be said to 
 b Cicero.
 
 320 
 
 THE REDEEMER'S DOMINION 
 
 any thing of that kind, I shall reserve to a more proper 
 place. 
 
 It is a more weighty allegation, and of more common 
 concernment, when a useful person is gone, and one very 
 capable of becoming very eminently so. And this re- 
 quires deeper consideration, and sundry things ought to be 
 considered, in order to the quieting their minds, who are 
 apt to behold such darker dispensations, in the course of 
 providence, with amusement, and disturbance of .spirit; 
 i. e. when they see persons of excellent endowments and ex- 
 ternal advantages beyond the most, cut off in their prime, 
 while the world is cumbered with drones never likely to 
 do good, and pestered with such as are like to prove 
 plagues to it, and do great hurt and mischief to the age 
 wherein they live: an ancient and not uncommon scruple 
 to pious observers heretofore. " Wherefore," says holy 
 Job, " do the wicked live, become old, yea, are mighty in 
 power ? Their seed is established in their sight," ch. xxi. 
 7, 8. when his seed was cut off before his eyes. And here 
 let us consider, 
 
 1. That this world is in apostacy from God ; and though 
 he is pleased to use apt means for its recovery, he doih 
 what he thinks fit herein, of mere grace and favour, and 
 is under no obligation to do all that he can. His dispen- 
 sation herein must correspond to, and bear upon it, the 
 impress of other divine perfections, his wisdom, holi- 
 ness, justice, as well as grace. And for grace itself, 
 whereas all since the apostacy lie together in a fearful 
 gulf of impurity and misery ; and some, made more ear- 
 ly spBsible hereof than the most, do stretch out a craving 
 hand, and cry for help. If now a merciful hand reached 
 down from heaven take hold of them, and pluck tliem 
 sooner out; is this disagreeable to the God of all grace, to 
 make some such instances, and vouchsafe them an earlier 
 deliverance ; though they might, being longer delayed, be 
 some way helpful to others, that continue stupid and in- 
 sensible 1 
 
 2. When he hath done much, in an age still obstinately 
 unreclaimable, he may be supposed to let one appear, only 
 with a promising a.spect, and in just displeasure presently 
 withdraw him, that they may understand they have forfeit- 
 ed such a blessing, to this or that country, as such a one 
 might have proved. 
 
 3. This may awaken some, the more to prize and im- 
 prove the encouragements they may have frOm such as 
 remain, or shall spring up in their stead, who are gone, 
 and to bless God that the weight of his interest, and of the 
 cause of religion, doth not hang and depend upon the slen- 
 der thread of this man's life. " The God of the spirits of 
 all flesh" can raise up instruments as he pleases; and will, 
 to serve his own purposes, though not ours. 
 
 4. He will have it known, that though he uses instru- 
 ments, he needs them not. 'Tis a piece of divine royalty 
 and magnificence, that when he hath prepared and polished 
 such a utensil, so as lo be capable of great service, he can 
 lay it by without loss. 
 
 5. They that are most qualified to be of greatest use in 
 this world, are thereby also the more capable of blessed- 
 ness in the other. 'Tis owing to his most munificent boun- 
 ty, that he may vouchsafe to reward sincere intentions, as 
 highly as great services. He took David's having it in his 
 heart to build him a house, as kindly as Solomon's build- 
 ing him one: and as much magnifies himself in testifying 
 his acceptance of .such as he discharges from his service 
 here, at the third hour, as of them whom he engages not 
 in it till the eleventh. 
 
 6. Of their early piety he makes great present use in 
 this world, testifying his acceptance of their works, gene- 
 rally in his word, and particularly by the reputation he 
 procures to them in the minds and consciences of such as 
 were best able to judge, and even of all that knew them, 
 which may be truly accounted a divine testimony ; both in 
 respect of the object, which hath on it a divine impress, 
 and speaks a self-recommending power of true goodness, 
 which is the image of God, and in respect of the subject, 
 shows the dominion God hath over minds; engaging not 
 only good men to behold with complacency such pleasant, 
 blooming goodness, correspondent to their own, but even 
 
 bad men to approve in these others what they entertain 
 not in themselves. " The = same things are accepted with 
 God, and approved of men," Rom. xiv. 18. " Thus b«;ing 
 dead, they, as Abel, yet speak." 
 
 7. And it is a brighter and more unsullied testimony, 
 which is left in the minds of men, concerning such very 
 hopeful persons as die in their youth. They never were 
 otherwise known, or can be remembered, than as excel- 
 lent young persons. This is the only idea which remains 
 of them. Had ihey lived longer, to the usual age of man, 
 the remembrance of what they were in youth would have 
 been in a great degree effaced and worn out by latter things; 
 perhaps blackened, not by what were less commendable, 
 but more ungrateful to the greater part, especially if they 
 lived to come into public stations. Their just zeal and 
 contestations against the wickedness of the age, might dis- 
 oblige many, and create them enemies, who would make 
 it their busmess to blast them, and cast upon their name 
 and memory all the reproach they could invent. Where- 
 as the lustre of that virtue and piety which had provoked 
 nobody, appears only with an amiable look, and leaves be- 
 hind nothing of such a person but a fair, unblemished, al- 
 luring, and instructive example; which they that observed 
 them might, witli less prejudiced minds, compare with the 
 useless, vicious lives of many that they see to have filled 
 up a room in the world, unto extreme old age, either to no 
 purpose, or to very bad. And how vast is the difference 
 in respect of usefulness to the world, between a pious 
 young gentleman dying in his youth, that lived long in a 
 little time, untainted by youthful lusts and vanities, and 
 victorious over them, and an accursed sinner of a hundred 
 years old : (Isa. Ixv. 20.) one that was an infant of days, 
 and though a hundred years old, yet still a child, that had 
 not filled up his days with any thing of real value or pro- 
 fit to himself or others, (as some very judicious expositors 
 understand '^ that text,) that, as he aptly speaks, had no- 
 thing besides gray hairs, and wrinldcs, to make him be thoitght 
 a, long liver; but who might truly be said not to have 
 lived long, but only to have been long, in the world. How 
 sweet and fragrant a memory doth the one, how rotten and 
 stinking a name doth the other, leave behind him to survi- 
 vors ! 
 
 Therefore such very valuable young persons as are taken 
 hence in the flower of their age, are not to be thought, upon 
 that account, of usefulness to this world, to have lived in it 
 that shorter time in vain. 
 
 They leave behind them that testimony which will turn 
 to account, both for the glory of God's grace, which he 
 hath exemplified in them, and which may be improved to 
 the good of many who shall have seen that a holy life, 
 amidst the temptations that a youthful age is exposed to, is 
 no impracticable thing; and that an early death is as pos- 
 sible also to themselves. 
 
 But besides their no little usefulness in this world, which 
 they leave, we must know, 
 
 8. That the affairs and concernments of the other world, 
 whither they go, are incomparably greater every way, and 
 much more considerable. And to this most unquestion • 
 able maxim must be our last and final resort, in the present 
 case. All the perturbation and discomposure of mind 
 which we suffer upon any such occasion, arises chiefly from 
 our having too high and great thoughts of this world, and 
 too low and diminishing thoughts of the other ; and the 
 evil must be remedied by rectifying our apprehensions in 
 this matter. Because that other world is hades, unseen, 
 and not within the verge of our sense, our sensual minds 
 are prone to make of it a very little thing, and even next 
 to nothing, as too many will have it to be quite nothing at 
 all. We are concerned, in duty to our blessed Redeemer 
 and Lord, and for his just honour, to magnify this his 
 prefecture, and render it as great to ourselves as the mat- 
 ter requires, and as our very narrow minds can admit: 
 and should labour to correct it as a great and too common 
 fault, a very gross vulgar error, to conceive of persons 
 leaving this world of ours, as if they hereby became useless; 
 and, upon the matter, lost out of the creation of God. So 
 is our fancy prepossessed and filled with delusive images, 
 that throng in upon it through our unwary senses, that we 
 
 d Not! est quod qiienquam propter canos aut niffas. ni>to» ■*'• 
 
 ille dm v!Mt^.>.i "-• <•-•* ■•
 
 OVER THE INVISIBLE WORLD. 
 
 321 
 
 imagine this little spot of our earth to be -the only place 
 of business, and all the rest of the creation to be mere 
 vacuity, vast empty space, where there is nothing to do, 
 and nothing to be enjoyed. Not that these are formed, 
 positive thoughts, or a settled judgment, with good men, 
 but they are floating imaginations, so continually obtruded 
 upon them, from (what lies next) the objects of sense, that 
 they have more influence to aflcct the heart, and infer 
 suitable, sudden, and indeliberate emotions of spirit, than 
 the most formed judginent, grounded on things that lie 
 without ihe sphere of sense, can outweigh. 
 
 And hence when a good man dies, elder or younger, 
 the common cry is, among the better sort, (for the other 
 do less concern themselves,) " O what a loss is this ! Not 
 to be repaired ! not to be borne !" Indeed this is better 
 than the common stupidity, not to consider, not " to take 
 it to heart, when the righteous man perisheth, or is taken 
 away." And the law of our own nature obliges and 
 prompts us to feel and regret the losses which afflicts us. 
 But such resentments ought to be followed and qualified 
 by greater thoughts, arising from a superior nature, tliat 
 ought presently to take place with us, of the nobler em- 
 ployments which God calls such unto, " of whom this 
 world was not worthy," Heb. xi. 38. And how highly his 
 great and all-comprehending interest is to be preferred be- 
 fore our own, or the interest of this or that family, countrj', 
 or nation, on earth ! 
 
 And at once both to enlarge and quiet our minds, on 
 such occasions, we should partit-ularly consider, 
 
 I. The vast amplitude of the heavenly hades, in com- 
 parison of our minute spot of earth, or of that dark region, 
 wheresoever it is, reserved for the just punishment of delin- 
 quents, according to such intimations as the Holy Scrip- 
 tures give us hereof; which being writ only for the use of 
 us on earth, cannot be supposed to intend the giving us 
 more distinct accounts of the state of things in the upper 
 world, than were necessary for us in this our present state. 
 But it is no obscure hint that is given of the spacious- 
 ness of the heavenly regions, when purposely to represent 
 the Divine immensity, 'tis said of the unconfined presence 
 of the great God, that even heaven, and the heaven of 
 heavens, cannot contain him, 1 Kings viii. 27. 2Chron. 
 vi. 18. How vast scope is given to our thinking minds, 
 to conceive heavens above heavens, encircling one another, 
 till we have quite tired our faculty, and yet we know not 
 how far short we are of the utmost verge ! And when 
 our Lord is said to have ascended far above all heavens, 
 (Eph. iv. 10.) who.se arithmetic will suflice to tell how 
 many they are 1 whose uranography to describe how far 
 that is 1 
 
 We need not impose it upon ourselves to judge their 
 rules infallible, who, being of no mean understanding, nor 
 indiligent in their inquiries, have thought it not impro- 
 bable that there may be fixed stars within view, at that 
 distance from our earth, that if moveable in as swift motion 
 as that of a bullet shot from a cannon, would be fifty 
 thousand years in passing from one to the other. <= But 
 howmuch remoter that star maybe from the utmost verge 
 of the universe, is left altogether unimaginable. I have 
 been told that a very ingenious artist going about, in exact 
 proportions, to describe the orb or vortex to which our 
 sun belongs, on as large a table as could be convenient 
 for him to work upon, was at a loss to find a spot not too 
 big, in proportion, for our earth, and big enough, where- 
 upon to place the point, made very fine, of one foot of his 
 compasses. 
 
 If any .suspect extravagancy in our modern computa- 
 tions, let him take a view of what is discoursed to this 
 purpose by a writer of most unexceptionable wisdom and 
 sobriety, as well as most eminent sanctity, in his time, f 
 
 Now when the Lord of this vast universe beheld upon 
 this little spot intelligent creatures in tran.sgression and 
 misery, that he did so compassionately concern himself 
 for the recovery of such as should, by apt methods, be in- 
 
 e Computation liy tlip Hon Francis Rot>crU, Esq. Philosophical Transactions 
 for the months of March and April. 1691 
 
 f Bolton, in his Four Last Things, who spealiing of lieaven. directs us to 
 
 guRss tlie iinniea,surahle mairnitude of it, (as ollierwise so) hv the incredilde 
 
 di-itance from the earth totlio starrj' tirmament ; and adds, "ifl should here 
 tell you the several conumtatiDiis of astronomers, in this kind, the sums would 
 seem to exceed alt possihilityufhelief " And he annexes in his marj^in sundry 
 computations whicli I shall not here recite : you may find tliem in the author 
 
 duced to comply with his merciful design; and appomt 
 his own eternal Son to be their Redeemer, in order whereto, 
 as he was God with God, he must also become Man 
 among men, one of themselves; and so, as God-man, for his 
 kindne.ssto.-iome, be constituted universal Lord of all Shall 
 mere pity towards this World greaten it above the other 1 
 
 But we are not left without ground to apprehend a more 
 immediate reason for his being, as Redeemer, made Head 
 and Lord of all those creatures that were the original 
 inhabitants of the invisible world. For when it had been 
 said, (Col. i. 16) that all things -were created by him, not 
 only the visible tilings on earth, )>ut the invisible things in 
 heaven, here is a regression to these latter, who wei e before, 
 for their greater dignity, generally first raent ioned, and now 
 .some enumeration given of them, whether they be thrones, 
 or dominions, or principalities, or powers; and all things 
 again repeated, that these might appear expressly includ- 
 ed ; said over again to be created by him, and for him, 
 which was sufficient to express his creative right in them. 
 'Tis presently subjoined, (r. 17.) " And he is before all 
 things, and by him all things consist." All owe their sta- 
 bility to him ; viz. the mentioned thrones, dominions, &c. 
 as well as other things. But how ? or uprm what terms 1 
 That we might understand his redemptory right was not 
 here to be overlooked, 'tis shortly after added, " And hav- 
 ing made peace by the blood of his cross, it pleaded the 
 Father" (to be repeated out of what went before) " by 
 him to reconcile all things to himself;" and this ^ Am, 
 iterated; q. d. " B}' him shedding his blood on the cross, 
 whether they be things on earth, or things in heaven ;" 
 lest the thrones, dominions, mentioned before, should be 
 forgot. And a word is used accommodable enough to the 
 several purposes before expressed, -iTMaraXXofu, which 
 doth not always suppose enmity, but more generallv sig- 
 nify, upon a sort of commutation, or valuable considera- 
 tion, to procure or conciliate, or make a thing more firmly 
 one's own, or assure it to himself; though 'tis afterwards 
 used in a stricter sense, v. 21. 
 
 I have often considered with wonder and pleasure, that 
 whereas God is called by that higher and far more exten- 
 sive name, the Father of spirits, he is also pleased so gra- 
 ciously to vouchsafe, as to be styled the God of the spirits 
 of all flesh; and thereby to signify, that having an order 
 of spirits so meanly lodged that inhabit frail and mortal 
 flesh, though he have a world of spirits to converse with 
 whose dwelling is not with flesh, 3'el he disdains not a re- 
 lation to so mean and abject spirits, his offspring also, in 
 our world. And that, because this was the place of offend- 
 ing delinquents that he would recover, the Redeemer 
 should sort himself with them, and, as they were partakers 
 of flesh and blood, himself likewise take part of the same ! 
 This was great and Godlike, and speaks the largeness and 
 amplitude of an all-comprehending mind, common to Fa- 
 ther and Son, and capable of so applying itself to the 
 greatest things, as not to neglect the least ; and therefore 
 so much the more magnifies God and our Redeemer, by 
 how much the less considerable we and our world are. 
 But that hence w^e should so over-magnify this world, as 
 if nothing were considerable that lies without its compass, 
 is most perversely to misconstrue the most amazing con- 
 descension. 
 
 The Spirit of God by holy David, teaches us to reason 
 the quite contrary wa}' ; and from the consideration he bad 
 of the vastness and .splendour of the upper world, of the 
 heavens, the moon and stars, &c. not to magnify, but di- 
 minish, our world of mankind, and say. What is man? 
 
 And let us further consider, 
 
 2. The inexpressible numerousness of the other world's 
 inhabitants, with the excellencies wherein they shine, ana 
 the orders they are ranked into, and how unlikely is it, 
 that holy sotrls that go thither should want employment. 
 Great concourse and multitudes of people make places of 
 business in this world, and must much more do so, where 
 creatures of the most spiritual and active natures must be 
 
 himself, p- -21 And yet liosidcs, as he further adds, the late leaniedest of trtem 
 place al«ive tlie SIh spheR'. wherein all thse glorious lamps .«lriiie so hridit, 
 three niovinr (mIis nionv Now Ihe empyrean neaven conijirehends alF iFiese-: 
 how tncouiprcluMisilile. then, musl its compass and £n*atness necessarily bet 
 But he snpiK)ses it possilile. theadvenliire oi'malhematiciane may 1k^ too auda- 
 cious and peremptory, &c and c ncludcstlie height and extent of the hokvess 
 to be beyop.d all human investigation.
 
 322 
 
 THE REDEEMER'S DOMINION 
 
 supposed to have their residence. Scripture speaks of 
 myriads, which we lead, an innumerable company, of an- 
 gels, besides all the spirits of just men ; (Heb. xii.) who are 
 sometimes said to be more than tmy one — which we cause- 
 lessly s render maji, could number, Rev. vii. And when 
 we are told of many heavens, above all which our Lord 
 Jesus is said to have ascended, are all those heavens only 
 amply solitudes 1 uninhabited glorious deserts 1 When 
 we find how full of vitality this base earth of ours is ; how 
 replenished with living creatures, not only on the .surface, 
 but within it ; how unreasonable is it to suppose the nobler 
 parts of the universe to be less peopled wiih inhabitants, 
 of proportionable spirituality, activity, liveliness, and vi- 
 gour to the several regions, which the remoter they are 
 from dull earth, must be supposed still the finer, and 
 apt to afford fit and suitable habitations to such creatures'? 
 Whether we suppose pure unclothed spirits to be the na- 
 tives in all those heavens, all comprehended under the one 
 name o{ angels, or whether, as .some think of all created 
 spirits, that they have all vital union with some or other 
 vehicles, etherial or celestial, more or less fine and pure, 
 as the region is to which they belong, having gradually 
 associated unto them the spirits of holy men gone from us, 
 which are said to be iaayyiXoi — angels' fellows, {LM^e xx. 
 36.) it is indifferent to our purpose. 
 
 Let us only consider them all as intelligent, spiritual 
 beings, full of holy light, life, active power, and love to 
 their common Lord and one another. And can we ima- 
 gine their state to be a state of torpid silence, idleness, and 
 inactivity, or that they have not much higher and nobler 
 work to do there, than they can have in such a world as 
 this, or in such bodies as here they lug to and frol 
 
 And the Scriptures are not altogether silent, concerning 
 the distinct orders of those glorious creatures that inhabit 
 all the heavens Avhich this upper hades must be understood 
 to contain ; though it hath not provided to gratify any one's 
 curiosity, so far as to give us particular accounts of their 
 differences and distinctions. And though we are not war- 
 rantable to believe such conjectures concerning them as 
 we find in the supposititious Dionysius's Celestial Hierar- 
 chy, or much less the idler dreams of Valentinus and the 
 Gnosticks about their ^Eo^ies, with divers more such fic- 
 tions; yet we are not to neglect what God hath expressly 
 told us, viz. That giving us some account of the creation 
 in the hades, or the invisible part of it, there are thrones, 
 dominions, principalities, powers, angels, (and elsewhere 
 arch-angels,) authorities; (Col. i. 16. with 1 Pet. iii. 21.) 
 which being terms that import order and government, can 
 scarce allow us not to conceive, that of all those numberless 
 multitudes of glorious creatures that replenish and people 
 those spacious regions of light and bliss, there are none 
 who belong not to some or other of those principalities and 
 dominions. 
 
 Whence therefore, nothing is more obvious than to con- 
 ceive, that whosoever is adjoined to them, ascending out 
 of our world, presently hath his station assigned him, is 
 made to know his post, and how is to he be employed, in 
 the service and adoration of the sovereign Lord of all, and 
 in paying the most regular homage to the throne of God 
 and the Lamb : it being still to be remembered, that God 
 is not worshipped there, or here, as an hSdn, or as though 
 he needed any thing, since he gives to all breath and be- 
 ing, and all things; (Acts xvii.)but that the felicity of his 
 most excellent creatures dolh in great part consist in act- 
 ing perpetually according to the dictate of a just and right 
 mind ; and that therefore they take highest pleasure in 
 prostration, in casting down their crowns, in shrinking 
 even into nothing, before the original, eternal, siibsistent 
 Being, that he may be owned as the All in all, because 
 they follow, herein, a most satisfied judgment, and express 
 it when they say, " Thuu art worthy, O Lord, to receive 
 glory, and honour, and power, for thou hast created all 
 things, and for thy pleasure they are, and were created, 
 Rev. iv. IL And worthy is the Lamb that was slain, to 
 receive riches, and wisdom, and strength," &c. cA. v. 12. 
 
 And they that rest not night or day from such high and 
 glorious employments, have they nothing to do? Or will 
 we say or think, because we see not how the henvenly po- 
 tentates lead on their bright legions, to present themselves 
 
 g nvdeis. 
 
 before the throne, to tender their obeisance, or receire 
 commands and despatches to this or that far remote dy- 
 nasty ; or suppose to such and such a mighty star, (whereof 
 there are so numberless myriads ; and why should we 
 suppose them not replenished with glorious inhabitants'?) 
 whether they fiy as quick as thought, with joyful speed, 
 under the all-seeing Eye, glad to execute wise and just 
 commands upon all occasions. But alas ! in all this we 
 can but darken counsel with words without knowledge. 
 We cannot pretend to knowledge in these things: yet it 
 from Scripture intimations, and the concurrent reason of 
 things, we only make suppositions of what may be, not 
 conclusions of what is; let our thoughts ascend as much 
 higher as they can. I see not why they should fall lower 
 than all this. And because we cannot be positive, will we 
 therefore say or think there can be no such thing, or noth- 
 ing but dull inactivity, in those regions 1 Because that 
 other world is hades, and we see nothing, shall we make 
 little or next to nothing of it 1 We should think it very 
 absurd reasoning, (if we should use it in reference to such 
 mean trifles in comparison, and say,) There is no such 
 thing as pomp and slate, no such thing as action or busi- 
 ness, in the court of Spain or France, of Persia or Japan, 
 because no sound from thence strikes our ear, or tht; 
 beams of majesty there dazzle not our eye. 
 
 I should indeed think it very unreasonable to make mere 
 magnitude, or vast extent of space, filled up with nothing 
 but void air, ether, or other fine matter, (call it by what 
 name you will,) alone, or by itself, a very considerable 
 note of excellency of the other invisible world, above this 
 visible world of ours. But I reckon it much more unrea- 
 sonable and uniiiforced, (to say no more,) by any princi- 
 ples, either of philosophy or religion, finding this world of 
 ours, a baser part of the creations, so full of life, and of 
 living inhabitants, of one degree or another ; to suppose 
 the nobler parts of the universe, still ascending upwards, 
 generally unpeopled, and desert, when it is so conceivable 
 in itself, and so aptly tending to magnify our Creator and 
 Redeemer, that all the upper regions be fully inhabited 
 with intelligent creatures; whether mere spirits, unclothed 
 wilh any thing material, or united with some other matter, 
 we need not determine. 
 
 And whereas Scripture plainly intimates, that the apos- 
 tate revolted spirits that fell from God, and kept not their 
 first stations, were vastly numerous; we have hence scope 
 enough for our thoughts to conceive, that so spacious re- 
 gions being replenished with intelligent creatures, always 
 innocent and happy, the delinquents, compared with them, 
 may be as despicable for their paucity, as they are detest- 
 able for their aposlacy : and that the horrid hades, wherein 
 they are reserved to the blackness of darkness for ever, 
 may be no more in proportion, nay, unexpressibly less, 
 than some little rocky island, appointed as a place of pun- 
 ishment for criminals, in comparison of a flourishing, vast 
 empire, fully peopled with industrious, rich, sober-minded, 
 and happy inhabitants. 
 
 We might further consider, 
 
 3. The high perfection they presently attain to, who are 
 removed, thougji in their younger years, out of this into 
 that other world. 
 
 The spirits of just men are there said to be made per- 
 fect. Waiving the Olympic metaphor, which is, at most, 
 but the thing signifying ; that which is signified, cannot be 
 less than the concurrence of natural and moral perfec- 
 tion: the perfecting of all our faculties, mind, will, and 
 active power, and of all holv and gracious excellencies, 
 knowledge, wisdom, love, holiness. The apastle makes 
 the difference be, as that of a child, and that of a man, 1 
 Cor. xiii. And would any one that hath a child he de- 
 lights in, wish him to be a child always, and only capable 
 of childish things? Or is it a reasonable imagination, 
 thai by how much we are more capable of action, we shall 
 be the more useless, and have the less to dol 
 
 We may further lastly add, that which is not the least 
 considerable, 
 
 4. That all the active services and usefulness we are 
 capable of in this world, are but transitory, and lie within 
 the compass of this temporary state of things, which mu't 
 have an end. Whereas the business of the other world
 
 OVER THE INVISIBLE WORLD. 
 
 323 
 
 belongs to our final and eternal state, which shall never be 
 at an end. The most extraordinary qualifications for ser- 
 vice on earth, must hereafter; if not by the cessation of the 
 active powers and principles themselves, as tongues, pro- 
 phecies, and such knowledge as is uncommon, and I'y pe- 
 culiar vouchsafement afforded but to a few, for the help ol^ 
 manv: these endowments, designed for the propagation of 
 the Christian faith, and for the stoppmg the rnouihs of 
 gainsayers, must in the use and exercise, at least by the 
 cessation of the objects and occasions, fail, and cease, and 
 vanish away, 1 Cor. xiii. 8. The iike may be said of 
 courage and Ibrtitude to contend against prevailing wick- 
 edness ; skill, ability, with external advantages, toprom.o'e 
 the impugned interest of Christ, and Christian religion ; of 
 all these there will be no further use in that other world. 
 They are all to be considered as means to the end. But 
 how absurd were it to reckon the means of greater import- 
 ance than the end itself! The whole present constitution 
 of Christ's kingdom on earth, is but preparatory and in- 
 troductive to the celestial kingdom. And how absurd 
 were it to prefer this temporary kingdom to the eternal 
 one, and present serviceableness to this, to perpetual ser- 
 vice in the other ! 
 
 'Tis true, that service to God and our Redeemer in this 
 present state, is necessary in its own kind, highly accept- 
 able to God, and justly much valued by good men. And 
 we ought ourselves willingly to submit to serve God in a 
 meaner capacity in this world, while it is his pleasure we 
 shall do so ; especially if God should have given any sig- 
 nification of his minil, concerning our abode in the flesh 
 some longer time, as 'tis likely he had done to the apostle 
 Paul, (Phil. i. 24.) because he says, he was confident, and 
 did know, that so it should be, (;•. 25.) we .should be abun- 
 dantly satisfied with it, as he was. But to suppose an 
 abode here to be simply and universally more eligible, is 
 very groundless and unreasonable; and were a like case, 
 as if a person of very extraordinary abilities and accom- 
 plishments, because he was u.seful in some obscure coun- 
 try village, is to be looked upon as lost, because his prince, 
 being informed of his great worth, calls him up to his 
 court, and finding him every way fit, employs him in the 
 greatest affairs of state ! 
 
 To sum up this matter, whereas the means are alwa)'s, 
 according to usual estimate, wont to derive their value 
 from their end; time, from eternity; this judgment of the 
 case, that usefulness in this present stale is of greater con- 
 sequence and more important than the affairs of the other 
 world, breaks all measures, overturns the whole frame, and 
 inverts the order of things; makes the means more valu- 
 able than the end; time more considerable than eternity; 
 and the concernments of a state that will soon be over, 
 greater than those of our fixed, permanent, everlasting 
 state, that will never be over. 
 
 If we would allow ourselves the liberty of reasoning, 
 according to the measure and compass of our narrow 
 minds, biassed and contracted by private interest and in- 
 clination, we should have the like plausible things to think, 
 concerning such of ours as die in infancy, and that when 
 they have but newly looked into this M'orld, are presently 
 again caught out of it; that if they had lived, what might 
 they have come to ! How pleasant and diverting might 
 their childhood have been ! How hopeful their youth I 
 How useful their riper age! But these are commonly 
 thoughts little wiser than theirs, and proceed from gene- 
 ral infidelity, or misbelief, that whatsoever i.^ not w^ithin 
 the compass of this little, sorry world, is all emptiness and 
 nullity ! Or if such be pious and more considering, 'tis 
 too plain they do not, however, consider enough, liow 
 great a part of it is of Divine magnificence, to take a rea- 
 sonable immortal spirit from animating a piece of well- 
 figured clay, and presently adjoin it to the general assem- 
 bly above ! How glorious a change is made upon their 
 child in a moment ! How much greater a thing it is to 
 be adoring God above, in the .society of angels, than to be 
 dandled on their knee, or enjoy the best provisions they 
 can make for them on earth ! That they have a part to 
 act upon an eternal stage! and though thev are hut lately 
 come into being, are never to go out of being more, but to 
 be everlasting monuments and instruments of the glory 
 of their great Crea'or and Lord .' 
 
 Nor, perhaps, is it considered so deeply as it ought, that 
 it hath seemed meet to the Supreme Wi^dom, upon a most 
 important reason, in the case of lengthening or shortening 
 the lives of men, not ordinarily, or otherwise than upon a 
 great occasion, to interrupt the tendencies of natural 
 causes. But let nature run its course: for otherwise, 
 very frequent innovations upon nature would make mira- 
 cles cheap and common, and con>equently useless to their 
 j)roper, great ends, which may lie of greater significancy 
 in the course of God's government over the world, than 
 some addition to this or that life can be worth. And there- 
 fore should this consideration repress our wonderment, 
 why God doth not, when he so easily can, l)y one touch 
 upon this or that second cause, prevent or ease the grievous 
 pains wliicli they often suffer that love him, and whom he 
 loves. He reckons it filter, and they will in due time reckon 
 so too themselves, when the wise methods of his govern- 
 ment come to be unfolded and understood, that we should 
 any of us bear what is ungrateful to us, in point of pain, 
 loss of friends, or other unpleasing events of Providence, 
 than that he should make frequent and less necessary 
 breaches upon the common order and course of government 
 which he hath established over a delinquent, sinful world. 
 
 Whereupon it is a great piece of wisdom and dutiful- 
 ness towards our great Lord, not to pray absolutely, pe- 
 remptorily, or otherwise than with great submissifm and 
 deference to his wise and holy pleasure, for our own or 
 our friends' lives, ease, outward juosperity, or any exter- 
 nal or temporary good thing. For things that concern oar 
 spiritual and eternal welfare, his good and acceptable will 
 is more expressly declared, and made known already and 
 before-hand. 
 
 But as to the particular ca.se of the usefulness of any 
 friend or relative of ours in this or the other state, the 
 matter must be finally left to the arbilrement and disposal 
 of him who hath the keys of hodcs and of death. And 
 when by his turn of them he hath decided the matter, we 
 then know what his mind and judgment are, which it is 
 no more fit for us to censure, than possible to disannul. 
 Whatever great purposes we might think one cut off" in 
 the flower of his age capable of serving in this world, we 
 may be sure he judged him capable of serving greater in 
 the other. 
 
 And now by this time I believe you will expect to have 
 somewhat a more particular account of this excellent 
 young gentleman, whose early decease hath occasioned my 
 discoursing so largely on this subject ; not more largely 
 than the importance, but much less accurately than the 
 dignity, of it did challenge. 
 
 He "was the eldest son of Sir Charles Hoghton, of Hogh- 
 ton-Tower, in the county of Lancaster, Baronet, and of 
 the Lady Mary, daughter of the late Lord Viscount Ma.s- 
 sarine, his very pious consort ; a family of eminent note 
 in that northern part of the kingdom, for its antiquity, opu- 
 lenc}', and interest in the country where it is seated ; and 
 which hath intermarried with some or other of the nobili- 
 ty, one generation after another ; but hath been most of all 
 considerable and illustrious, as having been itself, hmg, 
 the immemorial, known seat of religion, sobriety, and good 
 order, from father to son ; giving example, countenance, 
 and patronage, to these praiseworthy things to the country 
 round about ; and wherein, hitherto, through the singular 
 favour and blessing of Heaven, there hatli not been that 
 visible degeneracy that might be so plainly observed, and 
 sadly deplored, in divers great families. As if it were 
 an exemption from what was so anciently remarked by the 
 y^oe^, ^fJin parcntvm, pcjor oris. cf-r. But, on the C(intrai y, 
 such as have succeeded, have, by a laudable ambition and 
 emulation, as it were, striven to outshine sueh as have 
 gone before them, in piety and virtue. 
 
 In this bright and lucid tract and line, was this most 
 hopeful voung gentleman, now arrived to the age wherein 
 we use to write man, beginning to stand up in view, and 
 to draw the eyes anti raise the hopes of observers and well- 
 wishers, as not likely to come short of any of his worthy 
 ancestors and predecessors. But Heaven had its eye upon 
 him too, and both made and judged him meet for an earlier 
 translation, to a more eminent station there. 
 
 He was from his childhood observed to be above the
 
 324 
 
 THE REDEEMER'S DOMINION 
 
 common rate, docile, of quick apprehension, solid judg- 
 ment, and retentive memory, and betimes a lover of books 
 and learning. 
 
 For religion, his knowledge of the principles of it con- 
 tinually grew, as his capacity did more and more admit, 
 under the eye and endeavours of his parents, and such 
 other instructors as they took care he should never want. 
 But his savour and relish thereof, and the impression made 
 thereby upon his soul, was so deep, and so early, as to be 
 apparently owing to a higher cause, the gracious opera- 
 tion of the Holy Spirit, and a singular blessing thereby, 
 upon his pious education. And in this way, it could not 
 be easy, to such as were his most diligent and constant 
 observers, to conclude or conjecture when God first began 
 to deal with his spirit. 
 
 Above ten years ago, I had opportunity, for a few days, 
 to have some converse with him in his father's house ; 
 and as I could then perceive his spirit wa-s much tinctured 
 with religion ; so I received information, that for a con- 
 siderable time before, there constantly appeared to him 
 such specimiiia of serious piety, as were very comfortable 
 to his parents, and might be instructive to others that took 
 notice of them. 
 
 In the course of divers following years, he greatly 
 improved, under domestic and private instruction, both 
 in grammar-learning and academical studies, for which 
 he wanted not apt helps. When there was great reason to 
 hope he was so well established in religion and virtue as 
 neither to be shocked by the importunate temptations of a 
 sceptical vicious age in the general, or betrayed by the 
 facility of his own youthful age, his prudent, worthy 
 father judged it requisite, and not unsafe, to adventure 
 him into a place of more hazard, but greater advantage for 
 his accomplishment in that sort of culture and polishing 
 that might, in due time, render him both in reality, and 
 with better reputation, serviceable in apublic station ; i. e. 
 where he might gain such knowledge of the world, of men, 
 and of the laws of his countr}^ as was proper for his rank, 
 and one that was to make such a figure in the nation, as 
 it was to be hoped he might : and upon that account, not 
 yet a year ago, brought him up to London, entered him in 
 the Temple, took for him convenient lodging there, and 
 left him settled unto mutual satisfaction. 
 
 He was little diverted by the noise, novelties, or the 
 gayeties of the town, but soon betook himself to a course 
 of close study; discontinued not his converse with God, 
 and thereby learned, and was enabled, to converse with 
 men warily and with caution so as he might be continu- 
 ally improving and gaining good, without doing or re- 
 ceiving hurt. 
 
 The substance of the following account I received from 
 a pious intelligent young man, who several years attended 
 him before his coming to town, and afterwards, to the 
 finishing of his course. 
 
 " Mr. Hoghton's early seriousness, increased with his 
 years. His deportment was grave, composed, without any 
 appearance of pride, which he carefully avoided. His 
 diligence in study was unusual, and his proficiency very 
 great : neither was this less an effect of his conscientious- 
 ness in the improvement of his time, than of his desire 
 after knowledge. 
 
 "As to his demeanour and performance of duties to- 
 wards his several relations, his self-denial, his sedateness 
 of mind, his fear of sin, his tenderness of conscience, love 
 of the best things, and unconcernedness about things of an. 
 inferior nature, so far as hath fallen under my observation, 
 in near six years' time, I believe few, if any, of his years, 
 did exceed him. 
 
 " In his sickness he was very patient, submissively un- 
 dergoing those heavy strokes ii pleased God to lay upon 
 him. 
 
 " Upon his apprehension of death, he seemed very little 
 discouraged, but quietly resigned himself into the hands 
 of the all-wise Disposer of all things. 
 
 " Some time before his sickness, and in the time of it, 
 he said, afflictions were verv proper for" God's children; 
 and those that were never afflicted, had reason to question 
 the truth of their crrace, and God's love to them; quoting 
 that scripture, ' If ye are without chastening, then are ye 
 bastards anJ not sons.' 
 
 "He often repeated those words, in the beginning of his 
 illness: 'It is a hard thing to make our calling and our 
 election sure.' — ' I desire to glorify God.' 
 
 " When he understood, from some expressions of his 
 physician, how dangerous his distemper was, he said he 
 knew very well the meaning of his physician's words ; but 
 that however it proved, he hoped he was safe. 
 
 " He was so strict in the observation of the Lord's day, 
 that if he happened to lie longer than ordinary in the 
 morning, he would continue the later in duties in the 
 evening; saying, we ought not to make that day shorter 
 than other days. 
 
 " Though he was very intent on his .studies, yet on Sa- 
 turdays he always broke them off at noon, and spent the 
 afternoon in reading divinity, and preparing himself for 
 the Lord's day. 
 
 " He was always constant in his secret duties, and suf- 
 fered nothing to hinder him from the performing of them. 
 
 " Before he expired, he spoke with great assurance of 
 his future happiness, and hopes of meeting his relations in 
 glory." Thus far goes that account. 
 
 His sickness was short. When, hearing of it, I went to 
 visit him, I was met in an anti-chamber, by his ingenious, 
 dear brother, to whom it is no reproach to be second to 
 him, and who, it is to be hoped, will be at least truly so : 
 making him, though a fair example, yet not a standard ; 
 who hath for divers years been most intimately conjunct 
 and conversant with him, known his way, his spirit, his 
 manner of life, his purity ; and maybe led on and excited 
 thereby, wherein he hath observed him to excel others, to 
 endeavour not to come short, but if it were possible, to ex- 
 cel him ; remembering, he is to be the next solace of his 
 parents, hope of his family, and resort of his country, if 
 God shall vouchsafe to continue him, in succeeding time. 
 
 From him, I had little expectation of finding his .sick 
 brother in a conversable condition, the malignity of his 
 fever having before seized his head, and very much disor- 
 dered his intellectuals; but going in, I was much sur- 
 prised to find it so far otherwise. He presently knew me, 
 and his understanding, that served him for little else, 
 failed him not in the concernments of religion and of his 
 soul. There was not an improper or misplaced word, 
 though the case could not admit of interchanging many, 
 that came from him. Concerning the substance of the 
 Gospel of Christ, as it could be shortly summed up to him, 
 he said he had no doubt. And his transactions with Christ 
 him.self, accepting him, resigning and intrusting himself 
 absolutely and entirely to him, and God in him, were so 
 explicit, distinct, and clear, as could leave no place of 
 doubt concerning him. He professed his concurrence to 
 such requests as were put up to God concerning him, and 
 the next morning slept quietly in the Lord. 
 
 Nor now will it be unfit to shut up the discourse with 
 some few suitable reflections upon this double subject : the 
 text, and this jirovidencc, taken together. 
 
 1. How happy is it, when this power of our great Re- 
 deemer and Lord, mentioned in the text, and a prepara- 
 tion, with cheerful willingness, dutifully to comport with it, 
 concur and meet together, as they have done in this in- 
 stance ! Our Lord hath shown his power : he asserted it 
 in the text ; in this instance he used it ; giving an open 
 testimony that he takes it to belong to him, to make such 
 translations from one world to another, whensoever he 
 judges it a fit season ; nor is solicitous whether men 
 acknowledge his right so to do, or no; or what censures 
 they will pass upon what he hath done. He doth his own 
 work, and leaves men to their own talk, or mutterings, or 
 wonder, or amusement at it, as they will. So it becomes 
 sovereign power to do, established upon the most unques- 
 tionable foundations, exercised according to the wisest and 
 most righteous measures. He hath used his owm right, 
 and satisfied himself in the use of it. He thought not him- 
 self concerned to advise with any of us about it, who, a^ 
 his counsellor, should instruct him, Isa. xl. 13. Rom. xi. 
 34. He owes so much to himself, to act as accountable to 
 no one, nor liable to any one's control. 
 
 Here is most rightful, resistless power, justly and kindly 
 used on the one hand; and on the other, how placid, how 
 calm a resignation ! Here was no striving, no crying, no 
 reluctant motion, no querulous, repining voice ; nothing;
 
 OVER THE INVISIBLE WORLD. 
 
 325 
 
 bat peaceful, filial submission ; a willingness to obey the 
 summons given. 
 
 This was a happy accord, the willingness of this depart- 
 ing soul proceeding not from stupidity, but trust in him 
 who kept these keys ; and sucJi preparedness for removal, 
 as the Gospel required. O happy souls! that finduig the 
 key is turning, and opening the door for them, are willing 
 to go forth upon such terms, as " knowing whom they 
 have believed," &c. And that neither " prmcipalilies or 
 powers, life or death, &c. can ever separate them from the 
 love of God in Christ Jesus their Lord." Life, they fuid, 
 hath noi separated — whereof was the greater danger ; and 
 death is so far from making this separation, that it shall 
 complete their union with the blessed God in Christ, and 
 lay them infolded in the everlasting embraces of Divine 
 love ! Happy they, that can hereupon welcome death, and 
 say, " Now, Lord, lettest thou thy servant depart in peace !" 
 that before only desired leave to die, and have now obtain- 
 ed it ; that are, with certainty of the issue, at the point of 
 becoming complete victors over the last enemy, and are 
 ready to enter upon their triumph, and take up their 
 tmvtKtot', " Death is swallowed up in victory. O death, 
 where is thy sting"? O grave, where is thy victory "? Thanks 
 be to God, who giveth us the victory through Jesus Christ 
 our Lord." Happy soul ! here will be a speedy end of all 
 thy griefs and sorrows; they will be presently swallowed 
 up in an absolute plentitude and fulness of joy. There is 
 already an end put to thy tormenting cares and fears ; for 
 what object can remain to thee of a rational fear, when 
 once, upon grounds such as shake not under thee, thou art 
 reconciled to death ! This is the most glorious sort of vic- 
 tory, viz. by reconciliation. For so thou hast conquered, 
 not the enemy only, but the enmity^ itself, by which h« was 
 30. Death is become thy friend, and so no longer to be 
 feared; nor is there any thing else, from whence thou art 
 to fear hurt ; for death was thy last enemy, even this bodi- 
 ly death. The whole region beyond it is, to one in thy 
 case, clear and serene, when to others is reserved the 
 blackness of darkness for ever. There are no terrible 
 vrepn/'ara, no formidable consequences, no reserves of mi- 
 sery, no treasures of wrath, to be feared by thee. To one 
 in thy condition, may that, without hesitation, be applied, h 
 Nihil nietuit, qui opt at viori — He fears nothing n-ho desires 
 to die. What is the product of some men's infidelity, is 
 the genuine product of their faith. From so contrary 
 causes may proceed the same effect. The effect, a Avill- 
 ingness to die, or a bold adventure upon death, is the same, 
 but only in respect of the general kind; with great differ- 
 ences in the special kind, according to the difference and 
 contrariety of the causes, whereof they discernibly taste 
 and savour. With infidels, it is a negative, dead, stupid, 
 partial willingness, or but a non-aversion ; and in a lower 
 and much diminished degree : or if some present intoler- 
 able, disgraceful calamity urge them, a rash, obstinate, pre- 
 sumptuous rushing upon death ; because they do not con- 
 sider consequences. With believers, such as in reference to 
 the concernments of the other world do walk by faith, while 
 as yet they cannot walk by sight, in reference to those 
 things, (2 Cor. v. 7.) 'tis a positive, vital courage, i {v. 8.) 
 We arc confident; and a preponderating inclination of 
 will, "We are willing rather to be absent from the body 
 and to be present with the Lord ; because, as is manifest, 
 they do consider consequences, and how blessed a state will 
 certainly ensue ! How vast are these special differences, 
 of the same thing in the general, willingness to die ! 
 
 O the transports of joy that do now most rationally re- 
 sult from this state of the case, when there is m)thing left 
 lying between the dislodging soul, and the glorious un- 
 seen world, but only the dark passage of death, and that 
 so little formidable, considering who hath the keys of the 
 one, and the other ! How reasonable is it upon the ac- 
 count of somewhat common herein to the Redeemer and 
 the redeemed, although every thing be not, to take up the 
 following words, that so plainly belong to this very case : 
 " Therefore my heart is glad, and my glory rejoiceth; my^ 
 flesh also shall rest in hope. For thou wilt not leave my 
 soul in sheol, or hades ; thou wilt not forsake or abandon 
 it in that wide world, neither wilt thou suffer thine Holy 
 One to see corruption Thou wilt siiow me the path of 
 h Sen. Tr. i Qappooucv. 
 
 25 '^ 
 
 life ; the path that leads unto that presence of thine, where 
 is fulness of joy, and to those pleasures which are at thy 
 right hand, or in thy power, and which are lor evermore : 
 and shall never admit either of end or diminution," Psalm 
 XVI. 9.— 11. 
 
 Now what do we mean to let our souls hang in doubt 1 
 Why do we not drive things for them to an i.s.>uel Put 
 them into those same safe hands that hold these keys ; ab- 
 ?olutely resign, devote, intrust, and subject them to him; 
 get them bound up in ihu bundle of life; so adjoin and 
 unite them to him, (not doubling but as we give them up, 
 he will and doth, in that instant, take hold of them, and 
 receive them into union with himself,) as that we may as- 
 sure our hearts, that because k he lives we shall live'ahio. 
 Thus the ground of our hope becomes sure, and of that i 
 joy which springs from such a hope. Our lile, we may 
 now say, is hid with Christ in God ; even though we are, 
 in ourselves, dead, or dying creatures. Col. iii. 3. Yea, 
 Christ is our Life ; and when he " who is our Life shall 
 appear, we shall appear with him in glory," r. 4. He hath 
 assured us, that because " he is the Resurrection and the 
 Life, he that believeih in him, though he were dead, shall 
 yet live;" and that "whosoever lives, and believes in 
 him," hath thereby a life already begun in him, in respect 
 whereof " he shall never die," John xi. 25, 26. What 
 now can be surer than this 1 So far we are at a certain- 
 ty, upon the included supposition, i. e. that we believe in 
 him. 
 
 And what now remains to be ascertained! What 1 
 Only our own intervening death. We must, 'tis true, be 
 absent from these bodies, or we cannot, as we would, be 
 present with the Lord. And is that all"? Can any thing 
 now be more certain than that 1 O happy stale of our 
 case! How should our hearts spring and leap for joy, 
 that our affairs are brought into this posture ; that in or- 
 der to our perfect blessedness, nothing is further wanting 
 but to die ; and that the certainty of death completes our 
 assurance of it ! What should now hinder our brea'king 
 forth into the most joyful thanksgivings, that it is so little 
 doubtful we shall die ; that we are in no danger of a ter- 
 restrial immortality ; and that the only thing that it re- 
 mained we should be assured of, is so very sure, that we 
 are sure it is not in the power of all this world to keep us 
 always in it ; that the most spiteful enemy we have in all 
 the world, cannot do us that .spite to keep us from dying 1 
 How gloriously may good men triumph over the impotent 
 malice of their most mischievous enemies ! viz. that the 
 greatest mischief, even in their own account, that it can 
 ever he in their power to do them, is ..) put it out of their 
 power ever to hurt them more ; for they now go quite out 
 of their reach. They can (beingpermitted) kill the body, 
 and after that (Luke xii. 4.) have no more that they can do. 
 What a remarkable, significant after that is this ! what a 
 defiance doth it import of the utmost effort of human 
 power and spite, that here it terminates! 'Tis now come 
 to its ne plus ultra '. 
 
 And so we are to look upon all the other trials and af- 
 flictions, that in any providential way may befall us ; we 
 may be sick, in pain, in poverty, in disgrace, but we shall 
 not be always in mortal flesh, which is the sulstralum and 
 the root of all the rest. Can we be upon better terms, 
 having but two things to be concerned about, as necessary 
 to our complete felicity, union with Christ, and disunion 
 from these bodies ? God is graciously ready to assist us 
 in reference to the former, though therein he requires our 
 care, subserviently hereto : in reference to the latter, he 
 will take care himself, in his own fit season, without any 
 care or concern of ours in the matter; and only expects 
 us to wait with patience, till that fit season ccme. And 
 come it will, perhaps sooner than we may think. He doth 
 not always go h\ our measures in judging of the fit sea- 
 son, as this present instance shows. 
 
 2. From the text, taken in conjunction with this act of 
 Providence, we may observe the great advantage of apious 
 education. Though the best means of such education do 
 not alwavs prove efloctual ; vet this heinsr much the more 
 probable course upon which to expect God's blessin?, than 
 the parents' profane negligence of the souls of their ci;il- 
 dren, such an example, wherein God by his blessing testi- 
 k John siv. 19. 1 Rom. t. %
 
 326 
 
 THE REDEEMER'S DOMINION 
 
 fied his approbation of parental care and diligence, should 
 greatly quicken the endeavours of parents herein; as hoping 
 hereby to serve his great and merciful and most principal 
 design, who hath these keys, and whose office it is to trans- 
 mit souls, when they are T3repared and ready, out of this 
 world of ours into that blessed, glorious world above. 
 And though they may think themselves disappointed when, 
 through God's blessing upon their endeavours, they have 
 educated one to such a pitch as this young gentleman was 
 raised and brought up unto, with a prospect and hope of 
 his having a long course of service to run through here 
 on the earth, yet let parents hence learn to correct what 
 was amiss or what was wrong, not what was right and 
 well. Their action and endeavour were what ought to be ; 
 their error or mistake, if there were any, was more prin- 
 cipally, as the case is here stated, about their design and 
 end. Not that they designed such an end, for that also 
 was very justifiable and laudable ; but if they designed it 
 as their more principal end, which the case, as it is now 
 put, supposes ; that is, that they take themselves to be dis- 
 appointed; for no man complains of it as a disappoint- 
 ment, if he miss of an inferior end, and attain that which 
 is far nobler and more excellent. Our great aim should 
 be the subserving the design of the great Lord of heaven 
 and earth, which ultimately and supremely refers to the 
 heavenly, eternal state of things; and that souls maybe 
 ripened and titted for that, and to do service here on earth, 
 subordinately to the other, and while they are in prepara- 
 tion for the heavenly state. His principal design must be 
 for that which is principal: and concerning that, as was 
 formerly argued, there can be no more doubt, than whether 
 heaven or earth, eternity or time, a fixed, permanent, 
 everlasting, or a temporary, transitory, vanishing state of 
 things, be more valuable, and to be preferred. 
 
 Our Redeemer hath acquired and doth use these keys, 
 for the translating of souls, as soon as he shall judge them 
 "meet to be partakers of the inheritance of saints in 
 light," Col. i. 12. Some he makes meet much earlier than 
 others. His design, so far as it is known, or may be sup- 
 posed, should give measure to ours ; therefore ours must 
 be to make them meet, as early for his purposes as possi- 
 ble, as knowing it cannot be too early: they were devoted 
 to him early, and pursuantly hereto, no time should be lost 
 from the great business of fitting and forming them for 
 him; inasmuch also, as the same qualifications, viz. that 
 are of highest excellency and value, do equally prepare 
 them to serve and glorify him, in either world, as he shall 
 choose to di.spose of them. And it unquestionably belongs 
 to him to make his choice, as it does to us to endeavour to 
 make them ready. If any of us, having purposely edu- 
 cated a .son for the service of his prince, and present him 
 accordingly, we would submit it to his pleasure, to choose 
 the station wherein he shall serve him ; especially if he 
 be a prince of celebrated wisdom and goodness. And 
 should we complain, that he is put early into a station of 
 much higher dignity than we thought of? 
 
 How little is this matter considered by most that go un- 
 der the name of Christian parents, that are, more general- 
 ly, very solicitous to have, as they call it, their children 
 christened, but never have it in their thoughts lo have them 
 educated in the knowledge of Christ, or trained up for 
 Christ. As if their baptism were intended for a mock- 
 ery, their education, in the whole course of it, hath no 
 such reference. 'Tis how they may with better reputa- 
 tion bear up not the name of Christbut their own. Their 
 aim looks no higher than that they may inherit their lands, 
 maintain the honour of their families^ appear, if such be 
 their own rank, well-accompli.shed gentlemen : and of 
 some of those little things that are thought requisite here- 
 to, we may say, as our Saviour did in another case. These 
 things ought ye to have done, and not to have left the 
 other, the much greater things, undone. 
 
 What should hinder, but that learning to sing, or dance, 
 or fence, or make a modish leg, might consist with learn- 
 ing to know God in Christ, in which knowledge stands 
 eternal life! Whatsoever hath real excellency, or hath 
 any thing in it of true ornament, will no way disagree with 
 the most serious Christianity. And how lovely is the con- 
 junction of the %vell-accomplished gentleman "and the seri- 
 ous Christian! Only sever inconsistencies, as how fashion- 
 
 ably to curse, and swear, and damn, and debauch, whicil 
 are thought to belong to good breeding in our age. 
 
 Let not religion, rea.son, shame, and common sense, be 
 so totally abandoned all at once, as that the same persons 
 shall take care to have their children baptized into Christ's 
 name, and be taught to renounce, by their deeds, that great 
 name, almost as soon as they can pronounce the woid. 
 
 Where so direct a course is not taken to make those of 
 the succeeding age ignominiously bad, yet Tiow little is 
 done towards the making of them truly and usefully good ! 
 Much care is taken to shape and adorn the outside of the 
 man ; how little to form and furnish their minds ! Here, 
 if they can be brought to make or judge of a verse, or a 
 jest, or a piece of wit, 'tis a great attainment. Or if, at 
 home, they can have them taught so much law as shall 
 hereafter enable them to squeeze their tenants, and quar- 
 rel with their neighbours, or so much of behaviour as 
 shall qualify them to keep gentlemen company; or if, as 
 our pious poet phrased it, they ship them over, the thing 
 is done : then they shall be able to talk a little of the fa- 
 shions of this or that foreign country, and make much the 
 better figure in their own. 
 
 But if, with all otherparts of useful knowledge and good 
 breeding that are thought requisite for this world, they be 
 also well instructed touching their Redeemer's dominion 
 over it, and the other world also ; and concerning the na- 
 ture, con,stitution, design, laM's, and privileges of his king- 
 dom ; if it be seriously endeavoured to make them apt 
 and prepared instruments of serving his interest here, as 
 long as he shall please to continue them in any station on 
 earth ; and that they may also be made meet to be parta- 
 kers, at length, of a far more excellent inheritance than 
 an earthly parent could entitle them to, that of the saints 
 in light; (Col. i. 12.) if they can be fitted to stand in the 
 presence of the Eternal King, and to keep company with 
 angels and blessed spirits above — how worthy and noble a 
 design is this ! And with what satisfaction is it to be re- 
 flected on, if the parents have ground to apprehend they 
 are herein neither unaccepted nor disappointed ! 
 
 3. It is of ill presage to our land, that when he that 
 hath these keys, uses them in the so early translation of so 
 hopeful a person as this young gentleman was, so few 
 such are observed to spring up for the support of the truly 
 Christian interest in the succeeding generation. That the 
 act of our great Redeemer and Lord herein was an act of 
 wisdom and counsel, we cannot doubt. Against the right- 
 eousness of it, we can have no exception. The kind de- 
 sign of it towards them whom he so translates, is so evi- 
 dent in the visible agreement of their .spirit and way with 
 the heavenly state as their end, as puts that matter out of 
 question. But we are so much the more to dread the con- 
 sequences, and to apprehend what may make our hearts 
 meditate terror. 
 
 By the Christian interest, I am far from meaning that 
 of a party : but what every one must take for Christiani- 
 ty, that will acknowledge there is any .such thing. And 
 for the support of that, in the most principal doctrines and 
 laws of it, what is our prospect 1 
 
 To go down here somewhat lower. 
 
 Let us suppose a rational susceptibleness, or capacity of 
 religion, to be the difl^erence of man, wherein the contro- 
 versy may seem to admit of being compromised ; whether 
 it be religion alone, or reason alone, of which this must be 
 said, that it distinguishes man from the inferior creatures. 
 And let it be reason, with this addition, an aptness, sus- 
 picere nnmen, to be impressed with some religious senti- 
 ment, or to conceive of, and adore, an original Being; the 
 wise and mighty Author and Cause of all things. And 
 now, how near akin are religion and humanity 1 
 
 Let us next understand Christianity to be the religion of 
 fallen man, designing his recovery out of a lapsed and lost 
 state; i. e. man having violated the law of his creation, 
 and ofl^ended against the throne and government of his 
 Creator, the supreme and universal Lord of all, it was 
 reckoned not becoming so great a Majesty (though it was 
 not intended to abandon the ofl^enders to a universal ruin, 
 without remedy) to be reconciled, otherwise than by a 
 mediator and a reconciling sacrifice. For which, none 
 being found competent but the Eternal Son of God, the 
 Brightness of his giory, and the express Image of his own
 
 OVER THE INVISIBLE WORLD. 
 
 327 
 
 person, who was also the first and the last, the Lord 
 God Almighty ; and partaking witn us of flesh and blood, 
 was capable, and undertook to be both Mediator and 
 Sacrifice. It seemed meet to the offended Majesty, to 
 vouchsafe pardon and eternal life, and renewing grace 
 requisite thereto, to none of the offenders, but through 
 him ; and accept from them no homage, but on his ac- 
 count. Requiring, wheresoever the go.spel comes, not 
 only repentance towards God, but faith in our Lord Jesus 
 Christ, as the summary of the counsel of God contained 
 therein ; (Acts xx. 21 — 27.) and that all should honour 
 the Son, as he the Father requires to be honoured, John 
 V. 23. 
 
 Whereas now so apt a course as this was established for 
 restoring man to himself and to God, through the influ- 
 ence of the blessed Spirit, flowing in the gospel dispensa- 
 tion from Christ as the Fountain ; what doth it portend 
 when, amidst the clear light of the Gospel, that aflijrds so 
 bright a discovery of the glorious Redeemer, and of all 
 his apt methods for bringing to full effect his mighty work 
 of redemption, an open war is commenced against him 
 and his whole design, by persons, under seal, devoted to 
 him ! If there were but one single mstance hereof in an 
 age, who would not with trembling expect the issue 1 
 
 But when the genius of a Christian nation seems, in the 
 rising generation, to be leading to a general apostacy from 
 Christianity, in its principal and most substantial parts ; 
 and they are only patient of some external rituals, that 
 belong, or are made appendant, to it, so as but to endure 
 them, either with reluctancy, or contempt : when the juve- 
 nile wit and courage which are thought to belong to a 
 gentleman entering upon the stage of the world, are em- 
 ployed in satirizing upon the religion into which they have 
 been baptized, in bold efforts against the Lord that bought 
 them ! whither doth this tend 1 
 
 Some would seem so modest, as in the midst of their 
 profane oaths, and violations of the sacred name of God, 
 to beg his pardon, and say, God forgive them. But so lu- 
 dicrously, as he whom Cato animadverts upon, for begging 
 pardon, that he wrote in Greek, which he was unacquaint- 
 ed with, saying,m he had rather ask pardon, than be inno- 
 cent ; for what should induce him to do so unnecessary a 
 thing, for which pardon should be necessary 1 These men 
 think pardons very cheap things. B ut will God be mocked "? 
 or doth he not observe 1 'Tis the prevailing atheistical 
 spirit we are to dread, as that which may provoke jealousy, 
 and to make himself known by the judgments he shall 
 execute. 
 
 There is great reason to hope God wil 1 not finally abandon 
 England. But is there not equal reason to fear, that be- 
 fore the day of mercy come, there may be a nearer day of 
 wrath coming 1 A day that shall burn as an oven, and 
 make the hemisphere about us a fiery vault ! In our re- 
 covery from a lapsed state, which the religion professed 
 among us aims at, there are two things to be effected ; the 
 restoring reason to its empire over the sensiti . e nature, 
 that it may govern that, and the restoring religion and love 
 to God to their place and power, that he may govern us. 
 While the former is not done, we remain sunk into the low 
 level with the inferior creatures ; and till the latter be 
 effected, we are ranked with the apostate creatures that 
 first fell from God. The sensuality of brutes, and the en- 
 ^ mity of devils, rising and springing up observably among 
 us, import the directest hostility against the Redeemer's 
 design. And them that bid this open defiance to him, he 
 hath every moment at his mercy ! 
 
 In the meantime, is this Emmanuel's landl His right 
 in us he will not disclaim. And because he claims it, we 
 may expect him to vindicate himself. His present patience 
 we are to ascribe to the wisdom and greatness of an all- 
 comprehending mind. He counts net a heap of impotent 
 m Com. Nep. Frag. 
 
 worms his match ! But when the besom of destruction 
 comes, one stroke of it will sweep away multitudes: then 
 contempt will be answered with contempt. They cannot 
 express higher, than to oppose and militate against a re- 
 ligion, introduced and brought into the world by so clear, 
 divine light, lustre, and glory, not by arguments, but by 
 jests ! O that we could but see their arguments, to dispute 
 those keys out of his hands that holds them ! But do they 
 think to laugh away the power of the Son of God ] " He 
 also will laugh at their calamity," &c. (Prov. i.)ur expose 
 them to the laughter of men wiser than they, Psal. lii. 5, 6. 
 'Tis little wit to despise what they cannot disprove. When 
 we find a connexion between death and judgment, how 
 will they contrive to disjoin them 1 They will be as little 
 able to disprove the one, as withstand the other. 
 
 But a great residue, 'tis to be hoped, our blessed Re- 
 deemer will, in due time, conquer in the most merciful 
 way, inspiring them with divine wisdom and love, detecting 
 their errors, mollifying their hardness, subduing their en- 
 mity, making them gladly submit to his easy yoke and 
 light burthen. He is, before the world end, to have a nu- 
 merous seed, and we are not to despair of their rising up 
 more abundantly than hitherto among ourselves, so as no 
 man shall be therefore ashamed to be thought a serious 
 Christian, because 'lis an unfashionable or an ungenteel 
 thing. 
 
 Then will honour be acquired, by living as one that 
 believes a life to come, and expects to live for ever, as de- 
 voted ones, to the Ruler of both worlds, and candidates 
 for a blessed immortality, under his dominion. Nor will 
 any man covet to leave a better name behind him here, or 
 a more honourable memorial of himself, than by having 
 lived a holy, virtuous life. It signifies nothing, with the 
 many, to be remembered when they are gone : therefore 
 is this trust wont to be committed to marbles and monu- 
 mental stones. Some have been so wise, to prefer a re- 
 membrance, among them that are so, from their having 
 lived to some valuable purpose. When Rome abounded 
 with statues and memoralive obelisks, Cato forbade any to 
 be set up for him, because (he said) he had rather it should 
 be asked," wh}' he had not one, than why he had. 
 
 What a balmy memory will one generation leave to 
 another, when " the savour of the knowledge of Christ 
 shall be diffused in everyplace," (2 Cor. ii. 14.) and every 
 thing be counted as dross and dung, that is in any compe- 
 tition with the excellency of that knowledge ; when that 
 shall overflow the world, and one age praise his mighty 
 works, and proclaim his power and greatness, to the next : 
 and the branches of religious families, whether sooner or 
 later transplanted, shall leave an odour, when they are 
 cut off, that shall demonstrate their nearer union with the 
 true Vine, or speak their relation to the " Tree of life, 
 whose leaves are for the healing of the nations ;" even 
 those that were deciduous, and have dropped off, may 
 (without straining a borrowed expression) signify some- 
 what towards this purpose. 
 
 4. From both the mentioned subjects, good parents may 
 learn to do God and their Redeemer all the service they 
 can, and have opportunity for, in their own time ; without 
 reckoning loo much upon what shall be done, by a well- 
 educated, hopeful .son, after the}' are gone, unless the like, 
 dispensation could be pleaded unto that which God gave 
 to bavid, to reserve the building of the temple to his son 
 Solomon, which, without as express a revelation, no man 
 can pretend. The great keeper of these keys may cross' 
 such purposes, and without excusing the father, dismiss 
 the son first. But his judgments are a great deep, too 
 deep for our line: and his mercy is in the heavens, (Psal 
 xxxvi.) extending from everlasting to everlasting, upon 
 them that fear him ; and his righteousness unto children's 
 children, Psal. ciii. 
 
 n Plutarch de geraud. Repub.
 
 OF 
 
 THOUGHTFULNESS FOR THE MORROW; 
 
 WITH AN APPENDIX, 
 
 CONCERNING THE IMMODERATE DESIRE OF FOREKNOWING THINGS TO COME. 
 
 TO THE RIGHT HONOURABLE 
 
 ANNE, LADY WHARTON. 
 
 It was, Madam, the character an ancient worthy in the Christian church gave of a noble person of your sex, that, in 
 reference to the matters of religion, she was not only a learner, but a judge. And accordingly, he inscribes to her 
 divers of his writings, (even such as did require a very accurate judgment in the reading of them,) which remain, unto 
 this day, dispersedly, in several parts of his works, dignified with her (often prefixed") name. A greater, indeed, than 
 he, mentions it as an ill character, to be not a doer of the law, but a judge. It makes a great difference in the exercise 
 of the same faculty, and in doing the same thing, with what mind and design it is done. There is a judging that we 
 may learn, and a judging that we may not ; a judgment subservient to our duty, and a judgment opposite to it. 
 Without a degree of the former no one can ever be a serious Christian ; by means of the latter, many never are. The 
 world through wisdom knew not God. A cavilling litigious wit, in the confidence whereof any set themselves above 
 the rule, and make it their business only to censxire it, as if they would rather find faults in it than themselves, is as 
 inconsistent with sincere piety, as an humbly judicious discerning mind is necessary to it. This proceeds from a due 
 savour and relish of divine things, peculiar to them in whom a heavenly spirit and principle have the possession, and 
 a governing power. They that are after the Spirit, do savour the things of the Spirit. The other from the preposses- 
 sion and prejudice of a disaffected carnal mind. They that are after the flesh, do only savour the things of the flesh. 
 
 The ability God hath endowed your Ladyship with to judge of the truth that is after godliness, is, that you are better 
 pleased to use, than hear of. I shall, therefore, be silent herein, and rather displease many of them that know you, 
 who will be apt to think a copious subject is neglected, than say any thing that may o/Tend either against your Lady- 
 ship's inclination or my own. Here is nothing abstruse and difficult for you to exercise a profound judgment upon ; 
 nor any thing curious to gratify a pleasant wit. But plain things, suitable to you, upon accounts common to the 
 generality of Christians, not that are peculiar to yourself. 'Tiseasy to a well tempered mind (of how high intellectual 
 excellencies soever) to descend to the same level with the rest ; when for them to reach up to the others' pitch, is not 
 so much as possible. Our heavenly Father keeps not (as to the substantials of our nutriment) distinct tables for his 
 children, but all must eat the same spiritual meat, and drink the same spiritual drink. He hath not one Gospel for 
 great wits, and another for plainer people ; but as all that are bom of him must meet at length in one end, so they 
 must all walk by the same rule, and in the same way, thither. And when I had first mentioned this text of Scripture 
 in your hearing, the savour you expressed to me of the subject, easily induced me, when, afterwards, I reckoned a 
 discourse upon it might be of common use, to address that also (such as it is) in this way, to your Ladyship. Account- 
 ing the mention of your name might draw the eyes of some to it, that have no reason to regard the author's, and that 
 by this means, if it be capable of proving beneficial to any, the beoefit might be diffused so much the further. 
 
 The aptness of the materials and subject here discoursed of, to do good generally, I cannot doubt. Neither our 
 present duty or peace, nor our future safety or felicity, can be provided for as they ought, till our minds be more ab- 
 stracted from time, and taken up about the unseen, eternal world. While our thoughts are too earnestly engaged 
 about the events of future time, they are vain, bitter, impure, and diverted from our nobler and most necessary pur- 
 suits. They follow much the temper and bent of our spirits, which are often too intent upon what is uncertain, and 
 perhaps impossible. All good and holy persons cannot live in good times. For who should bear up the name of God 
 in bad, and transmit it to succeeding times? Especially when good men are not of the same mind, it is impossible. 
 And more especially, when they have not learned, as yet, to bear one another's differences. The same time and state 
 of things which please some, must displease others. For some that will think themselves much injured if they be not 
 thought very pious persons, will be pleased with nothing less than the destruction of them that differ from them. So 
 that while this is designed and attempted only, generally neither sort is pleased ; the one because it is not done, the 
 other because it is in doing. 
 
 It must be a marvellous alteration of men's minds, that must make the times please us all ; while, upon supposition 
 of their remaining unaltered, there is nothing will please one sort, but to see the other pagans or beggars, who in the 
 meantime are not enough mortified either to their religion, or the necessary accommodations of human life, as to be 
 well pleased with either.
 
 THE EPISTLE DEDICATORY, 
 
 329 
 
 To trust God cheerfully with the government of this world, and to live in the joyful hope and expectation of a bet- 
 ter, are the only means to relieve and ease us; and give us a vacancy for the proper work and business of ourpres . t 
 time. This is the design of the following discourses. The former whereof is directed against the careful thoughts, 
 which are apt to arise in our minds concerning the events of future time, upon a fear what they rnay be. The other, 
 which by way of appendix is added to the former, tends to repress the immoderate desire of knowing what they shall 
 be. Which latter I thought, in respect of its affinity to the other, fit to be added to it; and in respect of the com- 
 monness, and ill tendency of this distemper, very necessary. And indeed both the extremes in this matter are very 
 unchristian, and pernicious: a stupid neglect of the Christian interest, and of God's providerrcc about it, on the one 
 hand; and an enthusiastic phrensy, carrying men to expect they well know not what, or why, on the other. 
 
 Our great care should be to serve that interest faithfully in our own stations, for our little time, that will soon be 
 over. Your Ladyship hath been called to serve it in a family wherein it hath long flourished. And which it hath 
 dignified, beyond all the splendour that antiquity and secular greatness could confer upon it. The Lord grant it may 
 long continue to flourish there, under the joint influence of your noble consort, and your own; and afterwards, in a 
 posterity, that may imitate their ancestors in substantial piety, and solid goodness. Which is a glory that will not 
 fade, nor vary ; not change with time«, but equally recommend itself to sober and good men in all times. Whereas 
 that which arises from the esteem of a party can neither be difi"usive nor lasting. 'Tis true that I cannot but reckon 
 it apart of any one's praise in a time wherein there are different sentiments and ways, in circumstantial matters re- 
 lating to religion, to incline most to that which I take to come nearest the truth and our common rule. But, as was 
 said by one that was a great and early light in the Christian church ; " That is not philosophy, which is professed by 
 this or that sect, but that which is true in all sects." So nor do I take that to be religion which is peculiar to this or 
 that party of Christians, (many of whom are too apt to say, here is Christ, and there is Christ, as if he were divided,) 
 but that which is according to the mind of God among them all. And I must profess to have that honour for your 
 Ladyship, which I sincerely bear, and most justly owe unto you, chiefly upon the account not of the things wherein 
 you differ from many other serious Christians, (though therein you agree also with myself,) as for those things whereia 
 you agree with them all. Under which notion (and under the sensible obligation of your many singular favours,) I am, 
 
 Madam, 
 Your Ladyship's very humble 
 
 And devoted servant in the Gospel, 
 
 JOHN HOWE. 
 
 THOUGHTFULNESS FOR THE FUTURE 
 
 MATTHEW VL 34. 
 
 TAKE THEREFORE NO THOUGHT FOR THE MORROW : FOR THE MORPiW SHAIX T.4KE THOTTGHT FOR THE THINGS 
 OF ITSELF. SUFFICIENT FOR THE DAY IS THE EVIL THEREOF. 
 
 The negative precept, or the prohibition, in the first 
 
 Words of this verse, I shall take for the principal groimd 
 
 of the intended discourse. But shall make use of the fol- 
 
 owing words, for the same purpose for which they are 
 
 here subjoined by our Lord, viz. the enforcement of it. 
 
 For our better understanding the import of the precept, 
 two things in it require explication. How we are to un- 
 derstand the morrow ; and what is meant by the thought- 
 fulness we are to abstain from in reference thereto. 
 
 L By the morrow must be meant, I. Some measure of 
 time or other; II. Such occurrences, as it may be suppo- 
 sed shall fall within the compass of that time. We are 
 therefore to consider, 
 
 I. What portion or measure of time may be here sig- 
 nified by to-morrow, for some time it must signify, in the 
 first place, as fundamental to the further meaning. Not 
 abstractly, or for itself, but as it is the continent of such 
 or such things as may fall within that time. And so that 
 measure of time may, 
 
 1. Admit, no doubt, to be taken strictly for the very 
 ne.xt day, according to the literal import of the word to- 
 morrow. But, 
 
 2. It is also to be taken in a much larger sense, for the 
 whole of our remaining time, all our futurity in this world. 
 Indeed, the whole time of our life on earth is spoken of in 
 the Scriptures but as a day. Let him alone, that he may 
 accomplish as a hireling his day, Job xiv. 6. We are a 
 sort of fiiup6i3ioi, short-lived creatures, we live but a day, 
 
 take the whole of our time together. Much less strange is 
 it that the little residue, the future time that is before us, 
 which we do not know how little it may be, should be 
 spoken of but as a day. Experience hath taught even 
 sensual epicures so to account their remaining time : 
 " Let us eat and drink, for to-morrow we shall die," i. e. 
 very shortly. They were right in their computation, bm 
 very wrong in their inference. It should have been, le: 
 us watch and pray to-day, we are to die to-morrow; let us 
 labour for eternity because lime is so short. But say the)', 
 " Let us eat and drink to-day, for to-morrow we shall die." 
 A day to eat and drink was, it seems, a great gain. And 
 if the phrase were not so nsed, to signify all the residue 
 of our future time, yet by consequence it must be so im- 
 derstood. For if we take to-morrow in the strictest sense, 
 for the very next day; they that are not permitted, with 
 solicitude, to look forward so far as the very next day, 
 mtich less may they to a remoter and more distant time. 
 Yea, and we may in some sense extend it not only to all 
 our future time, but simply to all future time as that 
 measures the concernments and affairs, not of this world 
 only, but, which is more considerable, even of that lesser 
 select community, the kingdom of God in it, mentioned 
 in the foregoing verse. Which kingdom, besides its future 
 eternal state, lies also spread and stretched throughout all 
 time unto the end of the world. And as to its present and 
 temporal state, or as it falls under the measure of time, it 
 is not un'iupposable that it may be within the comnass of
 
 OF THOUGHTFULNESS FOR THE FUTURE. 
 
 5ur Saviour's design, to forbid unto his disciples (who 
 were not only to pursue the blessedness of that kingdom 
 in the other world, but to intend the service of it in this) 
 an intemperate and vexatious solicitude about the success 
 of their endeavours, for the promoting its present interest : 
 i. e. after he had more directly forbidden their undue care- 
 fulness about their own little concernments, what they 
 should eat, drink, or put on ; and directed them rather and 
 more principally to seek the kingdom of God and his 
 righteousness, with an assurance that those other things 
 should be added to them. It seems not improbable he 
 might, in conclusion, give this general direction, as with a 
 more especial reference to the private concernments of 
 human life, about which common frailty might make them 
 more apt to be unduly thoughtful : so with some oblique 
 and secondary reference to the affairs of that kingdom too, 
 which they were here to serve as well as hereafter to par- 
 take and enjoy, and about the success of which service 
 (being once engaged in it, and the difficulties they were 
 to encounter appearing great and discouraging to so in- 
 considerable persons as they must reckon themselves) 
 they might be somewhat over-solicitous also. 
 
 Nor, though they might not as yet understand their own 
 work, nor (consequently) have the prospect of its difficul- 
 ties as yet in view, are we to think our Saviour intended 
 to limit the usefulness of the instructions he now gave 
 them to the present time, but meant them to be of future 
 use to them as occasions should afterwards occur. As we 
 also find that they did recollect some other sayings of his, 
 and understand better the meaning of them, when parti- 
 cular occasions brought them to mind, and discovered how 
 apposite and applicable they then were. Luke xxiv. 8. 
 John ii. 22. So that we may fitly understand this prohibi- 
 tion to intend, universally, a pressing of that too great ap- 
 titude and proneness in the minds of men, unto undue ex- 
 cursions into futurity, their intemperate and extravagant 
 rangings and roamings into that unknown country, that 
 terra incognita, in which we can but bewilder and lose 
 ourselves to no purpose. Therefore, 
 
 Secondly, and more principally, by to-morrov) we are to 
 understand the things that may fall within that compass 
 of future time. For time can only be the object of our 
 care, in that relative sense, as it refers unto such and such 
 occurrences and emergencies that may fall into it. And 
 so our Saviour explains himself in the very next words, 
 that by to-morrow he means the things of to-morrow. To- 
 morrow shall take care for the things of itself And yet 
 here we must carefully distinguish, as to those things of 
 to-morrow, matters of event and of duty. We are not to 
 think these the equally prohibited objects of our thoughts 
 and care, Duty belongs to us, it falls within our province, 
 and there are (no doubt) thoughts to be employed, how I 
 may continue on in a course of duty, unto which I am, by 
 all the most sacred obligations, tied for a stated course, 
 that may lie before me, let it be never so long, and be 
 liever so many to-morrows in it. There ought to be 
 thoughts used, of this sort, concerning the duties of the 
 morrow, and of all my future time. If it please God to give 
 me such additional time, I will love him to-morrow, I will 
 serve him to-morrow, I will trust him to-morrow, I will 
 walk with him to-morrow. I will, through the grace of 
 God, live in his fear, service, and communion, even as 
 long as I have a day to live. Upon such terms doth every 
 sincere Christian bind himself to God, even for always, as 
 God binds himself to them on the .same terms. This God 
 shall be our God for ever and ever, he shall be our guide 
 even unto death, Psal. xlviii. 14. The case can never alter 
 with us in this regard ; but as the worthiest object of all 
 our thoughts is yesterday and to-day the same, and for 
 ever, so should the course of our thoughts be too, in re- 
 ference to that blessed object. Every day will I bless thee, 
 and praise thy name for ever and ever, Psal. cxlv. 2. I 
 will sing unto the Lord as long as I live; I will sing 
 praise to my God while I have my being, Psal. civ. 33. 
 The thoughts of our hearts should be much excited this 
 way, how it may be thus with us, in all future time; that 
 to-morrow, in this respect, may be as this day, and much 
 more abundant as is spoken on another account, Isa. Ivi. 
 12. To-morrow shall be as this day, God assisting, and 
 a .Maimonid. Mor. Nev. D. Mer. Casauboii. Enthus. 
 
 much more abundant as to my love to him, serving of 
 him, conversing with him, doing and designing for him, 
 which are to run through all my days. 
 
 But now for the events of to-morrow, they are things 
 quite of another consideration. They do not belong to 
 us, they are not of the rhhp' hi^^v, noneof the things within 
 our compass. To employ ourselves with excessive inten- 
 tion of thoughts and cares concerning them, is to meddle 
 without our sphere, beyond what we have any warrant for, 
 further than as it is in some cases supposable there may 
 be some connexion, and dependance, between such and 
 such events, and my own either sin or duty. Now events 
 that may occur to us to-morrow, or in our future time, you 
 know are distinguishable into good or bad, grateful and 
 ungrateful, pleasing to us or displeasing. Good or grate- 
 ful events, you easily apprehend, are not here intended. 
 We do not use to perplex ourselves about good things, 
 otherwise than as they maybe wanting, and as we may be 
 deprived of them, which privation or want is an evil. 
 And under that notion our Saviour considers the object of 
 the prohibited thoughtfulness, as his after-words show : 
 Sufficient for the day is the evil of it. And therefore gives 
 caution not equally against all forethoughts, about the 
 events of future time ; of which some may be both ration- 
 al, and pleasant ; but against forebodings, and presages of 
 evil and direful things. As lest such thoughts should 
 slide into our minds, or impose and obtrude themselves 
 upon us : " Alas ! what shall I do to live to-morrow 1 I am 
 afraid I shall want bread for to-morrow, or for my future 
 time." This our Saviour says is paganish, after these 
 things do the Gentiles seek, that (as is intimated) have no 
 father to take care of them. Your heavenly Father knows 
 you have need of these things, (i'. 32.) and directs his 
 disciples to a nobler object of their thoughts and care, {v. 
 33.) Seek you first the kingdom of God; wherein, as 
 their future reward, so their present work and business 
 was to lie. And then adds. Take no thought for to-mor- 
 row, q. d. it would be indeed an ill thing if you should 
 want bread to-morrow, and it would be worse if the affiiirs 
 of God's kingdom should miscarry, or you be excluded it. 
 But mind you your own present work, and be not unduly 
 concerned about these surmised bad events, God will pro- 
 vide. This is then, in short, the object of this prohibited 
 thoughtfulness — future time including whatsoever un- 
 grateful events we suppose and pre-apprehend in it. 
 
 Secondly, We are to inquire about the thoughtfulness 
 prohibited in reference hereto. It cannot be that all use 
 of thoughts about future events, even such as, when they 
 occur, may prove afflictive, is intended to be forbidden. 
 Which indeed may be collected from the import of the 
 word in the text that signifies another, peculiar sort of 
 thinking, as we shall hereafter have more occasion to take 
 notice. We were made, and are naturally, thinking crea- 
 tures ; yea, and forethinking,or capable of prospiciency and 
 foresight. 'Tis that by which in part man is distinguished 
 from beast, Without disputing* as some do how far na- 
 ture, in this or that man, doth contribute to divination 
 and prophecy; we may say of man indefinitely, he is a 
 sort of divining creature, and of human nature in common, 
 that it much excels the brutal, in this, that, whereas sense 
 is limited to the present, reason hath dignified our nature 
 by adding to it a .sagacity, and enabling us to use prospec- 
 tion in reference to what yet lies more remotely before us. 
 And though we are too apt to a faulty excess herein, and 
 to be over-presaging, (which it is the design of this dis- 
 course to show,) yet we are not to think that all use of any 
 natural faculty can be a fault ; for that would be to charge 
 a fault on the Author of nature. The faculties will be aclive. 
 To plant them therefore in our natures, and forbid their 
 use, were not consistent with the wisdom, righteousness, 
 and goodness by which they are implanted. It must there- 
 fore be our business to show— what thoughtfulness is not, 
 — and then, what is within the compass of this prohibition. 
 
 1. What is not. There is, in the general, a prudent, 
 and there is a Christian, use of forethought, about matters 
 of that nature already specified; which we cannot under- 
 stand it was our Saviour's meaning to forbid. 
 
 1. A prudent, which imports reference to an end. Our 
 actions are so far said to be governed by prudence, and to
 
 OP THOUGHTFULNESS FOR THE FUTURE. 
 
 331 
 
 firoceed from it as they do designedly and aptly serve a va- 
 uable end. 
 
 1. The foresight of evils probable, yea even possible, to 
 befall us, is useful, upon a prudential account, to several 
 verj' considerable ends and purposes ; either to put us 
 upon doing the more good in the meantime, or upon the 
 endeavour (within moderate bounds, and as more may be 
 needful) of possessing more ; or that we may avert or 
 avoid imminent evils ; or that what cannot be avoided, we 
 may be the better able to bear. 
 
 1. That we may be incited, hereupon, to do all the good 
 we can in the world, in the meantime, before such evils 
 overtake and prevent us. For prudence itself will teach a 
 man to account (and hath taught even heathens) that he 
 doth not live in this world, merely, that he may live ; that 
 he is not to live wholly to himself; his friends claim a part 
 in him, his neighbours a part, his country a part, the 
 world a part. He lives not at the rate of a prudent man 
 that thinks of living only to indulge and gratify himself, 
 and consult his own ease and pleasure, and upon this con- 
 sideration, his prudence should instruct him to do all the 
 present good he can, because there are evils in view that 
 may narrow his capacity, and snatch from him the oppor- 
 tunity of doing much. The evil day (as it is more emi- 
 nently called) is not far off. He should therefore bethink 
 himself of doing good to his friend (as the son of Syrack 
 speaks) before he die. And there are other evils that may 
 anticipate that day ; imto which the preacher hath refer- 
 ence, (Eccles. xi. 2.) when he directs, to give a portion to 
 seven and also to eight, because we know not what evil 
 shall be upon the earth. We cannot tell how soon we may 
 have neither power nor time left to do it in. 
 
 Yea, and secondly, That we may be provided (as far as 
 it lies within the compass of regular endeavour) of such 
 needful good things, as are reqtiisite for our support in this 
 our pilgrimage; and especially, upon occasion of a fore- 
 seen calamity approaching. This, as prudence doth re- 
 quire, so we cannot suppose our Saviour doth by a con- 
 stant rule forbid, who sometime enjoined his disciples to 
 carry a scrip with them, though at another time (that they 
 might, once for all, be convinced of the sufficient care of 
 Providence, when or howsoever they should be precluded 
 from using their own) he did, extraordinarily, forbid it. 
 And 'tis evident that, in common cases, it is more espe- 
 cially incumbent on the master of a family to make provi- 
 sion for his household for the future ; to provide in the 
 more convenient season of the year, as in summer, for the 
 following winter. A document which the slothful are sent 
 to learn from a very despicable instructor. Go to the ant, 
 thou sluggard, Prov. vi. G, &c. And again, 
 
 Thirdly, That the approaching evil may, if avoidable, be 
 declined, the prudent man foresees the evil and hides him- 
 self, when the simple pass on and are punished, Prov. xxii. 
 3. And, perhaps, for this their simplicity ; that they re- 
 gardlessly go on with a stupid negligence of all warnings, 
 til] the stroke and storm fall. Which, whereas there may 
 he one event to the wise man and the fool, (as Eccles. ii. 
 14.) will prove to the one a mere affliction, to the other 
 (upon this as well as other accounts) a proper and most 
 deserved punishment. Because (as is there said) the wise 
 man's eyes are in his head, prompt and ready for their pre- 
 sent use, the fool walks in darkness, which must be under- 
 stood of a voluntary self-created darkness, as if he had 
 plucked out his own eyes. Which is the wickedness of 
 folly, as the same Ecclesiastes's phrase is, ch. vii. v. 25. 
 
 Fourthly, That what cannot be avoided maybe the more 
 easily borne. Every man counts it desirable, not to be 
 surprised by evils that are unavoidable and no way to be 
 averted. Prudence will, in such a case, use forethoughts 
 to better purpose, than only to anticipate and multiply an 
 affliction, or consequently, to increase its weight; but much 
 to alleviate and lessen it:" by learning to bear it ; gradually, 
 and by gentle essays to acquaint the shoulder with the 
 burden : to inure and compose the mind, and reconcile it 
 to the several circumstances (so far as they are foreseen) of 
 that less-pleasing state we are next to pass into. Which 
 advantage might be one reason whv Solomon, in the above- 
 mentioned place, (though according to the genius of that 
 reasoning book he variously discourses things on the one 
 hand and the other,) prefers wisdom to folly as much as 
 
 light to darkness, (Eccles. ii. 13.) though one event may 
 happen to both. 'Tis an uncomfortable thing to walk in 
 darkness; and (supposing there be that wisdom that can 
 make due use of a prospect) not to .see an evil till we meet 
 and feel it. Unexpected evils carry, as such, a more pe- 
 culiar sting and pungency with them: when any shall say, 
 Peace, peace, till sudden destruction comes upon them as 
 travail on a woman with child, 1 Thes. v. 3. Nor csm we 
 reasonably think it was any part of our Saviour's intend- 
 ment, to advise his disciples unto such a self-revenging se- 
 curity, who so often enjoins them watchfulness, because of 
 what should come to pass. Or that he should counsel them 
 to the same thing, for which he blames and upbraids the 
 Pharisees and Sadducees, their not discerning thesigns of 
 the times. Upon all these prudential accounts there is a 
 use of forethoughts about future approaching evils. 
 
 Secondly, Ai\A there is a further use to be made of 
 them upon an account more purely Giristio/n. I would 
 tempt none, under pretence of distinguishing these heads, 
 to think they should oppose them. Christianity must be 
 understood in reference to common prudence to be cumu- 
 lative, not privative. It adds to it therefore ; opposes it 
 not, but supposes it rather. And indeed it adds that, upon 
 the account whereof we are far the more liable to afflicting 
 evils, and so are the more concerned to use forethoughts 
 about them. For, whereas there are much rarer instances 
 of suffering merely for the duties of natural religion, v,-hich 
 the common reason of man acknowledges equal and un- 
 exceptionable, we are plaini)' told that all that will live 
 godly in Chrixt Jesus, shall suffer persecution, (2 Tinriij. 
 12.) though not in all times alike. Here therefore 'tis ne- 
 cessary we have serious forethoughts of the evils which 
 seem likely to befall us, for the Christian interest, upon 
 several accounts. 
 
 1. That we may espouse it sincereU^; and enter our- 
 selves the disciples of Christ with a true heart : which we 
 are not likely toiloif we understand not his terms, and do 
 not consider the state of the ease. What is done without 
 judgment, or upon mistake, is not like to he done in truth. 
 If we fall in with Christ and Christianity upon supposition 
 of only halcyon days, in our lime, and that we shall never 
 be called to suffer for him, we shall most probably de- 
 ceive ourselves, aaid prove false to him. It will appear 
 oui barg-ain was void in the making, as to any tie we can 
 have upon him. We are to reckon, when we take on the yoke 
 of Christ, of bearing, also, his cross; ami be in a prepara- 
 tion of mind to lose and suffer all things for hiin. And to 
 use forethoughts of this kind is what he enjoins us, (Luke 
 xiv. 18.) under the expression of countingthe cost, what it 
 may amount unto to be a resolved sincere Christian. And 
 he tells us withal, what the cost is to forsake all, (r. 33.) 
 to abandon father, mother, wife, children, brethren, sisters, 
 and one's own life, v. 26. And all this, (as is often incul- 
 cated.) as that without which a man cannot be his disciple, 
 i. e. not become one, as there the phrase must signify ! So 
 that though he have come to him, i.e. have begun to treat, 
 (If a man come to me) and do not so, in his previous reSiO 
 lution, nothing is concluded between Christ and him. 
 
 Secondly, That, upon this constant prospect of the state 
 of our case we mav endeavour our own conhnnation. from 
 time to time, in our fidelity to him. For new and unlbre- 
 thought occasions, that we have not comprehended in their 
 particulars, or in equivalence, may beget new impressions, 
 and dispositions to revolt. Besides all that had come upon 
 those faithful confessors, (Ps. xliv.) that they were sore 
 broken in the place of dragons, and covered w-ith the sha- 
 dow of death ; (r. I'.).) notwithstanding which they appeal 
 to God, that their heart was not turned back, and that 
 their steps had not declined from his wa}': and ofler them- 
 selves to his search, whether they had forgotten him. or 
 stretched out their hands to a strange god. They add. Yea, 
 for thy sake we are killed all the day long. They reckon 
 upon nothing but suffering, and that to utmost extremity, 
 all the rest of their day, and yet are still of the same mintL 
 Patience must be laid in, that may be drawn forth unto 
 long-suffering. And we are to endure to the end. that we 
 may be saved. And therefore suffering to the last, is to be 
 forethought of; through the whole course of which state ot 
 suffering we must resolve, through the grace of Christ, 
 never to desert his interest. Otherwise we are so deceived,
 
 333 
 
 OF THOUGHTFULNESS FOR THE FUTURE. 
 
 as he that goes to build a tower, without counting what 
 his expense will be before-hand ; or he that is to meet an 
 enemy in the field, without making a computation of the 
 equality or inequality of the forces on the one side and the 
 other ; as our Saviour further discourses in the above- 
 mentioned context. 
 
 Thirdly, That we may cast with ourselves how, not only 
 not to desert the Christian interest, but most advantage- 
 ously to serve it. Suppositions ought to be made of what- 
 soever difhculties seem not unlikely to be in our case, that 
 we may bethink ourselves how we may be of most use to 
 the interest of our great Master and Lord, upon such and 
 such emergencies. For such a supposition he himself 
 suggests, Matt. x. 23. If they persecute you in this city, 
 flee ye into another. And 'tis likely he gives this direc- 
 tion not with respect merely to their being safe, but ser- 
 viceable, as the following words seem to intimate. For ve- 
 rily I say unto you, ye shall not have gone over the cities 
 of Israel, till the Son of man be come, q. d. " You will 
 have work to do whither ever you come, and will scarce 
 have done all within that allotment of time you will have 
 for it, before the vengeance determined upon this people 
 prevent you of further opportunity among them :" as Ter- 
 tullian discourses at large, and not irrationally, upon this 
 subject, and Augustine to the like purpose. b 
 
 Fourthly, That we may be the more excited to pray for 
 the preservation and prosperity of the Christian interest. 
 Those we should always reckon the worst days, that are 
 of worst abode unto it, though we expect our own share in 
 the calamities of such days. When his interest declines, 
 and there are phenomena in providence, appearances and 
 aspects very threatening to it, there ought to be the more 
 earnest oiid importunate praying. And that there may be 
 so, our eye should look forward, and be directed towards 
 the foreshown events as from whence we are to take ar- 
 guments and motives to prayer. And we should reckon 
 therefore they are presignihed that we may be excited, and 
 a dutiful love to his great name be awakened in us. What 
 shall be done to thy great namel What shall become of 
 thy kingdom among men 1 Nor can we ever pray " thy 
 kingdom come," without a prospect to futurity. Yea, and 
 all prayer hath reference to somewhat yet future. If there- 
 fore all forethoughts about the concernments of future time 
 were simply forbidden, there were no place left for prayer 
 at all. Hitherto then we see how far taking thought about 
 the future is not forbidden. 
 
 Second! ij, We are next therefore to show wherein it is. 
 And it appears from what hath been said, it is not evil in 
 itself, for then it must be universally so, and no circum- 
 stance could make it good or allowable in any kind. 
 Therefore it must be evil only either by participation or by 
 redundancy. And so it may be, either as — proceeding 
 from evil, or as tending to evil : i. e. in respect either of 
 the evil causes from which it comes, or of the ill effects to 
 which it tends. Under these two heads we shall compre- 
 hend what is to be said for opening the sense wherein it 
 may be understood to fall under the present prohibition. 
 
 1. All such thoaghtfulness must be understood to be 
 evil and forbidden as hath an ill root and original. As, 
 before, our Saviour, in this sermon of his, forbids some- 
 what else under this notion, because it cometh of evil. 
 What doth so, partakes from thence an ill savour. Those 
 are evil thoughts that participate, and, as it were, taste of an 
 evil cause, which may be manifold. As, 
 
 First, It may proceed from a groundless and too confident 
 presumption, that we shall live to-morrow, and that our to- 
 morrow shall be a long day, or that we have much time 
 before us in the world ; which as it really is a great un- 
 certainty, ought always to be so esteemed. Men presume 
 first, and lake somewhat for granted which they ought not, 
 and make that their hypothesis, upon which they lay a 
 frame of iniquity of this kind, and make it the ground of 
 much forbidden thoughtfulness and care. They forget in 
 whose hands their breath is, assume to themselves the 
 measuring of their own time, as if they were lords of it, 
 take it for granted, they shall live so long ; and accordingly 
 form their projects, lay designs, and then grow very soli- 
 
 b. Evpos in Evang. Johan c. 10. If they persecute yon in one city. flv. &c. 
 Yet Lord, tliou sayst, the hireling fleeth Who is this hireling? He that flies 
 ieeking liis own things, not the things of Jesns Clirist. Thou hast Hed (though 
 
 citous how they will succeed and take efTect. By break- 
 ing another former law, they lead themselves into the 
 transgression of this, i. e. first boast of to-morrow against 
 the prohibition, (Prov. xxvii. 1.) and then proceed unduly 
 to take thought for to-morrow. The case which we find 
 falls under animadversion. Jam. iv. 19, &c. To-morrow 
 we will go to such a city, and buy and sell, and get gain , 
 when as (saith that apostle) you do not know what shall 
 be on the morrow ; for what is your life, is it not a vapour 1 
 &c. Would we learn to die daily, and consider that, for 
 ought we know, to-morrow, in the strictest sense, may 
 prove the day of our death, and that then, in that very day 
 must our thoughts perish, we should think less intensely 
 on the less fruitful subjects. Our thoughts would take a 
 higher flight, not flutter in the dust, and fill our souls with 
 gravel, as is our wont ; and less no doubt offend against 
 the true meaning of this interdict of our Saviour in the 
 text. 
 
 Secondly, There maybe an undue forbidden thoughtful- 
 ness about to-morrow, proceeding from a too curious in 
 quisitiveness, and affectation of prying into futurity. Men 
 have nothing here but gloom and cloudy darkness before 
 them. Fain they would with their weak and feeble beam 
 pierce the cloud, and cannot; 'tis retorted, and doth not 
 enter. They think to reinforce it by a throng and thick 
 succession of thoughts, but do only think themselves into 
 the more confusion ; cannot see what is next before them. 
 What new scene shall first open upon them, they cannot 
 tell. And (as is natural to them that converse in dubious 
 darkness^ their thoughts turn all to fear. And they there- 
 fore thiuK the more, and as their thoughts multiply, in- 
 crease their fear. Whereas they should retire, and abstain 
 from conversing in so disconsolate a region, among shades 
 and spectres, which are their own creatures, perhaps, for 
 the most part; and wherewith they first cheat, and then 
 fright themselves. They should choose rather to converse 
 in the light of former and present things, which they 
 know ; and of such greater and more considerable futuri- 
 ties as God hath thought fit plainly to reveal. And be 
 contented there should be arcana, and that such future 
 things remain so, as God hath reserved and locked up 
 from us. It is not for you to know the times and seasons, 
 which the Father hath put in his own power, saith our Sa- 
 viour (departing) unto his disciples, (Acts i. 7.) when he 
 was now going up into glory. Fain they would have known 
 how it should speed afterwards with them, and his inter- 
 est. Wilt thou now (say they) restore the kingdom to 
 Israel? It is not for you (says he) to know, &c. If God 
 should any way give us light into futurity, 'tis to be ac- 
 cepted, if we are sure it is from him ; and be regarded ac- 
 cording to what proofs there are that it is so. As, some- 
 times, he doth premonish of very considerable events, that 
 are coming on ; and, according to what of evidence there 
 is in any such monition, ought the impressions to be upon 
 our spirits. But when out of our own fancies we will 
 supply the want of such a discovery, and curiously busy 
 (much more if we hereupon torment) ourselves to no pur- 
 pose ; this we cannot doubt is forbidden us. But we shall 
 say more of it hereafter apart by itself. And with this we 
 may most fitly connect. 
 
 Thirdly, That such thoughtfulness about the future is to 
 be concluded undue and forbidden, as proceeds from a too 
 conceited self-indulgent opinion of our own wisdom, and 
 ability to foresee what shall happen. For from our very 
 earnest desire to foreknow, may easily arise a belief that we 
 do, or can do so. As a dream cometh from multitude of 
 business, the over-busy agitation and exercise of our minds 
 about what shall be, makes us dream, and in our dream 
 we seem to ourselves to see visions ; and have before us 
 very accurate schemes and prospects of things. How in- 
 ventive are men, and ingenious in contriving their frames 
 and models, either direful and dismal, or pleasant and en- 
 taining, as the disposition of their minds is, compared 
 with the present aspect of affairs, which variously impresses 
 them this way or that ! If they be terrible and dismal, 
 but raised only upon a conceited opinion of our own great 
 skill and faculty in foreseeing, they have their afflicting 
 C 
 
 present) because thou wast silent ; wast silent, because thou wust afraid i 
 fear is tfie fliglit of the mind, &c.
 
 OF TIIOUGHTFULINESS FOR THE FUTURE. 
 
 333 
 
 evil in themselves, our own creature (of itself ravenous) 
 tears and torments us. If they be pleasant anri deleciable, 
 yet they may become afflicting by accident. For some one 
 unihought-of thing, falling oui contrary to our expectation, 
 may overturn our whole model and fabric, as a touch doth 
 a liouse of cards, and then we play the child's jjart m de- 
 ploring, as we did in erecting it; fret and despair that 
 tilings can ever be brought to so good a posture again. 
 But whether they be the one or the other, their sinful evil 
 (which we are now considering) they owe to one and the 
 same culpable cause, that we are so over-wise, and take 
 upon us with such confidence to conclude of what shall 
 be ; as if our wisdom were the measure of things, or could 
 give laws to Providence from which it can never vary. It 
 IS not in itself a fault to be afraid of what is formidable, or 
 pleased v/iih what is pleasant, except it be wilh excess. But 
 it is our fault 10 be either frighted wiihshaxlows, or to surfeit 
 ourselves wilh a temporal short pleasure drawn out from 
 them, that may, afterward, revenge itself upon us with the 
 sharpertorture, whenas all their power to hurt us they re- 
 ceive from ourselves ; and have no more of reality or exist- 
 ence, than a strong imagination, and confidence of our own 
 undeceivable wit and sa^racity, gives them. Who in all the 
 world have minds so vexed with sudden passions of fear and 
 hope, joy and sorrow, anger and despair, as )'our smatter- 
 ing pedants in policy, such as set up for dons ; and who 
 fancy themselves men of great reach, able to foretell remote 
 changes, and see things whose distance makes them in- 
 visible to all but themselves: that hold a continual coun- 
 cil-table in their own divining heads, think themselves to 
 comprehend all reasons of state : are as busy as princes 
 and emperors, or their greatest ministers ; mightily taken 
 up in all affairs, but those of their own private stations; 
 and thereby qualified to be siate weather-glasses, but 
 prove no better for the use they pretend for, than a com- 
 mon almanack, where you may write wet for dry through- 
 out the year, and as much hit the truth. They that shall 
 consider the abstruseness of designs and transactions that 
 relate to the public, and how much resolutions about them 
 depend upon what it is fit should be commonly unknown ; 
 so that thejf that judge without doors must tiiink and talk 
 at random: and withal that shall consider the uncertainty 
 of human affairs, and that they who manage them are liable 
 to ignorances, mistakes, incogiiancies, and to the hurry of 
 various passions, as well as other men ; especially that shall 
 consider the many surprising interpositions of an over- 
 ruling hand, and what innumerable varieties of paths lie 
 open to the view and choice of an infinite mind, which we 
 can have no apprehension of; might easily, before-hand, 
 apprehend the vanity of attempting much in this kind, as 
 common experience daih' shows it, afterwards. So that 
 muliiiudes of presa^ino: thoughts, and agitations of mind, 
 which proceed from the suppo.sition of the contrary, cannot 
 be without much sin against this precept of our Lord. 
 And which would mostly be avoided, would we once learn 
 to lay no great stress of expectaion upon any thing that 
 mav •e otherwise; and to reckon (with that modesty 
 which would well become us) that we can foresee nothing 
 in the course of ordinary human affairs upon more certain 
 terms. 
 
 Fourthly, Here is especially forbidden such thoughfful- 
 ness as proceeds from a secret distrust of Providence, from a 
 latent, lurking atheism, or (which comes all to one as to the 
 matter of religion) an only epicurian theism that excludes 
 the Divine presence and government ; i. e. call it by one of 
 these names or the other, whatsoever thoughifulness pro- 
 ceeds from our not having a fixed, steady, actual belief, of 
 the wise, holv, righteous, and powerful Providence that 
 governs all affairs in the world, and particularly all our own 
 affairs, no doubt highly offends against this law. When 
 we have thought God out of the world, what a horrid dark- 
 ness do we turn it into to ourselves ! what a dismal waste 
 and wilderness do we make it! We can have no prospect 
 but of darkness and desolation always before us. Did we 
 apprehend God as every where present and active ; (Deum 
 ire per nu.iies terrasqive tractusq^ie maris — ) thai heavens, 
 earth, and seas are replenished with a divine jnnrerfvl pre- 
 sence ; were our minds possessed with the belief of his 
 fulness filling all in all, and of governing power and wis- 
 lom^ extending to all times as well as places ; there were 
 
 neither time nor place left for undue thoughtfulness of 
 what is, or shall be. Butby a secret disbelief of Providence, 
 or our not having a serious, fixed, lively, practical belief of 
 it, we put ourselves into the condition of the more stupid 
 pagans, and are not only as strangers to the commonwealth 
 of Israel, and the covenants of promise, and without Christ 
 and hope, but even as without God in the world, or atheists 
 in it, as the word there signifies, Ephes. ii. 12. And when 
 we have thus by our own disbelief shut out God, how 
 over-oflSciously do we offer ourselves to succeed into 
 his place ! And now how immense a charge have we 
 taken upon us ! We will govern the world, and order 
 affairs, and times, and seasons : a province for which we 
 are as fit as he whom the poetic fable places in the chariot 
 of the sun. And so were it in our power, we should put 
 all things into a combustion. But it is too much for us, 
 that our impotency serves us to scorch ourselves and set 
 our own souls on fire. How do our own thoughts ferment, 
 and glow within us, when we feel our inability to di.'^pose 
 of things, and counterwork cross events, or even shift for 
 ourselves ! For what are we to fill up the room of God ! 
 or supply the place of an excluded deity ! No wonder if 
 troublous thoughts multiply upon us, till we cannot sustain 
 the cumbersome burden. The context shows this to be 
 the design of our Lord, to possess the minds of his di.=ci- 
 ples, when heprohibits them thoughtfulness, with a serious 
 believing apprehension of Providence, such a Providence 
 as reacheth to all things ; even the most minute, and in- 
 considerable ; to the birds that fly in the air, the flowers 
 that grow in men's gardens, the gra.ss in their fields, and 
 (elsewhere) the hairs on their own heads. And certainly 
 if we could but carr}' with us apprehensive minds of such 
 a Providence every where acting, and which nothing es- 
 capes, it must exclude the thoughtfulness here intended lo 
 be forbidden. _ 
 
 Fifthly, Such as proceeds from an ungovernable .spirit, a 
 heart not enough subdued to the ruling power of God over 
 the world. Not only distrustfulness of Providence, but rebel- 
 lion against it, may be the (very abundant) spring of undue 
 thoughtfulness. A temjier of spirit impatient ofgovein- 
 ment, self-willed, indomitable ; that says, I must have my 
 own will and way, and things must be af er xny mind and 
 manner; can never be unaccompanied with a solicitude 
 that tJiey may do so, as undutiful and sinful as its cause. 
 A mind unietractably set, and pre-engaged one way, can- 
 not but be filled with tumult, and mutinous thoughts, upon 
 any appearing probability that things may fall out other- 
 wise. In reference to an afflicted suffering condition (how 
 ungrateful soever it be to our flesh) a filial subjection to 
 the Father of our spirits is required under highest penalty. 
 Shall we not be subject to the Father of spirits and live 1 
 Heb. xii. 9. To mutiny is mortal, q. d. you must be sub- 
 ject, your life lies on it. The title which the sacred pen- 
 man there fixes on God, the Father of spirits, is observable, 
 and ought to be both instructive and grateful to us. He 
 is the great paternal Spirit. We (in respect of our spirits) 
 are his offspring (as the apostle elsewhere from a heathen 
 poet urges, Act. xvii.) In this context the fathers of our 
 flesh and the Father of spirits are studiously contiadistin- 
 guished to one another. The relation God bears to us as 
 our Father terminates on our spirits. And his paternal 
 care and love cannot but follow the relation, and princi- 
 pally terminate there too. He must be chiefly concerned 
 about our spirits, that they be preserved in a good and 
 healthful state. If therefore it be requisite for the advan- 
 tage of our spirits, that our flesh do suffer, we are not to 
 think he will stand upon that, or oppose the gratification of 
 our flesh to the necessity of our spirits. And in this case 
 shall not the wisdom and authority of the Father judge and 
 rule, and the duty of the son oblige him to submit and 
 obe}' 1 And whereas 'ti*; added [and live 7] it implies we 
 are not, upon other terms, to expect a livelihood, to sub- 
 sist and be maintained. A son in a plentiful, well-governed 
 family, as long as he can be content to keep to the orders 
 and rule of the family, and live under the care of a wise 
 and kind father, he may live without care, or taking 
 thought: but if he will ^o into rebellion, he puts himself 
 into a condition thoughtful enough. He is brought to the 
 condition of the prodigal, that knew not what shift to 
 make to live, till he advises with himself, and comes to
 
 334 
 
 OP THOUGHTFULNESS FOR THE FUTURE. 
 
 that wise resolution of returning. I will arise and go to 
 my father — If we speak of the life of our spirits, in the 
 moral sense, (which in the natural sense we know are al- 
 ways immortal,) it consists, as our bodily life doth, in an 
 evKpaaia in that holy order, and temperament, which de- 
 pends upon our continued union with God, and keeping 
 in with him (as the bodily crasis is preserved as long as 
 the soul holds it united with itself) A holy rectitude, 
 composure, and tranquillity is our life, carries with it a 
 lively sprightly vigour. To be spiritually minded is life 
 and peace, Rom. viii. 6. But if we refuse to submit to the 
 order of God, and offer to break ourselves otT from him, 
 this hath a deadly tendency. It tends to dissolve the 
 whole frame, and would end in death if sovereign victori- 
 ous grace did not prevent. To be sure an attempt to rebel 
 gradually discomposes our whole soul, and brings in a 
 crowd of thoughts that will be as uncomfortable to our- 
 selves, as they are undutiful towards God ; and conse- 
 quently impair and enfeeble life ; which our Saviour im- 
 plies to consist in a good, healthy, comfortable, internal 
 habit of mind and spirit, when he denies it to stand in ex- 
 ternals. A man's life consists not in the abundance of the 
 things which he possesses, Luke xii. 15. All which in- 
 ward composure and tranquillity depend upon our willing 
 submitting to be governed. What a blessed repose and 
 rest ! how pleasant a vacancy of diseasing vexatious 
 thoughts doth that soul enjoy that hath resigned itself, and 
 gives a constant unintermitted consent to the Divine go- 
 vernment ! when it is an agreed, undisputed thing, that 
 God shall always lead and prescribe, and it follow and obey ! 
 
 Some heathens have given us documents about follow- 
 ing God, that might both instruct and shame us at once. 
 It would save us many a vain and troublesome range, and 
 excursion of mind and thoughts, could we once learn con- 
 stantly to do so. If upon a journey, in an intricate way 
 full of various turnings and windings, a man have a good 
 and sure guide before him; as long as he Ibllows he needs 
 not be thoughtful, or make trials here and there. But if 
 he will outrun his guide, and take this or that bye-way be- 
 cause it seems pleasant, he puts himself to the needless 
 labour of coming so far back, unless he will err continu- 
 ally. As long as we are content that God govern the world 
 and us, all is well. 
 
 Sixthly, All such thoughtfulness is undue as proceeds 
 from a dislike of God's former methods, in what he hath 
 heretofore done ; when, because things have not gone so 
 as to please us formerly, therefore we are thoughtful and 
 afraid they may as little please us hereafter. Here the 
 peccant cause is an aptness to censure and correct Provi- 
 dence ; as they, Mai. ii. 17. Where is the God of judg- 
 ment ? (we may reckon it a branch from that former root, 
 an unsubjeci spirit, only shooting backward:) a disposition 
 to find fault with the paths God hath taken, as if he had 
 made some wrong steps, or in this or that instance had 
 mistaken his way. But he that reproveth God, let him 
 answer it. Job xl. 2. Men are apt to fancy that things 
 might have been better so or so. Hereupon how do 
 thoughts flutter and fly out to futurity ! " What if he 
 should do to-morrow, as he did yesterday ; in future, as 
 in former time ; what a world should we have of it 1" 
 There had been some rough unpleasant passages even to 
 Moses himself in the course of God's dispensation towards 
 Israel, while they were under his conduct. BiU in the re- 
 view of all, when he was now to leave them, how calm 
 and pacale is his spirit ! When in that most seraphic 
 valedictory song of his, (Deut. xxxii.) his sentence upon 
 the whole matter is, His works are perfect, for all his ways 
 are judgment, v. 4. Judgment is (with us who must 
 argue and debate things before we determine) the most 
 exquisite reason, or rather the perfection and final result 
 of many foregoing reasonings. So that Moses's testimony 
 concerning all God's ways is, that they were always chosen 
 with that exact judgment, as if he had long reasoned with 
 himself concerning every step he took; that certainly he 
 had a very good reason for whatever he did, all as perfectly 
 seen by him at one view, as if (like us) he considered, long, 
 before he judged what was to be done. 
 
 Could we once learn to sing tuneably the song of Moses 
 and the Lamb, Great and marvellous are thy works, O 
 Lord God Almighty, just and true are all thy ways, O 
 
 King of saints ; to like well all his former methods, to 
 admire the amiablene.ss and beauty of Providence in 
 every thing, or generally to approve and applaud all things 
 he hitherto hath done; to account he hath ever gone the 
 best way that could have been gone, in all that hath past; 
 we should never have dubious thoughts about what he 
 will do hereafter. And this is no more than what the 
 truth of the matter challenges from us, to esteem he hath 
 some valuable reason for eveiy thing he hath done. For 
 sometimes, we can see the reason, and are to judge so ex- 
 plicitly upon what we see. And when we cannot, 'lis 
 highly reasonable it should be with us the matter of an 
 implicit belief that so it is. For though to pretend to pay 
 that observance to fallible man, must argue either insin- 
 cerity, or folly ; the known perfection of the nature of 
 God, makes it not only safe, but our duty, to hold always 
 that peremptory fixed conclusion concerning all his dis- 
 pensations. Indeed concerning some men of known re- 
 puted wiadom, it is not only mannerly but prudent, to 
 account they may see good reason for some doubtful ac- 
 tions of theirs, when we cannot be sure they do. Much 
 more may we confidently conclude that God ever doth and 
 must do so. It is not a blind obsequiousness, but a mani- 
 fest duty, which the plain reason of the thing exacts from 
 us. And he justly takes himself afl^ronted, and counts it 
 an impious insolence, when things look not well to our 
 judgments, then lo question his, as he complains in that 
 mentioned place, Mai. ii. 17. Ye have wearied me with 
 your words, yet ye say. Wherein have we wearied thee 1 
 In that ye say. Every one that doth evil is good in the 
 sight of the Lord, and he delighfeth in them, and where 
 is the God of judgment 1 But how free is that happy soul 
 from sinful, anxious thoughts, with whom that conclusion 
 neither is notionally denied, ncr doth obtain merely as a 
 notion, but is a settled practical and vital principle, He 
 hath done all things well. 
 
 Seventhly, Such as proceeds from an over-addictedness 
 to this world, and little relish of the things of the world 
 to come. All that ariseth from a terrene mind, that 
 savours not heavenly things. The heart is the fountain of 
 thoughts. From thence they arise, and receive their distin- 
 guishing tincture. They are as the temper of the heart i.s. 
 If that be evil, thence are evil thoughts; (Matt. xv. 19.) if it 
 be earthly, they run upon earthly things, and savour both of 
 it, and the things they are taken up about. This was the 
 case of the disciples. Matt. xvi. 22, 23. When our 
 Saviour had, immediately before, inquired the common 
 opinion concerning him, and approved theirs, and con- 
 firmed them in it, that he was Christ the Son of the living 
 God ; they draw all to the favouring the too carnal ima- 
 gination and inclination of their own terrene hearts. They 
 think he cannot want power, being the Son of the living 
 God, to do great things in the world, and make them great 
 men. And reckon his love and kindness to them must 
 engage the Divine power which they saw was with him 
 for these purposes. And 'tis likely when he directs his 
 speech to Peter, and speaks of giving him the keys, which 
 he might know had heretofore been the insignia of great 
 authority in a prince's court, he understood all of some 
 secular greatness ; and that there were dignities of the like 
 kind, which the rest might proportionably share in ; as it 
 appears others of them were not without such expectations, 
 when elsewhere they become petitioners to sit at his right 
 and left hand in his kingdom (the places or thrones of those 
 phylarchs, or princes of tribes, that sat next to the royal 
 throne.) Now hereupon when our Saviour tells them 
 what was first coming, and was nearer at hand, that he 
 mu.*t be taken from them, suflTer many things, be deliver- 
 ed over unto death, &c. Peter very gravely takes on him 
 to rebuke him, Master, favour thyself, this shall not be 
 unto thee ; no, by no means! Full of thoughts, no doubt, 
 his mind was at what was said. And whence did they 
 proceed but from a terrene spirit 1 and that the notion of 
 worldly dignity had formed his mind, and made it intent 
 upon a secular kingdom. It was not abstractly his care 
 for Christ himself he was so much troubled at; as what 
 would become of his own great designs and hopes. There- 
 fore our Saviour calls him Satan, the name of that arch 
 enemy, the usurping God of this world, who had as yet 
 too much power over him, and tells him, " Thou savourest
 
 OF THOUGHTFULNESS FOR THE'FUTURE. 
 
 335 
 
 not the things that be of God, but the things that be of men," 
 q. d. a Satanical spirit hath posisessed ihee, get thee behind 
 me. And so seeks to repress that unsavory steam of fuli- 
 gmous earth-sprung thoughts, which he perceived arose 
 in his mind. 
 
 It were a great felicity to be able to pass through this 
 present state with that temper of mind as not to be liable 
 to vexatious disappointments. And whereas the things 
 that compose and make up this state are both little and 
 uncertain, so that we may as well be disappointed in ha- 
 ving as in not having them; our way were, here, not to 
 expect, but to have our minds taken up with the things 
 that are both sure and great, that is, heavenly, eternal 
 things; where we are liable to disappointment neither 
 way. For these are things that we may upon serious dili- 
 gent seeking both most surely obtain and possess, and 
 most .satisfyingly enjoy. And the more our minds are 
 employed this way, the less will they incline the other. 
 As no man that hath tasted old wine presently desireth 
 new, for he saith the old is better. The foretastes of heaven 
 are mortifying towards all terrene things. No one that looks 
 over that 11th to the Hebrews would think those worthies, 
 those great heroes there reckoned up, troubled themselves 
 much with thoughts of what they were to enjoy or suffer 
 in this world. To see at what rate they lived, and acted, 
 it is easy to collect they were not much concerned about 
 temporary futurities. Whence was it *? They lived by that 
 faith that was the substance of things hoped for, and the 
 evidence of things not seen, that exalted, raised, and re- 
 lined their spirits, and carried them above an empty, un- 
 satisfying, vain world. And again, 
 
 Eighthly (which is most conjunct with this last,) All such 
 thoughtfuiness is forbidden as proceeds from want of self- 
 denial, patience, and preparedness for a suffering slate. A 
 heart fortified and well postured for suffering, is no suscep- 
 tible subject of those ill impressions. They fall into weak 
 minds, lender, soft, and delicate, that reckon themselves 
 created, and embodied in flesh, only to taste and enjoy sensi- 
 ble delights ; and that they came into this world to be en- 
 tertained, and divert themselves with its still fresh and va- 
 ricrtis rarities. We are deeply thoughtful because we cannot 
 deny ourselves and bear the cross; and have not learned 
 to endure hard.ships, as good soldiers of Christ Jesus. Our 
 shoulders are not )'-et fitted to their burthen. Some perhaps 
 think themselves too considerable, and persons of too great 
 value to be sufferers. I am too good, my rank too high, my 
 circumstances too little vulgar. Hence, contempt , disgrace, 
 and other more sensibh^ pinching hardships are reckoned 
 unsuitable for them, and only to be endured by persons of 
 lower quality; so that the very thoughts of suffering are 
 themselves unsufferable. Whereupon, when the exigency 
 of the case urges, and they can no way decline, they can- 
 not but think strange of the fiery trial, and count a strange 
 thing is happened to them. The matter was very unfa- 
 miliar unto their thoughts, and they are as heifers wholly 
 unaccustomed to this j^oke. And now, upon the near pros- 
 pect of so frightful a spectacle as an unavoidable suffering, 
 a mighty resistless torrent of most turbid thoughts breaks 
 in upon them at once. And they are (as a surprised camp) 
 all in confusion: sorrowful, fearful, discontcntful, repi- 
 ning, amazed thoughts do even overwhelm and deluge 
 their .souls. And all these thoughts do even proceed from 
 want of thinking. They think too much now, because be- 
 fore they thought too little. Whereas did we labour by 
 degree to frame our spirits to it, to reconcile our minds to 
 a suffering state, (as they do horses intended for war, by a 
 drum beaten under their nose, a pistol discharged or trum- 
 pet sounded at their very ear,) did we inure ourselves 
 much to think of suffering, but yet to think little and di- 
 minishingly of it, and little of oiirselves, who may be the 
 sufferers; I am (sure) not better than those that have suf- 
 fered before me in former times, such as " of whom the 
 world was not worthy;" we should be in a good mea.sure 
 prepared for whatever can come, and so not be verv 
 thoughtful about any thing that shall. 
 
 II. That thoughtfuiness is forbidden too which tends to 
 evil, such as hath an evil tendency. 
 
 1. Such as tends to evil negatively, that is, to no good ; 
 all that is to no purpose. For we are apt when we see things 
 go otherwise than we would have them, to exercise our 
 
 contriving thoughts as deeply as if we were at the head 
 of affairs, and had them in our own hand and power, and 
 could at length turn the stream this way or that. But do 
 we not busy ourselves about matters all the while wherein 
 we can do nothing? When things are out of our power, 
 are not of the rh i<{,' rifitv, belong not to us, are without our 
 reach, and we can have no influence upon them this way 
 or that, yet we are prone over-earnestly to concern our- 
 selves. And as men (in that bodily exercise) w'hen the 
 bowi is out of their hands variously writhe and distort 
 their bodies, as if they could govern its motion by those 
 odd and ridiculous motions of theirs ; so are we apt to 
 distort our minds into uncouth shapes and postures, to as 
 little purpose, more pernicious, and upon a true account 
 not less ridiculous. As our Saviour warns us to beware 
 of idle words, such as can do no work, (as the Greek im- 
 ports,) so w-e should count it disallow ed us too, (for the 
 same reason,) to think idle thoughts. The thoughtfuiness 
 our Saviour intends to forbid, you see how he character- 
 izes, such as will not add a cubit, nor alter the case one 
 way or other, i. c. that is every way useless to valuable or 
 good purposes. The thinking power is not given us to be 
 used in vain ; especially, whereas it might be employed 
 about matters of great importance to us at the same time. 
 Which serves to introduce a further character of undue 
 thoughtfuiness, viz. 
 
 2. Such as tends to divert us from our present duty. 
 Our minds are not infinite, and cannot comprehend all 
 things at once. We are wont so to excuse our not having 
 attended to what another was saying to us, that truly we 
 were thinking on somewhat else. Which is a good excuse, 
 if neither the person nor thing deserved more regard from 
 us. But if what was propounded were somewhat we 
 ought to attend to, 'tis plain we were diverted by thinking 
 on what, at that time, we ought not. When men are so 
 amused wuth their own thoughts that they are put into a 
 state of suspense, and interruption from the proper busi- 
 ness of their calling, as Christians, or men, or when their 
 thoughts run into confusion, and are lost as to their pre- 
 sent work, such are certainly forbidden thoughts: when 
 they think of every thing but what they should think of 
 A few passant thoughts would surely serve turn for what 
 is not my business. I have business of my own that is 
 constant, and must be minded at all times, be they what 
 they will. But when the times generally do not please us, 
 upon every less grateful emergency we overdo it in think- 
 ing! 'Tis rational and manly to behave ourselves in the 
 world as those that have a concern in it, under the com- 
 mon Ruler of it, and for him ; and not to be negligent 
 observers how things go in reference to his great and all- 
 comprehending interest. But the fault is, that our thoughts 
 are apt to be too intense, and run into excess ; that we crowd 
 and throng ourselves with thoughts, and think too much to 
 think well, consider what others do or do not; that we 
 allow no place nor room for thoughts what we are to dc 
 ourselves, even in the way of that our constant dutj', 
 which no times, nor slate of things, can alter or make dis- 
 pensable: i. e. to pray continually with cheerful trust: to 
 live in the love, fear, and service of God; to work out our 
 own salvation: to seek the things that are above: to go- 
 vern and cultivate our own spirits; to keep our hearts 
 w'ith all diligence : to do all the good we can to others, 
 &c. As to these things we stand astonished, and as men 
 that cannot find their hands. We should endeavour to range 
 and methodize our thoughts, to reduce them into some 
 order, (which a crowd admits not,) that we may have them 
 distinctly applicable to the several occasions of the human 
 and Christian life. And with which useful order whatever 
 consists not, we should reckon is sinful and forbidden. 
 
 3. Such as not only confounds, but torments the mind 
 within itself, gives it inward torture, distracts and racks it. 
 as the word in the tcx' more peculiarlv signifies, (»foifyitTi ,) 
 to pluck and rend a thing in pieces, part from part, one 
 piece from another. Such a thoughtfuiness as doth tear a 
 man's soul, and sever it from itself There is another 
 word of very emphatical import too which is used in for- 
 bidding the same CA'il, (Luke xii. "29.) uh fcrciooi^cat^e, be 
 not in suspense, do not hover as meteors, do not let your 
 minds hang as in the air, in apendulous, uncertain, unquiet 
 posture ; or be not of an inconsistent mind, as a cniica*
 
 330 
 
 OF THOUGHTFULNESS FOR THE FUTURE. 
 
 writer phrases itj^ or, as we may add, that agrees not, 
 that falls out and fights with itself, that with its own agi- 
 tations sets itself on fire, as meteors are said to do. 
 Thoughts there are that prove as fire-brands to a man's 
 soul, or as darts and arrows to his heart, that serve to no 
 other purpose but to inflame and wound kim. And when 
 they are about such things (those less-considerable events 
 of to-morrow) that all this might as well have been 
 spared, and when we disquiet ourselves in vain, it cannot 
 be without great iniquity. God, who hath greater domi- 
 nion over us than we have of ourselves, though he dis- 
 quiet our spirits for great and important ends ; put us to 
 undergo much smart and torture in ourown minds, caused 
 us to be pricked to the heart, and wounded, in order to our 
 cure, and hath appointed a state of torment for the incu- 
 rable ; yet he doth not afflict willingly, nor grieve the 
 children of men. 'Tis a thing he wills not for itself 
 Those greater ends make it necessary, and put it without 
 the compass of an indifferent choice. Much less should 
 we choose our own torment, as it were, for torment's sake, 
 or admit thoughts which serve for no other purpose. 'Tis 
 undutiful ; because we are not our own ; we violate and 
 discompose the temples of the Holy Ghost, where since 
 he vouchsafes to dwell, we should as much as in us is 
 provide he may have an entirely peaceful and undisturbed 
 dwelling. 'Tis unnatural, because 'tis done to ourselves. 
 A felony de se. Whoever hated his own flesh ? No man 
 cuts and wounds and mangles himself, but a madman, 
 who is then not himself, is outed and divested of himself 
 He must be another thing from himself, ere he can do 
 such acts of violence even to the bodily part. How much 
 more valuable, and nearer us, and more ourself, is our 
 mind and spirit ! But this is the case in the matter of in- 
 ordinate thoughts and care. We breed the worms that gnaw 
 and corrode our hearts. Worms ! yea the serpents, the 
 vultures, the bears and lions. Our own fancies are the 
 creators of what doth thus raven and prey upon ourselves. 
 Our own creature rents and devours us. 
 
 4. Such as excludes divine consolation, so that we can- 
 not relish the comforts God affords us, to make our duties 
 pleasant, and our afflictions tolerable ; or is ready to afford. 
 In the multitude of my thoughts within me, thy comforts 
 delight my soul, Psal. xciv. 19. Those thoughts, if they 
 were afflicting and troublesome, they were not so without 
 some due measure or limit, while they did not so fill the 
 whole soul as to exclude so needful a mixture. But how^ 
 intolerably sinful a state is it when the soul is so filled, 
 and taken up, prepossessed already, with its own black- 
 thoughts, that there is no room for better ! And its self- 
 created cloud is so thick and dark that it resists the hea- 
 venly beams, and admits them not in the ordinary way to 
 enter and insinuate. When the disease defies the remedy, 
 and the soul refuses to be comforted, as Psal. Ixxvii. 2. 
 This seems to have been the Psalmist's case ; not that he 
 took up an explicit, formed resolution against being com- 
 forted, but that the present habit of his mind and spirit 
 was such that it did not enter with him ; and that the usual 
 course did not succeed in order to it; for it follows, "I 
 thought on God and was troubled," which needs not to be 
 understood so, as if the thoughts of God troubled him, 
 but though he did think of God he was yet troubled. The 
 thoughts of God were not the cause of his trouble, but the 
 ineffectual means of his relief. Still he was troubled not- 
 withstanding he thought of God, not because. For you 
 see he was otherwise troubled, and says, " In the day of 
 my trouble I sought the Lord." He took the course which 
 was wont not to fail, but his mind was so full of troublous 
 thoughts before, that when he remembered God, it proved 
 but a weak essay. The strength of his soul was pre-en- 
 gaged the other wav, and the stream was too violent to be 
 checked by that feebler breath which he now only had to 
 oppose it. Though God can arbitrarily, and often doth, 
 put forth that power as to break and scatter the cloud, 
 and make all clear up on a sudden; yet also, often, he 
 withholds in some displeasure that more potent influence, 
 and leaves things to follow, with us, their own natural 
 cour.se ; lets our own sin correct us, and suffers us to feel 
 the smart of our own rod. For we should have Avithstood 
 beginnings, and have been more early in applying the 
 c Heiii9iu9. 
 
 remedy before things had come to this ill pass. Because 
 we did not, when we better could, set ourselves to con- 
 sider, and strive and pray effectually, the distemper of our 
 spirits is now grown to that height that we would and 
 cannot. In that great distress which befell David at Zik- 
 lag, when he finds his goods rifled, his nearest relatives 
 made captives, that city itself, the place of his repose, the 
 solace of his exile, reduced to a ruinous heap ; his guard 
 his friends, the companions of his flight, and partakers of 
 all his troubles and dangers, become his dangerous ene- 
 mies, for they mutiny and conspire against him, and 
 .speak of stoning him ; the common calamity imbitters 
 their spirits, and they are ready to fly upon him, as if he 
 had done the Amalekite's part, been the common enemy, 
 and the author of all that mischief; in this most perplexing 
 case he was quicker in taking the proper course, imme- 
 diately turns his thoughts upwards while they were flexi- 
 ble and capable of being directed, and comforted himself 
 in the Lord his God. AH that afflicting thoughtfulness 
 which is the consequent of our neglecting seasonable en- 
 deavours to keep our minds under government and re- 
 straint, while they are yet governable ; and which here- 
 upon renders the consolations of God small, and tasteless 
 to us, is certainly of the prohibited sort. 
 
 5. Such as tends to put us on a sinful course for the 
 avoiding dangers that threaten us. When we think of 
 sinning to day, lest we should suffer to-morrow. If it be 
 but one particular act of sin by which we would free our. 
 selves from a present danger, or much more if our thoughts 
 tempt and solicit us to a course of apostacy, which (Psal. 
 Ixxxv. 8.) is a returning to folly. The thing now speaks 
 itself, the thought of foolishness is sin, Prov. xxiv. 9. 
 When upon viewing the stale of affairs a man's thoughts 
 shall suggest to him, I can never be safe I perceive in this 
 way ; great calamities threaten the profession I have 
 hitherto been of. And hence he begins to project the 
 changing his religion, to meditate a revolt. In this case 
 deliberasse est descivisse. A disloyal thought hath in it the 
 nature of the formed evil to which it tends. Here is se- 
 minal apostacy. The cockatrice egg, long enough hatch- 
 ed, becomes a serpent ; and therefore ought to be crushed 
 betimes. A man's heart now begins sinfully to tempt him, 
 (as he is never tempted with effect, till he be led away by his 
 own heart and enticed, James i. 14.) And now is the con- 
 ception of that sin, which, being finished, is eventually 
 mortal, and brings forth death, v. 15. 
 
 6. Such as tends tmto visible dejection and despondency, 
 such as in the course of our walking shall make a show, 
 and express itself to the discouragement of the friends of 
 religion or the triumph of its enemies. It maybe read in 
 a man's countenance many times when he is unduly 
 thoughtful. Cares furrow his face, and form his deport- 
 ments. His looks, his mien, his behaviour, show a 
 thoughtful sadness. 
 
 Now when such appearances exceed our remaining con- 
 stant cause of visible cheerfulness, the thoughtfulness 
 whence they proceed cannot but be undue and sinful. 
 As when the ill aspect of affairs on our interests clothes 
 our faces Avith fear and sorrow ; our countenances are 
 fallen, and speak our hearts sunk : so that we even tell the 
 world we despair of our cause and our God. This, be- 
 sides the distrust, which is the internal evil .spoken of 
 before, tends to a very pernicious effect; to confirm the 
 atheistical world, to give them the day, to say with them 
 the same thing, and yield them the matter of their impious 
 boast. There is no help for them in God. And all this, 
 when there is a true unchangeable reason for the contrary 
 temper and deportment. For still that one thing " the 
 Lord reigns," hath more in it to fortify and strengthen our 
 hearts and compose us to cheerfulness, and ought to sig- 
 nify more with us to this purpose, than all the ill appear- 
 ances of things in this w^orld can do to our rational dejec- 
 tion. The Psalmist (Psal. xcvi. 11, 12, 13.) reckons all the 
 world should ring of it, that the whole creation should par- 
 lake from it a diffusive joy. Let the heavens rejoice, and let 
 the earth be glad ; let the sea roar and the fulness there- 
 of; let the field be joyful, and all that is therein; then 
 shall all the trees of the wood rejoice before the Lord, 
 for he Cometh, he cometh to judge the earth, &c.
 
 OP THOUGHTFULNESS FOR THE FUTURE. 
 
 33 
 
 He accounts all the universe should even be clothed here- 
 upon with a smiling verdure. And what? are we only to 
 except ourselves, and be an anomalous sort of creatures? 
 shall we not partake in that common dutiful joy, and fall 
 into concert with the adoring loyal chorus 1 Will we cut 
 ourselves off from this gladsome obsequious throng? And 
 what should put a pleasant face and aspect upon the whole 
 world, shall it only leave our faces covered with clouds, 
 and a mournful sadness ? 
 
 Briefly, that we may sum up the evil of this prohibited 
 thoughtfulness, as it is to be estimated from its ill effects 
 to which it lends, whatsoever, in that kind, hath a tendency 
 either dishonourable and injurious to God, or hurtful to 
 ourselves, we are to reckon into this class, and count it 
 forbidden us. Wherefore it remains that we go on the 
 other part of the intended discourse, viz. 
 
 II. The enforcement of the prohibition. For which 
 purpose we shall take into consideration the following part 
 of the verse; " To-morrow shall take thought for the 
 things of itself: sufficient for the day is the evil thereof." 
 The evil forbidden is carefulness about the future, as we 
 read it, taking thought, which is a more general expres- 
 sion than the Greek word doth amount to. All thinking 
 is not caring. This is one special sort of thoughis ihat is 
 here forbidden, careful thoughts, and one special sort of 
 care, not about duty but event, and about event wherein it 
 doth not depend upon our duty, that is, considered ab- 
 stractly from it ; and so the thing intended is, tliat doing 
 all that lies within the compass of our duty to promote any 
 good event, or to hinder bad, that then we should cease 
 from solicitude about the success. From such solicitude, 
 most especially, as shall be either distrustful, or disquiet- 
 ing, or more generally, that shall be, any wa)', either in- 
 jurious to God, or prejudicial to ourselves. 
 
 Now for the pressing of this matter upon our practice, 
 these subjoined words may be apprehended to carry, either 
 but one and the same argument, in both the clauses; or 
 else two distinct ones ; according as the former shall be 
 diversely understood. For, 
 
 1. These words, " To-morrow shall take care for the 
 things of itself," are understood by some to carry but this 
 sense with them, q. d. " To-morrow will bring its own cares 
 with it, and those perhaps afflicting enough, and which will 
 give you sufficient trouble when the day comes. To-mor- 
 row will oblige you to be carefiil about the things thereof, 
 and find you business and molestation enough." Which 
 is but the same thing in sense with what is imported in the 
 following words : " sufficient for the day is the evil thereof." 
 
 2. Or else those former words may be understood thus, — 
 " To-morrow shall take care for the things of itself;" i. e. 
 " to-morrow and the things of to-morrow shall be suffi- 
 ciently cared for otherwise, without your previous care. 
 There is one that can do it sufficiently, do not you imper- 
 tiently and to no purpose concern yourselves." It is im- 
 plied there is some one else to take that care, who.se proper 
 business it is. The great God himself is meant, though 
 that is not expressly said, the design being but to exclude 
 us; and to say who should not take care, not who should. 
 That is therefore left at large, and expres.sed with that in- 
 differency, as if it were intended to signify to us, that it 
 was no matter who took care so we did not. That we 
 should rather leave it to the morrow to put on a person and 
 take care, than be ourselves concerned ; that whose part 
 soever it is, it was none of ours. A form of speech not 
 unexampled elsewhere in Scripture. " Let the dead bury 
 their dead," only follow thou me ; q. d. sure somebody will 
 perform that part. It will be done by one or other, more 
 properly than by you, who have devoted yourself to me, 
 and are become a sacred person (not permitted b)^ the law 
 to meddle with a dead body, as a learned person glosses 
 upon that place.) And, in common speech, especially of 
 superiors to inferiors, such anfanaclases (as the figure is 
 called) are frequent. And the same word used over again, 
 when in the repetition (though here it be otherwise) we in- 
 tend not any certain sense ; more than that we would, with 
 the more smartness and pungency, repre.ss an inclination 
 we observe in them to somewhat we would not have them 
 do, or more earnestly press the thing we would have done. 
 So that we need not in that expression trouble ourselves to 
 imagine any such mystical meaning, as, let them that are 
 
 dead in sin hury them that are dead for sin ; or that it m 
 tends more, tlian,be not concerned about the matter. And 
 to show the absoluteness of the command, it is given in that 
 form of words that it might be understood he should not 
 concern himself about that business in any case whatso- 
 ever, q. d. suppose, what is not likely, that there were none 
 else that Avould take care ; or none but the dead to bury 
 the dead ; yet know, that at this lime I have somewhat else 
 to do for you ; when it is in the meantime tacitly supposed, 
 and concealed, that the matter might well enough be left 
 to the care of others. So here, while it is silently intimated 
 that the things of the morrowshall be otherwise sufficiently 
 cared for, by that wise and mighty Providence that go- 
 verns all things, and runs through all time, yet our intem- 
 perate solicitude is, in the meantime, so absolutely forbid- 
 den, that we are not to be allowed in it, though there were 
 none, but the feigned person of to-morrow, to take care for 
 what should then occur. Yet the main stress is laid upon 
 the concealed intimation all the while, as a thing whereof 
 he was secure, and would have his disciples be too, that 
 the business of providing for the morrow would be done 
 sufficiently without them. And now according to this 
 sense of those words, there are two distinct considerations, 
 contained in this latter part of the verse, both which we 
 shall severally make use of, for the purpose for which ihey 
 are propounded by our Saviour, viz. the pressing of what 
 he had enjoined in the former part of the verse. And we 
 may thus distinctly entitle them, the unprofitableness and 
 the hurtfulness of this forbidden care. 
 
 1. The former may well bear that title; the inutility or 
 unprofitableness of our care. To-morrow shall lake care 
 for the things of itself, i. e. they shall be sufficiently cared 
 for without you. Now under that head of unprofitable- 
 ness, we may conceive these two things to be comprehend- 
 ed : viz. I. That we do not need to attempt any thing : II. 
 That we can effect nothing by that prohibited care of ours: 
 that we neither need, nor (to any purpose) can, concern 
 ourselves about such matters. 
 
 I. That we do not need. They are under the direction 
 of his providence who can manage them well enough 
 himself. And unto this head several things do belong, 
 which if they be distinctly considered, will both discover 
 and highly aggravate that offence of immoderate thought- 
 fulness. As, 
 
 1. That, through that needless care of ours, M-e shall 
 but neglect (as was formerly said) our most constant in- 
 dispensable duty. That will not be done as it ought. We 
 should study to be quiet, and do our own busines,*, as is 
 elsewhere enjoined, upon another account. We have a 
 duty incumbent, which, what it is we are told, in the ge- 
 neral, and at the same time encouraged against interrupt- 
 ing care, Psal. xxxvii. 3. Trust in the Lord and do good, 
 and you shall dwell in the land, and verily yon shall be 
 fed. Some perhaps are apt to have many a careful thought 
 of this sort. " Alas ! We are afraid the condition of the 
 land may be such as we shall not be able to live in it." 
 No, ('tis said,) never trouble your thoughts about that. 
 Only neglect not your own part. Trust in the Lord, and 
 do good, and 'twill be well enough. You shall dM-ell in 
 the land, and verily you shall be fed. 
 
 2. We shall make ourselves busy-bodies in the matters 
 of another. (1 Pet. iv. 15.) as it were, play the bishops in 
 another's diocese, as the word there imports. We >liall 
 but be over-officious, and undecenily pragmatical in inter- 
 meddling. Our great care should be, when we count upon 
 suffering, that we may not su.ffer indecently, or with dis- 
 reputation, (in their account who are fittest to judge,) much 
 less injuriously to a good cause, and a good conscience. 
 Which we cannot fail to do, if we suffer out of our own 
 place and station, and having intruded ourselves into the 
 affairs and concerns that belong to the n.anagemeni o( 
 another hand. And, 
 
 3. It is to he considered who it is that we shall affront, 
 and whose province we invaile in so doing, rjc. of one 
 that can well enough manage all the affairs of to-morrow, 
 and of all future time, the Lord of all time, in whose hands 
 all our limes are, and all time. A province in the adminLs- 
 tration, whereof there is no danger of defect or error. And, 
 
 4. It is to be considered that we shall do so, not only 
 without a call, but against a prohibition. It is reckoned,
 
 338 
 
 OF THOUGHTFULNESS FOR THE FUTURE. 
 
 among men, a rudeness, to intrude into the afiairs of ano- 
 ther uninvited ; how much more if forbidden 1 It gives 
 distaste and otfence ; and the reason is plain, for it implies 
 a supposition of their weakness, and that they are not able 
 to manage their own affairs themselves. And as we there- 
 by cast contempt upon another, so, at the same time, we 
 unduly exalt and magnify ourselves, as if we understood 
 better. Such a comparison cannot but be thought odious. 
 But now t ke this as an addition to the former considera- 
 tion, and the matter rises high, and carries the same inti- 
 mation with it in reference to the All-wise and Almighty 
 God. No, is not he likely to bring matters to any good 
 pass without us 1 And are we therefore so concernedly 
 looking over the shoulder, thrusting in our eye, and send- 
 ing forlh our cares to run and range into his affairs and 
 business 1 This is a wearisome impertinence. A prudent 
 man would not endure it. 
 
 Nor are tho.se words unapplicable to this purpose, " Seems 
 it a small thing to }'ou to weary men, but you will weary 
 my God also V Isa. vii. 13. They were spoken to a pur- 
 pose not unlike. For observe the occasion. There were 
 al that time the two kings with their combined power, of 
 Syria and Israel, come up against Jerusalem and the house 
 of David, meaning the king Ahaz. It is said hereupon of 
 him, and the people with him, " Their hearts were moved 
 as the trees of the wood are moved with the wind." Full 
 of thoughts, of cares, and fears, they were, no doubt. O ! 
 what will become of this matter 1 what will be the event 1 
 And the prophet comes with a comfortable message to 
 them from God. But their hearts were so prepossessed 
 with their own fears, it signifies nothing. A confirmation 
 is offered and refused. The pretence was, he would not 
 tempt God by asking a sign even when he was bidden. A 
 hypocritical pretence, made only to cover a latent distrust. 
 Thereupon, saith the prophet, is it a small thing to weary 
 men, (meaning himself who was but the messenger,) but 
 that you will weary my God also 1 i. e. who sent him ; and 
 who went not about to put the affrighted prince, and his 
 people, upon any thing, but to trust him and be quiet : no 
 agitation of whose minds was required to their safety. 
 They are not directed, as if all lay upon them, to hold a 
 council, and contrive themselves (at this time) the means 
 of their preservation. Nor should they, with disturbed 
 minds. Neither are we (in the sense that hath been given) 
 required or allowed to use our care in reference to the 
 things of to-morrow. The stress of affairs lies not upon 
 us. The events that belong to to-morrow, or the future 
 time, whatever it be, will be brought about, whether we 
 so care or care not. Our anxiety is needless in the case. 
 "What will not to-morrow come, and carry all its events in 
 it that belong to it, without usl will not the heavens roll 
 without us l and the sun rise and set 1 the evening come 
 and also the morn 1 the days, and all that belong to the 
 several days of succeeding time 1 will not all be brought 
 about without our care think wel how was it before we 
 were born ? 
 
 2. There is also comprehended besides, under that head 
 of unprofitableness, our impotency to effect any thing by 
 our care. As we do not need, so nor are we able. That 
 is unprofitable, which will not serve our turn, nor do our 
 business. This forbidden care leaves things but as we 
 found them. 'Tis true, that may be some way useful that 
 is not absolutely necessary, but if besides that no necessity, 
 there be also an absolute usefulness, the argument is 
 much stronger. All this prohibited care of ours cannot 
 contribute anything to the hindering of bad events or pro- 
 moting of good. And that neither as to our own private 
 affairs, nor (much less) as to those that are of public con- 
 cernment. 
 
 1. Not as to our own private affairs, which the series of 
 our Saviour's discourse hath directed reference unto, what 
 we shall eat, and drink, and how be clothed ; how to main- 
 tain and support life, and add to our days and the comfort 
 of them. We cannot add ('tis said) so much as one cubit 
 {v. '21.) to our stature. So we read that word, which per- 
 haps (by the way) as a noted expositor observes, may better 
 be read age. The word signifies both. It would seem in- 
 deed something an enormous addition to have a cubit add- 
 
 d Tlie oollcclion of Arabian proverbs illustrated by the notes of Jos. Scalig. 
 and Erpen. 
 
 ed to the stature of a grown man, but the same word 
 (//XiKi'a) signifying also age, that seems here the fitter trans- 
 lation : q. d. " "Which of you by taking thought can make 
 the least addition to his own time 1" Nor is it unusual to 
 speak of measures of that kind, in relation to time, as a 
 span, a hand-breadth, and the like; and so is cubit as ca- 
 pable of the same application. Our anxiety can neither 
 add more or less. 
 
 2. Much less can it influence the common and public 
 affairs. Our solicitude, what will become of these things 1 
 how shall the Christian or proteslant interest subsist 1 
 much more how shall it ever come to thrive and prosper 
 in the world 1 so low, so depressed and despised as it may 
 seem, how will it be -with it to-morrow, or hereafter in 
 future time 1 what doth it contribute 1 I speak not to the 
 exclusion of prayer, nor of a dutiful, affectionate concern- 
 edness, that excludes not a cheerful, submissive trust ; and 
 what will more than this avail 1 If we add more, will that 
 addition mend the matter ; or do we indeed think, when 
 the doing of our duty prevails not, that our anxiety and 
 care beyond our duty shall. Can that change times and 
 seasons, and mend the state of things to-morrow or the 
 next day 1 Will to-raorrow become, by means of it, a fairer 
 or a calmer day, or be without it a more stormy one 1 We 
 might as well think by our care to order the celestial mo- 
 tions, to govern the tides, and retard or hasten the ebbs and 
 floods ; or by our breath check and countermand the course 
 of the greatest rivers. We, indeed, and all things that 
 time contains and measures, are carried as in a swift 
 stream, or on rapid floods. And a man at sea might as 
 well attempt, by thrusting or pulling the sides of the ship 
 that carries him, to hasten or slacken its motion, as we by 
 our vexatious care to check or alter the motions of Provi- 
 dence this way or that. Do we think to posture things 
 otherwise than God hath done 1 Will we move the earth 
 from its centre 1 Where will we find another earth where- 
 on to set our foot 1 
 
 2. We have to consider not only the unprofitableness 
 but hurtfulness of this forbidden care. It not only doth 
 no good, but it is sure to do us a great deal of harm. That 
 is the consideration intimated in the latter words, "suffi- 
 cient for the day is the evil thereof." We shall but accu- 
 mulate evils unto ourselves by it to no purpose. Our un- 
 due solicitude cannot add to our time or comforts, (as was 
 said,) but it may much diminish and detract from them. 
 Whereas every several day that passeth may have enough 
 in it, and be of itself sufficiently fraught with perplexity, 
 trouble, and sorrow. All that, added to the foregoing 
 burden of excessively careful forethoughts, may over- 
 whelm and sink us. There are sundry particular con- 
 siderations that fall in here also. 
 
 1. That by this means we shall suffer the same thing 
 over and over, which we needed not sufler more than 
 once. It obtained for a proverb among the d Arabians, 
 " An affliction is but one to him that suffers it, but to him 
 that with fear expects it, double." I shall suffer the evil 
 of to-morrow this day and to-morrow too. Yea, and by 
 this course I may bring all the evil of all my future time 
 into each several day, and may suffer the same affliction 
 a thousand times over, which the benignity of providence 
 meant only for my present exercise, when he should think 
 it most fit and reasonable to lay it on. 
 
 2. I may, by this means, suffer, in my own foreboding 
 imagination, many things that really I shall never suffer 
 at afl, for the events may never happen, the forethoughts 
 whereof do now afflict me. And what a foolish thing it is 
 to be troubled before-hand at that which for ought I know 
 will never be, and to make a certain evil of an uncertain I 
 
 3. And it is further to be considered, that all the trouble 
 I suffer in this kind is self-trouble. We therein but afflict 
 ourselves. And it adds a great sting to affliction, that I am 
 the author of it to myself For besides the unnaturalness 
 of being a self-tormentor, (which was formerly noted,) it is 
 the more afflicting, upon review, by how much more easily 
 it was avoidable. We are stung with the reflection on our 
 own folly, as any man is apt to be, when he considers his 
 having run himself into trouble, which by an ordinarypru- 
 dence he might have escaped. With what regret may one
 
 OF THOUGHTFULNESS FOR THE FUTURE, 
 
 339 
 
 look back upon many bye-past days, wherein I might have 
 served God with cheerfulness in my calling, " walking in 
 the light of the Lord," which I have turned into days of 
 pensive darkness to myself, by only my hlack and dismal 
 thoughts! And so byhaving drawn unjustly the evils of 
 future time into my present day, I come to draw justly the 
 evils of my former time (and of a worse kind) into it also. 
 What God inflicts I cannot avoid, but am patienily to sub- 
 mit to it, which carries its own relief in it, but I owe no 
 such patience to myself, for having foolishly been my own 
 afflicter, with needless and avoidable trouble. 
 
 4. I shall suffer hereby in a more grievous kind than if 
 only the feared evil had actually befallen me. It being the 
 nature of external evils (which the prohibited thoughtful- 
 ness chiefly refers to) that they commonly atilict more in 
 expectation than in the actual suffering of them, (as was 
 awiseheathen'sobservation,)as external good ihingsphase 
 more in the expectation, than they do in the fruition : when 
 (as he also observes) as to the good and evil things of the 
 contrary kind, the case is contrary. And how often do we 
 find those evils, in the bearmg, light, and to have little in 
 them, that looked big, seemed formidable, and carried a 
 dreadful appearance with them at a distance 1 What a fear- 
 ful thing is poverty to a man's imagination, and yet who 
 live merrier lives than beggars 1 We therefore, by this 
 anticipation, suffer in a worse kind. And if we do not 
 make an affliction of no affliction, we make of a lighter 
 one a more grievous. We turn a future outward affliction 
 into a present inward and mental one. The affliction of for- 
 bidden care falls upon the mind, whereas the object of that 
 care is only an affliction to the outward man. How much 
 more of suffering is an intelligent spirit capable of, than a 
 mere lump of animated flesh or clay? Can my body ever 
 feel so much as m}-^ soul can 1 Pleasure and pain are always 
 commensurate to the principles of life by which we are ca- 
 pable of the one or the other. How unspeakably greater 
 are the pleasures of the mind than those of the body! and 
 so, consequently, are mental afflictions than corporal. The 
 providence of God, it may be, intends some affliction to 
 our outer man to-morrow ; but, in the meantime, our ex- 
 pectations and anxious thoughts are torturing our spirits 
 to-day, while, perhaps, we have burden enough otherwise. 
 
 5. And as the affliction of anxious forethought and care 
 is more grievous in the kind, so it is likely to be very in- 
 tense in the degree of that kind ; beyond what the other 
 sort of affliction may be. For whereas the other may be, 
 more directly, from God, and this (as was said) from my- 
 self God afflicts with wisdom, mercy, and moderation. 
 But this self-affliction proceeds from the want of prudence, 
 and is without mercy. So that the moderating principles 
 are wanting. Men, commonly, know no limit or measure 
 in their thus afflicting themselves : never think it enough. 
 Their own passions are their tormentors, which, having 
 broke loose from under the government of their reason and 
 prudence, run into wild rage and fury. What a misery is 
 it to have fierce creatures preying upon us! God would 
 never use us so unmercifulh' as we do ourselves. Or, if he 
 suffer wicked men to be our afflictors, that know no pity, 
 they cannot reach our spirits: and his mercy towards us 
 is still the same. He can restrain or overrule them at plea- 
 sure ; or infuse such consolations, as, when we are thus 
 afflicting ourselves, we cannot expect; and which that self- 
 affliction doth naturally exclude. 'Tis unconceivable what 
 evils we superadd to our own days, beyond that which he 
 counts sufficient. Nor do we design our own good in it, 
 as he doth when he afflicts. Which design and end mea- 
 sure and limit the means, that they may not exceed the 
 proportion requisite thereto. 
 
 6. All this superadded evil we bring upon ourselves 
 against a rule, (which is fit to be again noted,) for both the 
 considerations that are subjoined must be considered, as 
 relative to the precept. We break first the law, before we 
 break our own peace. Our Redeemer and Lord hath in- 
 terposed his authority, as a bar against our troubling our- 
 selves; and so fenced our peace and comfort for us, that 
 we have no way to come at our own trouble, but by break- 
 ing through the boundary of this law. This then is a very 
 pestilent addition to the evil of this dai/, that we draw upon 
 ourselves by our taking thought for' to-morrotr. For we 
 
 e Psal. xijt. 
 
 mingle the evil of sin with that of affliction. We deal very 
 ill with ourselves in this, to taint our affliction with so foul 
 a thing ; which might have been mere affliction without 
 that imbilteriiig accursed mixture. 
 
 And it is to be considered, that this draws a consequence 
 with it ; (besides the. depraving nature of .'iin, and the cor- 
 roding nature, especially, of this sin ;) 'tis, as il is sin, 
 punishable. And so, as we bring the evil of to-morrow 
 into this day, we may bring the evil of this day into to- 
 morrow. God may be offended, and frown to-morrow. 
 because we were no more apt to be governed by him t<>- 
 day. And as we drew an imaginary cljud from the next 
 day into this, it may, the next, return upon us in a real 
 storm. But whether it be so or no, it highly aggravates 
 the matter that, 
 
 7. We herein oflTsnd, not only against the justice of the 
 law, but against the mercy of it, the kindness, goodness, 
 and compassion imported in it. This, as il was intimated 
 before, so needs to be more deeply considered by itself. It 
 ought indeed to be acknowledged concemmg the general 
 frame and system of all the divine laws, that they are 
 visibly, and with admirable suitableness, contrived for the 
 good and felicitj' of mankind, and seem but obligations 
 upon us to be happy. Such « as in the keeping whereof 
 there is great reward. And, in this particular one, how 
 observably hath our Lord as it were studied our quiet, 
 and the repose of our minds ! How (especially) doth the 
 benignitj' and Kindness of the holy Lawgiver appear in it ! 
 upon comparing this consideration with the precept itself. 
 Take no thought for to-morrow, sufficient for the day is 
 the evil of it : q. d. I would not have you over-burdened ; 
 I would have you be without care. It imports a tender- 
 ness of our present comfort ; which he many other waj's 
 expresses of our future safety and blessedness : g. d. I 
 would have you go comfortably through this world, where 
 you are in a pilgrimage and a wayfaring condition ; I 
 would not have you oppressed, nor your spirits bowed 
 down with too heavj' a burden. And 'tis elsewhere incul- 
 cated: Casting all care on him, for he careth for you, 1 
 Pet. V. 7. In nothing be careful, (Phil. iv. 6.) but in all 
 things let your requests be made known to God, with 
 thanksgiving; and the peace of God (so it immediately 
 follows) which passeth all understanding, shall keep your 
 hearts and minds. Commit thy way to the Lord, devolve 
 it on him, as the word signifies, Psal. xxxvii. 5. trust all in 
 him, and he will bring it to pass. If we be so wise as to 
 observe his rule and design, we shall be wise for our- 
 selves. And that tranquillity and calmness of spirit, which 
 manj^ heathens have so highly magnified, and which their 
 philosophy sought, our religion will possess and enjoy- But 
 if we neglect and disregard him herein, we shall bring an 
 evil into to-day that neither belongs to this day, nor to any 
 other. It is true indeed, God doth often point us out the 
 day, wherein we must suffer such and such external evils, 
 and as it were say to us, " Now is your day of suffering." 
 Sometimes by his providence alone, when I have no way 
 of escape ; sometimes by the concurrence of his word and 
 providence, when the one hems me in on the one hand, 
 the other on the other. He hath now set me a day for suf- 
 fering, in this or that kind; but none for sinning in this 
 kind, nor in any other. Why shall I draw in evils to this 
 day, from to-morrow, that belong neither to this day nor 
 to-morrow. 
 
 The sum is, whether we regard our innocency or our 
 peace, whether we would express reverence to God, or a 
 due regard to ourselves. If we would do the part either 
 of pious and religious or of rational and prudent men, we 
 are to lay a restraint upon ourselves in this matter. Have 
 we nothing to employ our thoughts about, that concerns us 
 more 1 nothing wherein we may use them to better pur- 
 pose 1 Is there nothing wherein we are more left at 
 liberty? or nothing about which we are more bound in 
 duty io think ? Unless we reckon that thoughts are abso- 
 lutely free, and that we may use our thinking power as we 
 please ; and that the divine government doth not extend to 
 our minds ; (which if it do not, we confound God's go- 
 ernment, and man's, and there is an end of all internal 
 sin and duty, and of the first and most radical differences 
 of moral gocxl and evil ;) we can never justif)' ourselves in
 
 340 
 
 OF THOUGHTFULNESS FOR THE FUTURE. 
 
 such a range of thoughts and cares, as this we have been 
 speaking of. Ani 'tis very unreasonable to continue a 
 course we cannot justify. A transient action done against 
 a formed judgment would be reflected on with regret and 
 shame by such as are not arrived to that pitch as not to 
 care what they do. But to persist in a condemned course 
 of actions, must much more argue a profligate conscience, 
 enfeebled and mortified to that degree as to have little 
 sense left of right and wrong. Where it is so, somewhat 
 else is requisite to a cure, than mere representing the evil 
 of that course. What that can do hath been tried already. 
 And when men have been once used to victory over their 
 own judgments and consciences, every former defeat 
 makes the next the easier ; till at length, light and con- 
 science becomes sucli contemptible baffled things, as to sig- 
 nify nothing at all, to the governing of practice, this way 
 or that. 
 
 The only thing that can work a redress, is to get the 
 temper of our spirits cured ; which will mightily facilitate 
 the work and business of conscience, and is necessary, 
 even where it is most lively and vigorous. For to be only 
 quick at discerning what we should be, and do, signifies 
 little against a disinclined heart. Therefore for the recti- 
 fying of that, and that our inclinations, as well as our judg- 
 ments, may concur, and fall in with our duty in this 
 matter, I will only recommend in order hereto by way of 
 direction (among many that might be thought on) these 
 two things. 
 
 1. That we use more earnest endeavour to be, habitu- 
 ally, under government, in reference to our thoughts, and 
 the inward workings of our spirits. For can we doubt of 
 the obligation of the many precepts that concern, imme- 
 diately, the inner man 1 to love, to trust, to fear, to rejoice 
 in God, &c. 1 What becomes of all religion, if the vital 
 principles of it be thought unnecessary 1 Do not all the 
 laws of God that enjoin us any duty, lay their first obliga- 
 tion upon our inward man 1 Or do they only oblige us to 
 be hypocrites 1 and to seem what we are not 1 And why 
 do we here distinguish ; and think that, by some precepts, 
 God intends to oblige us ; and by others he means no such 
 thing, but to leave us to our liberty 1 or would not those 
 which we will confess more indispensable (viz. such as 
 have been instanced in) exclude the careful thoughts, we 
 speak of, about the events of to-morrow 1 For can a heart 
 much conversant in the explicit acts of love to God, trust 
 in him, the fear of him, &c. be much liable to these for- 
 bidden cares ? 
 
 Nor, surely, can it be matter of doubt Avith us, whether 
 God observe the thoughts and motions of our souls ; for 
 
 can we think that he will give rules about things wherein 
 he will exercise no judgment i f The Lord knoweth the 
 thoughts of man that they are vanity; and are any more 
 vain than these! do we Chrisiians need a heathen in- 
 structor to tell us, ' " we ought always so to live, as under 
 view ; and so to think, as if then were some one that may, 
 and can, inspect and look into our inneimost breast. To 
 what purpose is it that we keep any thing secret from man 1 
 nothing is shut up to God. He is amidst our minds, and 
 comes among our most inward thoughts." Let us labour 
 to accustom and use our spirits to subjection, to have them 
 composed and formed to awful apprehensions of that au- 
 thority and government which the Father of spirits claims, 
 and hath established immediately over themselves. This, 
 though it be more general, will yet reach this case. 
 
 2. That we aim at being, in the temper of our spirits, 
 more indifferent about all future events, that lie within 
 the compass of time. Let us not account them so very 
 considerable. Time will soon be over, and is too narrow 
 a sphere for us to confine our minds unto. We should 
 endeavour a greater amplitude of thoughts. As he that 
 hath large and noble designs, looks with great indifference 
 upon smaller matters wherein they are not concerned. One 
 that f-.-ars God, and works righteousness, believes a world 
 to come, and lives' in entire devotedness to the Redeemer, 
 (the constitution of whose kingdom relates entirely to that 
 other world,) hath little cause to concern himself about in- 
 terveniences, which, as to his part in that world, will not 
 alter his case. We are not the surer of heaven, if the sun 
 shine out to-morrow ; nor the less sure, if it shine not. 
 
 For the obtaining of this dutiful and peaceful indifTer- 
 enc)^, it concerns us to be much in prayer. For both, that 
 happy temper of mind is part of the wisdom, h which if 
 we want, we are to ask of God, and it directly eases us of 
 the burden of our affairs to commit them in that way ; as 
 is signified in that mentioned scripture, Phil. iv. 6. Nor 
 was any thing more agreeable, than that our Lord teach- 
 ing us (in that admirable summary of petitions given in 
 this same sermon on the mount) to pray every day for our 
 daily bread, should here forbid us to take thought for the 
 morrow. As also, in the gathering of manna, no care was 
 to be extended further than the present day.* We have 
 easy access daily. Story tells us, the poor Chineses could 
 not enter into the presence of their Tartarian prince, with 
 never so just a complaint, without submitting, first, to a 
 hundred bastinados, as the condition of their admittance. 
 Would we thankfully accept, and use as we might, the 
 constant liberty we have upon the easiest terms, how much 
 would it contribute both to our innocency and quiet I 
 
 AN APPENDIX 
 
 TO THE FOREGOING DISCOURSE, 
 
 CONCERNING THE IMMODERATE DESIRE OF KNOWING THINGS TO COME. 
 
 There is yet another very vicious habit of mind, be- 
 sides this of taking thought about the events of future 
 time; viz. an intemperate appetite of foreknowing them. 
 Which hath such affinity, and lies so contiguous, and bor- 
 dering to the former, that it will not be incongruous to add 
 somewhat concerning it; and, which is of so ill and per- 
 nicious an import, that it will deserve some endeavour to 
 show how we may discern and repress it. And it may be 
 requisite to discourse somewhat to this purpose, both for 
 the vindication of God's wisdom and goodness, in con- 
 fining our knowledge of the events of future time within 
 so narrow bounds and limits; and that serious Christians 
 t Psal. scjv. g Soneca. h Jam. i. 5. 
 
 may the more effectually consult the ease and quiet oi 
 their own minds, by keeping themselves contentedly, as to 
 this matter, within the bounds which be hath set them. 
 This appetite of foreknowing is only to be animadverted 
 on so far as it is inordinate, and a distemper. Our busi- 
 ness therefore here must be, 1. To specify and distinguish 
 this distemper ; 2. To ofier somewhat for the cure of it. 
 
 I. For the finding out and specifying of it. It is not to 
 be doubted but there may be a faultiness in the defect ; a 
 too great listlessness, and indisposition to look forward. 
 Which indisposition will appear blameablc,Avhen it proceeds 
 either — \. From a sensual slothfulness of temper, that ad- 
 i Both wliich remarks are noted by some e.tpositors.
 
 ON THE IMMODERATE DESIRE, &c. 
 
 diets us wholly to the present. It is too much a-kin to 
 the beast, to be totally taken up with what now pleases. 
 When all the soul lies in the senses, and we mind nothing 
 but the grateful relishes of our present and private enjoy- 
 ments, are quite unconcerned about the slate of the world, 
 or the Christian interest, or what shall hereafter come of 
 the affairs of our country, in civil or religious respects: 
 when we are held in a lazy indifferency concerning the 
 state of things in .succeeding times and ages; are con- 
 scious of no desire of any hopeful prospect for posterity, 
 and those that shall come after us: 'tis all one with us 
 whether we know them likely to be civil or barbarian. 
 Christian or pagan, free men or slaves, because we care 
 not which of these we be ourselves, so we can but eat on, 
 and enjoy our own undisturbed ease and plea.sure. This is 
 a fatal raortifica'ion of the appetite of foreknowin?; for 
 it destroys it quite, when it should but rectify and reduce 
 it within due bounds. And in what degree that, or any 
 other inclination ought to die, ii much imports what kills 
 it; because that which doth so, succeeds into the do- 
 minion, and hath all the power in me which it before had. 
 And surely no worse thing can rule over me, than a sen- 
 sual spirit ; that binds me down, and limits me to this 
 spot of earth, and point of time. Or if it proceed — 2. From 
 a weak and childish dread of all futurity: as children ap- 
 prehend nothing but bugbears, and hobgoblins, and fright- 
 ful images, and appearances in the dark. This ill dispo- 
 sition is very intimately conjunct with the former. When 
 a .sensual mind, finding itself already well entertained 
 with the gratifications of the present time, cleaves to it, 
 and every thought of a change is mortal. 'Tis death to 
 admit the apprehension of a new scene. 'Tis as true in- 
 deed, that the same temper of mind, in more ungrateful, 
 present circumstances, runs all into discontent and affecta- 
 tion of change ; as will be further shown hereafter in a 
 proper place. But in this region of changes, 'tis most 
 imprudent and incongruous, to let the mind be unchange- 
 ably fixed upon any external state and posture of things ; 
 or irreconcilably averse to any. It is becoming, it is 
 laudable and glorious, with a manly and truly Christian 
 fortitude, to dare to face futurity, how formidably soever 
 any thing within the compass of time may look. For, 
 certainly, so far as we ought to be mortified to the know- 
 ledge of future things, it ought to proceed from some 
 better principle, than only our being afraid to know them. 
 But, that distemper of mind which is now more prin- 
 cipally to be noted and reproved, lies rather in the excess. 
 That therefore it maybe distinctly characterized and un- 
 derstood, I shall endeavour to show — 1. When this appetite 
 of foreknowing the events of future time is not to be thought 
 excessive; or how far a disposition to inquire into such 
 matters is allowable and fit. — 2. When, by its excess, it 
 doth degenerate into a distemper, so as to become the just 
 matter of reprehension and redress. 
 
 1. Therefore (on the negative part) we are not to think 
 it disallowed us for; yea it cannot but be our duty, to 
 have a well-proportioned desire of understanding so much 
 of future event, as God hath thought fit to reveal in his 
 word ; as he hath there foretold very great things concern- 
 ing the state of the Christian church and interest to the end 
 of the world. Which predictions it cannot be supposed are 
 made public and offered to our view to be neglected and 
 overlooked. Only we must take care that our endeavour 
 to understand them, and the time and labour we employ 
 therein, be commensurate to the circumstances of our con- 
 dition, to our ability and advantage for such more difficult 
 disquisitions, and be duly proportioned between them, and 
 other things, that may be of equal or greater moment to us. 
 
 2. Nor, again, is it liable to exception, if we only desire 
 to make a right use of other additional indications and 
 presages also; whether they belong to the moral, natural, 
 or political world, or (if any such should be afforded) to 
 the more peculiar sphere of extraordinary and immediate 
 divine revelation. 
 
 1. It is not only innocent, but commendable, to endea- 
 rour the making a due improvement of moral prognostics ; 
 or to consider what we are to hope, or fear, from the in- 
 crease and growth of virtue or vice in the time wherein 
 we live. And herein we may fitly guide our estimate, by 
 a Auffust. <le Civit. Dei, I. 21. c 8. 
 
 341 
 
 what we find promised, or threatened, or historically re- 
 corded in the Holy Scriptures (or other ceitain historj^) 
 in reference to like cases. Only because God may some- 
 times arbitrarily vary his method^ and the express ap- 
 plication of such promises, threatenings, and histories to 
 our times is not in Scripture, we should not be too positive 
 in making it. 
 
 2. The like may be said of such unusual phenomena as 
 fall out wiihin the sphere, but besides the common course 
 of nature: as comets, or whatever else is wont to be reckon- 
 ed portentous. The total neglect of which things, I con- 
 ceive, neither agrees with the religious reverence which 
 we owe to the Ruler of the world, nor with common 
 reason and prudence. 
 
 It belongs not to the present design, as to comets par- 
 ticularly, to discourse the philosophy of them. Their rela- 
 tion to our earth, as meteors raised from it, is a fancy that 
 seems deservedly exploded; but it seems to require great 
 hardiness to deny they have any relation as tokens. Their 
 distance from us may well argue the former. But, the 
 constant luminaries of heaven, that in other kinds con- 
 tinually serve us, might by their distance (most of them) 
 be thought quite unrelated to us as well as they. And if 
 we should suppose all, or most, of those useful luminaries 
 primarily made for some other nobler use, that makes not 
 the constant benefit we have by them less in itself. The 
 like may be thought of the use which these more extraor- 
 dinary ones may be of to us, in a diverse kind ; that they 
 should cause what they are thought to signify. I luider- 
 stand not, nor am solicitous, how they are themselves 
 caused ; let that be as naturally as can be supposed, (of the 
 rejected effluvia of other heavenly bodies, orby the never so 
 regular collection of whatsover other celestial matter,) that 
 hinders not their being signs to us, more than the natural 
 causation of the bow in the clouds ; though that, being an 
 appropriate sign for a determinate purpose, its signification 
 cannot but be more certain. And, if we should err in 
 supposing them to signify any thing of future event to us 
 at all, and that error only leads us into more seriousness and 
 a more prepared temper of mind for such trouble a.s may 
 be upon the earth ; it will, sure, be a less dangerous error, 
 than that on the other hand would be, if we sliould err in 
 thinking them to signify nothing; and be thereby made 
 the more supine and secure, and more liable to be surprised 
 by the calamities that shall ensue; besides, that we shall 
 be the less excusable, in departing from the judgment of all 
 former times and ages, upon no certainty of being more in 
 the right. And why should we think such things should 
 serve us for no other purpose, than only to gratify our 
 curiosity, or furnish us with matter of wonder, invite us to 
 gaze and admire 1 when (as an ancient well observes-'') 
 " things known to all in the common course of nature are 
 not less wondertul, and would be amazing to all that con- 
 sider them, if men were not wont to admire only things 
 that are rare." It is neither fit, indeed, we should be very 
 particular, or confident in our interpretations and expecta- 
 tions upon such occasions ; or let our minds run out in 
 exorbitant emotions, as v.ill be further shown in the po- 
 sitive account which is intended of this sort of distemper. 
 But I conceive it is very safe to suppose, that some very 
 considerable thing, either in a way of judgment or mercy, 
 may ensue; according as the cry of persevering wicked- 
 ness or of penitential pra3'er is moreorlessloudatthat time. 
 
 3. There are, again, very strange and extraordinary as- 
 pects of providence that sometimes ofl'er themselves to our 
 notice, in the course of human aflairs, and in the political 
 world, where God presides over rational and free agents. 
 And these also must be allowed to have their significatijon 
 of what is likely to be future. For, otherwise, if we were 
 to reckon they impiirted nothing, either of gooti or evil (so 
 much as probable) to be expected from them ; we should 
 be to blame, if our minds should admit any impre.ssion 
 from them, either of hope or fear, (which both reler to the 
 future,) though in never so moderate a degree. Andshould 
 be obliged to put on an absolute stoicism, in relerence m 
 whatsoever may occur beyond what human nature is capa- 
 ble of ; and which would have more in it of stupidity, than 
 prudence, or any human or Christian virtue. When, there- 
 fore, the face of providence seems more manifestly threat-
 
 342 
 
 ON THE IMMODERATE DESIRE 
 
 ening ; clouds gather, all things conspire to infer a com- 
 mon calamity, and all means and methods of prevention 
 are from time to time frustrated ; if we so far allow our- 
 selves to think it approaching, as that we are hereby ex- 
 cited to prayer, repentance, and the reforming of our lives, 
 this sure is belter than a regardless drowsy slumber. 
 
 And again, if in order to our preservation from a present 
 utter ruin, there fall out, in a continual succession, many 
 strange and wonderful things which we looked not for, 
 without which we had been swallowed up quick; we be 
 hereupon encouraged unto trust and dependance upon 
 God, and the hope we shall be preserved from being at 
 length quite destroyed, whatever present calamities may 
 befall us ; and be the more fortified in our resolution not 
 to forsake him, whatsoever shall ; this seems no immodest 
 or irrational construction and use of such providences. 
 Yea, and at any time, when there is no very extraordinary 
 appearance of a divine hand in the conduct of affairs ; it 
 unbecomes us not to use our reason and prudence, in 
 judging by their visible posture and tendency, as they lie 
 under human management, what is like to ensue ; upon 
 supposition the overruling Providence do not interpose, to 
 hinder or alter their course ; (as we often find they run on 
 long in one current, without any such more remarkable 
 interposition ;) only we are to be very wary, lest we be pe- 
 remptor}' in concluding ; or put more value than is meet 
 upon our own judgment, (as was noted before,) both be- 
 cause we know not when, or how, a divine hand may in- 
 terpose ; and may be ignorant of many matters of fact, 
 upon which a true judgment of their natural tendency may 
 depend, and our ability to judge, upon what is in view, 
 may be short and defective. Others that have more power, 
 and can do more, may also have much more prudence, 
 and can discern better. But observing such limitations, 
 'tis fit we should use, to this purpose, that measure of 
 understanding which God hath given us. In what part of 
 the world soever he assigns us our station, we are to con- 
 sider he hath made us reasonable creatures, and that w^e 
 owe to him what interest we have in the country where we 
 live. And therefore, as we are not to affect the knowledge 
 which belongs not to us; so nor are we to renounce the 
 knowledge which we have ; to abandon our eyes, and be 
 led on as brutes or blind men. But to endeavour, accord- 
 ing as we have opportunity, to see where we are, and 
 whither we are going ; that we may know accordingly how 
 to govern our spirits, and aim to get a temper of mind 
 suitable to what may be the state of our case. And for 
 aught we know, this may be all the prophecy we shall 
 have to guide us. As it was the celebrated saying of a 
 Greek poet, quoted by divers of the sager heathens, " He 
 is the best prophet that conjectures best." Nor is it so 
 reasonable to expect, that in plain cases, (which do ordi- 
 narily happen,) God should, by any extraordinary means, 
 give us notice of what is to fall out. 
 
 4. But we are not suddenly to reject any premonitions 
 of that kind, that appear to deserve our regard, if there be 
 any such. 'Tis indeed a part of prudence not too hastily 
 to embrace or lay much stress upon modern prophecies. 
 But I see not how it can be concluded, that because God 
 hath of latter time been more sparing as to such commu- 
 nications, that therefore prophecy is so absolutely ceased, 
 that he will never more give men intimations of his mind 
 and purposes that way. He hath never said it; nor can 
 it be known by ordinary means. Therefore for any to say 
 it, were to pretend to prophesy, even while they say pro- 
 phecy is ceased. The superstition of the vulgar pagans 
 was, indeed, greatly imposed upon by the pretence of di- 
 vination ; but among their moi-e ancient philosophers none 
 ever denied the thing, except Xenophanes and Epicurus, 
 as Cicero b and Plutarch >: inform us, and concerning the 
 latter, Laertius.^ It seems he did it over and over; and, 
 indeed, it well agreed with his principles about the Deity 
 to do so. Cicero himself, after large discourse upon the 
 subject, leaves at last the matter doubtful, according to the 
 manner of the academy which he professes to imitate. Yet 
 a great father in the" Christian church, imderstands him 
 to deny it, but withal observes that he denied God's pre- 
 
 b De divmat. c De P!aci» Phil. 
 
 dmiiVTL»r}vdt arranavevaXMii ninipa:ci toj ^at £^ rr,i jiirpi' tmrourit 
 I J ^<ta Epic. ^ 
 
 science too (as one might, indeed, that he doubted it ii 
 least) in that discourse. Plato discourses soberly of it, 
 asserting and diminishing it at once ; (as we shall after- 
 wards have more occasion tonote ;) the generality were foi 
 it, as is eviJent. And indeed the many monitory dreams 
 related in Cicero's books upon that subject, and by Plu- 
 tarch in several parts of his works, show that notices oi 
 things to come were not uncommon among the pagans; 
 and in a way that seemed more remarkable, and of more 
 certain signification, than their so much boasted oracles. 
 How they came by them, from whom, or upon what ac- 
 count, we do not now inquire. But since the matter was 
 really so, it seems no incredible thing, that some or other 
 in the Christian church, even in these latter ages, should, 
 upon better terms, partake somewhat of such privilege. 
 Nor is it difficult to produce many instances, within the 
 latter f centuries, that would incline one to think it hath 
 been so. 
 
 But whosoever shall pretend it, I see not what right 
 they can claim to be believed by others, till the event jus- 
 tify the prediction ; unless they can, otherwise, show the 
 signs which are wont to accompany and recommend a 
 supernatural revelation. Where any such is really afford- 
 ed, 'tis like it may produce a concomitant confidence, that 
 will exclude all present doubt in their own minds, without 
 external confirmation. But then, as the apostle speaks in 
 another case, if they have faith, they must have it to them- 
 selves. They can never describe their confidence to an- 
 other, so as to distinguish it from the impression of a mere 
 groundless (and often deluded) imagination. Nor are others 
 to grudge at it, if some particular persons be in this or 
 that instance privileged with so peculiar divine favour, a^s 
 to have secret monitions of any danger approaching them, 
 that they may avoid it, or direction concerning their own 
 private affairs, which none else are concerned to take cog- 
 nizance of. But, if the matter be of common concernment, 
 the concurrence of things is to be noted ; and a greater 
 regard will seem to be challenged, if several of these men- 
 tioned indications do fall in together. As supposing a gra- 
 dual foregoing languor and degeneracy of religion, in the 
 several parts of the Christian world. And Christianity 
 (with the several professions which it comprehends) looks 
 less like religion; or a thing that hath any reference to 
 God. But rather, that men have thought fit to make use 
 of this or that various mode of it, as a mark of civil dis- 
 tinction, under which to form and unite themselves into 
 opposite parties, for the serving of secular interests and 
 designs. It, generally, makes no better men than pagan- 
 ism. A spirit of atheism, profaneness, and contempt oi 
 the Deity, and of all things sacred, more openly shows and 
 avows itself, than perhaps, heretofore, in any pagan nation. 
 And not in a time of gross darkness, such as formerly, for 
 several ages, had spread itself over the whole face of ihe 
 Christian church ; but in a time of very clear and bright 
 liglit. Worse and more horrid principles, even in the an- 
 cient sense of mankind, apparently destructive of common 
 order, and of all human society, are inserted into the reli- 
 gion of Christians ; and obtain with them that have, in 
 great part, obtained the power of the Christian world, and 
 would wholh' engross the Christian name. Better princi- 
 ples, in others, are inefficacious and signify nothing, too 
 generally, to the governing of their lives and practice. Men 
 are let loose to all imaginable wickedness, as much as if 
 they were not Christians, and many {viz. that more vasijj' 
 numerous and bulky party) the more for that they are so. 
 Yea, and not let loose onl)^; but obliged by their very 
 principles to those peculiar acts and kinds of n'ickedness 
 and violence, which directly fend to turn Chris-tendom 
 into an Aceldama, and involve the Christian world in ruin 
 and confusion. When multitudes stand as it were pre- 
 pared, and in a ready posture, to execute such vengeance 
 as is highly deserved by others, and make judgment begin 
 at (that which our profession obliges us rather to account . 
 the house of God, to rebound afterward, with greater terro) 
 and destructiveness, ujxjn themselves who oegan \t. 
 
 If now some eminent servant of God mucn na^d, arn. 
 of great remark for knowledge, wisdom, and sanctity, re- 
 
 e August, de Cmt. Dei, ! 5. c. 9. 
 
 fSavanrola G WischaTd,of8co4l6nd and several other*.
 
 OF KNOWING THINGS TO COxME. 
 
 343 
 
 mole from all suspicion of levity, or sinister design, shall 
 have very expressly foretold such a time and state uf ihmgs 
 as this, and what will be consequent thereupon ; and with 
 great earnestness and vehemency inculcated the premoni- 
 tion ; and if, in such a time, God shall set again and again 
 a monitory torch, high and flaming in the heavens, over 
 our heads; methinks it doth not savour well tomakeliglit 
 account of it, or think it signifies nothing. For, (to speak 
 indeed, as himself doth allow and teach us to conceive,) 
 the majesty of God doth in such concurrent appearances 
 seem more august. His hand is lift up, and he doth as it 
 were accingere se, prepare and address himself to action, 
 raise him.self up in his holy habitation, (Zech. ii. 13.) 
 whereupon, all flesh is required to be silent before him. 
 A posture both of reverence, in respect of what he hath 
 already done ; and of expectation, as to what he may fur- 
 ther be about to do. And of what import or signification 
 soever such things, in their concurrence, may be to us, it 
 surely ought to be attended to, and received with great 
 seriousness, yea, and with thankfulness. Especially, if 
 there be ground to hope well concerning the issue, (as there 
 will always be to them that fear God,) and we can see the 
 better what special sort and kind of duty we are more pe- 
 culiarly to apply ourselves to in the meantime. 
 
 And whereas we know a mind and wisdom govern all 
 affairs and events through the whole universe ; it is fit we 
 should meet mind with mind, wisdom with wisdom. That, 
 on our part, an obsequious, docile mind should advert to 
 and wait upon that supreme, all-ruling. Divine mind, in 
 all the api)earances wherein it looks forth upon us ; and 
 with a dutiful veneration, cry hail to every radiation of 
 that holy light ; accounting, whatever it imports, it oppor- 
 tunely visits the darkness wherein we converse, and shoiild 
 be as gratefully received as the sun, peeping through a 
 cloud, by one travelling in a dusky day. His is the teach- 
 ing wisdom. It is well for us if we can be wise enough 
 to learn ; and unto that, there is a wisdom requisite also, 
 ? Whoso is wise, and will observe these things, even they 
 shall understand the loving-kindness of the Lord. And 
 again, h I will instruct thee, and teach thee in the way 
 which thou shall go; I will guide thee with mine eye; 
 which implies our eye must diligently mark his, and that 
 (as it follows) we i be not as the horse or mule, that have 
 no understanding, &c. And whereas all the works of 
 God, even those that are of every day's observation, do 
 some way or other represent God to us ; and should con- 
 stantly suggest mito us serious thoughts of him ! those that 
 are more extraordinary ought the more deeply to impress 
 our minds, and excite in us those higher acts of a religious 
 affection, which the circumstances of our present state ad- 
 mit not, that they can be constant in the same degree. As 
 though subjects ought always to bear a loyal mind towards 
 their prince ; upon such greater occasions, when he shows 
 himself in solemn state, 'tis becoming there be correspond- 
 ent acts of more solemn homage. But upon the whole, 
 since all the certain knowledge we can have of such futu- 
 rities as naturally, and in themselves, are not certain, 
 must be by God's own revelation only ; and all probable 
 pre-apprehension of them, by the use of our own reason 
 and prudence, upon any other apta Media that occur to us. 
 While we can confine our desire of seeing into the future 
 within these limits, it will be just and innocent. And 
 therefore we may now go on, 
 
 II. To the positive discovery wherein this appetite is in- 
 ordinate, and degenerates into a distemper of mind. And 
 it may, in general, be collected from what hath been now 
 said, viz. that when we remain unsatisfied with what God 
 is pleased to reveal about such things ; and with what a 
 well-governed prudence can any other way discern; and 
 have an itch and hankering of mind after other prognos- 
 tics, that lie not within this compass, and are no proper 
 objects either for our faith or our reason. This is the dis- 
 temper we are to get redressed, an*', are coii';erned to 
 take heed lest we indulge or chensh. And that we may 
 yet be somewhat more distinct in making tliis discovery, 
 these th?.t follow will be pl-^..! iiidica'.ions, tha; our iii- 
 quisitiveness and thirst alter knowledge of future things is 
 a distemper of mind, and ought to be considered and dealt 
 with accordingly. As, 
 
 g P». c\Ti. ult h Pa. xtxii. 8 i Ver 9. 
 
 1. If it be accompanied with discontent, and a fastidious 
 loathing of our present lot and portion in the world. 
 Which is .so much the worse if, when our affectation and 
 desire of change proceeds really, and al the bottom, from 
 private self-re.'^pect, we endeavour to delude others, or 
 flatter ourselves into a belief that 'tis only the public good 
 we are intent upon, and the belter state of God's interest 
 in the world. And worst of all, if our desires be turbu- 
 lent, vindictive, and bloody, i. e. if not only they are so 
 fervent towards our own hoped advantages, that we care 
 not through what public confusions and calamities our 
 private ends be promoted and carried on : but .should like 
 It the better to see at the same time our heart's desire upon 
 them we have allowed our.selves to hate ; yea. though it 
 be never so true that they hate us, and have been injurious 
 to us. Thus with the study and desire of a new state of 
 things, which in itself maybe, in some cases, innocent; 
 and, limited to due methods and degrees of the desired 
 change, not only innocent but a duty, (for there is no state 
 of things in this world .so good, but being still imperfectly 
 so, we ought to desire it were better,) a twofold vicious 
 appetite may fall in, that of avarice, and revenge, of good 
 to ourselves beyond what comes to our share, and of hurt 
 to other men. Which complicated disease mnist taint and 
 infect every thought and look, that is directed forward 
 towards a better slate of things. 
 
 If this be the case, it must be great negligence and indul- 
 gence to ourselves nal to discern it. For the incoherence 
 and ill agreement of what is real and what is pretended, 
 would soon appear to one not willing to be mistaken. Sin- 
 cere devotedne.ss to God and his interest would be always 
 most conjunct with that complacential faith in his govern- 
 ing wi.sdom and power, and entire resignment of our.selves 
 and all his and our own concerns to his pleasure and 
 goodness, that we will never think his procedure too slow ; 
 or suspect him of neglecting his own interest, or of that 
 which he judges (and which therefore is, most truly) ours. 
 And it is ever accompanied with that placid benignity, 
 and universal love to other men, (enemies themselves be- 
 ing by the known rules of the gospel included.) as that we 
 would not wi.sh their least injury, for our own greatest 
 advantage. And should most earnestly wish, that if God 
 see good, the advantage of his interest in the world ini<rht 
 be so carried on, as to comprehend and lake in therewith 
 their greatest advantage also. And if we should see 
 cause to apprehend it may fall out to be otherwise ; that, 
 surely, ought to be our temper, which the prophet ex- 
 presses (and appeals to God concerning it) upon a very 
 frightful prospect of things, k "I have not desired the wo- 
 ful day, O Lord, thou knowest." So remote it should be 
 from us to press forward with a ravenous, cruel eye, to- 
 wards a tragical bloody scene ; or to accuse the Divine 
 patience, which we should adore, and (perhaps as much 
 as any others) do also need. 
 
 2. if there be a greater inclination to look forward into 
 the future things of time than those of eternity. If in the 
 former we find a connaturalness, and they seem most 
 agreeable to us, these other are tasteless, and without sap 
 and savour, if it would be a great and sensible con,so- 
 lation, to be assured such a state of things as we would 
 choose, shall very shortly obtain. But to think of a state 
 approaching, wherein all things shall be perfectly and un- 
 exceptionably well for ever, is but cold comfort. Blessed 
 God! what a mortal token is this 1 Do we apprehend 
 nothing of distemper in it 1 Do we see ourselves the men 
 of time, (as the Hebrew expresses what we read ■ men of 
 this world,) and do not our hearts misgive at the thought 1 
 How little likely is it we are designed for that blessed 
 eternity to which our spirits are so little suitable! when, 
 as 'tis said of them that are for the state wherein "> mor- 
 tality shall be swallowed up of life, that he that hath 
 wrought them for that self-same thing is God ! Can the 
 felicity of heaven belong to them that value it not as their 
 best good ] but count a terrestrial paradise of their own 
 devising better 1 
 
 3. If we be so intent upon this or that future event, as 
 that hereby the due impression is worn off of much 
 greater and more important things that are already past. 
 What so great things have we to expect in our time, as 
 
 k Jerem. nii. 16. 1 Ps. rrii H. m 2 Cor. v. 4, 5.
 
 344 
 
 ON THE IMMODERATE DESIRE 
 
 we know have come to pass in former time ! What so 
 great, as that the Son of God came down into our world ! 
 did put on man ! lived a lifetime among us mortals ! 
 breathed every where heavenly love, and grace, and 
 sweetness; and with these grateful odours perfumed this 
 noisome, impure, forlorn region of darkness and death ! 
 died a sacrifice for sinners ! and overcame death ! ascended 
 in triumph to the throne of God, sat down on the right 
 hand of the Majesty on high! What" so great as the 
 mystery of godliness, that God was manifested in the flesh, 
 jusiifieil in the spirit, seen of angels, preached unto the 
 Gentiles, believed on in the world, received up into glory ! 
 Are Einy of those little futurities, whereof we have but an 
 uncertain expectation, lit to be compared with these things 
 which we certainly know to have come to pass 1 Or have 
 we any thing so important and great to fix our eye upon, 
 as a Redeemer now in his exaltation 1 invested with all 
 power in heaven and earth, to whom every Icnee must 
 bow, and every tongue confess ! the arbiter of life and 
 death to men ! who hath established so admirable a frame 
 of religion for the reduction of apostate man ! made it 
 triumph over the obstinate infidelity of the Jews, and the 
 idolatry of the Gentile world! And what the glorious 
 issue of his administration will be, we already know; and 
 are not left about it to suspenseful dubious inquiry. Nor 
 do need a more certain revelation than we have. Is all 
 this to be waived and overlooked ; while we stand at a gaze, 
 expecting what shall be the height of the French monar- 
 chy, or tire fate of the Dutch republic, or of this or that 
 particular person, now upon the stage 1 It must surely be 
 an ill symptom, and an indication of a sickly mind, when 
 things have all their value and regard with us, not as 
 they are great but as they are new. And are only con- 
 siderable to us, because they are yet future and unknown. 
 
 4. If we more earnestly covet to foreknow the approach 
 of an external state of things that would be better, in our 
 account, than to feel the good effect upon our spirits, of 
 one that we take to be worse, and that is externally afflic- 
 tive to us. This excludes the apprehension of a wise Pro- 
 vidence, governing the world ; that pursues a design in 
 what it doth or permits. As if we thought God did afflict 
 us for affliction's sake, as more intending, therein, his own 
 pleasure than our profit. Or as if we would impute a 
 levity to Providence, and reckoned it inconstant and de- 
 sultory, even beneath the ordinary prudence of a man. 
 That it might forget and desist, and would not drive on a 
 design to an issue. Or that (contrary to what God tells 
 Eli by o Samuel) when he began, he would divert and alter 
 his course, before he made an end. Or it implies, we place 
 our felicity in somewhat without us, more than in a good 
 habit and temper of spirit within. Whereas, surely things 
 are much amiss with us, if we do not account that a mor- 
 tified heart, towards whatsoever is temporary and terrene, 
 is a thousand-fold more desirable than the best external 
 state of things that is ever to be enjoyed under the sun. 
 As calamitous as the condition of Job was, it had been a 
 worse evil than any he suffered ; if that censure of him 
 were true,? that he chose iniquii}^ rather tjian affliction. 
 Or if that were not true, which he seems to intimate con- 
 cerning himself, that he was less intent upon a present 
 release from the furnace, than, at length, to come out like 
 gold."' 
 
 5. If the other parts of Scripture be less savoury to us 
 than the prophetical. And especially when these are of 
 more grateful savour than the preceptive part. This is of 
 great affinity with the foregoing character. For the pre- 
 cepts in God's word describe to us that excellent frame of 
 spirit, which afflictions are designed (as one sort of means) 
 more deeply to impress. And what there is of ill charac- 
 ter here, lies in this, when any thing is of greater value, 
 than that comely, amiable, well-complexioned temper of 
 spirit. And surely it less concerns us, what God will do 
 without us, than what he will have us do, and be, our- 
 selves. It is an ill circumstance with a disea.sed person, 
 when he hath less inclination to such things as tend to 
 bring him to a confirmed habit of health, than such as 
 more serve to nourish his disease. And whereas Qvic- 
 quid recipilur — ad iiiodum rccipientis, there is little doubt, 
 but where this rlistemper we are speaking of, prevails. 
 
 n 1 TtMi. ill. 16. o 1 .siam lii Ij. p ,loli wxvj. '.'i. 
 
 men may be much inclined to make that use, even of 
 Scripture prophecies, as to feed their distemper. When 
 they can relish and allow themselves to mind no other 
 parts of the Bible : when they take more pleasure to be 
 conversant in these obscure things, than those that are 
 plain, and concern us more, (as God hath mercifully pro- 
 vided that such things in his word should be plainest that 
 are of greatest concernment to us,) and they, perhaps, 
 neither have the requisite helps, nor the ability, with them 
 to master the obscurity : when our prepossessed fancy 
 must be the interpreter, and we will make the prophecy 
 speak what it never meant; draw it down to the little par- 
 ticularities of the time and place wherein we live ; and 
 are peremptory in our applications, and so confident, till 
 we find ourselves mistaken, that when we do, we begin to 
 suspect the Bible ; as if divine truths, and our attachments 
 to them, must stand and fall together. 
 
 6. (And lastly) When we have an undue regard to un- 
 scriptural prophecies. Which we may be suppo.sed to 
 hav6, if we either much search after them, or give hasty 
 credit to them without search. 
 
 1. If we much search after them, as weak and sickly 
 appetites are wont to do for rarities and novelties ; we are 
 not content with what occurs, nor with our own allotment, 
 and God's ordinary dispensation, if things of that kind 
 occur not, but purvey and listen out after them; as if we 
 had not considerable things enough, both for our employ- 
 ment, and our entertainment and gratification besides. 
 
 2. If we believe them without search, only because they 
 seem to speak according to our mind ; imbibe all things, 
 of that import, promiscuously and on the sudden, without 
 examining the matter. >■ The simple believeth every word. 
 'Tis the business of judgment, to distinguish and discern. 
 We therefore call it discretion. It totally fails, when we 
 can find no medium between believing every thing and 
 nothing. Some things indeed of this pretence, are so ap- 
 parency idle and ridiculous, that it will become a prudent 
 man to reject them at the first sight. Some may perhaps, 
 partly from the matter, or partly from the person, and 
 other concurring circumstances, have such an appearance, 
 as ought to stay our minds upon them, detain us awhile, 
 and hold us in some suspense, while we consider and ex- 
 amine whether any further regard is to be given them or 
 no. 'Tis a very di.stempered, ravenous appetite that swal- 
 lows all it can catch without choice ; that allows no leisure 
 to distinguish between what is suitable, or fit for nourish- 
 ment, and what is either noxious or vain. 
 
 II. And now for the cure of this distemper. We are 
 to consider the nature of the things the foreknowledge 
 whereof we so earnestly affect. And we find they are not 
 such futurities as have their certain causes in nature. As 
 when the sun will rise and set ; or be nearer us or re- 
 moter ; when there will be an eclipse, &c. These are not 
 the things which will satisfy this appetite. But mere con- 
 tingencies that depend upon free and arbitrary causes, i. e. 
 especially, upon the mind and will of man, as it is under 
 the direction of the supreme and all-governing mind. 
 And again, we are to consider the nature of the knowledge 
 we covet, of these things, viz. that it is not conjectural, 
 (which indeed were not knowledge,) but we would be at a 
 certainty about them. Now hereupon we are further to 
 consider, that there is no reasonable appetite which we 
 may not seek to have gratified in some apt and proper 
 wa)'', i. e. by means that are both lawful and likely to 
 attain our end. 
 
 In the present case, we can think of no course to be 
 taken for the obtaining of this knowledge, (even giving the 
 greatest scope and latitude to our thoughts,) but it must 
 suppose one of these two things ; — either that we look upon 
 it as an ordinary gift to be acquired b}^ our own endeavours, 
 ?'. e. by art and industrj^ and the use of natural means and 
 helps, whereby we imagine our natures may be heightened, 
 and improved to this pitch — or else that we reckon it an 
 extraordinary immediate gift of God ; so that if we afl^ect 
 it, we have no course to take but to seek it at his hands by 
 prayer; either that God would confer it upon ourselves, 
 or upon some others, by whom we may be informed. And 
 we are now to bethink ourselves, what encouragement or 
 allowance we can suppo.se is given us to seek it either of 
 
 q Jol) .wiii. 10. r Prov. xiv. 1.).
 
 OF KNOWING THINGS TO COME. 
 
 215 
 
 these ways. For, if Ave can seek it in neither of these, we 
 must be obliged either to assign a third (as we never can) 
 or abandon it as an unreasonable and vicious appetite; 
 the satisfaction whereof is no way to be so much as at- 
 tempted, or sought after. And now, 
 
 1. As to the former of these ways. There is nothing 
 more to be despaired of, the very attempt being both fool- 
 ish and impious; both most impossible and unlawful. 
 
 1. 'Tis plainly an mj^i^siiWc attempt. For what natural 
 means, what rules of art, can give us the knowledge of 
 such futurities as we are .'^peaking of, or improve our na- 
 tural faculties to it ■? 'Tis a knowledge quite of another 
 kind, and alien to our natures. For besides the notices 
 we have of things by sense, which is limited wholly to 
 things present as its object, and our knowledge of first 
 and self-evident principles, (from which how remote are 
 the future contingencies we now speak of 1) we have no 
 imaginable way of coming by the knowledge of an)' thing, 
 otherwise than by reasoning and discourse, which supposes 
 a nalural connexion of things. Whereupon, when we have 
 sure hold of one end of tJie thread, we can proceed by it, 
 and lead ourselves on by such things as w'e know to other 
 things we know not. But what such natural connexion is 
 there between any present ihing, known to us, and this 
 sort of future things 1 Which, for the most part, are such 
 as must be brought about by ihe concurrence of great 
 multitudes of free agents, who may be opposed bj' as 
 great, and prevented of accomplishing what they designed, 
 though their minds were never so constantly intent u.pon 
 the design. But we have no way to know with certainty 
 the present minds of so many men, nor of any man at all, 
 by immediate inspection ; or otherwise, than as we may 
 collect by the former series of his actions or professions, 
 wherein men ma}' deceive the most quick-sighted, and 
 really intend otherwise than the)' seem. Much less dowe 
 know that so mutable a thing as the mind of man is, will 
 not alter, and especially of so many men. And their con- 
 dition and outward circumstances may alter, if not their 
 minds. What can be certain in such a region of changes, 
 where the effecting of purposes depends upon the body, 
 as well as the mind, and many external aids and helps be- 
 sides 1 and where all are subject to so many accidents, 
 to maims, and sicknesses, and deaths 1 Nay, who can tell 
 what his own mind shall be hereafter, supposing any such 
 futurity to be within his own power, or that his power shall 
 be the same if his mind should not change 1 And add, what 
 is more than all the rest,^ who knoweth the mind of God, 
 or be^ng his counsellor hath taught him 7 Who can tell 
 what he will do, or enable or permit men to do1 What 
 event could ever have been thought more certain, before- 
 hand, than the destruction of the Jews by Haman's means 1 
 And who could ever have foreseen, a few days or hours 
 before, that he should be hanged on the gallows he pre- 
 pared for Mordecai 1 Who can ever think or hope to 
 measure that botindless range, and latitude, wherein infi- 
 nite wisdom and power may work this way or thatl Or, 
 within that vast and immense scope, who can be able to 
 predict what way God will take 1 Or what he will do, or 
 not do 1 When all human contrivance and forecast it at an 
 end, still more ways lay open to him. Or his po'U'cr can 
 make more, and break its wa}' through whatsoever obstruc- 
 tions.! We know not what to do, (says Jehoshaphat in his 
 distress,) but our eyes are upon thee. A dutiful confession 
 of the limitedness of human wit and power, and of the un- 
 limitedness of the Divine, both at once ! To offer at com- 
 prehending his profound designs and abstruse methods, 
 only show.s how little we understand ourselves or him ; our 
 own scant measure, or his immensity. We might better 
 attempt to sound the ocean with our finger, or gather it into 
 the hollow of our hand. It were happy for us, if our con- 
 fessed ignorance might end in adoration ; and that the 
 sense of our hearts were such as the apostle's words would 
 aptly express, (Rom. xi.33.) O the depth of the riches both 
 of the wisdom and knowledge of God ! How unsearchable 
 are his judgments, and his ways past finding out ! Such 
 as affect to be wiser, but not so pious, and go about to 
 form models and ideas for the future, apart from him ; 
 how often do their great wit only serve to expose their 
 folly, and make them the sport of fortune ! (as some 
 a Is. xl. Vi. Rom. xi. t 2 Chroii. xx. u Quint. Curt. 
 
 would call it ;) we may say rather, of that wise and right- 
 eous Providence, that delights to triumph over baffled in- 
 solence ! (for Ivdit in hvriianis, &c.) and deride a confi- 
 dence that is founded only in proud impotency ! He that 
 .sits in the heavens laughs, the Most High hath them in de- 
 rision. How ofien are the wisest politicians disappointed 
 and despised ! all their measures broken ! their models 
 shattered and discomposed ! and all their fabrics overturn- 
 ed in a moment ! So remote is human wit, at the utmost 
 stretch, from any certainty, about the futurities we speak of. 
 And if any imagine it may be helped to foresee, by some 
 art or other ; or by rules framed and collected upon former 
 experience ; according whereto judgments are said hereto- 
 fore to have been happily made, of what would come to pa.ss: 
 It is not here intended to examine the several ways that 
 have been taken, and trusted in, for this purpose. That 
 they are all such as have been, and are, much disputed, if 
 they were not with manifest evidence disproved, would 
 argue that foreknowledge of things not likely to be very 
 certain, that must be had by arts and rules that are them- 
 selves uncertain. How much bath been said (anciently, 
 and of late) to discover the vanity of that sort of a.strology 
 that relates to the futurities we have under consideration! 
 Such as have a mind may view^ what is written to that 
 purpose, and may save themselves much vain labour, by 
 perusing the learned Dr. More's late Tetractys, and what 
 it refers to in his Mystery of Godliness. Have we heard 
 of none of our later pretenders this way, that have incur- 
 red the like fate with that wise man of Greece, Uiai was 
 laughed at by a silly giil (as Laertius tells us) for ao'lon^ 
 gazing upon the stars, (though perhaps upon a better ac- 
 count,) till at length, in his walk, he fell into a ditch ; thai 
 he minded so much what was over his head, that he took 
 no notice what was at his feet ! And for the ancient au- 
 gurj' of the pagans, in the several sorts of it, how much 
 was it had in contempt by the wiser among themselves. 
 Insomuch that one of them says, he wondered how they 
 could look upon one another, and not laugh. As who 
 would nor, that such strange things should be foreshown 
 by the flying, or the singing, or the feeding of birds! 
 Their usual haruspicy was as wise, and as much regard- 
 ed b)' some greater minds among them, as Alexander^ 
 that reproved and jeered the impertinency of his sooth- 
 sayer that would have withheld him from action, upon the 
 pretence of some ill omen he had observed in the entrails: 
 telling him that he " would surely think he were impertinent 
 and troublesome if he should go about to interrupt him 
 in his employment, when he was busy viewing his sacri- 
 fice, and a.sked him, when he pressed further, what greater 
 impediment a man could have, that had great things he- 
 fore his eyes, than a doting superstitious fortune-teller 7 
 And where there was not so much wisdom and fortitude, 
 as to despise such fooleries, how ludicrous was it that 
 great and momentous affairs were to be governed by thcmJ 
 That a general was not to march an army or fight a battlei, 
 but first such observations must be had of the flight of 
 birds, and the entrails of beasts! or other things as idle as 
 they, as the whirlings, rollings, and noise of rivers, the 
 change of the moon, &c. Upon which, in^ Germany (as 
 is observed) -when Ctesar had invaded it, their presaging 
 women were to be consulted before it was thought fit to 
 give him battle. Besides, what was not >' less vain, bitt 
 more horrid, presaging upon the convulsed members, and 
 the flowing blood, "of a man slain for the purpose. Nay, 
 and the excess of this desire hath templed some to try the 
 blacker purposes of necromancy, or what might be gained 
 to satisfv and please it, by converse with departed souls ; 
 or Avhat" if it be other familiar spirits 1 We here consider 
 the folly of such courses apart from the impiety. As 
 what reason have we upon which to apprehend, that they 
 can ascertain us, or be, ordinarilv, certain themselves of 
 such futurities as we speak of ■] But also the thought of 
 anv such course we are to presume is horrid to the minds 
 of serious Christians. Unto whom, what we find in the 
 Holy Scriptures, concerning any such ways of presaging 
 as have been mentioned, should, methinks, be enough to 
 form their spirits both to the hatred and the contempt of 
 them, and, bv consequence, of the principle itself (this 
 vain appetite) that leads unto them, and hath captivated 
 X clem. Alexand. Strom. 1. 1. y Dii.il. Sic. Bibl Hist I. b.
 
 S46 
 
 ON THE IMMODERATE DESIRE 
 
 whole nations into so miseraole delusion by them.' Thus 
 saith the Lord thy Redeemer, that Irustrateth the tokens 
 of the liars, and maketh diviners mad, that turneth the 
 wise men backward, and maketh their knowledge foolish. 
 ^ Thou art wearied in the multitude of thy counsels; let 
 now the astrologers, the stax^-gazers, the monthly prognos- 
 ticators stand up, and save thee from these things that 
 shall come upon thee. Behold, they shall be as stubble, 
 the fire shall burn them ; they shall not deliver themselves 
 from the flame, &c. See also Isa. viii. 19, 20. Dan. ii. 27. 
 And though it be true that God hath often given pre- 
 monitions of future things by dreams, (which is a matter 
 that belongs not to this head,) yet the rules that are given 
 by some lean-. ::d men for the interpreting of ij such dreams 
 as contain not the things expressly pretended to be signi- 
 fied, are generally so very ridiculous, that 'tis hard to say 
 ■whether they were learnedly busy or idle that thought fit 
 to trouble themselves or the world with them. And 
 surely, though some dreams have been divine, such rules 
 of interpreting any are so meanly human, as to be fit 
 enough to be thrown in hither, and tlirown away with the 
 rest of the trash noted before; and may help to let us 
 see, that the foreknowledge of the future things we are 
 considering, is so impossible to human nature, improved 
 by whatsoever rules and precepts of our devising, that 
 while men seek to become wise in this kind, by such 
 means, they do but befool themselves, and are not a whit 
 the more knowing, but show themselves the less prudent 
 and sober. And if such knowledge be a thing wlicreof 
 human nature, by itself, is not capable, to be impatient of 
 ignorance in these things, is to be offended that God hath 
 made such creatures as we find we are. That is, if this 
 had been the natural endowment of some other order of 
 creatures, how unreasonable were it that a man should 
 quarrel with his own nature, and with the inseparable cir- 
 cumstances of his own state ! All creatures are of limited 
 natures to one or other particular kind. This or that 
 creature admits of all the perfections of its own kind. 
 It admits not those of another kind. How foolish were 
 it if a man should vex himself that he cannot fly like a 
 bird, or run like a stag, or smell like a hound ; or cannot 
 as an angel fly, at pleasure, between heaven and earth, or 
 visit the several orbs, and exactly measure their magni- 
 tudes and distances from one another ! 
 
 Secondly, We are, therefore, to consider that the alTec- 
 talion of such foreknowledge (i. e. to have it in and of 
 ourselves, or by any means of our devising) is unlavjful as 
 well as impossible. Indeed, this might be collected from 
 the former; for the capacity of our natures ought to limit 
 our desires. And it hence also further appears unlawful 
 upon the higliest account, in that it were to aspire to what 
 is most peculiar and appropriate to the Deity. For here- 
 by the great God deiuonstrates his Godhead, and expo.s- 
 tulating wiih idolaters, insults over the unactive ignorance 
 of their impotent inanimate deities upon this account. 
 <= Produce your cause, (saith he,) bring forth your strong 
 reasons. Let them bring them forth, and show us what 
 shall happen. Show the things that are to come hereafter, 
 tliat we may know that ye are gods: q. d. if they be gods, 
 why do they not, as gods, predict things to come, that if 
 they be gods we may know it "? So in ch. xlii. of the same 
 prophecy, r. 8, 9. I am the Lord, that is my name, and 
 my glory will I not give to another, neither my praise to 
 graven images. Behold, the former things are come to 
 pass, and new things do I declare : before they spring 
 forth I tell 3'ou of them. This is a thing (saith he) that 
 doth peculiarly belong to me. It is a glory of mine that 
 shall never be imparted. And to the same sense is that 
 in ch. xlvi. of that prophecy, v. 9, 10. Remember the 
 former things of old, for I amGod, and there is none else; 
 I am God, and there is none like me, declaring the end 
 from the beginning, and from ancient times the things 
 that are not yet done, saying, my counsel shall stand, and 
 I will do all my pleasure. So also did our blessed 
 Saviour, when he had a mind to convince that he was, as 
 he gave out, the Son of God, design the same medium for 
 that purposed Now, I tell you before it come, that when 
 it is come to pass, ye may believe that I am he. And 
 
 again,' I have told you before it is come to pass, that when 
 it is come to pass, ye might believe. It was, indeed, the 
 great temptation used to our first parents ; You shall be as 
 gods, knowing good and evil. Undoubtedly that know- 
 ledge wherewith they were tempted must include, at least, 
 foreknowledge in it. You shall be as gods, knowing, &c. 
 They were tempted by an expectation of being, in this 
 respect, made like God; and we are become by it, in this 
 respect, like beasts that perish, and in other respects, like 
 the devils themselves, who joy in our deception and perdi- 
 tion ; too like beasts in ignorance, and devils in malignity. 
 
 What can be a more presumptuous arrogance, than to 
 aim at the royalties of the Godhead ! If to affect what be- 
 longs to the nature and capacity of another creature were 
 foolish; to aspire to any prerogative and peculiarity of 
 God himself, cannot but be extremely impious and wicked ! 
 Are we to be offended that we are creatures 1 that our na- 
 tures, and the capacity of our understandings, are not un- 
 limited and all-comprehending, when we owe it to the 
 mere benignity and good pleasure of our Maker that we 
 are anything i and much more, that we have any such 
 thing as an understanding at all 1 Yea, and if this know- 
 ledge were not peculiar to God, yet inasmuch as he hath 
 not given it us, nor appointed us any means of attaining 
 it, 'tis an uncreaturely disposition not to be satisfied with- 
 out it. The rebuke our Saviour gave his disciples in one 
 particular case of this nature, ought also to be monitory 
 to us, in all such cases, i. e. when they inquire, f Wilt thou 
 at this time restore again the kingdom to Israel 1 His 
 answer is reprehensive ;= It is not lor you to know the 
 times or the seasons which the Father hath put in his own 
 power. The expression is remarkable, which the Father 
 hath h put in his own power ; it implies, as if, by a positive 
 act, God had reserved, and locked up from us, the things 
 which he hath not vouchsafed to reveal. And we may 
 see how he hath, as it were, industriously drawn a curtain 
 between the present and the future time, that we cannot 
 see so far as one moment before us. Shall we with rude 
 and irreverent hands, as it were, attempt to rend or draw 
 aside the curtain 1 
 
 2dly. And from hence we may also see, in the next 
 place, how little encouragement we have in the other way 
 to expect this knowledge, viz. by supplicating God for it, 
 as an extraordinary gift to be obtained immediately from 
 him. If we have not wisdom enough to present unto him 
 reasonable desires, we may expect his wisdom will deny 
 us such as are unreasonable. He is never so apt to dis- 
 like our requests for their being too great as too little; or 
 for their having nothing valuable or important in them, 
 nothing suitable to him or to us, fit for him to give, or for 
 us to seek or receive. In the present case, 'tis true, he 
 hath sometimes favoured men with this kind of know- 
 ledge, ordained and inspired prophets, who were to sig- 
 nifv his purposes and pleasure to others. But it was 
 rather modestly declined than sought ; and was, mostly, 
 upon great and important occasions, for high and very 
 considerable ends, and to be effected at seasons and by 
 persons of his own choosing. Nor doth it seem a thing 
 fit for men to make the matter of petition. For if they 
 should, either it must be for some peculiar to them- 
 selves, and which others cannot generally allege as well 
 as they ; which it is not supposable any can be able 
 lo assign: or for some common reason that concerns the 
 generality of men as much. And then, we are sure, it 
 can be of no weight ; for, upon the same reason, all 
 should, as much, be prophets. Which it is plain he doth 
 not judge fit (who can best judge) in that he hath not 
 made them so, which is concluding, as to things he hath 
 not made it our duty to seek. And that this is a com- 
 munication not fit to be constant and general at all times, 
 and to all persons, is evident in itself And may appear 
 by divers considerations that partly respect God and his 
 government, partly ourselves and our own interest and 
 concernment. 
 
 1. On God's part. It would greatly detract from the 
 majesty of his government that it should have no arcana, 
 and that all things should lie open to every eye. We 
 may easily apprehend that the dignity of the divine 
 
 7. Isa. xliv. 2.T. 
 
 b Oneirocrit. Arfem. Achm. <tc. 
 
 a Isa. xlvii. 13, 14. 
 c Isa. xli. 21, 22, 23. 
 
 d John xiii. 19. 
 f Acts i. 6. 
 
 e Ctiap. xiv. 29. 
 g Ver. 7. 
 
 h eOcTO.
 
 OF KNOWING THINGS TO COME. 
 
 347 
 
 government was, in this respect, designed to be kept up to 
 an awful height, when we lind there is somewhat men- 
 tioned to us (and how many things more may there be 
 that are not mentioned 1) which the angels in hea^'^en knew 
 not, nor the human soul of our Lord himself, but the Fa- 
 ther only. For again, was it suitable (particularly) to the 
 government of God over man, in this present state, which 
 we find designed for a state of probation, to be concluded, 
 and shut up at last by a solemn judgment. For unto this 
 state, the final judgment hath its peculiar, only reference. 
 Therein i we are to receive the things done in the body, 
 i. e. (as 'lis explained,) according to what we have done, 
 whether good or evil. How unfit were it that probationers 
 for eternity should generally foreknow events that shall 
 fall out in the state of their trial ! Wherein they are to be 
 strictly tied up to rules without regard to events. And are 
 to approve themselves in that sincerity, constancy, forti- 
 tude, dependence upon God, resignation of themselves, and 
 their concerns to him, that could have little i)lace or op- 
 portunity to show themselves, in a state wherein all things 
 were at a certainty to them. 
 
 2. On our own part. It is to be considered that the fore- 
 knowledge of temporary events is not a thing of that value 
 to us, which we may perhaps imagine it is. It would serve 
 us more for curiosity than use. An unfit thing for us to 
 
 Eetition in, or expect to be gratified. The wiser heathens 
 ave thought meanly of it. They have believed, indeed, 
 that God did sometimes enable men to prophesy, but have 
 reckoned it, as one of them speaks, a gift indulged unto 
 human imprudence. That k author accounts weaker minds 
 the usual subjects of it. That no man in his right viinA 
 attained it, but either being alienated from himself, by 
 sleep or a disease. And that they were not wont to under- 
 stand, themselves, the meaning of their own visions, but 
 must have them interpreted by others. The result of a 
 larger discourse, he hath about it, than is fit here to be in- 
 serted, comes to this, that fools divine, and wi.se must 
 judge. Whereupon ■ another thinks such prophecies little 
 to be regarded, counting it strange that what a wise man 
 could not see a madman should. And that when one hath 
 lost human sense he should obtain divine ! 
 
 They were not acquainted indeed with those ways where- 
 in God revealed his mind to holy men whom he used as 
 his own amanuenses or penmen, or who were otherwise to 
 serve him for sacred purposes. But when we consider 
 Balaam's being a prophet, methinks we should not be 
 overfond of the thing itself, abstractly considered. How 
 unspeakably is the Spirit of holiness, as such, to be pre- 
 ferred ! To have a heart subject to God, willing to be go- 
 verned bj' him, to commit to him, even in the dark, our 
 less considerable, temporal concernments ; and confident!}- 
 to rely, for our eternal concernments, upon his plain 
 word in the Gospel, wherein life and immortalitj' are 
 brought to light, would make us little feel the need of pro- 
 phecy. The radical principle of holiness is love, (for it 
 is the fulfilling of the law,) in the absence whereof, the 
 apostle "> esteems the gift of prophecy (with the addition 
 of understanding all mysteries, and all knowledge) to go 
 for nothing. And if we strict!}^ consider, wherein can we 
 pretend it needful to us to foreknow the events that are be- 
 fore us 1 They are either bad and ungrateful, or good and 
 grateful. For the former sort, what would it avail us to 
 foreknow them 1 That we may avoid them ? That is a 
 contradiction. How are thej' avoidable, when we know 
 they will befall us "? It is that we be not surprised by them 1 
 We have other means to prevent it. To bear an equal 
 temper of mind towards all conditions-, to live always, in 
 this region of changes, expecting the worst. At least not 
 to expect rest on earth, to familiarize to ourselves the 
 thoughts of troubles ; apprehending, as to those that are 
 private, we are always liable. 
 
 And for any greater, common calamities that we may 
 share in with the generality usually, they come on more 
 slowly. There often are premonitory tokens, such as 
 were before mentioned in this discourse, sufficient to keep 
 us from being surprised. And with the rest this may con- 
 cur, (as was said,) that perhaps some or other, of that 
 value and consideration as to deserve our regard, may, in 
 
 i 2 Cor. V. 10. 
 
 k 'ils fiavTiKijv afpoovvtjt Scot avBpurivrji cScSomev, ovicis cvvov{. 
 
 such a case, have great apprehensions of approaching 
 trouble, which whether they proceed from their greater 
 prudence and sagacity, or from any more Divine impres- 
 sion upon their minds, we need not determine. If it should 
 be the latter, the design may yet be, not to ascertain, but to 
 awaken us. Upon which supposition, a serious considera- 
 tion of the thing, may well consist with suspending our 
 belief of it. And whether it prove true or false, if we are 
 put thereby upon the doing of nothing, but what a prudent 
 man, a good Christian should do, however, and unto which 
 we only needed excitation, a very valuable end is gained. 
 Affairs are generally managed in human, yea and in the 
 Christian life, upon no certainty of this or that particular 
 ev-ent ; 'lis enough that we are put upon seasonable consi- 
 deration of what concerns us, in the one kind or the other, 
 and do accordingly steer our course. When Jonah was 
 sent to Nineveh upon that ungrateful errand, and came a 
 stranger into that luxurious, paganish citj-, though he 
 brought them no credentials from heaven, nor (that we 
 find) wrought any miracle to confirm his mission, yet the 
 matter he published in the streets being in itself most con- 
 siderable, and they having (no doubt) sufficient light to 
 know their practices were such as deserved the doom they 
 were threatened with, and needed redress, they hereufxai 
 consider w-hat he said, reform, and are spared. And what 
 harm wa.s now dune in all thisl except that Jonah had too 
 tender a concern for his own reputation, and lest he should 
 be thought a false prophet. Whereas the event that hap- 
 pened did better prove the impression vpon his mind di- 
 vine, than the desirticlion of the citj-, alter their repent- 
 ance, had done. It being a thing more agreeable to the 
 Divine nature, and more worthy of God, to save than de- 
 stroy a penitent people. If we see no such disposition to 
 repentance, we have the more reason to expect the over- 
 flowing calamity ; and have enoirgh to prevent our heing 
 surpiised, without fore-knowing the event. Bui for events 
 that are pleasing and grateful, no matter how surprising 
 they be; the more, the better, the sweeter, and the plea- 
 santer. " When God turned again the captivity of Zioa 
 we were as them that dream. Then was our mouth filled 
 with laughter, and our tongue wi'Ji singing. It enhanceih 
 mercy, Avhen it is preventing and unexpected. 
 
 And we maj' add, concerning ill e\-ents, it is not only 
 needless to foreknow them, but better to be ignorant. 
 Think what a case we were in, had we the prospect lying 
 distinctly before us, of all the evils that shall befall us 
 through our whole life. Such a day I shall have a terrible 
 fit of the colic or the stone. Such a day my house will be 
 burnt, or I shall be undone and reduced to beggary. Such 
 a day my husband, wife, or this or that pleasant child, will 
 die. At such a time I shall break a bone, or be in pri- 
 stm, &c. Were this knowledge a felicity ? Some may 
 think (says Cicero") it were of great concernment to us 
 to know what shall happen. But (he adds) Dicsearchus 
 wrote a great book to show it is better to be ignorant. He 
 had indeed a copious argument, and the book, 'lis like, 
 were a jewel. But enough is obvious to any man's reason 
 that will soberly consider. Infinite knowledge is only 
 agreeable to infinite wisdom and power. How imsuitable 
 were the knowledge we are apt locov«t, to our impotency 
 and imprudence ! As monstrous as the head of a giant 
 joined to the body of a child. The increase of such know- 
 ledge would certainly but increase our sorrow, and be to 
 us but an engine of torture, a Medusa's head, always af- 
 frighting us with its own ideas, that w-ould be worse t<j 
 us, and more tormenting, than snakes and serpents. Di- 
 vine mercy, in these respects, keeps us ignorant. Thereto 
 'tis fit we should attribute it, not to ill-will, as the devil at 
 first suggested, and as they seemed to apprehend ; against 
 whom Plutarch p sagely reasons. That it was ver^- impro- 
 bable that God, who hath given us birth, nourishment, 
 being, and understanding, should intend only to signify 
 his displeasure towards us, by withholding from us the 
 knowledge of things to come. Would we know what 
 concerns our duty ? We have plain rules to direct us ; it 
 would but tempt,'disturb, or divert us many times to know 
 the event. You need not consult a diviner, (saith a i hea- 
 then,) whether you are with hazard to help your friend, 
 
 I Cicero. m 1 Cor. xiii n Psal Mxvi. 
 
 o De divin. p De defect. Orac. q Epictet
 
 348 
 
 ON THE IMMODERATE DESIRE, &c. 
 
 or defend your country. Nor any thing, by like reason, 
 which we already know we ought to do. No more, '■ saitli 
 one commenting upon him, than whether a man should 
 eat or sleep ; or whether a husbandman should plant or 
 sow. Or would we fill our minds with great thoughts, 
 and employ them about matters more important than the 
 affairs of the present time 1 Besides all the great things 
 that we know to be past, let us look forward to certain fu- 
 turities. We may look even with a certain expectation 
 for the day when the heavens shall be rolled up as a scroll, 
 and pass away with great noise, and the elements melt 
 with fervent heat, and the earth and all things therein be 
 consumed and burnt up. "We have a certain foreknow- 
 ledge of the final glorious appearing and coming of our 
 Lord. We know he will come, and it will be gloriously. 
 Behold the Son of man coming in the heavens with power 
 
 r Simplic. 
 
 and great glory ! Such things as these we look for accord- 
 ing to his promise ; He will come and his reward with him. 
 The trumpet will sound and the dead arise. How great a 
 thing it is to have graves opening all the world over, and 
 men and women springing up afresh out of the dust ! and 
 all the chosen ones of our Lord caught up into the clouds, 
 to meet their Redeemer in the air, and so to be for ever 
 with the Lord ! Let our thoughts fly over earth and time ; 
 they will be purer and less tainted. Let them centre in 
 God; they will be more steady, composed, and calm. Fix- 
 edly apprehend him to be most wise, holy, good, powerful, 
 and ours. Let our hearts quietly trust in him as such, 
 and be subject to him ; contented to follow. ^ He will lead 
 the blind in a way that they know not ; and if we betake 
 ourselves wholly to him, will be our God for ever and 
 ever : our God and our guide even to the death. 
 
 e Isa. xlii.
 
 A TREATISE OF 
 
 DELIGHTING IN GOD; 
 
 FROM PSALM XXXVIL 4. 
 
 DELIGHT THYSELF ALSO IN THE LORD, AND HE SHALL GIVE THEE THE DESIRES OF THINE HEART. 
 
 IN TWO PARTS. 
 
 TO MY MUCH VALUED FRIENDS, 
 
 THE MAGISTRATES AND OTHER INHABITANTS 
 
 OF GREAT TORRINGTON IN DEVON; 
 
 WITH THE SEVERAL V^ORTIIY AND RELIGIOUS PERSON'S AND PAMLIES OF MY ACaUAlNTANCE IN THOSE PARTS. 
 
 It is likely that the title of the following treatise will put many of you, my dearly esteemed friends, in mind, 
 that sundry sermons were preached twenty years ago among you upon this subject. I had it indeed in design, to 
 have given you some abstract of those sermons; but searching among my papers, could find none but so imperfect and 
 broken memorials as would be of little use for that purpose. And yet being desirous to present you with .-omewliat 
 that might both be a testimony of my affection, and an advantage to you; and knowing this subject was grateful to 
 many, and affords what may be u.seful to all of )aiu ; I have, for your sakes, applied myself to a reconsideration of it. 
 The first part is even altogether new, except the inlroductive suppo.sitions in the beginning. Nor do I remember I then 
 had more than one discourse to you on that subject, before the practical application of it. The oilier part contains 
 many things formerly delivered to you, though perhaps not in the same order, much less in the same words, 
 whereto the short notes in my hands could no way enable me. 
 
 The matter here treated of, is the very substance of religion ; the first and the la.st; the root and the flower; both the 
 basis and foundation, and the top and perfection, of practical godliness ; and which runs through the whole of it. 
 Nor knew I therefore what to present you with, that could have in it a fitter mixture and temperament of what might 
 be both useful and pleasant to you. As there is therefore no need, so nor do I desire you should receive the matter 
 here discoursed of, merely for my sake ; there being so great reason it should be chiefly acceptable on higher accounts. 
 I do very well understand your affection to me; and could easily be copious iu the expression of mine to you, if I 
 would open that sluice. But I do herein resolvedly, and upon consideration, restrain myself; apprehending thai in 
 some cases (and I may suppose it possible that in our case) a gradual mortification ought to be endeavoured of such 
 affection as is often between those so related as you and I have been : which is no harder supposition, than that such 
 affection may be excessive and swell beyond due" bounds. So it would, if it should be accompanied with impatient 
 resentments towards any providence or instrument, wliereby it finds itself crossed, or from whence it meets wi:h what 
 is ungrateful to it : if it prove turbulent and disquieting to them in whom it is, or any others : or if it occasion a lonk- 
 ing back with distempered lintrerings after such former things as could be but means to our great end, with the neg- 
 lect of looking forward to that end itself still before us. Far be it from me, to aim at the keeping any tliin? alive 
 -hat ought to die; that is, in that degree wherein it ought so to do. But our mutual affection will be both innoceui. 
 and useful, if it be suitable to mortal objects, and to persons not expecting the converse we have had together any more 
 m this world ; if also in the mean time it preserve to us a mutual interest in each others prayers; if it dispose us to 
 such acts and apprehensions of kindness as our present circumstauces can admit ; and if particularly, as it hath moved 
 me to undertake, it may conlribu:e any thing to your acceptance of, this small labour, which is now desisrned for you. 
 The subject and substance whereof, as they are none of mine, so they ought to be welcome to you, for their own sake, 
 and his who is the prime Author, though they were recommended to yon by the hand of a stranger, or one whose 
 face you never saw. Thcv aim at the promoting of the same end which the course of my poor labours among you 
 did, (as he that knoweth all lhin'j:s knoweth.) the serious practice of the great things of religion, which are known and 
 least liable to (piestion ; without designing to engage you to or against any party of them that differ about circumstan- 
 .ial matters. They tend to let you see, that formality in any way of religion unaccompanied with life, will not serve 
 your turn; (as it will no man's;) than which, there is nothing more empty, sapless, and void both of profit and delight. 
 
 I have reflected and considered with some satisfaction, that this hath been my way and the temper of my mmd 
 among you. Great reason I have to repent, that I have not with greater earnestness pressed upon you the known and 
 important things wherein serious Christians do generally agree. But I repent not I have been so little engaged in the 
 hot contests of our age, about the things wherein theydiflfer. For, as I pretend to little light in these things; (whence 
 I could not have much confidence to fortify me unto such an undertaking ;) so I must profess to have little inclination 
 to contend about matters of that kind. Nor yet am I indifl^erent as to those smaller things, that I cannot discern to be 
 in their own nature so. But though I cannot avoid to think that course right wiiieh I have deliberately chosen therein, 
 I do yet esteem that but a small thin°: upon which to ground an opinion of my excelling them thai think otherwise, as 
 if I knew more than thev. For I have often recounteil thus seriously with myself, that of everv differiiigparty, in those 
 circumstantial matters, t do particularly know some persons by whom I find myself much excelled iu far gieatc things
 
 350 DEDICATION. 
 
 than is the matter of that difference. I cannot, 'tis true, thereupon say and tliink every thing that they do ; which is 
 impossible, since tliey ditler from one another as well as me. And I understand well, there are other measures of 
 truth than this or that excellent person's opinion. But I thereupon reckon I have little reason to be conceited of any 
 advantage I have of such in point of knowledge, (even as little as he should have, that can sing or play well on a lute, 
 of him that knows how to command armies, or govern a kingdom,) and can with the less confidence differ from them, 
 or contend with them. Being thereby, though I cannot find that I err in these matters, constrained to have some sus- 
 picion lest I do ; and to admit it possible enough, that some of them who differ from me, having much more light in 
 greater matters may have so in these also. Besides, that I most seriously think, humility, charity, and patience, 
 would more contribute to the composing of these lesser differences, or to the good estate of the Christian interest under 
 them, than the most fervent disputes and contestations. I have upon such considerations little concerned myself in 
 contending for one way or another, while I was among you; or in censuring such as have differed from me in such 
 notions and practices as might consist with our common great end ; or as imported not manifest hostility thereto : con- 
 tenting myself to follow the course that to my preponderating judgment seemed best, without stepping out of my way 
 to justle others. 
 
 But I cannot be so patient of their practical disagreement, (not only with all serious Christians, but even their own 
 judgments and consciences also,) who have no delight in God, and who take no plea.sure in the very substance of re- 
 ligion. I have been grieved to observe that the case haih too apparently seemed so, with some among you : some 
 who have been openly profane and dissolute, and expressed more contempt of God (which you know was often in- 
 sisted on the one part of the day,* when I had this subject in hand the other) than delight in him. I know not how the 
 case may be altered with such since I left you; or what blessing may have followed the endeavoursof any other hand. 
 Death I am sure will be making alterations, as I have heard it hath. If these lines maybe beforehand with it, may 
 they be effectually monitory to any such that yet survive ! That however this or that external form of godliness may 
 consist with your everlasting well being, real ungodliness and the denial of the power never can ; which power stands 
 in nothing more than in love to God or delight in him. Therefore seriously bethink yourselves, do you delight in God 
 or nol If you do, methinks you should have some perception of it. Surely if you delight in a friend, or some other 
 outward comfort, you can perceive it. But if you do not, what do you think alienation from the life of God will 
 come to at last? It is time for you to pray and cry, and strive earnestly for a renewed heart. And if any of you do 
 in some degree find this, yet many degrees are still lacking. You cannot delight in God, but upon that apprehension 
 as will give you to see, you do it not enough : therefore reach forth to what is still before. I bow my knees for you 
 all, that a living, delightful religion may flourish in your hearts and families, instead of those dry, withered things, 
 worldliness, formality, and strife about trifles. Which will make Torrington an Heph-zibah, a place to be delighted 
 in ; your country a pleasant region; and (if he may but hear of it) add not a little to the satisfaction and delight of 
 
 Your affectionate servant in Christ, 
 
 Who most seriously desires your true prosperity, 
 
 JOHN HOWE. 
 
 Antrim Sept. 1, 1674. 
 
 * From f». X. 13.
 
 OF 
 
 DELIGHTING IN GOD: 
 
 FROM PSALM XXXVII. 4. 
 
 DELIGHT THYSELF ALSO IN THE LORD, AND HE SHALL GIVE THEE THE DESIRES OF THINE HEART. 
 
 PART I. 
 
 SHOWING THE IMPORT OF THIS PRECEPT. 
 
 1'his psalm, by the contents of it, seems lo suppose an 
 afflicted state of good men, by the oppression of such as 
 were, in that and other respects, very wicked ; the pros- 
 perity of these wicked ones in their oppressive course ; an 
 aptness in the oppressed to impatience under the evils 
 they suffered ; a disposition to behold, with a lingering and 
 an envious eye, the good things which their oppressors en- 
 joyed, and themselves wanted. Hence the composure of 
 it is such as might be most agreeable to these suppositions, 
 and servicable to the fortifying of the righteous against the 
 sin and trouble which such a state of things might prove 
 the occasion of unto them. 
 
 This verse hath a more direct aspect on the last of these 
 cases, or on this last mentioned thing considerable in the 
 case, of upright men suffering under the oppression of 
 violent and prosperous wickedness, viz. that they might 
 hereupon be apt both to covet and en\-v' the worldly de- 
 lights of their enemies; to be desirous of their dainties, 
 and grudge they should be theirs, who, they knew, de- 
 served worse things ; and while themselves also felt the 
 prcosure of worse, which at their hands they deserved not. 
 What is here offered to the consideration of the sufferers, 
 tends aptly to allay their discontent, to check and repress 
 their inordinate desire towards inferior things ; or to 
 divert and turn it another way ; as in case of bleeding to 
 excess and danger, the way is to open a vein, and stop the 
 course of that profusion by altering it. As if it had been 
 said, " You have no such cause to look with displeasure 
 or immoderate desire upon their delicacies : you may 
 have better; better belong to you, and invite you ; the 
 Lord himself is your portion ; it becomes both your state 
 and spirit to apply yourselves to a holy delight in him ; 
 lo let your souls loose, and set them at liberty to satiate 
 themselves, and feed unto fulness those undefiled and 
 satisfying pleasures unto which 3^ou have a right ; and in 
 which you will find the lo.'^s and want of their meaner en- 
 joyments abundantly made up unto you. You have your 
 natural desires and cravings as well as other men, and 
 those may be too apt to exceed their just bounds and 
 measures; but if you lake this course, thej' will soon be- 
 come sober and moderate, such as will be satisfied with 
 what is competent, with an indifferent allowance of the 
 good things of this earth. And towards the Lord, let 
 them be as vast and large as can be supposed ; they can 
 never be larger than the rule will allow, nor than the ob- 
 ject will satisfy ; the direction and obligation of the former 
 being indeed proportioned to the immense and boundless 
 fulness of the latter." 
 
 We need not operously inquire what sort of persons this 
 direction is given unto. ' It is plain, that it's the common 
 duty of all to delight in God. But it cannot be the imme- 
 diate duty of all. Men that know not God, and are ene- 
 mies to him, have somewhat else to do first. Tliey to 
 
 whom the precept is directly meant are the regenerate, tne 
 righteous, and the upright, as the psalm itself doth plainly 
 design them, or his own people. The most profitable way 
 of considering these words, will be chiefly to insist on the 
 direction given in the former part of the verse ; and then 
 to show towards the close, how the event promised in the 
 latter part, will not only by virtue of the promise, but 
 even naturally, follow thereupon. The direction in the 
 former part, gives us a plain signification of God's good 
 pleasure, that he himself would be the great object of his 
 people's delight; or, it is his will, that they principally 
 delight themselves in him. Our discourse upon this sub- 
 ject will fall naturally into two parts; the former Avhereof 
 will concern the import, the latter the practice, of the en- 
 joined delighting in God. Under which latter, what will 
 be said of the latter part of the verse will filly fall in. 
 
 That we may more distinctly open the import and mean- 
 ing of delighting in God, it will be necessary that we 
 treat, I. Of the delectable object ; 2. Of the delight to be 
 taken therein. 
 
 I. As to the former. The general object of delight is 
 some good, or somewhat so conceived of; with the addi- 
 tion of being apprehended some way present. Here it is 
 the chief and best good, the highest and most perfect ex- 
 cellency. Which goodness and excellency, considered as 
 residing in God, give us a twofold notion or view of the 
 object whereupon this delight may have its exercise, viz. 
 absolute and relative. 
 
 1. God may be looked upon in an absolute considera- 
 tion, as he is in himself, the best and mo.st excellent Be- 
 ing ; wherein we behold the concurrence of all perfec- 
 tions; the most amiable and beauteous excellencies, to an 
 intellectual eye, that it can have any apprehension of 
 
 2. In a relative, i-iz. as his goodness and excellency are 
 considered, not merely as they are in himself, but also as 
 having some way an aspect on his creatures. For consider- 
 ing him as in himself the most excellent Being ; if here 
 we give our thoughts liberty of exercising themselves, we 
 shall .soon find, that hereupon he must be considered also 
 as the first Being, the original and author of all other 
 beings; otherwise he were not the most excellent. From 
 whence, we will see, relation doth arise between him and 
 his creatures that have their being from him. And besides 
 the general relations which he beareth to them all, a5 the 
 common maker, susiainer, and disposer of them ; observing 
 that there are some which, by their reasonable natures, are 
 capable of government by him (in the proper sense, viz. 
 by a law) and of the blessedness in him. To these we con- 
 sider him as standing in a twofold reference, in both which 
 we are to e3'e and act towards him, viz. as a Lord to be 
 obeyed, and a portion to be enjoyed ; and have most delect- 
 able excellencies to take notice of in him, (that require we 
 should suitably comport with them,) answerable peculiarly
 
 352 
 
 OF DELIGHTING IN GOD. 
 
 PaI!T 
 
 to each of these considerations, in respect whereof we are 
 to look upon him. 
 
 1. As the most excellent Lord ; most deleclably excel- 
 lent, (we take not here that title so stiiclly, as to intend 
 by it mere propriety or dominion ; but as to ordinary ap- 
 prehension it is more commonly understood to signify also 
 governing po iver, or authority founded in the other,) whom 
 we cannot but esteem worthy of all possible honour and 
 glory; that every knee bow to him, and every tongue con- 
 fess to him; that universal homage, subjection, and ado- 
 ration, be given him fir ever. 
 
 2. As the most excellent Portion, in whom all things 
 that may render him such do concur and meet together; 
 all desirable and imaginable riches and fulness, together 
 with large bnnnty, flowing goodness, every way corres- 
 pondent to the wants and cravings of indigent and thirsty 
 souls. The former notion of him intimates to us our ob- 
 ligation of duty to him: the latter prompts to an expecta- 
 tion of benefit from him. But now, because by the 
 apostacy we have injured his right in us, as our Lord ; 
 forfeited our own right in him, as our Portion ; and lost 
 our immediate capacity or disposition, both to serve and 
 enjoy him ; this great breach between him and us was not 
 otherwise to be made up but by a mediator. Unto which 
 office and undertaking his own Son, incarnate, the Word 
 made flesh, (being only fit,) was designed. By him, dealing 
 between both the distanced parties, satisfying the justice 
 of God, overcoming the enmity of man, the difference (so 
 far as the efficacy of his mediation doth extend) is com- 
 posed. And to the reconciled, God becomes again their 
 acknowledged both Lord and portion. His right is vindi- 
 cated, theirs is restored ; and both are established upon 
 new grounds, added to those upon which they stood be- 
 fore. And so, as that now our actings towards God, and 
 expectations from him, must be through the Mediator. 
 Whereupon this object of our delight, considered relative- 
 ly unto us, is entirely God in Christ; — being reconciled, 
 — we joy in God, through our Lord Jesus Christ, by 
 whom, dtc.'"^ 
 
 In these several ways that have been thus briefly men- 
 tioned, may God come under our consideration. Nor are 
 they, any of them, unapplicable or impertinent to our pur- 
 pose, when we would design him the object of our delight. 
 Yea, and surely God considered each of these ways ought 
 to be looked on by us as a most delectable object. For it 
 is pleasant to contemplate him, even most absolutely con- 
 sidered, as the most excellent Being, when we behold his 
 glorious excellencies in themselves : tliat is (not with the 
 denial, but) without tlie actual present consideration of 
 any advantage that may redound to us from them; as we 
 are apt to fijid ourselves pleased and gratified in viewing 
 an excellent object, (suppose a stately edifice or beautiful 
 flower,) from which we expect no other benefit. 
 
 Again, if we consider him relatively, 1. In the former 
 capacity of a Lord, it is grateful to behold him decked 
 with majesty, arrayed in glory, clothed with righteousness, 
 armed with power, shining in holiness, and guiding him- 
 self with wisdom and counsel in all his administrations. 
 Yea, and it is delightful to obey him; while we are most 
 fully satisfied of his unexceptionable right to command us. 
 For there is a great pleasure naturally arising to a well- 
 tempered spirit, from the apprehended congruityor fitness 
 of things, as that he should command and that we should 
 obey. His right and our obligation being so undoubtedly 
 clear and great ; especially when we also consider what 
 he commands, and find it is no hard bondage; that they are 
 not grievous commands which he requires we be subject 
 to ; but such in the keeping whereof there is great reward ; 
 and that his waj-^s are all pleasantness and peace. 
 
 And being considered as a portion, the matter is plain, 
 that so rich and abounding fulness, where also there is so 
 communicative an inclination, cannot but recommend him 
 a most satisfying object of delight. 
 
 And thus we are more principally to consider him, viz. 
 rather relatively than absolutely : and that relatedness 
 (which the state of the case requires) as now anew settled 
 in Christ. And so, though it be very delightful to look 
 upon him, as one that may and is ready to become related 
 to us, (as he is to any that will consent and agree with him 
 a Rom. V. 10, n. 
 
 upon the Mediator's terms,) yet it adds unspeakably to the 
 pleasantness of this object, when we can reflect upon such 
 characters in ourselves, as from whence we may regularly 
 conclude, that he is actually thus related unto us. That 
 is, that we have consented ; that our relation to him im- 
 mediately arises from the covenant of life and peace; that 
 he hath entered into covenant with us, and so we are be- 
 come his. It is pleasant thus to behold and serve him as 
 our Lord. How great is the emphasis of these words, " I 
 count all things but loss for the excellency of the know- 
 ledge of Christ Jesus my Lord !" To consider not only 
 how well he deserves the acknowledgments and subjection 
 of all ; but also to find ourselves under the chosen and 
 gentle bonds of perpetual service, and devotedness to him, 
 is certainly matter of very high delight and pleasure. 
 
 But how infinitely delightful is it, to view and enjoy 
 him as our Portion I And this seems very pertinent to the 
 design of this scripture; which aiming to recall and draw 
 in the hearts of godly persons from too earnest and from 
 envious lingerings after the enjoyments of worldly men, 
 (their enemies and oppressors,) propounds what may be an 
 over-balance to the (imagined) felicity of their state ; and 
 wherein they should more than equal them in point of 
 enjoyment. And should we single out this, as the object 
 to be considered, God as a portion ; that it might be more 
 distinctly represented, we should have two things to take 
 notice of that would render it most delectable, and such 
 as wherein holy hearts may acquiesce, and rest with fullest 
 satisfaction: — the sufficiency — and the communicableness 
 of it. 
 
 1. The sufficiency of it. Which cannot but be eveiy 
 way complete and full ; it being the all-comprehensive 
 good, which is this portion. — God all-sufficient. — The most 
 eminent and known attributes of his being, wherein by 
 any issues of them they can be communicated, having an 
 ingrediency and concurrence to the happiness of his peo- 
 ple therein. 
 
 2. The communicableness thereof Which proceeds 
 from his bounty, more peculiarly, and his gracious incli- 
 nation to do good, and make his boundless fulness over- 
 flow to the replenishing of thirsty, longing souls, whom 
 first it had allured and caused so to long. But though the 
 scope and order of the discourse in this psalm, did not 
 directly seem to import more than a design of calling ofl" 
 the persons here spoken to, from one sort of enjoyment to 
 another, from a meaner and more empty to a better; yet 
 it is to be considered, that true and the best enjoyment 
 cannot be unaccompanied with duty ; and that God is not 
 otherwise to be enjoj^ed than as he is obeyed: nor indeed 
 are the notions of him, as a Lord to be obeyed, and as a 
 good to be enjoyed, entirely distinct ; but are interwoven 
 and do run into one another. We obey him, even in en- 
 joying him ; it being part of our enjoined duty, to set our 
 hearts upon him, as our best and highest good. And we 
 enjoy him in obeying him ; the advantage and benefit of 
 his government, being a real and most momentous part of 
 that good which we enjoy from him, and in him. He is 
 our benefactor even as he is our ruler ; and is therein our 
 ruler, as he proposes to us benefits, which he thereby binds 
 us to accept; for even his invitations and offers are also 
 laws and formal bonds of duty upon us. Yea, and even 
 the act of delight itself pitched upon him, is an act of 
 homage, as there will be occasion hereafter to take notice. 
 
 Wherefore it will be fit to steer a larger course, than 
 merely to consider him as a good commensurate to our 
 partial appetites. Which are apt to prescribe to, and limit 
 our apprehensions to this or that particularly sort or good, 
 and tincture them with such a notion of delight, as which, 
 if it be not false and grossly carnal, may yet be much too 
 narrow and unproportionable to the universal, all-compre- 
 hending good. And though we shall not here go beyond 
 the compass of delectable good ; yet as there is no good, 
 truly so called, which is not in or from the first goodness ; 
 so indeed, nor is there any capable of being gathered up 
 into that sum which is not delectable. 
 
 Nor therefore can the usual distribution of goodness 
 into profitable, honest, and pleasant., bear a strict test. 
 Only the false relishes of vitiated appetite in this corrupted 
 state of man, have given ground for it. Otherwise to a
 
 Paht I 
 
 OP DELIGHTING IN GOD. 
 
 353 
 
 mind and will that is not distempered, the account would 
 be much otherwise. To a prudent inind, profitable good 
 would be pleasant, even as 'tis profitable. To a just and 
 generous mind, honest, comely good would be pleasant, 
 even as it is honest. Nor would there need another dis- 
 tinction, but into the goodness of the end, which is plea- 
 sant for itself, and the goodness of the means, which is 
 pleasant as it is honestly and decently profitable (and 
 otherwise it cannot be) I hereunto. 
 
 That we may here therefore with the more advantage 
 state the delectable good we are now to consider, it will 
 be requisite to premise two things. 
 
 1. That all delightful enjoyment of God supposes .some 
 communication from him. Nothing can delight us, or be 
 enjoyed by us, whereof we do not, some way, fir bv •■rm" 
 faculty or other, partake somewhat ; either by our external 
 sense, sensitive appetite, fancy, memory, mind, will ; and 
 either in a higher or lower degree, for a longer or a shorter 
 time, according as the delight is for kind, degree, or con- 
 tinuance which is taken therein. This is plain in itself. 
 And in the present case therefore of delighting in God, or 
 enjojing him, some communication or participation there 
 must be one way or other according as the enjoyment of 
 him is. And as the case with man now is, it is necessary 
 he do with clearest and the most penetrative light and 
 power, come in upon his mind and heart, scatter dark- 
 ness, remove prejudice, abolish former relishes, transfuse 
 his own sweet savour through the soul. Proportionably 
 therefore to what is to be done, he communicates himself, 
 as the event constantly shows, with all them that are ever 
 brought to any real enjoyment of him. For we plainly 
 see, that the same divine communication which being re- 
 ceived, doth delight and satisfj', doth also procure, that it 
 may be desired and received ; makes its own way, attem- 
 pers and frames the soul to itself; and gives it the sweet 
 relish and savour thereof, wherein God is actually enjoj^ed. 
 
 2. That however God himself is truly said to be enjoy- 
 ed or delighted in by holy souls, yet this communication 
 is also a sort of mediate object of this delight or enjoj'- 
 ment. These things being forelaid, it is now needful to 
 inquire somewhat more distinctly, what that communica- 
 tion or communicable good is, which is the immediate 
 matter of proper, spiritual enjoyment unto holy men in 
 this world. Beeaase many have that phrase of speech 
 enjoying God often in their mouths, that well understand 
 not what they mean by it ; yea even divers of them that 
 have real enjoyment of him. Unto whom, though they 
 possibly taste the thing which they cannot express or form 
 distinct conceptions of, it might be somewhat their ad- 
 vantage to have it more cleared up to their apprehension, 
 what it is that they immediately enjoy, when they are said 
 to enjoy God ; or by what he is to be enjoyed. It is not a 
 mere fancy (as too many profanely think, and are too apt to 
 speak) thai is the thing to be enjoyed. There have been 
 those, who, comparing their own experience with God's 
 promises and precepts, (the rule by which he imparts and 
 according whereto men are to expect his gracious influ- 
 ence,) were capable of avowing ii, rationally, to be some 
 very substantial thing they have had the enjoyment of 
 The sobriety of their spirits, the regularity of their work- 
 ings, their gracious composure, the meekness, humility, 
 denial of self, the sensible refreshing, the mighty strength 
 and vigour which hath accr.mpanied such enjoyments, 
 sufficiently proving to them that they did not hug an empty 
 cloud, or embrace a shadow, under the name of enjoying 
 Grod. Such expressions as we find in the book of Psalms, 
 (the 16th and many other,) with sundry parts of Scrip- 
 ture besides, leave us not without instance, that import 
 nothing like flashy and flaunting bombast, no appearance 
 of affectation, no pompous show of vain-glory, no sem- 
 blance of swelling words of vanity; but which discover 
 a most equal, orderly, well-poised temper of mind, in con- 
 junction with the highest delight and well-pleasedness in 
 God. That rich and unimitable fulness of living sense, 
 could not but be from the apprehension of a most excel- 
 lent nature and kind, whatsoever be the notion, that may 
 be most fitly put upon it. Nor yet is it the mere essence 
 of God which men can be said to enjoy. For that is not 
 commtmicated nur cnmmunicable. Enjoyment supposes 
 
 c IN. xvvii. 1. 
 
 posse.ssion. But it would be a strange language to say we 
 po.ssess the essence of God otherwise than relatively ; 
 which is not enough unto actual enjoyment. His mere 
 essential presence u not enough. That renders him not 
 enjoyed by any, for that is equally with all, and every 
 where; but all cannot be .said to enjoy liim. 
 
 As therefore it is a rt^a/. so there must be some spcrAal 
 communication, by which, being received, we are truly 
 said to enjoy him. A special good it must be, not such as 
 is common to all. For there is a communication from him 
 that is of that extent, ina.smuch as all live and move and 
 have their beings in him, and the whole earth is full of his 
 goodness. This is a good peculiar to them that are bom 
 of God; and suited to the apprehension and sense of that 
 divin« f fPFiture which is so born. 
 
 What this good is, how fully sufficient it is, and how 
 or whii li way it is comniunicabl.-;. irjiv be the better un- 
 derstood when we have considered wnat are the wants and 
 cravings of this creature, or of them in whom it is formed 
 and wrought. For when we have pitched upon the very 
 thing itself which they most desire, (and which they can 
 tell is it, when they hear it named, though their thoughts 
 arc not so well formed about it, as to give it the right 
 name before,) we shall then understand it to be both what 
 will be sufficient to satisfy, and what may be communi- 
 cated to that purpose. But now, before that new birth 
 take place in the spirit of man, it wants, but knows not 
 what ; craves, indeterminately, (who will show us any 
 good ?) not fixing upon any particular one that is sufllcient 
 and finite, and labouring at once, under an ignorance of 
 the infinite, together with a disaffection thereunto. Its 
 wants and cravings are beyond the measure of all finite 
 good ; for suppose it to have never so large a share, nay, 
 could it grasp and ensjross the whole of it, an unsatisfied- 
 nessand desire of more would still remain. But that wore 
 is somewhat indeterminate and merely imaginary : an in- 
 finite nothing : an idol of fancy : a God of its own making. 
 God it must have ; but what a one he is it misapprehends, 
 and wherein it rightly apprehends him likes and loves him 
 not ; will by no means choose, desire, or take complacency 
 in him. So that an unregenerate soul is, while it is such, 
 necessarily doomed to be miserable. It cannot be happy 
 in an}- inferior good, and in the supreme it will not. What 
 the real wants and just cravings of a man's spirit there- 
 fore are, are not to be understood by considering it in that 
 state. And if the work of the new creature were per- 
 fected in it, it would want and crave no more ; but were 
 satisfied fully and at perfect rest. Nor is that state so 
 known to us as yet. Therefore they are best to be dis- 
 cerned in the state wherein that work is begun and hitherto 
 unfinished ; in which it therefore desires rightly, and still 
 continues to desire : a state of intermingled motion and 
 rest ; wherein delight is imperfect, and allayed by the con- 
 tinual mixture of yet unsatisfied desire. And yet ii may 
 be collected what it is that woukl be sufficient to satisfy ; 
 because their desire is still determined to <^ one thing, is 
 not vagrant, wanders not after thing-s of another kind, 
 but is intent only upon more of the same. Now let it be 
 inquired of such a one what that thinir is. We are eene- 
 rally told lhere,<i " One thing have I desired of the Lord, 
 that will I seek after, tfiat I may dwell in the house of the 
 Lord all the days of my life, to behold the beai-ty of the 
 Lord," &c. And it may he many would more shortly 
 tell yon it is God they desire, whence it would only le 
 concluded it is God thev aim to enjoy or delisjht in. But 
 because this brings us but where we were ; let it be fur- 
 ther inquired, what then is your business with God, or 
 M'hat would you have of him 1 It is not, sure, to be God 
 that you expect or seek, or to enjoy God in that sense 
 wherein he possesses and enjoys himself. No, not by any 
 means. It is then some communication from God, diverse 
 from what all men have (for th.ai they do not find apt to 
 satisfy) which they desire and crave. And what is that 1 
 'Tis somewhat, as possible to be apprehended, and as dis- 
 tinguishable both from his incommunicable being, and his 
 so generally communicated bouniv towards all. As if the 
 inquiry were, what is it that I desire really to enjoy when 
 I desiie to enjoy a friend ? {viz. as the notion of a friend 
 or friendship doth most properly import.) That is neither
 
 354 
 
 OF DELIGHTING IN GOD. 
 
 Part I. 
 
 to desire the impossible thing, of possessing his being as 
 my own ; nor the unsatisfying thing, the mere partaking 
 some part of his external goods and wealth, whereof it 
 may be he daily imparts somewhat to every beggar at his 
 door. But it is to have his intimate acquaintance, his 
 counsel and advice, the advantage of improving myself by 
 his converse and of conforming myself to his example in 
 his imitable perfections ; the assurances of his faithful, 
 constant love and friendship, in reference to all future 
 emergencies. A friend is really to be enjoyed in such 
 things as these. 
 
 And in such-like is God to be enjoyed also ; but with 
 this difference, that God's communications are more imme- 
 diate, more constant, more powerful and ethcacioxis, infi- 
 nitely more delightful and satisfying, in respect both of the 
 good communicated, and the way of communication. In 
 short then, the wants and desires of a renewed soul, the 
 supply and satisfaction whereof it seeks from God, would 
 be summed up in these things. — That it may know him 
 more fully, or have clearer apprehensions of him. — That 
 it may become like to him, and framed more perfectly 
 after his own holy image. — That it may be ascertained of 
 his love and good will, that he hath those favourable in- 
 clinations towards it, which shall certainly infer his doing 
 all that for it which its real necessities (to be estimated by 
 his infinite wisdom) can call for. These are the things in 
 kind which would satisfy it. And answerably to these we 
 may conceive the communicable good which is the imme- 
 diate object of their enjoyment. So that, as God himself 
 is the object which is enjoyed; this is the object by which, 
 or in respect whereof, he is enjoyable. 
 
 Therefore the divine communication, or that which is 
 communicated from God to regenerate souls wherein they 
 are to delight themselves, contains in it, 
 
 1. An inwardly enlightening revelation of himself to 
 them, that tliey may know him more distinctly. This is a 
 part of the one thing would be so highly satisfying, and 
 delightful. Show us the Father and it sufficeth us.'i 
 When their desires are towards God only, it is with this 
 aim in the first place, that they may know him, which is 
 supposed, when that is given as an encouragement to the 
 pursuit of this knowledge. We shall know if we follow 
 on 10 know the Lord.* As if it had been said ; this is a 
 thing not doubted of, but taken for granted, that we would 
 fain Know the Lord; we shall, if we follow on, &c. This 
 is a dictate of pure and primitive nature, to covet the know- 
 ledge of our own original, him from whom we and all 
 things sprang. Men are herein become most unnaturally 
 wicked when they like not to retain God in their know- 
 ledge. i The new and divine nature once imparted, that 
 is, primitive nature renewed and restored to itself, revives 
 the desire of this knowledge. And in compliance with the 
 present exigency of the case hath this inclination ingrafted 
 into it, to know him, (as he is now only to be comfortably 
 known,) viz. s in the Mediator. I determined to know 
 nothing among you (saith St. Paul) but Jesus Christ, &c. 
 t. e. to glory in, to make show of, to discover myself taken 
 with no other knowledge than this, or with none so much 
 as this. To which purpose, he elsewhere professes to 
 count nil things loss for the excellency of this knowledge. h 
 So vehemently did desire work this way. And propor- 
 tionably as it is apprehended desirable, must it be esteem- 
 ed delightful also. Nor are we here to think that this de- 
 -.ired knowledge was intended finallv to terminate in the 
 Mediator, f )r that the very notion of Medintor resists. The 
 name Christ is the proper name of that office, and the de- 
 sire of knowing him under that name imports a desire to 
 know him in his office, viz. as one that is to lead us to God, 
 and restore our acquaintance with him, which was not to 
 be recovered upon other terms. So that it is ultimately 
 the knowledge of God that is the so much desired thing, 
 and of Christ, as the way and our conductor to God. That 
 is, the knowledge of God not absolutely considered alone, 
 (though he is, even so, a verv delectable object, as hath 
 been said, but as he is related to us, and from whom we 
 have great expectations, our all being comprehended in 
 him. It cannot but be very delightful (answerable to a 
 certain sort of delectation of which we shall have occasion 
 
 d .Tolm xiv. 
 t 1 Cor. ii. 
 
 e Ho9 vi. 
 b PliU. iii. 
 
 f Rom. i, 
 i Eph. i. 1 
 
 to speak in its proper place) to have him before our eyes 
 represented and revealed to us, as the all-comprehending 
 good, and that (in the way and method whercinto things 
 are now cast) may, at least, become our portion. He is, 
 some way, to be enjoyed even in this view. 'Tis a thing 
 apt to infer complacency and delight thus to look upon 
 him. They who place felicity in contemplation, espe- 
 cially in the contemplation of God, are not besides the 
 mark ; if they do not circumscribe and confine it there, 
 so as to make it stand in mere contemplation, or in an 
 idle and vainly curious view of so glorious an object, 
 without any further concern about it. They will then be 
 found to speak very agreeably to the language of Holy 
 Scripture, which so frequently expresses the blessedness of 
 the other state by seeing God. And if the act of vision be 
 delicious, the representation of the object must have pro- 
 portionable maUer of delight in it. It cannot but have so, 
 if we consider the nature of this representation; which, 
 answerably to the sensible want and desire of such as 
 shall be delighted therewith, must have somewhat more in 
 it than the common appearances of God which offer them- 
 selves equally to the view of all men. Though it is their 
 own as common fault, that they are destitute of the more 
 grateful and necessary additions. That it hath more in it, 
 is evident from God's own way of speaking of it. For we 
 find that his revealing himself in this delectable way, 
 
 1. Is attributed to the Spirit.! And as a work to be 
 done by it when it shall be given, (supposing it therefore 
 yet not given, and that all have it not,) yea that such have 
 it not, in such a measure as they may have it, unto this 
 purpose, who yet truly have it i> in some measure already; 
 even as a thing peculiar to them from the unbelieving world. 
 
 For it is prayed for to such as concerning whom it is 
 said, that after they believed (not before) they were sealed 
 by the Spirit of promise, that the God of our Lord Jesus 
 Christ, the Father of glory, would give it them :i and it is 
 mentioned by a name and title proper to the end and pur- 
 pose for which it is desired to be given them, viz. as the 
 .spirit of wisdom and revelation, tliat end and purpose being 
 immediately expressed in, or, as that particle is sometimes 
 used, for, the knowledge of him.™ The eyes of their under- 
 standing being enlightened by it(which are supposed blind 
 before) for the same purpose. By which prayer it is snp- 
 posed a communicable thing; yea, and that these had 
 some way a right to the communication of it ; or that it 
 was a thing proper to their state, fit to be prayed for, as 
 some way belonging to them, they being in a more imme- 
 diate capacity of such revelation than others. But how 
 incongruous had it been, with such solemnity of address, 
 to make request on their behalf for that which they already 
 sufficiently had as a thing common to all men. 
 
 2. It is spoken of as a reward of their former love, loy- 
 alty, and obedience. He that hath my commandments 
 and keepeth them, he it is that loveth me ; and he that 
 loveth me, shall be loved of my Father, and I will love 
 him, and will manifest myself to him." Therefore is such 
 manifestation no more to be accounted common, than the 
 love of Christ is, and keeping his commandments. It is 
 spoken of as given discriminatingly, and the grace of God 
 admired upon that account. In the next words, Judas 
 saith unlo him,o (not Iscariot, it being well understood 
 how little covetous he was of, or qualified, for such mani- 
 festations,) Lord, how is it, that thou wilt manifest thyself 
 to us, and not to the world 1 What it hath more than com- 
 mon light, external or internal, answerable to the deeply 
 resented wants, and the hearts' desires of the regenerate, 
 by which it becomes so highly pleasant and delectable to 
 them, though it is rather to be felt than told, (as it is hard 
 to describe the very things we have only immediate sensi- 
 ble perception of.) may yet in some degree be understood 
 by such characters as these. 
 
 3. It is much more distinct and clear. They are con- 
 fused and dark glimmerings which other men have of the 
 blessed God, so that the light which is in them is darkness.? 
 'Tis true that an unregenerate person may possibly have 
 clearer acquired notions of God, and of the things of God, 
 than those may be which are of the same kind only in 
 some who are regenerate. So that he may, by the advan- 
 
 k Ver. 13. 
 
 II Jolin .\iv. 1\. 
 
 1 Ver 17. 
 o Ver. «. 
 
 Ill Ver. 13. 
 p Matt, vi
 
 Part I. 
 
 OF DELIGHTII\G IN GOD, 
 
 355 
 
 tages he may have above some of the other in respect of 
 better natural abilities, more liberal education, such cir- 
 cumstances of his condition as may more engage him to 
 study and contemplation, and befriend him therein, be ca- 
 pable of lindnig out mure, of making fuller discoveries, 
 and more evident deductions, and be able to discourse 
 thence more rationally and saiisfyingly to others, even 
 concerning God, his nature, attributes, and works, than 
 some very pious persons destitute of those advantages may 
 be able to do. But these, though their candle give a dim- 
 mer light than the others, have the beams of a sun raying 
 in upon them, that much outshines the other's candle. 
 And though they know not so many things, nor discern 
 the connexions of things so thoroughly ; yet as they do 
 know what is most necessary to be known, so what they do 
 know, they know better, and with a more excellent sort of 
 knowledge, proportionably as whatsoever is originally 
 and immediately divine, cannot but much excel that which 
 is merely human. Those do but blunder in the dark, these 
 in God's own light do see Hght.i And his light puts a 
 brighter hue and aspect upon the same things, than any 
 other represei.tation can put upon them. Things are by 
 it represented to the life, which to others carry with them 
 but a faint and languid appearance, and are all covered 
 over with nothing else but a dark and dusky shadow, so 
 as that may be hid from the wise and prudent which is 
 revealed to babes.' How bright and glorious things are 
 divine wisdom, love, holiness, to an enlightened mind ! 
 which is therefore supposed to have a clearer discovery of 
 them. 
 
 But it may be said, Is there any thing apprehensible 
 concerning these or any other matters which may not be 
 expressed in some proposition or other 7 And what pro- 
 position is there which a regenerate person can assent to, 
 but one who is not regenerate may assent to it also "? What 
 (iefinilion, so truly expressive of the natures of these 
 things, can be thought of, unto which a carnal mind may 
 not give its approbation 1 What can be said or conceived 
 so fully and truly tending to describe and clear them up, 
 but an unrenewed understanding may have the represen- 
 tation of the same truth so as to give entertainment to it 1 
 'Tis answered, there are many things to which somewhat 
 may belong not capable of description, and whereof we 
 have yet a most certain perception. As the different re- 
 lishes of the things we taste. There are no words that 
 will express those many peculiarities. And as to the pre- 
 sent matter ; there is somewhat belonging to the things of 
 God, (those for instance that were mentioned, his wisdom, 
 holiness, &c.) besides the truth of the conceptions that 
 may be formed about them ; which is more clearly appre- 
 hensible to a divinely enlightened understanding than to 
 one that is not so. As, 
 
 1. The beamy of those truths ; which is most delight- 
 ful to behold. Their lively sparkling lustre, by which they 
 appear so amiable and lovely to a well-tempered spirit, as 
 to transport it with pleasure, and ravish it from itself into 
 union with them. There was somewhat else apprehensi- 
 ble no doiib;, and apprehended by them, the inward senti- 
 ments of whose souls those words so defectively served 
 to express, Who is like unto thee, O Lord, among the 
 Gods, who is like thee, glorious in holiness, &c. besides 
 the mere truth of any proposition that those words can be 
 resolved into. And so in those, O the depths of the rich- 
 es both of the wisdom and knowledge of God, &c. And 
 those, God so loved the world, that he gave his only be- 
 gotten Son, that, &€. Or those. This is a faithful saying, 
 and worthy of all acceptation, that Jesus Christ came into 
 the world to save sinners, whereof I am chief. Or the 
 strains of that rapturous prayer, — that he would grant you 
 according to the ri ;hes of his glory, to be strengthened with 
 might by his spirit in the inner man; that Christ mav 
 dwell in your hearts by faith; that ye being rooted and 
 grounded in loi'^e, may be able to comprehend with all 
 saints, what ir the breadth and length, and depth and 
 height; andtc know the love of Christ, that passeth know- 
 ledge, that yj might be filled with all the fulness of God. 
 There is a certain acceptableness in some truths, nece.ssary 
 to their bcmg received in the love thereof, which is pecu- 
 liarly ,so represented to some, as that their apprehension is 
 q Psal. xxwi. r Matt. xi. 
 
 clear and vivid, beyond that of other men ; who, however 
 they have the representation of the same things, j'et have 
 not the same representation. Though if they be things of 
 necessary and common concernment, it is (as was said) 
 their own fault that they have it not. And to have yet 
 clearer apprehensions of this sort, is what the renewed soul 
 doth most earnestly crave, and would be proportionably 
 delighted with. 
 
 2. The tendency of such truths is much more clearly con- 
 ceivable to a holy soul, than another ; what their scope and 
 aim or aspect is, which way they look, and what they drive 
 at or lead to. I mean not what other truth they are con- 
 nected with, and would aptly tend to infer; but what de- 
 sign God hath upon us in revealing them, and what im- 
 pression they ought to make upon us. To the ignorance or 
 disregard of which tendency and design of God's revela- 
 tion, it is to be attributed, that many have long the same 
 notions of things hovering in their minds, without eve>r 
 reflecting with any displeasure upon the so vastly unsuita- 
 ble temper of their spirits thereto. They know it may be 
 such things concerning God, the tendency whereof is to 
 draw their hearts into union with him, to transform them 
 into his likeness, to inflame ihem with his love. But they 
 still remain, notwithstanding, at the greatest distance, 
 most unsuitable, averse, coldly affected towards him, yea 
 utterly opposite and disaffected ; and fall not out with 
 themselves upon this account, have no quarrel nor dislike, 
 take not any distaste at themselves for it. They lake no 
 notice of an incongruity and unfitness in the ill temper of 
 their own spirits; but seem as if they thought all were 
 very well with them, nothing amiss ; and apprehend not a 
 repugnancy in their habitual dispositions towards God to 
 their notions of him. For a vicious prejudice blinds their 
 eyes ; their corrupt inclinations and rotten hearts send up a 
 malignant, dark, and clammy fog and vapour, and casx so 
 black a cloud upon these bright things, that their tendency 
 and design are not perceived ; that prejudice not being 
 conceived so much against the abstract notions of the 
 things themselves, (whence they are entertained with less 
 reluctancy,) but only against the design and scope of them. 
 Against which poisonous cloud God's own glorious revela- 
 tion directs its beams, dissolves its gross consistency, scat- 
 ters its darkness, as to them to whom he by special grace 
 affords it. Whereupon, observing any remainders of the 
 same distemper in their spirits, though it be in a consi- 
 derable degree abated and lessened, they are ashamed of 
 themselves for it, filled with confusion, yea, and indigna- 
 tion ; do loathe and abhor, and could even be ready, if it 
 were possible, to run away from themselves. And what 
 is the reason of this so great difference 1 Surely some- 
 what appears discernible to these in God's revelation of 
 himself which to the other dotli not. They have then be- 
 fore their eyes a more clearprospect of the aim and scope 
 of it. Which so far as they have, it pleases them, for (hey 
 like the design well, only they are displeased at them- 
 selves that they comport no more with it. And as the end, 
 therefore, aimed at is desirable to them, and would be de- 
 lightful, (as will be shown in its proper place,) so is it to 
 have that representation immediately oflered to the view 
 of their souls, which hath so apt and comely an aspect 
 thereon, not merely for its own sake, but for the sake of 
 the end itself. 
 
 Wherefore there is somewhat to be apprehended by 
 God's representation of himself to the minds of this rege- 
 nerate people, at least more clearly than by other men. 
 Whence the work of regenerating or ccmverting them 
 itself, is expressed by opening their eyes.' For the divine 
 communication makes its own way and enters at the eye, 
 the soul's seeing faculty, which it dolh find (as opening 
 the eves imports) and not now create: but finding it vitia- 
 ted, and, as to any right seeing of God, shut and clo.sed 
 up, it heals, opens, and restores it as it enters. It is ex- 
 pressed, by turning them from darkness to light; and 
 from the power of Satan (the Prince of that darkness, the 
 God of this world, who had blinded their eyes) unio God. 
 Which (because they cannot turn and move towards Gt.xl 
 blindfold, and that this opening their eyes is in order to 
 their tmnin? to God) implies, that their eyes were so di.s- 
 lempered, blir.dcd, and sealed up, chiefly towards hini. 
 
 9 Aoti xx\i. IS.
 
 356 
 
 OF DELIGHTING IN GOD. 
 
 Part I. 
 
 So that, though they could see other things, him they 
 could not see ; but he was invisible to their intellectual, 
 as well as their bodily eyes. Hence also is that under- 
 standing said to be given, (?'. e. as rectified and renewed,) 
 by which we know God ; which implies it lo be (wherein 
 it is now given) somewhat superadded to the whole natu- 
 ral being and powers of the human soul, as in its present 
 corrupted stale, — He hath given us an understanding to 
 know him that is trne.' And that given rectitude of un- 
 derstanding is by such a communication from God, as 
 hath not aptitude and power in it to infer so happy a 
 change. The same renewing work is also said to be a call- 
 ing of men out of darkness into his marvellous light." 
 As if they were brought by it into a new world, wherein 
 they found themselves beset with wonders, and all things 
 were surprising to them. To which purpose is that prayer 
 of the Psalmist, (out of a just consciousness, that this work 
 was not perfect in him, but might yet admit great addition- 
 al degrees,) Open thou mine eyes, that I may behold won- 
 drous things out of thy law,^ He supposed many undis- 
 covered wonders, which more open eyes might yet behold 
 in that external revelation of God's mind, which was then 
 afforded, (and which was wont in those days to go under 
 the name of his law, though it contained histories, prophe- 
 cies, and promises, as well as precepts,) although he was 
 no stranger to those records, nor little insighted into 
 them, he yet apprehended a need of more light and better 
 eyes ; which he therefore desires. Not that God would cause 
 a new revelation to be written, (though that he vouchsafed to 
 do, and partly bv himself,) but that he might learn more out 
 of thatalreaci}' extant; and that the wonderful things con- 
 tained in it might be made more clear to him. Nor can we 
 suppose him, herein, to desire to be gratified and delighted 
 by the communication of an incommunicable thing. 
 
 2. It is more powerfully assuring, and s-^uch as is apt to 
 beget a more certain operative belief of the things revealed. 
 That is, being added to the means of faith men may be sup- 
 posed to have had before, it adds much to their assurance 
 of the same things, so as to make it efficacious upon their 
 spirits. And as well cures the doubtfulness, irresolution, 
 and waywardness of their minds and liearls, as the confu- 
 sion and darkness of them. 
 
 It is very possible those things may be distinctly under- 
 stood, which the more we understand, the more we disbe- 
 lieve them through their apprehended inconsistency with 
 themselves or some certain truth. The delectable things 
 of God, his own discovery procures at once, by one and 
 the same radiation of light, both to be clearly understood, 
 and effectually believed. Otiiers have the word of faith 
 without the spirit of faith. The faith therefore which 
 they have is a carcass ; not a weak only, (which imports 
 but diminished power,) but a dead thing. And which hath 
 no power at all to determine the soul and compose it to that 
 delightful rest, which such things, duly believed, would 
 certainly infer. The most delectable truths of God, and 
 such as most directly tend (in this apostate lapsed state of 
 man) to give us the .sweet and refreshing relishesof a just 
 and rational joy and pleasure, are such as are contained in 
 the Gospel of Christ; the things that concern our recon- 
 ciliation, friendship, and communion with God in him. 
 And which are therefore wholly of immediately divine and 
 supernatural revelation, and to be received by faith. 
 Therefore one apostle prays for some, they might be filled 
 with joy and peace in believing.^' And another says of 
 others, that believing, they rejoiced with joy unspeakable 
 and full of glory.'- The external revela ion in the Gospel 
 is an apt means to beget that faith which it is said comes 
 by hearing; but the very notion of means importing what 
 intervenes to the effect, between that and the principal 
 agent, necessarily supposes such an agent; and that what is 
 only means, cannot work the effect alone. That Agent, 
 viz. (in this case) God himself or the Spirit, besides the 
 means which he uses and makes effectual, must have his 
 own influence whereby he makes them so. If a pen be a 
 fit means or instrument to write with, it doth not therefore 
 follow that it cauAvrite alone, without a hand to move and 
 guide it, in order whereto a molive and directive influence 
 is imparted. In the present case, the influence is the in- 
 
 t I .T(,liii \ ■2^ u 1 Pet. ii. X Psal. cxi. IS. 
 
 ward, enlightening, overpowering communication, where- 
 of we speak. The efficacy whereof is such, as to give 
 the soul that peaceful rest in believing, which is also most 
 pleasant and delightful, according as the things are found 
 to be so, which are believed. Nor doth it in order hereto 
 work by way of enthusiastical impulsion, without any re- 
 ference to the external revelation, which is rationally and 
 aptly suitable to the working of the effect. For then, that 
 should no way ha e the place .so much as of means. But 
 there being sufficient inducement to persuade that this ex- 
 ternal revelation is divine, so as to procure a rational as- 
 sent to the things revealed, with any man that, having that 
 revelation, with the account of its first confirmation, 
 shall but use his understanding in reference thereto, and 
 is not besotted to a party of sworn enemies to the Christian 
 name. This inward revelation then falling in, captivates 
 his heart to an entire unitive closure, with the great things 
 contained in the outward one ; and principally with the 
 Son of God himself, unto which union that whole revela- 
 tion is most directly subservient. Therefore it was, that 
 when divers others (of whom it is said, and particularly 
 of Judas, " that they believed not) forsook Christ, Peter 
 and tlie other aposOes stuck so resolutely to him, because, 
 we believe(. ay Lhey) and art sure that thou art Christ, the 
 Son of the living God ; which a.ssurance we may then 
 conclude was much of another sort than that of Judas; 
 though we cannot suppose him to have wanted a rational 
 certainty of the same truth, sufficient to have overcome 
 objections in his judgment ; but not sufficient to overcome 
 the contrary corrupt inclinations of his wicked heart. 
 Therefore as the inward revelation uses not to do its work 
 without the outward ; (for I suppose we have not heard of 
 manj- Christians where the Gospel hath not been;) so nor 
 is the outward revelation able, alone, to beget that which, 
 in the most eminent sense, goes in Scripture under the 
 name of faith. It may beget that merelj' intellectual cer- 
 tainty which may prevail against all doubts and objections 
 in a man's mind to the contrary : but not the contrary in- 
 clinations of his corrupt ■will. Most men's faith is but 
 opinionative, and many men's never reaches so high as to a 
 rational opinion; that proceeds tipon having balanced con- 
 siderations on both sides, and inclines to that part on which 
 seerns to be the most weighty; whereas the faith (as they 
 call it) of too many is no other thing than a merely blind 
 and sequacious humour, grounded upon nothing but a 
 willingness to be in the fashion ; or the apprehension of 
 disgrace, with other inconveniences, if where that is the 
 common profession one should profess to be any thing but 
 a Christian; or a lazy jndiflTerency, easily determinable to 
 that part which is next at hand to be chosen; or it may be, 
 they never having heard of another profession, which pre- 
 cludes any choice at all. 
 
 But admit it did arrive to a rational certainty, as it ea- 
 sily might with them that have with the external requisite 
 advantages, competent understanding, patience, diligence, 
 and impartiality to consider: that is, suppose it to pro- 
 ceed upon that abundant evidence which the case will 
 admit, that the Christian doctrine hath been testified by 
 God ; and that God's testimony cannot deceive : there 
 needs m.ore to v.'in and overcome men's hearts; which 
 must be done ere the things revealed in the gospel can be 
 apprehended delectable. What can any man have great- 
 er certainty of, in a mere human way, than all men have 
 that they must die ? And yet how few are there whose 
 spirits are formed hereby to any seriousness agreeable to 
 thr;t persuasion ! Whatever way a man comes to be cer- 
 tain of any thing that hath a contrary tendency to the bent 
 of his habitually wicked heart, he needs more than the 
 evidence of the thing, to make it efficaciously determine 
 his will against his former vicious course. If the matter 
 be such as properly falls under faith ; that faith grounds 
 upon the authority of God, apprehended as avouching the 
 truth of that revelation to which we subscribe our assent. 
 But then it is lively or languid, according as the appre- 
 hension is we have of that avouchment. But the appre- 
 hension which is only the product of the external reve- 
 lation, even reconunended by the most advantageous 
 and convincing circumstances, is too faint to command 
 
 y Kom. x\. 3. z 1 Pet. i. 8. a John vi
 
 Part I. 
 
 OF DELIGHTING IN GOD. 
 
 357 
 
 the soul. Who amongst all the people of the Jews at 
 Mount Horeb, could have any doubt, but the authority 
 that avouched the law there given them was divine 1 And 
 yet how boldly do they rush into idolatry, against the ex- 
 press letter of that law ; while the sound of that dreadful 
 voice of words which delivered it, could hardly, one would 
 think, be well out of their ears ! And though they could not 
 doubt of God's authority ,yet for all that, their frequent rebel- 
 lions are plainly resolved into their infidelity. How long 
 will this people provoke me lb And how long will it be 
 ere they believe me, for all the signs which I have showed 
 among them 'I Yea, they despised the pleasant land : they 
 believed not his word.'^ Or what place could be left for 
 rational doubt with the multitudes that beheld the mira- 
 cles of our Lord Jesus, but that they were God's own seal 
 afiixed purposel)' to the doctrine taught by him 1 Yet how 
 few (though we must suppose many convinced) did heartily 
 believe in him ! More (abundantly) did upon a less ad- 
 vantageous external revelation after his ascension. And 
 the reason is plainly told us, The Spirit was not yet given, 
 because that Jesus was not yet glorified. d And how ex- 
 pressly have we it from his own mouth, after he had inter- 
 preted coming to him by believing on him,^ No man can 
 come unto me, except the Father that hath sent me draw 
 him. And afterwards, having said. It is the Spirit that 
 quickeneth ;f he adds, but there are some of you that 
 believe not.? (So that no man's professed assent, though 
 as forward a professor as Judas was, there referred to, will 
 in strict account entitle him a believer, if it be not produced 
 by the quickening influence of the Spirit.) And then re- 
 peats, h Therefore I said unto you, that no man can come 
 unto me, except it were given him of my Father. And 
 what provocation the Father had to withhold that quicken- 
 ing Spirit so generally from that people, an}' one may see 
 that reads their stor5^ Upon which, by the recess of that 
 Spirit, they are hardened to as great a miracle as formerly 
 their Egyptian oppressors were many ages before ; there 
 being indeed no greater miracle, as was said of old, than 
 that men should not believe upon the sight of .so man)' 
 miracles. And this dreadful dereliction and conse(2uent 
 obduration we see is referred to primitive justice as a vin- 
 dictive dispensation. But though he had done so many 
 miracles before them, yet they believed not on him.; That 
 the saying of Esaias the prophet might be fulfilled, which 
 he spake, Lord, who hath believed our report? and to 
 whom is the arm of the Lord revealed 1^ Where it is ob- 
 vious to observe that the believing of the gospel-report 
 owes itself to the revelation of God's arm ; or requires the 
 exerting of his power, agreeable to that of the apostle, that 
 ye may know what is the exceeding greatness of his power 
 to US-ward, wlio believe according to the working of his 
 mighty power, which he wrought in Christ, when he raised 
 him from the dead, &c.i And how the ann of the Lord 
 came not to be revealed, or that power not to be put forth, 
 is intimated in what follows : Therefore they could not 
 believe, because (for which Isaiah is again quoted) he had 
 blinded their eyes, and hardened their hearts, &c.ra Which 
 shows, that as that blinding and hardening of eyes and 
 hearts, in some superadded degrees thereof, is the effect of 
 a penal dereliction or retraction of God's arm for former 
 obstinate opposition to the external revelation of the Gos- 
 pel ; so that there is a precedent blindness and hardness, 
 not othervi'ise vincible than by the arm of the Lord ; and 
 which, it being penally withlield, will naturally grow worse 
 and worse. And certainly that, upon the withholding 
 whereof, such things certainly ensue as are inconsistent 
 with believing, must needs itself be necessary to it. All 
 which things considered, do so plainly speak the insuffi- 
 ciency of a mere external revelation, and the necessity of 
 an internal besides, unto that faith which is the immediate 
 spring of delight in God; that it is not needful to insist 
 upon many plain texts of Scriptures besides, that fully say 
 the same thing. As that no man can say that Jesus is the 
 Lord but by the Holy Ghost." And again, Whosoever 
 shall confess that Jesus is the Son of God, God dwellcth 
 in him, and he in God.o And whosoever believeth that 
 Jesus is the Christ is born of God.P Upon which words, 
 
 b Num. xiv. 11. 
 
 c Psal cvi. 24. 
 
 (1 John vii. 39. 
 
 1 Eph i. 19. 
 
 m Isa. vi. 
 
 e John vi. 35. 
 
 f Ver. 63. 
 
 e Ver 6-1. 
 k Isa. liii. 1. 
 
 1- John iv. 15. 
 
 p Chap. V. 1. 
 
 b Ver. 65. 
 
 i John xii. 37, 38. 
 
 r Prov. ii. 10. 
 
 s 3 Cor. ii. 14. 
 
 
 27 
 
 
 
 
 with many more of like import in the sacred volume, no 
 sense can be put which is tolerable, and not the same with 
 what we have above asserted. 
 
 In short, faith is a part of homage paid to the authority 
 of the great God ; which is to be estimated sincere, accord- 
 ing as it answers the end for which the things to be be- 
 lieved were revealed. That end is not to beget only the 
 notion of those things, as truths that are to be lodged in the 
 mind, and go no further; as if they were to be understood 
 true only that they might be so understood; but that the 
 person might accordingly have his spirit formed, and might 
 shape the course of his whole conversation ; therefore is it 
 called the obedience of faith ; and the same word which is 
 wont to be rendered unbelief, signifies disobedience, obsti- 
 nacy, unpersuadableness ; being I'rom a theme which (as is 
 known) signifies to persuade. So that this homage is then 
 truly given to the eternal God, when his revelation is com- 
 plied with and submitted to, according to the true intent 
 and purpose of it. Which that it may be, requires that his 
 Spirit urge the soul with his authority, and overpower it 
 into an awful subjection thereto. The soul being so dis- 
 jointed by the apostncy, that its own faculties keep not (in 
 reference to the things of God) their natural order to one 
 another, further than as a holy rectitude is renewed in them 
 by the Holy Ghost. Therefore is it necessary, that the en- 
 lightening communication which he transmits into it, be 
 not only so clear, as to scatter the darkness that beclouded 
 the mind, but so penetrating, as to strike and pierce the 
 heart, to dissolve and relax its stiff' and frozen rigour, and 
 render it capable of a new mould and frame. In order 
 whereto, " God that (at first) commanded the light to shine 
 out of darkness, is .said to have shined into the hearts" of 
 them, rzr. whom he renews, "to give the light of the 
 knowledge of the glory of God in the face of Jesus Christ." 
 And as they to whom this communication of God is in 
 some degree afforded, do hereupon apprehend how neces- 
 sary it was to them that it should be afforded; and be 
 such as they now find it, (which they apprehended not be- 
 fore,) so they perceive it to be delightful also, as well as 
 necessary. And finding it yet given into them but in an 
 imperfect degree, their continual cravingsare still for more. 
 And having tasted hereby how gracious the Lord is ; as 
 new-born babes the)' desire it, as sincere rni'vk, that they 
 may grow theTeny.i They hereby come to know God and 
 the things of God with savour. And wisdom having en- 
 tered into their hearts, knowledge is pleasant to their soul.' 
 Whereby, as every renewed taste provokes in them new 
 desire, all such renewed desires dispose them unto further 
 and more satisfying delight. They sensibly discern the 
 difference between their former dry and sapless notions 
 of God, .and the lively-.'^pirited apprehensions which they 
 now have. They can in some measure understand the 
 reason why the apostle should in such a rapture speak of 
 the excellency of the knowledge of Christ Jesus our Lord ; 
 and why he should so triumphnntly give thanks to God for 
 the manifestation of the savour of his knowledge ^ in eveiy 
 place. They can perceive there was good sense in those 
 words, they have a more quick and judicious perception 
 of the frngrancy of that knowledge ; it is to them a refresh- 
 ing, vital, quickening perfume, as the word, there and be- 
 fore, imports, most cheeringly odoriferous, the savour of 
 life to life,' lively in itself, and to them. So full of life, 
 as to beget and tran.smit it, and replenish their souls there- 
 with ; so as they might feel life thence working in all their 
 powers. A revelation of God, that is of such a nature, 
 cannot but be highly delectable; 
 
 1. In respect of the matter revealed, God himself espe- 
 cially (if not yet testifying himself to be, yet at least will- 
 ing in Christ to become) our God; in such a way, and 
 upon such terms, as is expressed in the Gospel. A more 
 particular mention of the things (contained in this revela- 
 tion) that are more apt to beget delight and feed it. is pur- 
 posely deferred till we come to press and enforce the duty 
 itself 
 
 2. In respect of the immediate way and manner of reve- 
 lation, with so much facility continuallv coming in from 
 time to time upon the soul, according as it is found ready by 
 
 n 1 Cor. xii. 3. 
 q 1 Pet ii. 2, 3. 
 t Ver. 16.
 
 358 
 
 OF DELIGHTING IN GOD. 
 
 Part I. 
 
 a dutiful compliance to admit it, and doth lie open to it. 
 For otherwise, a fatherly severity is most fitly expressed 
 in -withholding it at some times. 
 
 3. In respect of the life and vigour which it carries with 
 It, whereby it is experienced to be a vital light; and that 
 it is indeed (as is said) life, which is the light of men." 
 Dull, sluggish, ineffectual notions of such things can have 
 little, comparatively, of delectation in them. 
 
 4. In respect of the design and tendency of the revelation, 
 discernible at the same time, to draw the soul into union 
 with God; and that there may be a continual intercourse 
 between him and it. Not that it might have a transient 
 glance of so lovely an object, and no more. When once it 
 apprehends God hath made this light shine in upon me, 
 not to amuse me, but here he fixes it as a lamp to guide 
 me, in a stated course of communion with him. How 
 pleasant is it to think he will be known for this blessed 
 purpose ! Now a communication of God including a reve- 
 lation of him apt to beget such a knowledge, cannot be 
 without much matter of delight. 
 
 But besides that, though most naturally following there- 
 upon, it also includes, 
 
 II. A transforming impression of his image. This yet 
 more fully answers the inquiry when a person is said to 
 enjoy God ; what doth he immediately enjoy 1 or whereby, 
 is he said to enjoy God 1 what doth God communicate or 
 transmit, by which he may be said to be enjoyed 1 He 
 communicates his own living likeness, the very image of 
 himself; not the ideaof likeness only by which he is known, 
 though it must be confessed the knowledge of him, if 
 he be known to be what he truly is, must suppose a true 
 likeness of him offered to the mind, and formed there. But 
 this of which we now spealc, is not a merely representative 
 but a real image. The product of the former it is, as is 
 sufficiently to be collected from what hath been said. For 
 that appears to be not a mere airy, spiritless, ineffectual 
 thing, as the notion of God, and of all divine matters, is 
 with the most ; but as hath been said, operative, penetrating, 
 efficacious, apt to beget suitable impressions upon the heart, 
 and wholly transform the soul. The effect of it then is, 
 this transformative impression itself; by which the soul 
 becomes another thing than it was ; a new creature ; ^ old 
 things being done away, and all things made jew. In 
 respect of this, it is said to be born of God. This is the 
 new man which after God is said to be created in know- 
 ledge, righteousness, and true holiness ; " the Divine nature 
 participated;!' the seed of^ God; ihe airapx'i,'- the prime 
 and most excellent part of his creatures. 
 
 Concerning this likeness, and the satisfy ingn ess of it, in 
 its perfect state, though much hath been discoursed else- 
 where, it will be requisite to say somewhat here also, that 
 may bear a more direct reference to the present imperfect 
 state of the regenerate in this world. That communication 
 of God which must be supposed afforded them, in order to 
 their delighting in him, could signify little to that purpose, 
 if with deformed and diseased souls they were only to look 
 upon a very lovely object, still themselves remaining what 
 they were. Nor doth it delight them only as it is appre- 
 hended apt and aiming to work a happy change in them; 
 but as it doth it, or hath in part done it. As like an active, 
 quick flame, it passeth through their souls, searches, melts 
 them, burns up their dross, makes them a new lump or 
 mass, forms them for God's own use and converse. 
 
 God is proposed unto our communion and fellowship 
 under the name of light. But such a light (it appears) as 
 whereby we that were darkness do also become light in the 
 Lord, b as elsewhere it is expressed. That, as he is the 
 Father of lights, >= we may appear the children of such a 
 Father, and walk accordingly, i. e. as children of light. 
 For we are presently told, that if we say we have fellowship 
 with him, and walk in darkness, we lie, and do not the 
 truth. d But if we walk in the light as he is in the light, 
 then we have a mutual fellowship, *■ i. e. God and we. It 
 is needful then, that we have that apprehension of him. 
 And he therefore by solemn message makes that declaration 
 of himself that he is light, (this then is the message which 
 we have heard of him, and declare unto you, that God is 
 light, and with him is no darkness at all,) i. e. the most 
 
 u John i 
 y 8 Pet. i. 
 
 w 2 Cor V. 
 z. I John iii. 
 
 X Eph 
 a Jam. 
 
 pure, holy, excellent, glorious Being. But for what pui- 
 pose are we to have that apprehension 1 We are told by 
 the apostle for what ; he there makes that declaration with 
 that design, that we might be entered into the same fellow- 
 ship in which he was already: for that end therefore we 
 are to have this apprehension. But inasmuch as he imme- 
 diately adds, that yet while we converse in darkness, we 
 lie, if we pretend to that fellowship ; 'lis manifest, that this 
 discovery of God and our suitable apprehension are no fur- 
 ther serviceable to their end, than bringing us into fellow- 
 ship with him, than as by his beams he begets us into his 
 likeness herein ; and that, so far as our capacity and present 
 state admit, we be truly in a degree made pure, bright, shi- 
 ning, excellent creatures, resembling our Maker, and being 
 a second time formed after the image of him that created us. 
 The Gospel is the formative instrument in this work, as 
 it was said to be the instrument or means of our intellectual 
 illumination. The new creature is said to be begotten of 
 the word of God ; and the Divine nature to be communi- 
 cated through the exceeding great and precious promises, 
 which discovering God's gracious nature and favourable 
 inclination towards us, are an apt means (but no more than 
 a means) to render us well-natured (not cross, thwarting, 
 contrary) unto him. Faith admits the gospel-discovery 
 into the soul, and of an external word without, makes it 
 become an ingrafted word; the word of Christ dwelling 
 richly in us : and so gives it the advantage of becoming 
 thus mightily operative ; for unto them only who believe is 
 it the power of God to salvation. And being received, not 
 as the word of man, but as the word of God, it works 
 effectually in them that believe. To them who believe it 
 not, it signifies nothing; is to them an empty sound, or 
 only as a tale that is told. And inasmuch as the gospel- 
 revelation is the instrument of this impression; by it the 
 impression must be measured, with it must it agree. Which 
 revelation being expressive of the nature of God, and of his 
 mind and will in reference to us, the impression cannot 
 but be agreeable to that revelation ; but it must also carry 
 in it the resemblance and likeness of God himself; for the 
 gospel-revelation is God's seal ; the stamp upon it is a 
 model of his image. Whence therefore the soul sealed 
 therewith, bears on it at once the signature both of the 
 author and the instrument. But because our best and 
 surest way of forming true and right apprehensions of God, 
 is to attend and guide ourselves by the representation that 
 is there made of him ; (for it were useless and in vain, if 
 letting our thoughts work at random without reference to 
 it, we might conceive as fitly of God and his mind con- 
 cerning us, as by the direction and guidance of it ;) there- 
 fore are we to aim at conformity to God as he is there re- 
 presented. For that is the proper likeness to him we are to 
 inquire after (and which only could be impressed by his 
 Gospel) that is expressed and represented there. We all 
 with open face beholding as in a glass the glory of the Lord, 
 are changed into the same image from glory to glory, f It 
 is by the glory of the Lord shining through that glass, that 
 we are changed. And the image whereinto we are changed 
 is the same image that is to be seen in that glass. For 
 there God hath provided such a representation of him- 
 self and of his mind should appear, as is most suitable to 
 our case and state, and which it most concerned us to have 
 the view and the image of. That represents him in his 
 imitable excellencies; a' d shows what he is towards us, 
 what his counsels, deteiTninations, and constitutions are 
 concerning us ; and hereupon shows, what we should be, or 
 what temper of spirit becomes us in reference to such a 
 revelation. And such, when we receive this his impressive 
 communication, he really makes us thereby become. And 
 then is it that it will be found most highly delectable. A 
 heart formed according to the revelation of God in Christ, 
 and cast into the mould of the Gospel, (as is the import of 
 the apostle's words. Ye have obeyed from the heart the 
 doctrine, s into the type or frame whereof ye were delivered,) 
 hath a spring of pleasure in itself Not of perfect unmixed 
 pleasure ; for there is much yet remaining, that cannot but 
 be very displeasing and oflfensive to such as have learned 
 no longer to put bitter for sweet, and sweet for bitter, and 
 have senses exercised to discern betwixt good and evil. 
 
 b 1 John i. 5, 6. 
 e Ver. 7. 
 
 c Eph. V. 
 f 2 Cor. iii. 18. 
 
 d Ver. 6. , 
 e Rom. vi
 
 Part I. 
 
 OF DEUGHTING IN GOD. 
 
 359 
 
 And indeed by the same vital principle the soul is made 
 capable both of the sweetest delights and the quickest sense 
 of pain; while it was dead it was sensible of neither. 
 
 Nor is it an original spring. Whatever it hath that is 
 good and pleasant comes from a higher head, and is com- 
 municated. But the comrnunicalion remains not in this 
 heart as in a dead receptacle, but creates the soul where it 
 is a living spring itself. The Lord shall satisfy ihy soul in 
 drought, and make fat thy bones, and thou shalt be like a 
 watered garden, and as a spring of water whose waters fail 
 not.ii After which it follows. Then shalt thou delight thy- 
 self in the Lord, &€.; So though the waters that are so 
 pleasantly refreshing to holy souls are given by Christ ; yet 
 he himself tells us, they shall be in him to whom they are 
 given a well of water springing up into everlasting life.k 
 Whence also the good man is said to be satisfied from him- 
 self;! and the mouth of the righteous to be a well of life,™ 
 i. e. to others, much more must his heart be so to himself 
 Nor indeed can there be a vainer or more absurd design 
 and expectation, than to aim immediately at delights and 
 joys, without ever looking after that transforming, purify- 
 ing, quickening communication from God, in which he is 
 to be enjoyed; which is, apparently, the most prejudicial 
 and dangerous mistake, the practical error (and so much 
 the worse therefore) of many persons of much pretence to 
 religion, that dream and boast of nothing less than raptures 
 and transports, having never yet known or felt what the 
 work of regeneration or the new creature means. And 
 having only got some notions of God and Christ, that 
 tickle their fancies without ever changing their hearts, these 
 go for divine enjoyments. Others somewhat awakened 
 and convinced, but not renewed, though they do not pre- 
 tend already to have, yet do (from the same mistaken ap- 
 prehension) as vainly seek and catch at joys and sweet- 
 nesses; while their unsanctified hearts do yet lie steeped 
 in the gall of bitterness. And they wonder and complain, 
 that they feel not in themselves the delights whereof they 
 find Scripture sometimes make mention, while in the mean- 
 time they expect and snatch at them in that preposterous 
 impossible wa)^, as to abstract them from the things them- 
 selves, wherein the pleasure and delight lies. Thej^ would 
 have delight without the delectable good that must im- 
 mediately afford and yield it; or without foregoing the 
 noisome evils that resist and hinder it; which therefore 
 makes it necessary to treat the more largely of the delight- 
 ful communication, by which only intervening souls are 
 capable of delighting in God. 
 
 And as to this branch of it, the vital, sanctifying, trans- 
 forming influence, whereby the soul is wrought to a con- 
 formity to the Gospel ; if we take a somewhat more distinct 
 view of it, we .shall find, it cannot but have in it abundant 
 matter of delight. In the general, the thing here to be 
 communicated, is a universal rectitude of temper and dis- 
 positions, including — the removal of such as are sinful and 
 corrupt; and — the settlement of such as are holy and gra- 
 cious; — both to be measured and estimated, as to their 
 good or evil, by the Gospel of our Lord Jesus Christ. Now 
 surely that must be a blessed and delightful state (and it's 
 that towards which this divine communication gradually 
 tends) wherein a wretched soul, that was lost in the impu- 
 rities of sin, shall be stripped and unclothed of all the pra- 
 vity, perverse inclinations, corrupt affections, which the 
 Gospel of Christ condemns; and invested with all the 
 part.s'of that purity, that gracious and holy frame, which 
 that Gospel recommends. For as the former carry in them 
 matter of certain vexation and anguish, which it is hereby 
 freed from; so the latter manifestly carry in themselves 
 matter of unspeakable delight and pleasure, which it here- 
 by partakes. And by the same degrees by which this di- 
 vine communication infers the latter of these, it expels the 
 former. By the same degrees by which any are made par- 
 takers of the Divine nature, they escape the corruptions 
 which are in the world through lust. And that we may 
 be here a little more particular, without descending into 
 the innumerable particularities which might be severally 
 spoken of upon this occasion ; we shall only consider this 
 heart-rectifying communication, in reference to some of the 
 more principal things, towards which the spirit of man 
 may be either perversely, or duly and aright, inclined ; that 
 b laa. Iviii. U. i Ver. H. k John iv. 14. 
 
 we may see what matter of delight it infers and brings with 
 it. In Older whereto it must be considered, that whercit 
 it is transforming, it is also enlivening; and therefore fur- 
 nishes the soul with the power of spiritual sensation ; 
 whereby it comes to apprehend its former temper, as very 
 grievous and detestable; not only being entire and undi- 
 minished, but even the relics of it which do yet remain; 
 and proportionably, the holy frame to be introduced as 
 highly covetable and to be infinitely desired. 
 
 Which being supposed, it must needs be very delightful 
 to such a soul, to feel itself in part rectified, and to expect 
 it further in its temper and inclinations, 
 
 I. Towards God, towards whom it was most disin- 
 clined; that is, both towards him as its end, and towards 
 Christ as its way to him. 
 
 As to himself its end. It finds upon reflection, it wa.s 
 dead towards God, without motion towards him, without 
 inclination, all its powers bent and set quite another way; 
 so that to persuade it to begin a course of holy motion to- 
 wards God, was a like thing as to persuade a stone to fly 
 upwards. It could not trust the original truth, nor love 
 the sovereign good, nor obey the supreme authority. Its 
 course was nothing else but continual recession from him, 
 towards whom it should have been continually pressing 
 forward with all its might. It was wont to say to him, in 
 whom was its life and all its hope, " Depart from me, I 
 de-sire not the knowledge of thy ways ;" was utterly alien- 
 ated from the life of God, and did choose to live as with- 
 out him in the world. And although it still remain thus 
 in too great a degree, yet as it abhors this as a hateful way 
 of living, and desires it may be otherwise; so is it sensibly 
 delightful that it doth in some degree perceive a change; 
 that now it can find itself returning into its right and na- 
 tural state of subordination to God. Which, while it was 
 out of it, laid that claim to it, that its dislocation wels un- 
 easy, and it could have no rest ; though it was not aware 
 what the matter was with it, and could never thoroughly 
 apprehend, that it ought (much less could desire or aim) 
 to return. And if in returning, and its continual course 
 afterwards, (which ought to be but a continuing return and 
 moving back towards God,) there be much cause for the 
 exercise of repentance ; the disposition whereto is a part of 
 that new nature now communicated ; yet even such re- 
 lentings as are due and suitable upon this account are not 
 unpleasant. There is pleasure mingled with such tears, 
 and with those mournings which are not without hope, and 
 which flow naturally and without force, from a living prin- 
 ciple within, as waters from their still-freshly springing 
 fountain. When the soul finds itself unbound and set at 
 liberty; when it can freely pour out itself to God, dis- 
 solve'kindly and melt before him ; it doth it with regret 
 only at what it hath done and been, not at what it is now 
 doing, except that it can do it no more ; affecting even to 
 be infinite herein, while it yet sees it must be confined 
 within some bounds. It loves to lie in the dust and abase 
 itself; and is pleased with the humiliation, contrition, and 
 hrokenness of heart, which repentance towards God in- 
 cludes in it. So that as God is delighted with this sacri- 
 fice, so it is with the offering of it up to him. Many men 
 apprehend a certain sweetness in revenge ; such a one finds 
 it only in this just revenge upon himself How unexpres- 
 sible pleasure accompanies its devoting itself to God, 
 when bemoaning itself, and returning with weeping and 
 supplication, it says, "Now, lo I come to thee, thou art 
 the Lord my God. I have brought thee back thine own, 
 what I had sacrilegiou.sly alienated and stolen away, the 
 heart which was gone astray, that hath been so long a va- 
 gabond and fugitive from thy blessed presence, service, and 
 communion. Take now the soul which thou hast made ; 
 possess thy own right ; enter upon it, stamp it with the 
 entire impression of thine own seal, and mark it for thine. 
 Other lords shall no more have dominion. What have I 
 to do anv more with the idols wherewith I was wont to 
 provoke thee to jealousy 1 I will now make mention of 
 thy name, and of thine' only. I bind myself to thee in 
 everlastin? bonds, in a covenant never to be forgotten." 
 
 The self-denial which is included in this transaction, 
 hath no little pleasure m it. When the soul freely quits 
 all pretence to itself, and by its own consent passes into 
 1 Prov. xiv. 14. m Ch. siti.
 
 d&) 
 
 OP DELIGHTING IN GOD. 
 
 Part I. 
 
 his now acknowledged right ; disclaims ilself, and all its i 
 own former interests, inclinations, and ends, and is resolved 
 to be to him and to no other. When this is done unre- 
 servedly, without any intention of retaining or keeping 
 back any thing from him ; absolutely, and without making 
 any conditions of its own, but only agreeing to and thank- 
 fully accepting his ; peremptorily and without hesitation, 
 and without halting between two opinions, " Shall 1 1 or 
 shall I not!" (as if it were ready in the same breath to re- 
 tract and undo its own act;) how doth it now rejoice to feel 
 itself offer willingly ! They that have life and sense about 
 them, can tell tliere is pleasure in all this. And the 
 ofiener repetition is made hereof, (so it be done with life, 
 not with trifling formality,) they so often renew the relishes 
 with themselves of the same pleasure. 
 
 Continued commerce with God, agreeable to the te- 
 nor of that league and covenant struck with him, how 
 pleasant and delightful is it ! to be a friend of God, an as- 
 sociate of the Most High, a domestic, no more a stranger, 
 a foreigner, but of his own household, to live wholly upon 
 the plentiful provisions, and under the happy order and 
 government, of his family, to have a heart to seek all from 
 him, and lay out all for him ! How great is the pleasure of 
 trust, of living free from care ; that is, of any thmg, but 
 how to please and honour him in a cheerful unsolicitous 
 dependence, expecting from him our daily bread, believing 
 he will not let our souls famish ; that while they hunger 
 and thirst after righteousness, they shall be filled ; that 
 they shall be sustained with the bread and waters of life ; 
 that when they hunger, he will feed them with hidden 
 manna, and with the fruits that grow on the tree of life in 
 the midst of the paradise of God ; that when they thirst 
 he will give water, and add milk and honey without mo- 
 ney, without price. And for the body not to doubt, but 
 he that feeds ravens and clothes lilies,-will feed and clothe 
 them. To be so taken up in seeking his kingdom and 
 righteousness, as freely to leave it to him to add the other 
 things as he sees fit ; to have no thought for to-morrow ; 
 to have a heart framed herein according to divine pre- 
 cept ; not to be encumbered or kept in an anxious sus- 
 pense by the thoughts and fears of what may fall out, by 
 which many suffer the same atfliction a thousand times 
 over, which God would have them suffer but once ; a firm 
 repose on the goodness of Providence, and its sure and 
 never-erring wisdom ; a steady persuasion, that our hea- 
 venly Father knows what we have need of, and what is 
 fittest for us to want, to suffer, or enjoy ; how delightful a 
 life do these make I and how agreeable to one born of 
 God, his own son and heir of all things; as being joint 
 heirs with Christ, and claiming by that large grant, that 
 says all things are yours ; only that in minority it is better 
 to have a wise Father's allowance, than be our own 
 carvers. 
 
 To live in the fear of God, is not without its pleasure. 
 It composes the soul, expels the vanity which is not 
 without vexation, represses exhorbitant motions, checks 
 unruly passions, keeps all within in a pleasant peaceful 
 calm; is health to the navel and marrow to the bones. 
 
 To live in his love, is delight itself, or a tendency to- 
 wards it. The disposition whereto being communicated 
 from God, and a part of the holy new creature derived 
 from him; is also part of the (secondary or subservient) 
 delectable object. As the light that serves unto vision is 
 partly (as the mediate object) somewhat of what I see, 
 and doth partly, as a principle, actuate and concur with 
 the faculty in the act of seeing. And as the blessed God 
 himself is both the first principle and ultimate object of 
 that and other gracious acts ;" therefore it cannot but be 
 pleasant to the soul, to perceive that powerful influence 
 from God stirring in it, by which it is disposed to design 
 and pitch upon him as the great object of its highest de- 
 light, unto whom it laboured under so vile and wicked an 
 aversion heretofore. Yea, though it yet have no certain 
 persuasion of a present interest in him, yet this disposition 
 of heart towards him, and that it finds it could satisfyingly 
 rest in him as its best good upon supposition it had such 
 
 n And how rationally men may be said at the same time to love, deliffht in, 
 and enjoy the amiable or delectable object, and therewith also love their own 
 love, enjoy their own fruition, or delight in their own delich! ; eiiniigh i.s j^aid bj' 
 some sshool-men. Nor indeed can it be conceived how the soul can continue 
 
 an interest, the very strivings and contentions of the soul 
 towards him upon this account, are not without a present 
 pleasure : as we behold with an intermixed desire and de- 
 light a grateful object which we would enjoy, but do not 
 yet know whether we can compass or not. To be in that 
 temper of soul, as to resolve, " Him I will seek and pur- 
 sue, him I will study to please and serve, and spend my 
 strength and life in serving him, (which is to live in his 
 love,) though I yet know not whether he will accept, or 
 how he will deal with me !" this cannot but have a cer- 
 tain sen.sible delectation in it. 
 
 To live in a stated habitual subjection to him as the 
 Lord of our lives, how pleasant is it ! To have learned to 
 obey ; to be accustomed to the yoke ; to taste and prove 
 the goodness and acceptableness of his will through an 
 effectual transformation in the renewal of our minds ; to 
 be by the law of the Spirit of life made free from the law 
 of sin and death ; to be able to speak it as the undisguised 
 sense of our hearts, " Because thy law is holy, therefore 
 thy servant loveth it;" to reckon it a royal law of liberty, 
 so as to account ourselves so much the more free, by how 
 much we are the more thus bound ; when we affect to be 
 prescribed to, and are become patient of government, not 
 apt to chafe at the bridle, or spurn and kick at the bound- 
 aries that hem us in : this is a temper that hath not more 
 of duty in it than it hath of delight. There is such a thing 
 as delighting in the law of God, according to the inward 
 man, when there is yet a difficulty in suppressing and 
 keeping under inordinate rebellious workings of corrupt 
 nature ; unto which there is no desire an indulgence 
 should be given, by having the law attempered to them, 
 but severity rather used to reduce them to a conformity 
 to the law : so will it be, if the law become a heart im- 
 pression ; when it can once be truly said, thy law is in 
 my heart, it will be also with the same sincerity said, I 
 delight to do thy will, O God." 
 
 The continual exercise of good conscience towards God, 
 hath great pleasure in it. Hereby our way and course is 
 continually reviewed, and we pass censures upon our- 
 selves, and upon that account survey our own works. And 
 by how much the more carefully and often this is done, 
 so much the more delectable it will be; that is, the more 
 approvable we shall find them upon review. For we shall 
 order our course the more warily, as we reckon upon 
 undergoing an inquisition and search ; wherein an appre- 
 hensive serious heart well understands it is not itself to 
 be the supreme judge. How blessed an imitation might 
 there here be of the blessed God himself, who we find 
 beheld his six days' works, and lo they were all very good ; 
 whereupon follows his delightful day of rest : so we shall, 
 in some degree of conformity to him, finding our works to 
 be in that sort good, as that he will by gracious indulgence 
 accept them as such, have our own sabbath, a sweet and 
 peaceful rest in our own spirits. Though we can pretend 
 no higher than sincerity only, yet how sweet are the reflec- 
 tions of a well-instructed conscience upon that ! When our 
 hearts reproach us not, and we resolve they shall not as 
 long as we live ; we are conscious to ourselves of no base 
 designs, we propose nothing to ourselves wherein we ap- 
 prehend cause to decline God's eye; we walk in the light, 
 and are seeking no darkness or shadow of death, where 
 (as workers of iniquity) we may hide ourselves from him ; 
 can implore him as an a.ssistant, and appeal to him as a 
 judge in reference to our daily affairs and wonted course: 
 is this without pleasure"? This is our rejoicing, saith the 
 apostle, the testimony of our conscience, that in simplicity 
 and godly .sincerity, not with fleshly wisdom, but by the 
 grace of God, we have had our conversation, &c.p And 
 thus to converse with God, and him whom we daily design 
 to glorify and serve, and whom we expect daily in some 
 measure, and fully and finally ere it be long, to enjoy, is 
 certainly throughout a way of pleasantness and peace. 
 How delectable then is the soul-rectifying communication 
 from God, whereby, being before so disaffected, it becomes 
 now so well inclined towards him in all these respects. 
 But because the exigency of the case did require (by rea- 
 
 to love or delight in any thing but it must be so. For whie it perscveren, every 
 latter act justifies the former, and takes complacency therein, but all as direct- 
 ed towards such an object, 
 o Ps xl. p 2 Car. i. i'i.
 
 Paht I. 
 
 OF DELIGHTING IN GOD. 
 
 3G1 
 
 son of sin that had cut off the intercourse) that there should 
 be a mediator to open the wa)' and renew the former out- 
 worn friendship ; therefore it was also necessary that so 
 the soul might duly move towards God, it should be rightly 
 framed and disposed also towards him. 
 
 We are therefore to consider too, how delectable this 
 commimication must be, as it aright disposes the heart to- 
 wards Christ, our way to God. For towards him we must 
 understand it to have been most obstmately and inflexibly 
 averse; and that therefore a mighty communication of 
 power was necessary to set it right here. Unto that part 
 of religion which is natural, there was so much of an ad- 
 vantage beforehand, as that there was an old foundation 
 to build upon. There are some notions of God left, not 
 only concerning his existence, but his nature and attributes, 
 many of them: and from the apprehension what he was, 
 it was in some measure discernible what we should have 
 been, and ought yet to be towards him ; and from ihence 
 many checks and rebukes of conscience wherein it was 
 found to be otherwise : so that here was somewhat in na- 
 ture to be wrought upon, as to this part of religion. But 
 as to that part which respects the Mediator, this was a 
 frame wholly to be raised up from the ground. There 
 were no principles immediately and directly inclining to 
 take part with the Gospel ; but all to be implanted anew. 
 The way that God would take to bring back souls to him 
 being so infinitely above all human thought. And there- 
 fore, though to a considering pagan it would not sound 
 strangely, that God ought to be trusted, feared, loved, &c. 
 yet even to such the Gospel of Christ was foolishness. Be- 
 sides, that this way of dealing with men was not only un- 
 known and unimaginable to them, not so much as once 
 thought of, or to be guest at ; but the tendency and aspect 
 of it (when it should come to be made known) was such 
 as that it could not but find the temper of men's spirits most 
 strongly opposite, not merely ignorant, but prejudiced and 
 highly disaffected. For this course most directl}' tended 
 to take men quite off from their old bottom ; to stoop and 
 humble, and even bring them to nothing ; to stain the pride 
 of their glory, and lay tliem down in the dust as abject 
 wretches, in themselves fit for nothing, but to be trampled 
 on and crushed by the foot of divine revenge. Suppose a 
 man to have admitted a conviction from the light of his 
 own mind or conscience that he was a sinner, and had 
 offended his Maker, incurred his just displeasure, and 
 made himself liable to his punishing justice ; it would yet 
 have been a hard matter to make him believe it altogether 
 impossible to him to do any thing to remedy the matter, 
 and restore himself to divine favour and acceptance. He 
 would naturally be inclined to think ; why, admit the ease 
 be so, he should easilj'' find out away to make God amends. 
 He would recount with himself all his own natural excel- 
 lencies, and think himself very capable of doing some 
 great thing, that should more than expiate his ofl'ence, and 
 make recompense abundantly for an}' wrong that he had 
 done. But when the Gospel shall come and tell him he 
 hath deserved eternal wrath, that his sin is inexpiable but 
 by everlasting suftierings, or what is of equal value ; that 
 here is one (the eternal Son of God) Avho became a man 
 like himself, and thereupon a voluntary sacrifice, to make 
 atonement for the transgression of men; that God will 
 never accept another sacrifice for the sins of men than his, 
 nor ever any service at their hands, but for his sake ; that 
 him now revealed to them the)^ must receive, rely upon, 
 and trust to wholly, or perish without mercy ; yea, and 
 that he hath put the government over them into his hands, 
 laid it on his shoulders, and to him they must subject 
 themselves as their Ruler and Judge, the great Arbiter of 
 life and death to them and all men ; that they are to be 
 entirely devoted to him as long as the}' live, as their Re- 
 deemer and Lord ; in him as they are to have righteous- 
 ness and strength, so to him they must pay all possible 
 homage and subjection, to him their knees must bow, and 
 their tongues confess; they must receive the law from 
 his mouth, be prescribed to by him, comply with his will, 
 though never so much to the crossing of their own ; and 
 though, notwithstanding they must know they can deserve 
 nothing by it ; that so vile and worthless miscreants they 
 
 qZCor. V. 15. rSCor. i. 
 
 are become that God will never have to do with them upon 
 other terms. 
 
 When this shall appear the state of the case, and it comes 
 to be apprehended, " Then must I yield myself a greater 
 transgressor than ever I thought, and an undone, impotent, 
 helpless wretch ; I sliall thus make nothing of myself; 
 and what must all my natural or acquired excellencies go 
 just for nothing 1 and a person of such worth and accom- 
 plishments as I, be thus brought down into the dust ? yea, 
 and besides, to be brought under such bonds, and profess 
 to owe myself so entirely to a Redeemer, that I must for 
 ever live after his will and pleasure, and no more at my 
 own; and can never hope, if I take a liberty to indulge 
 myself besides the allowance of his rules, that I can ever 
 make any amends for such transgression by any thing that 
 I can do ] so that by taking his gift (of my pardon and 
 life) upon such terms, I shall sell my liberty, and render 
 myself a perfect slave to his will and pleasure for everl" 
 Here now cannot but be a strong stream to be striven 
 against, and most vehement counter-strivings of the 
 haughty and licentious spirit of man. So that it is not 
 strange it should be said by our Saviour, No man can come 
 unto me except my Father draw him. And that the ex- 
 ceeding greatness of power, according to the workings of 
 the mightiest power in any case, should be put forth upon 
 them that believe. Therefore are men in Christ by cre- 
 ative power only ; if any man be in Christ, he is a new 
 creature. '5 He is new made, if he be in him. And this 
 aversion being so deeply natural, will still in a degree 
 remain (while any thing of corrupt nature remains) in the 
 hearts of even the regenerate themselves. 
 
 Therefore a continual exertion of the same power will 
 be ever requisite to hold souls to Christ, and retain them 
 in their station in him. He that establisheth us with you in 
 Christ,' is God, &c. q. d. it is only a God that can do this. 
 Therefore how is God admired and adored upon this sin- 
 gle account. Now to him that is of power to establish you 
 according to my Gospel, and the preaching of Jesus Christ 
 according to the revelation of the mystery,^ which was 
 kept secret since the world began, (this was indeed a great 
 secret to the lapsed world,) — To God only wise be glory 
 through Jesus Christ for ever. Amen. But as the heart- 
 rectifying communication from God, in this matter, is such 
 as carries mighty power with it, so it doth proportionable 
 pleasure, when it hath overcome, and (to the pitch of sin- 
 cerity) set the soul right in this thing. How delectable is 
 it to "receive the Son of God, when the heart is made wil- 
 ling in the day of power ! when his cords take hold of the 
 soul, and draw it to him! what pleasure is there in the 
 consenting, self-resigning act and disposition ! 
 
 It is most highly delightful to receive him, and give up 
 ourselves to him as our full suitable good, so exactly an- 
 swering all the exigencies of our distres.sed case; when 
 sensibly apprehending the true state of it, the soul cries 
 out, "None but Christ," and finds him present, waiting 
 only for consent, readily offering himself, "Here I am, 
 take me, thy Jesus, thy ht?lp, thy life !" How overcomingly 
 pleasant is this to a soul that feels its distress, and per- 
 ceives itself ready to perish; yea, and that daily sees ii.self 
 perishing, were it not for him ! How pleasant, when in 
 the tiineof love he finds the poor soul in its blood, and 
 says to it. Live ; clothes it, decks it, makes it perfect 
 through his own comeliness, temlcrs himself to it, unto it 
 faken'off the dunghill, cast out in the most loathsome de- 
 ))lorable plight ; and enters the marriage covenant with it, 
 (we need not be squeamish or shy to speak after God him- 
 self, so representing this matter,) overcomes by his own 
 mercy and goodness, and prevails with a sinful creature to 
 accept him. How gladlv doth it throw off every thing of 
 its own, that it mav entirely possess him and be possessed 
 by him. Here is the joy of a nuptial solemnity, or the joy 
 of espousals. " I am my beloved's and my beloved is mine." 
 While as yet this transaction is not distinctly reflected on, 
 (as when possibly afterwards it is, there may great diflS- 
 culties and doubts arise, whether all were rightly done, or 
 yet be on its own part, yea or no,') if however it be truly 
 done, in the very doing itself, and the same continuing 
 disposition, there' is a sensible and inseparable delight. I
 
 362 
 
 OF DELIGHTING IN GOD. 
 
 Part I. 
 
 say in the ?ame disposition as ofttn as by any repeated 
 acts of thfr same kind, it expresses and shows itself: that 
 is, as often as this covenant is -enewed, (whether with 
 solemnity or more occasionally, j though ihe relation aris- 
 ing thence be not in the same instant considered or re- 
 flected on, nor the sincerity of the act itself, which is ne- 
 cessary thereto ; yet that very consent itself, if it be sin- 
 cere, hath a secret joy accompanying it; and the soul feels 
 the gratefulness and pleasure of its own act, though it do 
 not for the present examine and lake a view of it. For it 
 is now from a principle of life, embracing and drawing 
 into union with itself an object that is all life, and good- 
 ness, and sweetness ; which therefore sheds its own de- 
 lightful savour and fragrancy through the soul, while it is 
 in the mean time acting only upon the object directly, and 
 not reflecting upon its own act, or considering in that very 
 instant what will be consequential thereupon. But if 
 withal it do consider, (as that consideration cannot be far 
 ofi", though it cannot consider every thing at once,) that it 
 is receiving him that is to bring it to God, who is able to 
 do it, (even to save to the uttermost all that will come to 
 God by him,) who is intent upon that design, and did in 
 the midst of dying agonies breathe forth his soul in the 
 prosecution of it, and with whom God requires it to unite 
 for this very purpose ; this cannot but add unspeakably to 
 the delightfulness of this transaction, and of this effusion 
 of the Holy Ghost, in the virtue whereof the thing is done, 
 how oft soever it be seriously done ; as our case and state 
 require that it be very often. 
 
 And to receive him as our Lord, (which is joined with 
 that other capacity wherein we receive him, viz. of a Jesus 
 pr Saviour; as ye have received Christ Jesus the Lord,' 
 so, &«.) This also, and the heart-subduing influence that 
 disposes to it, is most highly delectable. When the soul, 
 that was so stoutly averse, and that once said within itself, 
 " 1 will not have him to reign over me," is brought freely 
 to yield ; and with sincere, loyal resolutions and affections 
 devotes itself to him, consents to his government, submits 
 its neck and shoulder to his yoke and burden ; says to him 
 with an ungainsaying heart, as its full sense, "Now thou 
 Lord of ray life and hope, who hast so long striven with 
 me. so often and earnestly pressed me hereto, so variously 
 lealt with me, to make me understand thy merciful de- 
 sign, and who seekest to rule with no other aim or intent, 
 feut that thou mayest save ; and who hast founded thy do- 
 minion in thy blood, and didst die and revive, and rise 
 again, that thou mightest be Lord of the living and dead, 
 and therefore my Lord : accept now a self-resigning soul ; 
 I make a free surrender of myself, I bow and submit to 
 thy sovereign power, I fall at the footstool of thy throne, 
 thou Prince of the kings of the earth, who hast loved sin- 
 ners, and washed them from their sins in thy blood ; glory 
 in thy conquest, thou hast overcome, I will from hence- 
 forth be no longer mine own, but thine ; I am ready to re- 
 ceive thy commands, to do thy will, to serve thy interests, 
 to sacrifice my all to thy name and honour ; my whole 
 life and being are for ever thine." I say, (as before,) there 
 is pleasure in the very doing this itself, as often as it is 
 sincerely done ; and it adds hereto, if it be more distinct- 
 ly considered, it is no mean or any way undeserving per- 
 son to whom this homage is paid, and obligation taken on 
 unto future obedience. He is the brightness of the Fa- 
 ther's glory, the express image of his person, the heir of 
 all things, and who sustains all things by the word of his 
 power; it is he whose name is Wonderful, Counsellor, 
 the mighty God, the everlasting Father, the Prince of 
 peace; 'tis he to whom all power is given both in heaven 
 i,nd earth, and (more especially) power over all flesh, that 
 he might give eternal life to as many as were given him ; 
 'tis he who spoiled principalities and powers, and made 
 tn open show of them; he whom because when he was 
 .n the form of God, and thought it no robbery to be equal 
 <vith God, he humbled himself, made himself of no repu- 
 tation, took on him the form of a servant, became obedi- 
 ent to death, the Father hath therefore highly exalted, and 
 given him a name above every name, that in his name 
 •very knee should bow ; and of whom, when he brought 
 him (his first-born) into the world, he said, "Let all the 
 angels of God worship him." 
 
 t Col. u 6. u Psal. xcvij ^ Rom. xiv. 17. 
 
 And such a one he is, whose temper is all goodness and 
 sweetness. Tell Sion, thv King cometh meek and lowly. 
 He came into this world drawn down only by his own pity 
 and love, beholding the desolations and ruins that were 
 wrought in it every where. Sin universally reigning, and 
 death by sin, and spreading its dark shadow, and a dread- 
 ful cloud over all the earth. In which darkness the prince 
 thereof was ruling and leading men captive at his will ; 
 having drawn them off from the blessed God their life, and 
 sunk them into a deep oblivion of their own original ; and 
 disafl^ection to their true happiness that could only be found 
 there. This great Lord and Prince of life and peace came 
 down on purpose to be the Restorer of souls, to repair the 
 desolations and ruins of many generations. He came full 
 of grace and truth, and hath scattered blessings over the 
 world wheresoever he came; hath infinitely obliged all 
 that ever knew him ; and is he in whom all the nations of 
 the earth must be blessed. And who would not with joy 
 swear fealty to him, and take pleasure to do him homage 1 
 Who would not recount with delight the unexpressible fe- 
 licity of living under the governing power of such a one 1 
 
 And if the tenor and scope of all his laws and consti- 
 tutions be viewed over, what will they be found, but obli- 
 gations upon men to be happy 1 How easy his yoke, how 
 light his burden; what is the frame of his kingdom, or 
 whereof doth it consist, but righteousness, peace, and joy 
 in the Holy Ghost 1 And who would not now say, " This 
 Lord reigneth, let the earth rejoice, let the multitude of the 
 isles be glad thereof"" Why should ii not be triumphing- 
 ly said among the heathen, that the Lord reigneth, that 
 the world also shall be established, that it cannot be mov- 
 ed : let the heavens rejoice, and the earth be glad ; let the 
 sea roar, and the fulness thereof; let the fields rejoice, 
 and all that is therein, and all the trees of the wood rejoice ! 
 It's plain, that be the matter of joy here what it will, be 
 there never so much cause of exultation and glorying in 
 him, the righteousness and peaces which his kingdom pro- 
 mises, never actually take place, nor the joy that is con- 
 nected therewith, till the Holy Ghost dispose and form 
 men's spirits thereto. For all this is but mere dream and 
 idle talk to those who hear only of these things, and feel 
 not that vital influence insinuating itself, that may give 
 the living sense and savour of them. And we may rather 
 expect seas and fields, beasts and trees, to sing his tri- 
 umphant song, and chant his praises, than those men who.se 
 hearts are not attempered to his government, and who are 
 yet under the dominion of another Lord, not being yet by 
 the law of the spirit of life in Christ Jesus, made free from 
 the law of sin and death. But where this is effectually 
 done, how large matter of most rational pleasure do they 
 find here; while there is nothing in that whole system of 
 laws by which he governs, that is either vain, unequal, or 
 unpleasant, or upon any account grievous ! only there is 
 not the estimate of distempered spirits, or of any other 
 than them in whose hearts his law is written, and who be- 
 cause they love him, keep his commandments. y Unto love 
 his commands are most connatural ; for this is the love of 
 God, that we keep his commandments ; they are not 
 grievous, 2 i. e. by the meiosis which some do reasonably 
 enough apprehend in those words, they are joyous, de- 
 lightful, pleasant, but to them only who, being born of 
 God, have overcome the world. This holy influence and 
 communication of God is therefore grateful, and contri- 
 butes not a little to delight in this respect, that thereby 
 men's spirits are rectified and set right towards God, viz. 
 both towards the Creator and Redeemer. 
 
 2. As hereby they are rectified towards men, having the 
 universal law of love wrought deep into their hearts ; be- 
 ing filled with all goodness, righteousness, meekness, mer- 
 cifulness; apt to do no wrong, to bear any, to pity and 
 help the distressed, to love enemies, and as there is oppor- 
 tunity, to do good to all, especially to them that are of^the 
 household of faith. We must understand in this, as well 
 as in the other parts of that stamp which the spirit of God 
 puts on the souls of men, that the impression corresponds 
 and answers to the seal, (as hath been said,) the inward 
 communication to the outward revelation of God's will; 
 and so we find the matter is: for as divine precepts re- 
 quire this should be the temper of men's spirits, so the very 
 y John xy. z I Jolin v. 3,
 
 Paht I. 
 
 OF DELIGHTING IN GOD. 
 
 863 
 
 things that compose and make up that blessed temper, are 
 said to be the fruiis of his own Spirit ; The fruit of the 
 Spirit is peace, long-sufierin,^, gentleness, goodness, meek- 
 ness, =■ &c. And again, TJie fruit of the Spirit is in all 
 goodness, and righteousness, and truth, b Now hath not 
 that soul a spring of pleasure within itself, that is in these 
 respects as God would have it be 1 That is conscious to 
 itself of nothing but righteousness, goodness, benignity, 
 candour towards any man, and is in all things acted by a 
 spirit of love, that suffereth long, and is kind, that envieth 
 not, that vaunteth not itself, is not puffed up, doth not be- 
 have itself unseemly, seeketh not its own, is not easily 
 provoked, thinkeih no evil, rejoiceth not in iniquity, but 
 rejoiceth in the truth, that bcareth all things, believeth all 
 things, hopeth all things, endureth all things, and never 
 faileth. "^ That so equally poises and acts a man's spirit, 
 that he carries seemly and suitable towards all men, takes 
 pleasure in the best; in the saints and excellent ones of the 
 earth hath all his delight ; and is no worse affected, than 
 to wish them better, even towards the very worst; neither 
 envies the greatest, nor despises the meanest; neither is 
 revengeful towards them that injure him, nor unthankful 
 to them that oblige him ; that is apt to learn of good men, 
 and to teach the bad, by observing and giving the most 
 imitable example ; that is not undutiful to superiors, nor 
 morose and unconversable towards equals ; that lives not 
 to himself; is a common good to all within the sphere 
 through which his activity can extend itself; that doth 
 good with inclination, from the steady propension of his 
 own will, and an implanted principle of goodness. It is 
 evident, God hath formed such a man's spirit unto delight 
 of the purest kind, and the best sort of pleasure ; unto 
 which they who are strangers, banish it from their own 
 breasts, by the resistance and grief they give his blessed 
 Spirit, thereby making it a stranger there ; and by har- 
 bouring in their own bosoms their own tormentors, the 
 pride, the wrath, the en\y, the malice, the revengefulness, 
 the bitterness of spirit, which as they render them uneasy 
 and intolerable to all that are abotit them, so most of all to 
 themselves ; and which while they prey Avherever they 
 range abroad, yet still bite most keenly and tormentingly 
 that heart itself wherein the}' are bred ; as poisonous vipers 
 gnawing the bowels which enclose them. 
 
 3. Towards themselves : which also may be considered 
 distinctly ; for though all the good qualifications we can 
 mention or think of, do redound to a man's self, and turn 
 to his own advantage, repose, and delight, (which it is the 
 design of all this discourse to show,) yet there are souie 
 that more directly terminate on a man's self, wherein the 
 rectitude we now speak of doth in great part consist. 
 When we are obliged to love others as ourselves, it sup- 
 poses not only an allowable, but a laudable self-love. Men 
 shall praise thee when thou dost well to thyself. Before 
 this right spirit be renewed in a man, he doth not only 
 wound himself, by blows that are reflected on him, and 
 hurt at the reboimd, but by many a direct stroke ; or lets the 
 wounds fester and corrupt, to (he cure whereof he shoukl 
 with all diligence directly apply himself. How unpro- 
 pitious and cruel to themselves are all unholy persons! 
 what wastes and desolations do they commit and make in 
 their own souls, by breaking the order God and nature did 
 at first set and establish there ] dethroning their own reason 
 and judgment, which ought to bear sway and govern within 
 them. Tins banishes delight, and drives it far away from 
 them. They see what is fittest for them to do and seek, 
 and run a quite counter-course. What storms do they 
 hereby raise in their own bosoms ! What a torture is it, 
 when a man's own light and knowledge bear a standing 
 testimony against him, and hold him imder a continual 
 doom ! How ill-disposed are men towards themselves, 
 ■when they wholly neglect themselves in one kind, when 
 they too much mind and seek themselves in another ; when 
 they too little understand themselves, so as not to put a 
 true value on themselves, but do either di.sesteem them- 
 selves, as to their more noble part, in respect of that com- 
 mon excellency which belongs to them with all other men ; 
 or do over-magnify themselves, and are conceited and too 
 well opinioned of themselves, in respect of any peculiar 
 excellency wherein they imagine they outstrip others ! How 
 a Gal. V. ort, 23. b Epli. v. D. c 1 Cor. xiii. 
 
 ill do they treat themselves in their self-indulgence, their 
 gratifying iheir own sensual inclination, with the greatest 
 danger and damage to their souls; when they care not at 
 what expense they make provi.sion for the flesh, to fulfil 
 the lusts thereof! What unkind u.sage do they find at their 
 own hands, when they cherish and countenance desires 
 which they cannot gratifj'^, and raise to themselves expecta- 
 tions of things not within their own power, which being 
 disappointed turn into so many furies, and in tlial shape 
 take a sharp revenge upon their own hearts ! when they 
 exercise no authority and dominion over themselves, pre- 
 serve not the liberty due to what should both be itself free, 
 and should command the rest in them ; enslaves themselves 
 to vile and ignominious lusts and passions, put out their 
 own eyes, and grind blindfold to the basest and most ty- 
 rannical lords, their own sordid humours, and base, mean 
 appetites ! when though they serve more rigorous task- 
 masters than the Israelites in Egypt did, and are more 
 sorely beaten by them when their tale is not fulfilled for 
 want of materials, yet groan not becau.se of their hard 
 bondage, nor affect liberty ! This gracious communication 
 from God, sets all things in a good degree right within : 
 so that where there was nothing before, but horrid and 
 hellish darkness, disorder, and confusion, there now sliines 
 a mild, pleasant, cheerful light, that infers regularity, pu- 
 rity, and peace. 
 
 iHow great is the pleasttre that arises from self-denial, 
 (wherein we do, duly and as we ought, deny ourselves,) 
 not only as it is an act of duty towards God, (of which 
 before,) but as it is an act of justice and mercy towards our 
 own souls ! That is, wherein we make a ju.st and true 
 estimate of ourselves, do esteem basely of ourselves ; where- 
 in we are really become base and vile; and wherein there 
 is any thing of real value and excellency in our own beings, 
 we value il only upon that account, and in that subordina- 
 tion wherein it "is truly valuable! How pleasant, when we 
 have learned to forsake and abandon ourselves, when we 
 are not apt to magnify and applaud, to trust or love, to 
 seek and serve ourselves unduly, and are only inclined to 
 own, to cleave and stick to ourselves, wherein and so far 
 as we ought I when that idol self is so no longer maintained 
 within us, at the dear expense of our peace, comfort, safely, 
 and eternal hope ; an idol that engrossed the whole sub- 
 stance of our souls, that exhausted and devoured the 
 strength and vigour of our spirits, which it doth not main- 
 tain, and cnnnot repair; which consumes our time, which 
 keeps all our powers and facul ies in a continual exercise 
 and hurry, to make a cosily, a vain, an unlawful provision 
 for it ! How great is the case and pleasure which "we feel, 
 in being delivered from that soul-wasting monster, that 
 was fed and sustained at a dearer rate, and with more 
 costly sacrifices and repasts, than can be paralleled by 
 either sacred or other history; that hath made more deso- 
 lation in the souls of men, than ever was made in their 
 towns and cities, where idols were served by only human 
 sacrifices, or mon.strous t;reatures satiated with only such 
 refections ; or where the lives and safely of the most were 
 to be bought out by the constant suce.ssive tribute of the 
 blood of not a few ! that hath devcnired more, and preyed 
 more cruelly upon human lives, than Moloch, or the Mino- 
 taur 1 When this monstrous idol is destroyed and trodden 
 down, what a jubilee doth it make, what songs of trirunph 
 and praise doth it fiirnish and supply to the poor soul, now- 
 delivered and redeemed from death and bondage ! How 
 much more easv and rea-^ouable a service is it (wlien once 
 the grace of God and their own experience give men to 
 understand it) tostudy to please him than themselves ! when 
 thev feel themselves dead to their former lord and ser^-ice, 
 and only alive to God, through Jesus Christ ! when sin no 
 longer reigns in their mortal bc)dies. that they should obey it 
 in the lusts thereof I a when they no more yield their mem- 
 bers as instruments of unrighteousness unto sin, but have 
 yielded themselves unto God, as those that are alive from 
 the dead, *■ &c. when being made free from sin. they are 
 become servants unto righteousness ! f the law of the Spirit 
 of life in Christ Jesus having made me free from the law 
 of sin ! = What an ease is it^to the spirit of a man, when 
 he hath not himself to seek and serve and care for in any 
 unlawful disallowed sense ; when he finds not himself 
 
 d Rom. n. 11, 12. e Ver. 13. f Ver. IS. g Rom riii ?.
 
 364 
 
 OF DELIGHTING IN GOD. 
 
 Part I. 
 
 necessitated or urged by his own imperious fleshly incli- 
 nations so to do; when he perceives himself by a prevail- 
 ing better principle counterpoised, and the weight and bias 
 of his own spirit incline him quite another way ; when 
 he finds he hath nothing left him to do, but to serve God, 
 to know his will and do it, and is disburdened of all un- 
 necessary care for himself; that which is necessary being 
 part of his duty, and is therefore done on purpose only 
 for God ; and that which is unnecessary and forbidden 
 (which part only was burdensome) being supplied by 
 (what hath the greatest ease and pleasure in it imagina- 
 ble) trust and self-resignation to his pleasure and will 
 whose we wholly are ! What life is pleasant, if this be 
 not ! Surely, wherein it is attained to, it is most pleasant; 
 and hither this gracious heart-rectifying communication 
 is gradually tending. 
 
 How great is the pleasure that arises from self-govern- 
 ment ! when that governs in us which should govern, and 
 that is subject and obeys which should obey ; when a 
 man's mind is competently furnished with directive prac- 
 tical principles, and his heart is so framed that it is capa- 
 ble of being prescribed to, is patient of restraints and di- 
 rection, easily obeys the rein and follows the ducture of 
 an enlightened well-instructed mind ; when the order is 
 maintained between the superior faculties and the inferior, 
 and there are no contentious murmurs of ungovernable 
 appelitions and passions against the law of the mind. 
 'Tis true, that where this holy rectitude doth but in a de- 
 gree take place there will be many conflicts, but those 
 conflicts are in order to victory; and how joyful and glo- 
 rious is the triumph upon that victory ! when the soul 
 enters upon its iTninKinv, its thanksgiving song, " I thank 
 God through Jesus Christ our Lord !" how happy a state 
 is that (wherein at some times it is here attained) w^hen 
 there are now no tumults within ! The wicked (which is 
 the very import of tlieir name) are as a trotibled sea, tliat 
 cannot rest, whose waters cast up mire and dirt. Here 
 is no governing principle in any power ; no sceptre, no 
 trident to check and allay the rage of those waters. But 
 when his power goes forth in the soul, whose very word 
 winds and seas obey, how peaceful and pleasant a calm 
 doth ensue ! Now is a man restored to himself, and is 
 again in his right mind. He is truly now said to enjoy 
 himself, and upon the best terms ; that is, he enjoys him- 
 self in and under God. He is (a due subordination) mas- 
 ter of himself. He possesses his own soul; that one piece 
 of hcly rectitude, patience, enables him to do so. In your 
 patience possess ye your souls, h Patience is a pan of 
 fortitude, an ability to suffer. He that is in this respect 
 impotent of himself, not able to suffer, is a perfect slave; 
 not a slave only to the vicious wills and humours of other 
 men, in whose power he apprehends it is to befriend or 
 hurt him ; but first and chiefly to his own : he is not 
 master of his own judgment, reason, and conscience ; but 
 he prostitutes all, in the first place, to his own inordinate 
 self-love, his avarice, his fear, and consequently to the 
 pleasure of other men, (which upon no other terms and 
 inducements is base and vile towards any man. were the 
 matter in itself never so right, and the obedience as due 
 to them as can be supposed,) whereas if he could .sufier, 
 he retained his mastery over himself, and were, under 
 God, within his own power. Upon this, with other 
 grounds, is joyfulness i a companion of patience ; how 
 much more is it so (if to this one part) to the whole frame 
 of that holy rectitude whereby a man's spirit is composed 
 to a due order within himself; when there is a universal 
 sobriety, (or soundness of mind, as the word that uses to 
 express sobriety signifies,) a continency and dominion of 
 oneself; and tJie soul is no longer hurried to and fro, 
 and even outed of itself, by undue desires, fears, angers, 
 sorrows, &c. nor vexed by the absence of, and its perverse 
 inaptitude and indisposition to, those which it well knows 
 are due ; when it finds itself at liberty from the exactions 
 of an unsubdued flesh, and for the kindly and genuine 
 operations and exercise of the divine life. When it is in 
 good measure freed from the rackings and tortures that 
 naturally accompany the habitual contrariety of an ungo- 
 vernable heart to a convinced judgment and conscience ; 
 and is no longer held in pain, by such continual self-up- 
 h I,uke Mi. 19. i Col i. u. k Ps. xxiii. 3. 
 
 braidings; Thou art, and affectest to be, what thou know- 
 est thou shouldest not ; and neither art, nor dost, nor 
 canst desire or endure to be, or do, what thou very well 
 knowest thou shouldest. In that case the soul is through- 
 out disjointed, and continually grating upon itself And 
 the ease and pleasure which it finds by this happy change 
 much resembles that which a man's body, being in such a 
 case, feels, when every dislocated bone is brought back 
 and well settled in its proper place and order again. How 
 resentingly doth the Psalmist acknowledge Divine good- 
 ness in this! He restoreth my soul; and leadeth me in 
 paths of righteousness, for his name's sake ;i! q. d. "Now I 
 can walk and act as a sound man, and the paths of righte- 
 ousness are become pleasant and delectable to me, which 
 before I declined, or wherein my halt and maimed soul 
 was unable to move a step." Now is heard the voice of 
 joy and gladness, when the bones which were disordered 
 and broken rejoice. i 
 
 How great is the joy and pleasure of self-activity ! when 
 the soul is not moved by foreign, improper motives, but 
 finds itself to move freely from an implanted principle of 
 life, that acts it forward in right and plain paths ; when it 
 doth, with its own full consent, what it is convinced it 
 ought without being forcibly dragged or violently imposed 
 upon ; and is (not a weak, ineffectual, or only self-judging, 
 but) a powerful governing vital law to itself. 
 
 How great pleasure arises from a constant, diligent 
 self-inspection ! when a man's spirit dwells within itself, 
 resides at home, seeks not itself abroad ; remains within 
 its own bounds, is intent upon itself; watches over its 
 own motions as its proper charge ; is formed to a compli- 
 ance with that precept. Keep thy heart with all diligence.'" 
 And upon that consideration, as seriously weighing that 
 ihence are the issues of life, all vital acts and operations 
 whatsoever will savour of the root and principle from 
 whence they proceed, and as the heart is : good and pure 
 if that be so; if otherwise corrupt and nought. To have 
 a spirit habituated to the business of its own province and 
 territory ; its eyes, not with the fool's in the ends of the 
 earth, but turned inward upon itself. Hence his own 
 vineyard is best kept; when the sluggard's (that neglects 
 himself) is wholly overrun with thorns and briers, that 
 cover the face thereof. How forlorn and comfortless a 
 spectacle hath such a man of his own soul ! The horror 
 whereof is only avoided by (the more hopeless course of) 
 turning off his eye ; as conscious how ill entertainment is 
 there to be met with. Therefore are such strangers at 
 hoDife; and are afraid to converse with themselves; are 
 better acquainted with the affairs of France and Spain, or 
 at least of this and that and the other neighbour, than 
 those of their own souls. And the more things at home 
 are neglected the worse they grow. Poverty and desola- 
 tion come upon them aoan armed man; that"(in (his case) 
 waste and make havoc without resistance. And herein 
 lies much of the heart-rectifying work and power of grace, 
 in disposing and setting the" heart so far right towards it- 
 self, as that it may first have the patience to look inwaid. 
 and then the pleasure w^hich will afterwards arise, irosl 
 natural!)', thence. The great aveision hereto of misgiving 
 hearts is not otherwise overcome. But when it is, how 
 do all things flourish under such a one's careful, self-re- 
 flecting eye ! That soul is as a watered garden. ThitJier 
 it can invite his presence who is altogethei made up of 
 delights, to come and eat his pleasant fruits. And now, 
 retirement and solitude become delectable ; and a man 
 delightfully associates with himself; singles out himself to 
 be his own companion, as finding another always stepping 
 in ; so that he is never less alone than when alone. How 
 unspeakable a happiness is this, when the great Mediator 
 that undertook to reconcile God to the soul, shall thus 
 have also reconciled it to itself! When it shall be con 
 sidered, how dreadful the case is, when a man's wicked- 
 ness hath transformed him into a Magor-Missabib, com- 
 passed him with affrightments, made him a terror to him- 
 self; it may then be understood how grateful a change 
 it is when he is reformed into a son of peace, and made a 
 delight to himself; when he can recreate himself, and re- 
 fresh his tired eye, overcharged with beholding the sad 
 things that every where come in view from a world lost 
 1 Psal. li. ni Prov. iv. 23.
 
 Part I. 
 
 OF DELIGHTING IN GOD. 
 
 3G5 
 
 in wickedness, by looking into God's own plantation with- 
 in himself; and considering it under thai notion only, he 
 doth not look upon himself with an eye of pride ; as he 
 doth not upon others with that of disdain. He beholds 
 with a sort of self-complacency what God hath wrought 
 and done there, not with self-arrogance; as knowing there 
 is a self, too, upon w'hich he hath still reason to look with 
 abhorrence and self-loathing. And though there be now 
 incorporated with him a better self, yet that was not of 
 himself He well understands who made him ditfer, not 
 only from others but from himself; and put him into that 
 capacity of saying that I am not I, I am not who or what 
 S I was before. And the more he is used to such self-re- 
 
 P flection, the more pleasant it becomes to him; that is, if 
 he confine not his eye too much, to the dark side of his 
 own soul : and to look to the more lightsome side with 
 that remembrance, (as before,) that w^hatsoever he is, that 
 is good and grateful to behold, he is by grace. He thus 
 grows familiar with himself, and the sight mends as it is 
 ofien beheld; and while it is not observed always to do 
 so. Yea, though things look many times sadly and some- 
 times dubiously ; that, however, doth but occasion the 
 accomplishment of a more diligent search, which engages 
 to more earnest labour and strugglings with God and with 
 himself; which labour is recompensed with a following 
 fruit and pleasure; yea, and God is invocated not only 
 for redress, but for further search. When such fear lest 
 they have been too indulgent and partial towards them- 
 selves, and lest they have not made so strict a scrutiny as 
 the case may possibly require ; then the request is, " Search 
 and try me, O Lord, see if there be any way of wickedness 
 in me." And here the sincerity which appears in that self- 
 suspicion, and jealousy over their own souls, is not with- 
 out its grateful relishes : and a secret delight insinuates 
 and mingles with the appeal which such a soul makes to 
 him, W'hose eye is a flame of fire, searches hearts and tries 
 reins. And it is some pleasure, however, to find that dis- 
 position in their own souls, thai they are thoroughly will- 
 ing to know themselves, and desire not to shun and decline 
 the search of that fiery flaming eye. Thus then upon all 
 accounts this divine communication is delectable, as it 
 tends to rectifj' men's dispositions towards themselves, and 
 to set them right in their inclinations and posture in re- 
 ference to their own souls. We may add, 
 
 4. It contributes much to the matter of delight, as it 
 sets men's spirits right in their dispositions towards this 
 and the other world, the present and future slate of 
 things. How great a work is necessary to be done in 
 this respect, wherein things are so monstrously out of 
 course ; and men become thereby not strangers only to 
 true delight and pleasure, but even incapable of any such 
 relishes till the matter be redressed ! How vitiated and 
 unexercised are men's senses as to these things, and un- 
 able to discern between good and evil ! Their grosser 
 sense is utterly incompetent, and a spiritual more refined 
 sense is wanting; therefore do they judge, and choose, and 
 love, and pursue onl)^ as that most incompetent and inju- 
 dicious principle doth direct, that is appealed to in all 
 cases ; all their measures are taken from thence, and that 
 only is called good, which to their sensual imagination, 
 tinctured by the earthliness and carnality of their hearts, 
 appears so; that evil, of which the same principle dolh 
 so pronounce ; according hereto is the whole bent and in- 
 clination of their souls. And they are only influenced 
 and governed by the powers of this sensible world ; this 
 present evil world, the fashion whereof (yea, it and the 
 lusts thereof together) are passing away. And the things 
 of the world to come have no power with them ; no mo- 
 tives from thence signify an}' thing. They are only steered 
 in their whole course by the apprehension they have of 
 advantages or disadvantages in reference to their present 
 secular concernments. They love this world, and the 
 things of this world ; mind earthly things, and are not 
 startled when they are so plainlytold, that men of ihis 
 character have not the love of the Father in them, nnd are 
 enemies to the cross of Christ, and that their end will be 
 destruction. 'Tis a death to them to think of dying; not 
 from the fear of what may ensue, (they have atheism 
 
 n Psnl. xci. 
 Q I Cor. ii. 12. 
 
 o Psal. .Twii. 
 r Gal. vi. 
 
 p 1 Jotin iv. 4. 
 s Phil. lii. 
 
 enough to stifle such fear,) but from the love of their 
 earthly stations, and that vile earthly body in which they 
 dwell. 
 
 Bui how delightful a thing is the change which this rec- 
 tifying communication makes! How pleasant to live in 
 this world as a pilgrim and stranger, seeking still the bet- 
 ter, the heavenly country ! To behold the various entice- 
 ments which are here offered to view at some times with- 
 out inclination towards them ; the frightful aspect and 
 appearance of things at other times without commotion; 
 is not this delectable 1 To dwell apart from this world in 
 t^ie midst of it; in the secret of the Almighty," under his 
 pavilion, as one of his hidden ones, withdrawn from the 
 communion of this world to liis own communion ; " so 
 severed and cut off" from this world, as not to partake in 
 the spirit of it, or be acted thereby ; but by another, a 
 greater and more mighty, as well as a purer and more 
 holy, Spirit ; Greater is he that is in you, than he that is in 
 the world.P And again. We have received not the spirit 
 of the world, but the Spirit which is of God, that we 
 might know the things which are freely given us of 
 God.<i Which things the Divine Spirit disposes the soul 
 to, and unites it with, when it disinclines and disjoins it 
 from this world and the things thereof; and thereby dis- 
 covers this soul to be quite of another community from 
 that of this world, viz. of a heavenly community, unto 
 which those better and more excellent things do lie in 
 common, as their portion and inheritance. What matter 
 of joy and glorying is it,r when one is crucified to this 
 world, and this world to him ; when the world appears to 
 him a crucified thing, i. e. an accursed, hateful, detestable 
 thing, (which is one notion of crucified,) such a thing as 
 he can despise and hale; which he is as little apt to be 
 fond of, as one would be of a loathsome carcass hanging 
 upon an ignominious cross : and when he can feel him- 
 self crucified towards it, i. e. dead, (another notion of it,) 
 disinclined without sense, breath, pulse, motion, or appe-- 
 tite ; not so dead as to be without any kind of life, but with- 
 out that base, low, sordid kind of life by which he lived 
 to it, and in its converses and embraces. So much of 
 delectation doth this infer, as even to endear the very cross 
 itself (that hateful horrid thing) by which it is cfiected. 
 But that carries a further signification with it, to be 
 fetched more expressly from other scriptures; the cross is 
 itself rendered amiable, and a thing to be gloried in, to be 
 looked on with delisrht and pleasure, upon the account of 
 the design and end of that tragedy which was acted there- 
 on ; within which design (being executed and accom- 
 plished) this happy effect is included. We elsewhere find 
 the apostle expressing his vehement desire to know Christ 
 and the power of his resurrection,* and (in order thereto) 
 the fellowship of his sufferings, being made conformable 
 to his death.' But what did he lastly aim at in this 1 the 
 next words more fully speak out (what he first mentioned) 
 the power of his resurrection to be the thing chiefly in his 
 eye, and that he desired (what he adds) the fellowship of 
 his suflTerings, iSlc. as a means unto that end, though it 
 seemed a sharp and painful means ; If by any means I 
 might attain the resurrection of the dead;" q d.l care not 
 what I undergo, not the sufferings even of a painful cruci- 
 fixion itself; or that my worldly earthly self do suffer con- 
 formablv to the sufferings of my crucified Lord ; I matter 
 not by vvhat so severe method the thing be brought about, 
 if by' any means it might be brought about, that 1 may 
 know the power of his resurrection so feelingly, as lo 
 attain also the resurrection of the dead. And what was 
 that 1 No doubt to attain a state (which he confesses he 
 had not yet perfectlv attained, but was in pursuit of) 
 suitable to his relation and union with a risen Jesus : 
 union with him supposes a being risen with him ; If ye 
 then be risen with Christ.'' It is taken as a granted thing, 
 that they that are his are risen with him. And what slate 
 and temper of spirit would be suitable to that supposition, 
 the next words show: " Seek those things that are above, 
 where Christ siiteth on the right hand of God. Set your 
 affection (or mind) on the things above, not on the things 
 ca the earth." Then follows the method in which they 
 were brought to the capacity of doing so ; for ye are dead. 
 
 t Ver. 10. u Ver. 11. xCol. i. 3.
 
 3G6 
 
 OF DELIGHTING IN GOD. 
 
 Part I. 
 
 Their professed relation to Christ did suppose them risen, 
 and did therefore first suppose them dead. Now, if they 
 would do suitably to what their profession imported, this 
 was it they had to do ; to abstract their minds and hearts 
 from the things of this earth, and place them upon the 
 things of a higher region. And (as 'tis afterwards ex- 
 pressed in this same context which we were considering 
 before) to have our conversation, or citizenship, in heaven, 
 whence we look for the Saviour, y That is, as our chief 
 mterests and privileges are above, to have our thoughts 
 and the powers of our souls chiefly exercised upon that 
 blessed and glorious state, which state is the prize (men- 
 tioned above) of the high calling of God in Christ Jesus.^ 
 It being the scope and import of his call unto us, and the 
 very design of his sufferings on the cross, to draw up a 
 people from earth to heaven; whence therefore, they that 
 under this call do still mind earthly things, are said to be 
 enemies to the cross of Christ ;=' the great incongruity 
 whereof the apostle even resents with tears as he there 
 testifies. And it was in this that he was, for his part, so 
 willing to comply with the design of the cross, that he 
 made no difficulty to endure all the hardship and dolour 
 of it, that he might attain this glorious fruit and gain 
 which he reckoned should accrue to him from it ; even 
 more of a raised heavenly mind, which signifies it to be 
 strongly bent that way already ; when no mortifications 
 were reckoned too severe to be undergone in order thereto. 
 And here, therefore, this soul-rectifying influence must be 
 understood to have laeen proportionably strong. 
 
 Hence, also, it was, that we find him groaning, as one 
 under a pressure or heavy weight, to be clothed upon with 
 the heavenly house: and to have mortality swallowed up 
 of life ;b because God had wrought him to this self-same 
 thing; so bent and determined his spirit was towards the 
 blessedness of the future state, (which seems the most na- 
 tural contexture of discourse here, though some others 
 have understood it otherwise,) as that, though he could 
 bear patiently the delay, he could not but desire most ear- 
 nestly to be there. And we see how the temper of the 
 primitive Christians was, as to this, and the other world, 
 in those days when the Spirit was plentifully poured out. 
 They took joyfully the spoilings of their goods, knowing in 
 themselves they had in heaven a far better and an endur- 
 ing substance. <= Heaven signified much with them, and 
 this world very little. They look not to the things that 
 were seen and temporal, but to the things unseen and 
 eternal ;<! as those former worthies did, whose minds and 
 hearts, being set right by that faith which is the substance 
 of the things hoped for, and the evidence of things not seen.'' 
 They lived as pilgrims and strangers on earth, despised 
 the pleasures, riches, and honours of it ; endured all man- 
 ner of hardships and tortures in it, not accepting deliver- 
 ance, because they were taken up in the pursuit of the 
 better country ; had respect to the recompense of reward ; 
 and expected a part in the better resurrection. And is it 
 not a delightful thing to the spirit of a man, when he is 
 sensibly disentangled, and at liberty from the cares, desires, 
 griefs, and fears that were wont to enwrap his heart 1 when 
 he finds his weight and clogs fallen off" that depressed 
 him, the bonds and snares loosed which bound him down 
 to this earth ; and feels himself ascending and moving 
 upwards; out of that darkness, stupidity, and death that 
 possessed his soul, into that upper region of light, purity, 
 and peace, unto which his spirit is still gradually more 
 and more connaturalized day by day 1 when heaven in 
 respect of the pure holiness, the calm serenity, the rest 
 and blessedness of it, is now grown familiar to him, and 
 his very element 1 
 
 We see, then, that in all these mentioned respects this 
 gracious communication, wherein it is rectifying, and 
 tends to settle the soul in that frame which it ought to be 
 in, and which is most proper and natural to it ; therein it 
 is also most delightful, and carries highest matter of plea- 
 sure in it. 
 
 It is, upon the whole, (that we may sum up the account 
 of this divine communication in the following characters 
 of it,) 
 
 1. Generative, and begets the soul to a new, a divine 
 
 y Ptiil. iii. 20 
 c Heb X. 34 
 
 7 Ver. 14. 
 
 d 2 Cor. iv. ult. 
 
 a Ver. 18. 19. 
 e Heb. xi. 
 
 h 2 Cor. V. 4, 5. 
 f Mai. iv. 2. 
 
 life ; makes it of a sluggish, stupid, dead thing, (as it was 
 towards all heavenly and divine matters,) living and 
 sprightly, full of active life and vigour. Life we say is sv/eet, 
 it is in itself a pleasant thing. This mean, bodily life itself 
 is so ; if we do but consider it, and allow ourselves to taste 
 and enjoy the pleasure of it. As for in.stance, that this 
 and that limb and member is not a dead lump, that we 
 feel life freshly sprouting and springing in every part, is 
 not this delightsome "? How much more the life of the 
 soul ! especially this so excellent and sublime kind of life ! 
 And it is the radical principle of all other consequent 
 pleasure, that by which we are capable thereof: every 
 thing is sapless and without savour to the dead. How 
 pleasant operation and fruitions doth the divine life ren- 
 der a person capable of! 
 
 2. It is nutritive. Souls are nourished by the same 
 thing by which they are begotten, by the same divine in- 
 fluence. As a generative virtue is wont to be attributed 
 to the Sun, so it cherishes also its own productions. The 
 beams of that Sun of righteousness f make them that fear 
 God grow up as calves in the stall, fill them with marrow 
 and fatness, cause them to flourish as the cedars of Leba- 
 non. And is not that delightsome to be increased daily 
 with the increases of God '] fed with heavenly hidden 
 manna, angels' food ; and thereby (though we need not 
 here speak distinctly of these) to receive at once both 
 nourishment and growth 1 
 
 3. It is sanative, and virtually contains all the fruits in 
 it which are for the healing of the nations ; when the soul 
 grows distempered, it restores it, and is both sustaining 
 and remedying to it. How great is the pleasure of health 
 and soundness ! of ease to broken bones ! of relief to a 
 sick and fainting heart ! so it is often (for in the present 
 state the cure is not perfect, and relapses are frequent) with 
 the soul in which the life of God hath begun to settle and 
 diffuse itself, till his influence repair and renew it ; and 
 when it doth so, how pleasant is it to find a heart made 
 sound in his statutes ! and to perceive a new working in 
 it, the Spirit of love, power, and a sound mind ]s So plea- 
 sant that it occasions a triumph (even when the outward 
 man is perishing) if it be found the inward is renewed 
 day by day. 
 
 4. It is corroborative and strengthening ; confirms re- 
 solutions, and establishes the heart. Hereby they who 
 have felt this quickening, cherishing, healing virtue, are 
 also strengthened with might {viz. by the Spirit) in the 
 inner man ; so that they hold on their way, and being of 
 clean hands, grow stronger and stronger.h They go from 
 strength to strength;! and do not so much spend, as in- 
 crease it by going forward. For the way itself of the Lord 
 is strength to the upright. k He provides that fresh recruits 
 shall still spring up to them in their way- For all their 
 supplies are of him, and are acknowledged to be so; in- 
 asmuch as by waiting upon the Lord they renew strength,! 
 and mount up with wings as eagles, run without weari- 
 ness, and walk without fainting. And this increasing 
 strength cannot be without a proportionably increasing 
 delight. How pleasantly doth the strong man rejoice to 
 run his race ! and enterprise even difficult and hazardous 
 things ! By this strength doth the regenerate man perform 
 the ordinary duties belonging to his holy profession ; by 
 it he encounters difficulties, combats and conquers ene- 
 mies, bears heavy and afflicting pressures, and none of 
 these without some intermingled pleaiiure. For even that 
 exercise of this strength which is likely to be least accom- 
 panied with pleasure, the suffering of sharp and smarting 
 afflictions, hath many times much of this grateful mixture ; 
 and can only be expected to have it in this way of gracious 
 communication, as the depending sufferers shall be 
 strengthened with all might according to the glorious 
 power of God, unto all patience and long suffering with 
 joyfulness.'" 
 
 God is therefore to be enjoyed and delighted in by this 
 delectable communication intervening, by which he now 
 frames the soul according to his own image, and gives a 
 heart after his own heart, that is, such as is suitable to 
 him, and as he would have it be. And this way only is 
 any one in a possibility to delight in God, by having a 
 
 2 Tim. i. 17. 
 Prov. X. 
 
 n Job x\'u. 9. 
 I lea. xl. 
 
 i Psal. Ixxxiv. 
 m Col. i. U.
 
 Paut I. 
 
 OF DELIGHTING IX GOD. 
 
 367 
 
 good frame of spirit commiinicated to him, andinwronglil 
 in him : I mean never withont this, and in a great measure 
 by it. Then is he in a happj' state, when God hath by his 
 own Spirit made him what by his word he requires him 
 to be. Now is he composed to delights and blessedness, 
 being by the same workmanship created in Christ Jesus 
 both to good works and to the best of enjoyments. How 
 happy is that soul in whom the true matter of delight is 
 become an implanted thing! that is what it should be, and 
 should be nothing ('^uch is the constitution of gospel-rules 
 and precepts) but what most truly makes for iis own con- 
 tent, delight, and rest ! whose own temper is now in some 
 sort become to it b.ith a law and a reward ! Surely this 
 is one great part of what an enlightened apprehensive soul 
 would most earnestly desire and crave, or would be the 
 genuine breathings of a sincerely gracious heart. " O that 
 i were more like God ! more perfectly framed according 
 to his holy will." And must therefore be, in great part, a 
 thing apt to afford it delight and rest ; as hath been already 
 inculcated before. 
 
 But yet this natural consequence is little understood. 
 And the common ignorance or inadvertenc}' of this, hath 
 made it necessary to insist the more largely (though but 
 little hath been said in respect of what might) on this part 
 of the delectable communication wherein God offers him- 
 self to his people's enjoyinent. For from the not knowing, 
 or not considering of this way of enjoying him, this two- 
 fold mistake (the one of very dangerous, the otlier of un- 
 comfortable importance and tendency) hath arisen. 
 
 1. That some having thought they have enjoyed God 
 when they have not ; having only had their imaginations 
 somewhat gratified, by certain, either false or ineffectual, 
 notions of him. In which they have rested, and placed 
 the sum of their religion and happiness. Never aiming, 
 in the meantime, to have their spirits reformed according 
 to that pure and holy image and exemplar which he hath 
 represented in the Gospel of his Son ; the impression 
 whereof, is Christ formed in us. 
 
 2. That others have thought the}' have not enjoyed God 
 when they have; supposing there was no enjoyment of 
 him, but what consisted in the rapturous transporting ap- 
 prehension and persuasion of his particular love to them; 
 and slightly overlooking all that work he hath wrought in 
 their souls, as if it were nothing to be accounted of', not 
 allowing themselves to reflect on anv thing in themselves, 
 but what was still amiss ; and vainly seeking with much 
 anxiety and complaint what they have, while they will not 
 take notice that they have it, nor apply themselves to im- 
 prove the already implanted principles that are, in them- 
 selves, apt to yield fruits of so pleasant relish. It was 
 upon this account requisite to discover and labour some- 
 what to magnify the intrinsical delightfulness of religion 
 itself; and to put the more of note and remark upon a well 
 tempered spirit, even in point of delectableness and the 
 matter of pleasure it hath in it, by how much it is with too 
 many, on one account or another, a neglected thin?. 
 
 There is only somewhat of doubt or objection that may 
 possibly lie in the minds of some, asfainst the scope and 
 drift of this discourse; which it will be needful we en- 
 deavour to remove before we proceed to what is further 
 contained in this gracious communication : As, 
 
 1. It maybe said, "Doth not nil fhis tend to brine u«, 
 ins end o'" delighting in God, to delight in ourselves'? to 
 make us become our own centre and rest 1 And how can 
 the relishable sweetness of gracious principles and dispo- 
 si'ions siarnify God's bein? to be enjoved or delisrli'ed in ■? 
 For what, are rhe«e thinifs God V To this I onlv "-av, 
 
 1. That such ho1v dispositions, as thev are not God, so 
 nor are they, in strictness of speech, ourselves. And how 
 absurd were it, to call everv thin? ourselves that is in us! 
 And how self-contradictin? then were the very objection ! 
 for that would make delighting in God and in ourselves 
 directly all one ; and so the fault which it causelessly pre- 
 tends to find, it would really commit. 'Tis true, that im- 
 properly holy dispositions are said to rnake up another self 
 in us, a new man, according as corrript and sinful prin- 
 ciples and dispo-;itions do make also a self, the old man. 
 But then it is also to be remeinbered, that with no greater 
 impropriety they are capable of bearing the name of God ; 
 
 n John lii. 6. 
 
 as the image of any thing frequently doth the name of the 
 thing which it represents, or the work of its author ; and 
 they are expressly called, Christ formed in us; and is not 
 he God 1 They are called the Spirit ; for when we are 
 cautioned not to quench the Spirit, how can that be under- 
 stood of the eternal uncreated Spirit himself? And the 
 very thing produced (not merely the productive inlluence) 
 in the work of regeneration, is expressly called by that 
 name; (as it is no such strange thing for the effect to carry 
 the name of its cause;) that which is boru of the Spirit is 
 Spirit." There is Spirit begetting, and spirit begotten. 
 And the spirit begotten, as it must be distinguished from 
 its cause, the Spirit of God ; so it must from the subject 
 wherein the effect is wrought, our own spirits; for they 
 sure are not produced by the regenerating work. Yea, and 
 when God is said to dwell in them that dwell in love, and 
 that are humble and contrite; somewhat else is thereby 
 signified to be indwelling there, than the mere being of 
 God ; for otherwise the privilege of such were no greater 
 than of all other men and things. And what else is it, but 
 somewhat communicated and imparted immediately from 
 God to such 1 (else how by dwelling in love, do they 
 dwell in God 1) which because dwelling imports perma- 
 nency, cannot be a transient influence only, but some 
 settled abiding effect, a consistent frame and temper of 
 spirit, maintained by his continually renewed influence; 
 and therefore it would be very unreasonably said, that the 
 representing this as delectable is a calling us off from God 
 to delight in ourselves. For if this communication be not 
 itself, in strict propriety, God, it were as great impropriety 
 to say it were ourselves. Again, 
 
 2. It hath a great deal more affinity with God than with 
 us. Wc are, 'ti.s true, the subjects of it; but it is his itn- 
 mediate production and very likeness, a divine nature, no 
 hitman thing. Therefore if here our delight were to ter- 
 minate, it were more proper to call it delighting in God, 
 than in ourselves. But, 
 
 3. It is neither said nor meant, that here our delight is 
 to terminate ; but that hereby we are to delight in God, 
 and so that our delight is to terminate in him. 
 
 4. When we are said to enjoy God, I inquire, is any 
 thing communicated to us, or no? If not, we have no en- 
 jovment. If any thing be, -what is itl God's essence? that's 
 inipossible and horrid to think, as hath been said. And 
 we need not repeat, that when we can tell what it is to en- 
 joy a friend, without partaking his essence, whose commu- 
 nications are so incomparably more remote, mediate, re- 
 sistible ; it is less difficult to conceive, how God is to be 
 enjoved by his communications. 
 
 2. It mav be again sail: '"But if God be thus to be 
 delighted in, how can delighting in him be upon such 
 terms our duty ? for is it our duty that he communicate 
 himself in this way to us ?" Let any that object thus, only 
 studv the meaning of those precepts; Keep yourselves in 
 the love of God. Continue in his goodness. Be ye filled 
 with the Spirit. Walk in the Spirit. And if they can 
 think them to sienify any thing, they will not be to seek 
 for an answer. But to this more hereafter ; when from 
 the delightful object, wecome to treat of actual delighting 
 in it. 
 
 3. But some may sav, " It were indeed to be acknow- 
 ledsred, that such a temper of spirit once couimtniicated, 
 were indeed verv delightful ; but where is it to be fourd ] 
 And to state the matter of delight so much in what is to be 
 sou?ht in ourselves, is to reduce the whole bu'^ine*'; of de- 
 behrin? in God, to an impossibility, or to nothing; so 
 little appearing of this temper, and so much of the con- 
 trarv, as eives much cause of doubt, whether there be any 
 thing to be rejoiced in or no. And what then ? are we to 
 suspend the exercise of this duty till we have gotten the 
 difficult case resolved ? (which luay be all our time.) Is 
 there a real thorough work of God upon my soul or no 1 
 For how can I rejoice in that whereof I have yet a doubt, 
 whether it be what it seems or no ?" I answer,^ 
 
 1. It is plain, they that really have nothing of this com- 
 munication from God. cannot take delight in it (otherwise 
 than as hoped for.) But, 
 
 2. Would we therefore have such to please themselves 
 and be satisfied without it; and delight in their distance
 
 368 
 
 OF DELIGHTING IN GOD. 
 
 Part I 
 
 and estrangement from God; and while there is not inter- 
 course between him and themi And shall this be called 
 too delighting in God"? Surely somewhat else than de- 
 light belongs to their states. 
 
 3. But for such as really have it, that which hath been 
 designed to be evinced, is, that it is delectable in itself; 
 and therefore they cannot be without any taste or relish of 
 pleasure therein ; Avhile yet some doubt touching the sin- 
 cerity and truth thereof doth yet remain ; though such 
 doubt (but more their imperfect reception of this commu- 
 nication, and neglect to look after further degrees of it) 
 cannot but render their delight comparatively little. Nor 
 hath it been designed to speak hitherto of what delight the 
 regenerate in this way actually have, but what they may 
 have ; and what matter of delight God's heart-rectifying 
 communication dolh in the nature of it contain; that is, 
 supposing it were imparted and received, so as actually to 
 have formed the soul according to the gospel-revelation. 
 And if it were so in a more eminent measure and degree, 
 it were then in itself so delectable, as without the assurance 
 of our future safe and happy state, (though that, in ihat 
 case, is not likely to be in a comfortable degree wanting,) 
 that is, not by it only, but by itself, without the present con- 
 stant necessary concurrence thereof, to afford unspeakable 
 pleasure to that soul in which it hath place. So that the 
 getting of assurance is not the only thing to be done in 
 order to a person's delighting in God; of which more 
 hereafter is intended to be said in the directive part. 
 
 But though that be not the only thing, yet it is a very 
 great thing ; and being superadded, makes a great addi- 
 tion to the matter of delight : therefore we further say, 
 
 III. This Divine communication is delectable as it in- 
 cludes in it the manifestation of God's love to the soul in 
 particular. 
 
 Nor do we hereby intend an enthusiastic assurance ; or 
 such a testification "of the love of God to the soul, as ex- 
 cludes any reference to his external revelation and exer- 
 cise of our own enlightened reason and judgment there- 
 upon ; or wherein these are of no use, nor have subservience 
 thereto. But as in the other parts of the Divine commu- 
 nication, his external revelation hath the place of an in- 
 strument whereby he effects the work inwardly done upon 
 the mind and heart, and of a rule or measure whereby we 
 are to judge of it; so we are to account it is, as to this part 
 of it also ; that is, he inwardly testifies and manifests the 
 same thing which is virtually contained in his gospel-reve- 
 lation, considered in that reference and aspect which it 
 hath on the present state of the soul. For that outward 
 revelation must needs be understood to signify diversely to 
 particular persons, as their state may be diverse; as when 
 it says. The things that eye hath not seen, nor ear heard, 
 nor have entered into the heart of man, God hath prepared 
 for them that love him ;» to a person that doth indeed 
 truly love God, it virtually says, " All these things are pre- 
 pared for thee." To one that doth not love God, it can 
 only be understood to say, " All these things may be thine, 
 i. e. if thou shalt love him; if thou do not, thou hast no 
 part in them." But inasmuch as a conditional promise 
 when the condition is performed, is equivalent to an abso- 
 lute ; these words do as truly import this sense to one that 
 loves God, These things are thine, as if they were directed 
 to it in particular : as truly, I say, supposing the person 
 do truly love God, but not so clearly, or with that evidence. 
 For this truth, (supposing it a truth,) I do sincerely love 
 God, is not so evident as this, that such preparation is 
 made for them that do ; for this is expressly contained in 
 the word of God : the other is not so, biu to be collected 
 only by self-inspection and observation of the bent and 
 tenor of my spirit and way God-ward : yet however the 
 evidence of truth admits of degrees, truth itself does not. 
 All things that are true, are equally true. And therefore, 
 when it is said, so great things are prepared for them that 
 love God, it is as truly said they are prepared for this man 
 who loves God, as this or thai particular lover of God is 
 contained in the general notion of a lover of him. And 
 then, as that public declaration says not to any. These 
 things are prepared for you, whether you love God or no, 
 or otherwise than as they come under that common notion 
 of lovers of God; this inward manifestation is also so 
 
 accommodate to that, as that it say^ not another thing but 
 the same ; that is, nothing that contradicts (and indeed no 
 more than is virtually contained in) the other ; or it ap- 
 plies what is generally said of the lovers of God to this 
 particular lover of him as such; that is, enabling him to 
 discern himself a lover of him, impresses this truth power- 
 fully upon the heart, these great preparations belong to 
 thee as thou art such a one. 
 
 We speak not here of what God can do, but what he 
 doth. Who can doubt but as God can, if he please, im- 
 print on the mind the whole system of necessary truth, 
 and on the heart the entire frame of holiness, without the 
 help of an external revelation ; so he can imprint this par- 
 ticular persuasion also without any outward means ! Nor 
 do we speak of what he more rarely doth, but of what he 
 doth ordinarily ; or what his more usual course and way 
 of procedure is, in dealing with the spirits of men. The 
 supreme power binds not its own hands. We may be 
 sure the inward testimony of the Spirit never is opposite 
 to the outward testimony of his Gospel ; (which is the 
 Spirit's testimony also ;) and therefore it never says to an 
 unholy man, an enemy to God, Thou art in a reconciled 
 and pardoned state. But we cannot be sure he never speaks 
 or suggests things to the spirits of men but by the external 
 testimony, so as to make use of that a.s the means of in- 
 forming them with what he hath to impart ; nay, we know 
 he sometimes hath imparted things (as to prophets and the 
 sacred penmen) without any external means, and (no doubt) 
 excited suitable affections in them to the import of the 
 things imparted and made known. Nor do I believe it can 
 ever be proved, that he never doth immediately testify his 
 own special love to holy souls, without the intervention of 
 some part of his external word, made use of as a present 
 instrument to that purpose, or that he always doth it in the 
 way of methodical reasoning therefrom. 
 
 Nor do I think that the experience of Christians can 
 signify much to the deciding of the matter. For besides 
 that this, or that, or a third person's experience cannot con- 
 clude any thing against a fourth's ; and the way of arguing 
 were very infirm, what one, or two, or a thousand, or even 
 the greater part of serious Christians, (even such as have 
 attained to some satisfying evidence of their own good es- 
 tate,) have not found, that no where is to be found ; besides 
 that, I say, it's likely few can distinctly tell how it hath 
 been with them in this matter ; that is, what way or method 
 hath been taken with them in begetting a present persua- 
 sion at this or that time of God's peculiar love to them. 
 His dealings with persons (even the same persons at di- 
 vers times) may be so various; his illapses and coming in 
 upon them at some times may have been so sudden and 
 surprising; the motions of thought are so quick; the ob- 
 servation or animadversion persons usually have of what is 
 transacted in their own spirits is so indistinct ; and they 
 may be so much taken up with the thing itself, as less to 
 mind the way and order of doing it; that we may suppose 
 little is to he gathered thence towards the settling of a stated 
 rule in this case. Nor is the matter of such moment, that 
 we need either be curious in inquiring or positive in deter- 
 mining about it ; that principle being once supposed and 
 firmly stuck to, — that he never says any thing in this 
 matter by his Spirit to the hearts of men, repugnant to 
 what the same Spirit hath sadd in his word; or, that he 
 doth not say a new or a diverse thing from what he hath 
 said there for their a.ssurance: i. e. that he never testifies 
 to any person by his Spirit that he is accepted and beloved 
 of him, who may at the same time be concluded by his 
 publicly-extant constitutions in his word to be in a state of 
 non-acceptance and disfavour; or concerning whom the 
 same thing (viz. his acceptanee) might not be concluded 
 by his word, if it were duly applied to his case. Hereby 
 the most mmnentous danger in this matter is avoided; for 
 if that principle be forelaid, enough is done to preclude the 
 vain boasts of such as may be apt to pretend highly to 
 great manifestations of Divine love, while they carry with 
 them manifest proofs of an unsanctified heart, and are 
 under the power of unmortified, reigning sin. That prin- 
 ciple admitted, will convince that their boasted manifesta- 
 tions do only manifest their own ignorance, pride, and 
 vanity ; or proceed only from their heated imagination, oi
 
 Part I. 
 
 OF DELIGHTING IN GOD. 
 
 369 
 
 (the worse cause) Satanical illusion, designed to lull them 
 asleep in sin, and the more easily to lead thein blindfold 
 to perdition. And this is the main concernment about 
 which we need to be solicitous in this matter; which being 
 provided for; as it is diflicult, so it is not necessary, to de- 
 termine, whether the Spirit do always not only testify ac- 
 cording to the external revelation, but by it also; and so 
 only as to concur in the usual way of reasoning from it. 
 
 No doubt but the .same truth may be assented to upon 
 divers grounds; sometimes upon rational evidence; some- 
 times upon testimony ; and some truths may be seen by 
 immediate, mental intuition, (as being self-evident,) which 
 also may be capable of demonstration. And though this 
 truth of God's particular love to such a man, be none of 
 those that have self-evidence ; yet God's Spirit, as it may 
 by assisting the discursive faculty, help us to discern the 
 connexions of some things which otherwise we should not 
 perceive ; so it may by assisting the intuitive, make things 
 evident to us that of themselves are not. Nor yet, also, 
 that it actually doth so, can any I believe certainly tell; 
 for admit that at some times some have very transporting 
 apprehensions of the love of God towards them.selves, sug- 
 gested to their hearts by the Holy Spirit ; they having thi'S 
 habitual knowledge before that love to him, (for instance.) 
 or faith in him, or the like, are descriptive characters of 
 the persons whom he accepts and delightfully loves ; how 
 suddenly may the Divine light irradiate or shine upon 
 those pre-conceived notions, (which were begotten in them 
 by the interveniency of the external revelation before,) and 
 excite those before implanted principles of faith, love, &c. 
 so as to give them the lively sense of them now stirring 
 and acting in Iheir hearts ! and thence also enable them 
 unwaveringly to conclude (and with an unexpressible joy 
 and pleasure) their own interest in his special love, in this 
 way shedding it abroad in their hearts by the Holy Ghost 
 given to them! p This may be so suddenly done, that they 
 may apprehend the testimony to be immediate when in- 
 deed it is not. Nor are they able to prove from Scripture 
 the immediateness of it ; for as to what it doth to them in 
 particular. Scripture says nothing, they not being so much 
 as mentioned there : what it doth or hath done to this or 
 that person there mentioned signifies nothing to their case ; 
 if any thing were said that must have that import, (which 
 will be hard to evince,) and that is anywhere in Scripture 
 signified to be its usual way, in common, towards them 
 on whose hearts it impresses this persuasion, to do it im- 
 mediately, is much less to be evinced. For what Scrip- 
 ture saith so 1 and that famous text that speaks so directly 
 to this matter, The Spirit of God beareth witness with our 
 spirit, that we are the children of God, seemeth rather to 
 imply the contrary ; inasmuch as the Spirit of God is 
 there expressly said to co-witness with our spirit, (as the 
 word there used signifies,) by which it should seem to take 
 the same course in testifying which our spirit or conscience 
 doth, that is, of considering the general characters of his 
 children laid down in his word, reflecting upon the same 
 in ourselves, and thereupon concluding we are his chil- 
 dren ; which if it were supposed the only thing the Spirit 
 of God ordinarily doth in this matter, we may with much 
 confidence assert, 
 
 1. That it doth herein no small thing; for is it a small 
 thing to be ascertained of God's fatherly love to us as his 
 own children 1 
 
 2. That it doth not a less thing than if it testified the 
 same matter in a way altogether immediate. For wherein 
 is it less? Is the matter less imp<irtant 1 That cannot be 
 said; for the thing we are assured of is the .same howsoever 
 we be certified thereof Is it less evident 1 That can with 
 as little pretence be said ; for doth any one account a thing 
 not evident in itself, and that needs to be proved to him 
 some way or other, the less evident for being proved to 
 him m a discursive way 1 What pretence can any one have 
 to say or think sol Is it that reasoning is more liable to 
 error and mistake 1 But I hope the reasoning of God's 
 Spirit IS not so, when it enables us to apprehend the gene- 
 ral truth we should reason from ; to assume to it ; to col- 
 lect and conclude from it, guiding us by its own light. In 
 each of these surely we have as much reason to rely upon 
 the certainty and infallibility of the Spirit's reasonings, asof 
 
 p Rom. V. 5. 
 
 its most assertory dictates ; otherwise, we would (most 
 unreasonably) think the authority of those conclusions 
 laid down in the epistle to the Romans, and other parts oi 
 Scripture, invalidated by the Holy Ghost's vouchsafing to 
 reason them out to us, as we know it most nervously and 
 strongly doth. Or, is it less consolatory 1 That cannot be, 
 for that depends on the two former, the importance and 
 evidence of the thing declared : the former whereof is the 
 same; the latter not less. 
 
 3. Yea, and supposing that the Holy Ghost do mani- 
 festly concur with our spirits in the several steps of that 
 discursive way, so that we can observe it to do so, (and 
 there is little doubt but it may do so as observably to us, 
 by affording a more than ordinary light to a,ssist and guide 
 us in each part of that procedure, as if it did only suggest 
 a sudden dictate to us and no more,) we may upon that 
 supposition add, that it doth hereby more advantageously 
 propose the same thing to us, than if it only did it the 
 other way. It doth it in a way more suitable to our na- 
 tures, which is not nothing; and it doth it in a way less 
 liable to after-suspicion and doubt; for it is not supposed 
 to be always dictatinglhe same thing. And when it ceases 
 to do so, howsoever consolatory and satisfying the dictate 
 was at that instant when it was given, the matter is liable 
 to question afterwards. Upon what grounds was such a 
 thing said 1 And though it cannot be distrusted, that what 
 the Holy Spirit testifieih is true ; yet I may doubt whe- 
 ther it was indeed the Holy Spirit that testified it or no. 
 Whereas if it proceeded with me upon grounds, they re- 
 main ; and I have no reason to suspect that which was ar- 
 gued out to me, upon grounds which I still find in me, 
 was either from an ill suggester, or with an ill design ; 
 whereas there may be some plausible pretence of doubt 
 in the matter, if there was only a transient dictate given in 
 to me, without any reference or appeal to that rule by 
 which God hath not only directed me to try myself, but also 
 to try spirits whether they be of him or no. Nor is there 
 any imaginable necessity of assigning quite another method 
 to the Spirit's work as it is a Spirit of adoption, from that 
 which it holds as it is a spirit of bondage ; for, as to this 
 latter,, when it convinces a person and binds down the con- 
 demning sentence upon him, this surely is the course it 
 follows, to let a person see, (for instance,) they that live 
 after the flesh shall die ; but thou livest after the flesh, 
 therefore thou shalt die ; or, all that believe not, the wrath 
 of God abides on them; but thou believest not, (as it is 
 we know the Spirit's work to convince of not believing,) 
 therefore the wrath of God abides on thee. And what need 
 is there of apprehending its method to be quite another in 
 its comforting work 1 Nor is it surely a mater of less 
 difficulty to persuade some that they are unbelievers, and 
 make them apprehend and feel the terror suitable lo their 
 states; than others, that they are believers, and make 
 them apprehend the comfort which is proper to theirs. 
 Yea, and is not its course the same in its whole sanctify- 
 ing work, to bring home the particular truth, whose im- 
 pression it would leave on the soul, with application thereof 
 to it in particular? which (as generally propounded in 
 Scripture) men are so apt to waive and neglect ; for what 
 is every one's concern, is commonly thought no one's : and 
 what need that its method here should be wholly diverse ? 
 But in whichsoever of these ways the Spirit of God doth 
 manifest his love, it is not to be doubted, but that, 
 
 There is such a thing in itself ver}' necessary, and to be 
 attained and sought after, — and that it is highly delectable 
 when he doth vouchsafe it. 
 
 That there is such a thing to be sought after as a com- 
 municable privilege and favour to holy souls, is evident 
 enough from multitudes of scriptures. Those that have 
 been occasionally mentioned in .-^peaking (what was thought 
 fit to be said) of the way of his doing it, need not be re- 
 peated ; unto which we may add, what we find is added 
 to those above-recited words. Eye hath not seen. &c. the 
 things which God hath prepared for them that love him, 
 ri:. but God hath revealed them to us bv his Spirit. "i 
 And that Spirit not only gives those lovers of God above 
 mentioned a clearer view of the things prepared for them, 
 so as that the nature of them might be the moredi,siinctly 
 understood, (as is argued in the latter part uf this, and in 
 
 q I Cor. ii. 9, 19.
 
 370 
 
 OF DELIGHTING IN GOD. 
 
 Part I, 
 
 the following verse;) but also of their own propriety and 
 interest in them ; Now we have received not the spirit of 
 the world, but the Spirit that is from God, that we may 
 know the things that are freely given us of God.>' Whence 
 therefore they are revealed by the Spirit, not as pleasing 
 objects in themselves only, but as gifts, the evidences and 
 issues of Divine love ; their owti proper portion, by the 
 bequest of that love to whom they are shown. Nor is this 
 the work of the Spirit only, as inditing the Scriptures, but 
 it is such a work as helps to the spiritual discerning of 
 these things; such as wherelo the natural man is not com- 
 petent, who yet is capable of reading the Scriptures as well 
 as other men. And what will we make of those words of 
 our Saviour, when having told his disciples, he would 
 pray the Father, and he should give them another Com- 
 forter, even the Spirit of truth, that he might abide with 
 them for ever ; even the Spirit of truth, « &c., he adds, I 
 will not leave you comfortless, I will come to you ;« that 
 is, (as is plain,) by that Spirit. And then shortly after sub- 
 joins. He that hath my commandments and keepeth them, 
 he it is that loveth me ; and he that loveth me shall be 
 loved of my Father, and I will love him, and will manifest 
 myself to him." Here is an express promise of this love- 
 manifestation, whereof we speak, by the Spirit ; (the Com- 
 forter mentioned above;) not to those particular persons 
 only imto whom he was then directing his speech, or to 
 those only of that time and age, but to them indefinitely 
 that should love Christ, and keep his commandments. 
 Which is again repeated in other words of the same im- 
 port ; after Judas's (not Iscariot) wondering expostulation 
 touching that, peculiarly of this loving manifestation ; 
 Jesus answered and said unto him, If any man love me, 
 he will keep my words; and my Father will love him, 
 and we will come unto him, and make our abode with him.^ 
 So that such a manifestation as is most aptly expressive of 
 love, such converse and cohabitation as imports most of 
 kindness and endearedness, they have encouragement to 
 expect that do love Christ and keep his words ; the same 
 thing no doubt with that shedding abroad of the love of 
 God in their hearts by the Holy Ghost given to them, 
 mentioned before. And whereas we have so plain and re- 
 peated mention of the seal, the earnest, the first-fruits of 
 the Spirit, what can these expressions be understood to 
 import, (and they do not signify nothing,) other than con- 
 firmation of the love of God, or assuring and satisfying 
 evidences and pledges thereof. 
 
 And that there should be such an inward manifestation 
 of Divine love superadded to the public and external de- 
 claration of it, (which is only made indefinitely to persons 
 so and so characterized,) the exigency of the case did re- 
 quire ; that is, wherein it was necessary his love should 
 be distinctly understood and apprehended, it was so far 
 necessary this course should be taken to make it be so. 
 A mere external revelation was not sufficient to that end; 
 our own unassisted reasonings therefrom were not suffi- 
 cient. As other truths have not their due and proper im- 
 pression, merely by our rational reception, be they never so 
 plain, without that holy, sanctifying influence before in- 
 sisted on ; so this truth also of God's love to this person 
 in particular, hath not its force and weight, its efficacy and 
 fruit, answerable to the design of its discovery, unless it 
 be applied and urged home on the soul by a communi- 
 cated influence of the Spirit to this purpose : many times 
 not so far as to overcome and silence tormenting doubts, 
 fears, and anguish of spirit in reference hereto, and where 
 that is done, not sufficient to work off deadness, drow^si- 
 ness, indisposition to the doing of God cheerful service, 
 not sufficient to excite and stir up, love, gratitude, admira- 
 tion, and praise. How many (who have learned not to 
 make light of the love of God, as the most do) who reckon 
 in his favour is life, to whom it is not an indifl!erent thing 
 whether they be accepted or no ; who cannot be overly in 
 their inquiry, nor trifle with matters of everlasting conse- 
 quence ; who are not enough atheists and sceptics to permit 
 all to a mad hazard, nor easy to be satisfied ; walk mourn- 
 fully from day to day with sunk, dejected spirits, full of 
 anxiety, even unto agonies, under the clear external dis- 
 covery of God's love to persons of that character v.'hereof 
 
 r 1 Cor. ii 12. 9 John xiv. IS. I Ver. 18. u Ver. 21. 
 
 they really are ! Such as observe them judge their case 
 plain, and every one thinks well of them but themselves; 
 yea, their mouths are sometimes stopped by such as dis- 
 course the matter with them, but their hearts are not quieted, 
 or, if they sometimes are, in a degree, yet the same doubts 
 and fears return with the former importunity, the same 
 work is still to be done, and 'tis but rolling the returning 
 stone: and all human endeavours to apply and bring home 
 the comforts proper and suitable to their case prove fruit- 
 less and ineffectual, nothing can be fastened upon them ; 
 they refuse to be comforted, while God himself doth not 
 create (that which is the fruit of his own lips) peace, peace ; 
 while, as yet, they are not filled with joy and peace in be- 
 lieving, and made to abound in hope through the power of 
 the Holy Ghost. y It is plain there needs a more learned 
 tongue than any human one, to speak a word in season to 
 such weary ones.^ How many, again, have .spirits over- 
 come with deadness and sloth, under a settled (perhaps 
 not altogether mistaken, but more notional) apprehension 
 of the .same love! They have only that assurance which 
 arises, it may be. not from a false but the single testimony 
 of their own spirits ; at least unaccompanied with other 
 than the ordinary help of the Spirit, not very distinguish- 
 able from the workings of their own ; have reasoned them- 
 selves (perhaps regularly, by observing the rule and the 
 habitual bent of their own spirits) into an opinion of their 
 own good estate, so that they are not vexed with doubts 
 and fears as some others are. But they do not discover to 
 others, nor can discern in themselves, any degree of life 
 and vigour, of heavenliness and spirituality, of love to God 
 or zeal for him, proportionable to their high expectations 
 from him, or the great import of this thing to be beloved 
 of God : there is no discernible growth or spiritual im- 
 provement to be found with them ; how remote is their 
 temper from that of the primitive Christians ! It is appa- 
 rent what is yet wanting, they are not edified (as those 
 were) walking in the fear of the Lord, and in the comfort 
 of the Holy Ghost. ^ Wherefore the matter is plain, there 
 is such a thing, as an effectual overpowering communica- 
 tion of the Holy Ghost for the manifesting of the love of 
 God, of great necessity and importance to Christians ; that 
 may be had, and ought to be diligently sought after. 
 
 2. And if it be aflTorded; (which was the other thingpro- 
 posed ;) how infinitely delectable is that manifestation! the 
 thing itself carries its own reason and evidence with it. 
 
 1. If we consider the matter represented to us thereby ; 
 the love of a God ! How transporting Avould the thought 
 of it be to an enlightened, apprehensive mind ! No one 
 whose nature is not overrun with barbarism would enter- 
 tain the discovery of the harmless, innocent love (though 
 it were not profitable to us) even of a creature like our-* 
 selves, otherwise than with complacency ; yea, though it 
 were a much inferior (even a brute) creature. Men are 
 pleased to behold love expressing itself towards them in a 
 child, in a poor neighbour, in an impotent servant ; yea, 
 in their horse or their dog. The greatest prince observes 
 with delight the affection of the meanest peasants among 
 his subjects ; much more would they please themselves if 
 they have occasion to take notice of any remarkable ex- 
 pression of his favourable respect to them ! but how un- 
 speakably more, if he vouchsafe to express it by gracious 
 intimacies, and by condescending familiarities ! How 
 doth that person hug and bless himself ! How doth his 
 spirit triumph, and his imagination luxuriate in delight- 
 ful thoughts and expectations, who is in his own heart 
 assured he hath the favour of his prince ! yea, with what 
 complacency are inward friends wont to receive the mu- 
 tual expressions of each other's love ! Ajid can it be 
 thought the love of the great and blessed God should sig- 
 nify less? How great things are comprehended in this, 
 the Lord of heaven and earth hath a kindness towards me, 
 and bears me good will ! How grateful is the relish of this 
 apprehension, both in respect of what it, in itself, imports, 
 and what it is the root and cause of! 
 
 True ingenuity values love for itself. If such a one 
 will thinkof me, if I shall have a place in his remembrance, 
 if he will count me among his friends ; this we are apt to 
 be pleased with. And tokens are sent and interchanged 
 
 X Ver. 23. y Rom. xv. 13. 
 
 z Is3. I.
 
 P.\3T I. 
 
 OF DELIGHTING IN GOD. 
 
 371 
 
 among friends, not only to express love, but to preserve 
 and cherish it, and keep up a mutual remembrance among 
 them. And as there is a great pleasure conceived, in re- 
 ceiving such expressions or pledgesof love from a friend, 
 not so much for the value of the thing sent, as of what it 
 signifies, and is the token of his love, his kind remem- 
 brance ; so is there no less pleasure in giving and send- 
 ing, than in receiving: because that hereby, as we giatify 
 our own love, by giving it a kind of vent this way, so we 
 foresee how we shall thereby excite theirs; which tliere- 
 fore we put a value upon, even abstracting from any ad- 
 vantage we expect therefrom. And this haih a manifest 
 reason in our very natures; because we reckon there is 
 an honour put upon us, and somewhat is attributed to us, 
 when we are well thought of, and a kindne.^s is placed 
 upon us ; especially by such as have themselves any repu- 
 tation for wisdom and judgment. How dignifying is the 
 love of God ! How honourable a thing to be his favour- 
 ite ! The apostle seems to put a mighty stress on this, 
 when he utters those so emphatical words. Wherefore we 
 labour (so defectively we read it, we covet, or are ambi- 
 tious of it as our honour, as that word signifies) that whe- 
 ther present or absent we may be accepted of him ;b q. d. 
 neither life or death, neither being in the body or out of it, 
 signify any thing to me, or they are indifferent things in 
 comparison of this honour, that he may accept me, that I 
 ma)- be pleasing to him and gracious in his eyes, that I 
 may stand well in his thoughts, and he bear a kind and fa- 
 vourable regard to me. 
 
 Yea, and this is a thing in itself delightful, not only as 
 it's honourable, but as it is strange and wonderful. Things 
 that are in themselves grateful, are so much the more so, 
 for their being somewhat surprising, and above all our ex- 
 pectation. I say, supposing they have an antecedent 
 gratefulness in them, for (otherwise we know there are 
 also very unwelcome wonders, and which are so much the 
 more dreadful, because they are surprising and unexpect- 
 ed) it is greatly heightened by their being out of the road 
 quite of all our thoughts, — great things that we looked not 
 for. And who would have looked for such a thing as 
 this, that the Lord of glory should place his love on such 
 a worm as I ? Which is set off with the more advantage, 
 because the same light that represents to a soul God's love, 
 doth also discover to it, at the same time, its own deform- 
 ity and unloveliness. And then how taking and overcom- 
 ing is the thought, " I, impure wretch ! loathsome miscre- 
 ant ! that lost apostate creature, that made one with a race 
 and crew of rebels, was confederate with rebellious men 
 against him, yea, in a combination with those revolted 
 creatures the devils, and now taken, I know not why, into 
 a state of acceptance and favour with him! and his love 
 is declared to be towards me ! And why towards me 1 in 
 myself so vile ! and such love ! the love of a holy glori- 
 ous God, towards one in whose very nature was such a 
 horror and hell of wickedness ! Why towards me rather 
 than others, not natui ally more vile than I?" How can 
 this be thought on without crying out, O wonderful ! O 
 the depths, breadths, lengths, and heights of this love, that 
 so infinitely passeth knowledge ! and here the greater the 
 wonder, the greater is also the delight. 
 
 And now also are the effects of this love great in the 
 eyes of the soul, according to the apprehended greatness 
 of their cause. If we indeed were to form conceptions of 
 these things ourselves, by our own light and conduct, our 
 way were to follow the ascending order, and go up from 
 the effects till we reach the cause. But he can, if he 
 please, in the cause present to us the effects, and magnify 
 them in our eyes, b)^ giving us to see unto how great and 
 magnificent a cause they owe themselves. Now shall we 
 know whence all hath p'roceeded that he hatli done for us. 
 Wherefore again must the transported soul admiringly 
 cry out, "I now see whence it was that he gave his Son, 
 because he so loved the world ! why he came and bled 
 and died, who hath loved us, and washed us from our sins 
 in his blood! What a lustre doth that love cast upon 
 those sufferings and performances ! I see why he sent his 
 gospel to me, why so convincing, awakening" words w^ere 
 often spoken in my ear, (I see much in what once I saw 
 but little,) why he so earnestly strove with me by his Spi- 
 b 2 Cor. V. 9. 
 
 rit, why he gave not over till he had overcome my heart, 
 why he humljled, melted, broke me, why he drew so 
 strongly, bound me so fast to himself, in safe and hap- 
 py bonds ; why he shone into my mind with that mild 
 and eflScacious light, transformed my whole soul, stamp- 
 ed it with his holy image, and marked me out for his own. 
 These are now great things, when I behold their glorious 
 mighty cause !" And now also in this same cause are all 
 the great effects to be seen which are yet to be brought 
 about by it. 
 
 They are seen as very great. His continued presence 
 and conduct, which he affords to his own through this 
 world ; that constant fellowship which they expect him to 
 keep with them ; the guidance and .support they look for ; 
 in his love these appear great things. Arid ncjw doth hea- 
 ven sound no more as an empty name, it looks not like a 
 languid faint shadow; somewhat can be apprehended of 
 it that imports substance, when it's understood to be a state 
 of rest and blessedness in the communion of the God of 
 love ; and intended as the last product and expression of 
 his love ! 
 
 They are .seen as most sure and certain. Such love, 
 now rnanifested and apprehended, leaves no place for 
 doubtful thoughts and suspicious misgivings. There is 
 no fear that this love intends to impose upon us, or mock 
 us with the representation of an imaginary heaven ; or 
 that it will fail to do what can be expected from it to bring 
 us to the real one. How pleasant is it now to behold the 
 great and sure products of this mighty love! its admira- 
 ble designs and projects, as they appear in the gospel re- 
 velation (now illustrated and shone upon by Divine light) 
 to lie ready formed in the pregnant womb of this great 
 productive cause. It cannot but be an unspeakable plea- 
 sure which such a discovery will carry with it; when we 
 thus behold the matter itself that is discovered and offer- 
 ed to our view, unto which it must be a very considerable 
 additional pleasure that will arise, 
 
 2. From the nature and kind of this manifestation. As 
 being. 
 
 In the general made by himself. 'Tis a too plain and 
 sad truth, that men have unhappily learned to diminish 
 God to themselves, and make every thing of him seem 
 little. But when he represents his love himself (as who 
 but God can represent the love of God? he only can tell 
 the story of his own love) that evil is provided against. 
 He will manifest it so as it shall be understood ; and set 
 it off to the best advantage. He will make it kno-wn how 
 great a thing it is to be beloved of him. And when he 
 gives that blessed salutation; " Hail, thou that art highly 
 favoured! O thou that art greatly beloved!'" he will 
 withal bespeak and procure a suitable entertainment of it. 
 And hence particularly it will be. 
 
 Most incomparably bright and lightsome in respect of 
 any representation we have had of the love of God any 
 other way. 
 
 Most immediate, that is, (at least,) so as not to be only 
 made by some external testimony, given out many an age 
 ago, out of which we are left to pick what we can, and to 
 construe or misconstrue it as our own judgment serves us; 
 but so, as that if he use such an instrument, he animates 
 it, puts a .soul into it, leaves it not as a dead, spiritless let- 
 ter : and applies it himself, to the purpose he intends by 
 it, and immediatel}' himself reaches and touches the heart 
 by it. 
 
 Most facile and easily sliding in upon us; so that we 
 are put to no more pains, than to behold the light which 
 the sun casts about us and upon us. Whatever labour it 
 was necessary for us to use before, in our searches and 
 inquiries into the state of our case, there is no more now 
 than in moving, being carried ; or in using our own weak 
 hand when another that is sufficiently strong lifts and 
 guides it for us. 
 
 Most efficacious Eind overcoming : that makes its own 
 way, scatters clouds, drives away darkness, admits no dis- 
 putes, makes doubts and misgiving thoughts vanish, pierces 
 with a quick and sudden energy like lightning, and strikes 
 through the mind into the heart : there sheds abroad this 
 love, diffuses the sweet refreshing savcur of it: actuates 
 spiritual sen«e, makes the soul taste how gracious the
 
 372 
 
 OF DELIGHTING IN GOD. 
 
 Part I, 
 
 Lord is, and relish the sweetness of his love, pats all its 
 powers into a suitable mot'on, and excites answerable af- 
 fection, so as to make the soul capable of interchanging 
 love with love. In all these respects, this manifestation of 
 love cannot but be very delectable; and they who have 
 not found it to be so, will yet apprehend that it must be 
 so, if they have found and experienced the cravings of 
 their own hearts directed this way, and can upon inquiry 
 find this among the things they would fain have from God ; 
 O that 1 might be satisfied of his love! that I might know 
 his good-will towards me ! for to such cravings must this 
 delight at least be commensurate (as was formerly said.) 
 But to them that are indifferent in this matter and uncon- 
 cerned, to whom the love of God is a fancy or a trifle, no 
 real or an inconsiderable thing, all this will be as tasteless 
 as the white of an egg. 
 
 Concerning which yet (before we pass from this head) 
 'tis needful to add these few things by way of caution. 
 
 1. That when we say this is of great necessity, we 
 mean not that it is simply necessary ; we think it not so 
 necessary that a Christian cannot be without it ; i. e. as a 
 Christian. But it is necessarj' to his well and more com- 
 fortable being, and his more lively, fruitful walking and 
 acting in his Christian course. 
 
 2. That, therefore, the way of God's dealing herein is 
 with great latitude and variety ; he having reserv'ed to 
 himself, by the tenor of his covenant, a liberty to afford 
 or suspend it, to give it in a greater degree or less degree 
 as in sovereignty and infinite wisdom he pleases and sees 
 fit to determine. 
 
 3. It may not, theref rre, with so absolute and peremp- 
 tory an expectation, be .sought after, as those things ma}' 
 that are necessary to the holding of souls in life; but with 
 much resignation, submission, and deference of the matter 
 to the Divine good pleasure ; such as shall neither import 
 disesleem of it, nor impatience in the want of it. 
 
 4. That it ought to be less esteemed than the heart-rec- 
 tifying communication, that is impressive of God's image, 
 and whereby we are made partakers of his holiness. This 
 proceeds more entirely from pure love to God for himself, 
 than from self-love; this tends more directly to the pleas- 
 ing of us, than to the pleasing of God. This is necessary, 
 as was said, but to our well or better being, that simply to 
 our very being in Christ ; this hath its greatest real value 
 from its subserviency to the other. And what hath its 
 value from its reference to another must be of less value 
 than that. 
 
 5. That it's a great mistake to think God is not other- 
 wise to be enjoyed than in this way of more express testi- 
 fication of his love ; as if you could have no enjoyment 
 of a friend otherwise than by his often repeating to you, I 
 love you, I love you, indeed I love you. 
 
 6. That it's a much greater to place the sum of religion 
 here; and that any should make it the whole of their bu- 
 siness to seek this, or to talk of it ; or should think God 
 doth nothing for them worth their acknowledgment, and 
 solemn thanksgiving, while he doth not this. 
 
 7. Most of all, that any should reckon it the first thing 
 they have to do when they begin to mind religion, to be- 
 lieve God's particular love to them, and that he hath elect- 
 ed them, pardoned them, and will certainly save them. 
 So too many most dangerously impose upon themselves ; 
 and, accordingly, before any true humiliation, renovation 
 of heart, or transaction and stipulation with the Redeemer, 
 do set themselves to believe, and it may be seek help from 
 God more strongly to believe it, when — as the devil is too 
 ready to help them to this faith. And when he hath done 
 it, they cry to themselves, Peace, peace, and think all is 
 well; take their libertv, and humour themselves, live as 
 they list, and say that for so long a time they have had 
 a.ssurance of their salvation. The father of lies must 
 needs be the author, (or the fautor, or both,) of this faith ; 
 for it is a lie which they believe; that is, that they are 
 pardoned and accepted of God is a downright lie, repug- 
 nant to his word and the tenor of his covenant. And 
 for any thing else that may import their state to be at pre- 
 sent safe, is to them no credible truth. 
 
 8. That, for the most part, if Christians, upon whom the 
 renewing work of the Holj- Ghost in that former commu- 
 nication halh in some degree taken place, do yet want that 
 
 degree of this also, which is necessary to free them from 
 very afflicting doubts and fears, and enable them to a 
 cheerful and lively walking with God ; it is to be reckoned 
 their own fault; either that they put too much upon it, 
 (too little minding his public declarations in his word,) or 
 do unduly seek it, or unseasonably expect it ; or that tney 
 put too little upon it, and expect or seek it not ; or that by 
 their indulged carnality, earthliness, vanity of spirit, they 
 render themselves incapable of it ; or by their careless 
 and too licentious walking, or their either resisting or ne- 
 glecting holy motions, they grieve that Spirit that would 
 comfort them. For though the restraint of such more 
 pleasant communications may proceed, sometimes, from 
 an unaccountable sovereignty, that owes no reason to us 
 of its arbitrary way of giving or withholding favours; yet 
 withal, we are to know and consider, that there is such a 
 thing as paternal and domestic justice proper to God's 
 own family, and which, as the Head and Father of it, he 
 exerciseth therein ; whereby (though he do not exercise it 
 ahke at all times) it seems meet to his infinite wisdom to 
 awaken and rouse the sloth, or rebuke the folly, or check 
 the vanity, or chastise the wantonness, of his offending 
 children ; and that, even in this way, by retiring himself, 
 becoming more reserved, withdrawing the more discern- 
 ible tokens of his presence, and leaving them to the tor- 
 ture sometimes of their own conjectures, what worse thing 
 may ensue. And herein he may design, not only refor- 
 mation to the delinquents, but instruction to others, and 
 even vindication of himself. For however these his deal- 
 ings with men's .spirits are in themselves (as they must 
 needs be) secret, and such as come not under the imme- 
 diate notice of other men ; yet somewhat consequential 
 thereto doth more openly appear, and becomes obvious to 
 the common observation of serious Christians with whom 
 such persons converse ; that is, not only such as languish 
 under the more remarkable terrors of their spirits, aJid are 
 visibly, as it were, consuming in their own flame ; (ot 
 which sort there occur very monitory and instructive ex- 
 amples, at some times;) but even such also as are depriv- 
 ed of his quickening influence, and have only somewhat 
 remaining in them that is ready to die, that are pining 
 away in their iniquities, and sunk deep into deadnessand 
 carnality, (for his comforting communication is also quick- 
 ening, and he doth not use to withhold it as it is quicken- 
 ing, and continue it as it is comforting, but if such have 
 comfort such as it is, they are their own comforters,) do 
 carry very discernible tokens of Divine displeasure upon 
 them ; and the evils and distempers under which their 
 spirits lie wasting, are both their sin and punishment. 
 Their own wickedness corrects them, and their backslid- 
 ing reproves them. And that reproof being observable, 
 doth the same time warn others, yea and doth that right 
 to God, as to let it be seen he makes a difference, and re- 
 fuses the intimacies with more negligent, loose, idle, wan- 
 ton professors of his name, which he vouchsafes to ha\'e 
 with some others, that make it more their business and 
 study to carry acceptably towards him, andare more ma- 
 nifestly seriou.s, humble, diligent, obedient observers of 
 his will. If, therefore, Ave find not what we have found 
 in this kind, however the matter may possibly be resolv- 
 able into the Divine pleasure, (as it is more likely to be 
 in the case of such desertions as are accompanied with 
 terror, when no notorious apostacy or scandalous wicked- 
 ness hath gone before,) it is both safe and modest, yea and 
 obvious, to suspect such delinquencies as were before 
 mentioned, are designed to be animadverted upon ; and 
 that the love hath been injured, which is now not mani- 
 fested as heretofore. 
 
 9. That 3'et such a degree of it as is necessary to a com- 
 fortable serving of God in our stations being afforded; 
 such superadded degrees, as whereby the soul is in fre- 
 quent raptures and tran.sports, are not to be thought with- 
 held penally, in any peculiar or remarkable respect, or 
 otherwise than it may be understood some way a penalty, 
 not to be already perfectly blessed. For it is certain, that 
 such rapturous .sensations, and the want of them, are not 
 the distinguishing characters of the more grown, strong, 
 and excellent Christians, and of them that arc more infirm, 
 and of a meaner and lower pitch and stature. Yea, those 
 ecstatical emotions, although they have much of a sensible
 
 Part I. 
 
 OF DELIGHTING IN GOD. 
 
 373 
 
 delectation in them, (as more hereafter may be said to 
 ',hat purpose,) and though they may, in part, proceed from 
 the best and most excellent cause, do yet, il they be fre- 
 quent, (which would signify an aptitude thereto,) import 
 somewhat of diminution in their subject, and imply what 
 is some way a lessening of it, that is, they imply the per- 
 sons that are more disposed this way, to be of a temper 
 not so well fixed and composed, but more volatile and 
 airy ; which yet doth not intimate, that the chief cause and 
 author of those motions is therefore mean and ignoble; 
 nay, it argues nothing to the contrary, but that the Holy 
 Spirit itself may be the supreme cause of them. For ad- 
 mitting it to be so, it doth not alter men's natural tempers 
 and complexions; but so ads them, as that they retain 
 (and express upon occasion) what was peculiar to their 
 temper notwithstanding. The work and office of the Holy 
 Ghost, in his special communications, is to alter and new- 
 mould men in respect of their moral dispositions, net those 
 which are strictly and purely natural: the subject is in 
 this regard the same it was ; and whatsoever is received, 
 is received according to the disposition of that ; and it gives 
 a tincture to what supervenes and is implanted thereinto: 
 whence the same deg:ree of such communicated influence 
 will not so discernibly move some tempers, as it doth 
 others ; as the same quantity of fire will not so soon put 
 solid wood into a flame, as it will light straw. That some 
 men therefore are less sensibly and passionately moved 
 with the great things of God (and even with the discovery 
 of his love) than some others, doth not argue them to have 
 less of the Spirit, but more of that temper which better 
 comports with deeper judgment, and a calm and sober con- 
 sideration of things. The unapiness of .some men's affec- 
 tions unto strong and fervent motion, doth indeed arise 
 from a stupid inconsiderateness ; of some others, from a 
 more profound consideration, by which the deeper things 
 sink, and the more they pierce even into the inmost centre 
 of the soul, the less they move the surface of it. And 
 though I do not think the saying of that heathen applica- 
 ble to this case, " It is a wise man's part to admire no- 
 thing;" for here is matter enough in this theme, the love 
 of God, to justify the highest wonderment possible, and not 
 to admire in such a case is most stupidly irrational ; yet I 
 conceive the admiration (as well as other aflfections) of 
 more considering persons, is more inward, calm, sedate, 
 and dispas.sionate, and is not the less for being so, but is 
 the more solid and rational ; and the pleasure that attends 
 it, is the more deep and lasting. And the fervour that 
 ensues upon the apprehended love of God, prompting them 
 to such service as is suitable to a state of devotedness to 
 his interest, is more intense and durable ; of the others, 
 more flashy and incon.stant. As, though flax set on fire 
 will flame more than iron ; yet withal it will smoke more, 
 and will not glow so much, nor keep heat so long. 
 
 10. But to shut up this discourse : They that have more 
 transporting apprehensions of the love of God, should take 
 heed of despising them who have them not in just the 
 same kind, or do not express them in the same seraphic 
 strains. They that have them not, should take heed of 
 censuring those that with humble modesty, upon just oc- 
 casion, discover and own Avhat they do experience in this 
 kind ; much less should conclude, that because they find 
 them not, there is therefore no such to be found, which 
 cynical humour is too habitual to such tempers. If they 
 do fancy such to be a weaker sort of persons, they may be 
 sincere for all that. And it ought to be considered of 
 whom it was said, that he would not quench the smoking 
 flax. The grace and Spirit of Christ ought to be reveren- 
 ced in the various appearances thereof; whether we be so- 
 ber or beside ourselves — the love of Christ constraineth 
 us.o So diversely may the apprehensions of that love work 
 in the same person, much more in divers. Christians 
 should be shy of making themselves standards to one ano- 
 ther ; which they that do, discover more pride and self- 
 conceit than acqiiaintance with God, and more admiration 
 of themselves than of his love. 
 
 Thus far we have given some account of the object to 
 be delighted in; wherein, if any think strange that we 
 have spok3n so much of the delectable Divine communica- 
 tion as belonging to the object ; (which how it doth hath 
 
 c 2 Cor. V. 13, 14. 
 28 
 
 been sufficiently shown ;) let them call it, if they please, 
 a preparing or disposing of the subject ; (which it also', 
 making its own way into the soul, as hath been said, efiec- 
 tually doth;) and if the necessity of it be acknowledged 
 upon that account, it equally answers the main purpose 
 aimed in all this ; and had it been only so considered, 
 would but have inferred some alteration in the frame and 
 method of this discourse, but not at all of the substance 
 and design of it. 
 
 II. We are next to say somewhat briefly of the delight 
 itself to be taken therein. Nor shall we be herein so cu- 
 rious as to distinguish (which some do) delight and joy. 
 The distinction wont to be assigned, cannot, 'tis plain, hold 
 here, so as to make the former of these signify a brutish 
 affection only, and the latter proper to rational nature. 
 Nor is there any such propriety belonging to the words, 
 but they may be rendered (as indeed they are used in 
 Scripture) promiscuously, either in reference to the matter 
 of intellectual or sensitive complacenc)', and either of a 
 reasonable being, or an unrea.sonable. We take these 
 therefore to signify substantially the same thing, and here 
 delight to be entirely all one with joy: that is, there is not 
 any the highest degree of joy which may not fitly enough 
 be comprehended under the name of delight, when it is 
 placed (as here it is required to be) upon the blessed God ; 
 whereof, that we may speak the more full}', it will be ne- 
 cessary to preface somewhat concerning its general na- 
 ture ; and more principally as it is found in man, within 
 which compass our principal business lies. 
 
 Delight, in the general, is most intimately essential to 
 love ; which imports a well-pleasedness arising from the 
 apprehended goodness or congruity of the thing loved : 
 and it seems to be merely by accident, that there is any 
 thing else in love besides that complacency of delight ; 
 that is, what there is else belonging to the nature of love 
 arises from the mixture and variety which is to be found 
 in the present state of things; which if it were at present 
 universally and perfectly good, and as most rationally it 
 might be wished, love could have no exercise but in de- 
 light. Not being so, desire that it might be so, in reference 
 to ourselves and others whom we love, comes duly to have 
 place ; together with other acts or exercises of love, which 
 it belongs not so much to our present purpose to mention. 
 
 For instance, whatsoever we can love, is either things 
 or persons; whatsoever things we love, is for the sake of 
 persons, either ourselves or others; whom also we love 
 either supremelj- or subordinately. And whomsoever we 
 love supremely, as it is certainly either God or ourselves, 
 we love whatsoever else, person or thing, cither for God's 
 sake or our own. Be it now the one or other, or where- 
 soever we can place our love, we find things in reference 
 to any object of it, not yet as we would have them, and as 
 they shall be permanent and last always; whereunto this 
 is but preparator3'only, and introductive. The creation is 
 indigent, every creature wants somewhat even whereof it 
 is capable ; and our own wants in many respects we can- 
 not but feel. Nothing is perfect in its own kind, in respect 
 of all possible accessories thereto ; even the state of glori- 
 fied spirits above is not ever}' way perfect ; much is want- 
 ing to their full and complete felicity : the bod}' and com- 
 munity whereto they belong, the general assembly, is not 
 3'et entire and full ; their common Ruler and Lord is not 
 acknowledged and had in honour as he shall be. In the 
 meauAvhile, their consummate blessedness, (which much 
 depends on these things,) and the solemn jubilee to be held 
 at the close and finishing of all God's work, is deferred. 
 Yea, and if we go higher, the blessed God himself, the 
 Author and Original of all things, although nothing be 
 wanting to the real perfection of his being and ble.«;sedness, 
 hath yet much of his right withheld from him by his lapsed 
 and apostate creatures ; so that, which way soever we turn 
 ourselves, there remains to us much matter of rational (yea 
 and holy) desire ; and most just cause that our love (place 
 we it as well and dulj' as we can) have its exercise that 
 way; we have before us many desiderata, according as 
 thinss j'et are. Desire is therefore love suited to an im- 
 perfect state of things wherein it is yet imperfect. And 
 because it's suited to such a state of things, it cannot 
 therefore but be imperfect love, or love tcvding to perfec-
 
 374 
 
 OP DELIGHTING IN GOD. 
 
 Part L 
 
 tion. Pure and simple delight is love suited to a state of 
 things every way perfect, and whereto there is nothing 
 Jacking. Wherefore delight appears to be the perfection 
 of love, or desire satisfied. But now because this present 
 state is mixed, and not simply evil, or such wherein we 
 find no present good ; therefore the love which is suited 
 thereto, ought consequently to be mixed of these two espe- 
 cially, (unto which two the present discourse is both ex- 
 tended and confined, because these two affections only are 
 mentioned in the text,) desire and delight. So far as things 
 are otherwise than we practically apprehend, 'tis fit they 
 should be with ourselves or others whom we love ; our 
 love is exercised in desire, wherein they are as we would 
 have them, in delight ; for then our desire is so far satis- 
 fied ; and desire satisfied ceases, though love do not cease. 
 Or, it ceases not by vanishing into nothing, but by being 
 satisfied ; that is, by being perfected in the delight which 
 now takes place. 
 
 The one of these is therefore truly said to be love exer- 
 eised upon a good which we behold at a distance, and are 
 reaching at. The other, love solacing itself in a present 
 good. They are as the wings and arms of love ; those for 
 pursuits, fkesc for embraces. On the former is love in 
 motion ; the latter is love in rest. And as in bodily mo- 
 tion and rest, that is in order to this, and is perfected in it. 
 Things move, not that they may move, but that they may 
 rest; (whence perpetual progressive motion is not to be 
 found;) so it is also in the motion and rest of the mind or 
 spirit. It moves towards an object with a design and ex- 
 pectation to rest in it, and (according to the course and 
 order which God hath stated and set) can never move for- 
 ward endlessly towards a good in which it shall not at 
 length rest; though yet desire and delight have a continual 
 vicissitude, and do (as it were circularly) beget one ano- 
 ther. And thus hath God himself been pleased to express 
 his own delight, or the joy which he takes in his people, 
 even by the name of rest, viz. that of love. He will re- 
 joice over thee with joy, he will rest in his love.a Where- 
 fore delight hath not been unfitly defined — the repo.se or 
 rest of the desiring faculty of the thing desired. 
 
 It is true, that love, as such, hath ever somewhat of 
 delectation in it ; for we entertain the first view of any 
 thing we apprehend as good, with some pleasedness therein, 
 (so far as it is loved,) it is grateful to us, and we are grati- 
 fied some way by it ; yea, there is somewhat of this before 
 any emotion by desire towards it ; for we M'ould not desire 
 it, if it were not pleasing to us; which desire is then con- 
 tinued (as far as love is in exercise) till It be attained for 
 ourselves or others, according as the object of our love 
 {i. e. the object for whom as we may call it) is. Nor is that 
 a difficulty, how yet there may be somewhat of delecta- 
 tion, and even of rest, in this love of desire. For the soul 
 doth in that case, while it is thus desiring, rest from the 
 indetermination of desire : that is, if it have placed love 
 upon any one (itself or another) upon whom therefore it 
 doth with a sort of pleasedness stay and rest ; it doth first, 
 in the general, desire it may be well with such a one ; and 
 then, if any thing occur to its notice, that it apprehends 
 would be an advantage to the person loved ; though it cease 
 not desiring it, yet it ceases from those its former hover- 
 ings of desire being pitched upon this one thing, as satisfi- 
 ed that this would be a good to him it loves. The appetite 
 stays and insists upon this thing; as the Psalmist, One 
 thing have I desired.' It hath here as it were a sort of hy- 
 pothetical rest ; q. d. how well pleased should 1 be if this 
 were compassed and brought about ! or it hath an antici- 
 pated and pre-apprehended rest, a rest in hope, (by which 
 the object is some way made present,) as it is said, " We 
 rejoice in hope of the glory of God." For there is no ra- 
 tional desire which is not accompanied with hope. De- 
 spair stifles de.sire. That which appears simply impossi- 
 ble, pa.sses for nothing ; and goodness goes not beyond the 
 compass of being. But whatsoever appears to us a good 
 (whether for ourselves or another) that is suitable and pos- 
 sible, that, if love stir in reference to it, becomes the object 
 of complacential desire ; that is, it pleases us first upon 
 sight, or upon such an apprehension of it; the appetite 
 pitches, centres, and rests upon it ; and then we pursue it 
 with desire. But then our delectation therein grows, as^ 
 
 <J Zeph. iii. 17, 18. 
 
 our hope doth it will be attained ; and still more (if we 
 find it to answer its first appearance) as by degrees it is 
 attained actually ; till being fully attained, our desire (a-s 
 to that thing) ends in all the delight and satisfaction which 
 it can afibrd us. So that the delight and rest which fol- 
 lows desire in the actual fruition of a full and satisfying 
 good, is much more intense and pure, than that which 
 either goes before, or doth accompany it ; and is indeed 
 the same thing with fruition or enjoyment itself; only that 
 this term hath been, by some, more appropriated to signify 
 the delectation which is taken m the last end, unto whicn 
 yet it hath no more native designation than divers other 
 words. We have then thus far some general notion of 
 delight, and also of desire, which is taken in here only on 
 the bye, and as tending somewhat to illustrate the other, 
 whereof yet what we now say may be of some use hereafter. 
 
 We are next to speak of this delight in special, which is 
 here to be placed upon God. And about which we are to 
 consider, both — what it is we are called to — and how we 
 are to reckon ourselves called to it. And, 
 
 1. That we may show, what we are called to. Having 
 in this general account spoken only of human delight, or 
 of delight as it is to be found among men ; it will now be 
 necessary, 
 
 To distinguish this into merely natural, and holy. And 
 when we thus distinguish, it is to be understood, that by 
 natural we mean what is within the sphere of nature in its 
 present corrupted state; otherwise, what was natural to 
 man did (taken in a large sense) include holiness in it ; 
 and .so the addition of holiness doth but make up purely 
 natural delight, as it was at first : but as the case now is, 
 the distinction is necessary. And the latter of these only 
 will be the subject of our following discourse ; as being 
 only suitable to the blessed object whereon it must termi- 
 nate, and only capable of being applied thereto. When 
 therefore our delight is to be placed and set on God, this 
 must be understood as presupposed, that it be purified, 
 drained from the pollution and impure tinctures which It 
 hath derived from our vitiated natures, and further con- 
 tracted by our converse with impure, mean, and vile things. 
 For only that delight is to be placed on God which can 
 be so placed ; and delighting in God being duly designed, 
 that is, by consequence designed which is necessary tliere- 
 to ; and thereto is necessary, not merely the direction of 
 one such particular act towards God, but a holy principle, 
 as pre-requisite to the right doing even of that also. Unholy 
 loves declines God ; and indeed it is unholy inasmuch as 
 it doth so. Whence therefore it is as impossible it should 
 be set on God, remaining unholy, as that it should be ano- 
 ther thing from itself, and yet be still wholly what it was. 
 Although it cannot be another thing in its general nature, 
 (as it is not necessary it should,) it must be a much alter- 
 ed thing, by the accession of holiness thereto. And this 
 coming upon the whole soul, even upon all its faculties 
 and powers, doth therein spread itself unto its delight also. 
 Delight in God is not the work of an unholy heart. And 
 (as may be collected from what hath been said) holiness 
 consisting in a right disposition of heart towards God, a 
 divine nature, participated from him, conformed to him, 
 which works and lends towards him, and in itself so de- 
 lightful a thing; it may thence be seen what holy delight 
 is, or wherein the holiness of it stands. 
 
 It must to this purpose be considered, that this holy de- 
 light is twofold, according to a twofold consideration of 
 the delectable object, into which what was formerly said 
 about it may be reduced. All delight in God supposes, as 
 hath been said, some communication from him. 
 
 Tliat communication is either of light, whereby his na- 
 ture and attributes are in some measure known ; or of 
 operative influence, whereby his image is impressed, and 
 the soul is framed according to his will. And so it is 
 partly mental or notional (I mean not merely notional, but 
 that hath with it also an aptitude to beget a correspondent 
 impression on the soul, and not engage it in some .specula- 
 tions concerning him only) and partly real, that actually 
 begets such an impression itself. It is partly such as may 
 be understood, and partly such as may be felt; the mani- 
 festation of his love partly belongs to the one of these, and 
 partly to the other. 
 
 e Psal .M\ii. 4.
 
 Part I. 
 
 OF DELIGHTING IN GOD. 
 
 375 
 
 Answerably hereto, the delight that is taken in him, is 
 either more open and explicit, and wherein a person reflects 
 apon and lakes notice of his own act and wJiereupon it is 
 exercised — or, more latent, implicit and unobserved, when 
 hisdelight lies folded np in other acts and dispositions which 
 have another more principal design, though that also is in- 
 volved in them. The former way, the soul delights in God 
 more directly, applying itself thereto on purpose, and bend- 
 ing the mind and heart intentionally thereto; its present 
 views of him having that very design and aim. The ialtcr 
 way, it delights in him rather collaterally when its present 
 action (as well as the disposition leading to it) hath another 
 more direct scope and aim. And the de ight only adheres 
 to the act, as being in itself delightful; as for instance, 
 the acts of repentance, trust, self-denial, &c. which have 
 another end than delight, though that insinuates into them. 
 The former of these may be called contemplative delight : 
 the soul solacing itself in a pleasant meditation of God, 
 whereby its delight in him is excited and stirred up. The 
 latter (understanding sense spiritually, as it belongs to the 
 new creature, and is taken Phil. i. 9. Heb. v. ult.) may be 
 called sensitive delight; whereby the soul, as it were, tastes 
 how gracious the Lord is. Which though it doth by the 
 other also, yet the distinction holds in respect of the way 
 wherein the delight is begotten and begun, if not in re- 
 spect of the thing itself, begotten, or wherein the matter 
 ends. In the former way, the soul more expressly reflects 
 upon its own present exercise, which it directly intends. 
 In the latter, it may not reflect expressly either upon its 
 actual delight which it hath, nor actually consider God as 
 the object that yields it that pleasure ; as I may be de- 
 lighted by the pleasant taste of this or that food, without 
 considering what the thing is I am feeding on; nor have 
 distinct reflection on the pleasure I take therein, having 
 another and more principal design in eating, the recruiting 
 of my strength, and that delight being only accessor}' and 
 accruing on the bye. The former is less durable, and 
 sooner apt to vanish upon the cessation of the present act, 
 like the delight of the eye. The latter is more permanent, 
 as that of the taste, and habitual ; such as is the pleasure 
 of any thing whereof one hath a continued possession, as 
 of a confirmed state and habit of health, or of the riches, 
 dignities, pleasant accommodations which belong to any 
 one's settled condition; of which he hath that continual 
 enjoyment that insensibly forms his spirit, raises and keeps 
 it up to a pitch suitable to his condition, though he have 
 not every day or hour distinct formed thoughts of them, 
 nor is often in that contemplative transport with Nebuchad- 
 nezzar. — Is not this great Babylon which I have built 1 
 &e. 
 
 Both these are holy delight, or delight in God. In both 
 whereof may be seen, added to the general nature of de- 
 light, a holy nature as the principle, inferring a powerful 
 steady determination of the heart towards God, as the 
 object and end which it ultimately tends to, and terminates 
 upon. Though in the former way of delighting in God, 
 the soul tends towards him more directly : in the latter 
 (according as the acts may be to which the delight adheres,) 
 more obliquelj^ and through several things that ma}'^ be 
 intermediate unto that final and ultimate object. 
 
 And both these may fitly be understood to be within the 
 meaning of this text ; which therefore we shall now consider 
 apart and severally ; though both of them very briefly. 
 
 And we begin with the latter of them. For though the 
 former hath, in some respect, an excellency in it above the 
 latter; yet as the progress of nature in other creatures is 
 by way of ascent, from what is more imperfect to what is 
 perfecter and more excellent ; so is it with the communi- 
 cated divine nature in the new creature, which puts itself 
 forth, first in more imperfect operations, tho buddings, as 
 it were, of that tree of life which hath its more florid blos- 
 soms, and at length its ripe and fragrant fruit afterwards; 
 or, (to come nearer the case,) inasmuch as the latter sort of 
 delight (according to the order wherein we before men- 
 tioned them) hath more in it of the exercise of spiritual 
 sense, the other more of spiritual reason ; since human 
 creatures, that have natures capable of botli sorts of func- 
 tions, do first exercise sense, and by a slower and more 
 fradual process, come on to actsof ratiocination afterwards. 
 o it is here, the soul in wliich the divine life hath taken 
 
 place, doth first exercise itself in spiritual sensations; so 
 that though, in the matter of delight, it is not destitute of 
 the grateful relishes of things truly and spiritually delect- 
 able ; yet the more formed and designed acts of holy de- 
 lectation, in the highest object thereof, distinctly appre- 
 hended and pitched upon for that purpose, do follow in 
 their season; and these are preparations, and the essays 
 of the new creature, gradually and more indistinctly put- 
 ting forth itself in order thereto; the embryos of the other. 
 If therefore it be inquired, wherein the delight of this 
 more imperfect sort doth consist! I answer, in the soul's 
 sensation and relish of sweetness in the holy, quickening 
 communications of God unto it, by which he first forms it 
 for himself, and in the operations which it is hereby en- 
 abled lo put forth towards him, while it is in the infancy 
 or childhood of its Christian state. Nor, while we say the 
 delight of this kind doth more properly belong to the 
 younger and more immature state of Christianity, do we 
 thereby intend wholly to appropriate or confine it to that 
 slate. For as when a child is grown up to the capacit}- oi 
 exercising reason, it doth not then give over to use sense, 
 but continues the exercise of it also in its adult state, 
 even as long as the person lives; only, in its infancy and 
 childhood its life is more entirely a life of sense, though 
 there are early buddings of reason, that soon come to be 
 intermingled therein; notwithstanding which, the princi- 
 ple that rules and is more in exercise, more fitlj' gives the 
 denomination. So it is in this case also ; that is, though 
 there are sensations of delight and pleasure in religion, 
 (yea, and those more quick, confirmed, and strong in more 
 grown Christians.) yet these sensations are more single 
 and unaccompanied (though not altogether) with the ex- 
 ercise of spiritual reason and judgment, and do less come 
 in that way with Christians in their minority, than with 
 others or themselves afterwards. Therefore that which we 
 are to understand ourselves called to under the name of de- 
 lighting in God (thus taken) is, — the keeping of our souls 
 open to Divine influences and communications; — thirst- 
 ing after them, praying and waiting for them ; — endeavour- 
 ing to improve them and co-operate with them, and to stir 
 up ourselves unto such exercises of religion as they lead 
 to, and are most suitable to our present state : — together 
 with an allowing yea, and applving ourselves to stay 
 and taste in our progress and course, the sweetness and 
 delightfulness of those communications and operations 
 whereof we have any present experience. For instance; 
 when we find God at work with us, and graciously deal- 
 ing with our spirits, to humble them, break and melt them 
 under a sense of sin, incline and turn them towards him- 
 self, draw them to a closure with his Son the Redeemer, 
 to a resignation and surrender of ourselves to him, upon 
 the terms of his covenant and law of grace ; yea, and 
 when afterwards we find him framing our hearts to a 
 course of holy walking and conversation ; to the denial of 
 ungodliness and worldly lusts ; to a sober, righteous, and 
 godly life in this present world ; to the exercises of piety, 
 sobriety, righteousness, charity, mercy, &c. And now this 
 or the like heavenly dictate occurs to us, "Delight thyself 
 in the Lord ;" what doth it import ^ what must we under- 
 stand i! to say or signify to us "? Though this that hath 
 been mentioned, and which we are now saying, is not all 
 that it signifies ; (as will be shown hereafter;) yet thus much 
 we must understand it doth signify and say to us : " Thy 
 only true delights are to be found in a course of religion ; 
 they are not to be expected from this world, or thy former 
 sinful course; but in exercising thyself unto godliness, in 
 receiving and complying with the Divine discoveries, re- 
 commended to thee "in "the Gospel, and (through ihern) 
 the influences of life and grace, which readily flow in 
 upon any soul that hungers and thirsts after righteous- 
 ness ; aiid by which thou mayest be framed after 
 the good and'holv and acceptable will of God. Herein 
 thou shaft find siich pleisures and delights entertaining 
 thy soul, as that thou wilt have no cause to envy wicked 
 men their sensual delights which they find in their sinful 
 way; if thou wilt but observe what thou findesl. and exer- 
 cise thy sense, to discern between good and evil ; and set 
 thyself to consider whether there" be not as well more 
 satisfying, as purer, relishes of pleasure, in mortifpng the 
 flesh with the affections and lusts thereof, in denying thy-
 
 S76 
 
 OF DELIGHTING IN GOD. 
 
 Part I, 
 
 self, in dying to this world, in living to God, in minding 
 the things of another world, in giving up thyself to the 
 several exercises of a holy life, watching, praying, medi- 
 tating, &.C. in trusting in the Lord with all thy heart, and 
 in doing all the good thou canst in thy place and station, 
 letting so thy light shine before men, that they seeing thy 
 good works, may glorify thy Father which is in heaven ; 
 in contentment with what thou enjoyest, and patience un- 
 der what thou sufferest in this world, in doing justice, 
 loving righteousness, and walking humbly with thy God ; 
 than ever the vanishing pleasures of sin did or can afford." 
 Thus into these two things may all be summed up, which 
 delighting in God imports according to this notion of it 
 — I. The applying ourselves to those things by the help of 
 God's own communicated influence (which in that case 
 will not be withheld) wherein the matter of delight lies — 
 2. The reflecting upon the things themselves that are so 
 delightful, and setting ourselves to discern, and tasting 
 actually the delectahleness of them. And surel}'^, if such 
 words, " Delight thyself in the Lord," do say to us all 
 this, the}^ do not say nothing ; nor say any thing imperti- 
 nent, either to their own native import, or our state and 
 condition in this world. 
 
 Ob. But here it may be objected ; If we so interpret 
 delighting in God, we shall by this means bring the whole 
 of religion, and all sorts of actions that are governed and 
 directed by it, within the compass of this one thing ; and 
 make delighting in God swallow up all that belongs to a 
 Christian, and be the same thing with repentance, faith, 
 self-denial, humility, meekness, patience, &c. which would 
 sure seem too much to be comprehended under the name 
 of one particular holy action or affection ; especially that 
 they should be called delighting in God, when in the ex- 
 ercise of divers of these, God may possibly not be in that 
 instant actually so much as thought on. Ans. To this it 
 may be sufficiently answered ; 
 
 1. That these things cannot be hence said with any pre- 
 tence to be made the same thing with delighting in God ; 
 but only that there is a delight adhering to all these; no 
 more than it can be said, when, at some splendid treat or 
 entertainment, there is a great variety of delicious meats 
 and wine, which do therefore all agree in this, — that they 
 are delectable ; that all these dishes and liquors are there- 
 fore one and the same. Or, if the master of the feast call 
 upon his guests to delight themselves with him their friend, 
 (as here the particle in the text, which we read delight 
 thyself m the Lord, may be read delight thyself wzYA him,) 
 and he explains himself, that he means by tasting this and 
 that and another sort of his provisions, and eating and 
 drinking cheerfitlly thereof, surely his words could not 
 with more reason than civility be capable of that snarling 
 reply; that, therefore, it seems, he thought the things 
 themselves or their tastes and relishes were all one. For 
 though they all afford delight, yet each of a different kind. 
 
 2. But are not all these truly delectable ] Is there not 
 a real delight to be had in them 1 Let any man, that hath 
 tried, consult his experience; yea, let any one that hath 
 not besotted his soul, and infatuated his understanding, 
 but seriously consider the very ideas of the.se things, and 
 revolve the notions of them in his mind, and then soberly 
 judge, whether they be not delightful 1 And if so, when 
 there is an actual sense of pleasure and sweetness in the 
 communicated power, and in the practice of them, why is 
 not this delighting in God 1 Admit that he is not actually 
 thought on in some of these exercises ; as when I freely 
 forgive a wrong, or relieve a distressed person, or right a 
 wronged one ; if yet I do these things, from the radical 
 principle of the love of God deeply settled in my soul, 
 and with a sensible delight accompanying ray act, and the 
 di.sposition I find in mine heart thereunto ; here is not, 
 'tis true, the very act of deliarhting in God, formally termi- 
 nated upon him as the Object ; but it is he that gives 
 me this delight, and is the material Object (as well as 
 Author) of it. The communication is from him, whereby 
 I am delighted, and enabled to do the things that are fur- 
 ther delightful. As if I converse with an excellent person, 
 my intimate friend, who is at this time incognito, and by 
 a disguise conceals himself from me, or I through my for- 
 getfmbess or inadvertency have no present thoughts of this. 
 
 f Job xxxiv. a. 
 
 person ; but I hear his pleasant discourse, and am much ta- 
 ken with it, and the person on the account of it : it is my 
 friend that I delighted in all this while though I knew it not. 
 
 3. And what fault can I find in the matter that divine 
 delight thus runs and spreads itself through the whole 
 business of religion, and all the affairs whereon it hath any 
 influence 1 Is this the worse or the better 1 Have I any 
 cause to quarrel at this "? Sure I have not. But if I have 
 not such actual thoughts of God, as may give me the ad- 
 vantage of terminating my delight more directly on him, 
 that may be, very much, my own fault. 
 
 4. And what is that an absurdity, that under the name of 
 delighting in God, the several acts and exercises of religion 
 besides should be comprehended 1 How often in Scripture 
 are other (no more eminent) parts of religion put for the 
 whole. The knowledge of God, calling upon God, the fear 
 of God, &c. How commonly are these acknowledged to 
 be paraphrases of religion ! And shall I not add, the love 
 of God 1 that most authentic and owned summary of all 
 practical religion, and which ought to influence all our 
 actions. And then how far are we from our mark? What 
 is the diflference between loving God, and delighting in him 1 
 But I moreover add, that delight itself in hira, cannot but 
 be so taken in that sharp passage ; (though misapplied to 
 the person of whom it was meant ;) for Job hath said, what 
 profit is it that a man should delight him.self with God,' 
 i. e. or be religious 1 It fitly enough signifies religion, as 
 thus modified or qualified, viz. as having this quality 
 belonging to it, that it is delightful, or tinctured with 
 delight in God. But this (so large) is not the only sense, 
 as we haA^e said, wherein we are to take delighting in God. 
 And when any part of religion casts its name upon the 
 whole, it would be veiy unreasonable to exclude the part 
 from which the denomination is taken, or not to make that 
 the principal thing there meant. We therefore proceed to 
 speak, 
 
 2. Of the more explicit delight in God : and shall therein 
 consider, — the nature and modification of it. 
 
 1. Its nature; which from what hath been said of delight 
 in the general, with the addition of holiness thereto, (which 
 is the work of God's Spirit, determining the act or faculty 
 to which it adheres towards God,) may be conceived thus, — 
 That it is the acquiescence or rest of the soul in God, by a 
 satisfiedness of will in him, as the best and most excellent 
 good. That it be the rest of the soul, belongs to its general 
 nature. And so doth the mentioned kind of rest, more dis- 
 tinguishingly, by the will's satisfiedness in him, because the 
 soul may be also said to rest satisfied (in respect of another 
 faculty) by the mere knowledge of truth ; but this supposes 
 so much of that also as is necessary. And because the acts 
 of the understanding are subservient and in order to those 
 of the will, in the soul's pursuit of a delightful good; 
 which is so far attained as it actually delights therein ; 
 therefore this may more simply be called the rest of the 
 whole soul, whereas that other is its rest but in some respect 
 onl\': especially when we add, as in the best and most 
 excellent good; for this signifies the good wherein it rests 
 to be ultimate, and its last end, the very period of its pur- 
 suits, beyond which it neither needs nor desires to go fur- 
 ther, i-iz. as to the kind and nature of the good which it is 
 now intent upon ; though it still desire more of the same, 
 till there be no place left for further desire, but it wholly 
 cease and end in full satisfaction. And that we may 
 speak somewhat more particularly of this rest in God ; it 
 supposes, 
 
 1. Knowledge of him. That the soul be well furnished 
 with such conceptions of his nature and attributes, as that 
 it may be truly said to be himself it delights in, and not 
 another thing; not an idol of its own fancy, and which its 
 imagination hath created and set up to it instead of God. 
 Therefore his own representation of himself must be our 
 measure ; which being forsaken, or not so diligently attend- 
 ed to, he is either by some misrepresented, (according as 
 their own corrupt hearts do suggest impure thoughts,) and 
 made altogether such a one as themselves, and such as 
 cannot be the object of a pure and spiritual delight; or by 
 others (as their guilt and fear do suggest to them black 
 and direful thoughts of him) rendered such as that he can- 
 not be the object of any delight at all.
 
 Va^t I 
 
 OF DELIGHTING IN GOD. 
 
 37 
 
 2. It supposes actual thoughts of him ; " My soul shall 
 be saiisfied as with marrow and fatness, when I remem- 
 ber thee upon my bed, and meditate on thee in the night 
 watches. "s 
 
 3. A pleasedness with even the first view or apprehen- 
 sion of him; which is most essential to any love to him, 
 and which gives rise to any motion of, 
 
 4. Desire directed towards him, upon the apprehension 
 that somewhat is absent, either of what is due to him, or 
 lacking to ourselves from him. 
 
 5. It includes the satisfaction or repose itself which the 
 soul hath, so far as it finds its desire answered in the one 
 kind or the other. Where we must more distinctly know, 
 that the delight taken in him, is according as the desire is 
 which works towards him, and that as our love to him is: 
 now we love him either for himself, or for our ownselves. 
 
 For himself, ultimately, so as that our love periods in 
 him, and stays there, viz. on him, as good in himself. 
 
 Fov ourselves ; as when our love to him returns upon 
 ourselves, apprehending a goodness in him which is suit- 
 able for our enjoyment. Loving him in ihe for vier way, 
 we desire all may be ascribed and given to him, that pos- 
 sibly may or can. And because we know him to be every 
 way perfect and full, and that nothing can be added to 
 him of real perfection, and therefore nothing can be given 
 him besides external honour and acknowledgments, we 
 therefore desire these may be universally rendered him to 
 the very uttermost. And as far as we find him worthily 
 glorified, admired, and had in honour, so far we have de- 
 light in (or in reference to) him ; consisting in the gratifi- 
 cation of that desire. Loving liim in the other ivaij, {which. 
 also we are not only allowed, but obliged to do, in contra- 
 distinction to all creature good,) we desire his nearer pre- 
 sence and converse, more full communications of his 
 light, grace, and consolations. And are delighted accord- 
 ing as we find such desire is answered unto us. 
 
 6. The form of expression used in the text, implies also 
 a stirring up ourselves and the use of endeavours with 
 our own hearts, to foment, heighten, and raise our own 
 delight. The conjugation (as it is thought fit to be called) 
 into which the word is put, importing, by a peculiarity of 
 expressiveness belonging to the sacred language, action 
 upon one-self; which must also be understood to have the 
 same force, in reference to that former sense of delighting 
 in God; that is, that we put ourselves upon those acts and 
 exercises whereunlo such deliglit is adjoined. These things 
 are now more cvirsorily mentioned, because there will be 
 occasion more at large to insist on them in the discourse 
 cf the practice of this duty, reserved to the Second Part. 
 
 2. We now proceed to the modification of this delight 
 in God ; or the right manner or measure of it. Concern- 
 ing wliich it is apparent in the general, it can be no fur- 
 ther right than as it is agreeable to its object. Tliat our 
 delight should ever be adequate, or of a measure equal to 
 it, is plainly impossible ; but it must be some way suitable, 
 or must bear proportion to it. I shall here mention but 
 two (and those very eminent) respects wherein it must do 
 so ; viz. in respect of the excellency and the permanency 
 of the good to be delighted in. 
 
 1. The excellency of it. Inasmuch as it is the best and 
 highest good, it plainly challenges our highest delight. 
 That is, the highest delight simply, which our natures are 
 capable of, is most apparently due to the blessed God, even 
 by the law of nature itself, resulting from our natures, re- 
 ferred unto his. And as the case stands under the Gospel, 
 the highest delight comparatively, i. e. higher than we take 
 in any thing else ; nothing must be so much delighted in 
 as he. We do not otherwise delight in him as God, whicli 
 is one way of glorifying him. And 'tis part of the apos- 
 tle's charge upon the pagan world, that knowing him to 
 be God, they did not glorify him as God. 
 
 If we make the comparison between him and all the 
 good things of this world, the matter is out of question. 
 It is the sense of holy souls. Whom have I in heaven but 
 theel and whom can I desire on earth besides thee ^ii 
 When others say, Who will show us any good 1 they say, 
 Lord, lift thou up the light of thy countenance.! And 
 thereby he puts gladness into their hearts, more than when 
 
 com and wine increase. And whosoever love not Christ 
 more than father, mother, wife, child ; yea, and their own 
 lives, cannot be his disciples.^ Their present worldly 
 life, if put in the balance, he must outweigh. 
 
 And if we put the comparison between our spiritual, 
 eternal life and him ; though he Eind that can never be in 
 opposition, (as there may be often an opposition between 
 him and this present life, so that the one is often quitted 
 for the other,) yet neither is there a co-ordination, but the 
 less worthy must be subordinate to ihe more worthy. We 
 are to desire the enjoyment of him for his own glory. And 
 yet here is a strange and admirable complication of these 
 with one another. For if we enjoj' him, delight and rest 
 in him as our best and most satisfying good, we thereby 
 glorify him as God. We give him practically highest ac- 
 knowledgments, we confess him the most excellent one. 
 'Tis his glory to be the last term of all desires, and beyond 
 which no reasonable desire can go further. And if we 
 seek and desire his glorj' supremely, sincerely, and really 
 bevond and above all things ; when he is so glorified to 
 the uttermo.st, or we are assured he will be; our highest 
 desire is so far satisfied, and that turns to, or is, our own 
 contentment. So that by how much mere simply and sin- 
 cerely we pass from and go out of ourselves, so much the 
 more certainly we find our own satisfaction, rest, and full 
 blessedness in him. As it is impossible the soul that loves 
 him above itself, can be fully happy while he hath not his 
 full glory ; so it is for the saine reason equally impossible, 
 but it mt!ist be so when he hath. 
 
 2. Our deliglit must be suitable to the object (the good 
 to be delighted in). 
 
 In respect of the permanency of it, this is the most du- 
 rable and la.sting good. In this blessed object therefore 
 we are to rejoice evermore. i As in the matter of trust, we 
 are required to trust in the Lord for ever, becau.se in the 
 LordJchovah is everlasting strength.'^ Everlasting strength 
 gives sufficient ground for everlasting trust. So it is in 
 the matter of delight. A permanent, everlasting excellency 
 is not answered, but by a continual and everlasting delight. 
 Therefore, is itmost justly said, Rejoice in the Lord alway; 
 and again I say unto you rejoice ;■> alway, and still on. If 
 through a long tract of time you have been constantly al- 
 way rejoicing in the Lord, begin again, I, again, say to you 
 rejoice; or rather, never give over. The object will war- 
 rant an I justifv the act, let it be drawn forth to never so 
 vast a length "of time. You will still find a continual 
 spring, unexhau.^ted fulness, a fountain never to be drawn 
 dry. There will never be cause of diversion with this pre- 
 tence, that now this object will yield no more ; it is drain- 
 ed to the uttermost, and is now become an empty and 
 gustless thing. With other things it maybe so; and there- 
 fore our delight doth not answer the natures of such things, 
 but when we rejoice in them as if we rejoiced not," they 
 are as if thcv were not. All the things of this world are 
 so. For even the fashion of this world pas^eth away ;P as 
 it is afterwards added. Therefore no delight can fitly be 
 taken in them, but what is volatile and unfixed as ihcy 
 le.st otherwise it overreach, and run beyond its ob- 
 And how absurd and vain is it to liave our hearts 
 
 ' Paal. Ixiii .S, 6. 
 
 Matt. I. 37. Luke liv. 26. 
 
 h Peal Ixxiii. 
 
 i Psal. iv. 
 ! 1 TTk^. 1 
 
 are ; 
 ject. 
 
 set upon that which is not, that talves wrng, and leaves us 
 in the dirt! This object of delight is Ihe " I am, yesterday 
 and to-day the same, and for-ever; without variableness 
 and shadow of change." Therefore the nature of it can- 
 not allow us a reason; wherefore, if we be delighted 
 therein yesterday, we should not to-day ; or if to-day, why 
 not to-morrow, "and so on to for ever. Whence then we 
 may see no one can sav he hath answered the import of 
 this exhortation, " delight thyself in the Lord," by having 
 delighted in him at some time. It is continual, a-s well as 
 highest, delight we are here called to. We see then thus 
 far what we are called to when we are here directed to de- 
 light ourselves in the Lord. . 
 
 0. We are next to show how we are called to it. And 
 the matter itself will answer the inquiry. We are called 
 to if. according to what, in itself, it is. Now it is both a 
 privilege and a duty. We are therefore called to it, ani 
 accordingly are to understand the words, 
 
 1. By way of gracious invitation to partake of a pnv.. 
 
 n Pha. iv. 4.
 
 378 
 
 OF DELIGHTING IN GOD. 
 
 Part I. 
 
 lege which our blessed Lord would have us share and be 
 happy in ; no longer to spend ourselves in anxious pur- 
 suits and vain expectations of rest where it is not to be 
 found ; but that we retire ourselves to him in whom we 
 shall be sure to find it. Pity and mercy invite here to 
 place our delight, and take up our rest. And concerning 
 this, there is no question or imaginable doubt. 
 
 2. By way of authoritativ^e command. For we must 
 know, that delight in God is to be considered not only un- 
 der the notion of a privilege unto which we may esteem 
 ourselves entitled ; but also of a duty wherelo we are most 
 indispensably obliged. This is a thing (not so much not 
 understood, as) not considered and seriously thought on, 
 by very many; and the not-considering it proves no small 
 disadvantage to the life of religion. It occurs to very 
 many, more familiarly, under the notion of a high favour, 
 and a great vouchsafement, (as indeed it is,) that God will 
 allow any of the sons of men to place their delights in him- 
 self ; but they (at least seem to) think it's only the privi- 
 lege of some special favourites ; of whom, because they 
 perhaps are conscious they have no cause to reckon them- 
 selves, they are therefore secure in the neglect of it. And 
 thus is the pretence of modesty and humility very often 
 made an umbrage and shelter to the vile carnality of many 
 a heart ; and a want of fitness is pretended and cherished 
 at the same time, as an excuse ; that whereas they do not 
 delight in God, they never may : for he that is unfit to-day, 
 and never therewithal applies himself with seriousness to 
 the endeavour of becoming fit, is likely to be more unfit to- 
 morrow, and so be as much excused always as now ; and 
 by the same means at length excuse himself from being 
 happy ; but never from having been the author of his own 
 miseiy. But what is it indeed no duty to love God 1 Is 
 that become no duty which is the very sum and compre- 
 hension of all duties 1 or can they be said to love him, that 
 ta,ke no pleasure in him, that is, to love him without loving 
 himi it is indeed wonderful grace that there should be 
 6uch a contexture of our happiness and duty; that, by the 
 same thing wherein we are obedient, we also become im- 
 mediately, in the same degree, blessed. And that the law 
 of God in this case hath this very import, an obligation 
 upon us to blessedness. But in the meantime we should 
 not forget that God's authority and honour are concerned 
 herein, as it is our duty; as well as our own happiness, as 
 it is our privilege, and that we cannot injure ourselves in 
 this matter without also robbing God. 
 
 Delight in God is a great piece of homage to him, a 
 practical acknowledgment of his sovereign excellency, and 
 perfect all-comprehending goodness. When we retire from 
 all the world to him, we confess him better than all things 
 besides; that wc have none in heaven or earth that we 
 esteem worthy to be compared with him. But when our 
 hearts are averse to him, and will not be brought to de- 
 light in him, since there is somewhat in the meanwhile 
 wherein we do delight, we do as much as say (yea, we 
 more significantly express it than by saying) that whatever 
 that is, 'tis better than he; yea, that such a thing is good, 
 and he is not. For as not believing him as a denial of his 
 truth, the making him a liar; not delighting in him is 
 equally a denial of his goodness, and consequently even 
 of his Godhead itself And since we find the words are 
 here laid down plainly in a perceptive form; " delight thj'-- 
 ^self in the Lord;" can any think themselves, after this, a. 
 liberty to do so or not ] 'Tis true that they who are in no 
 disposition hereto have somewhat else to do in order to 
 that; (of which hereafter ;) but, in the meantime, how for- 
 lorn is their ci.se, who have nothing to excuse their sin by, 
 but sin; and 'fho, instead of extenuating their guilt, do 
 double it ! Yea, and we are further to consider, that it is 
 not only commanded, by a mere simple precept, but that 
 this precept hath its solenm sanction ; and that not only by 
 promise here expressly annexed, (of which hereafter,) but 
 also of implied threatening; that we shall not else have 
 the desires of our hearts, but be necessarily unsatisfied, 
 and miserable ; which is also in many other places ex- 
 pressed plainly enough. Great penalty is due upon not 
 delighting in God, even by the gospel 'constitution itself; 
 which is not so unreasonably formed as to require more in 
 this matter, than is suitable to the object itself; and is 
 q Heb. x S9. r 1 Cor. xn. 22. 
 
 framed so indulgently as to accept much less than is pro 
 portionable thereto; and yet within the capacity also of a 
 reasonable soul. So that, though the very nature of the 
 thing doth plainly dictate a rule, by which this matter is 
 to be estimated and judged ; yet this other rule gives con- 
 siderable abatement and allowance. That is, it being con- 
 sidered what the object claims and challenges, as by its own 
 proper excellency due to it ; and what the subject is, by its 
 own nature, capable of; not only doth it hence appear, 
 that delight in God is a duty, but that the soul ought to 
 rise to that highest pitch of delight in him, i. e. unto the 
 highest the soul is naturally capable of The very law of 
 nature, resulting from the reference and comparison of 
 our nature unto God's own, requires so much ; that we 
 love, or delight, in him with all our heart, with all our 
 mind, with all our might, and with all our strength. He 
 deserves from us our very uttermost. Yet this is by the 
 gospel-constitution required with indulgence and abate- 
 ment, not as to the matter required, but as to the manner of 
 requiring it. The matter required is still the same, so as 
 that the purest and highest delight in God doth not cease 
 to be a duty, or any gradual defect thereof cease to be a 
 sin. The Gospel doth make no change of the natures of 
 things ; makes nothing cease to be due to God from us, 
 which the law of nature made due ; nor renders any defect 
 innocent, which is in its own nature culpable and faulty. 
 Therefore the same pitch of delight in God is still due and 
 required that ever was ; but that perfection is not (finally 
 and without relief) required in the same manner and on 
 the same terms it was ; that is, it is not by the Gospel re- 
 quired under remediless penalty, as it was. For the law 
 of nature (though it made not a remedy simply impossi- 
 ble yet, it) provided none, but the Gospel provides one. 
 
 Yet not so but the same penalty also remains in itself 
 due and deserved, which was before. For as the Gospel 
 takes not away the dueness of any part or degree of that 
 obedience which we did owe to God naturally, so nor doth 
 it take away the natural dueness of punishment, for dis- 
 obedience in any kind or degree of it. Only it provides 
 that (upon the very valuable consideration which it makes 
 known) it becomes to us a remissible debt, and actually 
 remitted to them who come up to the terms of it. Not 
 that it should be in itself no debt, for then nothing were 
 remitted ; nor yet, when it 50 provides for the remission 
 of defects in this part of our duty, doth it remit the sub- 
 stance of the duty itself, or pardon any defects of it to any 
 but such who are found sincere in this, as well as the other 
 parts of that obedience which we owe. Others, who after 
 so gracious overtures, remain at their former distance, and 
 retain their aversion, enmity, and disaffection to God, it 
 more grievously (and most justly) threatens and punishes 
 as implacable ; and who will upon no terms return into a 
 state of friendship and amity with their Maker, whom 
 they hated without cause, and do now continue strangers 
 and enemies to him without excuse ; so that the very blood 
 of the reconciling sacrifice cries against them.'' 
 
 And surely since (as was formerly said) it is God in 
 Christ that is the entire object of this delight or love, 'tis 
 a fearful penalty that is determined upon them that do not 
 so place it; when it is said. If any man love not the Lord 
 Jesus Christ, let him be Anathema Maran-atha."' And when 
 also it is said, Grace be upon all them that do,^ it is plainly 
 implied, that the penally belongs to all them that do not 
 love him in sincerity. Of which sincerity therefore of de- 
 light in God, (to keep within the compass of our present 
 theme,) it is necessary we be well informed ; as we maybe 
 from what hath been said before ; that is — 1. That we de- 
 light in him supremely, and above all things else, I'iz. with 
 our highest and deepest complacency of will. For it is 
 not necessary (nor ordinarily possible) that our delight in 
 him should be ever accompanied with such sensible agita- 
 tion of the corporeal spirits, as we find in reference to 
 merely sensible objects. Which is not essential to such 
 delight, but an accident that follows union with the body; 
 and more frequently, and to a greater degree, in some tem- 
 pers of body than others. But it is necessary there be that 
 practical estimation of him, and propension towards him, 
 as the best and most excellent good ; as that we be in a 
 preparation of mind and heart to forego whatever can come 
 
 s Eph. vi. 24.
 
 Part II. 
 
 OF DELIGHTING IN GOD. 
 
 37^ 
 
 into any competition -with him for his sake. That though 
 we do not thus delight in him so much a-s we should, j'et 
 we do more than in any thing else. — 2. That we continue 
 herein : that this be the constant habitual temper of our 
 spirits towards him : that we cleave to him with purpose 
 of heart, as not only the most excellent, but the most per- 
 manent, object of our delight: having settled the resolu- 
 tion with ourselves, " This God shall be our God for ever 
 and ever ; he shall be our God and guide even to the 
 death." t And that there be frequent actual workings of 
 heart towards him, agreeable to such a temper, though 
 they are not so frequent a? they ought. Which account 
 we give of this sincerity of delight in God, not to encou- 
 rage any to take up with the lowest degree of that sinceri- 
 ty ; but that none may be encouraged, upon their own mis- 
 take in this matter, to take up with any thing short of it ; 
 and that we may see whence to take our rise in aiming at 
 the highest pitch thereof. And that we may (understand- 
 ing the highest intenseness and most constant exercise of 
 delight in God that our natures are capable of, to be our 
 duty) understand also, that in reference to our gradual de- 
 fects and intermissions herein, we ought to be deeply 
 
 humbled, as being faulty; not unconcerned, as though we 
 were innocent in this regard ; that we need continual par- 
 don upon these accounts ; — that we owe it to the blood of 
 the Redeemer, that such things can he pardoned ; — that 
 we are not to reckon, or ever to expect, that blood should 
 stand us instead, to obtain our pardon for never delighting 
 in God sincerely at all ; but only (supposing we do it sin- 
 cerely) that we do it not perfectly. For most certainly, 
 they whose hearts are never turned to him as their best 
 and mo.st sovereign good or portion, and Ruler or Lord ; 
 but do still remain alienated in their minds, and enemies 
 through wicked works, will perish notwithstanding. And 
 that we might the more distinctly, together with the appre- 
 hension of what we are called to in this matter, under- 
 stand also how we are called to, i. e. not by an invitation 
 only, that leaves us at liberty whether we will or will not, 
 as we think fit ; but by express command, and that also 
 backed with the severe determination of most dreadful 
 penalty in case of omission. And thus we have in some 
 measure shown the import of the direction in the text,— 
 that we delight ourselves in the Lord. 
 
 OF 
 
 DELIGHTING IN GOD: 
 
 FROM PSALM XXXVII. 4- 
 
 DELIGHT THYSELF ALSO IN THE LORD, AND HE SHALL GIVE THEE THE DESIRES OF THINE HEART 
 
 PART II. 
 
 CONCERNING THE PRACTICE OF DELIGHT IN GOD, 
 
 We have in the former Part extended the meaning of 
 the words, " Delight thyself in the Lord," beyond what 
 they seem at first sight literally to signify: so as not to 
 understand them merely as requiring that very single act 
 of delight to be immediately and directly terminated on 
 God himself; but to take them as comprehending also the 
 sura of all holy and religious converse with God, i. e. as 
 it is delightful, or as it is seasoned (intermingled, and as 
 it were besprinkled) with delight; aiid upon the same ac- 
 count, of all our other converse, so far as it is influenced 
 by religion. And I doubt not, to such as shall attentively 
 have considered what hath been said, it will be thought 
 very reasonable to take them in that latitude ; whereof the 
 very letter of the text (as maybe alleged for further jusli- 
 fication hereof) is most fitly capable. For (as was noted 
 upon another text where we have the same phrase) the 
 particle which we read in the Lord, hath not that signifi- 
 cation alone, but signifies also with, or bij, or besides, or 
 before, or in presence of ; as if it had been said, "Come 
 and sit down with God, retire thyself to him, and solace 
 thyself in the delights which are to be found in his pre- 
 sence and converse, in walking with him, and transacting 
 thy course as before him, and in his sight." As a man 
 may be said to delight himself with a friend that puts him- 
 self under his roof; and besides personal converse with 
 himself, freely enjoys the pleasure of all the entertain- 
 ments, accommodations, and provisions which he is Ireely 
 willing to communicate with him, and hath the satisfac- 
 tion which a sober person would take in observing the 
 rules and order of a well-governed house, 
 t Pi. avm. 
 
 According to this diverse import of the precept enjoin- 
 ing this duty, it will be requisite to speak diversel}' of the 
 practice of "the duty itself: that is, that we treat of the 
 practice and exercise of delight ; — As a thing adherent to 
 the other duties of religion ; — 2. As it is a distinct dut}' of 
 itself. 
 
 1. As to the former, our business -will "be to treat of the 
 exercise of religion as delightful. Now religion is de- 
 lightful naturally and in iiself ; and makes a man's other 
 actions, even that are not in themselves acts of religion, 
 delightful also, so far as they are governed and influenced 
 by it ; if that religion be true, i. e. if it be living, saich as 
 proceeds from a principle of divine life. Being therefore 
 now to treat of the practice of this dut%*, (whereof the ac- 
 count hath heen already given.) our discourse must aim 
 at and endeavour these two things, the former as leading 
 and subservient to the latter ; — r/r. 1. That we may not 
 take up and rest, or let our practice terminate, in a reli- 
 gion which is not naturally and in itself delightful ; — 2. 
 That we seek after and improve in that which is. 
 
 1. That -which is not so we have great reason not to ac- 
 quiesce in, or be contented with, for it is plainly' such as 
 will not defray itself, or bear its own charges, as having 
 onlv cumber and burden in it, no use or end; I mean the 
 dead formality of religion only. We find it natural and 
 pleasant to carry about with us our own living body : but 
 who would endure (how wearisome and loathsome a task 
 were it I) to lug to and fro a dead carcass 1 It will be upon 
 this account needful to insist in showing more distinctly, 
 what sort of religion it is, that is in itseli" whollv unde-
 
 380 
 
 OF DELIGHTING IN GOD. 
 
 Part II, 
 
 lightful, and propound some things to consideration con- 
 cerning it, chat may tend to beget a dislike of it, and so 
 incline us to look further. 
 
 1. That we may know what we are not to take up with; 
 because our present subject confines us to this one measure 
 of religion, that it be delightful, it will be proper to limit 
 our discourse to this character only of the religion we are 
 to pass from as vain and worthless, viz. that which is with- 
 out delierht ; which it also will be sufficient to insist on to 
 our present purpose. For since (as hath been largely 
 shown) the delightfulness of the religion which is true 
 and living, is intrinsical, and most natural to it, 'twill 
 therefore be certainly consequent, that which is not de- 
 lightful is dead, and can sexve for nothing. 
 
 And yet here ic will be necessary, for caution to in- 
 sert, 
 
 1. That even such religion as is true and living, and 
 consequently in itself delightful, yet may by accident 
 sometimes not appear or be thought so; because either 
 variety of occasions may divert from minding, or some 
 imbittering distemper of spirit may hinder, the present 
 relishing, of that pleasure which is truly in it. As a man 
 may eat and feed on that which is very savoury and good ; 
 and yet, though his taste be not vitiated, but because he 
 reflects not, may not every moment have that present ap- 
 prehension that it is so ; much more if the organs of taste 
 be imder a present distemper. But, if they be not so, any 
 one's asking him how he likes that dish, (because that 
 occasions a more express animadversion,) will also draw 
 from him an acknowledgment that it is pleasant and 
 savoury. 
 
 2, That a dead religion maybe thought delightful ; and 
 through the ill temper of the subject, a pleasure may be 
 apprehended in it, which doth not naturally arise from it; 
 that is, the mere external part of religion may be flexible, 
 and be accidentally perverted into a subserviency to some 
 purposes which religion of itself intends not, in respect 
 whereof a delight may injuriously (and as by a rape) be 
 taken in it, as is said by the prophet of a hypocritical peo- 
 ple : Yet they seek me daily, and delight to know my 
 ways, as a nation that did righteousness ; they take de- 
 light in approaching to God. " Therefore that which is 
 here intended, is not, that the religion should be rejected, 
 in some present exercises whereof we have not the actual 
 relish of a present pleasure ; (as that should not be em- 
 braced, wherein upon any whatsoever terms we find it;) 
 but that which can rightfully, and upon just terms, afford 
 us none ; and which upon our utmost inquiry and search, 
 cannot in reason (as it is not unfit that spiritual reason 
 should be employed in making a judgment what may) 
 be thought spiritually delectable. We shall therefore, in 
 some particular heads, give a short account of such reli- 
 gion, as rationally cannot but be judged undelightfiil, or 
 which hath not that in it which can yield pleasure to a 
 sound and well-complexioned spirit; but that if any be 
 taken therein, that very pleasure is so unnatural and out 
 of kind, as to be the argument rather of a disease in the 
 jsubject, than of any real goodness in the thing itself. 
 
 Whereunto we only premise this twofold general rule, 
 whereby an undue and unnatural delight may be estimated 
 and judged of 
 
 1. That such delight may be justly deemed unnatural 
 which is taken in any thing besides and with the neglect 
 of the proper use and end which it most fitly serves for. 
 
 2. Such as is accompanied with a real hurt, greater than 
 the delight can countervail, or as is so far from taking in 
 profit and benefit in conjunction with it, as that the damage 
 and prejudice which it cannot recompense, is inseparable 
 from it ; which rules wnll be the more fitly applicable to 
 the present case; for that (as hath been formerly observed) 
 the delight which accompanies the acts and exercises of 
 religion, or that flow from it, (though it be natural there- 
 to,) yet is not the only or chief end of those acts; but they 
 have another more important end, unto the prosecution 
 whereof by such acts delight is only adherent • whence 
 the delight cannot but be most preposterous and perverse, 
 which is taken in such things as do either not serve the 
 more principal design of religion ; or much mor^ rhat are 
 repugnant and destructive of it. By these rules we may 
 
 a ba. Iviii. 2. b 1 Tim. vi. 3. 
 
 plainly see what delight in the general is to be accounted 
 undue. As by the former rule we would justly reckon 
 that an undue delight which a man should take in food, 
 if he only please himself with the looking on the hand ■ 
 some garnishing of the dishes, which he loaths in the 
 meantime and refuses to taste, or which a covetous miser 
 takes in having wealth hoarded up, which he is pleased 
 often to view and cannot endure to use. And by the latter, 
 that were most irrational delight, w^hich in a fever one 
 should take in gratifying his distempered appetite, where- 
 by he doth not so much relieve nature as feed his disease. 
 And so we may say, that religion is undelightful, i. e. 
 not duly delightful, 
 
 1. Which consists wholly in revolving in one's own 
 mind the notions that belong to religion, without either 
 the experience or the design and expectation of having the 
 heart and conversation formed according to them. So the 
 case is with such as content themselves to yield the prin- 
 ciples of religion true, and behold with a notional assent 
 and approbation the connexion and agreement of one thing 
 with another ; but do never consider the tendency and 
 aim of the whole; or that the truth of the gospel is the 
 doctrine that is according to godliness ; b or such as is 
 pursuant to the design of making men godly ; of trans- 
 forming them into the image of God, and framing them 
 to an entire subjection to his holy and acceptable will; 
 that bethink not themselves the truth is never learned as 
 it is in Jesus, except it be lo the renewing the spirit of the 
 mind, the putting oflf the old man, and the putting on of 
 the new.c When this is never considered, but men do 
 only know, that they may know; and are never concerned 
 further about the great things of God, than only to take 
 notice that such things there are offered to their view which 
 carry with them the appearance of truth, but mind them 
 no more than the affairs of Eutopia, or the world in the 
 moon ; what delight is taken in this knowledge is surely 
 most perverse. There is a pleasure indeed in knowing 
 things, and in apprehending the coherence of one truth 
 with another ; but he that shall allow himself to speculate 
 only about things wherein his life is concerned, and shall 
 entertain himself with delight in agitating in his mind 
 certain curious general notions concerning a disease or a 
 crime that threatens him with present death, or what might 
 be a remedy or defence in such a case, without any thought 
 of applying such things to his own case, or that the case 
 is his own, one may say of such pleasure. It is mad ; or of 
 this delight. What doth it 1 Or he that only surfeits his 
 eye with beholding the food he is to live by, and who in 
 the meantime languishes in the want of appetite, and a 
 sickly loathing of his proper nutriment ; surely such a one 
 hath a pleasure that no sober man would think worth the 
 having. 
 
 And the more any one doth only notionally know in the 
 matters of religion, so as that the temper of his spirit re- 
 mains altogether unsuitable and opposite to the design and 
 tendency of the things known, the more he hath lying 
 ready to come in judgment against him ; and if therefore 
 he count the things excellent which he knows, and only 
 please himself with his own knowledge of them, 'tis but 
 a like case as if a man should be much delighted to be- 
 hold his own condemnation written in a fair and beautiful 
 hand; or, as if one should be pleased with the glittering 
 of that sword which is directed against his own heart, and 
 must be the present instrument of death to him : and so 
 little pleasant is the case of such a person in itself, who 
 thus satisfies his own curiosity, with the concernments of 
 eternal life and death, that any serious person would 
 tremble on his behalf, at that wherein he takes pleasure, 
 and apprehend just horror in that state of the case whence 
 he draws matter of delight. 
 
 2. 'Tis yet a more insipid and gustless religion which 
 too many place in some peculiar opinions, that are either 
 false, and contrary to religion, or doubtful, and cumber- 
 some to it, or little and inconsiderable, and therefore cer- 
 tainly alien to it, and impertinent. For if that religion only 
 be truly delightful which hath a vital influence on the heart 
 and practice, as that must needs be indelectable, which is 
 only so notionally conversant about the greatest truths, as 
 that it hath no such influence ; much more is that so, which 
 
 c Eph. iv.
 
 Part II. 
 
 OF DEIJGIITING IN GOD. 
 
 381 
 
 is so wholly conversant about matters either opposite or 
 irrelative hereto, as that it can have none. It must here 
 be acknowledi^ed that some doctrmes, not only not reveal- 
 ed in the word of God, but which are contrary thereto, 
 may (being- thought true) occasion the excitation of some 
 inward atleclion, and have an indirect influence to the re- 
 gulating of practice also, so as to repress some grosser 
 enormities: as the false notions of pagans concerning the 
 Deity, which have led them to idolatry, have struck their 
 minds with a certain kind of reverence of invisible pow- 
 ers, and perhaps rendered .some more sober and less vi- 
 cious than had they been destitute of all religious senti- 
 ments. And yet the good which hath hence ensued, is not 
 to be referred to the particular principles of idolatry, which 
 were false; but the more general principles of religion, 
 which were true. Yea, and though such false principles 
 viewed alone, and by themselves, may possibly infer some- 
 what of good; yet that is by accident only, and through 
 the short-sightedness and ignorance of them with whom 
 they obtain"; who, if they did consider their incoherence 
 with other common notions and principles most certainly 
 true, would receive by them (if thought the only princi- 
 ples of religion) .so much the greater hurt, and become so 
 much the more hopelessly and incurably wicked. As 
 most manifestly the principles which (looked upon by 
 themselves) wliile they are reckoned true, do lead to idol- 
 atry, and consequently, by that mistake only, to some re- 
 ligion ; do yet, being really false, lead to atheism, and of 
 themselves tend to subvert and destroy all religion. 
 Therefore such doctrines as cohere not with the general 
 frame of truth, whatever their particular aspect may be, 
 considered apart and by themselves, are yet in their natu- 
 ral tendency opposite and destructive to the true design of 
 religion, and the pleasure which they can any way atford, 
 is only stolen and vain ; such as a person takes in swal- 
 lowmg a potion that is pleasant, but which, if it perforin 
 what belongs to it, he must with many a sickly qualm re- 
 fund and disgorge back again. 
 
 We also acknowledge some truths of less importance 
 may be said to concern practice, though not so immediately. 
 Nor is it therefore the design of this discourse to derogate 
 from any such, that are of apparently divine revelation or 
 in.stitution ; which, however they justly be reckoned less 
 than some other things, yet for that very reason as they 
 are revealed by God for such an end, are by no means to 
 be esteemed little, or inconsiderable ; be their subserviency 
 to the great design of religion never so remote. Upon the 
 account of which subserviency, they are also to be esteem- 
 ed delectable, that is, in proportion thereto; but when 
 they are so esteemed beyond that proportion, and are ex- 
 alted into an undue preference to their very end itself; so 
 as that, in comparison of them, the great things of religion 
 are reckoned low, frigid, sapless things; when men set 
 heir hearts upon thein abstractly, and without considera- 
 
 on of their reference and usefulness to the greater things 
 '. f religion ; the delight that is so taken in them, argues but 
 the disease of the mind that lakes it, and so great a degree 
 of dotage, that a serious person would wonder how men can 
 please themselves with such matters, without considering, 
 and with the neg-'ect of so great things the}' have relation to. 
 3. And hither is to be referred the much less rational 
 pleasure which is taken by some in the mere dress where- 
 with such notions and opinions may be artificially clothed 
 by themselves or others ; rhetorical flourishes, a set of fine 
 words, hand,some cadences and periods, fanciful represen- 
 tations, little tricks and pieces of wit, and (which cannot 
 pretend so high) pitiful quibbles and gingles, inversions of 
 sentences, the pedantic rhyming of words, yea, and an af- 
 fected tone, or even a great noise, things that are neither 
 capable of gratifying the Christian nor the man ; without 
 which even the most important weighty matters do to so 
 squeamish stomachs seem guslless and unsavoury, and are 
 reckoned dull and flat things. And most plain it i.s, (though 
 it is not strange, that so trifling minds should impose upon 
 themselves by so thin a sophism,) that such are in a great 
 mistake, whose delight being wholly taken up in these 
 trifles, do hereupon think they ta^te the delights of religion ; 
 for these are nothing of it, are found about it only acciden- 
 
 ally ; and by a most happy accident too, as ill (for the most 
 d Mai. iii. e Jam. i. 
 
 of these things) agreeing to it and no more becoming it than 
 a fool's coat doth a prudent grave person ; and the best of 
 them agreeing to it but in ccmimon with any thing else, 
 about which such arts may be used ; so that they are no 
 way any thing of it, or more peculiarly belonging to it, than 
 to any theme or subject besides, unto which such ornar- 
 ments (as they are thought) can be added. How misera- 
 bly therefore do they cheat themselves, who, because they 
 hear with pleasure a discourse upon some head of religion 
 thus garnished, according to their idle trifling humour; 
 and because they are taken with the contrivance of some 
 sentences, or affected with tlie loudness of the voice, or 
 have their imagination tickled with some fantastical illus- 
 trations; present!}' conclude themselves to be in a religious 
 transport, when the things that have pleased them have no 
 aflinity or alliance with religion, befall to it but by chance, 
 and are in themselves things quite of another country ! 
 
 4. Of the like strain is the religion that is made up all 
 of talk. And such like are that sort of persons, who love 
 to discourse of those great things of God wherewith it was 
 never their design or aim to have their hearts stamped, or 
 their lives commanded and governed; who invert that 
 which was the ancient glory of the Christian church, "We 
 do not speak great things, but live them." And are pleas- 
 ed with only the noise of their own (most commonly insig- 
 nificant senseless) words; unto whom how ungrateful a 
 relish would that precept have, " Be swift to hear, slow to 
 S])eak !" And how much to be regretted a thing is it, that 
 the delights of practical living religion should be so lost, 
 and vanish into a mere lip-labour! Things of this nature 
 are to be estimated by their end, and the temper of spirit 
 which accompanies them ; vhich unto a serious and pru- 
 dent observer, are commonly very discernible and ea.'-y to 
 be distinguished. It's an amiable, lovely thing to behold 
 those that are intent upon the great business of religion 
 themselves, provoking others also with serious gravity 
 unto love and good works. And it will ever stand as a 
 monumental character of them that feared the Lord, that 
 they spake oflen one to anotherd upon this account. But 
 the pretence of this is odious, when the thing designed is 
 nothing but self-recommendation, and the spirit of the 
 pretenders is visibl}' vain and empty : and when it is ap- 
 parent they take delight, not in the things they speak of, 
 but only in this thing itself, .'^peaking much. No breath 
 is then more fulsome; and the better the things are, the 
 worse it is to have no more savour of them. 
 
 5. Again, the religion is akin to this which stands all 
 in hearing. It is as remote (at least) from the heart, when 
 it is wholly placed in the ear, as when it's all in the tongue. 
 As it is with them that are hearers only, not doers of the 
 word, deceiving their own souls. ^ When the preacher is 
 to them as a very lovely song, of one that can play well on 
 an instrument, and they hear his words, but do them not.f 
 And it is natural to the same sort of persons to be pleased 
 indifferently with either of these, as the Athenians were in 
 hearing or telling some new thing. Only that this difler- 
 ence most commonly appears with the persons we intend, 
 that when the things they delight to hear must be ever 
 new, or at least new dressed, the things they speak shall 
 be everlastingly the same. How perverse a delight is that ! 
 Whereas 'tis the glory of substantial religion, that the prin- 
 cipal things of it can never grow old or be dry. Their 
 ears shallitch after novelties; a plain argument that it is 
 not religion itself that pleases them, (which cannot change.) 
 but the variable accessory modes of representing it. How- 
 ever, there is certainly very often a distemper appearing 
 among those that profess religion, in coveting to hear unto 
 excess, and beyond what is either suitable or designed 
 unto use and profit. When the pleasure of a delightful 
 revolving of the ever fresh and fragrant truths of the Gos- 
 pel, and reducing them to answerable practice, is lo.^t and 
 stifled, by heaping on of more than can be digested. And 
 many a hopeful birth of pious and holy dispositions, affec- 
 tions, and good works, is suppressed or enfeebled by an 
 untimely superfetation. 
 
 6. Lastly, 'tis a most undelightful religion, which con- 
 sists entirely in the external additaments and forms of 
 worship, which this or that party have chosen to affix to it. 
 Yea, though those forms be never so certainly of Divine 
 
 f Ezek. xxxiii.
 
 382 
 
 OF DELIGHTING IN GOD. 
 
 Part II 
 
 prescription; which, however God hath appointed them, 
 were never appointed or intended by him to be our reli- 
 gion, but to be subservient helps and means to it. Being 
 enlivened by it, they are comely and delightful; but se- 
 vered and cut off from it, or the course of vital spirit that 
 should flow into them being obstructed and repressed, thev 
 have no more pleasure in them than a dead arm or finger. 
 Such divine appointments themselves, severed from the 
 things wherein substantial religion consists, have been an 
 abomination to the Lord, (Your new moons and sabbaths, 
 &c. ray soul hates,) and then sure there is little reason 
 they should be a delight to us.= If they be, it is as fond 
 and trifling a delight, as when one hath the opportunity of 
 conversing with some excellent person, to neglect all his 
 wise sayings, and pleasant instructive discourses, and only 
 to please oneself in viewing his handsome apparel ; yea, 
 though I should know at the same time, that I thereby 
 greatly displease him whom (as is also supposable) I were 
 greatly concerned to please. Thus it is with them that 
 mind only the solemnity of God's worship, not the design. 
 And more gross the matter is with such as by their ob- 
 servance of the external modes of religion, think to expiate 
 the badness of their most vicious conversation ; that will 
 steal, and murder, and commit adultery, oppress the stran- 
 ger, the fatherless, and the widow ; and 3'et presume to 
 stand before the Lord in his house, and cry, The temple 
 of the Lord, &c.h This is the pharisaical religion, that 
 is scrupulous in ty thing mint, annise, cummin, and neg- 
 lects the weighty things of the law, justice, judgment, and 
 truth. These men delight in what not only is dead in itself, 
 but will be mortal unto them. And if the Divine institu- 
 tion of the things wherewith they so vainly please them- 
 selves will not bear them out, much less their own, be 
 their discriminating denomination or profession what it 
 will. And now all these things, (whether severally or to- 
 gether,) and whatever else of like kind, do at the best make 
 but a dead, and consequently an undelightful, religion, 
 such as hath no pleasure in it, becattse it hath no life; it 
 remains therefore, 
 
 2. To show how unfit such a religion is to be chosen or 
 rested in. And surely since (as appears from what was 
 formerly said) the persuading of men to become religious 
 or godly, is but an inviting them to a state and course 
 wherein they may delight them.selves with God ; or to a 
 life of pure and heavenly pleasure ; that is only the vain 
 show of religion, which affords nothing of that pleasure. 
 And how unreasonable and foolish is it when religion it- 
 self is the thing we pretend, to let ourselves be mocked (as 
 we mock others, and vainly attempt to mock him also, 
 who is not to be mocked) with the mere empty show and 
 appearance of it! That we may be here somewhat more 
 particular, let it be considered, 
 
 I. That the religion which is in itself undelightful, is, 
 for the same reason for which it is so, incapable of growth ; 
 tliat is, because it is a dead thing. For that reason it is 
 without delight; and for the same reason admits not of 
 improvement. It wants the self-improving principle. He 
 that drinks of that water (saith our Saviour) which I shall 
 give him, it shall be in him as a well of water springing 
 up in him unto life eternal. i That only principle of all 
 true religion and godliness, the divine nature, the seed of 
 God, is of that heavenly tendency, it aims and aspires up- 
 ward ; and will never cease shooting up till it reach heaven ; 
 and the pleasure and delightfulness of it stand much in 
 its continual springing up towards a perfect state, from a 
 grain of mustard-seed to the tallness of a cedar. 'Tis 
 pleasant to behold its constant undecaying greenness and 
 verdure ; such as renders it subject like a tree planted by 
 the rivers of water that brings forth fruit in season, whose 
 leaf also doth not wither, and whatsoever he doth prospers. k 
 Or as plants set in the house of the Lord, that flourish in 
 the courts of their God ; that shall still bring forth fruit 
 even in old age, and be fat and flourishing.! The dead, 
 dry forms, or other appendages of religion, that have no 
 communion with a living root, or the religion that is only 
 made up of these, gives no such hope of improvement. 
 A great and most considerable prejudice against any thing 
 that pretends to the name of religion ; which being at first 
 an imperfect thing, (as that especially which itself is but 
 e Isa. i. h Jer. vii. i John iv. 
 
 pretence and .shadow cannot but be,) if it shall never be 
 expected to be better, can have little claim or title to any 
 excellency. The value even of true religion, though it be 
 of an excellent nature and kind, stands much in the hope- 
 fulness and improveableness of it ; and is not so much to 
 be considered in respect of what it is, as what it shall come 
 to. This lank, spiritless religion, as soon as you assume 
 and take it up, you know the best of it. 'Tis not of a 
 growing, thriving kind; never expect better of it. 'Tis 
 true, the notional knowledge, opinionativeness, and exter- 
 nal observances, which we have spoken of, may be so in- 
 creased, as a heap of sand may be ; but the religion of such 
 grows not as a thing that hath life in it, by vital self-im- 
 provement. 
 
 2. Nor for the same reason can it be a lasting thing. 
 For it wants what should maintain it. It will, as a ves- 
 ture, wear and grow old; or, being as a cloak put on to 
 serve a present turn, is, when that turn is served, as easily 
 thrown off, i. e. being found to be more cumbersome than 
 useful. What hath living union with a man's own self, 
 it's neither his ease nor convenience ; he neither affects, 
 nor can endure to lay it aside. It is given as a character 
 of a hypocrite, (one who therefore must be understood to 
 carry with him some show and face of religion, and to want 
 the living root and principle of it,) that he is inconstant in 
 his religion ; Will he at all times call upon God 7™ or will 
 he be constantly religious'? The interrogative form of 
 speech implies more than a mere negative. That is, doth 
 not only say that he will not at all times call upon God, 
 but that it is absurd to say or think that he will. For it 
 is an appeal to common reason in the case ; as if it had 
 been said, " Can any man think that such a one's religion 
 will be lasting? It imports a disdain it should be thought 
 so. What ! he call upon God at all times 1 A likely thing ! 
 No; the matter is plain, his religion is measured by his 
 secular interest, and he will only be so long religions as 
 will serve that purpose. And the reason is plainly assign- 
 ed in the foregoing words, " Will he delight himself in 
 the Almighty'?" His religion hath no delight with it : 'tis 
 a languid, faint, spiritless thing, a dead form. If it had 
 life, it would have pleasure in it ; and then the same vital 
 principle that would make it pleasant, would make it last- 
 ing and permanent also. 
 
 3. While it doth last, it wants the fruit and profit which 
 should be designed and sought by religion ; even for the 
 same reason for which it is without delight, it is also fruit- 
 less and vain, i.e. because it hath no life in it. So that all 
 that is done in this way of religion is only labour and toil 
 to no purpose. And what do or can we propose to our- 
 selves from religion, as the proper design of it, but to have 
 our spirits fitted to the honouring and enjoying of God. 
 unto service to him, and blessedness in him ; and that we 
 may hereupon actually both serve and enjoy him 1 Both 
 these chiefly depend upon his favourable acceptance of us. 
 He will neither reckon himself served by us, nor allow 
 himself to be enjoyed, if he be not pleased with us. And 
 how shall we expect to please him with that, wherewith, 
 the more our minds come to be rectified and made con- 
 formable to the rule of righteousness and life, the more 
 impossible it is that we can be pleased ourselves 1 Can we 
 please him by a religion that is in itself unsavoury, spirit- 
 less, and dead ; and that affords not to ourselves the least 
 relish of true pleasure 1 And partly the success of our 
 religion in the mentioned respects, depends upon the due 
 temperament our .spirits receive by it; but what good im- 
 pres.sion can that light, chafly, empty religion that hath 
 been described, ever be hoped to make there! Is it a 
 likely means of refining and bettering our spirits 1 Even 
 as it is void of spiritual delight, it's also of spiritual bene- 
 fit ; for certainly our spirits are like to embrace and retain 
 nothing in which they can take no pleasure. How vain 
 then is that religion by which we can neither please God 
 nor profit ourselves ! 
 
 4. It ought to be considered how foolish a thing it is, 
 and unworthy of a reasonable creature, to do that in a 
 continued course and series of actions wherein we can 
 have no design, and do aim at nothing. Even they that 
 place their religion in things so remote and alien tc the 
 spirit and power of it, do yet spend a considerable part of 
 
 k Psalm i. 1 Psalm xcii. m Job ji.v\ii. 10.
 
 Part II. 
 
 OF DELIGHTING IN GOD. 
 
 383 
 
 their life-time in those things. And how becoming is it 
 of a man to have spent so much of his time in doing no- 
 thing ! and that from week to week, or from day today, the 
 seasons should return, of which he hath constantly this to 
 say, " Now comes the time of doing that whereof I can 
 give no account why I do it!" That there should be so 
 constant a defalcation of such portions of time for that 
 which a man can neither call business nor recreation, which 
 tends to no advantage in any kind. For it tends not to 
 promote his secular interest but in so indirect and by a 
 way, and with so sinister and basely-oblique respects, as 
 an honest man would abhor, and an ingenuous man be 
 ashamed to profess; and his spiritual and eternal interest 
 much less. This were therefore the same thing as to pro- 
 claim oneself a fool or a vain trifler. The things that 
 have been instanced in, (considered so abstractly from the 
 substance of religion as we have considered them,) being 
 such, some of them, as to carry not with them so much as 
 that very show of wisdom, " of which the apostle speaks; 
 and others of them, so faint a show, as it ill becomes a 
 wise man to be pleased M'ith, while they do his better part 
 no good, and carry not that show in any provision (as that 
 word rijjiii sometimes signifies) for the satisfying of the flesh. 
 
 And yet it is to be withal remembered, that this (waste 
 and lost) time of their life is all that such persons allot to 
 their everlasting concernments; and that the things which 
 have been mentioned (some or other of them, for all do 
 not always concur with the same persons) <are not made 
 subservient to, but are substituted in the room and stead 
 ol', the religion by which those concernments should be 
 provided for. And is this a wise provision for eternity ■? 
 What, man 1 a few empty, unimproved notions ! a by- 
 opinion or two ! the flourishes of a little pedantic art tick- 
 ling thy toyish fancy! the motion of thy only busy and la- 
 bouring tongue ! or the thirst and satisfaction of thy vain 
 ear! the bowing of th}^ hypocritical knee ! Are these all 
 that thou designest, or wilt mind to do, for thy soul 1 Are 
 these like well to supply the place of living religion 1 to 
 serve thee instead of inward acquaintance with Godl of 
 being really and habitually good and holy 1 of doing good 
 and vvalking in the path of life 1 What a soul hast thou, 
 that can live upon chaff and air, and be sustained by the 
 wind 1 Hast thou no need of quickening influence from 
 Godl no hunger after the heavenly, hidden manna, and 
 the fruits of the tree of life 1 What use makest thou of 
 thy understanding, or of the reason of a man, when thou 
 thinkest such empty vanities as thou trustest in can do the 
 oflfice, or attain the ends, of true religion 1 How much 
 more rational were it to pretend to nothing of religion at 
 all, than to think such a one will serve the turn ! 
 
 5 Consider, what reflections are likely lo be made upon 
 this matter hereafter, when thy short course in this world 
 is run out. Will it be a grateful remembrance to thee that 
 thou wast so long hovering about the borders of religion 1 
 and wast at the very door and wouldst not enter in 1 that 
 thou didst so often think and speak, and hear of the things 
 wherein religion stood, but wouldst never allow thyself to 
 taste the pleasant relishes thereof 1 to have been so nigh 
 to the kingdom of God, and yet an alien to it, to the right- 
 eousness and peace, and joy in the Holy Ghost, wherein 
 it consists "? that thou didst only please thyself with the 
 painted casket (made fine, as thou thoughtest, but only 
 with thine own pencil) wherein so rich a jewel was; and 
 retaining that, threwest away this as a thing of nought 1 
 will not these be wounding thoughts'? 
 
 C. Let it be seriously pondered how offensive it must be 
 to the jealous God that any should thus trifle with him 
 and his holy things, under a show and pretence of religion 
 and devotion to him. Not to please him by the sincerity 
 and truth of our religion, loses the end and reward we 
 would expect. But that is not all. To provoke him by 
 the hypocritical pretence and abuse of it, cannot but infer 
 a sharp revenge which it may be we expected not. And 
 let us bethink ourselves how high the provocation is! Ei- 
 ther we design to please, honour, and enjoy him by that 
 irrational and undelightful course of religion, or we do 
 not. If we do not, this signifies nothing but highest con- 
 tempt and defiance of him; and that we care not for his 
 favour nor fear his displeasure. Yea, inasmuch as such 
 
 n Col. ii. 23. o John iv. 
 
 religion is pretended as a homage to him, it is nothing 
 really but most profane and insolent mocker)'; as if we 
 would join in the .same breath and in the same act, " Hail, 
 Jesus, and crucify him ;" and at once invest him with the 
 purple robe, and spit in his face. But if we have such a 
 design, and do really think to please him by such trifling 
 with him; and that these vain fancies and formalities shall 
 make amends for all our neglects of him through the whole 
 course of our lives besides; then how vile thoughts have 
 we of him ! What do we make of the God we serve 1 How 
 justly may that be applied to us, Ye worship ye know not 
 what ! o Who gave us our idea of that ever blessed Being 1 
 It is not God, but a despicable idol of our own creating, 
 we are thinking to please. We may see how well he is 
 pleased with the external show and the appendages of re- 
 ligion (which being his own appointments would in con- 
 junction and in subserviencj' thereto have signified some- 
 what, but disjoined from it, and accompanied with the 
 neglect and abandoning of real piety and righteousness, 
 signified nothing but an affront to him) in that remon- 
 strance by the prophet; He that killeth an ox is as if he 
 slew a man ; he that sacrificeth a lamb, as if he cut off a 
 dog's neck; he that oflereth an oblation, as if he offered 
 swine's blood; he that burneth incense, as if he blessed an 
 idol.P He is pleased with their religion as he would be 
 with murder, profaneness, and idolatry. And is it strange 
 this should be his estimate, when he is hereby practically 
 represented as such a one that will not be displeased with 
 real wickedness, and that will be pleased with the thinnest 
 and most superficial show of devotion ? 
 
 They therefore make a fair hand of their religion, who 
 are so far from pleasing God by it and advantaging them- 
 selves, that they wound their own souls, (as they are most 
 like to do that handle so awkwardly such an edged tool,) 
 and render God their most avowed enemy. The religion 
 then which hath no delight in it, has so much of folly, in- 
 commodiiy, and mischief, that measuring it by the rules 
 which were premised, we may see sufficient reason why 
 such a religion should not be chosen or rested in : and that 
 we are concerned to look further. 
 
 Wherefore we proceed next, 
 
 2. To the other head we proposed ; the positive judg- 
 ment we are to make, what religion is fit to be chosen, and 
 wherein we may safely acquiesce; whereof we shall only 
 give the account which the subject we have in hand allows 
 to be here given, i. c. that it be such as is in itself ration- 
 ally and justly delectable. And though religion is not to 
 be chosen only or chiefly for the delightfulness of it; yet 
 since, as we have seen, only that religion is true which is 
 delightful, that only which is delightful is fit to be chosen. 
 So that this is a certain character (though not the chief 
 cause) of the eligibleness of religion. And when it is so 
 expressly enjoined us as a duty, to delight ourselves in the 
 Lord; if, as hath been shown, this be within the meaning 
 of the precept, that, in the general, we delight ourselves in 
 a way and course of religion; it is plain such religion only 
 can be meant or intended, as can afford us matter of de- 
 light, or as is in itself truly and really delectable. And 
 here we shall not need to repeat what hath been so largely 
 discoursed in the Former Part, tending to show the rich 
 matter of delight which the several exercises of true liv- 
 ing religion, and all the actions influenced and directed by 
 it, do carry in them. It will be only requisite, to offer 
 somewhat partly to direct, partly to excite, unto that de- 
 lightful pheasant life. 
 
 I. For direction, let such rules be observed as these 
 which follow. 
 
 1. Endeavour to have a mind well instructed in the 
 knoAvledge of such things as more directly concern the 
 common practice of a religious man, as such. That is. to 
 be thoroughly insighted into practical truths, or into that 
 truth which is after godliness. It hath been the merciful 
 vouchsafement of the Divine goodness, so to order it, that 
 those things are plain and but few, which are of more ab- 
 solute necessity in religion, as may he seen by the sum- 
 marj' accounts which we find sometimes given thereof, — 
 repentance towards God, and faith toward our Lord Jesus 
 Christ.i Which two things (intimated to comprehend the 
 whole counsel of God) do manifestly suppose the state of 
 
 p I<ia. Ixvi. 3. q Acts xx.
 
 384 
 
 OF DELIGHTING IN GOD. 
 
 Part II. 
 
 apostacy, and express the way of remedy; whereinto, when 
 we are brought, how succinct and clear a recapituhitionol' 
 our duty have we in that of our Saviour, " Thou shalt love 
 the Lord thy God, with all thy heart, and with all thy soul, 
 and with all thy mind : and thou shalt love thy neighbour 
 as thyself!" To a well-complexioned spirit, how compre- 
 hensive and how full, how savoury and acceptable, will 
 these things appear : nor would such a one part with the 
 substantial fulness of these few words for all the treasures 
 of both the Indies. How truly is it called, that good, that 
 acceptable and perfect will of God! ' And how filly to be 
 preferred before thousands of gold and silver! Things of 
 highest value are not bulky; their excellency is the great- 
 er by being contracted; and that, being in themselves pre- 
 cious, they are so conveniently portable. How easily are 
 these dictates carried about with us through our whole 
 course ! and how universally useful are they for the well- 
 guiding of it, to such as have a greater mind to do their 
 duty than move questions about it ! Two things are both 
 opposite to this rule, and not a little prejudicial to the de- 
 light of religious conversation, (by which it will appear, 
 how conducible to it the matter here directed is) viz. ex- 
 cessive curiosity in the speculation of truths belonging to 
 religion, without designing to refer them to practice ; 
 (which hath been animadverted on before,) and an equally 
 excessive scrupulosity about matters of practice. It were 
 indeed an argument of a desperate mind, and destitute of 
 any fear of God, to be careless what we do, and uncon- 
 cerned whether the way we take, in this or that case, be 
 right or wrong. But it is certain, there may be an excess in 
 this matter, and too often is ; that is, there may be a scru- 
 pulosity which is both causeless and endless. There is 
 surely some medium in travelling between a careless Avan- 
 dering we mind not whither, and aperpetual anxiety whe- 
 ther we be in our way or no, with often going back to in- 
 quire. This would quite destroy both the pleasure of the 
 journey, and the progress of it. Some difficulties may oc- 
 cur, which should justly occasion one to make a stand and 
 consider. But probably, very many cases that some do 
 agitate with much disquiet to themselves and others, would 
 soonest be expedited by sincerity, and reducing them to 
 the law of love. 
 
 It would however make much for our pleasant, delight- 
 ful walking on in the way of God, to have a mind (in- 
 formed once and established thoroughly in the belief of the 
 principal doctrines of Christian religion) well furnished 
 also with the most useful practical precepts, which might 
 at every turn be ready at hand to be applied upon emer- 
 gencies; which they whom predominate self-interest or cor- 
 rupt inclination render not difficult to the apprehending of 
 their duty, (our way is not usually otherwise so very in- 
 tricate,) may cheerfully and innocently guide themselves 
 by. " He that walketh uprightly, walketh surely." Though 
 some men's way may, by the circumstances of their con- 
 ditions, be much more perplexed than others, who are 
 therefore concerned to be the more wary. But the diffi- 
 cult toil and tug that some have with themselves, is, how 
 by contrived explications they may make their rule bend 
 and yield to their .self-biassed humours and ends ; which 
 because they find it not easy to do with full satisfaction to 
 their consciences, (that see more than they would have 
 them, and are yet not of authority enough with them to 
 govern and command their practice,) it is not strange, they 
 entangle and even lose themselves amongst thorns and bri- 
 ars, and meet with little delight in their way. Wherefore, 
 
 2. Be principally intent to have your soul become ha- 
 bitually good and holy, by its own settled temper and com- 
 plexion inclined and made suitable to the way of right- 
 eousness and life. It was, no doubt, with a very sweet 
 gust and relish of pleasure, that the Psalmist utters that 
 gralulatory acknowledgment of the Divine goodness in 
 this, He restoreth my soul ; he leadeth me in paths of 
 righteousness for his name's sake.^ The paths of right- 
 eousness are very agreeable and pleasant to a restored, a 
 sound and healthy soul ; to one that is now got into a good 
 habit and a settled state of spiritual strength. You may, 
 therefore, take the meaning and substance of this precept, 
 in the apostle's (more authoritative) words. Be ye trans- 
 
 r Rom. xii. 2. 
 u Rom. v-iii. 7. 
 
 s P.aal. xxiii. 3. 
 X Psal. xl. 8. 
 
 » Rom. xii. 2. 
 y 1 John V. 
 
 formed in the renewing of your mind, that ye may prove 
 what is that good, that acceptable and perfect will of God.t 
 You can never (q. d.) have a proof of it, the very palate 
 of your soul will be vicious and still disaffected, till then, 
 that is, till that transformation and renewing change hath 
 past upon you. Then it will be pleasant to you to know 
 the will of God ; your delight will be in the law of the 
 Lord, and in his law you will meditate both day and 
 night. And it will be more pleasant to do it. You will 
 esteem the words of his mouth as your appointed food, and 
 it will be as your meat and drink to do his will. You can 
 easily apprehend how toilsome and painful any thing of 
 business and labour is to a person that languishes under 
 some enfeebling lazy disease. A like case it is, when vou 
 would put one upon doing any thing spiritually good, that 
 is listless, indisposed, to every good work reprobate. How 
 will the heart recoil and give back ! with how vehement 
 a reluctation will it resist the proposal, as if you were ur- 
 ging it upon flames, or the sword's point ! The carnal 
 mind is enmity against God, and is not subject to his law, 
 nor indeed can be." But when once the law of God is 
 within your heart, you will delight to do his will.» To 
 one that is born of God, and hath, therefore, overcome the 
 world, his commands are not grievous. y Know, therefore, 
 you must be good, (really and habitually so,) in order to 
 your doing good » with any delight, in conformity to the 
 iDlessed God him.self, (your pattern,) who, therefore, exer- 
 cises loving-kindness, judgment, and righteousness in the 
 earth, as delighting in these things." You must be parta- 
 ker of a divine nature, and have the heart-rectifying com- 
 munication before discoursed of, and become God's own 
 workmanship, a second time, created in Christ Jesus unto 
 good works. b 'Tis not to be hoped it can be delightful to 
 act against inclination ; or that a forced imitation of that 
 good whereof you want the implanted vital principle, can 
 be any more pleasing to you than it is to God, whom you 
 cannot mock or impose upon by your most elaborate or 
 specious disguises. And, therefore, since that holy heart- 
 rectitude must be had, it must be sought earnestly and 
 without rest. Often ought heaven to be visited with such 
 sighs and longings sent up thither, O that my waj^s were 
 directed to keep thy righteous judgments. Let my heart 
 be sound in thy statutes, that I be not ashamed. <= And it 
 should be sought with expectation of good speed and with- 
 out despair, remembering we are told, if we ask we shall 
 receive; if we seek we shall find ; if we knock it shall be 
 opened unto ; yea, that our heavenly Father will much 
 more readily give his Holy Spirit to them that ask, than 
 you would bread to your child that calls for it, rather than 
 a stone. 
 
 3. When once you find your spirit is become m any mea- 
 sure well-inclined, and begins to savour that Avhich is truly 
 good; know yet, that it needs your continual inspection 
 and care, to cherish good principles and repress evil ones. 
 Your work is not done as soon as you begin to live, as 
 care about an infant ceases not as soon as it is born. Let 
 it be, therefore, your constant business, to tend your in- 
 ward man ; otherwise all things will soon be out of course. 
 God hath coupled delight with the labour of a Christian, 
 not with the sloth and neglect of himself; the heart must 
 then be kept with all diligence, a or above all keeping, in- 
 asmuch as out of it are the issues of life. All vital prin- 
 ciples are lodged there; and only the genuine issues of 
 such as are good and holy, will yield you pleasure. The 
 exercises of religion will be pleasant when they are na- 
 tural, and flow easily from their own fountain ; but great 
 care must be taken that the fountain be kept pure. "There 
 are other springs besides, which will be apt to intermingle 
 therewith their bitter waters, or a root of bitterness, whose 
 fruit is deadly, even that evil thing, and bitter, forsaking 
 the Lord. I wonder not, if they taste little of the delights 
 of religion that take no heed to their spirits. Such s 
 curse is upon the nature of man as is upon the ground 
 which was cursed for his sake, (till the blessing of Abra- 
 ham through Jesus Christ do take place, even the pro- 
 mise of the Spirit,*^) that it brings forth naturally thorns 
 and thistles, and mingles sorrows with his bread. But 
 that promised blessing, that will enable a man to eat with 
 
 z Psal cxix. 
 c psal. cxi.x. 
 
 a Jer. ix. 24. 
 d Prov. iv. 
 
 b Eph. ii. 
 e Gal. iii. U.
 
 Tart II. 
 
 OF DELIGHTING IN GOD. 
 
 385 
 
 pleasure, comes not all at once; nor do the increases of it 
 come on^ or the pleasant fruits of righteousness spring up, 
 but in them that give all diligence, to add to their faith 
 virtue; and to virtue knowledge; and to knowledge tem- 
 perance ; and to temperance patience; and to paiience 
 godliness; and to godliness brotherl3'-kindness ; and to 
 brotherly-kindness charily ;r which would make that we 
 be not barren nor unfruitful in the knowledge of our Lord 
 Jesus Christ. Otherwise, look in upon thy soul when 
 thou wilt, and thou wilt have no other than the dismal 
 Drospect of miserable waste and desolation. Consider it 
 seriously, wretched man ! who tillest thy field, but not 
 thy soul; and lovest to see thy garden neat and flourish- 
 ing, but lettest thy spirit lie as a neglected thing, and as 
 if it were not thine. 
 
 We are directed for the moderating of our care in our 
 earthly concernments, to consider the lilies how they grow 
 without their own toil, and are beautifully arrayed without 
 iheir spinning ; hut we are taught by no such instances, 
 to divert or remit our care of our inward man. To these 
 concernments, let us then apply and bend ourselves. That 
 is, carefully to observe the first stirrings of our thoughts 
 2nd desires; to animadvert upon our inclinations as soon 
 as they can come in view, upon our designs in their very 
 formation ; and inquire concerning each, whence is it 1 
 from a good principle or a bad 1 whither tends it 1 to 
 good or hartl will not this design, if pro.secuted, prove an 
 unjustifiable self-indulgence 1 does it not lend to an un- 
 lawful gratifying of the flesh, and fulfilling some lu.sts 
 thereof? If so, let it be lopt off out of hand, and the axe 
 be laid even to the root; strike at it, favour it not. Think 
 with thyself, " This, if spared, will breed me sorrow ; so 
 much as I give to it, I take away froin the comfort of my 
 life ; and spend of the slock of my spiritual delight in 
 God. Shall I let sin, the tormentor of my soul, live and 
 be maintained at so costly a rate 1" If any good inclina- 
 tion discover itself, cherish it, confirm and strengthen it. 
 Look up, and pray down a further quickening influence. 
 Say with thyself, now that heavenly Spirit of life and grace 
 begins to breathe. More of this pleasant vital breath, 
 thou blessed and holy Spirit ! Account this a seed time, 
 now the light and gladness are a sowing in thy soul, 
 (which are wont to be for the righteous and upright in 
 heart,) and do promise, ere long, a joyful harvest. But if 
 thou wilt not observe how things go with thy soul, despair 
 that they will ever go well. 
 
 4. Be frequent and impartial in the actual exercise of 
 gracious principles, or in practising and doing as they 
 direct. Your actual delight arises from and accompanies 
 your holy actions themselves, and is to he perceived and 
 tasted in them ; not in the mere inclination to them which 
 is not strong enough to go forth into act. And as these 
 principles are more frequently exercised, they grow more 
 lively and vigorous, and will thence act more strongly and 
 pleasantly ; so that your delight in doing good will grow 
 with the principles it proceeds from. But then you must 
 be impartial and even-handed herein, as well as frequent, 
 and run the whole compass of that duly which belongs to 
 you as a Christian. Exercise yourself (as we find the 
 direction is) unto godliness;" and in such acts and parts 
 of godliness chiefly and in the first plnce, as may he the 
 exercise of the mind and spirit, in opposition to the bodily 
 exercise (whether .severities imposed upon , or performances 
 that require, the ministry of that grosser part) to which this 
 nobler kind of exercise is justly preferred. Turn the 
 powers of your soul upon God. Act seasonably the seve- 
 ral graces of the Spirit that terminate directly upon him. 
 Let none grow out of use. At some times repentance, at 
 others faith, now your love, then your fear; none of these 
 are placed in you or sanctified in vain. Retire much 
 with God ; learn and habituate yo-urselves unto secret con- 
 verse with him ; contemplate his nature, attributes, and 
 works for your excitation to holy adoration, reverence, and 
 praise. And be much exercised in the open solemnities 
 of his worship ; there endeavouring that though your in- 
 ward man bear not the only, it may the principal, part. 
 How delightful a thing is it, to be paying actual avowed 
 homage to the e:reat Lord of heaven and earth before 
 angels and men ! And never think 3'our religious and de- 
 f 2 Pet. i. e I Tini. iv. 
 
 votional exercises can acquit you, or supply the want and 
 excuse the absence of sobriety and righteousness. Exer- 
 cise a just authority over yourselves. Keep your imagi- 
 nation, passions, sensitive appetite under a due restraint, 
 so as to be moderate in your desires and enjoyments, pa- 
 tient as to your wants and sufferings. Do to others as 
 you would be done unto : study common good ; endea- 
 vour, so far as your capacity can extend, all about you 
 mav be the better for you. Fcjibear and forgive the inju- 
 rious, relieve the necessitous, delight in good men, pity 
 the bad, be grateful towards friends, mild and unrevenge- 
 ful towards enemies, just towards all. Abhor to do not 
 only a dishonest, but even a mean and unworthy, act, for 
 any self-advantage. And all this out of an awful and du- 
 tiful respect to God; by which the ordinary actions of 
 your life may become as so many acts of religion, or be 
 directed and influenced thereby, tinctured as it were with 
 the savour of godliness. Pass thus, in your continual 
 practice, through the whole circle of Christian duties and 
 graces, with an equal respect to all God's commandments ; 
 not so partially addicting yourselves to one sort of exer- 
 cise, as to disa^e and neglect the rest; which kind of par- 
 tiality is that which starves religion, and stifles the delight 
 of it. 
 
 There are those that affect the reputation of being sober, 
 just, kind, charitable persons, and do appear such, who 
 yet are great strangers to God, and to the more noble ex- 
 ercises of the divine life ; know not what belongs to com- 
 munion wilh God, live not in his love and converse, savour 
 not heaven ; have not ^o much as the taste of the great 
 vital powers of the world to come. Others, that pretend 
 to much acquaintance with God, and are much taken up 
 in discoursing of his love, and of intimacies with him, that 
 count justice and charity mean things, and much beneath 
 them ; can alloAV themselves to he covetous, oppressive, 
 fraudulent, wrathful, malicious, peevish, fretful, discon- 
 tented, proud, censorious, merciless ; and so glory in a 
 religion which no one is the better for, and themselves 
 least of all; and which is quite of another slamp from the 
 pure religion and undefiled,i> which the apostle describes 
 and recommends. And certainly, their religion hath as 
 little of pleasure in it to themselves^ as it hath of beauty and 
 ornament in the sight of others. So maimed a religion 
 can be accompanied with little delight. Would it not de- 
 tract much from the natural pleasure of a man's life, if he 
 should lose an arm or a leg; or have them useless and 
 unserviceable 1 or if he should be depiived of some of his 
 senses, or natural faculties, so as to be incapable of some 
 of the more principal functions of life 1 And if we should 
 suppose the new creature alike maimed and defective, will 
 there not be a proportionable diminution of its delight 1 
 But the Spirit of God is the author of no such imperfect 
 produciions; and therefore the total absence of any holy 
 disposition will not argue the true delight of such a one 
 to be liltle, but none at all. However, let all the integral 
 parts of the new man be supposed formed at first, and ex- 
 isting together ; when this creature is thus entirely framed, 
 it is our business to see to the due exercise, and thereby 
 to the improvement and growth, of the several parts, 
 wherein if one be neglected, it infers a general enfeeble- 
 ment of the whole. Let patience have its perfect work, 
 (saith that apostle.) that ye may be perfect, &c.i implying, 
 that not onlv the absence" of that one grace, but its not be- 
 ing thoroughlv exercised, would render us very detective 
 Christians. We may say of the several members of this 
 divine creature, as is said of tb^' complex body of Chris- 
 tians, If one suffer, all the members suficr with it ; if one 
 be honoured, all rejoice with it. Therefore that you may 
 experience the delightfulness of religion, see that in 
 the exercise and practice of it )-ou be entire, thorough 
 Christians. 
 
 5. Be ye confirmed in the apprehension, that religion is 
 in itself "a delightful thing, even universally and in the 
 whole nature of it. Whereby a double practical mi.stake 
 and error will be avoided, that greatly obstructs and hin- 
 ders the actual relish and sensation of that delight. 
 
 1. That either religion is in the whole nature of it such 
 a thing to which delight must be alien, and banished 
 from it : as if nothing did belong to, or could consist 
 h James i. 07. i Joir.ps J 4.
 
 386 
 
 OF DELIGHTING IN GOD. 
 
 Part II 
 
 with it, but sour severities, pensiveness, and sad thoughts. 
 Or else, 
 
 2. That if any delight did belong to it at all, it must be 
 found only in peculiar extraordinary assurances and per- 
 suasions of God's love ; and be the attainment consequently 
 of none but more eminent Christians. 
 
 That apprehension being thoroughly admitted, both 
 these misapprehensions fall and vanish. And it will take 
 place, if it be duly considered, — that there is a delight 
 that will naturally arise from the congruity and fitness of 
 actions in themselves, and the facility of them, that they 
 flow easily from their proper principles. Whereupon 
 there can be no true vital act of religion but will be de- 
 lightful. And we may appeal herein to the judgments of 
 such as shall allow themselves to consider whether the 
 matter do not evidently appear to be so upon a serious 
 review, and revolving with themselves of the several gra- 
 cious operations that proceed from the holy rectitude men- 
 tioned in the former part ; as the acts of even repentance, 
 self-abasement, self-denial, self-devoting, (appearing to be 
 in themselves most fit and becoming things,) and readily 
 without force proceeding (as they cannot but do) from a 
 rectified and well-disposed heart, how can they but be 
 pleasant 1 And it is much in our way to the experiencing 
 of such delight, to be at a point with ourselves, and well 
 resolved wherein it is to be sought and found. 
 
 6. However all the acts and operations of true and liv- 
 ing religion be in themselves delightful, yet apply your- 
 selves to the doing of them for a higher reason, and with 
 a greater design than your own delight. Otherwise you de- 
 stroy your own work theiem, and despoil your acts of their 
 substantial, moral goodness, and consequently of their de- 
 lightfuluess also. That is not a morally good act, which 
 is not referred to God, and done out of (at least) an habi- 
 tual devotedness to him, so as that he be the ""upreme end 
 thereof You would therefore, by withdrawing and sepa- 
 rating this reference to God, ravish from them their very 
 life and soul ; yea, and perfectly nullify those of them that 
 should be in themselves acts of religion. So as that in 
 respect of ail your actions, that separation were unjust ; 
 and as to these that should be direct acts of religion, 
 Impossible. Since therefore they are only delightful as 
 they are vital acts, proceeding from a principle of divine 
 life ; and that an habitual devotedness to God, is that very 
 (comprehensive and most radical) principle; you should, 
 by designing your own delight in them supremely, coun- 
 teract yourself, and cross your own end ; you should 
 make them acts of idolatry, not religion ; and set up your 
 own self as the idol of jealousy, that receives the homage 
 of them, instead of God: whereby the unlawful pleasure 
 which you would engross to yourselves, will turn all to 
 gall and wormwood, and be bitterness in the end. That 
 therefore you may taste the sweetness and pleasure which 
 belongs to a religious, godly life, your way must be, to act 
 on directly forward in the simplicity of your heart, doing 
 all that you do to and for God. And thus that pleasure, 
 because it is natural to such acts, will of its own accord 
 result and arise to you ; and so much the more, by how 
 much less you design for yourself in what you do. From 
 that uprightness and sincerity of heart towards God it can 
 never be separated. But to be a religious epicure, to pray, 
 hear, meditate, do acts of justice and charity, only to please 
 and humour yourselves, and that you may derive a kind 
 of .solace and satisfaction from your own work, is to undo 
 your design, and blast the delight which you covet. It 
 follows while you seek it not ; it flies from you while you 
 so inordinately seek it. 
 
 7. Yet disallow not yourself to taste and enjoy the plea- 
 sure of well-doing: yea, and (secondarily and in due 
 subordination) to design and endeavour that you may do 
 so. It is in itself a covetable and a lawful pleasure ; so 
 that it be not sought and entertained out of its own place. 
 It is a promised pleasure, the good man (it is said) shall 
 be satisfied from himself t And it is by particular direc- 
 tion to be testified to the righteous, the}'' shall eat the fruit 
 of their own doings. i It's God's gracious allowance to 
 them, which it is a part of gratitude and dutifulness to 
 esteem and accept ; yc-a, and with great admiration of the 
 
 k Prov. .xiv. 14. 
 m Psal. xix 
 
 1 Isa. Ui. 10. 
 D 1 Thena. t, 
 
 Divine goodness that hath made and settled such a con- 
 junction between their duty and their delight ; that hath 
 laid such laws upon them, as in the keeping whereof there 
 is such reward ;"' when as they might have been enjoined 
 a meaner servitude, and by the condition and kind of their 
 work, have been kept strangers to any thing of delight 
 therein. 
 
 That thankful acknowledgment of the bounty and good- 
 ness of God to them in the very constitution of his laws 
 and government, is become a part of their duty, which 
 cannot be done without previous relishes of the sweetness 
 and goodness of their other duty. They are required in 
 every thing to give thanks." And it is said, they shall go 
 on in their way as the redeemed of the Lord, with ever- 
 lasting joy upon their heads ;" that they shall sing in the 
 ways of the Lord ;p which cannot be, if they take not no- 
 lice that the ways of the Lord are pleasantness, and all his 
 paths peace.1 Therefore you should designedl}' set your- 
 self to taste the goodne.ss and delightfulness of holy walk- 
 ing. And to that end, when you find the blessed cherish- 
 ing warmth and vigour of God's gracious communication 
 let in upon you, enlarging your hearts, making your way 
 and work easy to you, and helping you to do with an 
 untoilsome facility, what he requires and calls for, and to 
 run the way of his commandments ; so that you can do 
 acts of piety, righteousness, and mercy as natural acts, 
 borne up by the power of a steady, living principle acting 
 in you, (as it's said, they that wait upon the Lord shall 
 renew strength and mount up with wings as eagles, run 
 without weariness, and walk without fainting, f) you should 
 now reflect and take notice how good and pleasant is this! 
 Make your pauses and deliberate ; have your seasons of 
 respiration and drawing breath ; and then bethink your- 
 self, commune thus with your own heart, " How do I now 
 like the way and service of the Lordl and a life of pure 
 devotedness lo him 1 a course of regular Avalking in 
 thorough subjection to his laws and government 1 and 
 that the course of my actions be as a continual sacrificing; 
 doing all to him, and for himl" What, do you not now 
 rejoice that you find yourselves to ofler willing]}^ ? Can 
 3'ou forbear wiih gratitude and joy to acknowledge and 
 own it to him, that it is of his own hand that you do this? 
 You should now compare your present with your former 
 state and temper, and consider how much better it is to 
 me to live in his fear, love, and communion, than to be, as 
 once I was, alienated from the life of God, and as without 
 him in the world ! Now I can trust and obey, once I 
 could not. Now, when the opportunity invites, I am in 
 some readiness to serve him, created to good works, a ves- 
 sel fitted to my Master's use ; some time I was to every 
 good work reprobate. Surely it is most becoming to take 
 a free complacency in this blessed change. That is, not 
 with a proud, pharisaical gloriation to say, "God, I thank 
 thee, I am not as other men ;" or, trusting in yourself that 
 you are righteous, to despise others ; but with a mean es- 
 timation of yourself, and all you can do ; and with that 
 deep and coiistant sense, that when you have done all you 
 can, you are an unprofitable servant, you do but your 
 duty. Yet blessing God that since he hath made such 
 things your duty, he also doth in some measure enable 
 you to do it ; that he hath reconciled and attempered your 
 heart to your way and work, and made it pleasant to you. 
 Not hypocritically arrogating all to yourself, under the for- 
 mal and false show of thanksgiving to him ; or aiming 
 only more colourably to introduce a vain boast and osten- 
 tation of yourself, in the form of gratulation to God ; but 
 as having a heart inwardly possessed with the humble 
 sense, who it is that hath made you diflfcr, not only from 
 other men, but from yourself also. 
 
 8. And because that disposedness of heart unto such a 
 course of holy practice, may not be constantl}- actual, and 
 equally sensible at all times, (that all delight in the ways 
 of God may not hereupon cease, and be broken ofl^, which 
 in those sadder intervals cannot but suffer a great dimi- 
 nution,) you must take heed, that as to the distempers and 
 indispositions you now discern in your own spirit, you do 
 neither indulge yourself nor despair ; but take the proper 
 course of redress. 
 
 o r-aa. li. 
 q Prov iij. 
 
 p Psal. cxxxriii. 
 r lea. xl.
 
 Pakt II. 
 
 OF DELIGHTING IN GOD. 
 
 387 
 
 To indulge yourself in them were mortal. Then do-mi 
 vou go as a dead weight into the mire and dirt, into the 
 depths of the earth, and your swift and pleasant flight ends 
 in a heavy lumpish fall. You should therefore bethink 
 yourself, that if you yield to a slothful, sluggish temper of 
 spirit, which you now feel coming on upon you, shortly 
 you shall have nothing (sensibly) remaining loyou of your 
 religion, but the dead and empty form. How waste and 
 desolate a thing will that be ! a like thing as if you come 
 into a deserted hou.se where 3'ou were wont pleasantly to 
 converse with most delectable friends, and you now find 
 nothing but cold bare walls. How dismal will it be when 
 only the same duties, the same external frame and acts of 
 worship, remain, but the spirit of life and power which was 
 wont to breathe in them, is retired and gone ! And what, 
 will you take up with that delusive unconversable shadow, 
 or be content to embrace the stiff and breathless carcass 
 that remains 1 You find perhaps your spirit sinking into 
 carnality, an earthly temper of mind gradually seizing on 
 you; worldly thoughts, cares, desires, fears, invading 
 your heart ; by the same degrees that these come on, life 
 retires ; you grosv listless towards God ; your heart is not 
 in your religion as heretofore ; you keep up your fashion 
 of praying, and doing other duties which were your former 
 wont ; but you languish in them. Can you here be con- 
 tent to lie still and die 1 and rather choose to suffer the 
 pains of death, than of labour, by which your soul might 
 yet live 1 Is this a time to roll yourself upon your sloth- 
 ful bed, and say, " Soul, take thine ease," even upon the 
 pit's brink"? Do not agree the matter so. Think not of 
 making a covenant with death. It is not so gentle a thing 
 as your slothful temper makes you think. Account the 
 state intolerable wherein you are so manifestly tending to- 
 wards it. Think not well of yourself in your present case. 
 What reason soever any have to be pleased and delighted 
 with a course of lively converse with God, and of walking 
 in the Spirit ; so much reason you have to be displea.sed 
 with yourself as your case now is ; to dislike and abhor 
 the present temper of your own soul. If the life of re- 
 ligion, and its vigorous exercises, be delightful, by that 
 very reason it appears its faint and sickly languishings are 
 not so. 
 
 Therefore know, that self-indulgence is now most un- 
 suitable and dangerous. Labour to awaken in yourselves 
 some sense of your condition. Think, "Whither am I 
 going V Represent to your own soul the terrors of death. 
 Admit the impression thereof Behold its frightful visage, 
 and be startled at it. Recount with )'ourself what you 
 shall be if God who is your life quite depart ; if this shall 
 never be, yet know that your fear lest it should, is the 
 means of 3'our preservation. And let the apprehension of 
 the tendency of your distemper excite in you that just and 
 seasonable fear. How sure soever you are of the principle 
 thai God will never utterly forsake those that are his, (as 
 most certainly he never will,) yet you cannot be so sure of 
 your application of it to yourself, as your case stands, but 
 that there will now be room for this fear ; therefore let it 
 be entertained. 
 
 But though you admit a just and very solicitous fear, 
 be sure that you exclude not hope; though you apprehend 
 your case to be dangerous, look not upon it as desperate. 
 Your hope must not be in yourself, but in him that raises 
 the dead, and calleth things that are not, as though they 
 were ; yea, makes them exist and be. But if you cast 
 away all hope, you yield yourself to perish. This stops 
 your breath ; so that even all strugglings for life, and the 
 very graspings of your fainting heart,"must immediately 
 cease and end in perfect death. The danger of your case, 
 as bad £is it is, calls not for this ; nor will the exigency of 
 it comport with it. When once the soul says there is no 
 hope,« it immediately proceeds to say, I have loved strang- 
 ers, and after them will I go. Your hope is as necessary 
 to your safety as your fear ; we are saved by hope,' i. e. 
 of the end itsdf, which therefore animates 16 all the en- 
 counters and difficulties of our way, as well from within 
 as from without. Great distempers appear in you and 
 often return ; yea, such as are of a threatening aspect and 
 tendency. You should yet consider you are under cure ; 
 
 8 Jer. ii 25. 
 u Paal. cxxrviii. 
 
 t Rom. viii. 2). 
 X Psal. xlii. 
 
 the prescribed means and method whereof are before you. 
 There is balm in Gilead, and a physician there : one in 
 whose hands none that trusted him ever miscarried. 'Tis 
 well if you find yourself sick. The whole need him not, 
 and will not therefore commit themselves to his care. He 
 hath relieved many such a.s you, that apprehending their 
 case, have been restored to him: let them despair that 
 know no such way of help. Say within yoursell', though 
 I am fallen and low, I shall rise and stand, renewed by 
 thee, O my God. Was there never such a time with you 
 before, when in the like case you cried to the Lord and 
 he answered you, and strengthened you with strength in 
 your souH " Say within yourself, "Why art thou cast 
 down, O my soul, hope thou in God ; for I shall yet 
 praise him, who is the health of my countenance (where 
 health shows itself in lively, sprightly, pleasant looks) and 
 my God."» And this very hope, as it preserves life, so it 
 doth the delight and pleasure of life from being quite ex- 
 tinct. The joy of hope is not to go for nothing, when it 
 can only be said, not, it is well, but it shall be. It is 
 pleasant to consider that the state wherein saints on earth 
 are, is a state of recovery ; that though it be not a state of 
 perfect health, yet it is not (also) a state of death ; but 
 wherein they are tending to life in the perfection of it. 
 And their frequent (and very faulty) relapses shall be 
 foimd but to magnify the more the skill and patience of 
 their great Physician. Therefore, however you are not 
 hence to be secure, or imposing upon him; yet let not 
 your hearts sink into an abject despair and sullen discon- 
 tent, that you find a distempered Irame sometimes return- 
 ing. Let there be tender releniings after God. Your 
 heart ought often to smite you, that you have been no more 
 careful and watchful; but not admit a thought that you 
 will therefore cast off all ; that it's in vain ever to strive 
 more, or seek to recover that good frame that you have 
 often found is so soon gone. 
 
 Instead of that, apply yourself with so much the more 
 earnestness to the proper course of remedy , and therein 
 you must know your own labour and diligence: your con- 
 tentions with yourself must have a great place; otherwise 
 it would never have been said. Be watchful, andstrengthen 
 the things that remain, that are ready to die. >' And give 
 all diligence to add to your faith, virtue,^ &c. Such things 
 would never have been charged as duty upon you if you 
 had nothing to do. You must expect to be dealt with as 
 a sort of creatures capable of understanding your own con- 
 cernments ; not to he hewed and hammered as senseless 
 stones that are ignorant of the artist's intent, but as living 
 ones to be polished and fitted to the spiritual building, by 
 a hand that reasonably expects your own compliance and 
 co-operation to its known design. Unto which design, 
 though you must know you are to be subservient and must 
 do something, j^et you must withal consider you can be 
 but subservient, and of yourselves alone can do just no- 
 thing. Therefore, if ever you would know what a life ot 
 spiritual delight means, you must constantly strive against 
 all your spiritual distempers that obstruct it, in the power 
 of the Holy Ghost. And do not think that is enjoining 
 you a course wholly out of your power; for though it be 
 true, that the powe'r of the Holy Ghost is not naturally 
 yours, or at your dispose ; yet by gracious vouchsafement 
 "and ordination it is. If it 'were not so, what means that 
 exhortation. Be strong in the Lord, and in the power of 
 his might;" and that. If we live in the Spirit, let us also 
 walk in the Spirit ;b with the foregoing prescription of 
 walking in the Spirit, that we might not fulfil the lusts of 
 the flesii.c Doth the Holy Ghost himself prescribe to us 
 impertinently, in order to our obtaining of his own im- 
 parted influences ? Doth he not know the method and 
 way wherein they are to be conveyed? or would he de- 
 ceive us by misrepresenting if? In short, walking in the 
 Spirit must signify .something ; and what can it signify less 
 than dependence on its power, and the subjection thereto, 
 with the continuance of both these ? These therefore are 
 necessary to the making of that power our own : 
 
 1. Dependence and trust; as that like phrase imports, 
 I will go in the strength of the Lord God.'i &c. And that, 
 I will strengthen them in the Lord, and they shall walk up 
 
 V Rpv. 
 
 b c.al. 
 
 z 2 Pet. i. 
 c Wet. 16. 
 
 a Kph. vi. 10. 
 d P^al. ixxi. 16.
 
 388 
 
 OF DELIGHTING IN GOD. 
 
 Part II 
 
 and down in his name,' at once shows us both the com- 
 munication of the Divine power, " I will strengthen them 
 in the Lord," and the way wherein it is communicated, 
 their walkiiiij up and down in his name, viz. in actual and 
 continued dependence thereon. The blessed God hath 
 settled this connexion between our faith and his own ex- 
 erted power. As the extraordinary works of the Spirit 
 were not done, but upon the exercise of the extraordinary 
 faith, which by the Divine constitution was requisite there- 
 unto; so that the infidelity which stood in the privation of 
 this faith, did sometimes (so inviolable had that constitu- 
 tion made that connexion) in a sort bind up the power of 
 God, and he could do no mighty works there, f — and he 
 marvelled because of their unbelief. Why could not we 
 cast him out ■? Because of your unbelief.? Nor also are 
 the works of the Holy Ghost, that are common upon all 
 sincere Christians, done, but upon the intervening exercise 
 of that more common faith. i> Therefore is this shield to be 
 taken above all the other parts of the Divine armature, as 
 sufficient to quench all the fiery darts of the wicked ; there- 
 fore are we said to be kept by the power of God through 
 faith, i and more expressly in terms to our present purpose; 
 we are to receive the promise of the Spirit, {i. e. the Spirit 
 promised) through faith. k Hereby we draw the power of 
 that Almighty Spirit into a consent and co-operation with 
 our spirit. So the great God suffers himself; his own arm 
 and power, to be taken hold of by us. He is engaged 
 when he is trusted ; that trust being now in this case, not 
 a rash and unwarrantable presuming upon him, but such 
 whereto he hath given the invitation and encouragement 
 himself So that when we reflect upon the promises 
 wherein the gift of the Spirit is conveyed, or wherein the 
 express grant thereof is folded up,i we may say. Remem- 
 ber thy word to thy servant, wherein thou hast caused me 
 to hope.™ 
 
 And then surely he v/ill not frustrate the expectation 
 which he hath himself been the author of. He would 
 never have induced those to trust inhiin, whom he intend- 
 ed to disappoint. That free Spirit, which (as the wind 
 blows where it listeth) now permits itself to be brought 
 under bonds, even in the bonds of God's own covenant, 
 whereof we now take hold by our faith ; so that he will 
 not fail to give forth his influence, so far as shall be ne- 
 cessary for the maintaining a resolution in us of steadfast 
 adherence to God and his service, and retaining a domi- 
 nion over undue inclinations and affections. How ex- 
 press and peremptory are those words. This I say, (q- d. I 
 know what I say, I have well weighed the matter, and 
 speak not at random,) " Walk in the Spirit, and ye shall 
 not fulfil the lusts of the flesh !" And so much as this 
 affords great matter of rational delight, though more sen- 
 sible transports (which are not so needful to us, and in re- 
 ference whereto the Spirit therefore retains its liberty) be 
 not so frequent. Therefore if we aim at the having our 
 spirits placed and settled in the secret of the Divine pre- 
 sence, entertained with the delights of it ; if we would 
 know and have the sensible proof of that religion which is 
 all life and power, and consequently sweetness and plea- 
 sure ; our direct way is believing on the Spirit. That very 
 trust is his delight, he taketh pleasure in them that hope in 
 his mercy." It is that whereby we give him dirine honour, 
 the homage and acknowledgment proper to a Deity; con- 
 fessing ourselves impotent and insufficient to think any 
 thing as of ourselves," we rely upon his sustaining hand, 
 and own our sufficiency to be of him. It is his delight to 
 be depended on as a father by his children. He is pleased 
 that title should be given him, the Father of spirits.? To 
 have the spirits which are his offspring gathering about 
 him, (especially those who being revolted from him and 
 become sensible of their misery by their revolt, do now 
 upon his invitation apply themselves, and say, " Lo, now 
 w-e come to thee, thou art the Lord our God,") craving 
 his renew-ed communications, drawing vital influences 
 from him, and the breath of life, adoring his boundless 
 fulness that filleth all in all. And when we thus give mm 
 his delight, v/e snail not long want ours. But then we 
 must also add. 
 
 Zech. X. 12. f Mark vi. 5, C. 
 li Eph. \i. IS. i 1 Pet. i. 
 
 1 Prof. i. 23. K/ek. rxxvi. V. w'h many the like. 
 
 ? Matt. Tvii. 19, 50. 
 k Gal. iii. 14. 
 m Paal. qtit. 
 
 2. Subjection to our dependance; a willing, obedient 
 surrender and resignation of ourselves to the conduct and 
 guidance of that blessed Spirit. A dutiful yielding to his 
 dictates, so as that they have actually with us the govern- 
 ing, binding force and power of a law, the law of the Spirit 
 of life in Christ, as it is called. i Great care must be taken 
 of grieving'' and quenching^ the Spirit, of rebelling and 
 vexing it,' of resisting it" and of striving against it,'' (which 
 appears to have been the horrid crime of the old world ; his 
 Spirit it is intimated had striven, when it is said it should 
 no longer strive ; and that it had striven, implies a counter- 
 striving that was now, by his penal retirement, permitted to 
 be victorious, but to their own sudden ruin,)ofdespitingthe 
 Spirit of grace, y A wickedness aggravated by the very 
 style and title there given it, the Spirit of grace ; and unto 
 which only such a vengeance (as it is intimated in what fol- 
 lows) which it peculiarly belonged to God himself to in- 
 flict could be proportionable. When we permit ourselves 
 entirely to the government of the Holy Ghcst, thereby to 
 have our spirits and ways framed and directed according 
 to his own rules, his quickening influence, and the pleasure 
 and sweet relishes thereof, will not be withheld. And if 
 the experience of some Christians seem not constantly to 
 answer this, who complain they pray often for the Spirit, 
 and desire earnestly his gracious communications, but find 
 little of them, they are concerned seriously to reflect, and 
 bethink themselves, whether their distrust or disobedience, 
 or both, have not made them desolate. Surely we are al- 
 together faulty in this matter ; his promise and faithfulness 
 do not fail, his Spirit is not straitened. But we either dc 
 not entirely commit and intrust ourselves to his guidance, 
 or we obediently comply not with it; but either indulge 
 our sluggishness and neglect, or our contrary inclinations, 
 and resist his dictates ; are intractable and wayward, not 
 apt to be led by the Spirit, and hence provoke him to with- 
 draw from us. Hereto we are in justice to impute it that 
 we find so little of that power moving in us, all the motions 
 whereof are accompanied with so much delight. 
 
 2. For excitation. Little one would think should be 
 needful to be said more than only that we would bethink 
 ourselves, what all this while we have been directed to and 
 are b}^ this text. If that be once understood, hath it not 
 in itself invitation enough 1 Do we need further to be in- 
 vited to a life of delight 1 Do we need to be pressed wdth 
 arguments to choose delightful and wholesome food, rather 
 than gall and wormwood, or even very poison 1 It is a 
 sad argument of the deplorate state of man that he should 
 need arguments in such a case ! But because (moreover) 
 much is to be said hereafter, to persuade unto delighting 
 in God considered in the stricter notion of it, and that will 
 also be applicable to this purpose ; therefore little is in- 
 tended to be said here. Only it is to be considered, do 
 you intend to proceed in any course of religion, or nol 
 If not, you are to be remitted to such discourses as prove 
 to you the reasonableness and necessity of it; which if 
 yoti think nothing you meet with sufficiently proves, think 
 with yourself how well you can prove, that there is no 
 God, and that you are no man, but a perishing beast. For 
 these things they are concerned not fondly to presume and 
 wish, but most clearly and surely to demonstrate, who will 
 be of no religion. But if you think that horrid, and re- 
 solve to own something or other of religion ; will you here 
 use your understanding, and consider, is it indeed so 
 horrid a thing to disavow all religion 1 And what is it 
 better to pretend to it to no purpose"? You find the re- 
 ligion is all but show and shadow, mere empty vanity and 
 mockery, which is not delightful. If you will not choose 
 a better^ because it is delightful, (as you are not advised 
 to do for that as your chief reason,) yet at least choose that 
 which is so, because it is in other more considerable re- 
 spects eligible, as being most honourable and pleasing to 
 him that made you, and only sate and profitaoie to your- 
 self And what shall your religion serve for, that will net 
 answer these purposes 1 And if you be not ashamed to 
 spend so considerable a part of the time of your life, as 
 the exercises of your religion will take up, in doing thai 
 (as was said before) whereof jou can give co account; yet 
 
 n Psal rxlv-ii. 11. 
 
 o2 Cor. iii. 
 
 p Her), rii. 
 
 q Iloiii. viii 
 
 r Epti. iv. 
 
 5 1 ThesR. V. 
 
 t Isa. Ixiii 
 
 u Acta vfi. 
 
 X Gen. \i. 
 
 y Heb. x. 29. 
 

 
 Part II. 
 
 OF DELIGHTING IN GOD. 
 
 389 
 
 methinks you should be afraid to make such things the sub- 
 ject of _vour vanity, as do relate to God, either really or in 
 your opinion. Can you find nothing wherein vainly to tri- 
 fle, but the sacred things of the great God of heaven, and 
 the eternal concernments of your own soul 1 And shall the 
 time sj)ent about these matters be peculiarly marked out 
 as your idle time, wherein you shall be doing that only 
 which shall wholly go for loss and signify nothing *? The re- 
 ligion which is not delightful can turn to no better account. 
 
 If therefore you will have a religion, and you hav'e any 
 reason for that resolution, by the same reason you would 
 have any, you must have the pleasant xlelighlful religion 
 we speak of You have no other choice. There is no 
 other will serve your turn. And therefore what hath been 
 said to divert you from the other, ought to persuade you to 
 the choice of this. And besides, since there is so much of 
 secret delight in true substantial religion, that ought not 
 to signify nothing with you. If we did consider the de- 
 lightfulness of it alone, upon that single account, it surely 
 challenges the preference, before that which is neither pro- 
 fitable nor delightful. And that it is in itself so delightful, 
 if you had nothing to inform you but the report of such as 
 profess to have tried and found it so, methinks that at 
 least should provoke you to try also. How sluggish a tem- 
 per doth it argue, not to be desirous to know the utmost 
 that is in it ! It were even a laudable curiosity to resolve 
 upon making trial ; to get into the inmost centre of it ; to 
 pierce and press onward till 3'ou reach the seat of life, till 
 you have got the secret, and the very heart of religion and 
 your heart do meet and join in one. Did you never try 
 experiments for your pleasure 1 Try this one. See what 
 you will find in withdrawing yourself from all things else, 
 and becoming entirely devoted to God through the Re- 
 aeeraef, to live after his will and in his presence. Try the 
 difference between viewing truths to please your genius, 
 or using divine ordinances to keep up the custom, to con- 
 form yourselves to those you live among, and help to make 
 a solemn show ; and doing these things with a serious de- 
 sign to get into an acquaintance witn God, to have your 
 soul transformed into his image, that you may have pre- 
 sent and eternal fellowship with him. Try how much 
 better it is, to have your lives governed by an awful and 
 dutiful respect to God, than to follow your own wild and 
 enormous inclinations ; and whether it be not better, what 
 good things soever you do, to do it for the Lord's sake, 
 than from base and sordid motives. 
 
 And why should you be of so mean and abject a spirit, 
 as to content yourself to be held at the door and in the 
 outer courts of religion, when others enter in and taste the 
 rich pi'ovisions of God's house 1 Why will you distin- 
 guish yourselves by so debasing a character 1 'Tis a just 
 and commendable ambition, to be as forward here as the 
 best. Why will you suffer this and that and the other man 
 to enter into the kingdom of God before you ; even that 
 kingdom which consists in righteousness, peace, and joy 
 in the Holy Ghost ! Think not so meanly of yourself; im- 
 pose not on yourself that needless unwarrantable modesty, 
 as to account you are of a lower rank than all that ever 
 became intimately acquainted with the hidden delights of 
 a godly life. At least you are as capable of being thought 
 worthy as any, for his sake upon whose account all must 
 be accepted. Therefore think with yourselves. Why 
 should I not labour to attain as far in the matter of reli- 
 gion, as this or that neighbour of mine 1 What should 
 hinder 1 Who restrains or forbids me 1 
 
 But you cannot, if you consider, but have somewhat 
 more to assure you of the delight fulness of it, than the 
 mere report of others ; for your own reason and conscience 
 cannot but so pronoimce, if you go to the particulars that 
 have been instanced in. If you acknowledge a God, and 
 consider yourself a reasonable creature made by him, 
 and depending on him; you cannot but see, it is congru- 
 ous and fit your spirit should be so framed and affected 
 towards him, towards yonr fellow-creatures of vour own 
 order, and all things else that do and shall circumstantiate 
 your present and future state, as hath been in some measure 
 (though very defectively) represented ; and that it must 
 needs be very pleasant, if it were so. You can frame in 
 your mind an idea of a life transacted according to such 
 rectified i;i linations. And when you have done so, do 
 29 
 
 but solemnly appeal to your own judgment whether that 
 were not a very delectable life, and thereupon bethink 
 yourself what your case is, if you cannot actually relish a 
 pleasure in what your own judgment tells you is so highly 
 pleasurable. Methinks you should reflect thus, " What a 
 monstrous creature am I,'thal confess that delightful where- 
 in I can take no dcli<.'ht ! How perverse a nature have I! 
 Surely things are much out of order with me: I am not 
 what I should be !" And one would think, it should be 
 uneasy to you to be as you are ; and that your spirit should 
 be restless till you find your temper rectified, and that you 
 are in this respect become what you should be. And will 
 you dream and slumber all your days ? How much time 
 have you lost, that might have been pleasantly spent in a 
 course of godliness ! Do you not aim at a life of eternal 
 delights with God ! If you now begin not to live to God, 
 when will you"? That life which you reckon shall never 
 end with you, must yet have a beginning. Will you defer 
 till you die your beginning to live 1 Have you any hope, 
 God will deal in a peculiar way with you from all men, and 
 make the other world the place of your first heart-change 1 
 How dismal should it be to you, to look in and still find your 
 heart dead towards God, and the things of God ; so that 
 you have no delight in them. Think what the beginnings 
 of the divine life, and the present delights of it, must be 
 the earnest of to you, and make sure the ground (belime) 
 of so great a hope. 
 
 II. But I forbear here to insist further, and pass on to 
 the discourse of delighting in God, under the other more 
 strict notion of it, viz. as the very act of delight hath its 
 direct exercise upon himself. So we are to consider this 
 delight, not as a thing some way adherent to all other du- 
 ties of religion ; but as a distinct duty of itself, that re- 
 quires a solemn, and direct application of ourselves there- 
 unto. For though it seems little to be doubted, but there 
 is in this precept a part of religion put for the whole, 
 (as having a real influence, and conferring with its name 
 a grateful savour and tincture upon the whole,) it would 
 yet be very unreasonable, not to take special notice of that 
 ipart from whence the entire frame of religion hath its 
 name. And having shown the nature of this duty alrea- 
 dy in the former Part, what is now to he said, must more 
 directly concern the practice of it; and will (as the case 
 requires) fall into two kinds of discourse, viz. expostula- 
 tion concerning the omission and disuse of such practice, 
 and invitation thereunto. And in both these kinds it is re- 
 quisite we apply ourselves to two sorts of persons, viz. 
 such whose spirits are wholly averse and alien to it, and 
 .such as, though not altogether unpractised, are very defec- 
 tive in it, and neglect it too much. 
 
 1. Both sorts are to be expostulated with ; and no doubt 
 the great God hath a just quarrel with mankind (whom 
 these two sorts do comprehend) upon the one or the other 
 of these accounts ; wherein it is fit we should plead with 
 men for his sake and their own. And, 
 
 1. With the former sort. Them who are altogether dis- 
 affected to God, alienated and enemies in their minds 
 through wicked works, and (excepting such as deny his 
 being, with whom we shall not here concern ourselves) at 
 the utmost distance from delighting in him. And as lo 
 such, our expostulation should aim at their conviction, 
 both of the matter of fact, that thus the case is with them, 
 and of the great iniquity and evil of it. 
 
 First, It is needful we endeavour to fasten upon such a 
 conviction, that this is the state of their case. For while 
 his being is not flatly denied, men think it generally cre- 
 ditable, to be professed lovers of God ; and reckon it so 
 odious a thing not to be so, that they who are even most 
 deeply guilty, are not easily brought to confess enmity to 
 him; "but flatter themselves in their own eyes, till their ini- 
 quity be found to be hateful. The difficulty of making 
 such apprehend themselves diseased, that their minds are 
 under the power of this dreadful distemper, that it is not 
 well with their spirits in this respect, is the ereat obstruc- 
 tion to their cure. But I suppose you to whom I now ap- 
 ply mvself to acknowledge the Bible to be God's word, and 
 that von profess reverence to the truth and authority of 
 that word, and will yield to be tried by it. 
 
 1. Therefore, first, 3'ou must be supposed such as believe 
 the account true, which that book gives of thecomlnon state
 
 390 
 
 OP DELIGHTING IN GOD. 
 
 Part II. 
 
 of man ; that it is a state of apostacy from God ; that the 
 Lord looking down from heaven upon the children of men, 
 to see if any did understand and seek God, finds they are 
 all gone aside, ^ i. e. (that the return may answer to the 
 meaning of the inquiry) gone off from him. Every one 
 of them is gone back, '^ or revolted, as it is expressed in 
 the parallel psalm. There is none that doeth good, no not 
 one: b which is quoted by the apostle to the intent, that 
 every month may be stopped, and the whole world may 
 become guilty before God. ■= This is then a common case. 
 And as the same apostle charges it upon the Gentiles, that 
 they were haters of God ; d so doth our Saviour as express- 
 ly on the Jews, (who no doubt thought themselves as in- 
 nocent of this crime as you,) that "they had both seen and 
 hated both him and his Father." And when it is said of 
 men, that they were by nature the children of wrath, (they 
 to whom he writes even as others,) do you think that is 
 spoken of any lovers of God, as their present state 1 Or 
 that when all" by nature are children of wrath, any are by 
 nature lovers of him, so as to love him and be under his 
 wrath both at once 1 It is likely then, that against so plain 
 evidence, while you confess yourselves men, you will not 
 deny you were sometimes haters of God. Weil then, is the 
 case altered with you 1 It is a convicliim against you, 
 that you are of human race, till it can be evidenced you 
 are born from above, and are become new creatures. And 
 what, do you find this 1 It is not expected you should be 
 able to tell the very moment when you ceased from your 
 enmity against God, and became his friends ; or give a 
 punctual account of every turn or motion of thoughts in 
 such a change: but it is to be supposed, the work was not 
 done upon you in your sleep, so as that you could have no 
 animadversion of what was doing. However, comparing 
 what you sometime were with what you are, what difl^er- 
 ence do you observe 1 What, were you sometimes haters 
 of God, and are you now come to love and delight in him 
 without perceiving in yourselves any difference 1 Bethink 
 yourselves, is not the temperof your spirits just such God- 
 ward as it was always wont to be, without any remarkable 
 turn or alteration 1 That is a shrewd presumption against 
 you, that your case is most deplorable. But, 
 
 2. What is your present temper, in itself considered ? 
 You do love God and delight in him, how do you make it 
 appear 1 wherein doth tliat friendly and dutiful affection 
 towards him evidence itself 7 Sure love and hatred are 
 not all one with you. Whereby would you discern your 
 hatred towards one you did most flatly and peremptorily 
 disaffect 1 You would dislike the thoughts of him, hate 
 his memory, cast him out of your thoughts. Do you not 
 the same way show your disaifeciion to God 1 Do you not 
 find, that so a wicked man (hisenemy)is branded and dis- 
 tinguished, God is not in all his thoughts 1 ^ Are not they 
 who shall be turned into hell described thus, the people 
 that forget God ; '' that is, who willingly and of choice for- 
 get him, or from the habitual inclination of their hearts 1 
 And is not that your case 1 What could hinder you to 
 remember him if you were so disposed 1 
 
 Yea, but you often forget your friends, or those at least 
 to whom you are sure you bear no ill will; and what 
 friend would expect to be in your thoughts 1 It's answered ; 
 but you disrelish not the remembrance of a friend. Do 
 you not the thoughts of God 1 You do not think on your 
 absent friends while no present occasion occurs, to bring 
 them to your remembrance; but is God absent? Is he far 
 from any one of us"? Or have you not daily before your 
 eyes things enough to bring him to mind; while his 
 glorious works surround you, and you live, move, and 
 have your being in him, and your breath is in his 
 hand 1 Have you that dependance on any friend 1 Are 
 you under so much obligation to anyl You often do not 
 think on friends with whom you have no opportunity to 
 converse; have you no opportunity to converse with hiral 
 Your friends can lay no such law upon you, to have them 
 much in your thoughts. It argues a depraved inclination, 
 not to do herein what you ought and are bound to do. 
 You cannot by the exercise of your thoughts obtain the 
 presence of a friend ; ypu might a most comfortable Di- 
 vine presence. 
 
 And w^hat though you think not of many to whom 3'ou 
 
 t Psal. xiv. a Paal. liii. b Rom. iii. r Ver. 19. 
 
 bear no ill will, nor have any converse with many such ; 
 is it enough to bear no ill will to God ? Will that suffice 
 you to delighting in him 1 are you no more concerned to 
 mind God and converse with him, than with the man you 
 never knew or had to do with? Your unconversableness 
 with God, and unmindfulness of him, can proceed from 
 nothing but ill will, who daily offers himself to your con- 
 verse, who seeks and invites your acquaintance, would 
 have you inwardly know him, and lead your lives with 
 him. Why is it that you do not so, but that you like not 
 to retain him in your knowledge 1 and that this is the 
 sense and language of your hearts towards him, " Depart 
 from us, we desire not the knowledge of thy ways 1" It 
 can proceed from nothing but ill will and a disagreeable 
 temper, that you shun the converse of one that seeks yours ; 
 that you will take no notice of one that often oficrs him- 
 selftoyour view, one thatmeets you at every turn, and aims 
 to draw your eye, and cannot gain a look. When this is 
 your deportment towards God, that he passes by you, and 
 you perceive him not; he compasses you about, t^ehmd 
 and befoie, and is acquainted with all your ways, and with 
 him and his wa3's you will have no acquaintance, remain 
 alienated from the life of God, and as without him in the 
 world ; is not this downright enmity 1 Or can this deport- 
 ment agree with the habitual and the frequent actual de- 
 light in God which is required. 
 
 Again, would you not be justly taken to disaffect one 
 whose temper is ungrateful, whose disposition and way 
 is unpleasing to youl Is it not thus with you God-ward % 
 When you hear of the purity and holiness of his nature, 
 his abhorrence of all wickedness, and how detestable to 
 him every thing is that is impure, and that he will not en- 
 dure it; do not your hearts regret this quality (as we must 
 conceive of it) in the nature of God "? Which yet, because 
 it is his very nature, doth so much the more certainly infer, 
 that a dislike of it cannot but include disaffection to him- 
 self, and that habitual and constant, since his whole way 
 of dealing with men, and the course of his government 
 over the world, do (and shall more discernibly) savour of 
 it ; do they not wish him hereupon not to be, in this res- 
 pect, what he is ; which is in effect, to wish him not to be 
 at all 1 The same thing which the heart of the fool says, 
 "No God ;" i. e. this would please such a one to the very 
 heart. And doth this import no enmity 1 Can this stand 
 with delight in him ? Are you not disaffected to him, 
 whom not being able to accuse of falsehood, whom having 
 the greatest imaginable assurances of the impossibility he 
 should deceive, you will yet by no means be induced to 
 trust % Consider, what doth your trust in God signify, 
 more than the sound of the name ? Doth it quiet your 
 heart, in reference to any affairs you pretend to commit to 
 him ? Doth it purify it, and check your ill inclinations, in 
 any thing wherein they should be countermanded upon 
 the credit of his word 1 What doth his testimony concern- 
 ing the future things you have not seen, weigh with 3'ou, 
 to the altering of your course, and rendering it such as 
 may comport and square with the belief of such things % 
 Would not the word of an ordinary man, premonishing 
 you of any advantage or danger which you have no other 
 knowledge of, be of more value with you ? Constant sus- 
 picion of any one, without cause or pretence, most cer- 
 tainly argues radicated enmity. You love him not whom 
 you cannot trust. 
 
 Do you love him whom upon all occasions you most 
 causelessly displease ; "whose offence you reckon nothing 
 of? Is that ingenuous towards a friend, or dutiful 
 towards a father or a lord ? How do you, in this, carry 
 towards the blessed God 1 Are you wont to displease 
 yourselves to please him, or cross your own will to do his 1 
 Do you take delight in him whom you make no difficulty to 
 vex ? whose known declared pleasure, though you confess 
 him greater, wiser, and more righteous than yourself, you 
 have no more regard to, wherein it crosses your own inclina- 
 tion, than you would have tothatof your child, your slave, 
 or a fool 1 Have you any thing to except against that mea- 
 sure and character of loyal affection to your Redeemer 
 and Lord, " If ye love me, keep my commandments ; Ye 
 are my friends if ye do whatsoever I command you ; This 
 is the love of God, that we keep his commandments ?" 
 d Rom. i. 30. e Psal. X. 1. fPsaUix. U.
 
 Part II. 
 
 OF DELIGHTING IN GOD. 
 
 391 
 
 Do you not disobey the known will of God in your or- 
 dinary practice without regret 1 Do you not know it to be 
 his will, that you " strive to enter in at the strait gate ;" 
 that you " seek first the kingdom of heaven ;" that you 
 "keep your heart with all diligence;" that you "deny 
 yourself, crucify the flesh," be temperate, just, merciful, 
 patient 1 Do you aim at obeying him in these things 1 
 Can you say, Lord, for thy sake I refrain the things to 
 which my heart inclines 1 Hath his proliibition any re- 
 straining force upon your hearts I Do you not allow j'our- 
 self to be licentious, earthly, vain, proud, wrathful, re- 
 vengeful, though you know it will oflend him '! and is this 
 your love to him, or delight in him 1 Do you bear good 
 will to him whose reproach and dishonour you are not 
 concerned for, yea, whom you stick not to dishonour and 
 reproach ? whose interest among men hath no place in 
 your thoughts, whose friends are none of yours, whose 
 enemies are your friends, whose favour you care not for, 
 nor regret his frowns, whose worship is a burden to you, 
 (that you had rather do any thing than pray to him,) and his 
 fellowship an undesired thing'! Make an estimate by these 
 things of the temper of your hearts towards God ; and 
 consider whether it bespeak delight in him, or not rather 
 habitual aversion and enmity. 
 
 It may be you will admit these things seem to carry 
 somewhat of conviction with them; but they concern 
 many that are taken for godly persons and lovers of God, 
 as well as they do you. And it may be, many such may 
 take themselves for godly persons and lovers of God, 
 and be mistaken as well as you. And what will that 
 mend your case 1 If these things will prove a person one 
 that hath no delight in God, they equally prove it as to you 
 and others, which will make nothing to your advantage. 
 But if they who have sincere love to God, are in a degree 
 peccant against the laws of such love, (as that they are, 
 they will hear in due time,) they are more ready t* accuse 
 themselves than other men ; they abhor themselves, that 
 they do not more entirely delight in God, and repent in 
 dust and ashes. It better becomes you, to imitate their 
 repentance, than glory in their sinful weakness ; which 
 while they patronize not themselves, you should not think 
 it can afford a valuable patronage unto you. When did 
 you check and contend with your own hearts upon these 
 accounts, as they are wont to do 1 And if these things, 
 in a degree found with them, prove their delight in God 
 imperfect, their prevailing contraries will prove it (how- 
 ever) sincere. And if you will not now understand the 
 difference, God grant you may not heieafter at a more 
 costly rate, between the imperfection and the total want of 
 his love ; between having your heart and soul imperfectly 
 alive towards God, and perfectly dead. 
 
 You may further say, God is out of your sight, and 
 therefore how can it be expected you should find a sensible 
 delight in himl But is he out of the sight of your minds ? 
 If he be, what would you infer, that then you cannot de- 
 light in him at all, and therefore that you do not 7 the 
 thing that j'ou are charged with all this while. But he 
 is out of sight by the high excellency of his being; for 
 which reason he should be delighted in the more, i. e. with 
 a deeper delight, though not like that 3'ou take in the 
 things of sense : and he hath been so beyond all things, 
 notwithstanding his abode in that light which is inacces- 
 sible. This therefore is confession without excitse ; and 
 would never be offered as an excuse by aii)^, but those that 
 are lost in flesh and sense, have forgot they have reason- 
 able souls, and had rather be numbered with brutes than 
 men ; as if there were not many things you have not seen 
 with the eyes of flesh, more excellent than those you have ! 
 or as if you had no other faculty than eyes of flesh to see 
 with ! Which, since you have, and the depravation thereof 
 is vicious and sinful ; as your not delighting in God (the 
 matter of fact) seems to be yielded, and so you quit your 
 first post, it will thence appear, that it cannot but be sin- 
 ful too. And since at that you seem to make a stand, (as 
 at your next post,) either thinking to deny or extenuate 
 the evil of it, our expostulation must follow you thither, 
 and be aimed, 
 
 2. To evince to you the greatness and horridness of that 
 sin. Suffer yourselves therefore to be reasoned with to 
 g Prov. i. 
 
 this purpose, and consider— First, That you have some- 
 what of delectation in your natures, i. e. you have the 
 power naturally inherent m you, of taking delight in one 
 thing or other. You have such a thing as love about you. 
 Are not some things grateful and agreeable to you, in. 
 which you can and do take complacency"? Therefore 
 herein an act is not enjoined you which is incompetent to 
 your natures, or simply impossible to you. Next, then, 
 do you not know, your delight or love ought to be placed 
 on some good or other that is known to you; and among 
 things that you know to be good, proportionably to the 
 goodness which you find in them, and supremely on the 
 best 1 Further, do you not acknowledge the blessed God 
 to be the best and most excellent goodl as being the first 
 and fountain-good, the fullest and most comprehensive, 
 the purest and altogether unmixed, the most immutable 
 and permanent good 1 How plain and certain is this ! 
 How manifestly impossible is it, if there were not such a 
 good, that otherwise any thing else should ever have been 
 good, or been at all! Is not this a,s sure and evident as 
 any thing your senses could inform you of? Whence is the 
 glorious excellency of this great creation, the beaut}', love- 
 liness, pleasantness of any creature 1 Must not all that, 
 and infinitely more, be originally in the great Creator of 
 all. This, if you consider, you cannot but see and own. 
 
 While then your hearts tell you, you delight not in 
 God, do not your consciences begin to accuse and judge 
 you, that you deal not righteously in this matter 1 And 
 ought it not to fill your souls with horror, when you con- 
 sider, you take no delight in the best and sovereign good 1 
 Yea, when you look into your hearts and find, that you not 
 only do not delight in God, but you cannot ; and not for 
 the want of the natural power, but a right inclination 1 
 Should you not with astonishment bethink yourselves, 
 every one for himself, " What is this that's befallen me 1 
 I am convinced this is the best good, every way most 
 worthy of my highest delight and love, and yet my heart 
 savours it not !" You can have no pretence to say, that 
 because your heart is disinclined, therefore you are ex- 
 cused, for you only do not what through an invincible dis- 
 inclination you apprehend you cannot do. But you should 
 bethink yourself, "What a wretch ami, that am so ill- 
 inclined !" For is not any one more wicked according as he 
 is more strongly inclined to wickedness and averse to what 
 is goodi But how vincible or invincible your disinclina- 
 tion is, you do not yet know, not having yet made due 
 trial. That you cannot of yourselves mercome, it is out of 
 question ; but have yuu tried what help might be got from 
 heaven, in the use of God's own prescribed means 1 If 
 that course bring 3'ou in no help, then ma}- you under- 
 stand how much j'ou have provoked the Lord. For though 
 he hath promised, that for such as turn at his reproof, he 
 will pour out his Spirit to them ; yet they who when he 
 calls refuse, and when he stretches out his hand regard not, 
 but set at nought all his counsel, &c., may call and not be 
 answered, may seek him early and not find hiin.f And 
 that wickedness may somewhat he estimated b}' this effect, 
 that thus it makes the Spirit of grace retire, that free, be- 
 nign, merciful Spirit, the Author of all love, .sweetness 
 and goodness, become to a forlorn soul a resolved stranger. 
 If 3'ou are so given up, you have first given up your?:elves; 
 you have wilfully cast him out of your thoughts, and 
 hardened your own hearts against liim, who was the. spring 
 of your life and being, and in w liom is all your hope. And 
 whether this malignit}' of your hearts shall ever finaltybe 
 overcome or no, (as you have no cause to despair but it 
 may be overcome, if apprehending your life to lie upon it, 
 you wait and strive, and pray and cry, as your case re- 
 quires,) yet do you not see it to be a fearful pitch of ma- 
 lignity'? and so much the worse and more vicious by how 
 much it is more hardly overcome! 
 
 That we may here he a little more particular; consider, 
 1. How tumultuous and disorderly a thingthis your dis- 
 affection is 1 You are here to consider its direct tcndenc}', its 
 natural aptitude, or what it doth of itself, and in its own 
 nature, lead and tend to. If you may withdraw your de- 
 light and love from God, then so may all other men as 
 well. Therefore now view the thing itself in the commoa 
 nature of it : and so, is not aversion to delight in G<3d a
 
 393 
 
 OF DELIGHTING IN GOD. 
 
 Part II. 
 
 manifest contrariety to the order of things! a turning all 
 upside down '] a shattering and breaking asunder the bond 
 between rational appetite and the First Good 1 a disjoint- 
 ing and unhinging of the best and noblest part of God's 
 creation from its station and rest, its proper basis and 
 centre 1 How fearful a rupture doth it make ! how vio- 
 lent and destructive a dislocation ! If you could break in 
 pieces the orderly contexture of the whole universe within 
 itself, reduce the frame of nature to utmost confusion, rout 
 all the ranks and orders of creatures, tear asunder the 
 heavens, and dissolve the compacted body of the earth, 
 mingle heaven and earth together, and resolve the world 
 into a mere heap; you had not done so great a spoil, as 
 in breaking the primary and supreme tie and bond be- 
 tween the creature and his Maker ; yea, between the 
 Creator of all things and his more noble and excellent 
 creature. All the relations, aptitudes, and inclinations of 
 the creatures to one another, are but inferior and subor- 
 dinate to those between the creatures and their common 
 Author and Lord : and here the corruption of the best 
 cannot but be worst of all. Again, 
 
 2. What an unnatural wickedness is it ! To hate thy 
 own original I To disaffect the most bountiful Author of 
 thy life and being! "What wouldst thou say to it if thy 
 own son did hate the very sight of thee, and abhor thy pre- 
 sence and converse 1 especially if thou never gavest him the 
 least cause"? If thou hast been always kind and indulgent, 
 full of paternal affection towards him, wouldst thou not 
 think him a vile miscreant 1 and reckon the earth too good 
 to bear him? But how little, and in how low a capacity, 
 didst thou contribute to his being in comparison of what 
 the great God did to thine 1 How little of natural excel- 
 lency hast thou above him, (it may be in many things be- 
 sides this unhappy temper he much excels thee,) when thou 
 knowest, in thy Maker is infinite excellency beyond what 
 thou canst pretend unto ! And what cause canst thou pre- 
 tend of disaffection towards him '] Many good works hath 
 he done for thee; for which of these dost thou hate him 1 
 Whereby hath he ever disobliged thee 1 With how sweet 
 and gentle allurements hath he sought to win thy heart 1 
 And is it not most vilely unnatural that thy spirit should 
 be so sullenly averse to him, who is pleased to be styled 
 the Father of spirits'? And in which respect it may fitly 
 be said to thee, dost thou thus requite the Lord, O foolish 
 creature, and unwise 1 Is not he thy Father Ih If thou 
 didst hate thy own self, (in a sense besides that wherein it 
 is thy duty, and in which kind thou hast, as thy case is, a 
 just and dreadful cause of self-abhorrence,) if thou didst 
 hate thy very life and being, and wert laying daily plots of 
 self-destruction, thou wert not so wickedly unnatural. He 
 is more intimate to thee than thou art to thyself. That na- 
 tural love which thou owest to thyself, and the nature 
 from whence it springs, is of him, and ought to be .sub- 
 ordinate to him ; and by a superior law of nature, thy very 
 life, if he actually require it, ought to be sacrificed and laid 
 down for his sake. Thy hatred towards him, therefore, is 
 more prodigiously unnatural, that if it were most directly 
 and implacably bent against thyself. And yet also in 
 hating him thou dost most mischievous'y hate thyself too; 
 and all that thou dost, by the instinct of that vile temper 
 of heart towards him, thou dost it against thy own life and 
 soul. Thou cuttest thyself off from him who is thy life; 
 and art laying a train for the blowing up of thy eternal 
 hope. All that hate him love death.; Further, 
 
 3. It is the most comprehensive wickedness, and which 
 entirely contains all other in it. For as the law of love is 
 the universal and summary Jaw, comprehending all duty, 
 and even as it enjoins love to God ; (lor love to men ought 
 to be resolved into that, and must be for his sake;) so 
 must disaffection to God be comprehensive of all sin, 
 whereinto every thing of it resolves itself. Dost thou not 
 see then how thou cancellest and nullifiest the obligation 
 of all laws, while thou hast no delight in God 7 ofierest 
 violence to the very knot and juncture, wherein they all 
 meet and are infolded together"? Not to delight in God 
 therefore, what can it be but the very top of rebellion "? 
 What will thy sobriety, thy justice, thy charity signif}', if 
 thou hadst these to glory in, while thou art habitually dis- 
 affected to thy <5od 1 Let men value thee for these, to 
 
 h Deut. xxxti. i Prov. vjiL 
 
 whom thereby thou showest some respect ; but shall he, 
 who in the meantime knows thou bearest none to him 1 
 
 4. It is a most reproachful contemptuous wickedness ! 
 To him, I mean, whom it most directly offends against ! — 
 Carries it not in it most horrid contumely and indignity to 
 the most high God 1 It is a practical denial of all those 
 excellencies in him, that render and recommend him the 
 most worthy object of our delight ; it is more than saying, 
 He is not good., holy, wise, just, and true. Things may 
 on the sudden be said that are not deliberately thought, 
 and may be retracted the next breath ; but a man's stated, 
 constant course and way signifies, the apprehension it pro- 
 ceeds from to be fixed, and that it is the settled habitual 
 sense of his soul. Yea, and since, as hath been said, thou 
 delightest in other things whilst thou delightest not in him ; 
 it plainly imports it to be the constant sense of thy very 
 heart, that those things are better than he. What is it 
 then that hath thy delight and lovel Whereon is thy heart 
 setl Commune with thyself Dost thou not tremble, 
 when thou findest this to be thy very case, that thou mayst 
 truly say, "I can delight in creatures, but not in God; 
 can take pleasure in my friend, but none in him ; I must 
 confess it to be the temper of my heart, that I love my 
 father, mother, son, or daughter, more than Christ. Is it 
 not then to be concluded from his own express word, that 
 thou art not worthy of him,k and canst be none of his dis- 
 ciple li Nay, mayst thou not moreover truly say, that thou 
 lovest this base impure earth more than God 1 that thou 
 takest more delight in thy companions in wickedness ; canst 
 more solace thyself with a drunkard on the ale-bench, 
 with a lascivious wanton, with a profane scoffer at godli- 
 ness, than with the blessed Godl that thou canst allow 
 thy.self to riot with the luxurious, and eat and drink with 
 the drunken, and not only do such things, but take plea- 
 sure in them that do them, yea, and thyself take pleasure 
 to commit iniquity; but in the glorious holy God thou 
 canst take no pleasure 1 Then wouldst thou be content to 
 carry the plain sense of thy heart written on thy forehead, 
 and proclaim it to all the world, as thy resolved practical 
 judgment, that thou accountest thy friends, thy relations, 
 this vile and vanishing world, thy wicked associates, thine 
 own impure lusts, better than Godl And dost thou not 
 yet see the horrid vileness of thy own heart in all thisl 
 Art thou yet a harmless innocent creature, an honest well- 
 meaning man for all this1 
 
 Yea, wilt thou not see that thine heart goes against thy 
 conscience all this while "? that thou disaffectest him in 
 whom thou knowest thou shouldst delight "? that the tem- 
 per of thy spirit is a continual affront to thy profession, 
 through the perfidious falsehood and vanity whereof, thou 
 dost but cover hatred with lying lips'? Is not that an odious 
 thing which thou so seeke.st to hide ; and which, though 
 thou art not loth to be guilty of it, thou art so very un- 
 willing should be known 1 And since thou art so very 
 loth it should be known, how canst thou hold up thy 
 head before that eye that is as a flame of fire, that searches 
 thy heart and tries thy reins, that observes thy wayward 
 spirit, and sees with how obstinate an aversion thou de- 
 clinest his acquaintance and converse 1 Wilt thou stand 
 before the glorious Majesty of heaven and earth, who 
 knows thy disaffected heart, and say, it is but a small 
 transgression thou hast been guilty of, in not loving him 
 and making him thy delight 7 Dost thou think this will 
 pass for a little offence in the solemn judgment of the 
 great day that is drawing on? Or will thy heart endure, 
 or thy hands be strong, when the secrets of all hearts shall 
 be laid open, thou shalt stand convicted before his tribunal 
 in the sight of angels and men, of having borne all thy 
 days a false, disloyal heart, full of malignity and ill will 
 to thy Sovereign Lord, whom thou wast so many ways 
 obliged to serve and cleave to with delight and love 1 
 When the difference shall be visibly put between those 
 that delighted in God and them that never did, and thou 
 shalt be marked out for one of them that didst in heart 
 depart from him all thy days, and be thereupon abandoned 
 to the society of that horrid accursed crew, in whom only 
 thou didst delight; surely thou wilt not then say, thy 
 transgression was small. 
 
 2. But we are also to expostulate with another sort; 
 k Matt. a. 3T. 1 Luke xiv. 26.
 
 Part IL 
 
 OF DELIGHTING IN GOD. 
 
 393 
 
 who, though they are not altogether unacquainted with this 
 heavenly exercise of dclifjhtin^ in God, yet loo much dis- 
 use it, and apply not themselves to it (as who do 1) with that 
 constancy and intention of soul as the matter requires. 
 And these we are to put upon the consideration of such 
 evils, as either are included in this neglect,or are allied unto 
 it, (and do therefore accompany and aggravate the natural 
 evil of it,) as either causing it,or being caused by it. And, 
 I. Those whom we now intend are to bethink themselves, 
 ■what evil is included in their neglect of this part of holy 
 practice. And you are to judge of the evil of it by its 
 disagreement with such known and usual measures, as 
 whereto our practice should be suitable, and which in rea- 
 son and ju.stice it is to be estimated and censured by ; as 
 for instance, the Divine law, conscience, experience, obli- 
 gation by kindness, stipulation, relation, profession, ten- 
 dency of the new nature, dictates of God's Spirit, the 
 course and drift of his design ; with all which it will be 
 found to have very ill accord. 
 
 I. How directly opposite is it to the law of God ! not 
 only to his express written precept, but to that immutable, 
 eternal law, which arises from our very natures referred 
 unto his ! The obligingness orbindingforce whereof, doth 
 not so much stand in this. That the thing to be done is 
 such as whereto our natures were originally inclined; 
 (which yet is of great weight, they having been thus in- 
 clined and determined by our Maker himself, so that our 
 inclination was in this case expressiv^e of his will ;) but 
 (which is indeed the very reason of that, for we must con- 
 ceive the Divine wisdom in the blessed God to conduct all 
 the determinations of his will) the natural unchangeable 
 congruity of the thing itself And therefore as to the 
 things Av hose constant fitness w^ould render them matter of 
 duty to us at all times, it was provided, inclinations suit- 
 able to them should be planted in our natures from the 
 beginning; but things that were to be matter of duty but 
 for a time, having only a present fiiness unto some present 
 juncture or state of affairs, it was sufficient that the Divine 
 pleasure should be signified about them in some way more 
 suitable to their occasional and temporary use, and that 
 inight not so certainly extend to all men and times. 
 
 That great law of love to God (which comprehends this 
 of delighting in him) is you may be sure of that former sort, 
 it being impossible there should be a reasonable creature 
 in being, but it will immediately and always be his duty 
 to love God supremely and above all things ; yea, that you 
 must know, is the most fundamental of all such laws. And 
 therefore when because original impressions were become 
 so obscure and illegible in our natures, it became necessa- 
 ry there should be a new and more express edition of them 
 in God's written word; this is placed in the very front of 
 them, " Thou shall have no other gods before me ;" which 
 signifies only the having of a God in name and no more, 
 if it doth not signify loving him before all other. Where- 
 fore when our Saviour was to tell which was the first and 
 great commandment, he gives it thus, " Thou shall love 
 the Lord thy God with all thv heart, and with all thy soul, 
 and with all thy mind."'" The thing enjoined by this law 
 is most substantial, the life and soul of all other dut}', and 
 without which all that we can do besides is but mere sha- 
 dow; for whatsoever we are enjoined to do else, we must 
 understand enjoined to be done out of love to God, as the 
 principle whence it must proceed ; and not proceeding 
 thence, the moral goodness of it vanishes as a beam cut 
 off from the sun. For on this (with the other which is 
 like unto it, and which also hangs upon this) " hang all 
 the law and the prophets." And what, durst thou who 
 knowest God, or rather art known of him, neglect so great 
 and substantial a duty'? This is not like the command of 
 wearing fringe on the borders of the garment, or of not 
 wearing a garment of linen and woollen ; wherein sure 
 they whom it concerned should have been very undutiful 
 to have disobeyed; but it is the very greatest among the 
 great things of the law ; a duty upon which all duty de- 
 pends, even for life and breath! Should not this have ob- 
 tained in thy practice, that ought to run through and ani- 
 mate all the rest 1 Or was it fit it should lie dead and 
 bound up in the habitual principle, and not go forth (or 
 
 m Matt. xxii. 
 
 u Ua. Iv. I, 2, 3. Psal. riiv. 19. Job icxvii. 10. cfe. nxxiv. 9. Ua. liiii. U. 
 
 very rarely) into act and exercise 1 Or didst thou do thy 
 duty herein by being only inclined to do ill Or would 
 not the inclination, if it were right, infer (or otherwise is 
 it like to last long without) suitable exercise 1 Why was 
 so express a law neglected, so often enjoined ' or the'prac- 
 lice mentioned with approbation, or the neglect of it ani- 
 madverted upon with abhorrence, in the very terms, or in 
 terms evidently enough of the same import) in the sacred 
 volume "?" How could you turn over the leaves of that 
 book, and not often meet with such words, ''• Re|oice ye in 
 the Lord, ye righteous:" rejoice in the Lord, and again, I 
 say unto you, rejoice,"? &c. Should not so frequent incul- 
 cations of the same thing have been answered by the fre- 
 quency and continuedness of }'our practice of it 1 Or was 
 it enough now and then, as it were casually and by chance, 
 to hit upon the doing of what is so momentous a part of 
 your religion, and ought to be the business of your life'? 
 Ought it not to cut your heart to find yourself convicted 
 herein of a disobedient omission "? And w^hen the great 
 God exacts that stated homage from you, a frequent, prac- 
 tical, explicit recognition and owning of him as the su- 
 preme delight, the great solace, repose, and rest of your 
 souls, that you have been so little awed with the appre- 
 hension of his authority and right in this case 1 when he 
 hath mercifully chosen to make that the matter of his 
 command and claim, w'herein yo.ur own advantage, satis- 
 faction, and content, doth so entirely consist'? That your 
 practice is herein disagreeable to a law, speaks it sinful: 
 that it transgresses so great a law, highly aggravates your 
 sin : a law so important, upon which so much depends, so 
 express and plain, legible in the very nature of things, 
 and in reference whereto, the very excellency of the ob- 
 ject would suffice to be law to you, and dictate j'our duty, 
 if no command had been otherw-ise given in the case. 
 Surely the neglect of such a law cannot have been with- 
 out great transgression. 
 
 2. Your own conscience you will acknowledge ought to 
 be a rule, to }'ou, when it manifestly agrees with that for- 
 mer rule the supreme and royal law. Do you not find 
 yourselves herein to have offended against that 1 It may 
 be your sleeping conscience did not find yourself to of- 
 fend ; but do you not find yourself to have offended it 
 now beginning to awake "? This is not a doubtful and dis- 
 putable matter, (perhaps your minding such matters too 
 much hath hindered you in this.) surely you will not make 
 a scruple of it a difficult case of conscience, whether you 
 should take the Lord of heaven and earth for your God-; 
 whether you should choose him for your portion, seek rest 
 in him, and place upon him your delight and love 1 And 
 if in so plain a case your conscience hath not expressed 
 itself offended, you have offended against it, in letting it 
 sleep so securely, and not stirring it up to its proper office 
 and work. And know that sinning against the light of 
 one's o\\n\ conscience doth not stand only in going against 
 the actual deliberated thoughts which we have had, but 
 also in walking contrary to our habitual kncrwledge, ajid 
 the thoughts and apprehensions which thence we might 
 and should actually have had. Inadvertency and disre- 
 gard of known duty is the most usual way of sinning 
 against conscience. And, besides, have vou not in this 
 often gone asrainst the repeated checks of jaar o\im con- 
 sciences '? Bethink yourselv^es, have you not in your 
 prayer intermingled frequent confessions of your cold love 
 to God, and that you have taken so little delight in him'? 
 And were those only customary forms with you, and words 
 of course ■? Surely (though it might not be urgently enough) 
 vour consciences did at such times accuse you. And let 
 that be a dreadful thing in your eyes, to continue a course 
 which, if you consider, you cannot but condemn. And, 
 
 3. Ought not your experience to have been instructive 
 to you ; as it conimonl}'- is to men in other matters ■? Have 
 3'ou not in this neglect run counter to such instruction 1 
 By this means you are supposed to have known the 
 sweetness, as bv that last mentioned, the equity and fit- 
 ness, of delight'in God. Have not those been your best 
 hours, wherein rou could freely solace yourselves in himi 
 Was not one of them better than a thousand otherwise 
 .spent 1 Did you never find it good for you, in this way, to 
 
 o Psal. xxxiii. 1. xcvii. l^i 
 p ITiil. iii. I. iv. i.
 
 394 
 
 OF DELIGHTING IN GOD. 
 
 Part II, 
 
 draw nigh to God ?q and hereupon pronouncfc them blessed 
 whom he did choose and cause to approach unto him V 
 And where is that blessedness of which ye spake 1 Have ye 
 forgotten that ye ever thus tasted how gracious the Lord 
 was ■? And 'tis like you have, by your taste, found it also an 
 evil thing and bitter to depart from him. Methinks you 
 should reckon it a great increase of your sin to have gone 
 against your own sense, when especially your superior rule 
 might give you assurance it did not deceive you. And doth 
 it not expressly oblige you to follow its guidance, while it 
 puts the character of perfect, or of being come to full age,^ 
 upon them, who by reason of use (or accustomedness) 
 have senses exercised to discern between good and evil! 
 
 4. And what will you say to the great obligations 
 which the love and kindness of God have laid upon you 1 
 Will you not esteem yourselves to have been thereby 
 bound to place your love and delight on him 1 Could you 
 decline doing so without putting a slight upon his love 
 who is infinite in what he is, and who is love 1 Was not 
 his love enough to deserve yours ? the love of God, that 
 of a silly worm 1 Were you not obliged to love him back 
 again, who was so much before-hand with you in the mat- 
 ter of love? to love him who had loved you first 1' The 
 first love is, therefore, perfectly free ; the latter is thereby 
 certainly obliged and become bounden duty. How vari- 
 ously and with how mighty demonstration hath that love 
 expressed and evidenced itself! It hath not glanced at 
 j'ou, but rested on you, and settled in delight. He halh 
 so stood atfected towards the people of his choice, and put 
 a name on them on purpose to signify his delight in them." 
 He rejoices over them with joy, and rests in his love to 
 them.^ The Lord takelh pleasure in his people. y His 
 delights have from of old been with the sons of men.^ 
 Could he delight in such as you, and cannot you in him 1 
 Be amazed at this! How mean an object had he for his 
 delight ! How^ glorious and enamouring a one have you ! 
 exce lency and love in conjunction ! whereas in you were 
 met deformity and ill will ! He hath loved you so as to 
 remit to you much. To give to you and for you a great 
 deal more ; Himself and the Son of his delights. He 
 then (thou shouldst recount) did invite thee to delight in 
 him who hath always sought thy good, done strange 
 things to effect it, takes pleasure in thy prosperity, and 
 exercises loving-kindness towards thee with delight; who 
 contrived thy happiness ; wrought out thy peace at the 
 e,.xpense of blood, even his own ; taught thee the way of 
 life, cared for thee all thy days, hath supplied thy wants, 
 borne thy burdens, eased thy griefs, wiped thy tears. 
 And if now he say to thee, " Afier all this couldst thou 
 take no pleasure in me 1" Will not that confound and 
 shame thee 1 He hath expressed his love by his so 
 earnest (and at last successful) endeavours to gain thine. 
 By this, that he hath seemed to put a value on it ; and 
 that he desisted not till in some degree he had won it ; 
 whereupon there hath been an acquaintance, a friendship, 
 some intimacies betw^een him and thee, according as So- 
 vereign Majesty hath vouchsafed to descend and advance 
 sinful dust. And how disingenuous, unbecoming, and un- 
 suitable to all this is thy strangeness and distance after- 
 wards! It is more unworthy to cast out of your hearts, 
 than not to have admitted such a guest. 
 
 5. How contrary is this omission to what by solemn 
 vow and stipulation you have bound yourselves to ! It 
 hath graciously pleased the blessed God in his transac- 
 tions with men to contrive his laws into the form of a co- 
 venant, wherein, upon terms, he binds himself to them, 
 expecting (what he obtains from such as become his own) 
 their restipulation. Wonderful grace ! that he should ar- 
 ticle with his creatures, and capitulate with the work of 
 his owTi hands ! And whereas his first and great law- (and 
 which virtually being submitted to, comprehends our 
 obedience to all the rest) is as hath been noted, " Thou 
 shalt have no other gods before me;" this also he gives 
 forth often, as the sum and abridgment of his covenant, 
 " That he will be our God, and we shall be his people." 
 Now this you have consented to ; and therein bound your- 
 selves (as you have heard our Saviour expounds the first 
 and great commandment) to love him with all your soul, 
 
 q Psal. Ixxiii. 
 t 1 John iv. 
 
 r Psal. Ixv. 
 u Isa. Ixii. 4. 
 
 a Heb. v. 14. 
 xZeph. iii. 
 
 (fee. And how well doth your neglect to delight in him 
 agree and consist with this? What, love him with all 
 your soul in whom you can rarely find yourselves to take 
 any pleasure? Surely your hearts will now misgive and 
 admit a conviction you have not dealt truly (as well as not 
 kindly) in this. What, not to keep faith with the righteous 
 God ! To deceive a deceiver some would think not into- 
 lerable, but what pretence can there be for such dealing 
 with the God of truth ? You have vowed to hirn; what 
 think you of this drawing back ? Such trifling with him ; 
 the great and terrible God who keeps covenant and mer- 
 cy for ever ! How unbecoming is it ! to dally with him 
 as you would with an imcertain whiffling man I To be ofl 
 and on, to say and unsay, that he shall be your God, and 
 that he shall not, (for how is he your God if you delight 
 not in him?) imports little of that solemn gravity and 
 stayedness which becomes a transaction with the most 
 high God. He takes no pleasure in fools ; wherefore pay 
 that which you have vowed.'' 
 
 6. Nor doth it better agree with your relation to him, 
 which arises from your covenant. Thence he becomes 
 yours, and you his ! " I entered into covenant with thee, 
 and thou becamest mine :" and the covenant binding on 
 both parts, the relation is mutual ; so that thereby also he 
 becomes yours. It is a most near, represented therefore 
 by the nearest among men, even the conjugal, relation ; 
 therefore how full is that Song of Songs of expressions 
 importing mutual delight suitable thereto ! And what a 
 bondage (as well as incongruity) were that relation with- 
 out delight! Have you repented your choice ? If not, why 
 take you not pleasure ? Why do you not rejoice and glo- 
 ry in it, even as he professes to do over you ? If he should 
 repent, in what case were you ? Not to take pleasure in 
 God ! 3^our own God ! How strangely uncouth is it ! You 
 are not to consider him as a stranger, an unrelated one. 
 If he were such to you, his own excellencies challenge to 
 be beheld w^ith delight. But you are to reckon and say 
 of him, " This is my beloved, and this is my friend, &c. I 
 am his and he is mine." And how ill do such words be- 
 come the mouth that utters them not from the abundance 
 of the heart, even from a heart abounding and overflow- 
 ing with love and joy ! 
 
 7. And how doth the temper of your heart and your 
 practice, while you take not actual, ordinary delight in God, 
 clash and jar with your profession ! For admit you do not 
 then make an express verbal profession of actual delight 
 in God at such times when you find it not, yet you still 
 avow yourselves, and would be accounted and looked 
 upon, as related to him: and the just challenges of that re- 
 lation are not any way answered, but by a course of ordi- 
 nary actual delight. So much your profession manifestly 
 imports. Whilst you profess the Lord to be your God, 
 you profess him to be your supreme delight. And how is 
 he so, when you seldom have a delightful thought of him, 
 or look to him with any pleasure ? and the temper of 
 your spirit towards him is usually strange and shy ? And 
 bethink yourselves, what would you then be esteemed 
 such as care not for him, as value him not ? Would you 
 willingly be taken for such in all those long intervals 
 wherein your actual delight in him is wholly discontinued ? 
 Would you not be ashamed the disposition of your heart 
 tow'ards him at such times should be known ? Do you not 
 desire to be better thought of? What is there then at the 
 bottom, and under the covert, of your yet continued pro- 
 fession at such times, but falsehood ? A correspondent 
 affection there is not. Is not your very profession then 
 mere dissimulation and a lie ? a concealment and dis- 
 guise of a heart inwardly bad and naught; but which only 
 comforts itself that it is not known ? that is all day long 
 full of earth and vanity, and wholly taken up with either 
 the contentments, delights, and hopes, or the cares, fears, 
 and discontents that do naturally arise from these vile, 
 mean objects, and so are of a kind as mean and vile as 
 they ? only makes a shift to lie hid all the while, and lurk 
 under the appearance such a one hath put on of a lover of 
 God, and one that above all things delights in him ? But 
 is this honest dealing ? or was this indeed all that wa5 
 this while to be got of God, the credit of being thought his ? 
 
 y Psal. cslix. 
 
 a EccJ. V.
 
 Pakt II. 
 
 OF DELIGHTING IN GOD. 
 
 395 
 
 Yet it may be you will somewhat relieve yourselves by 
 saying you suppose for all this your profession was not 
 altogether false. For you hope there was .'^till a principle 
 in you by which your heart was habitual y directed towards 
 God, and whereby his interest did still live and was main- 
 tained in you, noiwithstanding your many and long diver- 
 sions from him. And while your profession did signify 
 that, it signified some real thing, and so was not a false 
 and lying profession. 
 
 But to this I say, was this all that your profession was 
 in itself apt, and by you designed, to signify ? Surely it 
 was apt and intended to signify more than habitual incli- 
 nation. It carried the appearance of such actings God- 
 ward as were suitable to your having him for your God ; 
 and you would it's likely have been loth it should have 
 been otherwise understood. And surely whatsoever it 
 said or imported more than the truth was false. 
 
 And again, can you be confident that so much as you 
 suppose was true 1 Are you sure of this, that because you 
 have sometimes found some motions of heart towards God, 
 it is therefore habitually inclined to him, when it very 
 rarely puts forth itself in any suitable acts, and for the most 
 part works quite another way 1 Whereby are habits to be 
 known but by the frequency of their acts 1 Do not you 
 know there are many half-inclinations and workings of 
 heart with some complacency God-ward that prove abortive 
 and come to nothing, as that of the stony ground, and thai 
 of Heb. vi. 4. do more than intimate. Surely your hope 
 and safety more depend upon your repentance, your return 
 and closer adherence to God thereupon, than the supposi- 
 tion your heart is in the main sound and right amidst tho.se 
 more notable declinings from him. But we will admit 
 your supposition true, (which the consideration of the per- 
 sons we are now dealing with, and tlie design of this present 
 piece of our discourse requires,) and take it for granted, 
 that amidst this your great neglect, you have notwithstand- 
 ing a principle, a new and holy nature in you, whose ten- 
 dency is God -ward; whereupon, we further say then, 
 
 8. And doth not your unaccustomedness to this blessed 
 exercise resist the tendency of that new nature 1 And so 
 your practice, while your hearts run aquile contrary course, 
 (for they are not doing nothing while they are not in this 
 delightful way working towards God,) doth not only offend 
 towards your profession, which it in great part belies ; 
 but against that vital principle also, which is in you ; 
 and so your very excuse aggravates your sin. Is there 
 indeed such a principle in you 1 And whither tends 
 itl Is it not from God? And doth it not then na- 
 turally aim at him and tend towards himi being upon 
 both these accoimts (as well as that it resembles liim, 
 and is his living image) called a participation of the 
 Divine nature 1 Yea, doth it not tend to delight in him! 
 for it tends to him as the soul's last end and rest. What 
 good principle can you have in you God-ward if you have 
 not love to himi And the property of that, is to work 
 towards him by desire, that it may rest in him by delight. 
 Have you faith in God ] That works by this love. Paith 
 is that great power in the holy soul by which it acts from 
 God as a principle ; love is that by which it acts towards 
 him as an end ; by that it draws from him, by this it 
 moves to him, and rests in him. The same holy, gracious 
 nature (dependenlly on its great Author and Cause) in- 
 clining it both to this motion and rest; and to the former, 
 in order to the latter : so b}' the work of the new creature 
 in the soul formed purposely for blessedness in God and 
 devotedness to him, its aspirations, its motions, its very 
 pulse, breathe, tend, and beat this way. But you applv 
 not your souls to delight in God. You bend your minds 
 and hearts another way. What are you doing then 1 You 
 are striving against your own life; you are mortifying all 
 good inclinations towards God, stifling and slopping the 
 breath that your panting heart would send forth to him ; you 
 are busilv crucifying the new creature, instead of the body 
 of sin. There is somewhat in you that would work towards 
 God, and you suffer it not; and is thai welll That divine 
 thing, born of God, of heavenly descent, that hath .so much 
 in it of sacredness by its extraction and parentage, 5'ou 
 fear not to do violence to! 
 
 If indeed such a thing (as you seem to hope) be in you ; 
 b Cant V. c Is*. >tx\i. <1 Psul. xwiL 
 
 at some time or other you may perceive which way it beats 
 and tends. The soul in which it hath place is biassed by 
 it God-ward ; and though often it is not discernible, it 
 sometimes shows its inclination. Other men, and meaner 
 creatures, sleep .sometimes, and then their most rooted dis- 
 positions appear not ; when they are awake they bewray 
 them, and let them be seen in their actions, motions, and 
 pursuits. The renewed soul hath its sleeping intervalstoo, 
 and what propensions it hath towards God is little discern- 
 ible ; (and yet even then it sometimes dreams of him, at 
 least between sleeping and waking; I sleep, but my heart 
 waketh, it is the voice of my beloved ;)b hut if you seri- 
 ously commune with 3'ourselves in your more wakeful 
 seasons, you may perceive what your hearts seek and crave ; 
 some such sense as this may be read in them, The desire of 
 our souls is unto thy name, O Lord, and to the remem- 
 brance of thee.<^ One thing have I desired, that will I 
 seek after, to behold the beauty (the delight, as the word 
 signifies) of the Lord.d And when you observe this dis- 
 covered inclination, you may see what it is that in your 
 too wonted course you repress and strive against. Thai 
 divine birtji calls for suitable nutriment, more tastes how 
 gracious the Lord is. You will have it feed upon ashes, 
 upon wind and vanity ; or (although it had the best pa- 
 rent, it hath so ill a nurse) when it asks bread, you give it 
 a stone, and let it be stung by a scorpion ; and the injury 
 strikes higher tl;an at it alone, even (as is obvious) at the 
 very Author of this divine production ; which therefor« 
 we add as a furtlier aggravation of this evil, viz. 
 
 9. That it's an offence against the Spirit of grace, whose 
 dictates are herein slighted and opposed ; for surely with 
 the tendencies of the new creature he concurs. It is 
 maintained by him as well as produced, continuallj' de- 
 pends on him as to its beiirg, properties, and all its opera- 
 tions. Nothing therefore can be cross to the incHnaiion 
 of a renewed soul as such, which is not more principally 
 so to the Holy Ghost himself And particularly the dis- 
 posing of the soul unto delight is most expressly ascribed 
 to him; that very disposition being itself joy in the Holy 
 Ghost ;^ and we find it numbered among the fruits of the 
 Spirit. f You may possibly be less apprehensive of your 
 sin in this, because you find him not dictating to you with 
 that discernible majesty, authority, and glory, that you may 
 think agreeable to so great an Agent. But you must know, 
 he applies himself to us in a wa}' much imitating that of 
 nature. And as in reference to the conservation of our na- 
 tural beings, we are assured the first cause co-operates 
 with inferior causes, (for we live, move, and have our being 
 in him, ?) though the Divine influence is not communicated 
 to this purpose with any sensible glory, or so distinguish- 
 ably, that we can discern what influence is from the superior 
 cause and what from sulx)rdinate; our reason and faith 
 certainly assure us of what our sense cannot reach in this 
 matter. So it is here also, the Divine Spirit accommodates 
 himself ver^' much to the same way of v%'orking with our 
 own, and acts as suitably to our own natures. And though 
 by very sensible tokens we cannot always tell which be 
 the motions that proceed from him ; yet faith teaches us 
 from his word, to ascribe to him whatever spiritual good 
 we find in ourselves; inasmuch at> we are not af ourselves 
 sufficient to think a good thought. And if by that word 
 we judge of the various motions that stir in us, we may 
 discern which are good and which not ; and so may know 
 what to a.scribe to the Spirit, and what not. Whereas, 
 therefore, that word commands us to delight in God, if we 
 find any motion in our hearts tending that way, we are 
 presently to own the finger of God, and the touch of his 
 Holy Spirit therein. And what, have you found no such 
 motions excited, no thoughts cast in that have had this as- 
 pect and tendency, which your indulged carnality and 
 aversion have repressed and counter-wrought 3 Herein 
 you have grieved and quenched the Spirit. 
 
 And if it have not over-borne you into what you should 
 have understood to have been your duty, but have, upon 
 your untractableness, retired and withdrawn I'rom 3'ou; 
 do not therefore make the less reckoning of the matter, 
 but tl>e more rather; this carries more iu it of awful con- 
 sideration in you, and smarter rebuke that he desisted. 
 You must consider him as a free Agent, and who works to 
 
 e Roia. xiv. 17. f Gal. v. M g Act* ^^•li.
 
 39G 
 
 OF DELIGHTING IN GOD. 
 
 Part II. 
 
 will ami to do of his good pleasure. His influence is re- 
 tractable, and when it is retracted you ought in this case 
 to reckon, it signifies a resentment of your unduiiful and 
 regardless carriage towards him. And ought you not to 
 smite upon the thigh then, and say, " What have I donel" 
 You have striven against the Spirit of the most high God ; 
 you have resisted him in the execution of his ofhce, when 
 you were committed to his conduct and government ; you 
 have fallen out and quarrelled with your merciful guide, 
 and slighted at once both his authority and lov^e. This 
 could be no small ofience. And you are also to consider, 
 that when such a province was assigned him in reference 
 to 3'ou, and such as you ; and the great God set his Spirit 
 on work about you; it was with a special end and design, 
 being the determination of most wise counsel. And how 
 highly doth this increase the offence ! that, 
 
 10. You have herein directly obstructed the course and 
 progress of that design ; that could be no other than 
 the magnifying of his grace in your conduct to blessedness. 
 This is that whereon he hath been intent; and he hath 
 made his design herein so visible, that they that run 
 might read what it was. The very overture to you of 
 placing your delights on him, speaks its end ; 'tis that 
 whereby he should be most highly acknowledged and you 
 blessed both at once. His known design you ought to 
 have reckoned did prescribe to you, and give you a law. 
 It is a part of civility towards even an ordinary man, not 
 to cross his design which I know him earnestly to intend, 
 when it tends no way to my prejudice, or any man's; yea, 
 lO do so would in common interpretation, besides rude- 
 ness, argue ill nature and a mischievous disposition. Much 
 more would duty and just observance towards a superior 
 challenge so much, as not to counterwork him, and awe a 
 well-tempered spirit into subjection and compliance ; but 
 a stiff reluctancy to the great and known design of the 
 blessed God, meant so directly to our own advantage, 
 .speaks so very bad a temper, hath in it such a complica- 
 tion of peevish wilfulness, of undutifulness and ingratitude 
 to him, of negligence and disregard of ourselves, that it 
 must want a name to express it. 
 
 And now do you see what evil the neglect of delighting 
 in God (accompanied as it cannot but be with the having 
 your hearts otherwise engaged and vainly busy) doth in- 
 clude and carry in it 1 Will you pause awhile and delibe- 
 rate upon it 1 Do but make your just and sober estimate 
 by the things that have been mentioned. Measure it by 
 God's law, and it imports manifest disobedience in a mat- 
 ter of highest consequence ; — by the judgment of your own 
 conscience, and it imports much boldness against light in 
 a very plain case ; — by your experience, and it speaks an 
 uninstructable stupidity, or a very heedless forgetful spirit ; 
 — by '.he obligation laid upon a'ou, by the kindness of this 
 very counsel and offer, (besides many other ways,) and it 
 hath in it great ingratitude and insensiblencss of the great- 
 est love ; — by your covenant, and it imports ti'eachery ; — by 
 your relation, much incongruity and undecency ; — by your 
 profession, falsehood and hypocrisy; — by the tendency of 
 'he new nature in you, unnatural violence; — by the dic- 
 tate« of God's Spirit, great unlractableness ; — by his known 
 declared design in this matter, a most undutiful disrespect 
 to him, with a most wretched carelessness of yourselves, 
 as to your nearest and most important concern. One 
 would think it needless to say more. But why should we 
 balk any thing that so obviously occurs, tending to set 
 forth the exceeding great sinfulness of this sin 1 Therefore 
 know, that besides its great faultiness in itself, 
 
 11. Much also cannot but be derived into it from its 
 very faulty causes. It supposes and argues great evils 
 that flow into it, and from which it hath its rise. 
 
 1. Great blindness and ignorance of God. For is it 
 possible any should have known and not have loved him? 
 or have beheld his glory, and not have been delighted 
 therewith"? and that with such delight and love as should 
 have held a settled seat and residence in them. And can 
 your ignorance of God be excusable or innocent 1 The 
 apostle's words are too applicable ; Some have not the 
 knowledge of God, 1 speak it to your shame. h Do you 
 pretend to him, and know him not 1 worship him so oft. 
 
 h 1 Cor XV. 
 1 2 Cor.v. 
 
 i Psal. kxvi. l, 2. 
 m Eph. iv. 18. 
 
 k Acts xvii. 
 n Psal. X. 
 
 and worship you know not what "? had such opportunity 
 of knowing him, and yet be ignorant 1 At least it would 
 be thought. In Judah is God known, and that his name 
 were great in Israel,; where he hath had his tabernacle and 
 dwelling-place. Here one would think his altar should 
 not bear the same inscription as at Athens, " To the un- 
 known God."k How express hath his discovery of him- 
 self been to you ' and how amiable ! What was there in 
 it not delectable 1 or in respect whereof he hath not ap- 
 peared altogether lovely 1 as it were composed of delights 1 
 You have had opportunity to behold him clad with the 
 garments of salvation and praise ; and as he is in Christ, 
 in that alluring posture, " reconciling the world to him- 
 self," 1 wherein all his attributes have visibly complied to 
 the reconciling design ; his boundless fulness of life and 
 love not obstructed by any of them, from flowing out in 
 rich and liberal communications. If you had not excluded 
 that glorious pleasant light wherein he is so to be beheld, 
 you would have beheld what had won your hearts fully, 
 and bound them to him in everlastingdelight and love. 
 And have you not reason to be ashamed you have not 
 known him better, and to better purpose ! Alienation 
 from the life of God™ proceeds from blindness of heart, 
 i. e. a chosen, affected, voluntary blindness. Or if your 
 knowledge of him be not little, 
 
 2. Your little delight in him argues much unmindful- 
 ness of him ; at least that you have not minded him duly, 
 and according to what you have known. It might here be 
 seasonable to suggest to you, how likely it is that several 
 ways your great faultiness in the matter of thinking of God 
 may have contributed to the withholding of your deliglit 
 from him. Consider therefore, 
 
 1. Have not your thoughts of him been slight and 
 transient 1 Have they not been overly superficial thoughts ? 
 casual only, and such as have dropped into your minds 
 as it were b}' chance, fluid and roving, fixed neither upon 
 him nor into your hearts'? too much resembling what is 
 said of the Avicked man, God is not in all his thoughts," 
 he hath not been amidst them? Your thoughts have nut 
 united upon him, he hath not been situatedf and centred 
 in them. Was not this the case 1 You bestowed upon 
 him it may be now and then a hasty passant glance, tlie 
 careless cast of a wandering eye ; and was this likely to 
 beget an abidin^ermanent delight ? Have you been wont 
 to compose yourselves designedly and on purpose to think 
 of him, so as your thoughts might be said to have been 
 directed towards him by the desire and inclining bent of 
 your heart; according to that, the desire of our soul is to- 
 wards thy name, and to the remembrance of thee ?<> 
 Whence it is that 'tis represented as the usual posture of 
 them whom he reckons among his jewels, and for whom 
 the book of remembrance was written, that they thought 
 on his name ;p a thing that they might be known by, and 
 distinguished from other men. Wherefore it is observ- 
 able, that their remembrance of him was thought worth 
 the remembering, and to be transmitted into records never 
 to be forgotten. The evil of your not delighting in God, 
 hath a great accession from your negligent thinking of him. 
 
 2. Have not your thoughts of him been low and mean, 
 such as have imported light esteem? Compare them with 
 those admiring thoughts, Who is like unto thee, O Lord, 
 among the gods? who is like thee, glorious in holiness ?'' 
 O Lord, our Lord, how excellent is thy name in all the 
 earth!'' How unlike have yours been to such thoughts! 
 Bethink yourselves how deeply culpable you have made 
 your neglect to delight in God, by your unworthy thoughts, 
 by which you have detracted so unspeakably from the 
 Divine excellency! Hence you have more to account for 
 than merely not delighting in God, a rendering him such 
 to yourselves, as if he were not worthy to be delighted in. 
 How ought this to shake your hearts ! 
 
 3. Have they not been hard thoughts; full of censure, 
 and misjudging of his nature, counsels, ways, and works? 
 have there not been perverse reasonings, with dislike of 
 his methods of government over men in this present state ? 
 as if he had too little kindness for such as you would have 
 him favour, and too much for others ; judging his love and 
 hatred by false measures ? This seems to be much the evil 
 
 o Isa. xxn. S. 
 q Deut. x.\.\ii. 15. 
 
 p Mai. iii. 
 r Psal. viii.
 
 Part II. 
 
 OF DELIGHTING IN GOD. 
 
 397 
 
 unto which the injunction of delight in God is here op- 
 posed in this psalm and whence it may be estimated, liuw 
 directly that militates agamsi this, and prevailing, excludes 
 it. Perhaps you have deliglited so Utile in God because 
 ye have thouglii (the thing that is so wearisome to him) 
 every one that doth evil is good in the sight of the Lout, 
 and he delighteth in them ;'" and have said in your heart.^, 
 where is the God of judgment? Or have you not been 
 more peccant in your appreliensions of his rules and reso- 
 lutions for the disposing of men as to their eternal states ? 
 Have yon not disbelieved the revelation he hath given of 
 his nature, and express declarations of his inind and pur- 
 pose touching these mailers 1 Was it not enough for you 
 to have known his gracious propensions towards returning 
 sinners, that desire him again for their God, and willingly 
 accept the grace, and submit themselves to the conduct and 
 government, of his Son ? Should not this have allured and 
 won your hearts to him, and made you, with humble, 
 thankful admiration of his grace, resign and yield )-our- 
 selves to be his for ever 1 Have you not measured your 
 apprehensions of him by the suggestions and misgivings 
 of your guilty, jealous hearts ; or by 3'our experienced 
 animosity, and the implacableness of 3'our own spirits to- 
 wards such as have offended you ; as if he could forgive 
 no more than you are disposed to do 1 Have 3-ou not 
 opposed your own imaginations of him to his express tes- 
 tifications of himself, that " lie is love ; slow to anger, and 
 of great mercy, &c. And that as the heavens are high 
 above the earth, so are his ways above your waj's, and his 
 though'.s above your thoughts '?" Have you not (against 
 his plain word) thought him irreconcileab-le, and averse to 
 the accepting of any atonement for you ? prescribed and 
 set bounds to him, and thought your sin greater than could 
 be forgiven 1 And if hereupon j'ou have not delighted in 
 him, and have found all ingenuous affection towards him 
 stifled within you, as your not delighting in him, was a 
 foul evil ; the more sinful injurious cause (denying the 
 infinite goodness of his nature, and giving the lie to his 
 word) hath made it beyond all expression worse. And 
 further at least consider, 
 
 4. Have not your thoughts of God been few"? Is not 
 the meditation of him with you an unwonted thing 1 The 
 Psalmist, resolving to mind him much, to praise and sing 
 to him as long as he lived, and while he had any being ;t 
 doth as it were prophesy to himself, that his meditation of 
 him should be sweet. Frequent right thoughts of God, 
 will surely be pleasant, delightful thoughts; but your little 
 delight in God too plainly argues, you have minded him 
 but seldom. And how full of guilt is your not delighting 
 in God upon this account ! How cheap is the expense of 
 a thought ! What, that so much should not be done in 
 order to the delightful rest of your soul in God! 
 
 3. It supposes much carnality, a prone inclination and 
 addictedness to this earth and the things of it ; and there- 
 upon argues in you a very mean, abject spirit. While you 
 can take no pleasure (or do take so little) in God, is there 
 nothing else wherein you take pleasure ! And what is it ? 
 Goii hath in this matter no other rival than this world. 
 'Tis its friendship that is enmity to him ;" something or 
 other of it, the lust of the flesh, the lust of the eye, or the 
 pride of life prevails far, while the love of the Father hath 
 so little place in you.'' Whither are you sunk 1 inio how- 
 low and vile a temper of spirit, when you can lake pleasure 
 in so base things, rather than in the blessed God : and quit 
 so high and pure delights for mire and dirt "? What hath 
 thus carnalized your minds, that you savour only the things 
 of the flesh, and divine things are tasteless and without 
 relish 1 Nor are you to think more favourably of your 
 case, if you take little actual complacency in the world 
 also; probably it is because you have little of it to delight 
 in ; it may be you are more acquainted with the cares of 
 it than the delights ; or your desire after it is much larger 
 than your po.ssession. "'Tis all one for that. But what 
 are your hearts most apt to delight in 1 or, what is most j 
 agreeable to your temper"? 'Tis the same thing, what 
 earthly affection predominates in you, while the temper of 1 
 vour spirit is earthly; and it is therebv held ofl" from God. I 
 Your not having actual earthly delights to put in the 
 
 B Mai. ii. 17 
 I 1 John ii. 
 
 t Psal. civ. 33. 
 y Psal. Ixxiii. 
 
 balance against heavenly is only by accident. But all your 
 cares, desires, and hopes of that vile kind, would turn 
 inio as vile delights, if you had your wills. In the mean- 
 time, you are the more excuseless, and your sin is the 
 grosser, that even the cares and troubles of this world are 
 of more value with you than delight in God. How far are 
 you from that temper. Whom have I in heaven but thee, 
 and whom do I desire on earth besides ihee 7^ 
 
 4. And how sad an argument is it, of downright aver- 
 sion and di.saffectedness to God, in a great degree at least 
 yet remaining! Whence can your not delighting in him 
 proceed, but from this, as its most immediate cause 7 Whal 
 could hinder you, if your heart were inclined! Are you 
 not astonished to behold this as the state of your case, that 
 you delight not in him, because your heart is against it; 
 that is, from flat enmity. And what doth more naturally 
 import enmity to any thing than to turn off from it, as not 
 being able to take pleasure in it. So God expresses his 
 detestation of apostaies. If any man draw back, my soul 
 shall have no pleasure in him,^ And his contempt of Je- 
 choniah is signified by the like manner of speaking. Do 
 you not tremble to think that should be the temper of your 
 spirit towards God, and that your estimate of him, as if he 
 were a despised broken idol," and a.s mean a thing as a 
 vessel wherein is no pleasure '? Reckon then thus with 
 yours>3lf. As your case stands, and things do lie between 
 God and you, your little delight in God can have no more 
 favourable account given of it, nor be resolved into any 
 gentler or milder cause, than enmity. And if this seem 
 to you not to be a cause, but to be coinpident, and fall in 
 with it, so much the worse. By how much less this enmity 
 hath of antecedency to your neglect, or the more it seems 
 the same with it, so much the more it discovers the evil of 
 the thing itself For by what worse name can v.e call 
 any thing than enmity to God 1 But we speak of your 
 habitual temper, as that, which is the cause of youractual 
 neglect. And since you have a discover}' of God as 
 the most delectable object, cannot pretend there is a better, 
 have leave and free permission to place your delight on 
 him, ye are earnestly invited and pressed to it. 'Tis 
 plain nothing else is in your way to hinder you. There- 
 fore you delight not in him, because your heart only is 
 averse. 
 
 III. We also might insist further to show the evils that 
 ensue and follow upon this neglect. Such I mean, as do 
 not follow casually and by accident, but which have a 
 very inward connexion with it, and are its most natural 
 consequents ; being some wa}' caused by it, or \ihich it 
 doth very directly tend to beget. And yet these we need 
 not be solicitously curious to distinguish, as things of a 
 kind altogether diverse from those last mentioned under 
 the foregoing head. For it is very apparent, the same 
 things may both cause little delight in God, and be caused 
 thereby ; as a person may therefore not delight in God be- 
 cause he knows him not, and ma)' therefore be the less apt 
 to entertain the knowledge of him, because he hath no de- 
 light in him. And the case is the same as to the other 
 things spoken of as causes of this omi.ssion, i. e. that it and 
 they may be mutual causes of one another. But it how- 
 ever equally serves the design of aggravating the evil of 
 not taking frequent actual delight in God, that hereby sin 
 grows, whether in the same or in different kinds. There is 
 still an increase of sin, though but of the same sort that was 
 in being before. You ought to consider then, as you take 
 so little delight in God trom that very had cause, that you 
 have not entertained the right knowledge of him, when 
 you had so great opportunity to get much of it, which 
 makes your matter very ill ; do you not also find that by 
 3'^our withholding yourselves from delighting in him, you 
 have still less disposition to seek his more inward acquaint- 
 ance 1 And doth not that make your matter much worse 1 
 If you alreadj' know somewhat of him. you yet know but 
 in part ; your object is infinite, and this knowledge so ex- 
 cellent, that you cannot fully attain to it, there is still more 
 to be known. 
 
 Now therefore if you did delight much in God, would 
 you not be pressing hard after him ?b would you not be 
 following on to kiiow him 1<: and then would his goings 
 
 7. Heb. X. aJer. x-xu. b Psal bdii. 
 
 c Ho3. vi.
 
 398 
 
 OF DELIGHTING IN GOD. 
 
 Tart II. 
 
 forth be prepared before you as the morning, and he would 
 be still visiting you with fresh and increasing light; where- 
 upon your pleasure would be renewed and increased by 
 every fresh view, and consequently your progress would 
 be from sight to sight, and from pleasure to pleasure ; 
 whereas now this wheel stands still, or you are going back 
 into darkness and desolation. Have you not much the 
 more to answer for upon this account 1 The like may 
 be said as to the rest. The irrectitude and great fault iness 
 of your thoughts of God, though that contribute not a little 
 to your not delighting in him, yet also if you did delight in 
 him more, would not your thoughts of him be more deeply 
 serious, more highly raised "? Would you not be very 
 unapt to take up injurious hard thoughts of him 1 Would 
 not his thoughts (once become precious to you) be also nu- 
 merous, or innumerable rather, as the sands of the sea- 
 shore ?d Would not your earthly temper, your strangeness 
 and averseness to him, vanish and wear off, if you were 
 more exercised in actual delightful converse with him 1 
 Therelbre the permanency and increase of those mentioned 
 evils, and that they have got such settled rooting in you, is 
 all to be charged upon your not applying yourselves to 
 more frequent actual delight in God. Besides what may 
 further follow hereupon, the languishment and decays of 
 your inward man ; the difficulty you find to trust in God, 
 when you are reduced to straits, (as who would commit 
 his concernments to one he doth not love 1) your impa- 
 tience of adverse and cross emergencies, that may often 
 befall to you ; your aptness to vexation or despondency ; 
 the easy victory a temptation hath over you ; (as surely he 
 is sooner drawn away from God, or into sin against him, 
 who delights not in him ;) your less usefulness in your 
 place and station ; your want of courage, resolution, zeal 
 for God; (which are best maintained by delight, and the 
 relishes of a sweet complacency taken in him ;) your slug- 
 gishness in a course of well doing ; the sense of a toilsome, 
 heavy labour in religion, that it begets you weariness with- 
 out rest ; (whence you rather aflect a rest from it, than in 
 it and by it ;) and lastly, your continual bondage by the fear 
 of death, which one would not dread, apprehending it only 
 a removal into his presence in whom I delight. All these 
 things (which might have been distinctly insisted on, and 
 more expressly accommodated to the present purpose, but 
 that I would not be over-tedious, and that somewhere else 
 some or other of them may fall again in our way) do bring 
 in great and weighty additions to the evil and guiltiness 
 of this sin, and much tend to lay load upon it, to fill up its 
 measure, even unto pressing down and running over. For 
 how just is it, to impute to it what it naturally causes, and 
 lay its own impure and viperous births at its own door ! 
 
 And though this discourse hath been drawn out to a 
 greater length than was intended, it will not be lost labour, 
 if by all that hath been said, any that fear God shall be 
 brought to apprehend more of the odiousness of this sin ; 
 and the self-indulgent thought be banished far from them, 
 that this is either an indifferent matter, or at least (if it be 
 somewhat a careless) 'tis one of their more harmless inad- 
 vertencies and omissions. Which good effect, if through 
 the blessing of God it may accomplish, there will be the 
 less need unto such to read on, but take their nearer way 
 to the immediate present practice of this great duty, and 
 because also it is to be hoped, that the evil of this neglect 
 once apprehended, will prompt and quicken serious and 
 considering persons to set upon the enjoined duly ; it will 
 be the less necessary to enlarge much in that other kind of 
 discourse which we now come to, viz. 
 
 II. Invitation thereunto. Wherein yet we have reason 
 to fear it may be too needful to place some part of our 
 present labour. For though in matters of an infinitely in- 
 ferior nature and concernment., any practice is readily un- 
 dertaken that is once represented reasonable and gainful ; 
 in such a business as this, a hundred difficulties are ima- 
 gined ; we stand as persons that cannot find their hands ; 
 and all the question is, (even if there be some inclination 
 to it, or conviction at least it should be done,) but how 
 shall we go about it 1 We are apt to grope as in the dark, 
 even at noon-day, and cannot find the door or way that 
 leads into a practice wherein there is so much both of 
 pleasantness and duty. Therefore as the case is, the invi- 
 dPsol. cxxxix. 
 
 tation to this exercise ought, if it were possible, to be a 
 kind of manuduclion; and it is needful we be not only 
 called and pressed, but even led into it. This then we 
 are to endeavour, the giving of some plain prescriptions 
 that may put us into an easy and direct way of falling ex- 
 peditely upon this delightful work. And here it must be 
 considered, that all (as hath been said) are not in an equal 
 disposition to it. Some are more averse, others less, but 
 all too much ; therefore are we to begin as low as their 
 case may require, who are less disposed; and so proceed- 
 ing on in our course, somewhat may fall in more suitable to 
 them who are in some disposition to it, but do yet need (as 
 who do not ?) some help and furtherance in order thereto. 
 
 First therefore. It is necessary, that you do deliberately 
 and resolvedly design the thing itself. Propose to your- 
 selves delighting in God as a business unto which you will 
 designedly and with steadfast purpose apply your Avhole 
 soul. Content not yourselves with light roving thoughts 
 about it, which many have about divers matters which 
 they never think fit to engage themselves in. Determine 
 the matter fully in your own heart, and say, " Many pro- 
 jects 1 have tried in my time, sundry things I have turned 
 my mind unto, to little purpose, I will now see what there 
 is of delight to be found in God. The sloth- and aversion 
 of a backward heart must be overcome by resolution ; and 
 that resolution be well-weighed, deliberately taken up, 
 deeply fixed, that it may last and overcome. And why 
 should you not be resolved in this point "? Is this a matter 
 always to be waived 1 Know you another way to be happy 1 
 Are you yet to learn, that a reasonable soul needs the ful- 
 ness of God to make it happy, and that there is no other 
 God but one "? Can there be any dispute or doubt in the 
 case, when there is but one thing to be done, besides yield- 
 ing oneself to be miserable for ever 1 And what need of 
 that while yet there is one way to avoid it 1 Surely, that 
 there is but one, is better than if there were a thousand. 
 You need not now be long in choosing; nor do you need 
 to deliberate, because of any doubt in the case, but that 
 you may more fully comprehend in your own thoughts 
 that there is none, and that your resolution may hereupon 
 grow the more peremptory, and secure from the danger of 
 any change. 
 
 To talk of any difficulty in the matter, is a strange ira- 
 pertinency; for who would oppose difficulty to necessity 1 
 or allege the thing is hard which must be done 1 Or must 
 it be done, and never be attempted "? or attempted, and not 
 be resolved upon 1 You have nothing to do to read further, 
 who will not digest this first counsel, and here settle your 
 resolution, " I will apply myself to a course of delight in 
 God." If this appear not reasonable to j^ou, despair that 
 any thing will that follows. 'Tis foolish trifling, to look 
 upon such writings that profess their design, and have in 
 it their fronts, that they are meant for helps unto Christian 
 practice, only with a humour of seeing what a man can 
 say. And if ever you will be in earnest, you must return 
 to this point ; and will but waste time to no purpose, if 
 you will not now set down your resolution; that is, that 
 }'ou will seek a happiness for your soul, (loo long already 
 neglected!) a happiness that may satisfy and last; and 
 (where only it is to be found) in the blessed God; and in 
 him by setting yourselves to delight in him; since nothing 
 can make you happy wherein you delight not. And that 
 you will make use of what you further read, according as 
 you find it conducing, and apt to serve your purpose herein. 
 Then next, 
 
 2. Consider your present state God-ward. Must you, 
 do you see you must, come to this point, of having your 
 delight in God 1 In what posture then are yourafiairs to- 
 wards him"? How do things stand between him and you 1 
 You do well know, you were unacceptable to him, and 
 his enemy ; and that his justice and holy nature obliged 
 him to hold you as such, though he never gave you ground 
 to think him implacable. Can you delight in an enemy? 
 who (as matters in that case stand) must be apprehended 
 ready to avenge himself on you, and as having whet his 
 glittering sword, and made the arrow ready upon the 
 string, directed against your very heart ! Apprehend this 
 to have been your case, and most deservedly, that you 
 were an impure, hateful wretch, deformed and loalliso'me,
 
 Part II. 
 
 OF DELIGHTING IN GOD. 
 
 399 
 
 one that could )'ield the holy God no matter of delight, full 
 of enmity and contrariety to iiim, and in whom he could 
 not but find much cause of most just hatred. Remember 
 you were one of his rev'olted creatures, under his most de- 
 served wrath and curse. Know at how vast a distance you 
 were from delighting in him, or a state that could admit 
 of it. Consider, is this still your ca.se 1 And do not rashly 
 think it altered; or that you have nothing to do, but out 
 of hand to rush upon the business of delighting in God. 
 
 3. Yet do not think it unalterable. Do not conclude it 
 as a determined and undoubted thing, that matters can ne- 
 ver be taken up between God and you, or you become suit- 
 able and acceptable to him. Look not upon your vile 
 wicked heart as unalterably wicked ; nor upon him there- 
 fore as an irreconcileable enemy. Account he waits for 
 your turning to him, as being inclined to friendship with 
 you. Otherwise, would vengeance have suflered you so 
 long to live 1 Have you not been long at his mercy '? Hath 
 he not spared you, when it was in his power to crush you 
 at pleasure 1 Do not think therefore (what you have no 
 pretence for) that he hath a destructive design upon you, 
 and will accept of no atonement. 
 
 4. Acquaint yourself with the way and terms upon 
 which his Gospel declares him reconcileable; that is, that 
 he will never be reconciled to you while you remain wick- 
 ed, nor for your own sake, become you never so good : 
 that a more costly sacrifice than you can either procure or 
 be, must expiate your guilt, and make your peace. If this 
 matter could have been effected in a less expensive way, 
 the son of God had not (as you know he was) been de- 
 signed himself, and made that sacrifice ; nor a work have 
 been undertaken by him that might as well have been done 
 by common hands. And since he submitted and under- 
 took as he did, reckon with yourself, how highly just it is, 
 that the entire honour of so mercil\tl condescension, and 
 so great a performance, be wholly ascribed to him. But 
 withal know, he shed his blood, not in kindness to your 
 sin, but to you : and that his design was at once to pro- 
 cure ti.e death of that, and your life; that you need his 
 Spirit as well as his blood ; that to recommend and recon- 
 cile you to his holiness, as well as t/iis to his vindictive jus- 
 tice; that as you expect ever to experience and taste the 
 delights of that communion, whereinto he calls you, you 
 must not only have the " blood of Christ to cleanse j'ou 
 from all sin," but must also " -walk in the light, as he 
 is in the light ;" «that an entire resignation, a betrusling 
 and subjecting yourself to the mercy and governing power 
 of the Redeemer, is necessary to the setting of things right 
 between God and you ; in whom only you may both accept 
 God and be accepted of him ; that he must be the centre 
 of union between God and you ; and that union the ground 
 of all delightful intercourse. 
 
 5. Make request to him, that he would draw you into 
 that union with his Son ; unto whom none can come, but 
 who are drawn by himselff Do not dream and slumber 
 in this business ; but know your all depends upon it. Con- 
 sider the exigency of your case. Do you find your heart 
 sluggish and indisposed to any such transaction with God 
 and Christ "? Doth it decline and draw back ? Know, it 
 herein doth but act its own nature, and do as it is, or like 
 itself. Therefore stir up yourself, to lake hold of his 
 strength ; e in which way, if you have mind to be at peace, 
 you shall make peace. Cry to him earnestly, " Draw a 
 poor wretch out of darkness and death, that must other- 
 wise be at eternal distance from thee, and be miserable 
 for ever. Join me to him who will bring me to thee, and 
 make me one for ever with thee." Hereupon, 
 
 6. Acceping Jesus Christ as thy Saviour and thv Lord, 
 accept in him. with all humble reverence, thankfulness, and 
 admiration of Divine mercy and goodness, the blessed God 
 to be thy God; surrendering and yielding up ihvself en- 
 tirely and fully to be his forever. Do this unfeignedly, 
 and with great solemnity ; and let it be to thee for an ever- 
 lasting memorial ! Record it as a memorable day, where- 
 in thou didst go out of thyself, and all finite, narrow, limit- 
 ed good, and pass into union with the eternal, immense, 
 incomprehensible, and all-comprehending good, and enter 
 iipon it as thine own ! And what ! wilt thou delight in a 
 Grod that is not thine ? Canst thou be content to look wist- 
 
 e 1 John xvii. r jqI,,, vi. 
 
 ly on him, as one unrelated, and a stranger 1 Apprehend 
 (and bless God that this is the state of the case) that in 
 this way he offers himself most freely to thee. It were as- 
 tonishing to think of purchasing so great a good ! The 
 matter were not to be offered at. But how tran.sporting is 
 it, that nothing but acceptance and resignation should be 
 needful to make thee one with the great God, and make 
 his fulness thine! Therefore make'haste to do this, and 
 be not hasty in doing it. Defer not, but do it with great 
 seriousness, deliberation, and fulness of consent; consi- 
 dering you are about to enter into an everlasting covenant 
 not to be forgotten; and doing a thing never to be again un- 
 done. Now if herein your heart be sincere, and there be a 
 real and vital exercise of your very soul in this transaction 
 with God in Christ, so as that you truly take him for your 
 God, preferring him in your estimation and choice above 
 all things, and giving up yourself absolutely and without 
 reservation to him as his, to be governed and disposed of 
 by him in all things at his pleasure ; you are hereby 
 brought into that state that doth admit of delighting in him. 
 And what remains to be said, will concern you, as per- 
 sons in a nearer capacity, and who have a kind of funda- 
 mental aptitude and disposedness of heart unto this spirit- 
 ual work ; and will therefore be directed to you, consi- 
 dered according to that supposition. Only it is withal to 
 he considered in the case of many such, that they were 
 arrived hither long ago, and been (as was before supposed) 
 hereupon somewhat exercised and versed in this piece of 
 holy practice, have had many pleasant turns wiili God, 
 and tasted often thedelightsof his converse : but have dis- 
 continued their course, and are grown strange to him who 
 was their delight ; have suffered themselves b}' insensible 
 degrees to be drawn and tempted away from him ; or there 
 hath been some grosser and more violent rupture, by which 
 they have broken themselves off. It will be requisite to 
 say somewhat more peculiar to these, for the reducing of 
 them again even to this unitive point. After which, what 
 shall ensue, may in common concern them, and all that are 
 arrived so far, together. For such therefore whose case 
 this is, it will surely both become and concern you to take 
 this course : 
 
 1. Make a stand, and bethink yourselves ; Can you jus- 
 tify your carriage towards him whom you have taken to 
 be your God 1 Can 3'ou approve your own way 7 Was 
 this all that you obliged yourselves unto in the day of your 
 solemn treaty with him ; only to take on )'ou the name of 
 a relation to him, and so (excepting that you would now 
 and then compliment him in some piece of external, 
 heartless homage) take leave till you meet again with him 
 in another world 1 And that in the meantime this pre- 
 sent world, or your carnal self, (to he gratified and 
 served out of it,) should really be your God, and he only 
 bear the name 1 Was this indeed your meaning 1 or if it 
 was, did you deal sincerely in that treaty ? or can you 
 think it was his meaning, and that he would expect no 
 more from you 1 Can you allow yourselves so to interpret 
 his covenant, and give this as the summarv account of ihe 
 tenor of it 1 How would you then expound it to nothing, 
 and make a mere trifle of it, and make your religion a fit- 
 ter service for an inanimate, senseless idol, than the living 
 and true God ! Do you not yet know what the name of God 
 imports 1 Can he be a God to j-ou that is not acknowledged 
 by you as your very best, the universal, and ab.<;olutely all- 
 comprehending good 1 But if you apprehend there was 
 really more in the matter, and that you have been altoge- 
 ther faulty in this thing: then, 
 
 2. Represent to yourselves as full}- as you can the great- 
 ness of the fault. What ! have yon made God an unneces- 
 sary thing to you, while the creature, vour verv idols, ly- 
 ing vanities, were thought necessary 1 And these were 
 the things upon which you thought fit to set your hearts! 
 which 5'ou have loved, which vou have seived.aller which 
 you have walked, which you have sought, and whom you 
 have worshipped !'' The heap of expressions wherewith 
 it seemed meet to the spirit of God to set out the profuse 
 lavishness of idolatrous aflection. Think how monstrous 
 this is ! Revolve in your mind the several aggravations 
 of j'our sinful neglect before mentioned : and labour to feel 
 the weight of them upon your own spirits. Think what 
 
 g Isa. xxvii. h Jor. viii. 2.
 
 400 
 
 OF DELIGHTING IN GOD. 
 
 Part II. 
 
 time you have lost from pleasant delightful walking with 
 God ! what damage j'ou have done yourselves ! how far 
 you might have attained ! how muJh you are cast behind 
 in your preparations for a blessed eternity ! what wrong 
 you have done him, whom you took for the God of your 
 life, to whom you vowed your hearts and souls ! how lit- 
 tle kindly and truly you have dealt with him! 
 
 3. Return to him with weeping and supplication. Open 
 yourselves freely to him. Let him hear you bemoaning 
 yourselves, pour out your souls to him, in large acknow- 
 ledgments, and confessions of your guiltiness, which, 
 while you keep silence, will consume your bones and 
 waste you to nothing. " Remember whence you are fal- 
 len, and repent and do your first works."' Till then he 
 hath this against you, that you have left your first love. 
 And consider, is it not a grievous thing to you 1 Doth it 
 not pain your hearts, that your Lord and Redeemer should 
 have somewhat against you, as it were laid up, noted and 
 put on record, kept in store, and, as himself remarkably 
 expresses it, sealed up among his treasures; '' somewhat 
 that sticks with him, and which he bears in mind, and 
 hath lying in his heart against you. Is this a small 
 thing with you when that must be apprehended to be 
 his sense 1 (and suppose him saying to you,) I remem- 
 ber the kindness of thy youth, the love of thine espou- 
 sals 1 ' And now since those former days, " What iniqui- 
 ty hast thou found in me, that thou art gone far from me, 
 and hast walked after vanity, and art become vain V How 
 confounding a thing were it, if he should say, as some- 
 time to others in a case resembling yours, (and why should 
 you not take it as equally belonging to you 1) O my peo- 
 ple, what have I done unto thee 1 and wherein have I 
 wearied thee? testify against me: m and while the case ad- 
 mits such sharp and cutting rebuke, and that it is the mat- 
 ter of rebuke (not rebuke itself abstracted from the mat- 
 ter, i. e. if it were causeless) that should smart or wound ; 
 how becoming is it, and suitable to the case, to cast down 
 a wounded, bleeding heart before the Lord, and be abased 
 in the dust at the foot-stool of his mercy seat ! And though 
 your sin be great and heinous ; 
 
 4. Yet apprehend you are before a mercy-seat; that 
 '■ There is forgiveness with him that he may be feared." 
 How would this apprehension promote the humiliation 
 which the case requires ! A sullen despondency that ex- 
 cludes hope of mercy, hardens the heart; continues the 
 sinful, comfortless distance. Therefore apply yourselves 
 to him; seek his pardon in the blood of the Redeemer; 
 know you need it, and that it is only upon such terms to 
 be obtained. Yet also take heed lest any diminishing 
 thoughts of the evil of your sin return, and make you ne- 
 glect the thing, or waive the known stated way of remission. 
 We are apt to look upon crimes whereby men are imme- 
 diately offended, and which therefore are of worse repu- 
 tation among men, as robbery, murder, &c. as very horrid. 
 This is a matter that lies immediately between Spirit and 
 spirit ; the God of the spirits of all flesh and your spirit. 
 You have had a solemn transaction with hini, and have 
 dealt falsely. And though the matter were secret between 
 God and you, is it the less evil in itself for that 1 If you 
 had dealt unworthily, and used base treachery towards a 
 friend, in a matter only known to him and yourself, would 
 you not, when you have reflected, blush to see his face, till 
 matters be composed betwixt youl And is there another 
 way of having them composed, and of restoring delightful 
 friendly converse, than by your seeking his pardon, and his 
 granting it 1 Could you have the confidence to put your- 
 self upon conversing with him as at former times, without 
 such a preface 1 or were it not great immodesty and impu- 
 dence to offer at it 1 But that when this hath been the case 
 between the blessed God and you, and you now come with 
 deep resentments, and serious unfeigned acknowledgments 
 of your most offensive neglects of him, to seek forgiveness 
 at his hand, he should be easy and facile to forgive ; how 
 should this melt you down before him ! And this is what 
 his own word obliges you to apprehend and believe of 
 him. These words he hath required to be proclaimed to 
 you ; n Return you backsliding ones, and I will not cause 
 mine anger to fall upon you ; for I am merciful, saith the 
 Lord, and I will not keep anger forever. Only acknow- 
 
 i Rov. ii. k Deut. xxxii. 1 Jer. ii. m Mic. vi. 3. 
 
 ledge your iniquity, that you have transgressed against the 
 Lord your God, and have scattered your ways to the stran- 
 gers under every green tree; (your offence hath been idol- 
 atry as well as theirs;) turn, O backsliding children, saith 
 the Lord ; for I am married unto you." 
 
 What heart would not break and bleed at this overture ! 
 You can be recovered to no capacity of delighting in God, 
 as heretofore, till you sensibly feel the need of great for- 
 giveness, and have a disposition of heart inwardly to relish 
 the sweetness and pleasantness of it; till those words do 
 agree with the sense of your hearts, and you can (as in a 
 transport) cry out, O the blessedness of the man (as the 
 expression imports) whose iniquity is forgiven, and whose 
 sin is covered! p &-c. And now when you are come thus 
 far, if the temper of your spirit be right even in this, there 
 Avill be in conjunction with the desire, hope, and value of 
 forgiveness, at least an equal dread of such future strange- 
 nesses and breaches between God and you : and that m ill 
 be very natural to you, which I next add as further advice : 
 
 5. Most earnestly seek and crave a belter and more fixed 
 temper of spirit ; more fully determined and bent Godward; 
 that your heart may be directed into the love of God; i that 
 the spirit of love, power, and a sound mind may bear rule in 
 you. Be intent upon the recovery of that healthy soundness, 
 which wheresoever it hath place, will with a certain steady 
 power, and a strong inclining bent of love, carry your heart 
 toward God. And take heed lest you be satisfied in the ex- 
 pectation and hope of forgiveness, as to your former neglects 
 of God without this; there is a manifest prejudice daily ac- 
 cruing to the Christian name and profession, by the un- 
 equal estimation which that part of the doctrine of Christ 
 hath, that concerns the work of his Spirit upon us, regenera- 
 tion, the new creature, repentance, and a holy life ; in com- 
 parison of that which concerns his performances and acqui- 
 sitions for us, expiation of sin, satisfaction of Divine justice, 
 forgiveness, and acceptance with God. How sweet, ravish- 
 ing, transporting doctrines, and how pure Gospel are these 
 latter accounted by many, who esteem the former cold, sap- 
 less, unplea.sant notions ! Thence comes Christian reli- 
 gion to look with so distorted a face and aspect, as if it suf- 
 fered a convulsion, that hath altered and disguised it unto 
 that degree, that it is hardly to be known ; being made to 
 seem as if it imported only a design to rescne some persons 
 from Divine wrath and ju.stice, without ever giving them 
 that disposition of heart which is necessary both to their 
 serving of God and their blessedness in him. This is not to 
 be imputed so much to the misrepresentation made of it by 
 them, whose business it hath been to instruct others ; (though 
 of them too many may have been very faulty in almost sup- 
 pressing or insisting less, or very little, upon doctrines of the 
 former strain,while the stream oftheir discourses hath most- 
 ly run upon the other ;) for it must be acknowledged, that 
 by very many in our age, the absolute necessity of the 
 great heart-change hath been both most clearly represent- 
 ed, and as urgently pressed as perhaps in most that have 
 gone before. But the matter is plainly to be most attribu- 
 ted to that depravednessof man's nature, whence there is a 
 most unequal and partial reception of the truth of God ; and 
 that which seems (taken apart by itself) to import more of in- 
 dulgence to sinners is readily caught at, that which more 
 directly strikes at the very root of sin, is let pass as if it 
 had never been spoken. And so men make up to them- 
 selves a gospel of this tenor and import, that let the tem- 
 per of their spirits towards God be what it will, if they re- 
 ly and rest upon the righteousness of Christ, God will be 
 reconciled to them. And they think they need take no 
 further care. But whatever is said in the Gospel of Christ 
 besides, of the necessity of being born of God, of parta- 
 king a divine nature, of putting off the old man, and put- 
 ting on the new, &c. is looked upon as if it had been thrown 
 in by chance, and did signify nothing. And the other, without 
 this, is thought to be pure Gospel ; as if these were imperti- 
 nent additions and falsifications. Biit will not such men 
 understand that the detracting of arwy thing from the 
 instrument or testament of a man, as well as adding 
 thereto, makes it another thing, and none of his act or 
 deed 1 And so that their pure Gospel, as they call it, is 
 another Gospel, nay (because there cannot be another) 
 no Gospel 1 Or will they not understand, how simply 
 
 n Jer. iii. 12. o Vor. 13. p Psal. xxxii. 1. q 2 Thosi. iiL 5.
 
 Part II. 
 
 OF DELIGHTIKG IN GOD. 
 
 401 
 
 impossible it is, in the very nature of the thing, that the 
 end should be attained, of bringing men to blessedness, 
 (i. e. to a delightful rest in God,) ■without their having a 
 new nature, a heart inclined and bent toward God, wrought 
 to a conformity and agreement with God's own holy na- 
 ture and will, unto which the offer of hope and forgiveness 
 by the blood of Christ is designed to win and form them 1 
 For can men be happy in him in whom they take no de- 
 light 1 or delight in him to whom the very temper of their 
 spirits is habitually unsuitable and repugnant 1 How plain 
 are things to them' that are not resolved not to see! 
 
 AVherefore beware of contenting yourselves with the 
 mere hope, that upon your having admitted a conviction, 
 and felt some regret in your spirits for former strangeness 
 to God, you shall be pardoned ; so as thereupon never to 
 design a redress, but run on the same course as before : 
 and when you have hereby contracted a new score, and 
 the load of your guilt begins to be sensibly heavy upon 
 you, then betake yourselves to God for a new pardon. 
 What presumpti>ous trifling is this with the Lord of hea- 
 ven and earth ! And what do you mean by it, or seem to 
 expect 1 Is it not, that Gk)d should instead of remitting 
 your sin to you remit your duty; cancel the obligation of 
 that very supreme, universal, fundamental law of nature 
 itself, and excuse you quite from ever hwing, delighting 
 in him, or setting your heart upon him at all 1 Think not 
 forgiveness alone then will serve your turn; it will signify 
 as much as a pardon will do to a malefactor just ready to 
 die of a mortal disease. He, poor man ! as much needs a 
 skilful physician, as a merciful prince; and so do you. 
 And your matter is nothing the worse (sure) that the per- 
 son of each is sustained by the same Jesus, and that both 
 parts can be performed by the same hand. And know, that 
 a restored rectitude of spirit God-ward, a renewed healthi- 
 ness and soundness of heart, with your actual delighting 
 in God thereupon in your future course, stands in nearer 
 and more immediate connexion with your final, perfect, 
 delightful rest and blessedness in him, than your being 
 perpetually forgiven the not doing of it; if this were sup- 
 posed possible without that. But it is not indeed supposa- 
 ble, for if God would not therefore hereafter banish you 
 his presence, (as now he does not,) you would for ever 
 banish yourselves, as now you do. 
 
 6. Let there be a solemn recognition and renewal of 
 your engagement and devoting of yourself to God. Again 
 take hold of his covenant, and see that it lake faster hold 
 of you. Do it as if you had never done it, as if you were 
 now to begin with him; only that your own sin and his 
 grace ought now to appear greater in your eyes ; that more 
 odious, that you have added treachery to disaffection ; this 
 more glorious and admirable, that yet he hath left open to 
 you a door of hope, and that there is place for repentance, 
 and that he is ready to treat with you again on a new score. 
 With what humility, shame, fear, and trembling, distrust 
 of yourself, resolution of future more diligent circumspec- 
 tion and observation of your own spirit, trust and depend- 
 ance on his, ought this transaction now to be managed 
 with the holy God ! And when you are thus returned 
 into the way and course of your duty; then may what fol- 
 lows concern you in comm'on with all others, that (being 
 entered) desire direction how to proceed and improve in 
 this holy exercise of delighting in God. 
 
 Because such as have been somewhat practised in this 
 course, and being convinced of the equity and excellency 
 of it, desire to make progress therein, do yet find a diffi- 
 culty in it ; it goes not easily with them, ihey are easily 
 diverted and can hardly hold on in it; somewhat is in- 
 tended to be said that possibly may, through the Lord's 
 blessing, be of some use, £is to that (too common) case. 
 
 L First then. Let it be your great study and endeavour to 
 get a temper of mind actually, ordinarily, and more entirely 
 spiritual. We suppose the implantation of some holy and 
 spiritual principles in you already ; but that is not enough. 
 For as a mind wholly carnal, only savours the things of 
 the flesh, will perpetually withdraw and recoil, if you offer 
 it any thing tending God- ward; so, in whatsoever degree 
 it is carnal, it will do thus in a proportionable degree. If 
 you say, let me now apply myself to some delightful inter- 
 course with God, while an earthly tincture is fresh with 
 
 q Prov. xx\'. 23. 
 
 you, and it was .some carnal thing that made the last im- 
 pression upon your spirit, many excuses will be found out, 
 there will be manifold diversions ; it will never be thought 
 seasonable. Many other things will be judged necessary 
 to be minded first. Wherefore fence against the addict- 
 edness of your hearts to those other things. And whereas, 
 through the great advantages that sensible things have 
 upon your senses and imagination, you are in continual 
 danger to be over-borne and held oS from God ; this you 
 must earnestly intend, to watch and fortify those inlets, 
 and not to give away your souls to sense and the things of 
 sense. Trust not your senses and their objects to parley, 
 but under strict inspection. Never suffer that they should 
 let in upon you what is suitable and grateful to ihem at 
 their own pleasure. 
 
 You need to have somewhat else than sense, even a spi- 
 rit of might and power, that may countermand and over- 
 rule in every of those ports, and turn the battle in the gate. 
 Those used'to be the places of most strength ; and surely 
 here there needs most. Your case and present .state cannot 
 admit that you securely give up yourselves to unmixed 
 unsoJicitous delight even in the best object. If you in- 
 termit care and vigilancy, you will soon have such things 
 come in upon you, as will make a worse mixture in your 
 delight than they can do, and corrupt and spoil all. Your 
 delight were better to be mixed with holy care, than with 
 sinful vanity ; that tends to preserve, this utterly to destroy 
 it. Your state is that of conflict and warfare. You must 
 be content with such spiritual delight, as will consist with 
 this state. In a time of war and danger, when a city is 
 beset with a surrounding enemy, and all the inhabitants 
 are to be intent upon common safety, their case will not 
 admit, that they should entirely indulge themselves to ease 
 and pleasure. And surely it is better to bear the incon- 
 venience of watching and guarding themselves, and enjoy 
 the comforts which a rational probability of safety by such 
 means will allow them, than merely wiih the mad hope of 
 procuring themselves an opportunity and vacancy for freer 
 delights, to throw open their gales, and permit themselves 
 andall their delectable things to the rapine and spoil of a 
 merciless enemy. Understand this to be your case. There- 
 fore strictly guard all the avenues of your inward man. It 
 is better resist there and combat your enemy, than within 
 your walls; who is more easily kept than driven out. 
 There cause every occasion and object (even that impor- 
 tunes and pretends business to you) to make a stand, and 
 diligently examme the errand. Let also for this purpose 
 a spirit of wisdom and judgment reside here, (the gate was 
 wont to be the place of counsel and judgment as well as 
 strength,) that may prudently consider what is to be enter- 
 tained and what not; and determine and do accordingly. 
 But if you will have no rule over your own spirit, but let 
 it be as a city broken down and Avithout walls;'! if you 
 will live careless and at ease, and think in this way to 
 have delight in God; your delight will soon find other ob- 
 jects, and grow like that of the swine wallowing in the 
 mire, become sensual, impure, and at length turn all to 
 gall and wormwood. 
 
 It may be you have known some of much pretence to 
 piety, that would allow themselves the liberty of being 
 otherwise very pleasant in their usual conversation; by 
 which you may imagine delight in God (which you cannot 
 suppose such piersons unacquainted with) may fairly con- 
 sist with another sort of delight. Nor indeed is it to be 
 doubted but it may ; for the rules and measures which the 
 holy God hath set us import no such rigorous severity, nt)r 
 do confine us to so very narrow bounds, but that there is 
 scope and latitude enough left unto the satisfaction of 
 sober desires and inclinations that are of a meaner kind. 
 He that hath adjoined the inferior faculties we find in 
 ourselves to our natures, and at first created a terrestrial 
 paradise for innocent man, never intended to forbid the 
 sratification of those faculties, nor haih given us any reason 
 To doubt but that the lower delights that are suitable to 
 them might be innocently entertained ; nay, and the very 
 rules themselves of temperance and sobriety, which he 
 hath given u.s, for the guiding and governing of sensitive 
 desires, do plainlv imply, that they are permitted. For 
 that which ought not to be, is not to be regulated, but de-
 
 403 
 
 OF DELIGHTING IN GOD. 
 
 Part 11 
 
 stroyed. But *hen, whereas such rules do so limit the 
 inclination.-^ and lunctions of the low animal life, as that 
 they may be consistent with our end, and subservient to 
 it ; how perverse and wicked an indulgence to them were 
 it, to oppose them at once, both to the authority of him 
 that set us those rules, and (therein) to our very end itself! 
 That delectation in the things of this lower world, which 
 is not by the Divine law forbidden and declared evil, either 
 in itself, or by the undue measure, season, or other cir- 
 cumstances thereof, is abundantly sufficient for our enter- 
 tainment, and the gratification of this grosser part, while 
 we are in this our earthly pilgrimage : and so much can 
 never hurt us, nor hinder our higher delishts. God hath 
 fenced and hedged them in for us (as a garden enclosed) 
 by his own rules and laws set about them ; so that we 
 cannot prejudice or impair them, but by breaking through 
 his enclosure. Our great care and study therefore must 
 be, to repress and mortify all earthly and sensual inclina- 
 tions, unto that degree as till they be reduced to a con- 
 formity and agreement with his rules and measures; unto 
 which they who have no regard, and do yet pretend highly 
 to spirituality and delight in God, 'tis apparently nothing 
 else but mere hollow pretence; they only put on a good 
 face, and make a fair show; look big, and speak great 
 swelling words of vanity, as they must be called, while 
 their hearts taste nothing of what their tongues utter. 
 Spiritual delight and joy is a severe thing, separated from 
 vain and unbecoming levities, as well as from all earthly 
 impurities ; and only grows and flourishes in a soul that 
 is dead to this world, and alive to God through Jesus 
 Christ. 
 
 See, then, to the usual temper of your spirit ; and do 
 not think it enough, that you hope the great renewing 
 change did some time pass upon it ; and that, therefore, 
 your case is good and safe, and you may now take your 
 ease and liberty: but be intent upon this, to get into a 
 confirmed growing spirituality, and that you may find 
 you are in your ordinary course after the Spirit ;■" then 
 will you savour the things of the Spirit ; and then espe- 
 cially will the blessed God himself become your great de- 
 light, ^ and your exceeding joy. Retire yourself from this 
 world, draw off your mind and heart. This is God's 
 great rival. The friendship of this world is enmity to 
 him, I which is elsewhere said of the carnal mind ;" that 
 is indeed the same thing, viz. a mind that is over friendly 
 affected towards this world, or not chastely ; wherefore 
 also in that forementioned scripture, they that are sup- 
 posed and suspected to have made themselves, in that un- 
 due sense, friends of this world, are bespoken under the 
 names of adulterers and adulteresses. You must cast ofl^ 
 all other lovers, if you intend delighting in God. Get up, 
 then, into the higher region, where you may be out of the 
 danger of having your spirit ingnlphed, and, as it were, 
 sucked up of the spirit of this world ; or of being subject 
 to its debasing, stupifying influence. Bear yourself as the 
 inhabitant of another country. Make this j'our mark and 
 scope, that the temper of your spirit may be such, that the 
 secret of the Divine presence may become to you as your 
 very element, wherein you can most freely breathe and 
 live, and be most at ease ; and out of which you may per- 
 ceive you cannot enjoy yourself; and that whatever tends 
 to withdraw you from him, any extravagant motion, the 
 beginnings of the excursion, or the least departing step, 
 may be sensibly painful and grievous to you. And do 
 not look upon it as a hopeless thing you should ever 
 come to this ; some have come to it ; One thing have I 
 desired of the Lord, that will I seek after, that I may 
 dwell in the house of the Lord all the days of my life, 
 to behold the beauty of the Lord, and to inquire in his 
 temple.^ 
 
 Nor was this a transient fit only with the Psalmist, but 
 we find him frequently speaking the saiue sense : Surel}' 
 goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my 
 life, and I will dwell in the house of the Lord for ever -.y 
 and again we have the like strains; How amiable are thy 
 tabernacles, O Lord God of hosts I my soul longeth ; yea, 
 even fainteth for the courts of the Lord : blessed are they 
 that dwell in thy house,^ &c. And what was this hou.se 
 
 r Rom. nil. 5. 
 u Rom viii. 7. 
 
 a P al. xlifl. 
 X Psal. xxvii. 4. 
 
 t James iv. 4. 
 y Psal. xxiii. 6. 
 
 more to him than another house, save that here he reckon- 
 ed upon enjoying the Divine presence? So that here was 
 a heart so naturalized to his presence, as to affect an abode 
 in it, and that he might lead his life with God, and dwell 
 with him all his days : he could not be content with giving 
 a visit now and then. And why should this temper oi 
 spirit in the clearer light of the Gospel be looked upon as 
 an unattainable thing 1 A lazy despondency, and a mean 
 conceit, that it is modest not to aim so high, starves reli- 
 gion, and stifles all truly noble and generous desires. Let 
 this, then, be the thing designed with you, and constantly 
 pursue and drive the design, that you may get into this 
 disposition of spirit towards God. His Spirit will not be 
 restrained, if it be duly sought, and dutifully complied 
 with and obeyed ; if you carefully reserve yourself for 
 him, as one whom he hath set apart for himselt> If you 
 will be entirely his, and keep your distance, using a holy 
 chaste reservednessas to other things ; that is, such things 
 as any way tend to indispose your spirit towards him, or 
 render it less suitable to his converse, he will be no stran- 
 ger to you. And that it may be more suitable and fit for 
 him, you should habituate and accustom yourself to con- 
 verse in the general with spiritual things. You will be as 
 the things are you converse most with ; they will leave 
 their stamp and impress on you; wandering after vanity, 
 you will become vain; minding earthly things, you will 
 become earthly; accordingly, being much taken up with 
 spiritual things, you will bear their image, and become 
 .spiritual. 
 
 Think how unworthy it is, since you have faculties (and 
 those now refined and improved by divine light and grace) 
 that are capable of being employed about so much higher 
 objects than those of sense, that you should yield to a con- 
 finement, in so great part, to so low and mean things; 
 whence it is, that when you should mind things of a 
 higher nature, 'tis a strange work with you, and those 
 things seem odd and uncouth to you, and are all with you 
 as mere shadow and darkness, that you should be most 
 familiar with. Urge on your spirit; make it enter into 
 the invisible world. May you not be assured, if you wil 
 u.se your understanding, that there are things you never 
 saw, that are unspeakably more excellent and glorious 
 than any thing you have seen, or than can be seen by eyes 
 of flesh 1 Why should your mind and thoughts be limited 
 within the narrow bounds of this sublunary world ; so 
 small and minute, and (by the apostacy and sin of man) 
 so abject and deformed a part of God's creation 1 Do not 
 bind down your spirit to the consideration and view of the 
 affairs and concernments only of this region of sin and 
 wretchedness; where few things fall under your notice 
 that can be a comfortable (or so greatly edifying and in- 
 structive a) prospect to a serious spirit. But consider, 
 that as certainly as you behold with your eyes the wicked- 
 ness and miseries of this forlorn world, that hath forsaken 
 God, and is in great part forsaken of him ; so certainly, 
 there is a vastly greater world than this, of glorious and 
 innocent creatures, that stand in direct and dutiful subor- 
 dination to their common Maker and Lord ; loving, and 
 beloved of him; delighting to do his M'ill, and solacing 
 themselves perpetually in his blessed presence, and in the 
 mutual love, communion, and felicity of one anot'her. 
 Unto which happy number (or innumerable company 
 rather as they are called) b the Redeemer is daily adjoin- 
 ing such as he recovers and translates out of the ruins 
 and desolation of this miserable, accursed part of the uni- 
 verse. 
 
 Reckon yourself as some way appertaining to that bless- 
 ed society. Mind the afi^airs thereof as those of your own 
 countrj^ and that properly belong to you. When we are 
 taught to pray, " That the will of God may be done on 
 earth as it is in heaven," can it be supposed it ought to 
 be a strange thing to our thoughts, how affairs go there 1 
 Surely faith and holy reason, well used, would furnish us 
 with regular and warrantable notions enough of the state 
 of things above, that we should not need to carry it as 
 persons that have no concern therein ; or, when we are 
 required to be as strangers on earth, that we should make 
 ourselves such to heaven rather. Let your mind be much 
 
 2 Psal. Ixsxiv. 
 
 a Psal. iv.
 
 Paut II. 
 
 OF DELIGHTIIS'G IN GOD. 
 
 403 
 
 employed in considering the state of things between God 
 and his creatures. Design a large field lor your thoughts 
 to spread themselves in ; (and you will also find it a fruit- 
 ful one ;) let them run backward and forward and expa- 
 tiate on every side. Think how all things sprang from 
 God, and among them man, that excellent part of this 
 his lower creation ; what he was towards God, and what he 
 is now become. Think of the admirable person, the glo- 
 rious excellencies, the mighty design, the wonderful 
 achievements and performances of the Redeemer; and the 
 blessed issue he will bring things to at length. Think of 
 and study much the nature, parts, and accomplishments 
 of the new creature ; get your mind well instructed and 
 furnished with apprehensions of the whole entire frame of 
 that holy rectitude wherein the image of God upon re- 
 newed souls doth consist ; the several lovely ornaments of 
 the hidden man of the heart, how !tis tramed and habited 
 when it is as it should be towards God and towards men. 
 Cast about, and you will not want matter of spiritual em- 
 ployment and exercise for your minds and hearts ; nor 
 nave occasion, if any expostulate with you, why you mind 
 this earth and the things of sense so much, to say, you 
 know not what else to think of; you may sure find many 
 things else. And if you would use your thoughts to such 
 converse, and thus daily entertain yourself in this way, 
 you may expect a spiritual frame to grow habitual to you ; 
 and then would the rest of your business do itself You 
 would not need to be pressed and persuaded to delight in 
 God, an}' more than to do the acts of nature — to eat, and 
 drink, and move, yea, and draw your breath. 
 
 2. Endeavour your knowledge or the conception 3'ou 
 have of God, may be more distinct and clear. For ob- 
 serve w^hether when you would apply yourself to delight 
 in him, this be not the next (or at least one) great obstruc- 
 tion, after that of an indisposed, carnal heart, that though 
 you would, and you know 'tis fit you should do so, you know 
 not how to go about it ; for you are at a loss, what or how 
 to conceive of him. But is it fit it should be always thus ! 
 What, ever learning and never arrive to this knowledge? 
 'Tis most true, " we can never search out the Almighty 
 unto perfection ;" and it will ahvays be but a little portion 
 we shall know of that glorious incomprehensible Being. 
 But since there is a knowledge of God, we are required 
 to have our souls furnished with, and whereon eternal life 
 depends, with all gracious dispositions of heart towards 
 him that are the beginnings of that life ; certainly the 
 whole compass of our duty and blessedness is not all laid 
 upon an impossibility. And therefore, if we do not so far 
 know as to love and delight in him above all things else, 
 this must be through our own great default ; and more to 
 be imputed to our carelessness and contentedness to be 
 ignorant, than that he is unknowable, or hath so reserved 
 and shut up himself from us that we cannot know him. 
 There are many things belonging to the being of God 
 which we are not concerned to know, and which it would 
 be a vain and bold curiosity to pry into; but what is ne- 
 cessary to direct our practice, and tend to show how we 
 should be and carry ourselves towards him, is not (.such 
 hath been his gracious vouchsafement) impossible or dif- 
 ficult to be known. We may apprehend him to be the 
 most excellent Being ; and may descend to many parti- 
 cular excellencies, wherein we may easily apprehend him 
 infinitely to surpass all other beings. 
 
 For we most certainly know, all things were of him, and 
 therefore, that whatsoever excellency we can observe in 
 creatures, must be eminently and in highest perfection in 
 him, without the want of any thing, but what doth itself 
 import weakness and imperfection ; and hath it not been 
 his errand and business into the world, who lay in his 
 bosom, to declare him !■= And hath not he, who at sundry 
 times and in divers manners spake in times past unto the 
 fathers by the prophets, in these last days spoken 10 us by 
 his Son, whom he hath appointed heir of all things, by 
 whom also he made ihe worlds, who is the brightness of 
 his glory, and the express image of his person 1 He hath 
 been on earth the visible representation of God to men : 
 the Divine glory shone in him, the glory of the only-be- 
 gotten Son of the Father, full of grace and truth.d Was 
 not that divine 1 Suppose we then we had seen Christ 
 c John i. 18. d Ver. It. 
 
 in the flesh, and been the constant observers of his whole 
 conversation on earth; (and though we have not seen it, 
 we have the sufficient records of his life and actions in our 
 hands ;) let us I say suppose him from day to day before our 
 eyes, in all his meek, humble, lovely deportments among 
 men ; and withal in the beams of majesty that appeared 
 through that veil wherein he was pleased to enwrap him- 
 self. If Ave did observe him going to and fro, and every 
 where doing good, scattering blessings wherever he went ; 
 with what compassion and tenderness he healed the sick, 
 instructed the ignorant, supplied and fed the hungry and 
 necessitous; how he bare with the weak, forgave the in- 
 jurious, (even against his own life,) and wept over secure 
 and obstinate sinners; with what might)' power he cast 
 out devils, raised the dead, commanded winds and seas, 
 and they obeyed him ; with what authority, zeal, and con- 
 viction he contested against a hypocritical generation of 
 hardened, impenitent, unbelieving wretches, casting flames 
 of holy just displeasure in their faces, and threatening 
 them with the damnation of hell. And now suppose the 
 veil laid aside, and the lustre of all these excellencies 
 shining forth, without the interposition of any obscuring 
 cloud or shadow ; and such a one is the blessed God. 
 For this was the express image of his person ; and as he 
 himself tells us, they that have seen him have seen the 
 Father. « And do you not now see one to be delighted in " 
 
 But yet further. Can you not frame a notion of wis- 
 dom, goodness, justice, holiness, truth, power, with other 
 known perfections, all concurring together in a Being 
 purely spiritual, (not obvious to our sense,) and that was 
 eternally and originally of himself, the Author and Origi- 
 nal of all things, and who is therefore over all and in all, 
 infiin ite and unchangeable in all the perfections before men- 
 tioned! Surely such conceptions are not impossible to 
 you. And this is he in whom you are to delight. Lift 
 up then your minds above your senses and all sensible 
 things ; use your understandings, whereby you are dis- 
 tinguished from brute creatures. Consider, this is he from 
 whom you and all things sprang, and in whom your life 
 is. Do you perceive life, wisdom, power, love in other 
 things; these must all have some or other fountain. 
 Other things have not these of themselves, for they are not 
 of themselves, therefore they must derive and partake them 
 from him ; and thence it is evident, they must be in him 
 in their highe.st excellency. Of this, your understandings, 
 duly exercised, will render 3'ou as sure, as if you saw that 
 infinite glory, in which all these meet, with your ej'es ; 
 and will assure you, 'cis so much more excellent and glo- 
 rious, for that it cannot be seen with your eyes. You see 
 the externilacts and expressions of these things from such 
 creatures as you are. But life, wisdom, power, love, 
 themselves are invisible things, which in themselves you 
 cannot see ; yet you are not the less certain that there are 
 such things. And do you not find, that the certain evi- 
 dence you have, that these things meet in this or thai crea- 
 ture, do render it lovely and delightful in your eyesi 
 especially, if you have, or apprehend you may have, near- 
 est interest in such a creature ! The blessed God not only 
 hath these things in himself, but is these very things him- 
 self; therefore must be invisible, as they are. And be- 
 cause he not only hath them, but is them, therefore they 
 are in him perfectly unchangeably and eternally, as being 
 his veiy essence. Think then of a Being that is pure, 
 original, substantial life, wisdom, power, love : and how 
 infinitely amiable and delectable should that ever blessed 
 Being be unto you ! 
 
 Converse with thew-ord of God. Read his descriptions 
 of himself; and do not content yourselves to have the 
 words and expressions before your eyes, or in your m<mihs, 
 that represent to you his nature and attributes; but make 
 your pauses, and consider the things themselves signified 
 by them : that is, when you read such passages of his own 
 holy book, as that which tells you his name, that " He 
 is the Lord, the Lord God, gracious and merciful, "f &c. 
 or that tell you " He is light, he is love, he is God only 
 wise, he is the Almighty, God all-sufficient, he is all in 
 all," and that the " heavens, and heaven of heavens, can- 
 not contain him ;" or wherein )'ou find him admired as 
 " glorious in holiness ;" or that say " he is what he is," 
 e John xiv. 9. f Exnd. .x.xxiv.
 
 404 
 
 OP DELIGHTING IN GOD, 
 
 Part II. 
 
 that "he is the first and the last, the Alpha and Omega," 
 &c. labuur to fix the apprehension and the true import of 
 all such expressit)ns deep in your mind ; that you may 
 have an entire and well-1'ormed representation of him be- 
 fore you, unto which you may upon all occasions have 
 recourse, and not be at a loss every time you are to apply 
 yourselves to any converse with him, what or how to con- 
 ceive of him. And because mere words, though they may 
 furnish you with a more full and comprehensive notion of 
 him, yetit may be not withsolively aone, orthatyou find so 
 powerfully striking your heart, compare with that accoimt 
 his word gives you of him the works which your eyes may 
 daily behold, and which you are assured were wrought 
 and done by him. To read or hear of his wisdom, power, 
 goodness, &c. and then to have the visible etiects within 
 your constant view, that so fully correspond to what his 
 word hath said of him, and demonstrate him to be what 
 you were told he is ; how mighty a confirmation doth this 
 "carry with it ! You may behold somewhat of him in 
 every creature. All his works do not only represent, but 
 even praise and commend him to you. 
 
 Above all, since he is only to be seen in his own light, 
 pray earnestly and continually to the God of our Lord 
 Jesus Christ, the Father of glory, that he would give you 
 the spirit of wisdom and revelation in the knowledge of 
 him.? From such as so desire to know him, he will not 
 conceal himself. This is your more direct following on to 
 know the Lord ;h in which case he hath said, you shall 
 know, and that his going forth shall be prepared as the 
 morning. By your craving looks, and the expecting pos- 
 ture of your waiting eye, you draw forth and invite his 
 enlightening communications, which do but wait for an 
 invitation. For it is most reasonable you should feel your 
 want, and express your desire of what is so precious, be- 
 fore you find it. Hereby you put yourselves amidst the 
 glorious beams of his vital pleasant light ; or do open your 
 souls to admit and let it in upon you. Who when he 
 finds it is with you a desired thing and longed for, takes 
 more pleasure in imparting, than you can pains in seeking, 
 or pleasure in receiving it. Nor yet, when you have thus 
 attained to some competent measure of the knowledge of 
 God, are you to satisfy yourselves that now you are not 
 altogether ignorant : but, 
 
 3. Emplo}^ your knowledge in frequent and solemn 
 thinking on him ; which is one (and the next) end of that 
 knowledge, and a further great means to your delighting in 
 him. Your knowledge of God signifies little to this pur- 
 pose, or any other, if, as it gives you the advantage of 
 having frequent actual thoughts of him, it be not used to 
 this end. Not having this knowledge when you would set 
 yourselves seriously to think on God, you are lost in the 
 dark, and know not which way to turn yourselves ; and 
 having it, you will be as much strangers to delight in him, 
 if you let your knowledge lie bound up in dead and spi- 
 ritless notion, and labour not to have it turned into active 
 life and fervent love, by the agitation of your working 
 thoughts. By your musing this fire must be kindled. Do 
 3'^ou suppose it possible to delight in God and not think of 
 him? If God be the solace and joy of your souls, surely 
 it must be God remembered and minded much, not neg- 
 lected and forgotten. My soul (saith the Psalmist) shall be 
 satisfied as with marrow and fatness, and my mouth shall 
 praise thee with joyful lips ; when I remember thee on my 
 bed, and meditate on thee in the night watches. i And he 
 at the same time says his meditation of him shall be sweet,i( 
 when he says, he will be glad in the Lord. 
 
 'Tis not a brutal delight you are here invited to. Even 
 such creatures have their pleasures also; and do need 
 thereto, besides a suitable object, only the help and minis- 
 try of their senses. Your delight in God can find no way 
 into your hearts, but by the introduction of your exercised 
 minds. There the matter must be prepared and formed by 
 which your delight is to be nourished and maintained. 
 Hereto then you must apply yourselves with design, and 
 with serious diligence, and take pains with your reconciling 
 thoughts. Do not make that fulsome pretence, to excuse 
 your slothful neglect, that you cannot command your own 
 thoughts. The thing itself is unquestionably true, and that 
 you are not of yourselves sufficient to think any thing that 
 g Eph. i. li Ho3. vi. i Psal. Ixiii. 
 
 is good, as of yourselves ; and so you may truly enough 
 say, that you cannot think any thought at all without God, 
 or so much as draw a breath. Only, as besides your na- 
 tural dependance on God for the support of your natura. 
 life and being, there must be that course taken, and those 
 things done, by which in an orderly course of providence 
 you may live ; so for the maintaining of your spiritual life 
 (wliich very much stands in delight and joy in God) you 
 must join a spiritual dependance for that special influence 
 and concurrence which is necessary hereto, with the doing 
 of such things as by God's appointment and prescription 
 are to senve this end. They who complain therefore they 
 cannot attain to it, to delight in God, or their delight in 
 him is faint and languishing ; while in the meantime they 
 use no endeavour to bend and direct their thoughts to- 
 wards him, do make as idle a complaint, as he that shall 
 say, he is in a miserable starving condition, and nothing 
 nourishes him who wanting nothing suitable for him, is 
 so wretchedly slothful, that he will be at no pains to pre- 
 pare, or so much as eat and chew his own necessary food. 
 You may not imagine, you have all that is needful for the 
 well-governing of your spirits in your own hands and 
 power. Nor ought you therefore to think, that what is 
 simply needful is not to be had. God is not behind-hand 
 Avith you ; he is no such hard task-master, as to require 
 brick and allow no straw : but may most righteously say, 
 ye are idle, and do therefore only complain like the slug- 
 gard in his bed, whose hands cannot endure to labour. 
 You dare not deliberately go to God, and tell him, you do 
 all you can to fix the thoughts of your hearts on him, and 
 yet it will not be ; or that he gives you no help. Though 
 he can be no way indebted to you, but by his own free 
 promise ; he giveth meat to them that fear him, being 
 ever mindful of his covenant, (yea he doth it for ravens and 
 sparrows,) he will not then famish the souls that cry to 
 him, and wait on him ; their heart shall live that seek God. 
 It's becoming and suitable to the state of things between 
 him and you, that he should put you upon seeking that 
 you may find. Your reasonable nature and faculties (espe- 
 cially being already rectified in some measure, and en- 
 livened by his grace and spirit) do require to be held to 
 such terms. It is natural to you to think ; and there is 
 nothing more suitable to the new creature, than that you 
 apply and set yourselves to think on him, and that your 
 thoughts be set (and held) on work to inquire and seek 
 him out. Know therefore, 3'ou do not your parts, unless 
 you make this more your business. Therefore to be here 
 more particular; 
 
 1. Solemnly set yourselves at chosen times to think on 
 God. Meditation is of itself a distinct duty, and must have 
 a considerable time allowed it among the other exercises 
 of the Christian life. It challenges a just share and part 
 in the time of our lives ; and he in whom we are to place 
 our delight, is, you know, the prime and chief object of this 
 holy work Is it reasonable that he who is our life and 
 our all, should never be thought on, but now and then, as 
 it were by chance, and on the by 1 " My meditation on 
 him shall be sweet." Doth not that imply that it was with 
 the Psalmist a designed thing to meditate on God 1 that it 
 was a stated course 1 whereas it was become customary and 
 usual to him, his ordinary practice, to appoint times for 
 meditating on God, his well-known exercise, (which is 
 supposed,) he promises himself satisfaction and solace of 
 soul herein. Let j'our eyes herein therefore prevent the 
 night-watches. Reckon you have neglected one of the 
 most important businesses of the day, if you have omitted 
 this, and that to such omissions you owe your little de- 
 light in God. Wherein therefore are you to repair your- 
 selves but by redressing this great negjett "? 
 
 2. Thinkoftenof him amidst your other aflTairs. Every 
 one as he is called (be his state or way of living what it 
 will, be he bond or free) is required therein to abide with 
 God. I And how is that but by often thinking on him, as 
 being a great part (and fundamental to all the rest) of 
 what can he meant by this abode? Hoav grateful a mix- 
 ture would the thoughts of God make with that great 
 variety of other things which we are necessarily to be con- 
 cerned in, while we arc in this world ! If they be serious 
 and right thoughts, they will be accompanied with some 
 
 k Psal. civ. 34. 1 1 Cor. vii.
 
 PiBT II. 
 
 OF DELIGHTING IN GOD. 
 
 405 
 
 savour and relish of sweetness, and, at leeist, tend to keep 
 the heart in a disposition for more delightful, solemn in- 
 tercourses with God. It is a sad truth, (than which also 
 nothing is more apparent,) that whatsoever there is, either 
 of sinfulness or uncomfortableness in the lives of those 
 who have engaged and devoted themselves to God, doth 
 in greatest part proceed from their neglect to mind God. 
 A thing, if due heed were taken about it, so easy, so little 
 laborious, and the labour whereof (so much as it is) were 
 sure to be recompensed with so unspeakable pleasure: 
 that they are so often lost in darkness, drowned in car- 
 nality, buried in earthliness, and overwhelmed with mise- 
 ries and desolations of spirit, and all this for want of a 
 right employing of their thoughts, is from hence only; 
 they set their thoughts upon things that tend either to 
 corrupt or deprave their spirits, or to disquiet and afflict 
 them. 
 
 At this in-let, and by the labour of their own thoughts, 
 sins and calamities are brought in upon them as a flood ; 
 which very thoughts if they were placed and exercised 
 aright, would let in God upon them, fill them with his 
 fulness, replenish their souls with his light, grace, and 
 consolations. And how much more easy an exercise were 
 it to keep their thoughts employed upon one object that is 
 ever full, delectable, and present ; than to divide them 
 among many, that either lie remote, and out of their power, 
 to be pursued with anxiety, toil, and very often with dis- 
 appointment ; or being nearer hand, are to be enjoyed (if 
 they be things that have an appearance of good in them) 
 with much danger and damage to their spirits, and with 
 little satisfaction ; or (if they appear evil) to be endured 
 with pain and sorrow ! So that the labour of their thoughts, 
 among those many things, brings them in torture, when 
 their rest upon God alone would be all pleasure, delight, 
 and joy : here their souls might dwell at ease,™ or (as those 
 words import) rest in goodiress, (even with that quiet repose 
 which men are wont to take by night ; for so the word we 
 read dwell peculiarly signifies,) after the weariness which 
 we may suppose to have been contracted by the labour of 
 the foregoing day. And if no such sweet and pleasant 
 fruit were to be hoped for from the careful government and 
 ordering of our thoughts, is the obligation of God's law in 
 this matter nothing with us 1 whom we are bound to fear 
 and love, to trust and obey above all things, of him are 
 we not bound so much as to think 1 And what is loving 
 God with all our mind, so expressly mentioned in that 
 great summary of our duty towards him 1 Or what can it 
 mean, after the required love of all the heart, and all the 
 soul, to add so particularly, and with all thy mind, when 
 as the mind we know is not the seat of love ! Surely it 
 cannot, at least, but imply, that our thoughts must be much 
 exercised upon God even by the direction of our love, and 
 that our love must be maintained by thoughts of him ; 
 that our minds and hearts must continually correspond 
 and concur to the loving of God ; and so our whole soul 
 to be exercised and set on work therein. 
 
 What doth it mean that our youth is challenged to the 
 remembrance of him I" What, is our riper age more ex- 
 empt 1 Do we as we longer live by him owe him less 1 
 Doth it signify nothing with us that (as was hinted former- 
 ly) the wicked bear this brand in the Scriptures, they that 
 forget God ;» that it is a diflerencing character of his own 
 people, that they thought on his name 1 Why do we sup- 
 pose our thoughts exempt from his government, or the ob- 
 ligation of his laws 1 Why should it be reckoned less in- 
 solent to say, "Our thoughts, than our tongues, are our 
 own, who is Lord over us 7" May we do what we will 
 with our thoughts 7 Who gave us our thinking power, or 
 made us capable of forming a thought 1 And now, will we 
 assume the confidence to tell God we think on him all that 
 we can 1 How many idle thoughts in the day might we 
 have exchanged for thoughts of God ! and every thought 
 have been to us a spring of pleasure, and holy delight in 
 him ! Know then that if ever you will do any thing in 
 this great matter of delighting in God, you must arrest 
 your thoughts for him, and engage them in more constant 
 converse with him: and withal mix prayers with those 
 thoughts ; or let them often be praying, craving thoughts, 
 such as may carry with them annexed desires ; or wherein 
 
 m Psal. XXV. 13. 
 
 30 
 
 your heart may breathe out requests, such as that, (for in- 
 stance,) Rejoice the soul of thy servant; for unto thee, O 
 Lord, do I lift up my sou1,p &c. See they be spiruful 
 thoughts, that carry life in them, and aim to draw more. 
 But now our thoughts may be conversant about him under 
 very various considerations, and all of them verj' delight- 
 ful. And this variety may much increase our delight, 
 while our minds converse with him, now under one notion, 
 then under another. They are apt to tire and grow weary, 
 being long employed the same way upon the same thing. 
 And it were an injury to the blessed God himself, when 
 he presents himself under various aspects and appearances, 
 so to take notice of any one, as to overlook and neglect 
 the rest. Therefore, 
 
 4. Look often to him according as absolutely considered 
 he is in himself the most excellent Being : and as in re- 
 ference to his creatures, he is the supreme Author and Lord 
 of all. There is an unspeakable pleasure to be taken in 
 him so beheld. Too many, while their distrust, or their 
 carnality and strangeness to God holds them in su.spense 
 concerning their own special relation to him, are apt to 
 fancy themselves excused of delighting in him. It belongs 
 not to them they think, but to some familiar friends and 
 great favourites of his to whom he expresses special kind- 
 ness, and on whom he places the marks of his more pecu- 
 liar good-will. But do you think so to shift and waive the 
 obligation of a universal law upon mankind, and all rea- 
 sonable nature ? You are to remember (as hath been said) 
 your delight in God is not to be considered only as your 
 privilege, but as an act of homage to him that made you, 
 and put an intelligent apprehensive spirit into you, by 
 which you are capable of knowing who made you, and of 
 beholding your Maker's excellency with admiration and 
 delight. "And if now you are become guilty and vile; 
 will you run into darkness and hide yourself from him, 
 or close your eyes, and then say, the sun doth not shine, 
 and deny the blessed, glorious God to be what most truly 
 and unchangeably he is 1 Whatever you are or have de- 
 sired he should be towards you, yet do him right. Be- 
 hold and confess his glorious excellency, evcrA' way most 
 worthy to be delighted in. Nor have you rendered your- 
 selves so vile, nor had so much cause of apprehending his 
 displeasure towards you, by any thing so much as this, 
 your not having taken delight in him all this while ; and 
 your neglect to take the ways (spoken of before) tending 
 to bring you thereto. If you think you have no special 
 relation to him, do you think you ever shall if 3-ou con- 
 tinue, in the temper of j^our spirits, strangers to him, and 
 look upon him as one in whom you are to take no delight 1 
 Surely 'tis your dutiful affection towards him and com- 
 placency in' him, that must give }'ou ground to hope you 
 are his,"and he is yours; and therefore the beginnings and 
 first degrees of that complacency and delight must be in 
 you before; being begotten by the view of that excellency 
 which he hath in himself antecedently to his being related 
 to you. Yea, and if your relation to him were already as 
 sure and evident to you as can be supposed ; yet are you 
 to take heed of confining your delight in him to that con- 
 sideration of him only ; or of making it the chief rea.<:on of 
 that your delight. For so your delight in him will be more 
 for your own sakes, or upon your own account, than his. 
 Learn to look upon things as they are, and not according 
 to their aspect upon your affairs. Is it not a greater thing 
 that he is God, than "that he is yours 1 
 
 It is a purer, a more noble and generous, aflleclion to 
 him you are to aim at, than what is measured only by your 
 private interest. Is that boundless fulness of life, glory, 
 and all perfection (treasured up in the eternal and incom- 
 prehensible Being) to be all estimated by the capacity and 
 concerns of a silly worm 1 That consideration, therefore, 
 being sometimes laid aside, sit down and contemplate God 
 as he is in himself, not disowning (as it is not fit you 
 should) but onlv waiving the present consideration of any 
 more comfortable relation, wherein you may (though most 
 justly) suppose him to stand to yon ; and see if you can- 
 not take pleasure in this, that he is great and glorious, and 
 to have a B ing so everv wav perfect before your eyes. 
 Try if it will not be pleasant" to you to fall down before 
 him, and give him glory ; to join ybnr praises and triumph- 
 o Psal. ix. 16. P Ps. IxxiTi. 4.
 
 406 
 
 OF DELIGHTING IN GOD. 
 
 Part II, 
 
 ant songs to those of saints and angels ; and how much 
 yet also it will add to 3'our satisfaction to behold and ac- 
 knowledge him exalted above all blessing and praise. How 
 great delight hath been taken in him upon such accounts ! 
 In what transports have holy souls been upon the view and 
 contemplation of his sovereign power and dominion ; his 
 wise and righteous government ; his large and flowing 
 goodness, that extends in common to all the works of his 
 hands! Labour to imitate the ingenious and loyal affec- 
 tion of this kind, whereof you find many expressions in 
 the sacred volume. For what hath been matter of delight 
 to saints of old, ought surely still as much to be account- 
 ed so. To give instances : 
 
 You sometimes find them in a most complacential ado- 
 ration of his wonderful wisdom and counsels. O the 
 depths of the riches both of the wisdom and knowledge of 
 God ! How unsearchable are his judgments, and his ways 
 past finding out \^ And again, To God only wise be glory, 
 through Jesus Christ, for ever. Amen.'' To the King 
 eternal, immortal, invisible, the only wise God, be honour 
 and glory for ever,^ &c. To the only wise God our Sa- 
 viour, be glory and majesty, dominion and power, now 
 and ever,' &c. Elsewhere we have them in transports 
 admiring his holiness Who is like unto thee, O Lord, 
 among the gods ! Who is like thee glorious in holiness !" 
 There is none holy as the Lord ; for there is none besides 
 thee, neither is there any rock like our God !" And this is 
 recommended and enjoined to his holy ones a^ the special 
 matter of their joy and praise : Rejoice in the Lord, ye 
 righteous, and give thanks at the remembrance of his ho- 
 liness. y At other times we have their magnificent cele- 
 oratinns of his glorious power, and that by way of triumph 
 over the paganish gods : Our God is in the heavens, he 
 hath done whatsoever he pleased.^ Their idols are silver 
 and gold, &c. Be thou exalted, O Gcd, in thine own 
 strength.^ We will sing and praise thy power. Forsake 
 me not until I have showed thy strength unto this genera- 
 tion, and thy power to every one that is to come,b &c. 
 This is given out as the soiig of Moses and the Lamb; 
 " Who shall not fear thee, O Lord, and glorify thy name V 
 Great and marvellous are thy works, Lord God Almighty, 
 &c. And how do they magnify his mercy and goodness, 
 both towards his own people and his creatures in general, 
 e O how great is thy goodness which thou hast laid up 
 for them that fear thee, that thou hast wrought for them 
 that trust in thee before the children of men ! Rejoice in 
 the Lord, O ye righteous, for praise is comely for the 
 upright ; praise the Lord with harp ; sing unto "him with 
 the psaltery, J — The earth is full of the goodness of the Lord. 
 I will extol thee, my God, O King, I will bless thy name 
 for ever and ever.«^ Men shall speak of the might of thy 
 terrible acts, they shall abundantly utter the memory of 
 thy great goodness, and shall sing of thy righteousness. 
 The Lord is gracious and fall of compassion, slow to anger, 
 and of great mercy. The Lord is good to all, and'his 
 lender mercies are over all his works. To insert all that 
 might be mentioned to this purpose, were to transcribe a 
 great part of the Bible. And in what raptures do we 
 often find them, in the contemplation of his faithfulness 
 and truth, his justice and righteousness, his eternity, the 
 boundlessness of his presence, the greatness of his works, 
 the extensiveness of his dominion, the perpetuity of his 
 kingdom, the exactness of his government : Who is a 
 strong God like unto thee, and to thy faithfulness, round 
 aboiU thee !f Thy mercy, O Lord, is in the heavens, and 
 thy faithfulness reaches unto the clouds.? Before the 
 mountains were brought forth, or ever thou hadst formed 
 the earth or the world, from everlasting to everlasting 
 thou art God.h But will Gtjd indeed dwell on the earth 1 
 Behold, the heaven and heaven of heavens cannot contain 
 thee.i The works of the Lord are great, sought out of 
 them that have pleasure therein. His work is honourable 
 and glorious.k &c. All thy works shall praise thee, O 
 Lord, and thy saints shall bless thee ; they shall speak of 
 the glory of thy kingdom, and talk of thy power, to make 
 knov/n to the sons of men his mighty acts, and the glorious 
 
 q Rom xi. 33. r Chap. xvi. 27. s 1 Tim i. 17. t Jude 2S. 
 
 II E.TOd. XV. n. X I Sam. ii. 2. y Psal xcvii. is. 
 
 z Psal. cxv. a Psal. xxi. 13. b Psal. Ixxi 18 
 
 c Psal. xxxi. 19. d Psal xxxiii 1, &c. e Psal cxlv 1, &c 
 
 majesty of his kingdom.i Thy kingdom is an everlasting 
 kingdom, and thy dominion endureth throughout all gene- 
 rations. 
 
 And his glory in the general, (which results from his 
 several excellencies in conjunction,) how loftily is it often 
 celebrated with the expression of the most loyal desires, 
 that it may be every where renowned, and of greatest com- 
 placency, in as far it is apprehended so to be. The glory 
 of the Lord shall endure for ever. They shall sing in the 
 ways of the Lord, for great is the glory of the Lord. Be 
 thou exalted above the heavens, let thy glory be above all 
 the earth.™ Let them praise the name of the Lord, for his 
 name alone is excellent, his glory is above the earth and 
 the heavens." When you read such passages as these, 
 (whether they be elogies or commendations of him, or 
 doxologies and direct attributions of glory to Iiim,) you are 
 to bethink yourselves, with what temper of heart these 
 things were uttered ! with how raised and exalted a spirit • 
 what high delight and pleasure was conceived in glorifying 
 God, or in beholding him glorious ! How large and un- 
 bounded a heart, and how full of his praise, doth still every 
 where discover itself in such strains ; when all nations, 
 when all creatures, when every thing that hath breath, 
 when heaven and earth are invited together, to join in the 
 concert, and bear a part in his praises ! And now eye him 
 under the same notions under which you have seen him 
 so magnified, that in the same way you may have your 
 own heart wrought up to the same pitch and temper to- 
 wards him. Should it not provoke an emulation, and 
 make you covet to be amidst the throng of loyal and de- 
 voted souls, when you see them ascending as if they were 
 all incense ! when you behold them dissolving and melting 
 away in delight and love, and ready to expire, even faint- 
 ing that they can do no more ; designing their very last 
 breath shall go forth in the close of a song ! I will sing 
 unto the Lord as long as I live, I will sing praise to my 
 God while I have my being !° How becoming is it to 
 resolve, "This shall be my aim and ambition, to fly the 
 same, and if it were possible, a greater, height." Read 
 over such psalms as are more especially designed for the 
 magnifying of God ;P and when you see what were the 
 things that were most taking to so spiritual and pious 
 hearts ; thence receive instruction, and aim to have your 
 hearts alike affected and transported with the same things. 
 Frame the supposition, that you are meant, that the in- 
 vitation is directed to you, " O come let us sing unto the 
 Lord, let us come before his presence with thanksgiving, 
 and make a joyful noise to him with psalms; for the Lord 
 is a great God, and a great King above all gods," &c. And 
 think with yourselves, Is he not as great as he was 1 Is he 
 not as much our Maker as he was theirs 1 Is it not now 
 as true, that " The Lord reigneth, and is high above all 
 the earth, and exalted far above all gods." Now since 
 these were the considerations upon which so great com- 
 placency was taken in him, set the same before your own 
 eyes. And since these were proposed as the matter of so 
 common a joy, and the creation seems designed for a 
 musical instrument of as many strings as there are crea- 
 tures in heaven and earth ; awake, and make haste to get 
 your heart fixed ; lest " the heavens rejoice, and the 
 earth be glad, the world and all that dwell therein ; lest 
 the sea roar, and the fulness thereof, the floods clap their 
 hands, the fields and the hills be joyful together, and all 
 the trees of the wood rejoice before the Lord," while you 
 only are silent and unconcerned. 
 
 And seriously consider the kind and nature of that joy 
 and delight in God wherewith the hearts of holy men did 
 so exceedingly abound ; which is to be collected from the 
 expressed ground and reasons of it, for the most part, 
 wheresoever you have any discovery of that joy itself. 
 This general and principal character may be given of it, 
 that it was a sincerely devout and a loyal joy ; not a mean, 
 narrow, selfish pleasure, a hugging of themselves in this 
 apprehension merely. It is well with me, or, I am safe and 
 happy whatsoever becomes of the world. This was still 
 the burden of their song; The Lord is great, and glorious, 
 
 f Psa! Ixix. e Psal. xxxvi. h Psal. xc. 2. i 1 Kings viii. 
 
 k Psal. cxi. 1 Psal. cxlv. m Psal. civ. 31. cxxxviii. 5. Ivii. 7, II 
 
 n Peal, oxiviii 13. o Psal. civ. 33. 
 
 p Psal %-ui. xlviii. xcv. xcn. xcvii. xcviii. xcix. &c.
 
 Part II. 
 
 OF DELIGHTING IN GOD. 
 
 407 
 
 and excellent ; is exalted and most high over all. And it 
 is to be observed, that as this was the common and more 
 usual strain and temper of holy souls, in the ages whereof 
 the Scriptures give us any account ; so were doubts, and 
 fears, and troubled thoughts concerning their own interest 
 in God, a great deal less usual and common in those days. 
 So that in proportion to the other pious and holy exercises 
 of such as were true fearers of God and devoted to him, 
 there is little account given us of any thing of that kind in 
 the sacred writings, and especially in the New Testament 
 of our Lord. An argument that such as were sincerely 
 religious were most taken up about the interest of God and 
 Christ in the world, rejoicing either in the observation of 
 its growth and increase, or in the hope and confidence 
 that it shall grow : and that they were much less concern- 
 ed about their own interest ; yea, and that this course did 
 thrive best with them. While they were most mtent upon 
 the affairs of their common Lord, their own were well 
 enough provided for. 
 
 We cannot hereupon but note therefore by the way, how 
 altered a thing religion is now become. Almost the whole 
 business of it, even among them that more seriously mind 
 any thing belonging to it, is a fear of going to hell ; and 
 hence perpetual, endless scruples, doubts, and inquiries 
 about marks and signs, and how to know what is the least 
 degree of that grace which is necessary to their being 
 saved. As if the intention were to beat down the price to 
 the very lowest, and dodge always, and cheapen heaven 
 to the utmost, it may be feared (as to many) with a design 
 not to aim at any thing higher than what is merely neces- 
 sary to that purpose only, and never to mind being excel- 
 lent, but only being saved. And yet also it were well, in 
 a comparative sense, if that itself were minded in good 
 earnest by many that profess beyond the common rate ; 
 and that whereas their own interest is the thing they most 
 mind, it were not their meanest and least considerable 
 interest, even that of their sense and flesh, and secular ad- 
 vantage ; and that under the pretence too (which makes 
 the matter so much the worse) of much love and zeal 
 God-ward, and devotedness to his interest ; which they 
 supposed involved and wrapt up wholly with theirs. 
 Whence also all their delight and joy is measured only by 
 the aspect of the world, and of public affairs upon them 
 and their private ones. And they are either overwhelmed 
 with sorrow, or transported with joy, according as the state 
 of things doth either frown upon or favour their concern- 
 ments. In the days when the interest of Christ lay more 
 entirely and undividedly among one sort of men ; and 
 more apparently, their contests being less among them- 
 selves, and chiefly with the infidel world ; and they had, 
 for the most part, no enemies but those in common of the 
 Christian name and cause : so that any common state of 
 suffering to them, was the visible prejudice of that cause 
 and interest : why, what, did they delight and please them- 
 selves in nothing but a warm sun and halcyon seasons'? 
 Surely they had matter little enough for that sort of joy. 
 And what, did they therefore dejectedly languish and de- 
 spond, and give themselves up to sorrow and despair 1 
 Nor that neither ; unless they had all had but one neck, 
 and that also perfectly in the enemies' power, it had been an 
 impossible thing to stifle and extinguish their delight and 
 joy. So fully did Christ make it good to them, that their 
 sorrow should be turned into joy, and their joy should no 
 man take from them. For even that increased it which 
 aimed at its suppression ; and the waters thrown upon 
 their flame, became rivers of oil. They had got a secret 
 way of " rejoicing in tribulation, of counting it all joy 
 when they fell into divers temptations, of taking pleasure 
 in reproaches for the sake of Christ;" of turning difficulties 
 and hazards into matter of triumph, of taking joyfully the 
 spoiling of their goods, and glorying to be counted worthy 
 to suffer any thing for so excellent a name. Insomuch, 
 that though their head and Lord was in a most ignomini- 
 ous way taken from them, and they left as a despised party 
 of men in the midst of an outrageous world, under the 
 (seemingly hopeless) profession of addictedness to the 
 interest of a man that died upon a cross among thieves 
 but the other day: and though many of them never saw 
 his face, but had their knowledge of him by report and 
 
 q 1 Pet. i. 8. 
 
 hearsay, yet believing they rejoiced, with joy unspeakable 
 and full of glory.') The matter and ground of their joy 
 was not so uncertain and changeable a thing, nor so light 
 and unsub.stantial, as the world's kindness and favour, and 
 the smooth face of a terrene slcy. These were true lovers 
 of Christ; and such as counted him worthy for whom ihey 
 should do all that lay in their power, and suffer all which 
 it was m the power of any others to do against them upon 
 his account. 
 
 They that rejoice and place their delight in the blessed 
 God himself through Jesus Christ, have for the object of 
 their joy the everlasting I AM, him who is the same yes- 
 terday, and to-day, and for ever. And whose excellent 
 glory may be clouded indeed and eclipsed to the world 
 and the eye of sense ; but still shines in itself, and to the 
 eye of faith, with the same bright and undiminished lustre. 
 That delight will then be continued and permanent, and 
 ever springing up in fresh liveliness and vigour, which is 
 taken in this blessed object, considered as it is in itself; 
 and that hath place in a soul that acts in a steady direct 
 course towards that object, "without sinister respects, or 
 any selfish ones, of even the highest kind, otherwise than in 
 that subordination which will be suitable to the va^t dis- 
 proportion and inequality between God's interest and ours ; 
 that is, (looking upon our own external concernments as 
 unworthy to be named in the same day,) that though we 
 reckon what there is delectable in God will make for our 
 eternal advantage; yet to consider that advantage of ours 
 so much less, and to be so much more pleased and satL«tied, 
 that he is in himself blessed and glorious, as it is in itself 
 a thing more considerable that he be so, than it is what 
 becomes of us, or of any creature, or of this whole crea- 
 tion. We are not indeed concerned, nor may think jt 
 warrantable, to put ourselves upon any such severe and 
 unnatural trials of our love and fidelity to him, as to put 
 the question to our own hearts. Could we be content to lie 
 in hell, or be in the state of the damned forever for his glory 1 
 For it were a most injurious and vile supposition of some- 
 what inconsistent with his own most blessed nature, and 
 eternal, essential felicity, (for his happiness cannot but be 
 much placed in the benignity of his nature,) to imagine 
 that he ever can be pleased, or esteem himself glorified, by 
 the everlasting miseries of any one that truly loves him. 
 We ought to abhor the mention or imagination of such a 
 thing, as a blasphemy against his infinite goodness : the de- 
 nial whereof were to deny his Godhead. And it were also 
 an absurd and self-contradicting supposition: for none can 
 be in the state of the damned, but they must be aL-o in a 
 state of enmity to God, and of all wickedness and ma- 
 lignity arrived and grown up to its highest pitch ; which 
 indeed is the very horror and inmost centre of hell ; wick- 
 edness and eternal misery differing (for the most part) but 
 in degree, as grace and glory do. So that to pin ourselves 
 upon this trial of sincerity towards God, were to ask our- 
 selves, whether we would be willing to express our sincere 
 love to God, by everlasting hatred of him; and the truth 
 of our grace, by being as maliciously wicked as the devil 
 and his angels 1 The expressions of Moses and Paul so 
 frequently alleged can be wiredrawn to no such sense. 
 This is no place to discuss the importance of them. But 
 it were certainl}' most imprudent (whatsoever they import) 
 to seek marks of sincere love to God thence, which vmy 
 be fetched from so many plain texts of Scripture. But it 
 is out of question that we may and ought to mind and 
 take complacency in our own blessedness, in a degree in- 
 ferior and subordinate to that which we take in the glory 
 of the blessed God, without making the sinful and absurd 
 supposition of their inconsistency; or that we can ever 
 be pixt to choose the absence or privation of the one as a 
 means to the other. And such complacency and delight 
 in God as arises upon such grounds is of the right stamp 
 and kind. 
 
 See then that yours be a well complexioned delight, and 
 such as inwardly partakes of the true nature of religion, 
 i. c. that hath in it entire devotedness to God as the very 
 life, soul, spirit of it. And if this be not the thing, but 
 merely self-satisfaction, which you chiefly have in pursuit 
 under the name of delisrht in God; you beat the air, and 
 do but hunt after a shadow. For there is no such thing
 
 408 
 
 OP DELIGHTING IN GOD. 
 
 Part II. 
 
 as real, solid delight in God any where existing, or ever 
 will be, separalely and apart from a supreme love and ad- 
 dictedness of heart lo him and his interest as our chief 
 and utmost end. Which temper of spirit towards him, 
 must be maintained and improved, by our fixed intuition 
 and view of his glorious greatness, and absolute excellen- 
 cy and perfection ; and the congruily and fitness which 
 we thereupon apprehend, that we and all things (as all are 
 of him) should be wholly to him, that he alone may have 
 the glory. 
 
 5. And though you are not to prefer the consideration 
 of your own intere.st in God as a good suitable to you, or 
 to give it the highest place in your delight ; yet also you 
 must take heed of neglecting it, or of denying it any place 
 at all. For though we may plainly observe, as hath been 
 said; that it was the usual temper of holy men of old, to 
 be most taken up in admiring God upon the account of 
 his own excellency and gloiy, in itself considered ; and 
 may thence collect that to be the genuine right temper of 
 a gracious heart when it is most itself: yet also 'tis as evi- 
 dent, that they were far from neglecting their own interest 
 in God, and that they counted it not a small matter; yea, 
 that it had (though not the principal) a very great influ- 
 ence upon their delight and joy in him. No one can read 
 the Bible, and not have frequent occasion to take notice of 
 this. For how ol^en do we find him spoken of under the 
 names of their portion, heritage, &c. And in what raptures 
 of joy do we often find them upon that account! So the 
 Psalmist considers him, when he says. The lines are fallen 
 to him in pleasant places, and he had a goodly heritage. >• 
 How often do we find them glorying in their relation by 
 covenant, and making their boasts of him as their God ; I 
 will love thee, O Lord, my strength,^ &c. You have my 
 no less than nine times repeated in the beginning (the first 
 and second verses) of that psalm, — my strength, my rock, 
 my fortress, my deliverer, my God, &c. And afterwards 
 how glorious a triumph is there raised, and in what ex- 
 ultation do we behold them upon this ! " Who is God save 
 the Lord, and who is a rock save our God 1"' And again, 
 " The Lord liveth, and blessed be my rock, and let the 
 God of my salvation be exalted." And this was some of 
 the last holy breath uttered by that anointed one of the 
 God of Jacob, and the sweet Psalmist of Israel ; He hath 
 made with me an everlasting covenant ordered in all things 
 and sure ;" and this is all my salvation and all my desire. 
 With this, how well satisfied and pleased did he expire, 
 and go down to the grave ! And the people of God are 
 sometime represented as so taken with this apprehension 
 of their peculiar relation to God, that they cannot be con- 
 tent to know, but they proclaim it ; nor was it enough the 
 present age should know, but they must have it told the 
 followinggeneration ; Let mount Sion rejoice, &c. Mark 
 — That ye may tell the generation following'^ — For this 
 God is our God. See their ostentation of him, this God ? 
 q. d. " Behold what a God have we ! view him well, and 
 take notice how glorious a God he is." And as they glory 
 in the greatness of the God to whom they were related, so 
 they do in the eternity of the relation. This God is our 
 God for ever and ever ! &c. And how unexpressible was 
 the inward pleasure wherewith we may suppose those 
 words to have been uttered, God, even our own God, shall 
 bless us \y How delightful an appropriation ! as if it were 
 intended to be said, the blessing itself were less significant, 
 it could not have that savour with it, if it were not from 
 our own God. Not only therefore allow but urge your 
 spirits thus to look towards God, that you may both de- 
 lig>ht in him, as being in himself the most excellent one, 
 and also as being yours ; for know, you are not permitted 
 only, but obliged, to eye, accept, and rejoice in him as such. 
 It is his first and great law, and the form of his covenant 
 which he requires you to enter into with him, to take him 
 for your God. Herein to be shy and decline, is to rebel. 
 And when he otfers himself in all his rich fulness to be 
 your portion and your God, how vile ingratitude were it 
 to neglect and overlook the kindness of the overture ! It 
 is his glory to have indigent souls satiating themselves in 
 him, drawing from him their vital breath, living upon him 
 as their all : confessing they cannot live, but by his vouch- 
 
 r Psal. xvi. 
 u 3 dam. xxiii. 
 
 B Psal. xviii. 
 X PsaJ. .xlviii. 
 
 safed communications. And if you should say you love 
 him, but so he be ever glorious in himself, you care not to 
 be happy ; it would sound like a hollow compliment. You 
 are not to deal with a God upon such terms. It becomes 
 you not, nor is suitable to him. It is fit for you to own 
 it to him, that he is your life, that you are a mere nothing 
 in yourself, and must seek your all in him. Your song 
 and your prayer must be directed to him as the God of 
 your life.2 You do not own him as God, except you own 
 and adore him as your all-sufficient good, and that fulness 
 which filleth all in all. You detract from the glory of his 
 Godhead, if you attribute not this to him ; and if accord- 
 ingly, as one that cannot live without him, you do not seek 
 union with him, and join yourself to him, and then rejoice 
 and solace yourself in that blessect conjunction. 
 
 And if you be not sure as yet that he is yours, your de- 
 lighting in him is not therefore to be suspended and de- 
 layed till you be. But in the meantime delight in him as 
 willing to become yours. To disbelieve that he is willing, 
 is to give him the lie. It is the great design of his Gospel 
 so to represent him to you. See that your hearts do em- 
 brace and close with that as a most delightful and lovely 
 representation : the great and glorious Lord of heaven and 
 earth oflTering himself in all his fulness to be thine ! thy 
 portion and thy God for ever ! How transporting should 
 this be to you ! Nor, if you suspect the sincerity of your 
 own heart towards him, (which is the only thing you can 
 have any pretence to suspect, for it were a blasphemy to 
 his truth and goodness to intimate a suspicious thought of 
 him,) may you therefore spend all your time in anxious in- 
 quiries, or in looking only upon your own evil heart; but 
 look most, and with a direct and steady eye, towards him. 
 Behold and view well his glory and his love, that by this 
 means your heart may be captivated and more entirely 
 won to him. 
 
 This makes delight in God a strange thing in the hearts 
 and practice of many. They find too much cause of com- 
 plaint concerning their own hearts, that they are disaff'ecied 
 and disinclined God-ward. And what is the course they 
 take hereupon 1 Their religion is nothing but complaint ; 
 and all their days are spent in beholding that they are bad, 
 without ever taking the way to become better. They con- 
 clude their case to be evil and full of danger, because they 
 find they can take no delight in God ; and they will take 
 no delight in him because they have that apprehension of 
 the danger of their case. And so their not delighting in 
 God resolves into itself. And they delight not in him 
 because they delight not in him. 'Tis strange the absurdi- 
 ty of this is not more reflected on. And what now is to 
 be done in this case 1 To rest here is to be held in a cir- 
 cle of sin and misery all your days ; and would signify as 
 if delighting in God were a simple impossibility, or as if 
 not to delight in God, were a thing so highly rational as 
 to be its own sufficient self-justification ; and that it were 
 reason enough not to delight in him because we do not. 
 There can be no other way to be taken but to behold him 
 more in that discoveryof him which his Gospel sets before 
 your eyes, and in that way seek to have your hearts taken 
 with his amiableness and love, and allured to delight in 
 him. And labour in this way to have that delight increased 
 to that degree, that it may cease to be a question or doubt 
 with you, Do I delight in God or no ? Whence when you 
 reflect and find that you do, then shall you have that ad- 
 ditional matter of further delight ; that whereas you before 
 took delight in him because being in himself so excellent 
 a one he hath freely offered him.self to you to become 
 yours, you may now delight in him also, because you are 
 sure he is so; whereof you cannot have a more satisfying 
 assurance than from his so express saying, I love them 
 that love me ;» and we love him because he loved us 
 first, b 
 
 6. Take especial heed of more apparentand grosser trans- 
 gressions. Nor account your security from the danger of 
 them so much to stand in your being ordinarily out of the 
 way of temptations to them, as in an habitual frame of 
 holiness, and the settled aversion of your heart to them. 
 Endeavour a growing conformity to God in the temper ol 
 your spirit, and to be in love with purity; that your heart 
 
 y Psal. Ixvii. 6. 
 a Prov. viii. 
 
 z Psal. xlii. 8. 
 b 1 Jolm iv.
 
 Part II. 
 
 OP DELIGHTING IN GOD. 
 
 409 
 
 may no more endure an impure thought, than you would 
 fire in your bosom. If you be herein careless and remiss, 
 and suffer your heart to grow dissolute, or more bold and 
 adventurous, in admittingsinful cogitations; or if you have 
 more liking or less dislike of any wicked course wherein 
 others take their liberty ; you are approaching the borders 
 of a dangerous precipice. And if some greater breach 
 hereupon ensue between God and you, what becomes of 
 your delight in him ! A sad interruption of such pleasant 
 intercourse cannot but follow, both on his part and on 
 yours. On his part, a suspension and restraint of those 
 communications of light and grace which are necessary 
 to your delight in him. He v;ill be just in his way 
 of dealing towards those of his own family, as well as 
 merciful. It appears how much David's delight in God 
 was intermitted, upon his great transgression, through 
 God's withdrawing from him, when he prays he would 
 restore the joy of his salvation.'^ And on your part, will 
 ensue both less liking of God's presence, and dread of it. 
 Your inclination will not be towards him as before; though 
 the act of sin be soon over, the effect will remain ; even 
 a carnal frame of spirit that disaffects converse with God, 
 and cares not to come nigh him. And if that were not, a 
 guilty fear would hold j'ou otf ; so that if you were willing, 
 you would not dare to approach him. Your liberty taken 
 to sin would soon infer a bondage upon your spirit God- 
 ward, unless conscience be wholly asleep ; and you have 
 learned a stupid, insolent confidence to affront God, which 
 surely would signify little to your delight in him. Thou 
 shalt put away iniquity from thy tabernacles. Then shalt 
 thou have thy delight in the Almighty; and shalt lift up 
 thy face unto God.d The conscience of unpurged iniquity 
 will not let you lift up your face or appear in that glorious 
 presence. 
 
 7. Cherish the great grace of humility; and be ever 
 mean and low in your own eyes. That temper carries in 
 it even a natural disposition to delight in God. How 
 sweet complacency will such a soul take in him! His 
 light and glory shine with great lustre in the eyes of such 
 a one while there is not a nearer, imagined lustre to vie 
 therewith. Stars are seen at noon, by them that descend 
 low into a deep pit. They will admire God but little that 
 admire themselves much! and take little pleasure in him, 
 who are too much pleased with themselves. And how 
 sweet a relish have his love and grace to an humble, lowly 
 soul, that esteems itself less than the least of his mercies! 
 With what ravishing delight will Divine mercy be enter- 
 tained, when it is so unexpectedly vouchsafed ; when this 
 shall be the sense of the soul now caught into the embraces 
 of God's love. What I, vile creature I impure worm ! what, 
 beloved of God ! Expectation, grounded especially upon 
 an opinion of merit, would unspeakably lessen a favour, if 
 it were afforded, as also expected evils seem the less when 
 the}^ come. But the lowly soul, that apprehends desert of 
 nothing but hell, is surprised and overcome with wonder 
 and delight, when the great God expresses kindness to- 
 wards it. Besides that he more freely communicates him- 
 self to such ; To this man will I look, even to him that is 
 poor and of a contrite spirit, <= &c. And he looks to such 
 with a design of habitation ; heaven and earth are not to 
 him so pleasant a dwelling. Down then into the dust ; 
 there you are in the fittest place and posture for delightful 
 converse with God. 
 
 8. Reckon much upon an eternal abode in that presence 
 where is fulness of joy and pleasures for evermore. En- 
 joy by a serious, believing foresight the delights of heaven ; 
 labour to rejoice in hope of the glory of God. Look be- 
 5'ond this your present state. Confine not your eye and 
 delight to what is now to be enjoyed, but think of what 
 shall be. Set before your eyes the glorious prospect of the 
 blessed God communicating himself to that vast assembly 
 of angels and the spirits of just men made perfect, in 
 clearest discoveries of his glory, and richest efiusions of 
 his goodness. The best appearance of things in this world, 
 makes but a dull scene in comparison of this. If you look 
 towards God according to what now appears of his glory 
 in the frame of the universe, and the course of his admi- 
 nistrations and government over his creatures, he hath not, 
 'tis true, left himself without witness. And you may be- 
 
 c Paal. U. 12. d Job xxii. 
 
 hold much that would be to you the matter of delightful 
 admiration ; if your eye be clear, and can pierce through 
 clouds and darkness and a manifold veil. He hath made 
 this world, and is every where in it, but it knows him not. 
 His light shines in darkness, that doth not comprehend it. 
 Beams of his glory do every where break forth, through 
 every creature, providence, law, and ordinance of his. 
 But much of his glory, that shines in the creation is hid 
 by a train of second causes, through which few look to the 
 first. His laws men judge of according to their interests 
 and inclinations, while the holy, glorious majesty that 
 enacted them is out of sight. His work in the world is 
 carried on in a mystery. His interest lives, but is depressed. 
 They who are most devoted to him are supported indeed 
 by his invisible hand, but are, in the meantime, low, for 
 the most part, and afflicted. If you now limit and confine 
 your apprehensions of him to his present appearances, the 
 matter of your delight is real, but much diminished. But 
 conceive of him (as your faith can behold him at a dis- 
 tance) in that posture wherein having settled the eternal 
 state of things he will finally show himself. Conceive him 
 as having now gathered home all that have been recovered 
 to him out of the apostaey, and joined them to those num- 
 berless legions of innocent and pure spirits about his throne 
 that never offended. Conceive him a.s dispensing rewards, 
 pouring out blessings, upon the loyal heads and hearts of 
 them that expressed fidelity and duty to him in the time 
 and state of trial and temptation; lelting his glory shine 
 out with bright and direct beams, to so man)' beholding 
 and admiring eyes ; giving forth the full and satisfying 
 communications of his love, and making rivers of pleasure 
 flow perpetually to the replenishing the vast enlarged ca- 
 pacities, of so innumerable a multitude of grateful adoring 
 spirits, to whom it is now sensibly to be perceived how his 
 fulness filleth all in all. Take this view of him; and let 
 j'our faith and hope thus enter into that which is within 
 the veil. And remember there is only a little time betweeu 
 you and that blessed state; that then you are to enter into 
 the joy of your Lord; so that the very element and region 
 wherein j^ou are to live for ever, shall he nothing else but 
 delight and joy. In this way of believing foresight, and 
 by this lawful and allowed prepossession of future blessed- 
 ness, much surel)' would be added to your present delight 
 in God. Should not the thoughts of him be plea.sant to 
 }'ou from whom you are expecting so great things 1 If 
 )'our delight in him be any at all, upon what you have 
 already found and experienced of his goodness ; it should 
 be abundantly the more upon what you are by his word 
 encouraged to look for. 
 
 And having thus given some account in what way de- 
 light in God is to he exercised and improved ; it were a 
 charitable hope that there would be little need to propound 
 arguments to persuade unto it. But it were a hope not 
 groiindedupon common experience, which too plainly tells 
 us, that though such directions as these are plain and 
 obvious, not unknown to Christians, hut only less con- 
 sidered, (whence it was not needless here to recommend 
 them,) yet delight in God obtains little place in the prac- 
 tice of the most. There will therefore too probabh' be 
 still much need of excitation to it. 
 
 And yet because it is not multitude of words that is like- 
 ly to do the business, but the weight of things, urged on 
 by a more powerful hand than that of man, and that much 
 may be collected to tliis purpose from what hath been said 
 of the sinfulness of the omission; I shall, with great bre- 
 vity, offer these things only to be considered. 
 
 Is it not a merciful vonchsafement that the holy God 
 allows you to place your delight on him, and invites you 
 to it 1 How much grace and love breathes in these words, 
 " Delight thyself also in the Lord !" Trust in him was re- 
 commended before, and now this being added also; how 
 plain is it that your ease and rest is the thing designed! 
 Is it fit to receive so much kindness with neglect 1 Again, 
 he delights in you, I speak to such of whom this may be 
 supposed. Audit is indefinitely said, his delights f were 
 with the sons of men. Think what he is, and what you 
 are ; and at once, both wonder and yield. And what else 
 have vou to delight in 1 what thin? will you ntjme that 
 shall supply the place of GOD, or be to you in the .stead 
 Isa. l.\vi. 1,2. f Pxov. viii.
 
 410 
 
 OF DELIGHTING IN GOD. 
 
 Part II. 
 
 of him 1 Moreover, who should delight in him but you 1 
 his friends 1 his sons 1 those of his own house 1 Think 
 what life and vigour it will infuse into you ; and that, the 
 joy of the Lord will be your strength.? How pleasantly 
 will you hold on your course I and discharge all the other 
 duties of this your present state ! You must serve him. 
 Dare you think of throwing off his yoke 1 How desirable 
 is it then to take delight in him whom I must serve ! 
 which only makes that service acceptable to him, and easy 
 to myself! Further, this is a pleasure none can rob you 
 of; a joy that cannot be taken from you. Other objects of 
 your delight are vanishing daily. Neither men nor devils 
 can ever hinder your delighting in God, if your hearts be 
 so inclined. And were you never brought to take pleasure 
 in any person or thing to which you had a former aversion 1 
 One that had wronged you might yet possibly win you by 
 after-kindness. Give a reason why you should be more 
 difficult towards the blessed God, that never wronged you ! 
 and whose way towards you hath constantly imported so 
 much good will ! 
 
 And consider that your condition on earth is such, as 
 exposes you to many sufferings and hardships ; which by 
 your not delighting in him, you can never be sure to avoid, 
 (for they are things common to men,) but which, by your 
 delighting in him, you may be easily able to endure. Be- 
 sides all this, serioiisly consider that you must die. You 
 can make no shift to avoid that. How easily tolerable and 
 pleasant will it be to think, then, of going to him with 
 whom you have lived in a delightful communion before ! 
 And how dreadful to appear before him, to whom your 
 own heart shall accuse you to have been (against all his 
 importunities and allurements) a disaffected stranger ! 
 
 To these I add the consideration in the other part of the 
 verse ; " And he shall give thee the desire of thine heart." 
 By desire, 'tis plain we are to understand the thing de- 
 sired, which is usual. By the thing desired, we must not 
 be so unreasonable as to think is meant, any thing, what- 
 sover it be, that, even with the greatest extravagancy, we 
 may set our hearts upon ; as worldly possessions, riches, 
 honours, &c. For it were most unbecoming that delight 
 in God should be so mercenary ; or be propounded as the 
 price of so mean things ; yea, and if the matter were so to 
 be understood, delight in God were a means to the attain- 
 ing of these things as the end ; which were to make the 
 blessed God an inferior good to these. Nor can we sup- 
 pose that one who delights in God should ever esteem any 
 reward or recompense of another kind, greater than what 
 he finds in this very delight itself And besides, we are 
 very prone to desire things that (as the case may be) would 
 prove very hurtful to us. If God should gratify us with 
 every thing we fancy, he should many times please us to 
 our ruin. And do we believe that when he hath won a 
 person to place his delight and take pleasure in himself, 
 he will requite him with a mischief? Since then we may 
 not understand him to mean, that whatsoever we desire, if 
 we delight in him, we shall have ; we are to inquire fur- 
 ther. And 'tis plain the things that can be supposed to 
 be desired by such perst)ns as are here spoken to, must be 
 of one of these two sorts : either things of a spiritual na- 
 ture, that tend directly to the gratification and advantage 
 of the inward man; or else external good things, that 
 make lor the support and comfort of this present life. We 
 will suppose it to be the one or the other of these. And 
 shall show that whichsoever sort it be that is desired, de- 
 lighting in God doth naturally infer the satisfaction (some 
 way or other) of such desires. 
 
 1. Supposing they be spiritual good things that are de- 
 sired, delight in God is most directly the satisfaction of 
 such desire. Whatsoever purely spiritual good we can 
 desire, is either God himself, or somewhat in order to him. 
 If it be God himself we desire, so far as we delight in him 
 we enjoy him, and have what we would have ; and can 
 only enjoy him more fully, by more entire and composed 
 rest and delight in him. If it be somewhat in order to 
 him, he is still supremely and ultimately desired in that 
 very desire; so that in delighting in him, we have our 
 end, and that upon which this desire doth lastly termi- 
 nate. And "ow should not this be a great inducement 
 to us to delight m God, that hereby our desires, the mo- 
 g Nehem. viii. 
 
 tions of our working hearts directed towards him, do im- 
 mediately find in him a peaceful and pleasant rest, and 
 turn into a satisfying fruition "? 
 
 3. Supposing the things we desire be those of an inferior 
 kind ; delight in God doth not a little to the satisfying of 
 them also. It doth not, as was said, entitle us to the things 
 themselves we desire, whatever they be, or how unsuit- 
 able soever to us. 
 
 But, first, it moderates these desires, makes them sober, 
 prudent, and rational, and capable of being satisfied with 
 what is fit for us. He that is much habituated to delight 
 in God, is not apt to foolish extravagant desires. This is 
 the sense of such a one, " Not my will. Lord, but thine, 
 be done." He may desire the same thing that others do, 
 yet not with the same peremptory and precipitant desire, 
 but with a desire tempered with submission, and with a 
 reserved deference of the matter to the Divine pleasure : 
 " This thing, Lord, I desire, if thou see good." So that 
 the general object of such a one's desire is only that which 
 in the Divine estimate is fit and good for him. And 
 though he desire this or that particular thing, yet not as it 
 is this thing, but as supposing it possible this thing may 
 be judged fit for him by the Supreme wi.sdom, whereto he 
 hath referred the matter. But if it shall be judged other- 
 wise ; this thing falls without the compass of the general 
 object of his desire, and in just construction he desires it 
 not. For he desires it not otherwise than on that con- 
 dition that God sees it meet for him ; and not longer than 
 till he finds he does not. In which case the sobriety and 
 submissiveness of his former desire, appears in his cheer- 
 ful, patient want of the thing which he finds God hath 
 thought fit to deny him. So that even then, his desire is 
 satisfied, that is, it doth not (as often it is with a carnal 
 heart) turn, being crossed, into rage and madness; but 
 into a complacential peace and rest in the Divine will. 
 He is satisfied in what God hath thought fit to do. Yea, 
 the very thing is done which he would have done: Gud 
 hath given him his heart's desire. For let the question be 
 put to such a person. Do you desire such a thing, though 
 God judge it will be hurtful to you or unfit for you 1 and 
 no doubt he will, not in faint words that have no sense 
 under them, (as almost any other man would,) but from 
 his very heart and soul, say. No. And if he deliberate 
 the matter of his own accord, or by any one's inquiry be 
 occasioned to do so, this will be found the sense of his 
 heart, (though his desire hath inclined to this or that thing 
 in particular,) and this would be his prayer in such a case, 
 "Lord, if thy wisdom, which is infinitely more than mine, 
 see this thing not fit, cross me, deny me in this desiie of 
 mine." And this general desire at least, which is the mea- 
 sure of the particular one, is sure to be accomplished to 
 one that hath God for his delight. For the promise is ex- 
 press and cannot fail, All things shall work together for 
 good, to them that love God.ii 
 
 And this love to God, or delight in him, as it entitles 
 such to that his care and concern for them which is ex- 
 pressed in this promise ; so it doth in its own nature dispose 
 their hearts to an acquiescence and satisfiedness therein. 
 For love to God, where it is true, is supreme, and prevails 
 over all other lore to thisor that particular good. Whence 
 it cannot be, but if this love be in act, (as the text 'must be 
 understood to call unto actual and exercised delight in 
 God,) it must subdue and keep the heart so far subject to 
 the Divine good pleasure, as that its desire and addicted- 
 ness to this particular, lesser good, (concerning which there 
 may also be a just and rational doubt whether it will be 
 now a good to him yea or no,) shall never be a matter of 
 controversy and quarrel with him who is, imquestionably, 
 the supreme and universal good. How will that one 
 thought overcome, if such a one shall but apprehend God 
 saying to him, " Dost thou love me above all things, and 
 will yet contend with me for such a trifle !" 
 
 And we may by the way note, that upon this ground 
 of the dubious mutability of external good things, (which, 
 by circumstances, may become evil to this or that person,) 
 as they are not here, so nor can they be any where, the mat- 
 ter of a general absolute promise, to be claimed indefinitely 
 by any one's faith. The nature of the thing refuses it. 
 For suppose we, that what may, in this or that case, be- 
 
 h Rom. viii. 28.
 
 Part II. 
 
 OP DELIGHTING IN GOD. 
 
 411 
 
 come evil or prejudicial to this or at person, doth now 
 actually become so, and is the matter of an absolute pro- 
 mise, now claimable by such a person, what would follow "? 
 That an evil is now the actual matter of a promise ! than 
 which what can be said or supposed more absurd 1 when 
 nothing can further or otherwise be the matter of a pro- 
 mise, than as it is good. Wherefore that promise would, 
 in the supposed case, degenerate, (as the matter of it is by 
 the present circumstances varied,) and turn into a threaten- 
 ing. Wherefore when that condition or proviso is not ex- 
 pressly added to a promise concerning a temporal good, 
 the very nature of the thing implies, and requires it to be 
 understood. For it is not otherwise than as qualified by 
 that condition, any way a promise. Now he that is in the 
 present exercise of delight in God, hath his heart so set 
 upon God and alienated from earthly things, as that the 
 present temper of it bears proportion to the natural tenor 
 of such promises; and is not, otherwise than by the cessa- 
 tion of this delight, liable to the torture of unsati,sfied de- 
 sire in reference to these lower things: Although the fig- 
 tree shal. not blossom — yet I will rejoice in the Lord,i &c. 
 And as delight in God doth thus reduce and moderate de- 
 sires in reference to any inferior good ; so that, if it be 
 withheld, they admit a satisfaction without it, and the 
 want of it is easily tolerable; so, 
 
 Secondly, If it be granted, delight in God adds a satis- 
 fying sweetness to the enjoyment. A lover of God hath 
 another taste and relish, even of earthly good things, than 
 an earthly-minded man can have. He hath that sweet sa- 
 vour of the love of God upon his spirit, that imparts a 
 sweetness to all the enjoyments of this world, beyond what 
 
 i Hab. lii. 17, 18. 
 
 k Psal. Ju'.vrii. 16. 
 
 such things in their own nature have with them. This 
 makes the righteous man's little better, than the great re- 
 venues of many wicked. k 
 
 Upon the whole thereof this is, if duly weighed, a 
 mighty and most persuasive argument to delight in God. 
 For it imports thus much, which I add for a close to 
 this discourse. If you place your delight here; you are 
 most certainly delivered from the vexation and torment of 
 unsatisfied desire. The motions of your souls are sure to 
 end in a pleasant rest. Your lesser desires will be swal- 
 lowed up in greater, and all in the Divine fulness; so 
 that you will now say. Whom have I in heaven but thee 1 
 and there is none on earth I desire besides thee.i If you 
 take no delight in God, your own souls will be a present 
 hell to you. And it may be it is not enough considered, 
 how much the future hell stands also in unsatisfied desire; 
 which desire (all suitable objects being for ever cut off 
 from it) turns wholly to despair, rage, and torture. And 
 that ravenous appetite, which would be prej'ing upon ex- 
 ternal objects that now fail, turns inward, and as an insa- 
 tiable vulture, gnaws everlastingly the wretched soul itself. 
 And the beginnings of this hell you will now have within 
 you, while you refuse to delight in God. The sapless, 
 earthly vanities upon which your hearts are set, give you 
 some present content, which allays your miser}- for a little 
 while, and renders it less sensible to you : but they have 
 nothing in them to answer the vast desires of a reasonable, 
 immortal spirit. Whereby you certainly doom yourselves 
 to perpetual disrest. For in these false, vanishing sha- 
 dows of goodness, you cannot have satisfaction, and in the 
 blessed God you will not. 
 
 1 Psal. bptiil 85.
 
 SELF-DEDICATION 
 
 DISCOURSED IN THE ANNIVERSARY THANKSGIVING OF A PERSON OF HONOUR 
 
 FOR A GREAT DELIVERANCE. 
 
 TO THE RIGHT HONOURABLE 
 JOHN, EARL OF KILDARE, BARON OF OPHALIA, 
 
 FIRST OF HIS ORDER IN THE KINGDOM OF IRELAND. 
 
 My Lord, 
 T LITTLE thought when, in so private a way, I lately offered much of the following discourse to your Lordship's ear, 
 1 should receive the command (which I am not now, so far as it proves to me a possible one, to disobey or further to 
 dispute) of exposing it thus to the view of the world, or so much a« to present it to your Lordship's own eye. It was 
 indeed impossible to me to give an exact account of what was then discoarsed, from a memory that was so treacherous, 
 as to let slip many things that wet e prepared and intended to have been said that day; and that could much less 
 (being assisted but by very imperfect memorials) recollect every thing that was said, several days after. Yet I account, 
 upon the whole, it is much more varied by enlargement, than by dimmution ; whereby, I hope, it will be nothing less 
 capable of serving the end of this enjoined publication of it. And I cannot doubt but the injunction proceeded from 
 the same pious gratitude to the God of your life, which hath prompted, for several years past, to the observation of 
 that domestic annual solemnity, in memory of your great preservation from so near a death.* That the remembrance 
 of so great a me-rcy might be the more deeply impressed with yourself, and improved also (so far as this means could 
 signify for that purpose) to the instruction of many others. 
 
 Your Lordship was pleased to allow an hour to the hearing of that discourse. What was proposed to you in it, is 
 to be the business of your life. And what is to be done continually, is once to be thoroughly done. The impression 
 ought to be very inward, and strong, which must be so lasting as to govern a man's life. And were it as fully done as 
 mortality can admit, it needs be more solemnly renewed at set times for that purpose. And indeed, that such a day 
 should not pass you without a fall, nor that fall be without a hurt, and that hurt proceed unto a wound, and that wound 
 not to be mortal, but even next to it, looks like an artifice and contrivance of Providence to show you how near it 
 could go without cutting through that slender thread of life, that it might endear to you its accurate superintendency 
 over your life, that there might here be a remarkable juncture in that thread, and that whensoever such a day should 
 revolve in the circle of your year, it might come again, and again, with a note upon it under your eye, and appear ever 
 to you as another birth-day, or as an earlier day of resurrection. 
 
 Whereupon, my honoured Lord, the further design of that providence is to be thoroughly studied, and pondered 
 deeply. For it shows itself to be, at once, both merciful and wise, and as upon the one account it belonged to it to 
 design kindly to you, so, upon the other, to form its design aptly, and so as that its means and method might fitly both 
 serve and signify its end. If therefore your Lordship shall be induced to reckon the counsel acceptable which hath 
 been given you upon this occasion, and to think the offering yourself to God, a living sacrifice, under the endearing 
 obligation of so great a mercy is, indeed, a reasonable service ; your life by that dedication acquires asacredness, be- 
 comes a holy, divine life. And so by one and the same means is not only renewed and prolonged in the same kind of 
 natural life, but is also heightened and improved to a nobler and far more excellent kind. And thus, out of that 
 umbrage only and shadow of death, which sat upon one day of your time, springs a double birth and resurrection to 
 vou. Whereby (as our apostle speaks in another place of this epistle) you come to yield yourself lo God as one alive 
 Jrom the dead. 
 
 So your new year (which shortly after begins) will always be to you a fresh setting forth in that new and holy course 
 of life, which shall at length (and God grant it lo be, after the revolution of many fruitful years, wherein you may 
 continue a public blessing in this wretched world) end, and be perfected in a state of life not measured by time, 
 wherein you are to be ever with the Lord. Which will answer the design of that merciful providence towards you ; 
 and of this performance (how mean soever) of 
 
 Your Honour's most obedient, 
 
 Humble Servant, 
 
 JOHN HOWE. 
 
 • By a fall from a horse, Dec. 6, 1674.
 
 SELF-DEDICATION. 
 
 ROM. XII. 1. 
 
 I BESEECH TOU THEREFORE, BRETHREN, BY THE MERCIES OF GOD, THAT YE PRESENT YOUR BODIES A LIVING SACRIFICE, 
 HOLY, ACCEPTABLE UNTO GOD, WHICH IS YOUR REASONABLE SERVICE. 
 
 Two things are more especially considerable in these 
 words: — The matter of the exhortation, that we would 
 " present our bodies a living sacrifice, holy, acceptable to 
 God, our reasonable service." And the pathetic form of 
 obtestation that is used to enforce it. " I beseech you by 
 the mercies of God." The former I intend for the princi- 
 pal subject of the following discourse, and shall only make 
 use of the other for the purpose unto which the holy apostle 
 doth here apply it. Our business therefore must be, to 
 show the import of this exhortation. In the doing whereof 
 we ^h-.ili, 
 
 1. E.fplain the terms wherein the text delivers if. 
 
 ■2. Declare more distinctly the nature of the thing ex- 
 pressed by them. 
 
 1. For the terms. By bodies^ we are to understand our 
 whole selves, expressed here (synecdochically) by the name 
 of bodies for distinction's sake. It having been wonted 
 heretofore, to offer in sacrifice the bodies of beasts, the 
 apostle lets them know they are now to offer up their own : 
 meaning, yet, their whole man, as some of those following 
 words do intim.ite; and agreeably to the plain meaning of 
 the exhortation, (1 Cor. vi. 20.)' "Glorify God in your 
 bodies and spirits, which are his." 
 
 Sacrifice is not to be understood in this place in a more 
 restrained sense, than as it may signify whatsoever is by 
 God's own appointment dedicated to himself According 
 to the stricter notion of a sacrifice, its more noted general ] 
 distinction (though the Jewish be variously distributed ■'') is 
 into propitiatory, and gratulatory oreucharistical. Christ- 
 ianity in that strict sense, admits but one, and that of the 
 former sort. By which One (ihat of himself) our Lord 
 hath perfected for ever them that are sanctified. We our- 
 selves, or any service of ours, are only capable of being 
 sacrifices by way of analogy, and that chiefly to the other 
 sort. And so all sincere Christians are " as lively stones, 
 built up a spiritual house, a ho y priesthood, to offer up 
 spiritual sacrifices, acceptable to God by Jesus Christ," 
 (1 Pet. ii. 5.) being both temple, priests, and sacrifices, all 
 at once; as our Lord himself, in his peculiar sacrificing, 
 also was. 
 
 In the addition of living, the design is carried on of 
 speaking both by way of allusion and opposition to the 
 ritual sacrificing. By way of allusion. For a viorticiiium, 
 any thing dead of itself, the Israelites were not to eat thcm- 
 selves,b because they were a holy people; (though tiiey 
 might give it to a stranger;) much more had it been detest- 
 able, as a sacrifice to dod. The beast must be brought 
 alive to the altar. Whereas then we are also to offer our 
 bodies a living sacrifice, so far there must be an agreement. 
 Yet, also, a difference seems not obscurely suggested. The 
 victim brought alive to be sacrificed, was yet to be slain 
 in sacrificing : but here, living may also signify continuing 
 to live. You {q. d.) may be sacrifices, and "yet live on. 
 According to the strict notion we find given of a sacrifice, it 
 is somewhat to be, in the prescribed way, destroyed, and 
 
 a See Sigoniiu de Repub. Heb. Dr. Outr. de Sacr. b Deut. xiv. 21. 
 
 that must perish in token of their entire devotedness to 
 God who offer it. When we offer ourselves,"^ life will not 
 be touched by it, or at all impaired, but improved and en- 
 nobled highly by having a sacredness added to it. Your 
 bodies are to be offered a sacrifice, but an unbloody one. 
 Such as you have no cause to be startled at, it carries no 
 dread with it, life will be still whole in you. Which shows 
 by the way, 'tis not an animate bod)', without the soul. 
 But the bodily life is but alluded to and supposed, 'tis a 
 higher and more excellent one, that is meant ; the spiritual, 
 divine life, as ch. vi. 13. yield yourselves to God, as those 
 that are alive from the dead. And v. 11. shows what that 
 being alive means, " Reckon yourselves to be dead indeed 
 unto sin, but alive unto God through Jesus Christ." 
 Alive by a life which means God, which aims at him, 
 terminates in him, and is derived to you through Christ. 
 As he also speaks. Gal. ii. 19, '20. I am dead to the law, 
 that I might live to God. I am crucified with Christ. 
 Nevertheless I live, yet not I, but Christ liveth in me, 
 and the life which I now live in the flesh, I live by the 
 faith of the Son of God, who loved me, and gave himsell 
 for me. 
 
 Holy, though it be included in the word sacrifice, is not 
 in the Greek Ovaia, and was therefore added without veibal 
 tautology. And there were, however, no real one. For 
 there is a holiness that stands in an entire rectitude of 
 heart and life, by which we are conformed in both, to the 
 nature and will of God, besides the relative one which re- 
 dounds upon any person or thing by due dedication to 
 him. And which former is pre-required, in the present 
 sacrifice, that it may be, as it follows. 
 
 Acceptable to God, not as though thereby it became ac- 
 ceptable, but as that without which it is not so. Yet also 
 holiness, in the nature of the thing, cannot but be grateful 
 to God, or well-pleasing, (as the word here used signifies,<i) 
 but not so as to reconcile a person to him, who was before 
 a sinner, and hath still sin in him. But supposing the 
 state of such a person first made and continued good, that 
 resemblance of himself cannot but be pleasing in the eyes 
 of God, but fundamentally and statedly in and for Christ, 
 as 1 Pet. ii. 5. (before quoted.) This therefore signifies, 
 both how ready God is to be well pleased with such a 
 sacrifice, and also signifies the quality of the sacrifice itself, 
 that it is apt to please. 
 
 Reasonable service, or worship, as the word signifies. 
 This is also spoken accommodately, to the notion given 
 before of offering ourselves, in opposition to the former 
 victims wherein beasts were the matter of the sacrifice. 
 Those were brute sacrifices. You (q. d.) are to offer rea- 
 sonable ones. And it signifies our minds and understand- 
 ings the seat of reason, with our wills and affections that 
 are to be governed by it, must all be ingredient as the 
 matter of that sacrifice; implying also the right God hath 
 in us, whence nothing can be more reasonable than to 
 offer ourselves to him. 
 
 c Cloppenburg. Schol. Sucrific. and otbets. 
 
 d tvapt^or
 
 414 
 
 SELF-DEDICATION. 
 
 Present, that is, dedicate, devote yourselves, set your- 
 selves bel'ore God, as they sistere ad allarc — pre&enl at the 
 allo^r the destined sacrifice, make them stand ready lor im- 
 molation. You are so to make a tender of yourselves as 
 if you would say, " Lord, here I am, wholly thine. I 
 come to surrender myself, my whole life and being, to be 
 entirely and always at thy dispose, and for thy use. Ac- 
 cept a devoted, self-resigning soul !" Thus we are brought 
 to the thing itself. Which now, 
 
 2. In the next place (with less regard to the allusive 
 terms) we come more distinctly to open and explain. It 
 is briefly but the dedicating of ourselves ; or, as it is 2 Cor. 
 viii. 5. the giving our ownselves to the Lord. So those 
 Macedonian converts are said to have done. And there is 
 a special notice to be taken therein of the v;oxAfirst, which 
 puts a remarkableness upon that passage. The apostle is 
 commending their liberal charity towards indigent, neces- 
 sitous Christians: and shows how their charity was begun 
 in piety. They did not only most freely give away their 
 substance for the relief of such as were in want, but first 
 they gave their ownselves to the Lord. 
 
 But that we may not misconceive the nature of this act, 
 of giving ourselves, we must know it is not donation in 
 the strict and proper sense, such as confers a right upon 
 the donee, or to him to whom a thing is said to be given. 
 "We cannot be said to collate, or transfer a right to him 
 who is before Dominus alsolutus ; the only Proprietor and 
 Supreme Lord of all. It is more properly but a tradition, 
 a surrender or delivery of ourselves, upon the supposal 
 and acknowledgment of his former right ; or the putting 
 ourselves into his possession, for his appointed uses and 
 services, out of which we had injuriously kept ourselves 
 before. 'Tis but giving him his own, (1 Chron. xxix. 14.) 
 " All things come of thee, and of thine own have we given 
 thee." It is only a consent, and obedience to his most 
 rightful claim, and demand of us, or a yielding ourselves 
 to him, as it is significantly expressed in the mentioned vi. 
 to the Rom. 13. Though there the word is the same with 
 that in the text, which here we read presents 
 
 And now that we may more distinctly open the nature 
 of this self-dedication, we shall show what ought to accom-' 
 pany and qualify it, that we may be a suitable and grateful 
 present to him, in evangelical acceptation, worthy of God, 
 such as he requires and will accept. 
 
 1. It must be done with knowledge and understanding. 
 It cannot but be an intelligent act. 'Tis an act of religion 
 and worship, as it is called in the text. Service we read 
 it, which is much more general, but the word is Xnrpeia — 
 worship. 'Tis indeed the first and fundamental act of 
 worship. And it is required to be a rational act. Your 
 reasonable service. Religion cannot move blindfold. And 
 though knowledge and reason are not throughout words of 
 the same signification and latitude ; yet the former is 
 partly presupposed upon the latter, and partly improved 
 by it, nor can therefore be severed from it. In the present 
 case it is especially necessary we distinctly know and 
 apprehend the state of things between God and us : that 
 we understand ourselves to have been (with the rest of 
 men) in an apostacy, and revolt from God, that we are re- 
 called unto him, that a Mediator is appointed on purpose 
 through whom we are to approach him, and render our- 
 seh^es back unto liim : that so this may be our sense in 
 our return, "Lord, I have here brought thee back astray, 
 a wandering creature, mine ownself. I have heard what 
 the Redeemer, of thy own constituting, hath done and 
 suffered for the reconciling and reducing of such, and, 
 against thy known design, I can no longer withhold myself." 
 
 2. With serious consideration. It must be a deliberate 
 act. How many understand matters of greatest imj>ort- 
 ance, which they never consider, and perish by not con- 
 sidering what they know ! Consideration is nothing else 
 but the revolving of what we knew before : the actuating 
 ihe habitual knowledge we have of things: a more distinct 
 reviewing of our former notices belonging to any case, a 
 recollecting and gathering them up, a comparing them 
 together: and, for such as appear more momentous, a 
 repeating, and inculcating them upon ourselves, that we 
 may be urged on to suitable action. And this, though of 
 itself without the power and influence of the Divine Spirit, 
 
 e TTiipiTiyi, ot TTapi^avoi. 
 
 is not sufficient, yet being the means he works by, is most 
 necessary to our becoming Christians, i. e. if we speak of 
 becoming so, not by fate or by chance, as too many only 
 are, but by our own choice and design : which is the same 
 thing with dedicating ourselves to God through Christ, 
 whereof we are discoursing. For upon our having thus 
 considered and comprehended the whole compass of the 
 case in our thoughts, either the temper of our hearts would 
 be such that we would hereupon dedicate ourselves or we 
 would not ; if we would, it is because we should judge 
 the arguments for it more weighty than the objections, 
 which, without such pondering of both, we are not likely 
 to apprehend, and so, for want of this consideration, are 
 never likely to become Christians at all. Or, if we would 
 not, it is because to the more carnal temper of our hearts, 
 the objections would outweigh. And then, if we do seem 
 to consent, it is because what is to be objected came not 
 in view : and so we should be Christians to no purpose. 
 Our contract with the Redeemer were void in the making, 
 we should only seem pleased with the terms of Christi- 
 anity, because we have not digested them in our thoughts. 
 So our act undoes itself in the very doing. It carries an 
 implicit, virtual repentance in it, of what is done. We 
 enter ourselves Christians, upon surprise or mistake. And 
 if we had considered what we are, consequently, to do, 
 what to forbear, what to forego, what to endure, would 
 not have done it. And therefore when we do come dis- 
 tinctly to apprehend all this, are like actually to repent and 
 revolt. As they, John vi. who, while they imderstood not 
 what it was to be a Christian, seemed very forward follow- 
 ers of Christ. But when they did more fully understand 
 it, upon his telling them plainly, went back and walked 
 no more with him. And he lets them go; q. d. "Mend 
 yourselves if you can; see where you can get a better 
 master." 
 
 3. With a determinate judgment, at length, that this 
 ought to be done. There are two extremes in this matter. 
 Some will not consider at all, and so not do this thing ; 
 and some will consider always, and so never do it. Stand, 
 Shall 1 1 Shall 1 1 Halt between two opinions. These 
 are both of them very vicious and faulty extremes in re- 
 ference to the management even of secular affairs, both of 
 them contrary to that prudence which should govern our 
 actions, i. e. when men will never consider what is neces- 
 sary to be done, and so neglect their most important con- 
 cernments; or, when they will never have done consider- 
 ing, which is the same thing, as if they had never taken 
 up any thought of the matter at all. Indeed, in the pre- 
 sent case, 'tis a reproach to the blessed God to consider 
 longer, than till we have well digested the state of the case. 
 As if it were difficult to determine the matter between 
 him and the devil, v^hich were the better or more rightful 
 Lord ! We must at last be at a point, and come to a judi- 
 cious determination of the question, as those sincerely 
 resolved Christians had done, (John vi. 68, 69.) who also 
 express the reasons that had (before that time no doubt) 
 determined them : " Lord, whither shall we go 1 Thou 
 hast the words of eternal life. And we believe, and are 
 sure, that thou art that Christ, the Son of the living God." 
 
 4. With liberty of spirit, having thrown off" all former 
 bonds, and quite disengaged ourselves from other mas- 
 ters. As they speak, Isa. xxvi. 13. " Other lords besides 
 thee have had dominion over us, but by thee only will we 
 make mention of thy name." For our Saviour expressly 
 tells, " No man can serve two masters," Matt. vi. 24. 
 When those Dedititii, the people of Collatia,f were about 
 the business of capitulating in order to the surrender of 
 themselves, the question put, on the Romans' part, was, 
 Estne pnpuhis CoUatiuus in sua potentate — Are the Col- 
 lati7ie people in their own power 7 Wherein satisfaction 
 being given, the matter is concluded. In the present 
 case of yielding ourselves to God, the question cannot 
 be concerning any previous tie in the point of right, or 
 that could urge conscience. There cannot be so much as 
 a plausible pretender against him. But there must be a 
 liberty, in opposition to pre-engaged inclinations and affec- 
 tions. And this must be the sense of the sincere soul, 
 entreating the matter of its self-surrender, and dedication, 
 with the great God, to be able to say to the question, Art 
 
 f Livius, I. 1.
 
 SELF-DEDICATION. 
 
 415 
 
 thou under no former contrary bonds V " Lord, I am imder 
 none, I know, that ought to bind me, or that justly can, 
 against thy former sovereign right. I had indeed sufiered 
 other bonds to take place in my heart, and the affections of 
 my soul, but they were bonds of iniquity, which I scruple 
 not to break, and repent that ever I made. 1 took myself 
 indeed to be my own, and have lived to myself, only 
 pleased and served and sought myself as if I were created 
 and born for no other purpose, and if the sense of my heart 
 had been put into words, there was insolence enough to 
 have conceived such as these; not my tongue only, but my 
 whole man, body and soul, all my parts and powers, my 
 estate and name, and strength, and time, are all my own ; 
 who is Lord over me 1 And while I pleased self with 
 such an imagined liberty and self-dominion, no idol was 
 too despicable to command my homage. I have done 
 worse than prostrated my body to a stock, my soul hath 
 humbled itself, and bowed down to a clod of clay. My 
 thoughts and desires, and hopes and joys, have all stooped 
 to so mean trifles, as wealth, or ease, or pleasure, or fame, 
 all but so many fragments of earth, or (the less consistent) 
 vapours sprung from it. And whereas this world is no- 
 Jiing else but a bundle of lusts, none of them was too 
 oase to rule me. And while I thought myself at liberty, I 
 nave been a servant to corruption. But now, Lord, I have 
 through thy mercy learned to abandon and abhor myself. 
 Thy grace appearing, hath taught me to den}' ungodliness 
 and worldly lusts. Thou hast overcome; enjo}' thiue own 
 conquest. I am grieved for it, and repent from my soul 
 that ever I did put thee to contend for and conquer thine 
 own." And so doth this self-dedication carry in it repent- 
 ance from dead works, and towards God. 
 
 5. With a plenary full bent of heart and will. As that, 
 "I have sworn, and will perform, that I will keep thy 
 righteous judgments," Psal. cxix. 106. Or that, " I have 
 inclined my heart to keep thy statutes always unto the 
 end," V. 112. And herein doth this self-dedicalion more 
 principally consist, viz. in a resolved willingness to yield 
 myself, as God's own property, to be for him and not for 
 another. Which resolvedness of will, though it may in 
 several respects admit of several names, or be clothed with 
 distinct notions, is but one and the same substantial act. It 
 may be called, in respect of the competition which there 
 was in the case, choice: or in respect of the proposal made 
 tc me of such a thing to be done, consent. But these are, 
 abstracting from these references, the same act, which, in 
 itself considered, is only a resolute volition. " I will be 
 the Lord's." Which resolution, if one do (whether meji- 
 tally or vocally) direct to God or Christ, then it piUs on 
 the nature of a vow ; and so is fitly called devoting one's 
 self. 
 
 It carries in it, as a thing supposed, the implanted di- 
 vine life and nature, whereby we are truly said to present 
 ourselves living sacrifices, as in the text, or as it is expressed 
 in that other place, chap. vi. 13. " To yield ourselves to 
 God, as those that are alive from the dead ; (as v. 11.) 
 alive to God through Christ Jesus our Lord." Which life 
 is not to be understood simply, but in a certain respect. 
 For before, we were not dead" simply, we were not dead, 
 disinclined, or disaffected to every thing, but peculiarly 
 towards God and his Christ. That M'ay we were without 
 any inclination, motion, tendency, or disposition. And so 
 were dead quoad hoc — as to this thing, or in this respect ; 
 were alienated from the life of God. Now we come to live 
 this life, and are made by his grace to incline and move 
 towards him, of our own accord. Dead things (or desti- 
 tute of life) may be moved by another, are capable of be- 
 ing rnoved violently, without or against inclination, hither 
 or thither. But a living creature can spontaneously move 
 itself, as of its own accord it inclines. 
 
 And whereas there are two more noble principles, that 
 belong to this divine life and nature, faith and love ; (a 
 great and noted pair, as may be seen in divers places of 
 the New Testament;) these have both an ingrediency into 
 this self-dedication. The nature of each of them runs into 
 it, and may be perceived in it. And it is hereupon a 
 mixed act, partaking an influence and tincture, as it were, 
 from the one and the other of them. 
 
 Faith respects the promises of God, and what we are 
 
 g 2 Tim. i. 12. 
 
 thereupon to expect from him. And so our dedicating our- 
 selves to God, is a .self-committing. We give up ourselves 
 to him as a tru.st, as the apostle's emphatical expression 
 intimates, " I know whom I have believed, and I am per- 
 suaded that he will keep that which I have committed unto 
 him," vapaKaraOiiKriv /it — mij pav'n or pledge, ray fidci com- 
 missum against that day.e The soul flies to God as in a 
 distress, not knowing to be safe another way. As once a 
 people, not able to obtain tutelage on other terms, surren- 
 dered themselves to them whose help ihey sought, with 
 some such expression. Si non nostras, saltern vestros — If not 
 as ours, yet at least as your oivn, save, protect, and defend 
 us. Nor, in our surrendering ourselves to God, is this any 
 way unsuitable either to us or to him. Not to us ; for we 
 are really distressed, ready to perish ; 'tis agreeable to the 
 state of our case. Not to him; for it is glorious to him ; 
 a thing worthy of God to be a refuge and sanctuary to 
 perishing souls; and is thereupon a pleasant thing, a God- 
 like pleasure, suitable to a self-sufficient and all-sufficient 
 Being, who hath enough for himself and for all others, 
 whom he shall have taught not to despise the riches of his 
 goodness. He " taketh pleasure in them that fear him, 
 and them that hope in his mercy," Psal. cxlvii. 11. He 
 waits that he may be gracious, and is exalted in showing 
 mercy, Isa. xxx. 18. He lifts up him,self when he does it, 
 and waits that he ma}'; expects the opportunity, seeks out 
 meet and suitable objects, (as with thirst and appetite, an 
 enterprising, valiant man is wont to do encounters, for 
 none were ever so intent to destroy, as he is to save.) yea, 
 makes them, prepares them lor his purpose. "Which he 
 doth not, and needs not do, in point of misery, so the}* can 
 enough prepare themselves ; but in point of humility, sense 
 of their necessity and unworthiness, great need, and no 
 desert, nor disposition to supplicate. These are needful 
 preparations, make it decorous and comely to him to show 
 mercy. A God is to be sought, with humble, piostrate 
 veneration. And such an opportunity he waits for. 'Tis 
 not fit for him, not great, not majestic, to throw away his 
 mercies upon insolent and insensible wretches : for, as 
 there it follows, he is the God of judgment, a most accu- 
 rate, judicious wisdom and prudence conducts and guides 
 all the emanations of his flowing goodness. The part ol 
 which wisdom and judgment is to nick the opportunity, to 
 take the fit season when mercy will be most fitly placed, 
 best attain its end, relish best, be most acceptable to them 
 that shall receive it, and honourable to him that shows it. 
 And therefore (as is added) "blessed are they that wait 
 for him," that labour to be in a posture to meet him on his 
 own terms and in his own way. 
 
 Let such as have a mind to surrender and yield them- 
 selves to him consider this. Apprehend you have undone 
 yourselves, and are lost. Fall before him. Lie at the 
 foot-stool of the mercy-seat. Willingly put your mouths 
 in the dust, if so be there may he hope. And there is hope. 
 He seeks after you, and will not reject what he seeks; he 
 only waited to bring you to this. 'Tis new a fit time for 
 him, and a good time for you. And you may now, in re- 
 signing, intrust yourselves also to him ; for his express 
 promise is your sufficient ground for it. " I will receive 
 you, and be a Father to you. and ye shall be my sons and 
 daughters. "h Understand the matter aright ; your pre- 
 senting and yielding yourselves to him is not to be a des- 
 perate act. 'Tis not casting yourselves away. You are 
 not throwing yourselves into flames, but upon tender 
 mercies, thither you may commit yourself. The thing 
 that is pleasing to him, and which he invites you to, (as 
 he invites all the ends of the earth to look to him that 
 they may be saved,*) cannot be unsafe, or unhappy to 
 you. 
 
 Again, love hath a great ingrediency into this self-resig- 
 nation. And as it hath, so it more admits to be called 
 dedicating, or devoting ourselves. This holy, ingenuous 
 principle respects more the commands of God, as the other 
 doth his promises, and eyes his interest, as the other doth 
 our own. This dedication of ourselves, as it i.=; influenced 
 by it, designs the doing all for him we can, a-s by the other 
 it doth the recei\'ing all. As by the other we resign our- 
 selves to him for safety and felicity; so we do by ^his for 
 service and duty to our uttermost. And an ardent lover 
 h 2 Cor. \i. 18. i Ua. .\Iv. 22,
 
 41G 
 
 SELF-DEDICATION. 
 
 of God thinks this a little oblation. Myself! alas ! What 
 am 1 1 Too small a thing for him who is all love, and 
 who, though he hath it in hand to transform and turn me 
 into love too, such as so drossy and limited a thing was 
 capable of being made, how mean yet, and little, is the 
 subject he hath to work upon ! An atom of dust ! Not 
 combustible, or apt to be wrought upon to this (to a divine 
 and heavenly love) by any, but his flame. And now there- 
 fore but a minute spark from the element of love, that 
 must, however, thus transformed, tend towards its own 
 original and native seat ! It shall now flame upward. And 
 this is all the flame, in which it is universally necessary, 
 thy sacrifice should ascend ; which will refine only, not 
 consume it. Though, that it may be otfered up in other 
 flames, is not impossible; nor will it be much regretted by 
 you ; if the case should so require, nor shall be despised 
 by him, if he shall so state the case. To give the body to 
 be burned, without love, goes for nothing ; but if, in that 
 ■way, we were called to offer up our bodies living sacrifi- 
 ces to God, it would (in an inferior sense) be an offering 
 of a sweet-smelling savour, would even perfume heaven, 
 and diffuse fragrant odours on earth : nor would be grudged 
 at by that love that first made our 'o\6K\r,poi', the 7chole of 
 ourselves, an offering to God ; and whose properly it is to 
 be all things, to do all things, to bear all things, to endure 
 all things for him, whose we wholly are. So that if he 
 design any of us to be an &Xok«i>s-w//a too, a ifh/de burnt- 
 offering, and will have to glorify him in the fire, love will 
 not retract its vow, but say, after our great Pattern, " Not 
 my will, but thine be done:" and as he, in his peculiar 
 case and design, (not communicable with us, though the 
 temper of spirit should be,) " Lo, I come to do thy will, O 
 God ! A body hast thou (it now appears for this very pur- 
 pose) prepared for me." — " He loved us, and gave himself 
 for us." So are we, from our love of him, to give ourselves 
 for him, and his use and service, in whatsoever kind he 
 shall appoint and prescribe. Every true Christian is, in 
 the preparation of his mind, a martyr; but they are few 
 whom he actually calls to it. Our love is ordinarily to 
 show itself in our keeping his commandments ; and with 
 that design we are to present ourselves to him, as the re- 
 solved, ready insrruments of his service and praise : as 
 Rom. vi. 13. "Neither yield ye your members as instru- 
 ments of unrighteousness unto sin ; but yield yourselves 
 unto God as those that are alive from the dead, and your 
 members as instruments of righteousness unto God." 
 Thus having been more large upon what was more essen- 
 tial in this dedication of ourselves, I shall be briefer in 
 most of the other things belonging to it. 
 
 6. It must further be done with a concomitant accept- 
 ance of God. His covenant (which is now entered) is 
 oftentimes summed up, " I will be your God, and j'ou 
 shall be my people :" and is resembled and frequently re- 
 presented by the nuptial contract, in which there is mu- 
 tual giving and taking. We are to resign and accept at 
 the same time : to take him to be our God, when we yield 
 ourselves to be his. 
 
 7. With an explicit reverence to the Lord Christ. We 
 are to dedicate ourselves, after the tenor of a covenant 
 whereof he is the Mediator. God doth not upon other 
 terms treat with sinners. You are not to offer at such a 
 thing as dedicating yourselves to him, but in the way and 
 npon the terms upon which you are to be accepted. The 
 Divine pleasure is declared and known, how great a one 
 He must be in all the transactions of God with men ; yea, 
 and towards the whole creation, Eph. i. 6, 7, 8, 9, 10. 
 " He hath made us accepted in the beloved : in whom we 
 have redemption through his blood, the forgiveness of sins, 
 according to the riches of his grace ; wherein he hath 
 abounded towards us in all wisdom and prudence ; having 
 made known unto us the mystery of his will, according to 
 his good pleasure, which he had purposed in himself; 
 that, in the dispensation of the fulness of times, he might 
 gather together in one all things in Christ, both which are 
 in heaven, and which are on earth, even in him." We 
 must take heed how we neglect or overlook Him who i^ 
 by Divine appointment so high in power, and with whom 
 we have so great a concern. 
 
 8. With deep humility and abasement of ourselves, in 
 
 k Outr. de Sac. 
 
 conjunction with a profound reverence and veneration of 
 the Divine Majesty. There ought to be the lowliest self- 
 abasement, such as that good man expresses, Ezra ix. 6. 
 (varied to one's own case,) " O my God, I am ashamed, 
 and blush to lift up my face to thee, my God : for mine in- 
 iquities are increased over mine head, and my trespass is 
 grown up imto the heavens." And indeed this is natu- 
 rally consequent upon what was last said, of the regard 
 that ought to be had in this matter to the Mediator ; for 
 surely that very constitution is in itself an humbling thing 
 to us; and we cannot apply ourselves to God suitably to 
 it, but with a self-abasing sense of our own state and case. 
 Our coming and tendering ourselves to God in a Media- 
 tor, is in its very nature an humiliation, and carries with 
 it a tacit confession, that in ourselves we have nothing, 
 deserve nothing, are nothing, are worse than nothing; and 
 that only this constitution of his could justify our offering 
 ourselves to him, with any hope of acceptance ; or make 
 it less than an insolent presumption, for sinners to ap- 
 proach him, and expect to be received into his presence 
 and service. It is not for such as we, to behave ourselves 
 towards him as if we either had not offended, or were ca- 
 pable of expiating our own offence. Yea, and if there had 
 been nothing of delinquency in the case; yet great humil- 
 ity becomes such applications to him, and that in conjunc- 
 tion with the profoundest reverence and veneration of 
 him ; for our very business in this self-dedicalion, is wor- 
 ship, as the word in the text hath been noted to signify. 
 And it is the first and most principal part of all the wor- 
 ship we owe to him, (as was noted from 2 Cor. viii. 5.) 
 fundamental to all the rest. We must havebetbre our eyes 
 the awful majesty and glorious greatness of God ; which 
 Scripture often speaks of, as one notionoi his holiness, and 
 which we are to have principal reference unto in all the 
 solemn homage we pay to him; k as sacrifices are well ob- 
 served to have been offered to him so considered. And 
 therefore, by this consideration, their suitableness to him 
 is to be measured, as he doth himself insist, Mai. i. 14. 
 " Cursed be the deceiver, which hath in his flock a male, 
 and voweth, and sacrificeth unto the Lord a corrupt thing ; 
 for I am a great King, saith the Lord of hosts, and my 
 name is dreadful among the heathen." 
 
 9. With great joy and gladness of heart. It ought to 
 be accompanied with the hiiihest gusts and relishes of 
 pleasure, both from the apprehensive congruity of the 
 thing, and the expectation we have of acceptance. The 
 thing itself .should be pleasant to us. We are to do it as 
 tasting our own act, as they did, 1 Chron. xxix. 9. " The 
 people rejoiced, for that they offered willingly." The self- 
 devoting person should be able to utter this as his sense, 
 " Glad am I, that I am any thing, that I have a being, a 
 soul, a reasonable intelligent being, capable of becoming 
 a sacrifice to him." And that there is hope of being ac- 
 cepted : how great a joy is that ! The apostle makes so 
 great a thing "of it, that he speaks (2 Cor. v. 8, 9.) as if he 
 cared not whether he was in the body, or out of the body, 
 so he might be accepted. Nuptials (that resemble, as hath 
 been said, this transaction between God and the soul, 
 wherein there is mutual giving and accepting) are wont 
 to be seasons of great festivity and gladness. The great 
 God himself rejoices in this closure, with such a joy, (Isa. 
 Ixii. 5. As a bridegroom rejoiceth over his bride, so will 
 thy God rejoice over thee,) and shall not we 1 How infi- 
 nitely more amiable and delectable is the object our choice 
 than^is .' when we are to rejoice in the supreme and most 
 perfect excellency ; He, in what is clothed over (if he did 
 not super-induce another clothing) with most loathsome 
 deformity. 
 
 10. With an ingenuous candour and simplicity, with 
 that sincerity which is to be as the salt of our sacrifice: 
 (Mark ix.) without latent reserves, or a hidden meaning, 
 disagreeing to his; which were both unjust and vain. Un- 
 just ; for we may not deceive any. And vain ; for we 
 cannot deceive him. The case admits not of restrictions, 
 it must be done absolutely, without any limitation or re- 
 serve. You have heard this self-dedication is, in part, an 
 act of love. And what limit can be set to a love, whose 
 object is infinite 1 A natural limit, 'tis true, as it is the 
 love of a creature, it cannot but have ; but a chosen one
 
 SELF-DEDICATION. 
 
 4i: 
 
 it ought never to have, as if we had loved enough . You 
 know what kind of love is (and cannot but be) due to the 
 all-comprehending God. With all thy heart, soul, mind, 
 and might, &c. So without exception, that Maimonides,' 
 reciting those words, adds, etiamsi tollat animavi tuwin. 
 The stream of thy love to him must not be diverted, or 
 alter course, t/iough he would take away thy very life, or 
 soul. 
 
 11. "With the concomitant surrender to him of all that 
 we have. For they that, by their own act and acknow- 
 .edgment, are not themselves their own, but devoted, mu.st 
 also acknowledge they are owners of nothing else. In 
 that mentioned form of surrender in Livy, when Egerius, 
 on the Roman's part, had inquired,"' Are you the ambas- 
 sadors sent by the people of Collatia that you may yield up 
 yourselves and the Collatine people 1 and it was answered. 
 We are : and it was again asked, Are the Collatine people 
 in their power ? and answered. They are : it is further in- 
 quired. Do you deliver up yourselves, the people of Collatia, 
 your city, ymir fields, your water, your bounds, your temples, 
 your utensils, all things that are yours, both divine and hu- 
 man, into mine, and the people of Rome's povjer ? They sa}^, 
 We deliver up all. And he "answers, So I receive you. 
 So do they who deliver up themselves to God, much more, 
 all that they called theirs. God indeed is the only Pro- 
 prietor, men are but usufructuaries. They have the use 
 of what his providence allots them; He reserves to him- 
 self the property ; and limits the use so far, as that all are 
 to be accountable to him for all they possess ; and are to 
 use nothing they have, but as under him and for him, as 
 also they are to do themselves. Therefore as they are re- 
 quired to " glorify him with their bodies and spirits, which 
 are his," so they are to " honour him with their substance," 
 upon the same reason. But few effectually apprehend his 
 right in their persons ; which as we are therefore to re- 
 cognise in this dedication of ourselves to him, so we are, 
 in a like general sense, to devote to him all that we enjoy 
 in the world. That is, as all are not to devote themselves 
 specially to serve him in a sacred office, but all are obliged 
 to devote themselves to his service in the general ; so though 
 all are not required to devote their estates to this or that 
 particular pious use, they are obliged to use them wholly 
 for his glory in the general, and for the service of his in- 
 terest in the world. We are obliged neither to withhold 
 from him, nor mispend, these his mercies ; but must " live 
 righteously," (wherein charity is comprehended,) "sober- 
 ly, and godly" in it ; decline no opportunities that shall 
 occur to us (within the compass of our own sphere and 
 station) of doing him (though never so costly and hazard- 
 ous) service; must forsake all and follow him, when our 
 duty, and our continued possessions of this world's goods, 
 come to be inconsistent ; must submit patiently to our lot, 
 when that falls out to be our case, or to any providence by 
 which we are bereaved of our worldly comforts, with that 
 temper of mind, as to be able cheerfully to say, " The Lord 
 hath given, the Lord hath taken away, blessed be the name 
 of the Lord." 
 
 It is indeed the greatest absurdity imaginable, that they 
 who are not masters of themselves, should think it per- 
 mitted them, to use what comes to their hands, as they 
 list ; for the service of their own lusts, and the gratifying 
 of a rebel flesh, that hath rejected the government of iheir 
 own reason, and of all divine laws at once ; or that he who 
 hath so absolute a right in them, should not have that 
 right in what he hath committed to them, as to prescribe 
 rules to them, b}'- which to use and employ it. At the 
 same time, and in the same sense, wherein we make a de- 
 dition of ourselves, we do the same thing as to all that we 
 have. Even according to common, human estimate, ac- 
 cording to what interest men have in others, or power 
 over them, Ihej' have a correspondent interest in what they 
 possess. They that absolutely surrender themselves to the 
 power of another, leave not themselves capable of proper 
 dominion as to any thing. Therefore says the civil law, 
 Non lifM dedititiis testamenta facere. They were so under 
 several notions, it is true ; but they that were strictly so, 
 had not power to make a will, as having nothing to dispose 
 
 1 De fund, lesis. p. 64. 
 
 m Esti.sne vns kgatj oml'iresqiie mi<isi a populo Collatino. lit vos populum- 
 que CoUatinum dcderitis? Suinus. Deditisne vos, populum CoUatumni, ui- 
 
 of No man has certainly a power to dispose of any thing 
 (and when they surrender themselves by their own act 
 and deed to God, they acknowledge so much) otherwise 
 than as Divine rules director permit. They have a right 
 in what is duly theirs, against the counter-claim of man, 
 but none, sure, against the claim and all-disposing power 
 of God, whether signified by his law or by his providence. 
 Therefore with this temper of mind should this self-dedi- 
 cation be made : " Lord, I here lay myself and all that 
 belongs to me, most entirely at thy feet. All things are 
 of thee :" (as they are brought in saying, who make that 
 willing, joyful offering, 1 Chron. xxix.) "What I have 
 in the world is more thine than mine. I desire neither 
 to use nor possess any thing, but by thy leave and for thy 
 sake." 
 
 12. With befitting circumstantial solemnity, i. e. it 
 ought to be direct, express, and explicit ; not to be hud- 
 dled up in tacit, mute intimations only. We should not 
 content ourselves that it be no more than implied, in what 
 we do otherwise, and run on with if as a thing that must 
 be supposed, and taken for granted, never actually per- 
 formed and done. It is very true indeed, that a continued, 
 uniform course and series of agreeable actions, a holy life 
 and practice, carries a great deal more of significancy with 
 it, than only having once said, without this conceptis verlns, 
 " Lord, I Avill be thine." Practice, whether it be good or 
 bad, more fully speaks our sense, and expresses our hearts, 
 than bare words spoken at some particular time, can do, 
 for they at the most speak but our pre.sent sense at that 
 time, and perhaps do not always that ; but a course of 
 practice shows the habitual posture and steady bent of our 
 spirits. Nor do I think that a formal, explicit transaction, 
 in this matter, whether vocal or mental, with circumstan- 
 tial solemnity, is essential to a man's being a Christian, or 
 a holy man. A fixed inclination and bent of heart towards 
 God, followed (as it -will be) with a course of practice be- 
 coming them that are his, will no doubt conclude a man's 
 state lo be safe and good God-ward ; as one may, on the 
 other hand, be the devil's .servant all his days, without 
 having made a formal covenant with him. But yet, though 
 so explicit and solemn a transaction of this matter be not 
 essential to our Christianity, (as what is said to belong 
 onlv to the solemnity of any thing, is therein implied not 
 to be of the essence of it,)'yet it may be a great duly for 
 all that, and I doubt it not to be so. 
 
 And it may here be worth the while, to insist a little ; 
 that if this indeed be a duty, it may obtain more in our 
 practice, than perhaps it doth. Some, through mere inad- 
 vertencv, mav not have considered it ; others, that have, 
 may possibly' think it less needful, because they reckon it 
 was formerly done for them. They were born of Christian 
 parents, who dedicated them to God from their birth ; and 
 they were, with solemnity, presented to him in their bap- 
 tism. What need we then do over again a thing already 
 done "? Let us reason this matter therefore awhile, and 
 consider \vhether, notwiths anding any such allegation, 
 our personal dedicating ourselves to God in Christ be not 
 still reasonable and necessary lobe performed by ourselves 
 also, as our own solemn act and deed ? It were indeed 
 much to be wished that our baptismal dedication to God 
 were more minded and thought on than it commonly is ; 
 when with such sacred solemnity we were devoted to the 
 triune Deity, and those great and awful names were named 
 upon us, the name of the Father, the name of the Son, and 
 the name of the Holy Ghost. Baptisms are, it is to be 
 feared, too often in the Christian world turned into a mere 
 pageantry, and the matter scarce ever thought on more, 
 when the show is over ; and very probably because this 
 great succedaneous duty is so unpractised among Christ- 
 ians. 
 
 And first, let it be considered. Are there no like cases '\ 
 Do we not know, that though all the infants in a kingdom 
 are born subjects, vet when they arrive to a certain age 
 they are obliged, being called, to take the oath of allegi- 
 ance, and each one to come under personal obligation to 
 their prince 1 And do we owe less to the God that made 
 us, and the Lord that bought us with his blood 1 
 
 bem. n^ros, aqiiain. terminog, delubra. ntcnsilia divina. liumanaque omnia, 
 in meain populiqne Romaiji diiionem ? Dcdimus. Al ego rccjpio, Liv. ubi 
 
 prills.
 
 418 
 
 SELF-DEDICATION. 
 
 Again, Though all the sons of Israelites were in their 
 infanc)' dedicated to God by the then appointed rite for that 
 purpose, yet how frequent were their solemn, personal re- 
 cognitions of his covenant; their avouching themselves to 
 be his people, as he also avouched himself to be their 
 God : which we see Deut. xxvi. and in many other places. 
 It is remote from me to intend the pressing of a covenant 
 that contains any disputable or doubtful matters, or any 
 other than the substance of our baptismal covenant itself, 
 consisting of the known essentials of our Christianity, all 
 summed up in taking God in Christ for our God, and re- 
 signing ourselves to him to be inviolably his : no more is 
 meant than that this may be done as our own reasonable 
 service and worship; as our intelligent, deliberate, judi- 
 cious act and choice. 
 
 And consider further, to this purpose, the great im- 
 portance of the thing itself, compared with the lesser con- 
 cernments wherein we use to deal most explicitly. Is it 
 fit that a man's religion should be less the matter of his 
 solemn choice, than his inferior concerns 1 that when he 
 chooses his dwelling, his calling, his servant, or master, 
 he should seem thrown upon his God arid his religion by 
 chance 1 and that least should appear of caution, care, 
 and punctual dealing, in our very greatest concernment 1 
 How great a day in a man's life doth he count his mar- 
 riage-day ! How accurate are men wont to be, in all the 
 preparations and previous settlements that are to be made 
 in order to it ! And since the great God is pleased to be 
 so very particular with us, in proposing the model and 
 contents of his covenant, the promises and precepts which 
 make his part and ours in it ; how attentive should we be 
 to his proposals, and how express in our consent ! espe- 
 cially, when we consider his admirable condescension in 
 it, that he is pleased (and disdains not) to capitulate with 
 the work of his hands, to article with dust and ashes. 
 Is it reasonable we should be slight and superficial in a 
 treaty with that great Lord of heaven and earth, or scarce 
 ever purposely apply and set ourselves to mind him in 
 it at all 1 
 
 JVIoreover it is your mon concernment, and therefore 
 ought to be transacted by yourself. So far as there is any 
 equity in that rule, Quod tang'it omnes debet ab onmib^ls 
 tractari — What concerns all should be transacted by all, it 
 resolves into this, and supposes it, Ctuod tangit meipsum 
 debet tractari a meipso — That ivhich concerns myself should 
 be transacted by myself. 
 
 Again, your being devoted by parents, no more excuses 
 from solemn, personal, self-devoting, than their doing other 
 acts of religion for you, excuses you from doing them for 
 yourselves. They have prayed for you ; are you therefore 
 never to pray for yourselves" ? They have lamented your 
 sin ; are yon never therefore to lament your own 1 
 
 Further, Scripture warns us not to lay too much stress 
 upon parental privilege, or place too much confidence in 
 it, which it supposes men over apt to do. Matt. iii. 7, 8, '.). 
 Abraham's seed may be a generation of vipers. John viii. 
 37, 44. I know you are Abraham's seed, yet he finds 
 them another father. 
 
 Consider, moreover, the renewing work of God's grace 
 and Spirit upon souls, consists in sanctifying their natural 
 faculties, their understandings, consciences, wills, affec- 
 tions. And what are these sanctified for, but to be used 
 and exercised 1 And to what more noble purpose 1 If there 
 be that holy impress upon the soul, that inclines all the 
 powers of it God-ward, what serves if for, but to prompt 
 and lead it on to the correspondent acts? to apprehend 
 and eye God, to admit a conviction of duty, and particu- 
 larly, how I owe myself to him; to choose, love, fear, and 
 serve him; and what doth all this import less, than an 
 entire self-resignation to him 1 So that the genuine ten- 
 dency of the holy new nature is in nothing so directly 
 answered and satisfied as in this. And it ought to be con- 
 sidered, that the faculties of our reasonable souls have a 
 natural improvement and perfection, as well as a gracious. 
 And for their highest and noblest acts, 'tis fit they should 
 be used in their highest perfection. 'Tis possible", that in 
 the children of religious parents, there rnav be some pious 
 inclinations betimes ; and the sooner they thereupon choose 
 the God of their fathers, the better, i. e. if you compare 
 n Cal. L«x. Jurid. o i John iv. 20. 
 
 doing it and not doing it, 'tis better done, than not done. 
 But because this is a thing that cannot be too often done 
 nor too well ; the more mature your understanding is, the 
 better it will be done, the grace of God concurring. Our 
 Lord himself increased in wisdom, &c. 
 
 Moreover, let it be seriously thought on (what 'tis 
 dreadful to think) the occasion you should give, if you de- 
 cline this surrendering yourselves, to have 3'our neglect 
 taken for a refusal. 'Tis impossible, when j^ou once un- 
 derstand the case, you can be in an indifferency about it. 
 You must either take, or leave. 
 
 Nor can it be denied but personal self-devoting, one 
 way or other, (more or less solemn,) is most necessary to 
 the continuing serious Christianity in the world. With- 
 out it, our religion were but res unius (ztatis — the business 
 of an age: for how unlikely were it, and absurd to sup- 
 pose, that a man should seriously devote his child to God, 
 that never devoted himself? And if that were done never 
 so seriously, must one be a Christian always, only by the 
 Christianity of another, not his own 1 Some way or other 
 then, a man must devote himself to God in Christ, or be, 
 at length, no Christian. And since he must, the nature of 
 the thing speaks, that the more solemn and express it is, 
 I he better, and more suitable to a transaction with so great 
 a Majesty. 
 
 And hath not common reason taught the world to fix a 
 transitus, and settle some time or other, wherein persons 
 should have been reckoned to have past out of their state 
 of infancy or minority, into the state of manhood or an 
 adult state; wherein, though before they could not legally 
 transact affairs for themselves, yet afterwards they could? 
 This time, by the constitutions of several nations, and for 
 several purposes, hath been diversely fixed. But they 
 were not to be looked upon as children always. Some 
 time they come to write man. Is it reasonable one should 
 be a child, and a minor in the things of God and religion, 
 all his days! always in nonage? Some time they must 
 be men in understanding, (1 Cor. xiv. 20.) and have their 
 senses exercised to discern between good and evil, Heb. 
 V. 14. 
 
 Yea, and there is far greater reason we should personal- 
 ly and solemnly transact this great affair with God, than 
 any concern we have with men. For, among men we 
 may have a right by natural descent, or by valuable consi- 
 derations, to what we enjoy, which may be clear and little 
 liable to question : from God we hav^e no right, but by his 
 favour and vouchsafement. You are his children, if ever 
 you come to be so, but by adoption. And human adop- 
 tion has been wont to be completed by a solemnity ; the 
 person to adopt, being publicly asked (in that sort of 
 adoption which was also called arrogation) utrum eum 
 queni adoptaturus esset, justnm sibi flium esse vellet — whe- 
 ther he would have this person to be as his own very son ? 
 And again ; ille qui adoptabatur — utruvi id fieri pateretur — 
 he that was to be adopted, whether he was eo^iteuied it should 
 be .";/> ?" 
 
 Nor again is there that disinclination towards men, as 
 towards God, or that proneness to revolt from settled 
 agreements, with the one, as with the other. Whereas 
 love sums up all the duty of both the tables ; or which 
 we owe both to God and man ; it is evident that, in our 
 present lapsed state, our love to God is more impaired, 
 than to man. Indeed this latter seems only diminished, 
 the other is destroyed, and hath, by nature, noplace in us; 
 grace only restores it. Where it is in some measure re- 
 stored, we find it more difficult to exercise love towards 
 God, than man ; which the apostle's reasoning implies, 
 " He that loveth not his brother whom he hath seen, how 
 can he love God whom he hath not seen ?"" Who sees 
 not that sensuality hath buried the rational world ! Unre- 
 generate man is said to be in the flesh, not as being only 
 lodged in it, as all are alike, but governed by it, under its 
 power : as the holy apostle is said to have been in the 
 Spirit on the Lord's day.? To be in the flesh is expound- 
 ed by being and walking after h.'i Hence men only love 
 and savour the things within this sensible sphere. They 
 that are after the flesh, do only savour the things of the 
 flesh. Where the regenerate, divine life is implanted, it 
 doth 7nale hahitarc — is ill lodged, in conjunction with .1 
 p Rev. L q Rom. viii.
 
 SELF-DEDICATION. 
 
 419 
 
 strong remaining sensual inclination ; so that where the 
 soul is somewhat raised by it, out of that mire and dirt, 
 there is a continual decidency, a proneness to relapse, and 
 sink back into it. Impressions therefore of an invisible 
 Ruler and Lord (as of all unseen things) are very evanid ; 
 soon, in a great degree worn oft"; especially where they 
 were but in making, and not yet thoroughly inwrought 
 into the temper of the soul. Hence is that instability in 
 the covenant of God. We are not so afraid belbre, nor 
 ashamed afterwards, of breaking engagements with him, 
 as with men, whom we are often to look in the face, and 
 converse with every day. 
 
 Therefore there is the more need here of the strictest 
 ties, and most solemn obligations, that we can lay upon 
 ourselves. How apprehensive doth that holy, excellent 
 governor, Joshua, ^ seem of this, when he was shortly to 
 leave the people under his conduct ! And what urgent 
 means doth he use, to bring them to the most express, so- 
 lemn dedication of themselves to God, that was possible ; 
 first representing the reasonableness and equity of the 
 thing, from the many endearing w^onders of mercy (as here 
 the apostle beseeches these Romans by the mercies of God) 
 which he recounts from the beginning, to the 14th verse 
 of that 24ih chapter: then, thereupon, exhorting them to 
 "fear the Lord and serve him insincerity," &c. in that 
 14rth verse, telling them, withal, if they should all resolve 
 otherwise to a man, what his ovm resolution was, {v. 15.) 
 " And if it seem evil unto you to serve the Lord, choose 
 you this day whom ye will serve ; whether the gods which 
 your fathers served, that were on the other side of the 
 flood, or the gods of the Amorites, in whose land j'e dwell : 
 but as for me and my house, we will serve the Lord :" 
 taking also their express answer, which they give, v. 16, 
 17, 18. But fearing they did not enough consider the 
 matter, he, as it were, puts them back (esteeming himself 
 to have gotten an advantage upon them) that they might 
 come on again with the more vigour and force. "Ye can- 
 not serve the Lord : for he is a holy God ; he is a jealous 
 God ; he will not forgive your transgressions nor your 
 sins. If you forsake the Loi:\, and serve strange gods, then 
 he will turn and do you hurt, and consume you, after he 
 hath done you good," v. 19, 20. Hereupon, according to 
 his expectation and design, they reinforce their vow, 
 " Nay, but we M'ill serve the Lord." And upon this, he 
 closes with them, and takes fast hold of them, "Ye are 
 witnesses" (saith he) " against yourselves, that ye have 
 chosen the Lord to serve him." And they say, " We are 
 witnesses," v. 22. He exhorts them afresh, and they en- 
 gage over again, v. 23, 24. Thus a covenant is made 
 with them, v. 25. After all this, a record is taken of the 
 whole transaction ; 'tis looked down, {v. 26.) and a monu- 
 mental stone set up, to preserve the memory of this great 
 transaction. And the good man tells them, "Behold, this 
 stone shall be a witness unto us; for it hath heard all the 
 words of the Lord which he spake unto us : it shall there- 
 fore be a witness unto you, lest ye deny your God." So 
 he dismisses them, and lets them go every one to his inhe- 
 ritance. 
 
 Nor is it to be neglected that, Isa. xliv. 5. (which is ge- 
 nerally agreed to refer to the times of the gospel) it isso 
 expressly set down, "One shall say, I am the Lord's; and 
 another shall call himself by the name of Jacob ; and an- 
 other shall subscribe with his hand unto the Lord, and 
 surname himself by the name of Israel." In the rendering 
 of which words, "subscribe with the hand" the versions 
 vary. Some read inscribe in their hands, the Lord's name ; 
 counting it an allusion to the ancient custom, as to ser- 
 vants and soldiers, that they were to carry, stamped upon 
 the palm of their hands, the name of their master or gene- 
 ral. The Syriac read to the same sense as we — Shall sive 
 an hand-writing to be the Lord's. That the thinjrhe done, 
 and with great seriousness, distinctness, and solemnity, is 
 no doubt highly reasonable and necessary ; about the par- 
 ticular manner I prescribe not. 
 
 Nor can I imagine what any man can have to object, 
 but the backwardness of his own heart to any intercourse 
 or conversation with the invisible God : which is but an 
 argument of the miserable condition of depraved mankind; 
 none, that the thing is not to be done. For, that back- 
 r Josh. xxiv. s Rc«d considerately, Heb. xf. 6. 
 
 wardness must proceed from some deeper reason than that 
 God is invisible : a reason, that should not only convince, 
 but amaze us, and even overwhelm our souls in sorrow 
 and lamentation, to think what state the nature and spirit 
 of man is brought into ! For is not the devil invisible too 1 
 And what wretch is there so silly and ignorant, but can 
 by the urgency of discontent, envy, and an appetite of re- 
 venge, find a way to fall into a league with him 1 Is this, 
 that God is less conversable with men 1 less willing to be 
 found of them that seek Him 1 No surely, » but that men 
 have less mind and inclination to seek' Him ! And is 
 this a posture and temper of spirit towards the God that 
 made us, (the continual spring of our life and being!) in 
 which it is fit for us to tolerate ourselves? Shall not the 
 necessity of this thing, and of our own case, (not capable 
 of remedy while we withhold ourselves from God,) over- 
 come all the imagined difficultv in applying ourselves to 
 Himl 
 
 Use. And upon the whole, if we agree the thing itself 
 to be necessary, it cannot be doubted, but it will appear to 
 be of common concernment to us all : and that every one 
 must apprehend it is necessary to me, and to me, whether 
 we have done it already, or not done it. If we have not, 
 it cannot be done too soon; if we have, it cann«t be done 
 too often. And it may now be done, by private, silent 
 ejaculation, the convinced, persuaded heart saying within 
 itself, "Lord, I consent to be wholly thine, I here resign 
 and devote myself absolutely and entirely to thee." None 
 of you know what maybe in the heart of another, to this 
 purpose, even at this time. Why then should not every 
 one fear to be the only person of those who now hear, that 
 disagrees to it"? If any finds his heart to reluctate and 
 draw back, 'tis fit such a one should consider, " I do not 
 know but this self-devoting di.«position and resolution is 
 the common sense of all the rest, even of all that are now 
 present, but mine." And who would not dread to be the 
 only one in an assembly, that shall refuse God ! or refuse 
 himself to him ! For, let such a one think, " What partic- 
 ular reason can I have toexclude myself I'rom su(,^ a con- 
 senting chorus 1 Why should I spoil the harmoPiV, and 
 give a disagreeing vote "? Why should anv man be more 
 willing to be dutiful and happy than 11 to be just to God, 
 or have him good tomel Why should an}^ one be more 
 willing to be saved than I; and to make one hereafter, in 
 the glorious, innumerable, joyful assembly of devoted an- 
 gels and saints, that pay an eternal, gladsome homage to 
 the throne of the celestial Kingl" But if any find their 
 hearts inclining, let what is now begun, be more fully com- 
 pleted in the closet ; and let those walls (as Joshua's stone) 
 hear, and bear witness ! 
 
 Lest any should not consent, and that all may consent 
 more freely, and more largely; I shall in a iew words 
 show — what should induce to it, — and what it should in- 
 duce. 
 
 1. What should induce to itl You have divers sorts of 
 inducements. 
 
 Such as may be taken from necessity. For what else 
 can you do with yourself! You cannot be happy without 
 it, for who would make you so but God 1 and how shall 
 he, M'hile you hold off yourselves from him "? You cannot 
 but be miserable, not only as not having engaged him to 
 j'ou, but as having engaged him against vou. 
 
 Such as may be taken from equity. You are his right. 
 He hath a natural right in you as he is your Maker, the 
 Author of your being : and an acquired right as you were' 
 bought by his Son, who hath redeemed us to God, and 
 who died, rose again, and revived, that he might be Lord 
 of the living and the dead, here, to rule, hereafter, to judge 
 us. Both which he can do whether we will or no: but 'tis 
 not to be thoirs-ht he will snvc us against our wills. His 
 method is, whom he saves, first to overcome, i. e. to make 
 them " willing in the day of his power." And dare we, 
 who " live, move, and have our being in him," refuse to 
 be, \We, and move to him 1 or " denv the Lord who bought 
 
 US'?" 
 
 And again. Such as may be taken from ingenuiiy, or 
 
 that should work iipon it, viz. (what we are besought by, 
 
 in the text,) " The mercies of God." How manifold are 
 
 they! But they are the mercies of the go.-^pel especMly, 
 
 t Rev. V. 9.
 
 420 
 
 SELF-DEDICATION. 
 
 mentioned in the foregoing chapter, which are thus re- 
 ferred unto in the beginning of this, the transferring what 
 the Jews forfeited and lost, by their unbelief, unto us Gen- 
 tiles; that " mystery" (as this apostle elsewhere calls it, 
 Eph. iii. 4, 5, 6.) "which in other ages was not made 
 known unto the sons of men, as it is now revealed unto his 
 holy apostles and prophets by the Spirit ; that the Gentiles 
 should be fellow-heirs, and of the same body, and parta- 
 kers of his promise in Christ, by the gospel." In refer- 
 ence whereto he so admiringly cries out a little above the 
 text, {ch. xi.33.) fi /^da.f, "O the depth both of the wisdom 
 and knowledge of God ! How unsearchable are his judg- 
 ments, and his ways past finding out!" The mercies of 
 which it is said, Isa. Iv. 1, 2, 3. " Ho, every one that 
 thirsieth, come to the waters, and he that hath no money ; 
 come ye, buy and eat : yea, come, buy wine and milk with- 
 out money, and without price. Wherefore do ye spend 
 your money for that which is not bread, and your labour 
 for that which satisfieth not'! Hearken diligently unto 
 me, and eat ye that which is good, and let your soul de- 
 light itself in fatness. Incline your ear, and come unto 
 me: hear, and your soul shall live: and I will make an 
 everlasting covenant with you, even the sare mercies of 
 David." •Which free and sure mercies are heightened, 
 as to us, by the same both endearing and awful circum- 
 siance, that these mercies are offered to us, viz. in con- 
 junction with the setting before our eyes the monitory, tre- 
 mendous example of a forsaken nation that rejected them, 
 intimated v. 5. " Behold, thou shalt call a nation that thou 
 knowest not; and nations that know not thee shall run 
 unto thee:" a case whereof our apostle says, " in the fore- 
 going chapter, Esaias was very bold ; when speaking of it 
 in another place, * he uses these words, " I am sought of 
 them that asked not for me; I am found of them that 
 sought me not : I said, Behold me, behold me, unto a na- 
 tion that was not called by my name." He was bold in 
 it indeed, to mention .such a thing to a people, unto whom 
 a jealous gloriation in the peculiarity of the privileged 
 state, their being without partners or rivals, for so long a 
 lime, in their relation and nearness to God, was grown so 
 natural : and who took it so impatiently, when our Sa- 
 viour did but intimate the same thing to them by parables, 
 as that they sought immediately " to lay hands on him for 
 that very reason. So unaccountable a perverseness of hu- 
 mour reigned with them, that they envied to others what 
 they despised themselves. 
 
 But on the other hand, nothing ought more highly to 
 recommend those mercies to us, or more engage us to ac- 
 cept them with gratitude, and improve them with a cau- 
 tious fear of committing a like forfeiture, than to have 
 them brought to our hands, redeemed from the contempt 
 of the former despisers of them; and that, so terribly, vin- 
 dicated upon them at the same time; as it also still conti- 
 nues to be. That the natural branches of the olive should 
 be toi n off, and we inserted : that there should be such an 
 instance given us of the severity and goodness of God. To 
 ythem that fell, severity ; but to us, goodness, if we con- 
 tinue in his goodness, to warn us that, otherwise, we may 
 expect to be cut off too! and that we might apprehend, if 
 he spared not the natural branches, he was as little likely 
 to spare us ! That when he came to his own and they re- 
 ceived him not, he should make so free an offer to us, 
 that if we would yet receive him (which if we do, we are, 
 as hath been said, to yield up and dedicate ourselves to 
 him at the same time) we should have the privilege to be 
 owned for the sons of God ! What should so oblige us to 
 compliance with him, and make us with an ingenuous 
 trembling fall before him, and (crying to him, My Lord 
 and my God) resign ourselves wholly to his power and 
 pleasure 1 
 
 And even his mercies more abstractly considered 
 ought to have that power upon us. Were we not lostl Are 
 we not rescued from a necessity of perishing, and being 
 lost for ever, iti the most costly way 7 costly to our Re- 
 deemer, but tons, without cost. Is it a small thing, that 
 he offers himself to us as he doth when he demands us, 
 and requires that we offer ourselves to him? that he, in 
 whom is all the fulness of God, having first offered himself 
 
 for us, doth now offer himself also to us % that he hath 
 treated us, hitherto, with such indulgence, waited on us 
 with so long patience, sustained us by so large bounty 1 
 And now u} on all, when it might be thought we should be 
 communing with our own hearts, discoursing the matter 
 with ourselves, "What shall we render"?" that he should 
 say to us so shortly and compendiously. Render yourselves, 
 Is that too muchi Are we too inconsiderable to be his, or 
 his mercies too inconsiderable to oblige us tabe sol the 
 mercies that flow so freely from him, for he is the Father 
 of mercies: the mercies that are so suitable to us ; pardon 
 to the guilty, light to them that dwell in darkness, life to 
 the dead, a rich portion and all-sufficient fulness for the 
 poor, indigent, and necessitous : the mercies that we are 
 encouraged to expect as well as what we enjoy : the great 
 good laid up in store ! the mercies of eternity to be added 
 to thiise of time: the mercies of both worlds, meeting upon 
 us ! that here, we are to keep ourselves in the love of 
 God, waiting for the mercy of our Lord Jesus Christ unto 
 eternal life !^ that, looking for that blessed hope, our life 
 may here, in the mean time, be transacted with him, that 
 we may abide in the secret of his presence, and dwelling 
 in love, may dwell in God who is love ; till the season 
 come, when we shall be able more fully to imderstand his 
 love, and return our own I 
 
 Nor are the favours of his providence to be thought lit- 
 tle of in the time of our earthly pilgrimage. And now, 
 if all this do effectually induce us thus to dedicate our- 
 selves, 
 
 2. We are next to consider what our having done it 
 ought further to induce us unto. 
 
 In tlie general, it ought to be an inducement to us (as 
 we may well apprehend) to behave ourselves answerahly 
 to such a state, as w'e are hereby brought into, if we now 
 first dedicated ourselves to him, and are confirmed in, by 
 our iterations of it. For he takes no pleasure in fools, 
 therefore having vowed ourselves to him, to serve, and live 
 to him, let us pay what we have vowed. Better it had 
 been not to vow, than to vow and not pay ; and instead of 
 the reasonable sacrifice he required of us, to give him 
 only the sacrifice of fools. We are, upon special terms, 
 and for special ends, peculiar to the most high God. They 
 that are thus his, are " a royal priesthood," He hath made 
 us kings and priests." But those offices and dignities have 
 sometime met in the same person. And to God and his 
 Father, i. e. for him. Not that both those ofiiccs do ter- 
 minate upon God, or that the work of both is to be per- 
 formed towards him ; but our Lcrd Jesus, it being the de- 
 sign of his Father we should be brought into that high and 
 honourable station, hath effected it, in compliance with 
 his design, and hath served his pleasure and purpose in 
 it. Hehath done it to, i. e. for, him. So that, to God 
 and his Father may be referred to Christ's action, in 
 making us kings and priests, not to ours, being made such. 
 Yet the one of these refers to God immediately, the other 
 to ourselves. Holy and good men are kings in reference 
 to themselves, in re.spect of their self-dominion into which 
 they are now restored, having been, as all unregenerate 
 persons are, slaves to vile and carnal affections and incli- 
 nations. The minds of the regenerate are made spiritual, 
 and now with Ihem the refined, rectified, spiritual mind, is 
 enthroned ; lift up into its proper authority over all sensual 
 inclinations, appetitions, lusts, and passions. A glorious 
 empire ! founded in conquest, and managed afterwards, 
 when the victory is complete, (and in the mean time, in 
 some degree, while "judgment is in bringing forth unto 
 victory,") by a steady, sedate government in most perfect 
 tranquillity and peace. 
 
 But they are priests in reference to God ; the business of 
 their office, as such, terminates upon him; for him they 
 worship and serve. Worship is either social, external ann 
 circumstantial, that of worshipping societies, considered 
 according to its exterior part. Herein one is appointed by 
 special office to do the part of a priest for the rest. In this 
 sense all are not priests. Or else it is solitary, internal, 
 substantial and spiritual, wherein they either worship alone, 
 and apart by themselves, or being in conjunction with 
 others, yet their own spirits within them work directly, 
 
 u Rora. X. 20. 
 
 \T l8a. \xy. 1. 
 
 xMaU. xxi. 45,M. 
 
 y Chap, xi. 
 
 7 Jude 21. 
 
 a Rev. i. 6.
 
 SELF-DEDICATION. 
 
 421 
 
 and aspire upwards to God. And as to this more noble 
 part of their worship, every holy man is his own priest. 
 
 And this is the double dignity of every holy, devoted 
 soul. They are thus kings, and priests; govern themselves, 
 and serve God. While they govern, they serve : exercise 
 authority over themselves, with most submiss veaeration 
 of God: crowned, and enthroned; but always in a readi- 
 ness to cast down their crowns at the footstool of the su- 
 preme, celestial throne. Into this state they come by self- 
 dedication. And now surely, it is not for such to demean 
 themselves at a vulgar rate. They are of the eKxXn'^ia npcj- 
 rordKioi — t/ie b churcK of the first-born written in heaven ; 
 I. e. the church of the "first-born ones ; that is, all composed 
 and made up of such; (as that expression signifies;) 
 first-born, in a true (though not the most eminent) sense, 
 being sons by the first, i. e. the prime and more excellent 
 sort of birth, in respect whereof they are said to be >= be- 
 gotten again by the word of truth, that they should be a 
 kind of first-fruits of the creatures of God. And this 
 two-fold dignity is the privilege of their birthright, as an- 
 ciently it was. Are you devoted to God 1 Have you dedi- 
 cated yourselves 1 Hereby you are arrived to this dignity. 
 For in the above-mentioned place it is said,d " Ye are 
 come;" you are actually, already, adjoined to that church, 
 and are the real present members of that holy community. 
 For you are related and united to him,e of whom the 
 family of heaven and earth is named ; are of the house- 
 hold, and the sons of God, his, under that peculiar notion, 
 when you have dedicated yourselves to him. You cannot 
 but apprehend there are peculiarities of behaviour in your 
 after-conducl and management of yourselves, that belong 
 to you, and must answer and correspond to j'our being, in 
 this sense, his. Some particulars whereof I shall briefly 
 mention. 
 
 You should each of you often reflect upon it, and be- 
 think yourself what j^ou have done, and whose you now 
 are. " I am the devoted one of the most high God." It 
 was one of the precepts given by a pagan to his disciples, 
 " Think with yourself, upon all occasions, I am a phi- 
 losopher." What a world of sin and trouble might that 
 thought, often renewed, prevent, " I am a Christian, one 
 devoted to God in Christ." Your having done this thing, 
 should clothe your mind with new apprehensions, both of 
 God and yourselves : that he is not now a stranger to you, 
 but )^our God ; that you are not unrelated to him, but his. 
 " I was an enemy, now am reconciled. I was a common, 
 profane thing, now holiness to the Lord." 'Tis strange to 
 think how one act doth sometimes habit and tincture a 
 man's mind; whether in the kind of good or evil. To 
 have committed an act of murder ! What a horrid com- 
 
 Elexion of mind did Cain bear with him hereupon. To 
 ave dedicated oneself to God, if seriously and duly 
 done ; would it have less power to possess one with a 
 holy, calm, peaceful temper of mind 1 
 
 You should, hereupon, charge yourself with all suitable 
 duty towards him ; for you have given yourself to him 
 to serve him; that is your very business. You are his, 
 and are to do his work, not your own, otherwise than a*; 
 it falls in with his, and is his. You are to discharge your- 
 self of all unsuitable cares ; for will not he take care of 
 his own, who hath put so ill a note upon them that do not 1 
 He that provideth not for his own, (his domestics,) those 
 of his own house, hath denied the faith, and is worse than 
 an infidel 1 Will you think, he can be like such a onel 
 Who, if not the children of a prince, should live free from 
 care"? 
 
 You should most deeply concern yourself about his 
 concernments, without any apprehension or fear that he 
 will neglect those that are most truly yours: and are not to 
 be indifferent how his interest thrives, or is depressed in the 
 world ; is increased, or diminished. They that are his, 
 should let his affairs engross their cares and thoughts. 
 
 You should abandon all suspicious, hard thoughts of 
 him. When in the habitual bent of your spirits you de- 
 sire to please him, it is most injurious to him, to think he 
 will abandon, and give you up to perish, or become your 
 enemy. 'Tis observable what care was taken among the 
 Romans, Ne qvAd dedititiis hostile illatuvi sit — that no 
 hostility might be used towards them that had surrendered, 
 b Heb. xil c James i. IS. d Heb. xii. 
 
 themselves. Can man excel God in praise-worthy things'; 
 You can think nothing of God moie contrary to his gospel, 
 or his nature, than to surmise he will destroy one that 
 hath surrendered to and bears a loyal mind towards him. 
 And what a reproach do you cast upon him, when lou 
 give others occasion to say, "His own, they that have'de- 
 voted themselves to him, dare not trust him'?" You are 
 taught to say, "I am thine, save me;" not to .suspect he 
 will ruin you. They do strangely misshape religion, con- 
 sidering in how great part it consists in trusting God, and 
 living a life of faith, that frame to themselves a religion 
 made up of distrusts, doubts, and fears. 
 
 You should dread to alienate yourselves from him 
 which (a-s sacrilege is one of the most detestable of all 
 sins, a robbing of God) is the most dete.stable sacrilege. 
 You are to reserve yourselves entirely for him.s Every 
 one that is godly he hath set apart for himself 
 
 Yea, and you are not only to reserve, but, to your utter- 
 most, to improve and better yourselves for him daily : to 
 a.spire to an excellency, in some measure, suitable to your 
 relation: "to walk worthy of God, who hath called you 
 to his kingdom and glor}-," (1 Thess. ii. 12.) remembering 
 you are here to glorify him, and hereafter to be glorified 
 with him. And who is there of us that finds not himself 
 under sulficient obligation, by the mercies of God, unto 
 all this 1 or to whom he may not sa)', in a far more emi- 
 nent sense, than the apostle speaks it to Philemon, " Thou 
 owest even thyself also unto me 1" Will we refuse to give 
 God what we owe 1 or can we think it fit, in itself, "we 
 should be no otherwise his, than (as one well says) fields, 
 woods, and mountains, and brute beasts V And I may 
 add, can it be comfortable to us, he should have no other 
 interest in us than he hath in de\'ils 1 Is there no difference 
 in the case of reasonable creatures and unreasonable 1 
 theirs who profess devotedncss to him, and theirs who 
 are his professed enemies 1 The one sort, through natural 
 incapacity, cannot, by consent, be his, and the other, 
 through an invincible malignity, never will. Are there no 
 mercies (conferred or offered) that do peculiarly oblige us 
 more 1 Let us be more frequent and serious in recounting 
 our mercies, and set ourselves on purpose to enter into the 
 memory of God's great goodness, that we may thence, 
 from time to lime, urge upon ourselves this great and com- 
 prehensive duty. And at this time, being here together on 
 purpose, let us consider and reflect afresh upon that emi- 
 nent mercy which you are wont to commemorate in the 
 yearly return of this day. 
 
 And that I may, more particularh^, direct my speech 
 the same way that the voice of that memorable providence 
 is especially directed ; you are, my lord, to be more pecu- 
 liarly besought by the mercies of God, that you would 
 this day dedicate yourself to him. I do beseech therefore 
 you, by the many endearing mercies which God hath so 
 plentifully conferred upon you, by the mercies of your 
 noble extraction and birth, by the mercies of your very 
 ingenious and pious education, by the mercies of your 
 family, which God hath made to descend to you from your 
 honourable progenitors ; (which, as they are capable of 
 being improved, may be xex\ valuable mercies;) by the 
 blood and tender rnercies of your blessed and glorious 
 Redeemer, who offered up himself a Sacrifice to God for 
 you, that j'ou would now present j'ourself to Gtod, a holy, 
 ii\'ing sacrifice, which is your reasonable service. I add, 
 by the signal mercy which hath made this a memorable 
 day to you, and by which you come, thus long, to enjoy 
 the advantages of all 3'our other mercies. How came it to 
 pass that this day comes not to be remembered bj- your 
 noble relatives, as a black and a gloomy day, the day of 
 the extinction of the present light and lustre of your family, 
 and of qucnchin? their coal which was left "? You had a 
 great Preserver, who we hope delivered you because he de- 
 lighted in you. Your life was precious in his sight. 
 Your breath was in his hand ; he preserved and renewed 
 it to you, when you were read}' to breathe your last. And 
 we hope he will vouchsafe you that greater deliverance, 
 not to let you fall under the charge which was once exhibit- 
 ed aeainst a ?reat man, (Dan. v". 23.) " The Goil in whose 
 hands thy breath is — hast thou not glorified :" and make 
 you rather capable of adopting those words, (Psal. xlii. 8.) 
 
 e Eph. iii. 
 
 f Epict. 
 
 31 
 
 g Psal. iv.
 
 4^3 
 
 SELF-DEDICATION. 
 
 " Yet the Lord will command his loving-kindness in the 
 day-time, and in the night his song shall be with me, and 
 my prayer unto the God of my life." Your acknowledg- 
 ments are not to be limited to one day in the year ; but 
 from day to day his loving-kindness, and your prayer and 
 praise, are to compose your wKdfjucpov ; the one, to show 
 you, the other, to be unto you your morning and evening 
 exercise. Let this be your resolution, " Every day will I 
 bless thee . and I v.n\l praise thy name for ever and ever ;" 
 (Psal. cxlv. 2.) or that, (Psal. civ. 33.) "I will sing unto 
 the Lord as long as I live : I will sing praise unto my 
 God while I have my being." 
 
 Yet your more solemn acknowledgments are justly 
 pitched upon this day. God hath noted it for you, and 
 made it a great day in your time. You have now enjoyed 
 a scptennium, seven years, of mercies. And we all hope 
 you will enjoy many more, which may be all called the 
 posterity of that day's mercy. It was the parent of them 
 all ; so pregnant and productive a mercy was that of this 
 day. You do owe it to the mercy of this day, that you 
 have yet a life to devote to the great Lord of heaven and 
 earth, and to employ in the world for him : and would 
 you think of any less noble sacrifice 1 
 
 iEschines the philosopher, out of his admiration of So- 
 crates, when divers presented him with other gifts, made 
 a tender to him of himself. Less was thought an insuffi- 
 cient acknowledgment of the worth and favours of a man ! 
 Can any thing less be thought worthy of a Godl I doubt 
 not you intend, my lord, a life of service to the God of 
 your life. You would not, I presume, design to serve 
 him under any other notion, than as his. By dedicating 
 yourself to him, you become so in the peculiar sense. It 
 is our part in the covenant which must be between God 
 and us. " I entered into covenant with thee, and thou be- 
 camest mine," Ezek. xvi. 8. This is the ground of a 
 settled relation, which we are to bear towards him, as his 
 servants. 'Tis possible I may do an occasional service for 
 one whose servant I am not ; but it were mean that a great 
 person should only be served by the servants of another 
 lord. To be served but precariously, and as it were upon 
 courtesy only, true greatness would disdain ; as if his 
 quality did not admit to have servants of his own. 
 
 Nor can it be thought a serious Christian (in howsoever 
 dignifying circumstances) should reckon himself too great 
 to be his servant, when even a heathen pronounces, h Deo 
 servire est regnare — to serve God is to reign. A religious 
 nobleman of France,! whose affection I commend more 
 than his external expression of it, tells us he made a deed 
 of gift of himself to God, signing it with his own blood. 
 He was much a greater man, that so often speaks in that 
 style, Tliy sei'vant, that it is plain he took pleasuie in it, 
 and counted it his highest glory. " Stablish thy word 
 unto thy servant, who is devoted to thy fear," Psal. cxix. 
 38. " T'ny servant, thy servant, O Lord, the son of thy 
 handmaid ;" (alluding to the law by which the children of 
 bond servants were .servants by birth;) " thou hast broken 
 
 h Seneca. 
 
 i Monsieur de Renty. 
 
 my bonds ;" (Psal. cxvi.) hast {q. d.) released me from 
 worse bonds, that I might not only be patient, but glad to 
 be under thine. 
 
 Nor was he a mean prince k in his time, who at length 
 abandoning the pleasures and splendour of his own court, 
 (whereof many like examples might be given,) retired and 
 assumed the name of Chrisiodulus — A servsmt of Christ, 
 accounting the glory of that name did outshine, not only 
 that of his other illustrious titles, but of the imperial Aiu,- 
 dem too. There are very few in the world, whom the 
 too common atheism can give temptation unto to think 
 religion an ignominy, and to count it a reproach to be the 
 devoted servant of the most high God ; but have it at 
 hand to answer themselves, even by human (not to speak 
 of the higher angelical) instances, that he hath been served 
 by greater than we. 
 
 You are, my lord, shortly to enter upon the more public 
 stage of the world. You will enter with great advantages 
 of hereditary honour, fortune, friends; with the greater 
 advantage of (I hope) a well cultivated mind, and (what is 
 yet greater) of a piously inclined heart : but you will also 
 enter with disadvantages too. It is a slippery stage ; it is 
 a divided time, wherein there is interest against interest, 
 party against party. To have seriously and with a pious 
 obstinacy dedicated yourself to God, will both direct and 
 fortify you. 
 
 I know no party in which nothing is amiss. Nor will 
 that measure, let you think it advisable, to be of any, 
 further than to unite with what there is of real, true god- 
 liness among them all. Neither is there any surer rule or 
 measure for your direction, than this ; to take the course 
 and way which is most agreeable to a state of devotedness 
 to God. Reduce all things else, hither. Wheresoever you 
 believe, in your conscience, there is a sincere design for 
 the interest and glory of God, the honour or safety of your 
 prince, the real good and welfare of your country, there 
 you are to fall in, and adhere. And the first of these com- 
 prehends the rest. You will not be the less inclined, but 
 much the more, to give Caesar the things that are Caesar's, 
 for your giving God the things that are God's. And that 
 is (as hath been said) principally and in the first place 
 yourself; and then all that is yours to be used according 
 to his holy rules, and for him whose you are. 
 
 And what can be to you the ground of a higher fortitude 1 
 Can they be unsafe that have devoted themselves to God 1 
 Dedicate yourself, and you become a sanctuary (as well as 
 a sacrifice) inviolably safe in what part, and in what re- 
 spects, it is considerable to be so. And who can think 
 themselves unsafe, being, with persevering fidelity, sacred 
 to God ; that understand who he is, and consider his 
 power and dominion over both worlds, the present, and 
 that which is to come; so as that he can punish and re- 
 ward in both, as men prove false and faithful to him. The 
 triumphs of wickedness are short, in this world. In how 
 glorious triumphs will religion and devotedness to God 
 end in the other ! 
 
 k Cantacuzenus, whose life also, among many other remarkable things, was 
 once strangely preserved in the fall of his norse.
 
 TWO SERMONS, 
 
 PREACHED AT THURLOW, IN SUFFOLK. 
 
 ON THOSE WORDS, ROM. VI. 13. 
 
 ' YIELD YOURSELVES TO GOD.'' 
 
 TO THE MUCH-HONOURED 
 
 BARTHOLOMEW SOAME, ESa 
 
 OP THURLOW, 
 AND SUSANNA, HIS PIOUS CONSORT. 
 
 My -worthy Friends, 
 
 I HAVE at length yielded to your importunity, and do here offer these Sermons to public view and your own, which 
 were one day the last summer preached under your roof; attributing more to your pious design herein, than to my own 
 reasons against it. I no further insist upon the incongruity, having divers years ago published a small treatise of Self- 
 dedication, now again to send abroad another on the same subject. For the way of tractation is here ver}' different; 
 this may fall into the hands of divers, who have never seen the other ; and however, they who have read the other, 
 have it in their choice whether they will trouble themselves with this or no. And though your purpose which you 
 urged me with, of lodging one of these little books in each family of the hearers, might have been answered b}^ so 
 disposing of many a better book already extant ; yet your having told me how greatly you observed them to be moved 
 by these plain discourses, considering the peculiar advantage of reading what had been with some accept.ance and 
 relish heard before, (through that greater vigour that accompanies the ordinance of preaching to an assembly, than 
 doth usually the solitary first reading of the same thing,) I was not willing to run the hazard of incurring a guilt, by 
 refusing a thing so much desired, and which, through God's blessing, might contribute something, though in never so 
 low a degree, to the saving of men's souls. I could not indeed, as I told you, undertake to recollect every thing that 
 was spoken, according to that latitude and freedom of expression wherewith it was fit to inculcate momentous things 
 to a plain country auditory. But I have omitted nothing I could call to mind ; being little concerned that the more 
 curious may take notice, with dislike, how much in a work of this kind I prefer plainness (though they may call it 
 rudeness) of speech, before that which goes for wisdom of words, or the most laboured periods. 
 
 May you find an abundant blessing on your household, for the sake of the ark which you have so piously and kindly 
 received. And whereas, by your means, the parts about you have a help for the speading the knowledge of God 
 among them, added to what they otherwise more statedly enjoy; may the blessing of heaven succeed all sincere en- 
 deavours of both sorts, to the more general introducing of the new man which is renewed in knowledge — " where 
 there is neither Jew nor Greek, circumcision nor uncircumcision, but Christ is all, and in all :" to whose grace you 
 are, with sincere affection, and great sense of your kindness, earnestly recommended, by 
 
 Your much obliged, 
 
 Faithful servant in Christ, 
 
 JOHN HOWE.
 
 SERMON I. 
 
 ROMANS VI. 13. YIELD YOURSELVES TO GOD. 
 
 These are but {ew words ; but I can speak to you of 
 no greater or more important thing than I am to press 
 upon you from them this day. We are above taught how 
 absurd it is to continue in sin, whereto we are avowedly 
 dead, (v. 1, 2.) as is signified by our baptism; together 
 with our entrance into a new state of life, and that in both 
 we are to be conformed unto the death and resurrection of 
 Christ, (r. 3 — 5.) so that sin ought now no more to have 
 a new dominion over us, than death can again have over 
 him, V. 6 — 10. We are, therefore, exhorted so to account 
 of ourselves and of our present state, that " we are dead 
 to sin, but alive to God through Jesus Christ our Lord;" 
 and, thereupon, never more to let sin govern us or reign 
 over us, or yield to it, v. 11 — 13. former part. But what 
 then 7 How are we otherwise to dispose of ourselves 1 If 
 we may not yield ourselves to the service of sin, what are 
 we then to do with ourselves 1 The text tells us, and the 
 very reason of the thing shows it ; But yield yourselves to 
 God, &c. The subject to be discotirsed of is an express 
 precept, charging it upon us all as our unquestionable 
 duty, to yield ourselves to God ; which, therefore, it can 
 only be our business in speaking to this text, to explain 
 and apply. 
 
 1. We are to explain it. Whosoever shall charge upon 
 others such a duty, not obvious, perhaps, at the first view, 
 in the full extent of it, to every one's understanding, may 
 well expect to be asked, " But what do you mean by this 
 precept? or what doth this yielding ourselves to God sig- 
 nify 7" And here are two things to be opened to you. — 
 1. How, or under what notions we are to consider God 
 and ourselves in this matter : and — 2. What our yielding 
 ourselves to him, so considered, must include. 
 
 1. How are we to consider or look upon God in this 
 affair? You are to consider him both as he is in himself, 
 and according to the relations he bears to you ; whether 
 before your yielding yourselves to him, or in and upon 
 your so doing. 
 
 1. As he is in himself. You that have heard, or now 
 read what I have said, and do write, here make a stand, 
 and bethink yourselves a while. What ! are you about 
 yielding yourselves to God 1 Sure you ought to be think- 
 ing of it as soon as you hear his claim laid to you. But 
 do you now know with whom you have to dol Too 
 many have the name of God, that great and awful name, 
 in their mouth or ear, and have no correspondent thought 
 in their mind ; it passes with them as a transient sound, 
 as soon over as another common word of no greater 
 length, and leaves no impression. Perhaps there is less in 
 their minds to answer it than most other words which men 
 u.se in common discourse. For they have usually distinct 
 thoughts of the things they speak of ; otherwise they 
 should neither understand one another nor themselves, 
 but might speak of a horse, and mean a sheep ; or be 
 thought to mean so. And it would no more move a man 
 or impress his mind to hear or mention a jest, than a mat- 
 ter of life and death. But the holy and reverend name 
 of God is often so slightly mentioned; as in common oaths, 
 or in idle talk is so merely taken in vain, that if they were 
 on the sudden stopped, and asked what they thought on, 
 or had in their mind, when they mentioned that word, and 
 were to make a true answer, they cannot say they thought 
 of any thinsc : as if the name of God, the All! were the 
 name of nothing ! Otherwise, had they thought what that 
 great name signifies, either they had not mentioned it, or 
 the mention of it had struck their hearts, and even over- 
 whelmed their very souls ! I could tell you what awe and 
 observance hath been wiint to be expressed in reference to 
 that sacred name, among a people that were called by it ; 
 and surely the very sound of that name ought ever to 
 
 a John iv. 24. 
 
 shake all the powers of our souls, and presently form them 
 to reverence and adoration. Shall we think it fit to play 
 or trifle with it, as is the common wont? My frieiuLs, 
 shall we now do so, when we are called upon to yield our- 
 selves to God? Labour to hear and think, and act intel- 
 ligently, and as those that have the understandings of 
 men. And now, especially in this solemn transaction, 
 endeavour to render God great to yourselves; enlarge 
 your minds, that, as far as is possible and needful, they 
 may take in the entire notion of him. As to what he is in 
 himself, you must conceive of him as a Spirit ;"■ as his 
 own word, which can best tell us what he is, instructs us, 
 and so as a Being of far higher excellency than any thing 
 you can see with your eyes, or touch with your hands, oi 
 than can come under the notice of any of your senses. 
 You may easily apprehend spiritiuil being to be the source 
 and spring of life and self-moving power. This world 
 were all a dead unmoving lump, if there were no such 
 thing as spirit ; as your bodies when the soul is fled. 
 You must conceive him to be an eternal, self-subsisting 
 Spirit, not sprung up into being from another, as our 
 souls are : but who, from the excellency of his own being, 
 was necessarily of and from himself; comprehending ori- 
 ginally and eternally in himself the fulness of all life and 
 being. I would fain lead you here, as by the hand, a few 
 plain and easy steps. You are sure that somewhat now 
 is — of this you can be in no doubt ; and next, you may be 
 as sure that somewhat hath, of itself, ever been ; for if 
 nothing at all now M'ere, you can easily apprehend it im- 
 possible that any thing should ever be, or of it.self now 
 begin to be, and spring up out of nothing. Do but make 
 this supposition in your own minds, and the matter will 
 be as plain to yon as any thing can be, that if nothing at 
 all were now in being, nothing could ever come into be- 
 ing; wherefore you may be sure, that because there is 
 somewhat now in being, there must have been somewhat 
 or other always in being, that was eternally of itself. And 
 then, to go a httle further, since you know there are many 
 things in being that were not of themselves, you may be 
 sure that what was always of itself, had in it a sufficiency 
 of active power to produce other things ; otherwise nothing 
 that is not of itself could ever be ; as you know that we 
 were not of ourselves ; and the case is the same a.s to what- 
 soever else our eyes behold. 
 
 You must conceive of God therefore as comprehending 
 originally in his own being, which is most peculiar to him- 
 self, a power to produce all whatsoever being, excellency, 
 and perfection, is to be found in all the whole creation : 
 for there can be nothing which either is not, or arises not 
 from, what was of itself. And therefore that he is an ab- 
 solutely, universally, and infinitely perfect Being, and 
 therefore that life, knowledge, wisdom, power, goodness, 
 holiness, justice, truth, and whatsoever other conceivable 
 excellencies do all in highest perfection belong, as ne- 
 cessary attributes, unchangeably and without possibility 
 of diminution unto him. And all which his own word 
 (agreeably to the plain reason of things) doth in multitudes 
 of places ascribe to him ; as you that are acquainted with 
 the Bible cannot but know. You must therefore conceive 
 of him, as the All in All. So great, so excellent, so glo- 
 rious a One he is, to whom you are to .surrender and yield 
 yourselves. 
 
 You are to conceive of him as most essentially One, for 
 there can be but one All. And so his M'ord teaches you 
 to conceive. "Hear, O Israel ! the Lord our God is one 
 Lord," Deut. vi. 4. " We know there is no other God but 
 one," &c. 1 Cor. viii. 4 — 6. Your thoughts therefore need 
 not be divided within you, nor your minds hang in doubt, 
 to whom you are to betake and yield yourselves : there is
 
 YIELD YOURSELVES TO GOD. 
 
 425 
 
 no place or pretence for halting between two opinions. 
 He most righteously lays the .sole claim to you, a just God 
 and a Saviour, and there is none besides him, Isa. xlv. 2L 
 And so we are told often in that and the foregoing chap- 
 ters. He whose far-discerning eye projects its beams 
 every way, and ranges through all infinity, says he knows 
 not any, ch. xliv. 8. 
 
 Yet again you are to conceive of him as Three in One, 
 and that, in your yielding yourselves to him ; as the pre- 
 scribed form, when this surrender is to be made in bap- 
 tism, directs ; which runs thus. In the navie of the Father, 
 Son, and Holy Ghost, Matt, xxviii. 19. You "are not to be 
 carious in your inquiries beyond what is written in this 
 matter, how far the Subsistents in the Godhead are three, 
 and in what sense one ; they cannot be both in the same 
 sense. But there is latitude enough to conceive how they 
 may be distinct from each other, and yet agree in one na- 
 ture; which in none of them depending upon will and 
 Eleasure, sets each of them infinitely above all created 
 eing: which for the Divine pleasure only was and is 
 created. Rev. iv. 11. And that we so far conceive of them, 
 as three, as to apprehend some things spoken of one, that 
 are not to be affirmed of another of them, is so plain, of so 
 great consequence, and the whole frame of practical reli- 
 gion so much depends thereon ; and even this transaction 
 of yielding up ourselves, (which must be introduciive and 
 fundamental to all the rest,) that it is by no means to be ne- 
 glected in our daily course, and least of all in this solemn 
 business, as will more appear anon. In the meantime, set 
 this ever blessed, glorious God, the Father, Son, and Holy 
 Ghost, before your eyes, as to whom (thus in himself con- 
 sidered) you are now to yield yourselves. 
 
 2. You must conceive of him according to the relations 
 which he bears towards j'^ou, partly before 3'our yielding 
 yourselves to him, and partly in and upon your doing it. 
 That is, 
 
 1. Before you do any such thing.you must conceive of him, 
 
 1. As your Creator, the Author of your being, of whom, 
 and through whom, and to whom, all things are.b He 
 that made you demands you for himself You are re- 
 quired to yield yourselves to him that gave you breath. 
 
 2. As the continual Sustaincr of your being ; and who 
 renews }''our life unto j-ou every moment ; in whom you 
 live, and move, and have your being, >= continually ; so that 
 if he should withdraw his supports, you immediately drop 
 into nothing. But these are things common to j'ou wiih 
 all other creatures ; and signify therefore his antecedent 
 right in you, before you have yielded yourselves, upon 
 which you ought to do it, and cannot without great in- 
 justice to him decline doing it. There are other consider- 
 ations also you ought to entertain concerning him in this 
 your yielding yourselves to him, viz. of some things which 
 are partly and in some sense before it, and which it sup- 
 poses, but partly also, and in a more special sense, would 
 follow and be inferred by it. 
 
 Principally, this fourfold consideration you should have 
 of him in your yielding yourselves to him, viz. as your 
 Oioner, your Teacher, your Ruler, and your Benefactor, 
 and all these with the addition of Sujrreme, it being impos- 
 sible he should have a superior ; or that there should be 
 any one above him in any of these. And he is in some 
 sense all these to you before you can have yielded your- 
 selves; (as may in great part he collected from what hatli 
 been already said ;) but when you yield yourselves to him, 
 he will be all these to you in a far higher, nobler, and more 
 excellent sense ; and you are to 3ueld yourselves to him 
 as such, or that in your so doing, he may actually become 
 such to you. 
 
 1. As your Owner. The God whose you are, as the 
 apostle speaks, Acts xxvii. 23. and whom, a.s it there 
 follows, and is naturally consequent, you are to serve. 
 You were by this a former right, as all things, being made 
 by him, are: But you are to yield yourselves to him, 
 that j-ou may be more peculiarlj' his, in a sense more ex- 
 cellent in itself, and more comfortable to you; as Exod. 
 xix. 5. If you will obey — you shall be to me a peculiar 
 treasure above all people, for all the earth is mine. Of such 
 a.s fear him, the great God says, They shall be mine in the 
 day when I make up my jewels, Ma'l. iii. 17. Your yicld- 
 
 b Rom. xi. 36. c Acts .wii. 29. 
 
 ing yourselves adds nothing to his right in you ; you therein 
 only recognise and acknowledge the right he had in you 
 before, but it adds to you a capacity and qualification, both 
 by the tenure of his gospel-covenant, and in the nature of 
 the thing, for such nobler uses as pthcrwise you cannot 
 serve for : as the mure contemptible lumber about a man's 
 house may be as truly his, as the most precious things ; 
 but neither doth he intend, nor can such meaner things 
 admit to be the ornaments, either of his person, or his 
 house. The great God intends his devoted peculiar people 
 to be to him a crown and a royal diadem, I.sa. Ixii. 3. when 
 he puts away the wicked of the earth like dross, Ps. cxix. 
 119. In a great house there are not only ves,sels of silver 
 and gold, but also of wood and of earth, 2 Tim. ii. 20. But 
 'tis only the purged and sanctified soul (which is al.so a 
 self-devoted one) that shall be the ves.sel unto honour, be- 
 ing made meet for the master's use, and prepared to every 
 good work, v. 21. Persons and things acquire sacredness 
 by being devoted to God. Persons especially, that can juid 
 do devote themselves, are highly ennobled by it : he here- 
 upon (besides their relative holiness) really more and more 
 sanctifies and frames them for his own more immediate 
 service and communion. Of such a people he tells us, 
 that he hath formed them for himself, and they shall praise 
 him ; and to them he saith, (intending it manifestly in the 
 more eminent sense,) Thou art mine, Isa. xliii. 1, 7, 21. 
 Such may with a modest and humble, but with a just, con- 
 fidence freely say, I am thine, save me, Ps. cxix. 94. In 
 yielding yourselves consider therefore first, that he is yuur 
 Owner by an unquestionable former right, and let that 
 effectually move you to do it with all your hearts. For 
 will you not give him his own ? When you account duty 
 to your prince obliges you to give to Caesar the things that 
 are Csesar's, will you not give God the things that are 
 God's 1 And will you not know him for yotu- Owner 1 
 The ox knows his owner, Isa. i. 3. Or will it satisfy you 
 lobe in no other kind his, than brutes and devils are, that 
 either through an incapacity of nature cannot acknowledge 
 him, or through a malignity of nature will not 1 O yield 
 yourselves, with humble desire and expectation that he 
 will vouchsafe otherwise to own you ! 
 
 2. As your teacher; so indeed he also is to all men, 
 though they never j-ield themselves to him. He that 
 teaches man knowledge, shall not he know "? Ps. xciv. 10. 
 There is a .spirit in man, and the inspiration of the Al- 
 mighty gives him understanding. Yea, and inferior crea- 
 tures, as they all owe their natures and peculiar instincts 
 to him, may be said to have him for their Teacher too. 
 But will it content you to be so only taught by himi There 
 is another sort of teaching which, if 3-ou yield yourselves 
 to him as j'^our great Instructor, he M"ill vouchsafe unto 
 you. The things you know not, and which it is necessary 
 you should know, he will teach you, i. e. such things as are 
 of real necessity to your true and final welfare, not which 
 only serve to please your fancy, or gratify your curiosity: 
 for his teaching respects an appointed, certain end, suit- 
 able to his wisdom and mercy, and to the calamity and 
 danger of your state. The teaching requisite for perishing 
 sinners, was, what they might do to be saved. And when 
 we have cast about in our own thoughts never so much, 
 we have no waj' to take but to yield ourselves to God, 
 who will then be our most undeceivhig Guide. To whom 
 it belongs to save us at last, to him only it can belong to 
 lead us in the wa}- to that blessed end. 
 
 Many anxious inquiries and fervent disputes there have 
 been, how one may be infallibly assured of the way to be 
 saved. They are to be excused who think it not fit, but 
 upon very plain groimds, to venture so great a concern- 
 ment ; or to run so great a hazard in a mere compliment 
 to any man, or party of men. Confident e.vpressions, as. 
 My soul for your's, and such like, signify nothing with .a 
 cautious considering man, except that such as them care 
 as little for his soul as their own. The papal infallibility 
 some would have us trust to at a venture, and would make 
 us think it rudeness to doubt it ; when nobod)' stands 
 upon good manners in endeavouring to escape a ruin ; 
 when a great part of their o\vn communion trust not to it. a 
 And some of them have written strongly against it. « The 
 accurate stating and discussing of the controvers}', how 
 d The Gallican cJuirch, &c. €Du Piii. *"-.
 
 436 
 
 YIELD YOURSELVES TO GOD, 
 
 far or in what sense any such thing as infallible light may 
 belong to the Christian church, are not fit for this place, 
 nor for a discourse of this nature. 'Tis enough now to 
 say that this claim hereof to the pope or bishop of Rome, 
 as such, 1. Cannot be proved, and, 2. May be plainly 
 disproved. 
 
 1. It cannot be proved. For since no principles of com- 
 mon reason are pretended sufficient to prove it of any man, 
 or of him more than another, it must be proved by super- 
 natural revelation, if at all. But in the written word of 
 God there is no such thing. Pretences from thence are too 
 vain to be refuted or mentioned. And if any other reve- 
 lation should be pretended, 'twill be a new, and as impos- 
 sible a task, to prove the divinity of that revelation, so as 
 to infer upon the world an obligation to believe it. Nor 
 is it necessary to insist upon this ; because, 
 
 2. It may be plainly disproved ; for the same thing can- 
 not be both true and false. And it sufficiently disproves 
 such a man's infallibility, or the impossibility of his erring, 
 that it can be evidently proved he hath erred. As when 
 he hath determined against the express word of Christ, for- 
 bidding them (to take one or two instances among many) 
 to drink of the eucharistical cup, whom he hath com- 
 manded to drink it; or (to mention a more important one) 
 when believers in Christ, or lovers of him, are pronounced 
 danmed, who he hath said shall not perish, but have ever- 
 lasting life, and the crown of righteousness ; or when on 
 the other hand, pardon of sin and eternal life are pre- 
 tended to be given to such, whom the evangelical law con- 
 demns to death. 
 
 When one, to whom this privilege hath been asserted to 
 belong, hath determined against another, to whom upon 
 the same grounds it must equally belong. As 'tis well 
 known in the Christian church, that pope might be alleged 
 against pope, and one papal constitution against another. 
 Not to insist on what might be shown out of their own his- 
 tory, that the same pope hath, being so, changed his judg- 
 ment in a ])oint of doctrine, and left us to divine when he 
 was the fallible, and when the infallible, pope. And again, 
 When there have been determinations against the com- 
 mon uncorrupted senses of mankind, as that what their 
 sight, and touch, and taste assures them is bread, is said to 
 be the flesh of a human body. For if you cannot be sure 
 of what both your own, and the sound senses of any other 
 man would tell you, you can be sure of nothing at all : you 
 cannot be sure you see one another, or hear me speaking 
 to you; nor be sure when you heard the transforming 
 words, " This is my body;" or much less that they were 
 ever spoken, if you heard them not ; or that that was bread 
 and not a stone, or a piece of clay, that is pretended to be 
 transubstantiated by them. The foundation of all certainty 
 were upon these terms taken away from among men on 
 earth ; and upon the same common grounds upon which 
 it is pretended you ought to believe that which is shown or 
 offered you to be the flesh of a man, and not bread any 
 longer, you must believe or judge the quite contrary, that 
 it is bread still, and not flesh, and consequently that he is 
 far from being infallible, but doth actually err, upon whose 
 ^authority you are directed to believe otherwise. 
 
 And indeed the claimed infallibility is by this sufficiently 
 disproved, that there is no imaginable way of proving it. 
 For if there were any such thing, it must be by God's own 
 immediate gift and vouchsafement ; how otherwise should 
 a man be made infallible 1 And if so, it must be for an end 
 worthy of a wise and merciful God; whereupon for the 
 same reason for which he should have made such a 
 man infallible, he should have made it infallibly certain to 
 other men, that he hath made him so. Whereas there is 
 no one point wherein his infallible determination can be 
 pretended to be necessary, against which there is more to 
 be said than against the pretence itself of his infallibility ; 
 nor for which less is to be said than can, with any colour, 
 or without highest and most just contempt, be said for it. 
 The most weighty thing that I have known alleged is, the 
 great expediency of an infallible judge. But if we will 
 think that a good way of arguing, that things are in fact so 
 or so, because we can fancy it would be better if they 
 were ; we may as well prove that all mankind are sincere 
 Christians, or there is no sin in the world, nor ever was, 
 and a thousand things besides in the natural world, that 
 
 never were or will be, because it appears to us 'twould be 
 for the better. So much is the foolishness of man wiser 
 than God. 
 
 Besides that sanctity must be judged as necessary to 
 the final salvation and felicity of the souls of men as orlho- 
 doxy, or exemption from doctrinal error, by all, with whom 
 either Christian religion, or common reason, signifies any 
 thing. For the same reason therefore for which it can be 
 thought necessary God should have put it into the power 
 of any man to make others not err, he should have put it 
 equally into his power to make them holy, to renew and 
 change their hearts and lives. But what man hath this 
 power 1 And one would reasonably expect, if either were, 
 that both powers should be lodged in the same man; 
 which if they should pretend, who assert the other unto 
 one man, their own histories might make them blush, un- 
 less they can think it more probable that he can and will 
 eflfectually sanctify another, and make him holy, who is 
 himself most infamously impure and unholy, than that he 
 can secure another from erring in matters of doctrine, who 
 cannot secure himself. But then it may be said, if .such 
 sure light and guidance is not to be found or had from one 
 man, it must be from some community or body of men in 
 the Christian church. For can it be thought God should 
 have taken care to settle a religion in the world, on pur- 
 pose for the saving of men's souls, that yet afibrds no man 
 any certainty of being saved by it "? 
 
 I answer, yes, there is a certain, undeceiving light af- 
 forded by it to the whole body of sincere Christians, suffi- 
 cient, and intended not to gratify a vain humour, but to 
 save their souls, and which you can only, and may confi- 
 dently, expect by yielding yourselves to God as your 
 Teacher. As it cannot agree with the absolute perfection 
 of his nature to be himself deceived in any thing, it can, 
 you may be sure, as little agree with it to deceive you, or 
 let you mistake your way, in the things wherein he hath 
 encouraged and induced you to commit and intrust your- 
 selves to his conduct and guidance. Will he let a soul 
 wander and be lost, that hath entirely given up itself to be 
 led and taught by him 1 His word hath at once expressed 
 to you his nature, and his good-will towards you, in this 
 case. "Good and upright is the Lord, therefore will he 
 teach sinners in the way," Ps. xxv. 8. But what sinners 1 
 the next words tell you, the meek (self-resigned ones, 
 humble, teachable learners) he will guide in judgment, or 
 with judgment ; (as that particle admits to be read ;) he 
 will guide them judiciously, and surely, so that your 
 hearts need not misgive, or suspect, or doubt to follow; 
 " The meek will he teach his way," v. 9. Who would not 
 wish and be glad to have such a Teacher ? You shall 
 know (how express is his word !) if you follow on to know 
 the Lord ; for, his going forth is prepared as the morning, 
 Hos. vi. 3. You do not need to devise in the morning 
 how to create your own light, 'tis prepared and ready for 
 you ; the sun was made before you were, and it keeps its 
 course ; and so constantly will God's own light shine to 
 you, without your contrivance or care, for any thing but 
 to seek, receive it, and be guided by it. Know your ad- 
 vantage in having such a Teacher. 
 
 1. He will teach you inwardly ; even your very hearts, 
 and so as his instructions shall reach the centre, the inmost 
 of your spirits. God, that made light to shine out of dark- 
 ness, hath shined into our hearts, &c. 2 Cor. iv. 6. And 
 when that holy good man had been solacing himself with 
 highest pleasure in considering this, that God was his por- 
 tion, so contentful and satisfying a one, that he cannot for- 
 bear .saying, The lines are fallen to me in pleasant places, 
 and I have a goodly heritage, (Ps. xvi. 5, 6.) he presently 
 adds, " I will bless the Lord, who hath given me counsel ;" 
 q. d. " I should never else have thought of such a thing: 
 it had never come into my mind to think of choosing God 
 for my portion. I should have done like the rest of the 
 vain world, have followed shadows all my days. My reins 
 also instruct me in the night season." He will so teach 
 you, as to make you teach yourselves, put an abiding word 
 into you, that shall talk with you when you sit in your 
 houses, and walk by the way, and when you lie down, and 
 when you rise up, and whereby you shall be enabled to 
 commune with your own hearts upon your beds while 
 others sleep; and revolve or roll over in your minds, die-
 
 YIELD YOURSELVES TO GOD. 
 
 427 
 
 tales of life. You will not need to say, Who shall ascend 
 into heaven, to bring down Christ from above If or, Who 
 shall descend into the deep, to bring Christ again from the 
 dead? for the word will be nigh thee, not in thy mouth 
 only, but in thine heart, &c. You will have in you an en- 
 grafted word,s and the law of your God shall be in your 
 heart, so as none of your steps shall slide. h This is our 
 Lord's own interpretation of divers words of the prophets, 
 that in the days of the more general diffusion of holy , vital 
 light, which was to be after his own appearance in the 
 world, " They shall be all taught of God," John vi. 45. 
 I. e. so as to have their hearts inclined towards himself, 
 and drawn to him, as the reference of these words to those 
 of the foregoing verse shows. Wherein, 
 
 2. Lies your further advantage. That by him you shall 
 be taught effectually. Other teaching, as it doth but reach 
 the ear, or only, at the most, beget some faint notions in 
 the mind, that you are little the better for; his shall pro- 
 duce real fruit. He is the Lord)'our God who teaches you 
 to profit; and who by gentle and unforcible, but by most 
 prevailing, insinuations, shall slide in upon your spirits, 
 win them by light and love, and allure them to a compli- 
 ance with what shall be in the end safe and happy for 
 yourselves. He will instruct you, though not with a vio- 
 lent, yet with a strong hand, so as not to lose his kind de- 
 sign. Others teach you, and leave you what they found 
 you ; convinced perhaps, but not changed ; unable to re- 
 sist any ill inclination, or your disinclination to that which 
 was good. Power will accompany his teaching; a con- 
 quering power, that will secretly constrain and captivate 
 your hearts ; and how pleasant a victor}^ will that be to 
 yourselves ! O the peace and joy you will find springing 
 up within you, when once you feel yourselves overcome ! 
 The most that a man can say to you is, what the prophet 
 Samuel once said, (so great, and so good a man,) "God 
 forbid I should sin against the Lord in ceasing to pray for 
 you; but I will teach you the good and the right way."i 
 He could only show that way, and pray that God would 
 do the rest ; which implies God only can so teach it you, 
 as to make you walk in it. I am not persuading you to 
 slight human teaching ; you will need it ; and 'tis among 
 the gifts which your glorious Redeemer, being ascended 
 on highjk hath given to men, viz. pastors and teachers.' 
 But understand their teaching to be only subordinate, and 
 ministerial. Without, or against God, you are to call no 
 man master or teacher upon earth. And thus far their 
 teaching is to be regarded, as it agrees, 
 
 1. With what God doth inwardly teach j'ou, by that 
 common light which shines in every man's own bosom 
 that with a sincere mind attends to it, and which is too 
 little attended too. There are truths too commonly held 
 in unrighteousness, seated generally in the minds and eon- 
 sciences of men ; by which, though they have not another 
 law, they are a law nnto themselves;™ and for the stifling 
 and resisting whereof, the wrath of God is revealed from 
 heaven against them. And from such truths they might 
 infer others, and where God affords external helps, come 
 to discern a sure ground whereupon to understand that 
 what is contained besides in the frame of Christian doc- 
 trine is true; being enabled to judge of the evidences that 
 prove the whole revelation thereof to be from God ; and 
 nothing being in itself more evident than that what he hath 
 revealed is true. And withal God is graciously pleased to 
 shine into minds that with upright aims set themselves to 
 inquire out and understand his mind; and so further light 
 comes to be superadded to that which is common. Now 
 take heed how you neglect what a man teaches you, agree- 
 ably to that inward light which is already(one way or other) 
 in your own minds and consciences. Hither in some part, 
 and in great part, we are to appeal in our teaching you. So 
 the more early Christian teachers did ; " Not handling"(say 
 they) " the word of God deceitfully, but by manifestation 
 of the truth commending ourselves to every man's con- 
 science in the sight of God."" In the most deeply funda- 
 mental things that concern your practice every day, we 
 may appeal to yourselves, and your own consciences. If 
 we say to you, Ought you not to live according to his will 
 that gave you breath 1 should you not above all things fear 
 
 f Deut. XXX. 1 1 , 12, &c. Rom. x. 6—8. 
 g Jam. i. 21. 
 
 ii Ps. x.^jciii. 31. 
 
 and love, and trust and obey, him that made you and all 
 things "? Should you not do as you would be done unto? 
 Should you not take more care for your immortal souls, 
 than for your mortal flesh 1 You must every one say, " I 
 believe in mine own conscience this is so." If I appeal to 
 you in the very thing I am speaking of, should you not 
 yield yourselves to God, whose creatures you arel I doubt 
 not you will any of you say, " 1 ihmk in my very con- 
 science I should." We have j'ou witnesses against your- 
 selves, if you will not hear us in such things. And again, 
 it being a matter very capable of plain proof, that tho.se 
 writings which we call the Holy Scriptures, were from 
 God, our teaching ought so far to be regarded by you as, 
 
 2. We can manifest to you that it agrees with the 
 Scriptures. And we are sure he will never teach you in- 
 wardly against what he hath there taught. Will the God 
 of truth say and unsay the same thing'? That were to 
 overthrow the design of all his instructions, and to subvert 
 the authority which he requires men to reverence. No 
 man could expect to be regarded on such terms. And by 
 this rule freely examine all that we teach you, as our Sa- 
 viour directed the Jews to do, John v. 39. And for the 
 doing whereof, the apostle commended the Berean Chris- 
 tians, Acts xvii. 11. And we have here the same advan- 
 tage at length, though not immediately, upon your con- 
 sciences; which cannot but judge that whatsoever is found 
 in that word which you confess to be divine, must be most 
 certainly true. And if within such limits you take the 
 help of men for your instruction ; having yielded your- 
 selves to God as your supreme and highest Teacher, you 
 are upon safe terms. Only be sincere in listening to bis 
 dictates, whether internal or external. Let not a prepos- 
 sessed heart or vicious inclination be their interpreter ; 
 " If any man will do his will, he shall know oi tlie doc- 
 trine, whether it be of God," &c. John vii. 17. 
 
 3. You must consider God, in your yielding yourselves, 
 as your sovereign Ruler. For to whom you yield your- 
 selves servants to obey, his servants you are to whom jom 
 obey, as by v. 16. Though teaching and ruling may be 
 diversely conceived of, they cannot be separate in this case. 
 The nobler and final part of God's leaching you, is teach- 
 ing you your duty ; what 3'ou are to practise and do. And 
 so when he teaches you, he commands you too ; and leaves 
 it not arbitrary to you whether you will be directed by 
 him or no. What is his by former right, and b}- after- 
 consent, and self-resignation, shall it not be governed by 
 him 1 if it be a subject capable of laws and government, 
 as such consent shows it to be 3 Your yielding yourselves 
 to God is not a homage, but a mockery, if you do it not 
 with a resolution to receive the law from his mouth : and 
 that whereinsoever he commands, you will to your utter- 
 most obey. But in this and the other things that follow, 
 my limits constrain me unto more brevity. Only let not 
 this apprehension of God be frightful, yea let it be amiable 
 to you, as in itself it is, and cannot but be to you, if j'ou 
 consider the loveliness of his government, the kind design 
 of it, and how suitable it is to the kindest design ; that it is 
 a government first and principally over minds, purposely 
 intended to reduce them to a holy and peaceful order, 
 wherein it cannot but continue them, when that kinirdora 
 comes to be settled there, which stands in righteousness, 
 peace, and joy in the Holy Ghost, and all the laws where- 
 of are summed up in love^ being such also as in the 
 keeping whereof there is great reward. 
 
 4. You are to consider him, and accordingly to yield 
 vourself, as vour greatest Benefactor, or rather as your 
 best and supreme Good- Indeed 3'ou cannot sever his 
 being your Ruler trom his being your Benefactor, (more 
 than his being your Teacher from his being your Ruler,) 
 when the tendency and design of his government are 
 understood. For it is a very principal part of our felicity 
 to be under his government, and he doth you the great- 
 est good by ruling you, when otherwise nothing is more 
 evident than that you would run yourselves into the 
 greatest of evil, and soon be most miserable creatures. You 
 are now so far happy as 3'ou are subject to his government, 
 and that which it aims at is to make you finall-y and com- 
 pletely happy. For it is the design" of his government, 
 
 i 1 .''asi xii 23. 
 m Rum. i 18. ii. M. 
 
 k Ps. Ixviii IS. 
 D 2 Cor. iv. 2. 
 
 1 Kph. iv. U.
 
 428 
 
 YIELD YOURSELVES TO GOD. 
 
 not only to regulate your actions bu; your inclinations, 
 and principally towards himself. You have been alienat- 
 ed from the life of God," were become strangers to him, 
 yea and enemies in your very minds ; for the carnal mind 
 is enmity against God.P The very business of his govern- 
 ment is in the first place to alter the temper of your minds ; 
 for continuing carnal, they neither are subject to the law 
 of God, nor can be,i as the same place tells you. There- 
 fore if his government take place in you, and you become 
 subject, you become spiritual, the " law of the Spirit of 
 life"'^ having now the possession and power of you. Nor 
 was it possible he should ever be an effectual Benefactor 
 to you, without being thus an overpowering Ruler; so do 
 these things run into one another. To let you have your 
 own will, and follow your carnal inclination, and cherish 
 and favour you in this course, were to gratify you to your 
 ruin, and concur with you to your being for ever miser- 
 able ; which you may see plainly if you will understand 
 wherein your true felicity and blessedness must consist, or 
 consider what was intimated concerning it, in the propo- 
 sal of this head ; that he is to be your Benefactor, in be- 
 ing to you himself your supreme and only satisfying Good. 
 He never doth you good effectually and to purpose, till he 
 overcome your carnal inclination. For while that remains, 
 \v ill you ever mind him 1 Can you love him, and desire 
 after him, or delight in him 1 The first and most funda- 
 mental law which he lays upon you is, that " you shall 
 love the Lord your God with all your heart, and soul, and 
 mind, and might." What will become of you if you can- 
 not obey this law '] This world will shortly be at an end, 
 and you must, 'lis like, leave it sooner ; you are undone, 
 if your hearts be not beforehand so framed as that you can 
 savour and take complacency in a better and higher good. 
 You will shortly have nothing left you but himself; you will 
 be plucked away from your houses, and lands, and friends, 
 and all your outward comforts ; and now in what a case 
 are you, if you can take no pleasure or satisfaction in God ! 
 You are therefore to yield up yourself to him in full union, 
 as with your most grateful and delectable Good; with this 
 ,sense possessing your soul, Whom have I in heaven but 
 thee, or whom on earth can I desire besides thee "?« 
 
 And thus you are to look upon God in your yielding 
 yourselves to him. — 
 
 You are to yield yourselves to his claim, as your right- 
 ful Owner — To his instruction, as your undeceiving 
 Teacher. — To his government, as your gracious, sovereign 
 Ruler ; and — To the enjoyment of him, as your best and 
 most satisfying Good, or your self-communicating Bene- 
 factor. 
 
 But it also concerns you to have distinct and right 
 thoughts of the state of your case, and how things are be- 
 tween him and the sons of men, that you may duly apply 
 yourselves to hira in so great a transaction. The Gospel 
 under which you live tells you, he treats with men in and 
 by a Mediator, his own Son, who came down into this 
 wretched world of oiirs, in great compassion to our mise- 
 ries, and took our nature, was here on earth among us as 
 an incarnate God ; God manifested in the flesh. Because 
 we were partakers of flesh and blood, he took part with us 
 likewise of the same, and in that nature of ours died for 
 us, to make way that we might yield ourselves to God, 
 and be accepted. No man now comes to the Father but 
 by him.t He must be acknowledged with great reverence ; 
 and a most profound homage must be rendered to him. 
 He thatdenieth the Son hath not the Father." And it be- 
 ing his pleasure to treat with us by his Son, and the ca.se 
 requiring that we apply ourselves to him, we are to take 
 notice of him according to those capacities wherein Scrip- 
 ture represents him to us. And it represents him agree- 
 ably to those same notions according to which we have 
 shown we are to consider God the Father in this matter ; 
 so as that Christ being the Mediator between him and us, 
 when we yield ourselves to him ultimately, and finally, 
 under the notions that have been mentioned, we are first 
 to yield ourselves to his Son, Christ Jesus our Redeemer, 
 under the like notions. For, 
 
 L Being to yield ourselves to God as our Owner, we 
 mast know, the Father hath given all things into the hands 
 
 o Eph. iv. 18. 
 
 q Rom. viii. 7, latter part. 
 
 p Col. i". 21. Rom. viii. 7. 
 r Vor. 8. 
 
 of the Son, (John xiii. 3.) and that He is Lord of all ; (Acts 
 X. 36.) which in the first sense, signifies him to be, by the 
 Father's constitution, the Owner of all things, even as he 
 is the Redeemer. For, he therefore died and rose again, 
 that he might be Lord of dead and living ;» i. e. of both 
 worlds; agreeably to what he himself speaks immediate- 
 ly upon his resurrection from the dead ; All power is 
 given to me both in heaven and earth. Matt, xxviii. IS. 
 
 And for those other notions of God under which we 
 have shown we are to yield ourselves to him, as our 
 Teacher, Ruler, and Benefactor, they correspond to thai 
 threefold oflice of Christ, of which you cannot but have 
 heard much, viz. of Prophet, King, and Priest; so that 
 we are to commit ourselves to him, when we yield our- 
 selves to God, as a Teacher come forth from God, and who 
 reveals him to us whom no man hath seen at any time ; 
 as one that must reign over us, and over the greatest on 
 earth, (Luke xix. 14. and 27. Ps. ii. 6 — 10.) and by whom 
 we are to be reconciled to God, and restored to the enjoy- 
 ment of him, Rom. v. 11. And because our blind minds 
 and perverse hearts need light and grace from above, to 
 direct and incline us hereto, therefore hath the Spirit of 
 the Father and the Son a great work to do in us to this 
 purpose. Whereupon we are to yield ourselves to that 
 blessed Spirit also, as our Enlightener and Sanctifier ; 
 which our being directed to walk in the Spirit, (Gal. v. 
 25.) and our being told that they that have not the Spirit 
 of Christ are none of his, (Rom. viii. 9.) and, that as many 
 as are the sons of God, are led by his Spirit, (v. 14.) do 
 plainly show. 
 
 You see then we are to yield ourselves to God, the Fa- 
 ther, Son, and Holy Ghost, which also our having those 
 great names named upon us in our baptism (as we before 
 told you) doth import. And how necessary all this is, you 
 will see, if, 
 
 2. We consider how we are to look upon ourselves in 
 this transaction ; i. e. 
 
 1. We are to consider ourselves as God's creatures, be- 
 ing, as you have heard, to consider him as our Creator; 
 and so we must reckon we owe ourselves to him, and do 
 but yield him what we owe, and what was his before. 
 For, how can you but be his, who of his mere pleasuie 
 hath raised you out of nothing ? 
 
 2. We must remember we have been apostate creatures, 
 such as had fallen, and revolted from him ; and so our 
 yielding ourselves to him, is a giving ourselves back to 
 him, having injuriously withdrawn and withheld our- 
 selves from him before. And because the injury was so 
 great as we could never make any recompense for, there- 
 fore it was necessary such a Mediator should be appointed 
 between God and us, for whose sake only we can expect 
 to be accepted when we yield ourselves. So great a Ma- 
 jesty was not to be approached by offending creatures 
 without so great a Days-man and Peace-maker. 
 
 3. We must consider ourselves as impure, and every 
 way unfit for the Divine presence, service, and converse, 
 and who did therefore need the power of the Holy Ghost 
 to be put forth upon us to make us fit ; and that therefore 
 our case required we should put ourselves into such hands 
 for that purpose. 
 
 4. We are to consider ourselves as under the Gospel, 
 as sinners invited and called back to God ; as such whose 
 case is not desperate ; or who need to abandon ourselves 
 to ruin, though we have greatly offended, as if there were 
 no hope. We are to consider ourselves with distinction 
 from the condition of other fallen creatures. The angels 
 that fell, and kept not their first station, have no Gospel 
 sent to them to invite them back, and persuade them again 
 to yield themselves to God; you have. Into what a 
 transport should this thought put you ! how should it 
 mollify you ! oh what a yielding temper and disposition 
 of spirit should it work in you towards this gracious call, 
 and just challenge, which the great God now gives you, 
 and makes unto you ! 
 
 Sermon II. Thus far then you see how you are to con- 
 sider God and yourselves in this your yielding yourselves 
 to him. You are now next to consider. 
 
 s Ps.Iyxiii. 25. 
 u I John ii 23. 
 
 t John xiv. 6. 
 X Rom. xiv. 9.
 
 YIELD YOURSELVES TO GOD. 
 
 429 
 
 2. What your yielding yourselves to God according to 
 such considerations must include, or be accompanied with. 
 For it is not reasonable to think you have no more to mind 
 in this matter, than only what is contained in the bare ab- 
 stract nature of such an act ; but looking upon your case 
 in its circumstances, and considering the state of things 
 between God and you, it greatly concerns you to see to it, 
 that the matter be suitably carried to this state of your case. 
 Whereupon, 
 
 L Your yielding yourselves to God must be accompa- 
 nied with very deep and serious repentance. 'Tis a most 
 penitential surrender yon are now to make of yourselves 
 to him ; for you are to remember that you are but now 
 coming back out of a state of apostacy from your sovereign 
 and most rightful Lord. Yea, though you are but renew^- 
 ing your surrender of yourselves, having done somewhat 
 herein before, you are yet to consider this wa-s your case ; 
 and perhaps some never have yet seriously thought of any 
 such thing, but lived in this world hitherto as if you were 
 j'-Qur own, and there were no Lord over you: O then with 
 what inward remorse, with what brokenness of heart, with 
 what relentings and self-accusings, should this thing now 
 be done ! You should come, smiting upon the thigh, and 
 saying within yourselves, "What have I donel So long, 
 Lord, have I lived in this world of thine, which thou 
 madest, and not I, as if I might do in it, and with myself, 
 what I pleased ! I have usurped upon tliy unquestionable 
 right in me, have lived to myself, and not to thee ; I am 
 now convinced that this was a very undutiful, unlawful 
 wa3' of living." Let him hear you (as he once heard 
 Ephraim, or shall do) bemoaning yourselves, and saying, 
 " Turn me and I shall be turned; thou art the Lord my 
 God,"y &c. How can you think of yielding yourselves 
 now at length to God, without being deeply sensible of 
 your having deferred it so long, and that you have not done 
 it sooner; and how great the iniquity was of your former 
 course; that you have all this while committed a con- 
 tinual robbery upon him that gave you breath 1 Will a 
 man rob God ? And if you say. Wherein have I robbed 
 him ■? You have robbed him of yourself; a greater thing 
 than of tithes and offerings; and this robbery was sacri- 
 lege. For every thing due and devoted to God, hath a 
 sacredness upon it; and consider, were you not, upon his 
 just claim, in your baptism devoted to him ? How should 
 this startle you ! you have constantly alienated from him 
 a sacred thing! You have been in a continual contest 
 with him about one of the highest rights of his sovereignty, 
 yea and of his Godhead, for to that, nothing is more pecu- 
 liar, than to be Lord of all. So that the controversy between 
 him and you hath been, Who shall be Godi You have 
 refused him his own creature. How high a crime was 
 this ! Know then you have been a great transgressor, a 
 grievous revolter, and now therefore yield yourself lo him 
 with a melting, broken heart, or you do nothing. 
 
 2. It must be done wiih great deliberation; not as the 
 mere eflect of a sudden fri^jht. What is done in a rash 
 haste, may be as soon undone. Leisurely consider, and 
 take the whole compass of the case ; weigh with \'ourselves 
 the mentioned grounds upon which you are to yield your- 
 selves, and the ends you are to do it for, that things may 
 beset right between him and you, that you ma v return 
 into your own natural place and .station, that you may 
 be again stated in that subordination to j'^our sovereign 
 Lord which filly belongs to you ; that he mav have his 
 right which he claims, and you the mercy which you need. 
 Here is place for much consideration. And when Israel 
 is complained of as less willing to acknowledge God for 
 his Owner and Master, than the ox and ass were to ac- 
 knowledge theirs, all this is resolved into this, that the 
 people did not consider, Isa. i. 
 
 3. It must be done with judgment, which is the effect 
 of such consideration. When all things have been well 
 weighed that belongs to this case, then let this formed judg- 
 ment pass, "Lord, I ought to be thine, and no other's." 
 Say to him hereupon, with a convinced judgment and con- 
 science, " O God, I surrender m3'self, as now seeing none 
 hath that right in me that thou hast." When the love 
 of Christ becomes constraining upon souls, it is because 
 Ihey thus judge, that they ought no longer to live to 
 
 y Jer. xxxi. 13, 19. 
 
 themselves, but to him, &c. 2 Cor. v. 14, 15. These 
 things last mentioned will imply a rectified mind, which 
 must be ingredient into this transaction, else it will be de- 
 fective throughout. 
 
 4. It mu.st be done with a fulness of consent; and herein 
 it chiefly consists, when the soul says, "Lord, I Eim now 
 most entirely willing to be thine." This is your yielding 
 yourselves. And hereby the covenant is struck between 
 God and you; which consists in the expressed consent of 
 the parties covenanting in the matters about which the co- 
 venant is. This covenant is about the parlies themselves 
 who covenant, as the conjugal covenant is, which resem- 
 bles it ; viz. that they shall be one another's. God hath 
 expressed his consent in his word and Gospel, making 
 therein the first overture to you. When you rejoin your 
 own consent, the thing is done ; this being the sum of his 
 covenant, " I will be your God, and you shall be my peo- 
 ple," as in many places of Scripture it is gathered up. 
 When therefore, as God hath openly testified his willing- 
 ness to be their God who shall accept and lake him to be 
 so, you also are willing, and do consent too, you do now 
 lake hold on his covenant, matters are agreed between him 
 and you ; and you may take those words as spoken to you 
 particularly, I have entered into covenant with thee, and 
 thou art become mine, Ezek. xvi. 8. But then you must 
 take notice that this is lo be done wiih a-fvll consent, which 
 that is said lo be which determines you, though it be not 
 absolutely perfect. No grace in any faculty is perfect in 
 this life. But as in human afiairs, that will is said to be 
 full, which is the spring of answerable, following actions, 
 so it is here. If a man have some inclination to this or that, 
 and do it not, it goes for nothing ; if he do it, his will is said 
 to be full, though he have some remaining disinclination. 
 You may be said to yield yourselves to God, with a full 
 consent, when you live afterwards as one devoted to him. 
 
 5. Your yielding yourselves to God must carr}' life in it, 
 as the following words signify; "Yield yourselves to God, 
 as those that are alive from the dead." It must be a vital 
 act, and have vigour in it. You must be capable of making 
 that true judgment of your case, as 'tisr. 11. "of reckoning 
 truly that you are dead lo sin, but alive to God through 
 Jesus Christ." Do it as feeling life to spring in j'our souls 
 towards God in j'our yielding yourselves to him. What ! 
 will you offer God a carcass 1 not the "living sacrifice," 
 which you see is required, Rom. xii. 1. Beg earnestly for 
 his own Spirit of life and power, that may enable you to 
 offer up a living soul to the living God. 
 
 6. There must be faith in j'our yielding yourselves. 
 For it is a committing or intrusting yourselves to God, 
 with the expectation of being saved and made happy by 
 him. So Scripture speaks of it, 2 Tim. ii. 12. I know 
 whom I have believed, (or trusted,) and that he is able to 
 keep what I have committed to him against that day. 
 'Tis suitable to the gracious nature of God, to his excellent 
 greatness, to his design, to the mediatorship of his Son, to 
 his promise and gospel-covenant, and to your own neces- 
 sities, and the exigency of your own lost, undone state, 
 that j-^ou so yield 3''ourselves to him, as a poor creature 
 read^'' lo perish, expecting, not for your sake but his own, 
 to be accepted, and to find mercy with him. You do him 
 the honour which he seeks, and which is most worthv of 
 a God, the most excellent, and a self-sufficient Being, when 
 you do thus. You answer the intendment of the whole 
 gospel-constitution, which bears this inscription, To the 
 praise of the slory of his. grace, tf-c. 'Tis honourable to him 
 when you take his word, that they that believe in his Son, 
 shall not perish but have everlasting life. You herein set 
 to your seal that he is true, and the more fully, and with 
 the more significancy, when upon the credit of it you yield 
 yourselves, with an assurance that he will not destroy or 
 reject a poor creature that yields to him, and casts itself 
 upon his mercy. 
 
 7. Another ingredient into this yielding of yourselves 
 must be love. As faith, in your yielding yourselves to 
 God, aims at your own welfare and salvation, so love, in 
 doing it, intends his service, and all the duty to him you 
 are capable of doing him. You must be able to give this 
 as the true reason of your act, and lo resolve it into this 
 principle ; " I yield myself to God, because I love him,
 
 430 
 
 YIELD YOURSELVES TO GOD. 
 
 and from the unfeigned love I bear to him ; to tell the 
 world, if there were occasion, he hath captivated my heart 
 with his excellencies and his love, and hereupon, having 
 nothing else, I tender myself to him ; to tell himself, " Lord, 
 thou knowest all things, thou knowest that I love thee ; 
 and because I do, I present myself to thee ; 'tis all I can 
 do. I wish myself ten thousand times better for thy 
 bles!5ed sake ; and if I had in me all the excellencies of 
 many thousand angels, I were too mean a thing, and such 
 as nothing but thy own goodness could count worthy thine 
 acceptance; because I love thee I covet to be near thee, 
 I covet to be thine, I covet to lead my life with thee, to 
 dwell in thy presence ; far be it from me to be as without 
 thee in the world as heretofore. I love thee, O Lord, my 
 strength, because thine own perfections highly deserve it, 
 and because thou hast heard my voice, and hast delivered 
 my soul from death, mine eyes from tears, and my feet 
 from falling, and I yield myself to thee, because 1 love 
 thee. I make an offer of myself to be thy servant, thy 
 servant, O Lord, thou hast loosed my bonds ; and now I 
 desire to bind myself in new ones to thee, that are never to 
 be loosed." And you can make no doubt but that it ought 
 to be done therefore with dispositions and a temper suitable 
 to the state you are now willing to come into, that of a de- 
 voted servant; viz. 
 
 8. With great reverence and humility. For, consider to 
 whom you are tendering yourself; to the "high and lofty 
 One that inhabiteth eternity ;" to him that hath heaven for 
 his throne, and earth for his footstool; and in comparison 
 of whom all the inhabitants of the world are but as grass- 
 hoppers, and the nations of the earth as the drop of a bucket, 
 and the dust of the balance, &c. Yea, to him against whom 
 you have sinned, and before whose pure eyes you cannot, 
 in yourself, but appear most offensively impure; so that 
 you have reason to be ashamed, and blush to lift up your 
 eyes before him. 
 
 9. And yet it surely ought to be with great jov and 
 gladness of heart, that he hath expressed himself willing to 
 accept such as you, and that he hath made you willing to 
 yield yourselves. The very thought should make your 
 heart leap and spring within you, that he should ever have 
 bespoken such as we are to yield ourselves to him, when 
 he might have neglected us, and let us wander endlessly, 
 without ever looking after us more. How should it glad 
 your hearts this day, to hav^e such a message brought 
 you from the great God, and which you find is written in 
 his own word, to yield yourselves to him ! Should not 
 your hearts answer with wonder; "And, blessed Lord! 
 art thou willing again to have to do with us, who left thee 
 having no cause, and who returning can be of no use to 
 thee!" O blessed be God, that we may yield ourselves 
 back unto him ! that we are invited and encouraged to it. 
 And you have cause to bless God, and rejoice, if this day 
 you feel your heart willing to yield yourselves to him, and 
 become his. Do you indeed find yourselves willing 1 
 You are willing in the day of his power.^ This is the day 
 of his power upon your hearts. Many are called and 
 refuse; he often stretches out his hands, and no man re- 
 gards.* Perhaps you have been called upon often before 
 this day to do this same thing, and neglected it, had no 
 heart to it; and he might have said to you, " Now I will 
 never treat with you more; if you should call, I will not 
 hear ; if you stretch out your hands, I will not regard it, 
 but laugh at your destruction, and mock when your fear 
 Cometh." But if now he is pleased to call once more, 
 your hearts do answer; " Lord, here we are, we are now^ 
 ready to surrender ourselves;" you may conclude he hath 
 poured out his Spirit upon you. The Spirit of the Lord 
 is now moving upon this a.ssembly, this is indeed a joyful 
 day, the d.iy which he hath himself made, and you ou2l?t 
 to rejoice and be glad in it.t When the people in David's 
 days offered of their substance to God for the service of his 
 house, 'tis said. The people rejoiced for that they offered 
 willingly: and David, we are told, blessed God before 
 all the congregation — saying. Thine, O Lord, is the great- 
 ness and the power — But who am I, and what is my 
 people, that we should be able to offer so willingly after 
 this sortl for all things come of thee and of thine own 
 
 z Psal c\. 3. a Prov. i. 24. b Psal. cxviii. 
 
 c 1 Chroii. xxix. 9. 
 
 have we given theci^ If you are this day willing to ofler 
 yourselves, how much is this a greater thing ! and it 
 comes of him, and 'tis of his own you are now giving him ; 
 for he had a most unquestionable right in you before. 
 
 10. You should do it with solemnity .d For have you 
 ever had a business of greater importance to transact in all 
 your days 1 If you were to dispose of an estate, or a child, 
 would you not have all things be as express and clear as 
 may be? and would they not insist to have it so, with 
 whom you deal in any such afl^air? And is there not a 
 solemnity belonging to all such transactions'? especially if 
 you were to dispose of yourself 1 as in the conjugal cove- 
 nant ; though that is to be but for this short uncertain time 
 of life ; so as that the relation you enter into to-day, may 
 be by death dissolved and broken off again to-morrow ; 
 how much more explicit, clear, and solemn, should this 
 your covenanting with God in Christ be, wherein you are 
 to make over your soul to him, and for eternity"? You are 
 to become his, under the bond of an everlasting covenant. 
 You are entering a relation never to be broken off. This 
 God is to be your God for ever and ever, and upon the 
 same terms you are to be his. Is your immortal soul of 
 less account with you than the temporal concernments of 
 a mortal child that you are placing out but for a term ol 
 years that soon expires! yea, or than a piece of ground, or 
 a horse, or a sheep, about which how punctual and express 
 are your bargains and contracts wont to be 1 Or are only 
 the matters of your soul, and wherein you have to do with 
 the great God, to be slightly managed, or to be huddled up 
 in confusion, or to be slid over in silent intimations 1 'Tis 
 true, that so express and solemn dealing in yielding and 
 giving up yourselves to God, is not needful on his part, 
 who understands sincerity without any expression of 
 yours ; but 'tis needful on your part, that a deep and last- 
 ing impression may be made upon your spirits ; which it 
 you be sincere, you will not only feel yourselves to need, 
 but your own temper and inclination will prompt you to 
 it; accounting you can never be under bonds strong and 
 sure enough to him. You will not only apprehend neces- 
 sity, but will relish and taste pleasure in any such trans- 
 action with the blessed God, in avouching him to be your 
 God, and yourself to be his. The more solemn it is, the 
 more grateful it will be to you. 
 
 Do so then. Fall before his throne; prostrate yourself 
 at his footstool; and having chosen your fit season, when 
 nothing may interrupt you; and having shut up yourself 
 with him, pour out your soul to him ; tell him you are now 
 come on purpose to offer yourselves to him as his own. 
 
 that you would not let this night pass without doing so ! 
 Tell him you have too long neglected him, and forgotten 
 to whom j^ou belonged ; humbly beseech him for his par- 
 don, and that he will now accept of you, for your Re- 
 deemer's sake, as being through his grace resolved never 
 to live so great a stranger to him, or be such a wanderer 
 from him more. And when you have done so, remember 
 the time; let it be with you a noted memorable day, as 
 you would be sure to keep the day in memory when you 
 became such a one's servant, or tenant, or your marriage 
 day. Renew this your agreement with God often, but 
 forget it never. Perhaps some may say, " But what needs 
 all this?" were we not once devoted and given up to God 
 in baptism? and is not that sufficient! To what purpose 
 should we do again a thing that hath once been so solemnly 
 done. 
 
 But here I desire you to consider. Are you never to be- 
 come the Lord's by your own choice? Are you always to 
 be Christians only by another's Christianity, not by your 
 own ? And again, have you not broken your baptismal 
 vow? have you not forgot it for the most part ever since? 
 
 1 am afraid too many never think of any such matter at 
 all, that ever they were devoted to God by others, but only 
 upon such an occasion as this, to make it an excuse that 
 they may never do such a thing themselves. And consider, 
 were these Christian Romans on whom the apostle presses 
 this duty never baptized, think you? Read over the fore- 
 going part of the chapter, wherein you find him putting 
 them in mind that they had been baptized into Christ's 
 death, and buried with "him in baptism, and that therefore 
 
 d See the treatise of Self-dedication.
 
 YIELD YOURSELVES TO GOD. 
 
 431 
 
 this was to be an argument to them why they should yield 
 themselves to God ; not why they should not. Whereloi e 
 our way is now plain and open to what we are further to 
 do, viz. 
 
 2. To apply this practical doctrine, and press the pre- 
 cept further upon you, which hath been opened to you, and 
 pressed by parts in some measure already, in our insist- 
 ing on the several heads, which you have seen do belong 
 to it; and are one way or other comprehended in it. 
 Which will therefore make this latter part of our work the 
 shorter, and capable of being despatched in the fewer 
 words ; and with blessed effect, if the Spirit of the living 
 God shall vouch.safe to co-operate, and deal with your 
 hearts and mine. Shall we then all agree upon this thing? 
 Shall we unite in one resolution, " We will be the Lord's." 
 Shall everyone say in his own heart, " For my part, I will, 
 and so will I, and so will I V Come now, one and all. 
 This is no unlawful confederacy, 'tis a blessed combina- 
 tion ! Come then, let us join ourselves to the Lord in a 
 perpetual covenant, not to be forgotten. <= With whatso- 
 ever after-solemnity you may renew this obligation and 
 bond of God upon your souls, as I hope you will do it, 
 every one apart, in your closets, or in any corner, and you 
 cannot do it too fully, or too often ; yet let us now all re- 
 solve the thing; and this assembly make a joint-surrender 
 and oblation of itself to the great God our sovereign right- 
 ful Lord, through our blessed Redeemer and Mediator, by 
 the eternal Spirit, (which I hope is breathing and at work 
 among us,) as one living sacrifice, as all of us alive from 
 the dead, to be for ever sacred to him ! O blessed assem- 
 bly ! O happy act and deed ! With how grateful and well 
 pleasing an odour will the kindness and duiifulne.ss of this 
 offering ascend, and he received above ! God will accept, 
 heaven will rejoice, angels will concur, and gladly fall in 
 with us. We hereby adjoin ourselves in relation, and in 
 heart and spirit, " to the general assembly, to the church 
 of the first-born ones written in heaven, to the innumera- 
 ble company of angels, and to the spirits of just men made 
 perfect," and within a little while shall be actually among 
 them. Is it possible there should be now among us any 
 dissenting vote 7 Consider, 
 
 1. 'Tis a plain and unquestionable thing you are pressed 
 unto : a thing that admits of no dispute, and against which 
 you have nothing to say, and about which you cannot but 
 be already convinced. And 'tis a matter full of danger, 
 and upon which tremendous consequences depend, to go 
 on in any practice, or in any neglect, against a conviction 
 of judgment and conscience. For your own heart and 
 conscience mxist condemn you if you consider, and it be- 
 trays you if you consider not. How learful a thing is it for 
 a man to carry his own doom in his own bosom ! to go up 
 and down the world with a self-condemning heart, if it 
 be awake, and which if it be not, yet cannot sleep always, 
 and must awake with the greater terror at length. And 
 in so plain case 'tis most certainly God's deputy, and 
 speaks his mind : If our hearts condemn us, God is great- 
 er than our hearts, f &c. 
 
 2. 'Tis that therefore the refusal whereof none of you 
 would avow. Who among us can have the confidence to 
 stand forth and say, I will be none of the Lord's 1 Would 
 any man be content to go with this written upon his fore- 
 head from day to day 1 And doth not that signify such a 
 refusal to be a shameful thing "? That must needs be an 
 ill temper of mind which one would be ashamed any one 
 should know. 
 
 3. And 'tis a mean thing to dissemble, to be willing to 
 be thought and coimted what we are not, or do what in 
 truth we do not. 
 
 4. And considering what inspection we are under, 'tis a 
 vain thing. For do we not know that " eyes which are as 
 a flame of fire," behold us, and pierce into our very souls 1 
 Do we not know " all things in us are naked and manifest 
 
 c Jer. I. 6. fl Jobniii. 20. 
 
 to him with whom we have to do V s and that he discerns 
 it, if there be any heart among us that is not sincere in 
 this thing 1 
 
 5. Consider that this is the very design of the Gospel 
 you live under. What doth it signify or intend, but to 
 recall apostate creatures back again to God 1 What is the 
 Christian religion you profess, but a state of devotedne.ss 
 to God, under the conduct and through the mediation of 
 Christ 1 You frustrate the Gospel, and make your religion 
 a nullity and an empty name, till you do this. 
 
 6. And how will you lift up your heads at last in the 
 great day"? and before this God the Judge of all 1 You 
 cannot now plead ignorance. If perhaps any among you 
 have not been formerly so expressly called, and urged to 
 this yielding yourselves to God ; now you are: and from 
 his own plain word 'tis charged upon you. Will not this 
 be remembered hereafter "? What will you say when the 
 great God, whose creature you are, speaks to you with a 
 voice of thunder, and bids you gird up your loins, and 
 give him an answer 1 " Were you not, on such a day, in 
 such a place, demanded and claimed in my name 1 Were 
 you not told, were you not convinced, you ought to yield 
 yourselves to me 1 and yet you did it not. Are you pre- 
 pared to contest with your Maker 1 Where is your right, 
 where is your power, to stand against me in this contest V 
 
 7. But if you sincerely yield yourselves, the main con- 
 troversy is at an end between the great God and you. All 
 your former sins are pardoned and done away at once. 
 Those glad tidings you have often heard that import no- 
 thing but "glory to God in the highest, peace on earth, 
 and good will towards men," plainly show that the great 
 God whom you had offended, hath no design to destroy 
 you, but only to make you yield, and give him back his 
 own. Though you have formerly lived a wandering life, 
 and been as a vagabond on the earth from your true owner, 
 it will be all forgotten. How readily was the returning 
 prodigal received ! and so will you. How quiet rest will 
 you have this night, when upon such terms there is a re- 
 conciliation between God and )'ou ! You have given him 
 his own, and he is pleased, and most of all for this, that he 
 hath you now to save you. Y'ou were his to destroy be- 
 fore, now you are his to save. He could easily destroy 3'ou 
 against your will, but 'tis only with your will, he having 
 made you willing, that he must save you. And his bid- 
 ding you yield, implies his willingness to do so. O how 
 much of Gospel is there in this invitation to you to yield 
 yourselves to God ! consider it as the voice of grace. Will 
 he that bids a poor wretch yield itself, reject or destroy 
 when it doth so 1 
 
 8. And how happily may you now live the rest of your 
 days in this world. You will live under his care, for will 
 he not take care of his own, those that are of his own 
 house 1 An infidel would. You are now of his family, 
 under his immediate government, and under his continual 
 blessing. And were you now to give an account where 
 you have been to-day, and what you have been doing ; if 
 you sa}', you have engaged this da}' in a solemn treaty 
 with the Lord of heaven and earth, about yielding your- 
 selves to him ; and it be further asked, "Well, and what 
 was the issue *? Have you agreed 1" Must you, any of you, 
 be obliged by the truth of the case to say, " No 7" Aston- 
 ishing answer ! What! hast thou been treating with the 
 great God, the God of thy life, and not agreed "? What, 
 man! did he demand of thee any unreasonable thing? 
 " Only to yield myself." Why, that was in all the world 
 the most reasonable thing. Wretched creature, whither 
 now wilt thou go? What wilt thou do with thyself? 
 Where wilt thou lay thy hated head ? But if you can say, 
 " Blessed be God, I gladl\- agreed to the proposal ; he gave 
 me the grace not to deny him :" then may it be said this 
 was a good daj^'s work, and you will have cause to bless 
 God for this day as long as you have a day to live. 
 
 g Heb. iv. la.
 
 THE 
 
 REDEEMER'S TEARS 
 
 WEPT OVER LOST SOULS. 
 
 A TREATISE ON LUKE XIX. 41, 42. 
 
 WITH AN APPENDIX, 
 
 WHEREIN SOMEWHAT IS OCCASIONALLY DISCOURSED, CONCERNING THE BLASPHEMY AGAINST THE HOLY GHOST, AND 
 HOW GOD IS SAID TO WILL THE SALVATION OF THEM THAT PERISH. 
 
 PREFACE. 
 
 When spiritual judgments do more eminently befall a people, great outward calamities do often ensue. We know 
 it was so in the instance which the text here insisted on refers to. But it is not always so; the connexion between 
 these two sorts of judgments is not absolutely certain and necessary, yea, and is more frequent with the contraries 
 of each. For this reason therefore, and because judgments of the former kind are so unexpressibly greater, and more 
 tremendous, this discourse insists only upon them, about which serious monitions both have a clearer ground, and 
 are of greater importance ; and wholly waives the latter. 
 
 Too many are apt first to fancy similitudes between the state of things with one people and another, and then to 
 draw inferences ; being perhaps imposed on by a strong imagination in both ; which yet must pass with them for a 
 spirit of prophecy, and perhaps they take it not well, if it do not so with others too. It were indeed the work of an- 
 other prophet certainly to accommodate and make application of what was spoken by a former to a distinct time and 
 people. 'Tis enough for us to learn from such sayings as this of our Saviour, those rules of life and practice, such 
 instruction and cautions as are common to all times, without arrogating to ourselves his prerogative, of foretelling 
 events that shall happen in this or that. The affectation of venturing upon futurity, and foreboding direful things to 
 kingdoms and nations, may, besides its being without sufficient ground, proceed from some or other very bad principle. 
 Dislike of the present methods of Providence, weariness and impatiency of our present condition, too great proneness 
 to wish what we take upon us to predict, the prediction importing more heat of anger than certainty of foresight, a 
 wrathful spirit, that would presently fetch down fire from heaven upon sxich as favour not our inclinations and de- 
 sires, so that (as the poet speaks) whole cities should be overturned at our request, if the heavenly powers would 
 be so easy, as to comply with such furious imprecations : a temper that ill agrees with humanity itself, not to care 
 at what rate of common calamity and misery a purchase be made of our own immunity from sufiierings. Nay, to be 
 willing to run the most desperate hazard in the case, and even covet a general ruin to others, upon a mere apprehend- 
 ed possibility that our case may be mended by it ; when it may be more probable to become much worse. But O how 
 disagreeable is it to the Spirit of our merciful Lord and Saviour, whose name we bear, upon any terms to delight in 
 human miseries ! The greatest honour men of that complexion are capable of doing the Christian name, were to 
 disclaim it. Can such angry heats have place in Christian breasts, as shall render them the well-pleased spectators, 
 yea authors, of one another's calamities and ruin 1 Can the tears that issued from these compassionate, blessed eyes, 
 upon the foresight of Jerusalem's woful catastrophe, do nothing towards the quenching of these flames'? 
 
 But I add, that the too-intent fixing of our thoughts upon any supposable events in this world, argues, at least, a 
 narrow, carnal mind, that draws and gathers all things into time, as despairing of eternity; and reckons no better 
 state of things considerable, that is not to be brought about under their own present view, in this world ; as if it were 
 uncertain or insignificant, that there shall be unexceptionable, eternal order and rectitude in another. 
 
 'Tis again as groundless, and may argue as ilia mind, to prophecy smooth and pleasant things, in a time of abound- 
 ing wickedness. The safer, middle course, is, without God's express warrant, not to prophesy at all, but as we have 
 opportunity, to warn and instruct men, with all meekness and long-sufiering ; for which the Lord's ordinary messen- 
 gers can never want his warrant. And, after our blessed Saviour's most imitable example, to scatter our tears over the 
 impenitent, even upon the (too probable) apprehension of the temporal judgments which hang over their heads, but 
 most of all upon the account of their liableness to the more dreadful ones of the other state ; which in the following 
 tliscourse, I hope, it is made competently evident, this lamentation of our Saviour hath ultimate reference unto. For 
 the other, though we know them to be due, and most highly deserved ; yet concerning the actual infliction of them, 
 even upon obstinate and persevering sinners, we cannot pronounce. We have no settled constitution, or lule, by 
 which we can conclude it, any more than that outward felicity, or prosperity, shall be the constant portion of good men 
 in this world. The great God hath reserved to himself a latitude of acting more arbitrarily, both as to promise ? and 
 thrcatenings of this nature. If the accomplishment of either could be certainly expected, it should be of the promises
 
 PREFACE. 433 
 
 rather; because as to promised rewards God is pleased to make himself debtor, and a right accrues to them to whom 
 the promise is made, if either the promise be absolute, or made with any certain condition, that is actually performed. 
 But God is always the creditor paina, the right to punish, remains wholly in himself, the exacting whereof he may 
 therefore suspend, without any appearance of wrong, as seemeth good unto him. If, therefore, he may withhold 
 temporal blessings from good and pious men, to which they have a remote and fundamental right, as having reserved 
 to himself the judgment of the fit time and season of bestowing them ; much more doth it belong to his wisdom, to fix 
 the boimds of his patience and long-suffering; and determine the season of animadverting upon more open and in- 
 solent offenders by temporal punishments, according as shall make most for the ends of his government, and finally 
 prove more advantageous to the dignity and glory of it. The practice, therefore, of our Saviour, in speaking so posi- 
 tively concerning the approaching fall and ruin of Jerusalem, is no pattern unto us. He spake not only with the 
 knowledge of a prophet, but with the authority of a judge: and his words may be considered both as a prediction 
 and a sentence. We can pretend to speak in neither capacity touching things of this nature. 
 
 But for the everlasting pimishments in another world, that belong to unreconciled sinners, who refuse to know the 
 thing's of their peace, the gospel-constitution hath made the connexion firm and unalterable, between their continuing, 
 unrepented wickedness, and those punishments. When, therefore, we behold the impudent, provoking sins of the 
 age wherein we live, against the natural law of our Creator, persisted in with all the marks of infidelity and obdu- 
 ration against the truth and grace that so gloriously shine forth in the Gospel of our Redeemer, we may (after him) 
 speak positively. He that believeth not shall be damned — is condemned already ; shall not see life, but the wrath of God 
 abideth on him. If ye believe not that I am He, ye shall die in your sins. Except ye repent, ye shall all likewise 
 perish. And here, how doth it become us too, in conformity to his great example, to .speak compassionately, and 
 as those that, in some measure, know the terror of the Lord ! O how doleful is the case, when we consider the in- 
 consistent notions of many, with, not this or that particular doctrine, or article of the Christian faith, but with the 
 whole sum of Christianity, the atheism of some, the avowed mere theism of others ! The former sort far outdoing 
 the Jewish infidelity. Which people, besides the rational means of demonstrating a Deity common to them with the 
 rest of mankind, could, upon the account of many things peculiar to themselves, be in no suspense concerning this 
 matter. How great was their reverence of the books of the Old Testament, especially those of Moses ! their know- 
 ledge most certain of plain, and most convincing matter of fact. How long the government of their nation had been an 
 immediate theocracy ! what evident tokens of the Divine presence had been among them from age to age ! in how 
 wonderful a manner they were brought out of Egypt, through the Red sea, and conducted all along through the 
 wilderness ! how glorious an appearance and manifestation of himself God afforded to them at the giving of the 
 law, upon mount Sinai ! and by how apparent exertions of the Divine power the former inhabitants were expelled, 
 and they settled in the promised land ! Upon all this they could be in no more doubt concerning the existence of 
 a Deitv,'than of the sun in the firmament. Whereas we are put to prove, in a Christian nation, that this world, and 
 its continual successive inhabitants, have a wise intelligent Maker and Lord, and that all things came not into the 
 state wherein they are, by (no man can imagine what) either fatal necessity or casualty. 
 
 But both sorts agree in (what I would principally remark) the disbelief of Christ being the Messiah. And so, 
 with both, the whole business of Christianity must be a fable and a cheat. And thus it is determined, not by men 
 that have made it their business to consider and examine the matter, (for the plain evidence of things cannot but 
 even obtrude a conviction upon anv diligent inquirer,) but by such as have only resolved to consider ; who have 
 before-hand settled their purpose, never to" be awed by the apprehension of an invisible Ruler, into any course of life 
 that shall bear hard upon sensual inclination, have already chosen their master, enslaved themselves to brutal appe- 
 tite, and are so habituated to that mean servility, made it so connatural, so deeply inward to themselves, so much 
 their very life, as that through the pre-apprehended pain and uneasiness of a violent rupture, in tearing themselves 
 from themselves, it is become their interest not to admit any serious thought. Any such thought they are concerned 
 (they reckon) to fence against, as against the point of a sword ; it strikes at their only life, the brute must die, that (by a 
 happy TTa^tyycitaia) they maybe again born men. That is the design of Christianity, to restore men to themselves 
 again; and because it hath this tendency, it is therefore not to be endured. And all the little residue of human wit 
 which is yet left them, (which because the sensual nature is predominant, is pressed into a subserviency to the interest 
 and defence of a brutal life,) only serves them to turn every thing of serious religion into ridicule, and being them- 
 selves resolved never to be reasoned into any seriousness, they have the confidence to make the trial, whether all 
 other men can be jested out of it. 
 
 If this were not the case, if such persons could allow themselves to think, and debate the matter, how certain 
 would the victory, how glorious would the triumph be, of the Christian religion over all the little cavils they are 
 wont to allege against it ! Let their own consciences testify in the case, whether ever they have applied themselves 
 to any solemn disquisition concerning this important affair, but only contented themselves with being able, amidst 
 transient discourse, to cast out, now and then, some oblique glance, against somewhat or other that was appendant, or 
 more remotely belonging, to the Christian profession, (in so much haste as not to stay for an answer,) and because 
 they may have surprised, sometimes, one or other, not so ready at a quick repartee, or who reckoned the matter to 
 require solemn and somewhat larger discourse, (which they have not had the patience to hear,) whether they have 
 not gone away puft and swollen with the conceit, that they have w'hitlled Christianity away, quite off the stase, with 
 their profane breath; as if its firm and solid strength, wherein it stands stable, as a rock of adamant, depended 
 upon this or that sudden, occasional, momentary effort on the behalf of it. But if such have a mind to try whether 
 any thing can be strongly said in defence of that sacred profession, let them considerately peruse what hath been 
 written by divers to that purpose. And not to engage them in any very tedious longsome task, if they like not to travel 
 through the somewhat abstruser work of the most learned Hugo Grotius, de Veritatc Christians Religionis, or the 
 more voluminous Huetius, his Demonstratio Evangelica, or divers others that might be named, let them but paiientiy 
 and leisurely read over that later very plain and clear, but nervous and solid, discourse of Dr. Parker, upon this sub- 
 ject, and judge then, whether the Christian religion want evidence, or whether nothing can be alleged, why we of 
 this age, so long after Christ's appearance upon the stage of the world, are to reckon ourselves obliged to profess 
 Christianity, and observe the rules of that holy profession. 
 
 And really if, upon utmost search, it .shall be found to have firm truth at the bottom, it makes itself so necessary, 
 (which must be acknowledged part of that truth,) that any one that hath wit enough to be author of a jest, might un- 
 derstand it to be a thing not to be jested with. It trifles with no man. And, where it is once sufficiently propounded, 
 leaves it no longer indifferent whether we will be of it or no. Supposing it true, it is strange if we can pretend it 
 not to be sufficiently propounded to us; or that we are destitute of sufficient means to come by the knowledge of that 
 truth ! Wa> this religion instituted only for one nation or age 1 Did the Son of God descend from heaven, put on 
 flesh, and die 1 had we an incarnate Deit-j- conversant among men on earth, and made a sacrifice for the sins of 
 men "? and hath he left the world at liberty, whether, upon any notice hereof, they should inquire and concern them- 
 selves about him or no 1 Being incarnate, he could not, as such, be ever\' where; nor was it fit he should be long 
 here, or needful (and, therefore, not fit) he should die often. It was condescension enough that he vouchsafed
 
 434 PREFACE. 
 
 once to appear, in so mean and self-abasing a form, and offered himself to pm away sin by the sacrifice of himself. 
 And whereas he hath himself founded a dominion over us in his own blood, did die, and revive, and rise again, that 
 he might be Lord of the living and of the dead; and the eternal Father hath hereupon highly exalted him, given him 
 a name above every name, that at his name every knee should bow, and that all should conl'ess that he is Lord, 
 to the praise and glory of God ; and hath required that all should honour the Son as himself is to be honoured ; hath 
 given him power over all flesh, and made him head of all things to the church: was it ever intended men should, ge- 
 nerally, remain exempt from obligation to observe, believe, and obey him 1 was it his own intention to waive, or not 
 insist upon, his own most sacred, and so dearly acquired rights 1 to quit his claim to the greatest part of mankind 1 
 Why did he then issue out his commission as soon as he was risen from the dead, to leach all nations, to proselyte the 
 world to himself, to baptize them into his name, (with that of the Father and the Holy Ghost 1 O the great and 
 venerable names that are named upon professing Christians !) Could it be his intention, to leave it lawful to men to 
 choose this, or any, or no religion, as their humours, or fancies, or lusts should prompt them; to disregard and deride 
 his holy doctrines, violate and trample upon his just and equal laws, reject and contemn his offered favours and 
 mercy, despise and profane his sacred institutions ! When he actually makes his demand, and lays his claim, what 
 amazing guilt, how swift destruction, must they incur, that dare adventure to deny the Lord that bought them ! And 
 they that shall do it, among a Christianized people, upon the pretended insufiiciency of the revelation they have 
 of him, do but heighten the affront and increase the provocation. 'Tis to charge the whole Christian institution 
 with foolery, as pretending to oblige men, when they cannot know to what, how, or upon what ground they should 
 be obliged ; to pronoimce the means and methods inept, and vain, which he hath thought sufficient (and only fit) 
 for the propagating and continuing Christianity in the world ; to render the rational reception of it from age to age 
 impossible, in his appointed way ; or unless men should be taught by angels, or voices from heaven, or that miracles 
 should be so very frequent and common, as thereby also to become useless to their end ; and so would be to make the 
 whole frame of Christian religion an idle impertinency ; and, in reference to its avowed design, a self-repugnant 
 thing ; and consequently were to impute folly to him who is the Wisdom of God. 
 
 And how are other things known, of common concernment, and whereof an immediate knowledge is as little pos- 
 sible "? Can a man satisfy himself that he hath a title to an estate, conveyed down to him by very ancient writings, 
 the witnesses whereof are long since dead and gone 1 or that he is obliged by laws made many an age ago 1 Or could 
 any records be preserved with more care and concern, than those wherein our religion lies '? or be more secure from 
 designed or material depravation 1 But this is no place to reason these things. Enough is said by otners, referred to 
 before. I only further say, if any that have the use of their understandings, living in a Christian nation, think to justi- 
 fy their infidelity and disobedience to the Son of God, by pretending they had no suflJcient means to know him to be 
 so, the excuse will avail them alike, as that did him, who insolently said, Who is the Lord, that I should obey his 
 voice 1 I know not the Lord, neither will I, &c. For have not we as good means to know who Christ is, as the 
 Egyptians at that time had, to know who was the God of Israel, though afterwards he was more known by the judg- 
 ments which he executed 1 Although the knowledge of the only true God be natural, and the obligation thereto com- 
 mon to them ; yet the indisposition to use their understanding this way, is so great and general, and the express reve- 
 lation that Jesus Christ was the Son of God, requires so much less labour to understand it, than there is in arguing 
 out the existence and attributes of God, by an inhabile, sluggish mind, that the difference cannot be great, if any, on 
 that side. This latter only needs the inquiry, Avhence the revelation comes ; which as it is not difficult in itself, so 
 this occasion, viz. of ils being proposed, cloth invite and urge to it; whereas the generality of the pagan world have 
 little of external inducement, leading them into inquiries concerning the true God. Therefore, all circumstances 
 considered, I see not how they that live under the Gospel can be thought to have less advantage and obligation to 
 own Jesus of Nazareth to be the Son of God, than the rest of the world, to own the only living and true God ; or 
 that the former should be less liable to the revelation of the wrath of God from heaven for holding supernatural truth 
 in unrighteousness, than the other, fordoing so injurious violence to that which is merely natural. Unto what seve- 
 rities, then, of the Divine wrath and justice, even of the highest kind, do multitudes lie open in our days. 
 
 For besides those (much fewer) mental, or notional, infidels, that believe not the principles of the Christian religion, 
 against the clearest evidence, how vastly greater is the number of them that are so in heart and practice, against 
 their professed belief! that live in utter estrangement from God, as without him in the world, or in open enmity against 
 him, and contrariety to the known rules of the religion they profess! How many that understand nothing of its 
 principal and plainest doctrines ! as if nothing were requisite to distinguish the Christian from the pagan world, 
 more than an empty name; or as if the Redeemer of sinners had died upon the cross, that men might more securely 
 remain alienated from the life of God, not to reconcile and reduce them to him! or that they might with safety in- 
 dulge appetite, mind earthly things, make the world their god, gratify the flesh, and make provision to fulfil the lusts 
 of it, defy heaven, affront their Maker, live in malice, envy, hatred to one another! not to bless them, by turning 
 them from these impieties and iniquities ! As if it were so obscurely hinted, as that it could not be taken notice of, 
 that the grace of God, which bringeth salvation to all men hath appeared, teaching them to deny ungodliness and 
 worldly lusts, and to live soberly, righteously, and godly in this present world, so looking for the blessed hope. And 
 that Christ gave himself for us, to redeem us from all iniquity, and to purify us to himself a peculiar people, zealous 
 of good works! How many, again, are Christians, they know not why I upon the same terms that others are Maho- 
 metans, because it is the religion of their country, by fate or by accident, not by their own choice and judgment ! 
 The same inconsideration makes them be Christians, that makes others be none. 
 
 And now, shall our Redeemer be left to weep alone over these perishing souls 1 have we no tears to spend upon this 
 doleful subject 1 Oh that our heads were waters, and our eyes fountains ! Is it nothing to us, that multitudes are sink- 
 ing, going down into perdition, under the name of Christian, under the seal of baptism, from under the means of life 
 and salvation ! perishing ! and can we do nothing to prevent if? We know they must perish that do not repent and 
 turn to God, and love him above all, even with all their hearts and souls, and mind and might; that do not believe in 
 his Son and pay him homage, as their rightful Lord, sincerely subjecting themselves to his laws and government. 
 But this they will not understand, or not consider. Our endeavours to bring them to it, are ineffectual, 'tis but faint 
 breath we utter. Our words drop and die between us and them ! We speak to them in the name of the eternal God 
 that made them, of the great Jesus who bought them with his blood, and they regard it not. The Spirit of the Lord 
 is in a great degree departed from among us, and we take it not to heart ! We are sensible of lesser grievances, are 
 grieved that men will not be more entirely proselyted to our several parties and persua.sions, rather than that they are 
 so disinclined to become proselytes to real Ckrislianitij ; and seem more deeply concerned to have Christian reli- 
 gion so or so modified, than whether there shall be any such thing! or whether men be saved by it or lost ! 
 
 This sad case, that so many were likely to be lost under the first sound of the Gospel ; and the most exemplary 
 temper of our blessed Lord in reference to it, are represented in the following treatise ; with design to excite their 
 care for their own souls, who need to be warned, and the compassions of others for them who are so little apt to 
 take warning. The good Lord grant that it may be, some way or other, useful for good ! 
 
 JOHN HOWE.
 
 THE 
 
 REDEEMER'S TEARS 
 
 WEPT OVER LOST SOULS. 
 
 LUKE XIX. 41, 42. 
 
 AND WHEN HE WAS COME NEAR, HE BEHELD THE CITY, AND WEPT OVER IT, SAYING, IF THOU HAD.ST KNOWN, EVEN THO0, AT 
 LEAST IN THIS THY DAY, THE THINGS WHICH BELONG UNTO THY PEACE ! BUT NOW THEY ARE HID FROM THINE JEYES. 
 
 We have here a compassionate lamentation in the midst 
 of a solemn triumph. Our Lord's approach unto Jerusa- 
 lem at this lime, and his entrance into it, (as the foregoing 
 history shows,) carried with them some face of regal and 
 triumphal pomp, but with such allays, as discovered a 
 mind most remote from ostentation ; and led by judgment, 
 (not vain-glory,) to transmit through a dark umbrage some 
 glimmerings only of that excellent majesty which both his 
 sonship and his mediatorship entitled him unto; a very 
 modest and mean specimen of his true indubious royalty 
 and kingly state; such as might rather intimate than 
 plainly declare it, and rather afford an after-instruction to 
 teachable minds, than beget a present conviction and dread 
 in the stupidly obstinate and unteachable. And this effect 
 we find it had, as is observed by another evangelical histo- 
 rian ; who relating the same matter, how in his passage to 
 Jerusalem the people met him with branches of palm- 
 trees and joyful hosannas, he riding upon an ass's colt, 
 (as princes or judges, to signify meekness as much as state, 
 were wont to do. Judges v. 10.) tells us, these things his 
 disciples miderstood not at the first, but when Jesus was 
 glorified, then remembered they that these things were 
 written of him, and that they had done these things unto 
 him, John xii. 16. For great regard was had in this, as in 
 all the acts of his life and ministry, to that last and con- 
 clusive part, his dying a sacrifice upon ihe cross for the 
 sins of men ; to observe all along that mediocrity, and steer 
 that middle course between obscurity and a terrifying, 
 overpowering glory, that this solemn oblation of himself 
 might neither be prevented, nor be disregarded, Agreeably 
 to this design, and the rest of his course, he doth, in this 
 solemnity, rather discover his royal state and dignity by 
 a dark emblem, than by an express representation ; and 
 shows in it more of meekness and humility, than of awful 
 majesty and magnificence, as was formerly predicted, 
 Zech. ix. 9. Rejoice greatly, O daughter of Zion ; shout, 
 O daughter of Jerusalem: behold, thy King cometh unto 
 thee : he is just, and having salvation ; lowly, and riding 
 upon an ass, and upon a colt the foal of an ass. 
 
 And how little he was taken in this piece of state, is 
 sufl[iciently to be seen in this paragraph of the chapter. 
 His mind is much more taken up in the foresight of Jeru- 
 salem's sad case ; and therefore being come within view 
 of it, (which he might very commodiously have in the de- 
 scent of the higher opposite hill, mount Olivet,) he beheld 
 the city, 'tis said, and wept over it. Two things concur to 
 make up the cause of this sorrow : — 1. The greatness of 
 the calamity; Jerusalem, once so dear to God, was to suf- 
 fer, not a scar, but a ruin ;— " The days shall come upon 
 thee, that thine enemies shall cast a trench about thee, and 
 compass thee in on every side, and shall lay thee even 
 with the ground, and thy children within thee ; and they 
 shall not leave in thee one stone upon another :" and — 2. 
 The lost opportunity of preventing it; — "If thou had.st 
 
 known, even thou, at least in this thy day, the things 
 which belong unto thy peace ! but now they are hid from 
 thine eyes," ver. 42. And again, " Thou knewest not the 
 time of thy visitation." 
 
 FHrst, The calamity was greater in his eyes, than it can 
 be in ours. His large and comprehensive mind could take 
 the compass of this sad case. Our thoughts cannot reach 
 far, yet we can apprehend what may make this case very 
 deplorable ; we can consider Jerusalem as the city of the 
 great King, where was the palace and throne of the Ma- 
 jesty of heaven, vouchsafing to " dwell with men on earth ' 
 Here the Divine light and glory had long shone ; here was 
 the sacred Shechinah, the dwelling place of the Most 
 High, the s}'TTibols of his presence, the seat of worship, the 
 mercy-seat, the place of receiving addresses, and of dis- 
 pensing favours ; " The house of prayer for all nations." 
 To his own people this was the city of their solemnities, 
 whither the tribes were wont to go up, the tribes of the 
 Lord, unto the testimony of Israel, to give thanks unto 
 the name of the Lord : for there were set thrones of judg- 
 ment, the thrones of the house of David, Psal. cxxii. 4, 5. 
 He that was so great a lover of the souls of men, how 
 grateful and dear to his heart had the place been where 
 through the succession of many by-past ages the great God 
 did use (though more obscurely) to unfold his kind pro- 
 pensions towards sinners, to hold solemn treaties with 
 them, to make himself known, to draw and allure .«onls 
 into his own holy worship and acquaintance I And that 
 now the dismal prospect presents itself of desolation and 
 ruin, ready to overwhelm all this glory ! and la}' waste the 
 dwellings of Divine love ! his sorroM' must be conceived 
 proportionable to the greatness of this desolating change. 
 
 Secondly, And the opportunity of prevention was quite 
 lost! There was an opportunity: "He was sent to the 
 lost sheep of the house of Israel : he came to them as his 
 own." Had they received him, O how joyful a place had 
 Jerusalem been ! How glorious had the triumphs of God 
 been there, had they repented, believed, obeyed ! These 
 were the " things that belonged to their peace ;" this was 
 their opportunity, their " day of visitation ;" these were the 
 things that might have been done within that day : but it 
 was now too late, their day was over, and the things of 
 their peace hid from their eyes ; and how fervent were his 
 desires, they had done otherwise ! taken the wise and safe 
 course. If thou hadst known ! the words admit the op- 
 tative form, £(' being put, as 'tis observed to be sometimes 
 with other authors, for c'Sc, 7ttinam ; O that thou hadst 
 known, I wish thou hadst ; his sorrow must be proportion- 
 able to his love. Or otherwise we may conceive the sen- 
 tence incomplete, part cut off by a more emphatical apo- 
 sinpcHs, tears interrupting speech, and imposing a more 
 speaking silence, which imports an affection beyond all 
 words. They that were anciently so over-otRcious as to 
 rase those words "and wept over it" out of the canon, as
 
 436 
 
 THE REDEEMER'S TEARS 
 
 thinking it unworthy so divine a person to shed tears, did 
 greatly err, not knowing the Scriptures, (which elsewhere 
 speak of our Lord's weep'.ng,) nor the power of Divine 
 love, (now become incarnate,) nor indeed the true perfec- 
 tions and properties of human nature: otherwise they had 
 never taken upon them to reform the Gospel, and reduce 
 not only Christianity, but Christ himself, to the measures 
 and square of their stoical philosophy : but these have also 
 met with a like ancient confutation. 
 
 One thing (before we proceed) needs some disquisition, 
 ?'t-. — Whether this lamentation of our blessed Lord do refer 
 only or ultimately to the temporal calamity he foresaw 
 coming upon Jerusalem : — or whether it had not a further 
 and more principal reference to their spiritual and eter- 
 nal miseries that were certain to be concomitant, and con- 
 sequent thereunto 1 Where let it be considered, 
 
 1. That very dreadful spiritual plagues and judgments 
 did accompany their destruction very generally; which 
 every one knows who is acquainted with their after-story, 
 i. e. that takes notice what spirit reigned among them, and 
 what their behaviour was towards our Lord himself, and 
 afterwards towards his apostles and disciples all along to 
 their fearful catastrophe ; (as it may be collected from the 
 sacred records, and other history ;) what blmdness of mind, 
 what hardness of heart, what mighty prejudice, what in- 
 flexible obstinacy, against the clearest light, the largest 
 mercy, the most perspicuous and most gracious doctrine, 
 and the most glorious works, wrought to confirm it, against 
 the brightest beams and evidences of the Divine truth, 
 love, and power ! what persevering impenitency and infi- 
 delity against God and Christ, proceeding from the bitterest 
 enmity ! (Ye have both seen and hated me and my Father, 
 John XV. 24.) what mad rage and fury against one another, 
 even when death and destruction were at the very door ! 
 Here were all the tokens imaginable of the most tremen- 
 dous infatuation, and of their being forsaken of God. Here 
 was a concurrence of all kinds of spiritual judgments in 
 the highest degree. 
 
 2. That the concomitancy of such spiritual evils with 
 their temporal destruction, our Lord foreknew as well as 
 their temporal destruction itself. It lay equally in view 
 before him; and was as much under his eye. He that 
 knew what was in man, could as well tell what would be 
 in him. And by the same light by which he could imme- 
 diately look into hearts, he could as well see into futuri- 
 ties, and as well the one futurity as the other. The know- 
 ledge of the one he did not owe to his human understand- 
 ing : to his divine understanding, whereby he knew all 
 things, the other could not be hid. 
 
 3. The connexion between the impenitency and infi- 
 delity that prove to be final, and eternal misery, is known 
 to us all. Of his knowledge of it therefore (whose law hath 
 made the connexion, besides what there is in the nature of 
 the things themselves) there can be no doubt. 
 
 4. That the miseries of the soul, especially such as 
 prove incurable and eternal, are in themselves far the 
 greatest, we all acknowledge : nor can we make a diffi- 
 culty to believe, that our Lord apprehended and considered 
 things according as they were in themselves, so as to allow 
 every thing its own proper weight and import in his esti- 
 mating of ttiem. These things seem all very evident to 
 any eye. Now though it be confessed not impossible, that 
 of things so distinct from one another as outward and 
 temporal evils, and those that are .spiritual and eternal, 
 even befalling the same persons, one may for the present 
 consider the one without attending to the other, or making 
 distinct reflection thereon at the same time ; yet how un- 
 likely is it, these things bordering so closely upon one an- 
 other as they did in the present case, that so comprehen- 
 sive a mind as our Saviour's was, sufficiently able to en- 
 close them both, and so spiritual a mind, apt no doubt to 
 consider most what was in itself most considerable, should 
 in a solemn lamentation of so sad a case, wholly overlook 
 the saddest pan, and stay his thoughts only upon the sur- 
 face and outside of it ! That he mentions only the ap- 
 proaching outward calamity, (ver. 43, 44.) was that he 
 spake in the hearing of the multitude, and upon the way, 
 out in passing, when there was not opportunity for large 
 discourse ; and therefore he spake what might soonest 
 strike their minds, was most liable to common apprehen- 
 
 sion, and might most deeply affect ordinary, and not yet 
 enough prepared, hearers. 
 
 And he spake what he had, no doubt, a deep sense of 
 himself Whatever of tender compassions might be ex- 
 pected from the most perfect humanity and benignity 
 could not be wanting in him, upon the foresight of such a 
 calamity as was coming upon that place and jjcople. But 
 yet, what was the sacking of a city, the destroying of 
 pompous buildings that were all of a perishable material, 
 the mangling of human flesh, over which the worm was 
 otherwise shortly to have had dominion ; to the alienation 
 of men's minds from God, their disaffection to the only 
 means of their recovery, and reconciliation to him, and 
 their subjection to his wrath and curse for ever! When 
 also it is plain he considered that perverse temper of mind 
 and spirit in them, as the cause of their ruin ! which his 
 own words imply ; that " the things which belonged to 
 their peace were hid from their eyes;" and that the things 
 he foretold, should befall them, because " they knew not 
 the time of their visitation." For what could the things 
 be that belonged to their peace, but turning to God, be- 
 lieving in himself, as the Messiah, bringing forth of fruits 
 meet for repentance 1 Whence also there must be another 
 latent and concealed meaning of their peace itself, than 
 only their continued amity with the Roman .state; their 
 peace with Heaven ; their being set right, and standing in 
 favour and acceptance, with God. For was it ever the 
 first intention of the things enjoined in Gospel, but to 
 entitle men to earthly secular benefits 1 
 
 Nor can we doubt but the same things lay deep in the 
 mind of our blessed Lord, when he uttered these words, 
 as when he spake those so very like them. Matt, xxiii. 37, 
 38. O Jerusalem, Jerusalem, thou that killest the pro- 
 phets, and stoncst them which are sent unto thee, how often 
 would I have gathered th}' children together even as a hen 
 gathereth her chickens under her wings, and ye would not ! 
 Behold, your house is left unto you desolate. These other 
 were not spoken indeed at the same time, but very soon 
 after : those we are considering, in his way to the city, 
 these when he was come into it ; most probably, by the 
 series of the evangelical history, the second day, after his 
 having lodged the first night at Bethany. But it is plain tjiey 
 have the same sense, and that the same things lay with great 
 weight upon his spirit ; so that the one passage may contii- 
 bute much to the enlightening and expounding of the other. 
 Now what can be meant by that, " I would have gather- 
 ed you as the hen her chickens under her wings 1" Could 
 it intend a political meaning; that he would have been a 
 temporal prince and saviour to them 7 which he so earnestly 
 declined and disclaimed ; professing to the last, his king- 
 dom was not of this world. It could mean no other thing, 
 but that he would have reduced them back to God, have 
 gathered and united them under his own gracious and safe 
 conduct in order thereto, have secured them from the Di- 
 vine wrath and justice, and have conferred on them spi- 
 ritual and eternal blessings. In a like sense their peace here 
 was no doubt more principally to be understood ; and 
 their loss and forfeiture of it, by their not understanding 
 the things belonging thereto, considered and lamented. 
 
 Therefore the principal intendment of this lamentation, 
 though directly applied to a community, and the formed 
 body of a people, is equally applicable unto particular 
 persons living under the Gospel, or to whom the ordinary 
 means of conversion and salvation are vouchsafed, but are 
 neglected by them and forfeited. We may therefore thus 
 sum up the meaning and sense of these words : — That it is 
 a thing in itself very lamentable, and much lamented by our 
 Lord Jesus, when such as living under the Gospel, have had 
 a day of grace, and an opportunity of knowing the things 
 belonging to their peace, have so outworn that day, and lost 
 their opportunity, that the things of their peace are quite 
 hid from their eyes: — where we have these distinct heads 
 of discourse to be severally considered and insisted on. 
 
 I. What are the things necessary to be known by such 
 as live under the Gospel, as immediately belonging to their 
 peace. 
 
 II. That they have a day or season wherein to know 
 not these things only, but the whole compass of their case, 
 and what the knowledge of those things more immediately 
 belonging to their peace supposes, and depends upon.
 
 WEPT OVER LOST SOULS. 
 
 437 
 
 in. That this day hath its bounds and limits, so that 
 ■when it is over and lost ; those things are forever hid from 
 their eyes. 
 
 IV. That this is a case to be considered with deep re- 
 sentment and lamentation, and was so by our Lord Jesus. 
 
 I. What are the things necessary to be known by such 
 as live under the Gospel, as immediately belonging to 
 their peace 1 Where we are more particularly to inquire, 
 — 1. What those things themselves are — 2. What sort of 
 knowledge of them it is that here is meant, and made 
 necessary. 
 
 1. What the things are which belong to the peace of a 
 people living under th-e Gospel. The things belonging to 
 a people's peace, are not throughout the same with all. 
 Living, or not living, under the Gospel, makes a consider- 
 able ditference in the matter. Before the incarnation and 
 public appearance of our Lord, something was not neces- 
 sary among the Jews, that afterwards became necessary. 
 It was sufficient to them before, to believe in a Messiah to 
 come, more indefinitely. Afterwards he plainly tells them. 
 If ye believe not that I am he, ye shall die in your sins, 
 John viii. 24. Believing in Christ cannot be necessary to 
 Pagans that never heard of him, as a duty, howsoever ne- 
 cessary it may be a.s a vieans. Their not believing in him 
 cannot be itself a sin, though by it they should want reme- 
 dy for their other sins. But it more concei'ns us who do 
 live under the Gospel, to apprehend aright what is neces- 
 sary for ourselves. That is a short and full summary 
 which the apostle gives. Acts xx.2L Repentance towards 
 God, and faith in our Lord Jesus Christ. The Gospel 
 finds us in a state of apostacy from God, both as our so- 
 vereign Ruler, and sovereign Good, not apt to obey and 
 glorify him, as the former, nor enjoy him, nor be satisfied 
 in him, as the latter. Repentance towards God, cures and 
 removes this disatfection of our minds and hearts towards 
 him, under both these notions. By it the whole soul turns 
 to him, with this sense and resolution : " I have been a 
 rebellious, disloyal wretch, against the high authority and 
 most rightful government of him who gave me breath, and 
 whose creature I am. I will live no longer thus. Lo now 
 I come back unto thee, O Lord, thou art my Lord and 
 God. Thee I now design to serve and obey, as the Lord 
 of my life; thee I will fear, unto thee I subject myself, to 
 live no longer after my own will, but thine. I have been 
 hitherto a miserable, forlorn, distressed creature, destitute 
 of any thing that could satisfy me, or make me happy ; have 
 set my heart upon a vain and thorny world, that had no- 
 thing in it answerable to my real necessities, that halh 
 flattered and mocked me often, never satisfied me, and 
 been wont to requite my pursuits of satisfaction from it 
 with vexation and trouble, and ' pierce me through with 
 many sorrows.' I have borne»in the mean time a disaffect- 
 ed heart towards thee, have therefore cast thee out of my 
 thoughts, so that amidst all my disappointments and sor- 
 rows, it never came into my mind to say, ' Where is God 
 my maker 1' I could never savour any thing spiritual or 
 divine, and was ever more ready, in distress, to turn myself 
 any way than (that which I ought) towards thee. I now 
 see and bemoan my folly, and with a convinced, self-judg- 
 ing heart, betake myself to thee ; the desires of my soul 
 are now unto thy name, and to the remembrance of thee. 
 Whom have I in heaven but thee, or on earth that I can 
 desire besides thee 1" 
 
 This is " repentance towards God," and is one thing 
 belongina:, and most simply necessary, to our peace. But 
 though it be most necessary, it is not enough. It answers 
 to something of our wretched case, but not to every thing. 
 We were in our state of apostacy averse and disaflfected 
 to God. To this evil, repentance towards him is the op- 
 posite and only proper remedy. But besides our being 
 without inclination towards him, we are also without in- 
 terest in him. We not only had unjustly cast off" him, but 
 were also most justly cast off by him. Our injustice had 
 set us against him, and his justice had set him against us ; 
 we need, in order to our peace with him, to he relieved as 
 well against his justice, as our own injustice. What if 
 now we would return to him, he will not receive us 1 And 
 he will not receive us for our own sakes. He must have 
 a recompense for the wrong we had done him, by our 
 
 u Actsv. 31. 
 
 32 
 
 rebellion against his government, and our contempt of hi,>9 
 goodness. Our repentance is no expiation. Nor have we 
 of our own, or were capable of obliging him to give us, 
 the power and grace to repent. Our high violation of the 
 sacred rights and honour of the Godhead, made it neces- 
 sary, in order to our peace and reconciliation, there should 
 be a sacrifice, and a mediator between him and us. He 
 hath judged it not honourable to him, not becoming him to 
 treat with us, or vouchsafe us favoujs upon other terms. 
 And since he thought it necessary to inj^ist upon having a 
 sacrifice, he judged it necessary too, to have one propor- 
 tionable to the wrong done ; lest he should make the Ma- 
 jesty of heaven cheap, or occasion men to think it a light 
 matter to have fundamentally overturned the common 
 order which Avas settled between himself and men. The 
 whole earth could not have afforded such a sacrifice, it 
 must be supplied from heaven. His co-eternal Son made 
 man, and so uniiing heaven and earth in his own person, 
 undertakes to be that sacrifice, and, in the virtue of it, to 
 be a standing continual Mediator between God and us ; 
 through him, and for his sake, all acts and influences of 
 grace are to proceed towards us. No sin is to be forgiven, 
 no grace to be conferred, but upon his account. 'Tis reck- 
 oned most God-like, most suitable to the Divine greatnc*;s, 
 once offended, to do nothing that shall import favour to- 
 wards sinners, but upon his constant interposition. Him 
 hath he set over us, and directed that all our applications 
 to himself, and all our expectations from him, should be 
 through him. ^ Him hath he exalted to be a Prince and a 
 Saviour, togiveus repentance and remission of sins. Now 
 to one so high in power over us, he expects we should pay 
 a suitable homage. That homage the Holy Scripture calls 
 by the name of faith, believing on him. God halh set him 
 forth to be a propitiation, through faith in his blood, to de- 
 clare his righteousness for the remission of sins that are 
 past, through the forbearance of God; to declare his 
 righteousness, that he might be just, and the justifier of 
 him which believeth in Jesus, Rom. iii. 25, 26. So that 
 when by repentance we turn to God, as our end, we must 
 also apply ourselves by faith, to our Lord Jesus Christ, as 
 our way to that end. "Which, till we do, we are in rebeU 
 lion still, and know not what belongs to our peace. He in- 
 sists that his Son, into whose hands he hath committed our 
 affairs, should be honoui-ed by us, as he himself requires 
 to be, John v. 23. 
 
 Now these two things sum up our part of the covenant 
 between God and us. By repentance we again take God 
 for our God. Repenting we return to him as our God. 
 By faith we take his son for our Prince and Saviour. 
 These things, by the tenor of the evangelical covenant, 
 are required of us. Peace is settled between God and us, 
 (as it is usually with men towards one another alter mu- 
 tual hostilities) by striking a covenant. And in our case, 
 it is a covenant by sacrifice, as you have seen. Nor are 
 harder terms than these imposed upon us. Dost thou now, 
 sinner, apprehend thyself gone oft' from God 1 and find a 
 war is commenced and on loot, between God and thee ] He 
 can easily conquer and crush thee to nothing, but heoflers 
 thee terms of peace, upon which he is willing to enter in- 
 to covenant with thee. Dost thou like his terms 1 Art 
 thou willing to return to him, and take him a?ain for thy 
 God"? To resign and commit thj-self with unfeigned trust 
 and subjection into the hands of his Son thy Redeemer 1 
 " These are the things which belong to thy peace." See 
 that thou now know them. 
 
 2. But what knowledge of them is it that is here meant 1 
 The thing speaks itself. It is not a mere contemplative 
 knowledge. We must so know them as to do them ; other- 
 wise the increase of knowledge is the increase of sorrow. 
 Thy guilt and misery will be\he greater. To know any 
 thing that concerns our practice, is to no purpose if we do 
 not "practice it. It was a Hebrew form of speech, and is 
 a common form, bv words of knowledge to imply practice. 
 It being taken for "granted that in matters so very reason- 
 able and important, if what M'e are to do once be rightly 
 known, it will be done. Thus elsewhere the same 
 ?reat requisites to eternal life and blessedness are ex- 
 pressed by our Lord. This is life eternal, to Icnow thee 
 the only true God, and Jesus Christ, whom thou hast sent :
 
 438 
 
 THE REDEEMER'S TEARS 
 
 it being supposed and taken for granted that a true, vivid 
 knowledge of God and Christ will immediately form the 
 soul to all suitable dispositions and deportments towards 
 the one and the other; and consequently to all men also, 
 as Chi'istian precepts do direct to all the acts of sobriety, 
 justice, and charity, unto which the law of Christ obliges. 
 An habitual course of sin in any kind, is inconsistent 
 with this knowledge of the things of our peace, and there- 
 fore with our peace itself. All sin is in a true sense re- 
 ducible to ignorance ; and customary sinning into total 
 destitution of Divine knowledge. According to the usual 
 style of the sacred writings, 1 Cor. xv. 34. Awake to 
 righteousness, and sin not ; for some have not the know- 
 ledge of God. 3 John ii. He that sinneth, i. e. that is a 
 doer of sin, h KaKoroiiov, a wurkcr of iniquity, hath not seen 
 God. 
 
 II. Such as live under the Gospel have a day, or a 
 present opportunity, for the obtaining the knowledge of 
 these things immediately belonging to their peace, and of 
 Avhatsoever is besides necessary thereunto. I say nothing 
 what opportunities they have who never lived under the 
 Gospel, who yet no doubt might generally know more 
 than they do ; and know better what they do know. It 
 suffices us who enjoy the Gospel, to understand our own ad- 
 vantages thereby. Nor, as to those who do enjoy it, is 
 everyone's day of equal clearness. How few in compa- 
 rison, have ever seen such a day as Jerusalem at this time 
 did ! made by the immediate beams of the Sun of righte- 
 ousness ! our Lord himself vouchsafing to be their In- 
 structor, so speaking as never man did ; and with such 
 authority as far outdid their other teachers, and astonished 
 the hearers. In what transports did he use to leave those that 
 heard him, wheresoever he came, wondering at the gra- 
 cious words that came out of his mouth ! And with what 
 mighty and beneficial works was he wont to recommend 
 his doctrine, shining in the glorious power, and savouring 
 of the abundant mercy of heaven, so as every apprehen- 
 sive mind might see the Deity was incarnate, God was 
 come doHTi to treat with men, and allure them into the 
 knowledge and love of himself The word was made 
 flesh. What unprejudiced mind might not perceive it to 
 be so 1 He was there manifested and veiled at once ; both 
 expressions are used concerning the same matter. The 
 Divine beams were somewhat obscured, but did yet ray 
 through that vail : so that '' his glory was beheld as the 
 glory of the only begotten Son of the Father, full of grace 
 and truth. This Sun shone with a mild and benign, but 
 with a powerful, vivifying light. In him was life, and 
 that life was the light of men. Such a light created 
 unto the Jews this their day. Happy Jews, if they 
 had understood their own happiness ! And the days that 
 followed, to them (for awhile) and the gentile world were 
 not inferior, in some respects brighter and more glorious, 
 (the more copious gift of the Holy Ghost being reserved 
 unto the crowning and enthroning of the victorious Re- 
 deemer,) when the everlasting Gospel flew like lightning 
 to the uttermost ends of the earth ; and the word *= which be- 
 gan to be spoken by the Lord himself, was confirmed by 
 them that heard him, God also himself bearing them wit- 
 ness, with signs, and wonders, and gifts of the Holy 
 Ghost. No such day hath been seen this many an age. 
 Yet whithersoever this same Gospel, for substance, comes, 
 it also makes a day of the same kind, and affords always 
 true, though diminished light ; whereby, however, the 
 things of our peace might be understood and known. The 
 written Gospel varies not; and if it be but simply and 
 plainly proposed, (though to some it be proposed with more 
 advantage, to some with less, yet,) still we have the same 
 things immediately relating to our peace extant before our 
 eyes ; and divers things besides, which it concerns us to be 
 acquainted with, that we may the more distinctly and to 
 better purpose understand these things. For instance, 
 
 1. We have the true and distinct state of the quarrel 
 between God and us. Pagans have understood somewhat 
 of the apostacy of man from God ; that he is not in the 
 same state wherein he was at first. But while they have 
 understood that something was amiss, they could scarce 
 tell what. The Gospel reveals the universal pravity of the 
 
 b John i, 14. 
 e Eph. iv. 
 
 c Heb. ii. 4. 
 
 d Rom. iii. 
 f Rom. \m. 
 
 degenerate nature even of all men, and of every faculty 
 in man. ^ That there is none that doth good ; no not one; 
 and that every one is altogether become filthy and impure, 
 that there is an ^ entire old man to be put ofi", wholly cor- 
 rupt by deceivable lusts; that the a)Cjod7roXis,the noblest pow- 
 ers, are vitiated, the mind and conscience defiled ; that the 
 spirit of the mind needs renewing, is sunk into carnality ; 
 and that the carnaHmind is enmity against God, and is 
 not subject to his law, nor can be, nor capable of savour- 
 ing the things of God ; that the sinner is in the flesh, under 
 the dominion of power, and in the possession of the fleshly, 
 sensual nature, and can therefore neither obey God, nor 
 enjoy him ; that it is become impossible to him either to 
 please God, or be pleased with him. That the sinner's 
 quarrel therefore with God is about the most appropriate 
 rights of the Godhead; the controversy is who shall be 
 God, which is the supreme authority, and which is the su- 
 preme good. The former peculiarity of the Godhead, the 
 lapsed creature is become so insolent, as to usurp and ar- 
 rogate to himself. When he is become so much less than 
 a man (a very beast) he will be a god. His sensual will 
 shall be his only law. He lives and walks after the flesh, 
 serves divers lusts and pleasures, and sa3's, " Who is the 
 Lord over mel" But being conscious that he is not self- 
 sufficient, that he must be beholden to somewhat foreign to 
 himself for his satisfaction, and finding nothing else suit- 
 able to his sensual inclination; that other divine pecu- 
 liarity, to be the supreme good, he places upon the sensi- 
 ble world; and for this purpose that shall be his god; so 
 that between himself and the world he attempts to share 
 the undivided Godhead. This is a controversy of a high 
 nature, and about other matters than even the Jewish 
 Rabbins thought of, who, when Jerusalem was destroyed, 
 supposed God was angry with them for their neglect of the 
 recitation of their phylacteries morning and evening; or 
 that they were not respectful enough of one another ; or 
 that distance enough was not observed between superiors 
 and inferiors, &c. The gospel impleads men as rebels 
 against their rightful Lord ; but of this treason against 
 the Majesty of heaven men little suspect themselves till 
 they are told. The Gospel tells them so plainly, r. presents 
 the matter in so clear light, that they need only to contem- 
 plate themselves in that light, and they may see that so it 
 is. Men may indeed, by resolved, stiff winking, create to 
 themselves a darkness amidst the clearest light. But open 
 thine eyes man, thou that livest under the gospel, set thy- 
 self to view thine own soul, thou wilt find it is day with 
 thee ; thou hast a day, by being under the Gospel, and light 
 enough to see that this is the posture of thy soul, and the 
 state of thy case God-ward. And it is a great matter to- 
 wards the understanding the things of thy peace, to know 
 aright what is the true state of the quarrel between God 
 and thee. 
 
 2. The Gospel aflfords light to know what the issue of 
 this quarrel is sure to be, if it go on, and there be no re- 
 conciliation. It gives us other and plainer accounts of the 
 punishment of the other world, more fully represents the 
 extremity and perpetuity of the future miseries, and state 
 of perdition appointed for the ungodly world ; speaks out 
 concerning the s " Tophet prepared of old, the ^ lake of 
 fire and brimstone ;" shows the miseries of that state to be 
 the immediate effects of Divine displeasure ; that " the 
 breath of the Almighty as a river of brimstone" always 
 foments those flames ; that " indignation and wrath cause ■ 
 the tribulation and anguish" which must be the portion of 
 evil doers ; and how k " fearful a thing it is to fall into the 
 hands of the living God !" Gives us to understand what 
 accession men's own unaltered vicious habits will have to 
 their miseries; their own outrageous lusts and passions, 
 which here they made it their business to satisfy, becoming 
 their insatiable tormentors ; that they are to receive i " the 
 things done in the body, according to what they have done ; 
 and that ™ " what they have sowed, the same also they are 
 to reap ;" and what their own guilty reflections will con- 
 tribute, the bitings and gnawings of the worm that dies 
 not, the venomous corrosions of the viper bred in their 
 own bosoms, and now become a full-grown serpent ; what 
 the society and insultation of devils, with whom they are 
 
 ; Isa. XXX. 
 L Heb. X, 
 
 h Rev. XXI. 
 1 2Cot. V. 
 
 i Rom. ii. 
 in Gal. vi.
 
 WEPT OVER LOST SOULS. 
 
 439 
 
 to partake in woes and torments, and by whom they have 
 been seduced and trained into that cursed partnership and 
 communion ; and that this fire wherein they are to be tor- 
 mented together, is to be everlasting, " a tire never to be 
 quenched." If men be left to their own conjectures only, 
 teaching the danger they incur by continuing and keeping 
 up a war with heaven, and are to make their own hell, and 
 that it be the creature only of their own imagination ; 'tis 
 like they will make it as easy and favourable as they can ; 
 and so are little likely to be urged earnestly to sue for 
 peace by the imagination of a tolerable hell. But if they 
 understand it to be altogether intolerable, this may make 
 them bestir themselves, and think the favour of God worth 
 the seeking. The Gospel imports favour and kindness to 
 you, when it imports most of terror, in telling you so plain- 
 ly the worst of your case if you go on lu a sinful course. 
 It makes you a day, by which you may make a truer judg- 
 ment of the blackness, darkness, and horror of that ever- 
 lasting night that is coming on upon you ; and lets you 
 know I hat black and endless night is introduced by a ter- 
 rible preceding day, that day of the Lord the business 
 whereof is judgment. They that live under the Gospel 
 cannot pretend they are in darkness so as that day should 
 overtake them as a thief; and that, by surprise, they should 
 be doomed and abandoned to the regions of darkness. 
 The Gospgljbrewarns you plainly of all this ; which it 
 does not merely to fright and torment you before the time, 
 but that you may steer your course another way, and es- 
 cape the place and state of torment. It only says this that 
 it may render the more acceptable to you what it hath to 
 say besides ; and only threatens you with these things if 
 there be no reconciliation between God and you. But then 
 at the same time, 
 
 3. It also represents God to j'^ou as reconcileable through 
 a Mediator. In that Gospel " peace is preached to you, 
 by Jesus Christ." That Gospel lets you see God in Christ 
 reconciling the world unto himself, that sin may not be 
 imputed to them. That Gospel proclaims glory to God in 
 the highest, peace on earth, good will towards men. So 
 did the voices of angels sum up the glad tidings of the 
 Gospel, when that Prince of peace was born into the 
 world. It tells you " God desires not the death of sinners, 
 but that they may turn and live ;" that he would " have all 
 men be saved, and come to the knowledge of the truth ;" 
 that he is " long-suiTering towards them, not willing that 
 any should perish, but that all should come to repentance," 
 that he "so loved the world that he gave his only-begotten 
 Son, that whosoever believes on him should not perish, 
 but have everlasting life." The rest of the. world can't but 
 collect, from darker intimations, God's favourable propen- 
 sions towards them. He spares them, is patient towards 
 them, that herein " his goodness might lead them to re- 
 pentance." He sustains them, lets them dwell in a world 
 which they might understand was of his making, and 
 whereof he is absolute Lord. " They live, move, and 
 have their being in him, that ihey might seek after him, 
 and by feeling find him out." He doth them "good, gives 
 them rain from heaven and fruitful seasons, filling their 
 hearts with food and gladness." He lets " his sun shine 
 on them," whose far extended beams show forth his kind- 
 ness and benignity to men, even " to the utmost ends of 
 the earth. For there is no speech or language whither his 
 line and circle reaches not." But those are but dull and 
 glimmering beams in comparison of those that shine from 
 the Sun of righteousness through the gospel-revelation, 
 and in respect of that divdne glory which appears in the 
 face of Jesus Christ. How clearly doth the light of this 
 gospel-day reveal God's design of reducing sinners, and 
 reconciling them to himself by a Redeemer ! How canst 
 thou but say, sinner, thou hast a day of it 1 and clear day- 
 light showing thee what the good and acceptable will of 
 God towards thee is 1 Thou art not left to guess only 
 thou raayst be reconciled and find mercy, and to grope and 
 feel thy way in the dark, unless it be a darkness of thy 
 own making. And whereas a sinner, a disloyal rebellious 
 creature, that hath affronted the Majesty of heaven, and 
 engaged against himself the wrath and justice of his Maker, 
 and is unable to make him any recompense, can have no 
 reason to hope God will show him mercy, and be recon- 
 ciled to him for his own sake, or for any thing he can do 
 
 to oblige or induce him to it ; the same gospel shows you 
 plainly, it is for the Redeemer's sake, and what he hath 
 done and sufl'ered to procure it. But inasmuch also as the 
 sinner may easily apprehend, that it can never answer the 
 necessities of his state and case, that God only be not his 
 enem}^ that he forbear hostilities towards him, pursue him 
 not with vengeance to his destruction. For he finds him- 
 self an indigent creature, and he needs somewhat beyond 
 what he hath ever yet met with to make him happy ; that 
 it is uneasy and grievous to wander up and down with 
 craving desires among varieties of objects that look spe- 
 ciouslj', but which, either he cannot so far compass as to 
 make a trial « hat there is in them, or wherewith, upon 
 trial, he finds himself mocked and disappointed, and that 
 really they have nothing in them ; he finds himself a mor- 
 tal creature, and considers thai if he had all that he can 
 covet in this world, the increase of his present enjoyments 
 doth but increase unto him trouble and angni.sh of heart, 
 while he thinks what great things he must shortly leave 
 and lose for ever ; to go he knows not whither, into dark- 
 some, gloomy regions ; where he cannot so much as 
 imaeine any thing suitable to his inclinations and desires. 
 For he knows all that is delectable to his present sense he 
 must here leave behind him ; and he cannot divest him- 
 self of all apprehensions of a future state, wherein if God 
 should make him sutTer nothing, yet, if he have nothing 
 to enjoy, he nnrst be always miserable. 
 
 4. The Gospel, therefore, further represents to him the 
 final, eternal blessedness, and glorious state, which they 
 that are reconciled shall be brought into. They that live 
 under the Gospel are not mocked with shadows, and emp- 
 ty clouds, nor with fabulous elj'siums. Nor are they put 
 off with some unintelligible notion of only being happy in 
 general. But are told expressly wherein their happiness is 
 to consist. " Life and immortality are brought to light in 
 the Gospel." 'Tis given them to understand how great a 
 good is laid up in store. " The things which eye hath not 
 seen, and ear not heard, and which otherwise could not 
 have entered into the heart of man, the things of God's 
 present and eternal kingdom, are set in view. It shows 
 the future state of the reconciled shall consist not onl)' in 
 freedom from what is evil, but in the enjoyment of the 
 best and most delectable good ; that God himself in all his 
 glorious fulness will be their eternal and most satisfying 
 portion ; that their blessedness is to lie in the perpetual 
 Iruitive vision of his blessed face, and in the fulness of joy, 
 and the everlasting pleasures which the Divine presence 
 itself doth perpetually afibrd. And whereas their glorious 
 Redeemer is so nearly allied to them, flesh of their flesh, 
 who inasmuch as the children were made partakers of 
 flesh and blood, he also himself likewise took part of the 
 same, (Heb. ii. 14.) and is become by special title their au- 
 thorized Lord, they are assured (ofthat, than which nothing 
 should be more grateful to them) " they shall be for ever 
 with the Lord ;" that they are to be where he is, " to be- 
 hold his glory," and shall he "joint-heirs with Christ," 
 and be " glorified together with him," shall partake, accord- 
 ing to theirmcasure and capacity, in the same blessedness 
 which he enjoys. Thou canst not pretend, sinner, who liv- 
 est under the Gospel, that thou hast not the light of the 
 day to show thee what blessedness is. Heaven is opened 
 to thee. Glory beams dow^l from thence upon thee to create 
 thee a day, by the light whereof thou mayst see with sufli- 
 cient clearness, what is " the inheritance of the saints in 
 light." And though all be not told thee, and it do not in 
 everj' respect appear what we shall be ; so much may be 
 foreknown, that when he shall appear, we shall be like him, 
 and shall .see him as he is, 1 John iii. 1, 2. And because 
 the heart, as yet carnal, can savour little of all this; and 
 finding itself strange and disafl^ected to God. aflecting now 
 to be without Christ and without God in the world, may 
 easily apprehend it impossible to it to be happy in an un- 
 desired good, or that it can enjoy what it dislikes ; or in 
 the mean time, walk in a way to which it finds in itself 
 nothing but titter averseness and disinclination. 
 
 5. The Gospel further shows us what is to be wrought 
 and done in us to attemper and frame our spirits to our 
 future state and present way to it. It lets us know we are 
 to be born again, born from above, born of God, made 
 partakers of a divine nature, that will make the temper of
 
 110 
 
 THE REDEEMER'S TEARS 
 
 our spirits connatural to the Divine presence. That where- 
 as " God is light, and with liim is no darkness at all," we 
 " who were darkness shall be made light in the Lord :" 
 that we are to be " begotten again to a lively hope, to the 
 eternal and \mdefiled inheritance that is reserved in the 
 heavens for us :" that we are thus to be made " meet to be 
 partakers of that inheritance of the saints in light." And 
 as we are to be eternally conversant with Christ, we are 
 here to put on Christ, to have Christ in us the hope of glo- 
 ry. And whereas only the way of holiness and obedience 
 leads to blessedness, that we are to be " created in Christ 
 Jesus to good works to walk in them." And shall there- 
 upon find the ways prescribed to us by him, who is the 
 Wisdom of God, to be all "ways of pleasantness and 
 paths of peace:" that he will " put his Spirit into us, and 
 cause us to walk in his statutes," and to account that " in 
 keeping them there is great reward." And thus all that 
 is contained in that mentioned summary of the things be- 
 longing to our peace, " repentance towards God, and faith 
 ia our Lord Jesus Christ," will all become easy to us, and 
 as the acts of nature ; proceeding from that new and holy 
 nature imparted to us. 
 
 And whosoever thou art that livest under the Gospel, 
 canst thou deny that it is day with thee, as to all this 1 
 Wast thou never told of this great necessary heart-change 1 
 Didst thou never hear that the " tree must be made good 
 that the fruit might be good 1" that thou must become a 
 " new creature, have old things done away, and all things 
 made new 1" Didst thou never hear of the necessity of 
 having " a new heart, and a right spirit" created and re- 
 newed in thee ; that except thou wert " born again," or from 
 above, (as that expression may be read,) thou couldst "ne- 
 ver enter into the kingdom of God 1" Wast thou kept in 
 ignorance that a form of godliness without the power of 
 it would never do thee goodi that a name to live without 
 the principle of the holy, divine life, would never save thee? 
 that a specious outside, that all thy external performances, 
 while thou wentest with an unrenewed, earthly, carnal 
 heart, would never advantage thee as to thy eternal salva- 
 tion and blessedness '{ And this might help thine under- 
 standing concerning the nature of thy future blessedness, 
 and will be found most agreeable to it, being aright under- 
 stood ; for as thou art not to be blessed by a blessedness 
 without tliee and distant from thee, but inwrought into thy 
 temper, and intimately united with thee, nor glorified by 
 an external glory, but by a glory reveale^l within thee; so 
 nor canst thou be qualified for that blessed glorious slate 
 otherwise than by having the temper of thy soul made ha- 
 bitually holy and good. As what a good man partakes of 
 happiness here is such, that he is " satisfied from himself;" 
 so it must be hereafter, not originally from himself, but by 
 divine communication made most intimate to him. Didst 
 thou not know that it belonged to thy peace, to have a 
 peace-maker 1 and that the Son of God was he 1 and that 
 he makes not the peace of those that despise and refuse 
 him, or that receive him not, that come not to him, and 
 are not willing to come to God by him'? Couldst thou 
 think, living under the Gospel, that the reconciliation be- 
 tween God and thee was not to be mutual 1 that he would 
 be reconciled to thee while thou wouldst not be reconciled 
 to him, or shouldst still bear towards him a disaffected, im- 
 placable heart 1 For couldst thou be so void of all under- 
 standing as not to apprehend what the Gospel was sent to 
 thee for"? or why it was necessary to be preached to thee, 
 or that thou shouldst hear it 1 Who was to be reconciled 
 by a Gospel preached to thee but thyself? who was to be 
 persuaded by a gospel sent to thee 1 God, or thou 1 Who is 
 to be persuaded but the unwilling 1 The Gospel, as thou 
 hast been told, reveals God willing to be reconciled, and 
 thereupon beseeches thee to be reconciled to him. Or 
 could it seem likely to thee thou couldst ever be reconciled 
 to God, and continue unreconciled to thy Reconciler 1 To 
 what purpose is there a days-man, a middle person be- 
 tween God and thee, if thou wilt not meet him in that 
 middle person ? Dost thou not know that Christ avails 
 thee nothing if thou .still stand at a distance with him, if 
 thou dost not unite and adjoin thyself to him, or art not in 
 himl And dost thou not again know that Divine power 
 and grace must unite thee to him ? and that a work must 
 
 31 2 Cor. V. 17. o 1 Cor. j. 30. 
 
 be wrought and done upon thy soul by an Almighty hand, 
 by God himself, a mighty transforming work, to make 
 thee capable of that union 1 " that whosoever is in Christ 
 is a new creature'? <> that thou must be of God in Christ 
 Jesus, who then is made unto thee of God also wisdom, 
 righteousness, sanctification, and redemption ; every way 
 an.swering the exigency of thy case, as thou art a foolish, 
 guilty, impure, and enslaved, or lost creature 1 Didst thou 
 never hear, that none can come to Christ but whom the 
 Father draws 1 and that he draws the reasonable souls of 
 men not violently or against their wills, (he draws, yet 
 drags them not,) but makes them willing in the day of 
 power, by giving a new nature and new inclinations to 
 them 1 'Tis sure with thee not dark night, not a dubious 
 twilight, but broad day as to all this. 
 
 Yes, perhaps thou mayst say, but this makes my case 
 the worse, not the better ; for it gives me at length to un- 
 derstand that what is necessary to my peace and welfare 
 is impo,ssible to me ; and so the light of my day doth but 
 serve to let me see myself miserable and undone, and that 
 I have nothing to do to relieve and help myself. I there- 
 fore add, 
 
 6. That by being xinder the Gospel, men have not oniy 
 light to understand whatsoever is any way necessary to 
 their peace, but opportunity to obtain that communication 
 of divine power and grace whereby to comply with the 
 terms of it. Whereupon, if this be made good; you have 
 not a pretence left you to say your case is the worse, or that 
 you receive any prejudice by what the Gospel reveals of 
 j^our owTi impotency to relieve and help yourselves ; or 
 determines touching the terms of your peace and salvation, 
 making such things necessary thereto, as are to you impos- 
 sible, and out of your own present power ; unless it be a 
 prejudice to you not to have your pride gratified ; and that 
 God hath pitched upon such a method for your salvation, 
 as shall wholly turn to the praise of the glory of his grace, 
 or that you are to be of him p in Christ Jesus — that whoso- 
 ever glories might glorj'' in the Lord. Is it for a sinner 
 that hath deserved, and is ready to perish, to insist upon 
 being saved with reputation ? or to envy the great God, 
 upon whose plea.sure it wholly depends whether he shall 
 be saved or not saved, the entire glory of saving him'? 
 For otherwise, excepting the mere business of glory and 
 reputation ; is it not all one to you whether you have the 
 power in your own hands of changing your hearts, of be- 
 ing the authors to yourselves of that holy, new nature, out 
 of which actual faith and repentance are to spring, or whe- 
 ther you may have it from the God of all grace, flowing to 
 you from its own proper divine fountain. Your case is not 
 sure really the worse that your salvation from first to last 
 is to be all of grace, and that it is impossible to you to re- 
 pent and believe, while it is not simply impossible; but 
 that he can efiectually enable you thereto, unto whom all 
 things are possible ; supposing that he will : whereof by 
 and by. Nay, and it is more glorious and honourable, even 
 to you, if you understand yourselves, that your case is so 
 stated as it is. The Gospel indeed plainly tells you that 
 your repentance must be given you. Christ "is exalted 
 to be a Prince and a Saviour, to give repentance and re- 
 mission of sins." And so must your faith, and that frame 
 of spirit which is the principle of all good works. By grace 
 ye are saved, through faith, not of yourselves, it is the gift 
 of God : not of works, lest any man should boast ; for we 
 are his workmanship, created in Christ Jesus unto good 
 works, which God hath before ordained that we should 
 walk in them, Ephes. ii. 8 — 10. Is it more glorious to have 
 nothing in you but what is self-sprung, than to have your 
 souls the seat and receptacle of divine communications ; of 
 so excellent things as could have no other than a heavenly 
 original "? If it were not ab.surd and impossible you 
 should be self-begotten, is it not much more glorious to 
 be born of God '? As they are said to be that receive 
 Christ: John i. 12, 13. But as many as received him, to 
 them gave he power to become the sons of God, even to 
 them that believe on his name : which were born, not of 
 blood, nor of the will of the flesh, nor of the will of man, 
 but of God. 
 
 And now that, by being under the Gospel, you have the 
 opportunity of getting that grace, which is necessary to 
 
 p 1 Cot. i. 30, 3»
 
 WEPT OVER LOST SOULS. 
 
 441 
 
 your peace and salvation ; }'^ou may see, if you consider 
 what the Gospel is, and was designed for. It is the minis- 
 tration of the Spirit; that Spirit by which you are to be 
 born again, John iii. 3, 5, 6. The work of regeneration 
 consists in the impregnating, and making lively and effica- 
 cious, in you the holy truths contained in the Gospel. Of 
 his own good will begat he us with the word of truth, that 
 we should be a kind of first-fruits of his creatures, James 
 i. 18. And again, being born again, not of corruptible seed, 
 but of incorruptible, by the word of God, 1 Pet. i. 23. So 
 our Saviour prays : Sanctify them through thy truth, thy 
 word is truth, John xvii. 17. The Gospel is, upon this ac- 
 count, called the word of life, Phil. ii. 16. as by which the 
 principles of that divine and holy life are implanted in the 
 soul, whereby we live to God, do what his Gospel requires, 
 and hath made our duty, and that ends at length in eter- 
 nal life. But you will say. Shall all then, that live under 
 the Gospel, obtain this grace and holy life 1 Or if they 
 shall not, or, if so far as can be collected, multitudes do 
 not, or, perhaps, in some places that enjoy the Gospel, 
 very few do, in comparison of them that do ntjt, what am 
 I better 1 when, perhaps, it is far more likely that I shall 
 perish notwithstanding, than be saved 1 In answer to this, 
 it must be acknowledged, that all that live under the Gos- 
 pel do not obtain life and saving grace by it. For, then, 
 there had been no occasion for this lamentation of our 
 blessed Lord over the perishing inhaliitants of Jerusalem, 
 as having lost their day, and that the things of their peace 
 were now hid from their eyes; and by that instance it ap- 
 pears too possible, that even the generality of a peo])le liv- 
 ing under the Gospel, may fall at length into the like for- 
 lorn and hopeless condition. But art thou a man that thus 
 objectestl A reasonable understanding creature 1 or dost 
 thou use the reason and understanding of a man in object- 
 ing thusl Didst thou expect, that when thine own wilful 
 transgression had made thee liable to eternal death and 
 wrath, peace and life, and salvation should be imposed 
 upon thee whether thou wouldst or no, or notwithstand- 
 ing thy most wilful neglect and contempt of them, and all 
 the means of them 1 Could it enter into thy mind, that a 
 reasonable soul should be wrought and framed for that 
 high and blessed end, whereof it is radically capable, as a 
 stock or a stone is for any use it is designed for; without 
 designing its own end or way to ill Couldst thou think 
 the Gospel was to bring thee to faith and repentance, 
 whether thou didst hear it or no 1 or ever apply thy mind 
 to consider the meaning of it, and what it did propose and 
 ofTer to thee 1 or when thou mightest so easily understand 
 that the grace of God was necessary to make it effectual 
 to thee, and that it might become his power (or the instru- 
 ment of his power) to thy salvation, couldst thou think it 
 concerned thee not to sue and supplicate to him for tliat 
 grace 1 when thy life lay upon it, and thy eternal hope 1 
 Hast thou lain weltering at the footstool of the throne of 
 grace in thine own tears, (as thou hast been formerly Avel- 
 tering in thy sins and impurities,) crying for grace to 
 help thee in this time of thy need 1 And if thou think'est 
 this was above thee and without th)'' compa.ss, hast thou 
 done all that was within thy compass in order to the ob- 
 taining of grace at God's hands 1 But here,])erhaps, thou 
 wilt inquire, Is there any thing, then, to be done by us, 
 whereupon the grace of God may be expected certainly 
 to follow 1 To which I answer, 
 
 1. That it is out of question nothing can be done by us 
 to deserve it, or for which we may expect it to follow. It 
 were not grace if we had obliged, or brought it, by our 
 desert, under former preventive bonds to lis. And, 
 
 2. What if nothing can be done by us upon v-liich it 
 may be certainly expected to follow"? Is a certainty 
 of perishing better than a high probability of being 
 saved 1 
 
 3. Such as live under the Gospel have reason to appre- 
 hend it highly probable they may obtain that grace which 
 is necessary to their salvation, if they be not wanting to 
 themselves. For, 
 
 4. There is generally afforded to such that which is 
 wont to be called common grace. I speak not of any fur- 
 ther extent of it, 'tis enough to our present purpose that 
 it extends so far, as to them that live under the Gospel, 
 and have thereby a day allowed tkem wherein to provide 
 
 for their peace. Now, though this grace is not }'-et cer- 
 tainly .saving, yet it tends to that which is so. And none 
 have cause to despair, but that being duly improved and 
 complied with, it may end in it. 
 
 And this is that which requires to be insisted on, and 
 more fully evinced. In order whereto let it be considered, 
 that it is expressly .said to .such, they are to work out their 
 salvation with fear and trembling, for thi.s rea.son, that God 
 works (or is working ianv o ive()yi7>^) in them, i. e. statedly 
 and continually at work, or is always ready to work in 
 them, to will and to do of his own good pleasure, Phil. ii. 
 12, 13. The matter fails not on his part. He will work 
 on in order to their salvation, if they work in that way of 
 subordinate co-operation, which his command, and the 
 necessity of their own case, oblige them unto. And it is 
 further to be considered, that where God had formerly 
 aflbrded the symbols of his gracious presence, given his 
 oracles, and settled his church, though yet in its nonage, 
 and much more imperfect state, there he, however, com- 
 municated tho.se influences of his Spirit, that it was to be 
 imputed to themselves if they came short ef the saving 
 operations of it. Of such it was said. Thou gavest ihy 
 good Spirit to instruct them, Nehem. ix. 20. And to such. 
 Turn ye at my reproof, I will pour out my Spirit unto 
 you. I will make known my words unto you. Be- 
 cause I called and you refused, I stretched out my hand 
 and no man regarded, but ye set at nought my coun- 
 sel, and despised all my reproof, I also will laugh at 
 your calamity, &c. Prov. i. 23, 24. We see whence their 
 destruction came; not from God's first restraint of his Spi- 
 rit, but their refusing, despising, and setting at nought his 
 counsels and reproofs. And when it is said, they rebelled 
 and vexed his Spirit, and he therefore turned and fought 
 against them, and became their enemy, Isa. Ixiii. 10. it 
 appears, that before his Spirit was not withheld, but did 
 variously, and often, make essays and attempts upon 
 them. And when Stephen, immediately before his mar- 
 tyrdom, thus bespeaks the descendants of these Je^ws, Ye 
 stift-neckcd, and uncircumcised, — ye do always resist the 
 Holy Ghost, as your Fathers did, so do ye. Acts vii. 'tis 
 implied the Ht)ly Ghost had been always striving from 
 age to age with that stubborn people : for where there 
 is no counter-striving there can be no resistance, no more 
 than there can be a war on one side only. Which also 
 appears to have been the course of God's dealing with the 
 old world, before llicir so general lapse into idolatry and 
 sensual wickedness, from that passage, Gen. vi. 3. accord- 
 ing to the more common reading and sense of those 
 words. 
 
 Now whereas the Gospel is eminently said to be fhe 
 ministration of the Spirit in contradistinction not only to 
 the natural religion of other nations, but the divinely in- 
 stituted religion of the Jews also, as is largely discoursed 
 2 Cor. iii. and more largely through the Epistle to the 
 Galatians, especially chap. iv. and whereas we find that, 
 in the Jewish Church, the Holy Ghost did generally dif- 
 fuse its influences, and not otherwise withhold them, than 
 penally, and upon great provocation ; iiow much more 
 may it be concluded, that under the Gospel, the same 
 blessed Spirit is very generally at work upon the souls of 
 men, till by their resisting, grieving, and quenching of it, 
 they provoke it to retire tmd withdraw from them. 
 
 And let the consciences of men living under tiie Gospel 
 testify in the case. Appeal, sinner, to thine own conscience ; 
 Hast thou never felt anv thin? of conviction, by the word 
 of God ] hadst thou never any thought injected of turning 
 to God, of reforming thy life, of making thy peace 1 have 
 no desires ever been raised in thee, no fears 1 hast thou 
 never had any tastes and relishes of pleasure in the things 
 of God"? whence have these come 1 What! from thyself, 
 who art not sufficient to think any thing as of thyself! i.e. 
 not any good or right thought. All must be from that 
 good Spirit that hath been striving with thee; and might 
 still have been so imto a blessed issue for thy soul, if thou 
 hadst not neglected and disobeyed it. 
 
 And do not go about to excuse thyself b}' saying, that so 
 all oiher.s have done too, 'tis like, at one time or other; 
 and if that therefore be the rule and measure, that they 
 that contend against the strivings and motions of God's 
 Spirit must be fuially deserted and given up to perish.
 
 443 
 
 THE REDEEMER'S TEARS 
 
 who then can be saved 1 Think not of pleading so for thy 
 neglecting and despising the grace and Spirit of God. 'Tis 
 true that herein the great God shows his sovereignty: 
 "vvhen all that enjoy the same advantages for salvation de- 
 serve by their slighting them to be forsaken alike ; he gives 
 instances and makes examples of just severity, and of the 
 victorious power of grace, as seems him good, which there 
 will be further occasion to speak more of hereafter. In the 
 mean time the present design is not to justify thy condem- 
 nation but procure thy salvation, and therefore to admon- 
 ish and instruct thee, that, though thou art not sure, because 
 some others that have slighted and despised the grace and 
 Spirit of God are notwithstanding conquered and saved 
 thereby, it shall therefore fare as well with thee ; yet thou 
 hast reason to be confident, it will be well and happy for 
 thee, if now thou despise and slight them not. And whe- 
 ther thou do or not, it is however plain that by being under 
 the Gospel thou hast had a day, wherein to mind the 
 things of thy peace, though it is not told thee it would last 
 always, but the contrary is presently to be told thee. 
 
 And thou mayst now see 'tis not only a day in respect 
 of Hnht but infitience also; that thou mightest not only 
 know notionally what belonged thereto, but efficaciously 
 and practically ; which you have heard is the knowledge 
 here meant. And the concurrence of such light and in- 
 fluence has made thee a season wherein thou wast to have 
 been at work for thy soul. The day is the proper season 
 for work : when the night comes working ceases, both be- 
 cause that then light fails, and because drowsiness and 
 sloth are more apt to possess men. And the night will 
 come. For, (which is the next thing we have to speak to,) 
 
 III. This day hath its bounds and limits, so that when 
 it is over and lost with such, the things of their peace are 
 for ever hid from their eyes. And that this day is not in- 
 finite and endless, we see in the present instance. Jeru- 
 salem had her day ; but that day had its period, we see it 
 comes to this at last, tliat now the things of her peace are 
 hid from her eyes. We generally see the same thing, in 
 that sinners are so earnestly pressed to make use of the 
 present time. To-day if you will hear his voice, harden 
 not your hearts, Psal. xcv. quoted and urged Heb. iii. 7, 
 8. They are admonished to seek the iLord while he may 
 be found, to call upon him while he is nigh. It seems 
 some time he will not be found, and will be afar ofl". 
 'They are told this is the accepted time, this is the day of 
 salvation. 
 
 This day, with any place or people, supposes a prece- 
 dent night, when the daj'-spring from on high had not 
 visited their horizon, and all within it sat in darkness, and 
 in the region and shadow of death. Yea, and there was a 
 time, we know, of very general darkness, when the Gos- 
 pel day, "the day of visitation," had not yet dawned upon 
 the world; "times of ignorance," wherein God as it were 
 winked upon the nations of the earth ; the beams of his 
 eye did in a sort overshoot them, as the word imcoiiwv im- 
 ports. But when the eyelids of the morning open upon 
 any people, and light shines to them with direct beams, 
 they are noio commanded to repent, (Acts xvii. 30.) limit- 
 ed to the present point of time with such peremptoriness, 
 as that noble Roman used towards a proud prince, asking 
 time to deliberate upon the proposal made to him of with- 
 drawing his forces that molested some of the allies of that 
 state; he draws a line about hitn with the end of his rod, 
 and requires him now, out of hand, before he stirred out 
 of that circle, to make his choice, whether he would be a 
 friend or enemy to the people of Rome. So are sinners to 
 understand the state of their own case. The God of thy 
 life, sinner, in whose hands thy times are, doth with much 
 higher right limit thee to the present time, and expects 
 thy present answer to his just and merciful offers and de- 
 mands. He circumscribes thy day of grace ; it is enclosed 
 on both parts, and hath an evening as well as morning ; as 
 it had a foregoing, so hath it a subsequent night, and the 
 latter, if not more dark, yet usually much more stormy 
 than the former I For God shuts up "this day in much dis- 
 pleas-ure, which hath terrible effects. If it be not expressly 
 told you what the condition of that night is that follows 
 your Gospel day; if the watchman being asked, "What of 
 the night ?" do only answer it cometh as well as the morn- 
 
 q Is a. Iv, 
 
 ing came; black events are signified by that more awful 
 silence. Or 'tis all one if you call it a day ; there is enough 
 to distinguish it from the day of grace. The Scriptures 
 call such a calamitous season indiflerently either by the 
 name of night or day ; but the latter name is used with 
 some or other adjunct, to signify day is not meant in the 
 pleasant or more grateful sense : a day of wrath, an evil 
 day, a day of gloominess and thick darkness, not differing 
 from the most dismal night ; and to be told the morning of 
 such a day is coming, is all one, as that the evening is 
 coming of a bright and a serene day. 
 
 And here, perhaps, reader, thou will expect to be told 
 what are the limits of this day of grace. It is indeed much 
 more difficult punctually to assign those limits, than to as- 
 certain thee there are such ; but it is also less necessary. 
 The wise and merciful God doth in matters of this nature 
 little mind to gratify our curiosity ; much less is it to be 
 expected from him, that he should make known to us 
 such things, whereof it were better we were ignorant, or 
 the knowledge whereof would be much more a prejudice 
 to us than an advantage. And it were as bold and rash 
 an undertaking, in this case, as it would be vain and insig- 
 nificant, for any man to take on him to say, in it, what 
 God hath not said, or given him plain ground for. What 
 I conceive to be plain and useful in this matter I shall lay 
 down in the following propositions, insisting more largely 
 where the matter requires it, and contenting myself but to 
 mention what is obvious, and clear at the first sight. 
 
 1. That there is a great difference between the ends and 
 limits of the day or season of grace as to particular per- 
 sons, and in reference to the collective body of a people, 
 inhabiting this or that place. It may be over with such or 
 such a place, so as that they that dwell there shall no lon- 
 ger have the Gospel among them, when as yet it may not 
 be over with every particular person belonging to it, who 
 may be providentially cast elsewhere, or may have the 
 " ingrafted word" in them, which they lose not. And 
 again, it may be over with some particular persons in such 
 a place, when it is not yet over with that people or place, 
 generaliy considered. 
 
 2. As to both there is a difference between the ending 
 of such a day, and intermissions, or dark intervals, (hat 
 may be in it. The Gospel may be withdrawn from such 
 a people, and be restored. And God often, no doubt, as to 
 particular persons, either deprives them of the outward 
 means of grace for a time, (by sickness, or many other 
 ways,) or may for a time forbear moving upon them by 
 his Spirit, and again try them with both. 
 
 3. As to particular persons, there may be much differ- 
 ence between such as, while they lived under the Gospel, 
 gained the knowledge of the principal doctrines, or of the 
 sum or substance, of Christianity, though without any 
 sanctifying effect or impression upon their hearts, and such 
 as, through their ovm negligence, lived under it in total 
 ignorance hereof. The day of grace may not be over with 
 the former, though they should never live under the min- 
 istry of the Go.spel more. For it is possible, while they 
 have the seeds and principles of holy truth laid up in their 
 minds, God may graciously administer to them many oc- 
 casions of recollecting and considering them, wherewith 
 he may so please to co-operate, as to enliven them, and 
 make them vital and effectual to their final salvation. 
 Whereas, with the other sort, when they no more enjoy 
 the external means, the day of grace is like to be quite 
 over, so as that there may be no more hope in their case 
 than in that of pagans in the darkest parts of the world ; 
 and perhaps much less, as their guilt hath been much 
 greater by their neglect of so great and important things. 
 It may be better with Tyre and Sidon, &c. 
 
 4. That yet it is a terrible judgment to the most know- 
 ing, to lose the external dispensation of the Gospel, while 
 they have yet no sanctifying impression upon their hearts 
 by it, and they are cast upon a fearful hazard of being lost 
 for ever, being left by the departed Gospel in an uncon- 
 verted state. For they need the most urgent inculcations 
 of Gospel truths, and the most powerful enforcing means, 
 to engage them to consider the things which they know. 
 It is the design of the Gospel to beget not only light in the 
 mind, but grace in the heart. And if that were not 
 
 r Isa. xli.v. 2 Cor. vi.
 
 WEPT OVER LOST SOULS. 
 
 443 
 
 done while they enjo3'eil such means, it is less likely to be 
 done without them. And if any slighter and more super- 
 ficial impressions were made upon them thereby, short of 
 true and thoruugli conversion, how great is the danger 
 that all will vanish, when they cease to be pressed and 
 urged, and called upon by the public voice of the gospel- 
 ministry any more. How naturally desident is the spirit 
 of man, and apt to sink into deadness, worldliness, and 
 carnality, even under the most lively and quickening 
 means; and even where a saving work hath been wrought ! 
 how much more when those means fail, and there is no 
 vital principle within, capable of self-excitation and im- 
 provement ! O that they would consider this, who have 
 got nothing by the Gospel all this while, but a little cold, 
 spiritless, notional knowledge, and are in a possibility of 
 losing it before they get any thing more ! 
 
 5. That as it is certain death ends the day of grace with 
 every unconverted person, so it is very possible it may end 
 with divers before they die ; by their total loss of all ex- 
 ternal means, or by the departure of the blessed Spirit of 
 God from them, so as to return and visit them no more. 
 How the day of grace may end with a person, is to be un- 
 derstood by considering what it is that makes up and con- 
 stitutes such a day. There must be some measure and 
 proportion of time to make up this (or any) day, which is 
 as the substratum and ground forelaid. Then there must 
 be light superadded, otherwise it differs not from night, 
 which may have the same measure of mere time. The 
 gospel-revelation some way or other must be had, as being 
 the light of such a day. And again there must be some de- 
 gree of liveliness, and vital influence, the more usual con- 
 comitant of light ; the night doth more dispose men to 
 drowsiness. The same sun that enlightens the world, dis- 
 seminates also an invigorating influence. If the Spirit of the 
 living God do no way animate the gospel-revelation, and 
 breathe in it, we have no day of grace. It is not only a day 
 of light, but a day of power, wherein souls can be wrought 
 upon, and a people made willing to become the Lord's, 
 Psal. ex. As the Redeemer revealed in the Gospel, is the 
 light of the world, so he is life to it too, though neither are 
 planted or do take root every where. In him was life, and 
 that life was the light of men. That light that rays from 
 him is vital light in itself, and in its tendency and design, 
 though it be disliked and not entertained by the most. 
 
 WJhereas therefore these things must concur to makeup 
 such a day : if either a man's time, his life on earth, expire, 
 or if light quite fail him, or if all gracious influence be 
 withheld, so as to be communicated no more ; his day is 
 done, the season of grace is over with him. Now it is 
 plain, that many a one may lose the Gospel before his life 
 end; and possible that all gracious influence may be re- 
 strained, while as yet the external dispensation of the Gos- 
 pel remains. A sinner may have hardened his heart to 
 that degree, that God will attempt him no more, in any 
 kind, with any design of kindness to him, not in that more 
 inward, immediate way at all, i. e. by the motions of his 
 Spirit, which peculiarly can import nothing but friendly 
 inclination, as whereby men are personally applied unto, 
 so that cannot be meant ; nor by the voice of the Gospel, 
 which may either be continued for the sake of others, or 
 they continued under it, but for their heavier doom at 
 length. Which though it may seem severe, is not to be 
 thought strange, much less unrighteous. 
 
 It is not to be thought strange to them that read the 
 Bible, which so often speaks this sense : as when it warns 
 and threatens men with so much terror, as Heb. x. 26 — 
 29. For if we sin wilfully after that we have received the 
 knowledge of the truth, there remaineth no more sacrifice 
 for sins, but a fearful looking for of judgment, and fiery 
 indignation, which shall devour the adversaries. He that 
 despised Moses' law, died without mercy, under two or 
 three witnesses: of how much sorer punishment, suppose 
 ye, shall he be thought worthy, who hath trodden under 
 foot the Son of God, and hath counted the blood of the 
 covenant, wherewith he was sanctified, an unholy thing, 
 and hath done despite unto the Spirit of grace ? And when 
 it tells us, after many overtures madelo men in vain, of 
 his h.Tving given them up, &c. Psal. Ixxxi. 11, 12. But 
 my prople would not hearken to my voice ; and Israel 
 would none of me; so I gave Lheni up unto ibeir own 
 
 hearts' lust ; and they walked in their own counsels : and 
 pronounces, Let him that is unjust be unjust still, and let 
 him which is filthy, be filthy still, Rev. xxii. 11. and says, 
 In thy filthine.ss is lewdne.ss, because I have purged thee 
 and thou wast not purged ; thou shalt not be purged from 
 thy filthiness any more, till I have caused my fury to rest 
 upon thee, Ezek. xxiv. 13. Which pas.sages seem to im- 
 ply a total desertion of them, and retraction of all gracious 
 influence. And when it speaks of letting them be under 
 the Gospel, and the ordinary means of salvation, for the 
 most direful purposes: as that. This child (Je-sus) was set 
 for the fall, as well as for the rising, of many in Israel, 
 Luke ii. 34. As to which text the very learned Grotius 
 glossing upon the words Ktirat and ti'j rrrtjatv, says, Acccdo 
 lis qui non necdum eventum, sed et consilium, that he is of 
 their opinion who think not tJiat the naked event, but the 
 counsel or purpose of God, is signified by it, the same with 
 Ttdcrai ; and alleges several texts where the active of that 
 verb must have the same sense, as to appoint or ordain ; 
 and mentions divers others places of the same import with 
 this so understood; and which therefore to recite will 
 equally serve our present purpose; as that, Rom. ix. 33. 
 Behold, I lay in Zion a stumbling stone, and rock of of- 
 fence. And 1 Pet. ii. 8. The stone which the builders re- 
 fused, is made a stone of stumbling, and a rock of of- 
 fence, even to them which stumble at the word, being dis- 
 obedient, whereunto also they were appointed. With that 
 of our Saviour himself, John ix. 39. For judgment I am 
 come into this world, that they which see not might see ; 
 and that they which see, might be made blind. And most 
 agreeable to those former places is that of the prophet, 
 Isaiah xxviii. 13. But the word of the Lord was unto them 
 precept upon precept, precept upon precept, line upon line, 
 line upon line, here a little and there u little; that they 
 might go, and fall backward, and be broken, and .snared, 
 and taken. And we may add, that our Lord hath put us 
 out of doubt that there is such a sin as that which is emi- 
 nentl}'- called the sin against the Holy Ghost ; that a man 
 may, in such circumstances, and to such a degree, sin 
 against that blessed Spirit, that he will never move or 
 breathe upon them more, but leave them to a hopeless 
 ruin; though I shall not in this discourse determine or 
 discuss the nature of it. But I doubt not it is somewhat 
 else, than final impenitency, and infidelit}' ; and that every 
 one that dies, not having sincerely repented and believed, 
 is not guilty of it, though every one that is guilty of it, 
 dies impenitent and unbelieving, but was guilty of it be- 
 fore; so as it is not the mere want of time, that makes him 
 guilty. Whereupon therefore, that such may outlive their 
 day of grace, is out of question. 
 
 i3ut let not such, as, upon the descriptions the Gospel 
 gives us of that sin, may be justly confident tliey have not 
 perhaps committed it, therefore think themselves out of 
 danger of losing their season of making their peace with 
 God before they die. Many a one may, no doubt, that 
 never committed the unpardonable blasphemy against the 
 Holy Ghost, as he is the witness, by his wonderful works, 
 of Christ being the Messiah. As one may die, by neg- 
 lecting himself, that doth not poison himself, or cut his 
 own throat. You will say, " But if the Spirit retire from 
 men, so as never to return, where is the difference 1" I an- 
 swer, ihe difference lies in the specific nature and greater 
 heinousness of that sin, and consequently, in the deeper 
 degrees of its pmiishment. For though the reason of its 
 unpardonableness lies not principally in its greater hein- 
 ousness, but in its <lirect repugnancy to the way of obtain- 
 ing pardon, yet there is no doubt of its being much more 
 heinous thaii many other sins, for which men perish. And 
 therefore 'tis in proportion more severely punished. But 
 is it not misery enough to dwell in darkness and wo for 
 ever, as every one that dies unreconciled to God must do, 
 unless the most intense flames and horror of hell be your 
 portion 7 As his case is sufliciently bad that must die a.s 
 an ordinary felon, though he is no"t to be hanged, drawTi, 
 and quartered. 
 
 Nor is there any place or pretence for so profane a 
 thought, as if there were any colour of unrighteousness in 
 this course of procedure with such men. Is it unjust se- 
 verity to let the Gospel become deadly to them, whof< 
 maJignitv perverts it, against its nature, and gei-Mue icn-
 
 444 
 
 THE REDEEMER'S TEARS 
 
 denc)'-, into a savour of death, (as 2 Cor. ii. 16.) which it 
 is Tois arroWvftevoii, i. e. to them (as the mentioned author 
 speaks) who may be truly said to seek their own destruc- 
 tion 1 or that God should intend their more aggravated 
 condemnation, even from the despised Gospel itself, who, 
 when such light is come into the world, hate it, show them- 
 selves lucifugce, tencbriotics, (as he also phrases it, speaking 
 further upon that first mentioned text,) such as fly from the 
 light, choose and. love to lurk in darkness 1 He must have 
 very low thoughts of divine favour and acceptance, of 
 Christ, and grace, and glory, that can have hard thoughts 
 of God, for his vindicating, with greatest severity, the con- 
 tempt of such things. What could better become his glo- 
 rious majesty, and excellent greatness, than, as all things 
 work together for good towards them that love him, so t© 
 let all things work for the hurt of them that so irreconcile- 
 ably hate him, and bear a disaffected and implacable mind 
 towards him 1 Nor doth the addition of his designing the 
 matter so, make it hard. For if it be just to punish such 
 wickedness, is it unjust to intend to punish iti and to in- 
 tend to punish it according to its desert, when it cannot be 
 thought unjust actually to render to men what they deserve % 
 
 We are, indeed, to account the primary intention of 
 continuing the Gospel to such a people, among whom 
 these live, is kindness towards others, not this higher re- 
 venge upon them ; 3'et nothing hinders but that this re- 
 venge upon them, may also be the fit matter of his second- 
 ary intention. For should he intend nothing concerning 
 them "? Is he to be so unconcerned about his own creatures, 
 that are under his government 1 While things cannot fall 
 out to him unawares, but that he hath this dismal event in 
 prospect before him, he must at least intend to let it be, or 
 not to hinder it. And who can expect he should ? For, 
 that his gracious influence towards them .should at length 
 -cease, is above all exception : that it ceasing, while they 
 live still under the Gospel, they contract deeper guilt, and 
 incur heavier punishment, follows of course. And who 
 can say he should not intend to let it follow 7 For should 
 he take away the Gospel from the rest, that these might be 
 less punished 1 that others might not be saved, because 
 they will not 1 
 
 Nor can he be obliged to interpose extraordinarily, and 
 alter for their sakes the course of nature and providence, 
 so as either to hasten them the sooner out of the world, or 
 cast them into any other part of it, where the Gospel is 
 not, lest they should, by living still under it, be obnoxious 
 to the severer punishment. For whither would this lead 1 
 He should, by equal reason, have been obliged to prev^ent 
 men's sinning at all, that they might not be liable to any 
 punishment. And so not to liaA'e made the woild, or have 
 otherwise framed the methods of his government, and less 
 suitably to a whole community of reasonable creatures ; 
 or to have made an end of the world long ago, and have 
 quitted all his great designs in it, lest some should sin on, 
 and incur proportionable punishment ! or to have provided 
 extraordinarily that all should do and fare alike ; and that 
 it might never have come to pass, that it should be less 
 toleralile for Capernaum, and Chorazin, and Bethsaida, 
 than for Tyre, and Sidon, and Sodom, and Gomorrah. But 
 is there unrighteou.sness with God 1 or is he unrighteous 
 in taking vengeance ? or is he therefore unjust, because 
 he will render to every one according to his works; to 
 them who, by patient continuance in well doing, seek glory, 
 honour, and immortality, eternal life; but unto them that 
 are contentious, and do not obey the truth, but obey un- 
 righteousness, indignation and wrath, tribulation and 
 anguish upon every soul of man that doth evil, of the Jew 
 first, and also of the gentile % Rom. ii. 6 — 9. Doth right- 
 eousness itself make him unrighteous'? O sinner, under- 
 stand how much better it is to avoid the stroke of Divine 
 justice, than accuse it! God will be found true, and every 
 man a liar, that he may be justified when he speaks, and 
 be clear when he judges, Psal. Ii. 4. 
 
 6. Yet are we not to imagine any certain fixed rule, ac- 
 cording whereto (except in the case of the unpardonable 
 sin) the divine dispensation is measured in cases of this 
 nature : viz. That, w^hen a sinner hath contended just so 
 long, or to such a degree, against his grace and Spirit in 
 his Gospel, he shall be finally rejected ; or if but so long, 
 or not to such a degree, he is yet certainly to be further 
 
 tried, or treated with. It is little to be doubted, but he 
 puts forth the power of victorious grace, at length, upon 
 some more obstinate and obdurate sinners, and tl at have 
 longer persisted in their rebellions, (not having, sinned 
 the unpardonable sin,) and gives over some sooner, as it 
 seems good unto him. Nor doth he herein owe an account 
 to any man of his matters. Here sovereign good pleasure 
 rules and arbitrates, that is tied to no certain rule. Nei- 
 ther, in these variations, is there any show of that blameable 
 npocra)Tro\rjipia or accepting of persons, which, in his own 
 word, he so expressly disclaims. We must distinguish 
 matters of right, (even such as are so by promise only, as 
 well as others,) and matters of mere unpromised favour. 
 In matters of right, to be an accepter of persons, is a thing 
 most highly culpable with men, and which can have no 
 place with the holy God : i. e. when a human judge hath 
 his rule before him, according whereto he is to estimate 
 men's rights, in judgment ; there, to regard the person of 
 the rich, or of the poor, to the prejudice of the justice of 
 the cause, were an insufferable iniquity ; as it were also in 
 a private person to withhold another's right, because he 
 hath no kindness for him. So even the great God himself, 
 though of mere grace he first fixed and established the 
 rule, (fitly therefore called the covenant, or law of grace,) 
 by which he will proceed in pardoning and justifying men, 
 or in condemning and holding them guilty, both here, and 
 in the final judgment ; yet having fixed it, he will never 
 recede from it ; so as either to acquit an impenitent unbe- 
 liever, or condemn a believing penitent. If we confess our 
 sins, he is faithful and just to forgive. None shall be ever 
 able to accuse him of breach of faith, or of transgressing 
 his own rules of justice. We find it therefore said in re- 
 ference to the judgment of the last day, when God shall 
 render to every man according to his works, whether they 
 be Jews or gentiles, that there is no respect of persons with 
 God, Rom. ii. 6 — II. yet {q%d promisit pmnitenti, veniam, 
 no7i promisit peccanli pcenitentiarti) whereas he hath, by his 
 evangelical law, ascertained pardon to one that sincerely 
 obeys it, but hath not promised grace to enable them to do 
 so, to them that have long continued wilfully disobedient 
 and rebellious; this communication of grace is, therefore, 
 left arbitrary, and to be dispensed, as the matter of free 
 and unassured favour, as it seems him good. And indeed, 
 if in matters of arbitrary favour, respect of persons ought 
 to have no place, friendship were quite excluded the world, 
 and would be swallowed up of strict and rigid justice. I 
 ought to take all men for my friends alike, otherwise than 
 as justice should oblige me to be more respectful to men 
 of more merit. 
 
 7. Wherefore no man can certainly know, or ought to 
 conclude, concerning himself or others, as long as they 
 live, that the season of grace is quite over with them. As 
 we can conceive no rule God hath set to himself to pro- 
 ceed by, in ordinary cases of this nature ; so nor is there 
 any he hath set unto us to judge by, in this case. It were 
 to no purpose, and could be of no use to men, to know so 
 much ; therefore it were unreasonable to expect God 
 .should have settled and declared any rule, by which they 
 might come by the knowledge of it. As the case is then, 
 viz. there being no such rule, no such thing can be con- 
 cluded ; for who can tell what an arbitrary, sovereign, free 
 agent w^ill do, if he declare not his own purpose himself 1 
 How should it be known, when the Spirit of God hath 
 been often working upon the soul of a man, that this or 
 that shall be the last act, and that he will never put forth 
 another 1 And why should God make it known 1 To the 
 person himself whose case it is, 'tis manifest it could be 
 no benefit. Nor is it to be thought the holy God will 
 ever so alter the course of his own proceedings, but that 
 it shall finally be seen to all the world, that every man's 
 destruction was, entirely, and to the last, of himself. If 
 God had made it evident to a man, that he were finally 
 rejected, he were obliged to believe it. But shall it ever 
 be said, God hath made any thing a man's duty, which 
 were inconsistent with his felicity. The having sinned 
 himself into such a condition wherein he is forsaken of 
 God, is indeed inconsistent with it. And so the case is 
 to stand, i. c. that his perdition be in immediate connexion 
 with his sin, not with his duty. As it would be in imme- 
 diate, necessary connexion with his duty, if he were bound
 
 WEFT OVER LOST SOULS. 
 
 445 
 
 to believe himself finally forsaken, and a lost creature. 
 For that lielief makes him hopeles.s, and a very devil, ju.s- 
 tifies his unbelief of the Gospel, towards himself, by re- 
 moving and shutting up, towards him, the object of su(.li a 
 faith, and consequently brings the matter to this state, that 
 he perishes, ^ not because he doih not believe God recon- 
 cileable to man, but because, with particular application to 
 himself, he ought not so to believe. 
 
 And it were most unfit, and of very pernicious conse- 
 quence, that such a thing should be generally known con- 
 cerning others. It were to anticipate the final judgment, 
 to create a hell upon earth, to tempt them whose doom 
 were already known, to do all the mischief in the world, 
 which malice and despair can suggest, and prompt them 
 unto; it were to mingle devils with men! and fill the 
 world with confusion ! How should parents know how to 
 behave themselves towards children, a husband towards 
 the wife of his bosom in such a case, if it were known 
 they were no more to counsel, exhort, admonish them, 
 pray with or for them, than if they were devils ! 
 
 And if there were such a rule, how frequent misappli- 
 cations would the fallible and distempered minds of men 
 make of it! so that they would be apt to fancy themselves 
 warranted to judge severely, or uncharitably, and (as the 
 truth of the case perhaps is^ unjustly concerning others, 
 from which they are so hardly withheld, when they have 
 no such pretence to embolden them to it, but are so strictly 
 forbidden it ; and the judgment-seat so fenced, as it is, by 
 the most awful interdicts, against their usurpations and 
 encroachments. We are therefore to reverence the wis- 
 dom of the Divine government, that things of this nature 
 are among the arcana of it ; some of those secrets which 
 belong not to us. He hath revealed what was fit and ne- 
 cessary for us and our children, and envies to man no use- 
 fill knowledge. 
 
 But it may be said, when the apostle (1 John v. 16.) 
 directs to pray for a brother whom we see sinning a sin 
 that is not unto death, and adds, there is a sin unto death, 
 I do not say he shall pray for it ; is it not implied that it 
 may be known when one sins that sin unto death, not only 
 to himself, but even to others too 1 I answer it is implied 
 there may be too probable appearances of it, and much 
 ground to suspect and fear it concerning some, in some 
 cases; as when any against the highest evidence of the 
 truth of the Christian religion, and that Jesus is the Christ, 
 or the Messiah, (the proper and most sufficiently credible 
 testimony whereof, he ha I mentioned in the foregoing 
 verses, under heads to which the whole evidence of the 
 truth of Christianity may be fitly enough reduced,) do not- 
 withstanding, from that malice, which blinds their under- 
 standing, persist in infidelity, or apostatize and relapse into 
 it from a former profession, there is great cause of suspi- 
 cion, lest such have sinned that sin unto death. Where- 
 upon yet it is to be observed, he doth not expressly forbid 
 f)raying for the persons whose case we may doubt ; only 
 le doth not enjoin it, as he doth for others, but only says, 
 I do net say ye shall pray for it, i. e. that in his present di- 
 rection to pray for others, he did not intend such, but an- 
 other sort, for whom they might pray remotely from any 
 such suspicion : riz. that he meant no7V such praying as 
 ought to be interchanged between Christian friends, that 
 have reason, in the main, to be well persuaded concerning 
 one another. In the mean time intending no opposition 
 to what is elsewhere enjoined, the praying for all men, 
 (1 Tim. ii. 1.) without the personal exclusion of any, as 
 also our Lord himself prayed indefinitely for his most ma- 
 licious enemies, Father, fargivethem, they know not what 
 they do; though he had formerly said, there was such a 
 sin as should never be forgiven ; whereof 'tis highly pro- 
 bable some of them were guilty: yet such he doth not ex- 
 pressly except ; but his prayer being in the indefinite, not 
 the universal, form, 'tis to be supposed it must mean such 
 aus were within the compass and reach of prayer, and ca- 
 pable of benefit by it. Nor doth the apostle here direct 
 personally to exclude any, only that indefinitely and in the 
 general such must be supposed not meant as had sinned 
 the sin unto death ; or must be conditionally excluded if 
 they had, without determining who had or had not. To 
 which purpose it is very observable, that a more abstract 
 s See more to the purpose in thu Appendix 
 
 form of expression is u.sed in this latter clause of this 
 verse. For whereas in the former posilicc part of the 
 direction, he enjoins praying for him or them ihat had not 
 sinned unto death ; (viz. concerning whom there was no 
 ground for any such imagination or suspicion that they 
 had ;) in the 7icgalivc part, concerning such as might have 
 sinned it, he doth not .say for him or them, but lor it, {i. e. 
 concerning, in reference to it,) a,s if he had said, the case 
 in general only is to be excepted, and if persons aie to be 
 distinguished (since every sin is some one's sin, the sin of 
 some person or other) let God distinguish, but do not you, 
 'tis enough for you to except the sin, commiued by whom- 
 soever. And though the former part of the verse speaks 
 of a particular person, " If a man see his brother sin a sin 
 that is not unto death," wliich is as determinate to a person 
 as the sight of our eye can be, it doth not follow the latter 
 part must suppose a like particular determination of any 
 person's case, that he hath sinned it. I may have great 
 reason to be confident such and such have not, when I can 
 only suspect that such a one hath. And it is a thing much 
 less unlikely to be certain to oneself than another, for 
 they that have sinned unto death, are no doubt so blinded 
 and .stupified by it, that they are not more apt or compe- 
 tent to observe themselves, and consider their case, than 
 others may be. 
 
 8. But though none ought to conclude that their da}' or 
 season of grace is quite expired, yet the}' ought deeply to 
 apprehend the danger, lest it should expire, before their 
 necessary work be done, and their peace made. For though 
 it can be of no use to them to know the former, and there- 
 fore they have no means appointed thera by which to know 
 it, 'tis of great use to apprehend the latter ; and they have 
 suflicient ground for the apprehension. All the cautions 
 and warnings wherewiih the Holy Spirit abounds, of the 
 kind with those already mentioned, have that manifest de- 
 sign. And nothing can be more important, or apposite to 
 this purpose, than ^hat solemn charge of the great apostle, 
 Phil. ii. 12. Work out your own salvation with fear and 
 trembling; considered together with the subjoined ground 
 of it, ver. 13. For it is God that workeih in you to will 
 and to do of his own good pleasure. How correspondent 
 is the one with the other; icork, for he works: there were 
 no working at all to any purpose, or with any hope, if he 
 did not work. And work with fear and trembling, for he 
 works of his own good pleasure, q. d. " 'Twerethe greatest 
 folly imaginable to trifle with one that works at so perfect 
 liberty, under no obligation, that may desist when he will ; 
 to impose upon so absolutely sovereign and arbitrary an 
 aj;;fpt, that owes you nothing ; and from whose former 
 gracious operations not complied with, you can draw no 
 argument unto any following ones, that because he doth, 
 therefore he will. As there is no certain connexion be- 
 tween present time and future, but all time is made up of 
 undepending, not strictly coherent, moments, so as no man 
 can be sure, because one now exists, another shall ; there 
 is also no more certain connexion between the arbitrar}' 
 acts of a free agent within such time ; so that I cannot be 
 sure, because he now darts in light upon me, is now con- 
 vincing me, now awakening me, therefore he will still do so, 
 again and again. Upon this ground then, what exhortation 
 could be more proper than this 7 " Work out your salvation 
 with fear and trembling." What could be more awfully 
 monitory, and enforcing of it. than that he works only of 
 mere good will ami pleasiire ? How should I tremble to 
 think, if I should be negligent, or undutil'ul, he may give ■ 
 out the next moment, nay let the work fall, and me perish ! 
 And there is more especial cause for such an apprehen- 
 sion, upon the concurrence of such things as these : 
 
 1. If the workings of God's Spirit upon the .soul of a 
 man have been more than ordinarily strong and urgent, and 
 do now cease : if there have been more powerful convic- 
 tions, deeper humiliations, more awakened fears, more 
 formed purposes of a new life, more fervent desires, that 
 are now all vanished and fled, and the sinner is returned 
 to his old dead and dull temper. 
 
 2. If there be no disposition to reflect and consider the 
 difference, no sense of his loss, but he apprehends such 
 workings of spirit in him unnecessar}- troubles to him, 
 and thinks it well he is delivered and eased of them.
 
 446 
 
 THE REDEEMER'S TEARS 
 
 3. If in the time when he was under such workings of 
 spirit, he had made known his case to his minister, or any- 
 godly friend, whose company he now shuns, as not willing 
 to be put in mind or hear any more of such matters. 
 
 4. If hereupon he hath more indulged sensual inclina- 
 tion, taken more liberty, gone against the checks of his 
 own conscience, broken former good resolutions, involved 
 himself in the guilt of any grosser sins. 
 
 5. If conscience, so batfled, be now silent ; lets him 
 alone, grows more sluggish and weaker (which it must) as 
 his lusts grow stronger. 
 
 6. If the same lively powerful ministry, which before 
 affected him much, now moves him not. 
 
 7. If especially he is grown into a dislike of such preach- 
 ing ; if serious godliness, and what tends to it, are become 
 distasteful to him ; if discourses of God, and Christ, of 
 death and judgment, and of a holy life, are reckoned super- 
 fluous and needless, are unsavoury and disrelished ; if he 
 have learned to put disgraceful names upon things of this 
 import, and the persons that most value them, and live 
 accordingly ; if he hath taken the seat of the scorner, and 
 makes it his business to deride what he had once a rever- 
 ence for, or took some complacency in. 
 
 8. If, upon all this, God withdraw such a ministry, so 
 that he is now warned and admonished, exhorted and 
 striven with, as formerly, no more. O the fearful danger 
 of that man's case ! Hath he no cause to fear lest the 
 things of his peace should be for ever hid from his eyes 1 
 Surely he hath much cause of fear, but not of despair. 
 Fear would in this case be his great duty, and might yet 
 prove the means of saving him; despair would be his very 
 heinous and destroying sin. If yet he would be stirred up 
 to consider his case, whence he is fallen, and whither he is 
 falling, and set himself to serious seekings of God, cast 
 dowTi himself before him, abase himself, cry for mercy, as 
 for his life, there is yet hope in his case. God may make 
 here an instance what he can obtain of himself to do for a 
 perishing wretch ! But, 
 
 IV. If with any that have lived under the Gospel, their 
 day is quite expired, and the things of their peace now for 
 ever hid from their eyes, this is in itself a most deplorable 
 case, and much lamented by our Lord Jesus himself That 
 the case is in itself most deplorable, who sees not 1 A soul 
 lost ! a creature capable of God ! upon its way to him ! 
 near to the kingdom of God ! shipwrecked in the port ! O 
 sinner, from how high a hope art thou fallen ! into what 
 depths of misery and wo ! And that it was lamented by 
 our Lord, is in the text. He beheld the city, (very gene- 
 rally, we have reason to apprehend, inhabited by such 
 wretched creatures,) and wept over it. This was a very 
 affectionate lamentation. We lament often, very heartily, 
 many a sad case, for which we do not shed tears. But 
 tears, such tears, falling from such eyes ! the issues of the 
 purest and best governed passion that ever was, showed 
 the true greatness of the cause. Here could be no exor- 
 bitancy or unjust excess, nothing more than was propor- 
 tionable to the occasion. There needs no other proof that 
 this is a sad case, than that our Lord lamented it with 
 tears, which that he did, we are plainly told, so that touch- 
 ing that, there is no place for doubt. All that is liable to 
 question is, whether we are to conceive in him any like 
 resentments of such cases, in his present glorified state 1 
 
 Indeed we cannot think heaven a place or state of .sad- 
 ness, or lamentation ; and must take heed of conceiving 
 • any thing there, especially on the throne of glory, unsuit- 
 able to the most perfect nature, and the most glorious state. 
 We are not to imagine tears there, which in that happy 
 region are wiped away from inferior eyes; no grief, sor- 
 row, or sighing, which are all fled away, and shall be no 
 more ; as there can be no other turbid passion of any kind. 
 But when expressions that import anger, or griel^, are used, 
 even concerning God himself, we must sever in our con- 
 ception every thing of imperfection, and ascribe every 
 thing of real perfection. We are not to think such expres- 
 sions signify nothing, that they have no meaning, or that 
 nothing at all is to be attributed to him under them. 
 
 Nor are we again to think they signify the same thing 
 with what we find in ourselves, and are wont to express 
 by those names. In the Divine nature, there may be real, 
 and yet most serene, complacency and displacency, viz. 
 
 that are unaccompanied with the least commotion, and im- 
 port nothing of imperfection, but perfection rather, as it is 
 a perfection to apprehend th)ngs suitably to what in them- 
 selves they are. The Holy Scriptures frequently speak of 
 God as angry, and grieved for the sins of men, and their 
 miseries which ensue therefrom. And a real aversion and 
 dislike is signified thereby, and by many other expressions, 
 which in us would signify vehement agitations of affec- 
 tion, that we are sure can have no place in him. We 
 ought therefore in our own thoughts to ascribe to him that 
 calm aversion of will, in reference to the sins and miseries 
 of men in general ; and, in our own apprehensions, to re- 
 move to the utmost distance from him all such agitations 
 of passion or affection, even though some expressions that 
 occur, carry a great appearance thereof, should they be 
 understood according to human measures, as they are hu- 
 man forms of speech. As, to instance in what is said by 
 the glorious God himself, and very near in sense to what 
 we have in the text, what can be more pathetic, than that 
 lamenting wish, Psal. Ixxxi. 13. O that my people had 
 hearkened unto me, and Israel had walked in my ways! 
 
 But we must take heed lest, under the pretence that we 
 cannot ascribe every thing to God that such expressions 
 seem to import, we therefore ascribe nothing. We ascribe 
 nothing, if we do not ascribe to a real unwillingness that 
 men should sin on, and perish ; and consequently a real 
 willingness that they should turn to him, and live ■, which 
 so many plain texts assert. And therefore it is unavoid- 
 ably imposed upon us, to believe that God is truly unwil- 
 ling of some things, which he doth not think fit to inter- 
 pose his omnipotency to hinder, and is truly willing of 
 some things, which he doth not put forth his omnipotency 
 to effect. That he most fitly makes this the ordinary course 
 of his dispensations towards men, to govern them by laws, 
 and promises, and threatenings, (made most express to 
 them that live under the Gospel,) to work upon their minds, 
 their hope, and their fear ; afibrding them the ordinary 
 assistances of supernatural light and influence, with which 
 he requires them to comply, and which, upon their refus- 
 ing to do so, he may most righteously withhold, and give 
 them the victory to their own ruin ; though oftentimes he 
 doth, from a sovereignty of grace, put forth that greater 
 power upon others, equally negligent and obstinate, not to 
 enforce, but effectually to incline, their wills, and gain a 
 victory over them, to their salvation. 
 
 Nor is his will towards the rest altogether ineffectual, 
 though it have not this effect. For whosoever thou art that 
 livest under the Gospel, though thou dost not know that 
 God so wills thy conversion and salvation, as to effect it, 
 whatsoever resistance thou now makest ; though thou art 
 not sure he will finally overcome all thy resistance, and 
 pluck thee as a fireband out of the mouth of hell ; yet 
 thou canst not say his good will towards thee hath been 
 without any effect at all tending thereto. He hath often 
 called upon thee in his Gospel, to repent and turn to him 
 through Christ ; he hath waited on thee with long patience, 
 and given thee time and space of repentance ; he hath 
 within that time been often at work with thy .soul. Hath 
 he not many times let in beams of light upon thee 1 shown 
 thee the evil of thy ways 1 convinced thee 1 awakened 
 thee 1 half persuaded thee 1 and thou never hadst reason 
 to doubt, but that if thou hadst set thyself with serious 
 diligence to work out thy own salvation, he would have 
 wrought on, so as to have brought things to a blessed issue 
 for thy soul. 
 
 Thou migh test discern his mind towards thee to be agree- 
 able to his word, wherein he hath testified to thee he de- 
 sired not the death of sinners, that he hath no pleasure in 
 the death of him that dieth, or in the death of the wicked, 
 but that he should turn and live ; exhorted thee, expostu- 
 lated with thee, and others in thy condition, Turn ye, turn 
 ye, why will ye die 1 He hath told thee expressly thy stub- 
 bornness, and contending against him, did grieve him, and 
 vex his Spirit ; that thy sin, wherein thou hast indulged 
 thyself, hath been an abomination to him, that it was the 
 abominable thing which his soul hated, that he was broken 
 with thewhorish heart of such as thou, and pressed there- 
 with, as a cart that was full of sheaves. 
 
 Now such expressions as these, though thev are bor- 
 rowed from man, and must be understood suitably to God.
 
 WEPT OVER LOST SOULS. 
 
 447 
 
 though they do not sis^nify the thing with him as they do 
 in us, yet they do not signily notinn;<. As when hands 
 and ej'es are attributed to God, they do not signil'y as they 
 do with us, yet they signify somewhat correspondent, as 
 active and visive power : so these expressions, though they 
 signify not, in God, such unquiet motions and passions, 
 as they would in us, they do signify a mind and will, really, 
 though with the most perfect calmness and tranquillity, set 
 against sin, and the horrid consequences of it, which yet, 
 for greater reasons than we can understand, he may not 
 see fit to do all he can to prevent. And if we know not 
 how to reconcile such a will in God, with some of our 
 notions concerning the Divine nature ; shall we, for what 
 we have thought of him, deny what he hath so expressly 
 said of himself, or pretend to understand his nature better 
 than he himself doth !<■ 
 
 And when we see from such express sayings in Scrip- 
 ture, reduced to a sense becoming God, how God's mind 
 stands in reference to sinners, and their self-destroying 
 ways, we may thence apprehend what temper of mind our 
 Lord Jesus aiso bears towards them in the like case, even 
 in his glorified state. For can you think there is a dis- 
 agreement between him and the Father about these things ? 
 And whereas we find oar blessed Lord, in the days of his 
 flesh, one while complaining men would not come to him 
 that they might have life, (John v. 40.) elsewhere grieved 
 at the hardness of their hearts, (Mark iii. 5.) and here scat- 
 tering tears over sinning and perishing Jerusalem ; we can- 
 not doubt but that the (innocent) perturbation, which his 
 earthly state did admit, being severed, his mind is still the 
 same, in reference to cases of the same nature ; for can we 
 think there is any disagreement between him and himself? 
 We cannot therefore doubt but that, 
 
 1. He distinctly comprehends the truth of any such case. 
 He beholds from the throne of his glory above, all the 
 treaties which are held and managed with sinners in his 
 name, and what their deportments are therein. His eyes 
 are as a flame of fire, wherewith he searches hearts, and 
 trieth reins. He hath seen therefore, sinner, all along, 
 every time an offer of grace hath been made to thee, and 
 been rejected ; when thou hast slighted counsels and warn- 
 ings that have been given thee, exhorrations and entreaties 
 that have been pressed upon thee, for many years together, 
 and how thou hast hardened thy heart against reproofs and 
 threatenings, against promises and allurements; and be- 
 holds the tendency of all this, w^hat is like to come of it, 
 and that, if thou persist, it will be bitterness in the end. 
 
 2. That he hath a real dislike of the sinfulness of thy 
 course. It is not indifferent to him whether thou obeyest, 
 or disobeyest the Gospel ; whether thou turn and repent or 
 no; that he is truly displeased at thy trifling, .sloth, negli- 
 gence, impenitency, hardness of heart, stubborn obstinacy, 
 and contempt of his grace, and takes real offence at them. 
 
 3. He hath real kind propensions towards thee, and is 
 ready to receive thy returning soul, and effectually to me- 
 diate with the offended Majesty of heaven for thee, as long 
 as there is any hope in thy case. 
 
 4. When he sees there is no hope, he pities thee, while 
 thou seest it not, and dost not pity thyself. Pity and mer- 
 cy above are not names only; 'tis a great reality that is 
 signified by them, and that hath place there, in far higher 
 excellency and perfection, than it can with us poor mortals 
 here below. Ours is but borrowed, and participated from 
 that first_ fountain and original above. Thou dost not 
 perish unlamented, even with the purest heavenly pity, 
 though thou hast made thy case incapable of remedy. As 
 the well-tempered judge bewails the sad end of the male- 
 factor, whom justice obliges him not to spare, or save. 
 
 And now let us consider what use is to be made of all 
 this. And though nothing can be useful to the persons 
 themselves, whom the Redeemer thus laments as lost, yet 
 that he doth so, may be of great use to others. 
 
 Use. Which will partly concern those who do justly ap- 
 prehend this is not their case; and partly such as may be 
 in great fear that it is. 
 
 I. For such as have reason to persuade themselves it is 
 not their case. The best ground upon which any can con- 
 fidently conclude this, is that they have in this their pre- 
 sent day, through the grace of God, already effectually 
 t See the Appendix. 
 
 known the things of their peace, .such, viz. as have .sin- 
 cerely, with all their hearts and souls, turned to God, taken 
 him to be their God, and devoted themselves to him, to be 
 his; iiitrustmg and subjecting them.selves to the saving 
 mercy and governing power of the Redeemer, according to 
 the tenor of the gospel-covenant, from which they do not 
 find their hearts to swerve or decline, but resolve, thnjugh 
 Divine assistance, tQ persevere herein all their days. Now 
 for such as with whom things are already brought to that 
 comfortable conclusion, I only say to them, 
 
 1. Rejoice and bless God tlial so it is. Christ your Re- 
 deemer rejoices with you, and over you ; you may collect 
 it from his contrary resentment of their case who are past 
 hope; if he weep over them, he, no doubt, rejoices over 
 you. There is joy in heaven concerning you. Angels 
 rejoice, your glorious Redeemer presiding in the joyful 
 concert. And should not you rejoice for yourselves 1 Con- 
 sider what a discrimination is made in your case! To 
 how many hath that Gospel been a deadly savour, which 
 hath proved a savour of life unto life to you ! How many 
 have fallen on your right hand, and your left, stumbling 
 at the stone of offence, which to you is become the head- 
 stone of the corner, elect, and precious! Whence is this 
 difference 1 Did you never slight Christ 1 never make 
 light of offered mercy 1 was your mind never blind or 
 vain 1 was your heart never hard or dead 7 were the terms 
 of peace and reconciliation never rejected or disregarded 
 by you 1 How should you admire victorious grace, that 
 would never desist from striving with you till it had over- 
 come ! You aie the triumph of the Redeemer's conquer- 
 ing love, who might have been of his wrath and justice ! 
 Endeavour your spirits may taste, more and more, the 
 sweetness of reconciliation, that you may more abound in 
 joy and praises. Is it not pleasant to you to be at peace 
 with God? to find that all controversies are taken up be- 
 tween him and you 1 that you can now approach him, and 
 his terrors not make }'ou afraid 1 that you can enter into 
 the secret of his presence, and solace yourselves in his as- 
 sured favour and love 1 How should you joy in God 
 through Jesus Christ, by whom you have received the 
 atonement ! What have you now to fear 1 If, when you 
 were enemies, you were reconciled by the death of Christ, 
 how much more, being reconciled, shall you he saved by 
 his life X How great a thing have you to oppose to all world- 
 ly troubles'? If God be for 3'ou, who can he against you 1 
 Think how mean it is for the friends of God, the favourites 
 of hea\'en, to be dismayed at the appearances of danger 
 that threaten them from the inhabitants of the earth ! What 
 if all the world were in a posture of hostility against you, 
 ■when the mighty Lord of all is your friend 1 Take heed of 
 thinking meanly of his power and love; would anyone 
 diminish to Himself, whom he takes for his God 1 All 
 people will walk every one in the name of his god ; why 
 should not you much more in the name of yours, glorying 
 in him, and making your boast of him all the day long! 
 O the reproach which is cast upon the glorious name of the 
 great God, by their diffidence and despondency, who visi- 
 bly stand in special relation to him, but fear the impotent 
 malice of mortal man more than they can trust in his Al- 
 mighty love ! If indeed you are justified by faith, and have 
 peace with God, it becomes you so to rejoice in the hope 
 of the glory of God, as also to glory in tribulation, and tell 
 all the world that in his favour stands your life, and that 
 you care not who is displeased with you for the things 
 wherewith, von have reason to apprehend, he is pleased. 
 
 2. Demean yourselves M'ith that care, caution, and duti- 
 fulness that become a state of reconciliation. Bethink 
 yourselves that your present peace and friendship with God 
 is not orisfinal, and continued from thence, but hath been 
 interrupted and bmken; that your peace is not that of con- 
 stantly innocent persons. You stand not in this good and 
 happy state because you never offended, but as being re- 
 conciled, and who therefore were once enemies. And 
 when you were brought to know, in that your day, which 
 you have enjoyed, the things belonging to your peace, you 
 were made to feel the smart and taste the bitterness of j'our 
 having been alienated, and enemies in your minds by 
 wicked works. When the terrors of God did beset vou 
 round, and his arrows stuck fast in you, did vou not then
 
 448 
 
 THE REDEEMER'S TEARS 
 
 find trouble and sorrow 1 were you not m a fearful expec- 
 tation of wrath and fiery indignation to consume and burn 
 you up as adv^ersaries 1 Would you not then have given 
 all the world for a peaceful word or look ! for any glim- 
 mering hope of peace 1 How wary and afraid should you 
 be of a new breach ! How should you study acceptable 
 deportments, and to walk worthy of God unto all well- 
 pleasing ! How strictly careful should you be to keep 
 faith with him, and abide steadfast in his covenant! How 
 concerned for his interest ! and in what agonies of spirit, 
 when you behold the eruptions of enmity against him from 
 any others ! not from any distrust, or fear of final prejudice 
 to his interest, but from the apprehension of the unrighte- 
 ousness of the thing itself, and a dutiful love to his name, 
 throne, and government. How zealous should you be to 
 draw in others ! how fervent in your endeavours, within 
 your own sphere, and how large in your desires, extended 
 as far as the sphere of the universe, that every knee might 
 bow to him, and every tongue confess to him I They 
 ought to be more deeply concerned for his righteous cause, 
 that remember they were once most unrighteously engaged 
 against it. And ought besides to be filled with compas- 
 sion towards the souls of men, yet in an unreconciled 
 state, as having known by the terrors of the Lord, and re- 
 membering the experienced dismalness and horror of that 
 state, what it was to have Divine wrath and justice armed 
 against you with Almighty power ! And to have heard 
 the thunder of such a voice, " I lift my hand to heaven, 
 and swear I live for ever, if I whet my glittering sword, 
 and my hand take hold on vengeance, I will recompense 
 fury to mine adversaries, vengeance to mine enemies." — 
 Do you not know what the case is like to be, when pot- 
 sherds, that should strive but with the potsherds of the 
 earth, v^enture to oppose themselves as antagonists to om- 
 nipotency 1 And when briars and thorns set themselves 
 in battle-array against the consuming fire, how easily it 
 can pass through, and devour, and burn them up together 1 
 And how mucli more fearful is their condition that know 
 it not! but are ready to rush like the horse into the battle ! 
 Do you owe no duty, no pity to them that have the same 
 nature with you, and with whom your case was once the 
 same ? If you do indeed know the things of your peace 
 God-ward, so as to have made your peace, to have come 
 to an agreement, and struck a covenant with him ; you 
 have now taken his side, are of his confederates ; not as 
 equals but subjects. You have sworn allegiance to him, 
 and associated yourself with all them that have done so. 
 There can hereupon be but one common interest to him 
 and you. Hence therefore you are most strictly obliged 
 to wish well to that interest, and promote it to your utter- 
 most, in his own way, i. e. according to his openly avowed 
 inclination and design, and the genuine constitution of 
 that kingdom which he hath erected, and is intent to en- 
 large and extend further in the Avorld. That, you do well 
 know, is a kingdom of grace ; for his natural kingdom al- 
 ready confines with the universe, and can have no enlarge- 
 ment, without enlarging the creation. Whosoever they 
 are that contend against him, are not merely enemies, 
 therefore, but rebels. And you see he aims to conquer 
 them by love and goodness; and therefore treats with 
 them, and seeks to establish a kingdom over them, in and 
 by a Mediator, who if he were not intent upon the same 
 design, had never lamented the destruction of any of them, 
 and wept over their ruin, as here you find. So, therefore, 
 should you long for the conversion of souls, and enlarge- 
 ment of his kingdom this way, both out of loyalty to him, 
 and compassion towards them. 
 
 II. For such as may be in great fear lest this prove to be 
 their case. They are either such as may fear it, but dc 
 not ; or such as are deeply afflicted with this actual fear. 
 
 1. For the former sort, who are in too great danger of 
 bringing themselves into this dreadful deplorate condition, 
 but apprehend nothing of it. All that is to be said to 
 them apart by themselves, is only to awaken them out of 
 their drowsy, dangerous slumber and security ; and then 
 they will be capable of being spoken to, together with the 
 other sort. Let me therefore, 
 
 L Demand of you ; do you believe there is a Lord 
 over you, yea or nol Use your thoughts, for about mat- 
 ters that concern you less, you can think. Do you not 
 
 apprehend you have an invisible Owner and Ruler, that 
 rightfully claims to himself an interest in you, and a go- 
 verning power over youl How came you into being 1 
 You know you made not yourselves. And if you yet look 
 no higher than to progenitors of your own kind, mortal 
 men, as you are; how came they into being 1 You have 
 so much understanding about you, if you would use it, as 
 to know they could none of them make themselves more 
 than you, and that, therefore, human race must have had 
 its beginning from some superior Maker. And did not 
 he that made them make you and all things else 1 Where 
 are your arguments to prove it was otherwise, and that 
 this world, and all the generations of men, took beginning 
 of themselve.'?, without a wise and mighty Creator % Pro- 
 duce your strong reasons, upon which you will venture 
 your souls, and all the possibilities of your being happy or 
 miserable to eternity ! Will your imagination make you 
 safe 1 and protect you against his wrath and justice, whose 
 authority you will not own"? Can you, by it, uncreate 
 your Creator, and nullify the eternal Being? or have you 
 any thing else, besides your own blind imagination, to 
 make you confident, that all things came of nothing, with- 
 out any maker] But if you know not how to think this 
 reasonable, and apprehend you must allow yourselves to 
 owe your being to an Almighty Creator, let me, 
 
 2. Ask of you how you think your life is maintained 1 
 Doth not he that made you live, keep you alive 1 Whereas 
 you have heard we all live, and move, and have our be- 
 ings in him, doth it not seem most likely to you to be so 1 
 Have you power of your own life 1 Do you think you can 
 live as long as you will 1 At least do you not find you need 
 the common helps of meat and drink, and air and clothing, 
 for the support and comfort of your lives'? And are not 
 all these his creatures as well as you 1 And can you have 
 them, whether he will or no '? 
 
 3. And how can you think that he that made and main- 
 tains you, hath no right to rule you 1 If it were possible any 
 one should as much depend upon you, would you not claim 
 such power over him "? Can you suppose yourself to be 
 under no obligation to please him, who hath done so much 
 for you? and to do his will, if you can any way know it 1 
 
 4. And can you pretend you have no means to know iti 
 That book that goes up and down under the name of his 
 Word, can you disprove it to be his Word 1 If such writings 
 should now first come into the world, so sincere, so awful, 
 so holy, so heavenly, bearing so expressly the Divine 
 image, avowing themselves to be from God, and the most 
 wonderful works are wrought to prove them his word, the 
 deaf made to hear, the blind to see, the dumb to speak, the 
 sick healed, the dead raised, by a word only commanding 
 it to be so, would you not confess this to be sufficient evi- 
 dence that this revelation came from heaven. And are 
 you not sufliiciently assured they are so confirmed? Do 
 you find in yourselves any inclination to cheat your child- 
 ren, in any thing that concerns their well being 1 Why 
 should you more suspect your forefather's design, to cheat 
 you in the mere reporting falsely a matter of fact 1 Was 
 not human nature the same, so many hundred years ago 1 
 Did ever the enemies of the Christian name, in the earlier 
 days of Christianity, when it was but a novelty in the 
 world, and as much hated, and endeavoured to be rooted 
 out, as ever any profession was, deny such matters of fact ] 
 Have not some of the most spiteful of them confessed if? 
 Did not Christians then willingly sacrifice their lives by 
 multitudes, upon the assured truth of these things. Have 
 they not been ever since most strictly careful to preserve 
 these writings, and transmit them, as wherein the all of 
 themselves and their posterity was contained 1 And where 
 is now your new light? where are your latter discoveries, 
 upon which, so many ages after, you are able to evict 
 these writings of falsehood, or dare venture to disbelieve 
 them ? 
 
 5. But if you believe these writings to be divine, how 
 expressly is it told you, in them, what the state of your 
 case is God-ward, and what he requires of you ! You may 
 see you have displeased him, and how you are to please 
 him, as hath been shown before in this discourse. You 
 Imow that 3^ou have lived in the world mindless and in- 
 observant of him, not trusting, fearing, loving, or delight- 
 ing in him, declining his acquaintance and converse ;
 
 WEPT OVER LOST SOULS. 
 
 449 
 
 seeking your oM'n pleasure, following your inclination, 
 doing your own will ; as if you were supreme, never mind- 
 ing to refer your actions to his precepts as your rule, or to 
 his glory as your end. And from that word of his you 
 may understand all this to be very displeasing to him. 
 And that you can never please him by continuing this 
 course, but by breaking it ofl", and returning to him as your 
 Lord and your God. That since your case did need a re- 
 deemer, and reconciler, and he hath provided and appointed 
 one for you ; you are to apply yourselves to him, to commit 
 and subject your souls to him, to trust in his merits and 
 blood, and submit to his authority and government. And, 
 
 6. Are you not continually called hereto by the Gospel, 
 under which you have lived all this while 1 so that you 
 are in actual, continual rebellion against him all the while 
 you comply not with this call ; every breath you draw is 
 rebellious breath. There is no moment wherein this lies 
 not upon you, by every moment's addition to your time. 
 And that patience of his which adds by moments to your 
 life, and should lead you to repentance, is, while you re- 
 pent not, perverted by you, only to the treasuring up of 
 wrath against the day of wrath, and the revelation of his 
 righteous judgment. 
 
 7. And do you not find, as his word also plainly tells you, 
 a great averseness and disinclination in you to any such 
 serious solemn applying yourself to him, and your Re- 
 deemer 1 Try your own hearts ; do you not find them draw 
 back and recoil 1 if you urge them, do they not still fly 
 off? How loth are you to retire ! and set yourselves to 
 consider your case ! and unto serious seeking of God in 
 Christ ! both from a reluctancy and indisposition to any 
 such employment as this is itself, and from disaffection to 
 that whereto it tends, the breaking off your former sinful 
 course of life, and entering upon a better. And does not 
 all this show you the plain truth of what the word of God 
 hath told you, that the Ethiopian may as soon change his 
 skin, or the leopard his spots, as they do good who are ac- 
 customed to do evil; (Jer. xiii. 23.) that you have a heart 
 that cannot repent, (Rom. ii. 5.) till God give you repent- 
 ance to life, (Acts xi. 18.) that you cannot come to Christ 
 till the Father draw you, John vi. 44. Do you not see 
 your case then 1 that you must perish if you have not help 
 from heaven, if God do not give you his g«ace, to over- 
 come and cure the averseness and malignity of your na- 
 ture! that things are likely thus to run on with you as they 
 have from day to day, and from year to year ; and you 
 that are unwilling to take the course that is necessary for 
 your salvation to-day, are likely to be as vmwilling to- 
 morrow, and so your lives consume in vanity, till you drop 
 into perdition 1 But, 
 
 8. Dost thou not also know, sinner, (what hath been so 
 newly shown thee from God's word,) that, by thy being 
 under the Gospel, thou hast a day of grace 1 not only as 
 offers of pardon and reconciliation are made to thee in it, 
 but also as through it, converting, heart-renewing grace 
 is to be expected, and may be had "? that what is sufficient 
 for the turning and changing of thy heart, is usually not 
 given all at once, but as gentler insinuations (the injection 
 of some good thoughts and desires) are complied with, 
 more powerful influences may be hoped to follow? that 
 therefore thou art concerned, itpon any such thought cast 
 into thy mind, of going now to seek God for the life of thy 
 soul, to strive, thyself,"against thy own di.sinclination? that 
 if thou do not, but yield to it, and still defer, it may prove 
 mortal to theel For is it not plain to thee in itself, and 
 from what hath been said, that this day hath its limits, and 
 will come to an end 1 Dost thou not know thou art a mor- 
 tal creature, that thy breath is in thy nostrils'? Dost thou 
 know how near thou art to the end of thy life 1 and how 
 few breaths there may be for thee between this present 
 moment and eternity'? Dost thou not know thy day of 
 grace may end before thy life 1 that thou mayst be cast far 
 enough out of the sound of the Gospel 1" and if thou 
 shouldst carry any notices of it with thee, thou, who hast 
 been so unapt to consider them, while they were daily 
 pressed upon thee, wilt most probably be less apt when 
 thou hearest of no such thing ■? that thou mayst live still 
 under the Gospel, and the Spirit of grace retire from thee, 
 and never attempt thee more for thy former despiting of 
 it ■? For what obligation hast thou upon that blessed Spirit 1 
 
 Or why shouldst thou think a Deity bound to attend upon 
 thy triflings 1 And, 
 
 9. If yet all this move not: consider what it will be to 
 die unreconciled to God! Thou hast been his enemy, he 
 hath made thee gracious oflersof peace, waited long upon 
 thee, thou hast made light of all. The matter must at 
 length end either in reconciliatiun or vengeance ! The 
 former is not acceptable to thee: art thou prepared for the 
 latter 1 canst thou sustain if? Is it not a fearful thing to 
 fall into the hands of the living God ? Thou wilt not do 
 him right ; he must then right himself upon thee. Dost 
 thou think he cannot do if? canst thou doubt his power'? 
 Cast thine eyes about thee, behold the greatness (as farsis 
 thou canst) of this creation of his, whereof thou art a very 
 little part. He that hath made that sun over thine head, 
 and stretched out those spacious heavens, that hath fur- 
 nished them with those innumerable bright stars, that go- 
 verns all their motions, that haih hung this earth upon no- 
 thing, that made and sustains that great variety of crea- 
 tures that inhabit it, can he not deal with thee, a worml 
 Can thine heart endure, or thine hands be strong, if he 
 plead with thee"? if he surround ihce with his terrors, and 
 set them in battle array against thee! Hell and destruc- 
 tion are open before him, and without covering; how soon 
 art thou cast in and ingulfed ! Sit down, and consider 
 whether thou be able, with tkij impotencij, to stand before 
 him, that comes against tht^e with almighty poicer ! Is it 
 not better to sue in time for peace 1 But perhaps thou 
 mayst say, " I begin now to fear it is too late, I have so 
 long slighted the Gospel, resisted the Holy Spirit of God, 
 abused and baffled my o\\ti light and conscience, that I 
 am afraid God will quite abandon me, and cast me off for 
 ever." It is well if thou do indeed begin to fear. That 
 fear gives hope. Thou art then capable of coming into 
 their rank who are next to be spoken to, viz. 
 
 2. Such as feel themselves afflicted with the apprehen- 
 sion and dread of their having out-lived their day, and 
 that the things of their peace are now irrecoverably hid 
 from their eyes. I desire to counsel such faithfully, accord- 
 ing to that light and guidance which the Gospel of our 
 Lord affords us in reference to any such case. 
 
 1. Take heed of stifling that fear suddenly, but labour to 
 improve it to some advantage, and then to cure and remove 
 it by rational, evangelical means and methods. Do not, 
 as thou lovest the life of thy soul, go about suddenh', or by 
 undue means, to smother or extinguish it. 'Tis too pos- 
 sible, when any such apprehension strikes into a man's 
 mind, because 'tis a sharp or piercingthought, disturbs his 
 quiet, gives him molestation, and some torture, to pluck 
 out the dart too soon, and cast it away. Perhaps such a 
 course is taken, as doth him unspeakably more mischief, 
 than a thousand such thoughts would ever do. He di- 
 verts, it may be, to vain company, or to sensuality, talks 
 or drinks away his trouble ; makes death his cure of pain, 
 and to avoid the fear of hell, leaps into it. Is this indeed 
 the wisest course "? Either thy apprehension is reasonable, 
 or unreasonable. If it should prove a reasonable appre- 
 hension, as it is a terrible one, would the neglect of it be- 
 come a reasonable creature, or mend thj- case 1 if it shall 
 be found unreasonable, it may require time and some de- 
 bate to discover it to be so ; whereby, when it is manifestly 
 detected, with how much greater satisfaction is it laid aside! 
 Labour then to inquire rightly concerning this matter. 
 
 2. In this inquiry, consider diligently what the kind of 
 that fear is that you find yourselves afflicted with. The 
 fear that perplexes your heart, must someway correspond 
 to the apprehension you have in your mind, touching your 
 case. Consider what that is, and in what form it shows 
 itself there. Doth it appear in the form of a peremptory 
 judgment, a definitive sentence, which 3'ou have past with- 
 in yourself concerning your ease; that your day is over, 
 and you are a lost creature 1 or only of a mere doubt, lest 
 it should prove so"? The fear that corresponds to the 
 former of these, makes you quite desperate, and ol)stinate- 
 ly resolute against any means for the bettering of your 
 condition. The fear that answers to the latter apprehen- 
 sion, hath a mixture of hope in it, which admits of some- 
 what to be done for your relief, and will prompt thereunto. 
 Labour to discern which of these is the present temper and 
 posture of your spirit.
 
 450 
 
 THE REDEEMER'S TEARS 
 
 3. If you find it be the former, let no thought any longer 
 dwell in your mind under tko.t form, viz. as a definitive 
 sentence concerning your state. You have nothing to do 
 to pass such a judgment ; the tendency of it is dismal and 
 horrid, as you may, yourself, perceive. And your ground 
 for it is none at all. Your conscience within you is to do 
 the office of a judge ; but only of an under-judge, that is 
 to proceed strictly by rule, prescribed and set by the sove- 
 reign Lord and Arbiter of life and death : there is one 
 Lawgiver, who is able to save and to destroy. Nor is 
 your conscience, as an under-judge, to meddle at all, but 
 in cases within your cognizance. This about your final 
 state is a reserved, excepted case, belonging only to the 
 supreme tribunal, which you mu.st take heed how you 
 usurp. As such a judgment tends to make you desperate, 
 so there will be high presumption in this despair. Dare 
 you take upon you to cancel and nullify to yourself the 
 obligation of the evangelical lawl and whereas that makes 
 it your duty to repent, and believe the Gospel, to absolve 
 yourself from this bond, and say, it is none of your duty, 
 or make it impossible to you to do it 1 You have matter 
 and cases enough within the cognizance of your conscience, 
 not only the particular actions of your life, but your pre- 
 sent stale also, whether you be as yet in a state of accept- 
 ance with God, through Christ, yea or no. And here you 
 have rules set you to judge by. But concerning your final 
 state, or that you shall never be brought into a state of ac- 
 ceptance, you have no rule by which you can make such a 
 judgment; and therefore this judgment belongs not to you. 
 Look then upon the matter of your final condition, as an 
 exempt case, reserved to the future judgment, and the pre- 
 sent determination whereof, against yourself, is without 
 your compass and line, and most unsuitable to the state of 
 probation, wherein, you are to reckon, God continues you 
 liere, witli the rest of men in this world ; and therefore 
 any such judgment you should tear and reverse, and as 
 such, not permit to have any place with you. 
 
 4. Yet since, as hath been said, you are not quite to re- 
 ject or obliterate any apprehension or thought touching 
 this subject, make it your business to correct and reduce it 
 to that other form, i. e. let it only for the present remain with 
 you, as a doubt how your case now stands, and what issue 
 it may at length have. And see that your fear thereupon 
 be answerable to your apprehension, so rectified. While 
 as yet it is not evident, you have made your peace with 
 God upon his known terms, you are to consider God hath 
 left your case a doubtful case, and you are to conceive of 
 it accordingly; and are to entertain a fear concerning it, 
 not as certainly hopeless, but as uncertain. And as yours 
 is really a doubtful case, 'tis a most important one. It 
 concerns your souls, and your eternal well-being, and is 
 not therefore to be neglected, or trifled with. You do not 
 know how God will deal with you : whether he will again 
 alford you such help as he hath done, or whether ever he 
 will eflfectually move your heart unto conversion and sal- 
 vation. You therefore are to work out your salvation with 
 fear and trembling, because (as was told you) he works, 
 but of his own good pleasure. Your fear should not ex- 
 ceed this state of your case, so as to exclude hope. It is 
 of unspeakable concernment to you, that hope do intermin- 
 gle with your fear. That will do much to mollify and 
 soften your hearts, that after all the abuse of mercy, and 
 imposing upon the patience of God, your neglects and 
 slights of a bleeding Saviour, your resisting and grieving 
 the Spirit of grace, he may yet, once for all, visit your for- 
 lorn soul with his vital influence, and save you from go- 
 ing down to perdition ! How can your hearts but melt 
 and break upon this apprehension ! And it is not agroitnd- 
 less one. He that " came not to call the righteous but 
 sinners to repentance," will not fail to treat them well, 
 whom he sees beginning to listen to his call, and enter- 
 taining the thoughts that most directly tend to bring them 
 to a compliap.ce with it. Your hope insinuating itself and 
 mingling with your fear, is highly grateful to the God of 
 all grace. He takes pleasure in them that fear him, and in 
 them that hope in his mercy, Psal. exlvii. H. 
 
 5. But see to it also that your fear be not slight and mo- 
 mentary, and that it vanish not, while as yet it hath so 
 great a work to do in you, viz. to engage you to accept 
 God's own terms of peace and reconciliation, with all your 
 
 heart and soul. It is of continual use, even not only in 
 order to conversion, but to the converted also. Can you 
 think those mentioned words were spoken to none such, 
 Phil. ii. 12, 13. 1 or those, Heb. iv. 1. Let us therefore 
 fear, lest a promise being left us of entering into his rest, 
 any of you should .seem to come short, &c.1 And do we 
 not find a holy fear is to contribute all along to the whole 
 of progressive sanctiticationl 2 Cor. vii. L Having there- 
 fore these promises, dearly beloved, let us cleanse our- 
 selves from all filthiness of the flesh and spirit, perfecting 
 holiness in the fear of God. And that by it he preserves 
 his own, that they never depart from him, Jer. xxxii. 40. 
 Much more do you need ii in your present case, while 
 matters are yet in treaty between God and you. And as 
 it should not exceed the true apprehension of your case, 
 so nor should it come short of it. 
 
 6. You should therefore in order hereto aggravate to 
 yourselves the just causes of your fear. Why are you 
 afraid your day should be over, and the things of your 
 peace be for ever hid from your eyes 1 Is it not that you 
 have sinned against much light, against many checks of 
 your own consciences, against many very serious warn- 
 ings and exhortations, many earnest importunate beseech- 
 ings and entreaties you have had in the ministry of the 
 Gospel, many motions and strivings of the Spirit of God 
 thereby'? Let your thoughts dwell upon these things. 
 Think what it is for the great God, the Lord of glory, to 
 have been slighted by a worm ! Doth not this deserve as ill 
 things at the hands of God as you can fear 1 'Tis fit you 
 should apprehend what your desert is, though perhaps 
 mercy may interpose and avert the deserved dreadful event. 
 And if he have signified his displea.sure towards you here- 
 upon, by desisting for the present, and ceasing to strive 
 with you as he hath formerly done ; if your heart be grown 
 more cold, and dead, and hard, than sometime it was ; if 
 you have been left so as to fall into grosser sin; 'lis highly 
 reasonable you should fear being finally forsaken of the 
 blessed spirit of God, and greatly fear it, but with an awful 
 fear, that may awaken you most earnestly to endeavour 
 his return to you, not with a despairing fear, that will bind 
 you up from any further endeavour for your soul at all. 
 
 And if upon all this (by death or otherwise) such a min- 
 istry be withdrawn from you as God did work by, in some 
 degree, upon you, and you find not in that kind, what is 
 so suitable to your state and case ; take heed lest you be 
 stupid under such a stroke. Think what it imports unto 
 you, if God have, as it were, said concerning any servant 
 of his, (as Ezek. iii. 26.) I will make his tongue cleave to 
 the roof of his mouth, that he shall not be a reprover to 
 you any more! Consider that God may by this be making 
 way that " wrath may come upon you to the uttermost," 
 and never let you have opportunity to know more the 
 things of your peace. Perhaps you may never meet with 
 the man more, that shall speak so accommodately to your 
 condition, that shall so closely pursue you through all the 
 haunts, and subterfuges, and lurking-holes, wherein your 
 guilty convinced soul hath been Avont to hide itself, and 
 falsely seek to heal its own wounds. One of more value 
 may be less apt, possibly, to profit you : as a more polished 
 key doth not therefore alike fit every lock. And thy case 
 may be such, that thou shalt never hear a sermon or the 
 voice of a preacher more. 
 
 7. And now in this case recollect yourselves, what sins 
 you have been formerly convinced of, under such a minis- 
 try, and which you have persisted in notwithstanding. 
 Were you never convinced of your neglecting God, and 
 living as without him in the world 1 of your low esteem 
 and disregard of Christ 1 of your worldliness, your mind- 
 ing only the things of this earth 1 of your carnality, pride, 
 self-seeking, voluptuousness, your having been lovers of 
 pleasures more than lovers of God 1 of your unprofitable- 
 ness in your station"? wherein you ought to have lived 
 more conformably to Christian rules andprecej)ts, accord- 
 ing to the relations wherein God had set you '? Were you 
 never convinced how very faulty governors you have been, 
 or members of families? parents or masters, children or 
 servants, &c. 1 What will this come to at last, that con- 
 victions have hitherto signified and served for nothing but 
 increase of guilt 1 
 
 8. Under all this weight and load of guilt, consider what
 
 WEPT OVER LOST SOULS. 
 
 451 
 
 you have to do for your souls ! Bethink yourselves ; are 
 you to sit down and yield yourselv^es to perish"? Con- 
 sider, man, it is the business of thy soul, and of thine eter- 
 nal state, that is now before thee. Thou hast the dreadful 
 flaminggulf of everlasting horror and misery in view ; hast 
 thou nothing left thee to do but to throw thyself into it 1 
 Methinks thou shouldst sooner reconcile thy thoughts 
 to any thing than that; and that, if any thing at all be to 
 be done for thine escape, thou shouldst rather set thyself 
 about it, and do it. Thou art yet alive, not yet in hell, yet 
 the patience of God spares thee, thou hast yet time to 
 consider, thou hast the power to think yet left thee, and 
 canst thou use it no other way than to think of perishing 1 
 Think rather how not to perish. A great point is gained, 
 if thou art but brought to say, " What shall I do to be 
 saved 1" which doth imply thou dost both apprehend the 
 distressedness of thy case, and art willing to do any thing 
 that is to be done for thy relief And if thou art brought 
 to this, thy circumstances may perhaps be such, that thou 
 canst only put this question to thyself, and art only thyself 
 to answer it, without a living, present guide, which may 
 therefore make such a help as this needful to thee. Pos- 
 sibly some irresistible providence may have so cast thy lot, 
 that thou art only now to be thy own preacher ; though it 
 sometime was otherwise with thee ; and things were said 
 to thee most suitable to the condition of thy soul. Which 
 thou wouldst not then consider. It is yet pressed upon 
 thee to consider now, with some design to direct thy 
 thoughts, that they run not into useless and troublesome 
 confusion only. And your subject being what course you 
 are now to take, that you may escape eternal wrath and 
 ruin, 'tis obvious to you to apprehend nothing is to be 
 done against or without God, but with him, and by him. 
 Your utmost consideration can but bring the matter to 
 this short point, that whereas you have highly offended the 
 God that made you, incurred his wrath, and made him 
 your enemy, either to resist, or treat and supplicate. That 
 madness which would let you intend the former, is not 
 capable of consideration at all. For, if you consider, will 
 you contend with omnipotency, or fight with an all-devour- 
 ing flame 1 And as to the loiter, it is well for you, that it 
 can be the matter of your consideration, that you have any 
 encouragement to turn your thoughts that way. You 
 might have enemies that, being provoked, and having you 
 in their power, would never admit of a treaty, nor regard 
 your supplications, but fall upon you with me-ciless fury, 
 and leave you nothing to think of but perishing. Here it 
 is not so with you. The merciful God hath graciously 
 told you, fury is not so in him, but that (though if briars 
 and thorns will set themselves in battle against him, he 
 will easily pass through, and barn them up together, yet) 
 if any will take hold of his strength, that they may make 
 peace with him, they shall make peace with him, Isa. 
 xxvii. 4, 5. You are to consider there is danger in your 
 case, and there is hope, that your sin is not so little as to 
 need no forgiveness, nor too great to be forgiven. Where- 
 fore, whose case soever this is, since you may be forgiven, 
 if you duly apply yourselves, and must be forgiven, or you 
 are undone, my further advice to you is, and you may, as 
 to this, advise j'^ourself, having nothing else left you to do. 
 
 9. That you cast yourselves down before the mercy- 
 seat of God, humble yourselves deeply at his footstool, 
 turn to him with all your soul, implore his mercy through 
 Christ, make a solemn covenant with him, taking him to 
 be your God, and devoting yourself to him to be his, ac- 
 cepting his Son as your Lord and Saviour, and resigning 
 your soul with .submission and trust entirely to him, to be 
 ruled and saved by him. That you are to do this, the 
 case is plain, and even speaks itself; how you are to do it 
 may need to be more particularly told you. 
 
 1. Take heed that what you do in this be not the 
 mere effect of your present apprehended distress, but of 
 the altered judgment and inclination of your mind and 
 heart. The apprehension of your distressed dangerous 
 condition, may be a useful means and inducement to en- 
 gage you more seriously to listen and attend to the pro- 
 posals made to you in the gospel. But if upon all this, 
 it should be the sense of your heart that you would rather 
 live still as without God in the world, and that yon would 
 never come to any such treaty or agreement with him, if 
 
 mere necessity, and the fear of perishing, did not urge yoa 
 to it, you are still but where you were. Therefore, though 
 the feared danger was necessary to make you bethink 
 yourself, and consider what God propounds to you; that 
 consideration ought to have that further effect upon you, to 
 convince you of the equity and desirableness of the things 
 themselves which he propounds, summarily, of your be- 
 taking yourselves to him as your sovereign Lord, and su- 
 preme Good, to fear and love, obey and enjoy him, in Christ 
 Jesus, and accordingly ought to incline your heart thereto. 
 
 2. You are to consider in your entering info this cove- 
 nant with God in Christ, that it is not a transaction for the 
 present only you are about, but for your whole life. This 
 God is to be your God for ever and ever, your God and 
 your guide even to the death, Psal. xlviii. 14. You are 
 to live in his fear and love, in his service and communion, 
 all your days, and must understand this to be the meaning 
 and tenor of the covenant which you make with him. 
 
 3. And hence, therefore, it is plain that your whole 
 transaction in this matter must proceed from a new 
 nature, and a new vital principle of grace and holiness in 
 you. What you do herein will otherwise neither be sin- 
 cere nor lasting. You can never embrace religion foriiself, 
 without this, nor continue on in a religious course. What 
 you do only from a temporary pang of fear upon you, is 
 but from a kind of force that is for the present upon you, 
 and will come to nothing, as soon as the impression of that 
 fear wears off. The reUgion which is true and durable, is 
 not from a spirit of fear, but of love, power, and a sound 
 mind, 2 Tim. i. 7. You must be a new creature, God's 
 workmanship, created in Christ Jesus unto good works — 
 that you may walk in them. The life of the new creature 
 stands in love to God, as its way and course afterwards 
 is a course of walking with God. If your heart be not 
 brought to love God, and delicht in him, you are still but 
 dead towards God, and you still remain alive unto sin, a.s 
 before. Whereas, if j'ou ever come to be a Christian in- 
 deed, you must be able truly to reckon yourself dead to 
 .sin, and alive to God through Jesus Christ, Rom. vi. 11. 
 Whereupon in your making the mentioned covenant, 3'ou 
 must yield yourself to God, as one that is alive from the 
 dead, as 'tis ver. 13. of the same chapter. A new nature 
 and life in you, will make all that you do, in a way of duty, 
 (whether immediately towards God or man, the whole 
 course of godliness, righteousness, and sobriety,) easy and 
 delightful to you. And because it is evident both from 
 many plain scriptures, and your own and all men's expe- 
 rience, that you cannot be, yourselves, the authors of a 
 new life and nature, you must therefore further, in entering 
 into this covenant. 
 
 4. Most earnesll}'' cry to God, and plead with him for 
 his Spirit, by whom the vital unitive bond must be con- 
 tracted between God and Christ and your souls. So this 
 will be the covenant of life and peace. Lord ! how gene- 
 rally do the Christians of our age deceive themselves with 
 a self-sprung religion ! Divine indeed in the institution, 
 but merely human, in respect of the radication and exer- 
 cise ; in which respects also it must be divine or nothing. 
 What, are we j-'et to learn that a Divine power must work 
 and form our religion in us, as well as Divine authority 
 direct and enjoin it 1 Do all .such Scriptures go for 
 nothing that tell us, it is God that must create the new 
 heart, and renew the right .'spirit in us ; that he mu.st turn 
 us, if ever we be turned ; that we can never come to Christ, 
 except the Father draw us, &c. ? Nor is there any cause of 
 discouragement in this, if you consider what hath before 
 been said in this discourse. Ask and you shall receive, 
 seek and you shall find, knock and it shall be opened to 
 you. Your heavenly Father will give his Spirit to them 
 that ask, more readily than parents do bread lo their chil- 
 dren, and not a stone. But what if 3'oube put to askollen, 
 and wait long, this doth but the more endear the gift, ajid 
 show the high value of it. You are to remember how 
 often you have grieved, resisted, and vexed this Spirit, and 
 that you have made God wait long upon you. What if 
 the absolute sovereign Lord of all expect your attendance 
 upon html He M'aits to be gracious— and blessed are they 
 that wait for him. Renew your applications to him. Lay 
 from time lo time that covenant before you, which your- 
 selves must be wrought up unto a full entire closure with.
 
 452 
 
 THE REDEEMER'S TEARS 
 
 And if it be not done at one time, try yet if it will another, 
 and try again and again. Remember it is for your life, for 
 your soul, for your all. But do not satisfy yourself with 
 only such faint motions within thee, as may only be the 
 effects of thy own spirit, of thy dark, dull, listless, sluggish, 
 dead, hard heart, at least not of the efficacious regenerating 
 'nfluence of the divine Spirit. Didst thou never hear 
 what mighty workings there have been in others, when 
 God hath been transforming and renewing them, and 
 drawing them into living union with his Son, and himself 
 through him "? What an amazing penetrating light hath 
 struck into their hearts ! as 2 Cor. iv. 6. Such as when 
 he was making the world, enlightened the chaos. Such 
 as hath made them see things that concerned them as they 
 truly were, and with their own proper face, God, and 
 Christ, and themselves, sin and duty, heaven and hell, in 
 their own true appearances ! How effectually they have 
 been awakened ! how the terrors of the Almighty have 
 beset and seized their souls ! what agonies and pangs 
 they have felt in themselves, when the voice of God hath 
 said to them, Awake, thou that sleepest, and arise from 
 the dead, and Christ shall give thee light! Eph. v. 14. 
 How he hath brought them down at his feet, thrown them 
 into the dust, broken them, melted them, made them abase 
 themselves, loathe and abhor themselves, filled them with 
 sorrow, shame, confusion, and with indignation towards 
 their own guilty souls, habituated them to a severity 
 against themselves, unto the most sharp, and yet most 
 unforced self-accusations, self-judging, and self-condemna- 
 tion ; so as even to make them lay claim to hell, and 
 confess the portion of devils belonged to them, as their 
 own most deserved portion. And if now their eyes have 
 been directed towards a Redeemer, and any glimmering of 
 hope hath appeared to them ; if now they are taught to 
 understand God saying to them, Sinner, art thou yet 
 willing to be reconciled, and accept a Saviour 1 O the 
 transport into which it puts them ! this is life from the 
 dead ! What, is there hope for such a lost wretch as I? 
 How tasteful now is that melting invitation! how pleasant 
 an intimation dolh it carry with it ! Come unto me all ye 
 that are weary and heavy laden, and I will give you rest, 
 &c. If the Lord of heaven and earth do now look down 
 from the throne of glory, and say, " What ! sinner, wilt 
 thou despise my favour and pardon, my Son, thy mighty 
 merciful Redeemer, my grace and Spirit still? — What can 
 be the return of the poor abashed wretch, overawed by 
 the glory of the Divine Majesty, stimg with compunction, 
 overcome with the intimation of kindness and lovel I 
 have heard of thee, O God, by the hearing of the ear, now 
 mine eye seeth thee; wherefore I abhor myself, and repent 
 in dust and ashes. So inwardly is the truth of that word 
 now felt. That thou mayest remember and be confounded, 
 and never open thy mouth any more because of thy shame, 
 when I am pacified towards thee, for all that thou hast 
 done, saith the Lord God, Ezek. xvi. 63. But, sinner, 
 wilt thou make a covenant with me and my Christ 1 wilt 
 thou take me for thy God, and him for thy Redeemer and 
 Lord? And may I, Lord? yet, may I? O admirable 
 grace ! wonderful sparing mercy ! that I was not thrown 
 into hell at my first refusal ! Yea, Lord, with all my heart 
 and soul. I renounce the vanities of an empty cheating 
 world, and all the pleasures of sin. In thy favour stands 
 my life. Whom have I in heaven but thee ? whom on 
 earth do I desire besides thee? And O, thou blessed 
 Jesus, thou Prince of the kings of the earth, who ha^st 
 loved me, and washed me from my sins in thy blood, and 
 whom the eternal God hath exalted to be a Prince and a 
 Saviour, to give repentance and remission of sins, I fall 
 before thee, my Lord and my God ; I here willingly ten- 
 der my homage at the footstool of thy throne. I take thee 
 for the Lord of my life. I absolutely surrender and resign 
 myself to thee. Thy love constrains me henceforth no 
 more to live to myself, but to thee who diedst for me, and 
 didst rise again. And I subject and yield mvself to thy 
 blessed light and power, O Holy Spirit of grace, to be 
 more and more illuminated, sanctified, and prepared for 
 every good word and work in this world, and for an inhe- 
 ritance among them that are sanctified in the other. Sin- 
 ner, never give thy soul leave to be at rest till thou find it 
 brought to some such transaction with God (the Father, 
 
 Son, and Spirit) as this ; so as that thou canst truly say, 
 and dost feel thy heart is in it. Be not weary or impatient 
 of waiting and striving, till thou canst say, this is now the 
 very sense of thy soul. Such things have been done in 
 the world; (but O how seldom of latter days!) so God 
 hath wrought with men to save them from going down to 
 the pit, having found a ransom for them. And why may 
 he not yet be expected to do so ? He hath smitten rocks 
 ere now, and made the waters gush out; nor is his hand 
 shortened nor his ear hea\'j'. Thy danger is not, sinner, 
 that he will be inexorable, but lest thou shouldst. He 
 will be entreated, if thou wouldst be prevailed with to 
 entreat his favour with thy whole heart. 
 
 And that thou mayst, and not throw away thy soul, 
 and so great a hope, through mere sloth, and loathness to 
 be at .some pains for thy life ; let the text, which hath been 
 thy directory about the things that belong to th)'^ peace, 
 be also thy motive, as it gives thee to behold the Son of 
 God weeping over such as would not know those things. 
 Shall not the Redeemer's tears move thee ? O hard heart ! 
 Consider what these tears import to this purpose. 
 
 1. They signify the real depth and greatness of the mi- 
 sery into which thou art falling. They drop from an intel- 
 lectual and most coii^prehensive eye, that sees far, and 
 pierces deep into things, hath a wide and large prospect; 
 takes the comfort of that forlorn state into which unrecon- 
 cileable sinners are hastening, in all the horror of it. The 
 Son of God did not weep vain and causeless tears, or for 
 a light matter; nor did he for himself either spend his 
 own, or desire the profusion of others' tears. Weep not 
 for me, O tiaughlers of Jerusalem, &c. He knows the 
 value of souls, the weight of guilt, and how low it will 
 press and sink them ; the severity of God's justice, and 
 the power of his anger, and what the fearful effects of them 
 will be, when they finally fall. If thou understandest not 
 these things thyself, believe him that did, at least believe 
 his tears. 
 
 2. They signify the sincerity of his love and pity, the 
 truth and tenderness of his compassion. Canst thou think 
 his deceitful tears ? his, who never knew guile? was this 
 like the rest of his course ? And remember that he who 
 shed tears, did, from the same fountain of love and mercy, 
 shed blood too ! Was that also done to deceive ? Thou 
 makest thyself some ve.ry considerable thing indeed, if 
 thou thinkest the Son of God counted it worth his while 
 to w^eep, and bleed, and die, to deceive thee into a false 
 esteem of him and his love. But if it be the greatest 
 madness imaginable to entertain any such thought, but 
 that his tears were sincere and inartificial, the natural 
 genuine expressions of undissembled benignity and pity, 
 thou art then to consider what love and compassion thou 
 art now sinning agains;, ; what bowels thon spurnest ; and 
 that if thou perishest, 'tis rmder such guilt as the devils 
 themselves are not liable to, who never had a Redeemer 
 bleeding for them, nor, that we ever find, weeping over 
 them. 
 
 3. They show the remedilessness of thy case, if thou 
 persist in impenitency and unbelief till the things of thy 
 peace be quite hid from thine eyes. These tears will then 
 be the last issues of (even defeated) love, of love that is 
 frustrated of its kind design. Thou mayest perceive in 
 these tears the steady unaherable laws of Heaven, the in- 
 flexibleness of the Divine justice, that holds thee in ada- 
 mantine bonds, and hath sealed thee up, if thou prove 
 incurably obstinate and impenitent, unto perdition; so that 
 even the Redeemer himself, he that is mighty to save, can- 
 not at length save thee, but only weep over thee, drop 
 tears into thy flame, which assuage it not ; but (though 
 they have another design, even to express true compassion) 
 do yet unavoidably heighten and increase the fervour of it, 
 and will do so to all eternity. He even tells thee, sinner, 
 " Thou hast despised my blood, thou shalt yet have my 
 tears." That would have saved thee, these do only lament 
 thee lost. 
 
 But the tears wept over others, as lost and past hope, 
 why should they not yet melt thee, while as yet there is 
 hope in thy case ? If thou be efiectually melted in thy very 
 soul, and looking to him whom thou hast pierced, dost 
 truly mourn over him, thou mayst a.ssure ihvself the pros- 
 pect his weeping eye had of lost souls, did not include
 
 WEPT OVER LOST SOULS. 
 
 453 
 
 thee. His weeping over thee would argue thy case for- 
 lorn and hopeless: thy mourning over him will make 
 it safe and happy. That it may be so, consider further, 
 that, 
 
 4. They signify how very intent he is to save souls, and 
 how gladly he would save thine, if yet thou wilt accept of 
 mercy while it may be had. For if he weep over them 
 that will not be saved, from the same love that is the spring 
 of these tears, would saving mercies proceed to those that 
 
 are become willing to receive them. And that love that 
 wept over them that were lost, how will it glory in ihein 
 that are saved ! There his love is disappointed and vexed, 
 crossed in its gracious intendment ; but here having com- 
 passed it, how will he joy over thee with singing, and rest 
 in his love ! And thou also, instead of being involved in a 
 like ruin with the unreconciled sinners of the old Jeru- 
 salem, shalt be enrolled among the glorious citizens of the 
 new, and triumph together with them in eternal glory. 
 
 APPENDIX. 
 
 Because some things, not fit to be wholly omitted, were 
 as little fit to come into the body of a practical discourse, 
 'twas thought requisite to subjoin here the following addi- 
 tions, that will severally have reference to distinct parts of 
 the foregoing discourse. 
 
 As to what was said of the unreasonableness and ill 
 consequence of admitting it — to be any man's duty to be- 
 lieve himself utterly rejected, and forsaken of God, inas- 
 much as it would make that his duty which were repug- 
 nant to his felicity: — this is to be evinced by a considera- 
 tion, which also, even apart by itself, were not without its 
 own great weight, viz. that such a belief were inconsistent 
 with his former stated and known duty ; it were therefore 
 inconsistent with his felicity, inasmuch as it would make 
 that duty impossible to be performed, which before, was 
 by constitution of the evangelical law, made necessary to 
 it, vi2. repentance towards God, and faith in our Lord 
 Jesus Christ. The hope of acceptance is so necessary to 
 both these, that the belief of a man's being finally rejected, or 
 that he shall never be accepted, cannot but make them both 
 impossible, equally impossible as if he were actually in 
 hell, as much impossible to him as to the devils themselves. 
 Nor is this impossibility merely from a moral impotency, 
 or that obduration of heart which were confessedly vicious, 
 and his great sin, but from the natural influence of that 
 belief of his being for ever rejected, which (upon the men- 
 tioned supposition) were his duty. Besides, inasmuch as 
 it is the known duty of a sinner under the Gospel, to turn 
 to God through Christ, and it is also declared in the same 
 Gospel (sufficiently to make it the common matter of faith 
 to Christians) that none can of themselves turn to God, 
 and believe in his Son, without the help of special effi- 
 cacious grace ; it must hereupon be a man's duty also to 
 pray for that grace which may enable him hereto. How 
 deep in wickedness was Sim(m Magus, even in the gall of 
 bitterness, and bond of iniquity, when yet Peter calls him 
 to repentance, and puts him upon praying for forgiveness ; 
 (which must imply also his praying for the grace to re- 
 pent ;) but how can a man pray for that, which, at the 
 same time, he believes shall not be given him 1 yea, and 
 which is harder, and more unaccountable, how can he 
 stand obliged in duty, to pray for that which at the same 
 time, he stands obliged in duty to believe he shall not 
 obtain 1 How can these two contrary obligations lie upon 
 a man at the same time 1 or is he to look upon the former 
 as ceased 1 should he reckon the Gospel as to him re- 
 pealed 1 or his iinpenitency and infidelity, even when they 
 are at the highest, no sins'! 
 
 I know 'lis obvious to object, as to all this, the case of 
 the unpardonable blasphemy against the Holy Ghost ; 
 which will be supposed to be stated and determined in 
 the sacred Scriptures; and being so, the person that hath 
 committed it, may equally be thought obliged (by a mixed 
 assent, partly of faith to what is written, partly of self- 
 knowledge, which he ought to have of his ov>'n ads and 
 state) to conclude himself guilty of it; whereupon all the 
 former inconvenience and ditficully will be liable to be 
 urged as above. But even as to this also, I see not but it 
 may fitly enough be said, that though the general nature 
 33 
 
 of that sin be slated, and .sufficiently determined m thcsi, 
 yet that God hath not left it determinable in hypothesi, by 
 any particular person, that he hath committed it. For ad- 
 mit that it generally lies in imputing to the devil those 
 works of the Holy Ghost, by which the truth of Christi- 
 anity was to be demonstrated, I yet see not how any man 
 can apply this to his own particular case, so a-s justl)' and 
 certainly to conclude himself guilty of it. I take it for 
 granted none will ever take the notion of blasphem)' in 
 that strictness, but that a man may possibly be guilty of 
 this sin as well in thought as by speech. I also doubt not 
 but it will be acknowledged on all hands, that prejudice 
 and malice against Christianity must have a great ingre- 
 diency into this sin ; not such malice as whereby, knowing 
 it to be the true religion, a man hates and detests it as such 
 (which would suppose these Pharisees, whom our Saviour 
 charges with it, or cautions against it, to have been, at that 
 time, in their judgments and consciences. Christians ) but 
 such malignity, and strong prejudice, as darkens and ob- 
 structs his mind, that he judges it not to be true, against 
 the hisfhest evidence of its being. It will also be acknow- 
 ledged that some enmity and disaffection to true religion 
 is common to all men ; more especially in their imregen- 
 eracy, and unconverted state. 
 
 Now let it be supposed that some person or other, of a 
 very unwarrantably sceptical genius, had opportunity to 
 know certainly the matter of fact, touching the miraculous 
 works wrought by our Saviour, and understood withal 
 somewhat generally of the doctrine which he taught ; and 
 that he sets himself as a philosopher, to consider the case. 
 Suppose that, partly through prejudice against the holy 
 design of Christianity, whereof there is some degree in all ; 
 andpartly through shortness of discourse, not having tho- 
 roughly considered the matter; he thinks it possible that 
 some demon or other, with design, under a specious pre- 
 tence, to impose upon or amuse the credulous -viilgar, may 
 have done all those strange things; suppose his judgment 
 should for the present more incline this way : what if, 
 thinking this to he the case in the instance of Apollonius 
 Tyanaeus, he hath not yet, upon a slighter view, discerned 
 enough to distinguish them, but thinks alike of both cases: 
 yea, and suppose he have spoken his sentiments to some 
 or other: perhaps upon further inquiry and search, he 
 might see cause to alter his judgment ; and now, setting 
 himself to inquire more narrowly, he perceives the unex- 
 ceptionable excellent scope and iendency of our Saviour's 
 doctrine and precepts, considers the simplicity and purit}' 
 of his life, contemplates further the awful greatness of his 
 mighty works ; but amidst these his deliberations, he finds 
 among the rest of Christian constitutions this severe one, 
 Matt/xii. 31, 3-2. and begins to fear lest, supposing the 
 
 ' truth of this excellent religion, he have precluded himself 
 of all the advantages of it bv that former judgment of his. 
 What is he to do in this case 1 what were he lobe advised 
 unto 1. What, to pass judgment upon himself and his ca.'^e, 
 as desperate 1 or not rather to humble himself before the 
 God of heaven, ask pardon for his injurious r-ash judg- 
 ment, ami supplicate for mercv, and for further illumina- 
 
 ', lion, in the mystery of God, of" the Father, and of Christ 1
 
 454 
 
 APPENDIX. 
 
 Which course, that it may have a blessed issue with him, 
 who dare venture to deny or doubt i And what have we 
 to say hereupon, but that in great wisdom and mercy, our 
 Saviour hath only toM us there is such a sin, and what the 
 general nature ol' it is, or whereabouts it lies, but the judg- 
 meBt of parti'iular cases wherein, or of the very pitch and 
 degree of malignity wherewith, it is committed, he hath 
 reserved to himself; intending further to strive with per- 
 sons by his Spirit, while he judges them yet within the 
 reach of mercy, or withhold it, when he sees any to have 
 arrived to that culminating pitch of malignity, and ob- 
 stinacy, wherein he shall judge this sin specially to con- 
 sist 1 And what inconvenience is it to suppose he hath 
 left this matter, touching the degree, humanly imdeter- 
 minable *? The knowledge of it can do them who have com- 
 mitted it no good : and probably they have by it so blinded 
 and stupified their own souls, as to have made themselves 
 very little capable of apprehending that they have com- 
 mitted it, or of considering whether they have or no. But 
 they are sunk into a deep abyss of darkness and death, so 
 as that such knowledge may be as little possible, as it would 
 be useful to them. All their faculties of intellection, con- 
 sideration, and self-refiection, being (as to any such exer- 
 cise) bound up in a stupifying dead sleep. 
 
 And to Avhat purpose should they have a rule by which 
 to determine a case, who — 1. Can receive no benefit by 
 the determination, and — 2. Who are supposed when they 
 use it, to have no faculty sufficiently apt to make this sad 
 (but true) judgment of their case by it 1 But for them who 
 have not committed it, and who are consequently yet capa- 
 ble of benefit by what should be made known about it, 
 there is, therefore, enough made known for their real use 
 and benefit. It will, 
 
 1. Be of real use to many such, to know their danger of 
 running into it. And it is sufficient to that purpose, that 
 they are plainly told wherein the general nature of it con- 
 sists, or whereabouts it lies; without showing them the 
 very point that hath certain death in it ; or letting them 
 know just how near they may approach it, without being 
 sure to perish, when there is danger enough in every step 
 they take toward it. As if there were some horrid desert, 
 into any part whereof no man hath any business to come, 
 but in some part whereof there is a dreadful gulf, whence 
 arises a c(mtag\o'iiS halitus, which, if he come within the 
 verge of it, will be certainly poisonous and mortal to him. 
 What need is there that any man should know just how 
 near he may come, without being sure to die for it 1 
 He is concerned to keep himself at a cautious awful dis- 
 tance. 
 
 2. It may be of gi'eat use to others, that are afflicted 
 with very torturing fears lest they have committed il, to 
 know that they have not. And they have enough al.so to 
 satisfy them in the case. For their very fear itself, with 
 its usual concomitants in such afflicted minds, is an argu- 
 ment to them that they have not. While they find in them- 
 selves any value of Divine favour, any dread of his wrath, 
 any dispcKsition to consider the state of their .souls, with 
 any thought or design of turning to God, and making their 
 peace ; they have reason to conclude God hath hitherto 
 kept them out of that fearful gulf; and is yet in the way, 
 and in treaty with them. For since we are not sufficient 
 to think any thing (that good is) of ourselves, it is much 
 more reasonable to ascribe any such thought or agitation 
 of .spirit that have this design to him, than to ourselves, 
 and to account that he is yef at work with us, (at least in 
 the way of common grace,) though when our thoughts 
 drive towards a conclusion against ourselves, that we 
 have committed that sin, and towards despair thereupon, 
 we are to apprehend a mixture of temptation in them, 
 which we are concerned earnestly to watch and pray 
 against. And yet even such temptation is an argument 
 of such a one's not having committed that sin. For such 
 as the devil may apprehend more likely to have committed 
 it, (and 'tis not to be thought he can be sure who have,) he 
 will be less apt to trouble with such thoughts, not know- 
 ing what the issue of that unquietness may prove, and ap- 
 prehending it may occasion their escaping quite out of his 
 snare. And I do conceive this to be a safer method, of 
 satisfying such as are perplexed with this fear in our days, 
 
 ban to be positive in stating that sin so. or limiting it to 
 
 such circumstances, as shall make it impossible to be com- 
 mitted in this age of the world. For let it be seriously 
 considered, whether it be altogether an unsupposable thing, 
 that, with some in our days, there maybe an equivalency, 
 in point of light and evidence of the truth of Christianity, 
 unto what these Jews had, whom our Saviour warns of 
 the danger of this sin, at that lime when he so warned 
 them ; his warning and cautioning them about it, implies 
 that he judged them at least in a possibility, at that time, 
 of incurring the guilt of it; if the text Matt. xii. do not 
 also imply that he reckoned them, then, actually to have 
 committed it. For it is said, ver. 25. he knew their thoughts, 
 i. e. considered the temper of their minds, and thereupon 
 said to them what follows concerning it. Let us con- 
 sider wherein their advantage towards their bemg ascer- 
 tained of the truth of the Christian religion, was greater 
 than we now can have. It was chiefly in this respect great- 
 er, that they had a nearer and more immediate know- 
 ledge of the matter of fact, wherein that evidence which 
 our Saviour refers to did consist. A more immediate way 
 of knowing it they had ; the most immediate the persons 
 whom he warns (or charges) seem not to have had : for 
 those Pharisees, it is said, heard of the cure of the demo- 
 niac, not that they saw it. They took it upon the (no 
 doubt sufficiently credible) report of others. Now let it be 
 further considered, what we have to balance this one 
 single advantage. We have, to intelligent considering 
 persons, rationally sufficient evidence of the same matter 
 of fact. But how great things, that have since followed, 
 have we the sufficiently certain knowledge of besides, be- 
 yond what they had in view, at that time. As the won- 
 derful death of our Lord, exactly according to prediction, 
 in many respects, together with all the unforetold amazing 
 circumstances that attended it ! His more wonderful re- 
 surrection, upon which so great a stress is laid for demon- 
 strating the truth of the religion he taught : the destruction 
 of Jerusalem, as he foretold, and the shattered condition 
 of the Jewish nation, as was also foretold, ever since: the 
 strange success of the Gospel in the first, and some follow- 
 ing ages, by so unlikely means, against the greatest oppo- 
 sition imaginable, both of Jews and pagans. Not to insist 
 on the apostacy foretold, in the Christian church, with 
 many more things that might be mentioned. Let it be 
 considered whether the want of so immediate M'ay of 
 knowing some of these things be not abundantly compen- 
 sated by the greatness of the other things that are however 
 sufficiently known. And if such as have wit and leisure 
 to consider these things in our days, are often pressed to 
 consider them, have them frequently represented, and laid 
 before their eyes, if such, I say, have in view as great 
 evidence, upon the whole, of the truth of Chri.stianity, as 
 these Pharisees had ; it is then further to be considered, 
 whether it be not possible that some such may equal the 
 Jewish malice, against the holy design of our religion. 
 To which I only say, the Lord grant that none may. But 
 if there be really cause to apprehend such a danger, some 
 other way should be thought of to cure the trouble of some, 
 than by the danger and (too probable) ruin of others. 
 However, none should themselves make their own case 
 incurable, by concluding that they have sinned that sin, 
 or by believing they are, otherwise forsaken and rejected 
 of God ; so as that he will never more assist their en- 
 deavour to repent, and turn to him through the Medi- 
 ator. 
 
 If it be inquired here, since, as hath been shown, some 
 may be quite forsaken of God, while yet they live in the 
 world; ought such to believe then they are not forsaken, 
 and so believe an untruth that they may make it true, or 
 try if they can better their condition by itl I answer, nor 
 that neither. For that God will further assist an obstinate 
 sinner, that hath long resisted his Spirit, and despised his 
 mercy, is no matter of promise to him, and so no matter of 
 faith. When he doth conquer, at length, any .such, 'tis 
 of mere unpromised favour ; (as was al,-o shown ;) where- 
 of therefore he gives others no ground to despair; and for 
 which they are deeply concerned, with great earnestness, 
 to supplicate. But if it be said, how can they pray for 
 that whereof they have no promise 1 and can haveno faith, 
 since what is not of faith is sin, Rom. xiv. 23. I answer, 
 that passage of Scripture would, in this case be much mis-
 
 APPENDIX. 
 
 45b 
 
 applied. It speaks not of laiih concerning the certainty of 
 any event to be expected, but the lawfulness of a work to 
 be done, and of doubling, not concerning the event, but 
 my own act. Can any man in his wits doubt concerning 
 his own act in this case 1 whether it be better to pray for 
 the grace of God to save him, than slight it and perish 1 
 Nor are they without very encouraging promises concern- 
 ing tlie event, that God will be a rewarder of them that 
 diligenllv seek him, Heb. xi. 6. And that whosoever shall 
 call upon the name of the Lord shall be saved, Rom. x. 13. 
 which promises 'lis true the context of both shows, do speak 
 of believing prayer. They are to faith, not of it, and im- 
 port, that God will reward and save the believer: not that 
 he will give faith to the obstinate, contemptuous unbe- 
 liever. If he do this, 'tis (as was said) of unpromised 
 bounty. But though they are not promises to give faith, 
 they should induce it ; and incline sinners to cast them- 
 selves down before the throne of so gracious a God, and 
 seek grace to help them in their need, in confidence that 
 he will never reject penitent believing prayer. They, in- 
 deed, that for their former wilful sinning are utterly for- 
 saken of God, will not thus apply themselves ; but our 
 question is not what they will do, but what they should. 
 Because they would not, therefore they were forsaken, and 
 because they yet will not, they are still and finally for- 
 saken. Their refusal proceeds not from any discourage- 
 ment God hath given them, but from the malignity of their 
 own hearts. God hath not repealed his Gospel towards 
 them. The connexion continues firm between the precep- 
 tive and promissory parts of it. Their infidelity is not be- 
 come their duty, but remains their heinous sin, and the 
 more deeply heinous by how much their own malignity 
 holds them more strongly in it. 
 
 Unto what also is discoursed concerning anger and 
 grief, (or other passions,) ascribed to God, it will not be 
 unfit here to add, that unless they be allowed to signify 
 real aversion of will, no account is to be given what re- 
 ality in him they can signify at all. For to say (what 
 some do seem to satisfy themselves with) that they are to 
 be understood secundum cffectum., not secundum affectum,, 
 though true as to the negative part, is, as to the aflirma- 
 tive, very defective and short ; for the effects of anger and 
 grief, upon which those names are put, when spoken of 
 God, are not themselves in him, but in us. But we are 
 still at a loss what they signify in him. Such effects must 
 have some cause. And if they be effects which he works, 
 they must have some cause in himself that is before them, 
 and productive of them. This account leaves us to seek 
 what that cause is, that is signified by these names. That 
 it cannot be any passion, as the same names are wont to 
 signify with us, is out of question. Nor indeed do those 
 names primarily, and most properly, signify passion in 
 ourselves. The passion is consequentl}^ only -by reason of 
 that inferior nature in us, which is susceptible of it. But 
 the aversion of our mind and will is before it, and, in an- 
 other subject, very separable from it, and possible to be 
 without it. In the blessed God we cannot understand any 
 thing less is signified than real displicency, at the things 
 whereat he is said to be angry or grieved. 
 
 Our shallow reason fndeed is apt to suggest in these 
 matters. Why is not that prevented that is so displeasing 1 
 And it would be said with equal reason in reference to all 
 sin permitted to be in the world, Why was it not prevented 1 
 And what is to be said to this 1 Shall it be said that sin 
 doth not displease God 1 that he hath no will against 
 sin ■? It is not repugnant to his will 1 Yes ; it is to his re- 
 vealed will, to his law. But is that an untrue revelation'? 
 His law is not his will itself, but the sigiium, the discovery 
 of his will. Now, is it an insignificant sign 1 a sign that 
 signifies nothing 1 or to which there belong no correspon- 
 dent significatum 7 nothing that is signified by it ? Is that 
 which is signified (for sure no one will say it signifies no- 
 thing) his real will, yea or no 1 who can deny it 1 That 
 will, then, (and a most calm, sedate, impassionate will it 
 must be understood to be,) sin, and consequently the con- 
 sequent miseries of his creatures, are repugnant unto. 
 And what will is that 1 'Tis not a peremptory will con- 
 cerning the event, for the event falls out otherwise ; which 
 were, upon that supposition, impossible; fot who lialh re- 
 sisted his will 1 as was truly intimated by the personated 
 
 questionist, (Rom. ix. 19.) but impertinently, when God's 
 will of another (not a contrary) kind, i. e. concerning an- 
 other object, was in the same breath referred unto, Why 
 doth he yet find fault 1 'Tis not the will of the event that 
 is the measure of faultiness; for then there could not have 
 been sin in the world, nor consequently misery, which 
 only, by ihe Creator's pleasure, stands connected with it. 
 For nothing could fall oat against that irresistible will. 
 The objector then destroys his own objection, so absurdly, 
 and .so manifestly, as not to deserve any other reply than 
 that which he meets with. Nay, but who art thou, (J man, 
 that replie.st against God 1 
 
 And what is the other object about which the Divine 
 will is also conversant ? Matter of duty, and what stands 
 in connexion with it, not abstractly and separately, but as. 
 it is so connected, our felicity. This is objectively another 
 will, as we justly distinguish Divine acts, that respect the 
 creature, by their indifierent objects. Against this will 
 falls out all the sin and misery in the world. 
 
 All this seems plain and clear, but is not enough. For 
 it may be further said. When God wills this or that to be 
 my duty, doth he not will this event, tiz. my doing it 1 
 otherwise wherein is his will withstood, or not fulfilled, in 
 my not doing it 1 He willed this to be my duty, and it Ls 
 so. I do not nor can hinder it from being so, yet I do it 
 not, and that he willed not. If all that his will meant was 
 that this should be my dutj', but my doing it was not in- 
 tended ; his will is entirel)' accomplished, it hath its full 
 effect, in that such things are constituted, and do remain 
 my duty, upon his signification of this his will, my not 
 doing it not being within the compass of the object, or the 
 thing willed. 
 
 If it be said, he willed my doing it, i. e. that I should do 
 it, not that I shall, the same answer will recur, viz. that 
 his will hath still its full effect, this effect still remaining, 
 that I should do it, but that I shall he willed not. 
 
 It may be said, I do plainly go against his will however ; 
 for his will was that I shonjd do so, or so, and I do not 
 what he willed I should. 'Tis true, I go herein against his 
 will, if he willed not only my obligation, but my action, ac- 
 cording to it. And indeed it seems altogether unrea- 
 sonable, and unintelligible, that he should will to oblige 
 me to that, which he doth not will me to do. 
 
 Therefore it seems out of question, that the holy God 
 doth constantly and perpetually, in a true sense, will uni- 
 versal obedience, and the consequent felicit}' of all his 
 creatures capable thereof; i. e. he doth will it with simple 
 complacency, as what were highly grateful to him, simply 
 considered by itself. Who can doubt, but that purity, 
 holiness, blessedness, wheresoever the}' were to be beheld 
 among his creatures, would be a pleasing and delightful 
 spectacle to him, being most agreeable to the perfect ex- 
 cellency, purity, and benignity of his own nature, and that 
 their def^ormit}' and misery must be consequently unpleas- 
 ing % But he doth not efficaciously will every thing that 
 he truly wills. He never w-illed the obedience of all his 
 intelligent creatures so, as efiectually to make them all 
 obe)', nor their happiness, so as to make them all he 
 happy, as the event shows. Nothing can be more certain, 
 than that he did not so will these things ; for then nothing 
 could have fallen out to the contrary, as we see much hath. 
 Nor is it at all unworthy the love and goodness of his na^ 
 ture not so to have willed, with that eflective will, the 
 universal fulness, sinlessness, and felicity of all his intel- 
 ligent creatures. The Divine nature cdlnprehends all ex- 
 cellencies in itself, and is not to he limited to that one only 
 of benignity, or an aptness to acts of beneficence. For 
 then it were not infinite, not absolutely perfect, and so 
 not divine. All the acts of his will must be consequently 
 conform and agreeable to the most perfect wisdom. He 
 doth all things according to the counsel of his will. He 
 wills, 'lis true, the rectitude of our actions, and what 
 would be consequent thereto, but he first, and more prin- 
 cipally, wills the rectitude of his own. And not only not 
 to do "an unrighteous, but not an inept, or unfit thing. We 
 find he did not think it fit efficaciously to provide concern- 
 ing all men, that they should be made" obedient and happy, 
 as" he hath concerning some. That in the general he 
 makes a difference, is to be attributed to his wisdom, i. e. 
 his w^isdom hath in the general made this determination,
 
 456 
 
 APPENDIX. 
 
 not to deal with all alike, and so we find it ascribed to his 
 wisdom that he doth make a ditierence : and in what a 
 transport is the holy apostle in the contemplation and cele- 
 bration of it upon this account ! Rom. xi. 33. O the depth 
 of the riches both of the wisdom and knowledge of God ! 
 how unsearchable are his judgments, and his ways past 
 finding out I But now when, in particular, he comes to 
 make this difference between one person and another, 
 there being no reason in the object to determine him this 
 way, more than that, his designing some for the objects of 
 special favour, and waving others, (as to such special 
 favour,) when all were in themselves alike ; in that case 
 wisdom hath not so proper an exercise, but it is the work 
 of free, unobliged sovereignty here to make the choice. 
 Having predestinated us unto the adoption of children, by 
 
 Jesus Christ, to himself, according to the good pleasure of 
 his will, Ephes. i. 5. 
 
 Yet in the mean time, while God doth not efiicaciously 
 will all men's obedience introductive of their happiness, 
 doth it follow he wills it not really at all 1 To say he wills 
 it efiicaciously, were to contradict experience, and his word ; 
 to say he wills it not really, were equally to contradict his 
 word. He doth will it, but not primarily, and as the more 
 principal object of his will, so as to effect it notwithstanding 
 whatsoever unfitness he apprehends in it,i;fz. thathesoever- 
 power all, as to make them obedient and happy. He really 
 wills it, but hath greater reasons than this or that man's sal- 
 vation, why he eflects it not. And this argues no imperfec- 
 tion in the Divine will, but the perfection of it, that he wills 
 things agreeably to the reasonableness and fitness of them.
 
 THE 
 
 CARNALITY OF RELIGIOUS CONTENTION, 
 
 IN TWO SERMONS, 
 
 PREACHED AT THE MERCHANT'S LECTURE, IN BROAD STREET. 
 
 THE PREFACE TO THE READERS. 
 
 This title nobody can think is meant to condemn all contention about matters of religion as carnal ; but since there 
 is too much which is apparently so, it only signifies it to be the design of the following discourse to show what con- 
 tention that is, and when, or in what case, though it hath religion for its object, it may not have it for its principle, but 
 that very frequently, the lust of the flesh hides itself under that specious name. And to show wherein, while it affects 
 to hide, yet unawares it discovers itself, in the management of affairs of that sacred kind. Thus it often really is; 
 and then is that noble cause as ignobly served, as when (according to that ♦ father's observation) a man proves to be 
 unfaithful even for the faith, and sacrilegious for religion. 
 
 When in one place (Jude 3.) Christians are exhorted to contend earnestly for the faith; and in another (2 Tim. ii. 
 24.) we are told the servant of the Lord must not strive; 'tis plain there is a contention for religion, which is a duty, 
 and there is a contention even concerning religion too, which is a sin. And that sin the apostle, in this context, out of 
 which our discourse arises, doth deservedly expose by the name of flesh, and of the lust, or of the works thereof; 
 such as wrath, variance, envy, hatred, &c. Whence it is easy to collect in what sense it is said in the mentioned 
 place, the servant of the Lord must not strive, viz. as that striving excludes the gentleness, the aptness to instruct, and 
 the patience, which are in the same place enjoined, where that striving is forbidden. And from thence it is equally 
 easy to collect too, in what sense we ought to contend for the faith earnestly, i. e. with all that earnestness which will 
 consist with these, not with such as excludes them : as earnestlj^ as you will, but with a sedate mind, full of charity, 
 candour, kindness, and benignity towards them we strive with. We ought, we see, (in the mentioned place.) to be 
 patient towards all men. Towards fellow-Christians there should certainly be a more peculiar brotherly kindness. 
 
 The difference is very great, and most discernible in the effects, between the church's contention against enemies 
 without it, and contentions within itself The former unite it the more, increase its strength and vigour. The latter 
 divide and enfeeble it. As to those of this latter kind, nothing is more evident, or deserves to be more considered, 
 than that as the Christian church hath grown more carnal, it hath grown more contentious, and as more contentious, 
 still more and more carnal. The savour hath been lost of the great things of the Gospel, which have less matter in 
 them of dispute or doubt, but which only did afford proper nutriment to the life of godliness ; and it hath diverted lo 
 lesser things, (or invented such as were, otherwise, none at all,) about which the contentious, disputative genius might 
 employ, and wherewith it might entertain, feed, and satiate itself 
 
 Thereby hath it grown strong and vigorous, and acquired the power to transform the church from a spiritual soci- 
 ety, enlivened, acted, and governed by the Spirit of Christ, into a mere carnal thing, like the rest of the world. Car- 
 nality hath become, and long been in it, a governing principle, and hath torn it into God knows how many Iragments 
 and parties; each of which will now be the church, enclose itself within its own peculiar limits, exclusive of all the 
 rest, claim and appropriate to itself the rights and privileges which belong lo the Christinn church in common, yea, 
 and even Christ himself, as if he were to be so enclosed or confined : and hence it is said, Lo, here is Christ, or there 
 he is, till he is scarce to be found any where ; but as, through merciful indulgence, overlooking oTir sinful follies, he 
 is pleased to afford some tokens of his presence both here and there. Yet also how manifest are the tokens of his 
 displeasure and retirement ! And how few will apprehend and consider the true cause ! I will now adventure lo 
 offer these things to serious consideration. 
 
 1. Whether for any party of Christians to make unto itself other limits rf communion than Christ hath made, and 
 hedge up itself within those limits, excluding those whom Christ would i-dmit, and admitting those whom he would 
 exclude, be not in itself a real sin ? When I say moJ-e to -itself, this more peculiarly concerns those who firm their 
 own communions, having nothing herein imposed upon rhem by ciWl authority. Let others censure themselves as 
 they see cause. They have a holy table among them, the symbol of their communion with one another in the LorcL 
 I would ask, " Whose is this table 1 Is it the table of this or that man, or party of men 1 or is it the Lord's table 7" 
 Then certainly it ought to be free to his guests, and appropriate to them. And who should dare to invite others, or 
 forbid these 1 
 
 2, If it be a sin, is it not a heinous one? This will best be understood bj' considering what his limits are. Nothing 
 
 *Cypr. <k SHni)licit. PnuL
 
 458 THE PREFACE TO THE READERS. 
 
 seems plainer than that it was his mind, Christianity itself should measure the communion of Christians, as such ; 
 visible Christianity their visible communion. It will here then be inquired (as in all reason it should) what Christi- 
 anity is. And if it be, every one will understand the inquiry concerning that, as they would concerning any thing 
 else, what is its essence 1 or what are its essentials, or wherein doth it consisti Not what are all the several accidents 
 it may adnrit of? as you would do, if it were inquired, What is humanity 1 Now here it will be readily acknow- 
 ledged that Christianity (as all things else that are of moral consideration) must be estimated more principally by its 
 end, and that its final reference is not to this world, but to the world to come, and to a happy state there. And that, 
 considering the miserable state wherein it finds the souls of men here, and the greater misery they are heieafter liable 
 to, it must design their present recovery, and finally, their eternal salvation. 
 
 That in order hereto it must propound to men some things necessary to be believed, some things necessary to be 
 done. And that both must intend the making of them good in order to the making them happy, or the saving of 
 them from eternal misery. That both are sufhciently propounded by the kind and great Author of this constitution, 
 Christ himself, in his word or Gospel. That this Gospel, besides many incidental things, expressly represents some 
 things as of absolute necessity to salvation, by which are settled the very terms of life and death, unto sinners ; and 
 as a principal, most comprehensive, and most fundamental thing to all the rest, requires men's resigning and sub- 
 jecting themselves unto him ; or putting themselves by solemn covenant into his hands, or under his conduct, to be 
 by him brought to God, and made finally happy in him. 
 
 Whatsoever therefore is of absolute necessity to this end is essential to Christianity. Christians then are a sort of 
 men tending to God and blessedness under the conduct of Christ, to whom they have by covenant devoted themselves, 
 and to God in him. Visible Christians are such as are in this visible tendency, with their children, yet in minority, 
 and not capable of making an understanding profession themselves. Such as have arrived to that "capacity are no 
 longer to be considered in their parents, but apart by themselves. They that have been sufficiently instructed in the 
 principles of the Christian religion, that have devoted themselves to God in Christ, and live in their general course 
 conformably to his holy rules, are visibly personal covenanters. 'Tis plainly the mind of Christ, that those be re- 
 ceived into that plenary communion which belongs to the Christian state ; and particularly, unto that sacred rite 
 which is the communion of his body and blood, and wherein the new testament or covenant hath its solemn obliga- 
 tion, and wherein 3.s fczdcruti, or persons^in covenant, they have more express communion with him, and one anotlier. 
 
 They that are yet unacquainted with the most necessary things of Christian religion, are to be held as catechumens 
 under instruction, if they be willing. They that live licentiously in the state of penitents, till they give that proof of 
 their serious repentance, as that their profession thereof appear not to be slight and ludicrous ; they that refuse to 
 learn, or be reformed, that live in open hostility against the known laws of Christ ; are not visible Christians, are not vi- 
 sibly in the way of salvation. Visible subjection and visible rebellion are inconsistencies. If therefore any society of men, 
 professedly Christians, do make other limits of their communion; admitting those that Christ's rule excludes, excluding 
 them whom it would admit ; especially, if the alteration be, not only by the making those things necessary which he hath 
 not revealed or enjoined as necessary, but which he hath not revealed or enjoined at all; and so is not only to add to 
 Christian religion taken at large, but even to its essentials; this is substantially to change the evangelical covenant, to 
 make it another thing, to break Christ's constitution, and set up another. If they be little things only that we add, we mu.st 
 know that there is nihil minimum in religion. What, if as little as they are, many think them sinful, and are thereby 
 thrown olT from our communion 1 The less they are, the greater the sin to make them necessary, to hang so great 
 things upon them, break the church's peace and unity by them, and of them to make a new Gospel, new terms of life 
 and death, a new way to heaven. And is, as much as in us lies, to make things of highest necessity depend not only 
 upon tilings of no necessity, but that are, in our religion, perfect nullities, not having anyplace there at all. And there- 
 upon is, in eflect, to say. If you will not take Christianity with these additions of ours, you shall not be Christians, you 
 shall have no Christian ordinances, no Christian worship; we will, as far as in us is, exclude you heaven itself, and 
 all means of salvation. And upon the same ground upon which they maybe excluded one communion by such arbi- 
 trary devised measures, they may be excluded another also, and be received no where. And if their measures differ, 
 they all excliide one another; and hence, so many churches, so many Christendoms. If this be sinful, it is a sin ci 
 the deepest die. Whereas the Holy Scriptures speak with such severity as we know they do, of the altering of man's 
 landmarks, what may we think of altering God's? And the sin is still the greater, if the things of highest necessity 
 are overlooked in the mean time as trifles, tithing of mint is stood upon, but judginent, faith, mercy, and the love of 
 God passed over, (as Matt, xxiii. 23. Luke xi. 42.) infidels poured in upon the church I wolves and bears under the 
 name of sheep, and the lambs of Christ (which he requires to be fed) thrown out into the wilderness ! 
 
 3. But if we suppose it a sin, and so heinous a one, how far doth the guilt of it spread ! How few among the seve- 
 ral sorts and parties of Christians are innocent, if the measures of their several communions were brought under just 
 and severe examination ! How few that lay their communions open to visible Christians as such, excluding none of 
 whatsoever denomination, nor receiving any that by Christian rational estimate cannot be judged such ! 
 
 4. How few that consider this as the provoking cause of Christ's being so much a stranger to the Christian church ! 
 And how little is it to be hoped we shall ever see good days till this wasting evil be redressed ! or that our glorious 
 Redeemer, who is head of all things to the church," should ever own it by visible favours, should protect, cherish, en- 
 large It, or make it spread in the world ! (and how little it is naturally in "any probability of doing so !) or that he should 
 treat it as his, while it is so little itself, and so little one ! In the present (most deplorable) state of things, private (that 
 is, carnal) interest is the thing every where designed, by one party, and another. And by wishing the prosperity of 
 the church, or endeavouring it, is only meant seeking the prosperity of our own party. So that there can be no united 
 prayers nor joint endeavous for any truly common good ; but what seems desirable to some, is dreaded and depre- 
 cated by all the rest. Thus for tliirteen or fourteen hundred years hath the church been gradually growing a multi- 
 form, mangled, shattered, and most deformed tiling ; broken and parcelled into nobody knows how many several sorts 
 ot communion.s. The measures whereof how strangely alien have they been from those which were genuine and 
 primitive, i. e from substantial Christianity, and the things that must concur to make up that. Instead of sound 
 knowledge of the few, clear, and great things of religion, a great many doubtful opinions; the taking one side in a 
 disputed point; the determination of a logical question, understanding, 'or saying one understands, (whether we door 
 no,) a metaphysical nicety; and sometimes professing to believe somewhat that Scripture never said, or shows iteelf 
 never to have meant, and that is most manifestly contrary to all reason and common sense. Instead of reverent, de- 
 cent, grave worship; affected, .-^cenical, ludicrous formalities, uncouth gesticulations, disgusted countenances with I 
 know not what empty shows of a forced and feigned devotion ; which things also were to serve in.stead of orderly 
 unreprovable conversation, of serving God, and of doing good to other men; and to expiate the crimes of a very 
 bad one, to make amends, and atone for the lewdest, the most licentious, and most mischievous practices. 
 
 in sum ; not only are things most alien from real Christianitv added to it, but substitiUed in the room of it, and nre- 
 lerred before it ; yea, and things most destructive of it, indulged and magnified in opposition to it. This is too gene- 
 rally ttie state of the carnalized Christian church. And never were there more fervent contentions among all sorts, 
 whose notions, opinions, modes, and forms are to be preferred
 
 THE PREFACE TO THE READERS. 45^1 
 
 The word of God tells us that to be carnally minded is death. These contests seem therefore to express great soli- 
 citude how most neatly to adorn a carcass, or at best how with greatest art and curiosity to trim and apparel gorgeous- 
 ly a languishing man, in the feared approaches of death, instead of endeavouring to save his life. But if any endea- 
 vour to thai purpose were yet to be used, what should it be 1 That any man should go about to propose to the Christian 
 church, were both presumptuous and hopeless. We can only speak our wishes to men, and offer them in solemn sup- 
 
 Elications to God. And it were a happy omen, if good men could once agree what, in particular, to pray for; it 
 eing out of question that such men would not be guilty of so much hypocrisy, as, to their uttermost, not seriously to 
 endeavour, what they durst adventure and thought it necessary to make the subject of their prayers. And one would 
 think it should not be ditficult to men of sincere minds, upon serious consideration of the present sad stale of 
 things, not onl}- in general to pray for the true spiritual welfare of the Church of Christ in the world ; but so far to 
 be particular, as to pray in order thereto, that it may be more entirely one.* We are told. There is one body, and 
 one Spirit. That the Spirit is but one, we are sure is true in fact: and so we are that the body animated by thai Spi- 
 rit, as it is such, can be but one also. But the apostle's business in that place, is not merely to assert such a union, as 
 there already was, but also to persuade to such a one as there yet was not, i. e. that it might be more enlire and com- 
 plete than hitherto it was; and that such a unity might be preserved in the bond of peace : and this in order to its 
 growth to the measure of the stature of a perfect man in Christ ; implying plainly enough, that the less it was one 
 the less it would grow. Which also is sufficiently evident in itself. For it is first plain in the nature of the tiling, 
 that by how much it is more divided and multiform, it will appear the less considerable in the world, and so be less 
 apt to attract, and draw in others. Yea, and its appearance and aspect will not only be less inviting and attractive; 
 but it will be offensive, and create prejudices in the minds of men against Christianity itself. Which appears the plain 
 meaning of that petition of our blessed Lord, when he was leaving ihe world,t That they all might be one, as th(rtj. 
 Father art in me, and I in thee, that they also may be one in us, that the world may believe that thou hast sent me. 
 Implying manifestly, that if they did not appear one, it would strongly tempt the world to infidelity. Whereupon all 
 good men have a mighty inducement to unite in this request; for more entire visible oneness in the Christian cJiureh, 
 not only from the example of our Lord leading them in this request, but from the rea.son also by which he enforces it. that 
 otherwise the rest of the world must be confirmed and obdured in their infidelity. Who sees not therefore that the 
 Christian interest is naturally obstructed in its extensive growth by the visible disunion of the Christian community 1 
 for it can scarce admit to be called a society in its present torn and shattered slate. 
 
 And again, its divisions being (as they cannot be other than) criminal, the effect of indulged carnality, and designed 
 to serve the carnal interests of this or that party, in opposition to the rest ; they hereby not only offend and give scan- 
 dal to the world, who therenpon discern nothing of peculiar excellency in the Christian profes.sion, when under it 
 they see men driving but such low designs, as they themselves (more honestly) do without any such veil ; but they of- 
 fend the Spirit of Christ too, who, thereupon, in great degrees, withdraws itself; not totally, which could not consi.st 
 with the promise,* I am with you always, unto the end of the world; but unto such degrees as .shall testify displeasure. 
 And hence is the growth of the church obstructed, not only naturally, but penally too. Whence it is most evident, 
 that they cannot with judgment pray for the spiritual welfare of the church of Christ, who pray not for its union ; nor 
 with sincerity, who to their uttermost, endeavour it not also. Nor can there be true seriousness, insomuch, but the con- 
 sideration must ensue, what course is most likely to serve so desirable an end. And since necessaiy things are most 
 plain, and less liable to dispute and doubt; and it is matter of fact, obvious to everj"^ observing eye, that the decepta- 
 tions and divisions in the Christian church, which are, and have been, from age to age, do for the most part arise from the 
 addition of unnecessary things to it, which belong not to its constitution ; and which while some think lawful only, 
 and at best but an ornament to it, others think .sinful and a deformity ; it cannot hence but appear a thing much to be 
 desired, and endeavoured, that tliese occasions of offence and division might cease, and be remove<l. Which evea 
 they that think such additions to be, for the matter of them, lawful, might yet see reason enough to desire and to en- 
 deavour should be taken awa}' ; yea, though they apprehend them of some use; it being so manifest that the hurt 
 which accrues by them is unspeakably more. And besides, one would think it should not be unapprehensible to any 
 man that allows himself the free use of his thoughts, that though he should continue of the judgment, that such addi- 
 tions were in the matter of them lawful, yet the making them additional terms of Christian communion must be high- 
 ly sinful, as being the introduction of a new Christianity. Christian communion being of Christians as such. 
 
 But this amputation is, according to the present postuie of men's minds all the Christian world over, a thing equal- 
 ly to be desired and despaired of: as a general union ilievefore is, in the meantime. We cannot unite with them who 
 insist upon terms of union that w^e judge unlawful in those things. For those that insist upon terms that we think not 
 simply unlawfal, while yet they are different, in several Christian societies; we cannot, therein, unite with any ; but 
 we must, for aught we know, divide from as many. That only which tlie present state of things admits of, is, that we 
 keep ourselves united in mind and spirit with all serious Christians, in the plain and necessary things w herein they 
 all agree : that we preserve in our own spirits a resolved unaddictedness to any party, in the things wherein they 
 differ : that for actual and local communion, (which we cannot have with all the Christians in the world, and can have 
 comparatively but with a few,) we join with them that come nearest us, i. e. that we judge come nearest to our com- 
 mon rule: that (as some means hereto) we especially labour to centre in some such scheme of doctrinals, as for which 
 all these profess to have a common reverence ; that while our union cannot as yet be so extensive as it ouglil, it may 
 be as extensive as we can; that the Gospel be not hindered, and that our ministiy may be the more successful and pr(?- 
 fitable to the promoting of the common salvation, among those that attend upon it. Such schemes or collections of 
 doctrines, reduced into an order, (a,s gold formed into a vessel, whereas truth, as it lies in the holy scriptures, is as 
 gold in the mass,) may be of use (as they have always been used in the church in all ages) more distinctly to inform 
 others concerning our sentiments, (though the use is less, thai after thorousrh search and inquiiy they can be of to 
 oneself,) provided they be avowed to be looked upon but as a wctj.sw m mcnsiirnia, reserving unto the Scriptures the honour 
 of being the only mensura mcnsnrans ; and so that we only own them as agreeable to the Scriptures. And again, 
 that we declare we take them lobe agreeable thereto in the main, or for substance, without attributing a sacredness to 
 the very words of a mere human composition ; which indeed we cannot atlrD>ute to the Avords used in the translation 
 of the Bible itself. And that for the things we believe them with a degree of assent proportionable to their greater or 
 less evidence. This, through the blessing of God, such as have used a sincere and ingenious freedom one with ano- 
 ther, have found an effectual expedient to deliver their minds from mutual doubt, concerning each other, that because 
 of some different modes of expressing llieir sentiments, they held very ditlerenl opinions, which they have found to 
 be a mistake on one hand and the other ; and hav^e given and received satisfaction, they intended nothing that ought to 
 be reckoned into the account of Socinian, Pelagian, Popish, Arminian, or antinomian errors. That fraudulent and un- 
 just way of making the estimate, being justly exploded, that wdiosoever shall in some things that touch not the main 
 points of difference, say as some other of these do, must therefore he of their minds throughout. Which rule of judg- 
 ing would make any Christian be taken for a Jew, a Mahometan, or a pagan ; there being no intelligent Christian, btu 
 must say many things that they do. 
 
 * Eph. iv. 4. t John xvii. 21. .1 Matt, sxriii. W.
 
 460 THE PREFACE TO THE READERS. 
 
 But it is to be hoped this engine of the devil's is by the mercy of God broken, so as that the people shall be no more 
 frigh'ird from attending to the ministry of such (be their denomination what it will) as use apt and proper methods to 
 awaken, conv^ince, and save souls, by being told they are antinoinians or Arminians, &€. It being upon inquiry found, 
 that persons so and so charged, by the rash folly of some that understand nothing of the diiierence, besides the different 
 soimd of those odious names, do really detest the doctrines imputed to them. And that furthermore, while we look 
 upon an agreement therein as a sufficient character of one sound in the faith, we do not profess to reckon every one of 
 the things therein contained (without distinguishing their importance) necessary to that purpose. And do never intend 
 our communion shall be limited by other bounds than only an agreement in those things for doctrinals, which we take 
 to be of such importance and necessity, as without the belief whereof a man cannot be a sincere Christian. Which 
 certainly cannot but be a very few less disputed things, among them that profess to believe the divine authority of the 
 Scriptures, and that will allow them to be interpreted according to the ordinary ways of interpreting other wi itings. 
 That for matters of practice in the worship of God, we be satisfied, not to be obliged to do things, which we think un- 
 lawfid ourselves, wdthout entertaining the least surmise, but that many good men may judge some things lawful that 
 we do not, and may practise accordingly. That we always keep ourselves in a prepared temper of spirit U, receive 
 further information about doubtful things. That we cherish in our souls a universal sincere love to Christians as such ; 
 and to men as men. That we studiously endeavour in our several stations the doing the most general good we can. 
 And that our whole design do terminate upon what, so far as we can succeed in it, must be acknowledged by all good 
 men to be a real service to the church of Christ, by gathering into it as many as we can, considering it as made up of 
 persons that with judgment, and in practice, own the very substance of Christian religion. With such dispositions of 
 mind as these, we shall, in this divided state of the Christian church, be innocent of the sinful evil of its divisions, and 
 keep, as much as in us is, the unity of the Spirit in the bond of peace. And do we yet entertain in our minds any 
 hope that the Christian religion shall spread, and be more generally propagated through the world 1 Or do we desire 
 it should'? Or do we dread that it should not, through our default 'I Let us then look back to the years of ancient 
 time, and consider what it was when it grew and increased mightily; when without other advantages than its own 
 self-recommending excellency, it every where made its own way, subdued nations, proselyted enemies, defied the 
 most fervent oppositions and persecutions ; when the professors and preachers of it triumphed over martyrdoms, the 
 fierceness and fury of wild beasts and flames, overcame by the blood of Jesus, and the word of his testimonv, not 
 loving their lives imto the death. * When as Pliny writing to Trajan in favour of the Christians, intimates to him, 
 they were every where so increased both in cities and countries, that the pagan temples had lain almost quite deso- 
 late, and that there had scarce been any to buy off their sacrifices. When (about a hundred years after) Terlullian 
 representing in apology for them, their peaceableness, and how easy it were, otherwise, to them to relieve themselves 
 of their sufterings, says they were become so numerous in the empire,t that if it were possible to them to withdraw 
 them.selves into some remote, obscure place, they who were left would even tremble at their own solitude. Christianitv 
 was then all life and spirit. The Christian church in those days flourished in purity, power, and vigour. But when 
 for the space of about three hundred years together it had enjoyed the protection and benignity of Christian empe- 
 rors ; and was hereby become wanton, lost in carnality, not content with itself, and its own native comeliness, but 
 affected to shine in a borrowed lustre and ornature, when (as harlots are wont) it began to paint, to be fond of gay 
 attire, and devise things for deckings to itself most alien from its original state and constitution ; (and which after- 
 wards became the matter of bloody contentions, and cruelties:) when 'it grew ambitious of secular pomp, splendour, 
 grandeur, and power, then was it so far forsaken of God, and his Spirit, that within a very few years after Boniface 
 the Third had obtained of the emperor Phocas the title of universal bi.shop, whereby popish tyranny and superstition 
 became more fully regnant in the church, {i. c. within less than twenty years,) began the senseless delusion of Ma- 
 homctanisin to spring up without the church ; and assisted by the incredible accession of force and arms, came at 
 length to prevail against it (now gradually sinking more and more into vice and ignorance) unto that degree, that in 
 process of time, what Christianity had gained from paganism, it lost, in a great measure, unto Mahometanism ;t so 
 that in several parts of Christendom, where were reckoned thirty Christians for one pagan, there came to be thirty 
 Mahometans for one Christian. And how next to unchristian the Chrisli.an world is, in the nearer countries, (very 
 generally protestant as well as popish,) is too well known ; and in the remoter, divers writers inform us.§ 
 
 Let it now therefore be considered for how many sad centuries of years Christianity hath been at an amazing stand ! 
 got no ground upon the whole, but rather lost much. Is this the religion which so early, by its own native light and 
 power, conquered so many nations, and which we expect to be the religion of the world! Who that understands 
 this, would not with deepest concern, and anxiety of spirit, inquire into the cause 1 And what cause can be so obvi- 
 ous to our inquiry, as a luxurious and a contentious carnality ; which both go together, and w^hich have enfeebled, 
 dispirited, and lost its self-diffusing life and strength 1 What we cannot remedy, let us at least see, and lament ! 
 
 And let us supplicate more earnestly for the effusions of that Holy Spirit, which alone can give remedy to our dis- 
 tempers, and overcome the lusts of the flesh, of what.soever kind, and restore Christian religion to itself, and make 
 the Christian name great in the world. For can it content us that Christianity should appear, and be counted a mean, 
 a \vealr, and even a ludicrous thing 1 that the Son of God should have descended, and come down into our world ! 
 have put on man! have died upon a cross! have ascended that he might fill all things ! diffuse spirit, light, and life 
 through the world ! have appointed prophets, apostles, pastors, and teachers for the publishing his everlasting Gos- 
 pel; and at length leave men, even where the Christian name and profession doth obtain, no better men generally 
 than he found them? distinguished only from the rest of the world, by certain peculiar notions, and by some different 
 rights of worship; otherwise as flagitious, as sensual, as impious towards God, as full of wrath, hatred, malice, and 
 mischievous design towards one another, as any pagans or infidels ever were ! and yet that they should expect to be 
 saved, only because they are called Christians ! What a representation of Christian religion is this ! 
 
 And thus it will be reckoned of, till it come to be understood more generallv, and more openly avowed, that Chris- 
 tianity IS not only a system of doctrines (and those reducible within a little compass) but of precepts also, not con- 
 cerning the modes of worship only, but men's ordinary practice ; and that not only respect their external actions, but 
 which are designed to regulate and reform their minds and spirits, and do lay their first obligation there, must subdue 
 their inordinate appetites and passions, render them holy and harmless,!! the sons of God, shining as lights, holding 
 forth the word of life, &c. The whole frame of the Christian institution being animated by the Divine Spirit, into 
 whose name we are baptized, (as well as into that of the Father and the Son,) and which will be given where he is 
 sought for, and not affronted. 
 
 Let this be taken for Christianity, and avowed to be so, and seriously endeavoured to be propagated as such, and it 
 will not always be put to vie (but as upon equal terms) with Mahometanism, Judaism, paganism, mere deism, or what- 
 soever else shall exalt itself into acompetition withit. And let whatsoever comes not within this compass, or is not truly 
 and primitively Christian, be resected and cut off from it, and so it will appear an entire self-agreeable thing; and the 
 Christian church be but one. While it is not so, it will be the business and design of the most, only to promote the 
 
 K riwi-.i^XIf^o «■.!.;„„ u- f 11- .1 t Apol. contra Gent. : See in Brerewood's Inquiries. 
 
 ^ Lu(lol|)hiis s ^tliiop Hiet. and iVivers otlicra. i| pi,ji jj jj u
 
 THE PREFACE TO TFIE READERS. 
 
 401 
 
 interest of this or tliat party. And if their .sense were put into plain words, this it would be, " I am fur m}- church, or 
 the church whereof I am, whatever becomes of the church of Christ." And so will a zealous endeavour for so narrow 
 an interest, as that of a divided party, engage and engross all the attention of their minds, and their religion be sum- 
 med up in contention, and such only as hath its root in that division which (on the one side at least, and in great part 
 too probably on both .sides) chiefly proceeds from mere carnality. And what is it but religious contention, for the 
 most part, that hath filled the Christian world with blood and ruins for many by-past ages'? Carnal contention, under 
 this most .specious pretence, as being conversant about spiritual or religious concernments, is the thing animadverted 
 on (though in gentler instances, as later occasions did require) in the following sermons. It was little imagined when 
 they were delivered from the pulpit, they should ever have been made more public. I have in this publication of 
 them partly yielded to the opinion of divers, who judged they might possibly be useful to more than those who heard 
 them, and to them further upon review. But have more complied with a sort of necessity laid upon me, by being told 
 if they were not published by me, the thing would be done (as it could) fro:n broken, mistaken notes, without me. 
 My own memorials and preparations were indeed imperfect enough, as it cannot but be in the case of one, so often in 
 the week, engaged in such work. I have, as I could, by my own recollection, and by such help as I have otherwise 
 had, endeavoured a full account of what was spoken, and am very confident nothing material is omitted. (Some 
 ingeminations or varied expressions of the same thing, that are pardonable, if not useful to a hearer, but not so grateful 
 and less needful to a reader, I reckon not such.) But divers passages (though not distinct heads) that were intended, 
 but through want of time omitted, I have inserted in the places to which they did belong. Wherein nonecan think 
 there is any wrong done. I am sensible the introductive part should have been in some respects otherwise methodized. 
 But I am content to let it go as it is, though I find, b}- the notes that were brought me, that some things were .somewhat 
 transposed (otherwise than was intended) in the delivery, from a memory not the most faithful. 
 
 If it do any good, it must be from the supply of the good Spirit of God, which I admonish all you that read seriously 
 to seek, and ask from him, who hath promised, thereupon, it shall be given. The very expectation whereof will 
 prevent reading with a vain mind, or ill design, and the consequent danger of receiving hurt by what you read. 
 
 Yours in our common Lord, 
 
 J. H. 
 
 CARNALITY OF RELIGIOUS CONTENTION 
 
 GAL. V. 16. 
 
 THIS I SAY THEM, WAt^K IN THE SPIRIT, A>fD YE SHALL NOT TDLFIL THE LUST OF THE FLESH. 
 
 The last time I spake to j'ou frotn these words, having 
 largely opened before the import of wnlkuis: in the Spirit, 
 I undertook to show you how the fleih here is to be under- 
 stood, against the lusts whereof such walking in the Spirit 
 is the prescribed remedy. In the general you have been 
 told, that flesh is here to be taken morally, and in that lati- 
 tude, as to signify all sorts of moral evil, or the general 
 depravednessof our corrupt nature; for though sometimes, 
 in the moral acceptation, the sense is limited (as hath for- 
 merly been showed) to grosser sins, in contradistinction to 
 more refined, as 2 Cor, vii. I. and 1 John ii. l(i. yet .some- 
 times also it is so far extended, as to signif}' all sins, as 
 Col. ii. II. compared with Rom. vi. 6. And in this con- 
 text it is plain the apostle comprehends sins of both these 
 sorts under this one expression. 
 
 But what particular evils he more especially intended 
 here to censure and caution these Galatian Christians 
 against, under this one name, cannot better be understood 
 than by consulting this context itself; in which, though 
 we cannot say we have a fall enumeration, we have yet 
 very many in.stances, of the carnalities against which this 
 remedy is directed. Some of them more gross, (as we have 
 told you they might be disti guished,) adultery, fornication, 
 uncleanness, lasciviousness, idolatry, witchcraft, murder, 
 drunkenness, revellings; and some other that may seem 
 more refined, not as having les.s, but only a more subtle, 
 malignity in them; such as hatred, variance, emulation, 
 wrath, strife, seditions, heresies, envyings, &c. It may 
 
 here be thought strange that such sins as these should be 
 animadverted upon in Christian churches (as this epistle 
 is inscribed to such, the churches of Galatia, chap. i. 2.) 
 so soon after the Go.spel was come among them, the 
 apostle himself thought it strange, for you find him won- 
 dering at it, chap. i. 6. I marvel that you are so soon re- 
 moved from him that called you into the grace of Christ 
 to another gospel. Yea, and after that, with the Gospel, 
 they had received the Spirit too. For 'tis said, chap. iii. 
 2, 3. This only would I learn of 3'ou, Received ye the 
 Spirit by the works of the law, or by the hearing of faith 1 
 And are you so foolish, having begun in the Spirit, do you 
 think to be made perfect bv the flesh % 
 
 We are, therefore, to consider what sort of persons and 
 doctrines they were tliat had corrupted and depraved tho<:e 
 churches; and whereby it will be the more apprehensible 
 by what kind of insinuations they so far prevailed : and 
 we may collect, in very great part, what they were, from 
 divers passages of this epistle itself; and, indeed, from 
 this very context. Some would have u-; think the persons 
 were of that sect called gnostics, from their pretended and 
 highly boasted knowledge. We have no evidence that 
 this sect was so early known by this name ; but it is very 
 likely they were that sort of men that were al'terwards so 
 called. The characters here given them in this and the 
 other apostolical epistles, do much agree with what divers 
 of the more ancient Christian writers, and one pagan one, 
 (Plotinus,) .say of that sect. Which pagan, an inter-
 
 4C2 
 
 THE CARNALITY OP RELIGIOUS CONTENTION. 
 
 preter, and great admirer of his," would fain have pass for 
 a Christian, because living in a time when the conlroversj' 
 between Christianity and pas^anism was at the height, he 
 says nothing against Christianity itself, but speaks very 
 much against these pseudo-Christians, whom, though that 
 author mentions not by that name, this his interpreter often 
 doth it for him, inserting " The Gnostics" even when he is 
 but translating into the body of the work itself. 
 
 But this less concerns us. It is, however, out of ques- 
 tion, that this sort of men, very anciently called gnostics, 
 did highly vaunt their great knowledge. A very tempting 
 specious pretence ! Though their sublimer notions (about 
 the ./Eons, &c.) were imaginations only : fancy and not 
 knowledge, or yvwo-ij xpevSwiiviinij knowledge misnamed, or 
 falsely so called, (as we may borrow the apostle's expres- 
 sion, 1 Tim. vi. 20. though those inventions were later,) 
 and could only serve to iill the minds of their proselytes 
 with wind and vanity. 
 
 But their doctrines upon which the apostle animadverts 
 in this epistle, we may collect from the manifest scope and 
 design of it ; and that was to assert justification bij faith 
 without the works of the laic, which they greatly perverted; 
 and sanctification by the Spirit of Christ, or the doctrine of 
 the 7ieio creature, which they even quite subverted. With 
 which false doctrines they conjoined a most impurely 
 vicious life and practice; falling in much with the Jews 
 in their corrupt doctrines, and with the pagans in their 
 licentious practice. Which must be equally tempting to 
 carnal minds. 
 
 And this may make it appear less strange, that all these 
 sorts of carnality that are here mentioned in this context, 
 from verse 15 to 21, should, in reference to the same 
 sort of men, be so put together. For it is evident they 
 were partly a judaizing and partly a paganizing sort of 
 Christians; as (for ends of their own) they affected to call 
 themselves. They held it lawful for Christians to join 
 with pagans in their solemnities of worship, which they 
 were wont to celebrate in the temples of their idols. It is 
 notorious how gross impurities and immoralities were in 
 those days incorporated into the paganish worship; such 
 as made it sufficiently reasonable that idolatry should 
 have in conjunction with it fornication and adultery, un- 
 cleanness and lasciviousness. And for the addition of 
 witchcraft, it was not unaccountable, there being also sor- 
 ceries, magical rites, and diabolical incantations observed 
 to have been intermingled with the sacra of the pagans. 
 And for which these (misnamed) Christians might have 
 the greater kindness also, for the sake of Simon Magus, 
 the father of their sect, by whom the affectation thereof was 
 transmitted to some of his noted followers, that thought it 
 a glorious thing to vie with their predecessor in this sort 
 of excellency. 
 
 Nor is it alien from this purpose to take notice, that 
 those diabolical rites are said to have obtained among the 
 paganish idolaters, of drinking the warm blood of their 
 sacrifices, and of eating things strangled with the blood in 
 them, upon the imagination that in their so doing, they 
 did partake of the very spirit of their gods whom they 
 worshipped ; and 'tis not altogether unsupposable that the 
 devil might, in some unusual manner, enter into them at 
 those times, more violently agitating their blood and other 
 humours; in the higher ferments whereof, if by the 
 directer influence of the great enemy of mankind, quarrels 
 and murders (as was not unlikely) should also sometimes 
 ensue, it could not but heighten the sport and triumphs of 
 hell. 
 
 And that the decree of the apostles and elders, Acts xv. 
 might have such a reference, prohibiting these things con- 
 junctly, idolatry and fornication, and things strangled, and 
 blood, that they should by no means mingle with the pagans 
 in these horrid rites, a learned modern writer of our own 
 hath rendered very probable. b And hereto those vehement 
 dehortations of the apostle must answerably be understood 
 to refer, 1 Cor x. 11. remonstrating to them, that they 
 could not have fellowship with the Lord's table, and the 
 table of devils. And I would not, says he, that you should 
 have fellowship with devils. For though he did not judge 
 it unlawful to eat of the idolytha, i. e. things offered to 
 
 a IVlarsil. Picinus. 
 
 1) Dr. Spencer de Kitilnis Hebrseorum. 
 
 idols, being sold in the sham.bles, he yet most earnestly 
 protests against their presuming to mingle and partake in 
 the horrid diabolical rites and impure practices that were 
 wont to be used at their festivals in the idol's temples. 
 
 All thoughts of being by their Christianity obliged and 
 enabled unto strict purity and holiness of heart and lite, 
 were out of doors with these .seducers, and endeavoured to 
 be extinguished in such as they could work to a compliance 
 with them; whereof the apostle seemed deeply apprehen- 
 sive, when he .so earnestly inculcates, that in Christ Jesus 
 (or in the Christian state) neither circumcision nor uncir- 
 cumcision were of any avail, but a new creature, and faith 
 working by love. 
 
 But it must seem of all things the most unaccountable 
 and incongruous, that men of so profligate sentiments and 
 practices should be for introducing a justification by the 
 works of the law, in opposition to that by the faith of 
 Christ. 'Tis manifest they hated the holy design of Chris- 
 tian religion, which they professed; and professed it, that 
 they might have better opportunity to undermine it. Here- 
 upon (not opening at once all the arcana of their way) 
 they carry answerably to persons and occasions as they 
 occurred ; and as the apostle was all things to all, that he 
 might save some ; so were they, that they might pervert 
 and destroy. To the Christian Jews one thing, to the 
 Christian Gentiles another. In this their doctrine they did 
 most plausibly judaize; in their impure practices they 
 verged more to paganism. Pretending to Christian con- 
 verts from among them, that Christ never intended to tie 
 them to strict severities, or hold them under an uneasy 
 bondage ; whereto the apostle seems to refer, chap. v. 13. 
 Ye have been called (he grants) to liberty, but use not 
 (saith he) your liberty for an occasion to the flesh. 
 
 Thus we must suppose that they differently applied them- 
 selves to such as they designed to make their proselytes, 
 endeavouring to accommodate themselves in the one of 
 these to one sort of men, and to another sort in the other. 
 In dealing with the Jewish Christians they not only denied 
 the doctrine of justification by faith, (opposing thereto that 
 of justification by the works of the law,) but calumniated 
 it too, as if it tended to infer a liberty to sin, and make 
 Christianity subservient to wickedness, whereof they knew 
 their own to be more guilt)^ A piece of monstrous impu- 
 dence (but usual with men of such foreheads) to endea- 
 vour the averting that charge from themselves, to which 
 they were most manifestly liable, by first charging it on the 
 innocent. 
 
 Hereto the apostle hath manifest reference, when ha- 
 ving first asserted against them justification by faith only, 
 Gal. ii. 16. Knowing that a man is not justified by the 
 works of the law, but by the faith of Jesus Christ, even wc 
 have believed in Jesus Christ, that we might be justified 
 by the faith of Christ, and not by the works of the law; 
 for by the works of the law shall no flesh be justified. 
 He then vindicates the assertion against their imputation, 
 that it made Christ a patron to men's sins: If (saith he) 
 while we seek to be justified by Christ, we ourselves also 
 are found sinners, is Christ therefore the minister of sin 1 
 God forbid. For if I build again the things that I de- 
 stroyed, I make myself a transgressor. For I through the 
 law am dead to the law, that I might live unto God. I 
 am crucified with Christ, and am in and with him dead 
 unto all sin, so as not to be under the dominion of any; 
 and death never more had dominion over him, when he 
 had once died. And whereas they thus objecting against 
 the doctrine of justification by faith in Christ, that it minis- 
 tered unto sin, or made Christ a minister thereunto, were 
 liable to have the objection retorted upon them, being a 
 sort of men themselves so very infamously wicked ; for 
 this they had a double salvo, both of which the apostle 
 doth industriously refute. That is, from the two parts 
 of the law given by Moses, and the two sorts of the works 
 of the law enjoined thereby, that is, the moral and ritual 
 or ceremonial part. In reference to the former, they fall 
 in with those Jewish conceits of the merit of their good 
 works, done from the principle of free will ; and -that in 
 order to their justification, this merit was to be measured 
 by the preponderation of their good works to their bad." 
 
 c Soo at large to tliis purpose Smith's select di.^coiirscs upon this subject.
 
 THE CARNALITY OF RELIGIOUS CONTENTION. 
 
 4C3 
 
 and that it was possible that one good work in some cases 
 might turn the scale ; that is, if they were equal before. 
 Now this the apostle occurs to, by showing that ihey that 
 were under the law were under a curse ; for that if they 
 continued not in all things written in the law to do them, 
 all they did was nothing, as you may see, chap. iii. of this 
 epistle, ver. 10. 
 
 And then as to the ritual or ceremonial part, because 
 their sacrilices were in great part expiatory of sin, and di- 
 vers of their other performances carried a great show of 
 sanctity and piety in them; which their expiatory sacri- 
 fices could only be, as they were representative of the one 
 propitiation, and their other observ^ances were nothing to 
 their sanctity, if the thing they were designed to signify, 
 did not accompany the sign ; they imagined they were not 
 to signify its presence, but to supply its absence. This no- 
 tion did obtain even with the stricter sort of them, the Pha- 
 risees themselves, who thereupon made very light of the 
 weightier matters of the law, reckoning that though they 
 were guilty of many immoralities in practice, their exact 
 observance of the rites and ceremonies enjoined by Moses, 
 would go far to make an amends; and that their paying 
 tithe of mint, annis, and cummin, would serve instead of 
 judgment, faith, mercy, and ihe love of God, which they 
 are said to pass over as very light and small matters. See 
 Matt, xxiii. 23. compared with Luke xi. 42. And herein 
 the apostle contests with these Galaiian Christians, not 
 only with vehemency, but with some kind of wonder, that 
 when Gospel light had come among them, and that having 
 known God, or rather been known of him, as chap. iv. 9. 
 they should attribute any thing to so beggarly rudiments as 
 these were ; that is, being circumcised, and keeping days, 
 and months, and years, &c., the things whereon they laid 
 so great stress. And because they did so, he tells them in 
 that 4th chapter, that he was afraid that he had bestowed 
 labour in vain among them. 
 
 In sum, therefore, he makes it his business to evidence 
 to them, that both their justification and their sanctification 
 must be conjoined and arise together out of one and the 
 same root, Christ himself, and by faith in him (without the 
 works of the law) as that which must vitally unite them 
 with him, and that thereby they should become actually 
 interested in all his fulness ; that fulness of righteousness 
 which was to be found only in him, and no where but in 
 him ; and withal, in that fulness of spirit and life, and 
 holy influence, which also was only in him ; so as that the 
 soul being united by this faith with Christ, must presentlj' 
 die to sin and live to God, chap. ii. 19, 20. And at the 
 same time when he delivered a man from the law as dead 
 to it, he became to him a continual living spring of all the 
 duty which God did by his holy rule require and call for, 
 and render the whole life of such a man a life of devoted- 
 ness to God. 
 
 And 'tis here by the way worth the while to observe how 
 the apostle himself expounds ihat phrase of being dead to 
 the law bj"^ being delivered from it, Rom. vii. 1 — 6. And 
 no man can be said to be delivered from any thing, as ii is 
 a good or an advantage to him, but as it is an evil, and 
 doth him hurt. And the law hurts no man as a rule of 
 life. But as to one stated under the full power of it, 'tis a 
 bar against that great blessing of the Spirit, (chap. iii. 13, 
 14.) which by its yel abiding curse it keeps off from him, 
 hereby occasioning his continuance in sin, and then con- 
 demning him for it. Whereupon how clear is the current 
 of the discourse in these words, riz. By the law I am 
 dead to the law, that I might live to God • I am crucified 
 with Christ, yet I live, q. d. The law itself hath slain me, 
 and killed all my hopes and expectations from it : the 
 same law that slew Christ, hath slain me. I am crucified 
 with him ; which supposes his being in him by that t'aith 
 by which he wa.s to live ever after. In this faith stood his 
 marriage to Christ, who succeeds into the room of the law, 
 as the case is stated, Rom. vii. 1 — 3, &c. They that were 
 settled, in reference to each other, in the conjugal state, as 
 the law and the sinner were ; upon the death of the one 
 (whichsoever it be) the relation ceases, and so the obliga- 
 tion which depended upon that relation. And thereupon, 
 says he, the law itself having given me my death's wound, 
 and killed me as to it, in the article of dying, I join my- 
 self to Christ, and yield to be crucified with him, but 
 
 therein acquire with him a new life. Nevertheless I live. 
 And how ? Not I, but Christ liveih in me; and the life 
 that I live in the flesh, is by faith in the Son of God, who 
 hath loved me, and given himself for me. And this life 
 I now thus live is a life of pure and absolute devotedness 
 to God; terminated upon his intei^est and glory, as the end 
 of it, governed by iiis declared will, a.s the rule of it ; i. e. 
 in sum, 'tis a holy life, or (as before) 'tis a living to God. 
 Whereupon he so copiously distingui.she.s, chap. iii. be- 
 tween Jews and Jews, those that were born after the flesh, 
 and those born of the Spirit, the sons of the bond-woman, 
 and of the free, (as he allegorically speaks,) signifying the 
 latter only born into this new slate of life. By all which 
 he shows the connexion to be most necessary and inviola- 
 ble, between being justified by faith in Christ, and a life 
 of holiness; so little opposite were these to one another, 
 that one and the same faith was to infer both. 
 
 But now, that the large extent of this holiness of life 
 might more fully appear, the apostle signifies, that it 
 must not only exclude those grosser lusts and works of 
 the flesh, but also such, as because they might seem some- 
 what more refined, might be reckoned by some less crimi- 
 nal, he therefore inserts divers of this other kind also: 
 and the state of the case did equally require it. For it ap- 
 pears (as it might well be supposed) that so far as any 
 were tainted with the liaise notions, and with inclinations 
 to the impure practices before mentioned, the}' were filled 
 with animosities, with wrath, envyings, and hatred towards 
 them that had not received the taint; and they might have 
 too much place with these back again towards them. 
 Whereupon there could not but be very great and high 
 ferments in these churches. Nothing therefore could be 
 more requisite, or seasonable, than that several instances 
 of this sort of carnality should be put into this catalogue, 
 viz. hatred, variance, emulations, wrath, strife, &c. For 
 they were not to be thought (as was said) more refined, as 
 having less; but a more subtle energy, or penetrative 
 power of malignity in them. Nor indeed hath Christianity 
 and the Christian church suffered more by any sorts of 
 evils, than by those of this sort. Others destroy particular 
 persons; these, besides their doing so. do more directly 
 hurt the community, and tend to wa.ste and destroy the 
 church. 
 
 Now as to those grosser carnalities mentioned in this 
 context, I did formerly say somewhat briefly, and so I did 
 as to that which seems the central one among those of this 
 latter sort, viz. that of heresy : which I considered accord- 
 ing to what it doth import in itself, and did desisrn also 
 to consider it in this its concomitancy, viz. of the things 
 here mentioned in so near conjunction, and that are of 
 nearer affinity with it, hatred, envyings, and the like. I 
 have indeed been since in some suspense whether I should 
 pursue that intention or no; but upon serious considera- 
 tion, and solemn looking up to heaven for direction, I have 
 determined not to let this sort of carnality pa'is without 
 just animadversion. For I consider that I speak to a 
 Christian assembly, who must be understood all to profess 
 equal and impartial reverence to the word of God, as to a 
 revelation come down from heaven, for our direction and 
 conduct thither. And therefore none dare, upon serious 
 thoughts, allow in themselves an)' kind of regret or di.'igust 
 as to so material and important a part of this holy word. 
 We are assured the woids of God will do good to them 
 that walk uprightly, that is, to upright-hearted ones : who 
 it must therefore be supposed will walk or deal uprightly 
 in their attendance thereunto. And I cannot but hope 
 that God will graciously help us to speak and hear with 
 that uprightness and integrity of heart, that this word of 
 his may do c:ood to some, without doing hurt to any. 
 
 In speaking therefore to this sort of carnality, (for we 
 must meniion it by such a term as the Holy Ghost hath 
 thought fit to be put upon it,) I shall Jirst note to you 
 some previous things more generally, and then shall, se- 
 amilli/, let you see what appearances there may be of it in 
 such a case as the apostle's present discourse hath refer- 
 ence unto. 
 
 First. It will be of use to us, more generally, to note 
 these few things: 
 
 1. That the several expressions of it which we fmd in 
 this context, in closer connexion with heresy, as it were
 
 464 
 
 THE CARNALITY OF RELIGIOUS CONTENTION. 
 
 guarding it before and behind, viz. hatred, variance, emu- 
 lation, wrath, strife, seditions, envyings, do all note but 
 one radical evil, aJid do all agree in one root. Where- 
 upon it will be the less needful to insist upon them seve- 
 rally, or to give you the criticism of each word by itself, 
 which it were a great deal more easy to do, than it will be 
 useful, or of any avail to us. What I shall say therefore 
 will be more general ; but will however give you the occa- 
 sion of casting your eye upon the particulars, whereby you 
 will have the more distinct account of that carnality, 
 which is here referred to by the apostle. 
 
 2. This is needful to be noted too, that this precept of 
 the apostle, considered as a prescription against fulfilling 
 the lusts of the flesh, has more immediate and direct refer- 
 ence to this sort of carnality. This is plain, if you will 
 but again peruse the words as they lie in their closest con- 
 nexion. For when he had said in the 14th verse, That 
 all the law is fulfilled in this one word, even in this, Thou 
 shalt love thy neighbour as thyself, (most of all, no doubt, 
 one's Christian neighbour,) he adds. But if you bite and 
 devour one another, take heed ye be not devoured one of 
 another. Then immediately come in the words of the 
 text, This I say then. Walk in the Spirit, and you shall 
 not fulfil the lust of the flesh : q. d. The lust of the flesh 
 will be working this way, putting you upon biting and de- 
 vouring one another. According as sentiments begin to 
 differ, and minds are divided, inclinations will carry one 
 this way, and another that ; and then you will be too prone 
 to be at biting, and be ready to fall to devouring one an- 
 other. Now I have no better remedy to prescribe you 
 against both than this. Walk in the Spirit, and you sha.l 
 not fulfil the lust of the flesh. I should have been a very 
 unfaithful interpreter of this context to you, if I had not 
 taken notice of this so immediate connexion. 
 
 3. This is further to be noted that this sort of carnality 
 that lies in strifes, in emulations, in envyings, in haired, 
 &c. may come to have its occasion of being exercised, of 
 working, lusting, and exerting itself about the doctrines of 
 the Gospel ; than which nothing is more evident, in that 
 you find that these things are put in connexion with here- 
 sies, which must be understood to be a corruption of 
 Gospel doctrine. Very true indeed it is, that that word 
 heresy, among the more ancient philosophers, was used in 
 a more gentle, and no way infamous sense, signifying only 
 this or that sect of philosophers. But the word coming to 
 be borrowed and transferred by sacred writers into the 
 Holy Scriptures, there it is mostly taken in a very ill sense, 
 (though not always,) as signifying error or corruption in 
 doctrine, of a very high and destructive nature, as Tit. iii. 
 10, IL 2 Pet. ii. 1. For though all heresy be error, or 
 carry error in it ; yet all error is not heresy : that must 
 be such error as strikes at the root, and is conjunct with 
 heart-disaffection and malignity, (as was noted the last 
 time,) standing in opposition to faith, which is not a merely 
 mental thing, but lies very principally in the heart. Doc- 
 trinal matters are however here referred unto, even in the 
 very notion of heresy, and therefore about those matters 
 these carnalities may have place. For when the several 
 passions here mentioned are raised, and do tumultuate in 
 the breasts of this and that particular person, they soon 
 and easily spread and propagate themselves to others, so 
 as to infect the community. And then it comes to the 
 forming of it into parties, or dividing it into two sides, as 
 the word (5ixTao-ta< (which we \.xs.ns\aXQ seditions) signifies; 
 the one stated and posited as in a hostile posture against 
 the other, till at length the matter arrive to that height and 
 pitch of contumacious and fixed obstinacy, as in matters 
 so important as the apostle's discourse reflects upon, will 
 complete the notion of heresies, viz. on one side, at least ; 
 not, perhaps, without great faultiness on the other, which 
 comes next to be noted. 
 
 4. As such carnality may have place and exercise about 
 Gospel doctrine, so it is very possible it may show itself 
 on both sides, even on their part who have the truth with 
 them, as well as on theirs who oppose it, and make it their 
 business to propagate the contrary error or false doctrine. 
 The very defence of truth itself may be accompanied with 
 such carnalities, such strife, wrath, malice, envy, as divides 
 the guilt between the divided parties, and leaves neither 
 Bide innocent. 
 
 I am, you know, by mere providence, in the series ana 
 tract of a discourse long continued upon this context, led 
 to say what I now do; and 1 have therefore the more 
 hope, that through the blessing of God, it may be of some 
 use to us. But this comes most directly under our notice ; 
 and let it be noted, that whereas in such contests both 
 sides are wont to be confident they are in the right ; nei- 
 ther the one nor the other may be over-confident or care- 
 less of not being in the wrong, in what maybe of equal or 
 greater importance than the matters themselves, disputed 
 among them that agree in the substantials of religion, or 
 that hold the head, can be. Let us, I say, deeply consider 
 it, that such sinful carnality may have place, and exercise 
 not only about religious concernments, but even on that 
 side where the truth lies ; which is from hence evident, 
 that the apostle immediately before the text, as I have 
 noted, says. If you bite and devour one another, take heed 
 that ye be not bitten and consumed one of another. A 
 great aptitude he therefore observed there was, to be biting 
 on both sides, even where the truth lay, and where it lay not. 
 
 For we are here further to observe, that whereas our 
 apo.stle sadly considered that many among these Christians 
 of Galatia were lapsed, and fallen from the purity and sin- 
 cerity of religion ; he apprehended too, that they who were 
 not so fallen, took not the best course for the recovery of 
 them that were. Which that admonition of his must 
 mean, chap. vi. 1, 2. Brethren, if a man be overtaken with 
 a fault, ye which are spiritual, restore such aone in the spirit 
 of meekness, considering thyself, lest thou also be tempt- 
 ed. Bear ye one another's burdens, and so fulfil the law 
 of Christ. It seems he reckoned that the sounder part 
 among them, and that ought (and 'tis like thought them- 
 selves) to be more spiritual, while they showed not more 
 of a spirit of meekness towards the lapsed, were not so 
 spiritual as they should be, and discovered more carnality 
 than became them, more wrath and bitterness of spirit than 
 could comport with the law of Christ. They will be little 
 awed by this, and be apt for all this to indulge their own 
 furious passions, that think he hath no law. But though 
 one were never so sure he hath the truth on his side, 'tis 
 in itself a dreadful thing, to whosoever shall allow him- 
 self the liberty seriously to think of it. For what must we 
 conceive of such truth, that is to be defended in some cases, 
 I say, that in some cases ought to be so ? We must surely 
 conceive of it as a divine, a sacred thing, a heaven-born 
 thing, a thing of heavenly descent, part of a revelation 
 immediately come forth from the very bosom of God ; so is 
 the whole Gospel revelation to be looked upon. Now here 
 is carnality that lusts; such a kind of carnality as the 
 context speaks of, wrath, strife, hatred, &c. Here is such 
 carnality, lusting, actually lusting, seeking prey, ravening 
 for food. And wiiat doth it feed upon 1 No meaner thing 
 than divine truth ! evangelical doctrines ! Monstrous 
 thought ! Consider, I be.seech you, my friends, what this 
 comes to'? The feeding an impure lust upon sacred things, 
 or upon that which is divine ! I must have my lust satis- 
 fied, says the proud, contentious spirit : wrath burns, 
 anger boils : sacred things are not spared, but fallen upon, 
 as the prepared food of lust. It will be fed, they are not 
 forborn. All reverence of God is forgotten, heaven is 
 ravaged, the most sacred mysteries of God's own kingdom 
 are violated, and torn this way and that, (O horrid thing!) 
 by harpies, vultures, by most fierce and furious lusts. 
 And if a man would know, recognise, take knowledge of 
 the most deeply inward sensations and intention of his 
 own heart, thus" it is, I must now apply my thoughts, bend 
 my mind, to consider a revelation come from heaven : And 
 ■what, for the end for which it was given, to enlighten, 
 purify, quicken my soul towards God, renew and form it 
 for God, to serve and enjoy him 1 no, but on purpose to 
 feed, to gratify a lust ! We can (too often) make neither 
 better nor worse of it, but just so it is. 
 
 These things being premised, I would now go on a little 
 more particularly to show you, wherein carnality may ap- 
 pear exerting itself, even about such things; or what will 
 be manifest indications of such a carnality, as is here re- 
 ferred unto, acting about, or in reference to, the things of 
 God, the most sacred and important truths and doctrines 
 of his Gospel. 
 
 1. First, When in comparison of some less things,
 
 THE CARNALITY OF RELIGIOUS CONTENTION. 
 
 465 
 
 wherein we find occasions or pretence to differ, little ac- 
 count is made of the incomparably greater things, wherein 
 all serious Christians are agreed, and wherein they really 
 cannot but be agreed. Let it be considered, whether 
 pains be not taken to devise some matter or other to con- 
 lend about; (that shows a great disposition ;) and then hav- 
 ing found out some minuter things about which to differ, 
 our differences, as little as they are, quite swallow up our 
 agreements. The whole Gospel signifies nothing, (though 
 full of the most glorious wonders,) in comparison of some 
 punctilios, either that we have invented, or that it may be 
 doubted whether there be any thing in them or nothing. 
 Here is some mystery in all this ! A lust is to be gratified ; 
 an appetite to contend. Tliis winds and wriggles this 
 way and that, loth to appear but under some specious 
 disguise of zeal for truth, indignation against false doc- 
 trine, or the like ; but it bewrays itself, and unawares, 
 shows its ugly serpentine head. For if the thing chosen 
 out to be the matter of contest be thought worth so much, 
 whenitis manifestly either, in comparison, little, ornothing 
 but a figment, why are not the things on all hands most 
 confessedly great and most evident, more highly esteem- 
 ed, loved, relished, and with gust and delight fed uponl 
 Why do not the greater things signify more to imite us in 
 love and communion with all that agree with us in them, 
 than the lesser things to divide us, about which we dis- 
 agree 1 Indeed the disagreements were in themselves vastly 
 great between the untainted Christians of these Galatian 
 churches, and that horrid sect that the apostle's discourse 
 has manifest reference unto. Blessed be God there are 
 not such disagreements amongst us. But while there is 
 less taint of error in our minds, (as to these things,) are w^e 
 not concerned to take heed there be not as great a taint of 
 this vicious carnality in our hearts 1 It speaks too much 
 of it; when having devised a difference, v/e are prone to 
 overlook and make little account of the great things 
 wherein we are entirely and most professedly agreed. 
 
 If we consider the things which the doctrinal part of 
 this epistle doth more expressly refer to, as I have noted 
 already how great things in reference hereto are we fully 
 agreed in ! We are all agreed, that a sinner, an apostate 
 lapsed creature, can never be saved and brought to a 
 blessed state, but he must be justified, and he must be 
 sanctified. He must be justified, to make his state safe ; 
 he must be sanctified, to make the temper of his spirit 
 good, capable of communion with God in this world, and 
 of final eternal blessedness with him in the other. We 
 are agreed, that such justification and such sanctification 
 are both the effects of most absolutely free and sovereign 
 grace ; that none could be ever justified, but by freest 
 grace ; that none can ever be sanctified but by freest gnace, 
 most absolutely and most sovereignly free. We are agreed, 
 that the highest perfection of sanctification that can ever 
 possibly be attained unto, signifies nothing at all to de- 
 serve, to procure by merit our justification. We are 
 agreed, that both, as they are from the most free and 
 sovereign grace, so do come through the mediation of 
 Jesus Christ, the alone Mediator between God and man : 
 that the righteousness is entirely and only Christ's, by 
 which we are justified : that the Spirit is most entirely and 
 only Christ's, by which we are sanctified ; according to 
 that in 1 Cor. vi. 9, 10, 11. Such as are mentioned there 
 were before the grossest and vilest of sinners, fornicators, 
 adulterers, idolaters, &c. And such (saith the apostle) 
 were some of you : but ye are washed, but ye are sancti- 
 fied, but ye are justified in the name of the Lord Jesus, 
 and by the Spirit of our God. 
 
 You cannot but be in all these agreed. We are agreed, 
 that whosoever does sincerely, evangelically believe in God 
 through Christ, receives Christ, is united" with him, or is 
 in him : who doth by serious repentance turn to God, 
 whose heart is won to love him in truth as his highest and 
 best good, who is conformed to the image of his Son ; and 
 who having been made willing in the day of his power, doth 
 now render a sincere obedience to him ; every such one is in 
 a safe state, accepted with God, has found grace in his eyes. 
 
 For no words of Scripture can be plainer, than that they 
 that believe in Christ shall not perish, but have everlast- 
 ing life, John iii. 16. yea, that they have it, ver. 36. That 
 life is begun with them, which is never to end, or which 
 
 !■: in the sure way to be continued till it bec^tiic everlast- 
 ing : that they that repent, and turn from all their trans- 
 gressions, their iniquities shall not be their ruin ; (Ezek. 
 xviii. 30.) that God hath prepared the things which eye 
 
 hath not seen for them that love him, and will give 
 
 them the crown of life according to his own promise; 
 (1 Cor. ii. 9. Jam. i. 12.) that Christ doth become the 
 Author of eternal salvation to them that obe)' him ; (Heb. 
 V. 9.) that there is no condemnation to them that are in 
 Christ, that walk not after the flesh, but after the Spirit ; 
 (Rom. viii. 1.) that it must turn wholly to the praise of 
 the glory of his grace, that God makes them accepted in 
 the beloved, Eph. i. 6. We do all agree, that they that 
 do never believe, they that never repent, they that never 
 love God, they that are never brouglit to obey him, that 
 live in enmity and rebellion against him to the last breath, 
 must needs be in a lost state, are never justified, never ac- 
 cepted with God, are liable unto coming and abiding 
 wrath, and remain under condemnation, John iii. 16, 36. 
 Luke xiii. 3. Col. iii. 6. We agree, that such faith, such 
 repentance, such love to God, such obedience, even in the 
 most entire sincerity, are not to be considered at all, as any 
 cause of such a person's acceptance with God; they do 
 characterize the accepted person, but they cause it not, 
 they deserve nothing; nay, they could not, if they were 
 perfect. No internal work of the Holy Ghost, though in 
 this our present state it were most absolutely perfect, so 
 as to exclude every thing of sin, could be any part of that 
 righteousness that must justify us before God. To sup- 
 pose that it could, would be manifestly to confound the 
 offices of the Redeemer, and of the Holy Ghost. It was 
 Christ that was to merit for us; the Holy Ghost was 
 never to merit for us. It was not the Holy Ghost that 
 died for us, nor can his operations or productions in us, 
 have any causative influence to the meriting the justified 
 and accepted state of any person before God. They were 
 never meant for that purpose, nor have any aptitude or 
 accommodateness thereunto. They cannot make us never 
 to have sinned ; nor can atone for our having done so. 
 We cannot but be agreed in this, for 'tis plain, and carries 
 its own evidences in itself: i. e. suppose we a person, as 
 soon as he is converted, made perfectly free from sin, that 
 very moment, by some extraordinary powerful work of the 
 Holy Ghost on his soul, how shall that expiate for his 
 having been a sinner? Now where there are so great 
 things wherein we agree, and we make little of ihem ; things 
 that should raise up our souls, and awaken all our powers 
 unto highest acts of love, gratitude, and praise to God 
 and our Redeemer, and fill us with wonder and pleasure 
 as often as we think of them ; an indisposition of mind to 
 take notice of, and consider such things, so as to improve 
 and use them to the great purposes of the Christian life, 
 as incentives to the love of God, an entire devoting of our- 
 selves to him, vigorous and diligent serving of him, and 
 walking holily and comfortably with him in our daily 
 course, through a greater disposition to contend about 
 we well know not what besides, too plainly shows much of 
 that carnal disaflection, which the apostle dolh here ani- 
 madvert upon. There are other things belonging to this 
 same purpose that I firid I cannot reach to at this. time. 
 
 SERMON II. 
 
 Gal. V. 16. 
 
 Tkis I say then. Walk in the Spirit, and yc shall not fulfil 
 
 the lust of ike fiesh. 
 
 I HAVE begun to show you by what indications much 
 carnality may appear, and show itself in and about spiritual 
 matters ; as. (for instance.) in the controverting, yea, even 
 in the defending, the truths of the Gospel ; and intend 
 now to proceed. You have heard it does so, 
 
 1. When Christians, who are ver}' far agreed in the most 
 important things, make little of the things wherein thej' 
 are agreed though never so great, in comparison of the
 
 466 
 
 THE CARNALITY OF RELIGIOUS CONTENTION. 
 
 much less things wherein they differ; as all serious 
 Christian must be understood to agree in far greater things 
 than it is possible for them to diffei in. I lately mentioned 
 to you sundry great agreements that I cannot doubt to be 
 very common with serious and intelligent Christians, 
 v/hich I sliall not now stay to repeat, but add, 
 
 2. Such carnality shows itself, when there is too much 
 aptness to lay greater stress than is needful upon some 
 unseriptural words in delivering Scripture doctrine. Here 
 we may take carnality as the apostle doth, 1 Cor. iii. 3. 
 While there are divisions among you, are you not carnal, 
 and walk (or act) as men 1 There is more of the man in 
 it than of the Christian: when we can make a shift to divide 
 about a word, and that (in the present use of it) devised 
 only by man; when words that are merely of human 
 stamp, and used in no such sense, or to no such purpose in 
 Scripfure, however they may be significant, yet too great 
 a stress and weight is laid upon them, either by too stiffly 
 a.dhering to them on the one hand, or too vehemently de- 
 crying them on the other hand ; while, perhaps (and it is 
 a certain and a known case) the meaning may be the same 
 on both sides, and would be so, or M'ould appear to be so, 
 if such and such words were waived, and otheis more un- 
 derstood were chosen, and used in the room of them. It 
 is true, we are not to think (and no man of sense can) that 
 we are obliged never to use other words in such matters, 
 but such as the translators of Bible have hit on in their 
 version of it, as if that must consecrate those words, and 
 leave all other under a profane character; but if it appear 
 that any word of a doubtful signification is misunderstood 
 by many, creates otfence, and through some fixed, immove- 
 able prejudice, or prepossession that some other notion of 
 it hath obtained in the minds of many, it will always be 
 otherwise understood by them than we intend, let it rather 
 go for a nchushlan, than that ihe peace of the church 
 should be broken, and men's minds be disturbed and dis- 
 quieted by it. This is the case, when any such words as 
 might be arbitrarily used or laid aside, are made so ne- 
 cessary, or so destructive, as if all religion were saved or 
 lost by them: when one so cries up such a word, as if he 
 would say, "The heavens must fall if I have not my 
 word." And another decries it as much, as if he said, 
 " They must fall if it be admitted, or if I have not mine." 
 Sure there must be in this case that forbidden Aoyo/m^ia, 
 of which the apostle speaks in that, 1 Tim. vi. 4. which 
 they are usually most apt to be guilty of, that are also 
 guilty of what is put in conjunction therewith, perverse 
 disputings of meti of corrupt minds ; with these falls in 
 this strife of words : whether that be to be understood ob- 
 jectively, or instru mentally, strife about words or wordy 
 strifes, I shall not here determine. But that whole context 
 is worth our considering, ver. 3, 4, 5. If any man teach 
 otherwise, do lTt(>'<&iiauKa\u, teach other or alien things, or 
 after another or alien manner, and consent not to the words 
 of our Lord Jesus Christ, and the doctrine which is ac- 
 cording to godliness : 4. He is proud, knowing nothing, 
 but doting about questions, and strife of words, whereof 
 Cometh envy, strife, railings, evil surmisings, 5. Perverse 
 disputings of men of corrupt minds, and destitute of the 
 truth, supposing that gain is godliness: from such with- 
 draw thyself. And therewith agrees what we find also men- 
 tioned, with the charge of avoiding them, 2 Tim. ii. 23. 
 Foolish and unlearned questions that gender strifes. Some 
 may fancy they make themselves considerable for learning 
 by such altercations ; but the apostle slurs that conceit, 
 calling them unlearned. So I remember » Seneca says of 
 the Greeks, (callin? it their disease,) that they made much 
 ado with certain idle questions, (as, how many rowers be- 
 longed to the vessel that carried Ulysses 1 and such like, 
 that he there mentions,) whereby, says he, they did not ap- 
 pear more learned, but only more troublesome. 
 
 3. When we consider with too little indulgence one an- 
 other's mistakes and misapplications, in the use even of 
 Scripture words, placing them as some may do, upon things 
 to which they do not properly belong, when yet they agree 
 about the things themselves. There are words in the Scrip- 
 ture revelation, that it may be the one or the other of dis- 
 agreeing persons may apply to one thing, when the other 
 (perhaps truly) thinks they belong more properly to an- 
 a De Brev. Vita. 
 
 other. There is an inconvenience in this : the case is muc"n 
 as if one should have an idea of all the streets of London, 
 in his mind as they lie, but he mistakes the names, and 
 transposes them. As for instance, calls Cheap-side Corn- 
 hill, or Cornhill Cheap-side. He does not speak so in- 
 telligibly to another, but at the same time may have the 
 same idea in his mind of London that another has. And 
 this, however, when it occurs in religious disceptations, 
 ought to be considered (though there be an inconvenience 
 in it) with indulgence, as knowing we are all liable to mis- 
 takes in greater matters. And as it is possible there may 
 be somewhat of carnality, some perverseness, some cloud 
 arising from infirm flesh that darkens the mind, and occa- 
 sions it so to mistake ; so 'tis much greater, not to be able 
 to bear in another such a mistake. 
 
 4. When there is an agreement about the main and 
 principal things that the Scripture revelation contains and 
 carries in it ; but there is not that agreement about their 
 mutual respects and reilsrences unto one another. This is 
 a matter indeed of greater importance; there can bene 
 true scheme given of Gospel truths and doctrines, if such 
 their references and respects to one another be not rightly 
 understood. But an entire true scheme of Christian doc- 
 trines will not enter into all minds; and for the most part 
 they are particular passages, or particular truths, that strik«* 
 hearts, and that God makes use of to do souls good by. 
 And if so entire a scheme will not enter into the minds of 
 many, whether through their darkness or ignorance, or 
 whether through any thing of prejudice, that was as it were 
 forelaid in their minds; nothing remains but to be patient 
 of it, and to do them what good we can, even upon their 
 own terms, and in the way wherein they are capable of it. 
 There was such an obstruction in minds among these Co- 
 rinthians, even upon this very account of their carnality, as 
 we see in that 3d of the 1st epistle, that the apostle tells 
 them, I could not speak to you as spiritual, (it must be 
 understood comparatively,) but as unto carnal ; and there- 
 fore, as a wise instructor, thought it needful to keep back, 
 to withhold some things from them that he reckoned might 
 be meat to them, solid meat, strong meat, because they 
 had been hitherto unable to bear it, nor were yet able. It 
 is in that case needful rather somewhat to iiri^siv, to with- 
 hold some things, or suspend, than by a continued and too 
 urgent inculcation to frustrate one's own design; and 
 while we would have all enter into less capable minds, to 
 have nothing enter. It may sometimes be, that when too 
 much is endeavoured at once to be borne in upon them 
 against an invincible obstruction, we only engage them to 
 fortify the more strongly, and shut out all ; and so we de- 
 feat ourselves. They gain nothing, and our whole design 
 is frustrated and lost. In all our applications to the souls 
 of men, there must be patient waiting, and very gradual 
 endeavours used, without force and furious striving; yea, 
 in our having to do with such as are yet the very vassal.? 
 and captives of the devil. So the apostle speaks, 2 Tim. 
 ii. 24. The servant of the Lord should not strive, but be 
 patient towards (even all) men, and wait (even in reference 
 to them that are hitherto altogether impenitent) when God 
 will give them repentance, that they may recover them- 
 selves out of the snare of the devil, that are led captive by 
 him at his will. Much more are such methods to be used 
 towards them, wlio call on the name of our Lord out of a 
 pure heart, as hf speaks a little above in the same context, 
 ver. 22. And consider the extent and endearingness of 
 this character. 'Tis to be deplored that it extends not 
 further ; but so far as it doth extend, God forbid it should 
 not have a most persuasive efficacy and power upon our 
 spirits, to make us follow righteousness, faith, charity, 
 peace, even with all them that bear that character, i. e. that 
 call on the Lord with a pure heart ; their Lord (as 'tis 
 elsewhere) as well as ours; be they of what party, or 
 denomination, soever: 
 
 5. Much of this carnality appears about such matters, 
 when we are over intent to mould and square Gospel truths 
 and doctrines by human measures and models, and too 
 earnestly strive to make them correspond ; that is, when 
 we aim, beyond what things can admit, tostretch (or rather 
 to shrink and contract) God's transactions with men, unto 
 the scheme and model of our own abstract notions and d".-
 
 THE CARNALITY OF RELIGIOUS CONTENTION. 
 
 46' 
 
 finitions, or of merely human, civil, or political economies, 
 administrations, and transactions ; such I mean as obtain 
 among men towards one another ; and so labour to have the 
 same measures take place throughout in reference to Divine 
 things, as do in human. Whereby more than is needful, use- 
 ful, (or indeed so much as possible to agree and quadrate,) of 
 logic, metaphj-sics, and of civil and other law, is introduced 
 into theology. Illustrations indeed may be taken thence, 
 but not strict meabures. It is impossible sometimes they 
 should be so. Divers things are taken among men in 
 such notions, as, in delivering the doctrine of the Gospel 
 cannot have a full and adequate place : they often will not 
 exactly agree or correspond. As if, in speaking of God's 
 pardoning and justifying a sinner, we should take our 
 measures of pardon and justification strictly from what ob- 
 tains amongst men, we shall find a great difference and 
 disagreement. For plain it is, that, according to liuman 
 measures, the same person cannot be both pardoned and 
 justified. He that is pardoned cannot be justified, and he 
 that is justified, cannot be pardoned. But according to 
 Divine and Gospel measures both are truly said of the same 
 person. In the one case there is an inconsistency, in the 
 other a fair agreement of the same things. He that is at a 
 human bar a justified person, needs no pardon, his case 
 admits of none ; if he were justified, pardon were absurdly 
 talked of; and so if he were pardoned, that does plainly 
 imply that he was not justified. It is quite otherwise if 
 you bring these things to the Gospel, and God's dealing 
 with sinners. I cannot now spend time in showing you 
 distinctl}^ how these things do lie, and are very capable of 
 being accommodated, in the sinner's case ; some resem- 
 blance will appear, not an exact or entiie correspondency. 
 The instance however serves our present purpose, to show 
 that God's procedure and methods in his dispensations to- 
 wards men, will not in all things square with human 
 measures. 
 
 Again, if we speak of the doctrine of God's covenant 
 in Jesus Christ, we cannot take our measures from human 
 covenants that pass between man and man, especially one 
 private man and another ; for there the persons are under 
 no obligation before their mutual consent. It is not so 
 between God and man : God's covenants are laws as well 
 as covenants; and so a man is, before he consents, obliged 
 to consent. Therefore here again it appears Gospel doctrines 
 are not to be exactly measured by human models. Nor 
 should this be too earnestly endeavoured, we should not 
 too much set our minds upon it ; 'tis to oifer at a thing in 
 its own nature not practicable, and there is too much of 
 man in it. 
 
 6. When there is a discernible proneness to oppose the 
 great things of the Gospel to one another, and to exalt or 
 magnify one, above or against another. It is too plain this 
 may more commonly come under observation, than it doth 
 under that reprehension which it deserves. For instance, 
 those two great things that I mentioned at first, justifica- 
 tion and sanctification, both very great things, of most ap- 
 parent and confessed necessity to the salvation and 
 blessedness of the souls of men; justification, that a man's 
 state may be good ; sanctification, that the temper of his 
 soul may become so. But is it not too common to magnify 
 one of these above or against the other 1 To contend and 
 dispute with great fervour concerning the higher value and 
 excellency, the dignity or precedency, of this or that, and 
 to which the preference belongs ; to be so much taken up 
 about the one, as seldom to think of the other; and it 
 may be not well to savonr and relish the mention of it 1 
 Some are so taken up about the business of justification, 
 (that admirable vouchsafemcnt of grace to sinners !) that 
 they care not to hear of sanctification; and so all their 
 religion is foreign to them, or lies in somewhat without 
 them, or in a mere relative thing, that alters not their 
 spirits. A strange religion ! that makes a man nothing the 
 better man ; or notwithstanding which, he is, in the habitual 
 frame of his soul, as bad as ever, vain, terrene, worldly- 
 minded, proud, passionate, wrathful, malicious, vindictive, 
 false, deceitful, perhaps (for that is not worse than the rest) 
 very impurely sensual. But, no man can tell whv, nor to 
 be sure he himself, he takes himself to be a justified per- 
 son : a,ud perhaps his imagination of it arises in him a 
 sort of rapturous, unaccountable joy, without ground or 
 
 root, and which will not only wither, but turn (without a 
 sea.sonable and merciful change) into endless horror, weep- 
 ing, wailing, and gnashing of teeth ! A fearful and most 
 surprising issue and disappointment of a high and unmis- 
 giving confidence^ and expectation to be saved ! With 
 others, whose temper, circumstances, or temptations, have 
 less inclined them to rejoicing, their religion is made up of 
 tormenting anxieties and fears, and consists in the daily 
 revolving of perpetual endless doubts, whether they are 
 ju-stified or no ; without any direct, formed design of being 
 or doing good ; by which they might, in due time, come to 
 have more truly comfortable apprehensions of the goodness 
 of their state. They more care to be pardoned for being 
 bad, than to become good ! 
 
 Again, on the other hand, there may be some so wholly 
 taken up about what they are in themselves to be and do, 
 and in the earnest, but too abstract, or less evangelical, (and 
 therefore less fruitful,) endeavour after higher pitches of 
 sanctity, without due reference to the grace, Spirit, and 
 blood of a Redeemer, that they neglect and look not after 
 their justification, and acceptance with God in him; nor 
 do relish and savour, as they ought, the doctrine of the 
 Gospel herein. Do more incline to a philosophical (and 
 scarcely Christian) Christianity; forgetting Christ to be 
 their Redeemer, their Lord, and vital Head, and that they 
 are (or ought to be) under his conduct, and through his 
 mediation, daily tending to God and blessedness. 
 
 But now upon the whole, when there appears an aptness 
 or disposition to separate these two, justification and sanc- 
 tification, from one another, or either of them from abiding 
 in Christ ; or to oppose them to one another, or contend 
 about the priority of the one or the other, (when no doubt 
 they go together,) and about the preference or excellency of 
 the one above the other, which is the more considerable 
 thing: herein appears much carnality of mind, an unsound, 
 injudicious, distempered spirit. And 'tis a like case, as if 
 a malefactor at the same time is under sentence by which 
 he is condemned to die, and under a most dangerous dis- 
 ease, that appears very probably mortal to him: he has a 
 compassionate prince, willing to save his life, and he at 
 once vouchsafes him his pardon, and provides a very skil- 
 ful and able physician for the curing of his disease: the 
 wretched creature hearing of this, falls a disputing which 
 of these is the greatest favour, to have my disease cured, 
 or, to have my crime pardoned ; and in the heat of the 
 dispute he neglects both, looks after neither. This is in- 
 deed less supposable, in the instanced case ; but how great 
 a distemper doth it show, that it should be so, in this, 
 which is of unexpressibly greater importance! 
 
 And now further it is agreed on all hands, that faith in 
 a Redeemer is necessary to .salvation, with those that are 
 adult, and capable of attending to the Gospel revelation; 
 but here, what disputes are then raised I with what fer- 
 vour are they managed, concerning the place of it, or the 
 kind of that necessity which this faith is of, in order to the 
 safe state of a sinner ! A like case again, as if such a 
 condemned malefactor is told of his prince's profes.sed, 
 gracious intendments towards him, but he doubts the 
 sincerity of his professions. He gives him all desirable 
 assurances, and tells him. Do but trust me, and all shall 
 be well. BiU he presently falls a disputing, Yea, but how 
 am I to consider this trust 1 (we suppose it unly such a 
 trust as may be fitly enough placed upon a man :) which 
 way is it to contribute towards m}' safety or welfare! Is 
 it to be an instrument or a condition 1 How absurd an 
 abuse were this of the clemencj' of a propitious prince ! 
 If there were a public proclamation of pardon to many 
 offenders at once concerned together, and they all ae:ree 
 only to disagree, to vie with one another their skill in 
 criticizing upon the words, or in disputing tiic method, 
 contending about the order and coherence of parts, and 
 make it their business not ihankfulh' lo accept, but cavil 
 at, to tear and mangleand pluck" in pieces the proclamation, 
 and defeat the kind design and gracious tender of their 
 prince? What clemency would not this provuke to the 
 highest resentment and indignation ) And what now can 
 be stranger, or more perverse, than that a revelation from 
 heaven of so much good Avill to men, in the substance so 
 plain, and that so directl)' concerns the salva'ion of souls 
 should he so torn and mangled 1 considered for no purpose
 
 ^ 
 
 468 
 
 THE CARNALITY OF RELIGIOUS CONTENTION. 
 
 less than that for which it was vouchsafed, and that the vcr}' 
 end itself should be in so great part eluded, that was so 
 kin lly designee, in it 1 Though yet ihe endeavour of salv- 
 ing difficulties that occur, by earnest prayer, diligent study, 
 and by amicable and placid collation among brethren, or 
 comparing of sentiments, sincerely designed for a clearer 
 understanding the frame of the Gospel truth, or how it 
 may be with most advantage represented to men for the 
 promoting of the common salvation, can be liable to no 
 just reprehension, being managed with that reverence that 
 so sacred things challenge, and with a due sense of our 
 own Ignorance and imperfection. That only which is 
 blameable in this case, and whereof I reckon no account 
 can be given, or defence made, is that when, for the sub- 
 stance, the Gospel propounds and lays before us so plain a 
 way wherein men are to endeavour the saving of their 
 souls, as wherein the wayfaring man, though a fool, needs 
 not err, i. e. that there must be repentance towards God, 
 faith in our Lord Jesus Christ, a renewed heart, a holy 
 life. One comes and pretends to show that order of these 
 things one way, so as to compose a scheme of thena that 
 is represented as most necessary to be observed and held 
 to. No, saith another, I'll give you a righter scheme of 
 salvation, another way, and mightily presses the necessity 
 of that, and the dangerous mistakes of the other. And 
 thus they cover a plain way with thorns and briers, do not 
 instruct, but perplex and distract whom they should direct, 
 create distinctions and oppositions of scheme to scheme, not 
 only without necessity, but almost without a difference, 
 and yet insist with vehemency, and lay men's salvation 
 upon their understanding the matter so or so, when it is 
 hoped thousands have been saved, that never heard of the 
 one scheme or the other, as they are distinguished and op- 
 posed to each other. Who can justify this 1 Again, in the 
 
 1th. place, When any do with great zeal contend lor this 
 or that opinion or notion, as very sacred and highly spirit- 
 ual, (as they account,) with no other design, than that 
 under that pretence thay may indulge their own carnal 
 inclination with the greater liberty. It was the very genius 
 of this sort of men against whom this epistle was meant, 
 whether they were then called gnostics it matters not. The 
 name well agreed to them, and they were known by it 
 afterwards. They were men of much pretence to know- 
 ledge and sublime notions, as they counted them. And 
 herein lay their religion ; and under this pretence they in- 
 dulged themselves in all manner of licentiousness. When 
 any do take up with mere notions, which they are zealous 
 for, accounting them very highly spiritual ; and under pre- 
 text of these, they indulge the carnality of their hearts, if 
 not of their lives and practices too ; and their fine notion, 
 (as they account it,) which they (more uncertainly) father 
 upon the Spirit of truth, must be substituted in the room 
 of all that love, meekness, humility, heavenliness, self- 
 denial, which are the most certain and undoubted fruits 
 of this blessed Spirit : when under the pretence of being 
 notional men, and of knowing a great deal more than 
 most others do, any neglect their own spirits, and suffer 
 pride, avarice, ambition, vindictiveness, and f'alsehood, to 
 shelter themselves under the thin cobweb of a few fine- 
 spun notions; and they can now hereupon live at random, 
 with more ease to their own minds, and, they think, with 
 beUer reputation as to other men. 
 
 Here is a glittering show only of an airy, imagined, 
 pretended spirituality, drawn over (but which doth not 
 hide) corrupt, rotten, putrid flesh. Have you never known 
 such a case, when it might be said, there goes a proud, 
 ambitious man, a covetous man, a false man, a malicious 
 man ; but he is a man of rare and singular notions, knows 
 a great deal more than most others do; and this must 
 atone for all his crimes with God and man, and both quiet 
 his conscience and salve his credit together ! And who 
 can doubt but this man must be very fond of his own 
 opinions, and zealously contend and dispute for them upon 
 any occasion (though he never so ineptly make it) when 
 they are to do hira so great service, and to stand him in 
 so much stead, i. e. to supply the room for him of all real 
 religion and morality. And if he have happened upon 
 such notions as are really true, and revealed by God him- 
 self, by how much the more certainly divine they be, so 
 much the greater is the wickedness, so basely to prostitute 
 
 sacred things, truths that are the very offspring of heaven, 
 unto so vile purposes. It were fault enough to make them 
 serve different or other purposes than they are caj)able of, 
 i. e. to supply the room of religion and real goodness. 
 What an indignity is that to religion, to suppose an empty 
 spiritless opinion can fill tip its place ! a thing that does a 
 man no good, for which his mind and spirit is nothing the 
 better ! much more, that shelters what is so very bad ! Can 
 this serve for religion 1 That religion that consists with 
 being proud, with being deceitful, with being malicious, 
 with being revengeful, learn, learn to despise such a reli- 
 gion ! Much more that is taken up to veil over these, and 
 exclude all real goodness ! Again, 
 
 8. When, in the maintaining any doctrine of the Gospel 
 in opposition to others, we industriously set ourselves to 
 pervert their meaning, and impute things to them that they 
 never say. Or again, if we charge their opinions whom 
 we oppose with consequences which they disclaim, profess- 
 ing, it may be, rather to disclaim their former opinion, ■ 
 and change their judgment, than admit such consequences, 
 if they could discern any connexion between the one and 
 the other. This surely argues a mighty disposition to con- 
 tend, when we will quarrel with" one that is really of our 
 own mind ; for herein he appears to be virtually already 
 of the same mind in a greater matter, at least, than he 
 differs with us about ; because no man charges another's 
 ojiinion with a consequence, designing thereby to oblige 
 him to change his opinion ; but as supposing it to be an 
 agreed thing between them both, that the consequence is 
 worse than the opinion. When therefore the consequence 
 
 I charge is disclaimed by him whom I oppose, either it i: 
 justly charged, or it is not. If it be not, his opinion maj 
 be true, notwithstanding what I herein say to the contrary, 
 and I am certainly so far in an error. But if it be justly 
 charged, being yet disclaimed, we are formally agreed 
 concerning the consequence, and are virtually agreed con- 
 cerning the disputed point too, because he professedly dis- 
 avows it upon supposition such a consequence would fol- 
 low, which yet perhaps he sees not; and so the agreement 
 must be much greater than the difference. And yet com- 
 monly this signifies nothing in order to peace : that is, it is 
 not enough, that I see the same things that you do, unless 
 I also see them too with your eyes. 
 
 9. AVhen such disputes do arise at length to wrath, to 
 angry strife, yea, and even to fixed enmity. What dread- 
 ful carnality is here ! Most deservedly so called, if yoa 
 only consider flesh or carnality as an unreasonable, a brutal 
 thing. For what can be more unreasonable or unaccount- 
 able than to fall out with another man, because he thinks 
 not as I do, or receives not my sentiments, as I also do not 
 receive his. Is it not to be considered, that he no further 
 differs from me than I do from him 1 If there be cause of 
 anger upon this account, on one side, there is the same 
 cause on the other too ; and then whither shall this growl 
 And how little can this avail upon a rational estimate? 
 Can any good come of it ? doth it tend to the clearing of 
 truth 1 Shall we see the better through the clouds and dust 
 we raised 1 Is a good cause served by it 1 or do we think 
 it possible the wrath of man should ever work the right- 
 eousness of God ? And when such carnalities as these do 
 exert themselves, and the hot steams and fumes arise, 
 which the apostle here calls the lusts of the flesh, the flesh 
 lusting to envy, lusting to wrath ; what is the product (or 
 even the productive cause) but that sort of fire which is 
 without light 1 And you know what fire that resembles ! 
 And if a man once find any fervour of this kind stir or 
 kindle in his breast, if he aright consider, he would no 
 more cherish it, than one would do a brand thrown into 
 his bosom from the infernal fire. One would think in this 
 case, What have I stirring within me 1 something a-kin to 
 hell ! Can this conduce to the service of divine and hea- 
 venly truth " And let it be sadly considered : our being, 
 upon such accounts, angry Avith one another, is a dismal 
 token of God's being angry with us all, and a provoking 
 cause of it too. Methinks that should be a qualmy thought ! 
 and strike our souls with a strange damp ! Shall I indulge 
 that in myself, that is a mark upon me of Divine dis- 
 pleasure ; and upon all in whom it is found ? To liavc his 
 Holy Spirit retire, that blessed Spirit of love, and of a 
 sound mind, and to leave us under the power of rebellious
 
 THE CARNALITY OF RELIGIOUS CONTENTION. 
 
 469 
 
 lusting flesh! Can this be grateful, or not be a dismaying, 
 frightful thing 1 And whereas a right scheme of Gospel 
 doctrine is the thing pretended to be striven for, 1 beseech 
 you consider : The more entirely, and the more deeply, the 
 true scheme of Gospel doctrine is inlaid in a man's soul, 
 the more certainly it must form it into all meekness, hu- 
 mility, gentleness, love, kindness, and benignity towards 
 fellow-Christians of whatsoever denomination ; not con- 
 fined, not limited (as that of the Pharisees) unto their own 
 party; but diffusing and spreading itself to all that bear 
 the character and cognizance of Christ. The Spirit of our 
 Lord Jesus Christ is a Spirit of greater amplitude; ex- 
 tends and diffuses itself through the whole body of Christ. 
 
 Nor can any man more eiiectually disgrace his own 
 cause, or make sure to worst himself in it, than by defend- 
 ing it wrathfully. For admit that he err whom I oppose, 
 a thousand to one but that m}' wrath is worse than his 
 error, probably a thousand times worse. I go about there- 
 fore to take away a mote from his eye, ha\'ing a beam in 
 my own ; or am more concerned for a misplaced hair upon 
 his head, than I am for a liery ulcer in my own breast. 
 We are not, 'tis true, to be stoical to condemn the natural 
 passion of anger, as such, for sinful. But if it exceeds its 
 cause, and sets not with the sun, it becomes strange, un- 
 hallowed fire. But again in the 
 
 lO^A place, There is still a further appearance of great 
 carnality in such cases, when any do adventure to judge of 
 the consciences and states of them whom they oppose, or 
 from whom they differ: when they ascend the tribunal, 
 usurp the throne, pass sentence upon them, as men of no 
 conscience, or of no sincerity, or uprightness of heart with 
 God. As if theirs were to be the universal conscience, the 
 measure of all consciences ; and he that cannot be governed 
 by their conscience, must have none at all : or he be stark 
 blind towards truth, towards God, and towards himself, 
 that sees not every thing they see, or fancy themselves to see. 
 
 This is a most high usurpation upon Divine preroga- 
 tive ; and how can any insensibly slide into such an evil 
 a.s this, in the face of so plain and so awful a text of Scrip- 
 ture, that so severely animadverts upon it 1 that 14th to 
 the Romans, and sundry verses of it. With what reve- 
 rence and dread should it strike a man's soul in such a 
 case! When we have the rights of the Redeemer asserted 
 in those whom he hath bought with his blood. And are 
 told that for this end Christ both died, and rose, and re- 
 vived, that he might be Lord both of the dead and living, 
 ver. 9. And it's thereupon further said to us, Who art 
 thou that judgest another's servant, as ver. 10. Why dost 
 thou judge thy brother, or set at nought thy brother 1 We 
 must all stand before the judgment seat of Christ. We 
 are all of us his, he both died, and revived, and rose again, 
 that he might be Lord of all, as Acts x. 30. And here of 
 dead and living, i. e. that he might be owner of all, which 
 is the first notion of Domimis or Lord, and in both worlds, 
 the visible and the invisible ; that into which many are 
 dead, and deceased from hence, and so to us become invisi- 
 ble ; and many that, yet surviving, arestill visible tons. So 
 ample is his dominion ! And because the jus imperii, Ike 
 right of government, of which judgment is the last, con- 
 clusive act, hath for its foundation the jus dominii ; 'tis 
 therefore asserted to him as the coronis and complement, 
 the very sumviily of his acquired rights, that he is to finish 
 all things by the last judgment, which must pass upon 
 both the already dead and the yet living. Thus is the 
 ground of the expostulation laid. Who art thou who pre- 
 sumest to justle him out of this his supreme and most 
 sacred right 1 Perhaps the matter disputed about may be 
 doubtful, but there is no doubt concerning this incommu- 
 nicable authority of our Lord Christ, or concerning his 
 law against such judging. Matt. vii. 1. And to run into 
 certain sin, in a furious chasing of uncertain error ! what 
 consideration, what tenderness of offending, of affronting 
 him, and of hazarding our own souls, is there in all this 1 
 
 To judge other men's consciences, is of so near affinity 
 with governing them, that they that can allow themselves 
 to do the former, want only power, not will or inclination, 
 to offer at the other too. Which puis the matter out of 
 doubt, that when men of this temper complain of such 
 usurpation, 'tis not that they think it an offence in ii.self, 
 but against them only ; and that no consciences ought to 
 34 
 
 be free, but their own. The proof of an honest and equal 
 mind herein is, when we judge this to be evil, not being 
 hurt by it ; or abhor to hurt others in this kind, when we 
 have power to do it. Upon which account that passage is 
 memorable of tlie emperor Maximilian II. to a certain 
 prelate, that there was no sin, no tyranny, more grievous 
 than to affect dominion over men's consciences ; and that 
 they who do so, go about to invade the tower of heaven. 
 A considerable saying from so great a prince, that lived 
 and died in the Roman communion. What shall be thought 
 of any such protcstanis, that without any colour or shadow 
 of a ground, besides difl'ering from thera in some very dis- 
 putable and unimportant opinions, shall presume to judge 
 of other men's consciences, (and consequently of their 
 states God-ward,) which such a one as he thought it so 
 presumptuous wickedness to attempt to overrule or 
 govern "? 
 
 11. When we over-magnify our own understandings, 
 and assume too much to ourselves. That is, do expect that 
 our minds be taken for .standards to all minds; as ii we, 
 of all mankind, were exempt from error, or the possibility 
 of being mistaken. A certain sort of (piXavrla or ai8l6:ta, 
 an access of love and admiration of ourselves, or over- 
 pleasedness with ourselves, too much self-complacency, is 
 the true (though very deep and most hidden) root of our 
 common mischief in such cases. We w"rap up ourselves 
 within ourselves, and then we are all the world. Do only 
 compare ourselves with ourselves, never letting it enter 
 into our minds, that others have their sentiment.s too, per- 
 haps wiser than ours ; but abound in our own sense ; and 
 while (as the apostle in that case says) we are not wise, 
 and perhaps are the only persons that think ourselves .so, 
 we yet take upon us, as if we were fit to dictate to the world, 
 to all Christians and to all mankind ; or as if we only 
 were the men, and wisdom mu.st die with us. 
 
 This is a sort of evil, than which there is none more 
 common and none less observed ; none wherewith the 
 guilty are so little apt to charge themselves, or admit con- 
 viction of it. For, 1 pray, do but consider ; all the several 
 differing parlies amongst us do with one voice pretend to 
 be for peace ; but hoM', and upon what terms 1 Why, that 
 all the rest are presently to be of their mind; and that is 
 all the peace that most are for. For where (scarce any 
 where) is the man to be found, or how great a rarity is he, 
 that entertains the thought, " That there ma)', for aught I 
 know, be much to be redressed and corrected in my appre- 
 hensions of things, to make me capable of falling in with 
 that truth which ought to be common to all." There is Ein 
 expectation with many, of a good lime and state of things, 
 before this world end, when all shall be of one mind and 
 judgment ; but the most think it must be by all men's be- 
 coming of their mind and judgment. And of this .self- 
 conceit it is usually a harder thing to fasten conviction 
 upon men, than of most other evils. We have more hope 
 in speaking against drunkenness, murder, or any the 
 grossest kind of wickedness; for there the conscience of 
 the guilty falls in, and takes part with the reprtn'er. But 
 we can more easily, and more frequently do, (though not 
 frequently enough.) observe the faults of the inferior facul- 
 ties of our external actions, than of the faculty itself which 
 we should observe. Our mind, which is naturally like our 
 eye, is, in this, too like, i. e. that it can see every thing 
 but itself. It doth not, by using it, preserve its peculiar, 
 self-reflecting power; is blind towards itself, beyond what 
 naturally belongs to it. An object may be too near our 
 bodily eye to be seen. Our mind is herein too bodily, 
 too much carnalized, sunk too deep into flesh. It is the 
 next thing to iisclf; and here, not by its primitive nature, 
 (bv which as an intellectual sun it could revert its beams, 
 and turn them inward upon itself,) but by depravation, it 
 for the most part sees nothing; or does worse, thinks ii- 
 .self to see what is not to be seen, certain imaginary excel- 
 lencies, which make the man his o^^•n idol ; an object of 
 a sort of adoration to himself; and of scorn and derision 
 (most probably) to every one else. In this case every man 
 is. however, most commonlv innocent in his own eyes^ or 
 still thinks he is in the right; amidst the so vast a variety 
 of apprehensions and sentiments no one suspects himself 
 to be in the wrong. All are for the truth, and they are all 
 for peace and union. By which some indeed, more gently,
 
 THE CARNALITY OP RELIGIOUS CONTENTION. 
 
 470 
 
 mean, they hope all will quit their furmer mistaken 
 opinions and w ys (as in great kindness to themselves 
 they take for granted all men's are but their own) and 
 come wholly over to them. Others, that have not breasts 
 capable of even so much charity as this, not only are as 
 much lovers and admirers of themselves, but so vehement 
 haters of all that presume to difter from them, that they 
 think them not fit to live in the world that durst adventure 
 to do so. The meaning therefore of their being for peace, 
 is, that they would have all destroyed that are not of their 
 minds ; and then (as the Roman historian speaks) Quando 
 solitudliiem feccre appellant paceiii ; when they have made a 
 desolation, so that they themselves are left alone in the 
 world, that they loill call peace. 
 
 But you will say, What is to be done 1 or what would 
 I persuade in this case of differing apprehensions and ways 
 still remaining among Christians { I answer. Not pre- 
 sently to unbelieve all that ever a man hath believed be- 
 fore ; or to abandon on the sudden his former sentiments, 
 or to find fault with himself for having thought them right. 
 For 'tis a contradiction to he of any opinion, and not then 
 to think it right. Nor, therefore, is it scepticism, by any 
 means, that I would advise to; as if there were nothing 
 to be thought certain, but this ; that whereas the greatest 
 and most necessary things in religion are most plain, that 
 is, either most plain in themselves, or most expressly re- 
 vealed in the word of God. Here let us be steadfast our- 
 selves, without being severe towards other men. Other 
 things, that are more matter of doubt and dispute, by how 
 much the less plain they are, we should count so much the 
 less necessary. In reference therefore to these less mo- 
 mentous things, about which there is with us most of 
 jangling, there ought always to be great modesty, and dis- 
 trust of our own understandings, and a continued readiness 
 to receive information, with constant looking up to the 
 Father of lights for further illumination, and a resolution, 
 wherein we, with others, have attained, to walk by the 
 same rule, minding the same (agreed) things, hoping God 
 will reveal his mind to the otherwise minded in his own 
 time, as the apostle in Phil. iii. 16, 17. But to hasten to a 
 close, I further add in the 
 
 Last place. Such carnality greatly shows itself in an 
 affectation and desire of having such disputes still kept 
 afoot, and the contests continued without either limit or 
 rational design. This shows a deep tincture, and is a 
 plain indication of a mind, to a very great degree, carnal- 
 ized, when a mighty pleasure is taken to see the saw drawn, 
 and the ball kept up. And if the question be asked, Pray 
 how long 1 So little of reasonable answer can be given, 
 that it might as well be said in plain terms, Till all words 
 be spent, till speech or language fail, till Elias come, or 
 doomsday come. So that if there were never so much 
 reason to commend the having said somewhat in defence 
 of this or that disputed point, we might yet say, as Seneca 
 did of Cicero's so much overpraising his own consulship, 
 " I blame him not for praising it without cause, but for 
 doing it without end ;" or that he could never give over, 
 or tell when lie had said enough. Upon the same terms 
 upon which it is now so much desired such disputes should 
 be continued, when what is truly enough is already said, 
 they might as well wish they always should. Which sig- 
 nifies, that when we say, we would have men contend for 
 truth, we wish it not so much for truth's sake, as for the 
 contention's sake. By all means, say they, strive for the 
 truth : not that they care so much for the truth as for the 
 strife. For in some circumstances there is not an end in 
 view, that is rationally to be designed or served by it, on 
 this side the end of all things. Nor consequently any good 
 principle that is to be exercised or gratified thereby. What 
 is needful to be said in the matters alread)' referred to, for 
 the informing and satisfying of tractable minds sincerely 
 willing to understand the truth, lies within a little com- 
 pass. And when, in controversy, that is once said, which 
 truly belongs to the very point in question, the rest is com- 
 monly trifling and reflection, or the perplexing of the 
 matter more, and darkening the counsel by words with- 
 out knowledge. If love to truth be alleged for the 
 principle that prompts men to covet so continual alterca- 
 tions about it, I would say this shows more want of love 
 to it. For hereby they are diverted from that which ren- 
 
 ders it most of all amiable, and for which it ought chiefly 
 to be loved. As it is the truth according to godliness, and 
 by which we are to be sanctified, and begotten more and 
 more (as of an immortal seed) into the Divine likeness. 
 Experience shows how little disputes better men's spirits. 
 If we love divine truth, why do we not feed and live upon 
 it, and enjoy its pleasant relishes 1 but relish gravel more, 
 or chafi'and bran 1 For thither the agitation of continued 
 controversies about it doth soon sift it, the grain of flour 
 (the kidney of the Avheat) being passed away, and gone 
 from us. Can none remember when the disputative hu- 
 mour had even eaten out the power and spirit of practical 
 religion and godliness 1 Thither things are again tending 
 if, either by severity or mercy, (one may say rather than 
 not otherwise, by merciful severity,) God do not prevent 
 and repress that tendency. As yet I fear the humour is 
 violent, when the fervour of men's spirits is such, as to 
 carry them over all Scripture directions, and animadver- 
 sions, that they signify nothing with them ; only make i* 
 their business each one to animate the more vogued chan- 
 pions of their own party into the highest ferments, anci 
 cry, Dispute, dispute, write, write, preach, preach one 
 against another; let not the business go over so, do not 
 keep silence. Thus are many, as the apostle speaks, 
 puffed up for one against another, 1 Cor. iv. 6. And what, 
 has such a text of Scripture as that no edge, no point, by 
 which to lance, to pierce' such a tumour 1 No ; when the 
 humour is once up, and has enwrapt men's hearts ; is set- 
 tled there, and hath obdured them to a brawny hardness ; 
 such texts of Scripture, though so mighty pat and apposite, 
 are esteemed by them but as leviathan esteems spears and 
 swords, like straw and rotten wood, they do not enter into 
 men's hearts, A strange kind of obduration ! 
 
 And how supposable is it, that they who are so puffed 
 up for others, may also, through the known corruption of 
 nature even in the best, do herein not a little to the puffing 
 up of them too. The apostle's concluding of this chapter 
 with those cautions. Let us not be desirous of vain-glory, 
 provoking one another, envying one another, immediately 
 upon his renewing of the precept (ver. 25.) of walking in 
 the Spirit, and immediately before those words, (chap. vi. 
 1.) If a man be overtaken Avith a fault, ye which are .spi- 
 ritual restore such a one in the spirit of meekness, shows 
 how he understood the case to be with these Galatian 
 Christians, that as to doctrinals were yet sound and un- 
 fallen : that there was yet such carnality working in their 
 continued contests, (though for the truth,) such pride, such 
 affectation of vain-glory, such wrathfulness, as showed it 
 was not mere love to truth that kept up the contest, but 
 some such worse principles. Nothing is plainer than that 
 principles and ends measure one another. And when that 
 is done, or coveted to be done, that serves no good end ; 
 or is so done, as not to serve, but destroy or hinder, any 
 end that is truly good ; the principle must be very bad that 
 moves the wheel. Disorderly eccentric motions bewray 
 their principle and end together. When the carriage and 
 conduct of an affair, that carries with it the appearance of 
 serving the truth, is impetuous, eager, precipitant ; when 
 there is no good end in view of the present so modified 
 endeavour ; when enough is agreed already to serve the 
 most important ends, unity among brethren, the salvation 
 of souls, and yet things are further insisted on, unnecessary 
 to either, yea, prejudicial to both, and upon which the 
 weight and stress of either of these cannot be laid without 
 sin ; it too plainly appears vain-glory to oneself, or the 
 slurring of a(designed) adversary is the end ; and then the 
 principle is proportionable. Yet, even in the light, and 
 when matters are thus open and in view, oppositions are 
 pushed on, and men's spirits rise to that piich, as to bear 
 down whatever is proposed, only with design to make 
 their career a little slower ; yea, and they are apt, rather 
 than hearken, to put opprobrious names and characters 
 upon them that are not altogether so furious as them- 
 selves. 
 
 Nor have they themselves the patience to consider con- 
 sequences, and whither these things tend ; i. e. that God 
 is provoked, that the souls of men are endangered, greatly 
 endangered. I have found in my own conversation, that 
 some, even in distress, in agonies, have said, "Lord, be 
 merciful to us, I know not which way to go; onepreacbes
 
 THE CARNALITY OF RELIGIOUS CONTENTION. 
 
 471 
 
 one thing, another preaches the quite contrary." I know 
 they mistake ; we do generally in substance preach the 
 same Gospel. Thanks be to God, his Gospel is not con- 
 fined to a few men, or to this or that party of men. But, 
 in the mean time, it is a thing of very ill consequence to 
 lay stumbling-blocks before the blind, bars and obstructions 
 in the way of the weak and ihe lame, whereby they may be 
 turned out of the way, who should rather be strengthened. 
 It is not considered, that where the danger is less of an 
 utter ruin to the souls of men, there is, however, occa- 
 sioned a great languor and enfeeblement. They should 
 be considered and treated, not only as being weak, but lest 
 they should be made so. When they are diverted from the 
 proper means of improvement and growth, and their minds 
 are alienated from those means, being otherwise engaged, 
 an ill habit is contracted ; and when the distemper hath 
 seized some, it spreads, and soon infects more. Nutriment 
 is dispensed from the head through the body, by the co- 
 operation of the several parts, as those texts, Eph. iv. IG. 
 Col. ii. 19. do with great emphasis and elegancy speak. 
 Understand it so, that how far soever there is or ought to 
 be actual communion, every limb and joint contributes 
 something to the strength and vigour of the rest. So is 
 nourishment ministered and spreads itself in the body to 
 its edifying itself in love : which love if it fail, a univer- 
 sal languor cannot but ensue, the free circulation of vital 
 spirits being obstructed and stopped. And those that are 
 most sensible, if they be not so much otherwise damnified, 
 cannot, when they observe it, but be grieved, and take it 
 bitterly to heart, when the tokens appear to their view of 
 a general decay. The living members of any body are 
 pained, when the body is wasted and rent ; dead or stupi- 
 fied and benumbed members feel it not, are unapprehen- 
 sive. But above all, it ought to be considered, (and how 
 little is it !) that the Holy Spirit is grieved, and doth (as we 
 may fear it will more) sensibly retire: the Gospel in which 
 it is wont to breathe is trifled with ; the glorious Gospel, 
 the Gospel of the grace of God, (can men find nothing else 
 to play with,) by which that blessed Spirit hath begotten 
 many a soul to God, and nourished them unto life eternal. 
 That precious thing designed for so great and sacred pur- 
 poses, (as pampered wanton children do with their food,) 
 they dally with, or quarrel about it, or squander and 
 throw it away. How can this but offend 1 The self-pro- 
 cured distempers which did precede, and those that ensue, 
 mcrease the offence. When 'tis said, Eph. iv. 30. Grieve 
 not the Holy Spirit of God — and presently subjoined, ver. 
 31. Let all bitterness, and wrath, and anger, and clamour, 
 and evil-speaking, be put away. Is it not left to us to col- 
 lect, that these things do more peculiarly grieve the Spi- 
 rit ; thai Spirit of grace, of all love, goodness, sweetness, 
 and benignity 1 There is but one body, and one Spirit, a spi- 
 rit that spreads vital influence in the body. What can you 
 think of that Spirit that feels every where 1 that is in the 
 body a universal sentient 1 How can that Spirit but be 
 grieved 1 Passion it is not capable of, but just and sedate 
 displicency, that matters should be so. How should any 
 of us like it to have our living body torn limb from limb, 
 
 and part from part ! Though Avith him real commotion 
 and disturbance can have no place, intellectual resent- 
 ment is infinitely greater and deeper than we can either 
 feel or conceive. 
 
 But where this angry, tumefied, proud flesh is the go- 
 verning thing, none of these tremendous consequences or 
 considerations, while it is so, take any place. The litigious 
 quarrelsome genius will throw off all, will find no lei.^^ure 
 or room for a calm thought: but though the course in 
 which we are engaged should be ready to set on fire the 
 whole course of nature, will be still for casting abroad 
 firebrands, and arrows, and death ; and make us think this 
 fine sport ! If indeed there were room for any cooler 
 thoughts, one would think such as these should not lie re- 
 mote. How little any of us know, or are capable of know- 
 ing, in this our present state ! that they that tliink they 
 know most, or are most conceited of their own knowledge, 
 know nothing as they ought to know ; that they that are 
 most apt to contend, do most of all fight in the dark; that 
 it is too possible there may be much knowledge without 
 love; how little such knowledge is worth ! that it profits 
 nothing; that it hurts, puffs up, when love edifies ; that the 
 devils knowmore than any of us, while their want of love, 
 or their hellish malignity, makes them devils ; that as by 
 pride comes contention, so humility would contribute more 
 to peace, (and to the discerning of truth too,) than the most 
 fervent disceptation ; that there is no hope of proselyting the 
 world to my opinion or way ; that if I cannot be quiet till 
 I have made such and such of my mind, I shall still be un- 
 quiet if others are not of it, i. e. alwaj-s ; that if some one's 
 judgment must be a standard to the world, there are thou- 
 sands fitter for it than mine ; that they that in their angry 
 contests think to shame their adversary, do commonly 
 most of all shame themselves. 
 
 But to close all, I pray let us consider, we are, pro- 
 fessedly, going to heaven, that region of light, and life, and 
 purity, and love. It well, indeed, becomes them that are 
 upon the way thither, modestly to inquire after truth. 
 Humble, serious, diligent endeavours to increase in Divine 
 knowledge, are very suitable to our present state of dark- 
 ness and imperfection. The product of such inquiries we 
 shall carry to heaven with us, with whatsoever is most akin 
 thereto (besides their usefulness in the way thither.) We 
 shall carry truth and the knowledge of God to heaven 
 with us ; we shall carry purity thither, devotedness of soul 
 to God and our Redeemer, Divine love and joy, if we 
 have their beginnings here, with whatsoever else of real 
 permanent excellencj', that hath a settled, fixed seat and 
 place in our souls now; and shall there have them in per- 
 fection. But do we think we shall carry strife to heaven 1 
 Shall we carry anger to heaven 1 en^yings, heart-burn- 
 ings, animosities, enmities, hatred of our brethren and fel- 
 low-Christians, shall we carry these to heaven with us 1 
 
 Let us labour to divest ourselves, and strike off from our 
 spirits every thing that shall not go with us to heaven, or 
 is equally unsuitable to our end and way, that there may 
 be nothing to obstruct and hinder our abundant entrance 
 at length mto the everlasting kingdom.
 
 A SERMON 
 
 CONCERNING 
 
 UNION AMONG PROTESTANTS: 
 
 A DISCOURSE ANSWERING THE FOLLOWING aUESTION, 
 
 'WHAT MAY MOST HOPEFULLY BE ATTEMPTED TO ALLAY ANIMOSITIES AMONG PROTESTANTS, THAT OUR DIVISIONS 
 
 MAY NOT BE OUR RUIN 3" 
 
 COLOSS. II. 3. 
 
 THAT THEIR HEARTS MIGHT BE COMFORTED, BEING KNIT TOGETHER IN LOVE, AND UNTO ALL RICHES OF THE FULL ASSURANCE OF 
 UNDERSTANDING, TO THE ACKNOWLEDGMENT OF THE MYSTERY OF GOD, AND OF THE FATHER, AND OP CHRIST. 
 
 This question is propounded to me ; " What may most 
 hopefully be attempted to allay animosities among prot- 
 estants, that our divisions may not be our ruin 1" I must 
 here, in the first place, tell you how I understand this ques- 
 tion. 1. As to the end,, the preventing our ruin ; I take 
 the meaning chiefly to be, not the ruin of our estates, trade, 
 houses, families; not our ruin, in these respects, who are 
 Christians, but our ruin as we are Christians, i. c. the ruin 
 of our Christianity itself, or of the truly Christian interest 
 among us. 2. As for the means inquired after, I under- 
 stand not the question to intend, what is to be done or at- 
 tempted by laws, and public constitutions, as if our busi- 
 ness were to teach our absent rulers, or prescribe to them 
 Avhat they should do, to whom we have no present call, or 
 opportunity, to apply ourselves. Nor again can it be thought 
 our business, to discuss the several questions that are con- 
 troverted among us, and show, in each, what is the truth 
 and right, wherewith every man's conscience ought to be 
 satisfied, and in which we should all meet and unite : as if 
 we had the vanity to think of performing, by an hour's 
 discourse, what the voluminous writings of some ages have 
 not performed. Much less are we to attempt the persuad- 
 ing of any to go against an already formed judgment in 
 these points of difference, for the sake of union ; and to 
 seek the peace of the church, by breaking their peace with 
 God and their own consciences. 
 
 But I take the question only to intend, what serious 
 Christians may, and ought, to endeavour, in their private 
 capacities, and agreeably with their own principles, to- 
 wards the proposed end. And so I conceive the words 
 read to you, contain the materials of a direct and full an- 
 swer to the question. Which I reckon will appear, — by 
 opening the case the apostle's words have reference to ; 
 that will be found a case like our own ; and — by opening 
 the words, whereby their suitableness to thai case will be 
 seen, and consequently to our case also. 
 
 1. The case which these words have reference to (as in- 
 deed the general aspect of the epistle, and in great part of 
 the other apostolical letters, looks much the same way) was 
 in short this : That a numerous sect was already sprung 
 up, that began (so early) to corrupt the simplicity and 
 a Clemens Aloxandr , Irenaeus, EpiphaniuB^&c. 
 
 purity of the Christian religion, and very much to disturb 
 the peace of the Christian church. A sort they were of 
 partly judaizing, partly paganizing Christians, the disci- 
 ples, as they are reputed, of Simon Magus, who joined 
 with the name Christian the rites and ceremonies of the 
 Jews, with the impurities (even in worship) of the Gen- 
 tiles, denying the more principal doctrines, and hating the 
 holy design of Christianity itself, while they seemed to 
 have assumed, or to retain, the name, as it were on pur- 
 pose the more effectually to wound and injure the Chris- 
 tian cause and interest. Men of high pretence to know- 
 ledge, (whence they had the title of gnostics,) filched partly 
 from the Jewish cabbalism, partly from the Pythagorean. 
 By which pretence they insinuated the more plausibly 
 with such as affected the knowledge of more hidden mys- 
 teries. Whereto the apostle seems tu have reference, 
 where he adds immediately after the text, that in Christ 
 were hid all the treasures of wisdom and knowledge, ver. 
 3. And says, he did purposely add it, lest any man should 
 beguile them with enticing words ; intimating, there was 
 no need to follow those vain pretenders, out of an affecta- 
 tion of sublimer knowledge, and forsake Christ in whom 
 all the treasures of wisdom and knowledge were hid. 
 
 Of the progress and genius of this sect, not only .some of 
 the fathers of the church give an account," but even a 
 noted philosopher b among the heathens, who writes pro- 
 fessedly against them, (though not a word against Chris- 
 tians a.s such,) both making it his business to refute their 
 absurd doctrines, (that the world was in its nature evil, 
 and not made by God, but by some evil angel, &c.) and re- 
 presenting them as men of most immoral principles and 
 practices ; worse, both in respect of their notions and 
 morals, than Epicurus himself. It appears this sort of 
 men did, in the apostles' days, not only set themselves, 
 with great art and industry, to pervert as many professors 
 of Christianity as they could, but found means (as they 
 might by their compliances with the Jews, who were then 
 much spread, and numerously seated in sundry principal 
 cities under the Roman power, and who were every where 
 the bitterest enemies to Christianity) to raise persecution 
 against them they could not pervert, which some pass.ig< s 
 b Plotinus Ennead ?. L 9.
 
 CONCERNING UNION AMONG PROTESTANTS. 
 
 473 
 
 seem to intimate in tlie epistle to the Galatians, (who, as 
 tliat whole epistle shows, were much leavened by this sect, 
 insomuch that the apostle is put to travail as in birth again 
 to have Christ formed in them, and to reduce them back 
 to sincere Christianity,) viz. that some leaders of this sect 
 so set the people's minds even against the apostle himself, 
 that he began to be reputed by them as an enemy, (chap. 
 iv. 16.) and was persecuted under that notion, because he 
 would not comply with them in the matter of circumcision, 
 (urged as an engagement to the whole law of Moses,) 
 chap. v. 11. If I yet preach circumcision, why do I yet 
 suffer persecution"? then is the offence of the cross ceased. 
 And that they were as mischievous as they could be, to 
 fellow-Christians, on the same account, biting and de- 
 vouring them that received not their corrupting additions 
 to Christianity, as the circumstances of the text show, 
 ver. 15. 
 
 How like a case this is to ours, with our popish ene- 
 mies, I need not tell j'^ou. And now in this case ; when 
 the faith of many was overthrown, so much hurt was al- 
 ready done, and the danger of greater was so manifest, 
 partly by the most insinuating methods of seduction, parth' 
 by the terror of persecution, the great care was to secure 
 the uncorrupted residue, and preserve unextinct the true 
 Christian interest. 
 
 The urgency of this case puis the solicitous, concerned 
 spirit of this great apostle into an inexpressible agony, as 
 his words do intimate : I would you knew what conflict 
 I have, and not for these Colossians only, but for them of 
 Laodicea, (which was not very remote from Colosse,) and 
 for as many as have not seen my face in the flesh : for it 
 was a common case, and upon him lay the care of all the 
 churches. So that hence his musing, meditative mind, 
 could not but be revolving many thoughts, and casting 
 about for expedients, how the threatening danger might 
 be obviated and averted. And these in the text, which he 
 fastens upon, and wherein his thoughts centre, how apt 
 and proper they were to that case (and consequently to 
 ours which so little differs) will be seen, 
 
 2. By our opening and viewing the import of the text 
 itself: Wherein he, 
 
 1. Proposes to himself the end which he apprehended 
 was most desirable, and above all things to be coveted for 
 them; That their hearts might be comforted. A word of 
 much larger signification than in vulgar acceptation it is 
 understood to be. Ylapa\a'\Fi,> signifies (with profane as 
 well as the sacred writers) not only to administer consola- 
 tion to a grieved mind, but to exhort, quicken, excite, and 
 animate, to plead and strive with dull and stupid, waver- 
 ing and unresolved, minds. It was thought indeed com- 
 prehensive enough to express all the operations of the Di- 
 vine Spirit upon the souls of men, when not only the 
 Christian chur h, but the world, yet to be Christianized, 
 was to be the subject of them, as we see, John xvi. 8. In 
 respect whereof that Holy Spirit hath its name of office, 
 Ihe paraclete, from this word. And it being the passive 
 that is here used, it signifies not only the endeavours them- 
 selves, which are used to the purpose here intended, but 
 the effect of them wherein they all terminate, a lively, vi- 
 gorous, confirmed state and habit of soul: and that not in- 
 definite, but determined to one thing, the Christian faith 
 and profession, which the apostle's drift and scope plainly 
 show. 'Tis not to be tliovight, he so earnestly coveted and 
 strove, that they might be jocund, cheerful, abounding 
 with joy and courage, in any course, right or wrong; hnt 
 that they might be encouraged, established, confirmed in 
 their Christianity. And if the word he here uses were 
 large enough to signify (as was noted above) all that was 
 necessary to make men Christians, it may as well, all that 
 is necessary to continue them such. 
 
 In short, the end which the apostle aims at, the rrapaicXiio-ic 
 intended to these Christians, was their establishment and 
 confirmed state in their Christianity, as the effect of all 
 apostolical or ministerial exhortations, persuasions, en- 
 couragements, or any whatsoever endeavours; made effi- 
 cacious to that purpose by the powerful influence and ope- 
 ration of the Holy Ghost. And that it was no lower thing 
 than this, we have sufficient evidence, by comparing the 
 close of the foregoing chapter with the beginning of this. 
 Where we find, chap. i. 28. the avowed design of his 
 
 preaching, warning, and teaching in all wisdom, was that 
 he might present every man perfect in Christ Jesus. That 
 whereas there were various arts and endeavours used, to 
 adulterate the Christian religion, and pervert men from 
 the simplicity of it, he might lose none, but to his very ut- 
 termost keep all in a po.ssibility of being presented perfect 
 in Christ Jesus at la.st, i. e. that they might be all entire, 
 complete, and persevering Christians to the end. And for 
 this he adds, ver. 29. he did labour, striving according to 
 his working, which wrought in him mightily. All his la- 
 bour, and the strivings of his .soul, acted by Divine power, 
 and by a Spirit greater than his own, did aim at this end. 
 And now hereupon he intimates how fervid these his stri- 
 vings were, chap. ii. 1. I would you did but know (what 
 it is not for me to say) fi\iKov dywva, what an agomi I en- 
 dure ! how great this my conflict is for you, and for them 
 at Laodicea, and for as many as have not seen my face in 
 the flesh ! And for what 1 That their hearts might be 
 comforted, (as we read,) meaning manifestly the same 
 thing he had expressed before; that notwithstanding all 
 endeavouis of others to the contrary, they might be com- 
 plete and confirmed Christians to the la.sL 
 
 2. We have next to consider in the text the means or 
 what expedients the apostle conceives would be most 
 effectually conducing to this ble.ssed purpose. The}' are 
 two, — mutual love to one another; — and a clear, certain, 
 efficacious faith of the Gospel. The former is shortly and 
 plainly expressed ; the other by a copious and most em- 
 phatical periphrasis, or circundocution. He most carnest- 
 1}' covets to have them knit together hj-both i7Vj'i3t,'iaaBivnn., 
 compacted, as the word imports, in the one iv dyaTti], 
 and unto or into the other, as that particle signifies sis 
 
 vavra, &C. 
 
 1. Mutual love to one another: g. d. The thing were 
 done, or much were done towards it, if they were knit to- 
 gether in love, compacted, made all of a piece, if by love 
 they did firmly cohere, and cleave to one another : for then 
 it would be one and all : and 'tis scarce ever supp<isabie 
 they should all agree to quit their religion at once. But if 
 that were to be supposed, he adds another thing that would 
 put all out of doubt. 
 
 2. A clear, certain, efficacious faith of the Gospel. For 
 the several expressions that follow are but a description 
 of such a faith. Where we are to note, — what he would 
 have them apprehend, — and the apprehensive principle. 
 
 1. What he would have them apprehend: viz. the sum 
 and substance of the Christian doctrine, which he calls a 
 m^'stery, both because it was so in itself, and 'tis often 
 spoken of under that name, by our Lord himself, MatL 
 xiii. 11. and familiarly by this apostle, Rom. xvi. 25. 
 Ephes. iii. 3, 9. Col. i. 26. and elsewhere; and because of 
 the high pretence of the gnostics to the knowledge of mys- 
 teries which sometimes he slights; especially being un- 
 accompanied with love, as, with them, it most eminently 
 was. Though I understand all mysteries, and all know- 
 ledge, and have no charity, I am nothing, 1 Cor. xiii. 2. 
 Knowledge puflerh up, love edifies, chap. viii. 1. Some- 
 times, as here, he makes the sincere doctrine of the Gospel 
 to outvie theirs herein, intimating that such as made prc^ 
 fession of it could have no temptation to go over to them 
 for the knowledge of mysteries, (unless a mysters' of in- 
 iquity were more pleasing to them,) whose very religion 
 was that great mystery of godliness. God was manifest- 
 ed in the flesh, justified in the Spirit, seen of angels, preach- 
 ed unto the Gentiles, believed on in the world, received up 
 into glory, 1 Tim. iii. 16. 
 
 Now this mystery he, first, more generally characterizes, 
 by calling it ihe mystery of God, a divine mystery, not 
 made one by merely human fiction; and then he very 
 distinctly specifies it in the following words, and of the 
 Father, and of Christ. Where the former and needs not 
 be thought copulative, but exegetical. and might be read 
 even, or to irit ; or it may be read, both, as 'tis usual with 
 the Greeks as well as Latins when the copirlative is to be 
 repeated, so to read the former. As if it were said. By 
 the mvstery of God I mean, not of God alone, and ab- 
 stractedly considered ; as if it were enmrgh to you to be 
 mere deists ; and that the whole superadded revelation 
 concerningthe Mediator, might be looked upon with indif- 
 ferency or neglect ; (as by tlie gnostics it was known then
 
 CONCERJNING UNION AMONG PROTESTANTS. 
 
 to be, and afterwards by some of their great leaders, in the 
 substance of it, with downright hatred and opposition ;) 
 but that which I so earnestly covet for you, and wherein I 
 would have you unite, and be all one, in the acknowledg- 
 ment of the whole mystery of God ; i. e. both of the Father 
 and of Christ. 
 
 2. The apprehensive principle ; which we may, by a 
 general name, call faith, and accommodately enough to 
 the name here given us of its objects, a mystery which is 
 elsewhere called the mystery of faith, (1 Tim. iii. 9.) or a 
 mystery to be believed : faith being the known principle 
 of receiving the Gospel revelation. But he here expresses 
 it by words that signify knowledge, avvcats and cTriyvoxris, 
 thereby intimating that "the faith of Christians is not to be 
 a blind and unintelligent principle, but that though there 
 were contained in the Gospel mysteries never to be under- 
 stood, if God had not afforded a" special revelation of them 
 on purpose ; yet being revealed, we ought to have a clear 
 and distinct, as well as lively and practical, perception of 
 them. By these two words, and the other expressions he 
 joins in with the former, he seems to intimate two sorts of 
 properties which belong to that faith of the Gospel which 
 he wishes to them. 
 
 1. The rectitude, clearness, and certainty of notion. 
 
 2. The efficacy, impressiveness, and immediate aptitude 
 to have influence upon practice, which he would have it 
 carry with it. The latter properties supposing and de- 
 pending on the former, he there highly exaggerates the 
 matter, and heaps together expressions that might with 
 most lively emphasis set forth the kind of that knowledge 
 which he conceives would be of so great use to them. 
 He wishes them a crivean, a clear, perspicacious knowledge, 
 and an assurance, even to a. plerophory, a fulness of assuT- 
 ance, in their knowledge of the truth of the Gospel. Yea 
 he wishes them the riches, irXov-ov, yea and all riches, vavra 
 rrXovTov rm n'Srjoocpopias, of that full assurance, or plcrophory 
 of understanding, and knowledge of that truth ; apprehend- 
 ing that this would certainly fix them in their faith and 
 profession, so as they would never recede from it. As 
 when in Christ's own days many went back and walked 
 no more with him, John vi. Gt). that which retained others, 
 so that when Christ asks, "Will ye also go awayl" 
 (ver. 67.) they presently answer, " Lord, to whom shall we 
 go V could entertain no such thought, was, that, besides 
 what they believed of him was of greatest importance to 
 them. Thou hast the words of eternal life, ver. 68. So 
 their belief was with that assurance as to exclude all 
 suspicion or doubt in the case : And we believe and are 
 sure that thou art that Christ the Son of the living God, 
 ver. 69. and therefore neither canst want power to confer 
 eternal life, as all thy words do import thy design and 
 promise to do, nor truth to make good thy own plain 
 words. And then he also knew that such a avvecn; or 
 Tcnoivlcdge would produce, what he further wishes them, 
 an £7ri'yi/(oo-i f , and acknmded gmcnt, an inward, vital owning, 
 a cordial embrace, a livelj'' perception of the same blessed 
 truths, which must needs further most abundantly contri- 
 bute to this their so much desired joint and unanimous 
 stability. 
 
 And now these are the two expedients by which he 
 reckons they would be so closely compacted together as 
 that no subtlety or violence could endanger them; mutual 
 love, and a clear, certain, operative failh of the Gospel; 
 if, b}'^ the one, they did cohere with each other ; and by 
 the other, adhere to God in Christ; if the one might have 
 with them tlie place, power, and bindingness of a cement, 
 the other of a continual inclination, yieldingness, and com- 
 pliance to the magnetism of the centre, they would never 
 so fall asunder, as to give any enemies opportunity to be 
 the successful authors, or the gratified spectators, of their 
 ruin. Thus therefore I would sum up the sense of this 
 scripture, and the answer to the question proposed. — " That 
 the maintaining of sincere love among Christians, and the 
 impro\"ing cf their faith to greater measures of clearness, 
 certainty, and efficacy in reference to the substantials of 
 Christianity, are to be endeavoured as the best means to 
 unite, establish, and preserve them, against such as design 
 the ruin of the truly Christian interest." — The case was at 
 that time urging and iinportant. A great and numerous 
 parly was formed, of such as did nauseate the simplicity of 
 
 the Christian religion, and hate the true design of it. All 
 the care was what course was most proper and suitable to 
 preserve the rest. And you see what was then thought 
 most proper. Counsel was not taken to this effect, (and 
 therefore Christians in a private capacity should not covet 
 to have it so,) " Let us bind them by certain devised pre- 
 ter-evangelical canons to things never thought fit to be en- 
 joined by Christ himself, severely urge the strict and uni- 
 form observance of them, make the terms of Christian 
 communion straiter than he ever made them, add new 
 rituals of our own to his institutions, and cut ofi" from us 
 all that (never so conscientiously) scruple them." No. 
 this was the practice of their common enemies, and it was 
 to narrow and weaken the too much already diminished 
 Christian interest. The order mentioned ver. 5. might be 
 comely enough, without things that were both unnecessary 
 and offensive. 
 
 Nor was it consulted and resolved to agitate the contro- 
 versy about this power and practice, in perpetual, endless 
 disputations, and stigmatize them that should not be en- 
 lightened and satisfied in these matters, as schismatical 
 and wilful : though they never so sincerely adhered to the 
 doctrine, and observed the laws, of Christ, i. e. 'twas neither 
 thought fit to urge the unsatisfied upon doubtful things 
 against their consciences, nor to take order that continual 
 endeavours should be u.sed from age to age to satisfy them, 
 or that the church should be always vexed with vain con- 
 troversies about needless things ; that, if they were never 
 so lawful, might as well be let alone, without detriment to 
 the Christian cause, and perhaps to its greater advantage. 
 Yea, the attempt of imposing any thing upon the disciples 
 but wliat was necessary, is judged a tempting of God, 
 (Acts XV. 10.) a bringing the matter to a trial of skill with 
 him, whether he could keep the church quit, when they 
 took so direct a course to distemper and trouble it. But 
 it was thought necessary, and sufficient, that all did unite, 
 and were knit together in the mutual love of one another, 
 and in a joint adherence to the great mysteries of faith and 
 salvation. 
 
 In the same case, when there were so many antichrists 
 abroad, and (it is likely) Ebion with his partakers made it 
 their business to pervert the Christian doctrine, the same 
 course is taken by the blessed apostle St. John, only to 
 endeavour the strengthening of these two vital principles, 
 faith in Christ and love to fellow-Christians, as may be 
 seen at large in his epistles. These he presses, as the great 
 commandments, upon the observation whereof he seems 
 to account the safety and peace of the sincere did entirely 
 depend. This is his commandment, that we should be- 
 lieve on the name of his Son Jesus Christ, and love one 
 another, as he gave us commandment, 1 Epistle, iii. 23. 
 He puts upon Christians no other distinguishing test, but 
 Whosoever believeth that Jesus is the Christ, is born of 
 God : and Eveiy one that loveth him that begat, loveth 
 him also that is begotten of him: (chap. v. 1.) is only 
 solicitous that they did practise the commandment they 
 had from the beginning, i. e. that they loved one another, 
 (2 Epist. 5.) and that they did abide in the doctrine of 
 Christ, ver. 9. 
 
 The prudence and piety of those unerring guides of the 
 church, (themselves under the certain guidance of the 
 Spirit of truth,) directed them to bring the things wherein 
 they would have Christians unite, withm as narrow a 
 compass as was possible, neither multiplying articles of 
 faith nor rites .of worship. These two principles (as they 
 were thought to answer the apostles) would fully answer 
 our design and present inquiry. And we may adventure 
 to say of them that they are both sufficient and necessary, 
 the apt and the only means to heal and save us ; such as 
 would effect our cure, and without which nothing will. 
 
 Nor shall I give other answer to the proposed question, 
 than what may be deduced from these two, considered ac- 
 cording to what the}^ are in themselves, and what they 
 naturally lead and tend unto. I shall consider them in 
 the order wherein the apostle here mentions them, who you 
 see reserves the more important of them to the latter place. 
 
 \. The sincere love of Christians to one another, would 
 be a happy means of preserving the truly Christian in- 
 terest among us. That this may be understood, we must 
 rightly apprehend what kind of love it is that is here meant.
 
 CONCERNING UNION AMONG PROTESTANTS. 
 
 It is specified by what we find in conjunction with it, the 
 understanding and acknouiedginent of the mystery of 
 Christianity. Therefore it must be the love of Christians 
 to one another as such. Whence we collect, lest we too 
 much extend the object of it ou the one hand, or contract 
 it on the other, 
 
 1. That it is not the love only which we owe to one 
 another as men, or human creatures merely, that is in- 
 tended here. That were too much to enlarge it, as to our 
 present consideration of it. For under that common no- 
 tion, we should be as much obliged to love the enemies we 
 are to unite against, as the friends of religion we are to 
 imite with, since all partake equally in human nature. It 
 must be a more special love that shall have the desired in- 
 fluence in the present case. We cannot be peculiarly en- 
 deared and united to some more than to others, upon a 
 reason that is common to them with others. We are to 
 love them that are born of God, and are his children, other- 
 wise than the children of men, or such of whom it may be 
 said they are of their father the devil ; them that appear 
 to have been partakers of a Divine nature at another rate, 
 than them who have received a mere human, or also the 
 diabolical nature, 1 John v. 1. Yet this peculiar love is 
 not to be exclusive of the other which is common, but must 
 suppose it, and be superadded to it, as the reason of it is 
 superadded. For Christianity supposes humanity ; and 
 Divine grace, human nature. 
 
 2. Nor is it a love to Christians of this or that party or 
 denomination only. That were as much unduly to straiten 
 and confine it. The love that is owing to Christians as 
 such, as it belongs to them only, so it belongs to them who, 
 in profession and practice, do own sincere and incorrupt 
 Christianity. To limit our Christian love to a party of 
 Christians, truly so called, is so far from serving the pur- 
 pose now to be aimed at, that it resists and defeats it; and 
 instead of a preservative union, infers most destructive di- 
 visions. It scatters what it should collect and gather. 'Tis 
 to love factiously ; and with an unjust love, that refuses 
 to give indifferently to every one his due : (for is there no 
 love due to a disciple of Christ in the name of a disciple 1) 
 it is founded in falsehood, and a lie, denies them to be of 
 the Christian communit)'' who really are so. It presumes 
 to remove the ancient land-marks, not civil, but sacred, 
 and draws on, not the people's curse only, but that of God 
 himself. 'Tis true (and who doubts if?) that 1 may and 
 ought upon special reasons to love some more than others; 
 as relation, acquaintance, obligation by favours received 
 from them, more eminent degrees of true worth, and real 
 goodness; but that signifies nothing to the withholding of 
 that love which is due to a Christian as such, as that also 
 ought not to prejudice the love I owe to a man, as he is a 
 man. 
 
 Nor am I so promiscuously to distribute this holy love, 
 as to place it at random, upon every one that thinks it con- 
 venient for him to call himself a Christian, though I ought 
 to love the very profession, while I know not who sincerely 
 make it, and do plainly see that Jews and pagans were 
 never worse enemies to Christ and his religion, than a 
 great part of the Christian world. But let my apprehen- 
 sions be once set right concerning the true essentials of 
 Christianity, (whether consisting in doctrinal or vital prin- 
 ciples,) then will my love be duly carried to all in whom 
 thejf are found under one common notion, which I come 
 actually to apply to this or that person, as particular occa- 
 sions do occur. And so shall always be in a preparation 
 of mind, actually to unite in Christian love with every 
 such person, whensoev^er such occasions do invite me to it. 
 And do we now need to be told what such an impartial 
 truly Christian love would do to our common preservation, 
 and to prevent the ruin of the Christian interest 1 
 
 I. How greatly would it contribute to the vigour of the 
 Christian life ! For so we should all equally " hold the 
 head, from which all the body by joints and bands having 
 nourishment ministered, and knit together, increaseth with 
 the increase of God :" as afterwards in this chapter, ver. 
 19. Thus (as it is in that other parallel text of Scripture) 
 speaking the truth in lore, we shall grow up into him in 
 all things, which is the head, even Christ: from whom the 
 whole body fitly joined together, and compacted by that 
 c Seiit. ad Dur. 
 
 475 
 
 which every joint supplieth, according to the effectual 
 working in the measure of every part, maketh increase of 
 the body, unto the edifying of itself in love, Eph. iv. 15, IG. 
 Obstructions that hinder the free circulation of blood 'and 
 spirits, do not more certainly infer languishings in the na- 
 tural body, than the want of such a diffusive love shuts up 
 and shrivels the destitute parts, and hinders the diffu.sioa 
 of a nutritive vital influence, in the body of Christ. 
 
 2. It would inspire Christians generally with a sacred 
 courage and fortitude, when thev should know, and even 
 feel themselves knit together in love. How doth the revolt 
 of any con.siderable part of an army, discourage the rest ! 
 or if they be not entire, and of a piece ! Mutual love ani- 
 mates them, as nothing more, when they are prepared to 
 live and die together, and love hath before joined, whom 
 now, their common danger also joins. They otherwise 
 signify but as so many single persons, each one but caring 
 and contriving how to shift for himself. Love makes them 
 significant to one another. So as that ever)' one under- 
 stands himself to be the common care of all the rest. It 
 makes Christians tlie more resolute in their adherence to 
 truth and goodness, when (from their not doubted love) 
 they are sure of the help, the counsels, and prayers of the 
 Christian community, and apprehend, by their declining, 
 they shall grieve those whom they love, and who they 
 know love them. If any imagine themselves intended to 
 be given up. as sacrifices, to the rage of the common enemy, 
 their hearts are the apter to sink, they are most exposed to 
 temptations to prevaricate ; and the rest will be apt to ex- 
 pect the like usage from them, if themselves be reduced tc 
 the like exigency, and be liable to the same temptations. 
 
 3. It would certainly, in our present case, extinguish or 
 abate the so contrary unhallowed fire of our anger and 
 wrath towards one another, as the celestial beams do the 
 baser culinary fire, which burns more fervently when the 
 sun hath less power. Then would debates, if there mast 
 beany, be managed without intemperate heat. We should 
 be remote from being angry that we cannot convey our 
 own sentiments into another's mind ; which when we are, 
 our business is the more remote; we make ourselves less 
 capable of reasoning aptly to convince, and (because anger 
 begets anger, as love doth love) render the other less su.s- 
 ceptible of conviction. Why are w-e yet to learn that the 
 wrath of man worketh not the righteousness of God 1 
 What is gained by it? So little doth angry contention 
 about small matters avail, that even they that happen to 
 have the better cause lose b\' it, and their advantage cantot 
 recompense the damage and hurt that ensues to the church 
 and to themselves. Our famous Davenant,<= speaking of 
 the noted controversy between Stephen Bishop of Rome, 
 who, he says, as much as in him lay, did with a schismat- 
 ical spirit tear the church, and Cyprian, who with great 
 lenity and Christian charity professes that he would not 
 break the Lord's peace for diversity of opinion, nor remove 
 any from the right of communion, concludes that erring 
 Cyprian deserved better of the church of Christ than or- 
 thodox Stephen. He thought him the schismatic, whom 
 he thought in the ri2:ht, and that his orthodoxy (as it was 
 accompanied) was more mischievous to the church, than, 
 the other's error. Nor can a man do that hurt to others, 
 without suffering it more principally. The distemper of his 
 own spirit, what can recompense ! and how apt is it to 
 grow in him ; and, while it grows in himself, to propagate 
 itself among others ! Whereupon, if the want of love hin- 
 ders the nourishment of the body, much more do the things, 
 which, when it is wanting, are wont to fill up its place. 
 For as naturally as love begets love, so do wrath, en\-}', 
 malice, calumny, beget one another, and spread a poison 
 and virulency through the body, which necessarily wastes 
 and tends to destroy it. How soon did the Christian 
 church cease to be itself! and the early vigour of primitive 
 Christianity degenerate into insipid, spiritless formalit)', 
 when once it became contentious ! It broke into parties, 
 sects multiplied, animosities grew high, and the grieved 
 Spirit of love retired from it! which is grieved by nothing 
 more than by bitterness, wrath, anger, &c. as the connexion 
 of these two verses intimates, Eph. iv. 30, 31. Grieve not 
 the Holv Spirit of God, wherebv ye are sealeit unto tha 
 day of "redemption. Let all bitterness, and wrath, anc
 
 476 
 
 CONCERNING UNION AMONG PROTESTANTS. 
 
 anger, and clamour, and evil speaking, be put away from 
 you, with all malice. And to the same purpose is that, 
 1 Pet. ii. 1, 2. Wherefore laying aside all malice, and all 
 guile, and hypocrisies, and envies, and all evil speakings, 
 as new-born babes desire the sincere milk of the word, 
 that ye may grow thereby. By this means religion, once 
 dispirited, loses its majesty and awfulness, and even tempts 
 and invites the assaults and insultations of enemies. 
 
 4. It would oblige us to all acts of mutual kindness and 
 friendship. If such a love did govern in us, we should be 
 always ready to serve one another in love, to bear each 
 others' burdens, to afford our mutual counsel and help to 
 one another, even in our private affairs if called thereto ; 
 e;specially in that which is our common concern, the pre- 
 serving and promoting the interest of religion ; and to our 
 uttermost strengthen each others' hands herein. It would 
 engage us to a free, amicable conversation with one an- 
 other, upon this account ; would not let us do so absurd a 
 thing as to confine our friendship to those of our own 
 party, which we might as reasonably to men of our own 
 .stature, or to those whose voice, and hair, and look, and 
 mien, were likest our own. It would make us not be 
 ashamed to be seen in each others' company, or be shy of 
 owning one another. We should not be to one another as 
 Jews and Samaritans that had no dealing with one an- 
 other, or as the poet notes they were to other nations ; 
 Non monstrarc vias eadcm 7iisi sacra colenti, Not so much, as 
 to shoto the way to one not of their religion. There would 
 be no partition-wall through which love would not easily 
 open a way of friendly commerce, by which we should 
 insensibly slide, more and more, into one anothers' 
 hearts. Whence also, 
 
 5. Prejudices would cease, and jealousies concerning 
 each other. A mutual confidence would be begotten. 
 We should no more suspect one another of ill designs 
 upon each other, than lest our right hand should wait an 
 opportunity of cutting off the left. We should believe one 
 another in our mutual professions, of whatsoever sort, 
 both of kindness to one another, and that we really doubt 
 and scruple the things which we say we do. 
 
 6. This would hence make us earnestly covet an entire 
 tinion in all the things wherein we differ, and contribute 
 greatly to it. We are too prone many times to dislike 
 things, for the disliked persons' sake who practise them. 
 And a prev^ailing disaffection makes us unapt to under- 
 stand one another ; precludes our entrance into one an- 
 others' mind and sense ; which if love did once open, and 
 inclined us more to consider the matters of difference 
 themselves, than to imagine some reserved meaning and 
 design of the persons that differ from us, 'tis likely we 
 might find ourselves much nearer to one another, than we 
 did apprehend we were; and that it were a much easier 
 step for the one side to go quite over to the other. But if 
 that cannot be, 
 
 7. It would make us much more apt to yield to one an- 
 other, and abate all that we ever can, in order to as full an 
 accommodation as is any \vay possible, that if we cannot 
 agree upon cither extreme, we might at least meet in the 
 middle. It would cause an emulation who should be 
 larger in their grants to this purpose ; as it was professed 
 by Luther when so much was done at Marpurg towards 
 an agreement between him and the Helvetians, that he 
 would not allow that praise to the other party that they 
 should be more desirous of peace and concord than he. Of 
 which amicable conference, and of that afterwards at Wit- 
 tenburg, and several other negociations to that purpose, 
 account is given by a divers; and insisted on by some of 
 our own great divines, as precedential to the concord they 
 endeavoured between the Saxon and the Helvetian 
 churches of later time, as Bishop Moreton, Bishop Hall, 
 Bishop Davenant, in their several sentences or judgments 
 written to Mr. Dury upon that subject. 
 
 And indeed when I have read the pacific writings of 
 those eminent worthies, for the composing of those differ- 
 ences abroad, I could not but wonder that the same peace- 
 able spirit did not endeavour with more effect the compo- 
 sing of our own much lesser differences at home. But the 
 things of our peace were (as they still are) hid from our 
 
 d Hospinan. Histor. Sacramerilar. Thuanus, &c. Though by Sculte- 
 tus'8 account that pretence was too little aiiawcrcd. 
 
 eyes, with the more visibly just severity, by liow much 
 they have been nearer us, and more obvious to the easy 
 view of any but an averse eye. It is not for us to pre- 
 scribe (as was said) to persons that are now in so eminent 
 stations as these were at that time. But may we not hope 
 to find with such (and where should we rather expect to 
 find it 1) that compassion and mercifulness in imitation of 
 the blessed Jesus, their Lord and ours, as to consider and 
 study the necessities of souls in these respects, and at 
 least, willingly to connive at, and very heartily approve, 
 some indulgences and abatements in the administrations 
 of the inferior clergy, as tliey may not think fit themselves 
 positively to order and enjoin 1 Otherwise I believe it 
 could not but give some trouble to a conscientious con- 
 forming minister, if a sober pious person, sound in the 
 faith, and of a regular life, should tell him he is willingto 
 use his ministry, in some of the ordinances of Christ, if 
 only he would abate or dispense with some annexed cere- 
 mony which in conscience he dare not use or admit of I 
 believe it M^ould trouble such a minister to deal with a 
 person of this character as a pagan because of his scruple, 
 and put him upon considering whether he ought not ra- 
 ther to dispense with man's rule, than with God's. I know 
 what the same Bishop Davenant hath expressly said, that 
 ■^ " He that believes the things contained in the apostle's 
 creed, and endeavours to live a life agreeable to the pre- 
 cepts of Christ, ought not to be expunged from the roll of 
 Christians, nor be driven from communion with the other 
 members of any church whatsoever." However, truly 
 Christian love would do herein all that it can, supplying 
 the rest by grief that it can do no more. 
 
 8. It would certainly make us abstain from mutual cen- 
 sures of one another as insincere for our remaining differ- 
 ences. Charily that thinks no evil, would make us not 
 need the reproof, Rom. xiv. 4. Who art thou ihat judgest 
 another's servant 1 The common aptness hereunto among 
 us shows how little that divine principle rules in our 
 hearts, that in defiance of our rule and the authority of the 
 great God and our blessed Redeemer, to whom all judg- 
 ment is committed, and who hath so expressly forbidden 
 us to judge lest we be judged, (Matt. vii. 1.) we give our- 
 selves so vast a liberty ! and set no other bounds lo our 
 usurped license of judging, than nature hath set to our 
 power of thinking, i. e. think all the mischievous thoughts 
 of them that differ from us that we know how to devi e or 
 invent, as if we would say, " Our thoughts (and then by 
 an easy advance, our tongues) are our own, who is Lord 
 over us1" I animadvert not on this as the fault of one 
 party, but wheresoever it lies, as God knows howdiffu.sed 
 a poison this is, among them that are satisfied with the 
 public constitutions towards them that dissent from them, 
 and with these back again towards them, and with the se- 
 veral parties of both these towards one another. This 
 uniting, knitting love, would make us refrain, not merely 
 from the restraint of God's laws in this case, but from a 
 benign disposition, as that which the temper of our spirits 
 would abhor from. So that such as are well content with 
 the public forms and rites of worship, would have no in- 
 clination to judge them that apprehend not things with 
 their understandings, nor relish with their taste, as persons 
 that therefore have cut themselves off from Christ, and the 
 body of Christ. They might learn better from the Cassan- 
 drian moderation, and from the avowed sentiments of that 
 man, f (whose temper is better to be liked than his terms of 
 union,) who speaking of such as being formerly rejected 
 (meaning the protestants) for finding fault with abuses in the 
 church, had by the urgencj' of their conscience altered 
 somewhat in the way of their teaching, and the form of their 
 service, and are therefore said to have fallen off from the 
 church, and are numbered among heretics and schismatics. 
 It is, saith he, to be inquired how rightly and justly this is 
 determined of them. For there is to be consideretl, as to 
 the church, the head and the body. From the head there 
 is no departure but by doctrine disagreeable to Christ the 
 head; from the body there is no departure by diversity 
 of rites and opinions, but only by the defect of charity. 
 So that this learned Romanist neither thinks them heretics 
 that hold the head, nor schismatics, for such differences as 
 
 e Ibid. 
 
 fCassander de officio pii acpuhlicse Tranquillitatis vere amantis yiri.
 
 CONCERNING UNION AMONG PROTESTANTS. 
 
 477 
 
 ours are, from the rest of the body, if love and charil}' 
 towards them remain. And a,2:ain, where this love remains, 
 and bears rule, it can as liille be, that they who are un- 
 satisfied with the way of worship that more general]}' ob- 
 tains, should censure them that are satisfied as insincere, 
 merely because of this ditference. It cannot permit that 
 we should think all the black thoughts we can invent of 
 them, as if because they have not our consciences they 
 had none, or because they see not with our eyes they were 
 therefore both utterly and wilfully blind. To be here 
 more particular, the most, you know, are for the public 
 way of worship; and of these, some are for it as tolerable 
 only, others as the best way, and think all other ways of 
 worshipping God in assemblies (being fortjidden as they 
 think by a just law) sinful. Others, dissenting, are of 
 several sorts. Some think the conformity required of 
 ministers sinful, because of previous terms required of 
 them which they judge to be so, but not that which is re- 
 quired of the people. Of which sort, some that think it 
 not simply unlawful, find it however less edifying to them, 
 and though they can therefore partake in it at some times, 
 think themselves more ordinarily bound to attend such 
 other means as they find more conducing to their spiritual 
 profit and advantage, judging they have an undoubted 
 right from Christ, anciently allowed from age to age in the 
 best times of the Christian church, and never justly taken 
 from them, of choosing the pastors to whose ordinary care 
 and conduct they shall commit their souls. Others judge 
 the public way simply imlawful, and therefore judge 
 themselves bound to decline it wholh''; and are the more 
 averse to any participation in it, as apprehending it to have 
 no suitableness or aptitude to profit their souls: wherein 
 they are the more confirmed, that they believe not God 
 will ever bless the means which he hath not appointed. 
 Now how apt all these are unto very severe censures of 
 one another, he knows not the age, that is ignorant. One 
 sort censuring the other as humoursome, factious, schis- 
 matical ; the others them back again, as formal, popishlj' 
 affected, destituteof any savour of spiritual things, having 
 nothing of God in them, or of the life and power of god- 
 liness. 
 
 Now is this suitable to the love that should rule among 
 Christians 1 or to the reverence we ought to have for that 
 authority that forbids such judging 1 It ought to be con- 
 sidered both that all have not the same understanding, 
 nor the same gust and relish of things. 
 
 1. Not the same understanding. And therefore where 
 conscience hath the same rule, it cannot have with every 
 one (he same actual latitude, that rule, being so very di- 
 versely understood, which difle rent estimate of consciences, 
 the apostle hath express reference to, in that large and most 
 healing discourse of his, Rom. xiv. One (saith he, ver. 2.) 
 believeth that he may eat all things, another, who is weak, 
 eateth herbs. Nor doth he, in reference to such doubted 
 things, determine what all should do, or not do, by par- 
 ticular rules, concerning every such case, that M'as then 
 depending, which it seems he reckoned was not necessary, 
 or that might afterwards fall out, which was little to be 
 expected. But he lays down one general rule, against 
 judging one another, which he presses with that authorit}', 
 and such awful reasons, as might make a Christian heart 
 tremble to be guilty of it. 
 
 And in reference to the mentioned differences among 
 ourselves, (as well as others no nearer to the substantials 
 and vitals of our religion,) there is somewhat else to be 
 done than to conclude against a man's sincerity because of 
 such differing sentiments and practices, and which certain- 
 ly would be done, if truly Christian love, or even justice it- 
 self, did take place as the}' ought; i. e. it would be considered 
 what these several diftering parties have to say for them- 
 selves, what reasons they may allege, and whether though 
 they be not suflicient to justify their several opinions and 
 practices, (as all cannot be in the right,) they be not such 
 as by which a conscientious man, a sincere fearer of God, 
 may be swayed, so a.s to take the way which he is found 
 in by the ducture of an upright (though misguided) con- 
 science, and not as being under the government of depraved 
 vicious inclination. As those that can, and do, yield the 
 conformity that is required of ministers, though perhaps 
 they wish some things altered, why may it not be supposed 
 
 they sincerel)' think (though it should be mi.siakingly) 
 that the things raoie liable to exception are capable of a 
 sense wherein they are not unlawful 1 and not being so, 
 they think themselves bound to lake the opportunity which 
 they this way obtain of doing good to the souls of men ■? 
 others also apprehending it lawful, how possible is it to 
 them from a certain reverence they have for antiquity, and 
 for our own first reformers, to think it best and fittest to 
 be continued ! Nor is it unsupposable that many of the 
 laity may upon the same grounds have the same appre- 
 hensions. 
 
 Again, divers in the ministr}' judging the termsunlawful 
 upon which only they can have liberty for the public 
 exercise of it; is it not possible they njay, with a sincere 
 conscience, think themselves not therefore obliged wholly 
 to renounce their calling and office, to which they were 
 duly set apart, and had by their own solemn vow given up 
 themselves ; but to do so much of the work of it a.s they 
 can have opportunity fori And whereas of the people, 
 some may think the public forms and ways of worship 
 not simply unlawful, but find them less edifying to them 
 than other means which the providence of God affords 
 them ; and therefore do more ordinarily attend those, 
 though sometimes also the other ; why should it be 
 thought on the one hand, or the other, thut it is so little 
 possible the}' should be guided by reasonable and consci- 
 entious considerations herein, that nothing but corrupt 
 inclination must be understood to govern them 1 Is it not 
 supposable, that accounting the public worship substantially 
 agreeable to divine institution, though in some accidentals 
 too disagreeable, they may think there is more to incline 
 them at some times to attend it, than lolally to disown it 1 
 For what worship is there on earth that Ls in all things in- 
 corrupt! And they may apprehend it fit to testify their 
 union with the sincere Christians, that may be statedly 
 under that form, and especially in a time when the contest 
 is so high in the world, between them that profess the 
 substance of reformed Christianity, and them that have so 
 much deformed it ; and may conceive it becoming them, 
 at some times, to express their own unconfinedess to a 
 party, and to use that liberty which, they think, should not 
 be judged by another man's conscience, which yet they 
 would have regard to, where there are not greater reasons 
 to preponderate. They are indeed under a disadvantage 
 (with them that are apt to use a greater liberty in their 
 censures, than they do in their practice in these matters) 
 when it falls out that their partial compliance is the means 
 of their security from penalties; and their disadvantage is 
 greater, whose judgment to this purpose haih not been 
 formerly declared and made known. But they for sliame 
 ought to be silent whose total compliance gains them not 
 only immunity, but great emoluments. And that perhaps 
 yielded, not according to a former, but (at that time when 
 the opportunity occurred) a new and altered judgment. 
 They may however know themselves to be moved by 
 greater ends than secular interest : and so may these we 
 now speak of, and yet may think the preservation of their 
 earthly portion, wherewith they are to glorify God in this 
 world, not too little an end to be designed and endeavoured 
 by lawful means. It were a very uncouth and sinful thing 
 to do a spiritual action for a carnal end, but if the thing 
 sincerely and supremely designed be the glory of God, 
 that is the most spiritual end : if it be not, that ought to 
 be changed which is wrong, not that which is right ; the 
 unlawful end, not the lawful actit>n, if it be lawful ; if it be 
 not, their good end will not justify their action, but it will 
 their sincerity; which is all that this discourse intends. 
 
 And then for such as decline the public worship totally, 
 as judging it simply unlawful ; is it not possible they may 
 be led to that practice by somewhat else than humour and 
 factious inclination 1 Have they not that to say, which may 
 at least seem solid and strong to a conscientious man 1 
 How jealous God did heretofore show himself in all the 
 affairs of his worship ! How particular in the appointment 
 even of the smallest things he would have appertain to it ! 
 How unsuitable multiplied ceremonies are lo the mature 
 state of the church! and how sensibly burdensome they 
 were to the disciples of the first age as a yoke not lo be 
 borne : and that therefore God himself, when the season of 
 maturity, and the fulness of time came, thought fit to
 
 478 
 
 CONCERNING UNION AMONG PROTESTANTS, 
 
 abrogate those of his own former appointment, with no 
 (probable) design to allow men the liberty of substituting 
 others in their room. Why is it not to be thought that the 
 fear of the great God withholds them from doing what they 
 judge would offend him '? and that, if they err, it is for 
 fear of erring? Why can nothing be thought on whereto 
 to impute their practice, but peevish humour ? Especially 
 if that be considered (which is common to these two last 
 mentioned sorts of men) that they simply find other 
 means more edifying to them, or expect them only to be 
 so, if the other be thought unlawful. If they be thought 
 merely lawful, and such as may therefore be used upon 
 weighty reasons at some times, but are found less edifying, 
 who can doubt but I ought to use for my soul (at least m 
 an ordinary course) the aptest means that I can ordinarily 
 have for the promoting its edification and salvation "? Do 
 we not reckon ourselves to owe so much even to our 
 bodies?- And what is an other man's opinion to signify 
 against my sense and constant experience! Is there not 
 such a thing as a mental idiosyncrasy (or peculiarity of 
 temper) as well as a bodily 1 and whereto what is most 
 agreeable, any man that is not destitute of ordinary under- 
 standing is the fittest judge himself: as every one, that is 
 not a mere fool, is so much a physician as to know what 
 diet suits him best. 
 
 And if it be said against the former of these two sorts. 
 Are they not at all times obliged to use the means which 
 are most edifying 1 They may say, At all times when 
 they have nothing to outweigh their own present edifica- 
 tion. But it is not impossible that a conscientious judg- 
 ment may esteem all the forementioned consideraiions 
 concurring, to be of more weight than the greater advan- 
 tage hoped to be gained in that one hour. Nor need any 
 man be ashamed professedly to avow that which may 
 seem the least of them, the saving of himself from tempo- 
 ral ruin. For he is to be accountable to God for what 
 portion he hath intrusted him with of the good things of 
 this life, and is not to throw it away without sufficient 
 cause. Who sees not that more is allowed and ordinarily 
 done without scruple or censure upon the like account ? 
 as, to omit the hearing of a sermon, if at that time one's 
 house be on fire, yea, or if it be to save my neighbour's, or 
 the plucking of an ox or sheep out of a ditch on the 
 Lord's day, when I might have been employed at that 
 time in the solemn worship of God to my spiritual ad- 
 vantage. A mere commutation unto less advantage upon 
 an equally or more urgent necessity is less than omission. 
 And they that shall have learned as our Saviour directs, 
 " what that means, I will have mercy and not sacrifice," 
 will not condemn the guiltless. 
 
 Only such are concerned first to search well and be 
 satisfied concerning the lawfulness of their action in itself, 
 that they do it not with a self-condemning conscience, nor 
 with a groundlessly self-justifying one. And then especi- 
 ally to see to it that their end be right ; God's interest, 
 not their own, otherwise than in a due, entire subordina- 
 tion to his. We can never act innocently or comfortably 
 in any thing, till he be in every thing more absolutely our 
 all in all ; and have much more reason to be scrupulous, 
 and (if others knew our hearts) were much more liable to 
 censure, that, in our common affairs, he is so much for- 
 gotten, that we live not more entirely to him ; which we 
 little animadvert upon, and are very officious to cast 
 motes out of our brother's eye, when this beam is in our 
 own. 
 
 The design of mentioning these hints of reasons for so 
 different judgments and practices, is not to show which are 
 strongest, and ought to prevail, which cannot be the busi- 
 ness of so short a discourse as this, and so much of an- 
 other nature; but, to show that while there is any thing 
 colourable to be alleged for this or that way, true Chris- 
 tian love, compassion of common human frailty, and a 
 duly humble sense of a man's own, would oblige him to 
 think that conscience towards God may have a greater 
 hand (though with some misguided itself) in guiding men 
 the different ways they take, than is commonly thought. 
 And to'consider though such and such reasons seem not 
 weighty to me, they may to some others, who are as much 
 afraid of sinning against God as I, and perhaps their un- 
 derstandings as good in other matters as mine. It would 
 
 be considered how really difficult the controversy is about 
 the ceremonies, and some other parts of conformity. Per- 
 haps few metaphysical questions are disputed with more 
 subtlety than that controversy is managed with, by Arch- 
 bishop Whitgift, Bishop Morton, Doctor Burgesse, Doctor 
 Ames, Cartwright, Calverwood, and others. And how 
 very easily possible and pardonable is it to unlearned per- 
 sons, or of weaker intellectuals, being obliged in order to 
 their practice to give a judgment in reference to these 
 things one way or other, to judge amiss! Why should 
 we expect every sincerely pious man to be able to hit the 
 very point of truth and right in matters that belong, as 
 Bishop Davenant once said in another case, non ad fidem 
 fundame.ntalem, sed ad peritiam Theologicavi, et fortesse ne 
 ad hanc quidem, scd aliqna.ndo ad curiositatem Theol.ogo- 
 rum — not to the foundation of our faith, but to the skill of di- 
 vines, andperhaps not to this neither, but sometimes only to their 
 curiosity. What were to be done in reference to so nicely 
 disputable things made part of the terms of Christian com- 
 munion, is more the matter of our wish than hope, till by 
 a gracious influence God better men's minds, or by a more 
 deeply felt necessity bring us to understand what is to be 
 done. Our case is ill when only vexatio dat intellectum, 
 when nothing but sorrow and suffering will malce us wise; 
 which is very likely from the righteous hand of God to be 
 our common lot. 
 
 In the mean time 'tis hard to think that he cannot be a 
 sincerelv pious man whose understanding is not capable 
 of so difficult things, as to make a certainly right judgment 
 about them. In absoluto et facili stat eternitas, and why 
 should not the communion of persons going into a blessed 
 eternity have the same measure ? 
 
 And besides the diflferent size and capacity of men's 
 understandings, and consequently of their conscientious 
 determination, 
 
 2. There are also as differing relishes of these things, 
 which Christian love would oblige a man to consider with 
 equanimity, so as thereupon to refrain hard censures. All 
 good men have not the same relish of the various forms 
 and modes of dispensing the truths and ordinances ol 
 Christ. Some of our suffering brethren in Q.. Mary's 
 days are said to have found great spiritual refreshing by 
 the Common Prayer. And, in our own days, some may 
 profess to have their hearts warmed, their affections raised 
 and elevated, by it. They are no rule to us ; but it would 
 less become us, hereupon, to suspect their sincerity, than 
 our own. Others again cannot relish such modes of wor- 
 ship, when in the ministry of such as use them not, they 
 find a very sensible delight and savour. 
 
 And this, by the way, shows the great difference be- 
 tween such things as have their evidence and goodness 
 from God himself, and those that borrow their recom- 
 mendableness only from human device. All good men, 
 in all the times and ages of the Christian church, have a 
 constant value and love for the great substantial of re- 
 ligion, which have in them that inward evidence and ex- 
 cellency, as command and captivate a rectified mind and 
 heart ; whereas the mere external forms of it, the outward 
 dress and garb, are variously esteemed and despised, 
 liked and disliked, by the same sort of men, i. e. by very 
 sincere lovers of God, not only in divers times and ages, 
 but even in the same time. How different hath the 
 esteem been of the liturgic forms with them who bear the 
 same mind, full of reverence and love towards religion it- 
 self; as that habit is thought decent at one time, which 
 in another is despicably ridiculous ; whereas a person in 
 himself comely and graceful, is always accounted so, by 
 all, and at all times. 
 
 Now this various gust and relish cannot but have in- 
 fluence, more remotely, upon the conscientious determina- 
 tion of our choice, concerning our usual way of worship- 
 ping God. For how should I edify by what is disgustful 
 to me? Though it be true that our spiritual edification 
 lies more in the informing of our judgments, and confirm- 
 ing our resolutions, than in the gusts and relishes ol 
 affection, yet who sees not that these are of great use even 
 to the other? and that it is necessary that at least there 
 be not a disgust or antipathy? What is constantly less 
 grateful, will certainly be less nutritive. That is usually 
 nece.ssary to nourishment ; though, alone, it be not suffi-
 
 CONCERNING UNION AMONG PROTESTANTS. 
 
 479 
 
 cient; as it is in the matter of bodil)' repasts. Who can 
 without great prejudice be bound to eat always of a food 
 that he disrelislies, though he may without much inconve- 
 nience, for a valuable reason, do it at some time. 
 
 And they that think all this alleged difference is but 
 fancy, show- they understand little of human nature, and 
 ess of religion ; though they may have that in themselves 
 too which they do not so distinctly reflect upon, even that 
 peculiar gust and relish, which they make so little account 
 of. For, have they not as great a disgust of the others' way 
 as they have of theirs ? Would they not as much regret to 
 be tied to theirs 1 Have they not as great a liking of their 
 own"? And doth not common experience show that there 
 are as different mental relishes as bodily 1 How comes one 
 man in the matters of literature to savour metaphysics? 
 another mathematics, another histor}-^, and the likel and 
 no man's genius can be forced in these things. Why may 
 there not be the like difference in the matters of religion 1 
 And I would fain know what. that religion is worth that is 
 without a gust and savour, that is insii)id and unpleasant 1 
 much more that would, being used in a constant course, 
 this or that way, be nauseous and offensive! 
 
 If indeed men nauseate that which is necessary for them, 
 the Gospel, for instance, or religion itself, that is certainly 
 such a distemper, as if the grace of God overcome it not, 
 will be mortal to them; and we are not to think of relieving 
 them, by withdrawing the offending object, which itself 
 must be the means of their cure. But is there any parity 
 between the substance of religion, which is of God's ap- 
 pointing, and the superadded modes of it, that are of our 
 ownl 
 
 Upon the whole, nothing is more agreeable, either to 
 this divine principle of love, nothing (within our compass) 
 more conducible to our end, the ceasing of our differences, 
 (which are most likely to die and vanish by neglect,) or 
 their ceasing to be inconvenient to us, than to bear calm 
 and placid minds towards one another under them, to 
 banish all hard thoughts because of them. If I can con- 
 tribute no way else to union, from this holy dictate and 
 law of the spirit of love, I can at least abstain from cen- 
 suring my fellow-Christians. It is the easiest thing in the 
 world one would think not to do; especially not to do a 
 thing of itself ungrateful to a well tempered mind; and a 
 great privilege not to be obliged to judge another man's 
 conscience and practice, when it is so easy to misjudge and 
 do wrong. Most of all, when the matter wherein I presume 
 to sit in judgment upon another is of so high a nature, as 
 the posture of his heart God-ward : a matter peculiarly be- 
 longing to another tribunal, of Divine cognizance, and 
 which we all confess to be only known to God himself 
 And if I would take upon me to conclude a man insincere, 
 and a hypocrite, only because he is not of my mind in these 
 smaller things that are controverted among us, how would 
 I form my argument? No one can, with sincerity, differ 
 from that man whose understanding is so good and clear, 
 as to apprehend all things with absolute certainty, just as 
 they are ; and then go on to assume, (and a strange assu- 
 ming it must be,) But my understanding is so good and 
 clear as, &c. 'Tis hard to say whether the uncharitable- 
 ness of the one assertion, or the arrogance of the other, is 
 greater; and whether both be more immoral, or absurd. 
 But the impiety is worst of all ; for how insolently doth 
 such a man take upon him to make a new Gospel! and 
 other terms of salvation than God hath made! when his 
 sentiments and determinatifms of things which God hath 
 never made necessary, must be the measure and rule of life 
 and death to men! How is the throne and judicial power 
 of the Redeemer usurped which he hath founded in his 
 blood ! Rom. xiv. 4. Who art thou that judgest another 
 man'!5 servant 1 to his own master he standeth or falleth. 
 Yea, he shall be holden up; for God is able to make him 
 stand. Ver. 9. For to this end Christ both died, and rose, 
 and revived, that he might be Lord both of the dead and 
 living. Ver. 10. But why dost thou judge thy brother 1 or 
 whydo.st thou set at nought thy brother 7 we shall all stand 
 before the judgment-seat of Christ. "Ver. 11. For it is writ- 
 ten, as I live, saith the Lord, everv knee shall how to me, 
 and every tongue shall confess to God. One would think 
 they that lay no restraint upon themselves in this matter of 
 
 g Fox. Martyr 
 
 judging their brethren, upon every lis:ht occasion, reckon 
 this chapter came b}' chance into the Bible. And that our 
 Lord spake himself, at random, words that had no mean. 
 ing, when he said, Matt. vii. 1. Judge not that you be not 
 judged, &c. What man that fears God would not dread 
 to be the framer of a new Gospel, and of new terms ol 
 salvation 1 It is a great solace indeed to a sincere mind 
 but implies a severe rebuke, in the mean time, to .such a 
 self-assuming censorious spirit, that it may, in such a case, 
 be so truly said, it is a much easier thing to plea.se God 
 than man. 
 
 They that find this measure will have the better of it, if 
 they can abstain from retaliating, when as the reason of it 
 is the same on both sides. For they may say. You are to 
 remember I differ no more from you in this matter, than 
 you do from me; and if I judge not you about it, what 
 greater reason have you to judge me 1 And they have little 
 reason to value such a man's judgment concerning their 
 duty in a doubtful manner, who cannot see his own in so 
 plain a case. The matter for which they judge me may 
 be very doubtful, but nothing can be plainer than that they 
 ought not so to judge. 
 
 9. A due Chri.stian love would oblige us, after compe- 
 tent endeavours of mutual satisfaction about the matters 
 wherein we differ, to forbear further urging of one another 
 concerning them. Which urging may be two ways : either 
 by application to our affections, or to our resison and judg- 
 ment. 
 
 Some perhaps find it more suitable to their own temper 
 and measure of understanding and conscience, to go the 
 former way; and only vehemently persuade to do the 
 thing, wherein the other shall comply with them, and in 
 some sort justify the course which they have taken ; with- 
 out regard to the others' conscience, press them right or 
 wrong to fall in with them ; sometimes labouring to work 
 upon their kindness, by flattery, sometimes upon their fear, 
 by threats and menaces. Sincere love would certainly 
 abhor to do thus. Would it let me violate another's con- 
 science an}"^ wayl The love I bear to a fellow-Christian, 
 if it be true, having for its measure that wherewith I love 
 myself, Avould no more let me do it than hurt the apple of 
 mine own eye. An inspirited waking conscience is as ten- 
 der a thing, and capable of a worse sort of hurt. If some 
 have more latitude than I. and think what they may do, in 
 present circumstances so far as they may, they must, would 
 it not be the dictate of love patiently to admit it, especially 
 when it comes to suffering. For let me put my own soul 
 in his soul's stead ; and would I be willing to sufler upon 
 another man's conscience, and not upon my own 1 and for- 
 feit the consolations which in a suflering condition belong 
 to them who for conscience towards God endure grief? 
 would I, if I loved them, be content they had the grief, and 
 did want the consolation? There will be still found in a 
 .state of suffering, somewhat that will prove a common 
 cause to good men wherein they will most entirely agree, 
 whatsoever smaller things they may differ in. As the 
 pious bishops Ridley and Hooper well agreed upon a mar- 
 tyrdom at the stake, in the same important cau.se, who be- 
 fore, had differed (somewhat angrily) about some ceremo- 
 nies. Concerning which difference how pathetical is the 
 letter? of the former of these to the other, when both were 
 prisoners (the one at Oxford the other at London) on the 
 same account. But now, my dear brother, (saith he.) for- 
 asmuch as we thoroughly agree and wholly consent to- 
 gether in tho.^e things which are the grounds and substan- 
 tial points of our religion; against the which the world so 
 furiously rageth in these our days, howsoever, in time past, 
 by certain by-matters and circumstances of religion, your 
 wisdom, and my simplicity (I grant) have a little jarred: 
 each of us following the abundance of his own sen.«e and 
 judgment. Now, I say, be you assured, that even with my 
 whole heart, God is my witness, in the bowels of Christ, I 
 love you in the truth, and for the truth's sake, which abi- 
 deth in us, and as I am persuaded shall, by the grace of 
 God, abide in us for evermore. 
 
 Again, if others have less latitude : it would be far from 
 us to add to the affliction they are liable to, upon that very 
 account, by a vexatious urging and importuning them. 
 Especially to do it with insulting threats and menaces, and
 
 480 
 
 CONCERNING UNION AMONG PROTESTANTS. 
 
 labour to overawe their brethren, against their consciences, 
 into the embracing of their sentinaents and wa3^ Is it 
 possible a Christian should not understand how necessary 
 it is to ever)r one's duty and peace, that he exactly follow 
 that direction of the apostle's, and esteem it most sacred, 
 Rom. xiy. 5. Let every man be fully persuaded in his own 
 mind 1 and that we firmly resolve never to do any thing 
 with regret or a misgiving heart, at least. Not against a 
 prevailing doubt, for in very doubtful cases to he rid of all 
 jormido oppusiti or suspicion that the matter ma)^ be other- 
 wise, is perhaps impossible to me; but to do any thing 
 against the preponderating inclination of my judgment 
 and conscience, were great wickedness, and such as, if it 
 were known, would make me unfit for any communion 
 whatsoever. And I do here appeal to you who most se- 
 verely blame any of us for our dissent from you, whether 
 if we should thus declare to you, " That 'tis truly against 
 our consciences to communicate with you upon your terms, 
 we believe we should greatly offend God in it, and draw 
 upon us his displeasure, but yet to please you, and pre- 
 vent our temporal inconvenience, or ruin, we will do it." 
 I appeal to you, I say, whether we should not hereby make 
 ourselves incapable of any Christian communion with you 
 or any others 1 This is then the plain state of the case, 
 and you do even put these words into our mouths: " If 
 we follow the dictate of our consciences, we must decline 
 you ; if we go against it, you must decline us ; supposing 
 we declare it, if we declare it not, we have nothing to 
 qualify us for your communion but hypocrisy and dissimu- 
 lation ! and what do you gain by such an accession to the 
 church 1 You have gained, in any such case, not half the 
 man, the outside, the carcass only, or the shadow of the 
 man, i. e. when you have debauched our consciences, when 
 you have spoiled us, and made us worth nothing, then we 
 are yours, wherein you show nothing of love, either to us, 
 or to yourselves !" 
 
 Others again, that are themselves men of more reason 
 and conscience, take the somewhat more manly and Chris- 
 tian course, and bend themselves by argument to convince 
 the reason, and satisfy the consciences, of such as differ 
 from them. But herein also there may be an excess that 
 is unprofitable and grievous to those they would work 
 upon by this course, and from which therefore Christian 
 love, studying the peace and quiet of their brethren, would 
 restrain them. I say, from the ungrateful excess of such 
 an endeavour ; for I would fain know, can there not herein 
 be an excess 1 Is it not supposable that they who differ 
 from me, in such lesser things, may be sometime arrived 
 to a settlement and fixedness of judgment in them, as well 
 as 11 Is it not possible they have weighed the moments 
 of things as much as I have done1 Is such a cause infi- 
 nite 1 Is it not possible that all may have been said in it 
 which is to be said, and the matter have been sifted to the 
 very bran 1 So that all mv further arguings may serve but 
 to argue my vain self-confidence, or aboundinguess in my 
 own sense, as if all wisdom were to die with me. Or what 
 if they serve at length but to show the incapacity of the 
 subject to be wrought upon, and the different corriplexion 
 of his mind I am treating with. All cannot receive all 
 things: we cannot make our sentiments enter with every 
 one. Perhaps they show the weakness of his understand- 
 ing: and then hath that direction of the apostle no autho- 
 rity with usl Him that is weak in the faith receive, but 
 not to doubtful disputations, Rom. xiv. 1. He whom we 
 account our weaker brother, and of slower understanding, 
 must be received, (not cast out of our communion,) and be- 
 cause God himself hath received him, as ver. 3. {q. d. Is 
 he thought fit for God's communion, notwithstanding his 
 un.satisfied scruple, and is he unfit for yours 1) and he is 
 not to be vexed and importuned with continual disputation, 
 if that apostolical precept be of any value with us. Some- 
 time at least, we should think, we have tried in such a 
 case as far as is fit, and driven the nail as far as it will go. 
 Is it not possible such a matter may be agitated beyond 
 the value of it, and that more time and pains maybe spent 
 iipon it than it is worth 1 The obscurity and perplexity 
 of the controversy show the less necessity. Things most 
 
 h D<avenant Sent, ad Diireuni. 
 
 i Vt acerbis illia contentioiiihus, quilnis, et verbis rixati sunt inter se 
 Theologi, et scripfis : et ejiisinixJi ilispiilationilms sileiitio tandem finis im- 
 
 necessary are most plain. Must we always, in matters ol 
 confessedly little moment, be inculcating the same thing, 
 rolling endlessly the returning stone, and obtruding our 
 offensive crambe 1 Perhaps as no good is done, we do 
 much hurt. When is the saw of disputation long drawn 
 about one thing without ill effects 1 reason, having at 
 length spent its strength, grows (as weak people are) 
 peevish and froward ; degenerates into anger and clamour. 
 In greater differences than our present ones, between the 
 prolestant churches abroad ; some, of more prudent and 
 peaceable minds, have earnestly pressed the laying aside 
 of disputes, and putting a period, by consent, to their theo- 
 logical wars. Solitaruvi dispuiatiomim labyrinthos ne iiir- 
 gredi qiddem conc7itur,i' said a great divine, in his days, in 
 reference to those controversies that he would have had 
 composed by an amicable brotherly conference. And that 
 king of Navarre, who, at that time, seemed highly con- 
 cerned for the peace and welfare of the reformed churches, 
 (afterwards Henry the Fourth of France,) in his negocia- 
 tions with divers princes to that purpose, gave special 
 instructions to his ambassador much to insist upon this, 
 i That, till other remedies could be used, an end might be put 
 to bitter contentions and dispxttations, that Christian love and 
 a brotherly union might be restored. And who sees not 
 how much this would conduce to peace and union in our 
 case too ? who sees it not, that is a hearty lover of peace 1 
 and that is not intent upon continuing and keeping a-foot 
 a controversy, not so much as a means to that, but as an 
 end, contending for contention's sake, and as a thing 
 which he loves and delights in for itself? I am sure love 
 to our brethren would not let us continually molest and 
 importune them to no purpose. And 'tis fit they that 
 urge to us, these are little things which they importune 
 us about, should know we have great things to mind, of 
 eternal concernment to us. And that we cannot be always 
 at leisure to mind little things, beyond the proportion of 
 our little time on earth, and the httle value of the things 
 themselves. 
 
 10. Sincere love restored and exercised more among us, 
 would certainly make us forbear reviling and exposing 
 one another, and the industrious seeking one another's ruin. 
 For such as can allow themselves to do any thing that 
 hath this tendency; not to preserve public order, but to 
 gratify their private ill-will, not in a sudden heat and pas- 
 sion, but deliberately, and so as to pursue a formed design 
 to this purpose ; if such men were capable of being rea- 
 soned with, (though it were to as good purpose to talk to 
 a storm, or reason with a whirlwind, or a flame of fire,) I 
 would ask them, "What are you altogether unatoneablel 
 will nothing divert you from this pursuit 1 If any thing, 
 what will 1 What more gentle thing than our destruction 
 do you seek, or will content you 1 Is it our communion'? 
 And do you so recommend yourselves 1 Do you not know 
 Cain is said to have been of that wicked one who slew his 
 brother? 1 John iii. 10. And that whosoever hateth his 
 brother is a murderer ; and that no murderer hath eternal 
 life abiding in himl Is it not said, John viii. 44. That 
 such are of their father the devil, and the lusts of their 
 father they vfill do, who was a murderer from the begin- 
 ning! And in the forementioned 1 John iii. 10. In this 
 the children of God are manifest, and the children of the 
 devil; whosoever doeth n^t righteousness is not of God, 
 neither he that loveth not his brother? If all were like 
 you, under what notion were we to imite with them?" 
 The apostle tells us, 1 Cor. x. 20, 21. I would not that ye 
 should have fellowship with devils, ye cannot drink the 
 cup of the Lord and the cup of devils ; ye cannot be par- 
 taker of the Lord's table and of the table of devils. And in 
 good earnest, incarnate devils (though that text do not di- 
 rectly speak of such) have too much of devil in them, to be 
 participants in a communion, that can seem desirable, or is 
 likely to be grateful to serious Christians. I must avow it to 
 all the world, it is not this or that external form I so much 
 consider in the matter of Christian union and communion, 
 as what spirit reigns in them with whom I would associate 
 myself How can I endure to approach those holy mysle- 
 ries, wherein all are to drink into one spirit, and declare 
 
 ponatnr, ut Ctiristiana charitas, et animonim fratema conjnnctio revorcfnr. 
 Mandat, Hen. Reg. Navar. Jacobo Siguriaj Legato suo, &c. Apud Gol- 
 dasliim.
 
 CONCERNING UNION A:.I0NG PROTESTANTS. 
 
 481 
 
 their union with the God of love, with the Emmanuel, 
 'God most nearly approaching us, God with us, collecting 
 and gathering us in unto hrai as our common centre, 
 ■whence the blessed spirit of holy love is to diffuse itself 
 through the whole body, all enlivened by that spirit, 
 and formed by it unto all kindness, benignity, goodness, 
 and sweetness ! With what significancy can I do so, 
 (though I were never so well satisfied with the external 
 forms and modes myself,) if it be apparent (I say, if appa- 
 rent) I must cast in my lot and join myself with them, 
 (were they generally such,) whose souls are under the do- 
 minion of the quite contrary spirit, that fills them with 
 malignity, with mischievous dispositions and purposes, 
 towards many a sincere lover of God, that cannot be satis- 
 fied with those forms and modes, and who decline them 
 only from a sense of duty to God, and a fear of offending 
 against the high authority of their blessed, glorious Re- 
 deemer ! 
 
 I know many are apt to justify themselves in their ani- 
 mosity and bitterness of spirit towards others, upon a pre- 
 tence that they bear the same disaffected mind towards 
 them. Bat besides that it is the most manifest and inde- 
 fensible injustice, if they charge the innocent, or such as 
 they are not sure are guilty, if their own wrath and enmity 
 be so potent in them as to enable their tainted vicious ima- 
 gination to create its object, or so to disguise and falsely 
 clothe it, as to render it such to themselves, as whereupon 
 they may more plausibly pour out their fury. I say, besides 
 that, how contrary is this vindictive spirit to the rules and 
 spirit of the Christian religion ! Is this to love our enemies, 
 to bless them that curse us, and despitefully use us, &c. 1 
 How unlike the example of our blessed Lord when, even in 
 dying agonies, he breathed forth these words and his soul 
 almost at once. Father, forgive them, &c. or of the holy 
 martyr Stephen, Lord, lay not this sin to their charge ! 
 How unlike is that aptness to the retaliating of injuries, to 
 the Christian temper which the renowned Calvin discovers 
 in an epistle to Bullenger, speaking of Luther's severity 
 towards him. If Luther a thousand times (saith he) call 
 me devil, I will acknowledge him for a famous servant of 
 God ; which passage both Bishop Moreton, and Bishop 
 Davenant magnify him for ; and the former saith, he herein 
 spake so calmly, so placidly, so indulgently, as if it were 
 not a man, but humanity itself, that uttered the words. 
 
 Yea, and such retaliation is what paganism itself hath 
 declaimed against, k A noted philosopher urges that 
 against it, that, one would think, should not need to be 
 suggested to Christians, somewhat so prudential as miglit 
 not only work upon the principle of love to others, but 
 even that of self-love, that then the evil must perpetually 
 circulate, and so must again and again return upon our- 
 selves. As indeed if that must be the measure, to revile 
 them that revile us,i and render evil for evil, railing for 
 railing, we should nev^er have done. It were a course 
 which once begun, could, by that rule, never find an end. 
 
 This then is the first part of the answer to the proposed 
 question. What may be most hopefully done, &c. The 
 endeavour of having our hearts knit together in love would 
 surely do much towards it. And this is agreeable to any 
 the most private capacity. No man can pretend his sphere 
 is too narrow (if his soul be not) for the exercise of love 
 towards fellow-Christians. And I hope 'tis agreeable to 
 all our principles. Sure no man will say 'tis against his 
 conscience to love his brother. And the same must be 
 said of, 
 
 2. That other expedient, the endeavour to have our souls 
 possessed with a more clear, efficacious, practical faith of 
 the Gospel, which was to make the other part of the an- 
 swer to our question. And though this is the more im- 
 portant part, it is also so very evident, that we do not need 
 to make this discourse swell to a bulk too unproportion- 
 able to the rest it is to be joined with by speaking largely 
 to it. 
 
 Although we have not the name of faith in this text, we 
 have the thing. It is not named, but it is described, so as 
 that it may easily be understood, both what it is, and how 
 necessary to our purpose. 
 
 I. What it is, or what measure and degree of it, that 
 would be of such great use in such a case. We arc told 
 
 k JIaxim. Tyr. Dissert. 2. 
 
 with great emphasis. The riches of the full assurance of 
 understanding, to the acknowledgment of the mystery by 
 God, and of the Father, and of Christ. Such as whereby, 
 
 1. Our understandings are duly enlightened so as men- 
 tally to entertain aright the doctrine of the Gospel, i. e. 
 1. Distinctly to apprehend the meaning and design of this 
 mysterious revelation of God in Christ. 2. And to be 
 fully assured of the truth of it. 
 
 2. Such again, as whereby our hearts are overcome, so 
 as practically and vitally to receive it, i. e. to acknowledge, 
 receive, resign, intrust, and subject ourselves unto God in 
 Christ revealed in it. 
 
 2. And of how vast importance this is towards our es 
 tablishment, the confirming, fortifying, and uniting of our 
 hearts, and our joint preservation in our Christian .state, 
 (the main thing we are to design, and be solicitous for,) we 
 may see in these particulars. 
 
 1. Hereby we should apprehend the things to be truly 
 great w^herein we are to unite. That imion is not like to 
 be firm and lasting, the centre whereof is a trifle. It must 
 be somewhat that is of itself apt to attract and hold our 
 hearts strongly to it. To attempt with excessive earnest- 
 ness a union in external formalities that have not a value 
 and goodness in themselves, when the labour and diffi- 
 culty is so great, and the advantage so little, how hopeless 
 and insignificant would it be ! The mystery of God, even 
 of the Father, and of Christ, how potently and con- 
 stantly attractive would it be, if aright understood and 
 acknowledged ! Here we should understand is our life 
 and our all. 
 
 2. Hereby we should, in comparison, apprehend all 
 things else to be little. And so our differences about little 
 things would languish and vanish. We should not only 
 know, but consider and feelingly apprehend, that we agree 
 in far greater things than w^e differ in : and thence be more 
 strongly inclined to hold together, by the things wherein 
 we agree, than to contend with one another about the 
 thing's wherein we differ. 
 
 3. Hereby our religion would revive and become a vital 
 pow-erful thing ; and consequently more grateful to God, 
 and awful to men. 
 
 1. More grateful to God, who is not pleased with the 
 stench of carcasses, or with the dead shows of religion in- 
 stead of the living substance. We should hereupon not 
 be deserted of the divine presence, which we cannot but 
 reckon will retire, when we entertain him but with insipid 
 formalities. What became of the Christian interest in the 
 world, when Christians had so sensibly diverted from 
 minding the great things of religion to Utile minute cir- 
 cumstances, about which they affected to busy ihem.-^elves, 
 or to the pursuit of worldly advantages and delights 1 
 
 2. More awful to men. They who are tempted to 
 despise the faint languid appearances of an impotent, in- 
 efficacious, spiritless religion, discern a majesty in that 
 which is visibly living, powt I'ul, and productive of suitable 
 fruits. Who that shall consider the state of the Christian 
 church, and the gradual declining of religion for that three 
 hundred j-ears from Constantine's time to that of Phocas, 
 but shall see cause at once to lament the sin and folly ol 
 men, and adore the righteous severity of God 1 For as 
 Christians grew gradually to be loose, wanton, sensual, and 
 their leaders contentious, luxurious, covetous, proud, am- 
 bitious affecters of domination, so was the Christian church 
 gradually forsaken of the Divine presence. Inasmuch as 
 that at the same time when Boniface obtained from Phocas 
 the title of universal bishop, in defiance of the severe sei>- 
 tence of his predecessor Gregory the Great, sprang up the 
 dreadful delusion of Mahomet.™ And so spread itself to 
 this day, through Asia, Africa, and too considerable a part 
 of Europe, that where Christians were twenty or thirty to 
 one, there was now scarce one Christian to twenty or thirty 
 Mahometans or grosser pagans. And what between the 
 Mahometan infatuation, and the popish tyranny, good 
 Lord! what is Christendom become? when by the one, 
 the very name is lost, and by the other, little else left but 
 the name 1 
 
 4. Hereby we shall be enabled most resolvedly to suffer, 
 being called to it, when it is for the great things of the 
 Grospel, the mystery of God, and of the Father, and of 
 
 I 1 Pet. ii. ^3. rinp. iii. 9. m Eerewood's Iixjuiries.
 
 483 
 
 CONCERNING UNION AMONG PROTESTANTS. 
 
 Christ, clearly and with assurance understood and ac- 
 knowledged. Such a faith will not be without its pleasant 
 relishes. 'Tis an uncomfortable thing to suffer either for 
 the mere spiritless, uncertain, unoperative notions and 
 opinions, or for the unenlivened outward forms of reli- 
 gion, that we never felt to do us good, in which we never 
 tasted sweetness, or felt power, that we were really noth- 
 ing ever the better for. But who will hesitate at suffering 
 for so great things as the substantials of the Gospel, which 
 he hath clearly understood, whereof he is fully assured, 
 and which he hath practically acknowledged and em- 
 braced, so as to feel the energy and power of them, and 
 relish their delicious sweetness in his soul 1 And though 
 by such suffering he himself perish from off this earth, his 
 religion lives, i.s spread the more in the present age, and 
 propagated to after-ages; so seminal and fruitful a thing is 
 the blood of martyrs ! as hath always been observed. And 
 as such a faith of the mystery of the Gospel appears to 
 have this tendency to the best, firmest, and most lasting 
 union among Christians, and the consequent preservation 
 of the Christian interest, this mystery being more generally 
 considered only; so this tendency of it would be more dis- 
 tinctly seen, if we should consider the more eminent and 
 remarkable parts of it ; the mystery of the Redeemer's per- 
 son, the Emmanuel, God uniting himself with the nature 
 of man; his office, as reconciler of God and man to each 
 other; his death, as a propitiatory sacrifice to slay all en- 
 mity ; his victory and conquest over it, wherein is founded 
 his universal empire over all ; his triumphant entrance into 
 heaven, whither he is to collect all that ever loved, trusted, 
 and obeyed him, to dwell and be conversant together in his 
 eternal love and praises. How directly do all these tend 
 to endear and bind the hearts and souls of Christians to 
 God, and him, and one another, in everlasting bonds ! 
 
 Thus then M'e have the answer to our question in the 
 two parts of the text. The former pointing out to us the 
 subjects of our union, with the uniting principle by which 
 they are to be combined with one another ; the other the 
 centre of it, with the uniting principle whereby they are 
 all to be united in that centre. 
 
 Use. And what now remains, but that we lament the 
 decay of these two principles, and, to our uttermost en- 
 deavour the revival of them. 
 
 1. We have great cause to lament their decay; for how 
 visible is it I and how destructive to the common truly 
 Christian interest ! It was once the usual cognizance of 
 those of this holy profession, " See how these Christians 
 love one another, and even refuse not to die for each 
 other !" Now it may be, " How do they hate ! and are 
 like to die and perish by the hands of one another !" Our 
 Lord himself gave it them to be their distinguishing cha- 
 racter. " By this shall all men know that ye are my dis- 
 ciples if you love one another." Good Lord ! what are 
 they now to be known by 1 
 
 And what a cloudy, wavering, uncertain, lank, spirit- 
 less thing is the faith of Christians in this age become ! 
 How little are the ascertaining grounds of it understood, 
 n Pink's Trial of a Christian's love to Christ 
 
 or endeavoured to be understood ! Most content themselves 
 to profess it only as the religion of their country, and 
 which was delivered to them by their forefathers. And so 
 are Christians but upon the same terms as other nations 
 are Mahometans, or more gross pagans, as a worthy writer 
 some time since took notice." How few make it their 
 business to see things with their own eyes, to believe, and 
 be sure that Jesus is the Christ, the Son of the livmg God ! 
 How far are we from the riches of the full assurance of 
 understanding ! How little practical and governing is the 
 faith of the most ! How little doth it import of an acknow- 
 ledgment of the mystery of God, viz. of the Father, and 
 of Christ I How little effectual is it ! which it can be but 
 in proportion to the grounds upon which it rests. When 
 the Gospel is received, not as the word of man, but of God, 
 it works effectually in them that so believe it, 1 Thess. 
 ii. 13. 
 
 2. Let us endeavour the revival of these principles. 
 This is that in reference whereto we need no human laws. 
 We need not edicts of princes to be our warrant for this 
 practice, loving one another, and cleaving with a more 
 grounded lively faith to God and his Christ. Here is no 
 place for scruple of conscience in this matter. And as to 
 this mutual love : what if others will not do their parts to 
 make it so ? What, shall we only love them that love us, 
 and be fair to them that are fair to us, salute them that 
 salute us 1 Do not even the publicans the same 1 What 
 then do we more than others 1 as was the just expostula- 
 tion of our Saviour upon this supposition, Matt. v. 47. 
 
 And let us endeavour the more thorough deep radica- 
 tion of our faith, that it may be more lively and fruitful: 
 which this apostle you see (not forgetting his scope and 
 aim) further presses in the following verses, testifying his 
 joy for what he understood there was of it among these 
 Christians. Though I be absent in the flesh, yet I am with 
 you in the spirit, joying and beholding your order, and the 
 steadfastness of your faith in Christ, ver. 5. And exhort- 
 ing them to pursue the same course. As ye have received 
 Christ Jesus the Lord, so walk ye in him ; rooted and 
 built up in him, stablished in the faith, as ye have been 
 taught, abounding therein with thanksgiving, ver. 6, 7. 
 
 And what also, must we suspend the exercise and im- 
 provement of our faith in the great mysteries of the Gos- 
 pel, till all others will agree upon the same thing 1 Let us 
 do our own part, so as we may be able to say, " Per me 
 non stetit, It ivas not my fault, but Christians had been 
 combined, and entirely one with each other, but they had 
 been more thoroughly Christian, and more entirely uniteo 
 with God in Christ, that Christianity had been a more 
 lively, powerful, awful, amiable thing. If the Christian 
 community moulder, decay, be enfeebled, broken, dis- 
 pirited, ruined in great part, this ruin shall not rest under 
 my hand." We shall have abundant consolation in our 
 own souls, if we can acquit ourselves, that as to these twc 
 things, we lamented the decay and loss, and endeavoured 
 the restitution of them, and therein, as much as in us was, 
 of the Christian interest.
 
 OF CHARITY 
 
 IN RESPECT OF OTHER MEN'S SINS. 
 
 THE PREFACE. 
 
 A PROPOSAL was made to me, by some friends, for publishing: of these papers ; which I cannot doubt, jroceeded from 
 charity, both to the reader, whose good they intended in it ; and to the author, that they could think so slender a per- 
 formance was capable of serving it. I cannot, indeed, think it unseasonable, to take any occasion of recommending 
 charity, though this subject led me only to consider one single instance of it. But if the practice of it, in this one, 
 would redress so great an evil, what might we not expect from its universal exercise, in all cases upon which it might 
 have influence 1 Even the tongues of men and angels, as (with our apostle) they are insufficient to supply its absence ; 
 so nor are they more than sufficient fully to represent its worth. We vainly expect, from either eloquence or disputa- 
 tion, the good effects, which charity alone (could it take place) would easily bring about without them. How labori- 
 ously do we beat our way in the dark ! " We grope for the wall, like the blind, and we grope as if we had no eyes: 
 we stumble at noon-day, as in the night, but the way of peace we have not known." Human wit is stretched to the 
 uttermost ; wherein that comes short, the rest is endeavoured to be supplied by anger : and all to bring us under one 
 form, which either will not be ; or if it were, could be to little purpose ; while in the mean time, this more excellent 
 way is forgotten of our foot, and we are far from it. Which shows, it is God that must cure us, (the God of love and 
 peace,) and not man. 
 
 How soon and easily would a mutual universal charity redress all ! For being on one side only, it could never ce- 
 ment both. And limited only to a party, it is not itself, and a:'s against itself, divides what it should unite. But a 
 genuine, equally diffused charity, how would it melt down men's minds, mollify their rigours, make high things low. 
 crooked straight, and rough places plain ! It would certainly either dispose men to agree upon one way of common 
 order, or make them feel very little inconvenience or cause of offence in some variety. But without it, how little would 
 the most exquisite, unexceptionable form (universally complied with, in every punctilio) contribute to the church's wel- 
 fare ! No more to its quiet, and repose, than an elegant, well-shaped garment, to the ease and rest of a disjointed, 
 ulcerous body : nor longer preserve it, than the fair skin of a dead man's body would do that« from putrefaction and 
 dissolution. 
 
 What piety is to our union with God, that is charity to our union with one another. But we are too apt, as to both, 
 to expect from the outward form, what only the internal, living principle can give ; to covet the one with a sort of 
 fondness, and deny the other. One common external form in the church of God, wherein all good men could agree, 
 were a most amiable thing, very useful to its comely, better being, and the Avant of it hath inferred, and doth 
 threaten, evils much to be deplored, and deprecated. But this divine principle is most simply necessary to its very 
 being. Whatsoever violates it, is the most destructive, mortal schism, as much worse than an unwilling breach of 
 outward order, as the malicious tearing in pieces a man's living body, is worse than accidental renting his clothes. 
 And indeed, were our ecclesiastical contests, about matters that I could think indifferent, as long as there is such a 
 thing as distinction of parties, I should readily choose that where were most of sincere charity (if I knew where that 
 were.) For since our Saviour himself gives it us, as the cognizance of Christians, (by this shall all men know ye are 
 my disciples, if ye love one another,) I know not how better to ju<^ge of Christianity than by charity- Nor know I 
 where, among them that profess, there is less of either, than with them that would confine and engross both to their own 
 several parties; that say, here is Christ, and there he is ; and will have the notions of Christian, of saint, of church, 
 to extend no further than their own arbitrarily assigned limits, or than as they are pleased to describe their circle. 
 We know to whom the doing so hath been long"imputed ; and it were well if they had fewer sorts of imitators. Nor 
 doth it savour more of uncharitableness in any, to think of enclosing the truth, and purity of religion, only, within 
 their own precincts, than it doth of pride and vanity, to fancy they can exclude thence every thing of offensive impu- 
 rity. We are never like to want occasions, even in this respect, of exercising charity : not to palliate the sins of any, 
 but recover sinners. God grant we may use it more to this purpose (when the case so requires) and neec. it less. 
 
 JOHN HOWE.
 
 OP 
 
 CHARITY IN RESPECT OF OTHER MEN'S SINS. 
 
 1 COR. Xlll. 6. 
 
 REJOICETH NOT IK INIQUITY. 
 
 The subject spoken of must be supplied from the fore- 
 going verses; where we find the matter all along, in dis- 
 course, is charity ; which it is the principal business of the 
 whole chapter to describe, and praise. And this is one of 
 the characters that serve (as they all do) to do both these 
 at once. For being in itself a thing of so great excellency, 
 to show its true nature, is to praise it. Whatsoever is its 
 real property, is also its commendation. 
 
 Our business here must be, — 1. Briefly to explain and 
 give some general account of both these, viz. charily, and 
 this is its nega,tive character, that it rejoices not in iniquity. 
 — 2. To demonstrate the one of the other; or (which is all 
 one) to show the inconsistency between that divine princi- 
 ple and this horrid practice: upon which the use of this 
 piece of Christian doctrine will ensue. 
 
 I. We are to give some account both of this principle, 
 the charity which the apostle here treats of, and of the 
 practice which the text denies of it, rejoicing in iniquity. 
 
 1. For the former. The charity of love here spoken of, 
 is the root of all that duty which belongs to the second 
 table. The whole of the duty contained in both, is summed 
 up by our Saviour in love. That of the former in that 
 first and great commandment, Thou shalt love the Lord 
 thy God with all thy heart, &c. Matt. xxii. 37. that of the 
 latter in this other, which is like unto it. Thou shalt love 
 thy neighbour as thyself Upon which two we are told 
 hang all the law and the prophets. See also Rom. xiii. 10. 
 The instances which are ;r'/en in this chapter, refer to 
 man as the object, and show that it is the love of our neigh- 
 bour which is meant. 
 
 But though It be so far human, it is however upon other 
 accounts a real part of divine love; which we see 1 John 
 iii. 17. that apostle speaking even of love to our brother, 
 Whoso hath this world's goods, and seeth his brother hath 
 need, and shutteth up the bowels of compa.ssion from him, 
 demands, How dwelleth the love of God in that man 1 
 And David called the kindness he intended the relicts of 
 Saul's family, the kindness of God, 2 Sam. ix. 3. This 
 part of love is divine both in respect of its original, and of 
 somewhat considerable in its object. 
 
 1. In respect of its original. "Tis a part of the communi- 
 cated Divine nature, from whence they that partake of it, 
 are said to be born of God. It is most conjunct with 
 faith in the Mes.siah, and love to God himself, which are 
 both comprehended in that birth. For as it is said in the 
 Gospel of John, (chap. i. 12, 13.) that as many as received 
 him, {x-iz. Christ,) to them he gave power to be called the 
 sons of God, even to them that believe in his name, who 
 were born not of blood, nor of the will of the flesh, nor of 
 the will of man, but of God. And in his 1 Epist. chap. 
 V. 1. Whosoever believeth that Jesus is the Christ, is 
 born of God. So it is in this latter place immediately 
 added, as the double property of this divine production, 
 
 a Max. Tyr. Dissert. 
 
 (not more separable from one another than from it,) And 
 every one that loveth him that begat, loveth him also that 
 is begotten of him. And hereupon also, from the in-being 
 and exercise of this love (though towards an object that 
 seems very heterogeneous and of much another kind) we 
 come to bear the name of God's children. Love your ene- 
 mies — that you may be the children of your Father which 
 is in heaven. Matt. v. 44, 45. The law indeed of love to 
 other men, though it oblige to love some above others upon 
 a special reason, yet, in its utmost latitude, comprehends 
 all mankind under the name of neighbour or brother, as 
 the particular precepts contained in it do sufl[iciently show. 
 Which surely leave us not at liberty to kill, defile, rob, 
 slander, or covet from others, than the regenerate, (as we 
 count,) or our friends or relatives. 
 
 Now that principle from which we are called God's 
 children, must be of divine original ; for it is not spoken 
 of them casually, but as their distinguishing character. 
 So that, in this respect, they are said to be of God. It is 
 their very difl^erence from the children of another, and the 
 worst of fathers, 1 John iii. 10. In this the children of 
 God are manifest, and the children of the devil; whoso- 
 ever doth not righteousness, is not of God, neither he that 
 loveth not bis brother. Which also shows it is not univer- 
 sally all love unto which this dignity belongs. Some 
 more noble-minded pagans, that were wont to ascribe 
 divinity unto love, have also carefully distinguished, and 
 told us of a love that was genuine, and another that wa.s 
 spurious; the one akin to virtue, the other to vice; and 
 have noted it as an abusive error of the vulgar, to give the 
 same name to God and a disease." The corruption and 
 degeneracy of love, is indeed less than human ; but the 
 first being and restored rectitude of it, is of an original no 
 less than divine. 
 
 2. And even this love, though placed upon man, is divine 
 too in respect of its object, i. e. of somewhat we have 
 to consider in it, which is most properly and strictly the 
 object, or the inducement and formal reason why we love. 
 God is the pri?imm amabile, the Jlrst goodness, as well as 
 the first Being. As therefore there is no being, so nor is 
 there any goodness, amability, or loveliness, which is not 
 derived from him. We love any thing more truly and 
 purely, the more explicitly we acknowledge and love God 
 in it. Upon the view of tho.se strokes and lineaments of 
 the Divine pulchritude, and the characters of his glory, 
 which are di.scernible in all his creatures, our love should 
 be someway commensurate with the creation, and com- 
 prehend the universe in its large and complacential em- 
 braces. Though as any thing is of higher excellency, and 
 hath more lively touches and resemblances of God upon 
 it ; or by the disposition of his providence and law, more 
 nearly approaches us, and is more immediately presented 
 to our notice, converse, use, or enjoyment, so our love is
 
 OF CHARITY IN REFERENCE TO OTHER MEN'S SINS. 
 
 48S 
 
 to be exercised towaids it more explicitly, in a higher de- 
 gree, or with more frequency. As man therefure hath more 
 in him of Divine resemblance, of God's natural likeness 
 and image ; good men of his moral, holy image ; we ought 
 to love men more than the inferior creatures ; and those 
 that are good and holy, more than other men ; and those 
 with whom we are more concerned, with a more definite 
 love, and which is required to be more frequent in its 
 exercise. But all from ihe attractive of somewhat Divine 
 appearing in the object. So that all rational love, or that 
 is capable of being regulated and measured by a law, is 
 only so far right in its own kind, as we love God in every 
 thing, and every thing upon his account, and for his sake. 
 The nature and spirit of man is, by the apostacy, be- 
 come disaffected and strange to God, alienated from the 
 Divine life, addicted to a particular limited good, to the 
 creature for itself, apart from God ; whereupon the things 
 men love, are their idols, and their love idolatry. But 
 where, by regeneration, a due propension towards God 
 is restored, the universal good draws their minds, they 
 become inclined and enlarged towards it ; and as that is 
 diffused, their love follows it, and flows towards it every 
 where. They love all things principally in and for God ; 
 and therefore such men most, as excel in goodness, and 
 in whom the Divine image more brightly shines. There- 
 fore it is, most especially, Christian charity that is here 
 meant, i. e. which worifs towards Christians as such. 
 For compare this with the foregoing chapter, and it will 
 appear that charity is treated of in this, which is the vital 
 bond of holy, living union in the Cliristian church sup- 
 posed in the other. Whereby as the body is one, and hath 
 many members, and all the members of that body being 
 many, are one body; so also is Christ, v. 12. This prin- 
 ciple refined, rectified, recovered out of its state of dege- 
 neracy, and now obtaining in the soul as a part of the new 
 creature, or the new man which is after God, as it hath 
 man for its object more especially, and more or less accord- 
 ing to what there appears of Divine in him, is the charity 
 here spoken of Now of this Divine charity it is said, 
 which we are to consider, 
 
 2. In the second place. It rejoices not in iniquity. Here- 
 of it cannot be needful to say much by way of explication. 
 The thing carries a prodigious appearance with it ; and it 
 might even amaze one to think, that on this side hell, or 
 short of that state, wherein the malignity of wickedness 
 attains its highest pitch, any appearance should be found 
 of it. Yet we cannot think, but these elogies of charity 
 do imply reprehensions, and tacitly insinuate too great a 
 proneness to this worst sort of tTri^^aipcvavia or rejoicing in 
 evil. Gnostics (or the sect afterwards known by that 
 name) gave already too great occasion for many more ex- 
 press and sharp reproofs of this temper ; which were not 
 thrown into the air, or meant to nobody. The Scripture 
 saith not in vain. The spirit which is in us lusteth to envy. 
 With which, what affinity this disposition hath, we shall 
 have occasion to note anon. Rejoicing in iniquity may 
 be taken (if we abstract from limiting circumstances) two 
 ways: — either in reference to our own sins: — or to other 
 men's. Our own ; when we take pleasure in the design, or 
 in the commission, or in the review and after-contempla- 
 tion of them: converse in that impure region, as in our 
 native element, drink it in like water, find it sweet in the 
 mouth, and hide it under the tongue, &c. Other men's; 
 when 'tis counted a grateful sight, becomes matter of mirth 
 and sport, to see another stab at once the Christian name, 
 and his own soul. The scope and series of the apostle's 
 discourse, doth here plainly determine it this latter way : 
 for as charity (the subject of his whole discourse) respects 
 other men ; so must this contrary disposition also. De 
 iniquitat^ procul dubio aliend, &c., saith Cajetan upon this 
 place : ' Tis, without do-ubt, unapt to rejoice in the sins of 
 other men ; for neither can it endure one's own. And this 
 aptness to rejoice in the iniquity of others, may be upon 
 several accounts. It may either proceed from" an affec- 
 tion to their sins, — from an undue self-love, — or from an 
 excessive disaftection to the persons offending. 
 
 1. From a great affection and inclination unto the same 
 
 kind of sins which they observe in others. Whereupon 
 
 they are glad of their patronage ; and do therefore not only 
 
 ■do such things, but take pleasure in them that do them. 
 
 35 
 
 Rom. i. Men are too prone to justify themselves by the 
 example of others, against their common rule. " Others 
 take their liberty, and why may not I 1" And so they go 
 (as Seneca sa)-s sheep do) non qua eundum est, sed qua 
 itur, the way which is trodden, not which ought to be. 
 
 2. From an undue and over-indulgent love of them- 
 selves. Whence it is, that (as the case may be) they take 
 pleasure to think there are some men, that perhaps outdo 
 them in wickedness, and offend in some grosser kind than 
 they have done. And so they have, they count, a grateful 
 occasion, not only to justify themselves, that they are not 
 worse than other men, but to magriify themselves, that 
 they are not so bad ; as the Pharisee in his pompous, h3'po- 
 critical devotion, " God, I thank thee (that attribution to 
 God, being only made a colour of arrogating more plausi- 
 bly to himself) that I am not as other men, extortioners, 
 unjust, adulterers," &c. Luke xviii. 11. whereby the hypo- 
 crite, while he would extol, doth but the more notoriously 
 stigmatize himself. 
 
 3. From a disaffection they bear to the offenders; whence 
 they are glad of an advantage against them : that they 
 have occasion to glory in their flesh, and insult over their 
 weakness. It must be that rejoicing in other men's .sins, 
 which is most contrary to charity, that is here more espe- 
 cially meant. And that is manifestly the last of these; 
 such as proceeds from ill will to the person that ofl^ends; 
 whereupon we are glad of his halting, (which perhaps we 
 watched for before,) and when his foot slippeth, magnify 
 ourselves against him. Now rejoicing at the sins of other 
 men, upon this accomit, may be either — 1. Secret, when 
 only the heart feels an inward complacency, and is sen- 
 sibly gratified thereby ; or — 2. Open, when that inward 
 pleasure breaks forth into external expressions of triumph 
 and insultation, into derision, scoffs, and sarcasms. 
 
 II. And how inconsistent this is with the charity which 
 our apostle so highly magnifies, it is now our next business 
 to show. And it will appear by comparing this rejoicing 
 in other men's sins; 1. With charity itself, — 2. With what 
 it is, ever, in most certain connexion with. 
 
 1. With charity itself; and so we shall consider it, — 
 1. In its own nature, abstractly and absolutely : — 2. In 
 relation to its original, and exemplary cause. And shall 
 compare this rejoicing in the sins of other men with it 
 both ways. 
 
 1. Consider charity in its own nature ; and .so it is the 
 loving another as myself, so as to desire his welfare and 
 felicity as my own : where we must note, that love to 
 ourselves, is the measure of the love we owe to others. 
 But ye are also to consider, that this measure itself is 
 to be measured : for we are not to measure our love to 
 others, by the love we bear to ourselves, otherwise, than 
 as that also agrees with our superior rule ; which obliges 
 us so to love ourselves, as to design and seek our own 
 true felicity, and best good; to " lay hold on eternal life, 
 to work out our own salvation." If in other instances we 
 were not so to understand the matter, (since the particular 
 precepts extend no further than the general one.) any man 
 might, without transgression, destroy another man's goods, 
 when he hath learned to be prodigal of what he is master 
 of himself; and might make himself master of another 
 man's life, whensoever he cares not for his own. And so 
 by how much more profligately wicked any man is, he 
 should be so much the less a transgressor. 
 
 We are not so absolutely uvrtforinoi, or so much our 
 own, that we may do what we will with ourselves. We 
 are accountable to him that made us, for our usage of 
 ourselves; and in making ourselves miserable, make our- 
 selves deeply guilty also. We were made with a possibi- 
 lity of being happ}-. He that made us with souls capable 
 of a blessed state, will exact an account of us, what we 
 have done with his creature. He that commits a felony 
 upon his own life, injures his prince and the community 
 to which he belongs. The one is robbed of a subject, 
 the other of a member that might be useful ; wherein 
 both had a right. No man is made for himself And 
 therefore the fact is animadverted on, and punished as 
 far as is possible in what remains of the offender, in his 
 posterity, from whom his goods are confiscate ; in his 
 name, which bears a mark of infamy, and is made a pub- 
 lic reproach. How unspeakably greater is the \vTong done
 
 4f^ 
 
 OF CHARITY IN REFERENCE 
 
 to the common Ruler of the whole world, when a soul 
 destroys itself! loses its possibility of praising and glori- 
 fying him eternally in the participation and communion of 
 his eternal glory ! how great to the glorious society of 
 saints and angels ' from whom he factiously withdraws 
 himself, and who (though that loss be recompensed to 
 them by their satisfaction in the just vengeance which the 
 offended God takes upon the disloyal, apostate wretch) 
 were to have plcEised and solaced themselves in his joint 
 felicity with their own. So that he hath done what in 
 him lay, to make them miserable, and even to turn heaven 
 into a place of mourning and lamentation. 
 
 The supreme, primary law under which we all are, 
 obliges us to be happy. For it binds us to take " the 
 Lord only for our God ; to love him with all our hearts, 
 and minds, and souls, and strength." And so to love 
 him, is to enjoy him, to delight and acquiesce finally and 
 ultimately in him, and satisfy ourselves for ever in his 
 fulness. So that every man is rebellious in being misera- 
 ble, and that even against the first and most deeply funda- 
 mental law of his creation. Nor can he love God in obe- 
 dience to that law, without loving himself aright. Which 
 love to himself, is then to be the measure of the love he is 
 to bear to other men ; and so most truly it is said, that 
 charity begins at home. Every man ought to seek his 
 own true felicity, and then to desire another's as his 
 own. 
 
 But now consider what we are to compare herewith. 
 Rejoicing in the sins of other men, how contrary is it to 
 the most inward nature ! to the pure essence ! how directly 
 doth it strike at the very heart and soul, the life and spirit, 
 of charity ! For sin is the greatest and highest infelicity of 
 the creature; depraves the soul within itself, vitiates its 
 powers, deforms its beauty, extingnisheth its light, cor- 
 rupts its purity, darkens its glory, disturbs its tranquillity 
 and peace, violates its harmonious, joyful state and order, 
 and destroys its very life. It disaffects it to God, severs 
 it from him, engages his justice and inflames his wrath 
 against it. 
 
 What is it now to rejoice in another man's sin? Think 
 what It is, and how impossible it is to be where the love 
 of God hath anyplace. What! to be glad that such a 
 one is turning a man into a devil ! a reasonable, immortal 
 soul, capable of heaven, into a fiend of hell ! To be glad 
 that such a soul is tearing itself off from God, is blasting 
 its own eternal hopes, and destroying all its possibilities 
 of a future well-being ! Blessed God ! how repugnant is 
 this to charity 1 For let us consider what it is that we can 
 set in directest opposition to it. Let charity be the loving 
 of another as I ought to do myself; its opposite must be, 
 the hating of another, as I should not and cannot sustain 
 to do myself As loving another therefore includes my 
 desire of his felicit}', and whatsoever is requisite to it till 
 it be attained, and my joy for it when it is ; loathne.ss of 
 his future, and grief for his present, infelicity, as if the case 
 were m)^ own ; so hating another must equally and most 
 essentially include aversion to his future good, and grief 
 for his present, (which is the precise notion of envy,) the 
 desire of his infelicity, and whatsoever will infer it till it 
 be brought about, and joy when it is, or when I behold 
 what is certainly conjunct with it. Which is the very 
 wickedness the text animadverts on, as most contra.ry to 
 charity; the iT7iyaipe'<a-;in, which not only the Spirit of Grod 
 in the Holy Scriptures, but the very philosophy of pagans, 
 doth most highly decry and declaim against : which is of 
 the same family you see with envy; and no other way 
 differs from it than as the objects are variously posited. 
 Let the harm and evil of my brother be remote from him, 
 and his good be present, I envy it. Let his good be re- 
 mote, and any harm or mischief be present and urgent 
 upon him, I rejoice in it. Both are rooted in hatred, the 
 directest violation of the royal law of loving my neighbour 
 as myself. Jam. ii. 8. And it is that sort of ivt^aipcKaKia^ 
 which hath most of horror, and the very malignity of hell 
 in it ; as the sin of another, wherein this joy is taken, is an 
 evil against the great God, (which there will be occasion 
 more directly to consider hereafter,) as well as to him that 
 commits it ; a wrong to the former, and a hurt to the lat- 
 ter; whereas other infelicities are evils to him only whom 
 they befall. 
 
 2. Consider charity in relation to its original, and ex- 
 emplar. And so it is immediately from God, and his very 
 image. God is love, and he that dwelleth in love, dwelleth 
 in God, and God in him, I John iv. 16. And what sort 
 of love is this which is made so identical, and the same 
 thing, with the very being and nature of God; not a 
 turbid and tumultuous, not a mean and ignoble, not an 
 imprudent, rash, and violent, lea«t of all, an impure, pol- 
 luted passion : but a most calm, wise, majestic, holy will 
 to do good to his creatures, upon terms truly worthy of 
 God. Good-will, most conjunct with the other inseparable 
 perfections of the Godhead : whence, with expressions of 
 the most benign propensions towards his creatures, he still 
 conjoins declarations of his hatred of sin, upon all oc- 
 casions: that he is not a God that takes pleasure in 
 wickedness, nor can evil dwell with him, that sin is the 
 abominable thing which his soul loathes; that he is of 
 purer eyes, than to look on iniquity. What can now be 
 more contrary to the pure and holy love, which shall re- 
 semble and be the image of his, than to rejoice in iniquity 1 
 For as God, while he loves the person, hates the sin, men 
 do in this case love the sin, and hate the person. And 
 while this horrid, impure malignity is not from God. or 
 like him, (far be the thought from us,) from whom doth it 
 derive 1 Whom doth it resemble 1 We read but of two 
 general fathers, whose children are specified and distin- 
 guished, even by this very thing, or its contrary, in a fore- 
 mentioned text, 1 John iii. 10. where, when both the 
 fathers and their children are set in opposition to one 
 another, this, of not loving one's brother, is given at once, 
 both as the separating note of them who are not of God's 
 family and offspring, not of him, as the expression is, 
 having nothing of his holy, blessed imag.c and nature in 
 them, (and who consequently must fetch their pedigree 
 from hell, and acknowledge themselves spawned of the 
 devil,) and as a .summary of all unrighteousness, as it is 
 being taken (as often) for the duty of the second table, or 
 as a very noted part of it taken in its utmost latitude. 
 Agreeably to that of our Saviour, John viii. 44. Ye are 
 of your father the devil — he was a murderer from the 
 beginning — as every one is said to be that hateth his 
 brother, 1 John ii. 15. If therefore we can reconcile 
 God and the devil together, heaven and hell, we may also 
 charity and rejoicing at other men's sins. 
 
 2. The inconsistency of these two will further appear, 
 by comparing this monstrous disaffection of mind with 
 the inseparable concomitants of charity, or such things as 
 are in connexion with it. And the argument thence will 
 be also strong and enforcing, if that concomitancy shall 
 be found to be certain, and the connexion firm, between 
 those things and charity. I shall only give instance in 
 four things, which every one that examines will acknow- 
 ledge to be so connected; viz. wisdom and prudence : — 
 piety and sincere devotedness to God and the Redeemer: 
 — purity: and — humility. Moralists generally acknow- 
 ledge a concatenation of the virtues. Those that are 
 truly Christian are not the less connected, but the more 
 strongly and surely. Which connexion of these now 
 mentioned with charity, we shall see as to each of them 
 severally; and at the same time, their inconsistency with 
 this vile temper and practice. 
 
 1. For wisdom or prudence, it is so nearly allied to 
 charity, that it is mentioned by the same name, Jam. iii. 
 17. "The wisdom that is from above, is first pure, then 
 peaceable, gentle, &e. The foregoing words (v. IG.) show 
 that love is meant. These words represent the heavenly 
 descent, and the true nature of it, both together. That it 
 is called wisdom, shows its affinity with it, and that it 
 partakes of its nature ; dwells in a calm, sedate mind, 
 void of disquieting passions and perturbations, which it is 
 the work of wisdom to repress and expel. Indeed the 
 name is manifestly intended to express, generally, the tem- 
 per, the genius, the spirit of one that is born from above, 
 and is tending thither. The contrary temper, a disposition 
 to strife, envy, or grief for the good of another, (which 
 naturally turns into joy, for his evil, when his case alters,) 
 is called wisdom too, but with sufficiently distinguishing 
 and disgracing additions. It is said, (v. 15.) not to be 
 from above, but earthly, sensual, devilish ; and to have the 
 contrary effects ; where envying and strife is, there is con-
 
 TO OTHER MEN'S SINS. 
 
 487 
 
 fusion, b (tumult the word signifies, or disorder, unquiet- 
 ness, disagreement of a man with himself, as if his soul 
 were plucked asunder, torn from itself,) and every evil 
 work, V. 16. There can be no charily towards another (as 
 hath been noted) where there is not first a true love to a 
 man's own soul, which is the immediate measure of it ; 
 nor that, where there is not prudence to discern his own 
 best good, and what means are to be used to attain it. His 
 true good he is not to expect apart by himself, but as a 
 member of the Christian community. Not of this or that 
 party, but the whole animated body of Christ. In which 
 capacity he shares in the common felicity of the whole, 
 and affects to draw as many as he can into the communion 
 and participation of it. So he enjoys, as a member of that 
 body, a tranquillity and repose within himself But is 
 undone in himself, while he bears a disaffected mind to 
 the true interest and welfare of the body. 
 
 Wherefore to rejoice in what is prejudicial to it, is con- 
 trary to prudence and charily both at once. Put on, (saith 
 the apostle,) as the elect of God, holy and beloved, bowels 
 of mercies, kindness, humbleness of mind, meekness, long- 
 suffering, forbearing one another, and forgiving one ano- 
 ther, if any man have a quarrel against any : even as 
 Christ forgave vou, so also do ye. And above all these 
 things, put on charity, which is the bond of perfectness. 
 And let the peace of God rule in your hearts, to the which 
 also ye are called in one body ; impljing no true peace or 
 satisfaction can be had, but in vital union with the body. 
 Is he a wise, or is he not a mad man, that rejoices he hath 
 an unsound hand, or foot, or an ulceraled finger or toe 
 rotting off from him 1 or that is glad a fire or the plague 
 is broken out in the neighbourhood, that equally endangers 
 his own house and family, yea and his own life "? 
 
 2. Piety and devotedness to God and the Redeemer, is 
 most conjunct with true charity. By this we know that 
 we love the children of God, when we love God, &c. 
 1 John V. 2. For the true reason of our love to the one, 
 is fetched from the other, as hath been shown. And how 
 absurd were it to pretend love to a Christian upon Christ's 
 account and for his sake, while there is no love to Christ 
 himself! But can it consist with such love and devoted- 
 ness to God, to be glad at his being affronted by the sin of 
 any man 1 or to Christ, whose design it was to redeem us 
 from all iniquity, and to bless us, in turning us away from 
 our iniquities, to rejoice in the iniquity that obstructs, and 
 tends to frustrate his design 1 Uo we not know he was for 
 this end manifested, to destroy the works of the devil] 
 And ihat the works of wickedness are his works 1 Do we 
 not know, the great God is, in and by our Redeemer, 
 maintaining a war against the devil, and the subjects of 
 his kingdom"? in which warfare, what are the weapons, 
 on the devil's part, but sins 1 Who but sinners his soldiers 1 
 And who is there of us, but professes to be on God's part 
 in this war 1 Can it stand with our duty and fidelity to 
 him, to be glad that any are foiled, who profess to fight 
 under the same banner i what would be thought of him, 
 who in battle rejoiceth to see those of his own side fall, 
 here one, and there one ? He would surely be counted 
 either treacherous or mad. 
 
 3. Charity of the right kind, is most certainl,y connected 
 with purity. The end (or perfection) of the command- 
 ment (or of all our commanded obedience) is charity, out of 
 a pure heart, 1 Tim. i. 5. Sincere Christians are such as 
 have purified their souls, in obeying the truth through the 
 Spirit, unto unfeigned love of the brethren ; and must see, 
 that they love one another with a pure heart, fervently, 
 1 Pet. i. 22. Pagans have taught, there is no such thing 
 as true friendly love, but among good men. But how 
 consists it with such purity, to take pleasure in other men's 
 impurities, or make their sin the matter of jest and raillery 1 
 
 4 A further inseparable concomitant of charity, is deep 
 humility. We find them joined, and are required to put 
 them on together, in the already mentioned context. PiU 
 on kindness, humbleness of mind ; above all put on 
 charity, (Col. iii.) and do find it among these celebrations 
 of charity, that it vaunteth not itself, and is not puffed up. 
 V. 4. Nor can we ever, with due charity, compassionate 
 the wants and infirmities of others, if we feel not our own. 
 Which if we do, though we are not, ourselves, guilty of 
 
 heinous wickednesses, we shall so entirely ascribe it to di- 
 vine, preserving mercy, as to be in little disposition to re- 
 joice that others are. 
 
 Use. We may then, upon the whole, learn hence, how 
 we are to demean ourselves in reference to the sins of 
 other men. So, no doubt, a.s charity doth command, and 
 require : at least, so as it doih allow, or not forbid. We 
 are manifestly concerned, not to offer violence to so sacred 
 a thing; and shall be secure from doing it both the.se ways. 
 We may therefore under these two heads, take direction 
 for our behaviour upon such occasions: riz. the actual 
 sins of others, or their more observable inclinations thereto. 
 
 1. We should faithfully practise, as to this case, such 
 things as charity, and the very law of love, doth expressly 
 require and oblige us to. As we are, 
 
 1. To take heed of tempting their inclinations, and of 
 inducing others to sin, whether by word or example ; we 
 are, otherwise, obliged to avoid doing so, and this greatly 
 increases the obligation. What we are not to rejoice in 
 upon the account of charity ; we are, upon the same ac- 
 count, much less to procure. Especially take heed of con- 
 tributing to other men's sins, by the example of j'our own. 
 The power whereof, though it be silent and insensible, is 
 most efficacious in all men's experience. A man would 
 perhaps hear the verbal proposal of that wickedness with 
 horror and detestation, which he is gradually and with 
 little reluctance drawn into, by observing it in other men's 
 practice. A downright exhortation to it, would startle 
 him. But the conversation of such as familiarly practise 
 it, gently insinuates, and by slower degrees alters the habit 
 of his mind ; secretly conveys an infection like a pesti- 
 lential disease ; so that the man is mortally seized before 
 he feels, and when he suspects no danger. 
 
 Most of all, let them take heed of mischieving others by 
 their sins, who are men of more knowledge and pretend 
 to more strictness than others. Perhaps some such may 
 think of taking their liberty more safely: they understand 
 how to take up the business more easily, and compoimd 
 the matter with God. A horrid imagination ! and direct 
 blasphemy against the holy Gospel of our Lord ! If it 
 were true, and God should (do what is so little to be hoped) 
 mercifully give them the repentance whereof they most 
 wickedly presume, who knows but others may, by that 
 example, be hardened in wickedness, and never repent 1 
 Yea, if thy greater knowledge should prompt thee to do, 
 unnecessarily, that which (really, and abstracting from 
 circumstances) is not a sin ; but which another took to be 
 so, and thence takes a libert}^ to do other things that are 
 certainly sinful ; yet walkest thou not charitably. Through 
 thy knowledge shall a weak brother perish and be destroy- 
 ed, for W'hom Christ died 1 Rom. xiv. 15. with 1 Cor. viii. 
 10, 11. Suppose the process be, as from sitting in an idol's 
 temple to idolatry, so from needless sitting in a tavern, to 
 drunkenness or other consequent debaucheries. But if 
 the thing be, in its first instance, unquestionably sinful, of 
 how horrid consequences are the enormities of such as 
 have been taken to be men of sanctity, beyond the com- 
 mon rate 1 What a stumbling block to multitudes ! How 
 much better might it have been for many that are of the 
 Christian profession, if such had never been Christians! 
 And most probably for themselves also ! No doubt it had 
 been more for the honour of the Christian name. How 
 many may be tempted to infidelity and atheism by one 
 such instance ! And whereas those scandalized persons do 
 often, afterwards, incur this fearful guilt of rejoicing in 
 the iniquity of such, even that also they have to answer 
 for, with all the rest. 
 
 2. Charity requires, not only that we do not procure, 
 but that we labour, as much as is possible, to prevent the 
 sin of others. What, in this kind, we are not to rejoice at, 
 we should hinder. And indeed what we do not hinder, if 
 it be in our power, we cause. 
 
 3. We should not be over-forward to believe ill of 
 others. Charity will, while things are doubtful, at least, 
 suspend. See how immediately conjunct these two things 
 are. It thinketh no evil, rejoiceth not in iniquity, (v. 5, 6.) 
 it is not imaginative or surmising. And in the following 
 verse, (on the better part, it must be understood,) it be- 
 lieveth all things, hopeth all things; i. c. briefly, it is unapt
 
 483 
 
 OP CHARITY IN REFERENCE 
 
 to believe ill without groimd, and hopes well, as long as 
 there is any. But it is not so blindly pariial, as to shut its 
 eyes against apparent truth (of which more in its place.) 
 
 4. Much less should we report things at random, to the 
 prejudice of others. That character of an inhabitant in 
 the holy hill, must not be forgotten, that taketh not up a 
 reproach against his neighbour. 
 
 5. If the matter particularly concern ourselves, and cir- 
 cumstances comply, we must have recourse first to the 
 supposed otfender himself, and (as our Saviour directs) tell 
 him his fault between him and thee alone, Matt, xviii. 15. 
 
 6. We ought to compassionate his case. Not rejoicing 
 in iniquity, may have in it a //a'cjai?. More may be meant ; 
 we are sure more is elsewhere enjoined, solemn mourn- 
 ing, and the omission severely blamed. Ye are puffed up, 
 (1 Cor. V. 2.) (not perhaps so much with pride, as vanity, 
 and lightness of spirit, as a bladder swollen with air, 
 which is the significancy of that word,) and have not 
 rather mourned. Perhaps he is burdened with grief and 
 shame. A Christian heart cannot be hard towards such 
 a one in that case. We are to bear one another's burdens, 
 and so fulfil the law of Christ, Gal. vi. 2. 
 
 7. We should, as our capacity and circumstances invite 
 or allow, (at least by our prayers,) endeavour his recovery. 
 And therein use all the gentleness which the case admits, 
 and which is suitable to a due sense of common human 
 frailty. Take the instruction in the apostle's own words, 
 (Gal. vi. 1.) Brethren, if a man be overtaken in a fault, 
 ye which are spiritual, restore such a one in the spirit of 
 meekness, considering thyself, lest thou also be tempted. 
 
 8. We must take heed, upon one man's account, of 
 censuring others ; for such as we know to be faulty, those 
 that for ought we know (and therefore ought to hope) are 
 innocent. A practice most absurd and unrighteous, con- 
 trary to common reason and justice, as well as charity. 
 Yet that whereto some are apt to assume a licence, upon 
 so slender and senseless a pretence, i. c. because some that 
 have under a show of piety, hidden the impurities of a 
 secretly vicious life ; others that are openly profane, and 
 lead notoriously lewd and flagitious lives, (who, though 
 bad enough, are so far the honester men,) do add to all 
 their oiher wickedness, that folly and madness, as to count 
 all men h3'pocrites that are not as bad as themselves; and 
 reckon there is no such thing as real religion in the world. 
 A like case as if, because sometimes spectres have appear- 
 ed in human shape, one should conclude there is, there- 
 fore, no such creature on earth as a very man. 
 
 2. But there are also other things that ought to come 
 into practice, in the case of other men's sinning, very 
 suitable to the case, and not unsuitable to charity. Which, 
 though they proceed more directly, rather, from some 
 other principle, yet are not inconsistent with this, (as the 
 graces of God's Spirit and the duties of Christians never 
 interfere, so as to obstruct or hinder one another,) — things 
 which, though charity do not expressly command, yet are 
 otherwise commanded, and which charity doth not forbid. 
 As, 
 
 1. That we labour to avoid the contagion of their ex- 
 ample : that we take not encouragement to sin from their 
 sinning. They are not our rule. We have not so learn- 
 ed Christ. 
 
 2. That we take warning by it ; and endeavour that 
 their example may not only not be tempting to us, but that 
 it may be monitory. We should reckon such things are 
 our examples, for this purpose, (1 Cor. x.) and were not 
 only, heretofore, recorded and written, but they are also, 
 in our own days, permitted to fall out for our admonition. 
 We that think we stand, should therefore take heed lest 
 we fall. And must remember we are to stand by faith, 
 and are not to be high-minded, but fear. 'Tis a costly in- 
 struction that is given us in such instances. Consider the 
 dolour and pangs that they may perhaps endure who are 
 our monitors. If they do not cry to us to beware, their 
 case doth. Reckon as'the Psalmist, (Ps. Ixxiii.) It is good 
 for you to draw near to God ; they that are far from him 
 shall perish. Labour to be sincere, living Christians. Let 
 me tell you what I have often inculcated. A mere form 
 of godliness will one time or other betray you. And that 
 it is not being of this or that party, conjoined with a for- 
 mal, lifeless religion, that will secure you from being 
 
 public scandals on earth, and accursed wretches in hell. 
 Let every one prove his own work, and make thorough 
 work of it ; .so shall he have rejoicing in himself, and not 
 in another. Gal. vi. (yea, though he may have much cause 
 of mourning for another,) for every one must, at last, bear 
 his own burden and give an account of himself to God. 
 
 3. Seriously bless God for being kept from gross and 
 scandalous enormities. Such words savour well, spoken 
 with deep humility, and unfeigned sense of Divine favour, 
 not with Pharisaical ostentation and scorn, "God, I thank 
 thee I am not as other men." If the poor man was so 
 transported, and poured out his soul in tears of gratitude 
 to God, upon the sight of a toad, that he was not such a 
 creature ; how much more cause is there for it, upon the 
 sight of a gross sinner ! For, I should think, " Who made 
 me differ 1 Why was not I the example 1 and reduced to 
 such a condition, before which I would prefer the greatest 
 sinless misery in all the world 1" 
 
 There is a threefold degree of mercy in our preserva- 
 tion from more heinous and reproachful wickedness. We 
 may owe it to nature, that less inclines us to some sins, as 
 gluttony, drunkenness, &c. to external succedaneous pro- 
 vidence, that keeps us out of the way of temptation ; or to 
 victorious grace, able to prevail, both against corrupt in- 
 clinations of nature, and whatsoever temptations also. 
 God is to be acknowledged in all. He is the Author of 
 nature, the Ruler in providence, the Fountain of grace. 
 Under the first of these notions, he ought more to be eyed 
 and praised, than the most are aware of I could tell you, 
 if it were seasonable, of some (and no despicable) heathen 
 philosophy, which speaks of such an ivchina, or goodness ol 
 natural temper, (though the word hath also another signi- 
 fication,) that is said to carry in it a sort of seminal pro- 
 bity and virtue : which, when it shall be observed how 
 some others have the seeds of grosser vitiosity, and of all 
 imaginable calamities, more plentifully sown in their na- 
 tures, there is no little reason to be thankful for. Though 
 all are bad enough by nature to be children of wrath, and 
 for ever miserable without special mercy; and though 
 again, none have so bad natures, as to be thereby excus- 
 able in wickedness, (they should endeavour, and seek re- 
 lief the more earnestly,) yet some are less bad, and their 
 case luore remediable, by ordinary means ; and therefore 
 the difference should be acknowledged with gratitude. 
 And surely there is no small mercy, in being kept out of 
 the way oi' temptation, by the dispensation of a more fa- 
 vourable providence, that orders more advantageously, the 
 circumstances of their conditions in the world, so as they 
 are less exposed to occasions of sin than others are. 
 Which providence I called succedaneous, for distinction's 
 sake ; because even the difference of natural tempers is 
 owing to a former providence. But now who can tell, 
 what they should be, or do, in such circumstances as might 
 have befallen theml 'Tis a singular favour, not to be ex- 
 posed to a dangerous trial, whereof we know not the issue. 
 Nor yet should any satisfy themselves without that grace 
 which can stem the tide. Which they that possess, how 
 should they adore the God of all grace ! 
 
 4. Charity doth not forbid, and the case itself requires, 
 that when others do grossly and scandalously sin, we 
 should, at length, upon plain evidence, admit a conviction 
 of the matter of fact. For, otherwise, we cannot perform 
 the other duty towards them, unto which charity doth most 
 expressly oblige, nor discharge a higher duty, which an- 
 other love requires, that ought to be superior to all other. 
 No charity can oblige me to be blind, partial, unjust, un- 
 true to the interest of God and religion. When we are 
 told in the text, It rejoices not in iniquity, 'tis added in the 
 next breath, It rejoices in the truth: i.e. in equity and 
 righteous dealing. We are not to carry alike to good men 
 and bad; and are therefore sometime to distinguish them, 
 if there be a visible ground for it, or to take notice when 
 they manifestly distinguish themselves. For it is neces- 
 sary to what is next to ensue : viz. that, 
 
 5. We are to decline their society ; /. e. when their hei- 
 nous guilt appears, and while their repentance appears 
 not. Scripture is so plain and copious to this purpose, 
 that it would suppose them very ignorant of the Bible, for 
 whom it should be needful to quote texts. We must 
 avoid them for our own sake, that we be not infected, nor
 
 TO OTHER MEN S SINS. 
 
 489 
 
 be partakers in their sin and guilt. For theirs, (and so 
 charily requires it,) that they may be ashamed, which may 
 be the means of their reduction and salvation : and (which 
 is most considerable^ for the honour of the Christian re- 
 ligion, that it may oe vindicated, and rescued fiom re- 
 proach, as much as in us lies. It ought to be very grievous 
 to us, when the reproach of our religion cannot be rolled 
 away without being rolled upon this or that man ; if, es- 
 pecially, otherwise valuable. But what reputation ought 
 to be of that value with us, as his that bought us with his 
 blood? The great God is our example, who refuses the 
 fellowship of apostate persons, yea and churches : departs, 
 and withdraws his atTronled glory. It is pure, and de- 
 clines all taint. When high indignities are offered, it 
 takes just offence, and with a majestic shyness retires. 
 None have been so openly owned by the Lord of glory, as 
 that he will countenance them in wickedness. Though 
 Coniah (he tells us, expressing a contempt by curtailing 
 his name) were the signet en his right hand, yet would he 
 pluck him thence. Yea, and our Saviour directs. If our 
 right-hand itself prove offensive, we must cast it from us, 
 Matt. V. 30. And to the same purpose, (chap, xviii.) in the 
 next words after he had said, Wo to the world because of 
 offences: it must be that offences will come, but wo to 
 him by whom the offence cometh. Wherefore if thy hand 
 offend, &c. ver. 7, 8. It must be done as to a hand, a limb 
 of our body, with great tenderness, sympathy, and sense of 
 smart and pain ; but it must be done.'= Dilcctioiicm audio, 
 non comniunicalionem ; I hear of love, not communion, sailh 
 an ancient upon this occasion. 
 
 6. We must take heed of despondency^, by reason of the 
 sins of others, or of being discouraged in the way of godli- 
 ness ; much more of being diverted from it. Indeed the 
 greatest temptation which this case gives hereunto, is (to 
 this purpose) very inconsiderable and contemptible, /. e. 
 that by reason of the a lascivious ways of some, (as that 
 word signifies, and is fittest to be read; referred to the im- 
 purities of the Gnostics, as they came to be called,) the 
 ■way of truth (i. e. Christianity itself) is evil spoken of. 
 But this ought to be heard (in respect of the scoffers tliem- 
 selves with great pity, but) in respect of their design to 
 put serious Christians out of their way, Avith disdain ; and 
 with as little regard, or commotion oi" mind, as would be 
 occasioned (so one well expresses it) to a traveller, intent 
 upon his journey, by themowesand grimaces of monkeys 
 or baboons. Shall I be disquieted, grow weary, and for- 
 sake my wa)'', because an uuAvary person stumbles, and 
 falls in it, and one ten times worse, and more a fool than 
 he, laughs at him for iti We must in such cases mourn 
 indeed for both, but not faint. And if we mourn, upon a 
 true account, we shall easilj' apprehend it, in its cause, 
 very separable from fainting and despondenc}'. It is a 
 discouraging thing for any party to be stigmatized, and 
 have an ill mark put upon them, from the defection of this 
 or that person among them, that was, perhaps, what he 
 seemed not, or was little thought to be. But if we be more 
 concerned for the honour of the Christian name, than of 
 any one party in the world, our mourning will not be, 
 principally, upon so private an account. All wise and 
 good men, that understand the matter, will heartily concur 
 with us, and count themselves obliged to do so. None that 
 are such, or any man that hath the least pretence to rea- 
 son, justice, or common sense, will ever allow themselves 
 to turn the faults of this or that particular person (that are 
 discountenanced as soon as they are known) to the re- 
 proach of a part}^. For others, that are aptest to do so, 
 men of debauched minds and manners; with whom, not 
 being of this or that party, but religion itself, is a reproach. 
 I would advise all serious and sober-minded Christians, 
 (of whatsoever way or persuasion,) if they be twitted with 
 the wickedness of any that seemed to be such and were 
 not, to tell the revilers, " They are more akin to you than 
 to us, and were more of your party (howsoever they dis- 
 guised themselves) than of any other we know of." 
 
 And if yet, after all this, any will give themselves the 
 liberty to rejoice at the sins of other men, and make them 
 -he matter of their sport and divertisement, or take any the 
 least pleasure in observing them, I have but these two 
 things, in tiie general, to say to them; — You have no 
 c TcrtulliaiL 
 
 rea.son to rejoice. — You have great reason for the con- 
 trary. 
 
 You have first, no reason to rejoice : for produce y^'ir 
 cause, let us hear your strong reasons. 
 
 1. Is it that such are like you, and as bad men as your- 
 selves 1 But, 
 
 1. What if they be not like you"? Ever}-- one, perhaps, 
 is not, at whose sins (real or supposed) }'ou at a venture 
 take liberty to rejoice ; what il your guilt be real., theirs 
 but imagined! Sometimes through your too much haste, 
 it may prove so ; and then your jest is spoiled, and you 
 are found to laugh* only at your own shadow. At least 
 you cannot, many times, so certainly know another's guilt 
 as you may your own ; and so run the hazard (which a 
 wise man would not) of making yourselves the ridicule. 
 And supposing your guess, in any part, hit right ; what if 
 those others sin by surprise, you by design 1 the}' in an 
 act, you in a course"? thej'^ in one kind of lewdness, you in 
 every kindl they sin and are penitent, you sin and are 
 obdurate 1 they return, you persevere 1 they are ashamed, 
 you glory 1 The.se are great differences (if they are really 
 to be found) in any such case. But, 
 
 2. If they be not found, and those others be like you 
 throughout, ever}' whit as bad as yourselves, this is sure 
 no great matter of glorying, that I am not the very worst 
 thing in all the world! the vilest creature that ever God 
 made ! Should it be a solace to me also that there are 
 devils, who may perhaps be somewhat worse than they or 
 I ? Nor though they fall in never so entirely with j'ou in 
 all points of wickedness, will that much mend your mat- 
 ter 1 Can their wit add to yours, prove there will be no 
 judg-ment-day 1 or that there is no God 1 or, if that per- 
 formance fail, can their power and yours defend yon 
 against the Almighty 1 Though hand join in hand, the 
 wicked will not go unpunished. Or again, 
 
 '2. Suppose you are not of the debauched crew; is this 
 your reason why 5-ou at least think you may indulge j-our- 
 self some inward pleasure, that wickedness (yoit observe) 
 breaks out among them who are of a distinct parly from 
 3'ou, which you count may signift' somewhat to tlie better 
 reputation of your ownl 
 
 But are you then of a party of which you are sure there 
 are no ill men 1 There are too many faults among all 
 parties ; but God knows it is fitter for us all to mend, 
 than to recriminate. Yea, but the party we are of, pro- 
 fesses not so much strictness. No"? What party should you 
 be of, that professes less strictness "? What more lax rule of 
 morals have you than other Christians! Do you not pro- 
 fess subjection to the known rules of the Bible, concerning 
 Christian and civil conversation 1 You do not sure profess 
 rebellion and hostility against th<; Lord that bought j'ou! 
 Doth not your baptismal covenant (which you are suppos- 
 ed to avow) bind 3'ou to as much strictness as any other 
 Christian! and can there be any other more sacred bond! 
 
 But if in other things, than matters of civil conversation, 
 such delinquent persons were of a stricter profession, (sup- 
 pose it be in matters of religion and worship,) doth that 
 delinquency prove, that in those other things, yon are in 
 the right and they are in the wrong ! Doth the wicked- 
 ness of any person, against the rules of the common, as 
 well as his own stricter profession, prove the profession he 
 is of to be false ! Then, wherein the profession of pro- 
 lestants is stricter than of other Christians, the notorious 
 sins of wicked protestants, will conclude against the whole 
 profession. And the wickedness of a Christian, because 
 Christianity is a stricter profession than paganism, will 
 prove the Christian religion to be false. Who doubts but 
 there may be found, of the Roman commtmion, better men 
 than some protestants, and of pagans, better men than some 
 Christians! But then, they are better, only in respect of 
 some things, wherein all Christians, or all men, do agree in 
 their sentiments, not in respect of the things -wherein they 
 differ. And the others are worse, in things that have no con- 
 nexion with the matter of difference. Enough is to be found 
 to this purpose, in some of the ancients, writing on the be- 
 half of Christians, which we need not, in so plain a case. 
 Nor can it be thought, that men of any understanding and 
 sobrieiv, will make this any argument, one way or other; 
 or think ihein at all justifiable^ that glory in other men's 
 
 d aatKyaaii, 2 Pet. ii. 2.
 
 190 
 
 OF CHARITY IN REFERENCE TO OTHER MEN'S SINS. 
 
 wickedness, upon this or any other account. For such 
 therefore, as are of so ill a mind, and think being of a 
 ditfeient pariy gives them licence, they ought to know, 
 they make themselves of the same parly; and that upon a 
 worse account, than any difference in the rituals of reli- 
 gion can amount to. Upon the whole, your reason then 
 (allege what you will) is no reason, and argues nothing 
 but shortness of discourse and want of reason ; or that you 
 would fain say something to excuse an ill practice, when 
 you have nothing to say. But I must add, 
 
 2. That you have much reason to the contrary, both 
 upon the common account, and your own. 
 
 1. Upon the common account. That the Christian 
 world should, while it is so barren of serious Christians, 
 be so fertile, and productive of such monsters ! made up 
 of the sacred Christian profession, conjoined with (even 
 v/orse than) paganish lives ! And the more of sanctity any 
 pretend to, the m.ore deplorable is the case, when the 
 wickedness breaks forth, that was concealed before, under 
 the vizor of that pretence. Is this no matter of lamentation 
 to you ] or will you here, again, say, your unrelatedness 
 to their party, makes you unconcerned 1 If it do not jus- 
 tify 3'our rejoicing, it will sure (you think) excuse your 
 not mourning. Will it so indeed "? Who made you of a 
 distinct party 1 Are you not a Christian 1 or are you not a 
 protestantl And what do you account that, but reformed, 
 primitive Christianity 1 And so, the more it is reformed, 
 the more perfectly it is itself Who put it into your power 
 to make distinguishing additions to the Christian religion, 
 by which to sever yourselves from the body of other Chris- 
 tians in the world, so as not to be concerned in the affairs 
 of the body 1 If this or that member say, " I am not of the 
 body, is it therefore not of the body 1" Is it not the Chris- 
 tian name that if, dishonoured by the scandalous lives of 
 them that bear that name 1 Whose laws are they that are 
 broken, the laws of this or that party 1 or are they not the 
 laws of Christ 1 Will you say you are unrelated to him 
 too 1 or have no concern with him 1 Can any party be 
 united within itself by so sacred ties, as all true Christians 
 are with the whole body of Christ 1 I know no way you 
 have to be unconcerned in such cases, as the matter of 
 your humiliation, (when they occur within your notice) 
 but by renouncing your Christianity. Nor, indeed, would 
 that serve the turn. For what will you do with your hu- 
 manity 1 Are you not still a man, if you would be no lon- 
 ger a Christian 1 And even that, methinks, should oblige 
 us to bewail the depravedness and dishonour of the nature 
 and order of human creatures! that they who were made 
 for the society of angels, yea, and of the blessed God him- 
 self, should be found delighting and wallowing in worse 
 inrpurities than those of the dog or swine. 
 
 The more strictness in morals they have (falsely) pre- 
 tended to, the greater is your obligation to lament their 
 violating those sacred rules, which you also profess to be 
 subject to,) and not the less. Do I need to tell you, that 
 even among pagans, where a profession of greater strict- 
 ness had once been entered into, an apostacy to gross im- 
 moralities hath been the matter of very solemn lamenta- 
 tion. As in the school (or church should I call it 1) of Py- 
 e Jambl. de vit. Pyth. 
 
 thagoras, where, when any that had obliged themselves to 
 the observation of his virtuous precepts, did afterwards 
 lapse into a vicious "^ course, a funeral and solemn mourn- 
 ing was held for them, as if they were dead. 
 
 2. On your own. For when our Saviour saith, Wo to 
 that man by whom offence cometh, doth he not also say, 
 Wo to the world because of offences 1 And who would 
 not fear and lament his share in that wo 1 Are you proof 
 against all hurt by another's sinl What if it encourage 
 you to sin too 1 What if it harden you in it 1 How many 
 do some men's sins dispose to atheism ! and to think there 
 is nothing in religion ! And if you felt in yourselves an 
 inclination to rejoice in them, that itself argues the infec- 
 tion hath caught upon you ; seized your spirits, and cor- 
 rupted your vitals : so that you have cause to lament even 
 your having rejoiced ; to be afflicted, and mourn, and 
 weep; to turn your laughter to mourning, and your joy to 
 heaviness, James iv. One would think them indeed but 
 half men, and scarce any Christians, that can allow them- 
 selves so inhuman and unhallowed a pleasure, as rejoi- 
 cing in another's sin ! "'TIS very unworthy of a man to 
 take pleasure in seeing his fellow-man turning beast. 
 There is little in it of the ingenuity that belongs to human 
 nature, to delight in the harms of others ; much less of the 
 prudence, to make sport of a common mischief. And 
 would a Christian rejoice in the disadvantages of his own 
 cause 1 and in the dishonour and reproach of the very 
 name which he himself bears'? 
 
 To conclude. One would think no more should be need- 
 ful to repress in any this ill inclination, than to consider, — 
 what sin is, wherein they rejoice, — and what charity is, 
 which is violated by their doing so. What, to rejoice in 
 sin ! that despitesthe Creator, and hath wrought such tra- 
 gedies in the creation ! that turned angels out of heaven ! 
 man out of paradise ! that hath made the blessed God 
 so much a stranger to our world, broken ofi' the inter- 
 course, in so great part, between heaven and earth ; ob- 
 structed the pleasant commerce, which had, otherwise, 
 probably been between angels and men ! so vilely debased 
 the nature of man, and provoked the displeasure of his 
 Maker against him ! that once overwhelmed the world in 
 a deluge of water, and will again ruin it by as destructive 
 fire ! To rejoice in so hateful a thing, is to do that mad 
 part, to cast about firebrands, arrows, and death, and say, 
 " Am not I in sport V And to do that which so highly of- 
 fends against charity ! so divine a thing ! the offspring of 
 God ! the birth of heaven, as it is here below, among us 
 mortals ; the beauty and glory of it, as it is there above, in 
 its natural seat; the eternal bond of living union, among 
 the blessed spirits that inhabit there, and which would 
 make our world, did it universally obtain in it, another 
 heaven. Consider from whom, and from what region, that 
 must proceed, which is so contrary to God and heaven. 
 If any will yet, in despite of Divine love itself, laugh on, 
 at so foul and frightful a thing as sin is, 'tis too likely to 
 prove the Sardonian laughter ; i. e. (as some explain that 
 proverb) of them that die laughing ; conclude their lives 
 and their laughter both together ; and only cease to laugh 
 and to live in the same last breith.
 
 THE RIGHT USE OF THAT 
 
 ARGUMENT IN PRAYER, 
 
 FROM THE NAME OF GOD; 
 
 ON BEHALF OF A PEOPLE THAT PROFESS IT. 
 
 PREFACE. 
 
 No sort of men have ever pretended to religion, who have not allowed unto prayer a very eminent place in it. Ai 
 so much a deeper and more potent principle is religion in the nature of man than reason, (though both are miserably 
 perverled and enfeebled,) that the former doth secretly prompt men (especially in great distresses) to pray, and expect 
 relief by prayer, when the way wherein it is efficacious cannot so well be explicaied or appiehended bj- the other. 
 
 And as prayer hath ever been reckoned a very principal part of religion ; so hath intercession for others been wont 
 to be accounted a very fit and proper part of prayer. 
 
 In the general, prayer is most evidently a duty of natural religion, a dictate of nature, which every man's own mind 
 suggests to him, or may be appealed to about it: (should not a people seek unto their God 1) Whence that personated, 
 eloquent patron of the Christian cause, urging for the conviction of his heathen adversar}', the common practice of 
 people in their extremities, to lift up (even untaught) their hands and eyes to heaven, fitly says of it,* I'ulgi iste natu- 
 ralis est serine, That they do Jurcin, as it tcere, bid sj)cak the lan-guage of Nature. 
 
 Now hereupon, the impression of that primitive law of nature, (not quite worn out from the mind of man, even in 
 this his very degenerate state,) to love our neighbours as ourselves, doth as a natural instinct, secretly prompt us to 
 pray for others, whom we cannot otherwise help, (especially such to whom we have more peculiar obligations, who 
 are in a more especial sense our neighbours,) as (at least in our last necessities) we do for ourselves. 
 
 In which recourse to God, whether for ourselves or others, we are led by a sense of our own impotency and depend- 
 ent state from a deeply inward apprehension of a Deity, that is, (as Epicunis himself seems constrained to acknow- 
 ledge concerning the idea of God,) even proleptical, or" such as prevents reason. So that we do not, being urged by 
 the pinching necessity of the case, stay to deliberate and debate the matter with ourselves how this course should 
 bring relief, but do even take it for granted, that it may; by an apprehension that is earlier in us, tfian any former 
 reasoning about it, and being prior to it, is also not suppressed by it, but prevails against it, if there be acy thing in 
 reason objected, which we cannot so clearly answer. 
 
 Yet when we do bring the matter to a rational discussion, we find that in our conception of God we have the appre- 
 hension of so perfect and excellent a nature, that we cannot suppose he should be moved by any thing foreign to him- 
 self, or that we can inform him of any thing he knew not before, or incline him to anything to which his own nature 
 inclines him not. And therefore that though the wise and apt course of his government over intelligent creatures 
 requires that they should be apprehensive of their own concernments, (whetlier personal or that belong to them, as 
 they are in communities) and pay a solemn homage to his sovereign power and goodness, by supplicating him ahoiu 
 them, yet that if he hear their prayers, it must not be for their sakes, but his o-«-n. Therefore also it cannot, upon 
 strictest reasoning, but seem most dutiful to him and hopeful for ourselves, that our prayers should be conceived alter 
 such a tenor, as may be most agreeable unto that appreliension. 
 
 The Holy Scriptures and the Divine Spirit do both aim at the recovery of apostate man, and the repairins: the de- 
 cays of his degenerate nature, and do therefore (besides what was necessary to be added) renew the dictates of the law 
 of nature, the one more expressly representing them, the other impressing them afresh, and re-implanting ihcui, in 
 the hearts of all that are born of God. Therefore, that external revelation of tne mind and will of God doth direct., 
 and his ble.ssed Spirit (which is pleased tote in all his children the Spirit of grace and supplication) doth inwardly 
 prompt them, not only to pray, (in reference to their single and common concernments,) but to form their prayers 
 after this tenor ; which is to lie seen in their so frequent use of this argument in prayer, from the name ol Gtid. 
 
 Whereupon, in a time when we are so much concerned to be very instant in prayer, not only each of us for himself, 
 but for the body of a people, upon whom that holv name is called ; I reckoned it sea,sonable to show briefly the import 
 »nd right use o'f this argument; and to that purpose have taken for the ground, the following text of Scripture. 
 
 * O lav. mmd Mill. f.
 
 PRAYER FROM THE NAME OF GOD. 
 
 JER. XIV. 31. 
 
 DO NOT ABHOR US FOR THY NAMe's SAKE, 
 
 Where we have— a petition, and — the argument enfor- 
 cing it. 
 
 I. A very serious petition, or a deprecation of the most 
 fearful evil imaginable. Do not abhor us. The word" 
 doth not merely signify abhorrence, but disdain : a dis- 
 pleasure prevailing to that degree, and so fixed, as to infer 
 rejection, even from a just sense of honour. So some of 
 the bversions read, reject us not, or cast lis not forth, as 
 we would do what (or whom) we despise and scorn to 
 own; as if it were feared the holy God might count it 
 ignominious, and a reproach to him, to be further related 
 to such a people, and might even be ashamed to be called 
 their God. And consequently that the following argument 
 is used not without some suspense of mind and doubt lest 
 it should be turned against them, whereof more hereafter. 
 Here it is implied, 
 
 1. To be no impossible tiling that God should reject with 
 abhorrence a people once his own, or that have been in 
 peculiar, visible relation to him. Prayer is conversant 
 about matters of divine liberty, i. e. that are not known to 
 us to be already determined this way or that ; but that may 
 be, or may not be, as he pleases and sees fit ; consistently 
 with the settled course and order of things, not about things 
 that he had before made ordinarily necessary, nor about 
 things that are simply or in ordinary course impossible. 
 In the former case prayer would be needless, in the latter 
 to no purpose. We do not pray that the sun may rise to- 
 morrow at the usual hour, or that the sea may ebb and 
 flow, nor that they may be prevented doing so. But we 
 must distinguisli such necessity and impossibility from a 
 mere certainty that things shall either be, or not be. We 
 are to pray in the present case, with a deep apprehension 
 that this is perfectly a matter of liberty with the great God, 
 and that as he took such a people to be his,"^ of mere good 
 pleasure, so it depends wholly upon his mere pleasure, that 
 he continues the relation, when he might abandon and cast 
 them off. It is further implied, 
 
 2. That the more serious and apprehensive among such 
 a people, do understand it (at sometimes more especially) 
 a thing very highly deserved, that God should abhor and 
 reject them. The deprecation is a tacit acknowledgment, 
 that the deprecated severity was reasonably to be feared, 
 not only from sovereign power, but oflfended justice. This 
 is indeed expressed in the next foregoing words. We 
 acknowledge, O Lord, our wickedness, and the iniquity 
 of our fathers: for we have sinned against thee, do not 
 abhor us, &c. So that this ought to be the sense of the 
 supplicants in the present case, that they are herein per- 
 fectly at mercy, that if they be heard, 'tis undeserved 
 compassion, if they be rejected, 'tis from most deserved 
 displeasure. And if it were not expressed, yet the sup- 
 plication must be understood to imply it. For when the 
 great God hath vouchsafed to limit his sovereign power 
 and antecedent liberty by his promise and covenant, such 
 
 a. "^n: Sprevit contempsit. h Viilg. Lat. and Cliald. Par. 
 
 a prayer were itself reflecting, and an aflTront, if it should 
 proceed upon a supposition, or but intimate, that he should 
 ever be inclined to do such a thing, without an excepted 
 cause. Such as that his rejecting them upon it might con- 
 sist with his being faithful to his word : when he values 
 himself so much upon his faithfulness, and seems even to 
 lay his very Godhead upon it : as those strangely empha- 
 tical words import, (Deut. vii. 9.) Know therefore that 
 the Lord thy God, he is God, the faithful God, which keep- 
 eth covenant and mercy with them that love him, and keep 
 his commandments to a thousand generations ; implying 
 that he would even yield himself not to be God, if he did 
 not in all points vindicate and demonstrate his faithful- 
 ness. Nor indeed do we properly crave for any thing, but 
 we therein disclaim a legal right to it, and acknowledge 
 it to be rightfully in his power, to whom we apply our- 
 selves, to grant or deny; we make demands from justice, 
 and are supplicants for mercy. And with this sense the 
 spirits of holy men have abounded, when they have taken 
 upon them to intercede in the like case, as we see Dan. ix, 
 7. O Lord, righteousness belongeth unto thee, but unto u; 
 confusion of faces, as at this day, &c. And to the same 
 purpose, Ezra ix. Neh. ix. at large, and in many other 
 places: q. d. " Our only resort, O Lord, is to thy mercy: 
 thou mightest most justly abhor and abandon u«, and say 
 to us, Loammi, ye are none of my people ; but in the mul- 
 titude of thy tender compassions and mercies, do it not." 
 It is again l\irther to be collected, 
 
 3. That this is a thing which holy and good men do 
 most vehemently dread and deprecate, viz. that God should 
 thus abhor and reject a people so related to him. 'Tis that 
 which the very genius and spirit of holiness in the sincere, 
 regret beyond all things for themselves. They have taken 
 the Lord to be their God, for ever and ever; their hearts 
 have been attempered to the tenor and constitution of an 
 everlasting covenant, which they entered with no design 
 or thought of ever parting ; but that it should be the ground 
 of an eternal relation. And the law of love written in 
 their hearts, prompts them to desire the same thing for 
 others too ; especially such to whom they have more espe- 
 cial, endearing obligations; and (if it were possible) that 
 the whole body of a people to whom they are themselves 
 united, might all be united to God upon the same terms, 
 even by the same vital and everlasting union ; and there- 
 fore also, that same divine and soul-enlarging love, being 
 a living principle in them, makes them have a most alfiict- 
 ing sense of any discerned tendencies to a rupture and 
 separation that might prevent, and cut off the hope of his 
 drawing still more and more of into them that inward 
 living union, and intercourse with himself These things 
 it may suffice briefly to have noted from the petition in the 
 text. That which 1 principally designed, is what we have 
 next coming under our view, viz. 
 
 II. The argument brought to enforce it ; " for thy 
 
 c Deut. \ii. 7, cliap, x. 15.
 
 PRAYER FROM THE NAME OF GOD. 
 
 493 
 
 name's sake." About which, what I shall observe, shall 
 be with special reference to the case which the prophet re- 
 fers unto, in his present use of it ; viz. that in praying 
 for a people professing the name of God, that he would 
 not reject and cast them off, the fit and proi^er argument 
 to be insisted on is that from his own name, (see ver. 1, 
 9.) And here it will be requisite,—!. To have some very 
 brief consideration of this argument in the general ; thougli 
 —2. We principally intend "to treat of it as it respects this 
 present case. 
 
 1. In the general, we are to consider both what the 
 name of God in itself imports, and what is signified by 
 using it as an argument in prayer. And, 
 
 (I.) As to what is imported by the name of God, in itself 
 considered. We shall not trouble this discourse with the 
 fancies of the Rabbins; of whom yet one a very noted, 
 soberly and plainly tells us the name of God is wont to 
 signify his essence and truth, though the instance he gives, 
 shows he means it of the Nomen Tetragrammaton, (the 
 name Jehovah,) which indeed more eminently doth so. 
 To our purpose it is obvious, and sufficient to note, that by 
 his name, more generally, is signified both the peculiar 
 excellencies of his nature and being, which are himself, as 
 the use of a man's name is to notify the man. So when 
 he is pleased himself to proclaim his own name, thus it 
 runs ; The Lord, the Lord God, merciful and gracious, 
 long-sufiering, and abundant in goodness and truth, keep- 
 ing mercy for thousands, forgiving iniquity, and transgres- 
 sion, and sin, &c. Exod. xxxiv. 6, 7. And again, tliat 
 by his name is meant his glory, and most especially the 
 honour and reputation of his government. For so, too, a 
 man's name signifies his fame and repute in the world 
 (as they whom our translation calls men of renown, Gen. 
 vi. 4. the Hebrew text says only, but plainly, meaning the 
 same thing, they were men of name.) And if he be a 
 public person, a prince, and ruler over others, it must more 
 peculiarly signify his reputation and fame as such. Thus 
 Moses designing to celebrate the unexceptionable equity 
 and awful majesty of the Divine government, begins thus ; 
 Because I will publish the name of the Lord ; ascribe ye 
 greatness unto our God. He is the rock, his work is per- 
 fect; for all his ways are judgment, Deut. xxxii. 3, 4. 
 
 (2.) As an argument used in prayer, it may accordingly 
 either signify the principle from which it is hoped and re- 
 quested he should do what we desire, or the end for which. 
 For as his name signifies his nature, which himself halh 
 taught us primarily to conceive under the notion of good- 
 ness, mercy, love, in that forementioned Exod. xxxiv. 7. 
 and 1 John iv. 16. so when we pray he would do this or 
 that for his name's sake, the meaning may be, that we re- 
 quest he would do it for his mercy's sake, even in compli- 
 ance with himself, and as it were to gratify his own nature, 
 which, as nothing is more Godlike, is wont to be delighted 
 in acts of goodness towards all, of compassion and mercy 
 to the miserable, and of special favour to them that more 
 peculiarly belong to him. And again, as his name signi- 
 fies his glory, and principally the honour and reputation 
 of his government ; so when we pray he would do this 
 for his name's sake, we further must be understood to 
 mean, we desire he would do it to prevent his own dis- 
 honour, to augment his glory, and further to recommend 
 himself to the world. And I conceive it must be meant 
 in both these senses taken together, viz. that we pray he 
 would do this, or that, both from himself, and for himself; 
 from his goodness, or indeed the general perfection of his 
 nature, and for his glory, and that he may represent him- 
 self such as he truly is. But some circumstances in the 
 coherent verses, afterwards to be particularly noted, seem 
 to intimate that the honour and dignit}' of his government 
 are here more directly meant. His glory is indeed the 
 end which he cannot but design in all that he does. For 
 inasmuch as he is said to do all things according to the 
 counsel of his will, Eph. i. his will must be principally 
 of the end, which is ev"er the highest and most excellent 
 good ; and that can be no other than himself, and that onl r 
 as he is capable of greatening himself by his own actior. ; 
 which cannot be in respect of intrinsic excellency, tliat be- 
 ing already perfect and capable of no addition, therefore it 
 must be in point of glory and reputation only. And so 
 
 d Maimon. Mor. Ncvoch. 
 
 as it's said, having no greater to swear by, be sware by 
 himself, Heb. vi. So having no greaier to act for, it is 
 most just, and most worthy of him, and but a Godlike 
 owning of himself, to act only to and for himself. And 
 then whereas, having this constant, just, and holy will, he 
 dolh all things according to counsel in pursuance of it, it 
 must signify that he ever takes the aptest and most proper 
 methods for the advancing of his own glory; the choos- 
 ing the fittest and most suiiable ineans to a fore-resolved 
 end, being the prope. business and design of consultation. 
 Though that be spoken of God but allusively, and after the 
 manner of men, who by slow degrees, and by much delibe- 
 ration, arrive to the very imperfect knowledge of things, 
 which at one view he perfectly beholds from all eternity. 
 
 But also how the great God designs his own glory in all 
 that he doth, we must take great care be duly and decently 
 understood. It were low and mean to think that the 
 design of his mighty works and accurate dispensations is 
 only that he may fill men's minds with wonder; be highly 
 thought of, admired, and celebrated in the world, Avhich 
 even a wise and virtuous man would think an end much 
 beneath him. But the glory of his name must be under- 
 stood to be primarily an objective glory, that shines with 
 a constant and equal lustre in all his dispensations, whe- 
 ther men observe, or observe it not. And shines primarily 
 to himself, so as that he hath the perpetual sell-satisfaction 
 of doing as truly becomes him, and what is in it.self reput- 
 able, worthy of him, and apt to approve it.self to a right 
 mind, as his own ever is, let men thmk of his ways as they 
 please. Thus it was in his creating the world, when he 
 had not yet made man, nor had him to look on, as a wit- 
 ness and admirer of his other glorious works; it was 
 enough to him to be self-pleased that he saw them to be 
 good, and that they had his own most just and compla- 
 cential approbation. Nor is he le.ss pleased in himself, in 
 his governing the world, than he wa;s in the making of it. 
 As also good men, by how much the more they excel in 
 goodness, have herein the greatest resemblance and imita- 
 tion of God, doing good for goodness sake, and plea.sing 
 themselves with the lustre and beauty of their own actions, 
 shining to their own mind and conscience, and their dis- 
 cerned conformity to the steady rules of righteousness; 
 without being concerned whether perverse ond incon>pe- 
 tent judges approve or disapprove them. Though al.so, be- 
 cause the blessed God delights in propagating blessedness, 
 and imparting it to his intelligent creatures, he is pleased 
 in recommending himself, so far, to their estimation and 
 love, as is necessary to their own felicity, wherein also he 
 doth as it were but enjoy his own goodness, as his felicity 
 can only be in himself, and is pleased with the self-satis- 
 fying beauty, pleasantness, and glory of it. 
 
 Yet further also we are to consider, that though it be 
 most suitable to the majesty, and the independent, self- 
 sufficient fulness of God, to take pleasure only in the real 
 goodness, excellency, decency, and glory of whatever he 
 is, and doth; yet it belongs to, and becomes the dutiful 
 affection of his people towards him, to he deeply concern- 
 ed how he is thought and spoken of in the world. Dis- 
 honourable reflections upon him are therefore as a sword 
 in their bones. What cannot hurt him ought to wound 
 them. Which dutiful love also cannot but make them 
 highly covet that his name might be known, and renowned 
 all the world over, knowing that the reproach that is no 
 real damage, is a wrong to him; and that universal praise 
 is his right, though it cannnot be an advantage. And this 
 love to his name they cannot more fitly express, than in 
 praying to him. And here we are further to note that this 
 argument, thus generally considered, hath, when we use it 
 in prayer, a twofold aspect, i. c. we are to consider it as an 
 argument both to God, and to ourselves. To God, as 
 whereby we expect to prevail with him to hear our prayers. 
 To ourselves, as whereby we are to be urged and excited 
 to pray with the more importunity and confidence, so as 
 not to faint in prayer. Thus much as to what is more 
 general. We are now, 
 
 2. To consider it in reference to this present ctise. 
 Where we are to show, — (1.) How the name of God may 
 be understood to be concerned, in his abhorring, so as to 
 forsake a people more peculiarly related to him, — (2.) The
 
 494 
 
 PRAYER FROM THE NAME OF GOD. 
 
 fit and right use of this argument in deprecating his 
 doing so. 
 
 1. How the name of God may be understood concerned 
 in this matter. Taking his name to signify not only his 
 nature, and the attributes of his being themselves, but also 
 the glory and lustre of those his attributes, especially, 
 which are to have a more principal exercise and demon- 
 stration in the course of his government over mankind, and 
 more particularly, over such a select, peculiar people. It 
 may seem greatly to reflect upon those his governing attri- 
 butes, and detract from the glory of them, and consequently 
 to lessen the honour and dignity of his government, if 
 having taken such a people into near and peculiar relation 
 to him, he should grow into that dislike of them, as at 
 length quite to reject and cast off them, as if he now dis- 
 dained the relation. That such a contemptuous rejection 
 of this people is the thing here deprecated by the prophet, 
 is evident (besides what hath been noted of the true import 
 of the word rendered abhor) from other expressions in the 
 context, that plainly speak this very sense, and show this 
 to be the matter about which he was so deeply concerned. 
 Hast thou utterly rejected Judah 1 hath thy soul loathed 
 Zion"? ver. 19. And then presently is added, to the same 
 sense, Do not abhor us, &c. As when a man's heart is full 
 of a thing, and the sense of it abounds, he varies expres- 
 sions, and from the abundance of the heart, as from a foun- 
 tain, the matter streams from him several ways. His 
 iterations, and varied forms of speech to the same purpose, 
 show what urged him, and about what his mind was en- 
 gaged and taken up. 'Tis plain that, at this time, that 
 which this holy man was in this agony for, was not a light- 
 er, temporary anger, but so settled a displeasure, as upon 
 which a final rejection was likely to ensue. 
 
 And he apprehends the name of God to be concerned 
 in it ; which it appears also lies with great weight upon 
 his spirit; Our iniquities testify against us, but do thou it, 
 i. e. save us, as afterwards, for thy name's sake, ver. 7. 
 And again, ver. 9. Thou, O Lord, art in the midst of us, 
 and we are called by thy name ; leave us not. Which 
 also shows how he understood it to be concerned, viz. as 
 the great God was not only the common Ruler of the world, 
 but a Governor over them, in a way and upon terms 
 that were very peculiar, viz. by covenant and compact. 
 Such whereof the nuptial contract is the usual resemblance ; 
 by which the related persons mutually pass into each 
 other's right, and whereupon, the inferior person in the re- 
 lation takes the name of the superior; as Isa. iv. 1. We 
 will eat our own bread, and wear our own apparel, only 
 let us be called by thy name. So the great God entering 
 that covenant with a people, " I will be your God, and you 
 shall be my people," speaksof himself as conjugally related 
 to them. Thou shalt be called by a new name, which the 
 mouth of the Lord shall name. Thou shalt also be a 
 crown of glory in the hand of the Lord ; and a royal diadem 
 in the hand of thy God. Thou shalt no more be termed, 
 Forsaken; neither shall thy land any more be termed De- 
 solate ; but thou shalt be called Hephzibah, and thy land 
 Beulah : for the Lord delighteth in thee, and thy land shall 
 be married, Isa. Ixii. 4. Thy Maker is thine husband, 
 Isa. liv. 5. Who being the governing relative, the phrase 
 of being called by his name imports the agreed, voluntary 
 subjection of such a people to his government, and his 
 vouchsafing to be their Governor, upon the special terms 
 of his own covenant. Whereupon another prophet, plead- 
 ing for his special favour, and protection unto this people, 
 against their heathen adversaries, uses this phrase, We are 
 thine, thou never barest rule over them, they Avere not 
 called by thy name, Isa Ixiii. 19. Therefore this prophet 
 understood his name to be concerned, if he should reject 
 them, as it signified his honour and reputation as their 
 Governor by covenant, which further appears by the im- 
 mediate connexion of these words, " Do not abhor us, for 
 thy name's sake," with those that next foliow, Do not dis- 
 grace the throne of thy glory : remember, break not thy 
 covenant with us: q. d. " Thou hast covenanted to be our 
 Governor, and hast erected, accordingly, thy glorious throne 
 among us. How canst thou sustain or endure to break 
 thy covenant, and dishonour thy own throne! to draw a 
 disreputation upon thy government ; or cast a dark shadow 
 uPon those famed excellencies which were wont to recom- 
 
 mend thee in the sight of all nations as the best Ruler that 
 ever people had; and might make the sons of men appre- 
 hend it the most desirable thing in all the world to be on 
 the same terms, under thy government !" Particularly of 
 his attributes that have more special relation to his govern- 
 ment, such as these may seem (and have been apprehend- 
 ed) liable to be I'eflected on in this case. 
 
 1. His power, as if he had designed to do some great 
 thing for them, which he could not bring about, and there- 
 fore he casts them ofi", and will seem no further concerned 
 for them. Or as if his power were confined within such 
 limits, that it would suffice him to destroy them once for 
 all, but not constantly to preserve and prosper them. So 
 when God threatened to smite his people Israel with the 
 pestilence, and disinherit them, (Numb. xiv. 12.) Moses 
 urges on their behalf. Then the Egyptians stiall hear it, for 
 thou broughtest up this people in thy might from among 
 them, and they will tell it to the inhabitants of this land : 
 for they have heard that thou. Lord, art among this people, 
 that thou, Lord, art seen face to face, and that thy cloud 
 standeth over them, and that thou goest before them, by 
 day-time in a pillar of a cloud, and in a pillar of fire by 
 night. Now if thou shall kill all this people, as one man , 
 then the nations which heard the fame of thee will speak, 
 saying, Because the Lord was not able to bring this peo- 
 ple into the land which he sware unto them, therefore he 
 hath slain them in the wilderness : ver. 13, 14, 15, 16. q. d. 
 " That thou hast peculiarly owned them, and concerned 
 thyself for them, cannot be hid. It hath made a great noise 
 in the world, and been the common talk of all nations, 
 and made a more special impression of awe and terror 
 upon the Egyptians, (against whom thou first tookest part 
 with them,) that thou wast usually seen face to face among 
 them ; that most extraordinary tokens of a Divine presence, 
 the miraculous pillar of a cloud by day, and of fire by 
 night, were constantly afforded them. There is no coming 
 off, (so far and so openly hast thou beeji concerned for 
 them,) but this construction will be made of it, that though 
 very great difficulties have been overcome for them, there 
 was a prospect of yet greater, that could not be overcome ; 
 and therefore, that whereas less power was required to 
 make a present end of them, thou didst rather choose to 
 do tha t." And this consideration seems sometimes to have 
 weighed much with God himself, as we find he is brought 
 in speaking, Deut xxxii. 26, 27. I said I would scatter 
 them into corners, I would make the remembrance of them 
 to cease from among men ; were it not that I feared the 
 wrath of the enemy, lest their adversaries should behave 
 themselves strangely, and lest they should say. Our hand 
 is high, &c. Whence also, 
 
 2. His wisdom must, by consequence, be exposed too; 
 that this was not foreseen and considered, when he first 
 undertook their conduct and espoused their interest. 
 
 3. His goodness and benignity, his propensity to do 
 good and bestow favours, that it was not so unexhausted a 
 fountain as might seem suitable to a god ; and to him, 
 whom his wonderful noted acts of favour towards that 
 people, had made to be vogued among the nations as the 
 only one. 
 
 4. His clemency and unaptness to be provoked ; the 
 great commendation of rulers; who ought to be legum 
 similes, as little moved with passions, as the laws they 
 govern by. A thing especially to be expected in a Divine 
 Ruler, and most agreeable to the serenity of the nature of 
 God. Accordingly not only to what men are commonly 
 wont to apprehend of his nature, but what he had been 
 pleased to declare of himself, as is alleged. Numb. xiv. 17, 
 18. Let the power of my Lord be great ; intimating, that 
 to appear hurried with passions would seem an un-Godlike 
 impotency : and 'tis added. According as thou hast spoken, 
 saying. The Lord is long-suffering and of great mercy, &c. 
 Whereupon therefore, 
 
 5. His sincerity, another great excellency in a governor, 
 seems liable to be suspected too. That he should not be 
 what he seemed, had given out of himself, or was taken, 
 at least, to be the import and signification of his former 
 dispensations. Which is the scope of Moses's reasoning, 
 Exod. xxxii. 12. Wherefore should the Egyptians speak 
 and say, For mischief did he bring them out to slay them 
 in the moimtains, and to consume them from the face of
 
 PRAYER FROM THE NAME OF GOD. 
 
 495 
 
 the earth'? As if he had said, Why shall the Egyptian 
 enemy have occasion to apprehend that God did only hide 
 mischiev^ous intentions towards this people, under an ap- 
 pearance and show of kindness to them ; that he only drew 
 them hereby to trust in hiin, and commit themselves to his 
 care and protection, that he might, when he saw his time, 
 the more please, and as it were sport himself in having 
 deceived them, and in disappointing and destroying them. 
 That therefore the God of Israel was not such a one as he 
 seemed willing to be thought, nor a relation to him so 
 covetable a thing. Or else, 
 
 6. His constancy and faithfulness to himself He may 
 be thought in this case more mutable and unsteady in his 
 own designs than is worthy of a God. Even Balaam's 
 notion of the Deity could not allow him to think either, 
 first, that as a man he could lie, or next, that as the son of 
 man he could repent. Numb, xxiii. The former he thought 
 not agreeable to the sincerity, nor the latter to the con- 
 stancy, which he reckoned must belong to the nature of 
 God. That he should appropriate a people to himself, re- 
 markably own them by along-continued series of eminent 
 favours; and at length seem to grow weary of them and 
 his own design, and throw them off! How un-Godlike a 
 levity doth this seem to import! and how contrary to the 
 encouragement which we sometimes find given to such a 
 people, even from the regard he would have to his own 
 name in this respect. The Lord will not forsake his peo- 
 ple, for his great name's sake ; because it hath pleased the 
 Lord to make you his people, 1 Sam. xii. 22. 
 
 7. His righteousness in reference to his promise and 
 covenant with such a people, or his faithfulness unto them. 
 For, as considering only his purpose, and his having be- 
 gun a design, his pursuing of it is but faithfulness (or a 
 being true) to himself and his own design ; so when his 
 purpose hath expressed itself in a promise to a people, to 
 make it good is to be faithful and true to them. And is 
 therefore a part of righteousness, his promise having 
 created a right in them to whom he made it. By his pur- 
 pose he is only a debtor to himself, by his promise he is a 
 debtor to them too. Upon this account his name seems 
 liable to be reflected on, if he should reject such a people ; 
 as the words following the text intimate. Do not abhor us, 
 for thy name's sake ; Do not disgrace the throne of thy 
 glory, break not thy covenant with us. And such is the 
 import of Moses's plea, Numb. xiv. 16. Because the Lord 
 was not able to bring this people into the land which he 
 sware unto them, therefore he hath slain them in the wil- 
 derness. Which pleading of his he himself also recites 
 (Deut. ix. 28.) with little variation ; and implies in it, that 
 if God should reject this people, it would turn greatly to 
 the prejudice of his name and repute in the world, in re- 
 spect of his truth and fidelity, which made so great a part 
 of his name and glory. That in his anger he neither re- 
 gaided his word nor his oath. No bond was sacred with 
 him. Than which, what could make a prince more in- 
 glorious and infamous ■? And how gladly would those 
 more implacable enemies out of whose hands he had 
 rescued his people, catch at such an occasion of traducing 
 and defaming him ! We see then how the name of God 
 may appear concerned in this matter. It seems indeed in 
 all these respects ver)' deeply concerned, and much ex- 
 posed to obloqu}', if he reject such a people. Though if he 
 should, it can never be, but upon such terms, as that all 
 that can be objected, will appear to be but groundless cavil 
 and calumny, and admit of easy answer, as we shall see 
 anon. In the mean time, while the matter admits of any 
 hope, we are, 
 
 2. To show the fitness and right use of this argument 
 for the preventing of it. We are indeed manifestly to 
 distinguish these two things, — The general fitne.ss of "this 
 argument to be used, and — Wherein stands the fit and due 
 use of it. As any thing else, though in itself very fit to be 
 used for such and such purposes, (as meat and drink for 
 instance, or learning or speech,) may )'et notwithstanding 
 be used very unfitly. Therefore we shall speak to both 
 these severally, and show, — 1. How fit an argument this 
 is to be insisted on in prayer, even to the purpose we are 
 now speaking of; — 2. What is requisite to the due and 
 right use of it to this purpose. 
 
 1. That it is in itself an argument very fit to be insisted 
 
 on in prayer to this purpose, or to any other in reference 
 whereto 'tis fit for us to pray, is most evident ; for it is 
 most likely to prevail with God, being an argument taken 
 from himself; and most fit to move and afiect us, lor it 
 hath most weight in it. And we ought in prayer as much 
 as is possible to conform our minds to God's; so as not 
 only 10 pray for the things which we apprehend him most 
 likely to grant, but upon the same grounds, anil with the 
 same design, which he must be supposed to have in grant- 
 ing them, and that tl.jre be but one end and aim common 
 to him and us. We are told that if we a.sk any thing 
 according to his will he heareth us, 1 John v. 11. This is 
 to ask according to his will, in the highest and most certain 
 sense. 'For the first and most fixed object of any will, 
 whatsoever is the end; of any right will, the best and 
 most excellent end ; which can be but one. The Divine 
 will, we are sure, is ever right, and must, .so far as it is 
 known, be directive, and a rule to ours. Concerning the 
 end it is most certainly known, he doth all things (as he 
 made all thmgs) for himself Concerning the means and 
 way to his end, we are often ignorant and in doubt; and 
 when we are, we then are to will nothing but upon con- 
 dition that it will conduce to the great and common end of 
 all things, and do interruptatively retract and unpray 
 every petition in the very making it, which shall be really 
 repugnant thereto. Nothing can move God besides. He 
 is eternally self-moved. Our attempt will be both undu- 
 tiful and vain, if we suffer our spirits to be engaged, and 
 moved by any thing which will not be a motive unto him. 
 Therefore no argument can be fit besides this, for his own 
 name, or that cannot be reduced to it. But the fitness of 
 this argument may be more distinctly shown and discerned 
 from the following consideration.*, viz. that it is most suit- 
 able. 
 
 1. To the object of prayer ; the glorious ever-blessed 
 God. To whom it belongs as the appropriate, most 
 incommunicable prerogative of the Godhead, to be the 
 last as well as the first, the Alpha and the Omega ; the 
 End, as he is the Author, of all things : of whom, and 
 through whom, and to whom all things are, and unto whom 
 must be all glory for ev^er, Rom. xi. 3G. So that to pray 
 to him that he would do this or that, finally and ultimately 
 for any thing else than his own name, is humbly to sup- 
 plicate him that he M'onld resign the Godhead, and quit 
 his throne, to this or that creature. 
 
 2. To the right subject of prayer, considered whether ac- 
 cording to its original or renewed state; according to 
 primitive nature, or renewing grace. To primitive nature, 
 which was no doubt pointed upon God as the last end. 
 Otherwise a creature had been made with aversion to him, 
 and in the highest pitch of enmity and rebellion; since 
 there can be nia higher controversy than about the last end. 
 And to renewing grace, the design whereof, as it is such, 
 can be no other than to restore us to our original state; to 
 bring us back and state us where, and as we were, in thai 
 absolute subordination to God that was original and na- 
 tural to us. Which therefore stands in repentance towards 
 God as our end, and faith in our Lord Jesus Christ as our 
 way, wherein alone we can acceptably return and render 
 ourselves back unto him. We through the law are dead 
 to the law; being humbled, broken, macerated, mortified 
 by it, we are become dead to it, exempt from its execrating 
 condemning power anil dominion, that we might live to 
 God, (Gal. ii. 19.) that a new divine life and na'ure might 
 spring up in us, aiming at God, tending and working en- 
 tirelyand only towards him. Have been reduced to a 
 chaos, to utter confusion, or even brought to nothing, that 
 we might be created anew, with a re-implanted disposition 
 to serve the ends and purposes for which we were first 
 made. And therefore are to yield ourselves to God as 
 those that are alive from the dead, Rom. vi. 13. i. e. (as 
 ver. 11.) alive to God through Jesus Christ. In him we 
 are created to good works, (that are principally to be esti- 
 mated from the end,) which God had before ordained that 
 we should walk in them, Eph. ii. 10. Thus we are recon 
 ciled to God. The controversv is taken up, which wai> 
 about no lower thing than the Deity ; who should he God, 
 he or we; whether we should live and be for ourselves, or 
 him. If anv man be in Christ, he is a new creature, old 
 things are past away, behold, all things are become new;
 
 496 
 
 PRAYER FROM THE NAME OF GOD. 
 
 and all things are of God, who hath reconciled us to him- 
 self by Jesus Christ, 2 Cor. v. 17, 18. Hereupon this is, 
 in prayer, the only proper genuine connatural breath of 
 the new creature, the most inward habitual sense of a de- 
 voted soul, " To thee O Lord, be all things ; mayst thou 
 ever be the all in all. Let the creation and all things be 
 nothing, otherwise than in thee and for thee !" 
 
 3. To the Mediator in whose name we pray. Who 
 never undertook that part of mediating between God and 
 us, with a design to alienate and give away from God the 
 natural rights of the Godhead ; but to assert them to the 
 highest, to repair unto God and expiate by his blood the 
 encroachments we had made upon them, and provide we 
 might do so no more : that we might be forgiven what was 
 past, and be dutiful and subject for the future. His prin- 
 cipal design was to salve the injured honour and dignity 
 of the Divine government, and to reconcile therewith our 
 impunity and felicity, to make them consist. He was 
 therefore to redeem us to God by his blood, Rev. v. 9. 
 How immodest and absurd a confidence were it, for any 
 to make use of the Mediator's name in prayer against his 
 principal and most important design ! 
 
 4. To the Spirit of prayer, who, we are told, (Rom. viii. 
 27.) makes intercession for the saints Kara Qcdv. We read, 
 according to the will of God, but no more is in the text than 
 according to God, i. c. in subserviency to him, and his in- 
 terest ; so as that in prayer, by the dictate of that Spirit, 
 they supremely mind the things of God, and are most in- 
 tent upon his concernments, and upon their own only in 
 subordination to his. As it may well be supposed his own 
 Spirit will be true to him, and not act the hearts which it 
 governs, otherwise; and that the prayers that are from 
 himself, and of his own inspiring, will be most entirely 
 loyal, and import nothing but duty and devotedness to 
 him. 
 
 5. To the most perfect model and platform of prayer 
 given us by our Lord himself. In which the first place is 
 given to the petition. Hallowed be thy name, and the two 
 next are about God's concernments, before any are men- 
 tioned of our owni. So that the things we are to desire, 
 are digested into two tables, as the decalogue is, containing 
 the things we are to do ; and those that respect God (as 
 was fit) set first. 
 
 6. To the constant tenor of the prayers of holy men in 
 Scripture. We have seen how earnestly Moses presses 
 this argument in the mentioned places, Exod. xxxii. and 
 Numb. xiv. And so doth Samuel express his confidence in 
 it, when he promises, upon their desire, tc pray for the 
 trembling people of Israel, 1 Sam. xii. 22, 23. The Lord 
 will not forsake his people for his great nainc^s sake, be- 
 cause it hath pleased the Lord to make you his people. 
 Moreover as for me, God forbid that I should sin against 
 the Lord, in ceasing to pray for you. And this was a pair 
 whom God hath himself dignified as persons of great ex- 
 cellency in prayer, and whose prayers he would have a 
 value for, if for any man's. Though Moses and Samuel 
 stood before me, &c. Jer. xv. I. Thus also doth Joshua 
 insist, upon occasion of that rebuke Israel met with before 
 Ai, Josh. vii. 8, 9. O Lord, what shall I say, when Israel 
 turneth their backs before their enemies ? For the Canaan- 
 ites, and all the inhabitants of the land, shall hear of it, 
 and shall environ us round, and cut off" our name from the 
 earth ; and what wilt thou do unto thy great name 7 And 
 so doth Daniel plead, (one of a famous triad, too, of potent 
 wrestlers in prayer, Ezek. xiv. 14.) O Lord, hear; O Lord, 
 forgive ; O Lord, hearken and do ; defer not, for thine own 
 sake, O my God : for thy city and thy people are called by 
 thy name, Dan. ix. 19. 
 
 7. To the highest example and pattern of prayer, (fit to 
 be mentioned apart,) our Lord himself; who, in some of 
 his last agonies, praying. Father, save me from this hour, 
 represses that innocent voice: But therefore came I to 
 this hour ; and adds, Father, glorify thy name, (John xii. 
 27, 28.) intimating that the sum of his desires did resolve 
 into that one thing, and contented to suflfer what was most 
 grievous to himself, that so that might be done which 
 should be finally most honourable to that great name. 
 
 8. To the design and end of prayer ; which is partl)^ and 
 principally to be considered as an act of worship, a homage 
 to the great God, and so the design of it is to honour him ; 
 
 and partly as a means, or way of obtaining for ourselves 
 the good things we pray for, which therefore is another, 
 but an inferior, end of prayer. Whether we consider it 
 under the one notion or the other, or propound to ourselves 
 the one or the other end in praying : 'tis most agreeable to 
 pray after this tenor, and to insist most upon this argu- 
 ment in prayer. For, 
 
 First, Do we intend prayer as a homage to the great 
 God, and to give him his due glory in praying to himl 
 How fitly doth it fall in with our design, when not only our 
 praying itself, but the matter we chiefly pray for, have the 
 same scope and end. We pray that we may glorify God. 
 And the thing we more principally desire of him in prayer 
 is, that he would glorify himself, or that his name be glo- 
 rified. And square all other desires by this measure, de- 
 siring nothing else but what may be, or as it is, subservient 
 hereto. And, 
 
 Secondly, If we intend and design any thing of advan- 
 tage to ourselves; we can only expect to be heard, and to 
 obtain it, upon this ground. The great God deals plainly 
 with us in this, and hath expressly declared that if he hear, 
 and graciously answer us, it will only be upon this con- 
 sideration, as is often inculcated, Ezek. xxxvi. 22. There- 
 fore say unto the house of Israel, Thus saith the Lord God, 
 I do not this for your sakes, O house of Israel, but for my 
 holy name's sake. And I wil' sanctify my great name, 
 which was profaned among the heathen. And again. Not 
 for your sakes do I this, saiih the Lord God, be it known 
 unto you ; be ashamed and confounded for your own ways, 
 O house of Israel, ver. 32. This every way then appears 
 a most fit argument to be insisted on in prayer; and to this 
 purpose as well as to any other ; many of the instances 
 mentioned from Scripture having an express and particu- 
 lar reference to this very case, of praying for a people re- 
 lated to God, and upon whom his name was called. It 
 remains then to show, 
 
 2. What is requisite to the right and due use of this 
 argument unto this purpose. Where we may sum up all 
 in two words, sincerity and submission. The former 
 whereof belongs to this case in common with all others, 
 wherein we can use this argument, or, which is all one, 
 wherein we can pray at all. The other hath somewhat a 
 more peculiar reference to this case considered apart by 
 itself And indeed that the one and the other of these are 
 requisite in the use of this argument, are both of them 
 corollaries from the truth itself we have been hitherto in- 
 sisting on, and that have the very substance and spirit of 
 it in them. For if this be an argument fit to be used in 
 prayer at all, it is obvious to collect, that it ought to be 
 used with great sincerity in any ca.se, and with much sub- 
 mission, especially in such a case as this. 
 
 1. It is requisite we use this argument with sincerity, 
 ?. e. that we have a sense in our hearts correspondent to 
 the use of it, or that the impression be deeply inwrought 
 into our spirits of the glorious excellenc)'^ of the name of 
 God. So as it be really the most desirable thing in our 
 eyes, that it be magnified and rendered most glorious, 
 whatsoever becomes of us, or of any people or nation un- 
 der heaven. Many have learned to' use the words "for 
 thy name's sake," as a formula, a plausible jthrase, a cus- 
 tomary, fashionable form of speech ; when, first, there is no 
 inward sense in their hearts that doth subesse, lies under 
 the expression, so as that with them it can be said to signi- 
 fy any thing, or have any meaning at all ; or, secondly, 
 they may have much another meaning from what these 
 words do import, a very low, self-regarding one. As when 
 in praying for a people that bear this name, of whom them- 
 selves are a part, these words are in their mouths, but their 
 hearts are really solicitous for nothing but their own little 
 concernments, their wealth, and peace, and ease, and flesh- 
 ly accommodations. Apprehending a change of religion 
 cannot fall out among such a people, but in conjunction 
 with what may be dangerous to themselves in these mean 
 respects. Whereupon it may fall out that they will pray 
 earnestly, cry aloud, be full of concern, vehemently impor- 
 tunate, and all the noise and cry mean nothing but their 
 own corn, wine, and oil. They mention the name of the 
 Lord, but not in truth. It appears the servants of God, in 
 the use of this argument, have been touched in their very 
 souls with so deep and quick a sense of the dignity and
 
 PRAYER FROM THE NAME OF GOD. 
 
 497 
 
 honour of ihe Divine name, that nothing else hath seemed 
 considerable with them, or worth the regarding, besides ; 
 as in those expostulations, " What will thou do to thy 
 great name 1 What will the Egyptians say V &c. This 
 alone, apart from their own concernments, was the weighty 
 argument with them. For it weighed nothing with Moses 
 on the contrary, to be told, " I will make of thee a great 
 nation." To have himself never so glorious a name, to be 
 spread in the world and transmitted to all-after ages as the 
 root and father of a mighty people, was a light thing in 
 comparison of the injury and disreputation that would 
 be done to God's own name, if he should desert or destroy 
 this people. Or, thirdly, they may have a very wicked 
 meaning. The name of God may be invoked, religious 
 solemnities used as a pretence and colour to flagitious 
 actions. In nomine Domini — 4^c. Most execrable villa- 
 nies have been prefaced with that sacred, adorable name. 
 As when a fast was proclaimed, but a rapine upon Naboth's 
 vineyard was a thing designed. And the awful name of 
 God was indifferently used in prayer and in perjury to 
 serve the same vile purpose. In whichsoever of those 
 degrees this venerable name is insincerely mentioned, we 
 ought to account a great requisite is wanting to a right use 
 of it as an argument in prayer. And should consider both 
 the absurdity and the iniquity of our so misusing it. 
 
 1. The absurdity. For who can reasonably think him 
 capable of hearing our prayers, whom at the same time he 
 thinks incapable of knowing our hearts 1 Am I consistent 
 with myself when I invocate, worship, trust in him as a 
 God, whom I think I can impose upon by a false show % 
 Is it likely, if I can deceive him, that he can help and 
 succour me 1 
 
 2. The iniquity. For this can be no low (though it be 
 not the peculiar) sense of taking the name of the Lord our 
 God in vain. And M'e know with what awful words that 
 great precept is enforced. The Lord will not hold him 
 guiltless that taketh his name in vain. Nor can any man 
 devise to put a greater affront upon him than to approach 
 him with insincerity. For it is to use him as a senseless 
 idol, and signifies as if I counted him as the vanities of 
 the Gentiles, one of their inanimate or brutal gods ; de- 
 nies his omniscience to discern, and his justice and power 
 to revenge, the indignity, all at once. And what now is 
 to be expected from such a prayer, wherein I both fight 
 Avith myself and him at the same time. With myself, 
 for the same object that I worship, I affront in the same 
 act ; and with him, for my worship is but seeming, and 
 the affront real. 
 
 Such a disagreement with myself were enough to blast 
 my prayer. The din^o ii\ljvx^o?, the man with two souls. 
 Jam. i. the double-minded man, is said to be rid-araaruro?, 
 unslnble ; {inconsistejit icith himself, the word signifies ;) 
 and let not such a man think, saith the apostle, that he 
 shall receive any thing of the Lord. Much more when 
 his prayer is not only unacceptable to God, but offensive. 
 And by which he is so far from pleasing that he provokes. 
 
 It is then of unspeakable concernment to us in the use 
 of this argument, that we will understand ourselves. Let 
 us search our hearts ; and see that we mean as we speak, 
 that we do not pretend a concernedness and zeal for the 
 name of God, when he knows all things, knows that we 
 lie; and that we do but flatter him with our mouth, and 
 lie unto him with our tongues, when our heart is not right 
 with him, Ps. Ixxviii. 36, 37. That we do not seem to 
 be in great perplexity about the name and glory of God, 
 when we are quite unconcerned what becomes of his 
 name ; are only solicitous lest we should suffer ourselves, 
 afraid of being undone, of losing our estates, or of be- 
 ing driven from our dwellings, or perhaps but of being 
 abridged somewhat of our conveniences, and more delect- 
 able enjoyments. As if (not the fortunes of Cassar and 
 the empire, but) the mighty and all comprehensive name 
 of the great Lord of heaven and earth did depend upon 
 our being rich or quiet, and at our ease, and having our 
 sense and fancy gratified. As if the heavens rested upon 
 our shoulders, and the frame of the universe were sustained 
 by us, who ourselves need such pitiful supports, lean upon 
 shadows, and if they fail us are ready to sink and drop 
 into nothing ! 
 
 e Selileii. dc Diis Pyriis ."^^ynt. 2. C»». l#. 
 
 2. Submission is highly requisite, especially in a case of 
 this nature ; i. e. we are to submit to his judgment the dis- 
 posal both of his concernments, which this argument 
 directly intends ; and our own, which we are too apt indi- 
 rectly to connect with his, so as to be more principally so- 
 licitous about them. 
 
 1. His concernment in this case must (as is fit) he sub- 
 mitted with all humble deference to his own judgment, it 
 being really a doubtful case, not whether it be a desirable 
 thing, that the name and honour of God should be pre- 
 served and advanced, or whether we should desire it ; but 
 whether his continuing such a people in visible relation 
 to himself, or rejecting and casting them off, will be more 
 honourable and glorious to him. Where the doubt lies, 
 there must be the submission, i. e. this matter must be 
 referred to himself, it being such as whereof he only is 
 the competent judge, and not we. The thin? to be judged 
 of, is not whether occasion may not be taken by men ol 
 short discourse, and of profane minds, to thmk and speak 
 reflectingly of such a piece of Providence, viz. if a people 
 whom God had long visibly owned and favoured should 
 be, at length, rejected with detestation, and exposed to 
 ruin. 'Tis like, the heathen nations were very apt so to 
 insult, when God did finally abandon and give up that 
 people of the Jews, and make them cease at once to be his 
 people and any people at all. As we know they did be- 
 fore, when they gained any temporar)' advantage upon 
 them, upon their being able to spoil their country, to re- 
 duce them to some distress, and straiten their chief city 
 with a siege, as if they had them totally in their power, 
 they presently draw the God of Israel into an ignominious 
 comparison with the fictitious deities of other vanquished 
 countries ; the gods of Hamath, Arphad, Sepharvaim, Isa. 
 xxxvi. 19. (who are also styled their kings as is thought,' 
 2 Kings xix. 13. though the destruction of their kings may 
 also admit to be meant as an argument of the impoiency 
 of their gods. And they are mentioned distinctly, as per- 
 haps was not observed, in both those cited books of Scrip- 
 ture where that history is more largely recorded ; 2 Kings 
 xviii. 34. ch. xix. 13. and Isa. xxxvi. 19. ch. xxxvii. 12, 
 13.) as if he were able to do no more for the protection of 
 his people, than the}' for their worshippers. And so for a 
 few moments, he remains under the censure of being an 
 impotent God. But that momentar}' cloud he knew how 
 soon to dispel, and make his glory shine out so much the 
 more brightly unto, not only a convincing, but an amazing 
 confutation of so profane folly ; yielded the short-sighted 
 adversary a temporary victory, which he could presently 
 redeem out of their hands, that he might tlie more glori- 
 ously triumph in their surprising, unfeared ruin ; and so 
 let them and all the world see that those advantages were 
 not extorted, but permitted upon considerations that lay 
 out of their reach to comprehend; and that they proceed 
 not from want of power, but the excellency of other per- 
 fections, which would in due time be understood by such 
 as were capable of making a right judgment. His wis- 
 dom, holiness, and justice, which appeared in putting a 
 people so related to him under seasonable rebukes and 
 discountenance, when the state of the case, and the me- 
 thods of his government required it ; and so much the 
 rather, because they were so related. According to that, 
 You only have I known of all the families of the earth, 
 therefore I will punish you for all your iniquities, Amos 
 iii. 2. The matter here to be disputed, was not whether it 
 did not occasion a present dishonour to the God of Israel, 
 to let the enem)' have such a seeming ground of spiteful 
 suggestions concerning him, as if he were impotent, or 
 variable, or false to them that had intrusted themselves to 
 his protection and care ; but whether that dishonour weie 
 not recompensed with advantage, by the greater glory that 
 accrued to him afterwards. And this also is the matter 
 that must come under judgment, if at length he should 
 finally cast off such a peciple , whether upon the whole, all 
 things being considered and taken together, it be not more 
 for the honour of his name, and the reputation of his rec- 
 toral attributes, to break off such a relation to them than 
 continue. Wherein he is not concerned to approve him- 
 self to the opinion of fools, or half-witted persons : ai;d 
 whose shallow judgment, too, is governed by their disaf-
 
 493 
 
 PRAYER FROM THE NAME OP GOD. 
 
 feclion ; but to such as can consider. Perhaps, to such as 
 shall liereal'ler rise up in succeeding ages. For he is not 
 in haste. His steady duration, commensurate with all the 
 successions of time, ana which runs into eternity, can well 
 admit of his staying till this or that frame and contexture 
 of providence be completed, and capable of being more 
 entirely viewed at once ; and till calmer minds, and men 
 of less interested passions, shall come to have the consider- 
 ing of it. And in the mean time he hath those numberless 
 myriads of wise and holy sages in the other world, the con- 
 tinual observers of all his dispensations, that behold them 
 witli equal, unbiassed minds ; and from the evidence of the 
 matter, give their concurrent approbation and applause, 
 with all the true members of the church on earth, Great 
 and marvellous are thy works, Lord God Almighty, just 
 and true are thy ways, thou King of saints, Rev. xv. 3. 
 But it is enough and much more considerable to approve 
 himself to himself; and that all his dispensations are guided 
 according to the steady, eternal reason of things, which is 
 an inviolable law to him, from which he never departs, 
 and from the perpetual uniform agreement of all his pro- 
 vidences, whereto an indubious glory will result unto him, 
 that will never admit the least eclipse, or ever be capable 
 of being drawn into dispute. And according whereto it 
 will appear, if ever he forsake such a people, the concern- 
 ment of his name and glory in the matter, was the great in- 
 ducement to it ; that he did even owe it to himself, and had 
 not, otherwise, done right to his own name. And whatso- 
 ever might be argued from it to the contrary will be found 
 capable of a clear and easy answer, so as that the weight 
 of the argument will entirely lie on this side. For, 
 
 1. As to his poiver, he hath reason to be ever secure 
 concerning the reputation of that, having given, and know- 
 ing how further to give, when he pleases, sufficient demon- 
 strations of it other ways. Pvor was it ever his design to 
 represent himself as a Being of mere power, which of itself 
 hath nothing of moral excellency in it ; nor do the appear- 
 ances of it tend to beget that true notion of God in the 
 minds of men which he designed to propagate ; otherwise 
 than as the glory of it should shine in conjunction with 
 that of his other attributes, that are more peculiarly worthy 
 of God, more appropriate to hinr, and more apt to repre- 
 sent him to the world as the most suitable object of a re- 
 ligious veneration. Whereas mere power is capable of 
 having place in an unintelligent nature, and in an intelli- 
 gent tainted with the most odious impurities. He never 
 desired to be known among men by such a name, as 
 should signify power only, unaccompanied with wisdom, 
 holiness, &,c. And, 
 
 2. F^or his wisdom ; it is seen in pursuing valuable ends, 
 by methods suitable to them, and becoming himself It 
 became the absolute sovereignty of a God, to select a na- 
 tion, that he would favour more than other nations, but 
 would ill have agreed with his wisdom to have bound him- 
 self absolutely to them, so as to favour them, howsoever 
 they should demean themselves. _ 
 
 3. His bounty and goodness, though it found them no 
 better than other people, was to have made them better. 
 Nor was it any disreputation to his goodness to divert 
 its current, when they, after long trial, do finally resist its 
 design. 
 
 4. His clemency must not be made liable to be mistaken 
 for inadvertency, or neglect ; and to give the world cause 
 to say, Tush, God seeth not, neither is there knowledge in 
 the Most High. Nor for indifferency, and unconcerned- 
 ness what men do, as if good and bad were alike to him. 
 And that such as do evil were good in the sight of the 
 Lord, and he delighted in them; words wherewith he 
 sometimes complained that men wearied him, Mai. ii. 17. 
 He is not to redeem the reputation of one attribute by the 
 real prejudice of another; i. e. the offence and grievance 
 to it, which acting directly against it (if that were possi- 
 ble) would occasion. 
 
 5. His sincerity will be highly vindicated and glorified, 
 when it shall be seen that there is nothing more of seve- 
 rity in such a dispensation, whenever it takes place, than 
 was plainly expressed in nis often repeated fore-warnings 
 and threatenings, even long before. And therefore, 
 
 6. He is herein but constant to himself, and should be 
 more liao.e to the charge of mutability, and inconstancy, 
 
 if finally, when the case should so require, he inould not 
 take this course. And 
 
 7. As to his righteovsness and fidelity towards such a 
 people, even those to whom he more strictly obliged him- 
 self than ever he did to any particular nation besides. Let 
 hut the tenor of his covenant with them be consuhed, 
 and see whether he did not reserve to himself a liberty of 
 casting them off, if they revolted from him ; and whether 
 these were not his express terms, that he would be with 
 them while they were with him, but that if they forsook 
 him, he would forsake them also. 
 
 Therefore much more is he at liberty, as to any other 
 people, to whom he never made so peculiar promises of 
 external favours as he did to this people. Nor hereupon 
 can any thing be pleaded from his name, or that is within 
 the compass of its signification, with any certaintj', that it 
 shall conclude, and be determining on the behalf of such 
 a people. There is a real, great doubt in the case, whether 
 the argument may not weigh more the other way. And 
 whether the wickedness of such a people may not be 
 grown to such a prodigious excess, that whereas none of 
 these his mentioned attributes do make it necessary he 
 should continue his relation, some other, that could not be 
 alleged for it, may not be alleged against it, and do not 
 make it necessary he should break it off. The glory of 
 his holiness (which if we consider it in itself, and con- 
 sider the value and stress he is wont to put upon it, we 
 might even reckon the prime glory of the Deity) is not, 
 perhaps, to be -sufficiently salved and vindicated Avithout, 
 at length, quite abandoning and casting them off. There 
 seems to be somewhat very awful and monitory in those 
 most pleasant, gracious Avords, and that breathe so sweet a 
 savour : But now they desire a better countr}', that is, a 
 heavenly; wherefore God is not ashamed to be called their 
 God, Heb. xi. 16. viz. that if a people that have long en- 
 joyed brighter discoveries of heaven, and the way to it, do 
 yet generally bear a disaffected heart to the design of that 
 revelation, remain habitually terrene like the rest of the 
 world, governed by the spirit of it, ingulfed in the com- 
 mon pollutions, sensualities, impieties of the wicked athe- 
 istical inhabitants of this earth, God will be even ashamed 
 to be called their God. He will reckon it ignominious, 
 and a reproach to him, (though he will save such as are 
 sincere among them,) to stand visibly related to such a 
 people as their God. "What, to have them for a pecu- 
 liar people, that are not peculiar 1 to distinguish them 
 that will not be distinguished! to make a visible differ- 
 ence by external favours and privileges, where there is no 
 visible difference in practice and conversation, that might 
 signify a more excellent spirit 1 This is not only to lose 
 the intended design, but to have it turn to a disadvantage; 
 and whom he expected to be for a name and a praise to 
 him, a crown and a royal diadem, to become to him a dis- 
 honour and a blot. And we do find that such severities 
 as have been used towards such a people, are declared to 
 have been so, even for the sake of his name, Jer. xxxiv. 
 16, 17. But ye turned and polluted my name, — There- 
 fore — I will make you to be removed into all the king- 
 doms of the earth. And when therefore a remnant of this 
 people, rcbelliously, against God's express word, went 
 down into Egypt, preferring a precarious subsistence, un- 
 der tyranny and idolatry, at the cruel mercy of a long 
 since baffled enemy, before the true religion, and liberty, 
 under the divine protection, see how God expresses his 
 resentment of this dishonour done to his name, and the 
 affront offered to his government: Jer. xliv. 26. Therefore 
 hear ye the word of the Lord, all Judah that dwell in the 
 land of Egypt, Behold, I have sworn by my great name, 
 saith the Lord, that my name shall no more be named in 
 the mouth of any man of Judah, in all the land of Egypt, 
 saying, The Lord God liveth. 
 
 And when the time drew near of God's total rejection 
 of that people, as in the time of Malachi's prophecies; 
 they are charged with despising and profaning his name, 
 (chap. i. 6, 12.) and are told God had now no pleasure in 
 them, nor would accept an offering at their hands, but that 
 his name should be great ainongthe Gentiles, (ver. 10, 11.) 
 even from the rising of the sun to the going down of the 
 same, intimating that, excepting those few that thoua:ht on 
 his name, (chap. iii. 16.) and that feared his name, (ch. it
 
 PRAYER FROM THE NAME OF GOD. 
 
 499 
 
 2.) who he says should be his, when he made up his jewels, 
 (and the Sun of righteousness should rise upon them) he 
 would have no more to do with them ; but in the day that 
 should burn as an oven, (when the whole hemisphere 
 should be as one fiery vault,) they should be burnt up as 
 Rtubble, and neither root nor branch be left of them ; and 
 all this upon the concern he had for his name, which was 
 reproached by such a people's pretending to it. Where- 
 upon, they had been threatened (ch. ii. v. 2.) that except 
 )<Jiey did give glory to his name he would curse them, and 
 their blessings, corrupt their seed, spread dung upon their 
 faces, even that of iheir solemn feasts, and they should be 
 taken away therewith. 
 
 It is therefore possible the whole force of this argument 
 may lie against us, in praying for such a people. I say, it 
 is possible it may whether actually it do or no, we can 
 never be competent judges. Our knowledge is not large 
 enough, nor our minds enough comprehensive. Our wis- 
 dom is folly itself to the estimating such a case. We are 
 capable of pronouncing hastily, it would in this or that 
 particular respect, be dishonourable, and an obscurement 
 of God's name, if he should cast oiT England. But he that 
 pronounces hastily, considers but a few things, and looks 
 but a little way. 
 
 The question is, whether, all things compared and con- 
 sidered together, that belong to such a case, it will be more 
 honourable to God or dishonourable, and more or less re- 
 commend him to intelligent minds, get him a greater 
 and more excellent name and renown in the world, when 
 it shall be enlightened to consider the case, to break off 
 his relation or continue if? We know his own judgment 
 is according to truth, and hope he will judge the way that 
 will be more favourable to us. But we cannot be certain 
 of it. 'Tis a case that requires the judgment of his all- 
 comprehending mind, whose prospect is large every way ; 
 and takes in all the decencies and indecencies that escape 
 our notice. As we know in viewing things with the eye, 
 a quick and clear sight (especially helped with a fit in- 
 strument) will discern many things, so fine and minute, as 
 to be, to a duller eye, altogether invisible. It is the work 
 of wisdom and judgment, to discern exactly the critical 
 seasons and junctures of time, when to do this or that. 
 And the wise God in his dispensations, especially towards 
 a great community, or the collective body of a people, 
 takes usually a vast compass of time, within which to 
 select the apt and fit season, for this or that act, whether 
 of severity or merc)^ towards them. And it is more fit, as, 
 by the coincidence of things, it contributes more to the 
 greater glory of his name. We cannot discern the things, 
 the concurrence whereof makes this a filter season than 
 another, that such an event should be placed just there, 
 within so large a tract of time. What mortal man, or in- 
 deed what finite mind, was capable of judging some hun- 
 dreds of years before, what was just wanting to the fulness 
 of the Amorites' sin, so as that it should be more honour- 
 able and glorious to the Divine justice, not to animadvert 
 thereon, till that very time when he did it. Or wliy he 
 chose that time which he pitched upon, wherein to come 
 down, and deliver his Israel from their Egyptian oppres- 
 sors. Or when (without inspiration) to be able to say, the 
 time to favour Zion, even the set time, is come. Nor are 
 we to resolve the matter only into the absoluteness of his 
 sovereignty, upon the account whereof he may take what 
 time he pleases ; but the depth of his hidden wisdom, for 
 he doth all things according to the counsel of his will, 
 having reasons to himself, which our shallow, dim sight 
 perceives not, and whereof we are infinitely less able to 
 make a sure judgment, than a countrj^ idiot of reasons of 
 state. He may (as to the present case) think it most fit, 
 most honourable, and glorious, so often to forgive, or so 
 -ong to forbear such a delinquent people; and may, at 
 length, judge it most becoming him, and most worthy of 
 him, as he is the common Ruler of the world, and their 
 injured despised Ruler, to strike the fatal stroke, and quite 
 cut them off from him. 
 
 Now here it is, therefore, necessarily our duty, to use 
 his argument with him of his name, so, as wholly to sub- 
 nit the matter to his judgment, and but conditionally, if 
 It will indeed make most for the glory of his name, that 
 hen he will not abhor ^nd reject such a people even for 
 
 his name's sake. Nor can we herein be too importn- 
 nate, if we be not peremptory, not too intent upon the 
 end, the glory of his name ; for about the goodness, ex- 
 cellency, and desirableness of that we are certain ; if we 
 be not too determinate about the means, or what will be 
 most honourable to his name, concerning which we are 
 uncertain. Neither is it disallowed us to u.se the best 
 judgment we can, about the means, and the interest of 
 God's name in this case. It is not our fault to be mis- 
 taken ; he expects us not to use the judgment of gods. 
 Bui it will be our fault to be peremptory and confident in 
 a matter, wherein we may be mistaken ; and must signify 
 too much ofliciousness, as if we understood his affairs 
 better than himself, and a bold insolence, to take upon us 
 to be the absolute judges of what we understand not ; and 
 to cover our presumption with a pretence of duty. There- 
 fore though such a people be dear to us, yet because his 
 name ought to be infinitely more dear, that, in the settled 
 bent of our hearts, we ought to prefer; and be patient of 
 his sentence, whatever it proves to be, with deep resent- 
 ment of our own desert, bat with high complacency that 
 his name is vindicated and glorified, and with a sincere, 
 undissembled applause of the justice of his proceedings, 
 how severe soever they may be towards us ; especially if 
 we have reason to hope, that severitj' will terminate, but 
 in a temporary discountenance and "frown, not in a final 
 rejection. 
 
 2. Much more are we to submit our own secular con- 
 cernments, which may be involved ; i. e. wc ought only to 
 pray we may have the continued, I'ree profession and ex- 
 ercise of our religion, in conjunction with the comfortable 
 enjoyment of the good things of this life, if that may con- 
 sist with and best serve the honour of his great name. 
 But if he do really make this judgment in our case, that 
 we have so misdemeaned ourselves, and been so little 
 really belter to common observation, in our practice and 
 conversation, than men of a worse religion, that he cannot 
 Avithout injury to his name, and the reputation of his 
 government, countenance us against them, by the visible 
 favours of his providence; that it will not be honourable 
 for him to protect us in our religion, to so little purpose ; 
 and while we so little answer the true design of it ; that if 
 we will retain our religion (which we know we are upon 
 no terms to quit) we must suffer for it, and sanctify that 
 name before men by our suffering, which Ave dishonoured 
 by our sinning. We have nothing left us to do but to sub- 
 mit to God, to humble ourselves under his mighty hand, 
 to accept the punishment of our sin, to put off our orna- 
 ments, expecting Avhat he Avill do with us. And be con- 
 tent that our dAvellings, our substance, our ease and rest, 
 our liberties and lives, if he will have it so, be all sacrifices 
 to the honour of that excellent name. Nor can our use of 
 this argument Avant such submission Avithout much insin- 
 cerity. Concerning this therefore look back to Avhat Avas 
 said on the former head. 
 
 Nor is there any hardship in the matter, that we are thus 
 limited in our praying, for what CA'cn nature itself teacheth 
 us to desire, our safety, peace, and outAvard comforts ; un- 
 less Ave count it a hardship that we are creatures, and that 
 God is God, and that ours is not the supreme interest. 
 The desires of the sensitive nature are not otherwise to be 
 formed into petitions than by the direction of the rational, 
 that also being governed by a superadded holy, divine 
 nature; unto which it is a supreme and a Aiial laAv, that 
 God is to be the first-eyed in cA'ery thing. Reason teaches 
 that so it should be, and grace makes it be so. And it 
 ought to be far from us to think this a hardship; Avhen in 
 reference to our greater and more considerable concern- 
 ments, those of our souls, and our eternal stales, we are 
 put upon no such (dubious suspenseful) submission. He 
 hath not, in these, left the matter at all doubtful, or at any 
 uncertainty, whether he will reckon it more honourable to 
 his name to save, or destroy eternally, a sincerely penitent, 
 believing, obedient soul. He hath settled a firm connex- 
 ion hetAveen the felicity of such and his OAvn glorA'. And 
 never put it upon us, as sr\\ part of"our duly, to be con- 
 tented to perish for ever, that he maybe glorified ; or ever 
 to ask ourselves whether Ave are so content or no. For he 
 hath made such things our present, immediate, indispen- 
 sable duty, a-^ with which our perishmg is not consistent.
 
 500 
 
 PRAYER FROM THE NAME OF GOD. 
 
 and upon supposition whereof, it is impossible we should 
 not be hapi y. If we believe in his Son, and snbmit to 
 his government, his name pleads irresistibly for our being 
 saved by him. He can have no higher glory from us, than 
 that we be to the praise of the glory of his grace, being once 
 accepted in the beloved. Neither is it disallowed us to 
 do the part of concives, fellow-members of a commxinity, 
 civil, or spiritual, to pray very earnestly for our people, 
 city, 'country, that are so justly dear to us. Only since 
 prayer itself is an acknowledgment of his superiority to 
 whom we pray; and we have no argument, that we ought 
 to hope should prevail, but that of his own name ; we can 
 but pray and plead as the nature of prayer, and the import 
 of tliat argument, will admit, i. e. with entire subjection to 
 his holy and sovereign will, and subordination to his su- 
 preme interest, to whom we address ourselves m prayer. 
 
 Use. And now the use this will be of to us, is partly to 
 correct and reprehend our prayers, wherein they shall be 
 found disagreeable to the true import of this argument, 
 and partly 'to persuade unto and encourage such praying, 
 as shall be agreeable to it. 
 
 1. It justly and aptly serves to reprehend and correct, 
 such praying as disagrees with it ; especially the carnality 
 and the selfishness of our prayers. The use of this argu- 
 ment implies that the glory of God, and the exaltation of 
 his name, should be the principal design of our prayers. 
 Is it not in these respects much otherwise 1 We keep fast 
 after fast, and make many prayers. And what is the chief 
 design of theml or the thing we are most intent, and 
 which our hearts are principally set upon 1 We see how 
 God expostulates this matter, Zech. vii. 5. When ye fasted 
 and mourned, in the fifth and seventh month, even those 
 seventy years, did you at all fast unto me, even unto mel 
 Why, to whom can it be thought this people did keep fasts 
 but unto God 7 Yes, no doubt they did eye him, as the 
 object, but not as the end. They were kept to him, but 
 not for him, so as that his interest and glory was the thing 
 principally designed in them; nor can it be, if the things 
 we chiefly insist upon, be such as have no connexion with 
 his true interest, or subserviency to it. And let us inquire 
 upon these two heads ; whether our prayers, in these re- 
 spects, do not run in such a strain, as that they cannot pos- 
 sibly be understood to mean him, or have a true reference 
 to him. 
 
 1. In respect of the carnality of them. When we pray 
 for the people of our own land, or for the Christian church 
 more generally, what sort of evils is it that we find our 
 hearts most feelingly to deprecate, and pray against? what 
 are the good things we chiefly desire for them 7 We find 
 ourselves, 'tis likely, to have somewliat a quick sense and 
 dread of the calamities of war, depredation, oppression, 
 persecution, and we feel, probably, somewhat of sympathy 
 within ourselves, when we hear of any abroad, professing 
 true, reformed Christianity, that suffer the spoiling of their 
 goods, are banished from their present homes, dragged to 
 prisons, pressed with pinching necessities, for the sake of 
 their religion; and it were well if our compassions were 
 more enlarged in such cases. And if we should hear of 
 nations depopulated, cities sacked, towns and countries 
 deluged with blood and slaughter, these things would cer- 
 tainly have an astonishing sound in our ears. But have 
 we any proportionable sense of the spiritual evils that 
 waste and deform the Christian church, exhaust its strength 
 and vigour, and blemish its beauty and glory 1 Ignorance, 
 terrene inclination, glorying in the external forms of reli- 
 gion, while the life and power of it are unknown and 
 denied, estrangement from God, real infidelity towards the 
 Redeemer, veiled over by pretended, nominal Christianity, 
 uncharitableness, pride, wrath, strife, envy, hatred, hypo- 
 crisy, deceitfulness towards God and manl We ought to 
 lament and deprecate the former evils without overlooking 
 these, or counting them less, or being less atfected with 
 them. We are apt to pray for peace unto the Christian 
 community, for halcyon days, prosperity, the abundance 
 of all outward blessings, in conjunction with the universal 
 reception of such forms of religion, as are most agreeable 
 to our minds and inclinations. Bui doM^e as earnestly pray 
 for the reviving of primitive Christianity, and that the 
 Christian church may shine in the beauties of holiness, in 
 heavenliness, faith, love to God and one another, in sim- 
 
 plicity, meekness, patience, humility, contempt of this pre- 
 sent world, and purity from all the corruptions of it. This 
 we chiefly ought to have done, without leaving the other 
 undone. Which while it is left out of our prayers, or not 
 more principally insisted on in them, how ill do they ad- 
 mit of enforcement by this argument from the name of 
 God ! For do we think it is so very honourable to his 
 name, to be the God of an op-ulent, luxurious, voluptuous, 
 proud, wrathful, contentious people, under what religious 
 form or denomination soever 1 
 
 2. But also do not our pra)^ers chiefly centre in our- 
 selves, while we make a customary (not understood) use 
 in them of the name of God 1 And when we principally 
 design ourselves in our prayers, what is it we covet most 
 for ourselves 1 'Tis not agreeable to the holy, new divine 
 nature, to desire to engross spiritual good things to our- 
 selves ; when for others, we desire only the good things of 
 this earth. But if our prayers do only design the averting 
 from ourselves outward calamities, or inconveniences, and 
 the obtaining only of ease, indulgence, and all grateful 
 accommodations to our flesh, how absurd an hypocrisy is 
 it to fashion up such a petition, by adding to it, for thy 
 name's sake ! As if the name of God did oblige him to 
 consult the ease and repose of our flesh ! when our souls, 
 thereby, are made and continued the nurseries of all the 
 evil, vicious inclinations, which show themselves in our 
 practice, mo.st of all to the dishonour of that name! What 
 subordination is there here 1 Manifest is the opposition of 
 our carnal interest to the interest and honour of the bless- 
 ed name of God. If a malefactor, convicted of the highest 
 crimes against the government, should petition for himself 
 to this purpose, that it will bring a great disreputation 
 upon authority, and detract from the famed clemency and 
 goodness of the prince, if any punishment should be in- 
 flicted on him for his offences, or if he be not indulged and 
 suffered to persist in them; how would this petition sound 
 with sober, intelligent menl 'Tis no wonder our flesh 
 regrets suffering, but 'tis strange our reason should be so 
 lo.st, as to think^ at random, that right or wrong the name 
 of God is not otherwise to be indemnified than by its 
 being saved from suffering. As if the gratification of our 
 flesh and the glory of God's name were so very nearly re- 
 lated, and so much akin to one another ! And now this 
 carnal self-interest, insinuating itself, and thus distorting 
 our prayers, is the radical evil in them, and the first and 
 original part of their faultiness. For it is not likely we 
 should love others better than ourselves; therefore we 
 cannot go higher in supplicating for others. But yet we 
 inconsiderately mention the name of God for fashion's 
 sake, though it be no way concerned in the matter, unless 
 to vindicate and greaten itself, in rejecting us and our 
 prayers together. 
 
 2. The further use of what hath been said upon this 
 subject, will be to persuade and engage us to have more 
 regard to the name of God in our prayers, especially in our 
 praying about national and public concernments; or such 
 external concernments of our own as are involved with 
 them. That, in the habitual temper of our spirits, we 
 be so entirely and absolutely devoted to God, and the 
 interest of his great name, that our prayers may savour 
 of it, and be of an agreeable strain; that the inward sense 
 of our souls may fully correspond to the true import of this 
 argument, and our hearts may not reproach us, when we 
 use it, is only pretending God, but meaning ourselves, and 
 that only our carnal self, the interest whereof alone can 
 be in competition with that of God's name, and which, 
 while it prevails in us, will be the measure of our prayers 
 for others also; that the meaning of our words may not 
 be one, and the meaning of our hearts another, that we 
 may truly mean as we speak when we use the words for 
 thy name's sake. And that our hearts may bear us this 
 true testimony, that we desire nothing but in due sub- 
 ordination to the glory of his name; external favours 
 with limiiation, only so far as they may; and spiritual 
 blessings absolutely, because they certainly will, admit of 
 this subordination. And to this purpose let it be con- 
 sidered, 
 
 1. How unsuitable it is to the condition of a creature, 
 that it should be otherwise. That were certainly a most 
 uncreaturely prayer, that should be of a contrary tenor.
 
 PRAYER FROM THE NAME OF GOD. 
 
 501 
 
 Let us but digest and state the case aright in our own 
 thoughts. Admit we are praying with great ardenc}% on 
 the behalf of a people to which we are related, and who 
 are also related to God. It can scarce be thought we are 
 more concerned for them than for ourjselves ; or that we 
 love them more than we do ourselves. Our love to our- 
 selves is the usual measure of our love to others. And that 
 is higher in the same kind, which is the measure of all 
 besides, that belongs to that kind. When therefore we are 
 much concerned for the external felicity of such a people, 
 it is very natural to be more deeply concerned for our own. 
 Now if the sense of our hearts, in such a prayer, will not 
 agree with the true import of these words, " for thy name's 
 sake ;" because indeed, we are more concerned for our 
 own carnal peace, ease, and accommodation than we are 
 for the name of God ; let us, that we may have the matter 
 more clearly in view, put our request into such words, as 
 wherewith the sense of our hearts will truly agree, and 
 will it not be thus, " Lord, whatever becomes of thy name, 
 let nothing be done that shall be grievous, and disquieting 
 to my flesh;" which is as much as to say, Cluit thy throne 
 to it, resign thy government, abandon all thy great in- 
 terests for the service and gratification of this animated 
 clod of clay ; and do we not now begin to blush at our 
 own prayer 1 We easily slide over such a matter as this, 
 while our sense is more latent, and not distinctly reflected 
 on, but let us have it before us conceptis verbis ; let it ap- 
 pear with its own natural /«ce and look ; and now see what 
 horror and deteslableness jt carries with it ! And dare we 
 now put up so treasonable a prayer 1 It would puzzle all 
 our arithmetic, to assign the quota pars, or the proportional 
 part, any of us is of the universe, or the whole creation of 
 God ! And do I think it fit that the heavens should roll for 
 me ■? or all the mighty wheels of providence move only 
 with regard to my convenience 1 If a worm in your gar- 
 den were capable of thought, and because it is permitted 
 to crawl there, should think, this garden was made for me, 
 and everj'^ thing in it ought to be ordered for my accom- 
 modation and pleasure, would you not wonder that such 
 insolence, and a disposition to think so extravagantly, 
 should be in conjunction with the thinking power or an 
 ability to think at all. If we allow ourselves in that far 
 greater (infinitely more unbeseeming and disproportion- 
 able) petulancy, do we think when the roller comes it will 
 scruple to crush us, or have regard to our immodest, pre- 
 tenceless claim 1 Let us consider what little, minute 
 things, how next to noihing we are, even compared with 
 all the rest of the world ; what are we when compared 
 with the Maker and Lord of it, in comparison of whom, 
 the whole is but as the drop of a bucket, or the small dust 
 of the balance, lighter than nothing, and vanit}' ! We 
 should more contemplate ourselves in such a comparison ; 
 many comparing themselves with themselves are not wise. 
 While we confine and limit our e^'e onlj^ to ourselves, we 
 seem great things, fancy ourselves very considerable. 
 But what am I "? What is my single personality, ipseity, 
 self-hood, (call it what you will,) to him who is the all in 
 •all 1 whose being (actually or radically) comprehends all 
 being, all that I can conceive, and the infinitely greater 
 all that I cannot. If therefore I take in with myself the 
 whole body of a people besides, that I am concerned for, 
 and admit that a generous love to mj'^ country should make 
 me prefer their concernments to my own ; or that upon a 
 higher account, as they are a people related to God, I 
 could even lay down my life for thom. What are we all, 
 and all our interests, to that of his name 1 And if we 
 should all agree in a desire, that our interest should be 
 served upon the dishonour of that name, it were but a 
 treasonable conspiracy against our common, rightful Lord. 
 And a foolish one, being expressed in a prayer ; as if we 
 thought to engage him, by our faint breath, against him- 
 self We are to desire no more for them, than they may 
 for themselves. And if we have joined in open sinning 
 against him, to that height that he shall judge he is obliged 
 for the vindication and honour of his name, (by which we 
 have been called,) of his wisdom, holiness, and punitive 
 justice, as openly to animadvert upon us, can we gainsay'? 
 If we know of such a judgment nothing could remain for 
 us but shame and silence, conviction of ill desert, and 
 patient bearing the punishment of our sin. And while we 
 36 
 
 know it not, yet because it is possible, we ought no other- 
 wise to deprecate such a procedure against us, thein as 
 will consist with that possibility. To pray oiherwi.se, if 
 we make no mention of his name, is absurd presumption, 
 that we should wish or imagine he will prefer any con- 
 cernments of ours, to the steady order and decorum of his 
 own government. But if we do make mention of it, 'lis 
 a more absurd hypocrisy to seem concerned for his name 
 when we intend only our own external advantages ! as if 
 we thought he that could answer our prayers, could not 
 understand them. 'Tis surely very unbecoming creatures 
 to bear themselves so towards the God that made them. 
 
 2. Consider, that to have a sense in our hearts truly 
 agreeable to the proper meaning of this argument, for thy 
 name's sake, is very suitable to the state of returning 
 creatures, who are gathering themselves back to God, out 
 of the common apostacy wherein all were engaged and 
 combined against that great Lord and Ruler of the world. 
 In that defection every one did principally mind and set 
 up for himself Each one would be a God to him.self, 
 but all were, by consequence, against God. Whom to be 
 for, they were divided, and of as many minds as there 
 were men. Whom to be against, they were agreed, as if 
 their common Lord was the common enemy. For his in- 
 terest and theirs were opposite and irreconcileable. They 
 were sunk and lost in sensuality, and had no other in- 
 terest than that of their flesh. When man hath made 
 himself a brute, he then thinks himself fittest to be a god. 
 The interest of our souls must unite us with him ; that of 
 our flesh engages us against him. Some are through the 
 power of his grace returning. What a pleasure would it 
 be to us to behold ourselves among the reducers ! those 
 that are upon their return ; that are again taking the 
 Lord only to be their God, and his interest for their only 
 interest ! 
 
 3. Consider that our very name, as we are Christians, 
 obliges us to be of that obedient, happy number. For 
 what is Christianity but the tendency of souls towards 
 God, through the mediation and under the conduct of 
 Christ 1 Therefore is the initial precept of it, and the 
 condition of our entrance into that blessed state, self-de- 
 nial. We answer not our o^n name, further than as we 
 are revolving and rolling back out of our single and sepa- 
 rate state, into our original most natural state of subordi- 
 nation to God, wherein only we are capable of union with 
 him, and final blessedness in him. This is disciplesbip to 
 Christ, and the design of the Christian religion, to be 
 subdued in our spirits, and wrought down into compliance 
 with the Divine will ; to be meek, lowly, humble, patient, 
 ready to take up the cross, to bear any thing, lose any 
 thing, be any thing, or be nothing, that God may be all in 
 all. This is our conformity, not to the precepts only but 
 to the example too, of our great Lord. Who when he 
 was in the form of God, and thought it not robbery to be 
 equal with God ; made himself of no reputation, and took 
 upon him the form of a servant, and was made in the 
 likeness of man ; and being found in fashion as a man, 
 humbled himself and become obedient unto death, even 
 the death of the cross, Phil. ii. 6, 7, 8. And hereupon, be- 
 cause he was so entirely devoted to the honour and service 
 of God's great name, (Father, glorify thy name, summed 
 up his desires,) therefore God highly exalted him, and 
 gave him a name above every name, that in the name of 
 Jesus every knee should bow, &c. ver. 9, 10. And when- 
 ever he shall have a church in the world, that he will 
 think it fit to own with visible, unintermitted favours, it 
 must consist of persons formed according to that pattern. 
 And then, by losing their own name and little interests for 
 God's, they will find all recovered, when their glorious 
 Redeemer shall write upon them the name of his Gtod, 
 and the name of the city of his Gk)d, and his own new 
 name. Rev. iii. 1*2. 
 
 4. Let it be further (in the last place) considered, with 
 what cheerfulness and confidence we ma}' then pray ; 
 when our hearts are wrought to the piich, that we sin- 
 cerely design the honour of the Divine name as the most 
 desirable thing-, and which name above all things we covet 
 to have glorified. For we are sure of being heard, and to 
 have the same answer which was given our Lord by a 
 voice like that of thunder from heaven, when he prayed,
 
 502 
 
 PRAYER FROM THE NAME OF GOD. 
 
 Father, glorify thy name, (John xii.) I have both glorified 
 it, and will glorify it again. Our hearts are not right in 
 us, till we can count this a pleasant, grateful answer. 
 And if we can, we can never fail of it. For we are told, 
 1 John V. 14. That whatsoever we ask according to his 
 will he heareth us. This will deliver our minds from 
 suspense. When we pray for nothing whereof we are 
 uncertain, but with great deference and submission, and 
 for nothing absolutely and with greatest engagement if 
 heart, but whereof we are certain ; upon such terms we 
 may pray with great assurance ; as Daniel did, O Lord, 
 hear; O Lord, forgive ; O Lord, hearken and do; defer 
 
 not for thine own sake, O my God ; for thy city and thy 
 people are called by thy name, ch. ix. 19. And though 
 an angel be not thereupon sent to tell us, as was to him, 
 so many weeks are determined upon thy people and thy 
 holy city, (so the matter is expressed ; as it were, kindly 
 giving back the interest in them to Daniel, with advantage, 
 that he had before acknowledged unto God,) to finish the 
 transgression, and to make an end of sins, and to make 
 reconciliation for iniquity, &c. yet we are assured, of what 
 reasonably ought to be as satisfying, that whatsoever shall 
 befall our city or our people, shall end in the eternal g-lorv 
 of God, and of the citv of God.
 
 THE 
 
 OFFICE AND WORK OF THE HOLY SPIRIT, 
 
 IN EVERY AGE, WITH REFERENCE TO PARTICULAR PERSONS J 
 
 CONSIDERED IN SEVERAL SERMONS, 
 
 ON JOHN III. 6. AND GALATIANS V. 25. 
 
 TO MRS. HOWE. 
 
 Madam, 
 It was apprehended the entire thoughts of this great man, upon so important a subject, might be very useful to the 
 world, and acceptable to many ; and though they are only a specimen of his ordinary course of preaching, without 
 any finishing hand, or further design, or perhaps, always his ripest thoughts ; yet they carry the lively signatures of 
 the admirable genius, and excellent spirit, which always appeared in his composures, and rendered them so peculiar- 
 ly fit to instruct and impress the minds of men. Whosoever considers the compass and variety of the matter, the 
 thread and connexion of the thoughts, the striking imagery, and the pertinence and pungency of the expression, will 
 see reason to admire the vast capacity of the author, and be easily disposed to forgive any lesser neglects and es- 
 capes; especially when he only proposed to speak familiarly and without any written notes, Eind allowed himself a 
 liberty in expressing the well digested and disposed conceptions of his mind. 
 
 It will be necessary for your satisfaction, as well as the reader's, to assure you, that the same care has been taken, 
 and the same method observed, in reviewing and transcribing this part of the subject, as was used in the other ; as 
 the manuscript was writ by the same skilful and diligent hand. 
 
 The intimacy of a long friendship, and mutual respect, the endearments of the nearest relation, for several of the 
 latter years of his life ; the high honour you always paid him, and the singular value he expressed for you, living 
 and dying; give you the best title to these two volumes of posthumous discourses of the Spirit, and of Family Pray- 
 er; and to any respect we are capable of showing you. We believe the noble argument, as well as the excellent au- 
 thor, will be peculiarly acceptable and delightful to you, who were so well acquainted with his spirit and preaching ; 
 and may contribute to a well-grounded peace of mind in a clearer discerning of a regenerate state; and to your dai- 
 ly walking in the Spirit, and improvement in the spiritual life. 
 
 This is the sincere desire of, 
 
 Honoured Madam, 
 Your re.spectful humble servants, 
 
 Goodman's-Pields, 
 July 9, 1726. 
 
 W. HARRIS, 
 JOHN EVANS. 
 
 SERMON I.* 
 
 John iii. 6, latter part. 
 
 T%a< which is burn of the Spirit is spirit. 
 
 The apostle represents the ditferent slates of men,accord- 
 ing to the different temper of their minds, as they are either 
 carnal or spiritual ; the misery and deadliness of the 
 former ; Rom. viii. that " to be carnally minded is death:" 
 ihe life and peace which is involved in the other; that " to 
 be spiritually minded is life and peace." We are present- 
 ed in this text with a view of the two great fountains of 
 that carnality and spirituality ,which are themselves so great 
 
 * Preaclwd November acth, 1677, at Cordwamer's HaU. 
 
 fountains of evil and good, unto the children of men, ac- 
 cording as the one or the other hath place in them. The 
 whole verse presents us with a view of both ; " that which 
 is born of the flesh is flesh ; and that which is born of the 
 Spirit is spirit ;" though I am to insist, as my design re- 
 quires, onl}' upon the latter. Some perhaps, taking some 
 notice, that there is a universal death reigning over this 
 world, by reason of that carnality which hath spread itself 
 through it ; may be prone to inquire. From whence is it, 
 that so prevailing a carnality should so mortally have taint- 
 ed the spirits of men every where 1 And this our Lord 
 gives no other account of, and only resolves the matter 
 into ordinary human propagation; "that which is born 
 of the flesh "is flesh." His account is not such as seems 
 to aim at gratifying the curious, but such as wherein the
 
 504 
 
 THE WORK OF THE HOLY SPIRIT 
 
 [Serm. I. 
 
 sounder mind might very well be expected to acquiesce. 
 It being taken for granted, ihat the higher original of hu- 
 man nature was very well understood and known ; it 
 might seem a sufficient account of the original of that cor- 
 ruption, which is now connate with the nature of man, 
 that from apostate creatures, such as were like themselves 
 have descended, and what is born of the flesh, is nothing 
 else but flesh : it being manifest that our Saviour intends 
 to comprehend under that name, with the nature of man, 
 the corruption which is now adhering to it. But serious 
 and awakened inquiries wonld not surcea'^e here, though 
 they were never so well satisfied thus far ; but at least ha- 
 ving gotten an intimation that there is a design on foot, 
 for the restoring of life and peace among men, who were 
 inuversally sunk into carnality, earthliness and death; 
 they would carry the inquiry further : i. e. In what way this 
 is ever to be brought to pass; by whom it is to be effected ; 
 what course is to be taken to bring about so happy and 
 glorious a change, with any of this wretched and forlorn 
 world 1 At least they would take notice that here and 
 there is a rePH"Xa spirituality appearing, and putting forth 
 'tseii open to view ; though there is too little of it, the 
 Lord knows. Why, whence is it, how comes it to pass, 
 that here and there we can perceive spirit and life flourish- 
 ing afresh in the world, which was so universally over-run 
 with carnality and death 1 This matter our Lord gives an 
 account of in the words which T have designed more espe- 
 cially to consider; and resolves it wholly into a spiritual 
 production. This is owing to nothing else but the Spirit, 
 or a new kind of creation, and generation: the Spirit of 
 the living God has taken the matter into his own hands, to 
 recover and revive and raise up life and spirit out of this 
 wretched world, which is so lost and buried in flesh and 
 sin. What is born of the Spirit is spirit; if there is any 
 such thing as spirit, any thing worthy of that name to be 
 found now among men, that spirit is not of man, but the 
 production of the Eternal, Almighty Spirit. 
 
 And certainly to such whose hearts are deeply and tho- 
 roughly concerned about a matter of this consequence, this 
 of oar Lord here cannot but be a very grateful discovery, 
 and carry with it a very pleasant and joyful sound ; that 
 there is so great and mighty an undertaker, who is en- 
 gaged in this affair, thus to retrieve things among men, 
 and make life and spirit spring up in this world, so univer- 
 sally under the dominion of death. Nor can it be more 
 grateful to some than it is certainly necessary to all ; and 
 we may wonder that it should not be more generally ap- 
 prehended so, and that more eyes are not looking wishly 
 round about. What, is there no deliverer; no one to un- 
 dertake! Is there no one suitable to such an undertaking 
 as this; or who will engage in it 1 to repair the ruins of 
 perishing flesh, and restore the life of God among men, 
 who were alienated from the life of God 1 But, alas ! 
 instead of such solicitous inquiries, it appears, we are 
 fallen into an age, wherein some deny, and others deride, 
 and most utterly disregard, the operations of the blessed 
 and glorious Spirit of God, for such purpo.ses. There are 
 multitudes to whom the mention of such a thing is m.at- 
 ter of laughter. What, to have the Spirit ! for men to 
 talk of having the Spirit ! — And there are a great many 
 more, we have reason to suppose, who do as little concern 
 themselves, whether they ever are the subject of such op- 
 erations of this Spirit, as if they were yet to learn, or had 
 never heard, whelher there were any Holy Ghost: as is 
 said concerning some. Acts xix. 2. 
 
 It is therefore my design and purpose from sundry texts 
 of Scripture, which may successively suit our purpose, to 
 assert unto you the office of the Holy Ghost, in reference 
 to the refining the spirit of men, and restoring the life of 
 God among them ; to show that such a work is attributed 
 to it; to let vou see the necessity of so great an undertaker 
 for this work, and his abundant sufficiency for it; toshow 
 you by whose procurement, and for whose sake, and in 
 whose name, it is employed and set on work ; and in what 
 way, and through what "dispensation, it is communicated, 
 and by what methods, and steps, and degrees, it carries on 
 this work tipon the spirits of the elect of God, till having 
 brought them to sow to the Spirit, they do at length of the 
 Spirit reap life everlasting. 
 
 The scripture which I have now read doth plainly hold 
 
 forth so much in general, as that it doth belong to the He- 
 ly Ghost, and is attributed and ascribed to it, to produce 
 spirit, and bring forth such a thing as spirit in them who 
 appertain to God, and are in purpose, and shall be actual- 
 ly, taken into communion and participation with him. 
 For if we refer this verse to the foregoing verses of the 
 chapter, we find our Saviour designedly insists upon this 
 argument of regeneration ; and doth not only discover to 
 us that there is such a thing, but gives some account »^ 
 wherein it doth consist, or what kind of work it is ; and ■■ 
 represents the indispensable necessity of it to any man's "^ 
 entrance into the kingdom of God, i. e. his coming into 
 it, or seeing and having any part in it. And so the truth 
 which we shall recommend to you, as both answering the 
 text and our present purpose, is, that there is a m ork to be 
 done upon whomsoever shall be taken into the kingdom 
 of God, by his own blessed Spirit, whereby they are to be 
 created, or begotten, spirit of that Spirit. We have three 
 things before us which require our consideration, in or- 
 der to the more distinct and clear notion of it. 
 
 I. The effect to be wrought, or produced ; which is 
 here called by the name of the spirit. 
 
 II. The author or productive cause of this great effect; 
 it is called with an emphasis, the Spirit. 
 
 III. The way or manner of production ; and that is said 
 to be by begetting, or being born ; for so 'tis indifferently 
 rendered. 
 
 I. We are to consider the product or the eflfect wrought, 
 and that is defined by the name spirit ; what is born or 
 begotten of the Spirit, is spirit. It is needful to give some 
 account here what we are not to understand by it, and 
 then what we are. 
 
 1. It is very manifest we are not to understand by it the 
 natural spirit of a man ; for our Saviour is not speaking 
 here of bringing men into the world, but bringing them 
 into the church : he is not speaking of such a sort of be- 
 gettir>g whereby men are produced, but Christians. Nor 
 is it a distinct substance from that, or another substance 
 diverse from the spirit of a man ; for then a regenerate 
 person and an unrcgenerate, the same person in his unre- 
 generate and in his regenerate state, would substantially 
 differ from himself; and that you may easily apprehend 
 how absurd it would be. But, 
 
 2. As to the reason of the name, and the more general 
 import of it ; by spirit we are to understand something 
 spiritual, and which is of a spiritual nature ; the abstract 
 being put for the concrete, which is a very ordinary elegance 
 in the Scripture ; as well as it is many times in a contrary 
 sense : You were darkness, but now ye are light in the 
 Lord, Eph. v. 8. The name is no more intended to hold 
 forth to us, spirit, considered under a merely natural notion, 
 without any adjunct, than flesh is intended to signify 
 without any adjunct, and only in a merely natural sense. 
 The thing which in general is intended to be held forth to 
 us by this name, is that frame of holiness, which is in- 
 wrought in souls by the Spirit of God in regeneration ; 
 and which because it is a spiritual production, most agree- 
 able to its productive cause, is therefore called here by the 
 name of spirit. It is something which is many times in 
 Scripture held forth to us by such other names as these: 
 sometimes 'tis called simply by the name of light ; " Now 
 are ye light in the Lord ;" as if this product were nothing 
 else but a beam of vigorous vital light, darted down from 
 heaven into the hearts of men. Sometimes it is called by 
 the name of life; that is used, 'tis true, as an expression 
 of a larger extent than for the internal work of the Spirit, 
 but it comprehends that too; "Ye will not come unto me 
 that ye might have life," John v. 45. Many times 'tis so 
 used as that the circumstances of the place do determine it 
 more limitedly, to that peculiar sense. 'Tis sometimes ex- 
 pressed by the seed of God, an incorruptible seed which is 
 put into the souls of men, 1 Pet. i. 23. 1 John iii. 8, 9, 10. 
 Sometimes 'tis called the new creature: In Christ Jesus 
 neither circumcision availeth any thing, nor uncircumci- 
 sion, but a new creature, Gal. vi. 15. If any man is in 
 Christ he is a new creature. It is very usual to speak of 
 the effect, and the operation too, by which that effect is 
 wrought ; the former under the name of creature, the lat- 
 ter under the name of creation ; as here it is spoken of 
 as a thing begotten ; and the causative action, under the
 
 Serm. I. 
 
 IN REFERENCE TO PARTICULAR PERSONS. 
 
 505 
 
 name of begetting-. It is sometimes called the new man ; 
 tlie ima^e ol God ; and God's avoi kmansliip. These differ- 
 ent I'onas ut' expression, and if there are any more which 
 are not in my thoughts, which are parallel to these, are 
 only intended lo signily one and the same thing and what 
 is here signified bj' the name of spirit. 
 
 But to give you somewhat a more particular account of 
 this thing, this being, this creature, which is here signified 
 by the name of spirit. Of this we have said it is not a dis- 
 tinct substance from the spirit of a man, and yet we must 
 know concerning it in the 
 
 1. place, That 'lis a distinct thing ; or something, though 
 not of another substance, which is yet superadded to the 
 .spirit of a man : and which the spirit of a man, considered 
 according to its mere naturals, is destitute of; and which 
 therefore lies without the whole sphere and compass of 
 mere nature, or any of the improvements thereof It is 
 spokenof in the Scripture as a thing put on : Put on the new 
 man, which after God is created in righteousness and true 
 holmess. Col. iv. 10. There is something put off, and laid 
 away ; the old man, with his deeds. This shows it to be an 
 adjunct, or a thing superadded to us ; which is not only out 
 of the compass of our natures, but is no more to be con- 
 ceived as comprehended in that state, than a man's clothes 
 which he puts on are comprehended in the notion of his 
 body. And in that it is called a new thing, as the new crea- 
 ture and the new man ; it shows it to be an additional thing. 
 
 2. Though it is diverse and distinct from the spirit of a 
 man ; yel it is a most intimately inherent thing, and is most 
 closely united, wherever it comes to obtain and take place. 
 It is a spirit which gets into a man's spirit, a spirit put into 
 spirit. That )'ou may be renewed in the spirit of your 
 minds, Eph. iv. 23. Create in me a clean heart, renew a 
 right spirit within me, Ps. li. 10. It is the Divine Spiiit 
 which is the formal renovating principle by which we are 
 renewed ; and our former natural spirit is the subject of it. 
 And 'tis a thing which most inwardly seats and centres 
 itself in a man's soul, and takes possession of his inmost 
 soul, which is called the spirit of the mind ; and which we 
 must conceive to be to the soul, as the heart is to the body, 
 so very inward and middle a part, and upon the account 
 of which analogy it is that the name of heart is so often 
 transferred thither to signify the inward part, or the very 
 innermost of the inner man. There it is that the spirit 
 doth most intimatel}' inhere and reside. 'Tis not a thing 
 which lies in the surface of a man, or consists in outward 
 forms, or empty shows, or fruitless talk ; but it is something 
 which is got into a man's heart, and hath insinuated and 
 conveyed itself there. 
 
 3. It is alterative of its subject, or of that nature to which 
 it is adjoined. It is so in it, as to make a very great altera- 
 tion within, and to work a change where it comes; as 
 leaven, to which this very thing is compared by our Lord 
 which he here calls spirit, hath in it that fermentative vir- 
 tue, by which it strangely alters the lump into which it is 
 put, and whereto it is adjoined. It is incredible, according 
 to the accounts the chemists give, how ver}' little and mi- 
 nute a portion shall quite alter and transform the mass into 
 which it is put, so as to make it quite another thing. Such 
 a thing is this begotten spirit, it is alterative of its subject ; 
 and when it gets within a man, it makes him quite another 
 thing from what he was. If any man be in Christ he is a 
 new creature ; or which is all one, there is a new creature 
 in him. Sometimes the whole man is spoken of as the 
 subject of this production, and we are said to be new crea- 
 tures, and the new creation is spoken of as being in us. 
 It only carries this signification with it, that when a man 
 is said to be begotten or regenerated, it is only said to be 
 so secundum quid, or in this peculiar respect ; as having 
 such a thing of new production now put into him. It is 
 such a great change which is made, as that all things 
 which were old, are said to be done away, and all that re- 
 mains to be made new, 2 Cor. v. 17. This is nothing else 
 but the same Spirit which is got into the heart of a man, 
 and makes its subject new; that is, to become a new heart 
 and a right spirit, where it comes to obtain. 'Tis not so 
 with evety thing which is put into another, or whereof 
 another thing is contained ; you may put water into a ba- 
 sin, and it alters it nothing; but this is such a thing which 
 alters that which it is put into, and makes it quite another 
 
 thing; like putting some spirits into that water which 
 changes the colour and quality of it. 
 
 4. 'Tis universally diifu'ed in its subject, as it is in its 
 nature alterative of it. 'Tis a thing universally difiused 
 through the whole subject wherein it comes; whence it is 
 that the operation also is universal, and it makes a thorough 
 change. They are very comprehensive expressions which 
 the apostle uses concerning holiness or sanctification, 
 (1 Thess. V. 23.) where he prays on the behalf of the 
 Thessalonians, that God would sanctify them whollv, or 
 throughout, that is, in their whole spirit, .soul, and body: 
 he distinguishes these; probably meaning by the former, 
 the soul as rational; by the second, the soul as sensitive; 
 and by the third, the corporeal body. It is plain this same 
 created, begotten spirit, being designed to repair what v.as 
 impaired by sin, must take place and .'^pread itself as far as 
 sin had done. That had vitiated and depraved the whole 
 man, and is therefore called, a man; the old man; as 
 having extended itself to all the powers, and faculties, and 
 all the parts of a man : 'tis a man in a man. This spirit 
 therefore is to be a man in a man too, and must spread 
 into all the same powers and parts which the former had 
 done, and make a new man. Though it is true indeed, 
 that the intelligent soul of man can only be foi laily the 
 subject of this change, yet sin is by a sort of panicipaiioo 
 in the sensitive soul, and in the external senses and parts 
 of the body; and so must grace or holiness too. 'Tis 
 strange rhetoric the apo.sile uses in that collection of pas- 
 sages which we find in Rom. iii. from 10, onward, out of 
 certain places of the Old Testament. The apostle designs 
 to represent not only how univensally sin had spread itself 
 among all men, but how it had spread itself through the 
 whole of every man : as if they were so very full of sin, 
 and so under the possession and power of it, that they 
 belched it out of their throats, and through their lips; 
 acted it with their hands; and made haste to it with their 
 feet : Their throat is an open sepulchre, with their toirgiTes 
 they have used deceit, the poi-son of a.sps is under their 
 lips, their feet are swift to shed blood, tlestroction and 
 misery are in their ways. They do nothing but work mis- 
 chief wherever they come. Why, according to this same 
 spreading and diffusion of sin, which is here called flesh; 
 so must be that of the spirit loo, enthroning itself in the 
 very inwards of the soul, and having its residence there; 
 whilst thence it diffuses its energA^ and vital influence 
 through all the parts and powers of the man, and leavens 
 the whole lump. Both sin and holiness are represented 
 to us upon the account of their difiiisive nature, by a meta- 
 phor of the same kind ; by the apostk, 1 Cor, v. 6. and by 
 our Saviour, Matt. xiii.31. 
 
 5. He must understand it to be a most excellent thing , 
 of a very high and great excellence, which is here called 
 spirit. 'Tis a most pure essence, and noble production, 
 agreeable to its productive cause. How vain a thing is all 
 this material world, if you abstract and sever spirit from it ! 
 What a sluggish didl himp were all this mass of earth, 
 and all the matter of the world, without spirit.! If you 
 could imagine such a distinct thing as a spirit of nature, 
 nnd we know there are operations which some call by that 
 name, which in Scripture are simply ascribed to this same 
 Spirit who is here spoken of under the name of the Spirit, 
 The threat Almighty Spirit of God, in the creation of the 
 w^orld, did move upon the waters; and in the continual 
 susteniation, direction, and government of the creatures, it 
 hath its agency: Thou sendest forth thy Spirit, they are 
 created, and thou renewest the face of the earth, Psal. civ. 
 30. If we should conceive no such thing as spirit to in- 
 fluence this same material world, what a heap would it 
 soon be! As a house would in time become, only much 
 sooner, which should never have any inhabitant, or any 
 body to reside there; for the influence of an inhabitant is 
 not so much to keep the house up, as this Almighty Spirit 
 is to keep np tlie frame of nature, and continue things in 
 the course and order wherein they naturally were. Upon 
 this account, many of the more refined philosophers have 
 made it very much their business, to speak debasingly and 
 diminishinglv of man, and to represent him as a despicable 
 thing; that is, the mere body or matter separate from 
 spirit: which plainly carries this signification with it, that 
 4"ii"it was, in their account, a most excellent sort and kind
 
 506 
 
 THE WORK OF THE HOLY SPIRIT 
 
 Skrm. I, 
 
 of being. This expression, that which is born of the Spirit 
 is spirit, holds forth this production to be such, i. e. of the 
 noblest kind. When the prophet would speak diminish- 
 ingly and with contempt concerning the Egyptian power, 
 he says, Their horses are flesh and not spirit, Isa. xxxi. 3. 
 They have no spirit in thena; an expression merely de- 
 signed to set forth how little they were to be feared or re- 
 garded, and how contemptible they were. 
 
 6. It is a soul-rectifying or restoring thing. It being a 
 thing of a very high excellence, must needs not only render 
 the spirit of a man into which it is put, a great deal more 
 excellent than it was; but it was withal designed to restore 
 it to its pristine excellence, and make it what it was, or 
 what it ought to be. It is by this work or production in 
 the spirits of men, that souls are said to be restored : Thou 
 restorest my soul, Psal. xxiii. 3. So far as this work hath 
 taken place in me, he hath brought me back and made me 
 to return, where I was and ought to have been. It is 
 therefore the very rectitude of the soul, or setting it right 
 again : Create a right spirit within me, Psal. li. 10. 
 
 7. It is a divine thing, as we must needs understand it. 
 For it is the birth and production of the Divine Spirit, and 
 is immediately from God; and it is his very image; and 
 the new man which after God is created in righteousness 
 and true holiness. It is something which is as it were 
 copied out of God himself, and whereof he is at once 
 both the immediate efficient and exemplar. And upon 
 this account it is called, by the apostle, the divine nature, 
 3 Pet. i. 4. 
 
 8. It is a thing, by the very nature of it, instincted into 
 a dependance upon God ; or immediately dependent upon 
 him as to its continual subsistence. There is a natural 
 dependance which is common to all creatures, and essen- 
 tial to them as creatures. All have a kmd of instinct 
 drawn from the continual sustaining them, from the great 
 Author of all, but this is a creature which depends know- 
 ingly and of choice ; and so as to own and avow itself to 
 be a depending creature: I live, yet r,ot I, but Christ lives 
 in me. Gal. ii. 20. And therefore there are continual 
 breathings of desire after God : As the hart panteth after 
 the water brooks, so panteth my soul after thee, O God, 
 Psal. xlii. beg. 
 
 9. It is a creature which not only depends on God 
 voluntarily and of choice, but aims at him and tends to 
 him as an end, and carries the heart and soul of a man to 
 do so. It is by this same inwrought Spirit that the soul 
 is principally rectified and set right towards God, so as to 
 design him only, and to do all for him. Hence this be- 
 comes the sense of such a one : " I desire to be nothing, 
 Lord, but for thee. My whole life and being are things of 
 no value with me, but for thy sake. I care not whether I 
 live or die ; whether I am in the body or out of the body, 
 is all one to me ; for to me to live is Christ ; and my great 
 desire is, that Christ may be magnified in my body, whether 
 by life or by death, Phil. i. 20, 21. And I, through the 
 law, am dead to the law, that I might live unto God," 
 Gal. ii. 19. As socri as ever he becomes, in the former 
 sense, dead, delivered from the law, and rescued from 
 imder the dominion and curse of it, he lives unto God. 
 His life becomes a devoted thing; and the tenor and 
 stream of all his thoughts, and designs, and endeavours, 
 is altogether and wholly to him. 
 
 10. It is an active, powerful thing; or a creature made 
 for action and contest. It is a Spirit of power, 2 Tim. i. 7. 
 That which is born of God overcomes the world, 1 John 
 V. 4. This son of God, this product and begotten spirit, is 
 born of God. What ! Shall not this son of God, which is 
 begotten of him, overcome 7 Nay, in whom it obtains, they 
 are more than conquerors: they conquer over and over; 
 they conquer abundantly and with the greatest advantage 
 imaginable. 'Tis to them who overcome, that the crown 
 and throne are designed at last. They shall have a new 
 name, and the heavenly hidden manna, and sit down with 
 Christ upon his throne, as he overcame, and is set down 
 upon the Father's throne. Rev. ii. 3. 
 
 Lastly. 'Tis an immortal thing, and which never dies. 
 Spirit is a thing which essentially carries life in it, and 
 therefore can never cease to live. 'Tis an incorruptible 
 seed, and the seed of God put into the soul. He who is 
 born of Grod doth not commit sin ; for his seed remains in 
 
 him, 1 John iii. 9. His seed, of whom he is born. Can 
 that be a mortal thing 1 It is observable, therefore, how 
 the apostle argues concerning those, whom he .supposes to 
 have been ihe subjects of this mighty and blessed opera- 
 tion of the Spirit of God. If by the spirit ye mortify the 
 deeds of the body, ye shall live; for as many as are led 
 by the Spirit, are the sons of God, Rom. viii. 13, 14. He 
 takes it for granted they are the begotten sons of God, by 
 the Spirit. And 'tis as if he had said ; What, do you 
 think the sons of God shall not live? hath he begotten 
 any mortal sons, or such as can corrupt and die 1 So those 
 words are commonly, and very probably, understood to 
 signify. Rev. xx. 6. Blessed and holy is he who hath part 
 in the first resurrection; over him the second death shall 
 have no power. I will not assert that to be the sense, but 
 it is not improbable to be so. They who are regenerate, 
 and have got this Spirit of life into them ; ihey have got 
 that in them which will spring up into life everlasting: 
 having their fruit unto holiness, their end is eternal life. 
 As our Saviour speaks, John iv. and the apostle Paul, 
 Rom. vi. 
 
 You have by these hints some account, what kind ol 
 thing this same begotten Spirit is, when 'tis said, that 
 which is born of the Spirit is spirit. The time doth not 
 allow, at present, to go further in the explicatory part : I 
 would hint this one thing by way of use before we depart, 
 that is, that we take heed of diminishing, or thinking 
 slightly and meanly of this mighty distinguishing work of 
 the Spirit of God. They are awful Avords, if duly con- 
 sidered. That which is born of the Spirit is spirit. There 
 is nothing to be found in all this world, worthy the name 
 of spirit, but that which is born immediately of the Spirit, 
 and is its offspring. Our Saviour speaks in the other part 
 of the verse manifestly in a way of contempt ; That which 
 is born of the flesh is flesh : that is but flesh which is 
 born of flesh ! That is, men considered in their mere 
 naturals only, or in this present corrupted state of nature. 
 We must understand the whole being of man to be the 
 corrupted subject; and so to be altogether comprehended 
 under the name of flesh ; his very soul and natural .spirit 
 itself in opposition to Spirit, in the other part of the ver.se, 
 as the antithesis plainly shows. Let a man be of never so 
 refined intellectuals, or great accomplishments ; let him 
 be never so much a man, and humanity cultivated to the 
 highest pitch and degree; without this same additional 
 superadded Spirit, he is nothing else but a lump of flesh. 
 If this thought did sink into the hearts of men, what despi- 
 cable and self-loathing thoughts would they have of them- 
 selves, while as yet they can find nothing of this begotten 
 increated Spirit in them; while that Spirit is not yet come 
 into me by which I live to God, and my soul is turned to 
 him, and set on him, framed for him, and made active to- 
 wards him, and on his behalf; all this while I am as if I 
 were a body and no more, or a mere breathless carcass. 
 For plain it is that to all the actions and comforts of the 
 divine life, a man in his mere naturals, is as to these things, 
 as the carcass is to the actions of a man ; that is, a carcass 
 can as well read, and discourse, and travel, and trade, as 
 a man in whom this Spirit is not, can love God, take 
 pleasure in him, act in pure devotedness to him, design 
 him as a portion, and have respect to him as such. So 
 that now if men did but allow themselves the liberty of re 
 flection, it could not be but sometime or other this would 
 be their communion with themselves : " Either I have 
 this new superadded Spirit, or I have not ; if I have, sure 
 such a thing as I have heard it is, would make some work 
 in my soul, and show itself; it could not be latent there; 
 I should find some changes and transformation wrought in 
 me. And if I have not, then where am II In how dis- 
 mal and forlorn a state! It is for me to go and dwell 
 among graves, for I am as a carcass, but a piece of spirit- 
 less flesh, or breathless lump." Oh that right thoughts of 
 our case upon this account, might once obtain, and take 
 place. If this Spirit is not in us, then we are dead crea- 
 tures: if we have any thing of life in us, 'tis because the 
 Spirit of the living God hath infused and increated it. 'Tis 
 of no small concernment if this latter is our case, to observe 
 and view the Spirit of God aright. And if the former is 
 our case, to see to it, and deal truly with our own souls, 
 while any natural breath remains, in order to the regaming
 
 Serm. II. 
 
 IN REFERENCE TO PARTICULAR PERSONS. 
 
 507 
 
 that spiritual life, by which we may be capable of breath- 
 ing spiritually. IMelhiriks one should have a restless mind 
 afier it : Oh I have no Spirit within me ; nothing that 
 moves towards God; no sense of him, or breathings after 
 him. O that I were more acquainted with it. 'Tis 
 strange that there should be life, and no such motion ; and 
 impossible there should be this begotten spirit, and we 
 ebould find no change within. 
 
 SERMON II.* 
 
 We have proposed in order to the explication of the 
 text, these three things : 1. To consider the product here 
 spoken of, under the name of the Spirit. 2. The produc- 
 tive cause, or the Divine parent, to which this birth owes 
 itself; The Spirit. 3. The kind of the production expressed 
 here by being bo; n, or begotten. We have already spoken 
 to the first of those, and proceed now to the 
 
 II. The productive cause, which is here styled, in an 
 emphatical sense, the Spirit. This name being spoken of 
 the Spirit, is commonl}^ observed and known to be taken 
 two ways, either essentially, or personally : essentially, 
 so it signifies the nature of God, the pure perfect spiri- 
 tualil}' of that blessed Spirit ; so it is said, John iv. 24. 
 God is a Spirit. But most frequently 'tis taken in the 
 other sense, personally ; i. e. to signify the person known 
 by that name; the third in the Godhead, who by eternal 
 spiration proceeds from the Father and Son. That which 
 I at present design is to speak of this blessed Spirit, the 
 parent of this great production, as such: and therefore 
 shall not so much discourse to you concerning the Spirit 
 absolutely considered ; as in this relation, or as the auihor 
 of this work wrought in the spirits of men. What we are 
 to conceive of it, as it is a subsistence in the Godhead: or 
 what its agency and operations maybe, between the Father 
 and Son ; or what the kind and nature of that eternal 
 Spirit is, and by what way it collectively proceeds from 
 both, we are left very much in the dark, as being things of 
 less concernment to us. But wliat is of more importance 
 to us, we find more clearly and expressly spoken of, i. e. 
 how we are to consider it in relation to the creation. And 
 so we are taught most evidently to look upon it as the great 
 author of all those influences and operations, which are 
 properly attributable to God, or any where have place 
 throughout the whole creation ; whether we speak of the 
 old creation or the new; and both within the sphere of 
 nature and grace. 
 
 Within the sphere of nature it must be acknowledgoii 
 the author of universal nature, howsoever diversified, and 
 in whatsoever creatures, and must be conceived to have 
 influenced, and still to influence, all the creatures, both in 
 the works of creation and Providence. Both these are 
 manifestly attributed to the Spirit of God in Scripture. It 
 was said in the creation to be upon the waters, (Gen. L 2.) 
 to be every where infusing its vital influence, through the 
 chaos which was then to be formed and digested, and put 
 into order. By it the world is as it were new-created every 
 da}'; Thou sendest forth thy Spirit, and they are created ; 
 and renewest the face of the earth, Psal. civ. 30. And by 
 his Spirit the Lord doth garnish the heaven, as well as re- 
 new the face of the earth. Job xxvi. 13. So that we don't 
 need toseekafter another distinct spirit of nature, much less 
 an irrational and unintelligent one, as some fancy ; 3'ea, 
 pagan light hath gone so far in some, as to understand it 
 to be a mind and intelligent spirit which doth every 
 where diflTuse formative and governing influence, through 
 this great creation. And being by itsnature immense, it 
 is every where at hand to answer every such purpose which 
 the exigence of the case, in order to the creature's renewing, 
 doth require. But our greater and more tlirect concern is 
 to consider it as the author of all operations, within the 
 sphere of grace, and the new creation. This is it which 
 the text doth manifestly intend, i. e. to be the operator in 
 that great work by which men are to be new formed, for 
 that new and other kingdom, which God is raising up to 
 
 »Pfeacli-(J I)o''fiv!!).,'r5t)i. 1677, it Cordwaiiier's-Hall. 
 
 himself in this world, out of the ruins of that kingdom of 
 nature, which he hath, and still holds over all. And we 
 must understand it to be with great propension, and the 
 highest pleasure, that this blessed Spirit haih undertaken 
 and doth perfoim this so important work ; If we coL.-iUer 
 it under the name and style of the Spirit of grace, as it is 
 called Heb. x. 29. It takes itself to be despited when the 
 truth is not received, or when it is rejected, and men revolt 
 from it ; which is the great instrument by which this work 
 of the Holy Ghost is to be efl^ected and wrought upon the 
 spirits of men. As you know there can be done to none 
 a greater despite than to cross them in a design upon 
 which they are intent, and unto which they are carried by 
 a strong propension and inclination of mind. Here lies the 
 emphasis and high pitch of aggravation, and the malignity 
 of this wickedness, that the Spirit of all goodness, and be- 
 nignity, and love, and sweetness, is despited by them ; they 
 can find nothing else to turn the spite upon, but the Spirit 
 of grace. Consider it under this character, and we must 
 understand this work to be undertaken by it with the 
 greatest propension, and performed with the higher 
 pleasure. Looking down upon this forlorn woild, and ht-- 
 holding all things waste and ruin ; nature in the best 
 master-piece of the creation, grown degenerous, depraved, 
 a poi-sonous and horrid thing; why, pity and compa.«sion 
 has been stirred up to the world, and that immense Spirit 
 hath gone forth full of love and goodness; full of vital in- 
 fluence, being designed to the office of doing a blessed 
 work, here and there, wherever it finds its work to lie : and 
 that the new creation might be made to spring up out of 
 the wastes and desolations of the old. As a spirit of grace 
 we must understand it very intent upon this work, and 
 highly pleased with it. 
 
 And as a spirit of power, we must suppose it to go on 
 in this work with efiicacy, and to crown it with most cci- 
 lain and glorious success. It will not be baflled out of its 
 work, or suffer itself to be put beside its ofhce, unto which 
 it hath been designed and appointed, for .so happy a pur- 
 pose. And wherever it is that we find the slate of souls 
 bettered, and any thing done to form and prepare meet sub- 
 jects fi)r God's kingdom, we are most manifestly taught 
 to ascribe all such work to this blessed Spirit. 'Tis his 
 appropriate oflice to refine the spirits of men to that pitch, 
 as that they may be capable of their omti name again ; that 
 is, to be called spirit, when the whole man before is called 
 flesh, till this divine work pass upon it. 
 
 This will be evident by considering the several part of 
 this work; and you can instance in none whereunto the 
 Spirit of God is not entitled. Is holy light and knowledge 
 a part 1 This Spirit is, upon that account, called the Spirit 
 of knowledge, Isa. xi. 2. The Spirit of wisdom and reve- 
 lation, Eph. i. 17. This is implied in the following words ; 
 The eyes of your understanding being enlightened, that 
 j^ou may know the hope of 3'our calling. Is. a?ain, faith a 
 part of this work ■? as certainly it is ; for they who believe 
 are said to be born not of flesh nor of blood, or the will cf 
 man, but of God, John i. 13. Why in reference hereto, it 
 is styled, the Spirit of faith, 2 Cor. iv. 13. We having the 
 .same spirit of faith ; i. e. the same with David who is 
 quoted there; we believe and therefore speak. It is plainly' 
 signified to us, that this same Spirit is alwaj's employed as a 
 Spirit offaith, and works unifonnly from age to age : so that 
 just as it wrouglit in David at so many hundre<l years' dis- 
 tance, so it wrought in Paul. Is, again, love a part of this 
 work in the souls of men? It is styled in the Scripture the 
 Spiritoflove. 2Tim. i.7. Hehaih given us the Spirit oflove. 
 That pure and holy love by which the soul unites with 
 God, bect)mes devoted to him, enjoys solace, and satisfies 
 itself in him. And again, is hope a part of itl Why 'tis 
 attributed to this same Spirit ; Christians do abound in 
 hope through the power of the Holy Gho.st, Rom. xv. 13. 
 Again, is joy a part and principle in this new creation 1 
 That is called joy in the Holy Ghost, Rom. xiv. 17. Is 
 meekness a part 1 This same Spirit upon that account is 
 called, the Spirit of meekness, Gal. vi. 1. If that is under- 
 stood to signify the habit of meekness in the soul of a 
 Christian ; yet that connotes a reference to this Spirit as 
 the auihor of that gracious frame and disposition, and the 
 name itself .might congruously enough be understood of
 
 508 
 
 THE WORK OF THE HOLY SPIRIT 
 
 Serm. II. 
 
 the blessed Spirit itself, as such a work is under the power 
 and dominion of that Spirit, who is herein the Spirit of 
 meekness in those in whom it is wiought. Is the fear of 
 the Lord a part "? It is called the Spirit of the fear of the 
 Lord, which rests upon him who is the rod out of the stem 
 of Jesse, and a branch growing out of his roots, Isa. xi. 1. 
 And it is the same Spirit, and under the same characters, 
 which is given lo all who are united to him ; and anointed 
 with tlie same Spirit. If you would have sundry such 
 particulars as have been mentioned together, you have an 
 enumeration somewhat distinct. Gal. v. 22. The fruit of the 
 Spirit is love, joy, peace, long-suffering, gentleness, good- 
 ness, faith, meekness, temperance. Would you take what 
 is more summary and comprehensive, and contains all 
 such particulars together "? Holiness is of such a compre- 
 hensive nature : audit is called the spirit of holiness, Rom. 
 i. 4. And the fruit of the Spirit is in all goodness and 
 righteousness and truth : thai universal rectitude which 
 ever comes to have place in the spirits of any. You have 
 the e(juivalent of it in another expression ; it is called the 
 spirit of a sound mind, 2 Tim. i. 7. Which signifies an 
 entire good habit of soul in all kinds and respects ; or 
 that renovation of soul by which a man becomes a new 
 man. So we are renewed in the spirit of the mind, put- 
 ting off the old man and putting on the new, Eph. iv. 23, 24. 
 But if you go to "he transcendental attributes, as I may 
 call them, of this new creature, you have them still referred 
 to this spirit. Life is such a one ; for that is capable of 
 being spoken of every gracious principle ; 'tis lively faith, 
 and lively hope, &c. Why, this is the spirit of life, which 
 gives life, 2 Cor. iii. 6. Power is such another ; for that 
 is also capable of being spoken of every grace, it may be 
 more or less powerful. There is the power of faith, the 
 strength of love and hope, &c. And it is called the spirit of 
 power, in reference hereunto, 2 Tim. i. 7. And elsewhere, 
 the spirit of might, Isa. xi. 2. If we go to what is prepa- 
 ratory lo this work, or the convictions which must pass 
 upon the spirits of men in order to it, this blessed Spirit is 
 entitled to that as the great author of them, John xvi. 
 When the Spirit the Comforter is come, he will convince 
 the world of sin, and righteousness, and judgment. 
 When the Comforter is come : the word is indifferently 
 capable of being rendered the advocate ; or the great 
 pleader, and he who undertakes to manage the cause of 
 Christ and Christianity against the world. He, when he 
 is come, will make work in the spirits and consciences of 
 men ; he will make the world understand what they are 
 so unapt to understand, their own sin, my righteousness, 
 and the power of that judgment and government, which 
 is to be set up, in order to the saving whoever shall be 
 saved ; or this very kingdom, which is spoken of in the 
 preceding verse. If we respect what is consequential, 
 and following upon this work ; the consolations of renewed 
 souls ; they are called, the consolations of the Holy Ghost; 
 And the churches walking in the comforts of the Holy 
 Ghost, were edified, Acts ix. 31. All their pre-assurances 
 of the possessing of the eternal inheritance, are owing to 
 the Spirit, as the earnest of that inheritance, Eph. i. 14. 
 2 Cor. V. 5. and the Spiilt of adoption, Rom. viii. 15. If 
 we consider the pregustations and foretastes of heaven and 
 glory, which souls now enjoy sometimes in their way , 
 these are called the first-fruits of the Spirit, Rom. viii. 23. 
 If we respect the exercises of the new creature, when once 
 there is an infused principle ; or any thing of an habitual 
 frame of a holy mind, comes to obtain in us ; these are 
 still constantly attributed to the Spirit. As the mortifying 
 of sin : If ye through the Spirit mortify the deeds of the 
 body, ye shall live, Rom. viii. 13. Leading a holy life, or 
 walking in a way of course of holiness, is called walking 
 in the Spirit, and being led by the Spirit, Gal. v. 16. 
 The life of Christians is hereupon a sowing to the 
 Spirit, whence of the Spirit they receive, at length, life ever- 
 lasting, in Gal. vi. 8. Right worship is attributed to the 
 Spirit. Prayer, which is worthy of the name, is praying 
 in the Holy Ghost, Jude 20. and worship in general, if 
 it is right, is worshipping in Spirit and truth, John iv. 24. 
 which may be meant, under dominion of God's own 
 Spirit. But more expressly, Phil. iii. 3. We are the cir- 
 cumcision who worship God in the Spirit. So that look 
 upon what you will relating to th^ new creature, and every 
 
 thing of it is attributed to the Spirit, as the productive 
 cause. Consider its parts, its sum, its exercises, its pro- 
 perties ; consider what is preparatory to it, or consequently 
 upon it; consider what it doth, and what it enjoys; and 
 all is resolved into this great principle, the Spirit. 
 
 III. We are next to consider the kind of the produc- 
 tion, which is signified by a peculiar expression, begetting: 
 for so 'tis indifferently capable of being rendered, either 
 born or begotten. This is a distinguishing sort of produc- 
 tion: there are many ways of production, to which the 
 name of begetting will not square. Our further work must 
 therefore be to show you the peculiar import of this ex- 
 pression, and what is designed to be signified by it. It 
 plainly holds forth to us such things as these : 
 
 1. It imports the productions to be of a living thing. 
 Begetting is a natural, vital production. All productions 
 are not so : but there is nothing properly said to be begotten, 
 but that which lives. Begetting, 'tis true, goes as low as 
 to the lowest kind of life ; as to vegetives ; that is not only 
 altrix, and uucfrix, but frocreatrix, which propagates its 
 kind ; but it never goes lower, and is never carried to 
 things inanimate. They are not said to beget, or be be- 
 gotten, which are in their kind dead things ; it reaches not 
 the meaner sort of natural productions ; much less to 
 artificial ones. A man is not said to beget a house, Avhen 
 he builds it ; or any thing else which is made by the art of 
 man. This production, inasmuch as it is signified by the 
 name of begetting, signifies it to be a living thing. And 
 therefore we are to know, that whatsoever it is of religion 
 which any one pretends to, if it is a dead religion, and 
 without life, it is an artificial religion ; and you know any 
 thing which belongs to us, which doth not partake of life 
 with us, and from us ; we can without any inconvenience, 
 or trouble, shake it artificially, as we please, this way, or 
 that. Many a man's religion is a cloak to him, which is 
 no living thing; and a man may alter and change the 
 fashion of it ; and put it off, and on, and never put him- 
 self to any pain. But if a man's religion is a living thing, 
 and is animated by a life, as it were common to him and 
 it ; why, that must not admit of alterations. We cannot 
 shape our limbs as we please, though we may our clothes, 
 for they are not enlivened by that Spirit of life, which runs 
 through the whole body. They who have a religion made 
 up of dead formalities and duties in which there is no life, 
 no soul; cannot be said to be born of the Spirit, and 'tis no 
 production of his. 
 
 2. It imports the production of a thing of like nature to 
 its productive cause. There is a likeness of nature be- 
 tween the cause and the efl^ect, and from such a creature 
 begetting a creature of a like nature doth proceed. Upon 
 this account, though a parent is truly said by way of be- 
 getting, to produce a child : yet he doth not by way of be- 
 getting make any other effect, which is not of that kind ; 
 as a house, a picture, or suit of clothes, &c. It is very true 
 mdeed, we are not to strain this matter so far as if this 
 were a univocal production which is here intended ; which 
 begetting doth not properly signify; Yet neither is it equi- 
 vocal ; when the thing produced is of quite a diverse na- 
 ture, from the productive cause ; but there is an analogy 
 and proportion between the one and the other. Theie is 
 something in that which is begotten, which doth in nature 
 correspond and answer to that which doth beget, even 
 wherein the one is begotten and the other begets. And 
 what doth that speak 7 The production here spoken of, is 
 not the production of a man, as a man; but of a saint, as 
 a saint; or of a Christian, as such; and therein is an 
 agreement, or correspondency. What is it which makes a 
 saint 1 That is holiness. Why we find this both in the 
 cause, and in the effect. The apo.stle presses the exhorta- 
 tion ; Be ye holy, as I am holy, 1 Pet. i. 16. 'Tis a vain 
 and ahsurd thing to call God Father, and pretend to be 
 begotten of him, if you are not holy as he is holy, and 
 nothing of his holiness appears in you. . 
 
 3. In the ver}^ business itself of regeneration, passive- 
 ness in the subject is manifestly imported ; for who can 
 contribute to his own being born ; that is, as to the thing 
 itself of being begotten. We are here indeed to consider 
 a production not simpliciter, but scamdum quid ; that is, 
 a creature in a creature ; or something begotten in that 
 which was begotten before. There is a new work to be
 
 Serm. II. 
 
 IN REFERENCE TO PARTICULAR PERSONS. 
 
 509 
 
 .lone where there was a pre-existing subject ; and that a 
 rational and inielligent one. There is much ilierel'ore pro- 
 per to be done, and necessary to be done, in order to this 
 work, but there is nothing to be done in it, but only to be 
 borne; we are therein truly passive. Faith comes by 
 hearing; that is a previous thing, and that we may do, 
 and can do. We can suppose nothing more subv^ersive of 
 religion, than the contrarj' ; for 'tis all one to say, The 
 Gospel is not at all necessary to regeneration, which is 
 the end ; as to say that the hearing of it, and understand- 
 ing and considering of it, is not necessary. The Gospel 
 i ^ is neither necessary, nor signilicant, nor useful to the pur- 
 P pose of conversion and regeneration, otherwise than as 
 the minds and understandings come to be employed about 
 it ; and this they do as men ; and this way the Spirit, who 
 is as the wind, which bloweth where it listeth, doth, as the 
 season of grace is arbitrarily and freely chosen, come in 
 with that influence, by which men are made saints, and 
 then capable of a.cting as such. 
 
 4. The impossibility of resisting, so as to frustrate or 
 prevent it. Being born signifies such a way of production 
 as whereto we cannot oppose ourselves, or any power 
 which should prevent, or promote it. Such a resistance 
 as should hinder God's designed work, or the good plea- 
 sure of his will, in this case, don't take place. This is in- 
 timated in this form of speech. For this is a production, 
 not of a separate single substance, by itself; but a crea- 
 ture in a creature. 'Tis true indeed that the spirit of a 
 man, as he was constituted, before any such work as this 
 came to obtain, was apt enough to resist ; but all that apti- 
 tude to resistance shall be overcome, whensoever that in- 
 fluence is put forth, by which this work is done. 
 
 And here there needs a caution too, as well as in refer- 
 ence to the former head. Some may be apt to apprehend, 
 if this work is wrought and done, by such an irresistible 
 power, to which no opposition can be made, what need we 
 trouble ourselves; when God will do such a work, he will 
 do it ; it will never he in our power to hinder it, and we 
 need never be afraid that we shall. To this it may be 
 said, and it ought to be seriously considered ; that though 
 there is no possibility of such resistance to that influence 
 by which this work is done, wheresoever it is done, which 
 could have prevented the doing of it ; yet there are many 
 previous workings, in order to it, wherein the Spirit of 
 God is frequently resisted ; that is, the workings and ope- 
 rations of common grace, which lead and tend to this spe- 
 cial work of grace. And here lies the great danger, when 
 in these common precursory works of the Holy Ghost, 
 which have a tendency in them to this work, and by which 
 it is gradually moving on, they may resist and oppose 
 themselves, to a total, utter, eternal miscarriage. The Spirit 
 of God, in this work, can never be resisted ; but so as that 
 it will certainly overcome and eSect its work. But we 
 must know that he is a free Agent; and there is reason to 
 apprehend there is the same reason in choosing the degree 
 of operation, as there is -of the subject. If doth not only 
 work where it listeth, but to what degree it listeth of 
 power and eflicacy; and when it is working but at the 
 common rate, then it sufl^ers itself many times to be over- 
 come, and yields the victory to the contending sinner. 
 You see what the charge was upon the people of Israel by 
 Stephen, Acts vii. 51. Ye stifi"-necked and uncircumcised 
 in heart and ear, ye do always resist the Holy Ghost; as 
 your fathers did, so do ye. 'Tis remarkable to this pur- 
 pose what this blessed man charges that people with ; that 
 this was the genius of that people from age to age, from 
 one generation to another. Ye do always resist, &c. The 
 same spirit of enmity and contrariety is still propagated 
 and transmitted from one age to another, your fathers are 
 like their fathers, and their fathers like theirs ; and so run 
 on back as far as you will; they were always a people re- 
 sisting and contending against the Holy Ghost ; as the 
 complaint was against them not long before, Isa. Ixiii. 10. 
 They rebelled and vexed his Spirit, therefore he turned 
 and fought against them, and became their enemy. And 
 that this is the common temper, is mcst eviden*. and was 
 so even in the more early ages of the woild. IVh' Spirit 
 shall not always strive with man, Gen. vi. 3. That striv- 
 ing implies a resistance. There is great danger of resist- 
 ing the Spirit of God, when it is in that method and way 
 
 of operation, wherein it many times yields to the resist- 
 ance. 'Tis as if he should say to the sinner, " Because 
 thou hast .so great a mind to get the day, and deliver thy- 
 self from under the power of my grace, get that unhappy 
 victory, and perish by it." 
 
 5. It imports the integrity and perfection of the product, 
 and that the thing begotten is an entire thing. There doth 
 not use to be born one simple member, but an entire crea- 
 ture ; and there is a concurrence in the constitution of it, 
 of whatsoever belongs to this sort and kind of creature. 
 And though there are some kinds within the .sphere of na- 
 ture of mutilous and maimed persons, imperfect produc- 
 tions; )'et we must know, that this doth by a peculiarity 
 belong to this great parent, the Spirit of God, in reference 
 to all those productions which are within the sphere of 
 grace, that there are never any imperfect productions there. 
 His work is perfect; which is the character of his work 
 in general, and especially when he is forming a people for 
 him.self, as he speaks, Deut. xxxii. 4. He is the Rock, his 
 work is perfect, for all his ways are judgment. And of 
 those who receive not the distinguishing stamp and im- 
 press upon them ; it is said, their spot is not the spot of his 
 children, ver. 5. There is nothing in them by which they 
 should be known to be his children. Wheresoever the 
 Spirit of God begets, it begets perfect births ; that is, ac- 
 cording to the common distinction, and a just and neces- 
 sary one, speaking of a perfection of parts, not of degrees. 
 A child hath as many parts, as a man, though not so strong 
 and large. There is an entire concurrence of ever)' gra- 
 cious and holy principle in the heart, which goes to the 
 composition of the new creature, wherever we can say, 
 that any one is born of the Spirit. And therefore men 
 who pretend to have passed this birth, and yet it appears 
 most manifestly that it is but a maimed production, as it 
 is in too many instances with several sorts of persons; 
 they carry that about them, which is a confutation of their 
 own pretences. As suppose the case to be this. Some 
 pretend very highly to faith, but they have no humility, no 
 meekness, ioo self-denial. Why, their pretence carries 
 along with it that which confutes itself; for the Holy 
 Ghost is the author of no such imperfect births. There are 
 some who pretend highly in point of dut)' towards God, 
 and think themselves altogether unexceptionable, in re- 
 spect of the frame of their spirits, and their performances 
 as to the commands of the first table ; but bring them to 
 the second, and there is no impression at all of any thing 
 like the mind and will of God appearing in their hearts 
 and lives. Men will pray, and read, and hear; go from 
 sermon to sermon; take one opportunity after another of 
 attending upon religious exercises; but in the mean tinie 
 they will cheat and cozen, revile and reproach, their 
 neighbours and those they have to do with. How unlike 
 is such a production as this to the Spirit of God, Mhen 
 men are made Christians thus by halves ! 
 
 So on the other hand, there are those who will be very 
 punctual and exact in reference to the duties of the second 
 table, and it may be to an eminency, and very high degree ; 
 so strictly just in all their performances, so orderly in the 
 relations wherein ti*ey stand; yea, some very charitable, 
 and apt to do good to others; but bring them to matters 
 which relate to God, and what they can say of living in 
 communion with God; how their hearts stand towards 
 praying to him, and meditating on him ; what inclinations 
 or dispositions they have towards an eternal blessedness; 
 to all these things they are silent, and have nothing to say. 
 The matter speaks itself in this case ; that which is born 
 spirit of spirit, is certainly born a perfect thing as to all 
 the parts which appertain and belong to this creature : and 
 therefore where there are so remarkable maims, it is too 
 manifest this production is none of that divine production 
 by which a man is said to be born spirit of spirit. 
 
 6. It imports the permanency of the tiling produced, 
 and that it is a fixed and settled habit in the soul. As to 
 things which are merely fluid and transient, we know no 
 such things to which the name of begetting can with any 
 propriety be applied ; as a book, or glass of wine, &c. 
 And therefore it must be very unsuitable to the meaning 
 and design of such expressions as these, to think that only 
 better actions are the product in the work of regeneration ; 
 and that a man is hence to be denominated regenerate, be-
 
 510 
 
 THE WORK OF THE HOLY SPIRIT 
 
 Serm. hi 
 
 cause he cloth better things than he did before; and there 
 is some kind of reformation and amendment of life. 'Tis 
 true indeed the apostle says, He who doth righteousness 
 is righteous, and is born of God, 1 John ii. 29. But what 
 doth that mean 1 Not that the doing of righteousness is 
 the productus terminus in this birth, but an argument that 
 there is such a thing produced, or enabled and rendered 
 capable of doing righteousness; that is, by being made 
 habitually and internally righteous. But to think that 
 there should be so many great expressions in the word of 
 God concerning this product ; that it should be called a 
 divine nature, th new man, the seed of God, God's own 
 image; and when we come to inquire what this is that any 
 should run the matter into this; it is an action, a good ac- 
 tion or two. What ! is the divine nature and image a 
 few good actions 1 And they who are wont to conceive so 
 of the matter, commonly take up with actions which are 
 far from being any of the best too ; and so bring the mat- 
 ter to a very poor pass at last. Certainly this form of ex- 
 pression doth hold forth to us a fixed, permanent effect, 
 and our habitual frame which remains and abides in the 
 soul of a man, and will be an immortal thing. 
 
 Lastly, It imports somewhat relating to matter of privi- 
 lege, i. e. a relation to him who begets, as a child. He 
 who is begotten is related, as a child, to him who doth be- 
 get; and has consequently a title to his care and provi- 
 dence; as every parent thinks himself bound to make 
 provision for his children. They who are begotten of God, 
 are hence at the first step capable of the denomination of 
 sons, or children. And then you know how the apostle 
 rises with it, (Rom. viii. 17.) If children, then heirs ; heirs 
 of God, and joint heirs with Christ; that if we suffer with 
 him, we may be also glorified together. They who are 
 begotten, fall under his immediate care, and he takes him- 
 self concerned to make provision for them ; they are a part 
 of his family,theson5 and daughters of the Lord Almighty. 
 If a man will not take care of his own, and they who are 
 of his own house, he denies the faith, and is worse than 
 an infidel ; and it is never to be imagined that God will 
 deal so with his family, or children. We must carry the 
 matter of this begetting then as high as heaven ; He hath 
 begotten us again to a lively hope — to an inheritance in- 
 corruptible, undefiled, and which fades not away, reserved 
 in heaven for us, 1 Pet. i. 3, 4. We are not only to con- 
 sider, what is born when such a production as this takes 
 place ; but what such a one is born to. He is born an 
 heir, an heir of God, and joint heir with Christ : a vast 
 patrimony it is, which they have a share and part in. 
 
 Now take all these things together, and it will appear 
 not a mean or little work, which is intended by this ex- 
 pression, of being born or begotten spirit of spirit. Let 
 us therefore take heed of derogating from this great work, 
 or makmg little of it, as if it were some small trivial thing. 
 Certainly it is not a .slight thing, which finally and eter- 
 nally di.stinguisheth between them who shall be saved, and 
 them who perish; and is the discriminating mark between 
 the children of God, and other men ; or the new seed and 
 race, raised up by God to himself; and the rest of the 
 apostate world, who are called the seed and children of 
 the devil. There are but these two seeds in the world ; 
 and it cannot be a small thing which doth distinguish 
 them. Therefore take heed of thinking little of this work. 
 And as we should take heed of derogating from it, so we 
 should take equal heed of arrogating too much to ourselves 
 upon the account of it. For what have we contributed to 
 our being actually born or begotten"? And take heed of 
 censorious discriminations in your own thoughts concern- 
 ing persons, or diversely denominated parties of men, pre- 
 tending to religion. As to say, They who are of such a 
 way, they 'tis likely are regenerate; but they of such a 
 way, are not regenerate. This is to forget that the Spirit, 
 as the wind, bloweth where it listeth, and we know not 
 whence it cometh, nor whither it goes ; and is as much as 
 in effect to say, " Lo! here is Christ, and there is Christ!" 
 This very work in the soul is called Christ formed in us ; 
 the name being put for the image or likeness. We should 
 take heed of saying, Here he is, or there he is ; and know 
 that the kingdom of God (and the kingdom of God in one 
 notion of it, i. e. subjectively considered, is not a diverse 
 * Preached December 19;lij 16"7, at Cordwainer'e Hall. 
 
 thing from the frame of holiness, inwrought in the soul) 
 doth not consist in externals, in meats and drinks, but in 
 righteousness, peace, and joy in the Holy Ghost, Rom. xiv. 
 17. And in Christ Jesus neither circumcision availeth 
 any thing, nor uncircumcision, but a new creature. Gal. 
 vi. 15. The new creature may be found in the circumci- 
 sion or in the uncircumcision ; and 'tis no matter of 
 which sort one is of, if the work of the new creature 
 don't obtain and take place. This is therefore much to 
 be minded, and sought, and valued, even lor itself, and 
 upon the account of its own intrinsic necessity and excel- 
 lence. 'Tis enough to recommend any man to me, that 
 there is a visible impress, so far as that thing can be visi- 
 ble, of the new creature upon his soul; for whosoever loves 
 him who begets, loveth him also who is begotten of him, 
 1 John V. 1. 
 
 SERMON III.* 
 
 We have proposed to consider this truth from these words 
 — That there is a work to be done upon all who shall par- 
 take in the kingdom of God, by which they are to he borr. 
 spirit of spirit. — We have opened the work itself accord- 
 ing to the several terms in the text; and have spoke to the 
 effect, or production ; that is, to make men spirit, who he- 
 fore were flesh ; — the productive cause, the Spirit, and — 
 the kind of the production, which is by begetting. 
 
 That which we have next to speak to, is the nr.cessily of 
 this work ; that is, the necessity of it unto this end and 
 purpose ; namely, the rendering men capable of a place 
 and partnership in God's kingdom. And as the foimer 
 head we have hitherto been speaking of, does lie in the 
 words of the text, looking upon them in their absolute con- 
 sideration, so we are led to the latter, by the relative con- 
 sideration of them, or in the reference they have to the 
 foregoing discourse. For our Saviour having said before, 
 that "except a man be born again of water, and of the 
 Spirit, he cannot see or enter into the kingdom of God," 
 he doth in this verse, subjoin a reason why he cannot : 
 " That which is born of the flesh is flesh," and therefore 
 there must be somewhat born of the Spirit which may be 
 suitable thereto. In evincing therefore to you the neces- 
 sity of such a work to such an end, it will be requisite to 
 give you some account of that kingdom, for which such a 
 work as this is so necessarily preparatory. 
 
 I will not trouble you with many distinctions about it, 
 only we are necessarily to distinguish it, as we may in the 
 common notion of a kingdom, into a kingdom taken for- 
 mally and actively ; so it signifies the royal state and go- 
 verning power of a kingdom. In that sense the kingdom 
 of God or Christ is manifestly understood in the prayer 
 of the thief: " Remember me when thou comesi inio thy 
 kingdom ;" i. e. into that dignity and royal state, which I 
 believe thou will shortly be in. But then it is very often 
 and familiarly taken too objectively, for the bulk and body 
 of the community, or the subjects wlio are under such a 
 king. So we take ours in common speech ; and .so is the 
 kingdom of God very often taken, when we read of the 
 increase and growth of it under the metaphorical expres- 
 sions which represent it to us in the Gospel. Kingdom, 
 taken in the former sense, doth either signify that which is 
 more strictly formal, and so which is appropriate and com- 
 municable to the king himself, in such a kingdom; and 
 not communicable to others with him : that is, the sovereign 
 power, by which he doth in common govern his subjects. 
 Or else, there may be somewhat consequential to that which 
 is more strictly formal ; and which doth more accidentally 
 belong to the king ; and is communicable, and in a se- 
 condary sense capable, of being imparted and derived, to 
 many, at least, among his subjects ; those especially whom 
 he more particularly favours. And that is such honour 
 and dignity as comes to be reflected upon such and such 
 persons, by their relation to such a king. In that sense a 
 kingdom is said to be given and communicated to the 
 people of God : I appoint unto you a kingdom, as my
 
 Skrm. III. 
 
 IN REFERENCE TO PARTICULAR PERSONS. 
 
 51 1 
 
 Father hath appointed to me a kingdom, Luke xxii. 20. 
 Fear not, little flock; 'tis tlie Father's good pleasure to 
 give you a kingdom. Inherit the kingdom prepared for 
 you. There are several things wherein especially favour- 
 ite subjects do partake in a kingdom, with him who su- 
 premely rules, and holds and exercises the sovereign power. 
 We would consider a,s belonging to the slate of a king, 
 great opulency and riches, splendour and glory, pleasure 
 and delight, beyond what we must suppose common with 
 other men. In this respect the appellation is given ; Ye 
 have reigned as kings without us ; 1 would to God you did 
 reign, that we might reign with 3'ou, 1 Cor. iv. 8. They 
 were a sort of lanquam kings, speaking of that free state 
 and condition wherein they were, and exempted from suf- 
 fering: tlftey had plentiful enjoyments beyond what the 
 apostle could have. And so in this kingdom of God, all 
 who do partake in it, are in these respects said to be kings : 
 Unto him who hath loved us, and washed us from our sins 
 in his blood; and made us kings and priests unto God, 
 and our Father, Rev. i. (5. That is, in pursuance of God's 
 design, and according to his purpose and intendment, he 
 hath done his work to his hand, which he appointeth him 
 to do, in this kingly part. To enter into the kingdom, and 
 behold and see the kingdom, which are the expressions 
 our Saviour uses in this context, may very well be under- 
 stood to signify one and the same thing; only that one 
 must, according to the manifest import, denote the first in- 
 troduction into that kingly state ; and the other, the con- 
 tinued enjoyment of it ; Avhich seeing is frequently expres- 
 sive of in the Scripture. Nothing is more usual than to 
 signify enjoyment and fruition by sight, or vision ; because 
 that is the noblest of our external senses ; and so (an ex- 
 pression being to be used which is borrowed from sense) 
 the most emphatical, and to the present purpose. The 
 blessedness of heaven is hence expressed by seeing : " The 
 angels behold the face of my Father whicn is in heaven. 
 Blessed are the pure in heart, for they shall see God. 
 Follow holiness, without which no man shall see God." 
 
 But we are a little further to pursue that notion of a 
 kingdom as it is taken in the latter sense, objectively, and 
 as, by the name of a kingdom, is signified the governed 
 community, or the body of the people who are under go- 
 vernment. The kingdom of God taken in this sense, is 
 either made up of involuntary or voluntary subjects ; either 
 such whom he governs with their own good liking and 
 consent, or such as he governs whether they will or no, 
 and although they never choose to be under his govern- 
 ment. As for that kingdom of his, which takes in involun- 
 taiy, unwilling subjects ; they are either such as are so by 
 natural incapacity, or by vicious disinclination. They who 
 are so by natural incapacity, as also unintelligent creatures, 
 who are never capable of choosing God to be their governor 
 and king; and they who are not willing through vicious 
 disinclination ; who though they have that nature which 
 was originally capable of intellection, and so consequently 
 of election and choice ; yet the pure powers and faculties 
 by which they were capable of it, are now become so de- 
 praved, that they disatfect his kingdom, and can't endure 
 to be under his government. And this kingdom of his, 
 which takes in involuntary subjects, whether intelligent or 
 unintelligent, doth measui'e with the universe. It is the 
 kingdom of nature, and no one needs any other qualifica- 
 tion to be in that kingdom, but to be in reruvi naluro. If 
 he is an existent creature, he is in that kingdom without 
 any more to do ; but that is not the kingdom here meant. 
 
 There is therefore another kingdom, w^hich comprehends 
 and takes in only a willing people, made " willing in the 
 day of his power ;" who with choice and consent of their 
 own hearts, subject themselves to him, to whom it is a 
 pleasant thought (as often as it comes into their minds) 
 that the Lord reigns. They triumph in it, and please 
 themselves and glory in it, and pay a joyful homage to 
 him, as the supreme and eternal King.' It is into this 
 kingdom that none can enter, but they who are born spirit 
 of spirit. And this kingdom also is to be considered in a 
 twofold state; either in its inchoate, or consummate state. 
 Inchoate is that which we commonly call the kingdom of 
 grace ; and consummate, the kingdom of glory. Now to 
 be born spirit of spirit, is necessary to any one's having a 
 place in this kingdom, considered either way, or in either 
 
 state. The inchoate kingdom, you know, for a long time, 
 lay principally among the people of the Jews; and they 
 were so apprehensive of their privilege and condition upon 
 that account, and did so highly value it, that it weus even 
 a principle among them, that none could come into that 
 kingdom, without being in a sort new born ; as some have 
 taken notice who have been well acquainted with their 
 antiquities and usages. And therefore they whoever came 
 to be proselyted to their religion, and who were not native 
 Jews; if they arrived to that degree of proselytism, which 
 made them" more complete proselytes, that is, were prose- 
 lytes of justice; when they came to be inhialed, solemnly 
 renounced their earthly relations, all their former kindred 
 and acquaintance, so far that they should not have any 
 power over them to detract or draw them back from the 
 religion in which they were engaged. And so they were 
 looked upon as men recens vati ; as if they had then newly 
 come into the world, and had a new sort of relations to 
 which they were strangers before. And these proselytes 
 were also hereupon solemnly admitted, through the use of 
 the ceremon}^ of washing in water; to which the words of 
 our Saviour in the foregoing verse seem to have a manifest 
 reference : " Except a man be born of water, and of the 
 Spirit, he cannot enter into the kingdom of God." Upon 
 this account he blames Nicodemus for his great ignorance, 
 who was a master among the Jews. Not that v.'e are to 
 suppose that he thought him ignorant that there was such 
 a usage among them; but that he no more understood the 
 reason and meaning of their common practice, and should 
 make himself so great a stranger to that which was the 
 true import of such a ceremony. And therefore our Sa- 
 viour says, " Except a man is born of water, and of the 
 Spirit;" not therein laying the great stress upon being 
 born of water ; for that is a thing he admits and takes lor 
 granted; and he implies in this expression his intendment 
 to settle and establish that as an ordinance transferred from 
 the Jewish to the Christian church, and to continue there ; 
 but that upon which he lays the weight, and where the 
 emphasis lies, is the latter expression ; " Except a man be 
 born of water, and of the Spirit." As if he had said; 
 " You are apt to lay a great stress upon that ceremony vou 
 use of baptizingwith water, when any persons are initiated 
 into the church of God ; and though that is not nothing, 
 yet you must know, if there is not a being born and bap- 
 tized of the Spirit, as well as of water, it signifies nothing 
 to your having a place in the kingdom of God, or to any 
 one's else." 'This is a usual thing in Scripture, to join two 
 matters together, in one tenor and form of speech, where 
 the stress is mainly laid upon the latter, and sometimes 
 only upon it. Rom. vi. 17. God be thanked, that you 
 were the servants of sin, but you have obeyed from the 
 heart that form of doctrine which was delivered to you. 
 What are thanks given to God for 1 These are both joined 
 together in the same form of speech: sure he never intend- 
 ed to give thanks for their having been the servants of sin. 
 But the weight and emphasis is to be all carried to that 
 which follows ; " But you have obeyed ihe form of doc- 
 trine which was delivered to you." So here, "Except a 
 man is born of water, and of the Spirit." q. d. I admit of 
 the fitness and requisiteness that persons should be bap- 
 tized with water; for that is intimated here, that it shall 
 obtain as a constant usage in the very kingdom of God ; 
 but except unto that being born or baptized of water, there 
 is the superaddiiion of being born of the Spirit, which 
 that of water was but a signal of, no one is any way quali- 
 fied for the kingdom of God; and cannot have any en- 
 trance into it, according to the inchoate or consummate 
 state of it. 
 
 And now to evince the necessity of it, it will be onl)' 
 needful to consider, 
 
 1. It would be most unsuitable to the Supreme Ruler 
 over this kingdom, that any should come into it who are 
 not new born. For we are to consider, that this is not the 
 kingdom of nature, as was said, but a kingdom founded, 
 not in nature, but in choice. 'Tis true it were no incon- 
 gruity, or rellection upon the great and glorious King of 
 tliis kingdom, if it were onlv that constitution, and there 
 were nothing recjuisite to give one a place in it, but to be 
 in being; it would be no dishonour, I say, to him to have 
 sinners, and devils too, in his kingdom, if that were all:
 
 512 
 
 THE WORK OF THE HOLY SPIRIT 
 
 Skum. III. 
 
 but considering that this is a kingdom of select persons, 
 and that he makes choice between some and others, and 
 by which he distinguishes some from others ; it were a 
 most unreasonable thing in this case to suppose, that he 
 should take in promiscuously persons of so vastly different 
 tempers and dispositions, as they who are born only of the 
 flesh, and they who are born of the Spirit ; or that when 
 he goes to make a distinction, he should make a distinc- 
 tion without a difference, and should take just such as he 
 leaves, and leave just such as he takes; that were most 
 unworthy of the Divine wisdom, and the holiness or purity 
 of his nature. This being a kingdom of chosen ones, it is 
 to be supposed, that he should make them whom he 
 chooses, suitable to himself Therefore it is most strictly 
 insisted upon, and highly charged upon them who come 
 to stand visibly related to this kingdom, that they approve 
 themselves suitably to it. Observe the expression of the 
 apostle, 1 Thess. ii. 12. You know how 1 exhorted you, 
 and how I comforted you, and how I charged you, that 
 you should walk worthy of God, who hath called you to 
 his kingdom and glory. The great stress is laid upon a 
 suitable becoming deportment, such as may not be reflect- 
 ing and reproachful to the blessed and glorious God, who 
 had called them to his kingdom and glory. It was there- 
 fore upon this account necessary, inasmuch as they must 
 be rendered suitable to their king, who come into this 
 kingdom, that the Almighty Spirit should be emplo3^ed, 
 go forth with power, and diffuse its mighty influence, and 
 form and prepare men to be of this kingdom. And that 
 was not to be done but by this begetting them spirit of 
 spirit, and that th^y who come into this kingdom, might 
 be at once both subjects and sons; for the kingdom is 
 spoken of both under the notion of a kingdom and of a 
 family; that family which is on earth, named from our 
 Lord Jesus Christ, Eph. iii. 15. It is not suitableness 
 enough in this case, that it is a kingdom of rational and 
 intelligent creatures: that would indeed give a natural 
 suitableness; God is the God of the spirits of all flesh, 
 Numb. xvi. 22. But it is most manifest here that the spirit 
 in the latter expression, is not taken in a natural sense, any 
 more than flesh, in the foregoing part of the verse. Our 
 Saviour doth manifestly speak of flesh there contemptibly, 
 and seems to cast an ignominy upon it ; whereas mere 
 natural flesh is a very innocent, harmless thing. And 'tis 
 no more spirit that is taken in a natural sense ; but as by 
 the flesh, is meant corruption and sinfulness, so by spirit 
 is meant holiness, principally and chiefly ; and it is therein 
 that they must be suitable to him, who shall see God. 
 You must be a holy nation, a holy people ; so he speaks 
 concerning the people of the Jews, whose constitution was 
 as it were a type and model of the kingdom of God, which 
 wa.s afterwards to obtain in the world in a greater lustre and 
 glory, and to be perfected at length into an eternal kingdom. 
 Ye shall be to me a holy people, Exod. xix. G. So they be- 
 came suitable to him as a peculiar above all nations: 
 they were a peculiar people to him in this very respect, 
 which certainly none can be who are not born sjurit of spirit. 
 2. It were unsuitable that others should be of this king- 
 dom, to the design and end of its constitution and appoint- 
 ment. We have that expressed in 1 Pet. ii. 9. a place 
 taken from the forementioned 19lh of Exodus, Ye are a 
 chosen generation, a royal priesthood, a holy nation, a 
 peculiar people ; and they are called for this end and pur- 
 pose, " to show forth the praises of him who hath called 
 you from darkness to his marvellous light." This then is 
 a constitution set up and formed on purpose to be to the 
 praise and glory of God. When our Lord has finished 
 the work of his mediatorial kingdom, and put it oiU of its 
 imperfect and growing state, into that of consummation, 
 wherein it is to continue and endure always; he will then 
 come to be glorified in his saints, and admired in all them 
 who believe, 2 Thess. i. 10. But alas ! what were there 
 admirable or glorious in this matter, if men were to be 
 gathered, as it were, by a casual hand, into one body and 
 community, without making any discrimination 1 It were 
 then a work which had nothing glorious in it ; even M^hen 
 this kingdom is rising to its complete state, and perfect 
 maturity, to have persons found there who were never 
 Dorn into it, or had a temper of mind agreeable to it. It 
 might be said in that case, the end was lost, and the 
 
 design miscarried. And the greater stress is to be laid 
 upon this, for this reason, that this is a second constitution, 
 to have a pure and holy kingdom in this world. The 
 kingdom of nature was pure at first ; there was nothing 
 of iniquity in it; but there was an apostacy and revolt in 
 it ; a great part made a defection; the whole race of men. 
 Now this is a design of retrieving the loss, so far as it is 
 possible to be retrieved ; that is, that those angels who 
 fell not should be confirmed ; and among men, who all 
 fell, many should be restored; so that it was manifestly 
 to be seen, that the design was, as if God had said, " I 
 will have a kingdom which shall hold pure, and holy, and 
 in which there shall be no more mutiny or tumult, no dis- 
 cord and disorder, aid nothing of revolt or rebellion shall 
 be known any more." This being the case, it was plainly 
 his design to have such a constitution as this, for his own 
 eternal praise, and wherein he might be manifest, and his 
 name continue everlastingly glorious. He now forms a 
 people for himself on purpose to be the eternal monuments 
 of his praise. The exigency of the end aimed at in set- 
 ting up this kingdom, did challenge so much, that it be 
 a kingdom of them who are born to God, and have a tem- 
 per suitable to the state they are to come into. Wherefore 
 do we think God did constitute a second kingdom, but 
 that he would be sure to have all things right and well 
 there by that time he had brought things to their final re- 
 sult and issue 1 We may be confident he will make sure 
 work now, and have nothing in this kingdom but what 
 shall agree with the design and purpose of it, and be 
 homogeneous to it, and all of a piece. And to suppose he 
 should have such a design as this, and suffer himself to be 
 foiled and baffled in it, is a most unreasonable and mon- 
 strous supposition. 
 
 3. It would be altogether unsuitable to the laws and of- 
 fices of this kingdom, whether in the present or future stale 
 of it. God is to be taken for their God, which is the first 
 and most fundamental of all his laws; " Thou shalt have 
 none other God before me.". This is indeed the swearing 
 allegiance to this great King upon their entrance into this 
 kingdom. Who can ever do this who is not born to if? 
 The carnal mind is enmity against God ; (can't endure his 
 government;) it is not subject to his law, neither indeed 
 can be, Rom. viii. 7. It is never possible any can join 
 themselves to God as their God, without having their 
 minds spiritualized and refined into such a temper as can 
 agree to him. There will be perpetual tumultualions and 
 regrets against his authority and laws, till this transform- 
 ing work hath passed upon them. And then afterwards 
 the whole course of such persons' walk and deportment 
 must be a continued course of subjection and obedience. 
 They must bear themselves toward God as their chosen 
 God, and live entirely to him. And sure there needs ano- 
 ther .spirit than what is natural to man ; for they are in all 
 their after-course to walk in the Spirit, to worship in the 
 Spirit, to pray in the Spirit, to do every thing they do in 
 the Spirit. How necessary is it, upon this account, to be 
 born spirit of spirit ! It is, and must be, the eternal work 
 of tho.se who are of this kingdom, to love, and obey, and 
 praise everlastingly. What is a carnal heart to .such em- 
 ployment ? The laws of this kingdom require that these 
 be the perpetual exercises of those who come into this 
 kingdom. Carnality, should we suppose such a thing in 
 this kingdom, must needs carry with it that enmity, which 
 stands in direct opposition to love; that rebellion, which 
 stands in opposition to obedience ; that stupidity, which 
 stands in opposition to praise. The greatness and excel- 
 lencies which the subjects of this kingdom are eternally to 
 praise, it were altogether impossible a carnal mind should 
 look upon, without regretting that he is so great, to whom 
 they are so little. 
 
 4. It were most unsuitable to the grants and privileges 
 of this kingdom. What is to be enjoyed in that kingdom, 
 can never be enjoyed but upon this supposition, that they 
 are born of the Spirit. Think of the present privileges 
 which are granted to the subjects of this kingdom: 
 
 First, They are brought into a state of liberty. He who 
 is king in the kingdom, is not a king over slaves, but a 
 free people; and irvdeed their freedom does consist in this, 
 that they are so willingly subject. A heathen could say 
 so mucVi, speaking in reference to a kingdom which God
 
 kSkrm. III. 
 
 IN REFERENCE TO PARTICULAR PERSONS. 
 
 513 
 
 governs, according to his apprehensions of it ; In regno nati 
 sunius : Den servire, regnare est. We are born in a king'dom, 
 or into a kingdom, so it had been fuller to this purpose. 
 There are none come into this kingdom, without being born 
 into it, or attempered and suited to it. And he supposes the 
 highest privilege of being in this kingdom is, in being sub- 
 servient to God; "To serve God," says he, "that is to 
 reign." We are kings in this kingdom, rather than sub- 
 jects, in being subject to him. The apostle James has a 
 magnificent expression, but most just, and not stramed ; 
 the law which we are required to obey, he calls the royal 
 law of liberty, chap. i. 25, 28. And the law of the Spirit 
 of life in Christ Jesus, does make us free from the law of 
 sin and death, Rom. viii. 2. The felicity and duty of the 
 subjects in this kingdom herein meet in one and the same 
 point ; for whereas it is their duty not to serve sin, 'tis 
 their privilege to be exempt from that vile servitude ; and 
 they themselves are brought to resent it as such when once 
 the law of the Spirit of life has made them free. Oh ! 
 what an ease is it to have the yoke thrown off, and to find 
 a man's .spirits so disentangled, as to be able to say; I am 
 not restrained, as it hath sometimes been, from the love and 
 communion of the blessed God ; I am not depressed and 
 borne down towards the earth as heretofore, when I should 
 ascend and get up in lively affection to heaven. It is a 
 most pleasant thing to feel liberty, and find oneself set 
 free." This Spirit by which persons are thus born, makes 
 them free as soon as they are born : Where the Spirit of 
 the Lord is, there is liberty: i.e. that Spirit which refines 
 and transforms from glory unto glory; as the connexion 
 lie.s, 2 Cor. iii. 17, 18. How inconsistent therefore must 
 it needs be with those v>'ho remain still in the flesh ; for 
 such a one loves the bondage which it is a privilege to be 
 freed from ; and takes pleasure in his chains, and is proud 
 of them. The case is with him as with that servant con- 
 cerning whom the supposition is made in the law of Moses, 
 that he should so love his master, as when the time of re- 
 laxation came, he would not go free. The Gospel of 
 Christ is the ministration of the Spirit, by which souls are 
 begotten unto God ; and whensoever any are by it made 
 sons, they are made free. Therefore we read of this liberty 
 as appropriate to the sons of God ; for we are not to sup- 
 pose, that God's own sons should be slaves. But the 
 bondage of slaves is preferred by carnal hearts, to the 
 liberty of sons : and it will be always so till they become 
 sons ; and they will never be sons, till they are born again, 
 and till it can be said of them, there is something produced 
 in them which is spirit born of the Spirit. 
 
 Again, Tranquillity is a great privilege belonging to this 
 kingdom. One who is not thus born of the Spirit hath 
 no seed or principle of peace in himself To be spiritually 
 minded is life and peace, and this kingdom is " righteous- 
 ness, and peace, and joy, in the Holy Ghost." But they 
 who are still in the flesh, and not born of the Spirit, have 
 that still in their temper and constitution, which is incon- 
 sistent with peace; and which, if we should suppose com- 
 monly to obtain in that kingdom, would as much shatter 
 and discompose things there, as we find peace is from 
 time to time disturbed in this lower world. What is it 
 which hath made this world so troublesome a region, but 
 only the carnality of itl What is it but the lusts of men, 
 which occasion the wars, and tumults, and commotions, 
 which fill the world with noise and blood from age to age 1 
 It would even be ,so above too, if you should suppose that 
 
 Eessons should be generally brought thither, who were not 
 orn spirit of spirit. 
 Lastly, Communion with God is the great privilege of 
 the subjects of this kingdom; in some degree in this pre- 
 sent state, and perfectly in the perfect state of that king- 
 dom. But do we think that one who is not born spirit of 
 spirit, will ever care to converse with God eternally and 
 always. Alas ! how little do they care for it now ! How 
 little do they love the Divine presence ! How wearisome a 
 thing is an hour's attendance upon God, in a duty, to a 
 carnal heart ! How would such a one behave himself, to 
 be eternally in that presence, unto which he is so averse ! 
 Would li be a heaven to himi Indeed there is nothing 
 "which hath made hell anj-^ where but sin ; and if it were 
 possible that sin could get into heaven, it would create a 
 nell there ton. 
 
 5. It would be most unsuitable to the community, and 
 all the fellow-subjects, if any should come into that king- 
 dom, who were not thus born. It was evidently the design 
 to have them all of a piece, who should have place together, 
 in this kingdom. When that work was designed to be sec 
 on foot which was preparatory and fundamental to the per- 
 fect and glorious state of this kingdom, it was thought fit 
 that he who sanctifieth and they who are sanctified should 
 be all of one, (Heb. ii. II.) i. e. all reduced to conformity 
 to one and the same original. He himself who is the Me- 
 diator, is the holy and just One; these are the characters 
 by which we find him discriminately mentioned; and all 
 who are to be gathered to him, must all be one with him 
 in this thing, and he must be the common Sanctifier of 
 them all; that is, by the Spirit by which they are thus 
 begotten and born ; that so they may agree and be suitable 
 to him. And being so, it is manifest, there must be the 
 same ground and medium of common agreement among 
 all, who should be united to him ; if they must all be made 
 to agree to him who is holy, it cannot be but they must 
 all agree to one another, being hol}^ and sanctified ones. 
 Heaven is called the " inheritance of them who are sancti- 
 fied ;" and certainly the communion which they are there 
 to have with one another, is to be in the highest and per- 
 fect sense the communion of saints. And it. bein? re- 
 quisite that there should be an agreement and oneness 
 among all the subjects of this kingdom, this agreement 
 was not to be brought about, considering this kingdom 
 must consist of persons who were unlike, but by reducing 
 them who were fallen from that perfection which originally 
 belonged to their natures, to a conformity to the rest. 
 Therefore you find this said concerning those who are to 
 be adjoined and brought into it, that they thereby actually 
 come unto the general assembly, an innumerable company 
 of angels, and the spirits of just men made perfect, and so 
 constitute and make up the church of the first-born, Heb. 
 xii. 22, 23. You must note that first-born here is of the 
 plural number, and so it signifies a church consisting of 
 first-born ones, and must needs have reference to this same 
 birth here spoken of in the text. It was not otherwise 
 possible, that there should be an agreement or conformity 
 when there was once an unlikeness before, but by reducing 
 some to the rest; they who were fallen and lapsed from 
 their original excellence, to a conformity to them who stood. 
 And therefore those angels who stood, remain as a stand- 
 ard and pattern, to which all who are afterward to be ad- 
 joined to this kingdom must be made conformable. As 
 soon as thej' are got into the account of first-born ones, or 
 are the first-fruits of his creatures, (Jam. i. 18.) the flower 
 and most excellent and noble part of his creation; they 
 are said to be come to them. The church made up of 
 such, in conjunction with those glorious spirits, the angels 
 who stood, comes to be a uniform church and kingdom. 
 But if they should not be so conformed, it would be pre- 
 judicial both to the order and felicity of this kingdom. 
 How both uncomely and uncomfortable a thing, if there 
 should not be this conformity ! How uncomely would it 
 be, that there should be some in this kingdom rejoicing in 
 the excellency and glory of their eternal King, and some 
 secretly envying him, and wishing they could tell how to 
 unking him! How indecorous, when the generality are 
 engaged in gladsome triumphant songsof praise, for some 
 to lower and hang the head, and dislike the very thing for 
 which others do give thanks ! And how inconsistent would 
 it be with the felicity of the subjects of that kingdom, that 
 there should be such jars and discord among them '. Cer- 
 tainly it must be, and could not but be, a torture and tor- 
 ment to them ; and no doubt every thing of that kind must 
 be excluded heaven, the perfect state of that kingdom. If 
 there should be any one found there, who should have this 
 for his known sense ; that he cannot love God, or like his 
 governiiient; he cannot be pleased that he is Lord and 
 Kin?, it couUl not but be a torture unto the rest. When 
 the kingdom is resigned by the Mediator into the Father's 
 hand, (1 Cor. xv. 24.) and" he is to he all in all ; filling 
 every •'^Tiil with his fulness; all desires and wills satiating 
 and satisfying themselves in him: in the midst of all these 
 pleasures, it could not but be a tormenting thing, that there 
 should be any who can take no felicity in him; who dis- 
 like his person, and wish him otf the throne ; who are
 
 51-1 
 
 THE WORK OF THE HOLY SPIRIT 
 
 Serm. Ill 
 
 offended at the purity of that state, and at that wherein all 
 the rest do place their common feliciiy. It would be very 
 uncomely and uncomfortable to have any dissentions in 
 that kingdom; and therefore it can never be admitted, and 
 is apparently necessary, that whoever comes into it enter 
 by this new birth. 
 
 6. It would be unsuitable to the course and way of go- 
 vernment in this kingdom, whether you look upon it in its 
 present, or future or perfect state. Consider the way of 
 government in this present state. Why, here God governs 
 in a way somewhat suitable to the methods of government 
 by men ; that is, by laws and public edicts, with threats 
 and promises inserted into them ; that men may know 
 what they are to do, and what not; and what they are to 
 expect by way of reward if they do well, and what by way 
 of punishment, if they do amiss. This course of govern- 
 ment is suited to the reasonable nature of man, and does 
 well as it is managed by some men over others ; because 
 they who are to be the governed part, do sensibly perceive 
 how much it is in the power of the governing part, either 
 to do them good or hurt, according as they obey or rebel. 
 So that men's senses are in this case their instructors, of 
 how great concernment it is to conform themselves to the 
 laws; and how dangerous a thing to attempt the violation 
 of them. But consider how these same methods applied 
 to men for their government, by an invisible Ruler, can 
 signify in this case ; or what their success commonly is. 
 There are as plain proposals of the law of God to men, as 
 any can be by earthly rulers. 'Tis impossible that human 
 laws can be made plainer, than the Divine laws, are in 
 many, and those the most important, cases. The great 
 God promises infinitely greater things than any mortal 
 can promise; and threatens greater things, than they can as- 
 sume to themselves to do. But what do all these things 
 signify, where men remain still in the flesh 1 His laws are 
 plain, and his promises very assured, and his threatenings 
 awful and monitory, to them who are once born of the 
 Spirit, and have got somewhat of sense and life about them, 
 and can perceive things which are above the common 
 allay : but for them who yet remain strangers to this birth, 
 and upon whom the Spirit of the living God hath done no 
 such refining work, it is plain that such men's hearts take 
 no impressions from the plainest discoveries of his will. 
 When they are warned of the danger of a continued course 
 of sin; they who warn them are like them who mock; 
 and whatsoever they represent from the Divine promises 
 of the blessed state of holy and sincere and obedient souls, 
 is all but like a tale which is told. These methods of go- 
 vernment, in the present constitution of this kingdom, will 
 not suit those who are not born spirit of spirit, and till that 
 Spirit come forth with that power, and in that operation, 
 by which the souls of men are begotten to spiritual life. 
 In that work itself, and by that work, the Divine precepts, 
 and promises, and threatenings, come to be successful and 
 effectually applied; but never else, no more than the most 
 express human laws, with the addition of the severest 
 penalties, or promises of the highest rewards, would signi- 
 fy to a multitude of dead men. 
 
 And then for the way of government in the future state 
 of this kingdom, and when it arrives to its perfect state; 
 there we must suppose, the way of government should be, 
 by sweet and secret intimations, and internal irradiations, 
 upon receptive minds and hearts; such elapses by which 
 hidden sense is conveyed, even in a moment, so as that all 
 the subjects of that kingdom are to obey, as it were, any 
 wink, or nod, or glance of the eye ; I mean any such inti- 
 mations which can as secretly convey the sense of the great 
 Ruler, as they do commonly among us. But how mani- 
 fest is it that there must be a great refinedness of mind and 
 heart, to receive those gentle touches by which spirits are 
 in a moment to be swayed this way or that. One who is 
 yet a composition of flesh, and not born of the Spirit, how 
 incapable is he of these kind impressions ; these touches 
 which are to come by so gentle a hand ; these so insinu- 
 ating ways, by which God is lo slide into the very spirits 
 of these blessed souls, and prompt them this way or that 
 as he pleases ! 
 
 Lastly, It were most unsuitable to theunchangeableness 
 and perpetuity of this kingdom, that any should be ad- 
 mitted into it, who are not born into it, or made spiritual 
 
 as the constitution of it is. We ought in all reason to 
 think, that such a state of things as is designed for per- 
 petuity, and never to be changed, must be mo.st unexcep- 
 tionably perfect. It were a dismal thought that this king- 
 dom should be at once both eternal, and iAiperfect: for 
 then if it were imperfect it must be imperfect always ; and 
 whatsoever were amiss in this constitution of it, would 
 never be repaired, or altered. This kingdom, though it is 
 in its inchoate estate, yet imperfect, that inchoate state is 
 but its temporary state, which will soon be over : but then 
 there must be, even in the very entrance into it, an entrance 
 the right way ; otherwise the case will be like an error in 
 the first concoction, which is never cured in the second; 
 that is, it must be by being born spirit of spirit. When 
 any one comes into it, he comes into a kingdom which is 
 to be everlasting ; and so whatever there should be of ir- 
 regularity and imperfection in admitting him into this 
 kingdom, it would be an unalterable thing. Substantially 
 this kingdom can never be altered: grace and glory do not 
 substantially differ. That holiness, which the saints carry 
 the name of such from, while they are here on earth, is 
 not another or a diverse thing, from what must be their 
 eternal character above; it will be of the same kind, only 
 much more perfect. That knowledge of God, and satis- 
 faction in God, which is to be enjoyed hereafter, is of the 
 same kind and nature, with what in a more inferior de- 
 gree the saints partake of here ; and in that lower de- 
 gree they must be attempered and suited in their very 
 constitution: otherwise there would be a substantial 
 difference between one member of this kingdom and an- 
 other ; and which were never to be altered, but must last 
 always ; because the difference which is to be made be- 
 tween the present and future state of this kingdom, is not 
 substantial, but gradual only. And therefore the apostle 
 argues with so much severity, (Heb. xii.) when he had 
 been speaking of that which is most constituent of this 
 kingdom, " an innumerable compan)'^ of angels, and the 
 spirits of just men made perfect," all making up together 
 one " church of the first-born written in heaven ; We 
 having," says he, " received a kingdom which cannot be 
 shaken, let us have grace to serve God acceptably with 
 reverence and godly fear; for our God is a consuming 
 fire." You have now the frame and model of this kingdom 
 brought among you, which is never to be shaken ; you are 
 to account therefore that God will make thorough work in 
 his setting up this kingdom ; that there shall be no flaws 
 or defects to be found, which shall be incapable of remedy 
 and cure afterwards. He never intends to take this frame 
 of things asunder any more, but that it shall last for ever ; 
 and therefore expect him to be a consuming fire about this 
 work; he is not to be dallied with now he hath such a 
 work as this in his hands; therefore look that you carry it 
 acceptably to him, with reverence and godly fear. He will 
 show himself to be a consuming fire in the managing the 
 work of his kingdom, and the setting and framing that 
 conslittUion and state of things which he resolved never 
 should be shaken, but should last always. And the very 
 reason of the thing itself doth require that it should be 
 so; for whatever a man designs for a long continuance, he 
 would be most accurately curious about. That which he 
 intends only for a day, he would be little solicitous how it 
 were composed and framed ; whether there were such 
 curiosity and similitude of parts, yea or no; but that 
 which he intends to be a lasting and permanent thing, that 
 he would have to be very exact at first. A kingdom 
 divided against itself cannot stand. Do we think that 
 when the blessed God designed a perpetual and unshaken 
 kingdom, he would take that into the constitution of it, by 
 which it would certainly come to be divided against itself; 
 and be disagreeing to itself, as the image or representation 
 of Nebuchadnezzar, which was part brass, part iron, and 
 part clay 1 Surely this kingdom must be another kind of 
 constitution, and made better to agree with itself, inasmuch 
 as it is designed to be unchangeable and everlasting. 
 
 Thus then you have the second thing demonstrated; 
 the necessity of being born of the Spirit in order to the 
 having place in the kingdom of God. It lies in our way 
 here to reflect, that since there are so many full, clear, co- 
 gent, and convictive reasons of this truth, that yet there 
 should be so great unaptness and slowness in the spirits of
 
 Serm. IV. 
 
 IN REFERENCE TO PARTICULAR PERSONS. 
 
 515 
 
 men, to receive so vast a truth as this. Is it not an amazing 
 thing, that whereas truths of another import, as soon as 
 they appear to be such, are presently received, and without 
 any more ado ; and if they are understood to concern us, 
 they are commonly received with suitable affections and 
 impressions upon men's minds 1 If you should tell a man 
 there is an opportunity of an advantageous bargain; if he 
 once comes to believe it to be true, he not only assents to 
 it, but receives it with correspondent impressions on his 
 will, resolution, and affections; it influences his practice, 
 and he goes and does accordingly. It is a thing most 
 amazing, when we consider how express the affirmation is, 
 and how plain and clear the reasons are ; and that if once 
 it be acknowledged a truth, it cannot but be acknowledged 
 a most important truth; that yet we so commonly hear of 
 such matters, just as we hear a tale which is told, and as 
 if it were all one to us, whether it were true or false. 
 What would we think necessary to beget an unwavering 
 firm persuasion in our hearts, that such a thing is true 1 
 Why certainly the concurrence of testimony and plain 
 reason together, carry as much as our hearts can wish in 
 order to the clearing of whatsoever truth. Here is the 
 express word of the Lord of this kingdom ; for 'tis the 
 kingdom of our Lord and Saviour Jesus Christ, as well 
 as the kingdom of God. Now you will look upon it as the 
 greatest vanity and madness imaginable for any to promise 
 himself an interest and share in the blessedness of that 
 kingdom, against the express word of the Lord of it. 
 Pray, by what right should you come into it, if the Lord 
 and King will not admit you 1 Or by what power 1 Where 
 is your right if he deny your right 1 Where is your power 
 to evade or oppose, if he resist and withstand you 1 If 
 there were no more in the business, this were enough, he 
 hath spoken it, and ratified it by the seal of his own 
 Amen. Verily, verily I say unto you: I do assever it to 
 you ; I assert it to you with all the peremptoriness ima- 
 ginable. What should become of that man's soul, or 
 what can we think of his persuasion, who is persuaded 
 against the real word of the Lord of this kingdom, that he 
 shall have place in it 1 The reason of the thing is so con- 
 victive and manifest, that nothing can be more. You may 
 as well think of making a composition of ligh-t and dark- 
 ness, fire and water, of the most inconsistent things ; as to 
 bring flesh and spirit together into the composition oi this 
 kingdom. 
 
 SERMON IV.* 
 
 The truth we have m hand is this ; — That there is a 
 work to be done upon all who partake in the kingdom of 
 God, by which they are to be bom spirit of spirit. — We 
 have spoken of this doctrinally at large ; — the Use of it is 
 now before us. And that which I have first to take notice 
 of, as a reflection which cannot but be of very great and 
 common use, is, that since this is so plain and evident a 
 truth, it is exceeding strange that it should not more com- 
 monly and visibly obtain in the belief of those who profess 
 themselves Christians. So important a truth believed, 
 could not but infer that that belief would be visible in the 
 practice ; and so evident a truth, one would think, men 
 should not stick to believe. Wherefore there are these 
 two heads, I think might be worth our while to discourse 
 to you: — 1. To let you see that it is but too visible this 
 truth is not believed by the generality of professed Chris- 
 tians. — 2. To show the unreasonableness of men's disbelief 
 in reference thereunto. 
 
 1. I am to show that this truth is not believed by the ge- 
 nerality of those who call themselves Christians. And that 
 I may speak more clearly and distinctly, it will be requisite 
 
 1. To tell you what I mean by their not believing this 
 truth ; and then — 2. Show you that men do not believe it. 
 
 1st, What is intended by this charge upon the generality 
 of persons professing Christianity 1 Here it will be ne- 
 cessary to say something to you, — concerning the object, 
 or truth, which is not believed ; and — 2. Something con- 
 •■ Preached December 26tli, 1677, at Cordwainor's Hall. 
 
 cerning the nature of that belief which, we complain, is 
 wanting in reference thereunto. Concerning the object, 
 it is requisite you understand that we mean this truth taken 
 entirely, and so as to comprehend together the several 
 things which are contained in it. As for instance, — 1. 
 That there is a change necessary to be wrought in the 
 spirits of men — 2. That this change must be so great and 
 entire upon their spirits as to amount to another birth, or 
 being born of the Spirit — 3. That God hath such a work 
 and design in hand, as the constitution of a new kingdom 
 of obedient and happy subjects ; such as shall willingly 
 obey, and gladly and joyfully partake and communicate 
 with him in the glory and blessedness of this kingdom, and 
 — 4. That there is no other way of entrance inio this 
 kingdom but by being so born and connaturalized thereto. 
 All these things are evidently contained in this doctrine. 
 Now it is constantly acknowledged, when you put some 
 one or other of these things single to a person, who, it may 
 be, hath never 3'et admitted a serious thought of it; it is 
 likely he will say, "Yes, this is true." But it doth mani- 
 festly appear, that he hath never digested the system and 
 frame of such truths, as they lie together, and do amount 
 to this sum. And indeed that is one great fault m the 
 common faith of persons professing Christianity, that it is 
 a partial faith ; they believe this and that particular truth, 
 they'll tell you, taken asunder from the rest : but consider 
 such and such truths as they are a part in the general sj's- 
 tem of Christian truths; and so it is most apparent, that 
 they are not received and taken in. And, 
 
 2. Suppose any have never so distinct thoughts and ap- 
 prehensions of the truths of the Gospel ; those in particu- 
 lar which this truth sums up ; yet the faith of most who 
 profess the Christian name, it is plain, is quite another 
 thing, in the nature of it, than what really and truly we 
 ought to reckon, the belief of the Christian doctrine. I do 
 not intend, when I say these things are not believed, that 
 men professing Christianity are arrived to an explicit 
 disbelief, or that they reckon themselves unbelievers, or 
 profess infidelity in this matter ; or that there is no such 
 thing as a real assent unto such truths as this. But there 
 is not that assent which, according to the strictness of the 
 Scripture notion, we ought to put the name of belief upon ; 
 that is, they don't take it upon the authority of the great 
 God, as a thing rcA^ealed from heaven to them, that it is 
 necessary they undergo such a transforming change in 
 their own spirits, in order to their having place in this 
 kingdom ; this is not received on the authority of God, 
 and so as accordingly to influence their hearts and prac- 
 tice. Which if it doth not do, it doth nothing ; and which 
 if it be not apt to do, it is not that faith which the Scripture 
 intends. 
 
 This then is that which we are to make out, from seve- 
 ral considerations. As, 
 
 1. That the Scripture doth commonly attribute, or gives 
 intimation by which we are taught to attribute the inefii- 
 cacy of the Gospel doctrine, to men's disbelief of it, or their 
 not believing. As that passage of the apostle, wherein he 
 quotes the prophet Isaiah, Rom. x. 16. They have not all 
 obeyed the Gospel, for Esaias saith. Who hath believed 
 our report 1 They have not all obeyed ; and why "? Be- 
 cause Isaiah saith, they have not believed. The things 
 which the Gospel requires as matter of duty, by the pre- 
 cepts of it, would be comported with, and obeyed, if the 
 truth of them were believed. They are not believed ; and 
 how is that demonstrated! Why they are not obeyed. So 
 we are told of the scoffers who woitki be in the last days; 
 and there is nothing in the days in which we live, more 
 scoffed at than the Spjirit, and this work of the Spirit upon 
 the souls of men ; who would walk after their own lusts, 
 saying, Where is the promise of his coming? 2 Pet. iii. 4. 
 Because they don't believe the great things contained in 
 the Gospel, therefore they scofl^, and therefore they indulge 
 themselves in all ungodliness. We are told, that the Gos- 
 pel is the power of God unto salvation to every one who 
 believes, Rom. i. 16. Which plainly intimates, tliat it 
 signifies nothing with them who believe not. With them 
 who believe it is a mighty powerful thing; but with them 
 who believe it not, it effects nothing; there 'tis weak and 
 impotent. So again we are told by the apostle, 1 Thes."?,
 
 516 
 
 THE WORK OF THE HOLY SPIRIT 
 
 Serm. IV 
 
 ii. 13. that these Thessalonians, when he first came among 
 them, received the word, not as the word of man, but. as 
 the word of God, which workelh etfectually in them who 
 believe. It hath a most efiectual work, where it is believed ; 
 and wheresoever therefore it is inefTectua], and there are 
 no suitable impressions to be found upon men's spirits, 
 there it is manifest it is not believed. And 2 Thess. ii. 13. 
 We are bound to give thanks to God always for you, bre- 
 thren ; for God hath chosen you to salvation through sanc- 
 tification of the Spirit and belief of the truth. Which 
 plainly implies, that the truth wherever it is believed, is 
 accompanied with the sanctifying impressions and in- 
 fluences of the Spirit ; and it can't be understood to be be- 
 lieved where it is not so. And, 
 
 2. Consider further, that the nature of the thing itself is 
 such, and so nearly and directly concerns, and tends to in- 
 fluence the practice, that it is not possible it can be truly 
 believed, if it is not believed practically. We are to con- 
 sider a vast ditference between such kind of assents, which 
 are conversant about truths, all the design whereof is com- 
 passed and attained, as soon as we have spoken them; and 
 those which have a further design ; that is, to guide and 
 govern a man's practice, this way or that. Sure it is a far 
 other kind of assent that I am to give, for example, to this 
 truth ; that such a thing is poison, and would destroy my 
 life ; such a thing is useful for food, and would preserve 
 my life ; than if I give to this, that the sun is so many hun- 
 dred times bigger than the earth. The reason is, that that 
 doth no way concern my practice, and 'tis no matter how 
 superficial an assent I give it ; but the other are things which 
 concern my practice, and if I do not believe them suitably, 
 and with a practical belief, I might as soon eat the poison 
 as the food. It is incompatible with the nature of these 
 things, that they should be or can be believed truly, if they 
 are not believed practically; and so as to influence the 
 heart, and direct the course; so far as that I never satisfy 
 myself with knowing, that men are to be born spirit of 
 spirit, but drive at this, to be myself so born. Otherwise 
 it is the most manifest thing in all the world, that I turn 
 this great important truth, which most nearly concerns me, 
 to a thing of mere impertinency to myself. Again, 
 
 3. It is not consistent with the nature of a man, tho- 
 roughly to believe a thing to be true, and yet altogether to 
 be unconcerned about it; supposing the thing in its own 
 nature such as does nearly touch some grand concernment 
 one way or other. There are two things I would remark 
 to you concerning the nature of man: the one is, that it is 
 capable of having some prospect of what is future ; it is 
 not confined to only present things, as it is with the brutal 
 nature. The other is, that it is incapable of being indiffer- 
 ent about happiness and misery. The nature of man is 
 capable of having a prospect of futurity, or somewhat be- 
 yond the present time. His rational nature doth in this 
 differ from a brute creature, that whereas that is confined 
 only to the present, and can have no prospect of what is fu- 
 ture; men, as their own experience may tell them, have a 
 prospect of what is future, and may befall them to-morrow, 
 or the next day, or what may be a year hence, and what 
 they are then to do. They have a foresight of what maybe 
 an advantage or disadvantage to them in future time. But 
 then it is incapable of being indifferent whether things 
 should be well or ill with them, supposing they do indeed 
 believe what they have some prospect of Suppose you 
 hear such a one intends to kill you to-morrow, and have 
 your blood ; it is inconsistent with the nature of a man to 
 be so far unconcerned, as altogether to be indifferent, whe- 
 ther his life be destroyed to-morrow or no. But according 
 as he believes or disbelieves the report, so he will be con- 
 cerned or unconcerned about it. Nothing can be more evi- 
 dent. Wherefore it must necessarily also be, that according 
 as men believe or disbelieve what hath that aspect upon 
 their future eternal states, either that upon .such terms they 
 shall have place in the kingdom of God, or be excluded 
 and shut out for ever; it is altogether impossible, if men 
 do really believe what is said to them concerning these 
 things, that they should be so indifferent, v^hether they be 
 happy or miserable throughout a vast and immense eter- 
 nity, as to have no care or concern about the matter. I add, 
 
 4. That the common unconcernedness about such things, 
 is not to be resolved into any thing else, but their unbe- 
 
 lief. I shall here more distinctly labour lo evince to you 
 these two things, — 1. That men are very generally uncon- 
 cerned about those things which this truth hath relation 
 to; their spiritual and eternal states. — 2. That this their 
 imconcernedness is otherwise unaccountable. 
 
 1. That they are unconcerned is too apparent from sun 
 dry considerations : as, 
 
 1. That they are so little inquisitive, whether this great 
 transforming change hath passed upon their spirits, yea or 
 no. I understand there is a great necessity of being born 
 spirit of spirit. What would more naturally ensue, if this 
 were believed, than to say. Am I so born 1 Or what is it 
 to be so born 1 Do I find any specimen or discovery of 
 such a work wrought in myself 1 While there are so few 
 who ever give themselves the trouble of such inquiries, 
 certainly^ there is a very great unconcernedness about the 
 matter, and such as doth manifestly bespeak the disbelief 
 that there is, or needs to be, any such thing. And, 
 
 2. That men so easily take the matter for granted, and 
 are so easily satisfied. Certainly, if there were that deep 
 concern which the exigence and importance of the matter 
 requires, men would not be very easy to admit of satisfac- 
 tion in the case, and soon and slightly pass it over; and 
 think they have done enough when they have asked the 
 question, though it be answered they can't tell how. If 
 they have thought it probable, the thought yet would again 
 and again return ; But am I sure 1 Is this to be born 
 spirit of spirit, and am I thus born? They Avould never 
 think they could be too sure, or that enough could be done 
 to make the matter sure. 
 
 3. That it is a thing so little insisted upon in prayer, 
 among persons who profess the Christian name, that God 
 would give his Spirit for this purpose ; at least that the 
 hearts of people so little go out in any such petitions and 
 requests to God. If it should be asked them who allow 
 prayer to have any place in their practice, Which way do 
 your hearts work most in prayer? If they were to give an 
 account of the .sense of their hearts, would it not be this; 
 " Lord, grant me what appears desirable to me in this 
 world; that I may have my carnal desires satisfied to the 
 full ?" But who insists with importunity and earnestness 
 upon this great thing? " Lord, whatsoever thou grantest 
 or deniest, grant me thy Spirit : let me be miserable, and 
 reduced to poverty and beggary; let me wander up and 
 down in the want of all things; but give me thy Spirit." 
 Oh ! what loud and importunate cries would there be for 
 the Spirit, if this doctrine were believed ! But God may 
 withhold many things from men much more to their dis- 
 pleasure and dissatisfaction, than his Spirit, and about 
 which they would much more sensibly complain ; take 
 away their estates and relations, and they complain and 
 cry for them ; but he may withdraw or withhold his Spirit, 
 and they can go years together, and never complain or feel 
 themselves grieved at it. The very execution of the threat- 
 ening does not make them uneasy: " My Spirit shall not 
 strive." It doth not strive with many from day to da)', 
 and year to year ; and yet it doth not make them com- 
 plain. This is too plain an argument, that it is not be- 
 lieved that there is a necessity, in order to the entering 
 into God's kingdom, to be born of the Spirit. 
 
 4. That men arj so little in expectation, and no more 
 generally in a waiting posture, for the Spirit when they 
 hear of it. How few are there who are in such expecta- 
 tions, day by day, more than they who wait for the morn- 
 ing ! Oh ! "when shall this Spirit come ? When shall the 
 happy hour be of its sensible appearance in my dead and 
 forlorn soul ? When they hear, that Spirit is as the wind 
 which blowetli where it listeth ; how few are ready to say. 
 Oh! when shall I find its breathings upon me? When 
 will it reach me ? When shall I feel some of its powerful 
 influences and refreshing gales ? 
 
 5. That men are so little afraid of resisting the Spirit, 
 and of giving it offence and provocation ; so as that God 
 should penally retract or withhold it. Certainly if this 
 doctrine were believed, men would be in a ver}'^ great dread 
 upon this account ; they would tremble to think of the pos- 
 sibility or danger of giving that distate by neglects, and 
 resistance to the Spirit of grace, as to make it retire, not 
 knowing whether ever it would return. Again, 
 
 6. That the thoughts of this concernment do no more
 
 Serm. V. 
 
 IN REFERE^'CE TO PARTICULAR PERSONS. 
 
 517 
 
 mingle with men's affairs, in which they employ them- 
 selves here under the sun ; and not more check their too 
 impetuous pursuit of their worldly designs, which their 
 hearts are so ever intent upon. It this doctrine were in- 
 deed believed, ii could not surely be, but that many times 
 in the midst of secular business, such thoughts would come 
 in ; But am I yet born of the Spirit 1 All that I do is mere 
 idle trifling impertinency when I don't yet know, whether 
 I am so much as alive, in order to heaven and God's king- 
 dom, and the eternal state which is before me. How sel- 
 dom throughout the day can any such thoughts be crowded 
 into the minds of men ! Surely it would be a great check 
 to the heat of their pursuits after the things of the M'orld, 
 if such thoughts did but now and then strike in; and they 
 could not but strike in often, if the matter were indeed 
 thoroughly believed j " I must be so born inio lieaven, or 
 buried in all the darkness and misery of hell for ever." 
 
 7. If men were so concerned about this matter as the 
 thorough belief of it, one would think, should infer; such 
 thoughts must needs be a very great allay to the pleasure 
 and sweetness of their sensual enjoyments. When they 
 are relaxing themselves to pleasure, and allowing them- 
 selves the liberty of excursions into this or that kind of 
 sensual delight ; certainly they could not so freely enjoy 
 the creatures themselves, if it were considered; "I am 
 yet at a very great uncertainty whether the divine life 
 hath any place in my soul or no ; whether the great work 
 of the new creation hath any, so much as the least, begin- 
 nings in me V Alas, what an infusion would this be of 
 gall and wormwood, of bitterness and death, into whatso- 
 ever sensual delights, which would utterly spoil the sweet- 
 ness of them ; if it were believed that it is necessary to 
 be thus born ; and yet that it is uncertain whether we are 
 thus born ! 
 
 And pray then, what can we resolve this unconcern ed- 
 ness into, which is the other thing under this head ; but 
 their disbelief, and that they want a thorough persuasion 
 of this truth, that I must be so born, or perish 1 For think 
 of what else we would resolve it into. Is it the obscurity 
 of the matter, and that it is merely an unintelligible thing 1 
 But why is this unintelligible, that there is a work neces- 
 sary to be wrought upon the spirits of men by the Spirit 
 of God, to render them suitable to God, and capable of 
 blessedness in him "? Indeed what can we think of that is 
 plainer, if we consider the common state of men, and the 
 present temper of their spirits 1 and how apparently ne- 
 cessary it is, that their spirits must be of another temper, 
 in order to their being happy ; and that there is nothing to 
 be done in this kind, but by a proportionable cause ; and 
 that such an effect doth manifes -ly challenge to be wrought 
 by such a cause 1 They are to be changed by the dispen- 
 sation of the Gospel from glory unto glory ; where the pro- 
 gressive work is spoken of, of the same nature and kind 
 with that whereof we are speaking : even as by the Spirit 
 of the Lord, 2 Cor. iii. 18. That as does not signify siaii- 
 litude but identity : the work must be such as may plainly 
 and evidently speak its own author ; or so as that it may 
 be peremptorily concluded, — this is a work so very agree- 
 able to tl)e Spirit of God, that nothing but the Spirit of 
 God could have done it. Now the Spirit of God hath 
 wrought like itself, and worthy of itself ; and what it, and 
 it only, could do. 'Tis true indeed that the nature of the 
 work, and all the several parts of it, and the way of work- 
 ing, may be very much unknown things to persons as yet 
 unexperienced. But that there is such a work necessary 
 to be done, by which the spirits of men are to be changed, 
 and that the Spirit of God only can do it, I know nothing 
 can be pretended more intelligible than this ; or why, at 
 least, it should with anj^ tolerable or colourable pretence 
 be said to be an unintelligible thing. 'Tis not because 
 men cannot understand this, but because the}'' have no 
 mind to believe it and admit the truth about it into their 
 hearts, that they are so little willing of. Or is it, that the 
 thing is inconsiderable, and not worthy of their regard 1 
 No man who hath not abjured his understanding, can have 
 the face to say so. What can concern me more, than 
 whether I have a station in God's kingdom, or not 1 where 
 the state is such as includes and comprehends the whole of 
 that felicity and blessedness, which an intelligent nature 
 * Preac':ed Jan. 9tl), 1677, at Cordwainer's Hall. 
 
 37 
 
 is capable of, and being excluded that kingdom, is to be ex- 
 cluded blessedness, and left a miserable creature for everl 
 certainly no man who hath not abandoned man, and put 
 off himself, but must acknowledge this to be the greatest 
 concernment to him of all others ; and that therefore he 
 is not unmoved and unaffected, with this matter, because 
 he thinks it inconsiderable and not worth his regard. The 
 business therefore still returns hiiher, that it is not be- 
 lieved : men wuU not believe it, and therefore they are not 
 concerned. 
 
 Thus far you see, that there is too plain evidence that 
 this doctrine is not believed. The next thing would be to 
 show the unreasonableness of this disbelief It might well 
 astonish our hearts to think what there is of malignity and 
 horror in this belief among them who professedly own 
 that this revelation is from God ; but yet, it is manifest' 
 all the while, that they do not believe it: or that ever it 
 should enter into the heart of a creature capable of under- 
 standing its own rise and original from the ever blessed 
 God, to doubt, or dispute, or deny so plain and manifest 
 a revelation from him as this. The case arrives to this 
 state, and we cannot give it a more favourable one, as if 
 such a person should say to the great God, the Lord of 
 heaven and earth, " I take thee to have spoken by thy own 
 Son, such and such words to men, but I do not believe 
 them." This it plainly comes to. He hath said, that men 
 must be born again, or they can never come into the king- 
 dom of God ; and if such persons would say, what is in 
 their hearts, they must say too. We do not believe it. The 
 matter comes to a direct and flat contradiction, a practica. 
 one, and which is more and worse than a verbal one, be- 
 tween them and the great Lord and Founder of this king- 
 dom : as if they better knew the mind of God in this mat- 
 ter, than his own Son, who came out of his bosom; or 
 better understood, who were to be of God's kingdom, and 
 who not, than he into whose hands the management of all 
 the affairs of this kingdom is put. Certainly when ibis 
 matter comes to be discussed, w^e shall find it impossible 
 to pitch upon an)' thing in our own thoughts which carries 
 more of monstrosity and horror in it, than the disbelief 
 of such a truth. 
 
 SERMON v.* 
 
 We have insisted upon this subject doctrinally at large, 
 and made some entrance upon the use. That which we 
 have, in the first place, inferred, is; That this being so 
 evident and important a truth, it is veiy strange it should 
 not be more generally believed among Christians, than 
 apparently it is. We have showed that generally it is not 
 believed, in the last exercise; and are now to show, 
 
 Secondly, The great unreasonableness and perversity of 
 this disbelief in reference to this great important truth. 
 We insist the longer and more distinctly upon this use, 
 because it is the use which our Lord himself makes of his 
 discourse, upon this subject, as j'ou may see in the llih 
 and 12th ver.ses, which I shall have occasion to consider 
 and open afterwards. The great unreasonableness of not 
 believing this truth will appear, if j'ou consider — 1. How 
 much is to be said for it — 2. How very little and insigni- 
 ficant any thing is, which can be said against it. 
 
 1. Consider how much is to be said for it, and hath in 
 part been said. As much surely as any considering per- 
 son would think necessary to recommend a thing lo his 
 belief which he did not know before. I would appeal to 
 men, what would they expect 1 Or wliat condition would 
 they require any such thing to be qualified with, which 
 they would think to be a competently credible object of 
 their belief 1 What would ihey say is necessary 1 What 
 suppositions would they make 1 If you had a voice from 
 heaven, or an angel sent lo you on purpose ; or if Christ 
 himself should appear and speak these words to you, as 
 he did to Nicodemus ; then you wouAl believe. Even 
 they who say so would soon find, if God should make such 
 trials with them, it would be to as little purpose, a.* to
 
 518 
 
 THE WORK OF THE HOLY SPIRIT 
 
 Serm. V. 
 
 clothe it with the evidence wherewith he doth recommend 
 it. For you see, though our Lord himself did speak these 
 things to Nicodemus, yet he hath cause to complain of 
 infidelity still. But what, is not a thing sufficiently cre- 
 dible without such a recommendation as this 1 Or is it not 
 a most unreasonable extravagance to say, " Except our- 
 selves, wnth our own eyes, see signs and wonders, we will 
 not believe 1" What, have you a vision and voice for every 
 thing you believe which you don't see with your own 
 eyes 1 Let it be considered what we have to assure us of 
 this great truth. 
 
 L ~We have the plain reasonableness of the thing itself: 
 which will appear by laying together these several consi- 
 derations, 
 
 L That the kingdom of God imports a state of perfect 
 lelicity in the highest notion of that kingdom ; or a state 
 of preparation thereto, or gradual tendency thitherward, 
 in the first or lower notion of it. This is a thing plain and 
 obvious to all our thoughts, that the kingdom of God im- 
 ports a state of persons either perfectly happy already, or 
 else tending to a state of happiness. 
 
 2. Consider that such who are no way within the com- 
 pass of this kingdom, are not happy as yet. Look upon 
 any man in his natural state, and any one will soon ac- 
 knowledge, I am not happy as yet. I appeal to your own 
 senses, and to the common sense of men, can you say, 
 you are already happy 1 What ! do you know no wants 1 
 no desires 1 I wish it were better with me than it is ! A 
 plain indication to every man's sense, that he is not happy 
 as 3'et. And, 
 
 3. That it is not in the power of all this world to make 
 men happy. He who enjoys never so much of it, it is not 
 a little more will make him happy ; for it is manifest an 
 additional degree of a good of the same kind, will not do 
 it ; it must be a good of another kind. They who have 
 most of this world, have they ever thought themselves 
 happy, or pronounced so concerning their present state 1 
 Ante obitum nemo, &c. Pagan light hath seen so much, 
 that in this life no one can be happy ; who have known 
 how to make their best of this world, as well as any of us. 
 Besides, it is in the reason of the thing manifest, that no 
 man can be happy, as long as he knows himself to be 
 mortal. There is a gloomy thing called death still hang- 
 ing over my head, and it will light upon me one time or 
 other. Can any man be happy as long as the case is so, 
 and while he hath no comfortable expectation of any thing 
 better hereafter 1 Men are a little pleased sometimes, 
 while they can forget dying. But what is all that happi- 
 ness which depends only upon a man's forgetfulness; that 
 is, which is capable of being undone and blasted by a 
 thought 1 That is a pitiful happiness, which a thought can 
 destroy and blow awa}'. Such only is that happiness 
 which this world affords, and which can grow up out of 
 this earth. I conclude therefore, that nothing can be more 
 evident to the common sense and experience of all men, 
 than that as they are not yet happy, so they cannot be, by 
 any thing this world can give them. 
 
 4. That they cannot be happy in God without having 
 their spirits changed, and made suitable to him. It puts 
 an equal impossibility in the way of my happiness, whe- 
 ther, either my spirit be suitable to such or such a thing, 
 and it hath not enough in it to make me happy ; or that 
 such another thing hath enough in it to make me happy, 
 but my spirit is not suitable to it. As it is in reference to 
 the matter of nourishment ; neither can that nourish which 
 doth not afford fit matter, or suitable aliment, to a man's 
 body ; nor doth that which is never so suitable nourish if 
 it cannot be received, or there is an aversion and dislike 
 to it. A stone cannot nourish, because 'tis not. fit aliment; 
 and the best food cannot nourish, if the appetite is averse 
 and disafl^ected to it. That person who can think of God 
 with no pleasure, takes no complacency in him ; and who 
 bears towards him, not only a cold, but an averse and dis- 
 affected heart, can never be happy in God. And such is 
 every one who is as yet only born flesh of flesh ; for the 
 carnal mind is enmity to God, and they who are after the 
 flesh, do savour only the things of the flesh. 
 
 5. That men cannot change their own hearts, so as to 
 attemper them to God, and make them suitable to him, 
 and capable of his converse, and of being blessed in him. 
 
 This must also be evident to every man's ;onscience, who 
 doth but reflect and commune a little with himself. If 
 any man say, I can change the temper of my own soul; 
 'tis true it doth not love God, and take a present felicity 
 in him, but I can alter it and bring it to that pass : any one 
 who will say so, must be the most self-condemned creature 
 in all the world. Canst thou turn and change thy own 
 heart, and wilt let it go as it is, averse and disaffected to 
 God, one moment longer? If they can work that change 
 themselves, they are utterly inexcusable that they don't 
 do it out of hand. But if they cannot, as whosoever will 
 go into that trial will soon find ; then in the 
 
 6th place, God must do it, or it can never be done; and 
 this is that begetting spirit of spirit, which we .speak of, 
 as necessary to a man's coming into the kingdom of God, 
 or being happy. And these considerations laid together, 
 make it apparently reasonable in itself, unto any man 
 who will allow himself to consider, that such a work must 
 be done, in order to such an end. Now how perverse a 
 thing is it to disbelieve and reject so plain a truth, which 
 will not admit of debate ! If a man bring the matter to a 
 serious scrutiny, and will but reasonably consider it, he 
 must yield the cause as soon as he begins to think of it. 
 
 2ndly, Add thereto the authority of the Revealer, which 
 ought to silence our spirits, and bring them to a compli- 
 ance with the revelation, though the thing were not evi- 
 dent, and we had much to say against it. And here we 
 have a twofold revealer to consider, and speak briefly of; 
 that is — the subordinate and secondary revealer, namely, 
 the evangelist — and the primary and first Revealer, our 
 Lord Jesus himself. If there is any doubt in the case, it 
 must be concerning the one or the other of these ; either 
 that this holy inspired man did not truly report to us 
 Christ's words, and that he tells us Christ .said what he 
 never said ; or else that onr Lord Jesus himself did not 
 say truly, in what he said. As to the 
 
 1. Why should we think that this blessed man should 
 w^rite down such words as these in his Gospel as spoken 
 by Christ, if he had not spoke them 1 If any man would 
 think this matter is not to be believed upon that account ; 
 it doth manifestly appear, if we would think no better of 
 him, by the general strain and tenor of his writing, that 
 he writes like a rational man ; and then supposing him a 
 rational intelligent man, it cannot but be supposed, that he 
 must have some design or other, in whatsoever he did set 
 down. Now what can any man think his design should 
 be, to say, that our Lord said such words as these, if he 
 did not say them 1 You would easily suppose that John 
 being by his calling and office a disciple and apostle of 
 Christ, that he must needs think himself, upon that ac- 
 count, concerned and engaged to promote that interest, 
 which he had now espoused, and to propagate to the utmost 
 the Christian name and profession. We can't in reason 
 but suppose him to be very intent upon this. If he were 
 so, and would disguise and palliate things, and represent 
 them otherwise than they were ; surely he would have 
 misrepresented them to the advantage of his cause with 
 men, and not to the disadvantage. If we could allow our- 
 selves to suspect ; as we who are Christians cannot, though 
 it is possible that such disallowed thoughts may sometimes 
 start up in our minds; that he would disguise or misre- 
 present any thing ; we must suppose that he would do it, 
 so as to make the profession and cause, which he had un- 
 dertaken, look more plausibly, and be more alluring and 
 inviting, and fit to draw multitudes to embrace the Christ- 
 ian profes.sion as he had done. But would an)'^ man who 
 had such a design as this, if he would misrepresent things, 
 ofl^er to put such devised thing in those records which he 
 was to transmit up and down the world, and from age to 
 age, as he could not but know would be universally dis- 
 relished ; and than which it was impossible that any 
 thing could be more ungrateful to the spirits of men, or 
 more opposite to their lusts and interests 1 What, to tell 
 men that they must undergo a new birth, and must be 
 born spirit of spirit, be refined into a certain sort of spirit- 
 ual beings by the work of God upon them ; or else they 
 can never come into the kingdom of God 1 Certainly if he 
 would disguise, and misrepresent, he would not have done 
 it on that hand ; he would have done it rather on the other 
 by indulging and complying with the prejudices and lusts
 
 Serm. VI. 
 
 IN REFERENCE TO PARTICULAR PERSONS. 
 
 519 
 
 and interests of men. There remains not therefore any 
 colour for an imagination, that he should tell us, our Lord 
 spake such words as these, if he did not. And there can 
 be less pretence, m the 
 
 2nd place. To think or imagine, that our Lord Jesus 
 Christ did speak these words, but that he misrepresented 
 the matter, and did not speak the thing as it was. For 
 what can be supposed"? that he did not know his own 
 power, or that he did not know his own mind 1 H^ who 
 is appointed the great Lord of this kingdom, the very- 
 Founder of the constitution, and who is to gather and 
 bring in all to it whoever shall come into it, did he not 
 know upon what terms men could be brought into the 
 compass of God's kingdom 1 Or was it to be supposed 
 possible that any should intrude and maintain their intru- 
 sion into this kingdom, against him and the supreme power 
 which he halh in it"? Briefly consider, either he must be 
 deceived himself, or have a design to deceive us. Wh)', 
 what should that aim atl With what purpose and intent ? 
 What was to be got by it 1 What end could be served 1 
 If it could consist with his nature, with whom guile was 
 never found, yet certainly it never could with his design ; 
 we cannot suppose any by-design he should aim at ; and 
 with his great and main design, it holds no agreement 
 either way. But with what horror should men's infidelity 
 be thought of, when it doth, even in the very substance of 
 the thing, cast such reproaches as these upon our great 
 Lord! What is infidelity in reference to any Gospel truth, 
 but a disassent that this is truel and so it is saying, that it 
 is not true, when he saith, it is ; and opposing our sense to 
 his plain and express word. 
 
 This is the complaint our Lord makes in this case. We 
 testify the things we have known. As if he should say; 
 " I speak upon knowledge, I understand all these things 
 very well, they all lie before me and within my prospect. 
 I testify what I see, and is under my own eye ; and ye 
 will not receive our witness. If I speak to you of earthly 
 things, and you will not believe, (that is, in respect of the 
 manner of their presentation, not the matter represented. 
 It was not the matter ultimately represented, but mediateh^ 
 He speaks with reference to a known custom among the 
 Jews of baptizing their proselytes: the proselytes of justice 
 were constantly admitted by baptism among them, and 
 then forsook father and mother and all their former natural 
 relations, and came into new relations throughout. Other 
 usages belonging to the Jewish constitution, are called in 
 Scripture by the suitable names of worldly and carnal 
 things, like this expression here, of earthly things. I speak 
 to y ou of what these earthly things, which are in use among 
 yourselves, do signify ; and yet you don't believe me, 
 you will not take in what I say when I go so familiarly to 
 work with you, only to show you the meaning of your own 
 practice and what is done among yourselves.) how shall 
 you believe when I come to tell you of heavenly things, 
 which have no dependance upon or relation to such usages 
 among yourselves; as the Son of man's descent from 
 heaven, and ascent into it again ; and his being on earth 
 and in heaven at the same time ; as his words afterwards 
 are. What do you make of this, when you will not believe 
 me opening to you so plain and obvious a rudiment of re- 
 ligion, that men must undergo a change in the temper of 
 their spirits, signified by the practice, which is common 
 and usual among yourselves, of baptizing them ; as if they 
 were born into a new world, who came to be proselytes of 
 your religion 1" It is therefore upon the whole matter a 
 thing full of horror, and which ought to make our hearts 
 to tremble, to think that such infidelity should lurk in the 
 spirits of men who call themselves Christians, in reference 
 to so gre.at and unquestionable things of Christianity, and 
 that it should admit of any debate. Such expostulations 
 we find used by our Lord elsewhere; "I come to you," 
 saith he, " in my Father's name, and j'ou will not believe 
 me." Monstrous partiality and di-saffection of men's 
 hearts to divine truths, even because they are truth, and 
 because they are divine! So our Lord expressly speaks; 
 Because I tell you the truth, you will not believe me, John 
 viii. 45. As if it were truth as truth which was hated by 
 men, and which they therefore cannot endure because it is 
 true. And M^hen we consider too, that to believe a divine 
 * Preached January 16tli, 1677, at Cordwaiiier's Hall. 
 
 truth with a divine faith is a great piece of homage which 
 we pay to the great and glorious Lord of heaven and earth, 
 the first and eternal truth, into whose veracity the whole 
 matter is resolved. That is, the thing is therefore certain- 
 ly true and credible, and to be believed as true, because it 
 comes from the first and eternal truth, and is a derivation 
 or beam of light from that original light. 'Tis the homage 
 of a reasonable creature to the Author of his being, to have 
 his soul overwrought and swayed by the authority of his 
 word; because he hath said "it, I yield and submit; I 
 dare not but own it as true, and believe it as true. And 
 then what an affront must it be on the other hand, to the 
 great and eternal God, when such truths as these so plainly 
 proposed to us in his word, are by infidelity excluded and 
 shut out of our hearts. The authority of his word does 
 not prevail to weigh and sink them down into their souls; 
 but they hover on the surface, and we entertain them with 
 a notional opinion, as true ; but in the mean time, exclude 
 them out of our hearts, as false. For there it is that infi- 
 delity hath its seat, as faith hath its seat there ; With the 
 heart man believeth unto righteousness, Rom. x. That 
 assent is not worthy the naine of faith which doth not enter 
 into, and possess, and command a man's soul. Then it is 
 indeed that a truth is entertained with a divine faith, when 
 the thing revealed is received not as the word of man, but 
 as the word of God. This comes from the eternal God, I 
 take it upon the authority of his word ; and hence it comes 
 to be urged upon a man's heart, and to impress its own 
 stamp and likeness there. This is the believing any thing 
 with a Divine faith. So that indeed this truth, of the ne- 
 cessity of a man's being born spirit; that is, who do then 
 come to be born spirit at that very time ; it doth in this 
 way insinuate and get into them : not b}' violence, or of- 
 fering force to human nature ; we are to imagine no such 
 thing; but it doth by a plain and evident discovery of the 
 truth, slide into it and through it, notwithstanding all the 
 prejudices which obstruct and shut up the heart of man ; 
 and so creaies that faith by which men believe unto 
 righteousness and blessedness. And therefore it is plain- 
 ly said. They who are of God do hear God's words, John 
 viii. 47. Their hearing doth include believing; Ye there- 
 fore hear them not because ye are not of God. The ex- 
 pression there, to be of God, is only a short elliptical ex- 
 pression for being born or begotten of him. You there- 
 fore receive not his words because j'ou are not born of 
 God; therefore his word doth not enter into you, and hath 
 no place in you. And certainly it ought to fill our souls 
 with deep resentments, to think that there should be such 
 an obstruction in the hearts of men towards God ; that a 
 disco, ery about such an important matter, coming with so 
 much evidence from him and upon his authority, can't be 
 believed, when men do so ordinarily and easily believe 
 one another, about matters wherein they take themselves 
 to be very much concerned. 
 
 Thus much then is to be said for it; as to the little 
 which can be said against it, see the close of the foregoing 
 discourse. This is the first use of this truth, I shoul' 
 proceed to the rest, &c. 
 
 SERMON TI. 
 
 We have at large opened the words, and made some 
 progress in the use. We have inferred from hence, how 
 strange it is that so plain and important a doctrine as this 
 cannot obtain to be believed : that we insisted somewhat 
 largely upon. We proceed to, 
 
 2. Inference, — That it is evident the design of regeneration 
 is to prepare and fit men to be of God's kingdom. — This 
 is that which he hath in his eve and aim, when he begets 
 souls by his own Spirit in a ^oly spirituality, suitable to 
 the productive cause. It is very becoming a reasonable 
 creature, when he observes some great work is to be done, 
 and there is great apparatus for the doinsrof it, to inquire, 
 What doth all this mean ? What is all this for 1 Wt are 
 plainly told, that such a work as this is to be done upon
 
 520 
 
 THE WORK OF THE HOLY SPIRIT 
 
 Serm. VI. 
 
 men, as begetticg them anew; we see great preparations 
 are made for it ; the Gospel sent down from heaven on 
 purpose ; an office constituted and set up to dispense it ; 
 time sanctified and made sacred ; solemn ordinances ap- 
 pointed ; a frame of w^orship instituted. It would certain- 
 ly be great inadvertency not to consider within ourselves, 
 What is all this fori \yhy all this is for regenerating 
 men first. And what is that for "? Why to bring them into 
 God's kingdom. I doubt it is not seriously considered as 
 it ought to be, how great a design this is, and how intent 
 the blessed God appears upon it, by begetting men of the 
 Spirit to form them for his kingdom. And from hence 
 arise several subordinate instructions. As, 
 
 1. That when a man comes to be regenerate, he is born 
 to great thinars. If God hath given us to understand so 
 much of his design, that it is on purpose and in order to 
 the instating them into his kingdom, that he hath begotten 
 them spirit of spirit ; certainly it is a very great and glori- 
 ous estate, that every regenerate person is born to. We 
 commonly measure our judgments concerning the fortunes 
 of this or that person by his birth. We say concerning 
 the son of a rich or great man, of a nobleman or a prince ; 
 that he is born an heir to great and ample possessions, and 
 will certainly be a possessor of them ; though there are 
 many things intervening which may cut ofi'a person born 
 to great things from ever being tlie possessor of them. But 
 here the case is sure, and not liable to contingencies, which 
 can infer frustration and disappointment. It is very un- 
 rea.sonable all this while that we so little consider this, 
 and have so mean low thoughts of the business of regene- 
 ration, or regenerate persons ; certainly they ought to ap- 
 pear very venerable persons in our eyes. Here is one, as 
 it is meet for us to judge, who is born of God, spirit of 
 spirit; a refined being is begotten in him, which entitles 
 him to eternal glory, an everlasting kingdom. Indeed it 
 is not strange that such persons are obscure unto the most 
 of the world. The world is said not to know God's sons : 
 "What manrer of love is this, that we should be called 
 the sons of God 1" i. e. made such ; for God's calling is 
 making them what he calls them. He calls things which 
 are not, and makes them existent things. It is subjoined, 
 Tlierefore the world knows us not, because it knew not 
 him, 1 John iii. 1. There is a heavenly progeny among 
 them, whom the world don't know; but though the world 
 don't know God's sons, methinks, they should know one 
 another, and not think so meanly of one another's state 
 and condition as the rest of the world think of them. 'Tis 
 a most emphatical scripture, 1 Pet. i. 3, 4. Being begotten 
 again to a lively hope — unto an inheritance incorruptible, 
 undefiled, and which fadeth not away, reserved in heaven 
 for us. A regenerate person is no mean person, if you con- 
 sider his great parentage and high extraction; or the in- 
 heritance to which he is born, and the high and glorious 
 hopes which are before him. 
 
 2. This instruction also proceeds hence, that we are to 
 look upon it as a very unbecoming thing, when we regiet 
 •what God further doth, in the prosecution of this design. 
 He having begotten persons on purpose for his kingdom, 
 and to partake of the glory and blessedness of its consum- 
 mate state, doth gradually, as he hath prepared and adapted 
 them for it, translate and take up into that kingdom, such 
 as were before born into it, and begotten to it. It is un- 
 reasonable to regret this, whether we ourselves are the 
 spectators only, or whether we also come to be the sub- 
 jects of this dispensation. 
 
 When we are spectators of it as to others, and see him 
 transuming and taking up some out of this lower state of 
 his kingdom, into the more glorious state of it, whom he 
 hath begotten thereto before; why are we to regret thisl 
 What, that God should have the disposing of his own 
 children, whom he hath begotten, as the Father of spirits, 
 spirit of spirit 1 Indeed whatsoever there is of displeasure 
 towards us m such dispensations, ought to be considered 
 and entertained hy us, with a due sense of it ; but what 
 there is of divine good pleasure expressed in it, ought also 
 to be submitted to with an awful and complacential sub- 
 jection. How unreasonable a thing is it, that we should 
 grudge him his own children whom he halh begotten ! 
 We should think it very hard, if we dispose of any child 
 of ours in sickness to be nursed abroad, and we can't 
 
 have it home without a quarrel when we think fit to have 
 it home. 
 
 And how unworthy is it when men regret to be the sub- 
 jects of this dispensation of God, and can't endure the 
 thoughts of going into his kingdom, the most perfect and 
 glorious state of it, unto which if they are regenerate, they 
 weie born 1 What, to be unwilling to go to our own 
 Father, and have our spirits return to him, when he hath 
 begotten them for himself? How vile a thing is this! 
 W*"hat terrene, dunghill hearts are ours, which so cleave 
 to this vile earth ! We should think it a most unnatural 
 thing in a son, who has been long in a foreign country, 
 especially if in straits and wants there ; and who is not so 
 as to spiritual concernments ; and yet should regret to be 
 called home by his father ; for that would carry this sig- 
 nification with it, that he counts any miseries more tolera- 
 ble than his father's presence. Certainly it must needs 
 speak what is very unlike and unworthy of a child. I 
 know not what we can have to say for ourselves, that there 
 should be so few unfeigned desires after our Father's 
 house and our own home ; and when we say, we belong 
 to his family, and have been born into it, and begotten of 
 him ; that yet we never care to come there. Still a little 
 longer, a little longer, we would be here below, in this 
 mean and abject state; as though we were contented to 
 endure any thing of misery, and calamity, and turmoil, 
 and all the impurity of this world, rather than be at home 
 with our own Father. There is an aptness to regret God's 
 known purpose ; we struggle and shrink at the thoughts 
 of dying; but certainly that must argue a very great dis- 
 temper of mind : for what, would we not have the end 
 attained 1 would we have the design defeated and blasted 
 for which we were born 1 If we were ever born spirit of 
 spirit, the design of it was to prepare us for that kingdom 
 into which we regret to go ; we were born on purpose for 
 it, and yet we would not come there. 
 
 3. We further learn this instruction hence, that 'tis a 
 most highly becoming thing for the regenerate very much 
 to mind that slate for which they have been born. No 
 one is wont to be blamed for minding things no higher 
 than what he was born to. Many times we reckon it a 
 piece of unwarrantable and unbecoming arrogance among 
 men, when they aspire to things beyond their sphere and 
 compass, and aim at things above their birth ; but a Christ- 
 ian is not to be blamed, when he aspires to immortality and 
 eternal glory, and all the felicity and blessedness of God's 
 kingdom above; for it is that he is born to. It is justly 
 blamed when the spirits of any are found visibly to sink 
 below their birth and state to which they were born, and 
 the grandeur of their families; when men born of noble 
 parentage, who have that which they call generous blood 
 running in their veins, do mind only mean things, and 
 discover themselves to be of abject ungenerous spirits ; 
 this is reckoned a great incongruity among men. And 
 certainly there is nothing more unbecoming than that a 
 Christian should mind and be intent upon things which 
 are of a mean and base allay, and forget the kingdom he 
 was born to. We may aspire high ; our birth and state 
 will justify us in it ; for we are born of God, and born 
 to a kingdom. Why, to let our thoughts grovel, and our 
 affections be scattered in the dust of the earth, to embrace 
 dunghills ; we have nothing whereto to impute it, but an 
 ignoble and mean temper of spirit ; which certainly when 
 we know, and can reflect upon, it should be far from us to 
 allow; and wherein we find ourselves guilty, we should 
 lay our hands upon our mouth, for it is unaccountable, and 
 nothing is to be said. See how the persons are described 
 whom God sorts out and distinguishes from the rest of men 
 for eternal blessedness, Rom. ii. 6. It is said, that God 
 will judge every man according to his works. God is re- 
 presented there in the person of a judge, and as underta- 
 king the woik of judgment upon all this world ; and the 
 world accordingly is divided into two parts, as the judg- 
 ment of God finds them, and will distinguish them ; that 
 is, they are distinguished by their final states. There are 
 some who are for life, as that which by the determination 
 of the judge belongs to them ; and others are for indigna- 
 tion and wrath, and tribulation and anguish. These are 
 distinguished by their spirits, or present characters, in order 
 to that final partition of tbem. These are " such who hy
 
 Sekm. VI. 
 
 IN REFERENCE TO PARTICULAR PERSONS. 
 
 Ml 
 
 patient continuance in all well doing, who seek hononr and 
 glory and immorialily." This is the character of their 
 spirits; and to such when God will render to everyone 
 according to his works, he will render eternal life. The 
 other son are described by their character in reference to 
 their slate ; that is, " who are contentious and do not obey 
 the truth, but obey unrighteousness ; to them he will ren- 
 der indignation a'nd wrath," &c. To them who are con- 
 tentious : it is plain enough, if we consider the scope and 
 current of the apostle's discourse, what he means by being 
 contentious here. If you consider it in opposition to what 
 is subjoined, "who do not obey the truth;" or by way of 
 collation with what he had been saying in the foregoing 
 chapter, " The wrath of God is revealed from heaven, 
 against all ungodliness and unrighteousness of men ;" 'tis 
 plain the truth which he speaks of all along in that dis- 
 course is practical truth, or the truth by which they should 
 be governed in their practice, and according to which they 
 ought to square and conduct their course. It is very plain 
 the contention he means, is a contention against such truth ; 
 when men's spirits resist and withstand the tendency and 
 design and dictates of it, the practical and governing dic- 
 tates which do more or less obtain in all ; some even in 
 the pagan world, and those which are more clear in the 
 Gospel ; but somewhat or other of practical truth there is 
 in all. And this is that which is the common character of 
 those who shall finalh" perish ; who are contentious against 
 that truth which should have governed them ; and when it 
 should have been as on a throne in their souls, it is shut up 
 as in a prison. They held it in unrighteousness, and lettered 
 it in chains, and pent it up, and confined it only to the 
 notion of the mind ; let it hover only in dark ineflectual 
 notions, and never admitted it to walk forth into their 
 lives and practices, and have that inspection and power 
 there which it ought to have had. And that practical 
 truth is resisted in nothing more than in this, when men 
 addict themselves, in defiance of it, to things which their 
 own reason and experience tell them are not proportionable 
 to them; to earthly, terrene things, which they cannot but 
 know are not commensurate to intelligent and immortal 
 spirus. 
 
 They who are of such abject, mean spirits, the Lord will 
 be ashamed at last to be called their God, Heb. xi. 16. 
 But now they seek a better country, that is, a heavenly; 
 wherefore God is not ashamed to be called their God. 
 These are a sort of persons who approve themselves his 
 children, and evidence of whom their are born; the tem- 
 per of their minds, and the course and drift of their de- 
 signs, show of what Father they are descended. They mind 
 and seek a better country, wherefore he is not ashamed to 
 be called their God : " These are my own race ; they are 
 suitable to me." But it is a very sad and dreadful inti- 
 mation to those who are of mean, base, and earthly spirits: 
 He will be ashamed to be called their God: " These are 
 no children of mine; thej'' were never born of my Spirit: 
 I never had any such children." 
 
 4. We further learn, that we are to consider them as 
 most miserable creatures, who are not regenerate. Who- 
 soever are for God's kingdom are regenerated on pui^pose 
 to prepare them for it. They therefore who are not rege- 
 nerate, want the radical, fundamental preparation ; the 
 primordia, or first principles by which they are to be adopt- 
 ed to that kingdom : and have, in the very temper and 
 frame of their spirits, their doom ; there is this to be read 
 concerning their states, that they are not for the kingdom 
 of God. Men are entered into this kingdom here by re- 
 generation, or being born into it ; and so growing up here, 
 are transplanted into the eternal, glorious kingdom. Now 
 it is a most miserable case that there is hut one inlet or 
 way into the kingdom of God, and men should not be in 
 that way, or so much as about it, or apprehend they have 
 any concern to be so; as the case is with too many, even 
 the generality of those who are unregenerate. But then 
 what is their hope, or what can it be 1 Do they think to 
 leap over this initial state of God's kingdom, and get into 
 the kingdom of glory without ever coming into the king- 
 dom of grace 1 How strange a disappointment must they 
 needs find at last ! For they are to consider that this 
 country is the only prolific country ; they are now new 
 born in heaven ; there they are perfected, not begotten. As 
 
 there are none who become first wicked in hell ; they are 
 there most wicked, or wicked to the utmost ; but they 
 were first wicked here on earth : why, so 'tis in reference 
 to heaven too; here men must first be .spiritual and holy, 
 and born of the Spirit ; and become most spiritual and 
 holy, when they are most blessed above. And therefore 
 they are certainly in a most miserable case, who since re- 
 generation is designed as the preparation filially and ulti- 
 mately for heaven, and for this eternal, glorious kingdom ; 
 arc neither regenerate, nor apprehensive of any concern 
 the)' have to be so. 
 
 5. We learn, that as the miser}' of the unregenerate is 
 justly said to be great, so their folly may be concluded to 
 be no way inferior to their misery. They are a.s foolish as 
 they are miserable, that is, they speak, and think, and 
 reckon upon it, that it shall be well with them hereafter, 
 though they are never regenerate; they fortify their own 
 hearts into a confidence, that they shall attain things 
 which they were never born to, and have no other reason 
 to expect. You would think it a great piece of madness, 
 for a man to go about and say, that he expects a kingdom, 
 and doubts not but he shall be a great prince ; though he 
 walks up and down in rags, and is only the son of a 
 ploughman or some mean pennon: he would be thought 
 fit to'live in chains. Why, you will certainly say, the ex- 
 pectations of all imregenerate persons, to be hereafter 
 happy in God's kingdom, do not carry this folly in it. 
 Yea, it carries in it much greater folly ; for we cannot say 
 it is impossible that a person of a very mean paren'age 
 should come to greatness in this world. Histories of for- 
 mer and latter times, give us some instances of this kind; 
 but you would think him a madman for all that, who should 
 say "so. As certainly he would be truly counted so, who 
 should hope for every thing which is possible, merely be- 
 cause it is possible ; as he would be who feared every thing 
 which is merely possible to come to pass that is hurtful 
 and evil to him : as if a man should fear that every bit of 
 meat he eats should choke him, or that in his ordinary 
 walks in the streets, a tile should fall and beat out his 
 brains. Thousands of such accidents are not impossible ; 
 but if a man should fear them continually, it were certainly 
 a great follv, and would put a great deal of miser}' into his 
 life. It would be equally an absurd thing, to hope every 
 thing which is possible, only because it is possible, and no 
 more ; but then to hope forthat which is simply and ab- 
 solutely impossible, and which the shortest and quickest 
 turn of thought would convince a man is so, is a madness 
 beyond all imagination. If you hear a man walking ia 
 the streets in rags, and saying, "1 hope at sorne time to 
 be a prince or great monarch before I die:" you can't 
 sav, he hopes for an impossible thing : but if you hear an 
 unregenerate man say, " I hope I shall have the eternal 
 kingdom, though I continue unregenerate, and die just as 
 I am;" his hope is simply impossible; -for there is an in- 
 consistency even in the temper of his spirit with the purity 
 and felicity of that kingdom ; besides the irreversible de- 
 termination of the righteous and supreme Lord of it, and 
 the disposer of all the concerns of it. This is therefore the 
 strongest piece of folly which ever had place in any human 
 breast, that a man should be yet unborn of God, and never 
 reckon upon being other than he is,«nd yet expect a place 
 in God's kingdom. 
 
 I proceed now to the 3d inference, — That it is a most 
 wonderful mercy, that any such work as this should be 
 done among the" children of men, as begetting them spirit 
 of spirit, in order to their coming into his kingdom. — This 
 is a mercy for ever to be had in admiration, and which 
 we can never enough adore, if we allow our thoughts to 
 work a little upon the follo%\-ing considerations. 
 
 1. The subject of it, or who they are who are thus horn. 
 Why, the most undeserving creatures ; for, alas ! what can 
 they' pretend to deserve who are by nature children of 
 wrath, and exposed from their birth to his displeasure 7 
 find altogether uninclined either to desire or comply with 
 that by which such a work as this was to be wrought upon 
 them 1 who were uninclined so much as to desire, " Oh 
 that the transforming power of the Holy Ghost might come 
 upon me !" or disposed to fall in with the motions of the 
 Spirit in order to it 1 And besides, what a wonderful mercy 
 was it that ever such impure creatures should be dealt
 
 522 
 
 THE WORK OF THE HOLY SPIRIT 
 
 Serm. VII. 
 
 •withal, in such a way ! How would any of us like to 
 have that for our employment, to touch the ulcerous sores 
 of some poor wretch lying in rags upon a dunghill, in order 
 to the cure of them 1 Yea, and most disaffected and op- 
 posite to the work, and the worker of it, full of enmity, 
 and apt to strive, and contend, and rebel against the bless- 
 ed Spirit of God, whenever he comes to touch upon their 
 hearts, in order to such a work as this. 
 
 2. The Author of the work, the blessed Spirit. "What a 
 wonderful mercy is it that the Spirit should ever come 
 down amongst men, upon such a design ; and become in- 
 clined and engaged to diffuse its life and vital influence, 
 in a world lost in carnality and death ! This appears if 
 you consider either its purity, and that the Spirit of holi- 
 ness should come with such a design into so impure 
 hearts ; or its high and excellent dignity. If such a work 
 as this could have been done by the hand of man, or it 
 would have sufficed to have sent an angel, it had been less 
 wonderful ; but that the Spirit should come, and come on 
 purpose; q. d. "I myself will immediately attend this 
 affair, it shall be my own doing ; no other hand is propor- 
 tionable." How highly hath he merited to be called the 
 Spirit of grace I When the malignity of men's hearts 
 against it is intended to be represented and aggravated, it 
 is said, they have done despite to the Spirit of grace, (Heb. 
 X. 29.) the Spirit of all love, and goodness, and benignity, 
 and sweetness. Certainly we have reason to call it the 
 Spirit of grace, and to account and reckon it so, who came 
 among men upon such an errand as this. Or again, 
 
 3. The nature of this work. Why, it is begetting men; 
 and what does that import 1 It imports directly a total 
 change, or a change throughout; and it imports by con- 
 sequence a resulting relation. They who are begotten, 
 become children to him who begets. What a mercy was 
 this that such a thing should be undertaken, as a total 
 change, and that every part should be made new ! If some 
 little alteration would have served the turn, the Spirit of 
 God might easily be supposed to be contented to do it ; 
 but to make them new throughout, and in every part, 
 which begetting signifies ; why the greatness of the under- 
 taking speaks the mercifulness of the undertaker. And 
 besides, there is the relation which results and is conse- 
 quentially imported in it. The blessed God might thus 
 have reasoned off the design ; " What, shall I beget them 1 
 then must I be their Father: and what, to have such mis- 
 creants as they my children 1 Why should I beget them 
 by my Spirit, and become a Father to them who are 
 already of their father the devil 7 shall I go to make the 
 devil's children minel" 
 
 4. The end, which is to bring them at last into his own 
 kingdom. It is a wonderful mercy, that they who are alto- 
 gether born in sin, and born under wrath and ruin, should 
 have such thoughts taken up about them; and the holy 
 and eternal Spirit employed on purpose to beget them 
 anew, and form them throughout, and bring them into the 
 presence of his glory, to dwell with him and reign with 
 him for ever. They so partake in this kingdom, as to be 
 kings in it : " He washed us from our sins in his blood, 
 and made us kings and priests unto God and his Father." 
 What a wonderful mercy to engage the blessed Spirit to 
 this employment about the spirits of men, upon so 
 important an account, and in order to so high and great 
 a glory ( 
 
 SERMON VII. 
 
 It is the use we have in hand ; for which purpose some 
 practical inferences have been recommended to you ; and 
 others do yet remain. That which is the 
 
 4. Inference you may take thus ; — That they cannot but 
 be very gross hypocrites who carry that semblance and 
 show with them, of having a standing in this kingdom of 
 God ; but were never thus born into it. — Here we have 
 these two things to do : — 1. To show that such pretenders 
 * Preached January 23rd, 16T7, at Cordwainer'a Hall. 
 
 are hypocrites upon this account. — 2. To show the absurd- 
 ity and folly of that hypocrisy. 
 
 1. That there is manifest hypocrisy in the case. In 
 order to the evincing this, we need only to consider with 
 ourselves, that such persons really have not a standing in 
 God's kingdom, and yet that they would be taken to have 
 Hypocrisy is when persons pretend to that good which 
 they have not. It is not any kind of semblance which 
 will put a glory upon us; but the simulation of some good 
 or other ; when men pretend to be better, or that their state 
 is better, than indeed it is, or than they are. Nor is it 
 necessary to a man's being a hypocrite that he should un- 
 derstand himself to be so; but only that he carries a show 
 or semblance, whether he deceives others by it only, or 
 himself also, of that good which he hath not. And that 
 such persons are not of God's kingdom we have largely 
 shown already. They neither are, nor is it possible they 
 should be, upon other terms than by being born into it. 
 There is no other possible way to come into this kingdom, 
 or to be made suitable to the nature and end of this con- 
 .stitution, but by being new born spirit of spirit. And 
 therefore that good which such persons pretend to, they 
 have not, who ever they are who are not yet new born. 
 They pretend to be the loyal subjects of the kingdom of 
 God, but it is no such thing, if they are not by a new 
 birth made .so; for by their old and natui'al birth, and as 
 they were born flesh of the flesh, they were never so. And 
 yet it is very apparent on the other hand, that there are 
 inany who would be taken to be of that kingdom, though 
 really they were never regenerate or born into it. And this 
 added to the former, evinces the matter we have in hand ; 
 that such persons are egregious hypocrites, who are not of 
 God's kingdom, and yet pretend to be of it. And that 
 many of the unregenerate do so, we have such evidences 
 of it as these : 
 
 1. That they are very loth to go under the contrary re- 
 pute. There are none but are either subjects of this king- 
 dom, or rebels again.st the authority and laws of it. There 
 is no medium between rebellion and subjection ; all are 
 either subjects, or rebels. Now they don't profess rebel- 
 lion, and think it inconvenient to go under the name of 
 rebels, or avow rebellion against the Majesty of heaven. 
 It is plain they would be thought subjects, and are loth to 
 wear that inscription upon their foreheads : Here is a rebel 
 against heaven. They would be tliought to be what they 
 are not. 
 
 2. They conform themselves to some parts of the law 
 of this kingdom ; that is, in such respects whereih their 
 compliance is more easy, and less expensive, and wherein 
 there is less disinclination of heart to it. There are many 
 very easy externals, which being observed and complied 
 with, a reputation may be gained, without any great pains, 
 or inconvenience and loss, or without imposing too much 
 upon themselves. There is an external obedience to the 
 letter of the law, in some of the less principal commands 
 and precepts of it : for if we compare them, we must ac- 
 knowledge all that duty which immediately terminates 
 upon God, to be more principal than that which imme- 
 diately terminates upon men. Possibly they can be so 
 content to put on the garb of just and charitable persons ; 
 yea, if you go with them no further than the externals of 
 religion, they can be content to come to the public assem- 
 blies, and to sit before the Lord as his people sit ; with 
 their mouths, ore temts, they show much love, (Ezek. xxxiii. 
 latter end,) i. e. they are very devout persons. And while 
 they do all this, what doth it signify, but that they have a 
 great mind to be taken for subjects, and some of God's 
 kingdom ; and think it possible to gain a repute by such 
 easy means as these, which they have no cause at all to 
 regret. 
 
 3. They declare against the more open rebellions of 
 others. It may be they will lift up loud outcries against 
 very gross wickedness in other men, and condemn them 
 for appearing to be that which themselves in heart really 
 are. 
 
 4. They claim the privileges of the subjects of this king- 
 dom. They will have their children to be enrolled, even 
 as theirs who are the members of it, and it may be, come 
 themselves to the Lord's tab.e They expect the pi otection
 
 Sf.rm. VII. 
 
 IN REFERENCE TO PARTICULAR TERSONS. 
 
 523 
 
 and blessing of the great King of this kingdom; though 
 possibly ihey may not have much recourse to him about 
 the concerns of their souls ; yet they believe and hope, he 
 will succeed ihem in their affairs, and prosper them in the 
 world, and save them at last. Why, all these things 
 plainly manifest, that they have a great mind to be taken 
 to be of this kingdom, what really and indeed they are 
 not; and that there is a great deal of hypocrisy in the 
 case. But, 
 
 '2ndly, We are to show the absurdity and folly of that 
 h3'pocrisy. This will be manifest too, if you consider 
 these two things; — 1. That it is without any colourable 
 pretence. — 2. That 'tis without any valuable design. If 
 one would put any semblance or show of being what one 
 is not, and manage the business with any wisdom or cun- 
 ning, there must be these two conjunct; that is, the dis- 
 guise must be framed with a great deal of art, and some 
 considerable advantage must be got by it. For otherwise, 
 to make such a show to no purpose, though there were 
 never so great ingenuity showed in it, is but to play the 
 fool. But now the hypocrisy which is to be found in this 
 case, must needs be absuid, as having neither colourable 
 pretence, nor valuable design. 
 
 1. It hath no sufficiently colourable pretence. Some 
 pretence there must be ; otherwise it could not but be hy- 
 pocrisy. But there wants a specious and plausible pre- 
 tence in the case ; i. e. that one should pretend himself to 
 be of this kingdom of God, which consists all of select per- 
 sons; and yet he never hath been born into such a state. 
 To pretend to be in a state into which there was no ima- 
 ginable way to come, and with the supposed denial, which 
 we must suppose in the present case, of the only way bj'" 
 which it was possible one co^ld come into such a state. 
 'Tis impossible there can be a specious pretence for this. 
 But to be a little more particular: It is plain, 
 
 1. That men do in this case pretend to be that which 
 they abhor. They pretend at present to be of the initial 
 kingdom, or the kingdom of grace ; that is, in short, they 
 pretend to be saints ; every one pretends to be so, who 
 pretends to be of this kingdom, for it is a kingdom of 
 such : but being as yet unregeneraie, they abhor to be so, 
 and dislike the purity of that state to which they do pre- 
 tend. This is very gross and absurd. And, 
 
 2. They pretend to hope for what they don't desire ; and 
 that is equally absurd. They hope they say to be in the 
 consummate and glorious kingdom above ; but they don't 
 desire to be there : for it is impossible an unregenerate, 
 unholy heart can. No man can desire that which is un- 
 suitable to his nature, and to which his heart, in its ha- 
 bitual inclinations, is repugnant. Every one who hath this 
 hope in him, purifies himself even as he is pure, 1 Jolm 
 iii. -3. Now for a man to pretend to the hope of that, which 
 in his own heart he doth not desire; this is a most absurd 
 pretence. For though it is very possible to desire that 
 which a man doth not hope for; there are many such irra- 
 tional desires of things which appear in themselves worth 
 the having, but which we apprehend no possibility of ha- 
 ving: such childish and foolish desires and wouldings 
 there may be, of what we have no hope to attain. But it 
 is impossible there can be, on the other hand, the hope of 
 that whereof I have no desire ; for hope doth superadd to 
 desire, and therefore doth suppose it. Whatever I hope 
 for I desiie, though I do not necessarily, because I desire 
 a thing, therefore hope for it ; for to make a thing hope- 
 ful to me it must be possible, and it must be arduous, 
 or attended with some kind of appearing difficulty. But 
 I may desire a thing, merely because it appears good, 
 whether I apprehend it possible to be attained or no ; or 
 though there is nothing of arduousness appearing in the 
 case. It may be the object of desire, but not of hope. 
 
 And most manifest it is, that whosoever are not thus 
 born spirit of spirit, have not any desire to be partakers in 
 this kingdom rightly understood. That is, 'tis not possible 
 that an unrenewed, unspiritual heart can desire the em- 
 ployment and business, the purity and enjoj'ments, of that 
 state ; or the Divine presence in which they are to con- 
 verse. All by which they can so much as cheat them- 
 selves in the case, is only this, having taken up a defective 
 or false notion of heaven, or a future state of blessedness, 
 ihey hope, they say, to be happy when they die, without 
 
 having ever formed a right notion, what that happiness is, 
 or wherein it consists. But be it what it will, and though 
 it is never so mistaken a notion, it is plain they desire that 
 happiness which they do desire, only as it is put in com- 
 parison with hell, not £is it stands in comparison with 
 earth. They had rather indeed be happy, wiih such an 
 imaginary happiness as they fancy to themselves in heaven, 
 than to go to hell ; but they had rather continue on earth 
 perpetually, enjoying the good things it affords, than that 
 heaven itself, though suited by their own imaginations 
 never so much to the wish of their own hearts. An im- 
 mortality on earth would be chosen rather. This Ls not to 
 desire heaven as its blessedness or chief good ; for what- 
 soever I desire as such, I desire absolutely." 'Tis impos- 
 sible I can take that for my chief good, which I would be 
 content never to enjoy. As much as they pretend to desire 
 heaven, yet they wish never to come there, if they could 
 stay in this world always, and have what it affijrds them. 
 Therefore, I say, they most absurdly pretend to hope for 
 that heaven, as their best good, which they don't so much 
 as desire ever to enjoy. And, 
 
 3. There is a great deal of absurdity in the pretence 
 upon this account, that ver)^ often it is to be seen through. 
 It is so thin and slight a cover that any eye may even see 
 through it. All who are hyptx^rites are not artificial ones : 
 there are a great many hypocrites, and the far greater part 
 of them, who are mere biuiglers at it; they are hypocrues 
 without any skill or artifice ; and so they take up a j.re- 
 tence which any body, with half an eye, may penetrate 
 and see through. As if, for example, a person who pre- 
 tends to be a subject of God's kingdom, and yet makes it 
 manifest in the course of his conversation that he stands 
 in no aM'e of God at all, which is a prime thing in that 
 subjection. So the case is very often, as the Psalmist lakes 
 notice, (Psalm xxxvL beginning,) The wickedness of the 
 wicked sailh in my heart, the fear of God is not before 
 his eyes. His wickedness speaks in my heart, that he is 
 one fearless of God, and who star.ds in no awe of him. 
 So it is with many a man who professes somewhat of re- 
 ligion, that is, who doth not profess atheism, or rebellion 
 against heaven ; yet the wickedness of his course and 
 practice is such as to speak in another man's heart, sure 
 this man has no fear of God before his eyes. Now how 
 absurd is this, to put on a covering and disgui.<:e, which 
 doth not hide a man at all ! The whole course of their 
 lives proclaims them to be no other than earthly, carnal 
 worldlings, while they pretend to be designing for heaven ; 
 for every one who professes a relation to this kingdom, is 
 understood to stand related not only to the inchoate but 
 the consummate state of it, or the kingdom of heaven. 
 But while they pretend themselves to do so, the pretence 
 is easily to be seen tli rough, and they who observe the or- 
 dinarv course of their conversation, discourses, and de- 
 signs,"easily see that the)- are mere compositions of earth ; 
 and unless j'ou can suppose a clod of clay can be carried 
 up into heaven, they are never like to come there. It is to 
 be seen that they are men, as it were made of earth ; and 
 all their discourses, converses, actions, and designs, smell 
 of earth. It is therefore observable, that no man can make 
 himself "more ridiculous, than when he takes upon himself 
 to act a part, to act it partially, and when he goes to per- 
 sonate another man, to do it absurdly: why he had better 
 have contented himself to have appeared only in his own 
 likeness, and in his natural face and posture. Thus the 
 case is with such hvpoc rites; they do, it maybe, disguise 
 themselves quoad hoc, as to this particular thing; but then 
 they lay themselves open in something or other else. Just 
 as if some vain person should mightily pride himself in 
 some gay rich apparel, which he had thrown on upon 
 some part of him ; and all the other parts appeared clothed 
 with nothing but rags, or expo-^^ed to view more shameful 
 nakedness. How ridiculous should we account such a 
 person ! And, 
 
 4. The pretence with many is an evanid thing, and soon 
 vanishes awav. And then how great is the absurdity to 
 make myself be thought, if I could then succeed so far to 
 be thought, such a one yesterday, and to-day discover m};- 
 self to be quite another! They who pretend to be of this 
 kingdom of God, and the appearance from whence they 
 would gain to themselves that estimate and reputation, be-
 
 524 
 
 THE WORK OF THE HOLY SPIRIT 
 
 Serm. VII. 
 
 mg notlimg that hath life in it; as not being born or con- 
 natural to the new creature ; it will then soon be a with- 
 ering and vanishing thing. As Job speaks of the hypo- 
 crite ; Can a rush grow without mire 1 Job viii. 11. Can 
 there be verdure and greenness, and fair appearance, and 
 nothing at all to maintain it 1 A mere spider's web, such 
 a thing is the best pretence of the hypocrite ; why, how 
 soon is it swept away ! It is very apparent, that the living 
 I'oot being wanting, that which is merely external of a 
 person's religion, will in tract of lime become tiresome, 
 and he will be very well content to throw it away himself, 
 when he finds it to be for convenience. So we find Job 
 speaking again concerning the hypocrite, chap, xxvii. 
 10. win he delight himself in the Almighty! Will he 
 always call upon God 1 That is, he will not be always 
 religious ; for calling upon God (here, is only a synech- 
 dochal expression for religion in general. Will he always 
 call upon God 1 No, surely ; for he doth not delight him- 
 self in the Almighty, and hath not a temper of spirit suited 
 to God; the habitual disposition of his soul is opposite 
 and averse ; God is one in whom he can take no pleasure ; 
 and then you may be sure he will not call upon him 
 always; his religion will have an. end, and he will soon 
 grow weary. And how absurd a thing is it to take up 
 and wear a while a disguise, and have afterwards a kind 
 of an unhappy necessity come upon me to have it made 
 appear, I did but act a part, and no more ! That is the 
 first thing. But, 
 
 2. It is without any valuable design. For what is there 
 to be got by it, for a man to pretend himself to be a loyal 
 subject of God's kingdom, who never had his heart changed 
 and renewed, and made suitable to the laws and constitu- 
 tions of if? Why certainly nothing worth designing, 
 whether yon consider the matter with reference to God or 
 man. In reference to man ; him indeed you may deceive ; 
 but that is to no purpose. In reference to God, though 
 that were to never so great a purpose, yet him you can 
 never deceive. 'Tis true you may deceive man ; but what 
 is to be got by it 1 What is the hope of a hypocrite though 
 he gain, when God takes away his soul ? Job xxvii. 8. 
 Alas ! what a pitiful little will the greatest gain dwindle 
 into, when Gqd comes to take away his soul 1 What is he 
 the better for it thenl 
 
 But as to God, what rational design can a man form to 
 himself, in reference to him, by pretending to be what in 
 this case he is not 1 
 
 1. It is plain he can never deceive God by that pretence. 
 " Be not deceived, God is not mocked." You do but de- 
 ceive yourselves, as if he had said, by attempting to de- 
 ceive him. Every man shall reap as he sows; he who 
 sows to the flesh, shall of the flesh reap corruption ; he 
 who sows to the Spirit, shall of the Spirit reap life ever- 
 lasting, Gal. vi. 8. You do but deceive yourselves, and 
 not at all impose upon God, if being flesh you look for any 
 better issue of things, than what is suitable to your slate 
 and temper ; and if not being spiritual you have any ex- 
 pectations of that state of blessedness, which is only agree- 
 able to such a temper. That puts the matter quite out of 
 doubt, you cannot deceive God in the case. But, 
 
 2. You will highly provoke him, even by an attempt of 
 it, or admitting an imagination in )rour own hearts, that 
 you can do it. For what higher an affront can we put 
 upon the infinite and eternal God, than to suppose him 
 like one of the idol gods of the nations, who hath eyes to 
 sees, and sees not 1 Who would ever worship him as a 
 deity, whom we think we could impose upon by a lie, or 
 a false appearance 1 Indeed there cannot be a greater 
 absurdity, and no man can act more inconsistently with 
 him.self, than at once to profess homage to an object, and 
 think it possible at the same time to impose a cheat upon 
 it. It is truly to deface my own act : I give him worship ; 
 that carries the face and appearance of very high thoughts 
 which I have of him, and as if I took him for a very ex- 
 cellent being ; but to think to impose upon him by a piece 
 of falsehood, that carries the appearance of the meanest 
 and most despicable thou^'hts of him which can be irna- 
 gined. And therefore we find with what severity the holy 
 God speaks, in that case, of any man, who does "but say in 
 his heart, I shall have peace, "though he walks after the 
 imaginations of his heart : My jealousy shall smoke against 
 
 that man, Deut. xxix. 19. " What, will he take up such 
 contemptuous thoughts of me 1 I will make him pay dear 
 for that very thought, a,nd my jealousy shall sn^oke against 
 him." 
 
 3. By this attempt to impose upon the blessed God by 
 false appearances, we bring in veiy pregnant convictive 
 testimony against our own souls. Hypocrisy always does 
 that. There is no man who plays the hypocrite, but that 
 which he counterl'eits, and whereof he puts on the appear- 
 ance, he doth thereby proclaim it to be good, and valu- 
 able.; otherwise why doth he imitate or counterfeit"? 
 People are not M'ont to put on a false appearance, to make 
 themselves seem worse than they are, but to make them- 
 selves appear better : and their very practice in this thing 
 carries this testimony with it against themselves, that they 
 judge that to be better, and yet decline it. They judge 
 that to be a good whereof they thought fit to clothe them- 
 selves with the show; they practically acknowledge it to 
 be a good, and thereby give a mighty testimony against 
 themselves. Thou thoughtest it a good and desirable 
 thing to be a Christian; otherwise why didst thou seem 
 one 1 to be sincere; otherwise why didst thou pretend to 
 it1 And if thou dost think so, why didst thou not aim to 
 be such a one 1 Beside, 
 
 4. They hereby lose the opportunity which they might 
 otherwise have had of becoming what they seemed to be. 
 The moralist speaks about the business of wisdom, Multi 
 ad sapie?it.iain'pcrrenissent, nisi se ad sapientiam pervenisse 
 futaranL : Many had attained to be wise, had they not 
 thought themselves to be already so. If they had not co- 
 zened themselves with the appearance of it, manj^ might 
 have come to have been sincere. And 'tis a miserable 
 thing to please oneself wkh the shadow, all that time 
 wherein one should have been getting the substance, till 
 the, time is expired and gone. 
 
 But here now a question may perhaps arise, by some 
 such person or other, who may fear himself not yet lo be 
 sincere, and may therefore say, " What am I to do in this 
 case 1 while I think I am not sincere, and while perhaps 
 that really is my case 7 Am I to throw away all my pro- 
 fession 7 Or am I to profess enmity against God! Being 
 not yet regenerate, and therefore not yet a subject, must I 
 therefore profess myself a rebel "?" It would be very easy 
 to discover what is duty in this case, if we do but consider 
 and fasten u})on what is only faulty in it. Now whereso- 
 ever there is hypocrisy there must be some good wanting; 
 and there must be the present appearance and semblance 
 of that good which is wanting. Thus it is in the present 
 case. This good is wanting, a real subjection of heart 
 and spirit to the laws and constitution of God's spiritual 
 kingdom, which is only brought about by the new birth. 
 Well, but here is the appearance of it too, else there could 
 not be hypocrisj'. Now let us consider where the fault 
 lies in this case : the fault cannot lie simply in the ap- 
 pearance, but only as it is untrue; for there are true ap- 
 pearances, as well as false. The appearance therefore is 
 upon no other account faulty, but as it is false ; for if the 
 good were there, whereof there is tlie appearance, the ap- 
 pearance would not only be lawful, but a duty. We are 
 to hold forth the word of life, by which we have been 
 made to live; as the apostle directs, Phil. ii. 16. Now 
 therefore inasmuch as the fault here is, that while there 
 is such an appearance, that good doth not subessc, there 
 is not that good underneath which there ought to he ; so 
 the thing now to be done, is not to throw away the ap- 
 pearance, but to have the good .supplied; that is, in this 
 case, to be restlessly intent to obtain that Spirit, and the 
 vital influences and operations of it, by which that great 
 transforming work may be done. And how great encou- 
 ragement is there for this at his hand, who hath told us, 
 that if earthly parents, who are evil, will give good gifts 
 to their children ; bread rather than a stone ; a fish rather 
 than a scorpion ; how much rather will our heavenly 
 Father give the Holy Spirit to them who ask it ! It is not 
 because this Spirit is out of our power, and not at our 
 command, that we have not the influences and operations 
 of it, according to our need ; but because we apprehend 
 not, and will not admit the seriou.s apprehension, of our 
 need. It is a kind of contempt of this blessed Spirit that 
 these pleasant vital influences are so little valued by crea-
 
 Sekm. VIII. 
 
 IN REFERENCE TO PARTICULAR PERSONS. 
 
 525 
 
 tu res lost in darkness and death; that we rather content 
 ourselv-es to be desolate, and seem careless whether we 
 live or die for the present; or are happy or miserable to 
 all eternity. It is upon such accounts as these that the 
 blessed Spirit, though the Author and Fountain of all love, 
 and goodness, and benignity, and sweetness, retires ; and 
 that resolution seems taken up, " My Spirit shall no longer 
 strive." It is no wonder if it don't, when there is so liitle 
 apprehension of our need of him, so little dependance 
 upon him; so little craving, and seeking, and solicitude, 
 whether it be an indweller in our souls, or no : as if the 
 doctrine of the Holy Ghost were a strange and new thing 
 to our ears ; or we had not yet heard whether there was a 
 Holy Ghost or no. 
 
 SERMON VIII.* 
 
 Several inferences have been recommended to you al- 
 ready, and others remain to be added. As, 
 
 5. Inference, — That the depravation of a man's nature 
 in the state of apostacy is total. — Being born denotes a 
 total production, and the thing produced is only somewhat 
 substituted in the room of the nature depraved : and what 
 Avas corrupted and what is substituted instead of it, must 
 necessarily be commensurate and proportionable to one 
 another. If a man should have a leg or arm perish, he 
 would not say, the production of that arm was a being 
 born ; for being born is the production of all the parts to- 
 gether, not of this or that single part alone. And hence 
 it is that that which is corrupted, and that which is anew 
 produced, are in Scrijiture spoken of under the name of a 
 man ; an old man, and a new man. The frame of graces, 
 that impress of holiness, wherein the new creature doih 
 consi.st, must be understood to be a whole entire body of 
 graces; as the sins which meet together originally in the 
 nature of man, are called by the name of the body of the 
 sins of the flesh, which is to be destroyed ; and elsewhere, 
 the body of sin. It is therefore a forlorn miserable state 
 that men are antecedently in to their being born spirit of 
 spirit. And it is of no small consequence, that it be dis- 
 tinctly understood, and sink into our hearts, that this depra- 
 vation is total, and that we need to be made new through- 
 out. As we have it in 2 Cor. v. 17. If any man be in Christ 
 he is a new creature ; old things are passed away, and all 
 things are become new. Where this is not understood, it 
 is of most unhappy consequence in these two respects — 1. 
 Men take not up right thoughts of the distressedness of 
 their own case ; — and, 2. By consequence they never apply 
 themselves to the proper business of the redress of it. 
 
 I. They never take up right thoughts of the wretched- 
 ness of their own case. They understand neither the ex- 
 tent of it, nor wherein it doth especially consist. They 
 understand not how extensive it is in a twofold respect, 
 that is, to the subject disaffected, and the object whereunto 
 they are disaffected. There is a twofold totality to be 
 considered in this matter, both subjective and objective. 
 The subject is disaffected universally in every faculty ; the 
 mind, and judgment, and will, and conscience, and affec- 
 tions, and executive powers ; and by a kind of participa- 
 tion, the whole outward man. The apostle applying pas- 
 sages out of the Old Testament, runs over the several 
 parts; Their throat is an open sepulchre, the poison of 
 asps is under their lips, their feet make haste to shed blood, 
 &c. Rom. iii. This is little apprehended by them v;ho 
 consider not the work to be wrought under the notion of 
 a birth, which suppo.ses the antecedent corruption, which 
 always leads the way to generation, to have been univer- 
 sal and total. 
 
 And it is as little considered, that this disaffection, as it 
 hath spread itself through the whole subject ; so it refers 
 to the whole object, which they ought to be otherwise af- 
 fected to : that is, the whole law of God, or the entire sum 
 of their dutv. They make nothing of it, considered as a 
 duty and enjoined by God, and whereby they pay a respect 
 and homage to him ; and indeed every act of duty should 
 * Prcaolied Fcl). 6tli, 1677, at Cordwainer's Hull. 
 
 be in that regard an act of religion ; and that religion is 
 of no value, if this don't run through it, and is only the 
 body and carcass of it, but not the soul and spirit. This 
 is not understood, that in reference to every part of duty 
 which is enjoined, there is a disaffection in the spirits of 
 men, and they are to every good work reprobate: i. e. they 
 don't know how to make proof of themselves, or approve 
 themselves in any work they undertake which is truly 
 good ; and cannot accordingly be approved of God in 
 what they do or go about. 
 
 But besides that the extent of this wretched ca.se is nr<« 
 understood by such as don't consider, that a total depri- 
 vation is now befallen the nature of man ; so that is waivei' 
 and overlooked which is the special thing in resjiect bot t 
 of the object and subject, wherein the misery of their ca^r 
 doth more principally lie : that is, in respect of the su.- 
 ject, the principal depravation is in the heart ; in respe-j: 
 of the object, the principal is towards God himself Tru* 
 it is indeed tliat by the corruption which hath spread itself 
 through the world, men are become liateful to God, and 
 haters of one another; very ill-tempered towards one an- 
 other ; but we may observe that men are a great deal more 
 easily brought to civility, than religion ; and are with 
 much less ado, whatever their tempers and dispositions 
 are, brought to be kind one to another, than to take up 
 loyal and dutiful affections towards God, and deport them- 
 selves suitably towards him. Nothing is more plain thar. 
 that this depravedness which is in the spirits of men, arA 
 which this begetting them of the Spirit is to cure, hath T^: 
 its principal subject and seat, the heart ; and for the prin- 
 cipal object, the blessed God. That is, the heart, as that 
 doth contain within the compass of it, the judgment, will, 
 and affections of the soul, will by no means endure to be 
 exercised about God. Notional thoughts men can tell how 
 to employ about him, without any great trouble to them- 
 selves ; they regret it not ; but deeply to consider, and 
 with a design to choose him as their God; to desire after 
 him, to love him, and delight in him, and fear before him 
 as such ; therein the great disaffection of the spirit of a 
 man towards God doth especially discover itself. This 
 men will not understand, while they apprehend not that 
 the thing to be effected by regeneration, is to make them 
 new at the heart; and to renew the heart principally to- 
 wards God : " Create in me a clean heart, O God ; renev/ 
 a right spirit within me." When once that worn is dons, 
 then this becomes the sense and posture of the soul ; " As 
 the heart panteth after the water brooks, so panieth my soul 
 after thee, O God." A renewed soul presently turns itself 
 to God, and hath a bias put upon it, which inclines it to- 
 wards him : " Whom have I in heaven but thee ? and there 
 is none on earth I desire in comparison of thee." He is 
 singled out as the one Good, in which the soul doth centre 
 and rest; " One thing have I desired of the Lord, that I 
 may dwell in the house of the Lord for ever :" i. e. dwell 
 in the Divine presence, and be alwa3's nigh to God. 
 
 But this great disaffection of the heart towards God, is 
 still overlooked b}' the generality of men, as if thej' did 
 not need to be cured in this respect. And herein they are 
 verv much confirmed, because it is become .so cuslomar}' a 
 thing never to make such kind of reflections upon them- 
 selves which may naturally and probably lead to the dis- 
 covery of their case, in this reerard. Men don't compare 
 themselves with the rule, and what it requires the dispo- 
 sitions of men's .spirits to God should be. It summarily 
 snith, " LoAe the Lord thy God with all thy soul, and all 
 thy strength, and all thy mind." And ihey don't com- 
 pare themselves with the examples of holy men ; for such 
 they can't but read of, if they consult their Bibles; and 
 such they may possibly sometimes converse with, who cari 
 say somewhat of the disposition of their spirits towards 
 God ; how pleasant it is to be conversant with him ; how 
 they can entertain themselves in solitude, and what a so- 
 lace it is to a vacant and leisure hour, wherein they can 
 be entirelv taken up in conversing with God. They don't 
 compare themselves with the rule, or wiih other holy men ; 
 but they compare themselves, as the apostle speaks, with 
 themselves, (2 Cor. x. 12.) and so ihey are not wise, or 
 never come to understand themselves. They only com- 
 pare themselves with themselves; and they find they agree
 
 526 
 
 THE WORK OF THE HOLY SPIRIT 
 
 Serm. VIll. 
 
 with themselves well enough ; that is, they are such to-day 
 as they were yesterday ; and this week, as last ; and tliis 
 year, as the year before, and for many years past. They 
 agree with themselves very well, and so only comparing 
 themselves with themselves, they never come to under- 
 stand the case. And this is very natural for men to do, 
 and not to compare themselves with any thing which will 
 be a reproof to them, or look ill upon them. And indeed 
 if they took measure of their own spirits by the rule, or 
 by another good and holy man, they would say, " Things 
 are not so with me as they should be, and as with such 
 and such it is." When I put myself upon atrial, I find I 
 have no disposition of heart to love God ; good thoughts 
 of him are not at all delightful to me. But when they 
 compare themselves with themselves, they can say, " I 
 don't vary from myself; just such a temper of spirit as I 
 had, I have." And so they think all is well, and never 
 grow wise, or come to be instructed concerning the truth 
 of their case. But if this great principle of truth could 
 once obtain to be fixed in tlie minds of men, that there 
 hath been a total depravation, and their whole souls are 
 disaffected to the whole of their duty; and especially to- 
 wards God, and all that duty which more immediately 
 terminates on him; they would have quite other thoughts 
 concerning the disfressedness of their case, than is com- 
 mon with them. And 'tis of ill consequence that so plain 
 and great a truth as this is overlooked. 
 
 2dly, Hence also they apprehend not wherein their re- 
 dress must lie. They are apt either to think that some 
 partial reformation is sufficient, and if they are reformed a 
 little in this or that particular thing, then matters will be 
 right and good, and will be well with them. If the drunkard 
 take up and become sober, he thinks concerning himself, 
 that he is a new man. If an unjust person admit a con- 
 viction, or it may be, is taught a little prudence by ob- 
 serving how much any thing of that kind reflects upon 
 his reputation, and so he orders his affairs with more ex- 
 actness, he is ready to look upon himself as regenerate. 
 But if it were considered that there must be a being born, 
 and that I am in a total corruption; surely another cure 
 would be thought of than that, and it would appear no 
 more proportionable to the case, than a man whose body 
 was all over leprous, and full of sores, would acquiesce 
 in the cure of a slight scratch in his little finger. 
 
 And as they apprehend such a partial reformation suf- 
 ficient, so they apprehend too from hence, that a vital prin- 
 ciple is unnecessary. It is very true indeed, that with 
 only some partial maim a principle of life may consist, 
 but a universal corruption imports death. If the case 
 were therefore understood aright, men would see it ne- 
 cessary in order to their cure, that they should be made 
 alive, and a principle of life put into them; which a total 
 depravation speaks to be absent. They would never think 
 themselves well till then, and would find that as they are 
 alienated from the life of God ; so their business was to be 
 made alive to God, and to Jesus Christ, as those who have 
 been dead. But again, 
 
 6. Inference. — Since in order to any one's partaking of 
 God's kingdom, he must be born spirit of spirit, we infer 
 further, that whosoever becomes truly and sincerely reli- 
 gious, a new creature is transmitted and communicated to 
 him. — This being not understood, it is all a man's busi- 
 ness, to contrive and form for himself an artificial reli- 
 gion ; and there are several sad consequences ensue there- 
 upon. As, 
 
 1. Men attempt to perform what is proper to the Divine 
 life without it. The actions of the Divine life which are 
 visible to men, carry a kind of amiableness in them, in 
 the common consciences of men ; and they attempt those 
 actions which are done from a principle of life, without 
 considering, that to be sincerely religious, is to have a 
 new nature. They think to do these actions without that 
 life ; just as he who is observed in story, to have attempted 
 the setting up of a carcass of one newly dead : he would 
 fain have it stand in the posture of a living body, but how 
 to make it stand so he knew not. The head falls one way, 
 and the hands another, and the legs tremble under it : at 
 last he cries out, ^'Deest aliquid intus, There wants some- 
 thing wilMn." Just so do men busy themselves to make 
 an artificial frame, which is indeed a dead carcass of reli- 
 
 gion ; they can't tell how to inspirit it, and it will upon no 
 terms do, but hang and waver this way and that. And 
 hence therefore, 
 
 2. All the actions of religion become exceeding grievous 
 and irksome, and no pleasure is taken in them. You 
 know it is a very easy thing for a man to move to and fro 
 his own living body, where he will; pass into a speedy or 
 slower motion, as he sees cause, without any considerable 
 pain or difficulty; but it would be a very tedious thing to 
 move to and fro a dead carcass; that would put him to 
 greater pain. Here lies the difference between these two 
 sorts of men ; a man truly religiou.s, and who therefore 
 hath a new creature communicated to him, (as there is 
 where any are begotten,) and other men. When any don't 
 consider this, their business is to make up an external 
 frame of religion, and to act and move and carry it to and 
 fro with them ; and that is alike burdensome as for a living 
 man to move to and fro a dead carcass. But to one who 
 is truly and spiritually alive, his new nature which is com- 
 municated to him, doth in a natural way animate the 
 frame of religion, in which he is to act ; so that the actions 
 of it are easy and light, as all the acts of nature are. 
 
 3. Hence it is, that they are so manifestly defective im- 
 itations of religion. Their attempts and essays to do like 
 religious men, have notorious and observable flaws in 
 them, because they do not consider, there must be given a 
 new nature, before I become truly religious. Some think 
 it is only to do as men are taught, or only as a piece of 
 art. And when we go to imitate only a natural action, 
 there will be some very observable flaw and defect, some 
 visible disparity in the attempt ; as if you should make a 
 puppet act just like a living child, the difference would be 
 soon discovered. And hence, 
 
 4. Religion comes to be given over. Whereas where it 
 ever comes to be taken up as an artificial thing, it is taken 
 up on design of some present advantage and convenience; 
 therefore if the inconveniences which shall come to you 
 thereby be greater by continuing it than laying it aside, 
 the reason why it was taken up being vanished, itself must 
 needs cease. If the conveniences are not greater in a 
 course of religion, than the inconveniences they sought to 
 avoid, the religion itself must needs cease of course ; and 
 so it commonly doth. But where religion is in a man as 
 a nature, it can't do so. I can easily lay aside my cloak., 
 but not my flesh, which is vitally united wilh me, and is 
 one thing with me, by a principle of life which runs 
 through me.. It is therefore of great concernment truly 
 and thoroughly to understand this, that wherever any be- 
 come truly religious, a new nature is communicated. Be- 
 ing taught only signifies the acquisitions of art ; but being 
 born, and principled, and constituted of such a complex- 
 ion, signifies a stayed invariable principle of those actions 
 which proceed from it. 
 
 7. Inference — That the constitution of God's kingdom 
 must needs be spiritual ; for men are born into it spirit of 
 spirit. — It hath been a great modern controversy, as well 
 as an ancient one, among philosophers, whether the con- 
 stitution of the universe is oi primnrdia, which are mecha- 
 nical, or spermetical and vital. It is a dangerous thing 
 when this comes to be a matter of doubt in religion, whe- 
 ther the constitution of this divine kingdom is mechani- 
 cal or vital. According as the greater part of men prac- 
 tise, and as their habitual temper is, it seems as if it were 
 thought that Christianity is nothing else but a piece of me- 
 chanism. But certainly if you are born into this king- 
 dom, as they who come truly into it spirit of spirit : then 
 the constitution of this kingdom is not mechanical, or an 
 artificial contexture of things ; but a frame of things 
 which doth in a spiritually-natural way grow up towards 
 that pilch it is designed to ; and is that spirit of life which 
 doth diffuse itself through all the mystical body of Christ ; 
 which makes the connexion between part and part, and 
 keeps the body entire and firm to itself, and makes it a 
 consistent and stable thing. And hereupon it must needs 
 be consequent, 
 
 1. That whatever there is of disagreement among Chris- 
 tians, who are the living members of this kingdom and 
 body, it must needs be unnatural. The reason is, that all 
 who are of this kingdom, and truly belonging to it, are 
 born into it, and in that birth partake of one and the same
 
 Serm. VIII. 
 
 IN REFERENCE TO PARTICULAR PERSONS. 
 
 527 
 
 nature, by which they are connaturalized to one another, 
 and to their common Lord and Head ; He who saiictifieth, 
 and they who are sanciilied, are all of one, (Heb. ii. 11.) 
 or make one entire piece. Wherefore now what there is 
 of disagreement among Christians, must needs be preter- 
 naturaf, and beside nature. And hence it is consequent, 
 that it must needs proceed from ill designs : that is, from 
 the devil and his instruments, who make it their business, 
 what they can, to act persons diversely ; when if these 
 things be left to their natural course, and the new nature 
 in men is permitted to act undisturbedly, and according 
 to Its genuine tendency, it would all run one way. It is 
 needful to be well aware of this, whatever there is of dis- 
 agreement is accidental to it, and certainly proceeds from 
 a foreign enemy, and somewliat without it, which sets such 
 things on foot, and keeps them on foot, with an ill design 
 towards this kingdom. If the new nature did run its course, 
 and were not accidentally disturbed, by what is not of the 
 constitution of this kingdom, it would certainly run the 
 same way. It is one thing to say what is the constitution 
 of the persons ; and another, what is the constitution of 
 them as members of this kingdom and born into it. The 
 corruption of their own hearts, is extrinsical to the con- 
 stitution of this kingdom ; for 'tis only so Jar as they are 
 new born that they are members of this kingdom. The 
 sphere and verge of this kingdom doth properly and di- 
 rectly take in only the spiritual part. It is a sphere of 
 spirituality ; and what there is in it opposite thereunto, is 
 alien to the constitution of it, and doth not belong to it. It 
 is a great thing to be well possessed with this apprehension, 
 that the great enemy of this kingdom does certainly fo- 
 ment whatever there is of disagreement among them who 
 are born the vital members of it ; and it must be under- 
 stood to proceed from an ill design. And, 
 
 2. It must argue an evil state, and the prevalency of a 
 contrary principle. If there be divisions among you, are 
 you not carnaH 1 Cor. iii.3. They who are of this king- 
 dom are spiritual ; they are born into it spirit of spirit ; so 
 they come into it. Therefore so far as there is a prevail- 
 ing disagreement and dividedness in the state of things in 
 the church of Christ; so far the persons who are of that 
 state are in a decay, and lapsed into carnality', and things 
 grow worse and worse, as the church grows more divided. 
 That spiritual principle which agrees to every member of 
 this kingdom, as he is born into it, drives all to oneness. It 
 proceeds from God, and tends to him ; all are children of 
 the same Father, and they are all begotten to one and the 
 same great and lively hope of an eternal and undefiled in- 
 heritance. The primordia of the new creature necessarily 
 leads to unity, among all who are of this kingdom. 
 
 3. Where there is any departure from this said oneness, 
 there is so much of the decay of the spiritual nature, by 
 the communication whereof men are said to be born into 
 this kingdom. So much disunion as there is, so much 
 carnality ; and the church is then in a languishing state 
 spiritually, when it is in a divided state. The not con- 
 sidering this is attended with a double mischief very ob- 
 vious; that is, that in different respects, thedifierences and 
 disagreements among Christians, are thought greater and 
 less than indeed they are. They are thought greater than 
 they are, because it is not considered how the nature wiiich 
 is every where communicated among the true members of 
 this kingdom, doth make them substantially one, in the 
 great and main and more principal things. There is a 
 greater stress put upon the differences of those who are 
 Christians indeed, than there ought, or can be, in com- 
 parison of the small things wherein they differ. And thev 
 very much mistake who think them to be great ; for they 
 necessarily agree in one common, new, spiritual, divine 
 nature and principle of life: and it is impossible they 
 should disagree in any one thing, comparatively to so great 
 a thing as this. Whatsoever other differences there are, 
 they are comparatively little, in respect of their agreement 
 in this. They cannot differ so but they are all one in Christ 
 Jesus ; whoever is in Christ is a new creature, they all 
 come in him under one mould and stamp by their new 
 creation. 
 
 But then, in another respect, the difference is thought a 
 great deal less than indeed it is among Christians. Con- 
 sider Christians who are truly and sincerely such, and so 
 
 the dillercnce can't be so great as many times it is thought; 
 but then consider the ditierence between those who are 
 Christians in truth, and those who are only so by profes- 
 sion; and there the dili'erence, for the same reason, must 
 be greater than it is commonly thought to be ; for there 
 the difference is between a living thing and a dead ; as 
 much as between a piece of nature and art, a man and a 
 statue. So that it is a very vain.kind of confidence which 
 such pretend to, who because they have made a shift to 
 imitate and resemble a Christian, they think the case is 
 well with them, when as yet they may as much differ from 
 them whose case is truly good, as a living man doth from 
 a dead carcass. 
 
 8. Inference. — That love to God cannot but be charac- 
 teristical to every regenerate person — For every such a one 
 is a child of God, and born of him ; and certainly it ought 
 to be looked upon, as the property of a child, to love the 
 Father. If you love him who begat; that is supposed and 
 taken for granted, as a thing not to be doubted, 1 John v. 1. 
 And therefore to have a heart destitute of the love of God, 
 and having no love to him, is a most unreasonable and 
 unnatural thing; and a certain argument, that one is not 
 his child, and hath not been born spirit of spirit. 'Tisvery 
 true there may be so great a degeneration in the old de- 
 cayed nature of man ; but in the new nature, there can ne- 
 ver be such a degeneration, as that a person born of God 
 should not love him. It would be the greatest inconsistency 
 imaginable; and therefore a certain argument, that such 
 were none of God's children. For though it is verj' true 
 indeed, as it is commonly observed, that love doth descend, 
 more than ascend ; from him who begets, to them who are 
 begotten ; so love in this case more especially doth a great 
 deal more descend from God to them who are bom of him, 
 than ascend from them to him. But though it descends a 
 great deal more, yet it doth really and truly ascend to him, 
 though not indeed so much. There is nothing more con- 
 natural to the new creature than the love of God. The 
 very heart and soul of the new creature is love to him pri- 
 marily, and therein lies the end of the new creation, to 
 form a person to God. " God is love," and every soul who 
 is begotten anew by him, is turned into a like nature, and 
 becomes love, as God is love. " He who dwells in love, 
 dwells in God ; for God is love." There can't but be a 
 love-commerce, more or less, between God and every new- 
 born soul. As the true mother, in that great proof of 
 Solomon's wisdom, was distinguished by her love to her 
 child ; so we may proporiionably saj', that a child of God 
 is distinguished by that love which works towards God. 
 We find some whom it never toucheth to have God dis- 
 honoured and disgraced; but it goes to the heart of a true 
 child of God, when his Father is struck at, his name re- 
 proached and torn, or any thing done against his interest. 
 
 9. Inference. — How great is the obligation upon all the 
 regenerate to the love of one another. If you love God, 
 how can it be but you must have a love for them who love 
 God ; who have all one parent, all partake of one and the 
 same nature, all expecting the same inheritance; who 
 have one and the same spirit, the same hope and calling? 
 Upon the consideration of their being new born, 'tis e^^- 
 dent they must have the same Father and inheritance : If 
 children, then heirs ; and joint-heirs with one another, as 
 well as with Christ, Rom. viii. 17. And every one who 
 loveth him who begat, loveth him also M-ho is begotten of 
 him. By this we know that we love the children of God, 
 &c. 
 
 10. Inference. — We further infer, that the reason is evi- 
 dent, why the proper means of their regeneration, or spirit- 
 ual birth, are very dear to renewed souls. There is a 
 spiritually-natural reason for it. There are those in the 
 world, who cannot believe otherwise, but it must he folly 
 and fanaticism, or a mere humour and affectation, that 
 any should discover that love to the word of the Gospel, 
 or the ministry of the Gospel, which they do. But if men 
 would consider this, it would give them a natural account 
 of this love. For is it not natural to love the means by 
 which even my very nature itself hath been comniunicared 
 to me, and by which I am what I am 1 The apostle gives 
 us the reason why we should love the word ; As new-born 
 babes desire the sincere milk of the word, that ye may 
 grow thereby, (1 Pet. ii. 2.) r. e. as those who by it are
 
 528 
 
 THE WORK OF THE HOLY SPIRIT 
 
 Serm. TX. 
 
 new-born. It is a violence to the new nature of the child- 
 ren of God, to withhold from them the word of the Gos- 
 pel, and the ministry of it, which hath been instrumental 
 to their new birth ; and can't but infer pain and anguish, 
 to be abridged and deprived of what was so conducive to 
 their spiritual beings. 
 
 Last inference, we collect, — That this same kmsdom 
 and church of God, which is truly and really so, must 
 needs be a growing thing. All who are of it are born into 
 it, and so become as it were naturally subjects; there is a 
 new nature communicated to all who are in it; and there- 
 fore, it being made up of the spiritual nature and life, will 
 grow, till it comes to its maturity. Never tear but it will", 
 grow, behold it never so languishing, never so assaultec^ 
 struck at, and contested against. For nil who qre ivir.n 
 into it consist of spirit and life; and therefore it is impos- 
 sible, but it must become a mature thing, worthy both of 
 the great Author and Founder of it. and nf thf orest de- 
 sign for which he formed it ; namely, that he misht have 
 a people to be eternally governed by a placid, eent'e em- 
 pire, and a delightful, easy sway; who should be ruled by 
 a beck and a nod; and to whom every intimation o*' his 
 will should have the force of a perfect command, without 
 any the least regret ; and that all the subjects of this king- 
 dom should partake in the glory of it. And so it w-.'! be 
 a living kingdom, and will be a growing thing, till it come 
 to that glorious maturity, which will answer both the 
 greatness of the Undertaker, and the excelleucy of the 
 design, for which this new nature and life was sivec to it 
 
 SERMON IX.* 
 
 Gal. v. 25. 
 
 If we live in the Spirit, let us also loalk in the Syi-'it. 
 
 In asserting the office of the Holy Ghost, or that Avork 
 which it hath undertaken in reference to the spirits of 
 men, we have already spoken of one great act of that 
 office ; i. e. the regenerating and begetting anew of souls 
 into God's kingdom, spirit of spirit. We have now two 
 other acts before us in these words; i. e. its maintaining 
 the life, and causing all the right motion, of regenerate 
 souls. The former of these are contained in the supposi- 
 tion; " If we live in the Spirit:" the latter is intimated 
 in the inferred precept ; " Let us walk in the Spirit." Both 
 are alike imputed to the Spirit of God here, and it is re- 
 presented as the very element of life, and the spring of all 
 holy motion to renewed souls ; which fills the whole region, 
 as it were, with vitality, in which they converse, and draw 
 their continual breath. The case is, in this respect, much 
 -ike in the new creation as in the old, and in the sphere 
 of grace as in that of nature. It is said concerning the 
 na.tural world, that it doth, as it were, subsist in God ; and 
 it is spoken of the new creation here ; and both in one 
 form of expression : In him we live, and move, and have 
 our being, Acts xvii. 28. And here we read of living in 
 the Spirit ; and walking or moving in the spirit. There 
 is only this difference in the form of expression : that 
 whereas we have three distinct phrases used to set forth 
 the dependence of the natural creation upon God ; — living, 
 and moving, and having being in him; — there are only the 
 two former used here in reference to the new creation, 
 living and moving ; living in the Spirit and walking in 
 the Spirit. The reason of the difference is obvious, that 
 we have in reference to the former, that superadded ex- 
 pression, " and have our being ;" because in this natural, 
 material, sensible world, there are many things which are, 
 that do not live : but with the new creation it is not so; 
 here, to lu-e and to be, are one and the same thing; and 
 'tis entirely and wholly a being of life. A collection of all 
 vital principles compose and make it up what it is; and 
 there is nothing in the new creation concerning which it 
 can be said, it is, but lives not; for it is all life through- 
 out. And as philosophy has been wont to teach, even 
 * Preached February ISlh, 1677, at Cordwaiiier'sHall. 
 
 I modern philosophy itself, that creation and conservation 
 I are not diverse acts, but the latter only the former con- 
 I tinned ; and that God doth by the continual comrnunica- 
 j tion of the same influence, by v hich he created and made 
 this world, keep it in the state wherein it is, that it doth 
 not relapse back into its old nothing; that there would not 
 I need a positive act of God to destroy the world, if he would 
 I turn all things to nothing again, but only to suspend and 
 I withnold the influence by which every thing comes to be 
 wtiat it is : so it is in the new creation, or in the new crea- 
 I tur<^, too. The very suspension of that influence by which 
 I >t bes^an to be, or to live, (which is all one,) must certainly 
 I infer the failure and extinction of the whole. 
 I Think therefore what it would be if all vital influence 
 I were suspended and withheld on a sudden from thismate- 
 I rial and sensible world in which we converse. You might 
 I hereupon frame the apprehension within yourselves, of the 
 face of the earth all on a sudden bestrewed with the dead 
 carc?.sses of men and beasts, the beauty and pleasant ver- 
 dure of it all Vanished and gone, and nothing left in time 
 but a great clod of dirt ! This great temple of the Deity, 
 which he inhabits by a vital presence, that diffuses life up 
 and down every where, all turned into a ruinous heap. If, 
 I say, there were a suspension of vital influence, supposing 
 an influence continued by which this material world should 
 still be. Why, so it must be, proportionably, in reference 
 unto the new creature too. There is the substrattini to be 
 considered, which is a part of the natural creation, the 
 soul or the man himself; but, that vital influence being 
 suspended by which the new creature was made to be 
 what it was, there is nothing left but a dead man, a dead 
 soul ! The temple of the Holy Ghost (as we must sup- 
 pose it to have been, beautified and adorned with the Di- 
 vine image on every side, in every part) laid waste and 
 desolate ! Nothing now but darkness and confusion, and 
 misery and death, there where God dwelt! So the case 
 would be, if we could suppose such a thing as the suspen- 
 sion of that influence, by which the life of the new creature 
 first began to spring up. 
 
 And there is not only a parity in the cases, but in soiKe 
 respects a sameness. For we must know that all Divine 
 influence is in one respect, that is, ex parte principii, one 
 and the same, and only differs, or is diversified, ex parte 
 termini, according as it doth terminate. We can't con- 
 ceive the Divine influences to be distinguished in their 
 Fountain, that is, in the Divine Being itself, the Almighty 
 Spirit, whence all proceeds and flows out. That Almighty 
 Spirit, if you consider the operations of it, produces di- 
 vers, but by an influence that is radically and in the Foun- 
 tain one and the same. As in reference to those diversi- 
 ties of its operations that were performed to the church, as 
 divers as the}' were, they weie all wrought by one and the 
 same spirit. The spirit of prophecy was not one spirit, 
 and of healing another, and of tongues another; but one 
 and the same Spirit did thus diversify its operations, ac- 
 cordingas the products were divers which were caused by 
 it, and which it was afterwards to continue in that being 
 which it gave. To suppose a difference or diversity of in- 
 fluence in the Fountain itself, the Divine Being, were to 
 suppose God to differ from himself, and to put somewhat 
 in God that were not God ; a thing most repugnant to the 
 simplicity of the Divine Being. But the Divine influences 
 may be diversified terminatively, according to the sub- 
 jects in which it is received. Nature is various in this, 
 and that, and the other creature ; (speaking of the natura 
 nn,turata,z.%, for distinction's sake, it is wont to be called ;) 
 and the influences are diversified according to those divers 
 natures in which they terminate, and according to the 
 different purposes which the exigency of those natures doth 
 require should be served and complied with. And so that 
 influence, which originally and in the Fountain is one and 
 the same, according as it goes forth to beget and continue 
 a variety of productions of this, or that, or another kind, 
 is an influence that gives and that preserves being to 
 things concerning which it can only be said, they are : it 
 is a vital influence to things that live ; it is a motive in- 
 fluence to things that move ; it is an intellectual influence 
 to things that are capable of understandijig ; it is a holy 
 influence unto what is holy, to what it hath made holy,
 
 S£RM. IX. 
 
 IN REFERENCE TO PARTICULAR PERSONS. 
 
 529 
 
 and is to continue and keep so ; it is light, as it terminates 
 in light ; and love, as it terminates in love ; and power, a.s 
 it terminates in power ; and holy gracious action, as it 
 doth terminate in such actions. 
 
 Rut it is the principle of such actions, the subordinate 
 principle, here signified by the name of life, or included 
 in living, that we are now to speak of: and we shall 
 speak of the action which proceeds from that life, and 
 show how that hath rise also from the Spirit, when we 
 come to the latter part of the text. From the former part 
 the truth that we have to observe you may take thus — The 
 blessed Spirit of God doth continue and maintain that 
 life, whereof it hath been the Author, in every renewed 
 soul. — We shall, in speaking to this, — 1. Very briefly open 
 the words to yuu, that we may clear the ground which the 
 truth recommended to you hath in the text, and — Shall 
 next give you some account of the thing which is asserted 
 therein. 
 
 I. As to the former, you must take notice, 
 
 1. That the if in the beginning of the text is not an if 
 of dubiiation, but of argumentation — " If ye live in the 
 Spirit." — The aposile does not say so as doulDting, nor was 
 his design to signify thai he had a doubt, whether they did 
 so, yea or no ; but supposing or taking that for granted, it 
 is only a form used by him (as it is common in arguing 
 hypothetically) thereupon to reason with them from such 
 a supposed principle. The //therefore signifies as much 
 as whereas, or since; since or inasmuch as ye live in the 
 Spirit, therefore walk in the Spirit. As in Col. iii. 1. If 
 ye then be risen with Christ, seek those things which are 
 above: If ye be, that is, " Since ye are; it is the appear- 
 ance which as professing Christians ye make, the aspect 
 which ye visibly hold forth to men, viz. that of persons 
 united with Christ, and made alive by him ; since ye are 
 risen with Christ, therefore set your atfections on things 
 above; act and do accordingly." So we are to take it here, 
 and it aflbrds ns a clear ground for a positive assertion, 
 those who are Christians indeed do live in the Spirit. 
 
 2. We must note, that to live cannot reasonably be un- 
 derstood as intending the first reception of the principle of 
 life, but the continuation of that principle. This form of 
 expression, viz. by the present tense, is commonly used to 
 hold forih to us the continuedness of any thing ; when we 
 don't say such a thing was, or such a thing will be, but 
 such a thing is, it notes, I saj", the continuedness of the 
 thing spoken of; inasmuch as the present time is that 
 which doth connect and continue the two parts of time, 
 viz. the past and the future. And the continued state of 
 this life is after the same manner expi'essed by the apostle 
 m the 2nd chapter of this epistle to the Galatians, verse 20. 
 The life which I live in the flesh is by the faith of the Son 
 of God. He means not, that he only first began to live that 
 life by an influence received from the Son of God, but that 
 he lived from day to day that life which he did live, that 
 spiritual, divine life, by faith in the Son of God, who had 
 loved him and given himself for him. 
 
 Nor again must we understand this living to signify the 
 series of actions only proper to that life ; for they are 
 afterwards signified by the name of walking in the other 
 part of the text. It is true indeed, that living, in a very 
 common notion of it, does denote the continued series of 
 the actions of one's life, whether good or bad, both in 
 Scripture and in ordinary language : If ye live after the 
 flesh, ye shall die, (Rom. viii. 13.) that is, if ye continue 
 to act, or walk, or converse after the flesh, according as 
 that corrupt principle doth incline and dictate, ye shall die. 
 The grace of God that bringeth salvation haih appeared 
 to all men, teaching us that — we should live soberl}', righte- 
 ously, and godly in this present world; that is, act, and 
 walk, and converse so, Titus ii. 11, 12. And in common 
 speech we use to say such a man lives a good or a bad 
 life, intending by living, the course of his actions whether 
 good or bad. But this cannot be the meaning of living 
 here, for the reason before mentioned; and should we so 
 understand it, there would neitherbe argument, nor indeed 
 congruity, in the apostle's way of expressing himself; for 
 it would amount to no more than this ; If ye continue to 
 live in the Spirit, continue to live in the Spirit; or if ye 
 continue to walk in the Spirit, continue to walk in the 
 Spirit. Wherefore it is necessary that we conceive a mid- 
 
 dle sense between these two, viz. the first reception of the 
 principle of life, and the continued series of the actions of 
 that life ; and that middle sense is, (as hath been already 
 intimated,) the continuation of the vital principle itself If 
 ye live, that is, if ye have the principle of a new and divine 
 life continued and maintained in you, walk in the Spirit, 
 as those principles would direct and guide you to do. Again, 
 3. We must note that by Spirit, or the Spirit, is mani- 
 festly meant the blessed eternal Spirit of God, the Holy 
 Gho.st. It can't be meant of our natural spirit, as is most 
 evident ; nor can it be meant of the new creature itself, 
 which is in the Scripture called spirit ; (as we have had 
 occasion lately to take notice again and again;) for of the 
 same Sjjirit which is here spoken of you have an enume- 
 ration of the fruits in the verses immediately foregoing; 
 The fruit of the Spirit is love, joy, meekness, temperance. 
 &c. These, we are sure, are not the fruits of our own 
 natural spirit ; neither can they be said to be the fruits of 
 the new creature, for they are the new creature itself, those 
 very principles whereof the new creature is composed and 
 doth consist. It is therefore manifest that by the Spirit we 
 must understand the divine eternal Spirit, the blessed Spirit 
 of God Itself. 
 
 And for that form of expression, " in the Spirit," that 
 particle commonly denotes a causative influence, and sig- 
 nifies as much as by ; q. d. If ye live by the Spirit. Many 
 instances might be given, and have u()on some other occa- 
 sion been given, to show that the particle in doth some- 
 times signify by, and denotes the influence of an efficient 
 cause. But then it must be noted loo, that it denotes the 
 part of an etficient cause, or a casual influence, with a great 
 deal more emphasis than if another form of expression had 
 been used. " [f ye live in the Spirit." Why it imports 
 the continual, vital, immediate presence of the Spirit for 
 this purpose, to maintain this life. " If ye live in the 
 Spirit;" as if the soul had its very situs, its situation, in a 
 region of life which the Spirit did creaie and make unto 
 it. As sometimes the continual present power, and do- 
 minion, and influence of wickedness, or some wicked prin- 
 ciple, is expressed the same way, by being in the flesh. 
 When we were in the flesh, under the power and regnancy 
 of any corrupt, fleshly principle, the motions of sin which 
 were by the law, did work in our members, to bring forth 
 fruit unto death, Rom. vii. 5. And, Thou art in the gall 
 of bitterness, and in the bond of iniquity, as it is said to 
 Simon Magus, Acts viii. 23. And, The world lies in 
 wickedness; so as to be continually receiving in and im- 
 bibing wickedness, as it were on every hand, 1 John v. 19. 
 In like manner the soul is represented as imbibing life 
 and vital influence on every part ; agreeably unto which 
 notion, some (and those I may reckon the best of) philoso- 
 phers have been wont to say, that it is a great deal more 
 proper to speak of the body of a man as being in his soul, 
 than of the soul as in the body ; that the body is in the soul, 
 as being continually cloihed with vital influence on every 
 part, and which it diffuses throughout ; tlie soul being as an 
 element of life unto the body all the while they do converse, 
 life extending even unto ail the extremities, unto the most 
 extreme part of the body that you can suppose. So is the 
 soul spoken of here in reference to the Spirit of God ; 
 though that very intimate union is frequently held forth to 
 us in Scripture by a kind of reciprocal and mutual in-being 
 of one in the other, and the other in that. " He that dwells 
 in love, dwells in God, and God in him ;" they do, as it 
 were, inhabit one another. So it is with the Spirit of God, 
 and the soul that spiritually lives by it : it is in the Spirit, 
 and the Spirit i.> in it. It is not so in the Spirit, as it 
 there were any thing of itself more intimate to it than the 
 Spirit is; but the Spirit doth as it were clothe it with life, 
 fill it with life, and is all in all of life to it. 
 
 So much therefore is now clear to you, that the truth 
 which we have observed haih a very adequate ground 
 in the text. " If ye live in the Spirit," since ye do so. 
 It is a thing to be concluded, that the life of those who 
 are Christians indeed, who have ever come to be spiritually 
 alive, is to be maintained and continued b)' a constant 
 influence of the blessed Spirit. 
 
 II. Now that we may open the truth of the thing that is 
 a-^sertcd and contained in these words, it will be requisite 
 to speak distinctly, — 1. Concerning the life that is to be
 
 530 
 
 THE WORK OF THE HOLY SPIRIT 
 
 Serm. IX. 
 
 maintained, — 2. Concerning the influence that maintains 
 it. 
 
 1. Concerning the life to be maintained. Of that I have 
 need to say the less because we have had occasion to speak 
 largely of it heretofore. What it will be needful to say, 
 you may take in these few propositions. 
 
 1. We are not to understand it of natural life, no, not 
 even of the soul itself; but we are to understand it of life 
 in a moral sense, or if you will, in a .spiritual and divine ; 
 I intend one thing by the expressions. It is called indeed 
 the Divine life, or the life of God in plain terms, Eph. iv. 
 18. Being alienated from the life of God, having no share, 
 no participation in the Divine life, in God's life. 
 
 2. As life in the natural sense is a principle of action ; 
 so life in the moral sense is a principle of righi action, or 
 by which one is enabled to act aright. The soul of a man 
 is naturally a living, vital, active being ; it is naturally so, 
 i. e. it belongs to its very essence to be capable of acting. 
 But to be disposed to act aright, though that was in some 
 respect natural to it too, yet it was not inseparable, as sad 
 experience has taught us all. Though the spirit of a man 
 be a living, and consequently an active, being, made such 
 by God in the first constitution of it, it is not to be supposed 
 that he turned such a being as this loose into the world 
 when he made it, to act at random, and according as any 
 natural inclination might carry it, or external objects move 
 it, this way or that ; but it being not only a living, an 
 active substance, but intellectual also, and thereby capable 
 of government by a law, i. e. of understanding its Maker's 
 will and pleasure, and directing the course of its actions 
 agreeably thereto, God hath thereupon thought fit to pre- 
 scribe it a law, or set it rules to act and walk by. Now 
 the mere power to act is life natural, but the disposition or 
 ability to act aright is a supervening life, by which the 
 soul is a'J it were contempered and framed agreeably to the 
 law by which it is to act, or the Divine government under 
 which it is placed. 
 
 3. The prime and fundamental law which enters the 
 constitution of the Divine government over reasonable 
 creatures is, that they love the Author of their beings, his 
 own blessed self, above all things ; and consequently as 
 that love doth dictate most directly, that they be devoted 
 and subject unto him as the supreme authority, and that 
 they delight and take complacency, and seek rest and 
 plessedness, in him as the supreme good; both which are 
 included in that one root or principle of love. I am to 
 love him, and love him above all, and then I do of course 
 willingly and with cheerfulness devote myself to him, 
 being acted by the power of that love so to do, and seek 
 olessedness in him as the most suitable, the most agreeable 
 good to my soul. 
 
 This is but the very sum and substance of the first com- 
 mandment, which we are to look upon as fundamental to 
 all the rest ; for it were a vain thing to prescribe any fur- 
 ther laws as a God to those who will not take him for a 
 God to them. 
 
 This was therefore the natural method, to begin the law, 
 the frame of laws and constitution of government, over 
 reasonable creatures, with this grand precept, " Thou shah 
 have no other God but me." That is, " I will be to thee 
 the prime object of thy love ; which love shall make thee 
 devote thyself to me, and then make thee delight and take 
 complacency in me as the supreme, both authority and 
 goodness." Wherefore, 
 
 4. This life which we are now to consider as to be 
 maintained, must principally and chiefly consist in the 
 love of God ; that is, a propension of soul towards him 
 above and beyond all things else. It is a conformity unto 
 that grand precept, " Thou shalt love the Lord thy God 
 with all thy heart, and with all thy soul, and with all thy 
 mind, and with all thy strength ;" a direction or bent of 
 spirit towards God. So long, or so far, a person is said to 
 live spiritually, as the main bent and inclination of his 
 heart is toward God. If he fall from God, or in what 
 degree soever he doth so fall, so far he dies; there is a 
 gradual death according to all the gradual declensions of 
 the heart from God. God is the great term of this life, as 
 we have had occasion to inculcate formerly. When it is 
 intended to be spoken of, it is not spoken of as an absolute 
 thing, but is distinctly spoken of as a life that relates and 
 
 refers to God. Alive to God, (Rom. iv. 11.) ana it follows, 
 ver. 13. Yield yourselves unto God as those that are alive 
 from the dead, yield yourselves living souls unto God. 
 And the apostle speaking of that life, which he says he did 
 live by faith in the Son of God, (Gal. ii.) speaks of it as 
 a life terminating upon God : " 1 through the law am dead 
 unto the law, that I might live unto God," ver. 19. in the 
 next verse to which you read, " The life which now I 
 live in the flesh, I live by the faith of the Son of God," 
 'tis a life that comes to me from and through Christ, and 
 points my soul directly upon God, so as that I live to 
 him. 
 
 5. This life doth also comprehend all other gracious 
 principles beside that great radical one of love to God, 
 which suit the Spirit of a man to all the other parts of the 
 Divine law, or all the other laws besides. Whatsoever 
 gracious habit or disposition doth attemper and reconcile 
 my spirit to this or that part of the Divine will revealed in 
 his law, that I must undenstand to be a principle included 
 within the compass of this life to be maintained. For we 
 find the expression used to signify the impress of the 
 whole frame of holiness upon the soul ; it is but a diverse 
 expression of the work of the new creature, which we find 
 expressed again and again in Scripture by putting the law 
 in men's hearts. To put the law into the heart, why, that 
 is to form the new creature there, and so continue that 
 impression upon the heart and maintain it there, or to 
 continue the life of the new creature in the soul. Whence 
 therefore that law so impressed and made habitual in the 
 spirit of a man, is called the law of the spirit of life in 
 Christ Jesus, Rom. viii. 2. And hence also those fruits ol 
 the Spirit which we find mentioned in this chapter, and 
 immediately before the text, are to be conceived as so 
 many vital principles all belonging to the constitution of 
 the new creature, and all of them serving to conform the 
 spirit of a man unto the Divine law. After the mention 
 of all those several principles which are called the fruits of 
 the Spirit, it is said, "If we live in the Spirit, let us also 
 walk in the Spirit ;" i. e. if we have all these fruits which 
 are so many living principles put by the Spirit of God 
 into us, if we have them, and they are continued and kepi 
 alive in us; then let us walk in the Spirit ; act and do ac- 
 cording to these principles. 
 
 6. We must further note, that not only the continual 
 being of all those vital principles which are called the fruits 
 of the Spirit, but also the gradual improvements of their 
 life, vigour, liveliness, do all belong unto this life consider- 
 ed according to the more perfect state of it. For there is 
 no degree of this or that thing, but hath the nature of the 
 thing in it, and doth belong to the nature of the thing. 
 And therefore I say, that by life here we must understand 
 not barely the being of these principles continued in the 
 soul, but supposing that the soul hath been improved and 
 grown unto some strength and vigour, whatsoever main- 
 tenance it is to expect of that good state unto which it is 
 arrived, that is under the name of life here attributed to 
 the Spirit, as it is its proper work to hold the soul in life; 
 according as we use to say, speaking concerning the natural 
 life, non vivere, sed valerc, vita est, merely not to be dead, 
 is hardly worth the name of living; but to be in health, to 
 be strong, and lively, and vigorous. We must conceive it 
 to be within the compass of the Spirit's work, and there- 
 fore we put it within the compass of the object, to keep up 
 souls in a lively and vigorous state, and not only having 
 put vital influences into them, merely to preserve them from 
 being extinct. When we find that severe animadversion, 
 Rev.iii. 1. Thou hast a name that thou livest and art dead, 
 it appears by what follows that he doth not mean by death 
 there, simple death, as if there was nothing of life left, but 
 a gradual deadness, a very languishing state ; for it follows, 
 " Strengthen the things which remain, that are ready to 
 die," (ver. 2.) implying that to live so languid a life was 
 hardly worth the name of living; they were rather to be 
 called dead than living, while the case was only so with 
 them. Therefore though it be true, that such a languish- 
 ing is that which doth befall many a Christian who hath 
 the root of life in him, yet if it be better with any, and if 
 they be continued in a better state, it is to be attributed to 
 the Spirit of God ; they " live in the Spirit." If they live 
 more prosperously, if their souls flourish, and are in a good
 
 Serm. X. 
 
 IN REFERENCE TO PARTICULAR TERSONS, 
 
 531 
 
 condition, and are kept on therein, it is all owing to this 
 Spirit ; but it is owing to men's ownselves if they be in 
 languishings and decays, that they conform not themselves 
 to the rules and methods of the Holy Ghost in which they 
 are to expect, and according to which they may look for, 
 its supplies, whereof we shall have occasion hereafter to 
 speak. 
 
 7. This life must be understood to include too, not only 
 the principles of grace, and the vigour and liveliness of 
 those principles ; but also the consolations, the pleasures, 
 the grateful relishes of divine and spiritual things, which 
 are pi-oper to the new creature also. For it is usual to 
 distinguish both of the life of grace, and the life of com- 
 fort, as comprehended under the same name of lile in the 
 general. We many times find the expression used to hold 
 forth to us any consolation that a good soul hath given 
 into it upon whatsoever spiritual account. We live, says 
 the apostle, if ye stand fast in the Lord, 1 Thess. iii. 8. It 
 is as a new life to ns, a revival upon a distinct and super- 
 added account, unto whatsoever doth more naturally and 
 necessarily concern the very being of our life. And there- 
 fore according to what measures and degrees such plea- 
 sures, and consolations, and joys are afforded unto good 
 souls ; we must understand them all attributed iinto the 
 Spirit of God, under the expression of our living in the 
 Spirit, or living by it. 
 
 8. As the tendency of this life is towards God as the 
 term of it, so the root of it is from God, as the great Au- 
 thor and Fountain of it. It must be miderstood to be the 
 life of God, or the Divine life, upon both these accounts, 
 not only as it is a life that terminates upon him, but as it 
 is a life that rises and springs from him, even in the very 
 first rise of it : for none can tend towards God but by him, 
 by a power and inclination that is received from him, by 
 Avhich he draws and acts the soul towards himself. As 
 was noted before, that very life by which the apostle says 
 he did live to God, he says he received it by faith from 
 the Son of God, who had loved him, and given himself 
 for him. And therefore, 
 
 9. This life doth necessarily suppose union with God, 
 with Christ, and with the Spirit of God. He that is join- 
 ed to the Lord is one spirit, I Cor. vi. 17. Whosoever it 
 is that is joined to the Lord, is caught into a union of spirit 
 with him, and that Spirit is the continual source of life to 
 him. It is not only vain and unintelligible, but most mon- 
 strously blasphemous, to imagine such a thing concerning 
 this union an if it were an essential vmion with God, or a 
 personal union with any of the persons in the Godhead : 
 the former would make any one God ; the latter would 
 make us more one with that person, than the persons are 
 with one another ; for we can't say that the person of the 
 Father is the person of the Son, or that the person of the 
 Son is the person of the Holy Ghost ; the union is in es- 
 sence, not in person. And therefore to talk as some have 
 done of being personally united to Christ, or with the 
 Spirit of Christ, imports as if they were more one with 
 Christ, than Christ is one with the Father, or than the 
 Father is one with the Spirit ; for personal union is that, 
 the result whereof is one person ; and so the two natures 
 of Christ are united. But a real union there is of those, 
 who live this divine life, with him who is the great origin 
 and principle of it ; for it were a most imreasonable and 
 unintelligible thing, that a man should live by a principle 
 of life that is disunited from him. There must always be 
 a union between the thing which lives, and that which it 
 lives by. I can't live by a vital principle that is remote 
 from me, or wherewith I am not, in one sense or another, 
 united. And it were very absurd to think that such words 
 should be put into the Bible to signify nothing, or carry 
 no sense with them, " He that is joined to the Lord, is one 
 Spirit." Nor can that union, though it doth not signify so 
 much as an essential, or a personal imion, (both which, as 
 I have said to you, are absurd and blasphemous.) carry so 
 little as a mere presence of God, for he is equally present 
 to all, more intimate to everj' creature than it is to itself; 
 but it doth over and beside carry this, that there is a Di- 
 vine presence specified by such ends, for which it is 
 vouchsafed upon such peculiar terms, upon which such a 
 presence is not vouchsafed to others ; that is, he is present 
 
 * Preached February 20tli, 1678, at Cordwainer'a Ilall. 
 
 to them with whom he is thus united, as a spring and prin- 
 ciple of life to them ; he is present for this very purpose, 
 to form them fur himself, to incline, and to continue their 
 souls inclined towards himself, and so more and more 
 gradually ; to dispose and fit them to glorify him, to be the 
 in.struments of his glory, and to be glorified with him, or 
 to be the .subjects of his glory. This is the special end for 
 which he is present, and which doth distingui.sh his pre- 
 sence. For we can't (a.s was said before) suppose that ex 
 parte Dei, on God's part, one part of himself can be more 
 present than another, for that were to make God to differ 
 from him.self ; but, with reference to the effects and ends, 
 which such an influential presence doth work, there is a 
 difference ; he is present so, as to do such a work in those, 
 to whom he is thus present, as he will not, as he doth not, 
 do in others ; so as to be the continual spring of such mo- 
 tions, and such workings and tendencies, as others, where 
 he will not so exert his influence, are strangers to. And 
 then he is present with them too upon terms suitable to 
 those ends ; that is, as having bound himself to them to be 
 their God, and so to be all that to them which it belongs to 
 him to be, as he undertakes to be the God of any. He is 
 their God, engaged to be with them by his continual vital 
 presence through time, and in all eternity. Such a union, 
 that is, an intimate presence for such pur])oses, and upon 
 such terms, is supposed in this life, and therefore must be 
 supposed to be maintained and continued all the while 
 this life is continued ; that is, the soul is held with God 
 and kept close to him by bonds of union, kept firm and 
 tight between him and them. 
 
 Thus you have .some account of the first of these heads 
 which we proposed to open to you, viz. the life to be main- 
 tained. It would become us to make some present reflec- 
 tion upon what hath been said at this time ; and that is, 
 since we have heard so much said concerning such a life 
 as this, (and more heretofore,) " certainly there is such a 
 life." The thought offers itself, that such a life is not 
 merel}' talked on, or is not a mere empty notion, but there 
 must certainly be such a real thing. This distinct sort of 
 life, though besides what other kinds of life are more ob- 
 vious to the common notice of the world, is indeed a hid- 
 den life, a secret life : Your life is hid with Christ in God, 
 Col. iii. 3. But the hiddenness of the thing doth suppose 
 it to be, for that which is not, can't he hid: so far is it 
 from carrying a supposition or an inference that it is not. 
 We ought therefore to possess our souls of this apprehen- 
 sion, (think men of this matter what they will,) there is 
 really a certain sort of life which doth distinguish a holy 
 man from a mere man, as truly, as there is a natural life 
 which doth distinguish a mere man from a carcass, from 
 the deserted trunk and body of a man. And when we 
 consider so, how can we forbear to lay our hands upon 
 our hearts, and ask ourselves the question ; " Do I live 
 this life, yea or no 7 Do I feel myself to live 1 Do I feel 
 an inclination and bent of heart towards God; some prin- 
 ciples of life, springing up from the divine root, which 
 carries my soul towards that blessed object : that I am 
 acted from God to God in my ordinary course V We 
 can't have a greater question, or of more concernment in 
 all this world, to deal with our souls about, and therefore 
 let it be seriously thought of. 
 
 SERMON X.* 
 
 We are upon the first act of the Holy Spirit in refer- 
 ence to souls born of it, held f nnh to us in this scripture, 
 viz. in tiie supposition, from whence wc have observed — 
 That the blessed Spirit of God doth by its own influence 
 maintain the life, whereof it hath been the Author unto 
 regenerate souls. 
 
 And here we propounded to speak, — 1, Ofthe life to be 
 maintained, and — '2. Ofthe influence which maintains it. 
 Of the former we have spoken already, and arc now to go 
 on to the latter. 
 
 Concerning which we shall,—!. Show what kind of in-
 
 532 
 
 THE WORK OF THE HOLY SPIRIT 
 
 Serm. X 
 
 fluence it is ; — 2. How is it ascertained unto regenerate 
 souls. Or, give you some account of the nature and of 
 the certainty of it. 
 
 Of the former you may have some account by consider- 
 ing such properties of it as those that follow, viz. 
 
 1. It is a most free and arbitrary influence. It is a most 
 gracious influence you know, in the very notion whereof 
 the purest liberty is implied, wherein it has first to do with 
 souls, as is subjoined to the scripture before discoursed of 
 in John iii. 8. It is represented as " the wind that blow- 
 eth where it listeth." In operations of this kind the Spirit 
 delights to discover and magnify a kind of sovereignty 
 and royalty. It is a very awful word which haih refer- 
 ence, as we find, unto that consideration. Work out your 
 own salvation with fear and trembling, in Phil. ii. 12. 
 The consideration is immediately added, that " God work- 
 eth in us to will and to do of his own good pleasure." 
 And I conceive there are two things hinted to us in that 
 expression, viz. that whatsoever he doth of this kind, he 
 doth with delight, taking a complacency in it, and enjoy- 
 ing, as it were, his own act ; " he exercises loving-kind- 
 ness in the earth," and in no kind or manner of operation 
 so as in this, because herein he doth delight. And it also 
 intimates, that what he doth herein, he doth upon no obli- 
 gation ; he doth at the rate of most absolute liberty, so as 
 that he might do, or might not do. Libervm est quod potuit 
 non fiiisse, That is free which might not have been. " He 
 works of good pleasure," having no other tie upon him 
 than what he takes on and lays upon himself; and there- 
 fore " work out your salvation," saith the aposile, " with 
 fear and trembling." He works now ; you don't know whe- 
 ther he will by and by, if you neglect him now. There- 
 fore is the blessed Spirit mentioned with that distinguish- 
 ing title of the free Spirit : Uphold me with thy free Spirit, 
 Psal. li. 12. It is not only efTicienlly so, as the great Au- 
 thor of liberty unto those souls upon whom it works effect- 
 uallv, and with saving operations, as is the sense of what 
 we find said in 2 Cor. iii. 17. Where the Spirit of the Lord 
 is, there is liberty; liberty communicated by it luito those, 
 who by the Spirit of the Lord, as it after follows, behold- 
 ing as in a glass his glory, are changed into the same image 
 from glory to glory. Whilst it refines them, it enlarges 
 them, defecates them, makes them capable of ascending, 
 and renders them some way adequate to a large, universal, 
 all-comprehensive good ; it is not, I say, only so a free 
 Spirit, but it is in itself free, a Spirit that so works as was 
 not to be expected, and that cannot be prescribed unto. 
 Who hath directed the Spirit of the Lord, or, being his 
 counsellor, hath taught him 1 Isa. xl. 13. 
 
 2. It is a very various influence, in the degrees of its 
 communication and operation. It may well be so, as being 
 most free. It is not communicated alike unto all who 
 have been born of this Spirit, nor to all those, nor to any 
 of them, alike at nil times. Some have more light and 
 joy, more strength and vigour, than others have ; and the 
 same persons have themselves their more lucid and turbid 
 intervals, and in their time there is often a very quick 
 succession of night and day; there is sorrow in the night, 
 and a calm in the morning, and quick interchanges of 
 such darkness and light, as in Psalm xxx. 5. Which va- 
 riations do proceed partly from sovereignity, as haih been 
 said ; but partly also from paternal justice. From sove- 
 reignty we may suppose, in great part, this Spirit comes 
 and goes, even as it will, as to its more observable com- 
 munications, to discover its liberty ; but oftentimes it varies 
 the course of its dispensation, and the state of the soul 
 with whom it hath to do, in a way of paternal justice. 
 For as we know that there is such a thing as economical 
 justice as well as political, among us, so there is a justice 
 too which the holy God doth exercise in his own family, 
 and among the children which have been begotten and 
 born of him, as well as towards those who are under his 
 government upon a more common account : and it is very 
 meet and reasonnble it should be so. It were a most in- 
 congruous thing, if he should be equally indulgent unto 
 the careless and vain, and wanton and extravagant, and 
 the negligent of him and their own doty; as to the serious, 
 and watchful, and diligent, and those who are most stu- 
 dious to please him, and most in love with his presence. 
 He doth in his displeasure many times withdraw and hide 
 
 himself, for the rebuke of negligences and undutiful de- 
 portments towards him ; and he doth upon the account of 
 the same justice show, or manifest himself, (as our Sa- 
 viour's expression is in John xiv. 21.) fijr the encourage- 
 ment and reward of those that do more closely and faith- 
 fully adhere to him, and make it more iheir business and 
 study to please and imitate him. The Spirit is often 
 grieved, and in a degree quenched, by the carelessness, 
 and neglects, and resistances even of its own offspring, or of 
 those who have been born of it; and then the discipline of 
 the family doth require that they should be put to rebuke; 
 and so its influence comes to be an often varying thing. 
 
 3. Yet it is so far a continual influence as is necessary 
 for the maintaining of the root of this life, that that may 
 not totally wither ; and therefore at the lowest ebb of those 
 who are the offspring of this Spirit, there is still a sustain- 
 ing influence upon them. As it was very low v;ith the 
 Psalmist in the 73rd Psalm, when he was just ready to 
 throw up all : Verily I have cleansed my heart in vain, 
 ver. 13. He thought it was to no purpose to be any longer 
 religious ; he was become in the temper of his spirit so 
 unlike a saint, that he judged himself, upon reflection, to 
 be a great deal more like a beast. And yet he says in the 
 23rd verse, that he had been ever with God : " Neverthe- 
 less I am continually with thee." Even all that while 
 there was a presence of God continued, and he was even 
 then held by his right hand. So are the souls of his held 
 in life: Which holdeth our souls in life, Psalm Ixvi. 9. 
 Though that might have another, yet it is probable enough 
 to have a spiritual, meaning, and there are passages in the 
 context that may incline us to apprehend so. 
 
 4. It is a still, silent, a secret, and often an unobserved, 
 influence ; such as by which no great noise is made, and 
 many times doth escape the notice of them who are the 
 subjects of it. Their life is a .secret kind of life, " hid 
 with Christ in God," and by such a kind of influence it is 
 maintained. God is near mp^y times, when it is not 
 known. He was in the very place, (and we can't think 
 that Jacob meant it, by his essential presence, for that he 
 very well knew, but by his gracious presence,) and he 
 says that he knew it not. q. d. " I little thought of God's 
 being so nigh." Gen. xxviii. 16. And we may at lea.st 
 allude to those words in Hos. xi. 3. I taught Ephraim to 
 go, taking them by their arms ; but they knew not that I 
 healed them. He deals so with those who are born of him, 
 as even to teach them to go, and they know not that it is he 
 that carries them all along. The operation of the Spirit 
 doth very much imitate that of nature : it is in a very still 
 and silent way that the sap is drained in by the root, and 
 ascends up the trunk of the tree, and diffuses itself to every 
 branch, so that we may see that it lives, but we don't see 
 how. The case is with souls that are brought to live in 
 the Spirit, as with very infirm and languishing per.=:ons, 
 who have been consumed, and even next to death, in a 
 putrid and corrupt air ; bemg removed into such as is pure 
 and wholesome they revive, but in a very insensible way : 
 so is this life preserved by a vital, spiritual influence which 
 is as pure air to them, a gentle, indulgent, benign, and 
 cherishing air ; they live by it, and never a whit the worse, 
 because it is not so turbulent as to make a noise. 
 
 5. As still and silent as it is, it is yet a very powerful 
 and fflicacious influence. The case requires that it should 
 be so ; for it is a great thing to maintain such a life upon 
 such terms. A thing that is so purely divine, if it were not 
 maintained by a strong hand, it were hardly to be thought 
 how it should subsist in such a region as this, so every 
 way unsuitable to it ; it is a life continually assaulted, 
 ofien struck at ; a life employed in continual conflicts and 
 crowned v.ith many a glorious victory, and that implies a 
 mighty power to be employed to preserve life and main- 
 lain it. When I am weak, then I am strong, 2 Cor. xii. 10. 
 Sure he must be weak in one respec', and strong in ano- 
 ther : weak, he must mean spiritually too: weak, if you 
 consider the principle in itself, absolutely; strong, if you 
 consider it in reference to the continual aids and supplies 
 that are given in. And it is plain that the exercises of this 
 life require, that strength and might should be emplo)-ed 
 to maintain it through them. Very difficult and hard things 
 they are, which those who live this life, are exposed to the 
 sufferings of, and merely because they live this life, and
 
 Serm. X. 
 
 IN REFERENCE TO PARTICULAR PERSONS. 
 
 533 
 
 hold it forth that they are, in this sense, aiive: as nobody 
 goes about to wound a dead man, there is no need of that. 
 Therefore is that rapturous prayer of the apostle in Col. i. 
 11, 12. that the}' might be strengthened with all might, ac- 
 cording to his glorious power, unto all patience and long- 
 sutfering with joyfulness ; giving thanks to the Father, 
 who had made them meet to be partakers of the inheritance 
 of the saints in light. Made them meet, by making them 
 sons, and to inherit as sons, or receive the inheritance of 
 the saints in light. They were born light, and of light : Ye 
 were darkness, but now are ye light in the Lord, Eph. v. 8. 
 Why, that being supposed, it required, as the apo.stle's 
 prayer implies, an exertion of mighty, glorious power, to 
 maintain this life unto that pitch and degree, that they might 
 have a greater disposition to give thanks for what God had 
 done upon them, to make them meet and capable subjects 
 of such an inheritance, than to complain of a little suffer- 
 ing. " Strengthened with all might, according to his glo- 
 rious power," with such a kind of might as bears the very 
 impress and image upon it of God's own glorious power 
 itself; a might that has a glory upon it, and accords to its 
 original : as you may suppose the effect, in such causa- 
 tions as this, to be very like to the cause, and to the pro- 
 ductive influence. The new creature, as soon as it is born, 
 is born to conflict, toil, and travail ; born for fight, and born 
 for victory. Such were the heroes, the sons of God. One 
 so highly born, we must suppose born for great things ; not 
 only to enjoy, but to perform ; and there must be a power 
 proportionable hereunto to go with this heaven-born crea- 
 ture. I have written unto you, young men, says the apos- 
 tle, because ye are strong, and have overcome the wicked 
 one, 1 John ii. 14. Whilst they were yet but young, they 
 had so great a conquest to glory in. " Ye have overcome 
 the wicked one," ye, calling them by the name of little 
 ones, a lower rank being designed by that expression : he 
 yet tells them, that they had overcome, because greater was 
 he that was in them, than he that was in the world, chap. 
 iv. 4. And in chap. v. 4. he says, that whatsoever is born of 
 God overcometh the world. The predication is so univer- 
 sal, that we can conceive no state of a person born of God, 
 be he never so newly born, but he is, even in that instant, 
 made superior over this world, hath got the better of it, 
 made his escape from the corruptions of it, which would 
 hinder him through lust, and hath it in a degree under his 
 feet: and therefore it must be a powerful influence, b}^ 
 which his life is maintained. Who are kept by the mighty 
 power of God through faith unto salvation, 1 Pet. i. 5. 
 
 6. It is a connatural influence, or suitable to the nature 
 of man both as reasonable and renewed. As reasonable, 
 it doth it no violence : I drew them with the cords of a 
 man, and with the bands of love, Hcs. xi. 4. And it is 
 accommodated unto all the principles of the new nature. 
 It is an influence of faith to faith, of love to love, of meek- 
 ness to meekness, and of humility to humility, as was in- 
 timated formerly. 
 
 7. It is a co-operative, or assisting influence. Such as 
 doth engage us in the endeavour of preserving our own 
 life, and then assists or co-operates with us therein. As 
 the matter is in reference to the reflex acting of the soul, 
 so it is, in proportion, in reference vmto the direct. As 
 when he would know what is wrought and done, or what 
 impressions are made within, the Spirit beareth witness 
 with our spirit, in that reflex way of operation, Rom. viii. 
 16. So it, proportionably, doth in the direct way of opera- 
 tion too, it works with our spirits, and makes use of their 
 own agency, in order to the maintaining of their owm life. 
 And therefore as you have heard in that now mentioned 
 Scripture, that we are kept by the mighty power of God 
 through faith unto salvation, so we are told too in 1 John 
 V. 18. that he that is begotten of God, keepeth himself, and 
 that wicked one toucheth him not ; he keeps himself from 
 those deadl}', mortal touches which would endanger his 
 precious life ; i. e. he is his own under-keeper. We are 
 every one to be a brother's keeper, much more to ourselves ; 
 but still in a subordinate sense, subservient to, and de- 
 pendent upon, that supreme one. Indeed it were a kind 
 of a monstrous thing in the creation, that there should be 
 so noble a life planted there, but destitute of the self- 
 preserving faculty or disposition ; wherea.'^ every life, how 
 mean soever, even that of a worm, a gnat, or a fly, hath 
 
 38 
 
 an aptitude in it, or a disposition accompanying it to pre- 
 serve itself. 
 
 8. It is a regular and an ordinate influence. I put these 
 together, because they have an affinity, though they may 
 import somewhat diverse notions. The Spirit works ac- 
 cording to rule, or agreeably unto the word, in what it 
 does for the maintaining of this life. My Spirit that is 
 upon thee, and my words which I have put in thv mouth, 
 .shall not depart, Isa. lix. 21. The word and the Spirit go 
 together among all this race. The Spirit breathes in the 
 word for the maintaining of this life. And so it is the 
 influence of ordinate, not of absolute power, which works 
 so as that there is no proportion between what it works, 
 and what it works by ; it works by apt and suitable means, 
 and applies and directs our spirits unto such objects as are 
 apt to be nutritive, or carry in them a suitable aliment for 
 the maintenance of this life. Why, our natural life is 
 maintained by a divine influence too; we could not other- 
 wise draw breath, or subsist a moment. But how is it 
 maintained 1 Not by miracle. Not in such a waj' as doth 
 supersede all useful means for that purpose : but it is 
 maintained by God's preserving and directing the natural 
 faculties that belong to us, unto such objects as are suit- 
 able for the maintaining of natural life, and may be aptly 
 nutritive thereof. He doth not maintain this life of ours 
 without eating, or drinking, or breathing; by an influence 
 exclusive of all such means, nor without apt and suitable 
 means too: for it is not maintained by feeding upon iron, 
 or stones, or by drinking of poison, or by breathing in 
 contagious airs; but by what is agreeable to itself, and apt 
 to afford a suitable aliment to it. So it is in the spiritual 
 life also: it is not maintained by an influence that doth 
 exclude apt and proper means, but by this influence the 
 mind and spirit is directed to intend and converse with 
 such objects, out of which it can draw nourishment, and 
 which are suitable unto this purpose. God doth not 
 maintain this life in sucii a way, and upon such terms, as 
 that, though men mind nothing in the world else, but 
 what the men of this world do, they shall live well not- 
 withstanding. It is not strange if they who feed upon 
 husks, who converse with nothing but shadows, and pant 
 only after the dust of the earth, are very languishing souls. 
 Things altogether insipid, that have no sap, or juice, or 
 savour in them, formalities of religion, doubtful opinions, 
 disputes about minute and inconsiderable things, airy no- 
 tions that are apt to drop or distil nothing upon the spirit 
 of a man, are not the things that this life is likely to be 
 maintained by. 
 
 And this influence is such as doth work by likely and 
 apt means, as it enableth the soul to savour those things 
 which are called the rh Ili'fii/iaru;, the things of the Spirit, 
 as you have it in Rom. viii. 5. They that are after the 
 flesh, do mind (or savour) only the things of the flesh, but 
 they that are after (he Spirit, the things of the Spirit ; and 
 so they live by good, and suitable, and savoury food, being 
 made capable of savouring that food. As new-born babes, 
 desire the sincere milk of the word, that ye may grow 
 thereby ; a^<t\ov ynXn, that purciindcccitful viil/c, as the word 
 there imports, 1 Pet. ii. 2. The way therefore in which 
 the Spirit doth maintain and improve this life, and afford 
 vigour to it, is by leading the soul often into heaven, and 
 making it to converse in the invisible regions ; and to for- 
 get this world, and that it hath any relation to it, when it 
 converses with God in spirit, and is made to look (for it 
 draws down its nutriment even by the eye) by failh into 
 the things that are unseen and hoped for; whereof that 
 faith is the very substance and evidence too. 
 
 9. This influence is gradually perfective of the whole 
 soul. Such as tends to improve it ; such as by which it is 
 still growing up to the measure of the stature of a perfect 
 man in Christ Jesus, Eph. iv. 13. We infer upon all that 
 hath been said, that there is siich a life as this. A very 
 obvious inference, but it is very sad that it should be need- 
 ful to make it. For alas ! how hardly and slowly does it 
 enter into the minds of most, that there is such a thing, 
 notwithstanding all those many and great things which the 
 word of God is full of concerning it! It is very strange 
 that we should have such accounts in Scripture oif the way 
 of begetting it, of the nature and tendency of it, how it is 
 maintained, what the operations of it are, what the enjoy-
 
 534 
 
 THE WORK OP THE HOLY SPIRIT 
 
 Serm. XI 
 
 menls, what the pains which it doth at any time suffer, 
 ■what its improvements, ami what it shall end in at last, 
 viz. eternal life; and that still it should be disbelieved by 
 them, who v/ill not profess to believe the Bible a legend, 
 that there is such a life. They must too certainly disbe- 
 lieve that there is any eternal life; for nothing can be 
 plainer, than that the life, which shall never end, must 
 sometime begin. But against so clear evidence there is 
 noihing to be opposed, but ignorance and inexperience; 
 "We know no such matter, and therefore we will not be- 
 lieve it, say about it what can be said." But what strange 
 folly is this! What rashness ! Such as any prudent man 
 in another instance would censure and damn for the most 
 vain, foolish, and preposterous rashness. If any man shall 
 say, that he will not believe that there is in another, such 
 or such an excellency, superior to what is in himself, be- 
 cause he does not experience the same thing in himself, 
 he would be thought fitter to be hooted at than confuted. 
 We do not reckon brutes capable judges of the perfections 
 and improveableness of the nature of men ; nor do we 
 think one man a competent judge of what is in the spirit 
 of another. What man knoweth the things of a man, save 
 the spirit of a man that is in him 1 so the things of God 
 knoweth no man, but the Spirit of God, 1 Cor. ii. 11. 
 Such as have been exercised about such matters can tell 
 you« much of the pleasure of philosophical knowledge; 
 and divers can tell yon of the strange things that are per- 
 f jrmable by mechanical and chemical powers and opera- 
 tions. Who would not think that countryman very ridi- 
 culous, who because he knows nothing at all of these 
 matters, will therefore deny that there are any men in the 
 world, that are of more excellent skill and judgment than 
 himself, about things of such a nature 1 He does not 
 know what belongs to chemistry, and therefore he will not 
 believe there is any chemist. He knows not what belongs 
 to astronomy, and therefore he does not think there is any 
 .such skill as astronomical skill. This is a piece of folly 
 v/hich confutes itself, when men have no more to say, why 
 they will not admit that there is a divine life, a life come 
 from heaven, than that they feel in their own spirits no 
 workings of any such life. They may know indeed how 
 the case is with themselves; that there is no such thing 
 as life springing in them, that carries their hearts to God, 
 and makes them still seek nearer and nearer union with 
 him, thirst alter his presence, and long to be near him ; 
 that carries them up often into heaven, and fills them with 
 heavenly joy and solace in the foretaste of that blessed 
 expected state ; they may know, I say, that there is no such 
 thing in their ov/n hearts. But what ! will you therefore 
 judge there is no such thing in all the worldl As if your 
 knowledge were the measure of all reality, and there could 
 be nothing within all the compass of being, but what must 
 be Vv'ithin the compass of yo-ur understanding and experi- 
 ence. This is the greatest folly that can be thought of. 
 We do not use so foolishly to conclude, when we hear of 
 the pleasures and delicacies of such and such a country 
 spoken of, in which we have never been, that there is no 
 such thing, because we have not seen it with our own eyes; 
 or, there are no such fruits, because we have not relished 
 them with our taste. It will be therefore of very great 
 importance to us to fix the belief of this in our own souls, 
 that there is such a life ; when the Spirit of the living God 
 hath so much to do about it, and is continually attending 
 It as his charge. Doth it employ itself about nothing'? 
 But the time doth not allow to proceed. 
 
 SERMON XL* 
 
 We are speaking of the influence by which the divine 
 life IS ir.aintamed ; and have already shown what kind of 
 influence it is. We are now to show how it is ascertained 
 unto regenerate souls, or, give you some account of the 
 certainty of it. 
 
 1. It is ascertained by the relation they hereupon come 
 to stand in to God. They are his children, his begotten 
 * Preached Febniary27th, 167S, at Cordwainer'B Hall. 
 
 ones. You know it is naturally every one's care to pro- 
 vide for those who have been born of them, unto whom 
 they have been (though but the secondary) authors of life 
 and being. And the apostle argues even in this very case 
 from this reason, Rom. viii. 13, 14. If ye through the Spi- ^^mw 
 rit do mortify the deeds of the body, ye shall live. Fov Sjl 
 as many as are led by the Spirit of God, they are the sqjis 
 of God : q. d. " Do you think that he will not care that his 
 own sons shall live V And the argument is yet more 
 strong and enforcing, if you consider how this relation 
 terminates, ^■^.^•. more peculiarly and remarkably upon our 
 very .spirits; for so you find he is called the Father of 
 spirits in contradistinction unto the fathers of our flesh, 
 Heb. xii. 9. Therefore the relation leads to a more spe- 
 cial care and concern about the life of our spirits, and 
 most especially about that life of them, which is most im- 
 mediately from him, and most resembles his own: not 
 that natural life, which we have in common with the rest 
 of men, but that life which is the more peculiar product 
 of his own blessed Spirit, even as it is the Spirit of grace 
 and of holiness. It is in that sense (as we have formerly 
 shown you at large) that we are said to be born spirit of 
 spirit. It is only a production, or generation secundum 
 quid, and in this peculiar respect, the thing produced being 
 his own holy, living image, or a nature superadded to the 
 human nature conform unto his own in moral re.spects, 
 and having been, in this so peculiar a kind, a Parent and 
 an Author of life, it is not at all to be doubted, but the re- 
 lation will draw with it the greatest care about that life 
 which he hath given. 
 
 2. Add hereunto the paternal love which accompanies 
 the relation. There is many times the relation of a father 
 unaccompanied with the love of a father, (though it is very 
 unnatural where it is so,) but here it is not so to be under- 
 stood. It were horrid and blasphemous to think such a 
 thought. Do we suppose him, who is the very Fountain 
 of that natural affection which still descends and flows 
 down, through all the successive generations of the world, 
 in an ordinary stated course, from father to son, to be 
 destitute of it himself; that there is a penury and want, 
 or a failure in the very Fountain 1 Like as a father pitieth 
 his children, so the Lord pitieth them that fear him. Psalm 
 ciii. 13. He is the very Fountain and Spring of all that 
 kindness, and pity, and compassion, and love, that did 
 ever reside in the hearts of any parents towards their own 
 children, he put and placed it there ; therefore we are to 
 concei\'e it in him, as in its highest original, and its proper 
 and native seat, and therefore fully and most invaiiably 
 there. And our Saviour's argumentation to this very pur- 
 pose, how much doth it carry of convictive evidence with 
 it ! If ye being evil, know how to give good gifts unto 
 your children, how much more will your heavenly Father 
 give his Spirit unto them that ask him ! Luke xi. 13. And 
 it is an instinct put into all that are of this divine progeny 
 to be still looking up with craving eyes for this Spirit. 
 It is the very sum of the desire of the new creature, it doth, 
 as it WQTe, comprehensively enwrap all its desires ; it is 
 its very natural sense, " Lord, thy Spirit !" Though it is 
 many times a silent and inexplicit prayer, yet it is, as it 
 were, the voice of that new nature, "more of thy Spirit." 
 The exigency of the case speaks, the very languors and 
 faintings of holy souls carry craving in them, though they 
 have not so formed desires, that they can reflect upon them 
 and take notice of them : even as the parched ground doth 
 secretly supplicate to the heavens for relief and supplies. 
 Such we know the Psalmist's metaphor is once and again. 
 And do we think that the Father of mercies (as he is call- 
 ed, as well as the Father of our spirits) will not hear the 
 cries, and regard the necessities, even the crying necessi- 
 ties, of his own (otherwise languishing and dying) off- 
 spring? He that feeds the ravens, will he starve souls'? 
 The very sea-monsters draw forth their breasts, and do we 
 think that there is less pity and compassion with Godi 
 The instinct is natural even in inferior nature, and stronger 
 according as the order of being is more noble in which it is 
 to be found. It is true, there may be among human crea- 
 tures, some more than monsters, so prodigiously unnatural 
 as not to regard the fruit of their own bodies. Lam. iv. 3. 
 But suppose such a case; if a woman can forget her suck-
 
 Serm. XI. 
 
 IN REFERENCE TO PARTICULAR PERSONS. 
 
 &35 
 
 ing child, ■nd nol have compaysiou on the fruit of her 
 ■womb, — ye; will not I forget, saith the Lord, Isa. xlix. 15. 
 I can nevei forget you : I have graven you upon the palms 
 of my hands, as there it is explained. As if the design 
 were to let us know, that he did make it a concern to him- 
 self never to forget, that he would always have a remem- 
 brancing token before his eyes, to make supply to the 
 necessity of souls, as their case should require. 
 
 3. Some thought may possibly occur with some ; that 
 though it be true that a fatherly love doth commonly fol- 
 low the relation, yet, where it hath been in much strength 
 and vigour, possibly something or other may avert it, 
 something may be done by a child to alienate the father's 
 love ; we have therefore a yet further assurance from the 
 Divine wisdom and all-comprehending knowledge. Prom 
 which it must be understood, that when he formed the 
 design of raising up to himself such a seed from .among 
 the lapsed children of men, he had the compass of it lying 
 in view, and all things were present to his eye that should 
 any way come to influence this design, or have any aspect 
 npon it one way or another, whether to hinder or promote 
 it: and yet it is manifest that he had such a design, and 
 hath laid and fixed it, having all things in his view, even 
 whatsoever might make most against it. Commonly if the 
 minds and inclinations of persons do alter so, as that they 
 come to disaffect, where heretofore they have borne a very 
 peculiar love and kindness, it is upon some surprise that 
 the alienation begins, something falling out unio them 
 which was altogether unexpected : they did not think that 
 such a one would have served them so and so, or have 
 dealt so with them. Bnt unto all-comprehending know- 
 ledge nothing is new. The blessed God had the entire 
 prospect of his whole de.sign, nor can we therefore suppose 
 any thing that should alienate his paternal love, after he 
 hath begun to exercise and express it, which he had not 
 obvious unto his notice before. He loves with an everlast- 
 ing love, from everlasting to everlasting: Having loved 
 he loves to the end. John xiii. 1. And whereas it may be 
 also said, that though we should suppose a continuing love 
 with a father towards his own children, j^et he may be re- 
 duced to those straits that he cannot do for them as he 
 would; the matter therefore is further ascertained, 
 
 4. From his all-sufticient fulness. There is still the 
 same undecaying plenitude of Spirit with him, that can 
 never abate or grow less. It is a spring or fountain unex- 
 hausted and unexhaustible, that can never be drained or 
 drawn dry. And therefore do we think, that those who 
 have received this life from him shall not continue to live, 
 when there is such love, and kindness, and compassion in 
 conjunction with so rich and undecaying fulness 1 Me- 
 thinks to any reasonable understanding this should make 
 the matter very sure. Again, 
 
 5. We are further ascertained by his express promi.se. 
 And it is very considerable unto this purpose, how noted 
 and eminent in the Scripture, especially in the New Tes- 
 tament, (though we have divers instances too in the Old,) 
 the promise is of the Spirit. Indeed the matter is so re- 
 presented to us, that we have reason to account, that as 
 before Christ's coming, the coming of Christ was the great 
 promise, and the hope of Israel ; so after the coming of 
 Christ in the flesh, the gift of the Spirit was the great pro- 
 mise, the promise of the Gospel, Christ being (as then he 
 was) actually come. It is therefore to be observed, (in Acts 
 ii. 38, 39. that the apostle in that sermon calling upon his 
 hearers (who were principally Jews, at least by religion) 
 to repent, he tells them for their encouragement that they 
 should "receive the gift of the Holy Ghost; for the pro- 
 mise is unto you and your children." Observe the con- 
 nexion ; the giving of the Holy Ghost is spoken of by him 
 as the promise, which did virtually comprehend in it the 
 sum of the Gospel : and virtually it did so, for if that were 
 once made good, all would be sure to be made good. And 
 our Saviour speaks of this as what would be a greater good, 
 a good that would more than compensate his own longer 
 abode and presence in the flesh among his disciples : It is 
 expedient for you that I go away; for if I s:o not away 
 the Comforter will not come unto you, but if I depart, I 
 will send him unto you, John xvi. 7. Certainly it could 
 not be expedient to part with a greater good for a less ; 
 no, nor could it be said to be an expediency to part with 
 
 an equal good for an equal : if then it were expedient that 
 He should go, that the Spirit might come, that must be 
 reckoned a good superior to his mere bodily presence and 
 abode. And so the apostle plainly intimates in 2 Cor. v. 
 17. compared with what goes immediately before. Though 
 we have known Christ after the flesh, yet now hencelbrih 
 know we him no more. He i^peaks of the matter with 
 complacency, and with a kind of jubilation ; q. d. I do 
 not desire to know him after the flesh any more, that is, 
 in comparison of what he after speaks of, viz. that inward, 
 vital, spiritual union with him, by which the whole frame 
 of the new creation comes to spring up in the soul. " If 
 any man be in Christ he is a new creature ; old things are 
 passed away, behold, all things are become new." And it 
 is promised in John xiv. IG. that this Spirit shall be given 
 to abide with them for ever, in most exact correspondence 
 unto the end and purpose for which he was to be given, 
 (ver. 19.) to be the continual maintainer of their life. That 
 must be a very constant thing to us which we are con- 
 tinually to live by, for if there were an intcrcision of life 
 for a moment it would not be recovered. From the priva- 
 tion of a habit there were no return. He says therefore, 
 " he shall give you another Comforter, that he may abide 
 with you for ever ;" so fully to answer the exigence of the 
 case, that you shall be no moment destitute of his vital 
 influence. 
 
 6. We are further assured from the consideration of the 
 Divine faithfulness, without the consideration whereof the 
 promise would signify little. For there are many promises 
 made, and not kept ; but " he is faithful that hath promises." 
 The promise of an unfaithful person gives very little assu- 
 rance ; but we are to add to the consideiation of the express 
 promise of God, that it is most simply repugnant to the 
 perfection of his nature to be capable of deceiving us. In 
 hope of eternal life, which God, that cannot lie, hath pro- 
 mised. Tit. i. 2. And that eternal life is nothing else but 
 this life, whereof the Spirit hath been the Author, conti- 
 nued and improved unto that blessed, eternal state, till it 
 reach to that plenitude and fulness of life at length. A 
 well of water springing up into everlasting life, John iv. 14. 
 And God, that we might be assured that he will keep his 
 word, hath added hereunto the ratification of his own 
 solemn oath ; that by two immutable things, in which it is 
 impossible for God to lie, there might be strong consola- 
 tion to the heirs of promise, Heb. vi. 17, 18. And as I 
 have said, this is the great promise, which is the very sum 
 of the rest. 
 
 7. This continual vital influence is ascertained unto the 
 regenerate by their union with Christ, considered in con- 
 junction with — his being constituted and appointed a Medi- 
 ator between God and them. — As he is Mediator, he comes 
 to have all that should serve the necessities of their souls 
 lodged in his hand, and particularly to be the great treasury 
 of spirit and life to them, and for them. All fulness, even 
 by the Father's pleasure, dwells in him. But it may be said, 
 what is it to them, that Christ is lull, that he is rich, that 
 he lives, and that there is a fountain and treasury of life 
 and spirit in him 1 What ! is it nothing to theml Why, 
 consider that they are united to him, one with him. He 
 that is joined to the Lord is one spirit, 1 Cor. vi. 17. And 
 that the inwardness of this union might be with more life 
 represented to us, it is said in Eph. v. 30. We are mem- 
 bers of his body, of his flesh, and of his bones. And do 
 we think, that "when such rich plenitude of spirit and in- 
 fluence is in that head, he will not difluse it, and make it 
 flow to those who are his members 1 that he will have any 
 members to be cut off"from him as totally dead "? 
 
 8. This matter is ascertained from the consideration of 
 the work inchoate, or already begun. A great argument 
 this, that the issue and good event of such a thing will 
 certainly be brought to pass, even with wise, and prudent, 
 and considering rfien. For there is no such man that doth 
 begin a business which he will not carry through, if he be 
 able. And therefore vrhh the blessed God the argument 
 is most strong. He hath been the Author of this life, by 
 his Spirit, unto the souls that he hath renewed ; and there- 
 fore surelv he will continue, and carry it on, and bring it 
 to the mature and perfect state at last unto which he hath 
 designed it. See how the apostle argues .in Phil. i. 6. 
 Being confident (says he) ot this very thing, that he who
 
 536 
 
 THE WORK OF THE HOLY SPIRIT 
 
 Serm, XI. 
 
 hath begun a good work will perform (or finish) it until 
 the day of Jesus Christ. He is not of that light and un- 
 certain temper, as having begun such an undertaking as 
 this, about which he hath expressed so much concern, and 
 wherein it did appear his heart was so much engaged, to 
 throw it off. Indeed the lubricity of a man's spirit makes 
 him ver}^ susceptible of such a thing as this, to begin a 
 design, and then be sick of it, grow weary, neglect it, and 
 throw away all thoughts and concern about it, and divert 
 to somewhat else: but it is most repugnant to the natural, 
 essential perfection of the blessed God to be capable of 
 such a change. He will not forsake his people, (as Samuel 
 speaks to the mourning Israelites in 1 Sam. xii. 22.) be- 
 cause it hath pleased him to make them his people. 
 Though he sometimes seems, for the awakening of us out 
 of our security, and the engaging of us unto that care and 
 diligence which the case requires, to represent himself, as 
 if he were contesting with himself about this matter, 
 whether he should continue the relation, and the care that 
 belongs to it, yea or no; }'et we see how he answers him- 
 self in Jer. iii. 19. How shall I put thee among the child- 
 ren, (fee? I said, " Thoii shalt (yet) call me. My Father ; 
 and sh.alt not turn away from me." He resolves that he 
 would, with the relation, continue in them an instinct 
 always to look towards him as their Father. " Thou shalt 
 look to me as thy Father, and shalt not turn away from 
 me, and so will I preserve all things entire between thee 
 and me." 
 
 These considerations taken together are sufficient to 
 ascertain to a regenerate soul that maybe solicitous about 
 the state of its own case, that the influence shall be 
 continued, which is necessary for the continued main- 
 tenance of that life whereof the Spirit of God hath been 
 the Author. 
 
 The use that we shall make of this at present shall only 
 be in some few practical inferences, reserving the further 
 use till after we have considered and opened the other 
 doctrine from the latter part of the verse. 
 
 We have already (so far preventing ourselves) inferred, 
 
 1. That there is such a life as that which we are wont 
 to call the life spiritual, distinct from, and to be superadded 
 to, the natural life of men. I insisted upon this before, 
 and therefore do but mention it now. 
 
 2. We may further infer, that this life is of a most ex- 
 cellent and noble kind. Of this we are taught to make a 
 judgment by the way of its being maintained. What is it 
 maintained upon 1 They that live this life, live in the 
 Spirit ; certainly this is a very high way of living, and 
 speaks the life that is to be maintained so, and only main- 
 tainable so, to be a life of a most excellent and noble kind. 
 The excellency of any life is to be measured and judged 
 by the objects which are suitable to it, and nutritive of it, 
 or, out of which it has its sustenance and support. They 
 that do live this life, as they do so, can breathe no other 
 but this pure and sacred breath. They " live in the Spirit " 
 They live no where but in a region of vitality, filled with 
 vital influence even by the eternal Spirit. This is to live at 
 a very high rate. Think therefore how excellent a life that 
 is which the blessed God doth distinguish his own child- 
 ren by from other men. 
 
 3. Since this life is here spoken of as in this way to be 
 continue 1 — we learn, that it must certainly at some time 
 or other begin. And therefore methinks this should be a 
 rousing and awakening thought unto those who, when they 
 hear of the ways and methods of maintaining and improv- 
 ing the spiritual life, have yet cause to suspect or doubt, 
 whether as yet they have the very beginnings of it. Me- 
 thinks it should be a chilling thought unto such a heart, 
 " How much do I hear (may such a one say) of mighty 
 things, things of very great and vast importance, which are 
 all impertinencies to me, they signify nothing, nor have 
 any suitableness in them to my case! How great things 
 do fall beside me !" So it must be with every one that 
 hath not yet begun to live this life. What ! not yet be?un 1 
 Do we find so many things so industriously in.^erted'into 
 the Scripture, to instruct and direct us concerning the ways 
 of exercising, maintaining, and improving this life, and I 
 not yet feel the very beginnings of it! O how much be- 
 hind are men unto the whole order of Christians, of those 
 that are so in deed and in truth, and may deservedly admit 
 
 the name ! " Some are gone so far, and I am yet to begin 
 my course!" 
 
 4. We hence see how great a perfection is lacking unto 
 unrenewed souls ; how great a perfection properly apper- 
 taining unto the spirit and nature of a man, and which 
 ought to be found in it and with it. Why, there is a whole 
 state of life yet lacking to them. A dismal thing to think 
 of! It might fill a man with astonishment to think that 
 he should be so far short of what a man ought to be, be- 
 cause he is not yet so much as alive towards God. You 
 have at large heard what that life is by which we are said 
 to live spiritually, and that it is not to be understood in a 
 natural but in a moral sense. For admit that the spirit of a 
 man is of itself naturally and essentially a self-acting thing, 
 yet it were not to be imagined that God would make such 
 a creature, and turn it loose into this world to act at ran- 
 dom : life therefore in this moral sense is a principle of 
 acting regularly and duly towards God. And though there 
 be the natural powers and faculties that belong unto the 
 soul of a man, as it is such a creature in such a place and 
 order of the creation, yet while they are destitute of that 
 rectitude by which they are inclined to God, or apt to act 
 and move towards him by rule and according to prescrip- 
 tion, such a soul may as truly and fitly be said to be dead, 
 or those powers and faculties of it to have a death in them, 
 as the hand of a man's body, supposing it to retain its 
 natural shape and figure, but to be altogether useless unto 
 the ends and purposes, for which such an organ was made : 
 if it be raised up, it falls down a dead weight ; he can't 
 move it this way, or that : you'll say, this is a dead 
 thing; yet it hath its shape still. 
 
 It is strange to see how far some have gone in the appre- 
 hensions of this matter by merely natural light. You know 
 we spake of this life comprehending, with the principles of 
 grace, the consolations, and pleasures, and joys which are 
 apt to result and spring from thence. Alone to have such 
 a life, is not enough to denominate a person to be a living 
 person, but to be well; to be healthful, and vigorous, and 
 strong. I remember Socrates I find to speak thus (as Xe- 
 nophon reports of him) among his dying discourses con- 
 cerning life in this moral sense, " Do you ask (says he) 
 what It is to Mvel: I'll tell you what it is. To live truly 
 is to endeavour to excel in goodne'^'S ; and to live com- 
 fortably, or joyfully, is to feel oneself to do so, or to feel 
 oneself growing better and better." He calls those, per- 
 sons that lived pleasantly, who felt themselves improving 
 in respect of the good temper of their .spirits. And I re- 
 member Philo-Judaeus (though he had opportunity for 
 much more light than the other) giving the notion of a 
 man, as that which he would have commonly to obtain, 
 says, that "no one ought to be reckoned a partaker of the 
 rational nature, that has not in him hope towards God." 
 So he speaks of religion ; and says plainly, that " he who 
 hath this hope in him, he only is to be called a man, and 
 that the other is to be looked upon as no man." That was 
 his notion. We may so far comport with it as to say, that 
 there is certainly a great perfection belonging to the nature 
 of man, xvanting to them that are yet not come to live this 
 life. And it is amazing to think that such a perfection is 
 wanting by privation, in the proper sense, and not by nega- 
 tion only. As how dismal a thing were it, should we 
 suppose all the rational powers and faculties to be on a 
 sudden cut off from the nature of a man, so that he is be- 
 come a mere brute, he can't think a thought, every thing 
 of reason and discourse is become alien to him ! And if 
 we should suppose next the faculties of the sensitive nature 
 to be cut off, and he, who was before a rational man, had 
 the power of reason and speech, and could move to and 
 fro and converse as a man, turned into a tree; life he has, 
 but no better life than that: and if you would suppose 
 that life gone too, and he at last turned into a stone; these 
 were most dismal degenerations. It is no disparagement 
 at all to what was orignally a brute, to be a brute, or to a 
 tree, to be a tree, or to a stone, to be a stone ; for it has all 
 the perfection that belongeth to such a creature, or to the 
 order whereof it is in the creation of God. But when this 
 life is lacking to the soul of man, there is a perfection 
 lacking which did originally belong unto this order of 
 creatures. For what ! Do you think that ever God made 
 man to disaffect himself? that he ever made a reasonable
 
 Skbm. XI. 
 
 IN REFERENCE TO PARTICULAR PERSONS. 
 
 creature ihat should not be capable of loving its o'wti 
 irigiiial, and the supreme good I And whereas we find 
 now that men do universally make themselves the centre 
 of their own loves, do we think that ever God made man 
 to do so ] Why, it is a dreadful transformalion then, that 
 is come upon the nature of man, and a most amazing de- 
 generacy. It would staitle us, if we would but admit 
 serious thoughts of it, that there should be an entire state 
 of life so generally lacking among men. And especially, 
 if any of us upon reflection, laying our hands upon our 
 hearts, do feel no movings of such a life, no beatings of a 
 pulse God-ward and heaven-ward that may bespeak and 
 be an indication of it. To think that I have such a thing 
 lacking in me, that doth belong originally unto the nature 
 of man; not so light and trivial a thing that, if I had it, it 
 would add some kind of perfection to me which might 
 conveniently enough be spared ; but a whole orb and 
 order is lacking to me which belongs to such a creature 
 as I. Certainly it should put such a person mightily out 
 of conceit with himself, and make him think, " What a 
 monster am I in the creation of God ! I am no way suited 
 to the order of cieatures in which my Creator hath set 
 me ; for that was an order of intelligent creatures all formed 
 to the loving, adoring, and praising, and serving the great 
 Author of their beings, with open eyes beholding and 
 adoring his excellencies and glory: and I have no dispo- 
 sition thereto." 
 
 5. We may further infer how great a misery is conse- 
 quent, when persons have not begun to live this life ; there 
 is a great perfection lacking in this life itself, but it infers 
 a further consequent misery, i. e. a being cut oti' from all 
 conversing with God, a kind of exile out of that region, 
 which is within the management of the Spirit, the region 
 in which it rules, and which it replenishes with life, and 
 with vital influence : for being dead towards God they can 
 have no converse with him. If a person be dead, 3'ou know 
 what is usual, " Bury my dead out of my .sight." They 
 are not fit to come into God's sight, or to have to do with 
 him. Would we like it well to converse among the dead ; 
 or endure to have carcasses l.yiug with us in our houses, 
 and in our beds, and to be found at our tables? Why, 
 the case speaks itself; they who are destitute of this life, 
 are quite cut off from God, and from all his converse ; 
 they are as it were exiles frctn the world and region of 
 spirit and spirituality. O the strength and vigour, the 
 joys and pleasures, the purity and peace, of that blessed 
 region ! But these are excluded by their want of this life. 
 The Spirit can onl)^ statedly converse with those that are 
 alive. It steps out of its region (the case were otherwise 
 sad with us) to make men alive, and to draw them within 
 the circle, as it were, that they may be within the reach, of 
 its continual ordinary converse. But they are in no way 
 of converse with the Spirit, as yet, that have not the prin- 
 ciples of this life as yet planted in them. So that they aie 
 to look upon themselves as cut ofl'from God, and as those 
 with whom his Spirit hath no converse in a stated way. 
 What it may do, what it Avill do in a way of sovereign 
 grace, is more than they know ; but it is their great con- 
 cern to implore it, that it would come and move upon 
 them, and attemper to the region of life. They are other- 
 wise cut off" as from the land of the living, and have no 
 place nor fellowship there. 
 
 6. Let us see the wonderful grace of this blessed Spirit. 
 Well may it be called the Spirit of grace : Who hath done 
 despite unto the Spirit of grace, Heb. x. 29. We should 
 frame our apprehensions accordingly of this blessed Spirit, 
 as the light of such a Scripture would dictate, and account 
 it the Spirit of all love, and goodness, and benignity, and 
 sweetness, that admits such souls to have a livelihood in it. 
 " If ye live in the Spirit ;" O strange goodness this ! Such 
 
 mpure creatures, so lost in darkness and death, now brought 
 within those blessed confines ! That the Spirit of the 
 living God should have taken them into such association 
 with itself ! q. d. " Come, you shall live with me : here is 
 safe living, comfortable living." The communion which 
 God holds with such souls is called the communion of the 
 Holy Ghost in 2 Cor. xiii. 14. That it should come and 
 .ead souls out of death and darkness into the Divine pre- 
 sence, and say to them, " Dwell here, in the secret of the 
 Almighty, and under the shadow of his wing. His feathers 
 
 537 
 
 shall cover you, and his conrinual influence cherish you 
 and maintain your life : here you .shall spend your da3-s !" 
 This is a wonderful vouchsafement. How should we 
 magnify to ourselves the grace of the Spirit upon tiiis ac- 
 count ! And yet further, 
 
 7. We see the great hazard of withdrawing ourselves 
 from under the tutelage and influence of this Spirit. It 
 is done by neglect, done by self-confidence, done by re- 
 mitting our dependance, done by resistance, by our dis- 
 obedience, our little obsequiousness to the Spirit : and you 
 see the hazard of it. Step out of this region of life, and 
 there is nothing but impure and desolate darkness. We 
 languish and die, if we retire, or recede and step without 
 these sacred boundaries. To be confined and kept within 
 them, how great a vouchsafement is it! and, that it is 
 undertaken that it shall be so! But though it shall be so, 
 we are not to expect that this should be done without our 
 care. We showed you, in speaking of that influence, that 
 it is an assisting and co-operative influence, among memy 
 other particulars. 
 
 Lastly, We may infer, that is a most weighty and im- 
 portant charge that lies upon everj' renewed soul. For 
 think, how precious and excellent a life is to be maintained 
 in them; that spiritual, divine life, a thing which both re- 
 quires and justifies their utmost care: requires it; for 
 what would a person think of it, if he should be intrusted 
 with the care of the life of a prince, the child of a gif-rit 
 monarch 1 If any of us had such a charge committed to 
 us, " I charge you with the life of this child, and to u.-e 
 your best care and endeavour for the nourishing of its 
 life, and for the cultivating of it, and fitting it to the be.st 
 purposes whereof it ma}' be capable." How would this 
 engage one's utmost diligence, that it is a ver}- impor- 
 tant lile that is committed to my care. We have every one 
 of us the care incumbent upon us of the life of a divine 
 thing produced and brought forth in us, and which we 
 are to apply the name first to, when we call ourselves the 
 sons or children of God. There the name falls first: it 
 is that divine thing that is his son, and we are onh' his 
 sons or children upon the account of that. To have a 
 divine life to maintain and cherish in my soul, as I may 
 have a subordinate agency, under the Spirit, in order 
 thereto, how should it engage my utmost solicitude and 
 care, that nothing be done oflensive to this life, that every 
 thing be done that may tend to preserve and improve it ! 
 
 And as it requires our care, so it final!}' justifies it. A 
 great many are apt to think, yea, and do often speak, re- 
 proachfully concerning those who do any thing to dis- 
 cover and hold forth the power and efficacy of such an in- 
 being life in them. To what purpose do these persons 
 take so much more care than other men about their souls, 
 and about their spiritual state, as they are wont to call it 1 
 Why, they have a life more than you to be solicitous 
 about; a life that you know nothing of; a noble, a divine 
 life, which is incumbent upon them to care for. They 
 wonder that this race of men don't run with them into 
 the same excess of riot, M-hen they never con.sider these 
 are things that would be noxious to my life. It may be 
 you find nothing in you, unto ■« hich such things would 
 be an offence : they would hurt my very life. This hath 
 the holy soul to say to justify all that care and concern 
 which he hath about the maintaining and preserving his 
 spiritual life. And would not he be thought to talk very 
 unrea-sonably that should say; Why should such and 
 such men, who are observed to he much addicted to study, 
 and retirement, and contemplation, w!iy should they inure 
 themselves to more thoughts than the beasts do 1 They, 
 who apply themselves to a course of praying, meditation, 
 &c. why should they do so more than the beasts, who, say 
 they, do but eat and drink, and what is given them that 
 they gather, and no more ado 1 The answer would he 
 obvious from such persons; " I have a thing called rea- 
 son in me, which I am to cultivate, and improve, and 
 make my best of, which beasts have not." And is not 
 that a sulficient answer; " I have a life more in me thaa 
 other men have, which I am to tend, and take all possible 
 care of; a life capable of great improvements, a life of 
 great hopes, a life put into me upon high accounts, and 
 for the greatest and mo.st noble designs." And therefore 
 if any of us be tempted by the licentious persons of the
 
 533 
 
 THE WORK OP THE HOLY SPIRIT 
 
 Serm. XII. 
 
 age to run their course, and do as they do, pray let us 
 learn to distinguish our cases. The matter is not with us 
 as it is with them. We have somewhat else in us ; a 
 divine thing, which hath a sacred life belonging to it, im- 
 planted in our natures ; which hath given us hope, and 
 which is in us the earnest and pledge, of a blessed eternity, 
 an immortal state of life. And what ! shall we be prodi- 
 gal of this 1 Is this a thing to be exposed, and ventured, 
 and thrown away, merely to comply with the humour of 
 a sensual wretch, who knows nothing of the matter, and 
 is a stranger to all such affairs 1 
 
 SERMON XIL* 
 
 Yo0 have heard of a twofold work of the Holy Spirit 
 upon such souls as it hath regenerated, or put a principle 
 of spiritual life into; viz. — the maintaining of that life, 
 which is mentioned in the former part of this verse, " If 
 we live in the Spirit ;" and — the causing, and conducting, 
 and governing the motions which are agreeable to that life, 
 in the latter part, " Let us also walk in the Spirit." — We 
 have spoken of the former of these, and are now to pro- 
 ceed uato the latter, that is, to treat of that part or hand 
 which the Holy Spirit hath about the motions and actions 
 of renewed souls; and those must be considered in a re- 
 ference unto that life unto which they are connatural, as 
 you see they are mentioned in that reference in the text, 
 " If we live in the Spirit, let us also walk in the Spirit." 
 Therelore the latter truth which we have to note to you 
 from this Scripture you may take thus ; — That it belongs 
 to their state, who live in the Spirit, to walk also in the 
 Spirit. — In speaking to which we shall, 
 
 I. Show, what it is to walk in the spirit. 
 
 II. How it belongs unto the state of such persons so to 
 walk. 
 
 I. What walking in the Spirit imports. This we may 
 understand by inquiring severally into, and then joining 
 together, these two notions; i. e. what walking doth im- 
 port; and then, — what it imports to do anything in the 
 Spirit. — These being explained and put together, will give 
 us the full and true import of walking in the Spirit. 
 
 Walking in the general, you know, is an expression that 
 signifies action or motion ; and sometimes it is taken in 
 a natural sense, and then you know what, it signifies; 
 sometimes it is taken in a moral sense, a sense borrowed 
 from the natural, because of some analogy and agreement 
 between the one and the other ; and then it plainly signi- 
 fies the course of a man's conversation. So it must neces- 
 sarily be understood to signify here, according to the 
 transumed or borrowed sense. And nothing is more ordi- 
 nary in Scripture than to express the course of a man's 
 conversation, whether it be good or whether it be bad, by 
 the phrase of walking; as you can't but have taken no- 
 tice, such of you as have been conversant with the Scrip- 
 tures, how often it is said concerning the kings of Israel 
 and Judah, that they walked so and so ; such and such a 
 one in the way of his fathers, and the like : where the 
 series of his actions, morally considered, is most expressly 
 intended to be signified. 
 
 But that we may speak more distinctly unto the notion 
 of walking, because it will give much light unto the mat- 
 ter which we have before us; as, in general, walking doth 
 signifv action or motion, so it also carries with it some 
 specification of that action or motion, and so doth import 
 action or motion of some special kind. For, though all 
 walking is motion, yet all motion is not walking; and 
 therefore it is an expression that serves to be some way 
 restrictive of the general notion of action or motion. And 
 that we may speak more clearly hereunto, we must take 
 notice of something that walking doth expressly denote, or 
 that is more formally included in the notion of it ; and 
 somewhat that it doth connote or import of a kind of col- 
 lateral signification thereof. 
 
 1. There are some things which walking doth more 
 directly and formally denote. As, 
 
 » Preached March 6th, 1678, at Cordwainer's Hall. 
 
 1. It denotes a self-motion. A motion which proceeds 
 from an internal principle in the thing that moves ; though 
 not originally ; for that cannot be supposed concerning it 
 in a creature, but subordinately only. If one rolls a stone 
 to and fro upon the ground, it would be very improper to 
 say, that stone walks. It signifies motion from an internal 
 principle, a kind of self-motion. 
 
 2. It doth most properly signify a voluntary motion. 
 There may be motion from an internal principle, which is 
 not voluntary, as there are many things that have a prin- 
 ciple of motion in themselves, which have not the power 
 of will ; which belongs only unto intellectual agents, unto 
 free creatures. Now if a man be dragged this way or that, 
 he is not said to walk, though he make use of his own 
 motive power too. 
 
 3. It imports an orderly motion. For he is not said to 
 walk who only wildly skips and fetches freaks this way 
 and that. And that signification is especially carried that 
 is used for walking here, s-oixi('>; a word from whence 
 that word s-"| comes, which signifies military order, the or- 
 derly motion of any army in rank and file : so the word is 
 noted to signify. Yea, and from the same word comes 
 a word that signifies the order which is observed in 
 verse, when the composition is most exact and accurate, 
 of so many feet, or making up such or such a form of 
 metre; ii^ix"^- A metrical kind of order is signified by 
 this word ; so as that one's motions are measured by a 
 strict kind of rule all along. 
 
 4. It imports a pleasurable motion. For you know we 
 are wont to walk for our recreation. If persons go a jour- 
 ney, or the like, that is toilsome, we express that more 
 usually by another word, travelling; but if a person be 
 gone forth to exercise himself in order to his recreation 
 and health, then we usually say, he is gone a walking. 
 
 5. It is a continued motion. For he that fetches a skip 
 and jump now and then, this way and that, is not said to 
 walk ; but walking is a course of motion continued for 
 such a time. 
 
 6. It is a progressive motion. There may be continued 
 motion which is not progressive. One may continue mov- 
 ing to and fro, in the same place, for a long time together: 
 but walking is a going forward. These things (as is obvi- 
 ous unto a common understanding) are carried in the no- 
 tion of walking most expressly, and so it may be said to 
 denote these things more formally. But, 
 
 2. There are also some things which it doth connote. 
 And they are especially these two, viz. — (1.) an end, 
 and — (2.) a way. It connotes an end ; for walking is a 
 tendency some whither, or unto some term. And it con- 
 notes a way ; for a man can't walk, but it must be in some 
 way or other, whether it be better or worse. 
 
 These things are considerable concerning the notion of 
 walking. And as walking doth import a specification of 
 motion, or is a more special kind of motion ; so the addi- 
 tion of "in the Spirit" plainly imports a specification of 
 walking, so as to denote a more special sort and kind of 
 walking. 
 
 We shall consider, more at large, what it is to do any 
 thing in the Spirit, before we come to sum up all in join- 
 ing these notions together. To do any thing in the 
 Spirit, is to do it in the light, and in the power of the 
 Spirit. 
 
 1. In the light of the Spirit. For whenever it comes to 
 deal with the spirits of men, it is in that way, by creating 
 a light to them, which is directive of their motions. Let 
 us walk in the light of the Lord, Isa. ii. 5. that is walking 
 in the Spirit. To do any thing in the Spirit, is to do it in 
 the light, not blindly and darkly, as those that Know not 
 what they do. 
 
 2. In the power of the Spirit. I will go in the strength 
 of the Lord God, I will make mention of thy righteous- 
 ness, even of thine only, Ps. Ixxi. 16. 
 
 These things thus laid before you will make it plain to 
 us what is carried " in walking in the Spirit." We are to 
 put together the notions of walking, and doing any thing 
 in the Spirit. And an account of the result and sum of 
 what has been said may be given you in these several par- 
 ticulars. 
 
 1. To walk in the Spirit is to intend and tend towards
 
 Serm. XII. 
 
 IN REFERENCE TO PARTICULAR PERSONS. 
 
 an end which is suitable to the Spirit. It is most propei 
 to beirin there; and that is, in short, walking in the Spirit 
 imports a continual tendency towards God, as the great 
 end and mark at which one aims. And this is an end 
 agreeable to the Spirit; and this, and no other, as the last 
 and ultimate end. The soul that is acted by the Spirit of 
 God is acted towards God. Do but observe how these 
 things are connected in that passage, Ps. Ixiii. 8. My soul 
 followeth hard after thee. How comes it to do so "? Thy 
 right hand holds me up. And what is that right hand ? 
 Why, it can signify nothing else but the power of God, 
 that is, his Spirit, which we are taught to look upon asthe 
 great active principle of all the motions and operations of 
 the creatures, whereof it can be said to be directly deter- 
 minative. Then we may conclude that a person is acted 
 by the Spirit, or walks in the Spirit, when he aims at God 
 through his whole course. While men are imder the power 
 and rule of another, that is, a fleshly and corrupt principle, 
 it is all for self that their designs lie, and the course ol' 
 their actions run; they are confined wholly (as hath been 
 said upon an occasion) within a circle of acting from self 
 to self: but when once the Spirit of God comes to have 
 the government and the motions of the soul, as all those 
 motions do immediately spring tiom God, so they tend to 
 him, and centre in him. The soul designs him, and none 
 but him, in its whole course. An-d therefore, it being the 
 great work of the Redeemer to reduce and bring back 
 souls to God, what part or hand the Spirit of God hath in 
 this matter, is in pursuance of the Redeemer's design. 
 Therefore we are said to "have access, or come to God 
 through him by the Spirit ;" this is the comn.-jn course 
 stated for all men ; for Jew and Gentile both, for with such 
 reference it is said. Through him we both have an access 
 by one Spirit unto the Father, (Kph. ii. 18.) implying that 
 none would ever come at God, aim at God, or tend towards 
 him, but as, by the motive power, and in the directive 
 light of the blessed Spirit, they are acted and carried 
 towards him through Christ. 
 
 2. Walking in the Spirit implies a cons'ant adherence 
 unto Christ by dependence and subjection. Which it 
 must needs do upon the account that all walking, as I have 
 said, connotes a way, and Christ is expressl}' represented 
 to us as the way leading unto Goil. I am the way ; no 
 man cometh unto the Father but by me, John xi v. 6. And 
 hence, as we have this phrase of " walking in the Spirit," 
 so we have that too of walking in Christ, Col. ii. 6. And 
 the apostle Peter directs such a course of walking as might 
 put them to .shame who should falsely accuse their good 
 conversation in Christ, I Pet. iii. 16. And certainly it is 
 one great part of the work of the Holy Ghost upon the 
 spirits of men, so as to attemper and frame them unto the 
 way of access to God, or the way wherein God can he 
 come at, that it may become even spiritually natural unto 
 the soul to walk in that way. While they walk in Christ, 
 they walk in the Spirit. It is the business of the Spirit to 
 engage the soul in this wa\' of tending and moving towards 
 God. and to keep it on therein. 
 
 3. It imports walking in the divine light, whereof the 
 Spirit is the continual Author unto renewed souls. And I 
 do not now mean only that external light which it affords 
 by the Scripture revelation, but an inward vital light which 
 it sets up and continues in the soul itself, having caused 
 " a day-spring, a day-star to arise there, and made a day 
 within." The Spirit creates unto the soul a region of light, 
 wherein it converses, while it is said to converse in the 
 Spirit. They unto whom it hath not created such a light, 
 are said " to walk in darkness;" and whatsoever there is 
 of external light shining round about them, their darkness 
 comprehends it not, as in John i. 5. But where this bless- 
 ed Spirit is, it makes those that were darkness to be light 
 in the Lord. " Ye were sometimes darkness, but now are 
 }-e light in the Lord." Well, and what then? Walk as 
 children of the light; Eph. v. 8. 'Tis true that light doth 
 here, as well as elsewhere^ signify holiness, but not with- 
 out reference unto intellectual light ; only it imports that 
 intellectual light to be a practical, refining, transforming, 
 vital light, so as that the same thing is capable of a two- 
 fold denomination, of light, and of life too ; as St. John, 
 speaking of our Lord Jesus Christ, the Sun of righteous- 
 ness, speaks of him as under the notion of life, and saith, 
 
 539 
 
 that life was the light of men, John i. 4. It is therefore a 
 region of living light which the Spirit doth create unto 
 souls, in which they converse and walk : then are they said 
 to walk in the Spirit, by that woik and ofiice ol the" Holy 
 Ghost, which our Saviour calls " its leading persons into 
 all truth." He promises in those consolatory, valedictory 
 discourses of his to his disciples, (in xiv. xv. and xvi. chap- 
 ters of John's Gospel,) again and again the Spirit, and for 
 this purpose, " to lead them into truth ;" that you know, is 
 the part of directive light. But then it is one thing to di- 
 rect only by telling, so and so you must do ; and anoiher 
 thing by way of instinct, or by an inward promjiiing: by 
 which too a person does not go in that case blindfold, but 
 with an inclination, with .spontaneity, and seeing his way 
 all the way he goes. He walks in the light; and such a 
 light a-s is directive and active to him at once. 
 
 4. It imports acting by a divine power all along through 
 our whole course. The Spirit, where it is, is the Spirit of 
 power, of love, and of a sound mind, 2 Tim. i. 7. They 
 are said to be in the Spirit, who are under the power and 
 dominion of it, as John says of himself, that he was in the 
 Spirit on the Lord's day, in Rev. i. 10. Under the inllu- 
 ence of its Almighty power, its captivating dominion. 
 According as when persons are said to be in the flesh, (an 
 expression frequently used in Scripture,) it notes their le- 
 ing under the power and dominion of a fleshly principle. 
 So to walk in the Spirit, is to aet on all akmg under the 
 power and governing influence of the Spirit. I will 
 strengthen them in the Lord, and they .shall walk up and 
 down in his name, Zech. x. 12. That one attiibute be- 
 longing to the Divine nature, viz. the power of Gcd, is 
 more especially pointed at there. 
 
 There is a strict connexion between this and the last 
 mentioned thing, that light and this power; that light 
 being a vital, a living thing. Though we may have dis- 
 tinct notions of them, 3-et they are in themselves" connected 
 and most inseparable. Come ye, let us walk in the light 
 of the Lord, Isa. ii. 5. Even in the form of expression, 
 though light is the thing which is directly spoken of, there 
 is implied and involved therewith a certain active power, 
 the being moved to go and \va\k in that light, which, as 
 such, was to guide them in their way. See what is referred 
 to in ver. 3. He will teach us of his ways, and we will 
 walk in his paths. This signifies that their spirits were 
 acted by a certain power which did incline them unto this 
 thing; and not that they were merely enlightened. And 
 whereas in this vsry chapter, the expression, "led by the 
 Spirit," is made use of in ver. 18. " If ye be led by the 
 Spirit, ye are not under the law ;" as also in Rom. vii'i. 14. 
 As many as are led by the Spirit of God, they are the sons 
 of God; the word which is rendered led is liymrai, and 
 signifies acted or moved by a certain power. As many as 
 are acted by the Spirit of God ; and they tliat are acted by 
 the Spirit of God are not under the law, they are not cursei 
 and condemned by it. 
 
 5. It imports acting from spiritual habitual principles 
 that are fixed and settled in the soul ; and therefore in- 
 cludes in it the exercise of all the several graces of the 
 Spirit. For you must know that when we say, walking in 
 the Spirit implies walking in the Divine light, and by the 
 Divine power ; it is not to be understood as if there were 
 nothing else but a temporary, present ray of light, and 
 effort of power from the Spirit ; and so that there comes 
 to be any thing habitually fixed in the soul itself But 
 though it is very true indeed that habitual light, &c. in the 
 soul from the Spirit must be maintained and continued by 
 the Spirit, it is nevertheless to be looked upon as an 
 habitual principle which is in the soul itself. And the 
 case is here but as it is in nature ; for there can be no sort 
 of life in all the creation, whereof God is not the Author; 
 nor any action done, but the power of doing it is received 
 from him ; though there are many actions which he doth 
 not make creatures do, yet there is no action in which he 
 does not enable, or not give them sufficient power. But 
 yet notwiihstand/ng this, we know that the natures of 
 creatures are distinct from one another; and to say, that 
 the Divine power must do all, is to take away the distinc- 
 tion of nature- wholly, and then a stone. might reason as 
 well as a man, and a tree might walk to and fro as well as 
 a sensitive living creature : but God's way of dealing with
 
 540 
 
 THE WORK OF THE HOLY SriRIT 
 
 Serm. XIII. 
 
 creatures in the natural creation, ordinarily, is to act them 
 according to, and co-work with that peculiar nature which 
 he haih put into this, and that, and the other creature. So 
 it is here : there is a divine nature, consisting of many- 
 gracious, holy, vital principles which God puts into the 
 soul when he renews it; and which are so many several 
 parts of the new creature, and with these several principles 
 or with this divine nature, he concurs or co-works ; though 
 the exigency of the case is such, there being a corrupt 
 nature joined therewith in the same subject, that here he 
 must continually over-power unto every action that is 
 done : and it is not enough to give, or maintain, the prin- 
 ciple, but he must work the very act itself, because of a 
 reluctant principle, which would otherwise strangle the 
 act, and never let it be brought forth at all. But then we 
 must not suppose that the power by which the work is 
 done, is a thing only at this time given, and that there is 
 no principle in the soul itself which it acts from ; for there 
 is a principle implanted and fixed in the soul, and though 
 that requires to be acted, it is the way and method of the 
 Spirit to act in and by that principle, or put that principle 
 upon action. So that walking in the Spirit is walking in 
 the exercise of the implanted principles of grace, and not 
 without them, or not having any such work wrought or 
 done in us; as if a person should be habitually inclined 
 one way, and yet act another ; believe, without a principle 
 of faith ; or love God, without a principle of love ; or fear, 
 without a principle of fear ; by having these actions erected 
 in him by the Spirit, without the habits from whence they 
 are to proceed, and to which they are connatural. This 
 is not to be supposed. And therefore whensoever any 
 walk in the actual exercise of grace, they walk in the 
 Spirit. And it is very observable to this purpose that you 
 have several fruits of the Spirit, or gracious principles, 
 ennumerated immediately before the text, ver. 22, 23. You 
 are there told what the fruits of the Spirit are; or what 
 the principles are which the Spirit is the productive cause 
 of; and then it is afterwards subjoined, " If we live in 
 the Spirit," or have all these principles, "let us also walk 
 in the Spirit," i. e. in acting and exercising these princi- 
 ples. Hence therefore we read ofw^alkingby faith, (2 Cor. 
 v. 7.) and walking in the fear of the Lord, (Acts ix. 31,) 
 and walking with God, (Mic. vi. 8.) and of walking in love, 
 Eph. V. 2. To walk in the exercise of these several graces 
 of the Spirit, is walking in the Spirit. 
 
 6. It implies walking in the wa}'' of the Lord with free- 
 dom of choice, and from a spontaneous inclination ; from 
 both the notion of walking, which is voluntary, and the 
 addition, in the Spirit, which is the great Author of all 
 liberty wheresoever it is; Where the Spirit of the Lord is 
 there is liberty, 2 Cor. iii. 17. A person is not the less, 
 but the more, free by being impelled and moved by the 
 Spirit ; for it is the Spirit that makes him free and enlarges 
 him : I will walk at liberty, says the Psalmist, for I keep 
 thy precepts. Psalm cxix. 45. And, I w'ill run the ways 
 of thy coinmandments when thou shalt enlarge my heart, 
 ver. 32. 
 
 7. It implies a continued reference to a rule. To walk 
 in the Spirit is not to walk extravagantly, as those that 
 know no measures or limits in their walking, and are as 
 the wiH ass used to the wilderness, Jer. ii. 24. It is op- 
 posed to walking after lust, or the inclinations of corrupt 
 nature, which you know is the only principle of all ex- 
 travagancy. This I say, says the apostle in the 16th verse 
 of this chapter, " Walk in the Spirit, and ye shall not 
 fulfi.1 the lusts of the flesh." The apostolical authority and 
 majesty, which is imported in that solemn preface, is of 
 very great remark and note. This I say, this I determine, 
 this is one of the sacred effata and dictates which I pro- 
 nounce to you i.n the name of the great God and Redeemer, 
 whose office and authority I bear ; " This I say. Walk in 
 the Spirit, and ye shall not fulfil the lusts of" the flesh." 
 That Spirit will be a principle of holy order and regularity 
 to you in all your walking: so the great promise of it im- 
 plies, in Ezek. xxxvi. 27. I will put my Spirit within you, 
 and cause you to walk in my statutes. You shall then be 
 willing to walk in a prescribed way, the way that I line 
 and rule out unto you all along. 
 
 8. It implies a complacential course of walking on in 
 
 • Preached March 13th, 1678, at Cordwainer's Hall. 
 
 religion. Walking in the Spirit is walking cheerfully ; it 
 belongs to it, it is comprehended within the compass of it. 
 Whenever any have the Spirit, this lies within their walk ; 
 it is part of that spiritual walk to be conversant, amidst 
 consolations and joys and pleasures, and it is part of the 
 signification of that expression, " Come, let us walk in the 
 light of the Lord." Light doth many times signif)' (be- 
 sides knowledge, and holiness) joy, delight, pleasure. 
 Walking is a motion frr recreation, as you have heard ; 
 spiritual walking is a motion, if it be entirely in itself, 
 amidst spiritual joys and comforts. The churches walk- 
 ing in the fear of the Lord, and in the comfort of the Holy 
 Ghost, were multiplied, in the before-mentioned Acts ix. 
 31. That sure was walking in the Spirit. 'Tis suitable 
 to the way in which Christians are to walk, which is 
 throughout in every part of it, a way of pleasantness, and 
 a path of peace, Prov. iii. 17. It is the Spirit that causes 
 holy ones to walk in this way, and then sure it works in 
 them a disposition suitable to the way. And if the May 
 is pleasant, and the heart is suitably disposed thereunto, it 
 cannot but be pleasant walking, so far as that disposition 
 is in that pleasant way. 
 
 9. It is a continuing in the course and practice of reli- 
 gion. For walking is a continued motion : and therefore 
 they that are said to walk in the Spirit, don't begin in the 
 Spirit, and then think to be made perfect by the flesh, (as 
 the expression is in Gal. iii. 3.) but they continue in a 
 course of spiritual motion. 
 
 10. Lastly, It imports a progress in spirituality. As was 
 said before, there may he a continued motion that is not 
 progressive ; but walking in the Spirit imports a progres- 
 sive motion in a course of spirituality. When persons 
 make still nearer and nearer approaches unto their end, 
 the term of their course; draw nearer and nearer to God, 
 and as they draw nearer to him, find a gradual influence 
 of divine light, and life, and power, more discernible im- 
 pressions of the Divine image, grow more and more into a 
 suitableness to him; are more acquainted Avith him, are 
 brought unto higher delectation, and to take more com- 
 placenc}'' in him: this is walking in the Spirit; when a 
 man's path, as it is said concerning the righteous man, is 
 as the shining light, that shines more and more, brighter 
 and brighter, unto the perfect day, Prov. iv. 18. As you 
 know the nearer approach we make unto the light of a 
 glorious lucid object, the more light we have, still all along 
 as we go, our way grows more and more lightsome. And 
 strength grows and increases too with the light. The right- 
 eous shall hold on his way, and he that hath clean hands 
 shall be stronger and stronger, Job xvii. 9. There is an 
 increase with the increase of God. They don't walk in 
 the Spirit therefore who keep moving, but move in a circle, 
 or in a round of empty sapless duties, keep up the formal- 
 ities of religion, and no more; but they walk in the Spirit 
 who make a progress, w^ho go forward, who draw nearer 
 and nearer unto God, and become more suitable and like 
 him, and fit for his eternal converse, and for all the present 
 service whereto he calls them. 
 
 SERMON XIIL* 
 
 It is the latter part of the verse that we are upon, from 
 which, considered in that reference which it carries to the 
 former, we have observed — That it belongs to the state of 
 them, who are made alive by the Spirit of God, to w^alk in 
 the Spirit. — We have proposed in speaking to this, to show 
 you,— 1. What walking in the Spirit imports, — 2. How it 
 belongs unto the state of living Christians thus to walk. — 
 The former we have already spoken to, and now go on to 
 the other, viz. 
 
 To evince to you, that it belongs to the state of those, 
 that live in the Spirit, thus to walk in it. Now we are tc 
 show you, that it belongs to the state of such as a privilege ,- 
 and therein, the part of the Holy Ghost to cause and con- 
 duct all the holy motions of renew^ed souls: and also, that 
 it belongs to their state as a duty, and therein we are to
 
 Serm. XIII. 
 
 IN REFERENCE TO TARTICULAR PERSONS. 
 
 541 
 
 show you our part. Tlie motion of this or that thing, if it 
 can be said to be its own motion as this is said to be ours, 
 (for we must " walk in the Spirit,") signifies a part to be 
 done by it ; and ve therefore have a part to do, in com- 
 pliance with, and in subordination to, the Spirit of Gotl, 
 in this thing. There can't be walking in the Spirit, but 
 there must be a concurrence of its part, and ours; its, ac- 
 cording to its supremacy, and ours, according to our sub- 
 ordinaticn. Under thissecond head therefore the demon- 
 stration will lie, how it belongs, or that it doth belong, to 
 the state of renewed souls to walk in the Spirit ; they may, 
 and they ought. They may, so it speaks their privilege, 
 and the readiness of the Spirit still to co-operate, accord- 
 ing to what part is assigned it ; they ought, so it speaks 
 their duty; they ought so to walk, i. e. so to demean and 
 carry themselves, as that they may, according to the pre- 
 scribed and appointed methods, make sure to themselves 
 the help, and concurient influence and co-operation, of the 
 Spirit through their course. Both these are plainly enough 
 signified to us by the very words of the text itself; one, as 
 implied, plainly enough implied, and the other more plain- 
 ly expressed. And it will be necessary to speak unto them 
 severally and distinctly. 
 
 1. Walking in the Spirit belongs unto the state of such 
 as are spirittially alive, as a privilege proper thereunto. 
 The injunction, " Walk in the Spirit," plainly supposes 
 that the Spirit is communicable for this purpose, that walk- 
 ing in the Spirit is no impossible thing, that 'tis a thing 
 which by a stated gracious vouchsafement appertains to 
 the state of them to whom this charge is given. It is a 
 known and unquestionable rule in such cases, that precepts 
 and promises do imply one another: and such precept car- 
 ries in it a virtual promise, any such promise carries in it 
 a virtual precept. The precept supposes the promise, and 
 the promise infers the precept ; that is, an obligation to the 
 thing in reference whereto such and such help is promised 
 to be afforded. If it should be enjoined us to walk in the 
 light of the sun, it is supposed that the sun doth ordinarily 
 shine. There is a connexion therefore manifestly implied 
 here between the action that is enjoined us, and the sup- 
 posed communication of the Spirit in order thereto; or 
 its constant communicableness, or aptitude and readiness 
 to communicate itself, according as walking in it^ doth 
 require. For how harshly would it sound, to enjoin any 
 one to make use of that wherewith he hath nothing at ail 
 to do ; to use an incommunicable thing, a thing to which 
 I have no pretence, to which I can lay no kind of claim ! 
 As if one should enjoin a child to do such or such a thing 
 by the strength of a giant. It is implied that there are 
 certain rules and methods, according whereunto, in a 
 stated way, the Spirit is ready to communicate and give 
 forth itself in reference unto all those actions and motions, 
 proper to the state of the renewed soul, which are com- 
 prehended, as you have heard, under the expression of 
 walking. 
 
 The Spirit's part being that therefore which we have to 
 consider and speak to in the first place, as pre-supposed ; 
 there are two things that I shall do in reference to that. I 
 shall show you, — 1. What communication of the Spirit is 
 necessary unto our walking in it, — 2. The communica- 
 tiveness of the Spirit, or its aptitude to communicate itself, 
 unto this purpose, and according unto such necessity. 
 
 1. What communication of the Spirit is necessarv unto 
 this, that we may be said to walk in it. We have hinted 
 to you already what communication is necessary, in telling 
 you what walking in the Spirit implies. A communica- 
 tion both of light and power is necessary. Consider wc 
 both these. A communication of such light and such 
 power, as are quite of another orb, and belong to another 
 sphere than that of nature; a light that is more than na- 
 tural, and a power that is more Ihan natural : such light 
 and power are necessary to our walking in the Spirit. 
 We shall speak distinctly unto the one and the other of 
 these. 
 
 I. Walking in the Spirit doth necessarily suppose a com- 
 munication of spiritual light, or light from the Spirit, as the 
 privilege of truly living Christians, proper to their sta'e, 
 which the exigency of their case doth require and call for. 
 This is of the very prima rdia (as I may speak) of the new 
 creation, that great work of God upon the spirits of men, 
 
 by which he doth new-mould them both for obedience and 
 blessedness. This light keep.s within the sphere and verge 
 of Ills own people, the people that he doth form for him- 
 self: O house of Jacob, let us walk in the light of the Lord, 
 Isa. ii. 5. It plainly means that directive light which is to 
 guide the course of our walking, as you will see, if you 
 look back unto the 3d verse of that chapter, " Many people 
 shall go and say. Come ye, and let us go up to the moun- 
 tain of the Lord, to the house of the God of Jacob, and he 
 will teach us his ways, and we will walk in his paths." 
 That we may do so, it is necessary that he teacheth us his 
 ways, and enlighten our way, and, as it were, afford us a 
 continual light through the whole course and tract of that 
 way wherein we are to walk. This light is not merely an 
 adventitious, uncertain thing, but a .stated, settled thing. 
 It is necessary that it be so in order to our walking in 
 the Spirit. When God began this work of the new crea- 
 tion, the provision was, " Let there be light ;" that was the 
 care that was taken in the old creation, to which the 
 apostle doth manifestly allude in 2 Cor. iv. G. God who 
 commanded the light to shine out of darkness, hath shined 
 in our hearts, to give the light of the knowledge of the 
 glory of God in the face of Jesus Christ. He, that at 
 first made light shine out of darkness, in raising up and 
 forming this old world, when he comes to raise the new 
 creation out of the ruins of the old, in the spirits of men, 
 doth the same thing, and followeth the same method. He 
 makes light to shine into those dark and desolate souls, 
 that before were lost in darkness and death, thai they may 
 know which way to turn themselves, and to choose their 
 way, what is to be done, and what is not to be done. We 
 are not to think that this light, this more than natural light, 
 is a thing separate from a vital and motive power and in- 
 fluence, but most inwardly and necessarily conjunct and 
 connected therewith : as the light of the sun in reference 
 to the sensible world is a vigorous light, a light which hath 
 an influence accompanying it. And think we with our- 
 selves, what a miserable desolation must presently ci:sue, 
 not only darkness, but death too, if God should put out 
 the sun, and that great luminary of heaven should become 
 all on a sudden totally extinct ! ' What a universal languor 
 would there be upon universal nature, even all on a sud- 
 den ! Such is the light unto the new world, the new ci ca- 
 tion of which J am speaking. That spiritual light, as 
 was formerly intimated, is vital light, " light of life." Life 
 is said to be light in that heretofore mentioned, John i. 4. 
 And when, in Eph. v. 14. the words are directed unto 
 souls that are asleep and buried, as it were, in death, 
 " Awake, thou that sleepest, and arise from the dead,'' it is 
 superadded what they were to expect from Christ : and 
 one would think it .should rather have been said, Christ 
 shall give thee life; but it is said, " Christ shall give thee 
 light," implying that to be a vital light, a light that carries 
 life in it ; and which, when he comes efficaciously and 
 powerfully to awaken souls, and by his word make them 
 arise, he must then infuse light and life loseiher in one, 
 Light is spoken of as the very composition of the new 
 creature, as if it were a being all of light, "Ye were dark- 
 ness, but now are ye light in the Lord," and this in refer- 
 ence to their walking as children of the light. Eph. v. 8. 
 They are made up of light, being born spirit of Spirit, as 
 we had occasicm fonnerlv to note. The great and glorious 
 God himself is called the God of light, they are called the 
 children of light. That is their parentage. Light de.scend- 
 ed of light, begotten of light. "God is light, and in him 
 is no darkness at all." All converse with him is walking 
 in the light as he is in the light, 1 John i. 7. — It is true, 
 that light signifies holiness, it necessarily connotes it ; but 
 then this only, as was heretofore intimated, doth import 
 and signify, that that light, which goes into the composi- 
 tion of the new creature, is efficacious, refining, transform- 
 ing light, such as makes the soul .some way throughout 
 suitable unto the motions of truth, which are now placed 
 in the speculative understanding. Whereas the case is 
 much otherwise with unchanged, unrenewed souls. There 
 is a discordancy, a disairreemeni between their habitual 
 frame and temper, and the notions of truth which are in 
 their minds. But when the notions of truth, and the frame 
 and disposition of the heart, come to be similar unto one 
 another, then is the soul said to be, as it were, a being of
 
 542 
 
 THE WORK OF THE HOLY SPIRIT 
 
 Serm. XIII. 
 
 light ; it is all light. " Ye were darkness ;" so men are in 
 their natural and degenerate state, all darkness, the very 
 light that is in them is darkness ; but when this change 
 comes to be made, then are they " light in the Lord." Now 
 that which is so natural, and is even in the very constitu- 
 tion of the new creature, must needs be a continual thing; 
 and so must be continually maintained, and is maintained 
 by a continual influence, or irradiation of light from the 
 blessed Spirit upon the soul that it hath begot. 
 
 I might be here yet more particular, as it is not unneces- 
 sary to be, and show you both in reference to what objects, 
 and in reference to what acts, such light is needful for our 
 walking in the Spirit. 
 
 1. In reference to what objects such light is necessary. 
 What things are there to be discovered and made known 
 to them that are capable of walking in the Spirit, in refer- 
 ence whereto such a light as this is necessary 1 Many ob- 
 jects we might speak of, if we would particularize, but we 
 shall gather up things (because we intend to speak very 
 briefly) under as general heads as we can. 
 
 1. It is necessary, that we have light in reference to the 
 end towards which we are to act or move in this course. 
 Spiritval walking, as you have heard, connotes an end ; it 
 is necessary that there be a spiritual light in reference to 
 that end, unto which the course of this spiritual walking 
 is and ought to be directed. That end, you know, is no 
 other than the blessed God himself, and him considered 
 as in Christ; for he is not otherwise accessible, and we 
 are never to think a thought of moving or tending towaids 
 him, otherwise than in Christ, and through him. This 
 light is necessary to reveal both the Father and the Son to 
 us. " Show us the Father, and it sufficeth us." We need 
 to have him shown. The disciples acknowledged so much 
 in John xiv. 8. It is only in this light that we can see 
 light, Ps. xxx^'i. 9. How strangely confused and blunder- 
 ing notions of God have they, who are destitute of this 
 supervening additional light! Whatsoever objects they 
 have, they are dim and without efficacy, and God is known 
 as if he were not known. He hath given us an under- 
 standing that we may know him that is true, and we are 
 in him, 1 John v. 20. And we are in him : the knowledge 
 of God in Christ is that which unites, or draws the soul 
 into union ; and that is the understanding given, that is 
 the additional, supervening light. Whosoever sinneth, 
 saith that same apostle, hath not seen God, 1 John iii. 6. 
 KaKOTTotMv, hc that Is an evil-doer, (we can't render it 
 more strictly according to the letter than so,) he hath not 
 seen God; i. e he that is in an unregenerate state, he that 
 yet lives a life of sin, he hath not seen God ; no beam of 
 true divine light hath ever yet shined in that wretched 
 soul. As our Saviour tells the Jews in John v. 37. Ye 
 have neither heard his voice at any time, nor seen his 
 shape. Ye have not seen, ye have never found a right 
 notion of God to any purpose. All that while persons are 
 in a very ill condition for walking towards him, for moving 
 and tending God-ward. A soul can't move blindfold to- 
 wards its end, but in the light, and with open eyes. And 
 if men are alienated from the life of God, it is through 
 the blindness of their hearts, Ephes. iv. 18. Persons 
 therefore, who are brought to have a participation in the 
 Divine life, have a participation of the Divine light at the 
 same time to guide all the course of their motions and 
 operations God-ward, and that continually supplied by his 
 " Spirit of revelation." How strangely at a loss are per- 
 sons to conceive of the excellencies and beauties of our 
 Lord Jesus Christ, in whom and through whom we are 
 to tend to God, till this light shine in upon them! The 
 apostle prays in behalf of the Ephesians, that " God would 
 give them the Spirit of wisdom and revelation in the know- 
 ledge of him," i. e. our Lord Jesus Christ, of whom he had 
 spoken before, Ephes. i. 17. As if he should have said, 
 '' You can never come to know him, to own and acknow- 
 ledge him, (the word there used doth signify acknowledg- 
 ment,) to know him to purpose, unless the Spirit of wis- 
 dom and revelation be given you for that end." Others 
 look upon him as one without form, without comeliness, 
 even when they see him, as the expression is to that pur- 
 
 Eose in Isa. liii. 2. Even while men see him, they see no 
 eautifu*; object; no inviting, no captivating excellencies 
 are beheld in him, nothing for which he is reckoned de- 
 
 sirable from a practical judgment. The Spirit of wisdom 
 and revelation therefore is necessary to this. And when 
 we consider God our end, towards whom through Chiist 
 we aie now to be moving, the principal consideration of 
 him as our end, as in that state wherein we are finally to 
 acquiesce and rest in him, that is, the future state of glory 
 and blessedness. And how altogether unapprehensive of 
 the attractive power of that end are those souls that are yet 
 destitute of this life ! Therefore, in that mentioned Ephes. 
 i. 18. the apostle prays for the Spirit of wisdom and reve- 
 lation to be given to the Ephesians, that the eyes of their 
 understanding being enlightened, tliey might know the 
 hope of their calling, and what is the riches of the glory 
 of the inheritance that God hath in his saints, or, among 
 his saints, as it may be read ; the glories of that state 
 wherein the saints in common have a share. Our course 
 is to be directed heaven-ward, walking in the Spirit ; we 
 are to walk towards heaven, that ought to be the tendency 
 of our course all along : but how are they capable of 
 walking heaven-ward, who are destitute of the inviting, 
 alluring representations of it 1 And how impossible is it, 
 that they should otherwise be had, than by this Divine 
 light ! Things which eye hath not seen, nor ear heard, 
 and which it enters not into the heart of man to conceive 
 of, God has prepared for them that love him ; and as it 
 follows, he hath revealed them to us by his Spirit, that 
 Spirit which teaches the deep things of God, 1 Cor. ii. 9, 
 10. And if you carry on the discourse to the r2th verse, 
 there you find. We have received not the spirit of ijie 
 world, but the Spirit which is of God, that we might 
 know the things that are freely given to us of God. We 
 come by this Spirit to have some right knowledge of the 
 things that are freely given, which without this light we 
 could never have known. 
 
 2. This light is necessary to show us ouv ^cay from slep 
 to step. The spirituality of that duty which is required 
 of us we can never understand aright without this Spirit. 
 To know what it is to meet with God, what it is to obey 
 out of love, what it is to be in a continual, profound 
 subjection of Spirit anto the authority and law of an in- 
 visible God, we .shall never understand these things, we 
 shall never know them without this light. A regenerate 
 man has the law of God, and an unregenerate man may 
 have It too; but we find that in reference to that clearer 
 light which the regenerate person is capable of, and is 
 possessed of more or less, he hath need to have his eyes 
 open to see what there is in that law ; Open thou mine 
 eyes, that 1 may behold wondrous things out of thy law, 
 Psalm cxix. 18. There are wonders enclosed in the law 
 of God, which an unregenerate man doth not dream of, 
 which escape his ken, or come not within his notice. A 
 regenerate person, one who is made spiritually alive, is 
 brought in this respect as into a new world; all things 
 look with another face and aspect to him. He is said to be 
 translated out of darkness into marvellous light, tpo's Bavfia- 
 s-iiv, amazins: light, 1 Pet. ii. 9. When he once comes into 
 that light, "Where am 11" saith he, " What a glorious 
 light am I got into I" Look to the way in which he is to 
 walk, and there is a lustre and glory upon it which was 
 never apprehended before; as, according to another attri- 
 bute of the same way, it is said to be pleasant. The ways 
 of wisdom are ways of pleasantness, and all her paths are 
 peace, Prov. iii. 17. A carnal mind never apprehends any 
 pleasure in these ways, and so apprehends no glory, no 
 amiableness in them. 
 
 3. This light is necessary, in reference to the proper 
 viotives of this walking. There are such things. Indeed 
 they lie very much in the objects themselves, but we may 
 frame, concerning some, a diverse consideration of mo- 
 tive ; and besides those that are in the objects ; that is, re- 
 spect the spiritual and divine objects, Lhey are desirable for 
 themselves, and accordingly, the object is a motive ; but 
 there are accessary and supervening motives; as it is a 
 very great motive to betake ourselves unto this region of 
 spirituality, of spiritual light, and life, and motion, to cast 
 an eye upon this our world, and behold the vanity, the 
 nothingness of it, and all things that do belong unto this 
 compages or frame. There needs this spiritual. Divine 
 light to behold that. A carnal man can never make a 
 right judgment, to the purpose, of the vanity of the creature,
 
 Sfrm. XIV. 
 
 IN REFERENCE TO PARTICULAR PERSONS. 
 
 543 
 
 of the emptiness and nothingness of all things under the 
 sun. But to one tliat lives in the Divine light, that waiks 
 and isconversant there, what a fleeting, despica! le shadow 
 is all this world, this frame of sensible things that is 
 , vanishing under his eye ! He sees how the fashion of it is 
 
 Eassing away ; and by how much the more he is weaned 
 ereby and diseng^ged fiom it, so much the more is he at 
 liberty for this spiritual walk which we speak of But how 
 much the more he gets out of the entangling snares of 
 death that are below, so much the more is his way above, 
 as the way of the wise is; so much the more is he conver- 
 sant in th'at path, that luiknown way, which the " vulture's 
 eye hath not seen, and which the lion's foot hath not trod ;" 
 that way of wisdom, or holiness, or life, so much spoken 
 of in Job xxviii. 
 
 4. This light is necessary in order to the knowledge of 
 ourselves. We can never walk in the Spirit if we have 
 not some competent discerning of ourselves ; and we can 
 never know the weaknesses, the wants, the wiliness, and 
 deceit of our own spirits, without the Divine light. To be 
 conversant therein is necessary to all such purposes, and 
 in reference to our making a discovery of whatsoever is 
 needful to be discovered concerning the state, and posture, 
 and temper, and ordinary ways and methods of our souls. 
 
 2. The acts in reference whereto such light is necessary 
 are these : 
 
 1. It is necessary in reference to the act oi apfrehejision. 
 We can't so much as apprehend clearly and with dis- 
 tinction the things which are needful for us to apprehend, 
 without this light of the Spirit of wisdom and revelation 
 given for these purposes. 
 
 2. In reference unto the act of consideration it is neces- 
 sary that we have this light to converse and walk in. 
 Otherwise we can have no steady discerning of any thing. 
 For consideration is nothing else but knowledge continued, 
 or the often repeated acts of apprehension, varied this way 
 and that, according to the various representations of the 
 object about which I am now employing my mind. In 
 reference to such an act of vision as this, i. e. steady, 
 intent vision, there needs steady light. I can't have a 
 steady view of a thing by a flashy and evanid light. 
 Walking therefore in the Spirit doth require a continued 
 light of the Spirit to be afl^orded me, because I have con- 
 stant need to go with my eyes in my head all along, and 
 to consider and ponder my way from step to step, from 
 point to point ; but without such a steady light, as may, 
 as it were, d-etermine my eye to such aad such objects 
 needful to be considered, alas! how incapable is it of 
 looking with a steady intuition, that is, of thinking com- 
 posedly of any thing which it most concerns me to think 
 of. Can we command our own thoughts 1 Consult we 
 our experience; we can no more do it, than "gather up 
 the winds in our fists." But the Spirit in this way of 
 operation, holds them steady by a commanding light, 
 which keeps them, as it were, under its own government, 
 " Look hither," and so doth determine and fix the eye to 
 that which I am called now to consider. Whence you 
 have that experience.pronounced and spoken out. We look 
 not at the things which are seen, but at the things which 
 are not seen; for the things which are seen are temporal, 
 but the things which are not seen are eternal, 2 Cor. iv. 
 18. The word which is here rendered look signifies tn 
 take aim at, (tkotovvtwv ///uji'. That is a very steady intui- 
 tion which a man hath of the mark which he is aiming 
 at, or the end which he designs ; he must always have it 
 in his eye. And, by this looking, saith the apostle, " we 
 find that notwithstanding all the decays of the outward 
 man, the inward man is renewed day by day," life, and vi 
 gour, and spirit continually entering in at our eves from 
 that glorious aim which we have before us. This will 
 need a very steady determination of mind unto such objects 
 by a commanding light and glory that they carry with 
 them, so as that the soul feels not a disposition in itself to 
 direct or look off. 
 
 3. This light is necessary in order to the act of dijudi- 
 cation, i. e. distinguishing or discerning between things and 
 things, what is of great value and account and to be 
 chosen, and what is worthless and to be neglected, what 
 is to be done and what is not to be done. There is a 
 
 * Pleached March SOtli, 1678, at Cordwainur'a Hall. 
 
 cont'nual need through the whole course of our spiritual 
 '"alk for the using of such a discretive judgment between 
 things and things, and in reference hereto, there needs a 
 continual emanation of the Holy Ghost; for otherwi-e, we 
 put good for evil, and evil for good ; light for darkness, 
 and darkness for light ; bitter for sweet, and sweet for bitter. 
 That sense which should be exercised to distinguish be- 
 tween good and evil, is, from the blessed Spirit residing in - 
 our eye, putting continually fresh vigour in it, that we may 
 be able by quickness of siglit to discern or .see, here is 
 somewhat to be closed with, here is somewhat to be refused, 
 this will be good, that will be noxious. The apostle doth 
 on this account praj' (and that is a plain intimation to us, 
 that it is the office and work of the Spirit of God to do the 
 thing that he there speaks of ; he prays^ on the behalf of the 
 Philippians, in chap. i. 9, 10. that their love might abound 
 yet more &nd more in knowledge and in all judgment. 
 So we read it ; but the word rendered judf^menl is capable 
 of being rendered sense, {waaji aiadmu, in oil sense,) " I pray 
 that you may have your spiritual senses in exercise, that 
 you may have a judicious distinguishing sense." For 
 what 1 Why, " that ye may approve things that are excel- 
 lent;" so it follows, or as the words there may be read, to 
 distinguish the things that differ. You are otherwise likely 
 to be imposed upon, if the Spirit take not that particular 
 care of you, by the deceitful appearances of things. 
 
 4. In order to the act of detenninalion, or coming to a 
 determinati- e judgment, as we do upon comparing things, 
 and noting the difference between one and another. We 
 need the Spirit's help here, to shine with that vigorous and 
 powerful light into the mind, a.s to bring our judgments to 
 a right determination, for the rule and government of our 
 practice, which are apt to be long hovering and in suspense, 
 if they do not hastily determine amiss. You have the 
 apostle expressing his own determining judgment, in a 
 particular, but very important, case in Rom. viii. 18. " I 
 reckon," saith he; the word which he makes use of, is a 
 word from whence we borrow the name of logic, \oyi^ofiai, 
 I do compute, or I am, by reason, come at last unto this 
 definitive and positive judgment, " that the sufferings of 
 this present time are not worthy to be compared with the 
 glory which shall be revealed in us." That there should 
 be such a positive, determinative judgment as that which 
 should have the power to be influential upon his course, 
 and directive of it, do you think he was not beholden to. 
 the illumination of the Holy Ghost? He doth not speak 
 like a doubtful, uncertain man, or one that did not know 
 what to choose, or how to steer his course. " For my part, 
 saith he, I thus judge; I am at a point, havinir viewed the 
 case round, inspected it narrowly and ihoroughlv, and con- 
 sidered all about it that is to be considered, and I sny.that 
 these two things, the sufferings of lime nnd the glories of 
 eternit}', are not to be named in the same day, there is no 
 compare between them." In order to such a determina- 
 tion of the mind as this, it is plain this light must necessa- 
 rily come in ; and there can be nothing of greater moment 
 to the whole course of our walking in the Spirit than such 
 a determinative judgment. 
 
 You see therefore that a communication of light from 
 the Spirit is necessary to our walking in the Spirit. A 
 communication of power is necessary to the same pur- 
 pose too ; but of that in the next discourse. 
 
 SERMON XIV.* 
 
 I AM now to show you, 
 
 2. That a communication of spiritual pfficer is also ne- 
 cessary that we may be capable of walking in the Spirit. 
 It is said that they who shall walk in such a course as this 
 is " without weariness," must in order thereto " renew their 
 strength," and this strength is to be from a Divine commu- 
 nication, because it is that which we are to wait upon the 
 Lord for, Isa. xl. ;^1. We hear of a strength in the inner 
 man given and sought for, which implies it capable of being 
 given, for this purpose. The Psalmist speaks his experi-
 
 544 
 
 THE WORK OF THE HOLY SPIRIT 
 
 Serm. XIV. 
 
 ence of its being given in Psalm cxxxviii. 3. In the day 
 ■when I cried, thou answeredst me, and strengthenedst me 
 with strength in my soul. And the apostle prays that it 
 might be given unto the Ephesians, (chap. iii. IG.) That 
 he would grant you according to the riches of his glory to 
 be strengthened with might by his Spirit in the inner man, 
 that Christ may dwell in your hearts by faith, &c. You 
 will never be able to act that faith wherewith to keep up 
 any converse with Christ, or by which he can have any 
 commodious reception in your souls, so as to dwell there, 
 if you are not strengthened according to the riches of his 
 glory with might by his Spirit in the inner man, in order 
 thereunto. 
 
 That we may speak a little more distinctly to this, it will 
 be requisite to show you, — 1. What kind of influence, or 
 communication of power, will not be sufficient in this case ; 
 and then, — 2. What is, over and besidethat, necessary, as 
 what will suffice for this purpose. 
 
 1. What will not suffice. It is requisite that you have 
 a right, and as clear an account as is possible of this. 
 
 1. It will not be sufficient to have only that common 
 power affiirded to us, which doth suffice f«r common, na- 
 tural action ; whether by that power we understand the 
 faculties belonging to the reasonable nature, or whether 
 you do also comprehend therewith the promptitude and 
 aptitude of those faculties for common actions. This will 
 not suffice for spiritual actions, so that we may be said to 
 walk in the Spirit. Which may easily be made to appear 
 from such considerations as these. 
 
 1. If only such a communication of power were suffi- 
 cient, then no more influence is afforded unto regenerate 
 persons than to the rest of men. For they have a power 
 which doth enable them to the common actions which be- 
 long to them as men, as reasonable creatures ; which doth 
 enable them, not which doth constrain them; or make 
 them do many actions which yet they do. And, 
 
 2. Then there were as much power and influence afford- 
 ed and given forth, in order to sinfvl and foi^bidden ac- 
 tions, as in order to good and holy, and commanded ones, 
 which it were very unreasonable and horrid to think, as 
 we shall have occasion to show you by and by. In refer- 
 ence to the latter, such an influence goes forth, as by which 
 God doth procure that they shall be done, or makes them 
 to be ; but sure we will not dare to say concerning forbid- 
 den actions, that he makes them to be done, though he 
 gives such a power as by which they may and can be 
 done ; otherwise indeed it were impossible they should be 
 done, viz. if power were not derived from him. 
 
 3. Otherwise it might be possible that no good action 
 should ever be done; and consequently that no person 
 should be saved, or finally happy. Of so great concern- 
 ment it is carefully to distinguish between that common 
 power, by which such and such actions may be done, and 
 that power by which such and such actions viust and shall 
 be done, or shall be procured to be done. And, 
 
 4. Otherwise it were not only possible that no spiritual 
 and holy actions might be done, but impossible that any 
 should. For it is not only impossible that any action 
 should be done without power, but it is impossible also 
 that any action should be done without a power propor- 
 tionable to the kind and nature of that action. And since 
 merely natural power is altogether unproportionable unto 
 the kind of holy and spiritual actions, it would be equally 
 absurd to say that such actions could be done by so im- 
 proper a power, as to say, that an action can be done by 
 no power at all. If you assign an unproportionable power 
 to any action, it is a perfect equivalence to no power; for 
 it is no power as to this purpose. As a power to walk is 
 no power proportionable unto the offices and functions of 
 a reasonable soul, so that common power by which such 
 and such natural actions may be done, is no way propor- 
 tionable unto spiritual actions, which it is undertaken shall 
 be done, which must be done, in order to their blessedness 
 in the other world, and their glorifying God in this, who 
 are designed at length, even of the Spirit, to receive life 
 everlasting, Gal. vi. 8. 
 
 5. If common natural power were all that is requisite 
 m this case, then no exercise of grace, or no actual grace, 
 could be said to be the gift of God, and consequently, it 
 must be denied to be grace : for what is grace but a 
 
 Divine gifti Common natural power in reference unto 
 these actions whereunto it is ad«quate, never infers that 
 those actions are to be referred to God as given by him. 
 And it may very easily be made to appear to you, that the 
 supposition of a power only for spiritual actions, ({. e. the 
 natural faculty,) though you suppose never so much promp- 
 titude for common action, which is to be made use of even 
 in these, could not leave us ground whereupon to call such 
 and such exercises of grace Divine gifts. For it would be 
 very absurd to give the name of the thing done, or to be 
 done, to the power that must be used in the doing of it. 
 If we might suppose that at all tolerable, then we must 
 suppose that, because all men have natural faculties which 
 must be made use of in believing, and have a promptitude 
 for many other actions, which are some way congenerous, 
 or of like kind, all men are believers. If it can be enough 
 to say that God is the giver of faith, because he gives the 
 natural faculties which are to be made use of in believing, 
 then we must say that he hath given faith to all the world, 
 and consequently since all believers shall be saved, we 
 must say too, that all the world shall be saved. Yea, if 
 there were not an aversion unto this same work of faith, 
 for instance, which is to be otherwise overcome, it were 
 yet altogether improper so to speak, viz. that the power of 
 believing is believing, i. e. the natural power to be used for 
 a purpose, which the spiritual power doth suppose. For 
 you might every whit as well say, that the power of build- 
 ing a house is a house, and the power which is to be used 
 in fighting is a battle; the absurdity of which phrases, or 
 forms of speech, is obvious to every one at the first view. 
 
 And if this were sufficient to say, that such and such 
 acts or exercises are the gifts of God, because that natura. 
 power, which is presupposed in order thereto, and must be 
 used therein, is given by him, then we might as well cal 
 the fruits of the flesh the gifts of God, as the fruits of the 
 Spirit. For (as hath been intimated before) that power by 
 which any sinful or fleshly act can be done, must be sup 
 posed to have had a Divine original, or else no such act 
 could have been done, God being the fountain of all power 
 whatsoever. And all acts ad extra, all operations that are 
 any where put forth towards the creature, are common to 
 the persons of the Trinity, and are indeed expressly attri- 
 buted to the Spirit of God. By his Spirit he hath garnish- 
 ed the heavens, (Job xxvi. 13.) and reneweth the face of 
 the earth, Psalm civ. 30. Upon this supposition therefore 
 the very distinction would be taken away between the 
 fruits of the flesh and the fruits of the Spirit, which we see 
 the text hath an express reference to; and those who do 
 the most vile of those fleshly acts might all that while be 
 said to walk in the Spirit, as those who do the best actions 
 imaginable. That natural power therefore which is suffi- 
 cient for actions in common is not sufficient there. Nor, 
 
 2. Is the addition of gracious habits sufficient to our 
 walking in the Spirit, or our doing spiritual actions. 
 There must be an influence beyond that by which such 
 habits are given and infused. For, 
 
 1. Those habits themselves could not subsist without a 
 continual ivfl^ience : especially, it being considered, that 
 they are in the souls of sinful, corrupt, degenerate men even 
 at the best. They are in souls which are not natural to 
 them. They are foreign plants, and do so much the more 
 need a continual preservative influence. As heat which 
 is introduced into water, because it is not natural unlothat 
 water, therefore needs to be continually cherished by a fire 
 maintained and kept under it; and if the influence of the 
 external agent, the fire without, were not continued to main- 
 tain the heat within, it would soon vanish, and the cold- 
 ness, which is natural to the water, would recover itself 
 Which argues that that quality which is foreign, and from 
 without, needs a continual influence from without to main- 
 tain it. But this is not all, for, 
 
 2. Beside the influence which is necessary to maintain 
 .such habits, there is an influence necessary to act them in 
 a renewed soul ; otherwise they would not be acted. For 
 these habits are in conjunction with contrary habits which 
 would impede the other from going forth into act : which 
 we do not need to reason with you much about, because 
 we find the matter so expressly asserted in Scripture, even 
 this very Gal. v. 17. Ye cannot do the things that ye 
 would. And why"? because the flesh lusteth against the
 
 Skiim. XIV. 
 
 IN REFERENCE TO PARTICULAR PERSONS. 
 
 545 
 
 Spirit, and these two, saith the apostle, are contrary the 
 one to the other. And here it seems inore reasonable to 
 understand by Spirit, the new nature, the new creatiire, 
 which you have heard is called Spirit, in John iii. 6. And 
 for that very reason is the injunction given in the IGth 
 verse of this chapter, to walk in the Spirit, " Walk in the 
 Spirit, and ye shall not fulfil the lust of the flesh. For the 
 flesh lusteth against the Spirit," &c. He speaks to tnose 
 whom he supposes to be furnished with the habits of 
 grace, and yet they could not act for all that, unless they 
 did walk in the Spirit; and therefore walking in the Spirit 
 must import more on the Spirit's part, than only its fur- 
 nishing the .soul with gracious habits added to natural 
 powers. And for my part, I dare not venture to say, what 
 many do, that the apostle speaks of himself, in Rom. vii. 
 as in a state wherein he was destitute of grace, when he 
 so expressly saj^s, that how to perform that which is good 
 he did not find. Sure he was not without the habiis of 
 grace when he said this ; yet though he had the habiis of 
 grace, there were times in which he could not find to do 
 the things that were good. Such habits therefore do need 
 farther influence than what doth infuse and maintain 
 them, by which they may be capable of being brought forth 
 into act. And therefore, 
 
 2. We shall next lay down what is necessary and will 
 be sufficient in this case that spiritual actions may be done, 
 and so that we may be truly said to walk in the Spirit. 
 And such an influence is necessary, and would be suf- 
 ficient for this purpose as will be so efficacious as to direct 
 and determine and overrule the heart into the doing of 
 this and that particular action, so that it may not only be 
 said, as concerning common actions, such an action may 
 be done by such a natural power put forth, but this action 
 shall be done. In short, such an influence, as by which a 
 person is not only enabled to do such an action, but is 
 made to do it ; or by which the action is procured to be 
 done: so that the very production of the action is refer- 
 able unto the Divine influence in this case, as that where- 
 unto it doth actually enable and determine the doer. And 
 that so much is necessary unto every spiritual and holy 
 action we shall prove to you from several scripture con- 
 siderations. 
 
 1. Holy souls are wont to disclaim any suflficient ability 
 to do a good action. They say that it is not in them : 
 that if a good action be done, it is not they that have done 
 it by any power that was either natural to them, or super- 
 added diverse and distinct from that, but by the issue and 
 communication of a power from God when it was done. 
 See how they speak unto this purpose. Look into 2 Cor. 
 iii. 5. Thinking a good thought is as little a good action 
 as any one you can suppose or think of; but for that, saith 
 he, " we are not sufficient of ourselves." That great apos- 
 tle had not yet got a sufficiency into his own hand, by all 
 his light and knowledge, and by all his habitual grace, for 
 so much as the thinking a good thought; Not that we are 
 sufficient of ourselves to think any thing as of ourselves; 
 but our sufficiency is of God. You find his state again in 
 that before-mentioned Rom. vii. 21. When I would do 
 good, evil is present with me ; so ver. 18. How to per- 
 form that which is good I find not. There was a natural 
 power, and there were habits of grace, but yet there was 
 wanting that present, actual, overpowering determination 
 to the doing of this good action, which we have told you 
 is further necessary. 
 
 2. The blessed God himself, who knows tis better than 
 ■we do ourselves, doth expressly deny us to have that 
 ability, an ability to act otherwise than as it is supplied 
 and given still from time to time. Without me ye can do 
 nothing, saith our Lord to his disciples in John xv. 5. He 
 means it apparently of spiritual actions ; for the expres- 
 sion is expository of that of bearing fruit, by which they 
 should appear to be his disciples, and such' fruits as for 
 which sap and influence was to be derived from him 
 the vine, q. d. " There can't be a good action done with- 
 out me." 
 
 3. The people of God, as they disclaim it in reference 
 to themselves, so they ascribe it to God. When they have 
 done any good action, they own it to have been from him ; 
 as David in his own and the people of Israel's behalf in 
 1 Chron. xxix. What a solemn and joyful thanksgiving 
 
 to God is there tipon this account, that he enabled them 
 to offisr willingly! That willingness of obligation is ac- 
 knowledged unto God. Yea, they a.scribe it to God that 
 even such an action may be done ; By thee will we make 
 mention of thy name, (Isa. xxvi. 13.) implying that they 
 could not so much as make serious mention of God, with- 
 out God. 
 
 4. As they ascribe it to God, so God claims it to him- 
 self He had denied it concerning them, and they deny it 
 of themselves; they a.scribe it to God, and God assumes 
 it to himself He claims it as a thing appropriate and be- 
 longing to him to be the author of any good action that is 
 done by any of his. How plain is that passage in Phil. ii. 
 13. It is God who worketh in you both to will and to do, 
 of his good pleasure. Not the inclination only is from him, 
 as it is the purpose of the habit to incline to this or that 
 thing, but even the action itself; he works it. And so the 
 apostle speaks concerning Chri.stians in common in Phil, 
 i. 29. that it is given to them to believe; not only the 
 principle, but the act of faith is said to be the gift of God ; 
 for to believe is the act of faiih. It is given not only lo 
 believe but to snfl^er, that is, the act of faith and the act of 
 patience, the exercise of both the one and the other are 
 given things. And it is very remarkable to this purpose, 
 that God doth therefore promise that he would be the 
 Author unto his people of their good work.-- which they 
 shall do by his Spirit. You see it is the tenor of his cove- 
 nant in Ezek. xxxvi. 27. I will put my Spirit within you, 
 and cause you to walk in my statutes, and ye shall keep 
 my judgments and do them. Sure this is a peculiar thing, 
 and different from what can be said of many other sorts oi 
 action ; but concerning this sort of action, he cau.ses the 
 very doing of the thing. Nothing can be more plain. 
 
 5. We may further argue it, from the -reference which 
 holy and good actions have unto that same rank and order 
 of things unto which spiritual habits and principles do be- 
 long. Take you such a sphere of good things, include 
 good habits within that compass, and you must include 
 good actions within it too ; and then, if one be from God, 
 the other must be from him, for every such good and per- 
 fect gift is from above, James i. 17. Now will I say, if an 
 act of grace, or a holy spiritual action, be a good action, 
 then it is from God, as that which he causes, or which he 
 may be said to give ; it is a gift of his grace : and we can't 
 say that the habit is a spiritual good thing, and that the act 
 is not, when as the habit is in order to the act, and were 
 otherwise useless. And if habitual grace be a good thing, 
 we may upon that account say, that aUual grace, or the 
 exercise of grace, is better, because it is that to which the 
 other is subordinate, and to which it serves, and therefore 
 may with the greatest certainty and clearness be concluded 
 to be a Divine gift. 
 
 6. We may further argue, from the analogy which there 
 is between the direct and the reflex actions of a Christian. 
 For consider the reflex actions, by which he looks in upon 
 himself, and takes notice of such and such things wrought 
 and done in him, and concludes his relation to God, as a 
 child ; how are these reflex acts wrought 1 By the Spirit 
 of God, bearing witness with our spirits; and you must 
 suppose it to be the superior in this work, as it belongs to' 
 it to be. It must then be proportionably so in reference 
 to the direct acts of a Christian too. That is. If I can't 
 know without the Spirit's testimony witnessing with my 
 .spirit, that I am a child of God ; then I can't do the direct 
 actions which are proper to a child, without that Spirit 
 overruling ami acting my spirit in that case. I can't be- 
 lieve, I can't love, &c. 
 
 7. We may 3'et again argue, from the many apostolical 
 prayers, which we find scattered up and down in the 
 epistles, by which actual grace, or grace in exercise, is im- 
 plored for the Christians unto whom they were written. 
 Certainly such prayers were not impertinent or improper. 
 Do but look into some of those passages briefly. In 2 
 Thess. iii. 5. the apostle prays that Grod would direct their 
 hearts into the love of himself, and into the patient wait- 
 ing for Christ. These were acts of grace, loving himself, 
 and expecting the appearance of his Son ; why, the Lord, 
 saith he, directs your hearts thereinto, or determine thera 
 unto this vcrv thing. It would be very strange to suppose 
 that a man's neart should need such direction or determi-
 
 546 
 
 THE WORK OF THE HOLY SPIRIT 
 
 Serm. X7, 
 
 nation unto another sort of actions ; that is, that I should 
 as much need that God should determine it to hate him, 
 unto which my heart is so propense and inclined of itself: 
 but as to such spiritual actions as these, you see the exi- 
 gency of the case is such, as to make such a prayer as this 
 very proper, " Lord, direct their hearts into the love of 
 thee, direct their hearts into the expectation of thy Son." 
 It is plain then that the very acts were referred unto the 
 Divine productive power, or determinative influence, not 
 the bare inclination. And the apostle prays also for the 
 Colossians, in Col. i. 9, 10. that I hey might walk worthy 
 of the Lord unto all pleasing; that expression walk, (by 
 which you have heard in the opening of that term in the 
 text, acting, or exercising of grace is to be understood) he 
 explains, as we did, by working; being fruitful in every 
 good work — strengthened with all might, &c. The like 
 also you find in the Epistle to the Hebrews, chap.xiii. ver. 
 20, 22. The apostle supplicates the God of peace who 
 brought again from the dead our Lord Jesus Christ, that 
 great Shepherd of the sheep, through the blood of the 
 everlasting covenant, that he would make tliem perfect in 
 every good work to do his will. Here is still the action, 
 the exercise of grace, in reference unto which it is matter 
 of prayer to God, that God would make them do so and 
 so, or efficaciously determine their spirits unto such 
 actions. 
 
 8. Lastly, We may a'gue from hence, that the Scripture 
 makes certain discernible characters to be as it were im- 
 pressed on such and such actions, viz. those that are spi- 
 ritual and holy, as by which it might be known that God 
 was the Author of them. To give you an instance in that 
 one expression in John iii. 20, 21. The form of expres- 
 sion may lie thus, in reference to what had been before 
 spoken concerning the light, that light in which every one 
 must be understood to walk, that walks holy, or in the 
 Spirit, as you have before heard. He who so walks, in 
 such light, comes to the light, that his deeds may be made 
 manifest that they are wrought in God. A true light will 
 make it manifest that such and such works are wrought 
 in God. It is therefore necessarily supposed that there are 
 some discriminative characters between works and works, 
 and that those wiiicb God makes men do are distinguish- 
 able by the Divine light, from those which he never doth 
 so entitle himself to ; that holy and spiritual actions, in 
 short, may be said to have been wrought in God. 
 
 And it highly concerns us to consider, whether indeed 
 the course and tenor of our actions is capable of having 
 this said concerning it. Looking over the course of my 
 conversation, can I say, " My w-orks have been wrought 
 in God; bring them to the light, and it will appear that 
 they are wrought in Godl" Even those works wherein we 
 have immediately to do with him, the works and duties 
 of religion themselves. O ! can we say, that they are 
 works wrought in God 1 "I have been so carried out in 
 prayer, as that I could find this prayer was wrought in 
 God ; and so carried out in meditation, and conferring 
 with mine own heart, in self-tho'ights, that bring these 
 into the light, and I can discern that they were wrought in 
 God ; the impress of the Divine hand and power is visible 
 upon them 1" Alas ! how plainly convictive would the 
 light which we have among us be concerning most of our 
 works, that they are not wrought in God, that they are 
 done at a very great distance from God, and that we have 
 had little commerce with God in them ! That little walk- 
 ing in the Spirit that appears even among those who pro- 
 fess religion at this day, is a great testimony against us, 
 that God hath little to do by his Spirit with the govern- 
 ment of our lives ; that is, we do not put ourselves under 
 it, and resign ourselves to it. (As when we come to speak 
 of our own part in this matter we shall have occasion to 
 show ; though there we are acted too.) The vanity and 
 the deadness of our spirits, the formality, the licentiousness 
 and the extravagancies of our spirits, alas ! they too 
 plainly show that we do not walk in the Spirit, and that 
 our works are not wrought in God. There is not a reli- 
 gion living amongst us, which is God-wrought, whereunto 
 we can entitle him as the Author of it. 
 
 It was therefore necessary to insist, as we have done, in 
 letting you understand what dependance we must have 
 ' Preached March 27th, 1078, at Cordwaiiier's Hall. 
 
 upon an immediate influence, as to every good work, which 
 leaves not our spirits undetermined or at loose, but, they 
 being averse to every thing of that kind, oversways thetn 
 thereinto. It was necessary, I say, that the truth in this 
 matter should be held forth to us, (jecause I am very much 
 persuaded, that this is the great worm at the root of religion 
 this day. Faith in the eternal Spirit is not acted to draw 
 forth that life and influence which would make our reli- 
 gion a living, active thing, and hold it forth lovely and 
 beautiful in the eyes of the world. Therefore it is that 
 we are such languishing creatures as to the business of 
 religion, and as to all spiritual actions, because it is not 
 enough understood that all these works must be wrought 
 in us and for us. For if that were understood, we should 
 not be so self-confident as we are, when we go to duties, 
 and concerning the government of our conversations, to 
 cover ourselves with a covering that is not of God's Spirit, 
 and make up to ourselves a texture of religion which it 
 never wrought for us, never put on ns ; nor should we be 
 so inobservant of the motions and breathings of that Spirit, 
 make so little of them, call for them so seldom, and com- 
 plain so little when there is a cessation, a retraction of that 
 influence from us in any measure. Certainly our judg- 
 ments have need to be rectified about this matter, and 
 actual thoughts to be revived in our hearts, that we can't 
 move a step in our spiritual way and walk without the 
 help of this Spirit ; that it must do all in us and for us. 
 Whilst this is not understood and considered, we wander, 
 and live apart from God, and Christ, and his Spirit, as if 
 we could choose our own way, and do all, that is needful 
 for us to do, of ourselves ; and so we betray ourselves into 
 ruin and death, when we should be soaring aloft in that 
 way which is the way of the wise. For we are not to 
 think (as we shall have occasion to show) that because 
 this Spirit governeth our way by a strong, that therefore 
 it doth it by a violent hand. No ! but in a certain method 
 which it hath prescribed and wherein it must act with our 
 concurrence; otherwise we could not be said to walk in 
 the Spirit, but should be merely passive, stupid blocks, and 
 no more. We should no more walk than a stone walks, 
 when it is moved to roll by a violent hand. 
 
 SERMON XV.* 
 
 We are showing how it belongs to the state of regene- 
 rate persons to walk in the Spirit, and have hitherto con- 
 sidered it as a privilege agreeable to their .state. They 
 may do so. We have proposed to show the extent of this 
 privilege, or what communications of the Spirit must be 
 understood to lie within the compass of it; and the ailain- 
 ableness of it, or how ready the Spirit is to give forth these 
 communications according as the case shall require. As 
 to the former of these, we have shown that the privilege 
 consists in these two things, viz. A communication of 
 spiritual light, and a communication of spiritual power. 
 Both these have been spoken to, and we may refer unto 
 either, or unto both of them, not only such a communica- 
 tion as is necessary for the operations of grace, but even 
 the comforting and consolatory communications also, 
 which are sometimes spoken of under the name of light, 
 " Light in the Lord ;" and .sometimes under the name of 
 strength and power, as when the joy of the Lord is said 
 to be " the strength of his people." 
 
 But we pass over unto the next head, viz. 
 
 To show the attainablene.ss of the Spirit ; or how apt 
 the blessed Spirit of God is to communicate and give forth 
 such influence, as the case doth require, that they who 
 live in the Spirit, maybe capable of walking in the Spirit. 
 And here it is necessary, — 1. To clear to you the sense, and 
 then, — 2. To evince the truth, of what we do now assert, 
 viz. that unto all those to whom the Spirit hath been tlie 
 Author of a new, divine life, it is ready to communicate 
 and give forth all needful influence, in order to their suit- 
 able walking. In reference to the former of these we shall
 
 Serm XV. 
 
 IN REFERENCE TO PARTICULAR PERSONS. 
 
 547 
 
 give you some explanatory propositions, and in reference 
 to the latter some demonstrative considerations. 
 
 1. For the clearingof the sense of what is asserted, take 
 these few propositions. 
 
 1. When we say that the Spirit is ready to communicate 
 itself for such purposes, or for that general purpose which 
 has been expressed, of our walking in the Spirit, the mean- 
 ing is, that it is ready to do so in a slated a-nd constant 
 course, and not that it doth soonly sometimes, very rarely, 
 and now and then. For it were not to be imagined that 
 this should lie as a stated, constant precept upon all Chris- 
 tians, " Walk in the Spirit," if the supposed ground thereof 
 were intercepted, and to be but rarely found actually in 
 being. Walking is a continued thi.g, (as we formerly in- 
 timated,) and imports the constant and settled course of a 
 Christian's life or practice ; and therefore there were no 
 sufficient ground upon which such an obligation as this 
 could be inferred upon the Christians, if the influence of 
 the Spirii in order thereto were exhibiied but ver)' rarely. 
 
 2. We must unaerstand that therefore there are certain 
 rules according whereto the blessed Spirit (though, as we 
 find it is called in Scripture, a free Spirit) is come under 
 obligation that it will be present, by a vital active influence, 
 as the great Author and Directer of that course of holy 
 motion unto which renewed ones are more immediately 
 engaged. We must suppose that there is a connexion be- 
 tween their observance of such and such rules, and the 
 Spirit's communicating and giving forth its influence ac- 
 cording to those rules. This for explication I now lay 
 doM'^n only in the gen-eral ; what those rules are we shall 
 have occasion distinctly to tell you, when we come to the 
 second general head, viz. to treat of our part in this matter, 
 or how walking in the Spirit belongs to the state of souls 
 spiritually alive as a duty. 
 
 3. When we speak of the Spirit's being so obliged, you 
 must understand it in reference to a regenerate subject. 
 For wiihin these bounds our text doth confine us: "If 
 we live in the Spirit, let us also walk in the Spirit." Liv- 
 ing in the Spirit is supposed. We can't suppose that it 
 should have annexed and tied its communication unto 
 the actions, or the endeavour, of any other sort of person*? 
 that lie without this compass. To such as are got into the 
 sphere of life, are within this verge, and have actual union 
 with the Mediator, who is the spring and treasury of all 
 spiritual life, and in whom all the promises, all the ties 
 and obligations, that the blessed God hath brought himself 
 irnder any way, are 3^ea, and amen ; to such, I say, we 
 must understand that this influence is in this stated way 
 to be communicated, and may be expected. It is very true 
 that others have no cause to despair, but these have cause 
 and ground to believe. They have no cause to despair, 
 because this Spirit is, as hath been said, a free Spirit, and, 
 as "the wind bloweth where it listeth," none can tell but 
 it may, one time or another, cast a favourable breath even 
 on them. But these have reason to be confident, for the 
 communications, of which we speak, are part of his por- 
 tion, and a privilege belonging imto their state. We only 
 add in the 
 
 4th place, That whereas we told you, that the communi- 
 cations of the Holy Ghost, due unto this purpose, do com- 
 prehend both the influence of grace and of comfort, we 
 must understand this obligation to be more in reference to 
 the former than to the latter, to what concerns the being 
 of gracious operations than the well-being. It is true, 
 there is somewhat of comfort involved in the very nature 
 of a gracious act, according as it is wont to be said concern- 
 ing natural acts, that thev all are pleasant, or carry a kind 
 of pleasantness with them; so those acts which are con- 
 natural to the new creature, have a pleasure in them, which 
 we can't separate even from those acts of that kind which 
 seem to import most of vigour and severitv ; as the very 
 acts of repentance and self-denial, if they be in their own 
 kind vital acts, proceeding from the Spirit of grace, and 
 from the new nature put into the soul. One might appeal 
 to the experience of Christians, whether they do not find 
 pleasure in melting before the Lord, pleasure in abandon- 
 ing and quitting all that is dear to them, when they can 
 fully do it, for his sake and upon his account. Such con- 
 solation therefore as is intrinsical to any gracious act, must 
 be distinguished from that consolation which follows after- 
 
 ward upon reflection, or our taking a review of such and 
 such gracious characters, discriminative tokens, di.<cemibie 
 upon ourselves, and by which we can judge of our case. 
 For the other pleasure is without intervening judgment, 
 the acts are pleasant in themselves, even before we come 
 to reflect, or lake notice, or consider any thing concerning 
 our states, whereof they are, or any thing else discernible 
 in ourselves may be understood to be, characteristical. In 
 reference to the consequential consolations we must un- 
 derstand the Spirit to have reserved to itself a liberty; it 
 is more arbitrary in communications of that kind, and doth 
 upon mere sovereignty many times retract and withhold 
 that kind of light for ends best known to itself But in 
 reference to those operations which are essential to the di- 
 vine life, we must suppose that it hath a fixed and stated 
 course, in which its influence shall be communicated in 
 order to it. Our next business therefore is, 
 
 2. To add several considerations by which the truth of 
 the thing a.ssented may be manifested. 
 
 1. And the consid/?ration that first occurs, is what hath 
 been suggested to you already, in clearing the ground of 
 the observation which we took up, viz. That we find it 
 enjoined and laid as a command upon those who live in 
 the Spirit, that they walk in the Spirit. For, as you were 
 heretofore told, it would be very strangely unreasonable 
 to enjoin one to walk in the sunshine at midnight. And 
 we find that this precept of walking in the Spirit is not 
 dropped as it were, as a casual thing, but even in this very 
 chapter it is urged and pressed, and with a great deal of 
 solemnity. As you see in the 10' h verse. This I say then, 
 walk in the Spirit, and ye .shall not fulfil the lusts of the 
 flesh. It is introduced here with a solemn preface. This I 
 .say^f?. d. " I understand m3'self in what I say, I do noi 
 speak rashly and at random." And with how great apos- 
 tolical authority is the precept ushered in ! This I say, 
 Walk in the Spirit. We can't suppose that so solemn a 
 charge should have been laid, if this had not been a certain 
 thing-, that the Spirit should be communicated, its influ- 
 ences should issue and go forth, as far as is necessary 
 for this purpose, unto the persons that are concerned. We 
 find particular precepts given again and again unto the 
 same purpose ; as to instance in that spiritual action, oi 
 operation of prayer, we read of praying in the Holy Ghost, 
 Jude 20. and praying always in the Spirit, and of worship- 
 pins: God in the Spirit as a stated thing, Eph. vi. 18. 
 Phil. iii. 3. It is manifest that the apostle speaks of what 
 was so, and not of what was very rare and occasional. So 
 the charge. Walk in the Spirit, comprehends in it all duty, 
 duty that is to run through our whole course, and intimates 
 plainly that there is a communication of the Spirit a'ways 
 ready to go forth. The thing which is hinted in that other 
 precept, which doth but in terms and expression diffei 
 from this. Work out your own salvation with fear and 
 trembling, for it is GckI that workelh in you both to will 
 and to do, of his good pleasure, Phil. ii. 12, 13. That 
 word KaTeoyii^cafit imports, " labour it out even till it be 
 finished; till you come to the very end of your faith, the 
 salvation of your souls." This too is an injunction, which 
 exceeds its ground, if we ilo not suppose that the following 
 words are to be understood in a proportionable sense, 
 " God worketh in you to will and to do," that is, he is 
 always ready to do so unto the finishing cf your salvation. 
 
 2. We may consider to this purpose that Christians are 
 severely blamed when holy and spiritual actions are not 
 done in the proper time and season of them; which would 
 not be charged upon them, if the Spirit were only arbitrarily 
 suspended and withheld so far as was necessary to an\ 
 such .spiritual action. The inactivity, the sloih. the omis- 
 siveness of the necessarv duty in the season of it, the slug- 
 gish performance, the decays and languors, that are upon 
 the spirits of Chri.stians, are charged upon themselve.s, and, 
 no doubt, most jusily and most righteously so. See but 
 that one instance in Rev. iii. 4, 5. Nevertheless, I have 
 somewhat against thee, because thou hast lel't thy first 
 love. Remember therefore from whence thou art fallen, 
 and r^'pent. and do the fii-st works: or else I will come 
 unto thee quickly, and will remove thy candlestick out of 
 its place, except thou repent. Why, if the case were not 
 as we now suppose it, it would only be the unhappiness 
 of a soul to be left destitute of vigour and vital aclive
 
 549 
 
 THE WORK OF THE HOLY SPIRIT 
 
 Serm. XV, 
 
 power, not a crime. But we find it charged with great 
 severity as a crime, that there are declinings from the first 
 love, and that the things are not done, which have been 
 done heretofore. Do we think that God would ever have 
 left the nialter so as that the case shoul.' admit of this re- 
 ply 1 " 'Tis true, the things which have been done hereto- 
 fore, are not done now, but it is none of my fault, for there 
 was no influence to be had, which was most necessary for 
 the doing of them. My first love is lost, I don't love with 
 that fervour, and life, and strength as heretofore ; but iti.s 
 no fault of mine, the Spirit did arbitrarily retire, without 
 my iniquity or transgression, upon which this languor is 
 come upon me." We must understand more of consistency 
 in the precepts, and criminations, and communications of 
 the wise and holy God, than to imagine there was place 
 or room left for such explications. 
 
 3. That the Spirit is apt to communicate itself unto re- 
 newed .souls for such purposes, we may further argue from 
 hence, that it always can do it without any prejudice to 
 itself There is an all sufficient fulness and plenitude of 
 Spirit ; it is a perpetual spring which thi influence is to 
 go forth from. And therefore whilst these communications 
 can be afforded without any kind of prejudice, it is not to 
 be supposed (the case being as it is, between it and its 
 own offspring, regenerate .souls) but that they will, but 
 that they are, always ready to be given forth : and we are 
 sure that its fulness admits of no abatement by all its com- 
 munications. The sun hath lost nothing of its warmth 
 and influence by spending it upon the world for almost 
 six thousand years together : much less can infinite ful- 
 ness suffer diminution. I argue, 
 
 4. From hence, that Divine influence doth go forth 
 unto all creatures, and is exhibited unto all natures, ac- 
 cording as is needful for their proper and connatural ac- 
 tions, and therefore certainly it will not be withheld from 
 the new creature, and the new nature, so far as is neces- 
 sary for the actions which are suitable to that. For this 
 would be as strange a suppo.sition, as if one would imagine 
 1 prince to be mighty liberal in all his provisions for his 
 rervants, but apt to starve his own children, the issue of 
 his body : this is a most unsupposable thing. It is by an 
 influence originally Divine, that every creature is enabled 
 to act whatsoever it acts; enabled, not made to act in 
 many cases, but enabled. It is by a Divine influence that 
 every plant and tree brings forth after its kind, that the 
 sun shines, that the fire burns, that all actions are done, 
 and all motions set on foot that are any where to be found 
 through the world. He gives to all breath and being : 
 and all things live, and move, and have their being in him. 
 He feeds the ravens, he feeds the sparrows, he takes care 
 of the lilies ; and do we tliink he will starve and famish 
 the souls which he hath made to live spiritually, so as that 
 they can't be able to act, or have power to move or stir 
 this way or that, in any holy or spiritual action 1 This is 
 a ihinar never to be supposed. 
 
 5. The communicativeness of the Spirit upon this ac- 
 count is hence to be argued, that it is always before-hand 
 with us in its communications. It communicates more 
 than we improve. A very great argument this, that it is 
 not unapt to communicate. Indeed the case is most ob- 
 servably so in the natural world, as I may speak ; that is, 
 that active power and principle that works to and fro 
 throughout, doth in proportion much exceed the passive 
 and receptive capacity. Nothing is more evident. The 
 light and influence of the sun would suffice many thou- 
 sand such earths; this earth is too narrow and too limited 
 a thing to receive and improve all the light and influence 
 of the sun. And then as to what falls upon this earth 
 itself, how much is there of seminal virtue that is lost, as 
 it were, from year to year ! As much as might suffice, for 
 ought we know, for ten such earths as this, supposing that 
 all seminal virtue should come to be actually prolific of 
 what is like it in kind. The case is most manifestly so, 
 as to spiritual influences and communications ; we are not 
 straitened there, the straitness and narrowne.ss is in the 
 subject, in ourselves, and that blessed Spirit always goes 
 Dcyond us. It is a convictive appeal that the prophet 
 makes in Mic. ii. 7. O thou that art named the house of 
 Jacob, is the Spirit of the Lord straitened 7 are these his 
 doings'? do not my words do good to him that walketh 
 
 uprightly 1 It argues that there is some defect, some in- 
 disposition, or incapacity in the subject, if things do not 
 take, if souls do not prosper. Do not my words do good 
 to him that walketh uprightly 1 What! is the Spirit of 
 the Lord straitened 1 So the apostle also be-speaks the 
 Corinthians in 2 Cor. vi. 12. Ye are not straitened in us, 
 but ye are straitened in your own bowels. In what re.spect 
 doth he mean that they were not straitened in them 1 He 
 means plain enough, that what of the influence and com- 
 munication of the Holy Ghost had come forth upon them, 
 to dispose and frame them for that great work of treating 
 and dealing with souls, it was not fully answered by those 
 whom they did treat and deal with: " Ye are not strait- 
 ened in us." He gives a very great demonstration of it, 
 in what he speaks with such largeness and liberty of spi- 
 rit, in all that goes before. He speaks like a man triumph- 
 ing in that large and abundant sense, which he had of 
 those full and flowing communications of the Holy Ghost, 
 which had come in upon him, by which he was enabled to 
 " do all things, to bear all things, to endure all things," 
 to pass through whatsoever difficulties, to be in "stripes, 
 imprisonmentSjWatchings, fastings, with all pureness, long- 
 suffering, kindness, by the Holy Ghost, by love unfeigned, 
 by the word of truth, by the power of God," and so on. 
 " O ye Corinthians," saiih he, " our mouth is open unto 
 you, our heart is enlarged. Ye are not strained in us, 
 but in your own bowels." This argues the matter we are 
 speaking of, even a fortiori. The ministers of the Gospel 
 at that time were not fountains, they were but cisterns; 
 and if they ■were not straitened in the very cistern, much 
 less in the fountain. " Even in that communication which 
 is come so near you ; that "cistern from whence you are to 
 receive, there ye are not straitened. Ye are not straitened 
 in us, but ye are straitened in your own bowels." 
 
 fi. We find it frequently insisted upon as a matter of 
 prayer, that communications suitable to the actions of a 
 Christian and the divine life might be given forth ; but 
 it would be most unreasonable to suppose that we should 
 be taught to pray for an incommunicable thing. This 
 consideration we formerly mad-e use of to prove that such 
 communications are necessary, and it equally serves the 
 present purpose, to prove that they are possible. For as 
 we are not taught to pray but for such things as are of 
 great concernment to us, so we have very little reason to 
 think that we should ever be taught to pray for such things 
 as are not grantable, or cannot be had. But we find the 
 apostle making it matter of prayer in Eph. iii. 16. that 
 God would grant them according to the riches of his glory 
 to be strengthened with might by his Spirit in the inner 
 man ; that so Christ might dwell in their hearts by faith, 
 &c. intimating that Christ could have no commerce with 
 their spirits, but by their active faith in him. They must 
 entertain him, and converse with him, believing in him, 
 and drawing influence from him that way ; but this could 
 never be done unless they were strengthened with all might 
 by the Spirit in the inner man to this purpose : and there- 
 fore this is a thing for which the apostle thought it fit to 
 " bow his knees unto the God and Father of our Lord 
 Jesus Christ." And .so, as we noted upon that other oc- 
 casion, in praving for the Colossians that they "might 
 walk worthy of the Lord unto all pleasing," he prays for 
 an influence by which they might be enabled so to walk, 
 which is the same thing as that they might walk in the 
 Spirit. For it can be no other than that influence by which 
 they were so to walk, " being fruitful in every good work," 
 as you have it there expressed also: an influence suited to 
 the actions and operations of the new creature, or of those 
 who are made spiritually alive. 
 
 7. We may further argue hence, that if we do not sup- 
 pose the Spirit thus communicative, according as the case 
 requires, then were the whole workmanship of the new 
 creature in vain. For the very end of its creation is the 
 doing of holy and spiritual actions, but they cou\d never 
 be done without such an influence as by which the prin- 
 ciples of the new creature may be reduced into act. We 
 are his workmanship created in Christ Jesus unto good 
 works, Eph. ii. 10. Now it were a most unreasonable 
 thing, and infinitely unworthy the Divine wisdom, that he 
 should create such a creature for such a purpose, and not 
 supply it with influence that can make it serve that nur-
 
 Sehm. XVI. 
 
 IN REFERENCE TO PARTICULAR PERSONS. 
 
 549 
 
 pose. Then might it be said as well in reference to tlie 
 new creation, as it was said to the lapsed, ai)ostate part of 
 the old, Are all men made in vain "? Indeed they made 
 themselves so, unsuitable to the purpose for which they 
 were made. But that there should be an essay to reno- 
 vate things, a new creation, and such a sort of creature as 
 should now certainly attain the end for which it was made, 
 this is a thing never to be supposed. What was each 
 principle in the new creature made for, but for actions 
 suitable to that principle 1 Why is faith put into the soul, 
 but that the soul might be enabled to believe 1 Why love, 
 but that it might act love 1 Why patience, but that it 
 might exercise patience 1 But after that these principles are 
 all actually implanted in the soul, without an influence 
 they can't be brought forth into act, as hath been former!}'- 
 shown; there must be therefore a communication of the 
 Spirit, it must be still ready to communicate in order to 
 these actings, otherwise the whole frame of the new crea- 
 ture were to no purpose. 
 
 8. We find that Christians are called upon, and pressed 
 to increase and abound more and more in good works ; (as 
 in 1 Cor. xv. 58. Be steadfast, unmoveable, always 
 abounding in the work of the Lord, forasmuch as ye 
 know tliat your labour is not in vain in the Lord. And 
 in I Thess. iv. 1. We exhort you by the Lord Jesus, 
 that as ye have received of us how ye ought to walk and 
 to please God, so ye would abound more and more;) which 
 plainly implies that there is still a proportionable influence 
 thereto, if it were attended to and improved. 
 
 9. Influence for such purpose hath been owned and 
 acknowledged to have been received in a way of prayer, 
 and therefore we are always to look upon it as communi- 
 cable. In the day when I cried thou answeredst me, and 
 strengthenedstme with strength in mj"- soul, Psal. cxxxviii. 
 3. There is a recorded experience. It is but ask, and 
 have. " I have asked, and I have had upon my asking ; 
 influence did come in. He strengthened me with strength 
 in my soul." 
 
 10. And lastly. It is matter of express promise and of 
 faith, and therefore if must be a certain thing that such 
 communication is to be had. Of promise, our Saviour 
 speaks of it most plainly in Luke xi. 13. If 3'e— rbeing 
 evil, know how to give good gifts unto your children ; how 
 much more shall your heavenly Father give the Holy 
 Spirit to them that ask him ! He will give his Spirit to 
 them that ask it, as readily as you do bread to your 
 children, and you have great reason to suppose, much 
 more readily. And in reference to holy and spiritual ac- 
 tions (for these are a Christian's fruit) our Saviour tells 
 his disciples that. Let them but abide in him, (which is a 
 parallel expression to walking in the Spirit, for it is his 
 Spirit in which they are to walk,) and they shall bring forth 
 much fruit, John xv. 5. He hath assured us that it shall 
 be .so. And it is matter of faith as it is promised ; for we 
 are plainly told, that we are to receive the promise of the 
 Spirit through faith, in Gal. iii. 14. It therefore must be 
 a certain thing before. For faixh doth not make its object 
 be, but the object must be pre-existent. That which I 
 am to believe as true, must be true before I believe it ; I 
 don't make it true by believing. That is, I am not to 
 pitch my faith upon an object, which is hitherto false, and 
 then think to make a falsehood truth by my believing; but 
 that which I am to believe as true, must, as hath been 
 said, first be true before I believe it, and the truth of the 
 thing is the reason why I am obliged to believe ir. If 
 therefore I am to receive the promise of the Spirit, or the 
 promised Spirit, by faith, it must certainly be true before, 
 that it is receivable, that it is to be had, that it and its in- 
 fluences can be afforded, and are ready to be communicated. 
 
 And the case being so, why do we wistly look upon 
 one another with meagre and languishing souls, into 
 which leanness enters, which are wasting, and consuming, 
 and pining away under their own distempers 1 There is an 
 infinite fulness of Spirit, from whence we may have what 
 is suitable to all our need: " That ye might be filled with 
 all the fulness of God." The apostle brings in that prayer 
 of his when he had been desiring that they might be 
 strengthened with might by the Spirit in the inner man, in 
 the before-mentioned Eph. iii. That such communications 
 
 * Prpached April 3ni. lO'S, at Cordw-ainer'a Hall. 
 
 3'J 
 
 are to be had as are needful to our walking in the Spirit, 
 it was necessary thus to insist upon it, that we might un- 
 derstand and know to Avhat it is to be imputed, and where 
 all the blame and lault ought to He, if there be languishiags 
 upon us, if we do not walk in the Spirit, if our knees are 
 too feeble, and we can't walk, if we are become in a 
 spiritual .sense cripples, unapt, unable for spiritual motion 
 and action. And therefore it concerns us to bethink our- 
 selves seriously whether there be not the tokens upon us of 
 a spiritual decay, languor, ineptitude for the actions and 
 functions of the spiritual and Christian life. Are there 
 noti Can we say, that God is with us a.s he hath been 
 wont to be with his people heretofore! If he be with us, 
 why is it thusi According to that expostulation in Judges 
 vi. 13. When, in another sense, that people were in a 
 miserable, decaying state, is it not in a spiritual sense so 
 with usi Do we not fade as a leafl Are there not gray 
 hairs here and there upon us? If the Lord be with us as 
 formerly by the commtmications and influences of his 
 Spirit, why are our hearts so low 1 Why is it that so little 
 grace stirs'! Why is there so little faith, so little love to 
 him, and so little appearance and discovery of a heavenly 
 mind 1 Why do the fruits of the Spirit flourish no morel 
 It concerns us to bethink ourselves. Can we say God is 
 with us as he hath been with his people? or as it 
 may possibly be remembered he hath been with usi 
 with us in our closets'? with us in our families'? with as 
 at our tables'? Is he with us at his own table "? Is he with 
 us in our ordinary aflfairs and converse 1 Is he with us in 
 our solemn assemblies, as he hath sometime been among 
 us here"? Is this Spirit with us, as a Spirit of faith, a 
 Spirit of love, and of power, and of a sound mind 1 Is it 
 with us as a Spirit of humiliation in such a time as this, to 
 abase and humble us, and lay us low in the dust before 
 the Lord '? Is it with us, as a Spirit of grace and suppli- 
 cation, to enable us to strive and wrestle with Heaven, vo 
 implore earnestly, and cry aloud for mercy in such a title 
 as this 1 Is it with us, as a sin-mortifying spirit, a world- 
 crucifying Spirit ; as the Spirit of meekness, and patience, 
 and self-denial, and humility ; and as the Spirit of the fear 
 of the Lord, as a holy and a heavenly Spirit 1 If it be not, 
 if our own hearts must say it is not, it is fit v,e should 
 know what to say next, that is, that it lies upon us that it 
 is not. It is not because this Spirit is not full, or is less 
 apt to give forth its influences than formerly, but because 
 we do not our part ; we do not mind walking in the 
 Spirit as that which doth belong to us, and to our state as 
 our duty. Which is the next thing we have to speak to. 
 
 SERMON XVI.* 
 
 We now go on, 
 
 Secondly, To show, that it belongs to the slate of rege- 
 nerate persons, to walk in the Spirit, a.s a </;//?/. The former, 
 viz. that it belongs to them as a privilege, is implied 
 in the precept, as you have heard ; this latter is expressed 
 in it, as you plainly see. Walk in the Spirit. It is a thing 
 enjoined upon Christians, or those who are supposed to 
 live in the Spirit, that they walk in it. This therefore 
 doth imply, that somewhat is incumbent upon us as 
 matter of duty, with which a participation of the Spirit, in 
 order to our walking in it, is connected. And it will he 
 here requisite, — 1. To say somewhat concerning this con- 
 nexion, — 2. To give you an account of those ihimrs where- 
 with such participation of the Spirit is connected. 
 
 1. It is requisite to premise somewhat concerning this 
 connexion. That there is such a connexion is plain to you 
 already, from what halh been said : the precept doth mani- 
 festly suppose it. What Icind of connexion it is, I shall 
 verv brieflv show you, only in these two particulars, riz. 
 — that it issrratuitous, and — that it is yet a sure connexion. 
 
 1. It is a gratuitous connexion. Not a natural one, as 
 though it could not possiblv have been but that, if such 
 and such things should be by way of grace procured, or 
 done for any of the children of nien, still a further and a
 
 550 
 
 THE WORK OP THE HOLY SPIRIT IN 
 
 Seru. XVI. 
 
 fiiriber communication of the Spirit must needs ensue. 
 And we know there are many things that are so connected 
 in their own natures that it would imply a contradiction, 
 that one should be, and the other not. But such connex- 
 ion there is not in the present case. For if we should re- 
 flect upon any of the things wherewith we may suppose 
 such a communication of the Spirit to be most connected, 
 it would be apparent that the connexion is most gratuitous, 
 we can refiecl upon nothing wherewith it is more eminently 
 connected than with faith, as we shall have occasion to 
 show presently. But no man can suppose the connexion 
 to be natural between an act of faith exerted and put forth 
 in and by my soul, and a participation consequent there- 
 upon of an influence from the eternal and almighty Spirit 
 of God. For bow is it concerned in me, if it did not con- 
 cern itself 1 Or what claim or challenge could there have 
 been, if it had not brouglit itself under an obligation, of 
 such a Divine influence. As well might a worm that 
 crawls upon the earth, command the motions of the sun, 
 or occasion it so and so to communicate its influence and 
 its light. When we say it is a gratuitous connexion, it 
 imports these two things : 
 
 1. That it is a connexion made with absolute, sovereign 
 liberiy: that such a connexion might have been, or might 
 not have been, antecedently to its being settled and made. 
 
 2. It imports not only liberty, but complacency in the 
 vouchsafement : that whatsoever is done in such a way is 
 done with delight, that he that doth it takes pleasure 
 in the doing of it. Indeed both these are manifestly im- 
 ported in that expression in Phil. ii. 13. It is God that 
 worketh in you both to will and to do of his good pleasure. 
 Of his good pleasure, i. e. so as that he might have for- 
 borne so to work, if it had pleased him ; and while he doth 
 so work in us, it doth most highly please him so to work, 
 or to vouchsafe that co-operative influence. He doth it 
 with delight ; as it were, enjoying his own act, and gratify- 
 ing himself in the benignity of his own nature, irom whence 
 it lioth proceed that he works with such creatures as these. 
 
 In both these ways we must understand it to be gratui- 
 tous, that there is any such connexion between any thing 
 of our duty, and such a participation of the Spirit. It is 
 gratuitous the former way antecedently to any such con- 
 nexion made and settled, as hath been shoM'n. It is gra- 
 tuitous in the latter sense continuedly all along, while this 
 connexion doth hold, as it will perpetually hold. For 
 though it be true indeed, that after this connexion is once 
 made and settled, he who had made and settled it, hath 
 brought himself under an obligation, so as that he will not 
 rescind it, as we shall presently show you, and therefore it 
 is not now continued upon such terms, as that it may, or 
 may not be ; yet it is gratuitous still in the latter sense, 
 that is, as being continued with complacency, he never re- 
 penting that he hath made such a connexion, but remain- 
 ing in the same mind still, and always ; that we doing so 
 and so, or there being such dispositions and frames of spirit 
 inwrought in us, they shall be earnests and pledges to us of 
 still further communications of his Spiiit, according to the 
 tenor of his own law and rule, hahodi dabilur, "to him 
 that hath shall be given." So it is a gratuitous connexion. 
 
 2. It is a sure connexion. Most stable and firm, 
 such as whereof we need not fear an alteration. This 
 may seem not so well to agree \vith the former; if it be so 
 free and gratuitous, then some 'may think that it should 
 not be so sure. But the apostle hath taught us to argue 
 otherwise in this case, and to understand the matter quite 
 after another tenor, in that passage of his, in Rom. vi. Ifi. 
 Therefore it is of faith, that it might be of grace, to the end 
 that the promise might be sure to all the seed. That is, 
 the evangelical promise in general, whereof this, of the 
 communication of the Spirit, is one greai part, yea, itself 
 sometimes goes, in the language of the New Testament, 
 under the name of — the promise. Ye shall receive the gift 
 of the Holy Ghost, for the promise is to you and your 
 cliildren, in Acts ii. 38, 39. It is therefore free, that it 
 might be sure. This, I confess, according to the manner 
 of men, would not be thought good logic. Things in re- 
 ference whereto men act freely, or are left to their liberiy, 
 one would think were very unsure. But it is not so with 
 the blessed God in this ease. We are so much the more 
 ascertained by how much the more the root and foundation 
 
 of this connexion is in grace. For we must consider how 
 grace hath laid out its own method, and made way for the 
 pursuing and bringing about its own great design. Con- 
 sider it in reference to this very case, the communication 
 of the Spirit ; it was obtained by a Mediator; it was so 
 designed and determined, that no influence of the Spiiic 
 should go forth in order to saving purposes ixnto the 
 lost and apostate children of men, but in and through a 
 Mediator. Therefore it is told us again and again in 
 Scripture that it is he that sends it, or if the Father be 
 said to send it, that he would send it in his name. Both 
 these form of expression you have in the 14th and 15th 
 chapters of John's Gospel, and to the same purpose some- 
 what in the IGth. And he was made a curse for us, for 
 this purpose, that the blessing of Abraham might come 
 upon the Gentiles, that ihey might receive the promise of 
 the Spirit through faith, in Gal. iii. 14. And hereupon, 
 upon the susception and undertaking of the Mediator, a 
 covenant is established and settled on sure promises, a 
 system of sure promises comprised and formed up together, 
 in which, as was said before, this is the main thing, that 
 the Spirit should be given forth. Now the whole under- 
 taking of the Mediator must otherwise fail and come to 
 nothing, and all these promises, which are yea and amen 
 in him, 2 Cor. i. 20. So that hence it cannot but be that, 
 though, as you have heard, this is a connexion most arbi- 
 trarily made, yet it is a most sure and certain connexion 
 notwithstanding ; inasmuch as the Spirit, wheresoever it 
 is given forth, is given forth through a Mediator and upon 
 the promise. And so we must understand the tenor of 
 this connexion, as that upon such duty the participation of 
 the Spirit will still ensue, in further and further degrees; 
 and where there is no such thing as is incumbent upon us 
 in a way of duty, there we can't promise it to ourselves in 
 any certain stated course, though according to its absolute 
 liberty, it can go forth and let out its influence when and 
 where it pleases. 
 
 2. We are now to consider the things themselves that 
 are charged upon us as matter of duty, wherewith the par- 
 ticipation of the Spirit is connected. And they are such 
 as these; 
 
 1. A sense of our indigent state in this respect: that 
 we stand in the greatest need of this blessed Spirit and its 
 vital influences, for all the purposes of the Christian life : 
 that we can do nothing, nothing as we should, not turn a 
 hand, or move a foot, without it. It was most reasonable, 
 that the gradual communications of this Spirit should be 
 in connexion with such a disposition and temper of soul 
 in us. For do we think it were honourable that the Spirit 
 should be under an obligation there to be and work, where 
 there is no apprehension at all of any work done, but 
 what might as well be done by a common hand ; and that 
 it should do the work, and we have the honour of it, that 
 there should be a disposition in us to arrogate it to our- 
 selves, if there be any holy, gracious operation in us, which 
 hath a tendency to our future happy being. Nothing is 
 more apparent than that there was a high congruity in if, 
 that the Spirit should still go forth in its gradual commu- 
 nications and exertions of its inflixence, so as that there be 
 sense still preserved in the subject to be gradually wrought 
 upon, that without it we can do nothing. We may easily 
 see how the matter stands in this respect, if we do but 
 consider where there have been most manifest languish- 
 ings and decays, feebleness and weakness, as to all the 
 actions and operations of the spiritual life. As to instance 
 in the church of Laodicea, it is plain they were got into a 
 posture very unsuitable unto walking in the Spirit, and 
 see what their sense was of themselves, and of their own 
 state all this while : Thou sayest, I am rich and increased 
 with goods, and have need of nothing, and knowest not 
 that thou art wretched, and miserable, and poor, and blind, 
 and naked. Rev. iii. 17. If they are blind and maimed 
 creatures, whom this Spirit is to have the conduct of, it 
 doth justly insist upon this, that they reflect, and under- 
 stand themselves to be blind and maimed, that they can't 
 go without being led, without being supporteil and borne 
 up in their way all along. And while there is liale of this 
 sense among us of our great need of the continual influ- 
 ence of the blessed Spirit in order to the conducting the 
 whole course of our walking, it is not much to be won-
 
 Serm. XVI. 
 
 IN REFERENCE TO PARTICULAR PERSONS. 
 
 551 
 
 dered at, if this Spirit do suspend and restrain its influ- 
 ences, and be at a very great distance from us. And I am 
 afraid there is very little of this sense among us at this 
 day, that it is too generally thought, that we can do well 
 enough without the Spirit. There is not that notion and 
 apprehension, yet there seems to be that practical judg- 
 ment, " we don't need the Spirit ;" and when we are left 
 destitute of it in a great measure, we don't feel a need of it, 
 and there is little complaint that the Spirit is retired, and 
 not given forth as some have found it in former days. 
 Gray hairs are here and there upon us, yet we know it not, 
 (to apply those words to this purpose, which might mean 
 another thing in) Hos. vii. 9. It is with a great many 
 Christians as it is said to have been with Sampson in Judg. 
 xvi. 20. He wist not that the Lord was departed from him. 
 God was gone, and his great strength was gone, and he 
 knew it not, but thought to have found it with him as at 
 other times. When we walk on from day to day in a course 
 of ordinary duty, and it may be get nothing by it, no life, 
 no strength, no influence of the Spirit, how little sense is 
 there all this while of its absence from us 1 How few, that 
 regret the matter? One would think there should be 
 strange palpitations and throbbings of heart among us, to 
 think how little there is of the Spirit of the living God 
 breathing in his own ordinances, and through the most 
 sacred, weighty, and important truths th.at we hear from 
 time to time. Methinks our hearts should misgive us, and 
 we should be often recounting with ourselves. What will 
 this come tol A religion not animated by the Spirit, in 
 which there is no life, no influence, what will it come tol 
 
 2. A deep apprehension, or an inward, cordial owning 
 of the arbitrariness of the Spirit and its communications, 
 and of our own great unworthiness thereof This is an- 
 other thing wherewith we are to account the stated com- 
 munications of the Spirit are connected. That is, that there 
 be not only a sense of our want and indigency, but of our 
 very great unworthiness that ever that pure and Holy 
 Spirit should touch with our souls, or have to do with us. 
 This way is its virtue engaged and drawn forth. How was 
 the virtue of Christ drawTi forth in order to the doing of 
 cures which he wrought by the Spirit of God 1 It is a re- 
 markable instance to our present purpose which we have 
 in Matt. viii. 8. " Lord, I am not worthy that thou 
 shouldest come under my roof;" then goes ibrth his in- 
 fluence, and does the thing that was desired to be done. 
 To have only this notion in our minds, alas ! that sig- 
 nifies little; but to have an intimate, habitual sense in- 
 wrought in our hearts, and maintained there, " how most 
 utterly unworthy we, especially, and indeed all men are, 
 that ever there should have been a descent of the blessed 
 Spirit of the living God ; that ever it should have let down 
 any thing of its light and influence into this dismal and 
 impure world." Were we more worthy that the Spirit of 
 God should work among us, than among pagans 1 Where 
 there is an admiring sense of the arbitrariness of grace in 
 this case, and our own great unworthiness, there the Spirit 
 is most apt to issue forth in vital influence according to 
 the necessities of our state. This is true humility and 
 poverty of Spirit, to which that kingdom belongs, which, 
 in the very primordia of it, is made up of righteousness and 
 peace, and joy in the Holy Ghost, Matt. v. 3. compared 
 with Rom. xiv. 17. It is to the humble soul that still more 
 grace is given, but he resisteth the proud, (James iv. 6.) 
 those who are so insolent as to think no divine gift too 
 good for them. But to the humble soul that lies in the 
 dust self-abased, and alway in an apt posture to admire 
 grace, if it may but have any, the least, breath of that in- 
 fluence from the blessed Spirit of God ; it may be expected 
 still freely to be given forth. The high and loft)' One that 
 inhabiteth eternit}' — and dwelleth in the high and holy 
 place, looks to that man, even to him that is poor and of 
 a contrite spirit, and trembleth at his word, Isa. Ixvi. 2. 
 and Ivii. 15. And if you look back to the 14th verse of 
 that chapter, you find the expressions more apposite to our 
 present purpose, Cast ye up, cast ye up, prepare t)ie way, 
 take up the stumbling block out of the way of my people ; 
 " I would have my people have a fine, easy, pleasant, com- 
 fortable walk," (.such as is their walk, who walk in the 
 Spirit,) and then it is immediately added, " Thus saith the 
 high and lofty One, that inhabiteth eternity, whose name 
 
 is holy, I dwell in the high and holy place, with him also 
 that is of a contrite and humble spirit, to revive the spirit 
 of the humble, and to revive the heart of the contrite ones ;" 
 so as that they shall be always in a posture for walking in. 
 that way thus cast up, prepared, and made level for them. 
 
 3. A high valuation of spiritual influence. When we 
 put the greatest price upon spiritual good things, then we 
 are in a disposition to receive them from this blessed Spirit. 
 We find that they who have had most of it, upon whom it 
 hath been continually coming in afresh, have been full of 
 the expressions of their high value of spiritual communi- 
 cations. And even where such things as are considerable 
 under the notion of means have been so highly valued, it 
 appears rationally to be collected, that the end of those 
 means was more highly valued, and by the expressions, by 
 which hath been signified the value of the means, the value 
 of the end hath been more signified; as when we find so 
 high an esteem expres.sed of the law of the word of God by 
 the people of God in Scripture records. Why, how do you 
 understand it, when it is said. The law of thy mouth is 
 better to me than thousands of gold and silver, in Psal. cxix. 
 72. (and other passages of like import you have in that 
 psalm, and elsewhere.) What ! would we understand it 
 otherwise than of the animated word, or law 1 Was it a 
 dead letter, considered as such, without any reference to the 
 Spirit and its influence working through it and by it, upon 
 which all that price was put 1 What would that have sig- 
 nified to have had a spiritless law, a law without any such 
 Spirit going with it as should make it a law of life i The 
 law of the Spirit of life you find it called, that is, according 
 to the impression that it hath upon the heart and .soul, in 
 Rom. viii. 2. It was, as such, that the law of God was so 
 highly prized by his people, as it was the medium through 
 which the Spirit was conveyed and given in from time to 
 time. And we may measure our expectations of the Spirit 
 to be communicated and given to us, very much by this 
 thing. What is our estim.ation of such vouchsafemcntsl If 
 we were indeed to speak the sense of our souls, we might 
 soon find what our value is of external and earthly good 
 things. We know what value we should have for a plenti- 
 ful estate, and for a peaceful, easy life, so as to have our 
 flesh in all things accommodated, and our sense gratified. 
 Do we find that there is a proportionable estimate of spi- 
 ritual good things, and that is, that, according as their 
 value is superior, we proportionably esteem them? Is it 
 the sense of our souls, " Lord, whatever thou dost with me, 
 let me have much of thy Spirit. Though I be poor, though 
 I be miserable, though I be pinched with straits and wants 
 all my days, though I be exposed to wanderings, let me 
 have thy Spirit ; take awav any thing from me, withhold 
 any thing rather than thy Spirit." And hereupon, 
 
 4. Earnest desire of spiritual influence. With that the 
 participation, the further participation of it is most surely 
 connected. Vehement longings, where there is some of 
 it, are an earnestof still more. When the heart is panting 
 after God, the living God, as the hunted hart after the 
 water-brooks, it is a good pledge, a pre-a.ssuring token, 
 that there shall be still more and more. How express are 
 those words of our Saviour, Blessed are they that hunger 
 and thirst after righteousness, for they shall be filled, 
 Matt. V. 6. To hunger and thirst after righteousne.ss, is to 
 hunger and thirst after spiritual influence ; which implies 
 thatwithoui that, all the fruits of righteousness languish, 
 or could never ha^•e been. It is indeed a wonderful thing 
 seriously to contemplate, that there should be a connexion 
 between such desires, and such participations thereupon ; 
 that ever the great God should have vouchsafed and con- 
 descended thus, as to make it become a staled thing, that 
 they who do desire, shall partake, even of that sacred, 
 heavenly influence. We do not find it to be so, as to 
 meaner things, and of a lower nature. We find not any 
 such connexion between the desire of riches, and riches; 
 between the desire of honour, and honour. There is no 
 Scripture that saith. If 3'ou de.siro to be rich, you shall be 
 rich : if vou desire to be honourable and great in this 
 world, voii shall be great and honourable ; and if you de- 
 sire to live a peaceful, quiet life, you shall live .<;uch a life 
 in this world. But we find it said, " Desire, and hunger 
 and thiist after righteousness, and you shall be filled." 
 There is no such connexion of an appetite to natural food,
 
 553 
 
 THE WORK OF THE HOLY SPIRIT 
 
 Serm. XVII. 
 
 and food ; a hungry bes^gar can't be sure, that because he 
 is hungry, therefore he shall be satislied, that his hunger 
 will entitle him to a meal's meat ; but here you find the 
 case is so ; and how admirable is the grace that hath made 
 it so! Desire spiritual indaence, and you shall have it ; 
 spiritual communications, and your receivings shall be 
 according to your hearts. For bring a sincere desire 
 directed to God, and terminated upon him, and our Saviour 
 hath assured us, tliat if we ask, we shall receive ; if we 
 seek, we shall find ; if we knock, it shall be opened to us, 
 and even in this very kind; look into the context of that 
 Scripture, Luke xi. 12, 13. All comes at last to this result. 
 How much more will your heavenly Father give the Holy 
 Spirit to them that ask him"? It is elsewhere said, good 
 things, and here it is said, the Holy Spirit. According as 
 grace hath laid out to itself its own methods, desire is a 
 drawing thing; it draws in vital influence from the bless- 
 ed Spirit, even as we attract and draw in breath, in the 
 ordinary course of our breathing. And it must ordinarily 
 be said, that they only are destitute of spiritual iniluence, 
 who desire it not ; and when that may be said, sure there 
 is enough to be said to justify the retraction or suspension 
 of any such influence. 
 
 5. Dependence upon it, is another thing Avherewith a 
 participation of the Spirit is most surely connected. I 
 live, yet not I, but Christ lives in me ; and the life that I 
 live in the flesh, I live by the faith of the Son of God, who 
 loved me, and gave himself for me, Gal. ii. '20. They that 
 wait on the Lord shall renew their strength, and mount 
 up with wings, as eagles, Isa. xl. 31. How did the poor 
 cripple (that we read of in Acts iii.) derive influence by 
 which he was enabled to walk 1 Why, he looked upon 
 Peter and John, expecting to receive something from them. 
 He drew even with his eye, a craving eye, an expecting 
 eye. " Sure there is something to be gotten of these men." 
 They bade him look upon them ; he looked accordingly. 
 And we are bidden to look too ; " Look unto me — all the 
 ends of the earth," Isa. xlv. 22. We are directed to look 
 upward, to look with an expecting eye: influence will 
 come. As the eyes of all other creatures are put up unto 
 God, and he is not wanting unto the work of his hands, so 
 the new creature is prompted to do so much more, to look 
 up intelligently, and with design ; " With design I do it, 
 that I may receive ; and he who feeds ravens, and takes 
 care of sparrows, will not famisli souls, that look up with 
 an expecting and begging eye, as those that not only know 
 their own need, but believe his bounty." And indeed if 
 there be not this in it, it is most highly to affront him, and 
 then no wonder, if the stream of his bounty be turned 
 another way, and never reach us. 
 
 Tliere are other particulars, which I should have spoken 
 to, but I find the time prevents me. The design of all 
 this will much drive this waj^, (which I shall so far pre- 
 vent myself, as to take notice'of to you now,) to let us see, 
 that if we find not the Spirit communicated to us, .so far 
 as is necessary to our walking in the Spirit, it is through 
 our own default, we owe it to ourselves. Pray do but 
 consider ; Is it not our fault, if we are insensible of any 
 need of the Spirit 1 or, of our unworthiness of it 1 Is it 
 not a fault, if we value not the immediate communications 
 of the blessed Grod from his own Holy Spirit 1 Is it no 
 fault, to prefer dirt and vanity before the influences of that 
 Spirit, the maintenance of present spiritual life, and the 
 pledge and earnest of an eternal state of life 1 Is it no 
 fault, if we desire not that there should be a commerce be- 
 tween us and that Spirit ■? if we think it not a thing worthy 
 to be desired, worthy to be sought after? If we could 
 have the privilege of daily communication with an angel ; 
 if we might have him to "talk and converse with, to guide 
 and instruct us from day to day in all our ways and afiairs, 
 and to comfort and relieve us in all our troubles and sor- 
 rows, would we account meanly of this 1 or, think it a 
 thing fit to be made light of 1 But what comparison is there 
 between the commerce of an nngel, and such a commerce 
 with the blessed Spirit of God 1 A being taken into that 
 communion, which is called the communion of the Holy 
 Ghost, in 2 Cor. xiii. 14. Is it not our fauh, if we Avant 
 the influences of the Spirit, and it hath no intercourse with 
 us, merely through our neglect, and because we care not 
 
 • Preached AprQ irth, 1«78, at Coidwainer's Hall. I 
 
 for it 1 Is it no fault, if we will not trust him who hath 
 promised, and whose word is more stable than the founda- 
 tions of heaven and earth 1 He hath promised, and we 
 will not believe him 1 Conscience, if it do its part, will 
 fasten the charge of guilt upon ourselves ; that if there be 
 a retraction or suspension of spiritual communications 
 from us, it is through our own fault ; we walk solitarily ; 
 we don't walk in the Sjiirit, but we walk alone, and as 
 outcasts from God, as those whom he hath nothing to do 
 with, and who have nothing to do with him, but all through 
 our own default. It is meet that we should admit the 
 conviction of conscience concerning this thing, that we 
 may not indulge ourselves in so manifest and so dangerous 
 a delinquency. 
 
 SERMON XVII. 
 
 We go on to mention some more of the particular duties, 
 wherewith such a communication of the Spirit stands con- 
 nected, as is requisite to our walking in the Spirit, beside 
 the five already spoken to. 
 
 G. That we obey its dictates ; resign and yield ourselves 
 to its governing power. This is plainly enough signified 
 in the expressions of being " led by the Spirit," and 
 " walking after the Spirit," which we have divers times in 
 Rom. viii. and elsewliere. " There is no condemnation to 
 them that are in Christ Jesus, that walk not after the flesh, 
 but after the Spirit." This imports a ductile, sequacious, 
 guidable frame and temper, an aptness to yield and com- 
 ply with all the suggestions of that blessed Spirit. Yield 
 yourselves to God, as those that are alive from the dead, 
 Rom. vi. 13. How manifestly distinguishable is the case, 
 between going about to raise a living person that is fallen, 
 and to raise a dead carcass ! A living person yields him- 
 self to our helping hand: "So yield j'ourselves to God, 
 as those that are alive;" — the word that is there used, is 
 the same with that which we have in Rom. xii. 1. Fro- 
 sent yourselves to God a living sacrifice ; and it signifies 
 to offer oneself readily for this or that, to be in a ready 
 posture to do what we are prompted to and put upon. 
 And this walking after the Spirit is frequently inculcated 
 in that forementioned chapter, Rom. viii. 1, 4, 13. And then 
 you have the expression of being led by the Spirit, follow- 
 ing the other, ver. 14. And again in this chapter where 
 the text lies. Gal. v. 18. If ye be led by the Spirit. This 
 word signifies to be acted by it : which doth also suppose a 
 compliance on our part, and that we concur ; that we be 
 in a prepared posture to act as we shall be from time to 
 time acted. To rebel against the Spirit, vexatiously to con- 
 tend, to oppose ourselves unto its dictates, we may easily 
 understand, cannot be the way to entitle ourselves to its 
 commimications. It is promised to be a guide to lead 
 into all truth, all that truth which is after godliness ; we 
 must understand it chiefly of such truth as doth concern 
 Christian practice ; but if we fall out and quarrel with our 
 guide, and will not obey, what can we expect, but that it 
 should in just displeasure retire, and leave us to walk 
 alone, or to wander as our own inclination shall lead us % 
 
 7. That we strictly observe and closely adhere unto our 
 rule. This is requisite in order to our having these need- 
 ful communications of the Spirit ; for it dictates according 
 to that external rule : we ought therefore to have our eye 
 upon that, which all along lines the way in which we are 
 to walk. We shall very unreasonably and vainly expect to 
 have the Spirit still constantly following us in all our ex- 
 travagancies and excursions : if it arbitrarily do so, as the 
 Spirit many times doth ; yet we have not reason to expect 
 it should do so in a stated course. The way of the Lore is 
 strength to the upright, Prov. x. 29. In their very way 
 they met with their strength ; holding on their course in 
 that way, they find themselves still to go from strength to 
 strength, (Ps. Ixxxiv. 7.) to grow stronger and stronger, 
 Job xvii. 9. When our way is pleasing to God, then we 
 may expect that by his Spirit he should converse with as 
 in our way; that is, if his way like us. Two cannot walk
 
 Skrm. XVII. 
 
 IN REFERENCE TO PARTICULAR PERSONS. 
 
 553 
 
 together, except ihey be agreed; and especially if they be 
 not agreed upon their way. Now we find, that the way 
 wherein we are to walk so as to please God, is prescribed 
 and directed all along bj' his word. Ye have received of 
 us, saith the apostle, how ye ought to walk and to please 
 God, 1 Thess. iv. 1. He hath directed the way by express 
 precept; in which if we walk and so please him, he will 
 converse with us by his Spirit ; then we shall have his con- 
 tinual assisting, directing presence. The steps of a good 
 man are ordered by the Lord ; and he delighteth in his 
 way. Then though he fall, he shall not be utterly cast 
 down ; for the Lord upholdelh him with his hand, Psal. 
 xxxvii. 23, 24. Enoch gained a testimony of God, that 
 he so walked as to please God, Heb. xi. 5. To be sure he 
 had him for the guide and companion of his way. It 
 is not much that we are under the same lot that our Lord 
 Christ was contented to be under, John viii. 29. He that 
 sent me, is with me ; the Father hath not left me alone ; 
 for I do always those things that please him. And he 
 doth require it of us, that as he did keep his Father's com- 
 mandments, and abide in his love; so we should keep his 
 commandments, and abide in his love, (John xv. 10.) and 
 so have his spiritual presence, or his Spirit to be present 
 with us, by which he saith he would be present M'ith his, 
 when as to his outward man he must be removed and gone 
 out of this state. That passage in Psal. ci. 2. is very ob- 
 servable ; the Psalmist resolves upon this, that he would 
 behave himself wisely in a perfect way, and that he would 
 walk with a perfect heart ; would take care of his way that 
 it was a strait and perfect path in which he should walk; 
 and doing this, 3^ou find him in such a posture expecting, 
 " O when wilt thou come unto me 1" Walking, as we told 
 vou before, connoted a way ; and this must be a way 
 suitable to the Spirit, if w-e reckon upon walking in the 
 Spirit. To walk in the way of our own hearts, and think 
 that the Spirit should be with us there, is certainly a very 
 foolish expectation. 
 
 8. That we design all the strength and vigour, that we 
 shall receive from the Spirit, in order to our walking unto 
 the Divine honour and glory and service, as the end of it. 
 Walking doth connote an end, as well as a way. And to 
 walk in the Spirit must suppose, that there be an end 
 suitable to the Spirit ; and what is most immediately from 
 God, ought to be most directly and entirely designed for 
 him. And I doubt not but there is a very common fault- 
 among Christians as to this thing; they desire spiritual 
 communications for themselves, because it is a ver}^ de- 
 lightful and pleasurable thing to be carried as upon eagles' 
 wings, to have so sensible help in allone'sAvalking; there- 
 fore they desire such helps and influences as a privilege ; 
 and sometimes lament the retraction and withdrawment of 
 it merely as an infelicity, without charging themselves with 
 sin in the case ; and it is in the mean time forgotten, that 
 what God gives upon this account is for himself, and we 
 ought to have the same design with him. The apostle 
 speaks of his way of living. Gal. ii. 20. I live, saith he, 
 yet not I, but Christ liveth in me ; and the life which I 
 now^ live in the flesh, I live by the faith of the Son of God, 
 who loved me, and gave himself for me. Immediately 
 before you have the end of that life, as here you have the 
 spring and source of it; I through the law am dead to the 
 law, that I might live unto God, ver. 10. Christ feeds and 
 maintains that life, and supplies all the motive and active 
 power belonging' to it, which shall be devoted to himself, 
 and terminate wholly upon himself. We are to look upon 
 all these communications as trusts, which are to be em- 
 ployed according to the pleasure and for the service of him 
 that doth intrust us. Who will commit to your trust, 
 says Christ, the true riches, if ye have not been faithful 
 in the unrighteous mammon 1 Luke xvi. 11. The things 
 of this life are comprehended under the " mammon of im- 
 righteousness;" to these are opposed "the true riches," 
 •which must mean spiritual good things ; such riches as 
 those spoken of in Eph. iii. 16. where the apostle is pray- 
 ing for the Ephesians, that God would grant them accord- 
 mg to the riches of his glory, to be strengthened with might 
 by the Spirit in the inner man. Who will trust you with 
 such riches 1 It implies, that such riches, wherever they 
 are given, are given but as a trust, and therefore are to be 
 employed for him that intrusts us with them. They arc 
 
 talents, that must be improved for him ; for that passage 
 doth refer unto the parable concerning the talents, as you 
 may see in the beginning of Luke xvi. There is a great 
 hold, as I may say, that the soul hath upon the Spirit and 
 his communications by such an ingenuity as this is; as 
 we many times by ingenuities engage eind oblige one ano- 
 ther. When this .shall be the posture of the soul and its 
 sense toward God, " 1 only desire .such strength and such 
 assistances from thee, to u.se them for thee, for thy own 
 work ;" when we are ready to put such a dedication, such 
 an inscription, upon ever\-act that we design to do by such 
 a received power, " To' thee, O Lord; Holiness to the 
 Lord ; I only desire thy influences, that 1 may do thy work, 
 and be to the best purpose serviceable to thj'name and in- 
 tere.st in my sphere and .station;" with such a dispo.>-itioii 
 as this we may expect the communication of the SpLiit to 
 be most certainly connected. 
 
 Thus you see proved, how it doth belong unto the state 
 of living Christians, as a duty proper thereto, to walk ia 
 the Spirit ; or what there is of duty, with which the com- 
 munications of the Spirit towards our walking in it are 
 connected. 
 
 Now by way of use, we have several things to infer from 
 all this. 
 
 Inference 1. Then if we do not walk in the Spirit, it 
 must needs be our own fault, that we embrace not the 
 privilege that is offered, and do not the duties required. 
 It is fit we should own it as our own fault, and charge it 
 where it ought to lie. 
 
 But it may perhaps here be objected; That all these 
 things that have been mentioned, as so many parts of duty 
 in order to our obtaining the needful communications of 
 the Spirit, are themselves the Spirit's operations ; and how 
 can they then be pre-requisites unto our obtaining such 
 communications of the Spirit"? To this we say, 
 
 1. That they are requisite unto further communica- 
 tions, such as we shall still have further use for and need 
 of in the continued course of our walking. And it is most 
 highly congruous unto the royalty of the Divine bountj', 
 to rew'ard what is done by his own vouchsafement. It is 
 his own rule and measure, that to them w hich have it shall 
 be given, Luke viii. 18. They that have, shall have more. 
 He gives more grace upon humility. James iv. 6. He 
 givelh more grace; wherefore he saith, he resisteih the 
 proud, but giveth grace unto the humble. Had he 
 given no grace to such before 1 How became they hum- 
 ble 1 His grace made them so ; but then he gives still 
 more grace. 
 
 2. These are so the operations of the Spirit, as that they 
 are our acts too. It is not the Spirit that believes and 
 obeys, but it helps us to do so ; as we shall have further 
 occasion to speak hereafter. 
 
 3. In such actings of renewed souls, as are in them- 
 selves holy and gracious, there are certain previous act- 
 ings, that lead to them, and which may and usually do end 
 in them. As there is nothing more obvious unto the ordi- 
 nary experience of Christians, than that they many times 
 begin a duty, as to pray or read, to hear or medilaie, with 
 very indisposed acts ; but the Spirit comes in amidst tlieir 
 work: oftentimes they have no such discernible assistance 
 at first, when they begin to act. Therefore there is some- 
 what previous unto that which is strictly to be considered 
 as a holy and spiritual act. 
 
 4. There is also a preventing influence or grace of the 
 Spirit, unto which it is sai'c to attribute even those previous 
 tendencies to such acts, to holy and gracious acts. But 
 then we mu,?t also know, that this is not always eflicacious, 
 so as to end in holy and gracious actions; because the 
 Spirit doth, sometimes from sovereignty, but more ordi- 
 narily from paternal justice, retire and withdraw itself, 
 when those first overtures are not complied with. As is 
 manifest from its being intimated to retire and withdraw 
 upon being grieved, being resisted, being vexed : as we 
 must suppose it to be, when it is not duly complied with 
 in tl'.e applications it makes to the spirits even of renewed 
 persons themselves ; for they, such as " live in the Spirit," 
 are the subject of our present discourse. 
 
 And in speaking to you of these previous tendencies 
 unto good and holy actions, (which it is fit we should at- 
 txibut!e unto tlie Spirit of Grod, when we find any thing of
 
 551 
 
 THE WORK OF THE HOLY SPIRIT 
 
 Serm. XVII. 
 
 them ; though it doth not work in that overpowering waj', 
 as where it puts forth its efficacious influence in order to 
 some holy and spiritual act to be done,) I shall speak by 
 way of inquiry and demand : that I may the more engage 
 conscience, acid set it on work to judge in the ease between 
 God and us ; whether, if we be destitute of such assist- 
 ances of the Spirit, as the exigency of our case calls for, it 
 is not to be imputed to our manifest neglect of somewhat 
 that we might hav^e done"? Not, that we might have done 
 of ourselves, neither; for we cannot of ourselves so much 
 as move a finger, or stir a foot; but that by a preventing 
 influence, in which the Spirit was beforehand with us, we 
 could have done"? Whether, if we had tried, we should 
 not have found we might have done such and such things, 
 that wouki have been in a fair tendency unto those opera- 
 tions or actions that are in themselves strictly and formally 
 holy and gracious 1 Let us therefore commune a little 
 with our own consciences, upon such heads as these. 
 
 1. Have we not omitted to reflect and take notice of 
 the way of our own walking, so as to bring the matter to 
 a disquisition"? Can I be said in my ordinary course to 
 walk in the Spirit 1 You know, reflection is a thing com- 
 mon to a Christian with another man. It is the privilege 
 of the reasonable spirit of man, that it can reflect upon it- 
 self: it is a rational sun, that can invert its beams, and 
 turn them inwards. The bodily eye cannot do so, it can- 
 not see itself: but our mind can see itself, and turn in its 
 beams to look in upon itself. If we did apply ourselves 
 to do so, might we not discern whether our way be trans- 
 acted so, as that they can say, " This is walking in the 
 Spirit, this looks like the Spirit 1" We might surely dis- 
 cern, whether our works can be said to be wrought in 
 God ; an expression we have formerly taken notice of 
 But do not we neglect even to do thisi to survey our own 
 way, and to consider with our own selves, " Is my course 
 like walking in the Spirit 1" It will be of no small service 
 to put the question to ourselves often. Is it so, yea or nol 
 am I to approve and like my way, or to disapprove it 1 
 
 2. Might we not be often comparing our walking with 
 that of others 1 As is ttsual with them that walk together, 
 to measure with one another. They that are behind, take 
 notice of such and such that are far before them, and there- 
 upon mend their pace, and make after with more expedi- 
 tion. There is no one that mends his course of walking, 
 but it is upon an apprehension of something that needs to 
 be mended : and therefore that reflection is needful, that 
 was spoken of before ; either the pace was not quick 
 enough, or not regular enough, or not continued enough. 
 Besides that such faults in our walking are to be discerned 
 by comparing with the rule, referring to the perfect law of 
 liberty; so much might be discovered and discerned, by 
 comparing our walk with the more spiritual sort of Christ- 
 ians. Sui'e we might do that, if we would. Might we not 
 sometimes set such and such persons in our own thoughts 
 before us, and think with ourselves. What a spiritual life 
 does such a man live ! How strict and even is his conver- 
 sation ! How manifest is it, that such a man walks with 
 God, and lives much in heaven ! Might we not do so, and 
 accordingly mend our course in walking '1 For God hath 
 set up such eminent Christians to be examples and pat- 
 terns to others ; and we are directed " so to walk, as we 
 have such more eminent saints for our example ; to be fol- 
 lowers of them, as they are of Christ." We ought to do 
 so. When we compare ourselves only with ourselves, we 
 are likely to get no instruction by it, and to be never the 
 wiser for that. " Those that compare themselves with 
 themselves, doing so only, are not wise:" they never learn 
 any thing. But comparing ourselves with others, then w^e 
 may receive profit and instruction ; and they may be, in 
 the very view of their walking, a seasonable reproof of the 
 carelessness, and remissness, and extravagancy of ours. 
 And what would it be to consider with ourselves some- 
 times, what even and happy lives do such and such live 
 in comparison of mine ! I am weak, and they are strong; 
 I am dull and dead and languid, and they are quick and 
 lively ! This would be somewhat in an apt tendency to- 
 ward such works and actions, as wherein our .spiritual 
 walk doth more directly consist. 
 
 3. Do we not neglect to consider of the sadness of our 
 case, if we are deserted of the Spirit ? We might discern, 
 
 that it is not so with us as it is with others. Might we not 
 hereupon sit down and think, " How sad a thing it is to 
 be forsaken of that blessed Spirit, or even not to have it 
 discern ibly present ! toliave that Spirit, that doth so freely 
 and graciously converse with some, refuse to converse 
 with me! and so to be out-gone by other Christians, and 
 left languishing alone !" I might think, that this is not a 
 state to be content and well satisfied in. 
 
 4. Do we not neglect to contemplate the fulness and 
 plenitude of the blessed Spirit"? — that when we find that 
 we are poor and indigent, there are supplies to be had 1 
 Do we not neglect to take actual knowledge of this"? This 
 is a tendency to that faith in the Spirit, which is to be 
 acted in order to our drawing forth its communications : 
 for sure I must have the object of my faith in view, before 
 I can perform an act of faith towards it ; I cannot act faith 
 upon that which I don't think of. And by how^ much the 
 more I do consider the plenitude, and liberality, and gra- 
 ciousne-ss of this blessed Spirit, so much the more I see 
 in the object to invite and draw forth an act of faith ; and 
 I am to expect the Spirit to concur in this way in order to 
 a kind of vital contract that I come to have v.'iih it, by 
 which I actually partake of and draw forth influence from 
 it. I must look to him, in whom my help is. They look 
 ed unto him, and were lightened, Ps. xxxiv. 5. A general 
 expression of the gracious influence of God by his Spirit ; 
 they looked to him, and quick and lively vital influence 
 was given in. 
 
 5. Do we not neglect the business of self-excitation "? 
 Surely we are not to make nothing of this matter of stir- 
 ring up ourselves: as there is no walking, but there are 
 some essays previous thereto ; some efforts, before a man 
 can be said actually to have walked ; a conalus or apply- 
 ing himself thereto. Unto such a.conalus is the expression 
 accommodate, of girding up our loins in order to our spi- 
 ritual walk. 1 Pet. i. 13. Gird up the loins of your minds, 
 be sober, and hope to the end, &c. If men design a walk, 
 they do accinsere se, they put themselves into a ready pos- 
 ture for it. So we might be doing in order to our receiv- 
 ing the Spirit's further influence; though as was said, we 
 don't do this of ourselves, as we can do nothing without 
 help; yet we should find that this is a help always afford- 
 ed us, and wherein God is still beforehand with us, and 
 which, if his helping hand were accepted in these things, 
 might lead us further unto those wherein our walking in 
 the Spirit doth more formally consist. And the many pas- 
 sages that we meet with in Scripture of this thing, certainly 
 cannot be without their signification, are not set for ciphers 
 in the Bible. As, when the apostle bids Timothy to stir 
 up the gift that was in him, 2 Tim. i. 6. uia^fjiruprir, that 
 emphatical word. And we are not to think, that what he 
 saith hath reference only to an extraordinary gift conferred 
 upon him; as the very next words that follow show, ver. 
 7. For God hath not given us the Spirit of fear, but of 
 power, and of love, and of a sound mind : that is, the 
 Spirit in such operations wherein he is common to Christ- 
 ians ; though very likely there was a fuller measure of 
 that whichdid attend that ordinance of the imposition of 
 hands, whereof the former verse speaks ; according as a 
 greater measure was required unto the greater work of an 
 evangelist above that of an ordinary Christian, even a 
 greater measure of special grace, or sanctifying influence. 
 This the apostle would have Timothy to bloic up into a 
 coal, as the word signifies, to make the fire to live again. 
 You also find it complained of as an accusation in Isa. 
 Ixiv. 7. that no man stirred up himself to take hold of the 
 Lord. There is such a striving with ourselves in order to 
 such and such spiritual works and actions to be done. The 
 word in the last-mentioned place is very emphatical, it 
 signifies to awake, and is put into that mood which in the 
 Hebrew language signifies action upon oneself; there is 
 no one that goes about to awake, to roiise himself, in order 
 to the taking hold of God. Somewhat might be done, and 
 is to be done to this purpose. Awake, my glory, says the 
 Psalmist, Ps. Ivii. 8. It is most probable, that by his 
 glory he means his soul ; " Awake, O my soul, do not lie 
 drowsing always, thou hast great work to do." That ex- 
 pression, in Col. iii. IG. which we read, admonishing one 
 another, is lavTai, and most properly signifies admonishing 
 ourselves. " Let the word of Christ dwell in you richly,
 
 Serm. XVIII. 
 
 IN REFERENCE TO PARTICULAR PERSONS. 
 
 595 
 
 — admonishing: your ownselves, speaking to your own- 
 selves, in psalms, and hymns, and spiritual songs, singing 
 with grace in your hearts to the Lord. He does not say, 
 " We have nothing to do, nothing that lies upon us." Can 
 we never commune with ourselves, and labour to awaken 
 ourselves 1 We might expostulate with ourselves, as the 
 Psalmist in Ps. xlii. 5. Why art thou cast down, O my 
 soul ! and why art thou so disquieted within me "? As in 
 reference to want of comfort, so in reference to indisposi- 
 tion to duty we have much more cause to chide ourselves; 
 " Why dost thou lie dead and asleep, when thou hast so 
 great work to do? Arise, and walk in the light of the 
 Lord." We might charge ourselves, urge our own souls 
 with the obligation of the divine law which we are under ; 
 as the Psalmist does here, " Hope thou in God, for I shall 
 yet praise him." We might encourage ourselves, as David 
 in that great distress at Ziklag is said to have encouraged 
 himself in the Lord his God, 1 Sam. xxx. 6. And we 
 might resolve with ourselves upon this or that thing to be 
 done. I will love thee, O Lord my strength, Ps. xviii. L 
 There was a resolution of going upon such an exercise 
 of love and praise, before he actually engaged in the 
 work itself; Now I will go and apply myself to a love- 
 commerce with God, to enlarge and expatiate in his love 
 and praises. We might say, " We will now apply our- 
 selves to the business, before such and such a work be 
 actually done." Are we not omissive and neglectful in 
 such things '? 
 
 6. Might we not be more frequent, or more diligent, se- 
 rious, and attentive, in our waiting upon the solemn ordi- 
 nances of God 1 Many of us might come oftener, or come 
 sooner, or more compose ourselves to attention when we 
 come unto those means, through which the Spirit of God 
 is wont to work, and by which it conveys its influence. 
 
 7. Might we not be much oftener in our closets, and re- 
 tire more frequently 1 Here lies the too little observed 
 cause of the languishing of religion among us at this day ; 
 persons let the bisiness of this world so shutfle oiU their 
 religion, that they cannot have any time to go and be apart 
 with God ; and they are left so much alone, because they 
 are so little alone : as was the saying of a heathen, " I am 
 never less alone, than when I am alone." Many a time 
 might we have a good meeting with God in a corner, if 
 we should allow oarselves to be a little there. 
 
 8. Might we not be more conversant at such chosen 
 times with the word of God, than we arel It is through 
 that, this Spirit breathes. Thy word hath quickened me, 
 Ps. cxix. 50. With thy precepts thou hast quickened me, 
 ver. 93. Through that word which was of his own inspir- 
 ing, ypaibi] Oeonvcvrnf, /he Spirit choos.cs Still to breathe. And 
 is it not sad to think, that among many professors, the 
 Bible should lie by as an unprofitable neglected history 
 about the house, as part of the lumber which we know not 
 how to make use of? The word is the Spirit's sword; 
 and the corruptions of our hearts, that are the great hin- 
 derances in our walking, need hewing many times ; but 
 we put not ourselves under the stroke of the sword by 
 which this should be done. And tn^ly, if any of us should 
 live to see the time or know the place, where it might be 
 a crime to have a Bible in our houses, we should then 
 have cause to reflect, that we have made so little use of it 
 when we had it. 
 
 9. Might we not be more in prayer upon this subject, 
 that is, for the Spirit? Might we not insist more upon it, 
 and plead more earnestly for spiritual communications ? 
 We are told, that "God will give his Spirit unto them 
 that ask him ;" unto his children, as readily as we will give 
 bread to ours, rather than a stone. And will not we be- 
 lieve it ? Or if we do, is it a thing so little worth our look- 
 ing after, to have our souls inhabited and animated by that 
 blessed Spirit, to have it reside and rule in us? Is this so 
 little to be regarded by us ? I believe there will a time 
 come with many professors, that are now very much 
 asleep, when they shall value a communication of the Spi- 
 rit more than any one enjoyment whatsoever, however they 
 are now absorbed and drunk up of the s^nrit of this world. 
 If God rend and take away all from us, and we have no- 
 thing else left, nothing to trust to, but what we have from 
 above ; then those things from above will be things of 
 
 * Preached April 17tli, 167S, at Cordwainer's HalL ' 
 
 value. And what would we desire more, than to be so 
 plainly told as we are, that we shall have for seeking 1 
 Your heart shall live, that do seek GckI, Ps. Ixix. 32. 
 Would you have plainer words ? They shall praise the 
 Lord, that seek him ; your heart (their heart) shall live 
 for ever, Ps. xxii. 26. 
 
 10. Might we not more abstain from the things that we 
 know tend to grieve the Spirit ? Many such things there 
 are. It cannot but occur to our own knowledge and 
 thcjughts, if at any time they be serious, that such and 
 such things (our own hearts will tell as what they are) 
 must needs be a grief to the Spirit of God ; and if I allow 
 myself to tread such and .such paths, the Spirit and I shall 
 grow strangers unto one another. The indulging of sen- 
 sual desires, allowing a liberty unto enormous and exor- 
 bitant passions, letting out our spirits to the mindine of 
 earthly things without check and restraint, falling into 
 jangles and contentions with others, cherishing our own 
 enmity and discontents toward such and such persons, or 
 upon such and such occasions. How do we think, that 
 that pure and holy and blessed Spirit will inhabit so im- 
 pure and licentious and unpeaceable brea.sts as ours are 1 
 The letting out our thoughts and affections to vanity, .so as 
 only to be in a disposition to mind trifles and converse 
 with them, cannot but produce a great strangeness. Don't 
 you know, that there is many a serious man would forsake 
 your compan)', if he saw that you were in no dispo.vition 
 to mind any thing that was serious ; and that to talk of 
 nothing but toys and trifles was pleasing and grateful to 
 yon ? Serious men would leave you upon this, and think 
 yon unsuitable company for them. 
 
 SERMON xvrn.* 
 
 Inference 2. In the great business of tlie Christian 
 life, it is not the Spirit that doth all, but there is a part 
 incumbent upon us. This is manifest, when it is said to 
 belong to us, if we are Christians indeed, to " walk in the 
 Spirit." Then the business of the Christian life is not to 
 be done by the Spirit alone, but we have a part to do 
 therein. And it is not unnecessary to insist a little upon 
 this. I do not reckon this necessary, merely for the con- 
 futation of their error Avho think otherwise ; for I cannot 
 think there are any among us that are of a contrary 
 opinion; though some such there have been, and probably, 
 enough are in the world, who have thought it to be a great 
 piece of perfection to be aspired unto by Christians, to be 
 merely passive in the business of religion ; and that by 
 how much the more perfect they are, so much the more 
 passive, and do so much the less in religion : but I sus- 
 pect not any here to be of that mind. It is upon a more 
 practical account, that this is fit to be insisted on: for 
 though we have no such formed apprehensions, yet it is 
 too plain that most carry the matter as if they had nothing 
 to do. And therefore I" shall urge some considerations to 
 evince what I suppose to be already our common belief, 
 that there is a part incumbent upon us ; to enliven a little 
 that belief in our souls, and that we may be stirred up to 
 walk and act more agreeably to it. 
 
 1. The very notion of walking in tlie text, doth most 
 strongly exclaim against the supposition of our having 
 nothing to do. You have been formerly told, that if a 
 man should roll a stone, or drag a log, neither of them 
 would be said to walk. Walking is a voluntary, spon- 
 taneous motion, IVom nn internal, and some way or other 
 self-directing, principle ; when we design the motion and 
 choose the way wherein we are to walk, being enabled to 
 choose aright. And bv how much the more the Spirit 
 puts forth its influence "in order to our walking, so much 
 the more are we at liberlv ; with so much the more spon- 
 taneity and activitvand visjour do we go on in that course 
 unto which it prompts. Where the Spirit of the Lord is, 
 there is libertv, 2 Cor. iii. 17. And, I will run the way of 
 thy commandments, when thou shalt enlarge my heart, 
 Psal- cxix. 32.
 
 556 
 
 THE WORK OF THE HOLY SPIRIT 
 
 Serm. XVIII. 
 
 2. It is to be ar^ied by an induction of such particulars, 
 as we have formerly instanced in, that we have a part in- 
 cumbent upon us. Concerning which of them would we 
 say, that they are not our part "? That which begins our 
 course, repentance towards God, is not that our work 1 
 That, by which we derive strength and vigour for that 
 course of holy motion, that faith which is continually to 
 supply us from the fountain with influence, is not this in- 
 cumbent upon us 1 Is it not our part to resign and yield 
 ourselves, and to obey the influences and dictates of the 
 blessed Spirit of God 1 Can we then yet say or think, that 
 we have nothing to do, or carry as if we had not 1 
 
 But it may be said, that these are the works of the 
 Holy Ghost, to repent, to believe, to resign, to obey, and 
 the like. 
 
 It is very true indeed. Br.t what hinders, that even in 
 reference to one and the same work the Spirit should have 
 its part, and we our part 1 As when a musician plays upon 
 an instrument, hath not the musician and the instrument 
 each of them a contribution towards the melody 1 The 
 strings don't sound without being touched, nor is that 
 sound made by touching any thing but those strings. We 
 cannot say in that case, that the musician and the instru- 
 ment have each of them so their part, as that one note is 
 from the musician and another note from the instrument; 
 but both the musician and the instrument contribute to 
 every note. And so it is plainly here, as to all the holy 
 and spiritual motions and actions of a renewed soul ; our 
 spirits and the blessed Spirit of God have a kind of co- 
 operation in reference to every particular act ; which 
 plainly shows that we have our part all along, and much 
 more an active part than that similitude we used can 
 serve to represent. 
 
 3. Were it not so, that we have such a part incumbent 
 upon us, all the precepts that contain in them the duty 
 which is charged upon us, (that is, which we ought to call 
 duty, because they are precepts in which it is contained,) 
 would be mere nullities; and so that duty would be no 
 duty. It would indeed evacuate and nullify the whole law 
 of God, and all the precepts that are in his book of one 
 kind or another. For if we have no part belonging to us, 
 then his precepts obliges us to nothing; and that which 
 obliges to nothing, is no obligation : and so it were an ap- 
 prehension, in the tendency of it, directly subversive of 
 the whole i'rame of the Divine government: all his laws 
 over us would carry no signification with them at all. 
 Especially what sense could we make of such laws as 
 these, that do in general express the whole of a Christian's 
 course"? This, for instance, in the text, "Walk in the 
 Spirit "?" Which you have with so much solemnity intro- 
 duced in another verse of this same chapter ; " This 1 say, 
 Walk in the Spirit; and ye shall not fulfil the lusts of the 
 flesh," ver. 16. This I say; here would be great solem- 
 nity used for no purpose, the precept w^ould carry no sig- 
 nificnuon of a precept at all. And so of other such like 
 scriptures. Be strong in the Lord, and in the power of 
 his might, Eph. vi. 10. Be strong; what doth that say to 
 us 1 what doth it mean 1 Can we tell how to make our- 
 selves strong, and by the Lord's strength 1 It plainly 
 shows, that regenerate ones have somewhat to do, upon the 
 doin? whereof they may expect the communications of 
 the Spirit. So, Eph. v. 18. Be ye filled with the Spirit, 
 What a strange thing were it to give us such a precept as 
 that, that we should be filled with the Spirit, if we had 
 nothing to do in order thereto ! It doth indeed manifestly 
 imply the Spirit's communicativeness, its aptness to com- 
 municate itself in all suitable and needful influences: and 
 if we should not understand it so, the words would carry 
 but such a sound, such a faint sound with them, as those 
 that are supposed to be spoken by some charitable man, 
 that should say to one in necessity, naked, and destitute 
 of daily food, "Be thou warm, be thou filled;" but yet 
 give nothing needful for the body, James ii. 15, 16. And 
 what ! shall we dare to imagine, that the Spirit of God, 
 that Spirit of love and grace, should indite such words as 
 these, " Be ye filled with the Spirit," and yet be altogether 
 unapt to give that which should be needful to the soul 1 It 
 doth plainlvhold forth therefore the communicativeness of 
 the Holy Ghost. But then it doth hold forth also a part 
 incumbent upon us, somewhat to be done by us, where- 
 
 upon we are to expect such a communication, and in a 
 stated course ; and not to expect it otherwise, or upon other 
 terms; whatever it may arbitrarily and from a sovereignty 
 and royalty of grace do, as it many times doth. 
 
 4. Otherwise all the holy and gracious principles, all 
 the graces of the Spirit, were put into the soul in vain; 
 they were needless and useless things. For pray, what use 
 can we conceive them to be of, but only to dispose the 
 soul for holy and gracious actings 1 And then sure it must 
 have something to do. The frame and shape of every 
 thing doth discover, even to a man's eye, what it was made 
 for: the very shape of this or that utensil shows its use, 
 and what purposes it will serve for. So the whole frame 
 of the new creature, all the several principles that are in- 
 gredient into the constitution of it, plainly show what they 
 are for. And the Spirit of God doth expressly tell us, 
 Eph. ii. 10. We are his workmanship, created in Christ 
 Jesus unto good works, which he hath before ordained that 
 we should walk in them. " We are his workmanship:" 
 this is a piece of work wrought and done upon the soul, 
 on purpose to fit him for the doing of good works : it is a 
 very strange thing if yet it should have nothing to do. We 
 might as well suppose, that the apt shape and frame of this 
 or that instrument did contribute nothing to the use ; a 
 musician might as well play upon a log as upon a lute. 
 Why should there be that curious workmanship, as there 
 is wrought in every renewed soul, if all those principles 
 are to lie dead, and there is no work to be done by such 
 a soul 1 What is the grace of repentance for, but that the 
 soul might turn to Godl What is self-denial for, but to 
 take it off from self? mortification towards this world, but 
 to loose and unhinge the soul from that, that so it may 
 be in a posture disengaged and free for the course of holy 
 spiritual motion 1 What is love for, but that it may move 
 vigorously and delightfully 1 fear, but that it may move 
 regularly! humility, but that it may move equally? pa- 
 tience, but that it may move steadily, and so as not to be 
 diverted by the evils that it meets with in the way 1 Take 
 every particular grace severally, or take the entire frame 
 of all together, and the very frame shows us what the new 
 creature was for, that it was not to do nothing, and there- 
 fore sure that there is somewhat to be done. 
 
 5. Were it not so, this great absurdity would follow, 
 that not only the Spirit of God was to be the agent, (which 
 indeed is itself absurd enough,) but that that alone is to be 
 denominated the agent of every work that is to be done. 
 Not only might it be truly said, that the Spirit of God re- 
 pents and believes; but that it alone doth so; and conse- 
 quenily that there was no believer in all the world, no 
 penitent, no obedient person ; but only that these names 
 ought to be given to the Spirit of God 
 
 6. The matter is hence plain, that the Scriptures doth 
 manifestly say, that such and such things are done by the 
 people of God. It is owned concerning them, that they 
 "do believe, they have believed, they have received the 
 word," and the like ; they have " turned to the Lord from 
 dumb idols," they have had " their labour of love," their 
 approved works. I know thy works, I know by way of 
 approbation that thou hast done so and so. And it be- 
 ing plain, that they are said to be the doers of such and 
 such actions ; either they do them as duty, as things in- 
 cumbent upon them to do, or not : if as duty, we have what 
 we seek : if not, then all such persons doing such works 
 must be said to have done more than their duty : but cer- 
 tainly our own hearts will tell us, if we consider, that do 
 what we can we always fall abundantly short. 
 
 These things make it plain enough, that there is a part 
 incumbent upon us to do, and that it is not the business of 
 the Spirit of God to do all, in the maUer of the Christian 
 life. It was necessary to insist upon this; because if we 
 do not admit the principle into our hearts, however it may 
 hover in our minds and notional judgment, we can never 
 admit into our hearts any conviction of our neglects of 
 God, nor any impression of the many exhortations and in- 
 centives that we have unto greater diligence in the business 
 of our Christian walk. We shall but faintly charge our- 
 selves, and easily put ofl'all with saying, the Spirit of God 
 did not act ; and tb ink ourselves very innocent and harmless 
 all the while, though we only trifle and h)iter in the great 
 business of Christianiiy all our days. If we own the prin-
 
 Serm. XVIII. 
 
 IN REFERENCE TO PARTICULAR PERSONS. 
 
 557 
 
 ciple, that we ought to be doing and walking, as we pro- 
 fess ourselves to be living Christians ; why do we eariv 
 the matter, as if we believed it not 1 why do we stand still, 
 as if we had nothing to do, as if we could not find our 
 hands'? Alas! how little is there among us of that which 
 ought to go under ihe name of Chris:ian walking! How 
 little can we find in ourselves, upon a serious review of 
 the things done by us from day lo day, concerning which 
 we can say, " These were a real part of the Christian walk, 
 and which ought to be referred thither !" Surely, while we 
 so slothfully sit still and do nothing, it is very needful we 
 should be put in mind and have it urged upon us, that we 
 have not nothing to do ; tliat we cannot sit still, as having 
 no business, but only as those that mind it not. 
 
 Inference 3. We may further infer hence, not only our 
 obligation to a part incumbent upon us, but also our impo- 
 tency to walk as we should alone. If it belongs to us as 
 living Christians, both as our privilege and duty, to walk 
 in the Spirit ; both do argue, that we cannot walk alone as 
 we ought, that v.^e cannot walk acceptably and so as to 
 please God, by ourselves. Such a charge as this laid upon 
 us, " to walk in the Spirit," carries a plain signification, 
 how incompetent Ave are for managing the course of our 
 Christian walk without the Spirit. They that walk by 
 the power of another, being acted and sujiportcd and 
 borne up ; though their walking imports that they do some- 
 what ; yet plainly show, by their walking so sustained, 
 their impotency to steer that course of themselves. And 
 it is needful, that the conviction of this, too, do sink a 
 great deal deeper with us than commonly it doth ; that we 
 ?an do nothing alone of the proper business that apper- 
 tains to the Christian life : not so much as move a step, or 
 draw a breath, or think a thought ; not so much as think 
 any thing, as of ourselves, 2 Cor. iii. 5. 
 
 This also is a thing that is easily assented to, as soon as 
 we hear it: but there is a very great difference to be made, 
 between assenting to such a thing as an opinion, that we 
 think carries with it a very plausible pretence for our own 
 sloth, and having ourselves possessed with a deep and se- 
 rious sense of it, as a thing plainly spoke out to us by the 
 word of God, and whereof we find an inward experience 
 in our own souls. We are very cai efully lo distinguish 
 between these two. It is a very common pretence among 
 people, that they can do nothing, no good thing, without 
 God, they are impotent to every thing that may have any 
 tendency to their own salvation or to his glory ; most pro- 
 fess to believe this, as soon as they hear the words spoken ; 
 but it is too apparent by the course that most hold, that 
 this is only an opinion taken up, as supposed to carry a 
 very favourable aspect upon their own sloth; and not that 
 really they are of this faith. It is but a mere assumed 
 opinion with them ; not a part of their faith, nor a piece of 
 their experience concerning themselves, "that without 
 God they can do nothinsr." 
 
 It is plain enough, that persons may hold things as an 
 opinion, that have no influence at all to govern their prac- 
 tice, notwithstanding that they are things in their own na- 
 ture never so practical, or that ever so much concern prac- 
 tice. And it is of some necessity to us to consider, how 
 impotent and ineffectual a thing mere opinion is to govern 
 a man's practice. And to make way for this; that you 
 may see that men hold this doctrine of their own impoten- 
 cy unto any spiritual good but as an opinion, without ever 
 understanding the grounds of it, or without ever consider- 
 ing of what use it should be, or what course they are to 
 take agreeable to such an apprehension; we shall show a 
 little the insuthciencyof mere opinion to regulate practice. 
 Plain it is, that many things that are in their own nature 
 most practical, men have opinions about, which never in- 
 fluence their practice at all. It is a common thing for men 
 in the whole course of their lives to rim counter to an 
 opinion which they hold ; as I might instance in sundry of 
 the greatest things that one can think of Men are of this 
 opinion, that God is the supreme and rightful Governor of 
 the world ; and yet have his laws and aiUhority all their 
 days in contempt. They are of this opinion, that God is 
 omniscient, knows their hearts, and beholds all their ways; 
 and yet never care to approve themselves to his eye in the 
 temperof th ir spirits orthe course of their walking. They 
 are of opinion, that all men as sinners are naturally liable 
 
 to the wrath and justice of God ; and yet never go about 
 to flee from the wrath to come. They are of opinion, that 
 there is a judgment to come, and a state of retribution after 
 this life for what hath been done in it ; and yet never mako 
 it their concern to be sure, that they are not miserable 
 hereafter, cast in judgment, doomed to perdition, but ad- 
 judged to live. Mr-n in their whole course, even all their 
 days, run directly contrary to their own opinion, in the 
 greatest and most important things that can be imagined ; 
 and that shows that it is a mere opinion: for a real, 
 thorough belief of so great and important things, would 
 certainly make other kind of work in their hearts and lives. 
 
 And because it is so plain in the general, that men may 
 run all their time against their opinion, and guide their 
 practice quite contrary to their opinion about practical 
 things ; it concerns us here to be a little more strict in our 
 inquiry, whether it be not so ia this particular ca^e ; that 
 is, that men do hold the doctrine of their im.putence for 
 spiritual good but as an opinion, which they the more 
 readily comply with, because they think it looks with a 
 very favourable aspect upon that slothful, lazy coui-se, 
 which it is most agreeable to them to hold, and which they 
 are very loth to alter. In this case, it doth them never the 
 more good for being a true opinion; but the mischief to 
 them is, that they hold it but as an opinion and no other- 
 wise : which wiil appear, if j'ou consider four things. If 
 they held such a truth otherwise than as an opinion, if 
 they believed it with a real faith and experienced the truth 
 of it ; it must, in conjunction with the things that I am to" 
 mention, make strange impressions upon their .spirits, and 
 alterations in their course, beyond what it is found lo do. 
 For, 
 
 1. Together with this apprehension, that they are im- 
 potent, and cannot of themseh'es walk as they should, so 
 as to please God, they also know, or might easily know, 
 that they do not walk so, as to have reason to think, that 
 God is pleased with their walking. They may find upon a 
 very easy reflection, that they do not walk in the Spirit: 
 one would think it impossible for many of the looser sort 
 of the professors of Christianity to resist the evidence of 
 so plain a thing, if thev ask themselves the question ; 
 " Can I say, my cour.se and ivalking is like walking in the 
 Spirit, such as that I dare entitle the Spirit to it as its au- 
 thor !" What! is the Spirit the author of your minding 
 earthly things so intently? of seeking yourselves 7 of cast- 
 ing away the thoughts of God and eternity and the other 
 world 1 And is not this thy walk 1" Must not many say 
 so? Let that then be considered by them that say, they 
 cannot walk so as to please God without the Spirit ; must 
 they not also be forced to say, that they do not walk in the 
 Spirit 1 And then add to that, 
 
 '2. The consideration whither these things tend. While 
 they acknowledge, that to walk so as God may be pleased, 
 without the Spirit, is not possible ; that their pre>ent 
 course is not a walking in the Spirit ; and along with these, 
 that it is absolutely necessary for them to walk in such a 
 course, as that God may be pleased with their walking; 
 certainly it would put a reasonable, considering soul into 
 a distress, if he would but lay these things together. " I 
 cannot walk as I should without the Spirit, and I find I do 
 not walk according to the Spirit, yet it is necessary forme 
 that I should do so." What should be the end of thisi 
 Must it not needs be to put the spirit of a man, if l^e will 
 reasonably consider it, into the greatest agonies imagina- 
 ble? None pretend to hold this doctrine of their own im- 
 potency, but the same persons will say that they hoht too, 
 that it is necessary for them to please God in their walk- 
 ing. Now while no suitable impression is made, no lively 
 concern excited, answerable to the exigency of such a 
 case ; is it not plain, that all this is but mere opinion, a 
 hovering opinion and no morel especially if we should 
 add hereto the considering, 
 
 3. That the Spirit is not tied to their time; and that no 
 doubt they will giant also. If now they have not the Spirit 
 to influence their walking, and enable them in the course 
 of it, they cannot promise themselves that they sliall have 
 it the next hour, or the next day, or the next vear. 
 
 4. They know withal, that thev are not ma.'iters of their 
 own time; and they don't know biU that their time may 
 be over and expired, before that blessed Spirit, so often
 
 558 
 
 THE WORK OF THE HOLY SPIRIT 
 
 Serm. XIX 
 
 neglected and slighted and resisted, shall ever breathe or 
 do any effectual work upon their souls. 
 
 These are things all of them as obvious as that other, 
 that they are of themselves impotent. But take all these 
 things together, and if there were more than mere opinion 
 in the matter, certainly it could not but put such a soul 
 into the greatest distress imaginable. " What shall I do 7 
 what shall I think of my case 1 which way shall I turn 
 myself? The way wherein I walk I am sure cannot 
 please God ; I cannot walk better without his Spirit ; that 
 Spirit doth not breathe or move in me in order to my bet- 
 ter walking ; I cannot command that Spirit ; my time may 
 shortly be over ; I may be dead and gone out of this world 
 for ought I know, before that Spirit ever come to have 
 any acquaintance with my spirit, any commerce with it, 
 and then what will become of me "?" 
 
 All this I urge to this purpose, that it may be taken no- 
 tice of and reflected upon, how little it signifies for men 
 to have such an opinion of their own impotency, while it 
 is an opinion and no more, while it makes no impression 
 and has no suitable effect. If it were firmly believed, it 
 would certainly infer this, that a soul that finds it can of 
 itself do nothing, would be put upon loud and importunate 
 cries to him, who can help us to do all, and who must do 
 all, that is, do the part appertaining to him in all and 
 every thing that is to be done by us in order to our eter- 
 nal well-being. But to lie still with the apprehension that 
 I can do nothing, when (as the case doth signify) if I can 
 do nothing I must perish, supposing that nothing be done 
 by a higher and a stronger hand; and to be unconcerned 
 whether that hand ever touch my heart, ever come near 
 me, yea or no ; this is a dreadful and a monstrous thing, 
 and might make men amazed at themselves ; that they can 
 profess to believe a doctrine that carries with it a face of 
 so much terror to their own souls, and never be startled 
 at it ; be well pleased that it casts a favourable aspect upon 
 their sloth, while it carries a most frowning one upon 
 their safety ; unless it had that tendency with it, (which in 
 most it hath not,) to bring men upon their knees, and to 
 set them on crying and importuning for that grace and 
 Spirit, without which it is true we can do nothing, and 
 without which therefore nothing but perishing is to be 
 looked for. 
 
 SERMON XIX.* 
 
 There are yet some further inferences remaining from 
 the subject we have been upon. 
 
 Inference 4. Since it belongs to the state of persons liv- 
 ing in the Spirit to walk in the Spirit ; then we have great 
 reason to admire the grace of the Spirit, that renders this 
 a possible thing to us, to walk under its constant govern- 
 ing influence. But this I shall not insist upon, because 
 there is no part or work and office of the Holy Ghost in 
 reference to the spirits of men, on which we have insisted 
 already, but hath given us some occasion to reflect upon 
 its wonderful vouchsafement, that it would have so much 
 to do with such as we are. But as this occasion is renewed 
 to us of considering it, we should renew our observation 
 and admiration of its strange condescension in this thing. 
 For would any of us deign to be obliged to have from 
 day today the guiding and conducting of all the motions 
 of a worm 1 And we do not need to be told, how much 
 less considerable we are in reference to the great God and 
 the blessed Spirit, than any the most despicable worm is 
 to us. 
 
 Inference 5. Since it belongs unto the state of persons 
 that own themselves Christians, or to live in the Spirit; 
 (for to own Christianity, and to pretend to a life in the Spi- 
 rit, is all one ; those that profess themselves Christians, do 
 not profess themselves dead Christians, but living ones ;) 
 since it belongs, I say, to such to walk in the Spirit; then 
 we may too plainly collect, that there are very many going 
 under that name, that walk so, as doth not belong to the 
 state unto which they pretend. A plain and sad collec- 
 tion ! as the apostle speaks, Phil. iii. 18. Many walk, as 
 « Preaclied May 1, 1678. 
 
 I have told you often, and now tell you even weeping, as 
 enemies of the cross of Christ; as those who are driving 
 on a continual hostility against Christianity, and the de- 
 sign for which Christ was crucified. I doubt there is not 
 less cause now for such a complaint, but only less sense. 
 It is very observable, how great a stress is laid upon the 
 visible decorum of a Christian's walk, up and down in 
 Scripture ; how they are required to be noted that walk 
 disorderly; how earnestly Christians are exhorted and 
 besought to walk becomingly and laudably, so that loveli- 
 ness and amiableness might appear in tlieir walk. I (Paul) 
 the prisoner of the Lord, beseech you, that ye walk wor- 
 thy of the vocation wherewith ye are called, Eph. iv. I. 
 And he saith to the Thessalonians, 1 Epist. ii. 11, 12. Ye 
 know, how we have exhorted, and comforted, (or, encou- 
 raged,) and warned every one of you, even as a father 
 doth his children ; that they walk worthy of God, who 
 hath called you unto his kingdom and glory. And in the 
 epistle to the Colossians, he prays on the behalf of them, 
 as we find him elsewhere praying for others, (chap. i. 10.) 
 that they mightwalk worthy of the Lord unto all pleasing ; 
 so as to make a fair representation of him to the world, 
 that he might be thought well of among men for the sake 
 of them that bear his name and own a relation to him. 
 And so to walk, that is, such worthy and becoming walk- 
 ing, and walking in the Spirit, do manifestly jriiply one 
 another. Whatsoever is worthy, honourable, graceful in 
 the conversation of Christians, can never be wanting, if 
 their conversation be under the constant government and 
 regulating influence of this Spirit. And if the conversa- 
 tion of any be otherwise governed in the general course 
 and tenor of it, it is plain that it is under the govern- 
 ment of some other principle. Do but see, as to this, the 
 proportionable opposition between two passages, viz. this 
 of the text. If ye live in the Spirit, walk also in the Spirit, 
 and that in Col. iii. 7. In which y-e also walked some- 
 times, when ye lived in them ; referring to what was men- 
 tioned before and after, fornication, uncleanness, inordi- 
 nate affection, evil concupiscence, and covetousness, which 
 is idolatry, (ver. 5.) and to anger, wrath, malice, blas- 
 phemy, filthy communications, &c. ver. 8, &c. The course 
 of any one's motion is so conform and agreeable to the 
 principle that lives and rules with him. If we live in the 
 Spirit, we walk in the Spirit ; as it is most befitting we 
 should ; but if we live in the flesh, that is, under the go- 
 vernment and dominion of fleshly principles, accordingly 
 we shall walk ; our walking will easily show, what prin- 
 ciple is rcgnnnt and in dominion. 
 
 It would therefore be worth our while here, to point out 
 some particular things, that are too observable in the walk- 
 ings of many^ and import a most direct repug-nancy and 
 contrariety unto walking in the Spirit ; which are a mani- 
 fest disclaiming of it, as none of the governing principle 
 of those who so walk. 
 
 1. A visible conformity to this world speaks a contrari- 
 ety to walking in the Spirit, and a repugnancy to all its 
 influences and dictates. Plain it is, that the Scripture fre- 
 quently speaks of a spirit and a spirit, that differently and 
 oppositely influence the walking of men. We are told of 
 the .spirit of the world, and of the Spirit that is of God, 1 
 Cor. ii. 12. And as here we read of walking in the Spi- 
 rit, the blessed Spirit of God; so we read of another 
 course of walking, according to the course of this world, 
 according to the prince of the power of the air, the spirit 
 that worketh in the children of disobedience ; among 
 •M'hom we all had our conversation in times past, in the 
 lusts of the flesh, fulfilling the desires of the flesh, and of 
 the mind, Eph. ii. 2, 3. As the holy, blessed spirit of God, 
 wherever that i^iles, doth conform and frame the course 
 and tenor of any one's conversation, in whom it so rules, 
 unto the Gospel of our Lord Jesus Christ, that course of 
 walking that is directed and prescribed there ; so the spirit 
 and genius of the world doth conform men unto this world, 
 and make them shape their course agreeable to it; as 
 that expression with the emphasis signifies, Rom. xii. 2. 
 fi'n uv(Txri'aTii^eudc, Be not conformed (be not configuied) 
 unto this world, so as that your visible shape, frame, and 
 mould, that appear obvious to every ey^e, should represent 
 this world and hold an agreement with that ; but be ye
 
 Serm. XIX 
 
 IN REFERENCE TO PARTICULAR PERSONS. 
 
 559 
 
 transformed by the renewing of your minds, that we may 
 prove (or, give proof) what is that good and acceptable and 
 perfect will of God; as those that are framed according to 
 that, delivered up into the mould by which that will is re- 
 vealed, to wit, that of the Gospel revelation; as in Rom. 
 vi. 17. Now when the course of any men's walking is 
 such as that of the men of the world in common, what 
 doth it discover, but that these men are acted by the .spirit 
 of this world, are ingulfed and swallowed i^p of that 
 spirit 1 one spirit animates both the world and them, and 
 makes them one piece with this world. And if we should 
 give characters of the worldly spirit, you would easily see 
 what the walking and conversation of many doth bespeak 
 to be the governing principle of their lives, or the spirit 
 that influenceth their conversations. Plain it is, that the 
 .spirit of this world is an atheistical spirit, a sensual and 
 earthly spirit, a vain and proud, a malicious and conten- 
 tious spirit. Concerning what is obvious in the walking 
 of persons, agreeable unto such characters as these, give 
 me leave a little to particularize. 
 
 1. A conversation or course of walking transacted in the 
 continual neglect of God, is certainly a conversation go- 
 verned not by the Spirit of God, but by the spirit of this 
 world. Conceive of that Spirit under what notion you 
 will; they that walk under the governing influence of the 
 Spirit of God, walk as before God ; Walk before me, and 
 be thou perfect, or upright, Gen. xvii. 1. Walk as in God's 
 sight, as under his eye ; as that injunction again and again 
 repeated to Abraham doth import. They walk in the fear 
 of the Lord, Acts ix. 31. They, whose hearts must tell 
 them upon reflection, " I do not use to walk in the fear of 
 the Lord from day to day, my life is led as ' without God 
 in the world,' as if I were my own, as if my ways were all 
 in my own disposal, as if it were the sense of my heart. 
 Who is Lord over me ? I am under my own inspection, as 
 if no account was to be taken of my walk;" it will be too 
 plain for such to collect, that they walk not by the Spirit, 
 or after the Spirit, or in the Spirit. For what ! do we 
 think, that that blessed Spirit can be the author to us of 
 our forgetting God and leading ungodly lives'? Doth that 
 cast his fear out of our hearts, which is peculiarly called 
 the Spirit of the fear of the Lord ? Isa. xi. 2. Doth that 
 Spirit drive us away from God, or make us unapprehen- 
 sive of his presence, or make us strangers to him, or as 
 persons unrelated 1 
 
 2. A continued over-eager pursuit of the things of this 
 world, .speaks a coi.versation governed by the spirit of the 
 world, and not by the Spirit of God. I shall not speak 
 here of grosser sensualities, when it is the business of 
 men's lives to satisfy the viler lusts of the flesh ; about 
 which the case is so plain, that they cannot have the face 
 to pretend, that the Spirit of God should be the author of 
 such things in their conversation. And the antithesis is 
 plain, where we have the same precept before, at the IGth 
 verse of this chapter: " Walk in the Spirit, and )'e shall 
 not fulfil the lusts of the flesh." So, fulfil the lusts of the 
 flesh, and it is certain you do not walk in the Spirit ; for 
 the case is as broad as long. But there is what is more 
 refined, what custom and common practice hath made less 
 scandalous. It is hardly thought scandalous to be an 
 earthly-minded man; one, all whose design and the whole 
 business of whose life is, to lay up and amass together a 
 great deal of the treasures of this earth. And it is a latent 
 evil in very great part ; for one man may be very busy in the 
 affairs of this world, and another the like, and yet we can- 
 not tell where the hearts of one and the other are. There 
 maybe many good thoughts, many holy afl^ectionsand act- 
 ings of grace, intermingled with worldly affairs and busi- 
 ness. But notwithstandins; that, there is much (as I say) 
 of the air of a man's spirit to be seen in the constant 
 course and tenor of his walking; a certain mien and de- 
 portment, that speaks the complexion of his soul. Thev 
 that are after the flesh, savour the things of the flesh, and 
 carrj' a scent with them that shows their spirits. We say, 
 that such or such a course of walking, such a word, or such 
 an action, is par komini, just like the vuin, speaks the spirit 
 of the man. When the apostle comes to distinguish be- 
 tvveen walking and walking, conversation and conversa- 
 tion, we see how the minding of earthly things, and 
 having a conversation in heaven, are made the distinctive 
 
 characters of men, Phil. iii. 19, 20. Our business now is 
 to put persons severally upon reflection into their hearts 
 and upon their own walking. It is no matter what we ap- 
 pear, or are thought of by one another; but it greatly con- 
 cerns us to be informed ourselves, what principle or spirit 
 it is that governs our walking, or hath the management of 
 our conversation. And it is no such diflScult, ai least no 
 impossible thing, upon a faithful scrutiny and frequent ob- 
 servation, to understand, what are the great desieus that 
 we are driving in this world, and in what channel the main 
 stream of our actions and endeavours run ; what are the 
 thoughts of our hearts, what their .secret dispositions and 
 propensions. When worldly objects, and worldly thoughts 
 and affections, are most tasteful to us, and most habitual 
 and customary, what shall we say concerning this ca.-el 
 When it is so through the whole course of our walking, 
 who must govern this walk ? Will we dare to entitle the 
 Spirit of God unto the conduct and government of such a 
 conversation as that 7 When my walking from day to day 
 is nothing else but a continual tending towards this earth, 
 a motion downward ; is it the Spirit of God that so 
 thrusts me down and depresses my spirit 1 Is it that, that 
 makes me grovel in the dust, and lead the life of a worm, 
 when I might lead that of an angel, when I might have 
 my way above, as the way of the wise is? 
 
 3. A contentious course of life .speaks the Spirit of God 
 to be none of the governor of our walk, but another spirit 
 most surely. When men love wrangles and contentions, 
 cannot endure to live out of the fire, is the Spirit of God 
 the author of that impure tire 1 It is very much to be ob- 
 served, what the apostle hath reference to more immedi- 
 ately and directly in this very context, wherein the text lies. 
 He first gives this precept of walking in the Spirit , " This 
 I say then. Walk in the Spirit, and ye shall not fulfil the 
 lusts of the flesh," ver. 16. See what the f regoing verses 
 are, ver. 14, 15. All the law is fulfilled in one word, by 
 love ; (as he had said, ver. 13. By love serve one another ;) 
 For all the law is fulfilled in one word, even in this, 
 " Thou .shalt love thy neighbour as thyself But if j^e bite 
 and devour one another, take heed that ye be not con- 
 sumed one of another." Upon which follows the IGih 
 verse. The lusts of the flesh, which he hath more direct 
 and immediate reference to there, are therefore those op- 
 posed to love, such as wrath and anger, envy and malice ; 
 which he speaks of, both afterwards in this chapter, and in 
 other of his epistles. When he comes to enumerate the 
 fruits of the flesh, how great a part do things of this nature 
 bear in that enumeration ! The works of the flesh are 
 manifest. And after he had named some things more 
 grossly sen.sual,(as adultery, fornication, uncleanness, las- 
 civiousness,)and interserted idolatry and witchciaft: then 
 comes hatred, variance, emulations, wrath, strife, seditions, 
 heresies, envyings. And when he had been speaking in 
 Col. iii. 5. of the earthly members, that must be mortified, 
 and for which the wrath of God cometh on the children of 
 disobedience; in the which, says he, to those Colossians, 
 ye also walked sometime, when ye lived in them: then 
 he adds. But now put ye off all these: and as he had 
 named before fornication, uncleanne.ss, &c. so now he goes 
 on with the enumeration, mentioning further anger, wrath, 
 malice, &c. And indeed, if we will not admit the appre- 
 hension deep into our souls, that it is the tjreat business 
 of the Spirit of God equally and alike to enliven and ani- 
 mate both parts of the law of God. to turn both tables into 
 a living law, transcribing them out upon the hearts and 
 spirits of men ; we shall never understand the great work 
 that is to be done upon our souls by the Spirit. We are 
 to consider ix as the Spirit of all love, and goodness, and 
 benignity, and meekness; and then we may ea^-^ily appre- 
 hend what the fruits of this Spirit will be : The friiitof the 
 Spirit is in all goodness and righteousness and truth, Eph. 
 V. 9. It is the reproach of our age, and (which is worse 
 than that) of the Christian name,"that there are so many 
 that conjoin eminent pretences unto religion and spiritual- 
 ity w ith a froward, peevish, perverse, envious, spiteful, 
 malicious spirit, as if it were possible for these things to 
 consist. It is not strange indeed, that a worse spirit should 
 assume and put on some appearances of a better; but you 
 may be sure, that that better Spirit will never disguise it- 
 self by the appearances of the worse. This is the spirit of
 
 560 
 
 TflE WORK OF THE HOLY SPIRIT 
 
 Serm. XIX. 
 
 the world, a spirit that fills the world with nothing but 
 violence and mischief, that shakes and agitates the world 
 with perpetual commotions ; as it will be with it, till it 
 dissolve and be burst asunder at last by the malignity of 
 its own wickedness, and the wrath of God in a just con- 
 junction therewith, coming upon the wicked. That spirit, 
 and a just nemesis, that falls by way of punishment upon it, 
 hath made the world so miserable a region, the very region 
 of all miseries. So that any one may see, that the spirit of 
 the world hath a great hold upon one, ifthings of this import 
 are frequently observable in the course of his conversation. 
 
 4thly, A vain walk is a discovery, that a man's conver- 
 sation is acted and influenced by the spirit of this world, 
 which is a vain spirit. Such persons, who can never find 
 a time wherein to be serious, who show this to be a thing 
 that their hearts abhor from, whom you will find always 
 vain, though you should meet them never so often in a 
 day ; as if a serious thought fled from their spirits as none 
 of its element, and could not tell how to dwell with them ; 
 the very countenance and show of whose coni'ersation dis- 
 covers a continual vanity of spirit ; what ! will such per- 
 sons dare to entitle the Spirit of God to this 1 flath the 
 Spirit of God the government of that man's walking, in 
 which there is no face of seriousness, so that any one that 
 sees hath reason enough to conjecture, that seriousness 
 was never akin to his spirit, or had any place in it J This 
 is matter of very necessary self-reflection. We ought to 
 commune with ourselves very strictly and closely about 
 this thing. Do we think, that we are under the guidance 
 of the Spirit of God, and yet from day to day are unac- 
 quainted with what it means to have serious thoughts and 
 serious frames and dispositions of heart about us 1 
 
 Thus far conformity to the world speaks an unsuitable- 
 ness and contrariety to walking in the Spirit. There are 
 some other things, that are thought to be out of that verge, 
 and are really beside the more common and general course 
 of this walk; which I shall mention under distinct heads 
 from this, because I would speak of them as they are 
 thought of. And therefore I add, 
 
 2ndly, Opinionativeness in the business of religion. 
 Many would little suspect this to be from the spirit of this 
 world : and indeed it is not the very common course of 
 this world to be much concerned about such matters. But 
 no matter from what spirit it is, their own or a worse ; it 
 is not from the Spirit of God; that doth not influence 
 their course. But take aright what I mean by the term, 
 opinionativeness: I mean such as in their ordinary course 
 from day to day either are wholly taken up about specu- 
 lative matters, that either really belong or that ihey affix to 
 religion ; or who only converse about most practical mat- 
 ters speculatively, as if they were matters of mere opinion, 
 and not to be turned or employed to practice at all. A 
 course of walking so managed as this is, certainly is not 
 governed by the Spirit of God; that is the author of no 
 such persuasion to men. Men are apt to think, that they 
 are very safe from sin and blame in this case, because they 
 are things of religion that they are much concerned and 
 taken up about. But what things 1 and how are they 
 employed about them'? Either they converse about the 
 mere skirts and borders of religion, and keep as remote as 
 they can from the heart and vitals of it, from having any 
 commerce with such things: or, if the case be not so, then 
 they presume (and it is a dreadful presumption) to touch 
 tho e most sacred things with sacrilegious hands; to alien- 
 alf the great and deep things of God, that appertain to his 
 kmgdom and glory, from their proper and genuine pur- 
 poses ; that, whereas they should be the food of souls, and 
 the maintenance of the spiritual life, they employ them 
 only to feed curiosity, and so to satisfy a more refined 
 lust. This is the very truth of the case ; and so a great 
 many, that are persons of more leisure and vacancy t"rom 
 worldly afl^airs, spend most of their time. It is doleful to 
 think, that the design, for which such important things are 
 revealed to men, should be so little understood, and so 
 little complied with and answered; and that so great 
 things should be perverted unto so mean and ill services. 
 And it is sad to think of the injury that such men do to 
 their own souls; they go with famished souls from day to 
 day, while they have mo.st proper and suitable nutriment 
 for them just at hand, but they will not touch, so as to 
 
 taste or feed upon these things. Starving m the midst of 
 plenty is their case: or, as if a sick man should have by 
 him, in the midst of his languishing sickness, some vial of 
 very choice and precious spirits, that in all likelihood 
 would be relieving to him, and save him from death, but 
 he keeps it by him, and will discourse to you very curi- 
 ously and philo.sophica!ly concerning the nature and vir- 
 tues of this thing, yet never uses it, nor apprehends that 
 he is concerned to u.se it, or that his case requires it ; and 
 so dies away with a medicine at hand all the while that 
 might have saved his life. 
 
 3. Formality in the business of religion. There are those, 
 who think it cannot serve their turn to speculate all their 
 days, and therefore would practice somewhat. But what 
 do they practise 1 They run in a common road of duties, 
 in which their own hearts upon reflection must confess, 
 that they never had the Spirit of God breathing, and never 
 concerned themselves to have it so. Theirs i,s a religious 
 course, and a course of practical religion; but transacted 
 at the utmost distance from the Spirit of God, so that it 
 and their spirits have no communion from day to day ir. 
 the whole. They keep up a course of prayer in their fa- 
 milies, and it maybe in secret, go to public assemblies, at- 
 tend upon the ordinances of worship; but never find any 
 impression upon their spirits, any warmth or vigour there, 
 or a concern to look after any such thing. They think it 
 well, that such a duty is over, and so that they have walk- 
 ed in a religious course, though strangers to God and hi.'s 
 Spirit all their time. 
 
 4. The neglect of the very form itself. This istoo knoM-n 
 a thing among some persons ; and that too under the very 
 pretence of spirituality. They are too spiritual to be hound 
 to any forms of worship, or any stated course of duties; 
 and that they may be more spiritual, they cast prayer out 
 of their families, and refuse, yea even disdain, to live wor- 
 shipping lives, as too mean for them. All these things 
 speak a manifest i^pugnancy to walking in the Spirit. 
 Sure it is not the governor of any such courses of walking 
 as these are. 
 
 I shall shut up all with some brief reflections upon both 
 parts of the text together. 
 
 Since it doth belong to the Spiri of God by ofiice, as 
 we have asserted, to maintain the life and erovern the walk 
 and motions of Christians ; we should bethink ourselves, 
 of how indispensable necessity the communications of the 
 Spirit for these purposes are unto us, and how miserable a 
 thing it is to be destitute of them. We may easilv appre- 
 hend how necessary that influence is, without which we 
 can neither live nor move; and how miserable to be with- 
 out it. For represent we to ourselves the case of a poor, 
 languishing, decrepit creature, that is deprived of motive 
 power ; suppose him barely, to live, to have only life 
 enough to feel himself in a dying condition : now is not 
 the case so with many Christians, with some of those per- 
 haps that have the root of the matter in them 1 They have 
 but life enough to feel that they are consuming, and in a 
 state wherein the things that remain are even ready to die! 
 That they do not die, is by Divine vouchsafement, and 
 none of their care. What a sad case is this ! And is it 
 not yet worse with some? They have not life enough to 
 take any notice, or make inquiry, whether they live or no : 
 as persons that have some life left, yet may be incapable 
 of considering whether they are alive or dead. Many 
 Christians are so far from having that motive power, that 
 is to be exercised in the managing of their own walk, and 
 that would be so if it were not through their own default ; 
 that they are so altogether destitute also of any presence 
 and vital influence of the Spirit, as never to consider the 
 case, " Am I alive or dead 1" Certainly this is a miserable 
 case. And I may add. 
 
 Where there is manifestly such a destitution, there are 
 some things very intolerable, which yet are too obvious 
 and frequent with many such. As, 
 
 1. It is intolerable in the case, to lay aside the appre- 
 hension of the distinction between natural and spiritual 
 life, natural motion and spiritual. You may judge, whether 
 the mention of this be not a most apparently needful thing. 
 Are there not a great many, that spend away their days 
 without so much as ever considering, that there is such a 
 thing as .spiritual life and motion, or a region all replenished
 
 Sr:i;M. XIX. 
 
 IN REFERENCE TO PARTICULAR PERSONS. 
 
 5G1 
 
 with spiritual vitality, a distinct sphere from that of na- 
 tn.re wherein alone the rest of men do converse 1 They 
 n^.'er think of such a distinction between world and world ; 
 an orb of spiritual life, and that mean and lower orb, 
 wherein only a low kind of animality fills up all. 
 
 •2. It is an intolerable thing in this case, to be unappre- 
 hensive of what others find of the power and vigour of 
 that other Spirit moving in them, even the Spirit of God. 
 There are some, that through grace (though that is not to 
 be vaunted of, and whereof it becomes none to make a 
 boast) feel the stirrings of another principle in them dif- 
 ferent from the spirit of this world : they feel themselves 
 to live, and to be acted in their walk by a spring of life 
 that is from above. Those that are without the experience 
 of such a thing, will not believe there is any such thing ; 
 as if their knowledge were to measure all realities ; as 
 though they were persons commensurate in their under- 
 standings and experience with the whole nature of things. 
 This is just for all the world, as if a languid person, that 
 hath been long confined to his chamber and bed, should 
 come to fancy, that his chamber and bed M'ere all the 
 world, and that there was nothing done among mankind 
 but what he saw transacted in his own chamber : or, if we 
 should imagine a thinking power to be in the grave, and 
 fancying a grave to be the universe. 
 
 3. It is intolerable, to be unconcerned about our own 
 part and share in the world and region of spiritual life and 
 motion, of which we have been speaking. If there were a 
 line to be drawn through the world to sever in it the living 
 from the dead, and a public notification were made of this 
 all the world over ; would we not then be very much con- 
 cerned, on which side of the line we placed ourselves, 
 that it might be where we could live? But how strange 
 is it, that in this case many are altogether unconcerned, 
 whether they are of the living or the dead side ! Lastly, 
 
 ■1. It is a mo,st intolerable thing, to make no applications 
 to this Spirit, after we know it.s distance. We know it is 
 the Author of life, and the Governor of all holy motions 
 unto all the children of God ; and yet never apply to it, 
 never put up a sigh or a cry ! How intolerable is this ! 
 Do we know of any other way to live 1 Do we think, 
 that there can be such a thing as everlasting life, a life 
 which shall never end, and which shall also never begin 1 
 Sure if there be such a life, it must sometime begin : 
 and where will we place the beginning of it, but in the 
 communication of that .spiritual, vital influence, which 
 once given is a spring of living waters, springing up unto 
 life eternal 1 
 
 Let us so therefore represent the matter to ourselves ; 
 the high dignity, the immense fulness, the royal magnifi- 
 cent bounty and benignity of this blessed Spirit ; that we 
 may neither neglect it, nor distrust it. Represent the ten- 
 dency of all its communications, and consider them as the 
 earnest and pledges of everlasting life, the blossomings of 
 glory; that which must be our preparation for, and our 
 a.ssurance of, the eternal state of life. And then d> sire 
 such communications above all things. Let this be the 
 sense of our souls, (sure there is rea.son enough that it 
 should be so,) " Lord, let me rather live in poverty, live 
 in pain and sickness, live in disgrace all my dav-s than 
 live without thy Spirit ! Let not that Spirit be a .^ranger 
 to me, but inhabit and dwell in me, act and move me : and 
 be my condition what it will in all external respects, I am 
 unsolicitous, I will never capitulate, never dispute the 
 matter." Till that Spirit come to be valued by us, and 
 all its communications, even above all things else that men 
 are wont to count dear to them, we have rea.son to appre- 
 hend, that it and we are like to continue still strangers; 
 and if we be strangers to the Divine Spirit, we must be 
 acquainted with misery both in this and another state.
 
 THE 
 
 PROSPEROUS STATE OF THE CHRISTIAN INTEREST 
 
 BEFORE THE END OF TIME, 
 
 BY A PLENTIFUL EFFUSION OF THE HOLY SPIRIT ; 
 
 CONSIDERED IN FIFTEEN SERMONS, 
 
 ON EZEK. XXXIX. 29. 
 
 TO THE READER. 
 
 I APPREHEND little occasioii to make an apology for the publication of the following discoTirses. They wno relish 
 Mr. Howe's inimitable spirit of piety, judgment, copiousness, and force, in the management of every subject ne hath 
 imdertaken, will be glad of any remains of so great a man ; and those who have been conversant with his writings, 
 will hardly M'ant any other voucher, besides the sermons themselves, that they are genuine, they so evidently carry 
 in them, to a person of taste, the marks which always distinguish his performances. 
 
 They have not indeed had the advantage of his own masterly hand to prepare them for the press, and give them 
 their last iinishing ; but were his discourses from the pulpit, taken first in short-hand by the hand of a very ready and 
 judicious writer, who afterwards copied them out fair with the minutest exactness, as they were delivered. This very 
 precise accuracy made it necessary, that they should be transcribed anew, before they saw the light. This I have 
 adventured to do, without the alteration or addition of any one thought. But, in discourses delivered by a preacher 
 without notes, some repetitions naturally occur in the pulpit ; and very usefully, to enable the hearer to discern the 
 connexion of the discourse as he goes along, and to make the deeper impression. These might appear tedious to a 
 reader, who hath the whole before him ; and therefore are omitted, further than they seemed to carry a peculiar 
 emphasis, or than a diflerent representation of the same thought was apprehended to convey the idea with greater 
 force. The writer appears to have religiously followed the very words of the author, when he cited passages of 
 Scripture by memory. It was judged proper to consult the texts themselves, and to cite them as they lie in the Bible ; 
 except where the author mijjht be supposed out of choice to substitute another English word, as more expressive ot 
 the sense of the original. The repetition also of former discourses at the beginning of another sermon hath been 
 omitted where nothing new occurred. But where a new thought is suggested, in such a repetition, it hath been care- 
 fully inserted in its proper place. This is all the variation I have allowed myself to make from the copy; and so 
 much I apprehend will be accounted reasonable and necessary by all that are acquainted with such things. 
 
 The subject can hardly fail to be particularly acceptable. The reverend author hath often indeed expressed in 
 general the same catholic sentiments in several of the works which he published himself; and shown his mind to 
 have been uniformly the same as here, upon that head, wherein the prosperity of the Christian interest lies : that it 
 consists not it the advancement of any party among Christians as such, or of any distinguishing name, or in any mere 
 external forms ; but in real vital religion and conformity to God. He hath also more than once intimated his expecta- 
 tion of better times for the church of God, than the present state of it. But he hath no where so professedly and dis- 
 tinctly explained his sentiments concerning the latter days of the Christian church, as in these discourses. 
 
 They were all preached in the course of a Wednesday lecture, which he formerly kept up at Cordwainer's Hall in 
 this city; and all within the year 167S, as appears by the dates prefixed to each. A time, wherein he was in the 
 vigour of life and height of judgment, between forty and fifty years old ; and within a few years after his settlement 
 with that congregation of protestant dissenters, where he ministered till his death. That was a time of peculiar dis- 
 tress and danger, not only to protestants out of the legal establishment in these kingdoms, but to the reformed interest 
 in general through Europe. This may be supposed to have engaged his thoughts in so long attention to this subject, 
 which animates with the hope of better times to come. 
 
 There are other discourses immediately preceding these at the same lecture, concerning the work of the Spirit in 
 every age upon particular persons ; as these relate to his work upon the Christian communitj', to be expected in the 
 last age. A copy of those sermons, drawn up by the same writer, is fallen into the hands of a very worthy brother of 
 this city, by as unexpected a providence as these came into mine. I hope he may be prevailed with to introduce 
 them into the world, if those which are now offered meet with a favourable reception. And both these volumes to- 
 gether, will contain the sum of this great man's sentiments concerning the important doctrine of the Holy Spirit. 
 
 If any inquire, why these sermons were not inserted in the late collection of Mr. Howe's works in folio ; I answer ; 
 besides tliat it was resolved to insert none there, but those which he had published himself; so, if it had been thought
 
 Seum. I. 
 
 THE WORK OF THE HOLY SPIRIT, &c. 
 
 56 
 
 proper to add more, the copy of these came not into my hands, or within my notice, till that edition was made 
 public. 
 
 Such an index cannot be judged needful to a particular discourse ; as I thought proper to add to that collection, 
 where the subjects treated of are so various. It appeared more useful here to give a view of his whole scheme upon 
 the argument, by way of contents: and because of the felicity of this author in descants upon Scripture, an index ot 
 the texts, which he hath taken notice of, is added even to this short treatise. 
 
 May the great Lord of the harvest succeed the revived labours of our fathers, and the endeavours of those in the 
 present age, who are called to serve him in the Gospel ; and still raise a seed to serve him, both in the ministry- and 
 out of it, which from time to time shall be accounted to him for a generation. This is the hearty prayer of 
 
 An unworthy Servant of 
 
 our common Lord, 
 
 Prpscot-street. 
 Bee. 6th, 1725. 
 
 JOHN EVANS. 
 
 SERMOx\ I.* 
 
 Ezek. xxxix. 29. 
 
 Neither will I hide my face any more from them ; for I 
 have poured out my Spirit upon the house of Israel, saith 
 the Lord God. 
 
 The operations of the Holy Ghost may be considered 
 either as relating to particular persons, in a single and pri- 
 vate capacity ; for the regenerating of souls, or implant- 
 ing in them the principles of the divine and spiritual life ; 
 the maintaining of that life ; the causing and ordering all 
 the motions that are proper thereunto : or, as having an 
 influence upon the — felicity and prosperous state of the 
 church in general. — For this last, the Scripture that I have 
 pitched upon, gives us a very plain and sufficient ground. 
 
 It is manifest, that it is a very happy and prosperous 
 state, which is here referred unto, if you look back upon 
 this and the foregoing chapters, the xxxvi. xxxvii. and 
 xxxviii. which are all congenerous7and as it were of a piece 
 with this. You find such things copiously spoken of and 
 promised, as we are wont to consider in the constitution 
 of a prosperous happy state, in reference to what their case 
 required; reduction from captivity, victory over their ene- 
 mies, abundant plenty of all things, settled tranquillity 
 and peace, entire union among themselves, both Ephraim 
 and Judah, as you will find it expressed ; the renewal of 
 God s covenant with them, after their so great and long- 
 continued defection and apostacy from it; in which cove- 
 nant he would be their God, and take them for his people, 
 and have the relation avowed and made visible to all the 
 world, that he and they were thus related to one another. 
 These things you may find at large in the several chapters 
 mentioned ; importing all the favour that we could sup- 
 pose any way conducible to make a people happy. And 
 indeed the same thing is compendiously and summarily 
 held forth in the words of the text themselves : " Neither 
 will T hide my face any more from them ; for I have poured 
 out my Spirit upon the house of Israel, saith the Lord 
 God." We cannot in few words have a fuller account 
 given of a happy state. To consider these words them- 
 selves ; the contents of them are, I. A gracious prediction : 
 "Neither will I hide my face any more from them:" a 
 prediction, or prophetic promise, or a promissory prophe- 
 cy of a most happy state: and, 2. The reason given here- 
 of, why God would provide that all things should be well 
 with them in other respects : "For I have poured out my 
 Spirit upon the house of Israel, saith the Lord God." 
 
 There are two things, that must be the matter of a lit- 
 tle previous inquiry, in order to our taking up what we 
 are to insist upon from this Scripture ; — 1. The import of 
 this negative expression, " Neither will I hide my face any 
 more from them ;" and, — 2. How we are to understand 
 the subject of the promised favour here, as it is designed 
 by this name, "the house of Israel." — These things being 
 cleared, the matters that I intend to recommend to you 
 and insist upon, will plainly result. 
 
 I. As to the former, what this negative expression should 
 
 mean, " Neither will I hide my face any more from them." 
 
 It is needful, that we may understand that, to know what 
 
 the Scripture doth often mean, and may well be supposed 
 
 * Preaclied May 3th, 167S. 
 
 to mean here, by " the face of God." It is very plam, that 
 it frequently means his providential appearances, or the 
 aspect of providence one way or another. And thus we 
 are more frequently to understand it, when it is spoken of 
 in reference to a community, or the collective body of a 
 people ; yea, and sometimes, when in reference to particu- 
 lar persons too. And hence it will easily appear, how we are 
 to take the opposite expressions, of his " making his face to 
 shine ;" or of his " hiding, or covering, or clouding his face." 
 It appears from sundry scriptures, that by his — showing 
 his face, — or letting it be .seen, — givingthe sight of it, or— 
 causing his face to shine, giving the plea.sant sight of it, or 
 — lifting up the light of his countenance, — (expres.;ions of 
 the same import,) the favourable aspect of providence is to 
 be imderstood ; when these expressions are used, as I said, 
 more especiallv in reference to the collective body of a 
 people. And so the hiding of his face, signifies as much 
 as the change of these more favourable aspects of provi- 
 dence, for those that are more severe, and that do import 
 anger and displeasure. For so, by the aspects and ap- 
 pearances of providence, it is to be understood, whether 
 God be propitious and favourably inclined toward a peo- 
 ple, or whether he be displeased and have a controversy 
 with them : as it may be discerned in the face of a man, 
 whether he be pleased or displeased. Wherefore you 
 have anger and severity, which uses to be signified by 
 providence, and as it is so signified held forth to us under 
 this same phrase or form of speech. Dent. xxxi. 18. 1 
 will surely hide my face in that day, for all the evils which 
 they shall have wrought, in that they are turned unto 
 other gods. See what the expres.sion there is exegetical 
 of, or with what other phrases it is joir<ed, as manifestly 
 intending the same thing ; such as, his anger being kin- 
 dled again.st them, and his forsaking them. It is intersert- 
 ed among such expressions again and again. So ver. 17. 
 Mv anger shall be kindled against them in that day. and 
 I will forsake them, and I will hide my face from them ; 
 and thev shall be devoured, and many evils and troubles 
 shall befall them ; so that they will say in that day. Are 
 not these evils come upon us, because our Grod is no> 
 amongst us 1 In the same sense the word is nsed, chap. 
 xxxiiT 20., and in many other scriptures, in reference to 
 bodies of men. And sometimes in reference to a particu- 
 lar person ; as in Job xxxiv. 2*1. When he srives quiet- 
 ness, who shall give trouble ? and when he hides his face, 
 who shall behold him 1 Who dare beholil him, when 
 clouds and frowns do eclipse that bright and pleasant light 
 of his countenance before lift up, whether it be against a 
 nation or a particular person? as there Elihu speaks. 
 And he had been speaking before of the acts of provi- 
 dence, in litling up and casting down at his pleasure, and 
 according as men's ways and deportment towards him in 
 this kind or that did make it most suitable and fit. And 
 therefore also the church, being represented as in a very 
 afflictive condition, exposed to the insultations of tyran- 
 nous enemies, and having suffered very hard and griev- 
 ous things from them; this is the petition that is put up in 
 theca.se, Turn us, and cause thy face to shine upon us, 
 and we shall be saved, Psal. Ixxx. 3, If). 
 
 Therefore it is obvious to collect, what the like expres- 
 sion here must mean ; "Neither will I hide my face any 
 more from them." It mu.st mean, that he would put them 
 into a prosperous condition: the course of his providence
 
 5C4 
 
 THE WORK OF THE HOLY SPIRIT IN 
 
 Serm. I. 
 
 toward them should be such as would import favour and 
 kindness to them. And, " Neither will I hide my face 
 any more from them," imports the permanency and set- 
 tledness of this happy and prosperous state ; that it should 
 not be a short, lucid interval only; but through a very 
 considerable and continued tract of time this should be 
 the posture and course of his providence towards them. 
 And then, 
 
 II. For the subject of this promised favour, as it is de- 
 signed here by the expression, " The house of Israel." 
 
 1. I doubt not but that it hath a meaning included, as it 
 is literally taken, of that very people wont to be known by 
 that name, " The house of Israel," the seed of Jacob. 
 
 2. But I as little doubt, that it hath a further meaning 
 too. And it is an obvious observation, than which none 
 more obvious, that the universal church, even of the Gos- 
 pel constitution, is frequently in the prophetical scriptures 
 of the Old Testament represented by this, and by the 
 equivalent names of Jerusalem and Zion, and the like. 
 And the reason was as obvious as the thing itself; for they 
 were the church of God, that people, and they who were 
 proselyted to them : and the prophecies of the Old Testa- 
 ment we know were first and most immediately directed 
 to them ; and were more likely to be regarded by them, by 
 how much the more the church, whom these prophecies 
 did concern, was more constantly designed or set forth by 
 their own name. It inviied them to look towards the great 
 things represented and held forth in these prophecies, as 
 things wherein they had a special concern, and wherein 
 their interest was bound up: though they had no reason 
 to think, that they were things appropriate to them. And 
 we find, that in the New Testament too the name is re- 
 tained: " All are not Israel that are of Israel. He is not 
 a Jew that is one outwardly :" he means certainly a Chris- 
 tian. " IknoAv the blasphemy of them that say they are 
 Jews, and are not." Rom. ii. 28. Rev. ii. 9. And we have 
 little reason to doubt, and there will be occasion to make 
 it more apparent hereafter, that so we are to explain the 
 signification of this name here; not to exclude the natu- 
 ral Israelites, but also to include the universal Christian 
 church. 
 
 These things being thus far cleared, the ground will be 
 plain upon which to recommend to you a twofold truth 
 from these words; viz. — First, That there is a state of per- 
 manent serenity and happiness appointed for the universal 
 church of Christ upon earth. — Secondly, that the immedi- 
 ate original and cause of that felicity and happy state, is 
 a laro;e and general effusion or pouring forth of the Spirit. 
 — It is the latter of these that I principally intend, and 
 shall speak more briefly to the former. 
 
 But before I speak distinctly and severally to either of 
 them, I shall do what is not usual with me ; that is, enter- 
 tain you a while with somewhat of a preface, to give you 
 therein an account in reference to both, and of the whole 
 of the intended discourse upon this subject, what I design, 
 and upon w^hat score I think it useful and proper, that such 
 a matter, as this is, be entertained into your consideration 
 and my own. Herein I shall, 1st, lay before you sundry 
 things obvious unto the consideration of considering per- 
 sons, that will serve for some representation of the state of 
 the Christian church hitherto, and at this time, and as it 
 may continue to be for some time hence. And then, 2dly, 
 shall show j'ou in some other particulars, what it is rea- 
 sonable s'.ould be designed and expected in a discourse of 
 this nature, and upon such a subject as this is, in way of 
 accommodation to such a state of the case 1 
 
 I. As to the former; these things I reckon very obvious 
 to .such as are of considering minds. 
 
 1. That the state of the Christian church hath been for 
 the most part very calamitous and sad all along hitherto, 
 in external respects. You know it was eminently so in the 
 time of the first forming of the Christian church. The 
 Christian name was a name everv where spoken against ; 
 and they, that delivered themselves up to Christ, deliver- 
 ed themselves up to all manner of troubles and persecu- 
 tions, even upon his account and for his name's sake. He 
 foretold it'unto his more immediate followers, that for his 
 name they should be hated of all men ; and they were to 
 expect the most malignant hatred ; and he told them too 
 of the effects agreeable and suitable to such a principle. 
 
 The church was externally miserable in the first ages of 
 it by persecutions from without: and after it arrived to a 
 state of some tranquillity and peace, by the favour of the 
 world and its more gentle aspect upon it; after there was 
 an emperor of the Christian religion, that would own and 
 patronize it against the rage and fury that it was pursued 
 with before: then it soon bred trouble enough within it- 
 self, and grew factious and divided, and broken into parts, 
 pestered with heresies, and filled with varieties of con- 
 tending opinions and sects ; and then these were continual- 
 ly the authors of troubles to one another, according as one 
 or another could get opportunity to grasp power into its 
 hand. This hath been the state of things with it all along, 
 though there have been some more quiet intervals here 
 and there, in this or that part of the Christian world. It 
 can hardly be said, the church hath ever had any consid- 
 erable season of tranquillity and serenity, universally, and 
 all at once, even in any time. 
 
 2. It is more obvious, as we may suppose, unto the most, 
 that the state of the church is externally very miserable 
 and sad at this time. Those, that understand any thing of 
 the world, cannot but^now so much ; and we need not to 
 except that part of tlie church at home, as you all well 
 enough know. In other countries Christians are rolling 
 and weltering in one another's blood ; and you know the 
 shattered .state of things within ourselves. 
 
 3. By the present posture of affairs, the position and as- 
 pect of things, we cannot say that matters are in a tenden- 
 cy unto a better state ; but have rather reason to fear, that 
 all will grow worse and worse. Clouds gather and tliick- 
 en, and grows blacker and blacker, and spread far and 
 wide over the church of ChrLst in the world, and are very 
 likely to discharge into very tremendous storms : accord- 
 ing to hum.an probabilities and experience nothing else is 
 to lie expected. 
 
 4. It is to be observed too, that there hath long been a 
 retraction in a very great measure of the Spirit from the 
 church. There was a'gradual retraction soon after that 
 large effusion of it at first in the apostle's days; untc 
 which in Acts ii. we find by Peter that scripture in Joel 
 applied, " I will pour out my Spirit upon all flesh." Then 
 they said it had its accomplishment ; though I doubt not 
 it is to have another and fuller accomplishment ; as it is 
 no unusual thing for the same prophetic scripture to be 
 said to be fulfilled again and again; as that passage, "Out 
 of Egypt I have recalled my Son," applied to the people 
 of Israel and to Christ. A long continued retraction there 
 hath been of that Spirit, which is the very life of that 
 body; whose work and business it is to act and animate 
 it in every part. We are not now inquiring concerning the 
 cause of the retraction. Much must be referred to sove- 
 reign pleasure, more to justice: for undoubtedly Godhaih 
 proceeded according to the tenor of his own rule, I will 
 be with you, as long as you a re with me; and he did never 
 in any degree leave his people first, that bare his name. 
 Union always begins on his part; breaches on ours. But 
 notwithstanding that so large effusion of the Spirit at first, 
 when the Gospel light first dawned upon the world, and 
 that pleasant spring of the Christian interest and religion 
 that then appeared and showed itself; how gradual was 
 the languor, that set it a fainting and withering by steps 
 and degrees, very discernible to those that look upon the 
 histories of former days ! Though yet the life and vigour 
 was still much preserved, as long as the church was in a 
 suffering state from without by the persecution of pagan- 
 ish enemies ; as we know it was, for the three first centu- 
 ries and more, in some degree and in some part of it. 
 
 But afler once the world came to cast more benign as- 
 pects upon it, how soon did the life and vigour of the 
 Christian church evaporate and expire 1 So as that there 
 seemed to be a body left in a great measure destitute of a 
 soul : to allude to the expression that the prophet Jeremiah 
 uses to the people of Israel, " Be instructed, lest my soul 
 depart from j^ou." The very soul of the church was in a 
 great measure departed ; departed imto that degree, that it 
 was become such a mere piece of formality, that another 
 religion takes the advantage to vie with the Christian; the 
 most fabulous, the most vain, the most de.spicable, that 
 could be invented ; and of the most despicable original, 
 from Mahomet, a mean, inconsiderable, ignorant, illiterate
 
 Serm. I. 
 
 REFERENCE TO THE CHRISTIAN CHURCH. 
 
 565 
 
 man ; but a common soldier at the first, and yet the author 
 of a religion so vastly spread in the world as it is at this 
 day, and even so as to eat out Christianity in so consider- 
 able parts where it had obtained and taken place. This 
 was argument enough of a great retraction of that Spirit, 
 that made the Christian church and religion, while it was 
 more visibly breathing, a mighty, majestic, awful, com- 
 manding thing. 
 
 About that time, when the apostacy in the Christian 
 church became more visible, and the usurpation of the 
 man of sin more explicit and avowed ; that is, when Boni- 
 face the third obtained from Phocas the emperor the grant 
 of the primacy, about that very time, within sixteen years 
 after, was the Alcoran framed. When the church was be- 
 come so despicable, when the Christian religion was but a 
 formality and shadow, then was the time to set up this des- 
 picable religion ; and nothing more despicable could have 
 been set up. Yet at a strange rate it hath vied, so as to 
 carry again.st the Christian interest the cause so far, and 
 unto so great a degree, and for so long a time. 
 
 And then, for the first setting up of that religion, a time 
 was chosen by Satan on purpose. As the church history 
 of those times doth acquaint us, there was nobody to make 
 opposition to the Mahometan dotages and delirations. In 
 the Eastern church they were all busy in propagating such 
 and such opinions, that the)'^ were contending about, on 
 the one hand and the other, amongst themselves. And in 
 the Western churches they were all engaged generally, and 
 so verjr busy in inventing, new forms and ceremonies and 
 rites, that there was no body at leisure, not any of the doc- 
 tors in the church to be found, (as the history tells us,) to 
 make any opposition, or write any thing against the dota- 
 ges of Mahometanism, that then first began to appear. 
 
 Afterwards, into how strange a darkness and stupidity 
 did the Christian church and interest and religion sink! 
 so that for several ages together there was an utter vacan- 
 cy and destitution, not only of divine, but of all common 
 human knowledge; nothing but the grossest and most 
 horrid barbarism, that spread itself through the Christian 
 church. And it was bad, if we may not say worse, through 
 the pride and tyranny of those that took upon them to be 
 governors in the church ; and the viciousness, immorality, 
 and sensuality, and all other kinds of wickedness, that 
 abounded among the vulgar common sort. And so it con- 
 tinued, till some later stirrings and efforts towards refor- 
 mation : which, how partial they have been, that is, in how 
 small a. part, and how imperfect and incomplete where they 
 have been, and what recedations there have been, where 
 anv thing hath been effected and done in that kind ; those 
 who know any thing of former and foreign affairs cannot 
 but understand. 
 
 And even noAv at this day, to cast our eyes round about 
 us, whether we take nearer or more remote views, alas ! 
 how little, how little is there to be discerned of the true 
 spirit of Christianity ! Yea, how much, that speaks the 
 very opposite thereunto, the spirit of the world ! A spirit 
 of malignity, that is working, and striving, and contending 
 every where, and lurking under the profession, the usurped 
 and abused profession, of the Christian name ! So that, to 
 speak as the truth of the matter is, a Christian is become 
 but just like another man, and the Christian church just 
 like the rest of the world. Christianity hath put on the garb 
 of Paganism in worship in a great part of it; in manners 
 and conversation in the most part, the far greater part. 
 
 5. It is to be observed and considered too, that we are 
 still encountered with this two-fold evil at once and m con- 
 junction, wheresoever we cast our eye ; that is, the state of 
 the church eternally calamitous and miserable, and the 
 retraction of the Spirit ; and the former of these still caused 
 by the latter. This is very observable too, that these two 
 things are in a connexion, and conjunct. 
 
 6. It is to be considered further, that we are much more 
 apt to be sensible of the effect, than of the cause ; whether 
 we hear of such effects abroad, or whether we feel or fear 
 them at home. If we hear of great devastations of coun- 
 tries, towns sacked, battles fought, blood spilt, barbanms 
 usages, and acts of violence done ; we are struck with a 
 smarter and quicker sense upon the reportof these things, 
 than if we be made to understand, how the religion of 
 Christians doth languish every where; or when we hear 
 
 40 
 
 of the prevailing of pride and anger, and malice and con- 
 tention ; or of formality, deadness, indifierency, lukewarm- 
 ness in the things of God. That is, the evils that are 
 caused, affect us a great deal more, than those that we are 
 to reflect upon as the cause, and which are all compre- 
 hended in that one caiise, the retraction of the Spirit, or 
 that it is in so great a measure retired and withdrawn. 
 
 7. It is to be considered too, (as pursuant unto that last 
 note,) that we are a great deal more apt to covet a state 
 of external prosperity for the church, than the effu.sion and 
 communication of the Spirit, and those things which would 
 be the most direct issues and effects of that. Let us deal 
 with our own hearts about this mailer, and consider, 
 whether we be not more taken, and it do not far more 
 highly please our imagination, to represent to ourselves, or 
 to have represented, a state of external tranquillity and 
 prosperity to the church, wherein we think to have a part 
 or share, or may have; than to have a representation made 
 of such a state of things, wherein the life and power of 
 godliness, the mortification of sensual lusts, eminent self- 
 denial, andtheserious intending and designing for heaven, 
 should be things visible and conspicuous in ever)' one'.s 
 eye. Let us consider, whether the former of these do not 
 lake our hearts a great deal more than the latter, if it be not 
 more pleasing and grateful to our thoughts. And again, 
 
 8. It is to be considered also, that many are apt to mis- 
 take, and to take wrong measures of the Christian church, 
 and the Christian interest, and the Spirit that breathes in 
 and animates that church : that is, to reduce all these to 
 the measure of this or that party, to which they have 
 thought fit to addict themselves ; and to judge it goes 
 well or ill with the church, according as it goes well or 
 ill with their own party ; and to judge there is more or 
 less of the Spirit, as there is more or less zeal for the pro- 
 pugning the interest of that party : and so the measures of 
 the church and the Christian interest are mistaken ; but 
 especially the Spirit of Christ most of all mistaken and 
 misapprehended. The heats and fervours which some 
 have for a private, little, narrow interest of their own, are 
 taken for that great, large, universalizing Spirit of our 
 Lord Jesus Christ, that in all communications works with 
 the greatest sweetness and benignity, and disposes the 
 spirit of a man answerabl}' herein to itself. 
 
 9. It is to be considered, that Ave are more apt to con- 
 fine and limit our eye and thoughts unto what is present, 
 than to extend them to what is future ; whether the present 
 state of things be good or bad, pleasing to us or unplcasing. 
 For if the state of things be good, and such as pleases us. 
 then we think a change will never come; our mountain is 
 so strong, as never to be removed : and if it be had, we 
 are as apt to despond, that things must be always just as 
 they are now, that it can never be better. 
 
 10. Those that do look forward unto what is future, if 
 there be any representation set before them, any prospect 
 of what is more pleasing and grateful to them, are more apt 
 to be curious about the circumstances of such an expected 
 state, than to be serious in minding the substantials that 
 do belong to that slate itself And that vain curiosity to 
 inquire, joined with an overmuch boldness in some persons 
 to determine about the times and seasons, when such and 
 such things shall be, hath certainly been no small preju- 
 dice unto the interest of the Christian religion in our days, 
 upon a twofold account. The disappointment hath dashed 
 the hopes of many of the better sort, and confirmed the 
 atheism of those of the worst sort. Those of the better sort 
 many of them that have allowed themselves to be so cu- 
 rious and bold, curious in their inquiries, and bold in their 
 definitions and determinations; when ihey have found 
 themselves disappointed, have been apt to conclude con- 
 cerning all the "concernments of religion, as concerning 
 those vvherein they have found ihem-elves disappointed; 
 as thinkinc-, that their imagination was as true as the Gos- 
 pel about these things : and so. if they have not undergone 
 the shock of a 'emptatioB to adhere more easily and loose- 
 ly unto the Christian profession upon account "of such dis- 
 appointments, yet at least their spirits have been as it 
 were sunk into despondency, because they relied upon 
 false grounds, and which could not sustain a rational hope. 
 And then the .atheists and infidels have been highly con- 
 firmed in their scepticism and atheism, because such and 
 
 I
 
 566 
 
 THE WORK OF THE HOLY SPIRIT IN 
 
 Serm. II, 
 
 ?uch have been so confident of things, wherein they have 
 been mistaken ; and becavxse they pretended to have their 
 ground for their belief and expectation out of the Scrip- 
 lures, therefore those Scriptures must sure signify nothing. 
 These things being considered, and we having the case 
 so before us, as these things taken together do represent 
 
 II. That, which is reasonable to be designed and ex- 
 pected in discourses of this nature, and concerning such a 
 subject a? we have here before us, should be comprised 
 within such particulars as these. 
 
 1, To establish the belief of this thing in the substance 
 of it, being a thing so very plain in the Scripture ; that 
 there shall be a permanent state of tranquillity and pros- 
 perity unto the church of Christ on earth. So much, I 
 doubt not, we have a sufficient ground for, in the word of 
 truth, and even in this very prophecy which this Scripture 
 hath relation to ; as we may have occasion further to 
 show. 
 
 2. To settle the apprehension fully, (that we should aim 
 at on both sides; I in speaking, and you in hearing,) of 
 the connexion between an external prosperity, and this in- 
 ternal flourishing of religion in the church, by the com- 
 munication of the Holy Ghost in larger and fuller measures 
 of it: the connexion of these with one another reciprocally, 
 so as that there can never be an externally happy state 
 unto the church without that communication of the Spirit ; 
 and that with it there cannot but be, if we speak of the 
 freeing of it from intestine troubles, which will be the only 
 things that it shall be liable to annoyance from in all like- 
 lihood in a further course and tract of time. 
 
 Take the former part of this connexion, that is, — that 
 without such a communication of the Spirit an external 
 state of tranquillity and prosperity to the church Can never 
 be ; — we should design the fixing of this apprehension 
 well: for certainly they are but vain expectations, fond 
 wishes, to look for such prosperity without reference unto 
 that large and general communication of the Spirit. Ex- 
 perience hath done very much in several parts of the world, 
 if we had no prospect nearer us, to discover and refute the 
 folly of any such hope, that any external good state of 
 things can make the church happy. How apparent is it, 
 that if there should be never so much a favourable aspect 
 of time, yet if men are left to their own spirits, and acted 
 only by them, all the business will presently be for one 
 person to endeavour to lurch another, and to grasp and get 
 power in their hands ! and then they will presently run 
 into sensuality, or make it their business to serve carnal 
 and secular interests, grasping at this world, mingled with 
 the spirit of it. Thus it cannot but be, it must be, if an 
 effusion of the Spirit be not conjunct in time with any such 
 external smiles of time. There can be no good time unto 
 the church of God, without the giving of another Spirit, 
 his own Spirit. That, or nothing, must make the church 
 happy. 
 
 And that cannot but do it ; which is the other side of 
 the connexion. For let us but recount with ourselves, 
 what it must needs be, when such a spirit shall be poured 
 forth, as by which all shall be disposed and inclined to 
 love God, and to devote themselves to him, and to serve 
 his interest, and to love one another as themselves, and 
 each one to rejoice in another's welfare, so as that the good 
 and advantage of one shall be the joy and delight of all ! 
 when men shall have no designs one upon another, no 
 endeavours of tripping up one another's heels, nor of rais- 
 ing themselves upon one another's ruins! This cannot but 
 infer a good state of things, excepting what may be from 
 external enemies. It is true indeed, that when there was 
 the largest communication of the Spirit that ever was in 
 the church, yet it was molested by pagans : but then it 
 was not troublesome in itself, it did not contend part by 
 part with itself. And if the communication of the Spirit, 
 as we have reason to expect in the latter days, be very 
 general, so as not only to improve and heighten the church 
 in respect of internal liveliness and vigour ; but also to in- 
 crease it in extent, as no doubt it will ; then less of trouble 
 is to be feared from without. But we shall still be miser- 
 able, and it cannot be avoided but we must be so, if with 
 the smiles of the times a large communication of the Spirit 
 * Preaclied May 15th, 1678. 
 
 be not conjunct. It is also to be designed in such a dis- 
 course, 
 
 3. To mind more what is substantial in that good state 
 of things, whereof we speak, than the circumstances that 
 belong thereto; and especially than the time and seas<..a, 
 when it may be hoped any such good state of things shall 
 commence. And that we may be taken oiTfrom too much 
 busying ourselves about that, I shall shut up all with two 
 or three considerations : As, 
 
 1st, That to have our minds and hearts more set upon 
 the best state of things that it is possible the church should 
 ever arrive to on earth, than upon the state of perfect feli- 
 city above, is a very great distemper, and which we ought 
 to reckon intolerable by any means to indulge ourselves in. 
 We know, none of us can live in this world but a little 
 while ; and that there is a state of perfect rest and tran- 
 quillity and glory remaining for the people of God. We 
 have therefore no pretence for being curious in our in- 
 quiries about what time such or such good things may 
 fall out to the church of God in this world. It is a great 
 piece of fondness to cast in our own thoughts. Is it pos- 
 sible that I may live to see it 1 For ought we know, 
 there may be but a hand's breadth between us and glory, 
 if we belong to God ; to-morrow may be the time of our 
 translation. We ought to live in the continual expectation 
 of dying, and of coming to a better state than the church 
 can ever be in here. It argues a great infirmity, a distem- 
 per in our spirits, that we should reflect upon with seve- 
 rit}', if we should be more curious to see a good state of 
 things in this world, than to see the best that can ever be, 
 and infinitely better than we can think, in heaven. And, 
 
 2dly, That, as for that part of the good condition of the 
 church, which consists in the communication of the Spirit; 
 so much of it as is necessary for us we may have at any 
 time, if we be not wanting to ourselves, and are of those 
 that belong to God, any of that seed that by this Spirit 
 have been raised up to Christ. It must be our fault, if we 
 have not so much of the Spirit as is requisite for our com- 
 fortable walking with God in this world. And I add 
 hereupon, 
 
 3dly, That that which is common to all times, yea, and 
 common both to time and eternity, certainly ought to be 
 the greatest thing with us, and upon which our hearts 
 should be most set. Let us but be intent upon this, to 
 get a large measure of the Spirit into our own souls ; this 
 may be had at any time, if we do not neglect ourselves and 
 the rules that God hath set us : and this is a thing com- 
 mon to time and eternity. They that sow to the Spirit, 
 shall of the Spirit reap life everlasting. Gal. vi. 8. And 
 therefore look we upon things according to the proper im- 
 portance of them, and what they carry in themselves. Sure 
 I am, that without much of the Spirit all the best things 
 that this world can afibrd me will never do me the least 
 good : I may be a great deal the worse for them, but never 
 a whit the better. But if I have much of this Spirit, things 
 can never go ill with me ; I shall be carried through what- 
 ever hardships shall fall to my share, and be within the 
 compass of my lot, while I am in this world, and never 
 regret the thought of them, when once I arrive to the 
 other shore ; but forget all these troubles, like the waters 
 that pass away, as the expression is in Job xi. 16. 
 
 SERMON II.* 
 
 Such things having been forelaid, we may adventure to 
 enter upon the consideration of the former of the truths 
 proposed, viz. — That there is a state of tranquillity and 
 prosperity appointed for the church of God, for some con- 
 siderable tract of time here in this world. — And concern- 
 ing that, there are two things that I shall labour to evince 
 to you : 1. That it is a very happy and prosperous state, 
 which these words do manifestly import and refer unto ; 
 and, 2. That that state is yet future; or that what is here 
 predicted concerning it is not yet fulfilled. 
 
 I. That it is a very happy state of things that is here
 
 Serm. II. 
 
 REFERENCE TO THE CHRISTIAN CHURCH. 
 
 567 
 
 referred unto, is plain from the very import of the words of 
 the text. " Neither will I hide lay face any more from 
 them." What can we conceive desirable, which these ex- 
 pressions may not be understood to signify ? But if we un- 
 derstand them to signify only a slate of external prosperity, 
 (and because any further meaning, which the words in 
 themselves might admit of, is fully carried under the other 
 expression of his pouring out his Spirit; and that is made 
 casual of this, and nothing can be a cause to itself; there- 
 fore we do understand them only of outward prosperity,) 
 yet surely that must be a very happy and prosperous state, 
 Avhich such an expression is chosen to signify; that God 
 will shine upon them with most benign aspects of provi- 
 dence. What can go amiss with a people, upon whom he 
 doth so 1 
 
 And if we consider the reference of these words unto 
 ■what goes before, and the place which they have in that 
 series of discourse with which they stand connected, and 
 wherein they make a part ; it will be very evident upon 
 review, that they have reference to a very happy state of 
 things foretold. If you consider the whole book of these 
 prophecies, you will find, that any thing consolatory unto 
 this people, directly and properly said to them, except 
 what is occasionally here and there let fall, doth but begin 
 ■with the 36th chapter. The former chapters of this book 
 are either full of reprehensions or comminations of the 
 people; the first twenty-four chapters are generally taken 
 up so ; or else in predictions of judgments and vengeance' 
 upon their enemies ; (which doth collaterally and on the 
 by import favour to them ;) the Edomites, and the Egyp- 
 tians, and the Amorites, the Moabites, the Philistines, the 
 Tyrians, and the Sidonians. Sundry of the following 
 chapters after the twenty-four first are taken up so. But 
 these four lying here all connected together, (the 36th, 
 37th, 38th, and 39ih,) are wholly taken up in comfortable 
 predictions unto this people, speaking of their happy state 
 in themselves; though also the destruction of such ene- 
 mies, as did most stand in the way of that promised felicity, 
 is here and there interserted. And then all the following 
 chapters, the 40th, and the rest to the end, are a continued 
 prophetical and emblematical description of the settled 
 happy state, wherein they should be, after they were re- 
 stored ; as in the description of the meaning and building 
 of the city and temple you see at large. And if we should 
 go to point out particulars to you, you will find, that such 
 as these do properly and fully lie up and down in these 
 chapters that I have mentioned^ and which seem to be all 
 of a piece congenerous unto one another. 
 
 1. Their reduction from their captivity; that they shall 
 all be brought back and gathered out of the several heathen 
 nations of the world, where they were scattered and dis- 
 persed to and fro. 
 
 2. The reparation of all desolation, the great building of 
 their wasted cities. 
 
 3. The great fruitfulness of their land. I will not direct 
 you to the particular passages, where these things are 
 mentioned ; but you may at your leisure view over these 
 chapters, and you will find them all. 
 
 4. The great multiplication and numerousness of their 
 inhabitants. 
 
 5. Their most entire victory and conquest over their 
 most potent and troublesome enemies. 
 
 6. Their entire union among themselves, under one 
 king ; as you may see in the 37th chapter. The making 
 of that scattered people entirely one, that so divided people, 
 so broken from themselves, Israel and Judah, one stick in 
 God's own hand. And, 
 
 7. God's owning them visibly as his people, and taking 
 them anew into covenant with himself, having pardoned 
 their iniquities, and cleansed them from all their filthiness 
 and their idols, and so restored the relation between him- 
 self and them. Certainly the concurrence of all these 
 things cannot but make a ver)^ happy state. 
 
 II. That such a state of things is yet future, requires to 
 be somewhat more at large insisted on. And for the 
 evincing of it, it is manifest that such predictions must 
 have a signification in reference unto the people of Israel, 
 according to one understanding or another of that term or 
 name, " the house of Israel." And we can have but these 
 two senses to reflect upon ; either that it must mean 
 
 Jacob's natural seed ; or else the church of God in the 
 world in common, his universal church, including and 
 comprehending such of Israel as have been, or at anytime 
 shall be, called, and brought within the compa.ss of the 
 Christian church. Now^ take either of these senses of that 
 compcllation, and I suppose it capable of being plainly 
 enough evinced, that such a happy state of things hath not 
 been as yet, and therefore is to be looked upon as still 
 future. 
 
 1. If you take Israel in the former .sense, it is verj' plain 
 that these prophecies have not been accomplished to the 
 natural seed of Israel. Particularly, 
 
 1st, That people have never been entirely restored to 
 their own land. The prophecy concerning the dr}' bones 
 that should be made to live, in chap, xxxvii. is expressly 
 said to concern the whole house of Israel, ver. 11. But it 
 is plain, that the whole house of Israel in the literal sense 
 hath not been restored. What became of the ten tribes 
 we do not know. This is a thing about which there is 
 much dissentation ; but none that I can tell are able to 
 determine where or in what part of the world they are. 
 It is true indeed that we find the apo.stle .speaking of the 
 piety of the twelve tribes. Acts xxvi. 7. Our twelve tribes, 
 instantly serving God day and night, hope to come unto 
 the promise of the resurrection. But that can only be 
 understood to mean, either that Salmanazer, -when he car- 
 ried away the ten tribes, left some ; and yet it is plain that 
 he left ver}' few, insomuch that the new inhabitants wanted 
 some to instruct them in the manner of the wor.ship of the 
 God of the land; or that some few might return of the 
 several tribes, here and there one. But that they returned 
 in a body, we have no reason at all to think ; and so this 
 prophecy hath not been fulfilled in reference to the main 
 body of the ten tribes, concerning their restitution, and 
 that resurrection that is imported by the enlivening into 
 living men those dry bones. 
 
 2ndly. That people have never been reunited into one 
 people, the two tribes and the ten. But that is expre.«:sly 
 predicted in the prophecy of the two sticks made one, 
 Ephraim or Joseph, and Judah. The prophet is directed 
 to take two sticks, (chap, xxxvii.) emblematically to signify 
 that twofold people, of the ten tribes, and the two tribes, 
 and these sticks are represented to him as made one : anci 
 the Lord tells him the signification of the prophecy is thi^, 
 that he would make these two entirely one people. It is 
 plain, whatever there were of the ten tribes that did return 
 from their captivity, they never came into a union with 
 the two ; but they were so much divided from one another, 
 even in the matter of religion, that we see by what is re- 
 corded in John iv. that a Samaritan woman made a scru- 
 ple to give a little water unto one whom she took lor a 
 Jew, that is, our Saviour himself. And they were so much 
 divided upon other accounts, consequently upon that di- 
 vision in reference to matters of religion, that, as one of 
 the heathen poets says, they would not so much a.s show 
 the way to one that was not of their religion; Non moTi- 
 strare vias, eadem nisi sacra CQlenti. 
 
 3dly, There hath been no such signal destruction of 
 their enemies, as is here foretold, in the chapter where the 
 text lies, and the foregoing; those enemies that are spoken 
 of under the name of Gog and Magog. I shall not trouble 
 you with the variety of opinions concerning the proper 
 signification of those names, and the people designed by 
 them ; but whosoever can be understood by them, there 
 hath been no such thing accomplished in reference to the 
 house of Israel literally taken, as the prophecy of so great 
 a destruction doth import. Some have thought the suc- 
 cessors of Seleucus, expressly and chiefly Antiochus 
 Epiphanes, to be meant; against whom the people of 
 Israel were successful in their wars at some times. But 
 no such destruction, as comes any whit near the terms of 
 this prophecy, can ever be understood to have befallen 
 those enemies. There is not the least shadow nor footstep 
 of such a way of destruction, as is meniioned in chap, 
 xxxviii. That they should be destroyed miraculously, by 
 hailstones, by fire and brimstone, (ver. 2-3.) that there 
 should be such vast multitudes destroyed, as that the very 
 weapons should serve this people for fuel seven years to- 
 gether, chap, xxxix. 9, 10. Certainlv take Israel in the 
 literal sense, and understand the prediction in a proper-
 
 5G8 
 
 THE WORK OF THE HOLY SPIRIT IN 
 
 Serm. II 
 
 tionable sense, there halh been no such thing ever yet done 
 and past. 
 
 4thly, There halh been no such city built, and no such 
 temple raised, as will answer the descriptions in these pro- 
 phecies; as is most apparent, if you look from the 40lh 
 chapter onward to the end. Especially, that there should 
 be such waters issuing from the temjile, rising from the 
 sancluarj', and carried in a great river, till at last it comes, 
 after so vast a course and tract of running, to fall into the 
 Dead sea, and to heal those waters. Take this in the 
 literal sense, and no such thing hath ever been, or, for 
 aught I know, is ever like to be; it is very improbable it 
 should. So little reason there is, either to think there hath 
 been any literal accomplishment of these things, or that the 
 literal sense is that whereunto we are to adhere. 
 
 5ihly, It is expressly said, that they should all have 
 David to be their king, chap, xxxvii. 24, 25. This cannot 
 be meant literally. It was impossible he should be their 
 king, that was dead so many hundred years before. Nor 
 c.in we understand the prophecy to have been accom- 
 plished in reference to Israel literally taken ; for suppose 
 }'ou take David to mean Christ, as it must be taken, sure 
 all Israel are not yet become Christians, they are not yet 
 united under Christ. And therefore it is more than evi- 
 dent, that according to the literal sense of Israel, though 
 we should take the things prophesied not strictly in the 
 literal sense, yet they cannot be understood to have had 
 their accomplishment yet. 
 
 2. If we go the other way, and take Israel to signify the 
 Christian church, and so not to exclude, but to compre- 
 hend, Israel in the proper, natural, literal sense, being be- 
 come Christians, so many of them as have been so, or shall 
 be so ; so these prophecies have not yet been fulfilled. 
 That is, in reference to the universal church, it will ajjpear, 
 I hat it hath had no such happy state as these prophecies 
 do amount unto; neither in point of degree, nor in point 
 of duration and permanency. 
 
 1st, They have not had a happy state unto that degree, 
 that is imported in these prophecies, and which even the 
 text itself doth summarily import. There are especially 
 tliese three things to concur: 1. The destruction of their 
 external enemies ; 2. A very peaceful, composed, united 
 state of things among themselves ; and, 3. A very lively, 
 vigorous slate of religion. Now a state composed and made 
 up of the concurrence of these three, hath not befallen unto 
 the church of God as yet. There hath been no such de- 
 struction of their external enemies, as can be understood 
 to amount to the meaning of what is here predicted con- 
 cerning that ; no such victory obtained, as this destruction 
 of Gog and Magog doth import ; no such, as the success 
 and issue of that famous battle of Armageddon, which 
 some would have to be past ; though there is, after that, a 
 later destruclion of Gog and Magog manifestly spoken of 
 in the 20th of the Revelations. But for such, as would 
 have that famous battle to be already past ; that which 
 they pitch upon as most probable, was that great battle be- 
 tween Constantine and Maxentius ; the victory of the 
 former over the latter by less than an 100,000 men, against 
 the other opposing him with almost double that number. 
 And it must be acknowledged, that that was a very great 
 victory, and of very great concernment unto the Christian 
 church ; but noway at all correspondent, either unto what 
 is foretold concerning the thing itself in these prophecies 
 of Ezekiel ; or unto the consequent events upon what is 
 said of the battle of Armageddon, in Rev. xvi. 16. There 
 was no such continued peaceful state, that did ensue to the 
 church after that victory. There was indeed a calm and 
 serenity in Constantine's time, mixed with a great deal of 
 internal trouble within the church itself, and which in- 
 creased upon it more afterwards, and so still unto greater 
 degrees for several centuries of years; as we shall have 
 occasion to take notice more upon another head. There 
 was no such flourishing state of religion that did ensue, 
 answerable to the expression of the text, " I have poured 
 out my Spirit upon them, saith the Lord God." And so 
 there was not a happy state, made up by the conjunction 
 and concurrence of the things which must concur. There 
 was in Constantine's time, and after, much of tranquillity, 
 by the cessation of persecution from without ; but there 
 was less of the life and vigour and power of religion. That | 
 
 appeared a great deal more eminently in the suflering 
 state and condition of the church; and prosperity was too 
 hard for religion, much more than adversity had been; as 
 all, that know any thing of the history of those times, 
 know. There hath been no such eminent destruction of 
 the church's enemies; no such internal tranquillity and 
 peace wifhin the church itself; no such lively vigorous 
 flourishing state of religion by the pouring forth of the 
 Spirit; there hath been no such concurrence of these, as 
 to make up that measure and degree of happiness to the 
 church, that is here plainly foretold. 
 
 2dly, For the permanency and duration of such a happy 
 state of things, it is apparent, that they fall unspeakably 
 short of making any thing out to that purpose, who would 
 have the things to be past that are here spoken of. It is a 
 duration of a thousand years; that seems referred unto as 
 the measure of that happy state that is here foretold ; if 
 you compare these prophecies of Ezekiel with those that 
 seem .so very much akin to them in the book of the Reve- 
 lations, especially the 20lh chapter. Even those, that 
 would have these things to be past, do acknowledge these 
 prophecies to refer unto one time and one state, unio one 
 sort of enemies, and unto the church of God considered 
 under one and the same notion, that is, the Christian 
 church. But the difficulty is very great to assign the be- 
 ginning, and consequently the period, of such a thousand 
 years. 
 
 For my own part, I will not assert any of these following 
 things. Either, 1. That that thousand years doth precisely 
 and punctually mean such a limited interval of time ; 
 however more probable it may seem that it doth so, and 
 though it be confessed to do so by them that would have 
 these things to be past. Nor, 2. "That Christ shall person- 
 ally appear, as some are bold to assert, at the battle of Ar- 
 mageddon ; and that he shall personally reign afterwards 
 upon the earth for a thousand years. Nor, 3. That theie 
 will be any resurrection, before that time do commence, of 
 the bodies of departed saints. Nor, 4. That the happiness 
 of that time shall consist in sensual enjoyments; which was 
 the conceit of Cerinthus and his followers; and which 
 caused the Millenaries to pass under the name of so od ious 
 a sect of old, by those who had taken notice of them, 
 Epiphanius, and Austin after him, and others ; for they 
 reckoned the felicity of those times should very much con- 
 sist in a voluptuous life, that persons should have every 
 thing to the full that should be grateful to their sense, ail 
 opportunity to indulge appetite, and the like. And least 
 of all, 5. That in this state of things the saints, as such, 
 shall have any power or right given them in the properties 
 of other men ; or that there shall be a disturbing and over- 
 turning of ranks and orders in civil societies. I don't 
 think, that any of these things are confidently to be assert- 
 ed ; and for the two last, they carry no other face, than of 
 things to be abhorred and detested. 
 
 But I conceive that thousand years to intend a very long 
 and considerable intervalor tract of time, wherein the state 
 and condition of the church shall be peaceful and serene 
 and happy; but especially, (as we shall have occasion 
 more to show hereafter,) by a large communication of the 
 Holy Ghost, that shall make men have very little mind to 
 this world, and very little seek .such a thing as serving 
 secular interests, and pleasing and gratifying their senses 
 and sensual inclinations. 
 
 And that this state of things is not yet pa.st. So much, 
 I think, we may with some confidence assert ; that is, 
 there is not such a state of things, of such a constitution 
 as that whereof you have heard, that hath been in any such 
 permanency, as that thousand years, though not strictly 
 taken, yet must rationally be understood to signify. They, 
 that would have such a thousand years to be already past, 
 are in very great difficulties about the commencement of it. 
 Some would have it to begin with the beginning of Con- 
 stantine's reign, and so to end proportionably from that 
 day to a thousand years strictly ; for just so much time. 
 And others would place the beginning of that time a con- 
 siderable while after; a hundred, or a hundred and forty, 
 or a hundred and fifty years after ; that is, from the time 
 of the taking and sacking of Rome by Alaricus and his 
 Goths; or by Gensericus and his Vandals; tmtil which 
 destructions, the latter especially, Rome did continue
 
 Serm. III. 
 
 REFERENCE TO THE CHRISTIAN CHURCH. 
 
 5C9 
 
 ^ 
 
 pagan though the empire was in Christian hands; and 
 that therefore this thousand years, wherein Satan is said 
 to be bound, began after that paganism was quite extirpat- 
 ed and banished from Rome ; and yet those that go that 
 way, still more incline to the former account. If .so, cer- 
 tainly such things must be acknowledged to have fallen 
 within the compass of the thousand years, as the limits of 
 them are set among themselves, as we would think very 
 ill to agree with a state of things, wherein Satan should be 
 bound. According to the former account, that persecution 
 by Julian must come within it ; it is true indeed that was 
 not of long continuance, nor very bloody ; but a nubecula, 
 (as Athanasius said of it,) that would soon pass over; yet 
 it was a very manifest prejudice that he did to the Christ- 
 ian interest, by those cunning arts he used in his time ; far 
 more prejudice, than had been done it by the bloody per- 
 secutions of former times ; as may sufficiently appear by a 
 view of the slate of things in those days, when it was not 
 so much as permitted the children of Christians to be 
 taught any of the learned languages. They were par- 
 ticularly forbidden to be taught the Greek, upon which oc- 
 casion I remember Gregory Nazianzen hath this expres- 
 sion, " But I hope though we maynot speak Greek, we maj' 
 be allowed to speak truth ; and while we may be allowed 
 to do so, as long as we have tongues, we will never forbear 
 speaking." But it was a great check, that was put upon 
 the interest of Christianity by that means ; and very un- 
 likely to be so soon after the commencement of the thou- 
 sand years. And besides that, all the dreadful persecution 
 of the orthodox by the Avians immediately falls in ; " who 
 persecuted the orthodox," (as one speaks writing of those 
 times,) '^stevius et durivs, a great deal more harshly, more 
 severely, more horridly, than ever the pagans had done be- 
 fore them ; when even all the world was against Athanasius, 
 and he alone was forced to sustain the brunt of the whole 
 world ;" ver}^ unlike to a time, wherein the devil was bou nd ! 
 And then falls in with the same time that strange and por- 
 tentous growth of the Mahometan religion ; and was that, 
 too, while Satan was bound 1 And in the Christian church, 
 the greatest tyranny among the church-governors, the 
 greatest stupidity for several centuries of years among the 
 priests and clergy, the greatest viciousness and debauchery 
 among the generality of people, that we can possibly tell 
 how to frame an imagination of. Besides, that within the 
 same compass of time must fall out the bloody massacres 
 of the poor Waldenses, about the 11th, 12th, and 13th 
 centuries. Certainly, if all this while Satan was bound, 
 we can never think of a time when he was loose. And 
 therefore, in point of permanency, there hath not been no 
 such continuing happy state to the church, as yet past and 
 over, which these predictions do most plainly refer unto. 
 And therefore we have the thing first proposed I conceive 
 in good measure cleared, that there is a state yet to come 
 of very great tranquillity and prosperity to the church of 
 God for some considerable tract of time. 
 
 I cannot now stand to apply this according to what it 
 challenges ; these two things 1 shall only for the present 
 hint to you. 
 
 1. This being a matter revealed in the word of God, our 
 faith ought to have an exercise upon it. We should be- 
 lieve, that there is such a state of things yet to come, and 
 have affections raised in our hearts proportionable unto 
 such a revelation. It would be unreasonable to say, that 
 we are to be afiected with nothing but what is present, and 
 comes under our notice by way of experience, our own 
 experience, contrary to the temper which Abraham dis- 
 covered, who rejoiced in the foresight of Christ's day, than 
 so very far off. Abraham rejoiced to see my day; and he 
 saw it, and was glad, John viii. 56. We shovild foresee 
 such a state of things with gladness; our hearts should 
 be comforted upon the apprehension of it. If we can have 
 no enjoyment of future mercies that are designed unto 
 the church of God, how should there have been any enjoy- 
 ment of past mercies unto them that have lived long after 1 
 We find that to have been the temper of the people of God 
 of old, that they have much enjoyed and lived upon ancient 
 mercies, mercies long ago past ; as you may see in such 
 memorials as you have in the 105th and lOGlh Psalms, and 
 in other places of Scripture. I will remember the years of 
 « Preached May 22, 1679. 
 
 the right hand of the most High, Psalm Ixxvii. 10. What 
 triumphs and exultations do you oftentimes meet v. i h t 
 the book of P.salms, upon the account of the destruction 
 of Pharaoh and his Egyptians in the Red sea, and the 
 conduct of the people of Israel through the wilderness 1 
 Why, if memory will serve to fetch former mercies into 
 our present enjoyment, certainly faith should serve to fetch 
 future mercies into our present enjoyment too, and give us 
 the taste and relish of them. 
 
 We should take encouragement hence against the pre- 
 sent horrid atheism and wickedness, that doth so afiront 
 the interest of religion at this day. We are too much apt 
 to pass our judgment upon things by very undue mea- 
 sures ; to judge by the present sight of our own eye, that 
 that is well w^iich we apprehend, or which carries a sen- 
 sible appearance with it of being well for the present ; but 
 to forget, that it is always somewhat future, that must give 
 a determination unto that which is simply best or other- 
 wise ; that a judgment is not to pass, till we come to the 
 end of things, till we see what will become of matters in 
 their final issue. There will be a day of distinguishing, 
 even in this woild, in point of the external favours of pro- 
 vidence, between them that fear the Lord, and them that 
 fear him not. And though now the spirit of atheism be 
 insolent, so as it never wa.s in any age, no not so much in 
 any pagan nation ; and that where the Christian name is 
 professed, even amongst ourselves; do we think therefore 
 that atheists and their religion shall carrj' the cause? No: 
 if we will but frame to ourselves the prospect, whicli the 
 word of God gives us an advantage and warrant to do, it 
 would guide our judgments much another way ; to think, 
 that that must need be the better side and the better part, 
 which shall be successful and prevailing at last. It is 
 most eligible to be on that side which shall finally prosper, 
 when God comes to lay claim to us, to challenge our help 
 in bearing a witness to his name and truth and holy ways: 
 " Come, who will take part with me against an ungodly 
 race of men 1 Who will be religious in this irreligious 
 age 1 Who fear God, when it is counted matter of re- 
 proach, and an argum.ent of a weak and crazy spirit, for 
 men to fear and dread an invisible Being V It would help 
 your resolution much, would you think in this case, thai 
 there will be a time when God shall he visibly owned in 
 the world, and when it shall cease to be a reproachlul thing 
 to be a religious man, a fearer of the Lord. 
 
 SERMON III.* 
 
 We have spoken already of this proposition, — That there 
 is a state of very great prosperity and tranquillity, for a 
 considerable tract of time, appointed lor the church of God 
 on earth. — We have offered several things to assert the 
 truth of it ; and made some use of it, to recommend it as 
 a fit object to be entertained by our faith; and that we 
 should take encouragement from it against the prevailing 
 atheism and wickedness of this apostate world, which hath 
 borne so much sway in it through many ages, upon that 
 prospect which this truth gives us, of a time and state of 
 things, wherein it shall cea.se to be so, wherein religion 
 shall lift up the head, and outface the wickedness of a cor- 
 rupt and depraved race of men ; when this very earth it- 
 .self, that hath been the state of God's dishonour through 
 so long a tract of time, shall be the state of his glor}-. 
 
 But here some may be apt to say ; — " To what purpose 
 is all this, when no hope is given us of seeing any such 
 good state of things in our days 1 If we are not encouraged 
 to expect, with our own eyes', to see such a happy state of 
 things, had not we as good take all our comforts and en- 
 couragements from the expectation of a judgment-day to 
 come, and an eternal state 1 What doth it signify to have 
 any representation made to us of a good state of things on 
 earth, which we are told it is likely we shall fare never 
 the belter for "?" 
 
 This is a thing that requires to be distinctly disctissedj 
 and tlierefore I shall spend some time upon it
 
 570 
 
 THE WORK OF THE HOLY SPIRIT IN 
 
 Serm. 111. 
 
 1. The exception would lie as much against the putting 
 of any of these things into the Bible, till at least inimedi- 
 ately before the time-when they should be accomplished 
 and fulfilled. And so it is an insufferable reflection upon 
 the Divine wisdom, that hath thought fit that such an ac- 
 count of things should be given for so long time previous 
 unto their accomplishment or actual taking place. And, 
 
 2. It is no prejudice at all, against our receiving encou- 
 ragement and having our spirits fortified against the athe- 
 ism of a wicked world by this prospect, that we may re- 
 ceive such encouragement also by the consideration of a 
 judgment, to come and an eternal state. For do not we 
 know, that sundry uses may be made of many doctrines, 
 as one and the same truth may be proved by sundry me- 
 diums 1 What prejudice doth it do an honest cause, if one 
 can produce twenty arguments to prove the same truth, 
 and so all result into one conclusion 1 We reckon the truth 
 r: fortified and confirmed by it so much the more. And if 
 there are sundry truths, if never so great a variety of 
 truths, that all meet as it were in one point, and produce 
 the same good frame and temper in our hearts, is that a 
 prejudice to us 1 I hope it is so much the more an advan- 
 tage. But that which I shall mostly insist upon is, that — 
 
 3. That same question of inquiry, " To what purpose is 
 it, that we should hear of such things, when there is no 
 hope given us to see them, or that they should be brought 
 about in our time V This question, I say, there is no seri- 
 ous, considering, well-tempered Christian, but is best capa- 
 ble of answering it out of his own heart. He doth but 
 need to consult with his own heart, when he is himself 
 and in his right mind, and he will see enough even out of 
 his own spirit, from whence to answer the inquiry, and to 
 say all that needs to be said in reference to it. 
 
 To make that out ; it is obvious to our notice, that there 
 are two extremes, (and therefore both of them bad enough, 
 as all extremes naturally are,) from whence any such in- 
 quiry can be supposed to proceed. A man may say, " To 
 what purpose is it V either from stupidity and unconcern- 
 edness, as thinking they need not concern themselves about 
 any thing that is not likely to fall within the compass of 
 their own time ; or from fretfulness, a vexatious, discon- 
 tentful temper of spirit, upon having a prospect of such 
 things set before them, as they have no encouragement it 
 may be to think they shall see. Now a sound and good 
 temper and complexion of soul hath that in itself, which 
 would obviate and avoid both these extreme'^, and let us 
 see sufficient reason for these two things in opposition to 
 them: to wit, 1. The entertainment of such a truth with 
 due complacency, notwithstanding we have no expectation 
 to see the accomplishment of it in our time , 3upposing we 
 have no such expectation. And, 2. To admit the delay of 
 that accomplishment with composedness and quietude of 
 mind, so as not to be disturbed in our own spirits with 
 that delay, though such things may not receive a speedy 
 and sudden accomplishment according to our desire. The 
 former of these would enable us to make a due use of such 
 a truth as this ; and the latter would keep us from abusing 
 it. By the former, we should be enabled to savour and 
 relish it with complacency, and so as to get good out of it ; 
 and by the latter, to avoid the getting of hurt, have our 
 hearts fenced and fortified against any prejudicial impres- 
 sions thereby. Wherefore these two "things I shall labour 
 to make out to you, that there are certain principles in 
 ev^ery gracious and well-complexioned soul, that vfi[\,Jlrst, 
 enable it to take complacency in such a truth as this, for 
 the substance of it ; and that will, secondly, compose, so as 
 not to admit of disturbance by the delay of its accomplish- 
 ment ; even notwithstanding it to be supposed that we are 
 never to see it in this world ourselves and with our own eyes. 
 
 First, There are such principles as these, that have a 
 tendency to make such a truth savoury to us ; notwithstand- 
 ing it be supposed, that we shall not see it fulfilled in this 
 world ourselves. 
 
 1. A principle of self-denial. That will signify a great 
 deal to this purpose. And you will know, there is nothing 
 more deeply radical in the whole frame of practical reli- 
 gion and godliness, than that is. But certainly, if a man 
 be af a self-denying spirit, he will be able to take com- 
 placency in somewhat else, than what doth respect his own 
 personal concernments. And is it not a most unsufferable 
 
 thing, if a man should not 1 What ! would I fancy this 
 great world made lor me ; and that all the mighty wheels 
 of providence, that roll and are kept in motion from time 
 to time, are all moved with reference to me; to give me a 
 gratification and content according to the wish of my heart 1 
 What an insolent thing is so private and selfish a spirit as 
 that ! 
 
 2. A just concern for posterity would make such a truth 
 savoury. And certainly there is no well-tempered soul des- 
 titute of that principle. Grace doth in this, as well as it 
 doth in many other things, graft upon the stock of nature. 
 You know it is natural with men, upon a consciousness of 
 mortality and a desire of immortality, when they find they 
 can live no longer in their persons, to desire to live in 
 their posterity, tho.se that shall come after them : and it is 
 a great solace that they naturally lake in the hope of doing 
 so. Now when grace comes to graft upon this natural 
 stock, would not the spirit of a man be disposed to take a 
 great solace in the hope and expectation, that those that 
 shall come after him shall live in a better state upon reli- 
 gious accounts, than we have done in our days, or may be 
 likely to do 1 If such a principle as this be not to obtain 
 and take place and have an influence, what would you 
 make of all the promises that were given to Abraham and 
 Isaac and Jacob concerning their seed, so long before the 
 accomplishment of many of them 1 What can all these pro- 
 mises signify, but upon the supposition of, and in a way 
 of accommodation to, such a principle 1 You see how sa- 
 voury and tasteful what God had told David concerning 
 his house and posterity in aftertimes was to him : he was 
 not so stupid, as not to be moved with any thing of that 
 kind ; but he is as a person in an ecstasy, a rapture, upon 
 it, 2 Sam. vii. 19, 20. " Thou hast spoken concerning ihy 
 servant's house for a great while to come ; and is this the 
 manner of man, O Lord God 1 And what can David say 
 more unto thee V It was a great solace to good Jacob, old 
 Israel, when he was now even next to death, to think of 
 what should ensue in reference to his posterity and seed, 
 when he was gone. " I die, (saith he,) but God shall be 
 with you," Gen. xlviii. 21. And do not we think it were a 
 good spirit in ourselves, if we could be of the same mind 1 
 Why, though we all die, God shall be with them thai suc- 
 ceed ! If they shall come into that land, which our eyes 
 shall not behold, what ! can we so put off man and Christ- 
 ian both together, as to lake no complacency in the fore- 
 thoughts of what good those that may come after may be- 
 hold and enjoy, though we enjoy it not. It was a high 
 pleasure, that seems to be expressed in the contemplation 
 of the future good of following generations, by the Psalm- 
 ist, in Ps. cii. 18. A people, which shall be created, shall 
 praise the Lord. He was very well pleased to think of 
 that, though it were then a time of very great affliction ; as 
 you see the title of that psalm doth import ; whether the 
 time present, or the time prophesied and foretold of: for 
 the psalm is a prayer of the afflicted, when he pours out his 
 soul to God, as there you have it. While they are languish- 
 ing in all that affliction and trouble, which they are sup- 
 posed then to be under ; yet they are pleased to think of a 
 generation to come, a people yet to be born, yet to be created, 
 that shall praise God and rejoice in his great goodness. 
 
 3. A loyal and dutiful love unto the blessed God himself, 
 and concern for Ivs interest, tends to make such a truth sa- 
 voury, though the accomplishment of it we may perhaps 
 never .see inthis world. Was that heart ever touched with 
 a dutiful sense of his interest, that would not be pleased 
 to think of his being giorified highly, upon the same stage 
 where he has been so insolently afli'ronted and provoked for 
 so long a time 1 It was an inexpressible pleasure, that 
 seems to have gone with such expressions, as these that 
 we sometimes meet with ; " Be thou exalted, O God, above 
 the heavens, and thy glory above all the earth ;" as we find 
 in Psal. cviii. 5. and in many expressions scattered up and 
 down the Scripture of like import. A truly pious soul 
 would be mightily concerned, that God should at one time 
 or other have the just attribution and revenue of glory paid 
 him, which is to arise out of this part of his creation, this 
 lower, lapsed part. Considering now, how mean and low 
 and wretched a place soever this world is, yet it is a part 
 of the creation of God, and there is a revenue of glory due 
 to him out of it ; who would not take complacency in the
 
 Seum. III. 
 
 REFERENCE TO THE CHRISTIAN CHURCH. 
 
 571 
 
 thoughts of a time, when it shall be ^fathered up and 
 brought in, when the name of God shall be glorious on 
 the earth, every knee bowing to him, and every tongue 
 conx''essing to him ; that at least it should more generally 
 be so, than it hath hitherto been ■? 
 
 4. A compassionate regard to the souls of men hath 
 still the same tendency to make us relish, with a great 
 deal of pleasure, the forethoughts of such a state; where- 
 in religion, that hath been so much under reproach for so 
 long a tract of time, shall be a creditable thing, lift up the 
 head with honour, and outface insolent atheism and wick- 
 edness. If we consider this, as that wherein the souls of 
 men are concerned; it cannot but be highly grateful to us 
 to contemplate such better days to come. For by how ma- 
 nifest experience doth it appear, that such a state of things, 
 wherein religion is a repro?,ch, endangers and ruins mul- 
 titudes of souls every where 1 How many are jeered and 
 flouted out of their religion, where there have been only 
 some lighter tinctures of it upon their spirits, or only some 
 half inclinations towards it; while it is reckoned matter 
 of reproach to be a fearer of the great God ; when to be a 
 professed devotee unto the Sovereign Majesty of heaven 
 and earth, to avow an awe and dread of invisible powers, 
 is looked upon as an argument of a weak and etfeminate 
 mind; and when it goes for pure fanaticism for any to 
 pretend to stand in awe of an invisible Ruler 1 It is ma- 
 nifest, what multitudes of souls are insnared unto perdi- 
 tion, even by the shame and reproach and fear of men, 
 that religion hath been assaulted with in many ages, but 
 never more than in our own. And is it not grateful and 
 pleasant, to forefhink of such a time and state of things, 
 after that the prince of the darkness of this world hath 
 been by such variety of arts and methods imposing upon 
 souls to their ruin ; to think, I say, of any time, wherein 
 he shall be bound, and the word of God at liberty, and run 
 and be glorified, without any kind of let or restraint ; 
 wherein effectual endeavours shall every where be set 
 afoot for the rescuing of souls from the common ruin 1 
 Surely a just and generous love of mankind, refined and 
 spiritualized as it ought to be in all our hearts, would, even 
 upon that account and by its own natural tendencj', make 
 the fore-thoughts of such a state of things very grateful ; 
 and very much commend such a truth to our acceptance 
 and entertainment ; notwithstanding the supposition, that 
 we see the accomplishment of no such thing in our time. 
 But we are to show further, that — 
 
 Secondly, There are principles also in every gracious 
 person, that tend to compose his spirit, so as that it shall 
 not be disquieted by the delay of its accomplishment ; and 
 so will by this means prevent such a truth from being 
 abused; or procure, that there shall be no evil and hurt- 
 ful impressions made upon our spirits by.it. For of that 
 there is real danger ; that, having the prospect of such a 
 state of things before our eyes, and yet no hope that we 
 shall see the accomplishment of it in our own time, vexa- 
 tion and discontent and secret frettings should be provoked 
 thereby. Therefore we will show also, that there are 
 principles contained in a right temper and constitution of 
 soul, that will avoid that great extreme, as well as that of 
 a stupid unconcernedness; and compose us unto a due 
 comporting with the delay of the accomplishment of such 
 things whereof we have the prospect in such predictive 
 scriptures. As, 
 
 1. A right and well-complexioned faith concerning these 
 things hath a tendency to make us brook the delay of the 
 accomplishment, without any hurtful resentments of it,, so 
 as to be discomposed in our spirits thereby. For it is th« 
 nature of such a faith to feed upon the substance of things, 
 and not to exercise itself so much about the minuter mat- 
 ters, and those that are of mere circumstance. That is ra- 
 ther belonging to the mean principle of sense ; which can 
 tell how to converse with nothing but what is present, and 
 appears clothed with all the circumstances of a present 
 event. But faith is not so narrow or confined a principle. 
 It can tell how to converse with objects that are in them- 
 selves valuable, so as to unclothe them of present circum- 
 stances, and to consider them more abstractly as lying in 
 themselves, and to enjoy the real gain that is in them, 
 without limiting or determining them unto this or that 
 time, or such or such other circumstances tliat do accom- 
 
 pany them in their existence. Faith can tell how, while 
 we are here upon earth, to fly to heaven for U', f nd to 
 walk to and fro in the invisible regions, and to ictcii '. -= 
 down comforts and consolations from thence. And if it 
 can forage into all eternity, much more may it into a little 
 future time, so as to fetch us what is relieving and com- 
 fortable from thence, according to what such futurity doth 
 contain in it for that purpose. Upon this account we have 
 that property of faith, that character of a believer, Isa. 
 xxviii. Ifi. " He that helieveth, shall not make haste." He 
 that is a serious believer indeed, of the right stamp and 
 kind, will not prematurely catch at things. That faith is 
 not apt to discompose the soul, and put it into a violent 
 and impetuous hurry; but it is its natural effect to com- 
 pose, to quiet and calm it, to keep it peaceable and sedate, 
 till tlie events shall be duly .seasoned and timed by him 
 who hath all times in his own hand and power. It is very 
 observable, if you consider the sub.stance of that prophe- 
 cy, which these words of the prophet have a relation to, 
 "I lay in Zion for a foundation a stone, a trie/1 stone, a 
 precious corner-stone, a sure foundation ; h* that heliev- 
 eth, shall not make haste." One would think, that, upon 
 its being understood what that corner-stone meant, the 
 very hint and intimation of such a thing should put all 
 the powers of a soul, that hath the prospect of it, into a 
 present hasty quick working; and that the mailer should 
 not admit of a moment's delay, but be presently done : so 
 great a thing as the laying of that corner-stone! But this 
 is said several hundred years beforehand; and yet "he 
 that believeth shall not make haste." He shall enjoy it 
 now by faith, taste the consolation of it; and have his 
 spirit compo.'^ed unto a willing and peaceful deference, or 
 referring of the matter how this business should be timed, 
 or when it should be brought about, unto him who is the 
 great Lord and Author and Orderer of all things. As 
 apt a thing as Christ's coming in the flesh was to raise de- 
 sire, and 'heighten and stir up mighty affection among 
 them that looked for the consolation of Israel ; yet " he 
 that believeth shall not make haste." 
 
 2. A truly Christian patience. It is the proper "business 
 of this to compose a man's soul. In your patience pos- 
 sess ye your own souls, Luke xxi. 10. The work of pa- 
 tience is to make a man master of his own .soul ; that it 
 shall be in his power, and he shall enjoy himself: for an 
 impatient man is outed, dispossessed of him.self : he hath 
 no command of himself Now patience hath its exerci?-e 
 for keeping us in the possession of ourselves, not only in 
 bearing the afilictions that lie upon us, but in expecting 
 the good things that lie before us and which we have in 
 prospect and view. Hope that is seen, is not hope : — But 
 if we hope for that we see not, then do we with patience 
 wait for it, Rom. viii. 24, 2.5. Ye have need of patience, 
 that after v^' have 'done the will of God, ye might receive 
 the promise. For yet a little while, and he_ that shall 
 come, will come, and will not tarry, Heb. x. 36, 37. You 
 have need of patience, that j'ou may brook and comport 
 with the delay of his coming, and not count it long. So 
 the apostle James, chap. v. 7^ 8. is pressing to patience in 
 reference to the relief that was to he expected at the 
 coming of our Lord; and he tells those to whom he 
 writes^ " The husbandman hath long patience, until he 
 receive the early and latter rain. Be ye also natient, 
 slablish your hearts ; for the ct>ming of Uie Lord draw- 
 eth nish." It is still drawin? nearer and nearer. What 
 comin? that is, we shall not now dispute; or how near, or 
 how far off. But he gives them to understand, that while 
 he was not as yet come, thev had need of patience, to 
 compose their hearts, and to "keep them composed and 
 quiet durina: the time of their expectation. 
 
 3. Weariness of sin will do much to this purpose. If 
 once the body of death be really burdensome to us, and 
 we would fain bv anv means in the world have the power 
 of sin abated ; this will tend to compose us unto a will- 
 ingness, thai God should take any course with us. that 
 accordintr to his estimate and account may most aptly 
 serve that end, to break the power of sin. Well, suppose 
 he thinks this a fitter course for us, instead of letting the 
 sun shine upon us. to make the fire burn round about us; 
 suppose he judge it fitter for us to be under sinkings and 
 hammerings in order to the working oft our dross, and
 
 573 
 
 THE WORK OF THE HOLY SPIRIT IN 
 
 Serm. Ill, 
 
 beating us into a better form and figure: then a true and 
 real weariness and impaliency of sin would make us con- 
 tented to be brought lo this temper through any course, so 
 it do but weaken and wear sin, and break the power of it 
 more and more. It would make us contented to endure 
 harsher methods for our time, so it will serve that happy 
 end, and beget in us better frames of spirit. For he, that 
 is a far more competent judge than we are, (we have rea- 
 son to conclude by the event,) doth judge, that such rough- 
 er means and courses are more suitable to our state, to 
 help us to that better pitch and temper of spirit, than a 
 prosperous state of things externally would be ; such as 
 is meant here by God's not hiding his face. It may be he 
 doth foresee, that we should not know how to comport 
 with such a state of things, that we should grow vain and 
 foolish, earthly and forgetful of him, and never mind the 
 great concerns of religion, when once trouble and calami- 
 ty left us. If once we be brought heartily to hate sin, and 
 to reckon that the greatest of all imaginable evils ; we 
 should be very well contented, that God should use us with 
 whatsoever severity, so that the power of sin may be 
 abated, and a better temper of spirit promoted. 
 
 4. A sense of the demerit of sin, would certainly per- 
 suade to much composure of mind in such an expectation. 
 He that considers with himself, " I am less than the least 
 of all mercies, and I have deserved not only to be under 
 the continual harassings of severe providence all my days 
 in this world, but I have deserved hell ;" may keep his 
 spirit quiet by that means, though he doth not "see a pros- 
 perous state of things in this world ; especially if he have 
 the apprehension withal of pardoningmercy, and the sweet 
 savour and relish of that. He that would be contented to 
 have undergone any, the greatest agonies and distresses 
 whatsoever, so he might but have had the light of God's 
 countenance shining upon him, so he might but see that 
 those agonies and distresses of spirit did open a way unto 
 a more halcyon season for his Spirit, certainly he would 
 well be conlent to undergo any severities of dispensations 
 in outward respects, and think all well, if God have par- 
 doned his sin, and let fall all controv^ersy with him. And 
 that belongs to a'good temper of spirit too, to apprehend 
 sin either actually pardoned, or at least pardonable ; that 
 God is reconcilable, if he comply with his terms. And 
 if I can once savour and relish such a thing as that, I may 
 very well forbear indenting and capitulating with him for 
 such a state of things in this world, that w-ould be pleas- 
 ing and grateful to me. 
 
 5. A subject, governable spirit, would contribute very 
 much to keep us compo.sed and quiet under such an ex- 
 pectation and delay: a spirit instructed unto obedience, 
 and that knows how to be under government, and to yield 
 a consent that God should rule. If we can but allow him 
 to bear rule in all the kingdoms of the world, and do 
 what he pleases on earth in his own way and time; if we 
 have our hearts formed unto this, it will certainly make 
 us composed in the expectation of whatever were most 
 grateful to us in this world, or during the delay of bring- 
 ing such things about for us. We find our Saviour doth 
 with some severity reflect upon his disciples, immediately 
 before his ascension, when they put that curious question 
 to him, " Lord, wilt thou at this time restore the kingdom 
 to Israeli" It was an odd notion too, that they had of that 
 kingdom; as appears from other passages. Why, says he, 
 " It is not for you to know the times and the seasons, 
 which the Father hath put in his own power," A cts i. G, 7. 
 What ! are you for wresting the sceptre out of his hands, 
 and will not you allow him the government of the world 1 
 Are you not contented he should hear rule 1 Certainly it is 
 a v^ery ill-tempered spirit, that will quarrel at this, that 
 God is above us, that he hath the ordering and timing of 
 all things in his own hand and power. Therefore a sub- 
 ject, governable spirit must needs be in this case a calm, 
 composed, quiet spirit, unapt to storm and tumultuate, and 
 to admit of any vexatious and unquiet thought, because 
 such things are not done now, or possibly may not be done 
 wiLhin our time, that we could wish to see done. You 
 find, that it was indeed a very fervent desire, that Moses 
 had of seemg the land of Canaan. It is worth while to 
 take notice, how he pleads with God upon that account 
 .as he recollects the story himself, Deut. iii. 24, &c. He is 
 
 relating to the people how^ he besought the Lord at tliat 
 time, when the controversy was about that business. " I 
 besought the Lord," says he, "at that time, saying, O 
 Lord God, thou hast begun to show thy servant thy great- 
 ness, and thy mighty hand; for what God is there in hea- 
 ven or in earth, that can do according to thy works, and 
 according to thy might 1 I pray th^e, let me go over, and 
 see the good land that is beyond Jordan, that goodly moun- 
 tain, and Lebanon." But how is he answered 1 " But 
 the Lord was wrath with me for your sakes, and would 
 not hear me ; and the Lord said unto me. Let it suffice 
 thee, speak no more to me of this matter," I won't be 
 spoken to any more about the matter. And you see 
 afterwards, how contentedly he goes up and dies on this 
 side Jordan. "Go up and die ;" and he goes up and dies; 
 there was no more disputing about the business ; he was 
 contented to die, and not see that goodly mountain, and 
 Lebanon. Certainly that is a very good contentment in 
 .such cases, for the Lord lo order what he sees meet unto 
 our lot and portion. 
 
 6. A serious diligence in present duty. Whoever have 
 not a disposition of heart to mind the duty of their own 
 time, the business that lies in their hand to do ; certainly 
 their temper is not good. But every serious Christian 
 can find himself so much to do, as to have little leisure 
 to entertain himself unto his prejudice with disquieting 
 thoughts concerning what is yet future, whether of good 
 or evil, within the compass of time and of this present 
 lower world. And if it be observed, I doubt not but com- 
 mon experience will give suffrage to it, that the)' are most 
 apt to let out their spirits extravagantly to mind the con- 
 cernments of future time unto anxiety, and so as to busy 
 themselves most about them, who have the least mind to 
 be busy about present duties. You know the looser and 
 more careless and licentious Christians, that cannot en- 
 dure to have their spirits bound and tied dowm to their 
 work, the work of their present stations, are they that love 
 to be making complaints; Oh ! how could I serve God, if 
 I were but in such a lime ! So liberal are they to him of 
 that which is not in their own power, which is not theirs. 
 It is only the present tiine is theirs: but they will not serve 
 him with that which they have, the present day. He that 
 understands his work and business as a Christian, that 
 is, to give up himself to prayer, and to a serious watch- 
 ing over his owm heart, to the endeavour of preserving a 
 good temper of spirit, or preventing a bad ; he that knows 
 what it is to be intent upon the mortifying of corruption, 
 and the quickening and exercising of one and another 
 grace seasonably, and as occasions do invite and call it 
 forth into exercise ; such a one we may truly reckon to 
 be very well composed in his own spirit, in reference to 
 what God does or is doing in his time. 
 
 7. Familiarity with death is another thing in the temper 
 of a good soul, that will very much compose to a quiet 
 peaceful frame, during the delay of such things as we wish 
 to see in this world, in reference to the prosperous state of 
 the church of God and the interest of religion. Certain- 
 ly a man is to be reckoned so much the better Christian, 
 by how much the more he is acquainted with the thoughts 
 of dying, and hath made death familiar to himself Now 
 he that lives conversant about the very brink of the grave, 
 that reckons upon living but a little while here, but is 
 continually expecting his dismission and call into eternity, 
 cannot surely be concerned to any great anxiety of mind, 
 about what shall or shall not come in this world within 
 his time. For such a one Avould reckon with himself; 
 " Suppose I had never so great assurance, that such and 
 such desirable things shall fall out next year, yet I may 
 die this." No serious person will put death far from him, 
 look upon it as a very distant thing; and therefore such 
 will not be very apt to disquiet themselves with the soli- 
 citous expectation of good things on this side, because 
 they will still reckon, death may come between me and 
 that expectation, if it were ever so near. 
 
 8. A heavenly frame of spirit will do more than all in 
 this matter. To have the heart much taken up with the 
 thoughts of heaven, and the rest which remains for the 
 people of God, will deliver one from the danger of hurtful 
 impressions by having the prospect of such good things 
 before us in this world, which it may be we shall not live
 
 Serm. IV. 
 
 REFERENCE TO THE CHRISTIAN CIIUROII. 
 
 573 
 
 to see. You read of those worthies in Hob. xi. several of 
 whom had been named in the verses before this which I 
 am about to mention, ver. 13. It is said of them, they all 
 died in faith, not having received the promises ; but they 
 saw them afai' off, and were persuadetl of them, and em- 
 braced them, and confesseil that they were strangers and 
 pilgrims on the earth. And doing so, they that say such 
 things, ver. 14. declare plainly that they seek a country; 
 that it is the affairs of some other country that their hearts 
 and minds are more upon, and therefore that they are not 
 so greatly concerned about the good and evil that they 
 may enjoy or suffer in this country : no, they are seeking 
 a country, knowing that their great concerns did not lie 
 much here. And therefore they confidently died in faith, 
 not having received the promise of such and such things 
 that they had the prospect of; merely through the impres- 
 sion and power that a heavenly spirit had with them, to 
 carry them to follow and mind heaven and the great con- 
 cernments of the eternal world, that everlasting state of 
 things. And (as was hinted before) it is certainly a mo.st 
 intolerable distemper of spirit, and wherein we are by no 
 means to suffer or indulge ourselves, that there should be 
 a disposition in us to be more pleased and take more com- 
 placency in the forethoughts of the best state of things 
 imaginable in this world, than in the forethoughts of hea- 
 ven, that every way perfect state, unexceptionably perfect. 
 He that can be contented to sin on still, that he may have 
 his imagination gratified here in this world, is certainly 
 under a great distemper, to speak the most gently of it. 
 And how unreasonably preposterous is it, that any should 
 prefer that which is but intermediate, before that which is 
 most ultimately final ! Still always that which is best is 
 at last ; that state of things is the only unexceptionable 
 state, which is unalterable ; that .state, which is never to 
 give place to another, is the only state that is entirely and 
 completely good; it is fit, that that only should be so. 
 There is no pretence for a desire of change, in reference 
 to a state perfectly good ; and whatsoever state is not per- 
 fectly good, it is still always reasonable to expect and de- 
 sire abetter. 
 
 Now all these things, I doubt not, you must confess at 
 the very first view do belong to a well-tempered spirit. 
 And if so, it must argue a very ill frame, if there should 
 be any such sickly hankerings after the be.st things that 
 we can imagine in this world, as that we cannot satisfj'' 
 ourselves, while we have no hope, or no great reason to 
 hope, that we shall see them to fall out within the compass 
 of our time. 
 
 SERMON IV.* 
 
 I SHALL add one or two more principles of a Christian 
 spirit to tho.se already mentioned, which cannot but keep 
 our spirits composed in the prospect of a better state of 
 things on earth, though we have little prospect that we 
 shall live to see it. 
 
 9. A sincere devotedness to God and to his interest. 
 This will compose, and upon the matter make us indiffer- 
 ent in what time or state of things we live, so it may serve 
 his interest. We have that notion most clear in our minds, 
 that we were not made for ourselves, nor sent into this 
 world upon our own errand; and it can never be well with 
 us, till the temper of our spirits doth correspond and an- 
 swer to the true light that shines in us, to our light in this 
 particular thing; so as that we hereupon become sincerely 
 devoted and given up to God, as knowing, that this is our 
 errand in this world, to be to liim, and to be used by him, 
 for his own purposes and services as he pleases. We well 
 know, it is very reasonable and fit he should have some 
 or other that should own him even in the worst of times ; 
 and why not we 1 What reason can we assign, why we 
 should be the exempted persons 1 Why we, rather than 
 others, should not serve him in difficulties and exercises, 
 and endure hard things for him, if he will have it so ? Unto 
 .1 frame and state of sincere devotedness to God such a 
 • Preached May 29tli, 1678. 
 
 thorjght will be veiy familiar, " I am notray own;" and 
 how strange a power would such a thought, seasonably 
 admitted and well placed, have upon our souls, to have 
 them coniempered to this apprehension, " I am none of 
 my own?" Sincere devotedness to God is, 1. Absolute 
 and entire, so as to leave us no right in ourselves ajjart 
 from him; 2. Upon conviction, that it is the highest ex- 
 cellency created nature is capable of, to be in pure subser- 
 viency to him ; 3. Upon a thorough apprehension, that he 
 IS the most competent judge, how every one of us may 
 serve him to the best purpose, and to the most advantage 
 to his interest ; and thereupon, 4. It cannot but be accom- 
 panied with the highest complacency and pleasure that 
 we are .serving him, though we are wasting ourselves in 
 serving him. It cannot but be a matter of high compla- 
 cency, to be sacrifices consuming in the very flames, on 
 purpose for his glory and pleasure. While we apprehend 
 he is pleased, it is most agreeable to such a temper of spi- 
 rit to be highly ourselves pleased too. For what, should 
 his pleasure and ours be diverse 1 And must there be two 
 wills and interests between him and us 1 
 
 10. A religious prudent fear of misapplying prophecies, 
 or astricting and determining them to this or that point of 
 time, which may not be intended by the Spirit of God. It 
 is certain, there ought to be a religious fear of this, be- 
 cause they are sacred things, and therefore not to be trifled 
 with, or made use of to other purposes than they were 
 meant for ; much less to serve mean purposes, to graiily 
 our own curiosity, to please our fancy and imaginaiifn. 
 And there ought "to be a prudent fear "of this, and will he 
 in a well-tempered .soul, because of the great hurt and 
 danger that may attend such misapplications. 
 
 There are two extremes, that persons are apt to run into, 
 in this matter ; either to .set such foretold events too far ol", 
 or to make them too near ; and we are prone to run in:o 
 one or the other of them, according as the cases vary and 
 are oppo.site. For suppo.se it to be either a bad state of 
 things that is foretold, or suppose it a time for doing some 
 duty unto which we are disinclined, then we make the 
 time very remote; put far off the evil day, think the time 
 is not come yet of building the house of God, of being in- 
 tent upon the duty thai is incumbent upon us. But if 
 they be halcyon days, and it be a grateful prospect of 
 things that we have before us ; then we are a.s apt to set it 
 too near, and to catch at these good things prematurely, 
 before they be ripe and ready for us, or we for them. Arid 
 here lies our danger. 
 
 I cannot but recommend to you that remarkable piece of 
 Scripture, in 2 Thess. ii. 1, 2." Now we beseech j-ou, bre- 
 thren, by the coming of our Lord Jesus Chri.^f, and by our 
 gathering together unto him, that ye be not soon shaken in 
 mind, or be troubled, neither by spirit, (or by pretended 
 inspirations,) nor by word, nor by letter, as from us, as that 
 the day of Christ is at hand. You shall hardly meet with 
 a more solemn, earnest obtestation in all the Bible, than 
 this is : that is the thing I reckon it so very remarkable for. 
 " I beseech you, brethren, by the coming of our Lord Je- 
 sus Christ ;" by what he knew was most dear to them, and 
 the mention whereof would be most taking to their hearts; 
 if you have any kindness for the thoughts of that day, any 
 love for the appearance and coming of our Lord: if ever 
 any such thoughts have been grateful to your hearts: we 
 beseech you by that coming of his, and by your gathering 
 together unto him, that you be not soon shaken in mind, 
 that you do not suffer yourselves to he discomposed bv an 
 apprehension, as if the day of Christ were at hand. It 
 may perhaps be thought very strange, why the apostle 
 should lay so mighty a stress upon this matter, to obiest in 
 it .so very earnestly. And really I could not but think it 
 exceeding strange, if I could beofihemind, that the coming 
 of Christ here spoken of were only the time of the destruc- 
 tion of Jerusalem, and that the man of sin afterwards spo- 
 ken of were only meant of Simon Magus and his impos- 
 tures, the feats that he was at that time supposed and be- 
 lieved to do; which certainly could be things of no such 
 extraordinary concernment unto them, that lived so far off 
 as Thessalonica at that time, and much 1 .'^s to the whole 
 Christian church. But if we con-ider the thin? itself, ac- 
 cording to the ordinary notion that is wont to obtain con-
 
 574 
 
 THE WORK OF THE HOLY SPIRIT IN 
 
 Skrm. IV. 
 
 cerning this day of our Lord, and the gathering together of 
 all his saints unto him ; certainly it was a matter of most 
 extraordinary importance, that it should not be apprehend- 
 ed as at hand. For do but think, what dismal consequences 
 would have ensued, if it should have been so apprehend- 
 ed, as if that blessed state of things were presently to take 
 place, were even at the door. We know what a dreadful 
 apostacy hath come since, hath intervened, and of how 
 long continuance. If this had obtained as a part of the 
 religion of Christians, that the day of the Lord was then 
 at hand ; why then, — 
 
 1st, How strangely had the Christians of that time been 
 diverted from the proper work and business of their pre- 
 sent day 1 all held at a gaze, and in an amused expecta- 
 tion of the present coming of our Lord 1 
 
 2dly, What a strange surprise had the afflictions been to 
 them, that did ensue! When they were in a present expec- 
 tation of nothing but the glorious appearance of their 
 Lord, to have had things come upon them that were of 
 so directly contrary a nature and import ! Instead of that, 
 to be presently thrown into a sea of trouble, or into the 
 flames of suffering, how strange a surprise had it been ! 
 
 3dly, What a despondency of spirit had followed upon 
 their disappointment! How had the Christian hopes every 
 where languished, and their hearts even failed them and 
 died within them ! As it was with them not being yet in- 
 structed in the constitution and design of Christ's king- 
 dom ; whose very hopes did expire, when he expired. 
 " We trusted, that it was he that should have redeemed 
 Israel." 
 
 4thly, How had it caused the infidel world to triumph 
 over Christianity ! How had it opened their mouths wide ! 
 " This was a part of the religion of Christians, that their 
 Christ was to come again in that very age; and now even 
 from their own principles, their religion is proved a cheat, 
 a mere imposture." 
 
 There is certainly very great danger, and there ought 
 therefore to be a religious and a prudent fear, lest we 
 should misapply prophecies, and determine them unto un- 
 intended points of time. It is very agreeable unto a good 
 temper of spirit so to do. And if we do so, that very awe 
 will keep us composed and within the bounds of modesty 
 and good temper. 
 
 I therefore shut up what I have to say on the first pro- 
 position offered from the text with this caution : That we 
 take heed, lest we fail of giving a due preference unto the 
 Spirit of holiness, or the Spirit of God as he is the Spirit 
 of holiness, above what we give to the spirit of prophecy, 
 as such. In so plain a case I need not industriously to re- 
 present to you the inequality of the comparison ; and how 
 much the Spirit of holiness, as such, is to be preferred be- 
 fore the spirit of prophecy, as such. That is peculiar 
 unto the children of the Most High, the sons of God, those 
 that are designed for an eternal inheritance : the other, 
 strangers, even a paganish Balaam, may share and par- 
 take in, as well as others. And what good would it do us, 
 if we had the foreknowledge of all events through all suc- 
 ceeding timel Most apparent it is, that infinite know- 
 ledge doth only agree with infinite power; and therefore 
 that it is fit, that knowledge should be proportionably bound- 
 ed as power is, kept within as narrow limits. It would not 
 only do us no good, but it would be a most unspeakable 
 prejudice to us, to have the foreknowledge of all events ; 
 that that should be the measure and compass of our under^ 
 standing faculty, to have the knowledge of things future 
 as well as of those that are present. For plain it is, that 
 the good things that we should foreknow, if we see them 
 certain not to fall out in our own time, and especially if 
 we did foreknow that they would nearly border upon our 
 time ; how .should we languish in the very sight of them, 
 that we should come so near, and not reach ! And for all 
 the evils that we should foresee, we should thereby multi- 
 ply them, and suffer every affliction a thousand times 
 over ; whereas God intends we should suffer it but once. 
 We should bring the trouble of all our days into every day. 
 It was therefore certainly a merciful law, if we would un- 
 derstand it; " Take no thought for to-morrow; sufficient 
 for the day is the evil of it." And I reckon it admirable 
 wisdom, which we are all concerned to adore, that when 
 it was as easy to God to have given us a catalogue of all 
 
 considerable events unto the end of the world, determined 
 unto certain times when they should fall out, as to give us 
 the ten commandments ; he hath done this, and not that. 
 It was admirable wisdom, which we ought highly to reve- 
 rence him for, that he hath stated our case so, and doih 
 keep times and seasons so hid in his own hand and power, 
 as he is pleased to do. And for whatsoever satisfaction we 
 are capable of taking, in apprehending the substantial 
 truth of such a thing without bringing it to circumstances, 
 that there is such a good state of things for the church of 
 God in this world, and at one time or other will obtain ; 
 whatever just satisfaction we can take in the apprehension 
 of it, I reckon, that if we had that due respect that we 
 should have unto a right temperature of our own minds and 
 hearts, in such particulars as I have mentioned, we should 
 thereby highl}- enhance that pleasure ; as much as the plea- 
 sure that a temperate man takes in eating and drinking is 
 greater, than that which a furious and libidinous appetite 
 is capable of taking, in a person to whom his very hunger 
 is a disease. And therefore now I shall leave this propo- 
 sition, and go on to that other truth that we observed, 
 
 That such a good state of things can never be brought 
 about, but by a great effusion of the Spirit of God. 
 
 In .speaking to this, I shall, — 1. Briefly show what kind 
 of communication of the Spirit this must be; and then- 
 2. Show the apt and appropriate usefulness of that means 
 unto this end, the bringing about of a good state of things. 
 
 I. What kind of communication it must be. 
 
 If we speak of it objectively, that is, in respect of the 
 thing communicated; .so the communication of the Spirit 
 must intend the influences and operations of the Spirit, 
 and the consequent effects and fruits of it ; its ynjaiV/inrd : 
 those principally and chiefly that do accompany salvation, 
 which proceed from it as the Spirit of holiness. Though 
 yet we are not to exclude those ordinary gifts of the Spirit, 
 that are .statedly in the church, and subservient to those 
 other. Whether ever any extraordinary gifts shall be re- 
 newed, that, because I know nothing of it, I shall affirm 
 nothing in. 
 
 If you speak of this communication formally, as to the 
 nature or kind of it in itself considered; so we may un- 
 derstand it to be a very great and plentiful communica- 
 tion, that is here meant. So the very expression in the text 
 of pouring forth doth import ; the same word being used 
 sometimes to signify the larger and more remarkable is- 
 sues of God's wrath, when, as a deluge, and inundation, it 
 breaks forth upon a people and overflows. It signifies 
 (as some critical writers do observe) both celerity and 
 abundance in the eflTusion. And the expression having 
 that use, to denote the breakings forth of the wrath and 
 fury of God, and being now applied here to this purpose, 
 it carries such an import with it, as if it had been said, 
 " My wrath was never poured forth so copiously, so abun- 
 dantly, but that there shall be as large and copious an ef- 
 fusion of my Spirit." I take it, that these two properties 
 must be understood to belong unto this communication; 
 the fulness of it, in reference to each particular soul, or 
 intensiv^ely considered; and the universality of it, so as 
 that it shall extend unto vastly many, in comparison of 
 what it hath done ; but neither of them to be understood 
 in an absolute sense. And so much being supposed, (as 
 there will be occasion in future inferences from Scripture 
 to let you see,) that the communication will be of this 
 kind, and qualified by such properties ; we have a suflS- 
 cient ground upon which to go on unto the next head, 
 that is, to show, 
 
 II. The apt and appropriate usefulness of this efliision 
 of the Spirit unto this purpose, to bring about a good 
 state of things for the Christian church. And in doing 
 that, we shall have two things to evince : First, the effica- 
 cy of such an effusion of the Spirit unto this purpose; 
 Secondly, The necessity of it. That this means will cer- 
 tainly do the business, and that nothing else can ; that 
 there is no other way to bring such a state of things about. 
 Which things needs to be insisted on particularly and se- 
 verally, to obviate two great evils, into which we are very 
 incident; that is, — I. To distrust such a spiritual means 
 of our good, and of the common good, as this is; — 2. To 
 let our minds and hearts hanker after some other means 
 and methods, that certainly will never do the business.
 
 Serm. IV. 
 
 REFERENCE TO THE CHRISTIAN CHURCH. 
 
 575 
 
 1. There is a very great aptness to distrust such a means 
 as tkis, to entertain very cold thoughts about it. The Spirit ! 
 How should the Spirit do such a thing as this"? bring 
 about a universal tranquillity and peace, and in all respects 
 a more prosperous and flourishing state for the chuich of 
 God in the world 1 That same expression of the projihet, 
 and the form of it being considered, that it is expostulatory, 
 " Is the Spirit of the Lord straitened'!" Mic. ii. 7. (so the 
 house of Jacob is expostulated with ;) it imports a very 
 great aptitude even in a professing people, to have a great 
 deal of distrust about the Spirit, and the effects to be ac- 
 complished and brought about by it. It is a keen and 
 pungent way of speaking to speak expostulatorily, as here, 
 " What ! have you learned no better, you house of Jacob, 
 than to think, that the Spirit of the Lord can be straitened 1 
 that there can be any limits and bounds set unto its power 
 and influence 1" 
 
 2. There is as great an aptness to trust in other means, 
 and let out our hearts to them. An arm of flesh signifies 
 a great deal, when the power of an almighty Spirit is 
 reckoned as nothing. And persons are apt to be very con- 
 triving, and prone to forecast, how such and such external 
 forms would do our business, and make the church and 
 the Christian interest hugely prosperous. As great an ex- 
 travagancy, as if we would suppose, that fine sights would 
 fill a hungry belly, or that gay clothes would cure an ul- 
 cerous body ; (as I remember that is Plutarch's simili- 
 tude ;) or a diadem cure an aching head, or a fine shoe a 
 gouty foot. It is a very vain thing to think, that any thing 
 that is merely external can reach this end or do this busi- 
 ness. For it cannot be done by any other way, by any 
 might or power, but by the Spirit of the living God. And 
 therefore we shall speak distinctly to these two things, the 
 efficacy, and necessity, of such an effusion of the Spirit unto 
 this purpose. 
 
 First, The efficacy of it, to bring about a very happy 
 state of things to the Christian church. Do but a little re- 
 collect yourselv&?, what hath been said concerning such a 
 state of things as we might call happy and prosperous. 
 All is capable of being reduced to these two things, 1. The 
 more vigorous and lively verdure of religion, that that it- 
 self do live and prosper more ; and then, 2. That there go 
 therewith external tranquillity and peace. Now it may 
 easily be apprehended^how an effusion of the Spirit doth 
 directly do the former; and we shall afterwards come to 
 show, how by that it doth the latter too. 
 
 I. There is nothing that is so genuine and natural a pro- 
 duct of the effusion of the Spirit, as the life of religion in 
 the world. And it may be shown, how the Spirit may have 
 an influence to this purpose, both mediately and immediately. 
 
 1. Mediately ; it may have an influence to the promoting 
 of the life and vigour and power of religion, by the inter- 
 vention of some other things : As, 
 
 1st, By means of the kings and potentates of the earth. 
 We have had experience, hov/ in all times and ages our 
 own nation hath felt the different influences of the princes 
 under which we have been. But we are not now to be 
 confined within so narrow bounds ; for we are speaking of 
 the state of the church of God in the general. And think 
 how it will be, if such scriptures ever come to have a fuller 
 accomplishment than they have yet had ; when in all the 
 parts of the Christian world kings shall be nursing fathers, 
 queens, nursing mothers ; when the churcii shall suck the 
 breasts of kings, when the glory of the Gentiles shall by 
 them be brought into it. How much will it make for the 
 prosperity of religion every where in the world, when 
 these shall become in all places the proper characters of 
 princes, (as they are the characters of what should be,) that 
 they scatter the wicked with their eyes, that they are just, 
 ruling in the fear of the Lord, and are upon the people, as 
 showers upon the mown grass, and as clear shinings after 
 rain, are men of courage, men fearing God antf hating 
 covetousness ! Think whether this will not do much to the 
 making of a happy state as to the interest of religion in the 
 world, when they shall universally concur or very gene- 
 rally in the practical acknowledgment, that Christ is King 
 of kings, and Lord of lords, willingly resign as it were 
 their sceptres, or hold them only in a direct and designed 
 subordination and subserviency to him and his sceptre. 
 
 2ndly, By and through them, upon whom the work of 
 
 the Gospel is incumbent in the church, the ministers of it. 
 In such a time, when the Spirit shall be poured forth plen- 
 tifully, sure they shall have their proportionable share. 
 And when such a time a.s that shall once come, 1 believe 
 j-ou will hear much other kind of sermons, or they will, 
 who shall live to such a time, than you are wont to do 
 now-a-da3's; souls will surely be dealt wiihal at another 
 kind of rate. It is plain, too sadly plain, there is a great 
 retraction of the Spirit of God e'ven from us ; we know 
 not how to speak living sense unto souls, how to get within 
 you ; our words die in our mouths, or drop and die between 
 you and us. We even faint, when we speak; long expe- 
 rienced unsuccessfulness makes us despond ; we speak not 
 as persons that hope to prevail, that expect to make you 
 serious, heavenly, mindful of God, and to walk more like 
 Christians. Themethodsof alluringand convincing. souls, 
 even that some of us have known, are lost from amongst 
 us in a great part. There have been other ways taken, than 
 we can tell how now to fall upon, for the mollifying of the 
 obdurate, and the awakening of the secure, and the con- 
 vincing and the persuading of the obstinate, and the win- 
 ning of the disaffected. Sure there will be a larger share, 
 that will come even to the part of ministers, when such an 
 effusion of the Spirit shall be as is here signified ; that 
 they shall know how to speak to better purpose, with more 
 compassion and sense, with more seriousness, with more 
 authority and allurement, than we now find we can. 
 
 Other ways also we may suppose the Spirit to have me- 
 diate influence by others for this purpose. I shall only 
 close this discourse with saying somewhat to an objection 
 that some may be apt to make. 
 
 " But to what great purpose is it, may some say, to speak 
 of what the Spirit will do, when it shall be so largely and 
 plentifully poured forth 1 This we do not doubt, but whcQ 
 the Spirit comes it will do very great matters ; (as the 
 Jews' expectation was, ' When El'ias comcth he will restore 
 all things;) but what shall we do in the mean timel and 
 what good will the foreknowledge of this do us nowl" 
 
 Certainly it will import us not a little even now, to know 
 which way we are to look, what it is that will do our busi- 
 ness, and must do it ; to be at least delivered from that 
 impertinent trouble of making vain attempts, and of ex- 
 pecting that to be done any other way, which can never be. 
 Our experience shows us, alas ! it is not this nor that ex- 
 ternal frame. of things, that can mend our case. Should 
 we not be as bad, as any other men can be to us, if there 
 be not another spirit 1 Hath not experience shown ill 
 And to have a disposition to be coiuinualU' making 
 attempts, wherein we are sure to be disappointed, and can 
 bring about nothing, so that we shall but traffic for the 
 wind; it is but to add mockery to the torment of our dis- 
 ease. It is indeed a part of the disease itself, to have a 
 kind of pruriency, and itch to trying things, that would 
 make our case so much the worse. A prosperous state of 
 things externally, some are ready to imagine, would itself 
 do all. Alas ! what an imperiiuency were that, and how 
 little to the purpose ! In all likelihood it would make us 
 ten thousand times worse, than the sharpest sufferings 
 could ever make us, or let us be, according to God's ordi- 
 nary methods. And to know, that we are lo look one way, 
 is certainly a great advantage; that we may hence at least 
 learn not to look a contrary way; that when we hear it is 
 the effusion of this Spirit must do our business, we should 
 not let our spirits run into union with another kind of 
 spirit : a.s it is with all such, that, when a slate of things 
 displeases them, are ready to cry out, '• Let fire comedown 
 from heaven, and make a present destruction of all." 
 " You know not what spirityou are of," saith our Lord in 
 this case. Is this like the gentle workings of that benign 
 and sweet Spirit that we are told must do our business 7 
 And it would be a great advaniacre lo us, if the apprehen- 
 sion of this did so constantly and habitually possess our 
 souls, and sink into our hearts, as to frame all our deport- 
 ments accordingly; and that this might be underst(.x)d to 
 be our only avowed expectation and hope. It would de- 
 liver the rest of men from fear about us : for certainly no 
 man hath any reason to be afraid of the Spirit of God : that 
 never did any one any hurt. It can never do men any 
 hurt surelv to be made better by iis operations in so easy 
 a way, and to be brought into so ea.sy a state, as that will
 
 57G 
 
 THE WORK OF THE HOLY SPIRIT IN 
 
 Skrm. V. 
 
 be sure to issue in. Hereupon we shall deliver ourselves 
 and the world about us from a great deal of inconvenience, 
 if once this be but understood, and avowed and seconded 
 by all suitable deportments, that we onl}' expect the Spirit 
 of the blessed God to change the state of things in the 
 world, and to make it better and more favourable unto the 
 religion of serious Christians. 
 
 SERMON v.* 
 
 We have been treating of the mediate influence of the 
 Spirit in order to the more prosperous and flourishing state 
 of religion in the world : and have shown what influence 
 it may have unto this purpose, by the magistracy, and by 
 the ministry, being exercised immediately upon them ; and 
 so working mediately by them for the promoting of reli- 
 gion amongst others, by those that stand invested with the 
 glory of these great ofiices. We shall go on to show what 
 influence it may have, 
 
 3dly, By means of family order. And it is too obvious 
 unto common observation, how religion hath decayed, and 
 the interest of it declined by the disuse and deficiency of 
 this means ; since families have become so much the nur- 
 series of vice and wickedness, that were much more gene- 
 rally the seed-plots of religion. 
 
 I doubt not but many of you can remember the time, 
 when in this city family discipline was much another thing 
 than now it is ; and the sobriety and diligence and regu- 
 larity of youth much more than now ; and fewer known to 
 miscarry than at this time. And it is too plain a case, ihat 
 the miscarriage of so many doth owe itself much to this, 
 themeglect and letting down of family government, and the 
 banishing of religion out of families, at least in a very great 
 degree : that there is so little calling upon the name of God, 
 so little of family worship, family instruction, family disci- 
 pline ; that there are so few governors of families, of whom 
 it may be said, as concerning Abraham, " I know Abra- 
 ham:" What will he do 1 He will command his household, 
 Gen. xviii. 19. How few will the state of the case admit 
 that character to be given of \n our days ! How little care 
 is taken to ground them that are under the charge and in- 
 spection of masters of families, in the principles of religion "? 
 Do we observe from sabbath to sabbath, that they profit by 
 ordinances'? whether they are going forward or backward 
 in the business of religion 1 And where the fathers of 
 families have or pretend to have less time, how much might 
 be done by the mothers among the younger children, and 
 the servants of their own sex 1 And whereas by the supe- 
 rior heads of families want of time is very much pretended, 
 pray, whose is your time, do you reckon 1 and whose 
 business is it. that you have to do in the world, God's or 
 your own 1 And if you will say, that the duties of your 
 calling are part of the business that God will have you do ; 
 it is but too possible to do God's business as our own ; and 
 therefore it is to be considered, whether you do that busi- 
 ness as God's or as your own : and .suppose it never so 
 much God's, and intended for him, doth the doing of part 
 excuse the neglect of the rest 1 and the lesser and much 
 inferior part, the neglect of the more noble and principal 
 parts of }'our business] Or would you think, that that 
 servant did discharge himself faithfully, to the office or 
 obligations under which he is, who, when you commit to 
 him in a stated course many sorts of business to be done, 
 spends all his time about one, and neglects all the rest, and 
 the main and most important parts of the business you 
 have put into his hands 1 And I think it might be con- 
 sidered too to good purpose, whether (since there hath been 
 so great a neglect of keeping up order and government and 
 worship in families, and the thing that is at the first chal- 
 lenge replied by every one is lack of time) the city is grown 
 much richer than it was in those former days, when men 
 could spare more time for such purposes than they do now ! 
 Whatsoever there is of digression in this, I submit it to 
 your own judgment, how needful and seasonable it is, and 
 whether it be pertinent and proper. But I make no doubt, 
 * Preached June 51h. 1673. 
 
 that, whensoever God shall restore religion in the world, 
 and make it again to prosper, and more to prosper, as we 
 hope he will ; it will be by this means in very great part. 
 Much will be done towards it, when it shall please God 
 to stir up the hearts of those, that are governors of families, 
 parents and masters, and to set them with effect on their 
 duty in these things ; when they shall be brought more to 
 tender the precious immortal souls under their care, and 
 be filled with a more just zeal against the licentiousness 
 and growing debauchery of the world. I make no doubt, 
 but when it shall be so. this will be found to do a great 
 deal towards the reviving and restoring religion amongst 
 men. There will be a time, when it shall be said severally 
 and singly concerning the families of Israel, that God is 
 the God of all their families, (as it is in Jer. xxxi. 1.) and 
 they shall he his people; so as that the relation shall not 
 be only with the bulk and body of the people in gross, but 
 even with particular families. And this, it is said, should 
 be in the latter days, if you look back to the close of the 
 foregoing chapter, chap. xxx. 24. In the latter days, ye 
 shall consider it. And at the same time, saith the Loid, 
 will I be the God of all the families of Israel, and they 
 shall be my people. And it is said, it should be at such a 
 lime, as wherein there should be planting of vines upon 
 the mountains of Samaria, (chap. xxxi. 5.) and when the 
 watchmen upon the mount Ephraim should cry, " Arise 
 ye, and let us go up to Zion, unto the Lord our God ;" 
 (ver. G.) when the people of Ephraim, that is, of the other 
 ten tribes that use to go under that name, and those that 
 did belong to Samaria, should go to Zion, as heretofore ; 
 a thing which certainly hath not yet been. 
 
 4thly, By means of the more common and general ex- 
 ample of serious and exemplary religion in the professors 
 of it. That is one great means, by which we may suppose 
 the Spirit of God will work much, when it hath made re- 
 ligion to revive and live in some, to make their exemplary 
 walking the means of diffusing religion unto others. Re- 
 ligion is now, as it is exemplified in the walking and prac- 
 tice of the most, a very little alluiing thing, very little 
 amiable ; it carries little of invitation in it, little by which 
 we may suppose it capable of proselyting the world, and 
 captivating of men generally to the love of it. The mean, 
 low, abject spirit that is discovered by some, and the con- 
 tentious, jangling, and quarrelsome spirit that is discovered 
 by others, carry little of allurement in them to strangers, 
 and signify little to the making of proselytes, and the win- 
 ning of persons to the love of religion. We have reason 
 to expect that God will work mightily to make religion 
 spread, by a certain aptitude that there shall be in it, when 
 grown more lively and more vigorous, and a brighter 
 shining and more glorious thing in the world, to attract 
 hearts into the good liking of it. 
 
 We go on to speak — 
 
 2. Of its more immediate and direct influence upon the 
 souls themselves to be wrought upon ; which was the 
 second head propounded to be spoken to. And so we are 
 to reckon, that its greater influence, (when there shall be 
 such an effusion of the Spirit, as we have been speaking 
 of,) will show itself in these two great and noble eflfects: 
 1. In numerous conversions, and, — 2. In the high im- 
 provement and growth of those that sincerely embrace re- 
 ligion, their eminent holiness : which, when we consider, 
 wHl make the matter we were last speaking of more appre- 
 hensible to us, what example may do to the spreading of it 
 yet further and further, as things once growing grow 
 apace ; especially such things as are themselves of a very 
 growing and diflusive nature. The Scripture speaks very 
 much in many places to both these purposes. 
 
 1st, There are many scriptures, that respect the matter 
 of the church's increase by numerous conv'ersions. Which 
 is an increase as to its extent, as the other will be as to its 
 glory. To instance in some few of the scriptures, that 
 speak of the enlargement of the church by numerous con- 
 versions. We are told in Isaiah ii. 2, &c. what shall come 
 to pass in the last days. You have these two forms of ex- 
 pression, the latter da3's, and the last days. The expres- 
 sion of the latter days "doth more generally, according to 
 the language of the Jews, intend the times of the Messiah. 
 They divided time into these three great v^* 'he time or 
 
 i
 
 Serm. V. 
 
 REFERENCE TO THE CHRISTIAN CHURCH. 
 
 577 
 
 age before the law, the age under the law, and the age (as 
 they called it) of the Messiah. The expression is here the 
 last da3's, which seems rather to import the latter part of 
 the latter time ; as there is still later and later, till it come 
 to the very last. Now "in the last days, the mountain of 
 the Lord's house" (which is .spoken by Avay of allusion to 
 Zion, and the temple that stood upon that mountain) 
 "shall be establi.shed in the top of the mountains, and 
 shall be exalted above the hills, and all nations shall flow 
 unto it. And many people shall go and say, Come ye, 
 and let us go up to the mountain of the Lord, to the house 
 of the Gcd of Jacob, and he will teach us of his ways, and 
 we will walk in his paths; for out of Zion .shall go forth 
 the law, and the word of the Lord from Jerusalem. And 
 he shall judge among the nations, and shall rebuke many 
 people, and they shall beat their swords into ploughshares, 
 and their spears into pruning hooks: nation shall not lift 
 up sword against nation, neither shall they learn war any 
 more." Such a time as that the world hath not yet known, 
 so as that it should be said generally concerning it, that 
 this great effusion of the Spirit, and such a cessation from 
 hostilities and wars in the world, should be concomitant 
 and conjunct with one another: we have not had hitherto 
 opportunity to observe a coincidency of these two things. 
 To the same purpose is that in the prophecy of Micah, 
 which I mention as being of so near affinity with the very 
 letter of this text, Mic. iv. 1, 2. " In the last days it shall 
 come to pass, that the mountain of the house of the Lord 
 shall be establi.shed in the top of the mountains, and it 
 shall be exalted above the hills, and people shall flow unto 
 it. And many nations shall come, and say. Come and let 
 us go up to the mountain of the Lord, to, the house of the 
 God of Jacob," &c. The same words as before, with very 
 little variation. And that passage of a great prince's dream, 
 Daniel ii. 31, 35. of " the stone cut out of the mountain 
 without hands, that became a great mountain, and filled 
 the earth ;" I can, for my part, neither understand it in so 
 carnal a sense as some do, nor in so limited a sense as 
 others. Certainly it must signify some greater thing than 
 we have yet seen. And such numerous accessions to the 
 church h)r the power of the Holy Ghost in converting- 
 work, seem plainly intended and pointed out, Isaiah liv. 1. 
 "Sing, O barren, thou that didst not bear; break forth 
 into singing and cry aloud, thou that didst not travail with 
 child : for more are the children of the desolate," (of her 
 that was so,) "than the children of the nsarried wife,saith 
 the Lord." There should be a far greater fruitfulness, than 
 in the time of their more formed, stable church state, when 
 they appeared a people in covenant-relation, married to 
 God. This, though spoken directly and immediately of 
 the Jewish church, means in and by them the universal 
 Gospel church, whom that church did in some sort lypi- 
 cally represent. " Enlarge the place of thy tent, (so it 
 follows, ver. 2, 3.) and let them stretch lorth the curtains 
 of thy habitations ; spare not, lengthen thy cords, and 
 strengthen thy stakes : for thou shalt break forth on the 
 right hand, and on the left, and thy seed shall inherit the 
 Gentiles, and make the desolate cities to be inhabited." 
 The like is in Isa. livi. 6, &c. " A voice of noise from 
 the city, a voice from the temple, a voice of the Lord that 
 rendereth recompense to his enemies. Before she travail- 
 ed, she brought forth ; before her pain came, she was de- 
 livered of a man-child. Who hath heard such a thing 1 
 who hath seen such things 1 shall the earth be made to 
 bring forth in one day 1 or shall a nation be born at once?" 
 What can this intend, but some such mighty eff"usion of 
 the Spirit, by which there shall be great collections and 
 gatherings in of souls as it were on a sudden 7 To the 
 same purpose in Isaiah Ix. 5. " Thou shalt see and flow 
 together, and thine heart shall fear and be enlarged, be- 
 cause the abundance of the sea shall be converted unto 
 thee," (the islanders or those that inhabit the more mari- 
 time pla'-es,) " and the forces of the Gentiles shall come 
 unto thee." This is introduced in verse 4. " Lift up thine 
 eyes round about and see: all they gather themselves to- 
 gether, they come to thee, thy soils shall come from far, 
 and thy daughters shall be nursed at thy side." And ver. 
 8. " Who are these that fly as a cloud, and as the doves 
 to the windows 1 Gathering in like great flocks of doves, 
 that as a dense opacous cloud darken the air as they fly ! 
 
 Which numerous increase is most emphatically signified 
 by the apt and elegant metaphor used Psalm ex. 3. where 
 
 it is said the subjects of Christ's kingdom should be mul- 
 tiplied " as dew from the womb of the morning." That 
 is a vast and spacious womb; imagine, how innumerable 
 drops of dew distil out from thence; such .-shall the mul- 
 titude of the converts be in the Christian church. That 
 such .scriptures have been fulfilling, ever since the first 
 dawnmgs of Christianity, there is no doubt; but the mag- 
 nificence of the expressions of many of these prophecies 
 seems yet to be very far from bein? answered by corres- 
 pondent efl^ects. That pa'^sage in Joel ii. 28. where it is 
 said, that " the Spirit shall be poured forth upon all fle.sb," 
 we are told, it is true, in Acts ii. 16. that it had its accom- 
 plishment: " This is that which was spoken by the pro- 
 phet," saith Peter, when the people began to wonder at 
 what they saw, ujjon that strance pouring forth of the Spi- 
 rit on the day of Pentecost. But it is plain, that he did 
 not intend, that the completion of that prophecy wa.s con- 
 fined to that jioint of time. For afterwards, in ver. 35). he 
 tells them that were now awakened, and cried, "Men and 
 brethren, what shall we dol" that they must " repent and 
 be baptized, and they should receive the gift of the Holy 
 Ghost." For, saith he, "the promise" (that promise most 
 apparently, that he had relerence to before) "js unto you, 
 and to your children, and to nil that are afar ofl^, even as 
 many as the Lord our God shall call." So that all that 
 was intended in that prophecy is not fulfilled, till God 
 hath done calling. And many other scriptures seem lo 
 intimate, that there shall he a' time of far more general 
 calling, than hath been hitherto ; when the receiving and 
 gathering in " of the Jews shall he as life from the dead," 
 as a resurrection from the dead, Rom. xi. 15. and when 
 the fulness of the Gentiles shall come in, ver. 25. The 
 way of speaking implies, that that fulness or plenitude was 
 yet behind, to succeed after the apostle's lime ; and no 
 such time hath succeeded yet. 
 
 2dly, There are many sciiptures also, that speak of the 
 great improvement and growth of Christians by the imme- 
 diate work of the Spirit of God. When 1 say imvicdiate, 
 I don't mean, as if it did work without means; bm that 
 by the means it doih itself immediately reach its subject; 
 and therefore, that all the operations ol the Spirit, whether 
 in converting or in building up of souls, lie not in the in- 
 .struments, but strike through all, so as to reach their sub- 
 ject. But that only on the by. Many scriptures speak of 
 the great improvement of the church in point of holiness; 
 so that it shall increase, not only in extent, but in glory, 
 and in respect of the lustre, loveliness, and splendour of 
 religion in it ; that it shall become a much more beautiful 
 and attractive thing, according to the representation which 
 it shall have in the profession and conversation of them 
 that sincerely embrace it. Which I suppose to be more 
 especially pointed at in such passages as these, Isa. Ix. 1, 
 2, 3. " Arise, shine, for thy light is come, and the glory of 
 the Lord is risen upon thee. For behold, the darkness 
 shall cover the earth, and gross darkness the people : hut the 
 Lord shall arise upon thee, and his glory shall be seen upou 
 thee. And the Gentiles shall come to ihy light, and kings 
 to the brightness of thy rising." This speaks that religion 
 should be so glorious a thing in its own subject, as by that 
 means to be inviting and attractive to those that were with- 
 out the church; and so doth directly and immediately 
 speak of such an effect, as should be wrought by the Spirit 
 of God upon persons seriouslv religious themselves, to 
 make them far to excel and outshine the glory of former time 
 and ages. This also is the more peculiar aspect and refer- 
 ence of that prophecy in Mai. iv. 2. " But unto you that fear 
 my name, shall the Sun of righteousness arise with healing 
 under his wings." That is, in that day of the Lord spoken 
 of in ver. 1. "Behold, the day comeih, that shall burn as 
 an oven ; and all the proud, yea, and all that do wickedly, 
 shall be stubble, and the day that eomeih shall burn them 
 up, saith the Lord of hosts, that it shall leave them neither 
 root nor branch." Here is a piediction of such an opera- 
 tion of the Spirit, as hath the actual fearers of God already 
 for the subject of it; upon them the Sun of righteousness 
 shall arise withreviving, cherishing beams, and make them 
 spring and prosper and flourish even as calves of the stall, as 
 it is there expressed. Religion will not then be such a faint,
 
 578 
 
 THE WORK OF THE HOLY SPIRIT IN 
 
 Serm. V, 
 
 languid, impotent thing, as now it is, that makes men dif- 
 fer very little from other men, makes them but to look and 
 walk and converse as others do. 
 
 3dly. Other scriptures speak of both these effects toge- 
 ther; and so of the increase of the church both ways at 
 once, both in extent and glory. As I reckon all those may 
 be understood to have that import, that speak of the new 
 heavens and the new earth that should be in the latter 
 limes: which are only metaphorical expressions; the 
 heaven and the earth being the universe, making up the 
 frame and compages of nature. These expressions are 
 only borrowed, and denote how universal and glorious a 
 change should be in the world ; for these new heavens and 
 that new earth are specified by the same adjunct, wherein 
 dwelleth righteousness, in one of those texts. We have it 
 mentioned twice in the prophecy of Isaiah, that he would 
 create new heavens and a new earth, chap. Ixv. 17. chap. 
 Ixvi. 22. And in 2 Pet. iii. 13. that in these there should 
 dwell righteousness. The renovation should consist in 
 this; and both the universality and the intensive perfection 
 of it are signified. The heavens and the earth, that is, 
 the whole frame of things, should be the subject of 
 the alteration ; and this alteration should be a renova- 
 tion, the making of them new, that is, better ; as the new- 
 ness of things is an ordinary Scripture expression of the 
 excellency of them. Now the creation of these must refer 
 to this time of the great restitution: as John speaks. Rev. 
 xxi. 1. " I saw a new heaven and a new earth; for the 
 first heaven and the first earth were passed away ;" the 
 former frame of things was all vanished and gone ; nothing 
 was like its former self, but all things were made new, as 
 is added ver. 5. a day wherein there should be as it were 
 a new-making of the world. The following texts also 
 speak of that double increase of the church jointly, Isa. 
 xxxii. 14, 15. A time and state of great desolation is 
 spoken of as preceding, and to be continued. Till when 1 
 " Until the Spirit be poured upon us, from on high:" and 
 what then 1 "The wilderness shall *be a fruitful field." 
 There is the taking in of more from the world, extending 
 the territories of the church further, the enclosing of much 
 more of the wilderness than hath hitherto been : " and the 
 fruitful field be counted for a forest :" that, which was be- 
 fore reckoned a fruitful field, be counted to have been hut 
 as a forest, in comparison of wl.at it shall be improved to: 
 there is the increase of the church in respect of the liveli- 
 ness and power of religion among convert!:j. So in chap. 
 XXXV. 1,2. " The wilderne,ss and the solitary place shall 
 be glad for them, and the desert shall rejoice, and blossom 
 as the rose. It shall blossom abundantly, and rejoice even 
 with joy and singing ; the glory of Lebanon shall be given 
 unto it, the excellency of Carmel and Sharon ; they shall 
 see the glory of the Lord, and the excellency of our God." 
 
 And both these effects, numerous conversions, and the 
 high improvements of converts, are so connatural, so con- 
 generous, do so very well agree with one another, that we 
 may very well suppose them to go together, that the former 
 will be accompanied with the latter. For this great effu- 
 sion of the Spirit we must understand to be sanative, in- 
 tended for the healing of a diseased world, and to repair 
 the corrupted forlorn stale of things; and therefore must 
 be proportionable to the state of the case, in reference 
 whereto it is to be a means of cure. It is very apparent, 
 that wickedness, as it is the more diffusive, is always the 
 more malignant. The diffusion and the malignity are wont 
 to accompany one another; just as it is with diseases, the 
 plague and other distempers that are noisome and dan- 
 gerous; they are always more mortal as they are more 
 contagious and spreading; and so are extensively and 
 intensively worse at the same time. And it must be pro- 
 portionabiy so in the means of cure ; there must be .such a 
 pouring forth of the Spirit, that will answer the exigency 
 of the case in both respects, that there be very numerous 
 conversions, and great improvement of con verts unto high- 
 er and more excellent pitches of religion, than have been 
 usually known in former times. 
 
 Objection. But here it may be said, that it is very diffi- 
 cult to conceive, how all this should be, considering what 
 the present stale and posture of the world is. As if we 
 cast our eyes about u.' and consider, how it is in vast parts 
 of it yet overrun with paganism, in others with Mahomet- 
 
 anism, in others with antichristian pollutions and abomi- 
 nations: when we consider, how it is generally sunk in 
 atheism and oblivion of God, dreiiched in wickedness ; and 
 even that part of it that is called Christian, how little it is 
 better than the rest. The great doctrines of the Christian 
 religion, the incarnation, the death, the resurrection of our 
 Lord Jesus Chri.st, the future judgment, and the eternal 
 states of men, all become even as antiquated things! pro- 
 fessedly believed for fashion's sake, because it is not con- 
 venient to pretend to be of no religion : but yet all these 
 things lie with the most as ineffecltial, insipid, unoperative 
 notions in their minds, that do nothing; and notwithstand- 
 ing which they are, and practise, jusf as they would do, if 
 they believed no such things. When we consider this to 
 be the present state and posture of the world, it is hard to 
 conceive how such a change as this should come. And 
 many may be apt to say in reference to this same HuXiyyt- 
 veaia, this renovation or regenerationof the church, the res- 
 titution of religion, as Nicodemus said concerning the rege- 
 neration of a particular person, " How can such things be 1" 
 
 Answer. Indeed the long-continued restraints of the 
 acts of absolute omnipotency make it even to seem but 
 equal to impotency ; and men expect as little from the one 
 as from the other. When great and extraordinary things 
 have not been done through a long tract of time, they are 
 no more expected or looked for from the most potent cause, 
 than they are from a most impotent. And therefore, when 
 any great thing is done for the church and interest of God 
 in the world, it comes under this character, things that we 
 looked not for, (Isa. Ixiv. 3.) things that do even surprise 
 and transcend expectation, and which no man would have 
 thought of. Men are very unapt to entertain the belief and 
 expectation of things, that are so much above the verge 
 and sphere of ordinary observation. We expect to see 
 what we have been wont to see ; and men are apt to mea- 
 sure thei^' faith by their eyes for the most part in reference 
 to such things, that that can be done which they have seen 
 done; but are hardly brought to raise their faith and ex- 
 pectation to higher pitches than so. 
 
 To make things therefore as conceivable as we can, we 
 .shall point out briefly, in what way and by what methods 
 and steps we may suppose so great a change to be brought 
 about by such an effusion of the Spirit. For, as was said, 
 it will not do the business with most, that the Spirit of 
 God can do all this, which will be granted at the very 
 first hearing; but a lively apprehension of these events to 
 be brought about is not ordinarily begotten, but by seeing 
 a way traced out, from point to point, and from step to 
 step, how and by what degrees such a work may be carried 
 on; and then the representation in that way being some- 
 what more lively, the impression that is made by it on the 
 spirits of men is accordingly more lively. But of this 
 more particularly hereafter. 
 
 I shall shut up the present discourse with desiring you 
 to remind and reflect upon the tendency of all this ; that 
 our souls may be possessed with a serious apprehension, 
 and thence have a lively hope begotten in them, of such 
 a time and state of things to come, wherein religion shall 
 prosper and flourish in the world, though now it be at so 
 low an ebb. I may say to you, as Paul did to Agrippa, 
 Acts xxvi. 8. Why should it be thought an incredible 
 thing, that God should raise the dead 1 why should it be 
 thought an incredible thing, that there should be a resur- 
 rection of religion 1 Thy dead men shall live, and together 
 with my deadbody .shall they arise. He hath said it, that 
 knows how to make it good ; " who is the resurrection 
 and the life," Isa. xxvi. 19. 
 
 And really it would signify much to us, to have our 
 hearts filled with present hope ; though we have no hope 
 (as was formally supposed, admitting that supposition) of 
 seeing it with our own eyes in our own days. Such a hope 
 would however not be unaccompanied with a vital joy. 
 " Abraham rejoiced to see my day: and he saw if, and 
 was glad ;" though it was above two thousand years before. 
 Plain it is, there is not a more stupifying benumbing thing 
 in all the world, than mere despair. To look upon such a 
 sad face and aspect of things through the. world, as we 
 have before our eyes : to look upon it despairingly, and 
 with the apprehension that it never will, never can, be bet- 
 ter; nothing can more stupify and bind up the powers of
 
 Sf.rm. VI. 
 
 REFERENCE TO THE CHRISTIAN CHURCH. 
 
 579 
 
 our souls, and sink us into a desponding meanness of spi- 
 rit. But hope is a kind of anticipated enjoyment, and 
 gives a present participation in the expected pleasantness 
 jf those days, how long soever they may yet be off from 
 us. By such a lively hope, we have a presentation, a feel- 
 ing in our own spirit of what is to come, that should even 
 make our hearts rejoice, and our bones to flourish as an 
 herb. Religion shall not be an inglorious thing in the 
 ■world always ; it will not always be ignominious to be se- 
 rious, to be a fearer of the Lord, to be a designer for hea- 
 ven and- for a blessed eternity. When these things, that 
 common and prevailing custom hath made ridiculous, with 
 their own high reasonableness, shall have custom itself 
 and a common reputation concurring ; how will religion 
 at that time lift up its head, when there is such a blessed 
 conjunction ! It is strange to think, that so very ab.'^urd 
 things, as the neglecting of God, the forgetting of eternity, 
 the disregarding of men's souls and everlasting concern- 
 ments, should even be justified by custom, so that nobody 
 is ashamed of them, because they do but as other men do 
 in these things : to be immersed all their life-time in the 
 world, to mind nothing else but earthly business, as if they 
 were made all of earth, and only for earth ; such most ab- 
 surd things even seem to be justified by common practice; 
 men are not ashamed of them, because they are but like 
 their neighbours. But when persons shall agree with one 
 another in being serious, heavenly, avowing the fear of 
 God, in e.xpress devotedness and subjection to him; when 
 the concurrence of common practice shall be taken in with 
 the high reasonableness of the things themselves, how 
 magnificently will religion look in thai day ! And if we 
 would but labour so to represent the matter to ourselves 
 beforehand, by a lively hope of such a state of things, we 
 should have the anticipated enjoyment of the felicity of 
 those times ; and have a great deal of reason, though it may 
 be we are to suffer hard and grievous things in the mean 
 while, to compose ourselves, and to enter upon that state of 
 suffering very cheerfully ; to wait patiently and pray ear- 
 nestly, that of so great a harvest of spiritual blessings to 
 come upon the world in future time, we may have some 
 first-fruits in the mean time. As it is not unusual, when some 
 very great and general shower is ready to fall, some pre- 
 cious scattering drops light here and there as forerunners. 
 And we should encourage ourselves in the expectation 
 of a present portion, sufficient for our present turn and the 
 exigency of our own case ; for we have this comfortable 
 consideration before us, that there is always so much of 
 the Spirit to be had, that w^ill serve the necessities of every 
 Christian that seriously seeks it. He will give his Spirit 
 to his children that ask him, as readily surely as they that 
 are evil will give good gifts to theirs. At all times there 
 is so much of the Spirit to be had, as, though it will not 
 mend the world, will mend us; if it will not better the 
 external state of things, it will better our spirits ; and so, 
 if not keep off suffering, yet will prepare and qualify us 
 for it: and that sure is a greater thing, than to have suf- 
 fering kept off; for that is but an external and natural evil, 
 this internal and spiritual. It would be a great thing, if 
 persons would admit the conviction of this, (and there is 
 not a plainer thing in all the world,) that patience is better 
 than immunity from suflTering: that great and noble effect 
 of the Spirit of God upon the soul, whereby it is brought 
 into an entire possession of itself ! Is that to be compared 
 with a little advantage that only my flesh and outward 
 man is capable of 1 Good things are to be estimated by the 
 greatness and nobleness of their subjects. Sure a good of 
 the mind, of the soul, must needs be far better than that 
 which is only a good of the body, of this perishing exter- 
 nal frame ; and therefore for us, it is as great a thing as 
 we can reasonably wish, that we may have such a portion 
 of the Spirit imparted to us, that will qualifv us to pass 
 well and comfortably through any time. And have not we 
 reason to expect this, even upon what is foretold us con- 
 cerning what shall be done in the world hereafter'? May 
 not I look up with a great deal of hope and encourage- 
 ment, and say, " Lord, that Spirit of thine that shall one 
 day so flow down upon the world, may not I have some 
 portion of it to answer my present nece.ssities ? and that 
 Spirit, that can new-make the world, that can create new 
 
 • Preached June 18. 1678. 
 
 heavens and a new earth, cannot that new-make one poor 
 soul 1 cannot it better one poor heart V To have a new- 
 heart and a right spirit created and renewed in us, is bet- 
 ter to us, than all the world ; and we have no reason to 
 look up diflldenily and with despondency, but with hearts 
 full of expectation. He will give his Spirit to them that 
 ask him. 
 
 SERMON VI.* 
 
 Wk have told you, wherein a good state for the church 
 would consist, to wit, in these two things concurring, — the 
 flourishing of religion, and — outward peace. — I have .said, 
 concurring ; for if they should be so severed, as that ex- 
 ternal prosperity should go unaccompanied with much of 
 the power and life of religion, the case would be much 
 worse with the church of God, rather than better. So tnie 
 the observation is, that religion brought forth riches, and 
 then the daughter destroyed the mother. We must say in 
 this case somewhat like what they have been wont to say, 
 who would give a favourable representation of Epicurus, 
 and his doctrine concerning the matter of felicity, that 
 would make his notion of it to consist of satisfaction of 
 mind and indolency of the body. There mu-;t be a like 
 concurrence of two such things to make up an entire and 
 completely happy state to the church ; principally a pros- 
 perous state of religion, and then (that which would be 
 very much adjumeiital and accessory) a peaceful and se- 
 date external state of things. 
 
 This being supposed, and having told you what .sort of 
 communication of the Spirit is to be expected, we came to 
 show the apt and appropriate usefulness of the means to 
 the end. For the clearing of this, we proposed to speak — 
 1. Of the c^c^.cy, and, — 2. Of ihe rucessity of (bis mean or 
 cause to bring about the end. 
 
 We are yet upon the former of these heads, the efficary 
 of this effusion of the Spirit to work a very happy state of 
 things in the church of God. We have shown, what it is 
 easily supposable the Spirit may do towards this purpose, 
 both by way of mediate and of immediate influence; both 
 in producing numerous conversions, and then high im- 
 provements of converts ; and in reference to both have 
 mentioned many scriptures, and might many more, to let 
 you see what we are taught and encouraged to expect. 
 
 We would now use some endeavour, for the facilitating 
 of our belief concerning this matter, and to render it more 
 easily apprehensible and familiar to our own thoughts; 
 that it might not be looked upon as an impossible thing, or 
 as altogether unlikely and improbable to be brought to 
 pass. To this purpose let us consider, — 1. What hath 
 been done in like kind heretofore : — '2. In what way .«aich 
 a thing may be supposed to be brought about ; by what 
 steps, and in what method, and by the conspiracy and con- 
 sent of what subordinate causes such a thing may be ef- 
 fected : — 3. How suitable and congruous every way it is 
 to the blessed God to do such a thing. 
 
 I. We may a little help ourselves in this matter, by 
 taking an estimate from what hath been, unto what may be. 
 Much hath been done in the like kind heretofore. You 
 know how it was with the Christian church in its begin- 
 nings, in its very primordia, when the light of the Gospel 
 was but dawning upon the world. How great and unex- 
 pected were the changes, that were brought about them all 
 on a sudden ! Partly in our Lord's time ; and more espe- 
 cially, when the Spirit was more eminently poured forth 
 afterwards in the apostles" days ! Insomuch that you find 
 the matter represented by such expressions as these, con- 
 cerning Christ himself in his own time ; " Behold, the 
 whole world is gone after him,'' John xii. 19. So the 
 anxious and vexed minds of the rulers amongst that peo- 
 ple did suggest to them ; " We have lost all. the whole 
 world will be his proselytes at this rate.'' But especially 
 when the Spirit came to be poured forth after his resurrec- 
 tion and ascension; by that same means, "not by might 
 nor by power, but by Spirit," what strange things were 
 done ! And who would have expected such things to have
 
 580 
 
 THE WORK OF THE HOLY SPIRIT IN 
 
 Serm. Vf. 
 
 been done then, that had lived at that time; if it should 
 have been foretold, that twelve men should conveit so 
 great a part of the world 1 and with what amused, diffident 
 spirits did they receive their own commissions and instruc- 
 tions, when that strange thing was said to them, " Go you, 
 and teach all nations "?" Suppose twelve persons should be 
 picked out from among us, and such a charge given them, 
 " Go and proselyte the world unlo serious religion !" Yet 
 we know what was done. It is said in one place, Acts 
 xix. 26. This Paul hath turned away much people; this 
 one man ; and in another. Acts xvii. 6. Those that have 
 turned the world upside down, are come hither also. 
 Thousands were converted at a sermon, the sound of the 
 Gospel tiying to the utmo.st ends of the earth. And this 
 was but in pursuance of what Christ foretold should be 
 done by his Spirit. These men did not levy armies to 
 carry religion abroad into the world. When their hearts 
 seemed to fail and sink within them, as despairing from the 
 greatness of the enterprise, and the meanness of such agents 
 as themselves were ; they were only directed to stay and 
 wait awhile, till they should receive power from on high, 
 Acts i. 4, 8. And when at last it came, with what won- 
 ders did these men fill the world ! Christ told them there- 
 fore, John xvi. 7, &c. It is expedient for you, that I go 
 away ; for if I go not away, the Comforter will not come 
 unto you ; but if I depart, I will send him unto you : and 
 ■when he is come, he will convince the world. We read 
 it, " the Comforter." The word signifies, (and it would 
 be more fitly unto that purpose read,) the advocate, or the 
 pleader; so rmnm^^nroi more properly imports. "When 
 that mighty Pleader comes ; my Agent, that I intend shall 
 negotiate my affairs for me (when I am gone) against an 
 infidel world ; then let him alone, he shall deaf with the 
 world, as infidel and wicked as it is. ' He shall convince 
 of sin, and righteousness and judgment.' Whereas I have 
 been reproached as a blasphemer, and a deceiver of the 
 people, and one that hath designed only to set up for my- 
 self, and to acquire a name and reputation among men ; 
 he shall urge on my behalf the sin of the world in not be- 
 leving in me; and my righteousness, both personal and 
 imputable, capable of being applied unto others ; and he 
 shall urge efficaciously the busine.ss of judgment upon the 
 usurping prince of this world, and dethrone him, and cast 
 him down." And so it did succeed in very great part. 
 
 And how lively and vigorous was the religion of the 
 primitive Christians at that time, those first owners and 
 professors of the Christian faith ! how did heavenliness, 
 spirituality, and the life and power that was from above, 
 sparkle in their profession and conversation! That one 
 might see ihem walking like so man}^ pieces of immorta- 
 lity, dropping down from heaven, and tending Ihitherward; 
 all full of God, and full of Christ, and full of heaven, and 
 full of glory: and this world was nothing to them; tram- 
 pled upon as a despicable, contemptible thing. 
 
 Now we may say with ourselves, Quicqvid fieri potuit, 
 ■potest : that which could iMve been done, and v^e see was 
 done, viay still be done. " Is the Spirit of the Lord strait- 
 ened 1 Is his arm shortened 1" 
 
 II. It would very much facilitate the belief of such a 
 thing, at least the apprehension of it as very possible, to 
 consi 'er, in what easy and apt vv'ays, and by how fit and 
 suitable a method, such a work as this may be carried on. 
 And it will be, I reckon, to good purpose to in.sist a little 
 here ; for when the workings of any extraordinary Divine 
 power have been long withheld and restrained, (as was 
 said,) the thoughts and apprehensions of such a thing is 
 very much vanished out of the minds of men ; and they 
 expect generally as little from absolute omnipotency as 
 from mere impotency, because their eyesight is usually the 
 measure of their expectation. Therefore the more easy 
 steps we may suppose to be taken in such a work, so much 
 the more apprehensible the thing will be, and so much the 
 more vivid the apprehension, and the deeper the impression 
 iipon our hearts ; which is the great thing we should aim at 
 m the hearing of any Gospel truth or doctrine whatsoever. 
 
 Now it must be acknowledged, that a very great and 
 extraordinary exertion of Divine power, the power of the 
 blessed Spirit, is necessary in this ca,se. Such an extraor- 
 dinary effort of absolute omnipotency there v/as at first to 
 create the world : but wlien once it was created, there was 
 
 a settlement of a certain law or course of nature, and a 
 staling of all second causes in their proper stations and 
 subordinations, in which the affairs of the world have ever 
 since been carried on in an equal and very little varied 
 course ; which hath given atheists occasion to cavil, " All 
 things are as they were from the beginning, even unto this 
 day." This may assist us to apprehend, how things being 
 once by so wonderful a hand put well onwards towards a 
 good state, the course may be continued, and the great in- 
 terest of religion improved more and more. Suppose it be 
 somewhat proportionably in this new creation, the making 
 new heavens and a new earth, as it was in the making of 
 the world at first. There must once be an extraordinary 
 effort of omnipotency or an almighty power ; but that being 
 once supposed, it is easily apprehensible, how many things 
 may concur and fall in, what a conspiracy of inferior and 
 subservient caiises there may be, to promote and help on 
 the reviving of religion in the world. That extraordinary 
 effusion of the Spirit therefore once supposed, we will go 
 on to particulars that will be easily supposable to succeed, 
 and to be subservient and ministering causes in this work. 
 
 1. There will be a great observation, no doubt, of what- 
 soever shall be at first done in this kind, for the recovery 
 of religion in the world. It is a matter that will naturally 
 draw observation. The course, wherein the interest and 
 kingdom of God is ordinarily promoted in the world, is 
 rather governed by that maxim. The kingdom of God 
 cometh not with observation, Luke xvii. 20. The affairs of 
 it are carried on in a more still and calm and silent way. 
 But when God does (as we must suppose him to do) step 
 out of his course in this case ; no doubt that first effect, or 
 the Spirit of God, when it comes to shake the spirits of 
 men somewhat generally, and makes them bestir them- 
 selves ; this cannot but be a very noted thing. If any con- 
 siderable number in one such city as this should all on a 
 sudden be struck, and a remarkable change be made upon 
 them; if several notoriously debauched and dissolute per- 
 sons should become very serious, sober, praying men ; 
 some noted to be very great worldlings, that one could 
 never hear any thing from but what savoured of earth or 
 <an earthly design, now become eminently godly, spiritual, 
 heavenly in all their conversation ; this would be very 
 much observed and taken notice of, as somewhat a strange 
 and new thing. And, 
 
 2. Upon such observation, the minds of men will be 
 filled with wonder, and much amusement. " What a 
 strange thing is this, that such a great number of people 
 will not be as they have been, and do as they have done! 
 Such as could drink and swear and rant with the rest of 
 their dissolute neighbours, are now taken up all of a sud- 
 den, and do no such thing I We can hear them speaking 
 of God and heaven and eternity, unto whom all thoughts 
 of any such thing seemed perfect strangers !" Men will be 
 very apt to be amused, when such a thing as this shall be. 
 
 3. That amusement and wonder, will beget discourse 
 about it from person to person. It will grow, as we may 
 easily apprehend, into matter of talk, what changes appear 
 in such and such. 
 
 4. Such discourse, it is very supposable, may put many 
 persons upon search and mquiry ; first into the truth of 
 the matter of fact, and then into the tendency of such a 
 thing, whither it drives, what kind of change it is. Is it 
 true, yea or no, that such things really are '? And when 
 once it comes to be found really true, that there are great 
 numbers of persons upon whom there is a very eminent 
 and remarkable turn and change, either to make debauched 
 persons become religious, or such as were before religious 
 to become more visibly serious and lively and active in the 
 business of religion ; when it is found, I say, to be so, the 
 matter itself, Avhich such persons come to be changed to, 
 naturally comes under inquiry : Whither do these persons 
 tendl what do these impressions, that are now upon their 
 minds, put them upon 1 And it is found, that they are 
 urged by such impressions to mind God and the Redeemer 
 of souls more, the concernments of eternity and another 
 world ; and to help all others to do so too, as much as in 
 them lies. These things do very aptly succeed to one 
 another. And so far the case was like this, in Acts ii. 
 upon that first eminent effusion of the Spirit. The matter 
 came to be noised abroad, (v^er. 6.) and the multitude
 
 Serm. VI. 
 
 REFERENCE TO THE CHRISTIAN CHURCH. 
 
 581 
 
 came together. And (ver. 7.) they were all amazed, and 
 marvielled : very great amusement was upon the minds of 
 men. Though it is true there was somewhat miraculous 
 in the case, that is, the power of speaking variety of lan- 
 guages all of a sudden; and we suspend any judgment 
 For the present, about what we are to expect hereafter in 
 the church of God of the same thing, or of any thing of 
 like kind. But to have so much, as is of ordinary and 
 common concernment to souls, wrought and done, as hath 
 been mentioned, somewhat generally ; this cannot but in- 
 fer much observation, much wonder and amusement of 
 mind with others, much discourse and talk upon the sub- 
 ject, and thereupon inquiry both into the truth and ten- 
 dency of the matter of fact. 
 
 5. Upon such inquiry, we may suppose there will ensue 
 approbation ; that is, at least a judicious approbation, that 
 shall go as far as the judgment and conscience, though it 
 may not suddenly descend upon the heart and afTec'.ions: 
 we may promise ourselves that, such being the nature of 
 religious concernments, and their high reasonableness so 
 very apparent. What is it that these men drive at? whither 
 do these new impressions on their minds carry them 1 
 Why, only to mind the great Lord and Original and Au- 
 thor of all things ! to give over living, as the most of men 
 have heretofore done, in a total oblivion and neglect of 
 their own original ! How strange is it for men lately come 
 into being, to live in this world and never think : How 
 came we into being 1 how came there to be such a thing 
 as man on earth"? such a world as this 1 so various orders 
 of creatures in itl All that religion tends to, when it 
 comes to revive in the spirits of men, is but to engage 
 them to look back to their own original, to consider 
 whence they sprang; and what duty they owe there, what 
 reverence and fear and love ; and what expectations they 
 may have from that great and eternal and all-compre- 
 hending Being, from whom they and all things did pro- 
 ceed, and whereas they find themselves in a lapse and 
 apostacy with the rest of mankind, and have the discovery 
 of a Redeemer ; and of God restoring and recovering souls 
 by him ; to consider, what trust, what love, what subjec- 
 tion, what entire devotedness is justly claimed as most due 
 and fit to be paid to him. When religion aims at no other 
 things than these ; we may promise ourselves, that the in- 
 quiry will end in approbation : all this is equal, and right- 
 eous, and good ; men can have nothing to say against it. 
 The concernments of religion are of that sort and kind, 
 that they will admit of search and bear an inquiry : and 
 men are only therefore not approvers of religion at least, 
 because they inquire not, and so can understand no reason 
 imaginable why men should pretend to any religion at all. 
 But the same reasons will urge a thousand times more for 
 the greatest and deepest seriousness in religion : for the 
 mere formality of religion, without the substance and soul, 
 is the most absurd and ridiculous thing in all the world, 
 and for which least is to be said. The profession of down- 
 right atheism were a great deal more rational, than to 
 pretend to the belief of such a deity that can be pleased 
 with trifles and shadows ; than to worship such a thing 
 for a God, that cannot tell whether I love him or no, and 
 fear him or no, and have a heart really propense and de- 
 voted to him or no. The inquiry and discussion of the 
 ca.se must be supposed to infer great approbation. 
 
 6. That is likely to infer an apprehension of son-»?what 
 divine in it. When it shall be seen, that men are strangely 
 wrought upon, and very great changes made upon them ; 
 and when being discoursed with, and the things unto which 
 their spirits tend being examined and searched into, they 
 are found to speak words of truth and soberness, and not 
 like mad and distracted men, that are beside themSelves ; 
 (as the apostles were fain to apologize once and again, 
 when so strange things began to be wrought by their mi- 
 nistry at the first, in Acts ii. 15, 16, and chap. xxvi. 25.) 
 This must be supposed also very apt and likely to succeed, 
 that there will be an apprehension in the case, that there 
 is something divine in all this ; some misgiving or suspi- 
 cion of it; "Sure it is of God, that there is this change 
 and turn upon the spirits of so many men ! Sure there is 
 some divine hand in it !" We find, that there were such 
 apprehensions of somewhat di\'ine in the matter, when so 
 great things were wrought at first by the ministry of the 
 
 41 
 
 apostles. The most maliciou.s enemies were full of doubt, 
 whereunto this would grow, Acts v. 24. And one of their 
 wisest men saith, in ver. 39. " If it (this thing) be of 
 God;" — that z/ imports a suspicion, some doubt and af>- 
 prehension of the thing as not improbable : " Perhaps this 
 is of God, that there are begun such alterations in many 
 men ; that those who lived before as if ihey were altoge- 
 ther made of earth, now are come to mind nothing but 
 heaven and eternity, and tlie concernment of another 
 world. It is very likely, that there is a divine hand in 
 this matter; for the more we inquire and search, the less 
 we have to say against what these men do ; we cannot see 
 but it is highly reasonable, that men should live, as they 
 say we should, in more .serious observance of, and devo- 
 tedness and love to, the great Lord of heaven and earth, 
 and the Redeemer of sinners." And, 
 
 7. Hereupon succeeds naturally a favourable inclina- 
 tion towards religion, in those who have hitherto been 
 strangers, at least, to the power and life of it. When they 
 see it sparkle in the conversations of others; when they 
 see persons that were become like other men, (for that is 
 the present state of the world, and it is too much to be 
 feared that it will grow more and more so, that those who 
 have been very forward professors of religion fall to decay, 
 and their profession like an old garment grows threadbare, 
 and is worn off from them by piece-meal, and they cease 
 to be what they were; family orders are thrown off, no 
 worship, no calling upon God ; they let themselves be in- 
 gulfed of the world, as if they were here in the world for 
 nothing else than to drive designs for a few days; eternity 
 and everlasting concernments being quite forgot,) when it 
 shall be said, that men, whatever they were before, are 
 awakening out of this drows}', dead sleep, and returning 
 from that dreadful apostacy ;" and a spirit of seriousness 
 and life and vigour begins to show itself; and religion and 
 holiness (as I was saying) .shall sparkle in the lives of 
 them, in whose conversation there was hardly the least 
 glimmering of it appearing before : then so amiable and 
 lovely a thing, as well as highly rea.sonable, religion is, 
 that it will draw favourable inclination; especially when 
 that apprehension goes alon?, that there is certainly some 
 divine impression upon men's minds, that makes them to 
 bestir themselves and to alter their course from wha.. it 
 was, and that induces so many to do thus as it were at 
 once. For there is a natural reverence of what is appre- 
 hended to be divine ; this naturally draws a kind of vene- 
 ration. It wEis indeed strange, how the world could be 
 imposed upon to believe such figments and fables a.s they 
 did; but being made to believe them, we see what was 
 the natural operation of that veneration, which resides in 
 the spirits of men, of things apprehended divine. For the 
 image that dropped down from Jupiter, mentioned in 
 Acts xix. 35. it is strange, how the people could be made 
 to believe, that such an image fell down out of heaven: 
 but being made to believe it, nature followed its own course; 
 that is, most highlv to reverence what they apprehended 
 to be of a divine descent, and what came from above. All 
 the citv, all that city of Ephesus, was a worshipper of the 
 image that they were told came down from Jupiter. A 
 favourable propension there will be towards religion, when 
 once men come generally to take notice of it as a divine 
 thing; of divine" descent", as it is of a divine tendency. 
 And so it was in that first great work of this kind, which 
 we read of in Acts ii. That numerous multitude of con- 
 verts, three thousand at one sermon, continued in break- 
 ing of bread from house to house, and did eat their meat 
 with gladness and singleness of heart, (ver. 46.) praising 
 God, and having favour with all the people, ver. 47. Re- 
 ligion, when it comes to be itself and to look like itself, 
 will very much attract favour from all that behold the 
 genuine, natural workings and tendencies of it. 
 
 8. Hereupon doth unavoidably ensue a general reputa- 
 tion to serious religion, which will signify a great deal to 
 this. When serious religion shall by these liieansbe brough'- 
 into credit, then the work will drive on apace, and the 
 chariot-wheels move easilv. Let us but bethink ourselves, 
 what the reputation even of so despicable a thing as wick- 
 edness itself doth in the world ; how it spreads, \yhen 
 common practice hath once given it a reputation. Things, 
 that at other times persons would have been ashamed of,
 
 582 
 
 THE WORK OF THE HOLY SPIRIT IN 
 
 Serm. VII. 
 
 or even that they should be suspected concerning them, | 
 afterwards they come to glory in: and when once the re- 
 straint of shame is gone off from the spirits of men, it is 
 a strange liberty they find to do wickedly ; now they can 
 easily go from one wickedness to another, from bad to ! 
 worse, and still to worse ; for the restraint is gone, that 
 bound up their spirits before. When the shame then of 
 being seriously religious shall cease, and it shall become a 
 reputation in the world ; think, what that will signify in 
 the case of so highly reasonable and beautiful a thing, as 
 religion in itself is. Common reputation giv^es a patronage 
 to so horrid, so ignominious a thing as wickedness : what 
 will not so lovely and praise- worthy a thing, as religion is 
 in the very heart and conscience of men that allow them- 
 selves to consider it, gain of reputation and by it in such 
 a case ; when every man shall be the more esteemed of, 
 by how much the more he appears a sincerely religious 
 man ; when no man shall be afraid to avow himself a 
 fearer of the great Lord of heaven and earth, but this shall 
 be reckoned in every one's account a high glory; when 
 every one shall be ready to give suffrage to it, and to say, 
 it is reasonable we should all be so 1 Then may we sup- 
 pose religion to be riding on prosperously, conquering and 
 to conquer ; then may we expect the arrows of the great 
 Author of it to be sharp in the hearts of men, the way of 
 access will be easy into the inwards of men's souls, the 
 great truths and doctrines of religion will come under no 
 prejudice, men will not be shy and ashamed to entertain 
 them, or afraid what the tendency of entertaining them 
 will be, or what course they shall be thereby engaged in, 
 that may possibly prove injurious to them in point of re- 
 putation or worldly interest one way or another. 
 
 These things being all taken together, it seems we have 
 a pretty apt method, and a representation of fair and easy 
 steps, in which we may suppose such a work to be carried 
 on ; when once there is that great effort of the almighty 
 power of the Spirit, to cause somewhat general rousings 
 and awakenings in the spirits of men, to make them a 
 little bestir themselves and look about them, with respect 
 to the concernments of the Maker of this world, and their 
 relation and tendency to another world. And when we 
 see how such a thing may be carried on from step to step, 
 the apprehension of it should not be thrown aside as very 
 remote and alien, and as if it were altogether unlikely that 
 any such thing should ever be done in the world. You 
 know that great inundations, as they gradually spread in 
 circuit, so they increase and grow more copious by a con- 
 tinual accession of new rivulets and springs to them, 
 wherever they spread: so it is in such a work as this of 
 the Spirit of God. That Almighty Spirit, the further it 
 goes, the more it engages and takes in the concurrence of 
 the spirits of men, as so many rivulets into the great and 
 common inundation. For the expression of pouring forth 
 the Spirit seems to favour that metaphor, and to look to- 
 ward.i it ; as the communications of the Spirit are fre- 
 quently in Scripture spoken of under the same metaphor 
 of streams of water, rivers of water. So it is also in a 
 common conflagration ; (the workings of the Spirit are 
 represented by both these elements ;) the further the fire 
 spreads, still the more matter it meets with, the more com- 
 bustible matter ; and that way still more and more in- 
 creases itself, even intensively, according as it spreads 
 more extensively: because it still meets with more fuel to 
 feed upon. We might thus render this business very easy 
 and familiar to our own thoughts, by considering how 
 such a communication of the Spirit once begun and set 
 on loot doth spread and propagate itself, even in an ordi- 
 nary and easy way and method further and further. 
 
 I shall only close at present with one hint, which may 
 point out to us one thing more, as a way to make this ap- 
 prehension most familiar to us. It would certainly be most 
 clearly apprehensible, how such a work may be wrought,by 
 getting as much of it as is possible exemplified in ourselves, 
 upon our own souls. If once we come to find and feel the 
 Spirit of the living God seizing our spirits, coming with 
 an almighty and irresistible power upon us; if we can but 
 feel the fire burn within, and find it refining us, consuming 
 our dross, melting and mollifying us, new moulding us, 
 quickeiiing and enlarging us ; it" will be very easy to ap- 
 * Preached June 19th, 1678. 
 
 prehend then, how such a work may be carried on in the 
 world. For if I have but the notion of a unit in my mind, 
 I can soon apprehend a bigger number; it is but adding 
 one unit to that, and another to that, and so on, till I come 
 to a greater number. If I can but find and experience 
 such a mighty operation of that blessed Spirit upon my 
 own soul, it is easy then to conceive thus ; if it be so with 
 another, and another, and another, religion will in this 
 way become a very lively prosperous thing in the world. 
 It is but the multiplying of instances, and the thing is 
 done : and he that can do so by me, can do the same by 
 another, and another, and so onwards. And methinks we 
 should not rest ourselves satisfied, till we find somewhat, 
 till we find more of this within ourselves. Oh what a mi- 
 serable thing is a Christian, when he is dead ! We look 
 with a great deal of compassion upon the death of any 
 thing ; but the case claims so much the more, by how much 
 the life is more noble that is extinct or seems extinct ; or 
 when the life once supposed to have been, now appears as 
 if it were quite extinct. Is the expiration of this natural 
 life a thing to be beheld with pity "? what is it to lose, or to 
 appear at least deprived of the life of a child of God 1 to 
 be destitute of such a life, which I have at least pretended 
 to, and carried some appearance and semblance ofl The 
 death of a peasant is a considerable thing, and it were 
 barbarous not to take notice of it with a resentment; but 
 when it comes to be talked, A great man is dead, a noble- 
 man, a prince; this makes a great noise and ring in the 
 world ; and such a person having been of any use and 
 account in his age, his exit is not without a great lamen- 
 tation. If I had but a finger dead, it would be an afflic- 
 tion; but if I look into myself, lo, there I behold the death 
 of a soul, a reasonable, intelligent pirit; that ought to 
 live the life of God, devoted to God, in commerce with 
 God ; I look into it, and it is dead. Oh ! how intolerable a 
 thing should this be to me ! till I find some revivings, some 
 stirrings, some indications of life ; that is, till I find reli- 
 gion live ; that I have somewhat more than an empty, 
 naked, spiritless form of religion ; that I can now go and 
 pray, and have life in my prayer ; go and hear the word, 
 and find life in my hearing. Of all deaths there is none 
 so dreadful and so to be lamented, as that of religion, and 
 certainly most of all in ourselves; that my religion is a 
 dead thing. How impatient should I be to find it revived ! 
 And if I will but be restless in this, and make it my daily 
 business importunately to supplicate the Father of spirits, 
 " Take pity of thine own offspring, let me not lie lan- 
 guishing siill in death;" and I at last obtain a merciful 
 audience, (as it is plainly said, that the heart shall live that 
 seeks God,) then I have such an exemplification in my 
 own soul of the matter we have been discoursing of, as 
 that I can easily represent to myself; "When such a work 
 is done in others as is done in my own soul, and comes to 
 be made common amongst others ; then will religion be a 
 very lively, prosperous, flourishing thing in the world." 
 And that certainly is the best way of all others to make 
 this thing apprehensible to ourselves, to get the thoughts 
 of it familiarized to us, in how easy a way religion should 
 grow and spread among men. 
 
 SERMON VII.* 
 
 It was thought requisite to lay before you some con.si- 
 derations, that might facilitate the apprehension and belief 
 of the revival and prosperous state of religion in the worlc. 
 Three were mentioned to that purpose. 
 
 I. The consideration of what hath been done in this 
 kind heretofore, when the Spirit was so eminently poured 
 forth at first. 
 
 II. The consideration, by how easy steps and in how 
 apt a method it is supposable, that such a work may be 
 done. These have been spoken of. 
 
 If once it please God to say, he will do such and such 
 things, we need not to be told how. " Is any thing too 
 hard for me 1" saith the Lord. That should be enough
 
 Serm. VII. 
 
 REFERENCE TO THE CHRISTIAN CHURCH. 
 
 583 
 
 for us; but we find, that commonly it is not enough; 
 experience doth loo commonly show that. And therefore 
 the supposition of such a gradual progress a.s hath been 
 mentil)ned, doth most facilitate the apprehension of such 
 a thing ; though we do not imply or suppose in all this, 
 that any thing the less power is exerted ; but only that it 
 is put forth in a way more familiar to our thoughts. As 
 in the creation of the world there was an exertion even of 
 absolute power, the Almightiness (as I may speak) of 
 power; but that absolute power soon became ordinate; 
 and that order and chain of causes, and the method of their 
 operations and peculiar virtues, which Ave are wont to call 
 by the name of nature, universal and particular nature, 
 soon came to be fixed and settled ; according whereto God 
 hath since continued the world, and propagated the indi- 
 viduals of everj' sort and kind of creatures, or propagated 
 the kind in those individuals. This is not to suppose more 
 and less power, but is only a various exertion ijf the same 
 power. But when power is exerted in this latter way, it 
 is more apprehensible by us, how it goes forth to do such 
 and such things. It is said in Heb. xi. 3. Through faith 
 we understand, that the worlds were framed by the woid 
 of God. By faith ; how is thai 1 Why, faith is said, in the 
 clause a little before, to be the " evidence of things not 
 seen." We were none of us at the making of the world, 
 we saw not how things were done then; but we have the 
 matter imparted to us by God himself, we have a divine 
 testimony in the case ; the history committed into sacred 
 records; by which we are informed, not only that the 
 world was made, but how it was made, by what steps and 
 by how gradual a progression the great God went on in 
 the doing of that stupendous work. And hereupon it is 
 said, "by faith we understand," XliVrfi voeiACp; that is, as 
 that word signifies, hy faith we come to have the formed, 
 explicit notion in our minds, to have distinct thoughts 
 and apprehensions how such a work was done. Thus we 
 learn, how much was done such a day, and how much 
 such a day ; light created the first day; the second, the 
 firmament; the third, the earth, dry land, and the seas or 
 the gathering together of the waters into one place ; and 
 then herbs and trees and beasts, &c. according to their 
 several kinds; and so on. Now this begets a clearer and 
 more distinct apprehension in our minds of the way of 
 making the world, than if it had been only said, that the 
 world was at first made by God. We understand it by 
 faith, have a notion begot in our minds clear and distinct 
 by faith ; inasmuch as or so far as the testimony is distinct 
 and clear, which we have concerning this matter. Though 
 it is true, reason would go far to demonstrate, that this 
 world had a beginning; yet reasoning could never have 
 helped us to voeii', distinctly to understand, in what steps 
 or in how easy and fit a method that great work was car- 
 ried on. So now in making the world anew, erecting the 
 new heavens and the new earth wherein dwelleth righte- 
 ousness, wherein it shall dwell ; we certainly can more 
 distinctly apprehend how that work is done, if it be repre- 
 sented as done by such a kind of gradation as you have 
 heard of, than if we were put to it to conceive it done all 
 at once. There is no less power required to the continuing 
 of this world els it is, than was to the making of it what it 
 is; for it is the continual exertion of the same power that 
 doth it. But our thoughts are not so liable to be amused, 
 (they are not at all amused,) to see a continual succession 
 of things in the natural way of production. It gives us no 
 difliculty or trouble to see how children are born, how the 
 kinds of other creatures are propagated ; whereas it would 
 greatly amuse us, to think of men and beasts and trees and 
 herbs all starting up of a sudden out of nothing. Though 
 we cannot, upon a reasonable consideration of the case, 
 but acknowledge, that it were as easy a thing for God to 
 have created man, as he did Adam, hy an immediate hand, 
 as it is to continue the race of mankind in that way wherein 
 he doth it; the operation would not be harder to him; 
 yet it was, it seems, in the judgment of his infinite wisdom, 
 less apt; and it would be harder and more unapprehen- 
 sible unto us. So, we must acknowledge too, that it were 
 no harder a thing for God, "of stones to raise up children 
 unto Abraham," to make Christians, proselytes to religion 
 
 a Plutarchi Parallel, inter. Op. Moral. Edit. H. Steph. (Gnpc.) Vol. I. p. 530.- 
 
 that way, than to convert men by the Gospel ; but this, 
 which he hath chosen to be his ordinary way, we have 
 reason and oJjligation to account the fittest way; and it is 
 a way more familiar and easily conceivable to our thoughts. 
 And therefore it doth much towards the facilitating the 
 apprehension and belief of this great change, to consider, 
 by how easy steps and in how apt a method such a work 
 as this may be done. And this will be very considerable 
 unto such persons that take notice, (which any ob.serving 
 man would,) how little apt the wise and holy God is to step 
 out of his usual course, further than the plain necessity of 
 the case, in reference to such or such greax ends of his, 
 doth require. But then add we hereto, 
 
 III. The consideration, how highly suitable it is to the 
 blessed God to do this work. Doth it not look like a God- 
 like work 1 doth it not carry the aspect of a God-like under- 
 taking and performance, a thing worthy of God, to restore 
 religion and improve it much further in the world 1 We 
 shall show, in what paiticular respects it is .suitable to him. 
 
 1. It is very suitable to his most mysterious wisdom : the 
 glory whereof it is to do things, that none could contrive 
 to do besides ; and especially to rescue and recover what 
 seemed lost and hopeless, when the sentence of death was 
 as it were actually thereupon, that is, religion. This is 
 the attribute of Divine wisdom, to recover things out of so 
 dreadful a degeneracy ; to retrieve matters, when the case 
 was so desperate unto all men's apprehensions. It is the 
 choice of Divine wisdom to do .so, to find an expedient 
 even in the last necessity: according to that monumental 
 name, which Abraham put upon the mount, where he 
 was to have sacrificed his Son, Jehovah-jireh ; The Lord 
 will see, or. The Lord will provide and take care: an in- 
 stance thought fit to be upon record unto all succeeding 
 time, as a discovery what the choice of the Divine wisdom 
 is ; that is, to take things even when they are desperate, and 
 to find out an expedient to salve all. An instance like to 
 that I remember Plutarch* takes notice of, that one Aletella 
 in a certain great exigence was to have been sacrificed, but 
 was prevented bj'^ the miraculous substitution of a heifer in 
 the room of the intended victim: so possiblj' pagans might 
 have fabulously imitated what some way or other they 
 came to have heard from the sacred records. But so the 
 case seems to be with religion, when God shall so wonder- 
 fully retrieve it, as it was with the heir of the promise, the 
 knife just at the very throat. There was a contrivance 
 suitable to the wisdom of God, to hit upon this critical 
 juncture of time, to rescue him from so near a death, when 
 he seemed even upon expiring. And as he wa.s fetched 
 from death even in a figure ; (his father received him from 
 thence in a figure, Heb. xi. 19.) so it must be with religion 
 too. The son of the free-woman, Isaac, was the emblem 
 of it: it is as it were in a like figure to be fetched from 
 death, by a kind of resurrection from the dead; life from 
 the dead, as the apostle speaks; when the time shall be 
 of bringing in the fulness of the Gentiles, and the saving 
 of all Israel. How glorious the display of Di^nne wisdom, 
 to let so gross darkness cover the world, so black ami 
 gloomy a day be upon it, that shall issue at last in so much 
 brightness and so glorious light ! even in the evening, as 
 it is in Zech. xiv. 7. wherein the Lord shall be king over 
 all the earth; and there shall be one Lord and his name 
 one, ver. 9. Then comes that bright and glorious evening 
 after a black and gloomy day : not perfect darkness ; there 
 is not such in the spiritual world, when things are at the 
 worst ; as they use to say there is not in the natural world, 
 7ion dantur puree tenebra:: so it is there said, that the light 
 shall not be clear nor dark, ver. 6. It shall be as if it 
 were neither day nor night, ver. 7. In that day, (and it 
 shall be one day known to the Lord, neither day nor night,) 
 at evening-time it shall be light. You know how great a 
 change the diurnal return of the sun makes; and were it 
 not that the thing is usual, and we are accustomed to it, 
 that would be thought a strange matter. .How vast is the 
 change, that, when darkness is upon the spacious hemi- 
 sphere, all of a sudden the return of the sun should clothe 
 all with so much light and lustre and glory, as we see it 
 doth ! Such vici.ssiuides the wisdom of God hath thought 
 fit : but especially it hath been reckoned more suitable to
 
 S84 
 
 THE WORK OF THE HOLY SPIRIT IN 
 
 Serm. Vll 
 
 his ■wisdom, to carry things on from obscurer and less con- 
 siderable beginnings unto perfect and more glorious issues, 
 so that in the evening it shall be light: all the foregoing 
 day did look more like night than day. That we reckon 
 a great work of wisdom, to be able to find out a way of 
 doing the most unexpected things, that no one would have 
 thought of, further than as it may please him to give any 
 previous intimations of his purpose, what he will do. 
 
 2. It is most suitable to that supreme interest which he 
 hath in this lower world, that propriety and dominion 
 which he claims in it to himself by a most rightful claim ; 
 to procure himself a more universal actual acknowledg- 
 ment and subjection, than hitherto: whether we speak of 
 his natural interest, as he is the God and the Creator of the 
 world; (this lower part, this inferior region is a part of 
 his creation too;) or of his acquired interest by tlie Re- 
 deemer ; and I more especially intend the latter. When 
 I consider the magnificent things, that the Scripture speaks 
 concerning the interest of the Redeemer in this world, this 
 lapsed apostate world ; (such as this. Matt, xxviii. 18, 19. 
 All power is given unto me in heaven and in earth: Go 
 ye therefore, and teach all nations ; make men know, that 
 they belong to me and are all my right ; lay my claim to 
 them, proclaim my right, challenge my interest for me, 
 proselyte them to me ; baptize them into my name, with 
 the Father's and the Holy Ghost's;) this doth import, as 
 if some time or other he meant to have a more actual ac- 
 knowledgment and subjection in this world, than hitherto. 
 If we look upon such a text as that, He died, and revived, 
 and rose again, that he might be Lord both of the living 
 and the dead, Rom. xiv. 9. The living and the dead 
 comprehend all that we can think of; and it signifies as 
 much as, that he might be the universal Lord of all. 
 Having paid so dear a price, do we not think, that he will 
 make more of the purchase, than hitherto he hath 1 as you 
 have it pursued in that 11th to the Romans in several ex- 
 pressions, ver. 7, 9. None of us liveth to himself, and no 
 man dieth to himself — For to this end Christ both died, 
 and rose, and revived, that he might be Lord both of the 
 dead and living. That invitation to all the ends of the 
 earth is of as strong import this way, Isa. xlv. 22. Look unto 
 me and be ye saved, all the ends of the earth. Observe 
 the solemnity and majesty of the following words, ver. 23. 
 I have sworn by m3'self, the word is gone out of my 
 mouth in righteousness, and shall not return, that unto me 
 every knee shall bow, every tongue shall swear. Which 
 saying is expressly applied to the Lord Christ by the 
 apostle in Phil. ii. 11. Consider to the same purpose the 
 solemnity of his inauguration, and the largeness of the 
 grant made to him thereupon, Ps. ii. 6, 7. I have set my 
 King upon my holy hill of Zion : I will declare the de- 
 cree; — Thou art my Son, this day have I begotten thee. 
 This day, that is, the resurrection-day; that is the emi- 
 nently intended sense, as the apostle's quoting of it in Acts 
 xiii. 33. plainly signifies. This day have I begotten thee ; 
 thou art now to me the first-born of the dead, the first- 
 begotten of them that slept: and being my first-born, art a 
 great heir; and this is thy inheritance: — I will give thee 
 the heathen for thine inheritance, and the uttermost parts 
 of the earth for thy possession, ver. 8. Sure that signifies 
 more than mere right and title. And think how pursuantly 
 to that it is foretold. Rev. xi. 15. that, upon the sounding of 
 the seventh trumpet, the voice should be, the proclamation 
 should go forth, " The kingdoms of this world are become 
 the kingdoms of our Lord and of his Christ." They are 
 become so; that must needs be in some other way than 
 they could be understood to be so before ; they were always 
 in right and title. It is very suitable to that supreme and 
 sovereign interest that he hath, at one lime or another, to 
 assert his right; especially considering it as a disputed 
 right : for how long hath this interest been contested about 
 by the usurping god of this world, the prince of the dark- 
 ness of this world ! he who hath tyrannized in the dark, 
 and made it so much his business to keep all men from 
 knowing any other lord ! 
 
 3. It is most suitable unto the immense almighty power, 
 by which he is able to subdue all things to himself. It will 
 be upon that account a God-like M'ork, worthy of such 
 an agent. To make all mountains vanish before Zeriib- 
 babel, Zech. iv. 7. to bring about what seemed so very 
 
 difficult, and even unexpected to all men ; this is a thing 
 becoming God, to do what no one else could do. It is the 
 acknowledgment therefore that is given him as God, a 
 glorifying him as God, which we find done by Jehoshaph'at, 
 2 Chron. xx. 12. We know not what to do; but our eyes 
 are upon thee. That is as much as to confess, that when 
 all created power is at a nonplus and can do no more, (we 
 can do no more,) yet thou hast still somewhat to do, when 
 there is nothing remaining to be done by any hand else. 
 And it is very subsidiary in this case, and helpful to our 
 apprehension and faith, to consider the immensity and 
 omniscience of that Spirit, whereby this great work is to 
 be done; to think that that Spirit is already every where; 
 as in Psalm cxxxix. 7. Whither shall I go from thy Spirit 1 
 and whither shall I flee from thy presence"? Whether I 
 think of heaven or earth, or of any the remotest parts be- 
 yond the seas, there thy Spirit is. He doth not need to go 
 far in order to the doing of these great things ; but only to 
 exert a present influence, where he is already, having all 
 things subsisting in him, living, moving, and having their 
 being in him. And when we consider, how great the eifi- 
 cacy is of that great apo.state, impure spirit, that in Scrip- 
 ture uses to go under the name of Satan or the devil, to 
 keep the world in darkness and ignorance, to hold them 
 off" from God ; (the course of the world is said to be after 
 the power of the prince of the air, the spirit that worketh 
 in the hearts of the children of disobedience, Eph. ii. 2.) 
 when we think, that his influence should be so diffused and 
 extensive, as that it is thought fit to be said, that the whole 
 world lies h rw mviipto, which is capable of being read, in 
 the evil one, in the Vificked one, (1 John v. 19.) how should 
 faith triumph in the apprehension of the absolute immen- 
 sity and omnipresence of the blessed Spirit, by which this 
 great work is to be wrought and done in the world ! when, 
 as we know, Satan cannot be every where, he makes use of 
 many hands, many instruments : but this Spirit, that works 
 all in all immediately itself, how agreeable is it to be the 
 author of such a work as this, the reviving of religion out of 
 that dismal death that is so generally upon it in the world! 
 
 4. We cannot but apprehend it most suitable to the 
 Divine goodness, that boundless, flowing goodness ; that, 
 after the prince of darkness, the Apollyon, the destroyer of 
 souls, hath been leading still his multitudes down to perdi- 
 tion from age to age, with so little check or restraint, a time 
 should come, when in so visible a way the spoil should be 
 rescued out of the hand of the terrible and the strong; and 
 the Son of God come in for his portion and share, that it 
 was said should be divided to him, Isa. liii. 12. How like 
 will such a dispensation as thLs be unto that first joyful 
 sound of the Gospel by the ministry of angels, "Glory to 
 God in the highest, peace on earth, and good-will toward 
 men !" How agreeable to this will that be which we find 
 in Rev. xxi. 3. When that voice shall be heard, concerning 
 a thing then actually done and taking place, "Behold, the 
 tabernacle of God is with men, and he will dwell with 
 them ; and they shall be his people, and God himself shall 
 be with them, and be their God : and all tears shall be 
 wiped away ;" as it follows, ver. 4. Certainly it is vei y God- 
 like upon this account, that such a thing should be. To 
 reflect upon such passages of Scripture ; " God so loved the 
 world, that he gave his only-begotten Son," &c. "After 
 that the kindness and love of God to man appeared," that 
 'Pi\ai>dpMTTia, and the large goodness which such expressions 
 signify, methinks should prevent its being thought strange, 
 that more large correspondent effects of such goodness are 
 expected, before the end of all things shall come. 
 
 I must add here by way of caution, that it is true, it is 
 not safe to conclude from what we conceive suitable to 
 God to do, that such a thing shall certainly be done; a 
 stress were not to be laid upon that kind of arguing, if we 
 would suppose that argument to be the original and prin- 
 ciple. But having other grounds to rely upon, which you 
 have heard, it is very aptly subsidiary; and signifies very 
 considerably as an addition to have the apprehension ot 
 such a work as every way most suitable to God and wor 
 thy of him. And when we find upon other grounds, that 
 is, from what God hath expressly said and foretold, that 
 we have cause to receive and entertain such a truth; we 
 have reason to entertain it with a great deal more compla- 
 cency, and to solace and satisfy ourselves in it the more,
 
 Sehm, VII. 
 
 REFERENCE TO THE CHRISTIAN CHURCH. 
 
 585 
 
 by how much the more we apprehend of suitableness and 
 congTuity, and the fitness in it, and how every way it be- 
 comes that great God that is to be the Auihor of this blessed 
 work. We may venture after him to speak of what is 
 suitable; that is, when he hath told us what he will do, 
 or when we have seen what he doth, then it is fit for us to 
 say this was very worthy of God, fit for him to do ; or it 
 will be so whenever he shall please to do it, if it be what 
 we are yet expecting him from his word to do. 
 
 But if it be objected here ; If in these several respects it 
 be a thing suitable to God to do such a work as this, why 
 was it not done long ago 1 inasmuch as this was as good a 
 reason at any other time, as it can be in any time yet lo come ; 
 since God's wisdom, his sovereign dominion, his power and 
 might, his grace and goodness, were always the same 1 
 
 To that I shall shortly say, 
 
 1. That if it be a thing very suitable to God to do, as 
 we have represented, certainly it seems a great deal more 
 likely, and a far more probable way of reasoning, from its 
 not being done, to expect that at some time or other it 
 shall, than that it never shall. But we have told you we 
 rely upon other grounds, and take in that consideration 
 only as subsidiary and adjumental, to facilitate our appre- 
 hension and belief of what God hath foretold in his word. 
 But I add, 
 
 2. That there are but these two things, that we can hav^e 
 to consider in this matter, and to give an account of ; the 
 delaying of such a word so long, and the doing it at last ; 
 and I doubt not but a very unexceptionable account may 
 be given of both. 
 
 1st, For the delaying of it so long. Truly we have rea- 
 son enough lo resolve that into that justice, against which 
 no one that ever considers can open his mouth in this 
 case. Is it to be thought strange, that God should so 
 long withhold his light and influence from a world in so 
 wilful an apostacy and degeneracy and rebellion through 
 so many ages ; that had always taken care to propagate 
 the enmity, and to keep on foot the rebellion, so as that 
 always, when he comes to look down upon the world, this 
 is the prospect that he hath of it, this the account of things ; 
 looking down from heaven upon the children of men, he 
 seeth, that there is none that doeth good, none that under- 
 stand and seek God, Psal. liii. 1, 2. Men affect distance 
 from him, they please themselves to be without him in the 
 world. Is it to be thought strange ? is it not highly just, 
 that he should make that their long continued doom, which 
 had been their horrid choice ? You affect to be without 
 God! Be so, in your own loved darkness and death! 
 Men might see, that things are not well with them, that 
 they are in an unhappy state; it is visible. Ira Dei est 
 vita mortalis, is an ancient saying, (his morto.l life is the 
 very -wrath of God. Men might apprehend, that God is 
 angry, that they are not such creatures as man was made 
 at first ; heathens have apprehended and spoken of the 
 apostacy. But when they are miserable, and feel them- 
 selves so, yet they don't return to him and seek after him : 
 they cannot help themselves, to mend the temper of their 
 own spirits, which they might easily discern is far out of 
 course ; yet they don't cry for help. It is highly glorious 
 triumphant justice, to withhold so despised and neglected 
 a presence and influence from so vile and wicked a gene- 
 ration. But then, 
 
 2dly, For doing such a thing at last notwithstanding, 
 good account may be given also. Inasmuch as this cannot 
 be said to be a thing to which justice most strictl}' and in- 
 dispensably and perpetually obliges, but a thing which it 
 doth highly approve ; wisdom and sovereignty may most 
 fitly interpose at pleasure, and when it shall be thought fit. 
 God may let his action against the world fall when he will, 
 though he have a most righteous one ; and, as the apostle 
 speaks, Rom. xi. 22. concerning this case, the restitution 
 of the Jews, which shall be unto the Gentiles also life from 
 the dead, when all shall be gathered in at once; we are 
 to expect instances, in the mixed course of God's dispen- 
 sation, both of his severity and goodness; and finally, 
 when that time comes, when all Israel shall be saved, and 
 the fulness of the Gentiles be brought in, the matter is to 
 be resolved into such an exclamation, as that which the 
 apostle makes, (ver. 33.) " Oh the depth of the riches both 
 
 • Preached June 86tli, 1678. 
 
 of the wisdom and knowledge of (Sod !" It is to be refer- 
 red unto his wisdom and sovereignty, to time things as 
 seems good to him. The times and seasons are hid m his 
 own power. Acts i. 7. Hidden from us, but in his power 
 to stale and settle amd determine when and a.s he plea.'^es. 
 What is more agreeable unto so absolute a sovereign, and 
 so wise a one, than such an arbitrary timing of the dispen- 
 sation of grace, whenever it shall have its course 1 
 
 And for our own jiart; as we have that reason to .'•dore 
 sovereign wisdom and goodness, whenever tliey shall have 
 their exercise in this kind ; so in the mean time we have 
 reason to be silent, and our mouths to be stopped, while 
 God doth as yet defer and delay the time of that pouring 
 forth of his Spirit. We have reason to be silent, if it be 
 our lot in our age to be under the restraints of that blessed 
 Spirit. When was there ever any age in the world, that 
 might more fitly be pitched upon for the object, upon 
 which justice should have its exercise in this kind ? Was 
 there ever an age, wherein the Spirit was more grieved, 
 more striven against! wherein God should have more cause 
 and reason to say. My Spirit shall not strive with you 1 
 with whomsoever of all mortals it strives, it shall not strive 
 with you ! To cast our eyes abroad, and consider the state 
 of the world ; and to look on the state of things at home : 
 — fm- the nations about us, we have heard how they have 
 been for years together ; what reformations do we hear of 1 
 what dispositions to return to Godi Men cry because of 
 the oppressions of the mighty; but none say, "Where is 
 God our Maker 1" Every where there is that disposition 
 to groan and languish and die under their pressure ; but no 
 inquiries after God; and whereas they cannot turn to him 
 without him, (and we acknowledge that for a principle,) 
 help in order thereto is not implored. We can feel what 
 is externally aflliclive; the Divine absence we feel not: 
 when his soul is departed from us, we are not concerned 
 to be without the Spirit ; as Jer. vi. 8. Lest my soul de- 
 part from thee. He speaks of that presence of his as a 
 soul to that people ; as it truly and really is to a people 
 professing the name of God : his special presence is the 
 soul of such a people, as they are such a people; holds 
 things together, keeps up and maintains life and order. Be 
 instructed, lest my soul be gone. When his presence and 
 Spirit retire and are withdrawn, it is as discernible in the 
 stale of things among a people, as a man can distinguish 
 a carcass from a living man. God is gone, his soul is de- 
 parted, the soul which he had put into such a people, 
 which was active and at work amongst them. Well ! but 
 we are loen still for all that, we are reasonable creatures, 
 and have an apprehensive understandingof the word, and 
 faculties remaining to us; so that we might know, that 
 such a presence is gone, and we are miserab'f loereby; 
 and there might, one would think, be some lamentings alter 
 the Lord: but where almost are they to be found ? If we 
 could have the world at will, enjoy what would gratify 
 sensual inclination, God might be gone and keep away 
 from us, and few would concern themselves with the mat- 
 ter. Have we any thing then to say, that the .season is 
 deferred of pouring forth this Spirit f No. If we consider 
 the resistance and grievance and vexation, that it hath met 
 withal in our age and amongst us ; it is not strange, if God 
 should determine, " My Spirit shall not strive with you; 
 whatever good thoughts I may have towards those thai 
 shall succeed and come up hereafter." But yet norwith- 
 standing, it is most suitable and congruous, that at one 
 time or another so great a work as this, the recover}" of re- 
 ligion from under so dismal a darkness and so great a 
 death, should be done. And all these things together 
 serve to evince, that this means hath an eflicacy, which 
 we have reason to believe both can and will do this work, 
 so as to make religion to prosper and flourish in the world 
 sooner or later. 
 
 SERMON Vni.' 
 
 We have shown at large the efficacy of the means 
 assigned in the text, a plentiful effusion of the Spirit,
 
 586 
 
 THE WORK OF THE HOLY SPIRIT IN 
 
 Serm. VIII. 
 
 for bringing about a happy state of things to the Chris- 
 tian church; in one of those two things, that must be 
 supposed to concur in maiiing up sucli a happy state ; 
 namely, 
 
 I. For the revival of the power of religion.* Without 
 which the other branch, which we are further to consider, 
 would signify very little to the good state of the church. 
 But this being presupposed, we now proceed to show, how 
 efficacious a means the revival of religion and the prosper- 
 ous flourishing state of that, by the spirit poured forth, 
 would be — 
 
 II. For bringing about an externally happy state of 
 things in the church of God. And it would be so, 1. By 
 removing the causes of public calamities : 2. By working 
 whatsoever doth positively tend unto public good. 
 
 1. By removing the causes of public calamities ; both 
 the deserving, and the working causes. 
 
 1st, What does deserve public calamities ] What so far 
 provokes Divine displeasure, as to inflict them, or to let 
 them befall a people. Nothing doth this but sin, that only 
 troubles a people, and causes an unhappy andimprosperous 
 state of things, the hiding of God's face, as the text ex- 
 presses it. It doth as it were cause an ireful aspect in the 
 countenance of Providence ; makes that otherwise shining, 
 smiling face to be hidden and obscure, and clothes it with 
 terror, that it is not tu be beheld. The Lord's hand is not 
 shortened that it cannot save, nor his ear heavy that it 
 cannot hear; but your iniquities have separated between 
 you and your God, and your sins have hid his face from 
 you; in the language of the text, Isaiah lix. 1, 2. So it 
 hath been threatened that it should be, and so in event it 
 hath been, upon manj'of the more notable apostaciesof the 
 church of God. This hath constantly ensued, his hiding 
 his face ; that is, his altering the course of providence, so 
 as that its aspect hath become ireful and terrible. It is 
 foretold, that so it should be upon such delinquencies. 
 God says to Moses, Deut. xxxi. 16, &c. Behold, thou 
 shalt sleep with thy fathers, and this people will rise up, 
 and go a M'horing after the gods of the strangers of the 
 land, whilber iheygo to be amongst them, and will forsake 
 me, and break my covenant which I have made with them. 
 And what will come of thatl Then my anger shall be 
 kindled against them in that day, and I will forsake them, 
 and I will hide my face from them, and they shall be de- 
 voured, and many evils and troubles shall befall them; so 
 that they will say in that day. Are not these evils come 
 upon us, because our God is not amongst us 1 and the 
 like you have, chap, xxxii. 18, &c. Of the rock that begat 
 thee thou art unmindful, and hast forgotten God that form- 
 ed thee. And when the Lord saw it, he abhorred them, 
 because of the provoking of his sons and of his daughters. 
 And he said, 1 will hide my face from them, I will see 
 what their end shall be ; for they are a very froward gene- 
 ration, &€. Such threateningsyou find unto the Christian 
 churches too, in the 2d and 3d chapters of the Revelations. 
 There it is threatened to the churches of Ephesus, and 
 Pergamos, and Sardis, and Laodicea; that inasmuch as 
 there were such and such things, wherein they were noto- 
 riously delinquent ; " If you clon't repent, I will remove 
 your candlestick, Rev. ii. 5. If you don't repent, I will 
 fight against you with the sword of my mouth, ver. 16." 
 (That means no doubt the threatenings of the word made 
 operative, and brought to execution ; as in Hos. vi. 5. I 
 have hewed thera by the prophets ; I have slain them by 
 the words of my mouth.) " Except thou repent, I will 
 come against thee as a thief, Rev. iii. 3. And, because 
 thou art lukewarm, and neither cold nor hot, I will spew 
 thee out of my mouth. — Be zealous therefore and repent, 
 ver. 16, 19." And thus it hath also in event been, accord- 
 ing to the tenor of these threats. If you look over those 
 Psalms, which are the records of the carriage and deport- 
 ment of God's own peculiar people towards him, and of 
 his dealing v/ith them thereupon ; the 78th, 10.5th, and 
 lOGlh; all hath but verified that one thing mentioned in 
 Lev. xxvi. 23, 24. that when they should walk contrary 
 unto him, then would he also walk contrary unto them ; 
 i. e. he hid his face, as you have heard the import of that ex- 
 pression. And it is with the same cloud that he doth as 
 it were cover his face and them too. He covered the 
 
 * See page 575. 
 
 daughters of Zion with a cloud in his anger. Lam. ii. 1. 
 So he often did that people (^f the Jews. And so he hath 
 the Christian churches too in great displeasure : those 
 seven in Asia, those in Greece, and in many other parts 
 of the world that have been famous. 
 
 What is it now, that must counterwork that wickedness, 
 which provokes God thus to hide his face 1 We know his 
 Spirit must do it: when he pours out his Spirit, he ceases 
 to hide his face. That is a quick refining fire, purges the 
 dross ; without the purging of which the whole lump is 
 called reprobate silver, rejected of the Lord. When the 
 matter was consulted of, the blessed God is represented 
 as it were disputing with himself, whether not to abandon 
 and disinherit his Israel : and when at length the contrary 
 resolution is taken up, what do you find to be the concur- 
 rent resolution with that of not casting them off and laying 
 them aside 1 Jer. iii. 19. And I said, how shall I put thee 
 among the children, and give thee a pleasant land, a goodly 
 heritage of the hosts of nations 1 Thus the matter is resolv- 
 ed, as in a subserviency to the resolution not to cast them 
 off; Thou shalt call me, my Father, and shalt not turn 
 away from me. " I will put a sonlike disposition into 
 thee, and so the relation shall be continued, and I will not 
 disinherit thee." Thus the thoughts of that severity, oi 
 disinheriting and abandoning, came to be laid aside. But 
 the Spirit poured forth removes also — 
 
 2dly, The working causes, as well as the provoking 
 causes of such calamities to the church of God ; both with- 
 out and within itself. 
 
 [1.] Causes without the church itself; the injurious 
 violence of open avowed enemies, the atheistical, infidel 
 idolatrous world ; and all reducible to that head, by which 
 the church of God may be endangered. The eflusion o.' 
 the Spirit will remove this cause of public calamities, either. 
 
 1. By subduing such enemies and breaking their power. 
 And while God is among his people and hath not hid his 
 face they may venture to defy all the world. Gird your- 
 selves, and ye shall be broken in pieces: gird yourselves, 
 and ye shall be broken in pieces. Take counsel together, 
 and it shall come to nought ; speak the word, and it shall 
 not stand: for God is with us, Isa. viii. 9, 10. "Our 
 matters are in a good state; for we are not deserted and 
 forsaken of the Divine presence, our defence and ourglory." 
 How is all the enemies' power gloried over upon this ac- 
 coimt in the 46th Psalm, and in many like places of Scrip- 
 ture ! In that time, when they shall generally fear the 
 I ord from the west, and his glory from the rising of the 
 sun ; then it is said, When the enemy shall come in like 
 a flood, the Spirit of the Lord shall lift up a standard 
 against him, (Isa. lix. 19.) i. e. animate and fill up every 
 part ; so as that all that oppose shall even melt away 
 before him. Or, 
 
 2. They shall be overawed, so as thereby to be made to 
 surcease and desist from attempts of hostility against the 
 church. For the church, when religion lives in it, (as you 
 know that is to be the first effect of the Spirit to this pur- 
 pose,) becomes terrible as an army •with banners; as the 
 expression is, Cant. vi. 4. Upon life, order will be sure 
 to ensue, and with that goes majesty, and with that terror. 
 There is an awful majesty, you know, sits in the face of 
 a man, while he lives; but if he once become a carcass, 
 the fowls of the air and the beasts of the field, and even 
 the very worms of the earth, dare prey upon him. So it is 
 with the church ; when it is dead, when religion is become 
 a mere piece of empty, spiritless formality, this makes it 
 look but just like other parts of the world ; they will say 
 of it, What are they better than we 1 The i-eligion of 
 Christians, if you look only to the external formalities of 
 it, hath not so much of a superiority or higher excellency, 
 but that it will be a disregarded thing with them who can 
 easily distinguish between vivid religion and dead. But 
 when the Spirit of the living God puts forth itself in dis- 
 cernible effects, and such as carry an awful aspect with 
 them unto the common reason of men ; religion then 
 grows a venerable thing, and the very purpose of opposition 
 and hostility is checked and countermanded, and even 
 quite laid aside. Or else, 
 
 3. They become kindly affected by this means unto the 
 church ; to those that are seriously religious in the woi.d_
 
 Serm. VIII. 
 
 REFERENCE TO THE CHRISTIAN CHURCH. 
 
 587 
 
 which we suppose to be, upon so general a pouring forth 
 of the Spirit, a very common thing. Their hearts incline 
 to favour, as we have noted upon another occasion before, 
 that it is apt to be. When there are manifest appearances 
 of God in the restoring of religion, it appears that the 
 thing is of the Lord, the hand of heaven is seen in it. 
 When it was very remarkably so among the first converts, 
 it is said, they had favour with all the people, Acts ii. 47. 
 Upon those manifest appearances of God on behalf of the 
 Israelites under the Egyptian oppression, the Egyptians at 
 length came to favour them. The Lord gave the people 
 favour in the sight of the Egyptians, (Exod. xi. 3.) for they 
 manifestly saw, that God was for them. So natural a 
 respect, from somewhat of a remaining congenerousness, 
 the manifest appearance of any thing divine did of old 
 draw from the reasonable nature of man ! Yea, 
 
 4. They become sincerely proselyted very generally : 
 that is to be supposed from the many scriptures formerly 
 opened. And so the causes of offence and disturbance to 
 the church from without very much cease, from the vast 
 extension and spreading of its territories: they th-at were 
 enemies to true Christians on every side, become such even 
 of themselves. That transforming power and influence, 
 which religion and the Spirit of God poured forth will 
 have upon the generality of the spirits of men, is the thing 
 designedly held forth by such expressions as these, Isaiah 
 xi. 6, &c. The wolf shall dwell with the lamb, and the 
 leopard shall lie down with the kid ; and the calf, and the 
 young lion, and the fatling together ; and a little child shall 
 lead them. And the cow and the bear shall feed, their 
 young ones shall lie down together ; and the lion shall eat 
 straw like the ox. And the sucking child shall play on the 
 hole of the asp, and the weaned child shall put his hand 
 on the cockatrice's den. It is subjoined to all this, (ver. 9.) 
 They shall not hurt nor destroy in all my holy mountain ; 
 for the earth shall be full of the knowledge of the Lord, 
 as the waters cover the sea. Religion shall so diff"use itself, 
 and the Spirit of God go forth with that transforming 
 power, as to turn leopards and lions and beasts of prey into 
 lambs, to make men of ravenous dispositions to become 
 sincere Christians : according to the influence and power 
 of the Spirit of Christ, the knowledge of the Lord shall co- 
 ver the earth as the waters do the sea, and so there shall 
 be no hurting nor destroying in all the holy mountain of 
 the Lord. My design, as hath been often intimated, is 
 more to show the coimexion of these things with one an- 
 other, than to define the circumstances of the state itself, 
 and when it shall be. In the same manner I conceive the 
 expression is to be understood in Psalm xlv. 5. where, 
 speaking of the prosperous state and progress of the king- 
 dom of Christ, its great improvements, when he shall go 
 on prosperously, conquering and to conquer, he saith ; 
 " Thy arrow shall be sharp in the hearts of enemies, 
 whereby the people shall fall under thee. Thy arrow shall 
 be directed even into their very hearts, and so they shall 
 become subject unto thy rule by means of the impressions 
 made upon their hearts." 
 
 [2.] Causes of trouble and calamity, within the church 
 itself, will by the same means be made to cease too. 
 
 We are told what those causes are by the apostle James, 
 chap. iv. 1. From whence come wars and fightings among 
 you"? come they not hence, even of your lusts ! Indeed 
 this is the same cause that was before mentioned, but con- 
 sidered as disquieting and troubling the church of God in 
 the world in another way of operation. The wickedness 
 of the world may be considered, either with reference to 
 the object of it, the great and blessed God, against whom 
 all sin of whatsoever kind is ultimately directed; or with 
 reference to the general subject of it, the world itself which 
 lies in wickedness. According to the Ibrmer notion of it, 
 as it works in direct reference to God, it is the moral cause 
 of calamities; it provokes God to intiict them, as hath 
 been shown. But beside that, it is to be eonsidei-ed in the 
 other notion, in reference to the subject : and so it hath an 
 immediate malignant efficiency of its own, to work public 
 calamities. 
 
 Plain it is, that the covetousness, the pride, the wrath- 
 fulness, the env^', the malice, that every where so much 
 abound in the Christian church, are the source of its wars, 
 the things that disquiet it, and will not let it rest : ajid 
 
 (which involves them all,) self-love; a radical evil, from 
 whence spring all the other, and consequently all the mi- 
 series, that do or at any time have infested the church of 
 God in this world. It is the observation of a pagan, that 
 a people's self-love Ls (as he calls it) the caase of all sins ; 
 that too earnest love that every one unduly bears to him- 
 self And the apostle Paul, speaking of the perilous times 
 that should be in the latter age of the world, or the last 
 times, (meaning by that phras-e the latter part of the age 
 from the Messiah to the end of the world, according Uj the 
 known division of time into three ages by the Jews.) signi- 
 fies that the perilousness of those times should then priu- 
 cipally appear, when there should be a more noloriou.s dis- 
 covery of that great principle of self-love every where in 
 the world. Indeed that haih been a principle ruling the 
 world ever since the breakmg ofl;"of man from God." Yet 
 we know there are some times of more prevailing wicked- 
 ness in the world than others are : and this is the character 
 of those perilous times of the last age, that men should be 
 lovers of their own selves, ^iXauroi, 2 Tim. iii. 1,2. Or, as 
 the apostle Peter, .speaking of tlie same latter times, ex- 
 presses it, 2 Pet. ii. 10. men shall be nvBiftcn, self-plea.sers. 
 
 It is very obvious how all the other particular evils 
 spring from this one root. What is pri<(e but an over- 
 weening conceit of a man's self 1 too much complacency 
 in and admiration of one's self? What is covetou.-ness, 
 but a labouring to grasp all to oneself 1 EnvT rises, be- 
 cause I see others have the good things which I would 
 fain have myself. When it fares better with a man than 
 it doth with others, then he is proud ; when it fares belter 
 with others than it does with him, then he is enviuus. 
 When he is proud upon the former account, that subdues 
 him to the dominion of such other evils, as have most af- 
 finity with that; it makes him wrathful, malicious, re- 
 vengeful, and the like. All these miseries, in respect 
 whereof the last days are said to be perilous, are by the 
 apostles in the fore-mentioned places referred unto self- 
 love, self-pleasing, as the proper diagnostics and charac- 
 ters of such a state of the world. But what kind of self-love 
 is it 1 or what kind of self is it the love of? It is our most 
 ignoble, meanest self, the basest part of ourselves; the 
 body, the sensitive life, and the good things that are suitable 
 and subservient to that. This self is the great idol set up 
 all the world over, and the undue love of it is the idolatry 
 by which that idol is served : terrene and earthly good, io 
 the several kinds and .'iorts of it, are the several sorts of 
 sacrifices, by which that idol is from time to lime provided 
 for. This being the true .state of the case, as wickedness 
 doth more prevail and abound, tliere is s'ill the higher 
 contestation between idol and idol : so many men, so 
 many idols; and so many altars set up for each several 
 idol. And (his makes all the hurry and commotion in 
 each part and corner, every man labouring to grasp as 
 much as he can to the service of his own idol, his own 
 private and particular interest. This hath drawn that 
 inundation of miseries upon the church of God ; the 
 wickedness of men hath thus broke out like a flood. The 
 floods of ungodly men, acted by such principles, and hj 
 that one principle as radical to all the rest, have over- 
 whelmed the world and the church witli miseries. 
 
 And where is the cure 1 Only the Spirit of the Lord 
 lifting up a standard against these floods ; and that by 
 turning men from transgression in Zion, Isa. lix. 19, 20. 
 bv counterworking that wickedness, that hath prevailed so 
 far and to so high a degree. The Spirit of the living God 
 only can purge and compose at once the troubled state of 
 things. Wickedness can never admit any such thing as 
 (juiet. The wicked are like the troubled sea, when it can- 
 not rest, whose waters cast up mire and dirt. There is no 
 peace, saith my God, to the wicked, Isa. Ivii. 20, 21. They 
 can neither admit it themselves, nor permit it to others. 
 Now here the great purifier must be the Spirit poured 
 Ibrth ; spoken of under the metaphorical expressions of a 
 refiner's fire, and of fuller's soap, Mai. iii. 2. That is a 
 quick and fervent fire, and will certainly make away with 
 the dross and wickedness, when once it comes to pour 
 forth its mighty and fervent influences to that blessed pur- 
 pose : even though there should be a state of things, as is 
 foretold in Zeeh. xiii. 8, 9. when two third parts of the 
 land sliouJd be cut ofl' and die, and only a third be lefl j
 
 588 
 
 THE WORK OF THE HOLY SPIRIT IN 
 
 Serm. IX. 
 
 that shall be refined, as silver is refined, and tried, as gold 
 is tried. It is but one and the same labour, that gives pu- 
 rity and peace. The same thing that defiles, disturbs; 
 and the same thing that purges, pacifies, and brings all to 
 a. quiet state and happy composure. So the Spirit poured 
 forth will be a most eflicacious means to bring about a 
 good state, by removing the causes of public miseries. 
 And also, 
 
 2. By working whatsoever hath a positive tendency to 
 the good and happiness of the church. To evidence this, 
 I shall speak, first of the principles, which it doth im- 
 plant. And, secondly, of the effects, which it works by 
 those implanted principles, tending to the common pros- 
 perity of the whole church. 
 
 [l] The principles, which it doth implant. We may 
 comprehend them all summarily imder the name of the 
 Divme image, which it is the great business of the Spirit 
 to restore among men. And I shall particularize no lower 
 than to these two heads, — divine light, and — love; which 
 the Spirit of God poured forth settles and plants in the 
 minds of men. These are the two great things, wherein 
 men are capable of imitating God. By one of the pen- 
 men of holy writ, the apostle St. John, in one and the 
 same epistle, God is said to be both light and love. God 
 is light, 1 John i. 5. God is love, chap. iv. 16. These 
 made somewhat generally to obtain amongst men, cannot 
 but infer a most happy state. 
 
 1. Light. When tliis is diff'used, when the knowledge of 
 God comes to cover the earth, (as was said,) as the waters 
 do the sea, it cannot but make a happy peaceful state. 
 There is nothing terrible in light. " A sphere of light (as 
 I remember a heathen speaks) hath nothing in it that can 
 be disquieiive ; and therefore therein can "be nothing but 
 perfect tranquillity." Wherever men are quarrelling with 
 one another, they are quarrelling in the dark, scufiiing 
 and fighting with one another in the dark ; though every 
 man thinks he sees, which makes the matter so much the 
 worse. It is a real, but an unimagined, unapprehended 
 darkness, that overspreads the world ; and in that dark- 
 ness men are working all the mischiefs and miseries to 
 themselves that can be thought of There will be an end 
 to that, when the Divine light comes and spreads itself (as 
 it were) in men's lives. 
 
 2. Love. When God implants his love in the minds of 
 men, there needs no more. Even that one thing is enough 
 lo make a happy world, the love of God dwelling in every 
 breast, transforming them into love. He that dwelleth in 
 love, dwelleth in God, and God in him, 1 John iv. 16. A 
 most certain assurance, that all will be well. And I would 
 speak of these three branches of Divine love, (for it is all 
 divine in respect of the root and principle,) as conducing 
 to ma e the world happy; supreme love to God ; a due 
 and well regulated love of every man to himself; and love 
 to every other man as to himself. But of these hereafter. 
 
 I shall now close with a short word of Use. By the 
 drift and tenor of what hath been hitherto discoursed, you 
 may see, that the good and felicity of every person, and 
 so of the church in common, though it come at last in the 
 issue to be an external thing, yet in the root and principle 
 is an interpal thing. Every man's happiness or misery 
 grows within himself: and so the common happiness and 
 misery of the church of God grow principally and chiefly 
 within itself. It is the saying of a heathen, Epictetus I 
 mean, " The character or note of an idiot or plebeian is 
 this, that he places the expectation of all his good or of all 
 his evil from without ; whereas the note, the certain cha- 
 racter of a philosopher, (of a wise or virtuous man, so he 
 means by that term,) is to place all his expectation of good 
 or evil in things that are within himself" It were well if 
 we could but learn this document from a heathen ; and 
 learn it well, so as to have the sense of it deeply infixed in 
 our minds and hearts; that hearing of these several causes 
 that work the calamities and troubles of the church of God, 
 we would consider, that, according to our participation in 
 any such calamities, these evils in ourselves do contribute 
 a great deal more to them than the evils in any other men. 
 Let us be convinced of this. Do but apprehend, that if the 
 ambition, or pride, or covetousness, or malice of another 
 man may hurt me, these things within myself do hurt me 
 * Preached Aiiffitst 2Sth, !678. , 
 
 much more ; and there is some spice or other of them in 
 each of our natures. Why should not we be convinced of 
 so plain a thing? Is not a dart in my own brea.st worse 
 than in an enemy's hand 1 If I think myself concerned to 
 know, what the pride and covetousness, and malice and 
 ambition, of such and such a man may do against me ; if 
 I have any tincture of these evils, (as who dares say he 
 hath notl) within my own soul; have not I a nearer 
 thing to regret, than the evil that only lies in another 
 man "? To expect or fear all our hurt from without, and 
 not to fear the next and nearest evil, is the greatest stu- 
 pidity imaginable. 
 
 And then for the causes of common good, and so of our 
 own, as that is involved; we hear, it may be, with a great 
 deal of complacency, of such principles generally implant- 
 ed in the minds of men. What glorious times would they 
 be, if all other men were such lovers of God, such orderly 
 lovers of them.selves, and such lovers of their neighbours, 
 as they should be 1 but is it not of a great deal more con- 
 cernment to our own felicity, that we be so ourselves 1 can 
 the goodness, the piety, the righteousness, the benignity of 
 other men do me good, in comparison of what these things 
 lodged and deeply rooted in my own soul would dol It 
 is true, it were a most desirable thing lo have all the world 
 religious; but if all the rest of the world were so, and my 
 own soul vacant of it, what should I be the belter for 
 that 1 If all other men were lovers of their own souls, it 
 would be happy for them ; but nothing to me, if I despised 
 my own. Therefore let us learn, what our own present 
 business must be ; to labour to have the causes of com- 
 mon calamity wrought out from ourselves, and the causes 
 of common felicity and prosperity inwrought into our- 
 selves. We cannot tell how to mend the state and condition 
 of the world ; and our duty reaches not so far ; but we have 
 each of us a work to do at home, in our own bosoms. 
 And if ever we expect to see good days, it must be in this 
 way, by being good and doing going. Psalm xxxiv. 14. 
 
 SERMON IX.* 
 
 We are considering the principles, which the Spirit 
 poured forth doth implant, conducive to the general pros- 
 perity and felicity of the people of God. And, as was said 
 before, of the evil and mischievous principles, that natu- 
 rally work their calamity and misery, that they may be all 
 reduced to an inordinate self-love ; so the good principles, ' 
 which have a tendency to their welfare, may all be referred 
 unto one common head, that of a due and well-tempered, 
 well-proportioned love. When the Spirit of God comes to 
 make a good and happy state of things to obtain and take 
 place in the church ; the work of that Spirit, poured forth 
 for this purpose, is to write the laws of God in the hearts 
 of his people. So you may find, (where there is a mani- 
 fest reference to that future happy state promised, and 
 which we are yet expecting and waiting for.) he speaks in 
 that and in parallel Scriptures of giving his Spirit, and of 
 its immediate workings and operations. And this is its 
 general work, to write his law in the hearts of his people, 
 Jer. xxxi. 33. Now the law, we are told, all the Jaw is 
 fulfilled in that one word, Love, Gal. v. 14. That is the 
 sum and epitome of the whole law. And if we descend a 
 little more to particulars, these three branches of a holy 
 gracious love will do the whole business; that is, — 1. 
 That love to God, which he requires and claims; — 2. That 
 love of particular persons, each of them to themselves, 
 which is due and regular ; — 3. Their love to other men, as 
 to themselves ; or measured by that love, which they duly 
 bear to themselves. 
 
 1. Consider what the love of God is, according as the 
 law requires; and that we must therefore believe will be, 
 when God pours forth his Spirit generally, and by it 
 writes his law upon the hearts of men. Here is the firs^ 
 and great thing in the law, as our Lord Jesus Christ him- 
 self gives us the system of it, Thou shall love the Lord 
 thy God with all thy heart, and with all thy soul, and with
 
 Serm. IX. 
 
 REFERENCE TO THE CHRISTIAN CHURCH. 
 
 58D 
 
 all thy mind, Matt. xxii. 37, 38. Wh-.U doth the Lord thy 
 God require of thee, but to I'ear the Lord thy God, &c. 
 and to love him, and to serve the Lord thy God with all 
 thy heart and with all thy soul ? Deut. x. 12. Do but 
 consider, what this would do to make a happy world or a 
 happy church, to have the love of God exalted into its just 
 dominion and supremacy in the minds and souls of men: 
 that is, suppose a universal agreement among men to love 
 God with one consent, with all their minds, and with all 
 their souls, and with all their strength, as far as the bounds 
 of the church may be set. There must be considerable in 
 this love to God, 1. Zeal for his interest and honour : and, 
 2. Desire of happiness in him. One is love to him, as our 
 supreme and sovereign Lord: the other love to him, as 
 our supreme and sovereign Good, our Portion and Feli- 
 citJ^ Now, 
 
 1st, Do but suppose, a general agreement amongst us 
 in the former of these, — that entire devotedness urito the 
 interest of God, which his love doth most certainly include 
 and must possess the hearts of men with; — what an in- 
 fluence must this have ! When there shall be no other con- 
 tention amongst men, than who can do most for God, who 
 can most greaten him in the world; when men shall ge- 
 nerally agree in an entire devotedness unto the sovereign, 
 supreme interest of the Lord of heaven and earth ; don't 
 you think, that would do much of this happy business"? 
 For what cause of contention can there be amongst men 
 then"? There are no quarrels in heaven ; where that is the 
 entire business of all, the thing wherein all consent and 
 Eigree, to praise and honour, to adore and glorif)^ their com- 
 mon Ruler and Lord : and so far as the happy state we 
 are speaking of shall obtain in the church of God on earth, 
 so far that will be the very image of the church of God in 
 heaven. Where there is an agreement among persons 
 upon an evil principle, do but consider how it compacts 
 such people amongst themselves ; see how united the 
 people of Ephesus were in a false religion ! as is noted by 
 that orator, who bespoke them on occasion of the commo- 
 tion amongst them upon the apostle Paul's coming thither, 
 in Acts xix. 35. "What man is there, that knoweth not 
 hoivthat the city of the Ephesians is a worshipper of the 
 great goddess Diana, and of the image which fell down 
 from Jupiter V It was it seems a most observable unani- 
 mity, that was amongst this people in this one thing, unto 
 that degree, that the whole city is said to be but one wor- 
 shipper. Now when the church shall come to be but one 
 worshipper of the great God, all devoted to him to serve 
 his interest; when there shall be but one altar, the many 
 'altars mentioned before being all overturned by that inun- 
 dation of the Spirit poured forth, and now but one great 
 interest to be served; must not this make a happy state of 
 things so far as it obtains 1 It is the multiplicity and pri- 
 vateness of men's designs and ends, that sets all the world 
 together by the ears, and makes men every where ready to 
 tear one another in pieces ; whether they go under the 
 Christian name, or not, that makes no difference in the 
 case; as certainly a wolf is never a whit the less a wolf 
 for being clothed with a sheep's skin. But when persons 
 shall become one, consenting and agreeing, by the influence 
 of that great principle of divine love, in the main design 
 and business of religion ; this must produce a happy har- 
 mony. It is a very plain case, that if you draw a circum- 
 ferential line, and place one centre within that circumfer- 
 ence, you may draw as many straight direct lines as you 
 will from any part of the circumference to that centre, and 
 it is impossible you should ever make them to intersect or 
 interfere with one another; but let there be several centres, 
 and then you cannot draw lines from any part, but they 
 must necessarily intersect and cross one another ever and 
 anon. Here is the case before us. It is the making of 
 many centres, that causes men to interfere, while every 
 man makes his own self his end ; no two men's interests 
 can throughout and always agree; but that which this or 
 that man does, to please and serve himself, disserves or 
 displeases somebody else, and hereupon comes a quarrel. 
 It is manifest, that sincere religion would cure all this: 
 when there is but one end, and every man's business is to 
 serve and glorify their common Maker and Lord ; when all 
 thus agree in the love of god, there would be no interfering: 
 7nd how would that contribute to external prosperity ! 
 
 2dl3', Do but consider the other thing, which true love 
 to God includes, thai is, the desire of him as our portion, 
 our best and supreme good ; if that shall once come to be 
 universal, (a.s it shall be, whenever the happy time comes, 
 when the Spirit shall generally write the law of God in the 
 hearts of men,) it must needs make stirs and contentions 
 and troubles to cease from amongst men, so far as it doth 
 obtain. For, (as was intimated before,) where self-love is 
 the ruling principle, self the great idol, and something or 
 other of terrene good the sacrifice wherewith this idol is to 
 be served; f.o the business of every man is to grasp in all 
 that he can of the good things of this earth for himself. 
 Now terrene good is (as our bodily part itself is, unto which 
 it is most adapted and suited) of such a nature, that it 
 cannot be severed and divided into parts without being 
 diminished and lessened in the several parts: it is not 
 partible without diminution; so that the more one enjovs 
 of it, the less every one else enjoys. But now, when the 
 blessed God himself is the best good to every one, every 
 one enjoys his share without the diminution of others' 
 share. It is from the limitedness and unpartibleness of 
 terrene good, without the lessening of the several parts, 
 that it comes to be the object or occasion, about which or 
 upon account whereof there is so much exercise of con- 
 cupiscence, inordinate desire, envy, malice; every one 
 labouring to catch from another, as thinkinganolher's por- 
 tion to be more than comes to his share, and his own less 
 than should come to his: there is the occa.sion, (and the 
 corrupt nature of man is apt to take occa.sion from any 
 thing,) for stirring the lusts and passions I am speaking of, 
 in reference to earthly good. But there is no occasion at 
 all for the exercise of any such disquieting passions here ; 
 when there is a common agreement to make God their 
 portion, to esteem him so with the Psalmist, " Whom 
 have I in heaven but thee? and there is none upon earth 
 that I desire besides thee;" when this comes to be the 
 common sense with men, no man's share is diminished by 
 the greater and larger enjoyments of another. And there- 
 fore you do not find, that there is wont to be any exercise 
 of disquieting passions in this ca.se. Did you ever know 
 any man, that entertained malice against another, because 
 he himself desired to have very much of God, and he 
 thought the other enjoyed more ; there is no place or pre- 
 tence at all for any such thing; because let another have 
 ever so much, there is enough io the same fountain for 
 him and for me too. 
 
 2. Consider, what love towards a man's self is in the 
 due kind and degree of it ; and how that, when it shall 
 come to obtain generally amongst men, must make to- 
 wards the good and happy state of the church. That 
 due and just love of a man's self, will have its exercise 
 in these two things ; 1. A strict care of his mind and inner 
 man ; and, 2. A due care also of the body or outward 
 man. 
 
 1st. A very strict care of the mind and inner man. I 
 remember a heathen, speaking of self-love, saith ; " It is 
 true indeed, that every man ought to have a love to him- 
 self; there is a self-love that is divine, which God makes 
 him to bear to himsellV And by how much the more a 
 man is a lover of himself with that kind of love, .<;o much 
 the less is he apt to disquiet other men, or to contribute 
 any thing to common miseries. Now he that loves him- 
 self duly and aright, will principally and in the first place 
 love his owTi soul ; he will labour to cultivate that, to fit 
 it for God, for his service and enjoyment ; and about soul- 
 concernments men's interests do not differ. Will you but 
 suppt)se men thus employed and busied, intently taken up 
 about their own eternal felicity and the present forming of 
 their spirits in order thereto; such will not have leisure 
 to give trouble to other men. They, that are all busy 
 about this great atTair, to intend their own spirits, to keep 
 their hearts with all diligence, to depress whal.-^oever may 
 be troublesome to themselves or oftensive to God within 
 them, to improve and adorn their souls, to fit them for, 
 and render them capable of, a blessed eternity : you may 
 be .sure will find verv little leisure to concern themselves 
 with the affairs of the world, to the trouble and disquiet of 
 that ; though, if thev can be anv way serviceable, ihey will 
 be most earnest and ready to do that, from the same tem- 
 per and disposition of spirit. They are the most trouble-
 
 590 
 
 THE WORK OF THE HOLY SPIRIT IN 
 
 SiRM. X. 
 
 some people every where, that do least mind their own 
 souls, and have least business to do at home. 
 
 2ndly, A due caie of the body also is included in re- 
 gular self-love. And that would signify not a little to a 
 happy time ; that is, if there were that care commonly 
 lUken of the outward man, and of what doth more imme- 
 diately influence that, the appetites and affections and pas- 
 sions of the lower soul, wherein the true notion of tempe- 
 rance consists ; which is one of the fruits of the Spirit, 
 Gal. V. 23. If men could generally keep the flesh and its 
 inordinate cravings under a government, so that it shall not 
 be gratified in every thing that it would, nor sensual in- 
 clinations be suffered to grow into exorbitances : if all 
 those things, that need to be corrected and reduced to order 
 by sumptuary laws, were so reduced by a living law in 
 every man's own self; if men were generally become by 
 inward inclination chaste, sober; willing to content them- 
 selves with what is useful for the ends and purposes of 
 nature, without making provision for the flesh and its lusts, 
 to satisfy and content thera ; not addicting themselves to 
 eat or drink more than is necessary, or to idleness and sloth 
 and other pieces of indulgence to the flesh ; there would 
 be connected with such things as these, contentedness in 
 every man's mind ; (for lust is more costly than nature, 
 covets more and must have more;) and hereupon neces- 
 sarily a great deal of tranquillity and peace. For while 
 men's minds are contented within themselves, they are very 
 little apt to give discontent to others : but persons discon- 
 tented themselves, restless and full of trouble, (which they 
 are only by their lusts,) are fit instruments then to give all 
 the world trouble, so far as their power can go. Nor would 
 it be a small ingredient in the common external happiness 
 of such a time, that by this means there would be a more 
 general healthiness of body among people. If that great 
 fruit of the Spirit, temperance, did commonly obtain ; (by 
 which we are able each one to possess his vessel, his own 
 body, in sanctification and honour, 1 Thess. iv. 4. to 
 attend his own body even as the temple of the Holy Ghost;) 
 then there would not be that general cause of complaint 
 concerning consuming and loathsome sicknesses, that are 
 the great calamity of the age, and owing so manifestly in a 
 high degree to unbridled lust. In that happy state of the 
 church of God, wherein it is said, that the inhabitants of 
 Zion shall not say they are sick, shall have no more cause 
 to complain of sickness, because they shall be forgiven their 
 iniquity, (Isa. xxxiii. 24.) I reckon, that forgiveness of sin 
 hath a reference to that happy slate of things, not only as 
 it puts a slop to the inundations of Divine judgments in 
 other kinds, but also as it hath a direct tendency to keep 
 off the evil mentioned: that is, when sin is forgiven, the 
 power of it is broken at the same time : God doth never 
 forgive sin, and leave it reigning ; but he forgives and 
 breaks the power of it at once. Now, as when sin is not 
 forgiven, men are left to the swing and impetus of their 
 own lusts, and so are the executioners of God's vengeance 
 upon themselves ; so, when sin is forgiven, it languishes 
 and dies ; such a people grow more pure, holy, temperate, 
 chaste, sober in all their conversation ; and so there comes 
 to be less appearance of sickness and ails, and those cala- 
 mities with which men naturally affect their own flesh by 
 the indulgence of their lusts. So that by the Spirit poured 
 forth, and .so a principle of due love to a man's self being 
 once implanted and excited, and kept in due exercise, it 
 must infer generally both more contented minds and more 
 healthful bodies ; and these things cannot but signify a 
 great deal to make a very good time. 
 
 There is a third branch of love, that must obtain, when 
 God comes to write his law in the hearts of men by his 
 Spirit ; love as it respects other men. But of this here- 
 after. 
 
 By what hath been said, it seems a plain case, that the 
 Spirit of God poured forth would make a very happy ex- 
 ternal state of things. And since it is so proper and direct 
 a means, and would be so efficacious, were it poured forth ; 
 truly it cannot but be matter of very sad reflection, that 
 the thing should not be done ; that there should be so great, 
 so dreadful, a restraint of this blessed Spirit in our time 
 and age, as we have cause to observe and complain of. 
 It is matter of sad reflection, if you consider, what as an 
 • PreaclieJ September 4tli, 1678. 
 
 effect, it carries the signification of ; and also what further 
 mournful effects it carries a presignification of, as a cause. 
 
 [1.] Consider, what an evil it carries in it the signified^ 
 tion of, as an effect. The principle of such a restraint must 
 needs be a very great degree of Divine displeasure. It is 
 the highest expression of such displeasure, that we can 
 think of, and the most dreadful piece of vengeance, when 
 God saith ; Now because men have offended me at so high 
 a rate, I will take away my Spirit from them. This was 
 the act of vengeance, wherewith he punished the provoca- 
 tions of the old world, when the wickedness of man was 
 great in the earth, and the imagination of his heart was all 
 evil, and that continually ; " Well !" saith he, " my Spirit 
 shall no more strive with man, (Gen. vi. 3, 5.) I have done, 
 my Spirit shall strive no more." It signifies the displea- 
 sure to be so much the greater, by how much the easier 
 such a happy work as this might be wrought and brought 
 about amongst us ; it is no more but to let his Spirit 
 breathe, and all our troubles, and all the causes of them, 
 must vanish at once : no, but saith God, " My Spirit 
 shall not breathe, shall not strive." The event speaks 
 the determination and purpose : it doth not breathe or 
 strive. Are we so stupid as not to observe that 1 is there 
 that Spirit of love, of prayer, and supplication, stirring, a« 
 hath been wont 1 It is very terrible to think, that there 
 should be such a restraint of that blessed Spirit, upon ac- 
 count of the signification made by it of Divine displeasure. 
 
 [2.] Consider, the presignification it also carries with 
 it of most dreadful effects to ensue, when in displeasure 
 his Spirit retires and is gone. The not pouring forth ot 
 the Spirit signifies, that wrath must be poured forth. 
 When the Spirit is restrained, wrath shall not be restrained 
 long. The pouring forth of the Spirit and of wrath do, as 
 it were, keep turns ; there is an alternation between them. 
 When the Spirit is not poured forth, then there is blind- 
 ness, hardness, an eye that cannot see, an ear that cannot 
 hear, and a heart that cannot understand ; as you have 
 them joined in Isaiah vi. 10. And how long must this 
 continue 1 Lord, how long? saith the prophet there, ver. 
 11. it follows, " Until the cities be wasted without inhabit- 
 ant, and the houses without man." That is the answer 
 given. And therefore methinks we should be all in a kind 
 of trembling expectation, while the matter is so manifest, 
 that this blessed Spirit is under restraint. What doth it 
 signify, but a purpose and determination of the offended 
 majesty of the blessed God 1 " Let the lusts of men have 
 their swing, let them rend and tear one another by the 
 violent agitations and hurries of their own furious lusts." 
 He hides his face all the while. I will hide my face, saith 
 he, I will see what their end shall be, Deut. xxxii. 20. It 
 is not difficult to apprehend, what will come of them, when 
 once I give them up and leave them to themselves: then 
 there need no other hands to be armed against them but 
 their own; they will soon be self-destroyers: each man 
 would be so to himself, if given up to the furious hurry and 
 impetus of indwelling lust. Certainly we have reason to 
 conclude, that this age hath highly displeased the Lord, 
 that his Spirit is so much withdrawn, that could so easily 
 work a cure : but yet he will not, he thinks fit to express 
 resentment by holding und"n- restrain: that Spirit, that 
 could rectify and set all right, and make us a very happy 
 people in a moment. 
 
 SERMON X.* 
 
 We are yet speaking of the tendency of that radical 
 principle of love to make an external happy state of things, 
 which we are to expect the Spirit when poured forth to 
 implant. We have spoken of love to God, and of regular 
 self-love ; and of the influence which these severally must 
 have towards a prosperous state. 
 
 3. Consider what love to other men, as to themselves, 
 would do in this matter. This supposes that second 
 branch we have been insisting on, a due love to ourselves, 
 as not only allowed but enjoined us ; when it is made the
 
 SrnM. X. 
 
 REFERENCE TO THE CliRISTlAN CHURCH. 
 
 591 
 
 measure of the love we are to bear and exercise toward 
 other men : and therefore, as being a deeper and more fun- 
 damental law of nature, that must be suj posed to be more 
 excellent and noble in its own kind. PerfecU.ssimvm in 
 stM genere est mensura reliquorum. But the Spirit, whose 
 work and business it is to write the laws of God in the 
 hearts of men, when he shall be poured forth, will write 
 this also, that they love other men as they ought to love 
 themselves: especially in the latter days, the times which 
 our discourse refers to. Because so great a part of that 
 law is wrapped up in this love; therefore it cannot but be 
 that in those latter days, when God doth design to reform 
 and new-mould things, the felicity and happy state of 
 things shall he brought about very much by the mediation 
 and interv'^eniency of this love and the influence thereof 
 And because this love hath a most direct influence this 
 way, I have designed the more to enlarge upon it ; and 
 shall speak of it according to that double reference, which 
 our subject obliges us to consider; that is, — its reference 
 to God and his Spirit, as the author of it ; and — its refer- 
 ence unto a happy state of things, as that which is to be 
 brought about by it — its reference upwards to God, and 
 downwards to the world — which two considered together 
 will amount to thus much; that by God's working of this 
 love more generally amongst men, that happy and blessed 
 issue, that we are speaking of, is to be accomplished. 
 
 1st, Consider we its reference to God and to his Spirit ; 
 which we are necessarily to consider; otherwise the pour- 
 ing forth of the Spirit would not include it. And it is re- 
 quisite we should insist upon this, inasmuch as such love 
 is too commonly meanly thought of; it were well, if there 
 were not cause to say, that too general!}' professors of reli- 
 gion at a higher and stricter rate had not too low an opinion 
 of this love in the Scripture regulation of it, the loving of 
 others as ourselves, the measure unto which it is to be ad- 
 justed. And true it is indeed, that they who know no 
 more of this matter than only the mere sound of the words, 
 they into whose heart the thing never entered, and with 
 whom it never yet became a vital, living law, will think 
 it but a mean thing. It looks in such persons' eyes, while 
 it is only clothed with a verbal representation and no 
 more, as a meanly habited person at their doors, whom 
 they guess at only by his garb; and if such a one should 
 have meanness objected to him only from thence, and the 
 case will admit it, it is but a doing himself right to speak 
 of his parentage, and tell how nobly he is descended. And 
 so much are we to do on the behalf of this love, to let ^^ou 
 know it is a heaven-born thing, descended of God, that 
 owes itself to heaven ; it is of no lower and meaner ex- 
 traction than so. Don't think I mean by it that common 
 carnal lov^e, which wicked men as such ma}'' bear one to 
 another; which is a more mean and less innocent love, 
 than that which birds and beasis have to those of their own 
 kind ; but I mean that love, whereby any are enabled to 
 love men as men, and holy men as holy men, in God, and 
 for God's sake, and upon his accoimt. This is a heavenly, 
 divine thing, the product of the blessed, eternal Spirit of 
 God alone. For evincing of that, weigh these several 
 considerations, which the Scriptures do plainly and plen- 
 tifully afford us. 
 
 1. That even this love is called the love of God. So it 
 is most plainly in 1 John iii. 17. Whoso hath this world's 
 goods, and seeth his brother have need, and shntteth up 
 his bowels of compassion from him: how dwelletli the 
 love of God in himi So noble and sublime a thin? is not 
 to be more meanly spoken of, it is to be called the love of 
 God; no title inferior to that is suitable to it. 
 
 2. That God is called the God of this love. Live in 
 peace, and the God of love and peace shall be with you, 
 2 Cor. xiii. 11. 
 
 3. It is expressly said to be of God, and men upon 
 the acconnt of this love to be born of God. So in 1 John 
 iv. 7, 8. Beloved, let us love one another; for love (this 
 love plainly) is of God ; and everyone that lovelh, is born 
 of God, and knoweth God ; is acquainted with God. inti- 
 mate and inward with God; as a man's own cliildren 
 would be with him, that are born of him, in whom his 
 own nature is. Whereupon, on the other hand, they are 
 spoken of as mere strangers to God, such as have nothing 
 to do with him, nor he with them, that are destitute of this 
 
 love. He that loveth not, knoweth not God ; for God is 
 love. And again, 
 
 4. That it is plainly made a character of the elect of 
 God, distinguishing and severing of them from the refuse 
 world, Colo-;, iii. Ti. Put on, as the elect of Grod. bowels 
 of mercies, kindness, &c. Intimating plainly to lis, that 
 wheresoever God doth place his own love, there he dott 
 impress and beget this love. 
 
 .5. It is placed amongst the fruits of the Spirit, and even 
 in the front of them,Gral. v. 22. The fruit of the Spirit is 
 love ; in opposition to the hatred, wrath, strife, &c. men- 
 tioned in the foregoing verses as the works of the flesh. 
 And we are told in Eph. v. 9. that the fruit of the Spirit is 
 in all goodness, and righteousness, and truth — in all good- 
 ness; — it is the proper work of the Spirit upon the spirits 
 of men to till them with goodness, propensions and inclina- 
 tions to do good; and so to beget in them that love, which 
 must be the spring of all such doing of good. 
 
 6. Walking in the Spirit is directed with a special eye 
 and reference unto the exercise of this love; as you may 
 see in Gal. v. the 14th, [."jth, and IGih verses compared to- 
 gether. All the law is fulfilled in one word, (he means 
 the whole law of the second table,) even in this, Thou shall 
 love thy neighbour as th3^seH". But if ye bite and devour 
 one another, (the opposite to this love, or that which fol- 
 lows upon the want of it, or from the opposite principle.) 
 take heed that ye be not consumed one of another. Tnis I 
 say then, (observe the inference,) Walk in the Spirit, and 
 ye shall not fulfil the lust of the flesh. To walk in the 
 Spirit is to walk in the exercise of this love. 
 
 7. It is spoken of as a peculiar, inseparable concomitant 
 of that light, which is from God and the Spirit of God, 
 and made and transmitted by the Gospel. Observe to this 
 purpose, 1 John ii. 7, &c. Brethren, I write no new com- 
 mandment unto you, but an old commandment which ye 
 had from the beginning; the old commandment is the 
 word, which ye have heard from the be?innin?. Again, 
 a new commandment I write unto you, which thing is true 
 in him and in you ; because the darkness is past, and the 
 true light now shineth. He that saiih, he is in the light, 
 and haieth his brother, is in darkness even until now. He 
 that loveth his brother, abideih in the lieht, and there is 
 none occasion of stumbling in him. But he that hateth 
 his brother, is in darkness, and walketh in darknes.'^, and 
 knoweth not whither he goeth, because that darkness hath 
 blinded his eyes. A new commandment this is, and not 
 new: not new, in respect of the substance of it : for so it 
 is one of the ancient, substantial, lundamental. great laws 
 of nature ; and wheresover the revelations of God's mind 
 and will is to be found, that is and was ever to be found; 
 but new, in respect to that more glorious way of recom- 
 mendation, which it now hath in and by the Grospel, and 
 the Spirit of Christ ; which, wheresoever it comes to obtain, 
 in what soul soever, transforms that soul into a heavenly 
 region, a region of calm, and mild, and benign, and holy 
 light; in that light dwells this love, amidst that light; as 
 the contrary, hatred, is a fiend that lives and lurks in 
 darkness, and can dwell no where else. They that are 
 destitute of this principle, have darkness for their region; 
 they can dwell no where but in malignant, disconsolate- 
 darkness ; there thev wander as forlorn bewildered crea- 
 tures. The apostle Peter having spoken of this love under 
 several names, brotherly kindness, charity, and other ex- 
 pressions that are congenerous, tells us. 2 Pet. i. 9. that he 
 that lacketh these things, is blind, and rannot see far oflT, 
 and hath forgotten that he was cleansed from liis old sins. 
 
 8. It closely adheres unto that principle of life, which is 
 begotten in all the children of God, when they become his 
 children. The begetting of .souls unto Gk)d, is certainly 
 the implanting in them and deriving to them a principle of 
 Divine life. With that principle this love is complicated, 
 or it is a part of that very principle ; so as ihat by it the 
 children of God and the children of the devil are distin- 
 guished from one another. He that hath this principle, 
 hath passed from dcah to life, is in a stale of life: as you 
 mav find bv comparing together several verses of the 
 1 John iii. In this the children of God arc manifest, and 
 the children of i he devil; whosoever doth not righteou'^nes.s, 
 is not of God, (therefore he is of the devil) neither he that 
 loveth not his brother. For this is the message, that ye
 
 592 
 
 THE WORK OF THE HOLY SPIRIT IN 
 
 Sebm. X. 
 
 heard from the beginning, that we should love one another ; 
 not as Cain, who was of that wicked one, and slew his 
 brother. And wherefore slew he him 1 because his own 
 ■works were evil, and his brother's righteous, ver. 10, 11, 
 12. And ver. 14. We know that we have passed from death 
 to life, because we love the brethren : he that loveth not 
 his brother abideth in death ; hath no participation of that 
 vital principle. He is a murderer, ver. 15. and ye know, 
 that no murderer hath eternal life abiding in him. None 
 that is apt to destroy the life of another, can be supposed 
 to have a principle of Divine life in himself, the beginning 
 of eternal life. So that, divide the world into two seeds, 
 and they are God's and the devil's. Those that are God's, 
 live the life of God ; have a life derived and communicated 
 to them from God, wherein this same love is a part : and 
 they that are destitute of it, are all to be reckoned to the 
 other seed ; they belong to the devil's kingdom ; for to be 
 destitute of this, implies a being possessed with the con- 
 trary principle: no man's soul can be neutral in this case. 
 But as to all such good principles, as are due unto the 
 original rectitude of man and his nature as originally right ; 
 if these be wanting, they are privately wanting, and are 
 excluded by the opposite principles obtaining and having 
 place in their room and stead: the soul of man had that 
 and such principles as are duly belonging to him ; it can- 
 not be rasa tabula ; but if the true and proper impression 
 be not there, there is another impression, and not none. 
 And therefore it is consequent in the next place, 
 
 That this love must needs be a great part of the Divine 
 image and nature, that is to be found in all that appertain 
 to God. 
 
 All these things taken together do sufficiently entitle the 
 Spirit of God to it, as the great Author and Parent of it. 
 And that being once plain and clear, 
 
 2dly, We may consider the other reference of this love, 
 its reference downwards towards the world : and it can- 
 not but be consequent, that wheresoever the Spirit poured 
 forth doth work, it must needs work a very happy state of 
 things, and would make this world a very pleasant region. 
 For what ! would it not make, think you, very happy days 
 indeed to have men generally made like God, transformed 
 into the Divine image 1 God is love; and he that loves, 
 hears his image: he, whose soul is under the dominion of 
 such a love, is a true living representation of an the good- 
 ness and bfuignity and sweetness of God's own blessed 
 nature: and would it not make a happy state, if men were 
 generally made such 1 so to bear themselves to one ano- 
 tlier, so to converse and walk together, as holding forth 
 the image of God, according to the dictates of a nature 
 received from God, a Divine nature put into them. But 
 for the particular eviction of this, it will appear by con- 
 sidering the proper, natural, genuine workings of such 
 love, being itself once inwrought. Consider to that pur- 
 pose, — what it would exclude, and — what it would beget. 
 
 I. What it would exclude. 
 
 1. It would exclude all hard thoughts amongst men 
 concerning one another. Love thinketh no evil ; as one 
 of the characters of it is in 1 Cor. xiii. 5. Further than 
 necessity and irrefragable evidence doth impose, it would 
 not take up so much as an ill thought of any one. It is 
 full of candour and ingenuity, and apt to make the best 
 construction of every word and action, and takes every 
 thing in the best sense that is capable of being put upon it. 
 And what a spring of mischief and misery in the world 
 would be shut up, dried up, if that proneness to hard, 
 harsh, and frequently unjust thoughts, were by the work- 
 ings of such a Spirit of love erased out of the minds and 
 hearts of men ! 
 
 2. It would exclude every thing of pride and insolence 
 towards others, vying with them, envying of them, which 
 proceeds from pride. Love vaunteth not itself, is not puf- 
 fed up, 1 Cor. xiii. 4. 
 
 3. It would exclude selfish designs; and with what tra- 
 gedies and desolations do they fill the world ! Love seek- 
 ethnot her own things, 1 Cor. xiii. 5. The exhortation is, 
 Phil. ii. 4. Look not every man on his own things, but 
 every man also on the things of others. Indeed it comes 
 from that pride mentioned before, that men think all be- 
 long to them, and if they can grasp ever so much, it is no 
 more than their due : and therefore we have these things 
 
 so conjoined in the place just mentioned, ver. 3, 4. Each 
 esteeming other better than themselves, and, not seeking 
 his own things, but also the things of others. 
 
 Men are so much intent upon seeking their own things, 
 are all for themselves, because every man is apt to esteem 
 himself before all other men ; but when we come to esteem 
 others better than ourselves, (I am worthy of nothing, any 
 mean thing is good enough for me ;) then pride and sel- 
 fishness are both excluded together by love. 
 
 4. It excludes all aptness to injure another. Love 
 worketh no ill to his neighbour, Rom. xiii. 10. Love so 
 measured, whereby I love my neighbour even as myself, 
 and whence therefore it comes to pass that I would no 
 more hurt him than I would myself, and would no more 
 cheat him than I would myself, no more oppress and 
 crush him than I would myself; would not this make a 
 happy world, do we think 1 the fruit of the Spirit is in all 
 righteousness, Eph. v. 9. 
 
 5. As it would by these means exclude all aptness to 
 offend others ; so it would exclude a proneness to receive 
 offence ; and so make greatly to the quiet of the world. 
 A good man, one himself full of love and goodness, is very 
 little prone to take offence. Asa heathen philosopher said 
 concerning such a one ; " A good man neither doth injure, 
 nor is apt to resent an injury" So another discourses 
 largely to show, that in sapioUem non cadil injuria : in- 
 jury doth not fall, doth not enter and sink (he means) into 
 the mind and soul of a good, a wise, and virtuous man. 
 This love excludes a captious disposition, apt to take of- 
 fence at every thing, and to pick quarrels upon any or 
 upon no occasion. What happy families would there be, 
 what happy neighbours, when such a disposition should 
 be excluded and banished by the overruling power of a 
 Spirit of love ! There would be no fractions in families, 
 no parties, no maligning of one another; which commonly 
 have their rise from an aptness to snarl at any thing that 
 goes cross. 
 
 II. What it would beget. 
 
 1. It would beget mutual trust and confidence among 
 men and Christians in one another ; which makes not a 
 little unto the common welfare. How sad is the case, 
 when a man still continually converses with them whom 
 he cannot trust, and they cannot trust him ! A mutual 
 confidence and trust in one another is fundamental to al. 
 society, to the good and prosperity of it. The apo.stle de- 
 sires to be delivered from unreasonable and wicked men, 
 that have no faith, 2 Thess. iii. 2. It is probable he means, 
 that have not trustiness, faith in the passive sense; that 
 are unconversable men, such in whom we can place no 
 faith. It is a dreadful thing to live in such a world or age, 
 when a man must perpetually stand upon his guard, be so 
 very cautious in all his converses and words and actions ; 
 " I don't know whom to trust, whom to deal with." When 
 this Spirit of love shall have to do more in the world, as 
 men are generally made more sincere and good ; so tliey 
 shall generally be more trusted : jealousy and suspicion 
 and mistrust and misgiving thoughts concerning one ano- 
 ther are gone, and they are secure concerning one another ; 
 as no more suspecting, that such a man hath an ill design 
 upon me, than I have upon myself 
 
 2. It would produce mutual pity. That would be a 
 good world, when every man resents another's condition 
 even as his own, and weeps with them that weep, as well 
 as rejoices with them that do rejoice, Rom. xii. 15. 
 
 3. It would produce a promptitude to do one another 
 good upon all occasions. Such a love, by the Spirit poured 
 forth coming commonly to obtain, will make men disposed 
 to do good, as opportunity occurs. Gal. vi. 10. As we 
 have opportunity let us do good unto all men, especially 
 unto them who are of the household of faith. 
 
 4. It will beget a delight in one another's welfare, a 
 well-pleasedness in the prosperity of others, that all tilings 
 go well with them. 
 
 5. It will introduce mutual converse, solace and de- 
 light in one another's society. When a man shall see the 
 face of his friend or neighbour as the face of an angel of 
 God ; he full of love, and the other full of love; nothing 
 but goodness flowing and reflowing ; this will surely make 
 a good time, when the Spirit of God poured forth shall 
 generally influence the spirits of men unto such a temper.
 
 JSerm. XI. 
 
 REFERENCE TO THE CHRISTIAN CHURCH. 
 
 593 
 
 This must needs make a very happy state of things, 
 make the church on earth the very emblem of the church 
 in heaven; as the truth and sincerity of religion and god- 
 liness is not another thing from the felicity and blessedness 
 of heaven, in the nature and kind. It is the same church, 
 that hath the primordials of blessedness here, and the per- 
 fection of it hereafter. This is one great part of that bless- 
 edness, when all are inclined by the operation of that 
 Spirit, whose fruit is in all goodness, to seek and desire 
 and rejoice in the good of one another, as they would do 
 for their own. 
 
 We can now easily frame to ourselves the idea of a very 
 happy time; and we ought to believe, that the Spirit of 
 God can work all that we can think, and a great deal more, 
 when his own time and pleasure is. What hath been sug- 
 gested, must produce tranquillity in every man's own spi- 
 rit ; which will infer common tranquillity. They, that 
 have themselves unquiet, disturbed spirits, are the great 
 troublers of the world. Therefore the devil works all that 
 mischief to mankind, because he is himself a restless crea- 
 ture, going up and down, seeking a rest, but finding none. 
 Men will be at rest in their own spirits, when they come 
 to be under the possession and dominion of such a spirit 
 as we have spoken of. 
 
 SERMON XL* 
 
 We have been evincing the efficacy and sufficiency of 
 an effusion of the blessed Spirit, such as we hope for in 
 the latter times, to produce not only a prosperous state of 
 religion, but also an external peaceful state of the church, 
 in consequence of the other ; and this last, not only by re- 
 moving the causes of general calamities ; but by working 
 likewise whatever hath a positive tendency to public good. 
 Upon this head it was proposed to consider, — 1st. The 
 principles, which the Spirit poured forth is supposed to im- 
 plant. These have been distinctly considered.'' And we 
 now proceed to consider, 
 
 [2. J The effects, which the Spirit works by those im- 
 planted principles, tending to the common prosperity of 
 the whole church. They may be reduced to these t%vo, 
 Unioiiamd Order: which will, both of them, promote very 
 happy limes for the church of God. 
 
 I. Union amongst Christians is one of those great effects, 
 which are to be wrought by the Spirit poured forth, as a 
 thing wherein such a good state of things doth very much 
 consist. Here I shall show, 
 
 1. That such a union amongst Christians will contri- 
 bute very much to a happy state in the church of God, 
 whenever it is brought about. It would, first, secure it 
 very much from external violence. Hereby it would be 
 terrible "as an army with banners," would dismay ene- 
 mies, and such as might design to trouble it. Such union 
 would make way for undisturbed communion. And, 
 secondly, within the church itself there would be free and 
 pleasant commerce. Christians would not be at a loss and 
 difficulty, what way they were to take in order to the stated 
 discharge of incumbent Christian duties. And what in 
 both these respects such a union will contribute unto the 
 common felicity of the Christian church, we are too well 
 taught to apprehend, by our experience and observation of 
 what we have felt or heard of the mischiefs and miseries 
 of the church in both these kinds. How miserably hath 
 Christendom been worried by the Turkish power, upon 
 account of its own divisions ! and within the Christian 
 church itself, never hath it suffered more turmoils and 
 trouble and vexation than from intestine division. It hath 
 been a common observation in the former days, that the 
 Arian persecution was as cruel and wasting to the sincere 
 Christians as ever the paganish persecutions were; and 
 some have reckoned, a great deal more. And we do not 
 need to tell you, what the popish persecutions have been 
 upon the protestants, and what persecutions have been 
 e 'en among protestants of one another. The church hath 
 fi St been broken into parties, then these several divided 
 ' Preaclieil Septcml)er 18th, \673. 
 
 parties have fallen to contendmg, and those contentions 
 have grown to that height, that nothing less than the rain 
 of each several parly hath been designed by another. And 
 you cannot but observe or have known, that differences 
 upon the slightest and most trivial matters have been 
 managed with that heat and animosity, that nothing less 
 could content and satisfy than even to crush unto utter 
 ruin those that have dissented. But where were all that 
 contention, if the contending parties were become all one ? 
 and where were all that hatred and enmitj' and malice, 
 that hath managed these contentions 1 For what ! doth 
 any united thing, entire within itself, hate itself, and seek 
 to ruin itself? I proceed therefore to show, 
 
 2. That it is the word of God's own Spirit to effect such 
 a union ; and consequently, that when it shall be senerally 
 poured forth, such a unic.n must needs generally obtain. 
 And the matter will be very clear from stmdr}- Scripture 
 considerations: as, 
 
 1st, We find in Scripture this matter mystically and 
 allegorically represented; that is, that by the anointing of 
 this Spirit, that precious ointment plentifully poured forth 
 upon the head of our great High Priest, and diffusing it^^elf 
 unto all that appertain and belong to his body, that good 
 and pleasant thing should be brought about, of brethren's 
 dwelling together in unity. This is typically represented 
 by the ointment shed upon Aaron, diffused unto the skirts 
 of his garments, Ps. cxxxiii. I, 2. It can have no other 
 meaning, but that the anointing of the Holy Ghost, emi- 
 nently and in the first place upon our Lord Jesus Christ, 
 and thence diffused to all that relate to his body, brings 
 this blessed thing about. 
 
 2dly, We find this anointing of the Holy Ghost upon 
 Christians mentioned in Scripture as the great preservative 
 against divisions. So }'ou may see by perusing the greater 
 part of 1 John, chap. ii. There is a discourse (as it is much 
 the subject of the epistle) about the vital love that ought 
 to be amongst the brethren ; and thence he comes to take 
 notice of a danger that would threaten Christians from the 
 many antichrists that would arise, and that had in part 
 risen, ver. 18. As ye have heard that antichrist shall come, 
 even now are there many antichrists, whereby we know 
 that it is the last time. For so it was said that it should be 
 in the latter times, or in the last part of time, even that 
 from Christ unto the end of the world. Now wheresoever 
 there are such antichrists starting up, pro-christs, mock- 
 christs, those concerning: whom it should be said, "Here 
 is Christ, and there is Chri.st ;" every one of these makes 
 it his business to draw awaj' a part ; and so all their de- 
 sign is division, to snatch to themselves and draw off from 
 Christ; (he that gathers not with him, scattereth ;) their 
 endeavour and aim is to divide. But, as a srreat preserva- 
 tive against the malignity of this design, the apostle tells 
 them, that they had an unction from the Holy One, ver. 20. 
 There w'as their security : and at ver. 26, 27. These things 
 have I written unto you, concerning them that seduce you. 
 But the anointing which ye have received of him.abidelh 
 in you ; the anointing ot this Spirit, whereof we speak. A 
 plain .signification, that the genuine work of this Spirit is 
 to unite, and to hold the pans of the body of Christ united, 
 tight and firm unto one another. As much as if he should 
 have said ; " You were lo.st, the body of Christ were dis- 
 solved, were it not for such an anointing; there arc many 
 that make it their business to diaw away l.ere a limb, and 
 there a limb, to [luck and dissect it part from part ; but 
 yc have an anointing, there is all your security." 
 
 3dly, The divisions, which fall out in the church 
 of Christ, we find in Scripture attributed unto the want 
 and absence and destitution of the Spirit. A plain argu- 
 ment, that union is its work where it is, and according to 
 the degree in which it is amongst the people of God. Jude 
 19. These be they who separate them.selves, sensual, ha- 
 ving not the Spirit. And as a like note and expression of 
 sensuality, you have the apostle Paul speaking, in Rom. 
 xvi. 17, 18. Mark them which cause divisions and offences, 
 — and avoid them : for they that are such, serve not our 
 Lord Jesus Christ, but their own belly. A sensual sort 
 of men, amongst whom there is little appearance of the 
 Spirit, of being governed by the pure and holy Spirit of 
 God. And whom can we think him to reflect upon in 
 
 I a See page 588.
 
 594 
 
 THE WORK OF THE HOLY SPIRIT IN 
 
 Serm. XI. 
 
 such expressions, those that separate themselves, and cause 
 divisions, but such as do make new terms of communion 
 in the church of Christ, which Christ himself hath never 
 mode, and insist upon them; "You shall not have com- 
 munion with us, unless you will come to these terms;" 
 as the Gnostics of old did ; patching up a religion, partly 
 out of Judaism, and partly out of heathenism, and partly 
 out of Christianity; and so making themselves a distinct 
 body upon new terms from the rest of Christians. And 
 so the papists have since done ; and being associated and 
 compacted together upon these terms, now assume to them- 
 selves the name and title of the church ; they only are the 
 church ; cutting off themselves by such measures as these 
 from all the rest of Christians, as" if they were none of the 
 church, because they do not consent with them in things 
 that are beside Christianity and against it. And by how 
 much the less and more minute the things are, by which 
 persons make such difference and distinction, upon which 
 they sort and sever themselves from the rest of Christians, 
 so as to exclude all others ; so much the more groundless 
 and ridiculous is the division. A like case, as if a com- 
 pany of men should agree amongst themselves to be dis- 
 tinguished from other men by such or such a habit, such 
 or such a colour of (heir garments, and call themselvss 
 mankind, and deny all others to be mankind ; or as if a 
 party in the city should distinguish themselves by some 
 little trivial distinction, and call themselves the city, and 
 deny all the rest to be citizens. This is from not having 
 the Spirit. That Spirit, wheresoever it is and works in 
 power, works like itself, suitably unto the greatness and 
 excellency of such a Spirit, and suitably to the grand de- 
 signs of our Lord Jesus Christ, whose Spirit it is. It 
 possesses and takes up the minds of men with things that 
 are great, and does not teach them to insist upon them- 
 selves, or to impose and urge upon others, niceties and 
 small trivial matters. Is this like the Spirit of the great 
 and holy God? like the wisdom and holiness of that Spi- 
 rit 1 or suitable to the greatness of those designs, which it 
 is to manage amongst "men ? So they, that divide upon 
 such accounts as these are, " are sensual, not having the 
 Spirit, and serve not the Lord Jesus Christ, but their own 
 bellies." And therefore, according to the degree in which 
 such divisions have taken place amongst Chri.slians, they 
 have been spoken of not as spiritual, but as carnal. "I 
 could not speak unto you as unto spiritual, but as unto 
 carnal ; saith the apostle to the Corinthians, 1 Cor. iii. 1. 
 " I could not tell how to look upon you, or converse with 
 you, or apply myself to you, as spiritually-minded men ; 
 but as men miserably carnal, ev^en lost in'carnality :" for 
 whereas there is among you en wing, and strife, and divi- 
 sions, are ye not carnal, and walk as men 1 ver. 3. It is 
 not like a Christian spirit, like the Christian design, but 
 like other men. And therefore we al.so find, that where 
 the works of the flesh are enumerated, Gal. v. 19, &c. 
 among them come seditions, heresies, ^ix<>raaiai and aipia^i ; 
 by which there are siding's, part-takings, part set against 
 part, one parly against another ; and severings, divulsions, 
 and rendings in the church, plucking it as it were piece- 
 meal this way and that. In opposition whereto divers 
 things, that have the contrary tendency, as love, meek- 
 ness, peace, &c. are made the fruits of the Spirit in the 
 following verses. 
 
 4thly, The unity, that doth obtain in the Christian 
 church, in what degree soever it doth obtain, is called the 
 unity of the Spirit : as in Eph. iv. 3. Endeavouring to 
 keep the unity of the Spirit in the bond of peace. A unity 
 therefore no doubt it is, whereof the Spirit is the author 
 and the preserver ; according as it doth keep the bond of 
 peace unbroken amongst Christians, keeps them in a 
 peaceable temper and deportment towards one another. 
 The Spirit of God is the warrantee of the church's peace, 
 and it is his part to preserve it entire ; but yet so, as thai 
 every one hath a part of his own in a way of duty, and in 
 subordination to the Spirit of God, to act too ; and must 
 contribute to it, each one in his place and station. And 
 therefore, as though there be never so potent a warrantee 
 cf peace amongst nations, it is possible that these nations 
 may by their own default fall foul upon one another ; so 
 it may be proportionably in this case. Christians by in- 
 dulging the first risings of another spirit, a contentious, 
 
 malignant spirit, may grieve that Spirit that is to be their 
 preserver, causing it to retire and withdraw ; and so he 
 may leave them to look on, and see what their end will 
 be, and what they will bring matters to themselves : as 
 when he hides his face, and withdraws his Spirit, the great 
 God saith, I will hide my face, and see what the end 
 will be, Deut. xxxii. 20. But what unity there is, that is 
 true and of the right kind, is the unity of the Spirit : and 
 that shows it is his proper work, where it doth obtain, and 
 according to the measure wherein it is poured forth, to 
 cause and preserve such unity. 
 
 5ihly, The subject of such a union is also the seat and 
 receptacle and habitation of the communicated Spirit. 
 That, which is the subject of such a union, is also the sub- 
 ject and dwelling-place (as I may speak) of the indwelling 
 Spirit : it comes to dwell there, where the proper subject 
 of this union is. That is a signification to us, that it hath 
 a great influence upon this imion ; that where it dwells, 
 there cannot but be some union, a union even in the main 
 and principal things amongst all living Christians. They 
 are all come as lively stones unto the living corner-stone, 
 (1 Pet. ii. 4, 5 ) and compacted into a habitation of God 
 through the Spirit, Eph. ii. 22. Where the union is, there 
 the Spirit is, in contradistinction to all tJie rest of the world. 
 That part, where the Spirit of God inhabits, is his church. 
 And therefore to be added to the church, or to become 
 Christians, if a man become so indeed, is at the same time 
 to receive the Spirit. Received ye the Spirit by the works 
 of the law, or by the hearing of faith 1 are ye so foolish, 
 having begun in the Spirit 1 Gal. iii. 2, 3. They were 
 supposed to have received the Spirit, and to have begun 
 in the Spirit, inasmuch as they were Christians. And 
 therefore one of the last things, that the apostle Peter spoke 
 to his hearers, in that sermon by which so many thousands 
 were converted, was. Repent, — and ye shall receive the 
 Holy Ghost, Acts ii. 38. If ye be converts in truth, the 
 Holy Ghost immediately comes upon you. Indeed in their 
 becoming converts it seizes them : and when it hath made 
 them converts, and formed them into a habitation, then it 
 comes and dwells, and they receive it as an inhabitant ; 
 as a house must be built, before it be inhabited ; and he 
 that was the builder, is the inhabiter. Hereupon it is said, 
 that they that have not the Spirit of Christ are none of his, 
 Rom. viii. 9. They that are related to him, and they that 
 are unrelated, are discerned by this, the having or not 
 having his Spirit : Christ's Spirit enters and possess as all 
 his. The true Christian church, the mystical body of our 
 Lord Jesus Christ, as that is the seat and subject of the 
 union whereof we are speaking, so it is also the residence 
 of the Spirit : and therefore certainly the Spirit hath much 
 to do in the business of this union. 
 
 6thly, The very cause of this union amongst Christians, 
 so far as it doth obtain, is the oneness of this Spirit. It 
 is because that Spirit is one, that dwells every where in 
 them all, that they are one. And so it doth appear, that 
 the Spirit is not only there seated, and dwells in the same 
 subject where the union is; but it is the very cause, why 
 there is such a union in the body, because it dwells in 
 every part of it. There is one body, and one Spirit, even 
 as )'e are called in one hope of your calling, Eph. iv. 4. 
 And the reason why the members of the body, though they 
 are many, are yet said to make but one body, is, because 
 by one Spirit they are all baptized into one body, and have 
 been made to drink into one Spirit, 1 Cor. xii. 13. As if 
 it should have been said, "You are so little one upon 
 any other account, or under any other notion, than only 
 as one Spirit hath diffused itself "amongst you and cements 
 you together, and refers and disposes you towards one ano- 
 ther ; that the body of Christ would be no more one than 
 a rope of sand, there would be no more cohesion of the 
 parts, but if there were opportunity, part would be severed 
 from part. The body, though it consists of many members, 
 yet is all one body, because y& have been " all baptized 
 into one Spirit, and made to drink into one Spirit :" refer- 
 ring to the two sacraments, baptism, and the supper of our 
 Lord ; as both of them significative of the union, which 
 persons do then enter into with the rest of the body; and 
 as they are confirmed in it with the rest of the body, ac- 
 cording as they make use of, or are subjected to, one or 
 the other of these rites. And so you know it is in the
 
 Serm. XI. 
 
 REFERENCE TO THE CHRISTIAN CHURCH. 
 
 595 
 
 natural body. What other reason can we render, why so 
 many parts should all but constitute one man 1 he hath 
 one bond, one internal living bond, one soul. If there 
 were one soul in one part, and another soul in another 
 part; one soul in a leg, and another in an arm, another 
 in an eye, and another in an ear; then it would not be one 
 man, but many. The union is to be reduced into this, that 
 there is but one soul as a consistent standing principle. 
 For the parts of a man's body, as the parts of a church, are 
 in a continual flux, continually pas.sing; they wear and 
 waste, and there is a constant succession of new parts, to 
 make up the pretermission of the former that are past 
 awa}' and gone: and yet there is but one man still, not- 
 withstanding that great change of parts in the several suc- 
 cessions of time in his life, because he hath still but one 
 soul. And so the church is still but one and the same 
 thing, because it hath one Spirit, that in all times hath 
 acted uniformly and equally. 
 
 7ihly, It appears to be proper to the Spirit to work and 
 maintain such a union as this; inasmuch as the principal 
 operation, which it doth exert and put forth as the chief 
 and main work which it doth, doth always necessarily im- 
 ply this, of uniting and keeping the parts of the body uni- 
 ted, as a secondary and consequential work. It cannot do 
 its priicipal work, but it must do this. What is its prin- 
 cipal and main work 1 It is, (as hath been intimated,) unto 
 the church of Christ, even as a soul unto the body. And 
 what is the office and business of the soul to the body 1 It 
 is to animate the body, to enliven it in the several parts of 
 it : but that it could never do, but by uniting the parts and 
 keeping them united. You know, that if a finger or a 
 toe, or a leg or an arm, be cut off from the body, the soul 
 enlivens that no longer; therefore it animates it, as it 
 keeps it united with the body. The case is manifestly thus 
 here : the Spirit of God keeps the body alive, and all the 
 several parts of the body which it animates, by holding 
 them together: as all the members of this body partake of 
 other privileges in a community, as the}' belong to the 
 body ; as for instance, that of peace, and that communion 
 which it includes and carries in it. Ye are called to it, 
 saith the apostle, in one body, Col. iii. 14. Ye are to share 
 and partake in such a privilege, a.s being all of a piece, all 
 of one body: called in one body to this great commerce of 
 Christian peace and communion. You know, that full 
 peace between people and people, nation and nation, doth 
 include commerce. So we may say of life too ; persons 
 are called to the participation of life all in one body, as, 
 being parts of that body, they come to share in life. The 
 Spirit doth not animate, but as it unites, and keeps united, 
 the several parts which it animates ; no more than our 
 soul will animate any part of our body that is once sepa- 
 rate from it. Now this plainly argues it to be the work of 
 the Spirit to effect and maintain this union. 
 
 8thly, All the terms of this union, wherein Christians do 
 meet, are such whereunto they are disposed and inclined 
 by this Spirit. You have these terms in Eph. iv. 4, &c. 
 The apostle had said, that there was one body and one 
 Spirit. Now wherein doih this Spirit make this body one ■? 
 Why, even as ye are called in one hope of your calling; 
 inasmuch as they have all one hope, and all one Lord, and 
 one faith, and one baptism, and one God and Father of 
 them all. Now it is manifest, that it is the work of the 
 Spirit to draw and dispose the hearts of Christians to meet 
 in these common terms. As, to meet in this as a common 
 term, in one hope, one blessedness and state of life. You 
 know how the rest of the world are divided about blessed- 
 ness; one places his confidence in this sort of good, and 
 another in that sort : there be numbered up no less than 
 two hundred and eighty-eight opinions among the hea- 
 thens heretofore about blessedness, wherein it should con- 
 sist : now how come all sincere Christians to agree in 
 this, to hope for blessedness all in one thing, in that state 
 of life and glory that is hereafter to be enjoyed ; and that 
 all in all times of the world should have met in the same 
 hope 1 All this must be owing to one cause, and proceed 
 from one principle. The rest of men are divided ; why 
 are they united in this hope 1 and so, as to the rest, if we 
 should run over them. They have all one Lord, sincere- 
 ly agree to be subject to that one head ; " He shall rule 
 over us, we will all trust him, and all obey him." They 
 
 have all one faith ; are all of one religion as to the essen- 
 tials and main of it, believe all the same substjintial truths, 
 and all by one and the same sort and kind of faith ; have 
 the same object of faith in the main, and the same sub- 
 ject too in the nature and kind of it. They have all one 
 baptism; which is not to be understood so much of the 
 signvm, as of the res sigrutla, what is signified by it, that 
 is, the covenant and agreement that passes between God 
 and them that are baptized with his Spirit; unto whom 
 the external bapti.sm comes to obtain the thing which is 
 intended to be signified corresponding in them. They all 
 agree in one baptism, all come under one title, all give 
 up and devote themselves under the bond of God's cove- 
 nant alike, and in one and the same covenant : for Gtod 
 doth not make one covenant with one person, and another 
 covenant with another; but they all meet in the same co- 
 venant. " And one God and Father of all." How come 
 they all to have this one God and Father 1 It is one Spi- 
 rit, that disposes and forms them hereunto. And in short, 
 holiness, real substantial goodness, which doth some way 
 or other include all these, as meeting in every one of them, 
 and so uniting them ; all sincere Christians meet in that. 
 And how come they to meet in itl by chance "? No, cer- 
 tainly ; but h}^ one designing cause, that works them all 
 the same way. That .so great a community, sova.st a body 
 as the Christians of all times and ages, the peopleof God, 
 in all the parts of the world and in all times of it, should 
 all meet and unite in so many things, and in this one 
 thin?, viz. substantial goodness and holiness, must need.5 
 be all from one catise : they being things too, wherein they 
 cannot be supposed to agree naturally; for naturally, men 
 are most disagreeing and repugnant as to such things as 
 these. And therefore we may see, (that which it is very 
 remarkable that a heathen should say, speaking of concord 
 in a city,) " That there can be no concord at all in any 
 thing, if there be not some common notices, wherein per- 
 sons shall meet and agree. So, (speaking in reference to 
 common and ordinary affairs,) it were impossible that per- 
 sons should agree about the numbers of^ things, if there 
 were not amongst them some common knowledge about 
 the difference of numbers. If one person should under- 
 stand one to be the number five, and another should un- 
 derstand it by another thing ; or if persons could not ge- 
 nerally understand so much of the matter of number, as 
 to distinguish five from seven; (one number from another;) 
 they could have no agreement in any common matter, 
 wherein number was concerned. And so, saith he, If 
 there can be any accord about things that come under 
 measure : it is to be supposed, that there must be a com- 
 mon notice among.st all such persons, so far as to under- 
 stand the difference between a palm and a cubit. And so 
 there will be no agreement in things, that arc of greater 
 concernment to the good of a city, but by agreeing in this, 
 that all agree to be good men : they cannot be good citi- 
 zens, without being good men." But how should men come 
 to be so? how should there come to be such a number of 
 men, all agreeing in one thing and design, to be all lor God 
 in a world that is revolted and apostatized from him? It 
 must be all from one cau.se and principle. It is one and 
 the same Spirit, that in all times and ages works and dis- 
 poses the spirits of such one way ; so as that you may ob- 
 serve, that in all times there have been amongst Chris- 
 tians the same complaints, the same desires, the same de- 
 signs, they have had the same sense of things. Such a 
 uniformity, a-^ doth appear even in the several successions 
 of time, signifies, that there is one common unitive prin- 
 ciple, that hath obtained amongst them all in all times; 
 and so accordingly, that such a union must needs be the 
 proper work of this blessed Spirit. 
 
 Othly, When a people do fall off. and break them- 
 selves off from God, (which they never do. but as this Spi- 
 rit departs and leaves them,) according to that degree 
 wherein they do so, they are brt>ken off iVom one another, 
 broken asun.ler amongst themselves. This we have em- 
 blematicallv represented in Zech. xi. by the two <5taves of 
 Beauty and Bands. When one of them, the staff of Beauty, 
 was broken, (that was the representation of the union that 
 was between Grod and them.') next the staff of Bands is 
 presentlv broken, (which was the representation of the 
 union between Judah and Israel, of the people amongst
 
 596 
 
 TflE WORK OF THE HOLY SPIRIT IN 
 
 Sebm. XII. 
 
 themselves,) ver. 10, 11, 14. When God saith, Loammi, 
 ye shall be my people no more : then the consequence is 
 this, they cease to be a people ; they are no more one peo- 
 ple, when they cease to be his. The case is not so with 
 those who have professed visible relation to God, as with 
 the rest of the world, in this thing. Others make shift to 
 subsist and live without God, that is, they gain flourishing 
 kingdoms and commonwealths and cities; and it may be, 
 a people professing the name of God may expect to have 
 it so with them too, if God should depart from them : but 
 his presence is a soul among such a people ; " Be instruct- 
 ed, lest my soul depart from you :" and if a man's soul go 
 from him, he doth not then become a creature of the next 
 inferior rank, a beast, but a carcass. If this soul depart 
 from a people professing relation to God, (as there is a 
 divine presence that is larger than the most special pre- 
 sence, and yet more restrained than the general presence 
 that he affords to men as men,) they do not then become 
 like another people, but they become no people. Be in- 
 structed, O Jerusalem, lest my soul depart from thee: lest 
 thou become desolate, a land not inhabited, Jer. vi. 8. 
 They may think, it may be, that it will be with them as 
 with other nations, when God is gone: but see what a re- 
 buke any such hope meets with, in Hos. ix. 1. Rejoice 
 not, O Israel, for joy, as other people ; for thou hast gone 
 a whoring from thy God, &c. The case will not be with 
 you as with other people ; you have forsaken your God, 
 torn yourselves off" from him. When the staff" of Beauty 
 is broken, the staff" of Bands is broken too ; and such a 
 people as fall off' from God, fall asunder : that it comes to 
 at last; as the body of a man, when the soul is gone, dis- 
 solves and turns to dust. 
 
 lOthly. In the time of the revival of the church from un- 
 der the state of death they have been in ; when God so 
 revives it, he unites it part to part. How clearly have you 
 this represented in vision after vision, in the whole 37th 
 chapter of Ezekiel! When the Spirit of life entered into 
 those dry and dead bones, when he breathed upon them 
 and made them live, he made them one, he made them a 
 great army, ver. 10. And the next thing that you hear of 
 is, this people's being made one stick in God's hand ; Ju- 
 dah and Israel one stick, united with one another ; and in 
 God's hand, to signify him to be the centre of that union, 
 ver. 19. When there is a recovery of the church out of a 
 lapsed, apostatized state, out of that death that hath been 
 upon it, then also part comes to part ; as there the bones 
 came together, and flesh, and sinews; and so every thing 
 falls into its own place and order in each particular body, 
 and all these bodies into such an order, as to make one 
 collective and well-formed body. And so it is very plain 
 too, that when God doth design to bring that stale of 
 things about in his church, as that he will now have his 
 covenant with them to obtain everlastingly, so as never 
 more to turn away from doing them good; then he hath 
 promised that he will give them one heart and one way. 
 Even at the same time, when he comes to be more visibly 
 and eminently in the view of the world engaged to such a 
 people as their God, and to have taken them exemptly 
 from all other people to be his people; when this comes to 
 be more explicit and notorious, so that all the world may 
 take notice of it, and so that he will dwell with them, and 
 be visibly present amongst them, have his glory amidst 
 them, and not cease to do them good ; (so these things are 
 expressed, Jer. xxxii. 37 — 41.) at the .same time he gives 
 them one heart and one way, so as that they are no more 
 a rent, and torn, and shattered people, but all one, all 
 agreeing about the very way of their walking with God 
 according to that relation wherein they stand to him. 
 
 All these things do evidence, that such a union is the 
 proper work of the Spirit ; and that when it shall be poured 
 forth generally and copiously, then this union shall obtain 
 in a very great and visible glory. I should af\er all this 
 speak a little more particularly to a twofold inquiry con- 
 cerning this union ; but of that hereafter. 
 
 From what hath thus far been said we may take notice, 
 that our own divisions are a very sad argument to us, that 
 the Spirit is in a great measure retired and withdrawn ; 
 that little of the Spirit is working amongst Christians in 
 our time-, in comparison of what hath been, and in com- 
 * Preached September 25th, 1678, 
 
 parison of what we may hope will yet be. But it is 
 grievous, whatsoever hath been, whatsoever shall be, that 
 it is our lot to be in such a time, when there should be such 
 a gloomy overcast upon the glory of the Christian church 
 in this respect. What we see and what we hear of that 
 distance and disunion amongst Christians, is a sad argu- 
 ment, that the church is in a dismal lapse, the Spirit of 
 God is in a great measure gone from amongst us, life re- 
 tired and gone. If it Avere amongst us to enliven, it would 
 be amongst us to unite. 
 
 SERMON XII.* 
 
 That which we have been upon in the last discourse, 
 was — that union amongst them that own and bear the 
 Christian name, we may reckon, will be one great eff"ect 
 of the Spirit poured forth ; upon which the happiness of 
 the church will greatly depend. — Two things have already 
 been spoken to upon this head: — 1. That such a union is 
 of great concernment to the happiness and prosperity of 
 the church : and — 2. That it is the proper work of the 
 Spirit of God to efi"ect it ; and consequently, that when 
 that Spirit shall be generally poured forth, such a union 
 cannot but generally obtain. 
 
 There are two further inquiries, which it will be requi- 
 site we somewhat insist upon relating to this matter: — 1. 
 What kind of union this shall be, which we may expect 
 the Spirit poured forth to accomplish : — 2. In what way 
 we may expect the Spirit to accomplish it. 
 
 1. What kind of union we may expect it to be. 
 
 And we may expect it shall be such in the general, as 
 wherein the duty and happiness of the Christian church 
 shall in very great measure consist ; such as is required as 
 matter of duty, and promised as matter of gift; and which 
 will contribute much to the church's felicity. But inas- 
 much as we neither expect the church of God on earth to 
 be perfectly sinless, nor perfectly happy ; therefore we 
 cannot expect this union to be perfect : nor therefore can 
 we suppose any such things requisite to it, as must be 
 thought requisite unto a perfect union. We cannot think 
 it necessary, that this Spirit poured forth should be, as 
 poured forth or communicated, an infallible Spirit in or- 
 der thereto, when it comes to be amongst men or in them ; 
 which you know some have thought very necessary in or- 
 der to anj' union in the church of God; but have pretend- 
 ed highly to it, without being able to agree where to fix 
 the seat of the spirit of infallibility they pretend to have 
 amongst them. And since a union and agreement in ho- 
 liness is as necessary for the church of God, as in truth; 
 one would think there should have been as much pretence 
 to an impeccable spirit as to an infallible, and every whit 
 for as valuable reason : but they have been ashamed to 
 pretend to the former, whilst the pretenders have been 
 so notoriously vicious and vile in the view of all the world. 
 And certainly, if there were an infallible spirit amongst 
 such men, we may justly say it did male hahitare, it was 
 ill-lodged and unfitly in the midst of so horrid impurities; 
 and did no more become them, than a jewel of gold a 
 swine's snout. But that we may be a little more particu- 
 lar here, we shall briefly show, — 1st, What a union we 
 are not to expect : — 2dly, What union there already is 
 amongst all living Christians: and — 3dly, What union we 
 are further to look and hope for. 
 
 1st, What union we are not to expect. 
 
 1. Not .such, as that all .shall agree in the same measure 
 of knowledge ; and consequently, that there will not be 
 an idenity and sameness of apprehension throughout in 
 all things ; for then there must be the same measure of 
 knowledge. There is no man, that thinks differently from 
 another man, but he thinks so diff"erently either truly or 
 falsely; and wherever the falsity lies, on the one hand or 
 the other, there lies so much ignorance : but it is never to 
 be thought, that all will have just the same measure of 
 knowledge. 
 
 2. Nor can we reasonably expect an agreement with all
 
 Serm. XII. 
 
 REFERENCE TO THE CHRISTIAN CHURCH. 
 
 6d7 
 
 in the same pitch of holiness; that aJl will be holy alike; 
 no one more holy, more spiritual, more heavenly than 
 another. 
 
 3. Nor are we to expect, that all should agree in the 
 same measure of joy or consolation ; ihat there should be 
 the same sensations of divine pleasure in all, the same 
 pleasant motions of holy and spiritual affections ; which, 
 be they as holy and spiritual as they will, yet must also 
 be complexional in a degree, and depend much even upon 
 the bodily temper, wherein no man can think that all shall 
 ever agree. 
 
 4. Nor can there be such a union, as shall infer, that all 
 must be of the same rank and order, the same station and 
 use in the church of God : which indeed would not belong 
 to the perfection of union, but imperfection; it would be 
 confusion, instead of regular and perfect union. Such 
 kind of union we are not to expect. And it is to be con- 
 sidered further in reference to this matter, 
 
 2ndly, What kind of union there already is. And cer- 
 tainly some union there is among all these that are sin- 
 cere and living Christians; such I chiefly intend as the 
 subject of the union, whereof I am discoursing. And 
 there is, and cannot but be amongst all such, a union in 
 those great and substantial things, which we have already 
 had occasion to take notice of, in Eph. iv. 3, 4. They are 
 all one body, one living, aiiimated body, by one and the 
 same Spirit. They have all one hope of iheir calling, one 
 happiness and end ; one Lord, one faith ; they are all sub- 
 stantially of one religion ; one baptism, meaning by that 
 (as hath been noted) not so much the sis^num, as the signa- 
 tum ; they are all comprehended within the bond of the 
 same covenant of life and peace. They have all one God 
 the Father of all, who is of all, and in all, and through 
 all. 
 
 And, which sums up all this, one way or another, they 
 are all united in one common head. The apostle, speaking 
 of Christ, says, He is the head of the body, the church, 
 Col. i. 18. And to the same purpose, in Eph. i. 22, 23. 
 And by virtue of that union they have with Christ the Me- 
 diator, the head of the church, it comes to pass, that they 
 dp unite and agree besides in all the other things that were 
 mentioned. They are all of his body. It is from him they 
 all partake of that one and the same Spirit. It is he that 
 hath opened heaven to them, given them a prospect of an 
 eternal blessed state, brought life and immortality to light 
 before their eyes; the)' are called by him in that one hope 
 of their calling. It is a revelation from God by him, that 
 is the matter of their common faith. He is the Mediator 
 of that covenant, that comprehends them all. It is he that 
 reduces and restores and reunites them to God, and sets 
 all things right between him and them. Therefore herein 
 is the sum of their union, that they have all one Head, 
 ■wherein they are united. 
 
 And this their common Head is not only a political, but 
 a vital Head ; as is apparently enough represented in those 
 most emphatical expressions, Eph. iv. 15, 18. where the 
 metaphor is distinctly pursued of a union between the 
 head and the body: That speaking the truth in love, we 
 may srrow up into him in all things, which is the head, 
 even Christ ; from whom the whole body fitly joined to- 
 gether and compacted, by that which every joint supplieth, 
 according to the effectual working in the measure of every 
 part, maketh increase of the body unto the edifying of it- 
 self in love. With which agrees that in Col. i. 18. He 
 is the head of ihe body, the church, who is the beginning, 
 the first-born from the dead, &c. And that in chap. ii. 19. 
 Not holding the head, from which all the body by joints 
 and bands having nourishment ministered, and knit to- 
 gether, increaseth with the increase of God, All these 
 expressions speak a vital imion, such as every member in 
 the body hath with the head, being by proper ligaments 
 jointed into its own place, and so connected with those 
 that finally and ultimately have more immediate connec- 
 tion with the head ; from whence there are those several 
 ductus, those conveyances of spirits, by which the head 
 doth become a fountain of directive and motive indnence 
 imto the whole body. And so is our Lord Jesus Christ 
 unto the church a fountain both of directive and motive 
 influence, of light and life. 
 
 He is a Fountain of light to all true Christians. For 
 42 
 
 every beam of true light is a ray from that Sun of righte- 
 ousness, shines from and through the Lord Jesus Christ, 
 We are under a dispensation, wherein the Father speaks 
 to us by his Son, who is the brightness of his glorj' and 
 the express image of his person, Heb. i. 2, 3. Thi^s world 
 were universally a region of nothing else but pure mere 
 darkness, were it not for him, the light that lighteneth 
 every one that cometh into the world, according to the se- 
 veral variations and degrees and kinds of light that shine 
 here and there. And, 
 
 He is also a fountain of life and vital influence. That 
 very light is vital light, the light of life. The life was the 
 light of men, John i. 4. And for all that have real union 
 with him, it is becau.se he lives that they live also. 
 
 Herein therefore they have union with this Head. They 
 all participate together in the light of divine truth, where- 
 of he hath been the teacher ; of all that saving wisdom and 
 knowledge that is trea-ured up in him. In him are hid 
 all the treasures of wisdom and knowledge. Col. ii. 3. 
 And all that are really of his body, unite and meet in a 
 participation of necessary light and' knowledge from him ; 
 they partake according to their mea.sure of necessary truth 
 fiom that Fountain, so much as is essential unto the'Chris- 
 tian religion, and necessarily concurs unto the constituting 
 of that. And they all agree in the participation of motive 
 and active influence from him, for the performance of all 
 the essentially necessary duties and exercises that do be- 
 long to the Christian life. Such a union there is amonest 
 all sincere Christians. This is implied in ,ne expression 
 of holding the head before mentioned. They truly hold 
 the head, who are so united to it, as that by virtue of that 
 union they receive and derive thence the knowledge and 
 perception of all essentially requisite truth, and that life 
 and power that is also requisite to the duty that lies upoa 
 Christians as such. 
 
 There hat'h been a great deal of controversy, between 
 the reformed and those of the Roman church, "about that 
 distinction of the essentials and extra-essentials of Christi- 
 anity. But let men cavil as long as they will, it would 
 manifestly be the most absurd thing in all the world to 
 deny the distinction ; for if any would deny it, I would 
 inquire of them; Which part of the distinction is it, that 
 you would deny ] Would you deny, that there are essential 
 parts of Christianity? or else, that there are extra -es.-eniial 
 parts 1 If the distinction be not good, one of these parts 
 must be denied. But if any would say, there are no 
 essential parts; that would be to say, that the Christian re- 
 ligion hath no being ; for certainly that is nothing, unto 
 which nothing is essential. And to say, that there are no 
 extra-essential parts, is to say, that a man cannot be a 
 Christian unlers he knows every thing of truth, and unless 
 he punctually do every thing of duty, whether he Imow it 
 or not; then a man could not be a Christian unless he did 
 certainly know the meaning of the number "six hundred 
 sixty-six," and a thousand difficult passages beside^ up 
 and down the Scripture. So that in effect, to deny tlie 
 distinction of essential and extra-essential parts in Chris- 
 tianity, or of it. must either be to deny that there is any 
 such thing as Christianity, or that there is any such ihmg 
 as a Christian; if there be no essential parts, Christianity 
 is nothing ; lor that is nothing to which nothing is essen- 
 tial ; and if there be none extra-essential, then there are no 
 Christians; for certainly there is no man, that knows and 
 does every thing that belongs to the Christian religion. 
 But that there are essential parts, and therefore extra-essen- 
 tial too, is most evident ; and which the essential parts be, 
 in contradistinction to all others, is not obscurely intima- 
 ted to us in the Scripture itself, in such sumir.as of Chris- 
 tian doctrine and practice, as we have pointed to us here 
 and there in some remarkable texts. As, when we are 
 told, 1 Cor, viii, G, To us there is but one God. the Fa- 
 ther, of whom are all things, and we in him : and one Lord 
 Jesus Chris>f, by whom are all things, and we by him. 
 Where we have the great objects upon which religion 
 terminates ; God considered as God, the end ; and Christ 
 the mediator, the way to that end. And then we are not 
 without what is summary too of the acts to be done in re- 
 ference to those objects. The apostle, speaking of the 
 course he had taken in unfolding the mysteries of the 
 Gospel, resolves all into this sum ; he had been testifying
 
 5'J8 
 
 THE WORK OF THE HOLY SPIRIT IN 
 
 Sehm. XII. 
 
 both to Jews and Greeks repentance towards God, and faith 
 toward our Lord Jesns Christ, Acts xx. 21. Which are 
 such acta or parts of Christian practice, as belong to the 
 inchoation of the Christian course at first, and then to be 
 continued afterwards through it ; but so as to comprehend 
 many particulars of practice besides; whereof our Lord 
 Jesus Christ gives us another summary, Matt. xxii. 37, 
 &c. Thou shalt love the Lord thy God with all thy heart, 
 and with all ihy soul, and with all thy mind. And, thou 
 shalt love thy neighbour as thyself. On these two com- 
 mandments, saith he, hang all the law and the prophets. 
 And indeed you have objects and acts implicitly compre- 
 hended together in that great summary, that is expres.sive 
 of the faith, into which Chri.st directed his apostles to pro- 
 selyte all nations into which they were to baptize them ; that 
 is, into the name of the Father and of the Son and of the 
 Holy Ghost, Matt, xxviii. 19. Where the Father is to be 
 considered as the end, the Son as the way, and the Spirit 
 as the great principle to move souls towards that end 
 through that way. Now there are none, that are sincere 
 and living Christians, but do and must unite in such things 
 as these, these great essentials and substantial of the Chris- 
 tian religion. 
 
 But it may now be said ; If there be so much union 
 amongst all Christians already in these so great and sub- 
 stantial things, what further union must we look fori 
 which was the third thing we proposed to speak to upon 
 this head ; 
 
 3dly, What further union wc are yet to expect and hope 
 for. And it must be acknowledged, and ought to be 
 lamented, that there is all this union with very much dis- 
 union ; such disunion, that is in a high degree dishonour- 
 able to God, scandalous to the world, and uncomfortable to 
 the Christian community within itself. You well know, 
 that there may be one house standing upon one foundation; 
 and yet miserably shattered, ill-supported, ill-covered. 
 There may be one large family, all under one family- 
 governor ; and yet many sidings and contentions in it, 
 many parties, and part-takings this way and that. The 
 like may be said of a city, a kingdom, an army, or any such 
 aggregate body. The like maybe said even of a man him- 
 self, that hath, while he is a man, several parts united in him ; 
 but yet this living man may be sick, very sick, and even 
 nigh to death, in a most languishing state ; soul and body 
 still united, and several parts in the body still united with 
 one another ; but it may be some dying, some dead, all 
 languishing at least ; and, as the case is in some diseases, 
 one member falling foul upon another, the man beating, 
 hurting, wounding himself: the parts are still in union; 
 but this is a union very remote from what belongs to a 
 sound, sober, healthy man, in good plight every way. And 
 so the matter is with the Christian church too. We do 
 acknowledge such a union in all the fore-mentioned things, 
 in all things of that nature ; but it is with a most scandal- 
 ous and pernicious disunion. We do not think that the 
 Spirit of God hath totally forsaken the Christian church; 
 but it is plain, it is miserably languishing and next to 
 death ; according to the import of that expression to the 
 Sardian church. Rev. iii. 2. Strengthen the things that 
 remain, that are ready to die. There is truth, but wrapt 
 up in obscurity, and held in unrighteousness ; as is too 
 obvious to common observation. And therefore it is an- 
 other sort of union than this is, in respect of the degree 
 and perfection of it, that we are yet to look for ; and which 
 certainly the Spirit, when poured forth copiously and 
 generally, (as we are encouraged to hope it will be,) will 
 effect and bring about. This union, which we are to ex- 
 pect, (as indeed the union, which already we have in nature 
 and kind,) is to be both intellectual and cordial. We are 
 to expect an improvement of it unto a much higher degree 
 in both these kinds, a higher union both of judgment and 
 love. 
 
 1. A much higher intellectual union, than we hitherto 
 find ; a nearer union, and agreement in mind and judg- 
 ment amongst Christians. And it is very unreasonable 
 not to expect it, when we consider how plain and express 
 the charge is concerning that kind of union ; it is very 
 unreasonable to think, that the people of God, the commu- 
 nity of Christians, shall be always in .so notorious a dis- 
 crepancy from their rule, even in this particular case. See 
 
 the .solemnity of that charge, in 1 Cor. i. 10. Nom' I be- 
 seech you, brethren, by the name of our Lord Jesus Christ, 
 that ye all speak the same thing, and that there be no di- 
 visions among you ; but that ye be perfectly joined together 
 in the same mind and in the same judgment. Do we think 
 the Christian community shall be never nearer the rule in 
 this casr, than it isl We have reason to expect it shall; 
 and especially since we find it is so expressly foretold, that 
 in the latter days (which this discourse-we have in hand 
 hath reference to) one heart shall be given, and one way, 
 Jer. xxxii. 39. Certainly there shall be so much agreement 
 in minds and judgments, as shall lead the people of God 
 all into one way ; for such a word cannot fall to the ground, 
 and is not put into the Bible to stand for a cipher theie. 
 And we have it expressly promised, that of them that are 
 all intent to press forward towards the same mark, and 
 wherein they have attained, to do all to their uttermost to 
 walk by the same rule ; if in any thing they be otherwise 
 minded, God shall reveal this to them, Phil. iii. 15, 16. It 
 is also expressly promised by our Loid Christ himself, 
 that they that will do his will, shall know the doctrine whe- 
 ther it be of God, yea or no, John vii. 17. Certainly, when 
 the Spirit comes to be so copiously and generally poured 
 forth, men will be attempered more to the will of God; 
 there will be more earnest minding and endeax'ouring to 
 do his will; self-will will not be the common rule and 
 law amongst those that bear the name of Christians, as 
 now it is; and upon this is that great promise grounded; 
 all that is required, is, " If any man will do his will, he 
 shall know his doctrine." There is no so necessary and 
 certain qualification for the knowledge of divine truth, as 
 sincerity; when men do inquire for truth, not to gratify 
 curiosity, not to serve an interest, not to keep up a party, 
 not to promote a base design ; but with sincere hearts, that 
 they may understand what the good and acceptable will of 
 the Lord is. They that are intent upon this, our Lord 
 Chriist will not fail them, nor break his promise, that such 
 who will do his will, shall know the doctrine. There is a 
 peculiar gust and relish, which the truth that is after god- 
 liness always carries in it to persons that are alive and 
 well, and that have their senses exercised to discern be- 
 tween good and evil. Cannot my taste discern perverse 
 things'? saith Job, chap. vi. 30. Has not a lively Chris- 
 tian a taste to discern some things that are obstructive and 
 destructive to the Christian religion and trie Christian in- 
 terest in the world 1 a person alive, and with senses exer- 
 cised, will taste it out; even as the new-born babe desires 
 sincere milk, while it would refuse that which is corrupt 
 and mixed with any thing ungrateful. Herein we are to 
 expect much more of an intellectual union, or union in 
 judgment concerning the great truths of God. 
 
 2. A much nearer and more inward cordial union, a 
 union of love. When the Spirit was more eminently 
 poured forth upon Christ's ascension, see how it was with 
 Christians in that respect. Acts ii. 46. They continued 
 daily with one accord in the temple. Our translation ren- 
 ders it too faintly; i/(o0u//a(5di', they met together all with 
 one mind: so the expression literally signifies. And chap, 
 iv. 32. it is said, that believers were all of one heart and 
 
 one soul ; tS irXfiOai TMV Tri^evcrdvTojv riv r) KapRia kuX >) ip^y'l f"'") 
 
 Of the multitude that believed there was but one heart and 
 sntd; as if they were a community, all acted and anima- 
 ted by one soul. However unlike itself the church ol God 
 is grown in a long tract of time, the Spirit of God is not 
 grown unlike itself; and therefore when it comes to be 
 poured forth as it hath been, it will still act as it hath 
 done, uniformly and agreeably to itself; and make them, 
 that now are many parties, divided and shattered, broken 
 this way and that, all one entire piece. How passionately 
 longing do the apostle's expressions import him to be, in 
 reference to this one thing, that is, the union composed of 
 the two things I have mentioned, of a union in mind and 
 judgment, and of a closure in heart and love, in Col. ii. 1, 
 2. I would, that ye knew what great conflict I have for 
 you and for them at Laodicea, and for as many as have 
 not seen my face in the flesh; that their hearts might be 
 comforted, being knit together in love, and unto all the 
 riches of the full a.ssurance of understanding, to the ac- 
 knowledgment of the mystery of God, and of the Father, 
 and of Christ. This is the union that he covets ; and w** 
 
 I
 
 Seiim. XIII. 
 
 REFERENCE TO THE CHRISTIAN CHURCH. 
 
 599 
 
 must know, that that Spirit, who is to be the author of this 
 union, was no doubt the author of these very desires and 
 longings of the apostle's soul about it ; it acts agreeably to 
 itself. He desired and longed so earnestly for this, that 
 they might be knit together both in love and undenstand- 
 ing, to the acknowledgment of the mystery of God, both 
 the Father and the Sun. And what have there been, even 
 from the dictate and direction of the Spirit, .so earnest 
 longings for 1 Why, though so long before, we are to ac- 
 count these very longings to be the earnest of these things 
 desired, and so to expect that whereof they are the earnest. 
 
 We thus far see, what union we are not to expect, what 
 already is, and what we are to expect and look lor further 
 than yet there is, or than j'et we see. 
 
 Upon all this, while as yet we behold so little of so de- 
 sirable a thing, we have reason to account that it is with 
 the church of God a time of his hiding his face, and of the 
 restraint of his Spirit. I will no more hide my face, I will 
 pour out my Spirit. While the Spirit is not poured forth, 
 even with reference to this bles.sed end and work ; this is 
 the notion which we ought to have concerning the present 
 state of the Christian church; it is a time of God's hiding 
 his face from them ; the bright and glorious face, that hath 
 shone upon it sometimes, and that we are to expect should 
 shine, is yet obscured and hid. And what should our 
 posture be upon that account 1 while we must reckon this 
 the common state and case of the Christian church at this 
 day ; in what posture should our souls be 1 And surely, 
 
 1. It ought to be a very mournful pOsture. How hath 
 he covered with a cloud in his anger the daughter of his 
 people ! how is her glory confounded ! When he did de- 
 cline to go with the people of Israel further on in their 
 way towards Canaan, saying, I will send an angel before 
 thee, and I will drive out the Canaanite, the Amorite, &c. 
 He shall destroy them for you. " But I will not go up in 
 the midst of thee, I will not go with you any further." The 
 people, it is said, when they heard these evil tidings, 
 mourned, and no man did put on him his ornaments, 
 Exod. xxxiii. 2, 3, 4. It is a mourning time, when the 
 bridegroom is withdrawn : and there is no sadder token 
 that he is withdrawn, than to behold the confusions which 
 have ensued in his absence. 
 
 2. It ought to be an expecting, a waiting posture. Sure 
 this dark and gloomy night will be succeeded by a morn- 
 ing: it will not be a perpetual, eternal night; there will be 
 a time, when the hid face will again appear, and the cloud 
 remove. I will wait upon the Lord, that hideth his face 
 from the house of Jacob, and I will look for him, Isa. viii. 
 17. And it should be an earnest, desirous, longing expecta- 
 tion. There can be no more dismal token upon us, than to 
 be indifferent: he is gone, his face is hid, he is not to be 
 seen ; and whether he come towards us again, whether 
 we shall see him again any more, we matter it not ; this 
 would be the most dismal token. 
 
 SERMON XIIL* 
 
 Beside the principles, which the Spirit of God, when 
 copiously and generally poured forth, will work in each 
 individual person, tending to create a happy state of things 
 in the church: we proposed to speak of two general effects, 
 that must have the Christian community as such, for the 
 subject of them, and not individual persons only, viz. 
 union and order. 
 
 Much hath been said upon the former, the desirable 
 effect of union. It hath been shown, that the happiness of 
 the church doth much depend upon this, and that it is the 
 proper work of the Spirit of God to effect it : and then the 
 last time we came to speak to a twofold inquiry: — 1. What 
 kind of union this is to be. This we have gone through, 
 and now proceed to a second, viz. 
 
 2. In what way the Spirit of God poured forth may be 
 expected to effect this union. 
 
 And there is no doubt but it will effect it by the same 
 means, by which it shall revive and recover religion ; of 
 
 • Prcacl.eil October 2d, 1678. 
 
 which we have so largely spoken.* At the same time when 
 It makes the Christian church a living church, it will make 
 it one, that is, in that higher and more eminent degree, 
 whereof we have been speaking. It is but one and the 
 same thing, or is done eddem opera, the making the church 
 more holy and the making it one : what brings Christians 
 nearer to God and Christ, will certainly and infallibly at 
 once bring them nearer to one another. Font is manifest, 
 that the greatest differences that are to be found in il^ 
 Christian world, lie between the godly and the ungodly, 
 the converted and the unconverted, the sincere and the in- 
 sincere : whatever diflerences there are amongst the people 
 of God themselves, those are still the greatest differences 
 which lie between them and those who are not of them; 
 f<T there the disagreement is about having the Lord for 
 our God. Every ungodly man is his own idol ; he hath 
 yet this finst step to take in religion, the choo.sing of God 
 alone to be his God : now the difference must needs be 
 vast, between those that take the Lord for their God, and 
 those that take him not, but serve a ba.se and despicable 
 idol, self, and make all to their very uttermost subservient 
 unto that. The .sincere and insincere differ about their last 
 -^nd ; which is the greatest difference that can be imagined. 
 All men's courses are shaped and directed by the ends, 
 which they propose to themselves : and to have the Lord 
 for our God, and to have him for our .supreme and ultimate 
 end, is all one. Now how vastly must those ways needs 
 differ, that lead to two directly contrar)' ends ! therefore 
 still the greatest difference cannot but be between the godly 
 and the earthly carnal-minded man, who hath himself for 
 his God, and all the world if he could compass it, for a 
 sacrifice to his own idol, himself. Men of that temper and 
 complexion of soul are the men that stand most off from 
 union, and that are the greatest schismaiics in all the world ; 
 it cannot but be so. Therefore, whensoever the Spirit of 
 God poured forth, shall make men agree in having the 
 Lord for their God, this God shall be our God ; when 
 men shall become more generally sincere and thoiough 
 Christians ; then it cannot but be, that the}' shall be united 
 with one another, and agree in far greater things than it is 
 possible they can differ from one another in. And there- 
 fore in the forementioned Jer. xxxii. 38, 39. at the same 
 time when it is said. They shall be my people, and I will 
 be their God ; it is immediately added. And I will give 
 them one heart and one way. This union cannot bnt be 
 the result of more lively, serious religion, and of deeper 
 impressions of godliness and of the Divine image upon the 
 souls of men. Not only as that union between the blessed 
 persons in the Godhead is the pattern of union amongst 
 the people of God ; that they all may he one, as thou Fa- 
 ther art in me, and I in thee, John xvii. 21. But also as 
 such a union is the certain and necessary result of other 
 excellencies, wherein the Divine image doth con-sist, and 
 wherein holy ones do and cannot but resemble God. One 
 apostle giving an account of God, how we are to conceive 
 of' him, gives it us under these two notions, that he is light, 
 and that he is love, 1 John i. 5. chap. iv. 8. 16. The 
 image of God in these two things, more generally .and 
 vividly impressed upon men, doth this whole busine."^, 
 makes them all one. How bles.sed a union would there 
 be, when Christians shall generally appear the representa- 
 tions of the blessed God himself in these two things, a 
 composition, as it were, of light and love. 
 
 Therefore, to give you more distinctly the account, how 
 or in what way the Spirit poured for'h should bring about 
 this union; it will be, — 1st, By increasing of light and 
 knowledge amongst them that bear the Christian name 
 every where in the world : — Odly, By giving greater 
 measures of grace. By the former, men shall generally 
 come to be more knowing in things necessary to the union : 
 and by the laiier, they shall be more patient of di.ssent 
 from one another in things less necessary to be known. 
 
 1st, By an increase of light and knowledge in things 
 more necessary to be known. I do not mean here merely 
 notional knowledge ; as the apostle doth not mean that if 
 God, when he saith, that Gkid is light ; but I mean that 
 knowledge received in the minds of Christians, that lies in 
 the next immediate tendency to holiness ; the knowledge 
 of the truth that is af^er godliness, as such, in that designed 
 a See page 575, &c.
 
 600 
 
 THE WORK OF THE HOLY SPIRIT LN 
 
 Sekm. XIII. 
 
 and direct tendency, as it doth attemper and dispose the 
 minds of men unto the reception of truth as sanctifying. 
 Sanctify them by the truth ; thy word is truth, John xvii. 
 17. We are bound to give thanks always to God for you, 
 — that he hath chosen you unto salvation, through sancti- 
 fication of the Spirit, and belief of the truth, 2Thess. ii. 13. 
 The truth, as it lies in an immediate tendency to godliness, 
 and is transformative of the soul into a holy and godly 
 frame ; so we must conceive it to be impressed in order to 
 this blessed work: otherwise there wants the cement, and 
 that which should hold hearts together, as intent and di- 
 rected all towards one common design and end. And unto 
 this purpose, we must suppose the Spirit poured forth shall 
 heal the disatfection of men's minds unto such truth, or 
 imto truth considered under that notion and upon that ac- 
 count. It hath a great work to do for this end upon the 
 minds of men; the union that is to be brought about, (as 
 Avas observed upon the former head,) being necessarily in- 
 tellectual first, and then cordial. It is in the mind that 
 the first concoction of truth must be wrought, in order to 
 a further and more perfect concoction in the heart after- 
 wards. And whereas there is a manifold distemperature 
 and malady, even in the minds of men, that renders them 
 incapable of useful, practical Go.spel knowledge ; the great 
 work of the Spirit of God must be to remove and heal 
 those infinnities and maladies of the mind, and to do it 
 generally amongst Christians ; that so they may be brought 
 to increase in the knowledge of God, in divine knowledge ; 
 as the expression is Col. i. 10. I might make a copious 
 enumeration here of many such maladies and distempers 
 in the mind, by which it becomes disaffected to truth : and 
 which appear now to be epidemical evils, and need there- 
 fore a universal effusion of the Spirit to cure them, and so 
 to bring about the intellectual union, of which we speak. 
 These maladies, though some of them be in the mind itself, 
 yet most of them are originally in the heart, and thence 
 come to afiect and distemper the mind, and render it less 
 susceptive of useful and savoury knowledge. As, — 
 
 There is an unapprehensiveness too generally observable 
 in the minds of men; a dulness towards the apprehension 
 of truth. The Spirit of God, when it comes to be gene- 
 rally poured forth, (as it was said to be upon the Messiah 
 himself on whom it was poured forth without measure, and 
 thence to be transfused, as from a common fountain, imto 
 all that have vital union with him,) will make men of 
 quick understanding in the fear of the Lord : as it is ex- 
 pressed, Isa. xi. 3. 
 
 There is a slothful oscitamcy in the minds of most ; a re- 
 gardlcssness and unconcernedness to know the great and 
 deep things of God : and that causes a great disagreement 
 and disunion in the Christian world. There are many that 
 stint themselves : they think they know enough, and de- 
 sire to know no more, and cannot endure to be out-gone 
 Dy others, or that any should exceed their measure. As 
 these latter times, with reference to which we speak, will 
 certainly be times of very much knowledge ; so they will 
 be of very much inquiry : Many shall run to and fro, and 
 knowledge shall be increased, Dan. xii. 4. There will not 
 be a slothful, oscitant sitting down with a present measure 
 and attainment, but there will be a following on to know 
 the Lord, as you have it, Hos. vi. 3. and then the promise 
 of " his going forth shall he prepared as the morning;" as 
 it immediately follows. There will be always new and 
 fresh breakings forth of divine light, ready to reward the 
 endeavour of them that seriously set themselves to inquire 
 and seek after it. 
 
 There is very generally observable with many much cre- 
 dulity ; aptness to take up reports. The simple, says So- 
 lomon, believeth every word, Prov. xiv. 15. And hence it 
 comes to pass, that every one, that can tell a plausible 
 story, and a little set off any fancy and novel invention of 
 his own, makes it presently to obiain and pass for a reve- 
 lation : and hence comes, as is obvious to common obser- 
 vation, much of that division that hath been observable in 
 our days. 
 
 There is also, on the contrary hand, 3,n excessive hicredii- 
 liljj, or unaptness to believe things ; because they are very 
 great and glorious, and exceed the measures of our pre- 
 conceptions or preconceived thoughts, the evil of which 
 our Saviour upbraids his disciples with, that they were 
 
 slow of heart to believe all that the prophets had spoken, 
 the things contained in the divine revelation that had been 
 made before by the prophets concerninghim, Luke xxiv. 25. 
 There is inconsideratinn ; an inability to consider and 
 weigh things, to ponder and balance them as the case may 
 require. Men are apt, rashly and without using their un- 
 derstandings, to take up things upon their very first ap- 
 pearance. It is spoken concerning these latter days, in 
 Isa. xxxii. 4. that even the heart of the rash shall under- 
 stand knowledge; of those that were so, before they shall 
 be cured of that malady. There is also an unaptness to 
 consider, as well as an inability and indisposition to it; 
 many times from a kind of superstitious fear, that men 
 think they must not use their understandings to examine 
 and search into things, that it is not yet permitted to them 
 to do so: as if God had given men faculties, which they 
 were not to use : they might as well be afraid to look upon 
 an object with their eyes, and to pry into it, and to labour 
 that way to distinguish between one thing and another. 
 
 There is, opposite to that, a certain petulancy of mind : 
 when men will make it their business to tear and unravel 
 all principles, and they must have their reason satisfied in 
 every thing, or they will be satisfied in nothing. 
 
 There is an injudiciousness ; an inability to conclude ; 
 after considering never so much, never so long, when the 
 balance will never be cast. So many are ever learning, and 
 never come to the knowledge of the truth, 2 Tim. iii. 7 
 never conclude, never determine ; but are always as child- 
 ren tossed to and fro. 
 
 There is, again, a certain scepticism of mind with a great 
 many ; that when others have stated and settled, even by 
 common agreement and consent in the Christian church, 
 such conclusions, yet declaim against every thing as un- 
 certain ; not only from a peculiar inability to make a judg- 
 ment ; but from a principle that there is no judgment to 
 be made, and that there is nothing certain at all, or ought 
 to be looked upon as such ; which hath staived the Chris- 
 tian church and made it languish for a longtime, as to the 
 matter of sound knowledge. 
 
 There is ivstability of judgment ; that when men have 
 concluded and determined upon good evidence, this is true 
 and ought to be adhered to accordingly, yet they are pre- 
 sently off again ; and therefore are so remote from agree- 
 ing with the generality of other Christians, that they are 
 never found long to agree with themselves. 
 
 There is, as what is more directly opposite to the former, 
 a certain kind o{ obstinacy of mind, prejudice, a fixed pre- 
 possession with corrupt and false principles, that once im- 
 bibed shall never be quitted ; and which doth very frequent- 
 ly proceed from an enslavedncss unto human dictates : that 
 is, that they have taken some one or other to be a leader 
 to them, and an orator ; and so give away that faith, which 
 is due only unto a divine revelation, and ought to pitch 
 and centre there, unto the fallible judgment of a man ; in 
 direct contradiction to that rule of our Lord Christ, Call 
 no man Rabbi, call no man Master upon earth. Matt, xxiii. 
 8, 10. Do not enslave your minds and judgments to any 
 man. 
 
 It must be supposed, that when ever the Spirit of God 
 doth that bles,<=ed work in the world, to revive and recover 
 religion and Christianity, it will unite Christians even by 
 this means, the curing of these great maladies and distem- 
 pers, that are in the minds of men so generally, and by which 
 they are rendered indisposed and averse to the entertain- 
 ment and retention of sound Gospel knowledge. For this 
 spirit, where it is given, is the spirit of a sound mind, 2 
 Tim. i. 7. The word, that is rendered soundness of mind 
 there, (roji^poi'((T/;o?, signifies sobriety, a spirit of sobriety. In- 
 deed that word doth commonly misguide men ; and they 
 apply it unto a thing far inferior in nature and dignity unto 
 that which it truly signifies ; as if it were to be opposed 
 only to gross sensual wickedness. But sobriety, as the 
 very notation of the word doth import, hath its seat and 
 subject in the mind, and doth firstly and chiefly affect that. 
 A sound mind and a sober mind is all one. Till the Spirit 
 of God do in these several respects cure men's minds, it 
 is impossible there should be union or agreement ; unless 
 men do agree only in being diseased ; or, (w-hich would 
 not do the business neither,) unless they could agree all to 
 be in one disease, which would be a very unhappy union
 
 Serm. XIII. 
 
 REFERENCE TO THE CHRISTIAN CHURCH. 
 
 601 
 
 also. When therefore the Spirit of the living God shall 
 universally come forth upon men, and create the world 
 Christians, and create the Christian world a region of 
 light; when it siiall generally make men apprehensive, 
 inquiring, serious, considerate, judicious, lovers of the 
 truth even for itself, sincere, so as to entertain truth with 
 no other design than only that the life of godliness may 
 be promoted and served by it ; there cannot but then be in 
 a very great degree the happy union obtaining amongst 
 Christians, whereof we have spoken. 
 
 But yet, when all this is done, we cannot suppose by it, 
 that men should be brought to know all things; but still 
 there will be many things, wherein they cannot but remain 
 ignorant, and consequently dissent and differ in many 
 things from one another. Therefore the Spirit of God 
 poured forth must be supposed also to effect this union, 
 
 2dly, By making Christians more generally patient of 
 dissent from one another, in less necessary things which 
 they may not still so generally know. And, if we consider, 
 what the genuine operations of the blessed Spirit of God 
 are, and what kind of Spirit that is wherever it comes to 
 obtain; this cannot but be the general temper of Chris- 
 tians, when that Spirit shall be eminently poured forth ; 
 that they shall be verj' patient of dissent from one another 
 in things wherein they continue to dissent. For, 
 
 1. We must suppose that the Spirit being generally so 
 poured forth, there will be a greater ability to distinguish 
 between truths that are of Scripture revelation, and those 
 that are not ; and consequently which it is matter of duty 
 to believe, and which not. For undoubtedly there is to 
 be such a distinction made between truth and truth, as 
 any one may easily see at the first view. For we must 
 know, that a thing is not therefore the necessar)' object of 
 my assent, because it is true; but because it is evident, or 
 because it is credible ; either evident in itself, or recom- 
 mended as credible to me by the authority of him that 
 doth reveal it. I am not bound therefore to believe a 
 thing immediately, because it is in itself true; for that it 
 may be, and yet I have no means to know it to be so, but 
 then is the obligation inferred upon me to believe such a 
 thing, when it is clothed with sufficient evidence to re- 
 commend itself unto my understanding. And whereas 
 there are some things that God hath revealed, even all 
 things that are any ways necessary either to the being or 
 the well-being of religion; I must consider those things 
 that lie not within the compass of that revelation, as wha' 
 God hath left unto men in vicdio ; he has left them un- 
 determined, and so they maj' be matter of very innocent 
 disagreement, of discourse and decertation, without any 
 concernedness, on the one part or the other. 
 
 2. Amongst revealed truths, we may suppose men will 
 be enabled to distinguish between the greater and the less, 
 between those that are more necessary and less necessary. 
 
 3. We must suppose Christians then to be generally 
 more spiritual, and apt to betaken up more with the great 
 things of religion ; and less apt to be greatly and deeply 
 concerned about matters of less consequence, so as to dis- 
 turb and break the order and peace of the church upon 
 the account of them. 
 
 4. We must suppose them then to be more holy ; less 
 opinionative, less conceited and hiunoursome; which is 
 that kind of knowledge that the apostle doth oppose to 
 love, as not only unedifying, but destructive of edification, 
 1 Cor. viii. 1, &c. Knowledge puffeth up, but charity 
 edifieth. And if any man think that he knoweth any 
 thing, if he knows with a conceited reflection upon his 
 own knowledge, admiring himself upon account of it ; he 
 knoweth nothing yet as he ought to know. Ignorance is 
 better than his knowledge. Men will think more meanly 
 of themselves and their own judgments, and either more 
 highly or more charitably of other men; either think, 
 that possibly they may see that which themselves see not ; 
 or if they cannot apprehend so, yet at least that the men 
 are sincere and upright-hearted towards God; as it is 
 meet for them to judge, and not to be insolently censori- 
 ous of such as do in such or such little matters diflTer from 
 them ; not to attribute to perverseness of mind every man's 
 dissension of opinion from their own. 
 
 5. They must needs be supposed to be more compassion- 
 
 fa Sec page 593. 
 
 ate unto those, whom they suppose to know less than them- 
 selves ; as knowing, that there are many things which 
 themselves are ignorant of, and they shall never attain to 
 know all things as long as they live. There are still all the 
 genuine workings of theSpirit of God.so far as it obtains and 
 prevails over the spiritsof men ; and so this among the rest, 
 
 6. Christians will undoubtedly then be formed unto a 
 more awful and reverential .subjection to God's own pre- 
 scribed rules, concerning the boundaries and terms of 
 Christian communion. Men will not then dare to make 
 terms of their own to limit the conununion of Cliristians 
 as such ; to devise new terms which Christ was never the 
 author of, and will never own ; but the authority of such 
 a law will obtain in the hearts of Christians, that are be- 
 come so serious and subject to the authority of God as 
 they must then be supposed to be, so as that they will ex- 
 tend their communion as far as it can be judged that God 
 will extend his, and Christ will extend his. For that is the 
 measure, that is given us, in these two passages. In one place 
 it is said, Rom. xiv. 1, ^. Receive such a one, for God hath 
 received him: receive him for all his doubling, for all his 
 dilTerence from you; and why"? because the Lord hath re- 
 ceived him. In the other place iris thus expressed, chap. xiv. 
 7. Receive ye one another, as Christ hath received us, to the 
 glory of God. Gt)d receives such a one into his commu- 
 nion; and shall not I receive him into mine 1 Christ receives 
 such a one, even untotheglory of the Father ; and shall not 
 I receive him into my fellowship ? When once the spirits of 
 men come to be awed into subjection unto the Divine au- 
 thority in this thing, so as to reckon it profane to prescribe 
 bounds and terms unto Christian communion, other than 
 God and Christ have prescribed themselves; then no 
 doubt will this blessed effect obtain and lake place in the 
 Christian church, then Avill it become an entire unied thing, 
 one thin? within itself, and never till then. As long as we 
 must have terms of Christian communion of men's own 
 devising, according to the diflerent humours of men, they 
 will still vary, and so we shall never know where to be. 
 
 Thus we have considered that first effect to be expected 
 from the Spirit generalU' poured forth, in order to promote 
 the peaceful state of the church, viz. the union of Chris- 
 tians amongst themselves. b I would add something con- 
 c^ing another particular mentioned, as conducive also 
 to the same peaceful state. 
 
 II. Order is another blessed effect to be looked for from 
 the pouring out of the Spirit, and that belongs unto the 
 Christian community as a community, and is most neces- 
 sary unto the making up of that happy time and state of 
 things, whereof we have been speaking. It is ven,- plain, 
 that this superadds somewhat unto union. It is a bad union, 
 where there is not order. Union speaks the compactive- 
 ness of parts; order the due situation of them, that every 
 one be in that place which duly belongs to it. Suppose 
 there were never so much union in the parts of the natu- 
 ral body, but the eyes were placed where the ears should 
 be, and the hands where the feet should be; notwithstand- 
 ing all the union of parts, the lack of order would make 
 this thing uncomfortable to itself, and deformed and m.a'i- 
 strous in the view of others. There are many members 
 in one and the same body ; and these members have all 
 their distinct place and use and purpose that they serve for, 
 as the apostle at large discourses, 1 Cor. xii. Now the 
 Spirit of God cannot be poured forth, but it will infer a 
 comely order in the Christian church; by the same ope- 
 ration by which it gives it life, it will give it shape and 
 comeliness, and a due figure and disposition of parts within 
 itself It was well said concerning this matterby a worthy 
 person, " God will certainly not be wanting in point of 
 shape and comelv order to a church, that hath a principle 
 of life within itself." He that clothes lilies, and gives life 
 unto the sensiti\'e creatures, and gives them their own 
 proper shape also ; will no doubt do so unto the lively 
 body of his own son: he will never be wanting to it in 
 point of shape and comely order, when it comes to be a 
 lively vigorous thing: by how much the fuller of life, so 
 much ceriainlv the order will be the more comely and 
 pleasant, bv its own choice, and much more as directed 
 by his rules. To evince this, consider these several things. 
 
 1. The Spirit poured forth comes to be, in them that
 
 602 
 
 THE WORK OF THE HOLY SPIRIT IN 
 
 Serm. XIV, 
 
 recei re it, as a certain kind of nature ; it is called the Di- 
 vine nature. Nature, you know, acts uniformly and or- 
 derly in all its operations. How regular are the courses 
 of nature ! how constant the returns of days and nights, 
 of summer and winter ! how strictly do all the species 
 and kinds of things keep all their own kind, retain their 
 properties, colours, virtues, ways and methods of opera- 
 tion ! The Spirit of God, working, (as it i.s received in 
 the hearts of Christians,) even as a certain kind of nature, 
 mast needs work unilbrmly ; and so have a Nteady ten- 
 dency to the begetting and keeping up of order in the 
 whole community, that shall be aggregated by it. 
 
 3. It cannot be, but that, by how much the Spirit doth 
 more obtain and shall be generally poured forth amongst 
 men, each one will be more peculiarly adapted and htted 
 to the business of his own station, so as that he will there- 
 upon choose that as fittest for him. 
 
 3. It cannot be, but that all men will be more debased 
 and humbled, and equal estimators of themselves, and 
 therefore apprehend not themselves fit for a station unto 
 which they are not called. 
 
 4. The Spirit poured forth will no doubt make men 
 more generally apprehensive of, and reverentially subject 
 to, the authority of God himself, in all his own ordinances 
 and appointments ; and therefore, when one is to teach, 
 and others to be taught; some to govern, others to be go- 
 verned ; the authority, that doth design men unto more 
 public stations and capacities, will be considered as Di- 
 vine. We notionally know so much already ; but it will 
 be another thing, when that impression is made upon the 
 hearts of Christians, "He that despiseth, despiseth not 
 man, but God." 
 
 5. The Spijit poured forth cannot be without making 
 men generally very tender of the community unto which 
 they belong, and of the whole Christian community in 
 general : as every one can easily apprehend, how this 
 would be prejudiced, if order be broken, and men com- 
 monly allow themselves the liberty to step out of their 
 own ranks and stations, to be and do what they are not 
 called to be or do. 
 
 The concurrence of these things cannot but infer, that 
 whenever the Spirit of God shall be generally poured forth, 
 the Christian church will fall into order ; there will fced 
 no great hammering in reference to that, the business will 
 even do of itself All will know, and all will mind, their 
 own stations and the business of them ; and apprehend 
 their own unfilness for any station, unto which God doth 
 not call ; and apprehend their privilege in not being so 
 called, in being exempt from the cumber and burden of 
 more pul^lic stations ; as certainly exemption, if it were 
 understood, is a very great privilege ; when God doth not 
 lay any further charge upon me, than only to intend the 
 business of a narrower station and a lesser sphere ; when 
 I can be vacant unto God, and for his commerce, and there 
 walk with him undisturbedly within my own line ; while 
 others are eaten up with cares and solicitudes concerning 
 the common affairs, that they are concerned in, and in- 
 trusted with the management of. No doubt the Spirit of 
 God will help every man to make a true judgment of 
 things, when it comes to be generally poured forth ; and 
 this, that hath been just spoken of, cannot but be judged ; 
 necause it is a very great privilege to have freedom and 
 vacancy for the proper business of a Christian as such, 
 within his own calling and verge ; when God shall, as it 
 ■were providentially, say unto a man, " I lay no other charge 
 upon thee, but to walk with me in thy own station and 
 within the bounds of thy own calling, to make me the en- 
 tire object of thy love and delight, and at all times to so- 
 lace thyself with me ; I exempt thee from things, that 
 would disturb and disquiet and divert from the business 
 and delights of such a continued course of walking with 
 me." When this comes to be generally understood, there 
 will be little disposition in the minds of men to break or- 
 der, by usurping upon what belongs not to them. 
 
 Thus far you see, that little else can be thought needful 
 to the bringing about of a very happy time and state of 
 things, besides the pouring forth of the Spirit. 
 
 * Prenclied Octolier 9th, 1673. 
 
 SERMON XIV.* 
 
 We have been showing in many discourses, what a 
 good state of things or happy times are to be brought 
 about by the Spirit of God poured forth. And hitherto 
 we have been endeavouring at large to evince the efficacy 
 and sufficiency of this means to the end mentioned; 
 which was the first thing'' undertaken to be made evident. 
 We are now to proceed to show — 
 
 Secondly, The 7iecessity of this means to reach such an 
 end ; that as it is a sufficient means, you may also under- 
 stand it to be the only means, of bringing such a work 
 about. And for evincing this, two things, clear enough in 
 themselves, seem abundantly sufficient; — 1. That nothing 
 can mend the world, but what mends the spirits of men ; 
 and, — 2. That nothing can eflTectually do that but the Sj^i- 
 rit of the Lord poured forth. These are things that shine 
 into our minds and understandings with their own light. 
 
 As to the former ; What else do we think can mend the 
 times, but what mends men's spirits? doth not ever)' thing 
 necessarily act and work just as it is 1 how can the posture 
 of the world come to be other than at present, if the active 
 principles of men's spirits continue the same 1 
 
 And as to the latter ; what besides the Spirit of God 
 can eftectually mend the Spirits of men, so as to make the 
 state of things thoroughly and generally better 1 
 
 What other cause can be universal enough, and spread 
 its influence far and wide, to make a better world? There 
 wants a cause in this case, that can diffuse and influence 
 a vast way. That a nation should be born in a day, that 
 the earth should be filled with the knowledge of God, that 
 there should be new heavens and a new earth ; this needs 
 a cause that can work every where ; and what else can do 
 this but the Spirit of the Lord 1 And again. 
 
 What other cause is potent enough, of sufiicient energy, 
 of virtue piercing and penetrative enough, to do such a 
 work as must be done upon the spirits of men, before the 
 state of things will come to be better 1 What else can 
 shiver rocks, and melt down mountains, and make rough 
 places plain 1 What else, do you think, can dissolve ad- 
 amantine hearts, subdue insolent passions, assuage and 
 mortify furious lusts'? What else can change men's na- 
 tures, transform the very habit of their minds, and make 
 them generally quite other men, other creatures, than they 
 have been 1 Unto what agent inferior to his can we at- 
 tribute the ability to create? New heavens and anew 
 earth are to be created, Isa. Ixv. 17. You know how they 
 were created at first; "By faith we understand, that the 
 worlds were created by the word of God." The heavens 
 and the earth were the products of the breath of his month, 
 with all that is contained in them ; so must the spiritual 
 creation be, as much as the natural. What, do we think, 
 can make all the violences and mischiefs to cease out of 
 the earth, that fill it with continual tragedies every where, 
 and more or less at all times? Nothing is more evident, 
 than that the Spirit of the Lord alone is a cause propor.- 
 tionable to such an expected effect. 
 
 And the matter will be yet more evident, if you do but 
 consider these two things together. 
 
 1. That the Spirits of men are most horribly depraved, 
 and wickedly bent in themselves to such things as tend to 
 nothing but destruction and calamity. It is said of men 
 universally, that destruction and misery are in their ways 
 Rom. iii. 16. 
 
 2. That all these wicked inclinations of men's spirits 
 are continually fostered and fomented by another spirit 
 distinct from theirs, and over and besides theirs. The 
 spirit that worketh in the hearts of the children of dis- 
 obedience, (Eph. ii. 2.) makes the world and the church 
 miserable, so far as it prevails. Now what can we oppose 
 to that spirit, but the Spirit of the living God? While 
 that spirit is the great tormentor and disturber of the 
 world, that disquiets all things, that sets the spirits of men 
 on work against God and against one another every 
 where, that hath deluged the world with an inundation of 
 wickedness : what but the Spirit of the Lord can lift up a 
 standard against it ? 
 
 d, See page 575.
 
 Serm. XIV. 
 
 REFERENCE TO THE CHRISTIAN CHURCH. 
 
 603 
 
 But that the apprehension of this matter may yet set- 
 tle and Hx more deeply with us; (for it is of great con- 
 cernment that it should do so, that we may know whither 
 to direct our eye ;) let us but enumerate a litlle all the pro- 
 bable means besides that we can think of, which might 
 make the times good ; and think, how inefficacious and 
 altogether to no purpose they would be, without the Spirit 
 of the Lord poured forth and working with mighty efficacy 
 every where upon the spirits of men. 
 
 1. Think what the preaching of the Gospel would do. 
 That, it must be supposed, will be very general, far more 
 general than it is, to bring about such a state ol' things as 
 we expect and hope for, before time end. But, alas! what 
 would preaching do, if we could suppose it never so ge- 
 neral, while the Spirit of the living God restrains and 
 withholds his influences 1 Indeed it is not to be supposed, 
 that there could be a general preaching of the Gospel 
 amongst men, without the mighty work of the Spirit of 
 God to prepare the way : but if there were, to how little 
 purpose is our preaching, where that Spirit works not ! 
 We may as well attempt to batter strong walls with the 
 breath of our mouths, as to do good upon men's souls with- 
 out the Spirit of God. If there were preachers every where, 
 that could " speak with the tongues of men and of angels," 
 what would it signify 1 " Do I persuade men 1" saith the 
 apostle. Alas! it is above us to persuade men; it is a 
 matter of very great difficulty in things that are but of 
 common concernment. How hard to alter the mind and 
 will of a man, once set and bent already upon this or that 
 thing of a secular nature, that hath reference only to 
 earthly affairs ! The heathens themselves have been taught 
 by that light that hath shone amongst them, to attribute 
 unto a Deity the business of persuading men, to acknow- 
 ledge it a 7iuvicn that ever comes to have a persuasive 
 power over men's minds. When the Son of God himself 
 was the preacher, how little was effected, till the time came 
 of the Spirit's being so copiously poured forth ! He that 
 spake, his enemies Ijeing judges, so as never man spake 1 
 into whose lips grace was poured forth ! his hearers won- 
 dering at the gracious words that proceeded from his 
 mouth ! astonished sometimes at his doctrine ! for they 
 could distinguish, and see, that he taught with authority, 
 and not as the scribes : yet how little was done ! All 
 ended in the martyrdom of the preacher, and not long after 
 in the destruction of the people for the greatest part. 
 When that Spirit was poured torth, then thousands at a 
 sermon were subdued and brought under by the power of 
 the Gospel : but it was not yet given in that plentiful 
 measure, while as yet Jesus was not glorified. And if it 
 had not been given upon Jesus's glorification, what could 
 have enough fortified the hearts of these poor disciples, to 
 undertake the converting of the world, the going to teach 
 all nations, to proselyte mankind 1 How much, how un- 
 speakably too big had such an attempt appeared for their 
 undertaking, if a mighty Spirit had not come forth to raise 
 them above themselves, to make them somewhat beyond 
 men ! How could they ever have thought of going about 
 such a thing as that, wherein they were to be and actually 
 were the sticcessful instruments'? Without it, what success 
 could have been hoped for, howsoever attempted 1 Possibly 
 it may be thought, that human endeavours might have 
 done much at least towards the proselyting of mankind to 
 the Christian profession : so much might have been dis- 
 covered of the reasonableness of that religion, as that it 
 might have been thought fit, somewhat generally, so far as 
 men could be dealt with, to entertain and embrace the 
 Christian name. Truly even that was very unlikely ; that 
 it should have been ordinarily in the power of any rhetoric 
 or of any reason, generally to persuade men to forsake a 
 religion, wherein they had been bred and born, and which 
 was delivered down to them from their forefathers, whether 
 Jews or pagans : it was very unlikely, that mere argument 
 should prevail so far on the world. But suppose it did. 
 
 2. Consider what mere nominal Christianity would do 
 to the bettering of the world. What doth it now to the 
 bettering of the state of things, where it obtains 1 Where- 
 in are the nominal Christians belter than other men ? 
 wherein are they better towards God and Christ 1 The 
 case is apparent, that though atheism and infidelity be con- 
 quered in men's minds and understandings by the strength 
 
 of rea-son or of education, yet still the stronger fort in the 
 heart remains inexpugnable, till the Spirit of the living 
 God comes to deal efiectually with the hearts of men : and 
 so that consequently there is as great enmity against God 
 and Christ, even in the Chri.stizm world as out of ii. And 
 wherein are men better in Christendom towards one an- 
 other, than the pagans and Mahometans are "? wherein 
 better 1 where is there more deceit and fraud, more en- 
 mity and malice, more oppres.sion and cruelty, than 
 amongst the nommal Christians'? If we take true mea- 
 sures of the Christian religion, and apprehend it lo be 
 what indeed it is; if we will say, that it is faith in G'jd 
 through Christ, or dcvotedness lo God through Christ ; or 
 if we will say, that it doth consist, as no doubt in very 
 great part it doth, in an imitation of Christ, in being like- 
 minded lo Christ in purity, heavenliness, spirituality, in 
 self-denial, meekness, patience, peaceableness, aptitude to 
 do good all that ever we can : if this be the Chri.-iian re- 
 ligion, we may confidently say, that Christianity hath not 
 more bitter enemies in all the world than profes.sed Christ- 
 ians: I wish we could not say so. And where throughout 
 this world have there ever been more bloody war.s, fierce 
 commotions, dreadful ruins and devastations, than amongsi 
 Christians 1 Therefore think, how little towards the beiier- 
 ingof the world and mendingof the times, nominal Christ- 
 ianity doth or can do without the Spirit of God: the woild 
 is filled with plagues notwithstanding, and whatsoever 
 tends to make it miserable, in those very parts where that 
 obtains. But then, 
 
 3. It may be supposed, that these verj- judgments them- 
 selves might effect somewhat to the purpose, lo calm and 
 subdue men's spirits, and so bring about a more sedate 
 and composed state of things at last. And most true in- 
 deed it is, that they are very apt means to that purpose. 
 But means, you must still remember, are but means, and 
 suppose an agent that is to use them ; as a swoid will not 
 cut without a hand to manage it, and a proportionable 
 hand. The inhabitants of the world should learn righte- 
 ousness, when God's judgments are abroad in the earth, 
 Isa. xxvi. 9. But do they "? Do not we all know that na- 
 tions, countries, towns, cities, may more easily be ruined 
 than reformed, more easily be harassed and crushed all to 
 pieces than purged "? Do we need instances 1 We cannot 
 find a more bright one than the nearest to ourselves, to 
 our oA^Ti view. If we do but cast an eye upon this very 
 city, it hath been wasted by judgment upon judgment: 
 think what the plague hath done, what the fire hath done, 
 what povert}' invading as an armed man here and there 
 hath done. Is the city more reformed'? grown more pious 
 and serious 1 doth the life of religion appear more in it 7 
 is it become more sober and just '? Let inis be seriously 
 considered, and then think, what even judgments them- 
 selves, as severe as can be thought, are like toefi^jcl in the 
 world without the Spirit poured forth. You have heard 
 enough of the commotions and hurries of the world in 
 other parts ; but do you hear of its being grown much bet- 
 ter even in those parts? And admit thai such judgments 
 should sober men's spirits generally, and reduce them to 
 more calmness, that men should by very weariness be at 
 length brought to be at rest, and so a peaceable and pros- 
 perous .state of things ensue; yet what would that alone do 
 to make the times good 1 
 
 4. What, I say, would a prosperous state of things do 
 (meaning it only of external prosperity) to better the con- 
 dition of the chiirch of God ? Such a good state of things 
 for the churcii, must, as hath been said, first and in the 
 principal place consist in the flourishing of religinn. and 
 then but secondarily in external tranquillity. What would 
 the latter of these do without the former ■? and what would 
 become of the former without the Spirit poured forth 1 If 
 we had never so happy times in external respects, what 
 would bo the i.^sue of it, in reference to the state and con- 
 dition of the church of God 1 We should then have, as 
 was noted of old, golden chalices and wooden priests : the 
 church would be a glorious sepulchre, .splendid without, 
 but full of rottenness and corruption within. Would this 
 better our case ? It is veiy plain, that there could be 
 noihjmr more beside the purpose of mending the state of 
 the church, than prosperity without a great measure of 
 the Spirit. It would be good :u subserviency, nothing in
 
 604 
 
 THE WORK OF THE HOLY SPIRIT IN 
 
 Serm. XIV. 
 
 substitution : it might serve the Spirit, but cannot supply- 
 its place : much might be done under the management of 
 the Spirit by such a state of things towards the promoting 
 and furthering of religion ; but without that Spirit all 
 would go to ruin : religion would soon languish away and 
 come to nothing, the sun of external prosperity would ex- 
 hale the life and spirit and vigour of it ; as experience 
 has often shown that it has done heretofore. And what 
 external prosperity can there be, while the minds of men 
 are so very various, divided into varieties of parties this 
 way and that 1 There cannot be a prosperous state, while 
 only one party is uppermost, and all the rest under op- 
 pression. When the church of God hath been in so di- 
 vided a condition, have you ever known or read or heard 
 of any such slate of things, that hath been so favourable, 
 as to deserve to be called a prosperous slate 1 If it hath 
 been favourable to some, yet it halh, it may be, been 
 equally or more unfavourable unto very many, that perhaps 
 were better men that those whom the times smiled upon. 
 And so it cannot but still be, where there are many par- 
 ties : every party cannot be uppermost : and unless the 
 Spirit of God new-mould men's spirits, whatever party 
 were uppermost, they would make it their business to 
 crush and vex and disquiet all the rest. And can that be 
 a state fit to be called prosperous 1 But, 
 
 5. That which the minds of many may be apt to run 
 upon, is, that some very exact form of governraeM in the 
 church would be the specific, or rather the panj)Iiarmaco?v, 
 to cure all diseases in the church of God, and make a very 
 happy time. A frame of things exactly squared according 
 to their apprehension, the)' think, would soon do the busi- 
 ness. The mind? of many are apt to run much upon this 
 project. But most forms, that can be t] ought on, have 
 been tried ; and what have they done, while the Spirit of 
 God hath not animated the external form 1 or what hope 
 remains, that any thing could be done by an exiernal life- 
 less form, if never so excellent and unexceptionable, never 
 so agreeable to rule 1 The expectation, that that would 
 do the business, is £is if a person were dangerously and ex- 
 tremely sick, even next to death, and any should go about 
 to trim him up and dress him neatly, put on him a well 
 made suit, and expect that this should effect his cure. 
 Alas ! what needs there amongst us such curiosity for a 
 dead thing 1 We are dead, the Spirit of God is retiring, 
 retired in a very great degree : to what purpose would it 
 be to shape and figure a dead thing this way or that 1 Just 
 to as much purpose, as the endeavour of him that we read 
 of in Plutarch, who would fain erect a newl}^ dead body 
 in the posture of a living man ; but alas ! the legs yielded, 
 the hands fell, the head dropped on one side ; so that the 
 poor defeated person was forced to cry out at last, " Decst 
 aliquid intus, I find there is something wanthig within ; 
 there wants a living soul to support and aniniate the 
 frame." So it must be in our case too, if there were ever 
 so exact order. You may suppose from what was formerly 
 said, that order is a most excellent and desirable thing, 
 and necessary to the prosperity of the church of God. 
 But what is the order and frame of a thing that is deadl 
 If a plot of ground should be laid out for a garden ; square 
 it never so accurately, let it have never so exact a figure, 
 bestow upon it every thing of ornament that art can in- 
 vent : yet if nature also do not do its part, if the sun never 
 shine upon it, if no showers or dews ever descend, would 
 it be, think you, a pleasant flourishing garden 1 We have 
 all of us reason to have done expecting much from lifeless 
 outward forms, even the best constitution imaginable ; while 
 a spirit of life from above breathes not, despair that that will 
 ever work miracles, or do any great things amongst us. 
 
 Besides, the best form of things that can be supposed, 
 that is, such as would be more serviceable than others 
 unto the ends and purposes which should be aimed at, to 
 depress wickedness and keep things composed and in order, 
 could never last long, if a Spirit from God do not animate 
 it. Lust and wickedness, which it goes about to curb, and 
 which might be less in some external fruits of it, so long 
 as it should continue curbed, yet would grow too strong 
 and break the bonds. As you know, that, let the body of 
 a man be never so comely and beautiful and well propor- 
 tioned, yet all that excellent structure and fabric will soon 
 dissolve after death ; beauty is gone all of a sudden, ghast- 
 
 liness succeeds in the room of it, and in time it will cor- 
 rupt and pulrify within ; and that corruption will break 
 forth, so as to break the external frame, and cause part to 
 drop from part. Therefore never expect a mere external 
 frame of things to better our case much or long, to do any 
 miracles in that kind. And I may add, as that leads me, 
 
 6. That indeed the very power of working miracles it- 
 self, which is but an external means, would not better the 
 world and men's spirits, without the Spirit of God ac- 
 companying. It is true indeed they could not be wrought 
 without that Spirit in the agent ; but that would not do 
 without the Spirit as a diffused soul. Many may be ready 
 to imagine, that if God would but do some very strange 
 things amongst men, work many astonishing wonders, fill 
 the world and the time with prodigies ; then, whereas his 
 memorial is in so great part extinct, these things would 
 etfectually convince men of their atheism and infidelity, 
 and so all would be set right. But what did miracles do 
 with the Jews of old 1 who were brought out of Egypt by 
 a succession of miracles, by plague upon plague inflicted 
 on the land of Egypt, till they were constrained to let Is- 
 rael go ! who were brought through the Red sea by a most 
 astonishing miracle, the sea dividing on the one hand and 
 on the other, and their enemies pursuing destroyed, only 
 by withdrawing that miraculous power, and letting the 
 sea unite again ! who were led through the wilderness by 
 a continual miracle, the pillar of cloud and fire ; and fed 
 by another, manna, bread from heaven I who had the great 
 God himself appearing with so stupendous a glory upon 
 mount Sinai ; speaking with the voice of words, that six 
 himdred thousand might hear at once, the law, the ten 
 words ! yet the body of that people lapse into idolatry, 
 while the Divine glory was in view before their eyes, and 
 after it had been by so dreadful a voice immediately before 
 forbidden with the utmost severity. And their after-in- 
 gratitude, infidelity, mutinies, rebellions, murmurings, 
 testify how little miracles did amongst them. How little 
 did.they do in Christ's time ! those that he himself wrought ! 
 restoring hearing to the deaf, and sight to the blind, and 
 speech to the dumb, and life to the dead ! how little was 
 effected, save only to heighten and aggravate the wicked- 
 ness which showed itself so invincible ! All these are ex- 
 ternal, things. 
 
 But if we should think of what is internal too ; the com- 
 mon notions of religion ; the practical dictates of natural 
 conscience, that do more or less obtain every where 
 amongst men ; the light and knowledge, that comes by 
 the Gospel discovery, where that obtains ; common pru- 
 dence, and respect to self-interest ; how little do these 
 things do towards the composing of the world and the 
 bettering of the times ! It is plain, that light is more easily 
 extinguished than lust. When it comes to a contest, when 
 there is a competition between corruption and conscience; 
 alas ! how much more intent are men to mortify thei'r 
 consciences, than to mortify their corruptions! How 
 feeble and impotent a thing is their light ! All the light 
 that shines doth but testify against them, rather than di- 
 rect or reform them ; and will do no more, till the Al- 
 mighty Spirit go forth. And for that of prudence and 
 respect to interest, that is the very thing that undoes men ; 
 that is, that every man will be prudent for himself, and 
 mind a particular interest of his own : this fills the world 
 with tumults and blood, with mischiefs and miseries every 
 where ; so that that which should be men's preserver, is 
 their destroyer, even self-love. 
 
 The .sum of all is this. This ought to make us despair 
 that ever we shall see a better world and state of things, 
 till this blessed Spirit be poured down upon our heads. 
 Without that, things will be growing worse and worse ; it 
 cannot be but they will do so ; do not Ave see, that they 
 have done so ? The Spirit is in a great measure gone, re- 
 tired even from Christian assemblies. When do we hear 
 of the conversion of a soul, of any stricken and pierced to 
 the heart by the word of God 1 And what is that like to 
 come to, think we 1 what would it come to in this city, if 
 always in a continued course the burials should exceed 
 the births 1 Must it not be the very desolation of all at 
 last 1 If we should speak of burials in a moral sense ; 
 alas ! doth the number of converts equal the number of 
 apostates] But take it in a natural sense, as all are dying;
 
 Serm. XV. 
 
 REFERENCE TO THE CHRISTIAN CHURCH. 
 
 605 
 
 do we think, that there are Christians brought in, serious 
 Christians, etieciually become so, in any proponionablc 
 number to the deaths of good people amongst us "? What 
 doth this tend to, but the extinction of reli'^ionl And nut 
 to speak of the rampant wickedness of those who have 
 cast off all sense and fear of God and godliness, but only 
 how those who profess religion degenerate and grow worse 
 and worse; it is very dismal to think, how coldly affected 
 they are towards religion, towards the ordinances of it, to- 
 wards the Divine presence ; how eagerly they fly at the 
 world, when the clouds gather so thick and black, and all 
 things seem to conspire to a storm; their ordinary busi- 
 ness, all their business, must go on just as it did, except 
 that of souls, except that for eternity and another world; 
 which must be neglected, as it was wont to be. Is not 
 this the case 1 If there be opportunities of solemn prayer, 
 of mourning and fasting, of putting in for a part and share 
 of the expected mercy; how do many, if we may not say 
 the most of them that profess religion amongst us, as it 
 were disclaim their part ! for they will bear no part 
 amongst them that cry for mercy. Think, what will this 
 come to, if the Spirit of the living God be still withheld, 
 and do not awaken men, and reduce their spirits to a bet- 
 ter state. Despised ordinances, contemned worship, neg- 
 lected seasons and opportunities of grace, how dreadful a 
 testimony will they bear in the consciences of many, if 
 once light should come to be extinguished amongst us, 
 and all the frame of things, wherein they seem to take 
 comfort, should be dissolved and shattered in pieces ! 
 
 SERMON XV.* 
 
 It remains now to make some improvement of so great 
 and important a subject, as we have been upon — The de- 
 pendance of the happy state of the church of God upon the 
 pouring forth of his Spirit ; — which shall be in certain 
 practical notes or corollaries, that are deducible from the 
 whole of what hath been opened to you. And we shall 
 begin, where we ended at the close of the last discourse. 
 
 1. Since the happiness of the church doth so immedi- 
 ately and necessarily depend upon a pouring forth of the 
 Spirit, it must needs be of very dreadful import, when 
 that Spirit retires, when there is a manifest suspension of 
 its light and influence. Every gradual retraction of that 
 Spirit speaks a vergency to death, to a total dissolution ; 
 as if the whole frame of the church were ready to drop 
 asunder. It is a dismal thing, when that which is the 
 only light and life of it retires, visibly withdraws; when 
 that Spirit breathes not as it hath done through the world, 
 souls are not born by it unto God in a proportion to what 
 hath been ; considering, that this is the only way of en- 
 tering into God's kingdom, either in the initial or consum- 
 mate state of it, the kingdom of grace or the kingdom of 
 glory. It is a dismal thing, when conversions are grown 
 rare, and inferior in number to apostacies; when Chris- 
 tians are not born so fast as they die, whether in the moral 
 sense, or in the natural ; for all die alike. This ought to 
 be considered as a thing of dreadful import, when the 
 Spirit works not as he hath been wont, for the rescuing of 
 souls out of a precedent death ; and further, when those 
 that live, languish ; and much more, when death insensibly 
 creeps on them that have but a name to live ; as you knovV 
 it doth with many languishing persons, seizing one limb 
 first and then another, so that the man is dead while he is 
 alive. With how many is it so, that have lost themselves 
 either in the cares or pleasures of this world, and are dead 
 while they live ! This it becomes us to consider as a most 
 melancholy case. If all the happiness and weal of the 
 church depend upon the pouring out of the Spirit, how 
 dreadful is it, when there is a discernible retraction ! 
 
 2. All our hope of good lying in the pouring forth of 
 the Spirit, it is very strange, that the retraction of it should 
 not be considered with more sense ; that %ve are not more 
 apprehensive of so dismal a case as that is. It is a case 
 exceeding gloomy in itself, as hath been said; but liow 
 strange is it, that we should so little understand and con- 
 
 * Preached October 16, 1678. 
 
 sider it as such ! that this should be our danger, lest God 
 should be quite gone from amongst us 1/efore we know it! 
 that life is retiring, but we perceive it not! Alas I with 
 too many there is scarce life enough left to feel themselves 
 die, or light enough to perceive that darkness is gathering 
 upon them. Strange that men should be dying, and say 
 they are alive! Light is dimini>hing, and' blindness in- 
 creasing and growing upon thcin, yet they say they see 
 well, and carry it as if nothing ailed them ! This is a 
 strange infatuation upon the minds of men, even of the 
 professors of religion in our time ; we keep up our wonted 
 course while we can, our wonted forms and wavs of wor- 
 ship; we assemble as we have been accusiome^f to do, we 
 have praying and preaching and other ordinances of the 
 Gospel ; but there is not the wonted Spirit, such appear- 
 ances and demonstrations of the power and presence of 
 the Spirit as formerly, and yet we seem not aware of it. 
 We do as we have been wont at other times ; but we find 
 it not with our .souls in what we do, as Christians were 
 used to find it ; as it is said of that mighty man Samson ; 
 he said, I will go otU as at other times before, and ?hake 
 myself, but he wist not that the Lord was departed from 
 him, Judg. xvi. 20. So, we seem not to know that the 
 Lord is departing, but say we will do as at other times : 
 indeed we reach not him ; he said he would go forth ai'd 
 shake himself as at other times ; we do not that, but as the 
 complaint is in Isa, Ixiv. 7. .so is our case; There is none 
 (scarce any) that stir up themselves to take hold of God . 
 for, as it there follows, he hath hid his face from us a no 
 consumed us, we are consuming, because of our iniquities. 
 We are pining away, but not aware of it; era}' hairs a^p 
 here and there upon us, but we seem not to know it. We 
 read concerning men in general in the dying hour, Eccl. 
 viii. 8. No man hath power over the spirit to retain the 
 spirit, neither hath he power in the day of death. When 
 the soul must dislodge and be gone, no man can hold it; 
 but they would if the}' could, men are loth to die ; they 
 would retain the spirit longer, if it were anj' way in their 
 power: what strivings and strugglings for breath are there 
 in dying men; but there seems with us hardly to be so 
 much as that, " Oh that we could retain the Spirit of life 
 and grace "?" It is not indeed in our power, any more 
 than to retain the departing, dislodging soul, when the 
 hour is come that it must be gone ; but it is strange, that 
 we should not be filled with complaint, that we should 
 cross what is so common as to be a proverb; every thing 
 would live, but it seems so would not we. When God as 
 it were sa}rs to us by what he doth, (the most emphatical 
 way of speaking,) " My Spirit shall not always strive," it 
 shall no longer strive ; for it is actually withheld from 
 striving; yet we dread not this greatest of all threats, and 
 when the threatening is enforced b}- a gradual execution, 
 an execution already in a dreadful degree ; not to be afraid 
 what this will come to, is very strange. 
 
 3. We further collect, that such a dismal state of things 
 is likely immediately to forego the more eminent effusion 
 of the Spirit, and the shining of the light of God's (ace, 
 here spoken of. When the time approaches, concerning 
 which the text speaks, then a most dismal gloominess and 
 darkness must be expected to precede. That is plainly 
 implied, when it is said, "I will no more hide my face:" 
 I have done it hitherto, but will not do it any more: it 
 bespeaks, that till the time of this eminent effusion there 
 was a very displeased hiding of God's face, and a great re- 
 traction aiid holding back of the Spirit. Other scriptures, 
 that relate as I conceive t-o the same eminent season, in- 
 timate also a dreadful foregoing desolation. The prophet 
 Isaiah (chap, xxxii.) describes the desolation of the Chris- 
 tian church, (for 1 doubt not his prediction is ultimately 
 meant of that,)by the emblem of the land of Israel's lying 
 waste, and the great city, the metropolis, being all ruined, 
 the very houses of joy in the joyou.« city covered over with 
 briars and thorns, ver. 13, 14. And thus it is said it should 
 be, ver. 15. Until the Spirit be poured upon us from on 
 high ; then the wilderness shall be a fruitful field, and 
 the fruitful field be counted for a forest ; that which was 
 before reckoned a fruitful field, shall now seem to have 
 been but a wild forest, in comparison of the fruitfulness it 
 shall now arrive at by the eflusion of the Spirit. So that
 
 C06 
 
 THE WORK OF THE HOLY SPIRIT IN 
 
 Serm. XV. 
 
 great pouring of it forth, in Ezek. xxxvii. meant no doubt 
 of the same time with this in the text, is preceded by such 
 a forlorn and desolate state of the church, that it is repv.'- 
 sented by the emblem of a slaughtered army covering all 
 the ground about with dead carcasses, till the Spirit of 
 life enter into them, bring bone to bone, cover them with 
 flesh, and form them all into a regular army of living men 
 again, ver. 1 — 14. It imports, that almost a universal 
 death, next to total, will be upon the church before this 
 happy day. And do not we seem in a tendency thither 1 
 We seem to be descending gradually into the dark shady 
 vale, the region of darkness and of death : nor must we 
 expect it to be silent darkness; no doubt it will rather 
 imitate that of hell, a region turbid as well as dark. A 
 night seems approaching, that will be equally stormy and 
 gloomy ; for it is the season of God's anger. It is never 
 to be thought, that he will be neutral towards us ; if he be 
 not a friend, he will be an enemy ; when he ceases to be 
 our light and life, and hope and joy, it cannot be but he 
 must become an astonishing terror. " Be not a terror unto 
 me, thou art my hope," says the prophet, Jcr. xvii. 17. 
 When he is not the one, he must be the other. Are we 
 prepared to meet him in such a way and in such a time 1 
 It cannot but be a dreadful time, the time of managing his 
 controversy: when he hideth his face in displeasure, that 
 is not all, it is not a bare hiding. Observe that passage in 
 Deut. xxxi. 17. " Then my anger shall be kindled against 
 them in that day, and I will forsake them, and I will hide 
 my face from them, and they shall be devoured, and many 
 evils and troubles shall befall them:" and what then 1 It 
 follows, " So that they will say in that day. Are not these 
 evils come upon us, because our God is not amongst us 1 
 and I will surely hide my face in that day;" as it follows 
 again in ver. 18. This is to make a way for wrath ; and 
 when you can see him no longer, you shall hear from him 
 in a most terrible way. 
 
 The case of the Christian church seems to be as Israel 
 was represented, in Psal. cvi. 35, &c. They were mingled 
 among the heathen, and learned their works: and they 
 served their idols, which were a snare unto them. And, 
 ver. 39. Thus they were defiled with their own works; 
 (now they are called their own, since they had adopted 
 them, and so made them their own ;) and went a whoring 
 with their own inventions. What follows there, and what 
 may we expect to follow in the like case 1 " For this the 
 Lord abhorred his own inheritance," ver. 40. Now take 
 them who will, they are an abomination to the Lord, he 
 seems to care no more for them. As to the former part, is 
 not this manifestly our case ; the Christian religion is in 
 great part become paganish. We lately showed, how little 
 good nominal Christianity doth to the world, where that 
 only doth obtain. How plain is it, that Christianity hath 
 let in paganism unto a dreadful degree ! And now, when 
 the time of controversy comes, the day of recompense and 
 year of vengeance, which is in God's heart, how terrible a 
 day will that be ! When that day comes, that shall burn as 
 an oven, and all the hemisphere as it were of the church 
 be as a fiery vault ! when the Lord shall bathe his sword 
 in heaven, as the expression is in Isa. xxxiv. 5. as it were 
 drench it with vivid celestial fire, that it may pierce like 
 lightning ! when he shall whet his glittering sword, lift up 
 his hand to heaven, and say, I live for ever, I will render 
 vengeance to mine enemies: (Deut. xxxii. 40, 41.) when 
 he shall set himself to contest with the Antichristian spirit, 
 that hath lurked under the assumed and injurious pre- 
 tence and profession of the Christian name ; the aposta- 
 tical, the worldly spirit, that hath entered into the church, 
 and wrought in it with such malignity ; that spirit of envy, 
 malice, hatred, bitterness ; that profane, atheistical spirit ; 
 that spirit of hypocrisy and formality ! when he shall come 
 to a direct contest and grapple with all among whom that 
 spirit dwells and rules ; how can we think but that will be 
 a very dreadful day? And do we know how near it is 1 
 May it not for ought we know be even at hand 1 May we 
 not be upon the very borders of that turbid darkness, in 
 which all the rage of hell shall play its part, the spirits of 
 men be let loose, the devils not yet bound and ready to do 
 their uttermost, when they know their time is short ; the 
 very hour and power of darkness, when all things shall 
 conspire to make the church a chaos and place of confu- 
 
 sion, when the elements shall be as it were commissioned 
 to fight one another, and the powers of heaven shall shake? 
 How are we prepared, in what posture to enter into such 
 a state as that is? It is a dismal thing to live a winter a 
 continual night, in such a place as you have heard Green- 
 land to be : one would not do it, unless unavoidable ne- 
 cessity drove ; and if one must, he would make provision 
 for such a winter-night all that he could. How then are 
 we provided for such a time 1 
 
 4. We may note again hence, how adorable the power 
 and greatness of that spirit is, that can turn such a chaos, 
 such a state of darkness and horror and confusion, into 
 light and peace, into life and beauty, into harmony and 
 glory. How adorable is that Spirit ! how great and glo- 
 rious should it be in our eyes upon that account ! Let us 
 use our thoughts as much as we will, we cannot make a 
 too gloomy representation of the time just spoken of, 
 wherein the Lord's face shall be hid, and the Spirit with- 
 held. But when we have dwelt in the contemplation of 
 the sadness and di.smalness of that time awhile, then what 
 cause have we, and what advantage thence, to take oar 
 rise to greaten and heighten our thoughts concerning this 
 blessed Almighty Spirit, that can make so happy a change 
 as soon as it comes forth, as soon as the divine light shines 
 again! What a change will it be ! Amidst all those ca 
 lamities that the church complains of, (Psalm Ixxx.) see 
 where they apprehend the redress to be. Turn us again, 
 O God, and cause thy face to shine, and we shall be saved ; 
 which is repeated no less than three times in this psalm, 
 ver. 3, 7, 19. We are cured all of a sudden, all things are 
 redressed, if thou do but turn us and cause thy face to shine. 
 How soon doth the appearance, the first visit of the sun to 
 the horizon wherein we are, transform a region of dark- 
 ness into pleasant light ! Look upon that wretched state of 
 things wherein the Christian church is, and wherein we 
 may well expect it further to be, and in a deeper degree : 
 if we think, that however when the Spirit is poured out, 
 all is well, how adorable ought that Spirit to be tons ! that 
 mighty Spirit, that can even of a sudden new-create the 
 world, make new heavens and new earth, difi'use its light 
 and influence every where, clothe all with lustre and 
 glory ! And truly I believe we must be brought to have 
 higher thoughts of the Spirit than we have, before we see 
 so good days as we would wish we might ! Alas ! how 
 diminishingly is it conceived and spoken of amongst us ! 
 We have the name of the Spirit or of the Holy Ghost 
 many times in our mouths, wiien our hearts ascribe not 
 honour to him, we glorify him not as God in our concep- 
 tions : no, the notions of our minds and dispositions of our 
 hearts are with too many, as if we had not "heard whe- 
 ther there be any Holy Ghost ;" or as if it signified a mere 
 nothing with us. But it concerns us to greaten our thoughts 
 concerning the Spirit of the living God. When it works 
 as the Spirit of nature, it renews the face of the earth, re- 
 plenishes all the region with life. What would this crea- 
 tion be, if all divine influence were retracted and withheld, 
 by which every thing lives, and which is attributed to the 
 Spirit of God, as the active principle that works everywhere 
 in the creation of the world, moving upon the abyss in the 
 renewing of it from time to time 1 By him and from him 
 there is such a thing as life in all the creation ; he works 
 all in all. But consider it also as a Spirit of holiness, of di- 
 vine life and power in the Spirits of men ; what a mighty 
 Agent is that, that can spread such an influence every where, 
 unto the remotest corners of this world ! and can reach 
 every heart of those that belong to God, and all at once ; 
 and pierce into them with so mighty power, that though 
 all the art in the world cannot persuade and change the 
 mind of a man, even in a matter of common concernment, 
 if he be resolved, yet this Spirit can transform where it 
 touches, and overcome, if it will, even in the first attempt ! 
 Oh ! what homage should our souls within us pay to this 
 Almighty Spirit! In how prostrate a posture should we 
 be ! How should we adore that Spirit, that can, when it 
 will, fill all every where with light and life I 
 
 5. We collect further, that the grace of the Spirit is mo.st 
 admirably condescending, that it will ever vouchsafe to 
 come down into such a world as this is ; that there should 
 be a time, in which such a favour is designed, as this, " I 
 will pour out my Spirit." Well may it be called the Spirit
 
 Serm. XV. 
 
 REFERENCE TO THE CHRISTIAN CHURCH. 
 
 CO"! 
 
 of grace, the Spirit of all guodiiess and benignity and 
 sweetness, that it will ever vouchsafe to visit our world, a 
 world so drenched in impurity, and so environed with 
 malignant darkness. How well does the uvurm agree, 
 " The Spirit of grace !" So hellish is the malignity, that 
 wouM despise such a Spirit : he is called so on purpose, 
 we may suppose, by the author to the Hebrews, to aggra- 
 vate that malignity ; And hath done despite to the Spirit 
 of grace, Heb. x. "29. But how magnificently glorious is 
 that grace, that will finally overcome this malignity ! That 
 this Spirit will come down, and spread its light and iiiflu- 
 ences through so much deformity and pollution and dark- 
 ness, as is every where in this world ; that it should be- 
 come a soul unto such a world ! What if an angel of God 
 would humble himself to become a soul to a worm, to ani- 
 mate a worml but a stranger humiliation far it is, that 
 the Spirit of God should become as it were a soul to such 
 a world as this. God says, " I have poured out my Spirit 
 upon it, and now, will no more hide my face." It should 
 put our hearts into raptures. How should we fall down 
 and adore the Spirit of life and grace ! Wilt thou do this 1 
 wilt thou come down into such a world as this 1 
 
 6. We may note further, that the face of God shall never 
 shine, but where he doth pour out his Spirit. His face 
 will always remain hid towards the church, till the time 
 comes that he pours out his Spirit. It will be of good 
 serv^ice to consider this. Many vainly promise themselves 
 halcyon days without the consideration of any influence of 
 the Spirit connected with it ; as if the aspects of Provi- 
 dence could be favourable to them, and they could do well 
 enough without the Spirit : if we can but enjoy peace and 
 tranquillity, free trade, and liberty to walk without check 
 or control in the ways that we like best, though without 
 the other; yet we are apt to think, that our happiness 
 would be sufficiently provided for. But we are not to ex- 
 
 pect, that the aspects of Providence will be favourable, 
 without a concurring effusion of the Divine Spiiii : it is 
 neitlier like to be; nor would be to any good purpose, if 
 it should. 
 
 It is not like to be ; for why should we supp<jse it 
 should 1 What is the church of God, when the Spirit is 
 withdrawn and gone 1 what are they that call ihembclves 
 of it, more than other men 1 If the Spirit be gone, what 
 is it but an Aceldama"! a Golgotha! a place of skulls, a 
 place of carcasses! Do we think, that the DiVine glory 
 shall only serve to adorn sepulchres'? that the more glori- 
 ous and pleasing aspects of Providence shall only serve for 
 thatl You cannot long sever and keep off from death in- 
 ternal rottenness and corruption: and surely it is very 
 unlikely, that God should take pleasure to discover him- 
 self and to display his glory among such, in the more re- 
 markable works of his favourable providence. 
 
 And to what purpose would it be, if he should t What 
 should we be the better for a slate of external tranquillity 
 and peace, if the Spirit be withheld 1 Sure you will think 
 religion to be necessary at least to the church; otherwise 
 what distinguishes that from another community of men"? 
 But what a satl frame of religion must there be, if the 
 Spirit of God be not in it 1 We cannot call that state pros- 
 perous to the church wherein the Spirit breathes not, un- 
 less sensuality will be the felicity of the church, unless we 
 think ourselves warranted to abandon all care of the soul, 
 and the belief of immortality and of a world to come, 
 as if these were only mistakes and delusions : for great 
 external prosperity to the church witliout the Spirit accom- 
 panying it, commonly issues in irreligion. That alone de- 
 serves to be esteemed a good state of things for the church 
 of God, wherein the people of God every where are work- 
 ing and framing for a blessed eternity : and that they will 
 never be without much of the Divine Spirit.
 
 THE 
 OBLIGATIONS FROM NATURE AND REVELATION 
 
 TO FAMILY RELIGION AND WORSHIP, 
 
 REPRESENTED AND PRESSED IN 
 SIX SERMONS. 
 
 TO THE READER. 
 
 The favourable acceptance, which the generality of serious Christians have given to Mr. Howe's late posthumous 
 treatise concerning the prosperous state of the Christian Interest before the end of time, hath encouraged me to take 
 the same pains in fitting for the press the following sermons of the same excellent author concerning Family Religion. 
 The copy, transcribed by some unknown, but skilful hand, different from that by which the sermons already published 
 were preserved, was communicated to me by my worthy friend Mr. Herman Hood. 
 
 In the treatise just mentioned, Mr. Howe speaks of this as one of the ways, by which we may hope that the Spirit 
 poured out Avill produce the better stale of religion which we are expecting, namely, by means of family order* more 
 generally and vigorously set on foot among the professors of Christianity. And certainly we cannot reasonably enter- 
 tain strong hopes of the revival of the power of godliness either in our own age or the succeeding, till this necessary 
 part of the form of it becomes general among Christians. As long as a customary neglect prevails in sea.soning the 
 rising age with proper instructions in the families to which they belong; while our youth, that spring from parents or 
 are intrusted with masters who bear a Christian name, grow up altogether disused from the daily exercises of social 
 piety ; the seed of the church will soon be lost among the men of the world, and religion must die away without some 
 very supernatural reviving. 
 
 This just apprehension occasioned that agreement among the protestant dissenting ministers of this city, of which 
 mention is made at the beginning of these discoui ses, that were preached in pursuance of it in the year 1693, to engage 
 the attention of their several congregations at one and the same time to this very great and important duty. Mr. 
 George Hammond at that time published a discourse upon the subject, at the desire of the united ministers ; to which 
 Mr. Matthew Barker annexed an appendix : and Mr. Samuel Slater printed a course of sermons upon the head. I 
 have been informed, that that general endeavour had the good effect, by God's blessing, to dispose several heads of 
 families to set up religious exercises in them. 
 
 Another effort was made lately with as general concurrence by our ministers in this city, on November 20, 1720, to 
 enforce the same needful practice ; I hope not altogether without success. 
 
 But still is there not too visible reason to fear, that the neglect of family religion is a growing evil among US'? 
 Without prying unnecessarily into the affairs of families, it is unavoidable to those who have any conversation in the 
 world, to hear from such as have been servants or residents in the houses of many who make great pretensions to 
 religion without doors, that there is no more acknowledgment of God among them in daily family devotion, than if 
 they believed no such thing being. 
 
 I thought therefore, that it might be serviceable to publish this short set of discourses upon the argument ; which 
 appear to me to have placed the duty upon the most clear and indisputable foot, so as to be fit to reach all that are 
 open to conviction ; with a plainness for the greatest part suitable to the meanest capacity, and yet with a strength 
 not to be evaded by the most judicious, and at the same time with a life and spirituality fit to impress every serious 
 mind. 
 
 It is no wonder to find people, who evidently discover a disaffection to religion, hardly drawn to the stated practice 
 of its exercises in their houses. Till their hearts are touched with a lively sense and relish of true piety, it cannot be 
 expected that they should be forward this way, but rather keep themselves in countenance in their neglect by the 
 number of like examples among such as have not cast off all pretence to religion. The wonder is that any, who give 
 reason from the rest of their conduct for apprehending them in the judgment of charity to have religion at heart, yet 
 should omit so plain and profitable a duty. 
 
 The common reasons alleged by such are, either their inability to express themselves properly in family devotions ; 
 or an insuperable modesty, which will not allow them to speak before others with any freedom of thought or tolerable 
 possession of themselves. 
 
 And I freely allow, that the one or the other of these may be the case with persons sincerely religious, so far as to 
 hinder them from the performance of family-worship to edification, at least at first, without the assistance of forms. 
 But in God's name let none continue the omission of so plain a duty out of a superstitious prejudice against precom- 
 
 * Christ. Interest, p. 576.
 
 Serm. 1. 
 
 THE OBLIGATIONS TO FAMILY RELIGION. 
 
 G09 
 
 ]3osed prayers. Our forefathers the puritans were far from having an aversion to forms as such. Nor is oar dissent 
 founded upon a dislike of all use of them even in public ; we only declare against the use of some passages which 
 appear to us exceptionable, and against being so tied down to them, as to be obliged invariably to use them without 
 alteration or addition. Most sober writers have concurred in advising to make use of them in the cases mentioned 
 till people can arrive at more improvement of judgment and a greater presence of mind. Many dissenters have pulv 
 lished "forms for the assistance of those" to whom they were needful : as in Mr. Baxter's Family Book • Mr. Mur- 
 ray's Closet Devotions, recommended by Mr. Henry: Mr. Henry hath published some himself, at the end ol his 
 Method of Prayer. And as Mr. Howe in one of the following discourses declares his judgment for the use of them, 
 rather than the duty should be omitted; so his practice wa.s agreeable. There is a small book in octavo, entitled 
 " Prayers for Families," printed by Mr. Thomas Parkhurst without any author's name, about the year 109.5 ; of which 
 the late reverend Mr. Jeremiah Smith gave me this account many years ago. Upon the marriage of a daughter of 
 the right honourable Philip Lord Wharton, the lady being desirous to have the worship of God kepi op in the family 
 into which she was entering, requested Mr. Howe, Mr. William Taylor, then his lordship's chaplain, and Mr. Smith, 
 to draw up some prayers for that purpose. Mr. Smith, according to his usual modesty, declined bearing a part in 
 the service. But Mr. Howe and Mr. Taylor complied with the request ; and their composures were privately printed, 
 and made use of in that lady's family. 
 
 I only mention these things, to prevent the misapprehension of any, as if in what I have said I had offered any 
 thing singular. All who love religion in earnest, v.hether in or out of the public establishment, whether in their 
 judgments they prefer praying by forms or otherwise, will I doubt not agree in this; that it is better that God should 
 be worshipped either the one way or the other, both in secret, and in families, and in public a.ssemblies, than that men 
 should live in any of these respects, as " without God in the world." 
 
 For my own part, I should be glad that every head of a family were fully capable from time to time to represent 
 the case of that under his charge with propriety and life, in supplication and praise and confession, according to all 
 varying circumstances. But where that cannot be, yet I rejoice to know or to hear of a family, that seriously and 
 solemnly calls upon the Lord in any way. Those who begin with a form, may find them.selves gradually emboldened 
 to go further; and either totally in time lay that way aside ; or sometimes pray the one way and sometimes the other, 
 as they find the temper of their spirits to be ; or, if they cannot get over the difficulties, which first made it necessary 
 for them to use the assistance of others' composures, yet they may be able gradually to intersperse a sentence here and 
 there suitable to special occurrences in their family, without any tremor. 
 
 And after all, whether our words flow from the abundance of the heart, or we endeavour to excite affections 
 answerable to what the words before us suggest ; if the God who knows the heart sees sincerity and true devotion in 
 the worshipper; it will undoubtedly be accepted, according to that a man hath, and not according to that which he 
 hath not. 
 
 I commend these discourses to the perusal of all serious Christians, though of differing persuasions in lesser mat- 
 ters, earnestly begging, that by God's blessing they may reach the end of the author in preaching them, and of the 
 transcriber in preparing them for public view ; namely, the revival of religion in families, and by that means the dif- 
 fusing of it far and wide in the present generation and in those which are to come. 
 
 I am 
 
 Prcscot-Street, 
 May nth, 1738, 
 
 Your hearty well-wisher 
 
 for your best interests, 
 
 JOHN EVANS. 
 
 SERMON I.* 
 
 Josh. xxiv. 15. 
 But as for me and my house, ice will serve the Lord. 
 
 This is the magnanimous resolution of that great and 
 good man, Joshua, notwithstanding the supposed revolt of 
 all the people of Israel from God, who had been bound to 
 him by the most sacred and endearing ties. " Though you," 
 says he, "should all go ofl^ and apostatize from God, even 
 to a man, after all the great and glorious things that he 
 hath wrought among you and for you; that shall not alter 
 me: through his grace, the course that I will take, and 
 that mine shall take, whom I can have any influence upon 
 or any power over, shall be the same it was. I and my 
 house will serve the Lord notwithstanding. Though you 
 should all turn pagans and idolaters to a man, that shall 
 not overturn the religion of my family or of my closet, but 
 there shall be serving of the Lord still." 
 
 It hath been an unanimous resolution among the minis- 
 ters of indulged congregations in and about this city, to 
 insist upon the subject of family worship, even all at once, 
 at least as many as to whom it was possible ; and to begin 
 upon it this very day, as I doubt not they generally do. 
 And I should as little doubt the approbation and concur- 
 rence of divers other reverend persons in the ministry, who 
 are not of that character, if there had been the same op- 
 portunity of consulting them and of knowing their sense; 
 that is, of as many as do seriou.sly desire and covet to see 
 • Preached December lOtli, 1693, 
 
 the prosperous and flourishing state of serious, vital, and 
 practical religion and godliness in our days. But ihey. 
 who could confer and agree to concur in such an endea- 
 vour as this, have done it with all the cheerfulness and 
 unanimity that could be thought. Indeed, since that reso- 
 lution was taken, a providence hath occurred among vs, 
 which some might reckon would have diverted and altered 
 it for the present: a further breach, which God hath made 
 upon our congregation, by the late decease of a consider- 
 able and very u.seful member of it, worthy Mr. Collet. Of 
 whom divers might expect to hear a distinct account given 
 them; apprehending, that it would not be so much an or- 
 nament to him or to his name when gone, as a means of 
 instruction to them who are left behind. 
 
 But I am under restraint as to this: partly by my rela- 
 tion ; but more principally by his own express prohibition, 
 who declared his unwillingness to be made the subject of 
 a funeral sermon. And that prohibition was equal (as any 
 might understand) to the most copious one that could hare 
 been made by way of commendation. For it more repre- 
 sented the temper of his spirit, than my words could have 
 done: the meekness, the humility, the modesty oi' it : and 
 was most agreeable to the habitual frame, from whence 
 the way of his walkinsr proceeded ; steady, but still and 
 without noise; and showed how willing he was, that his 
 exit out of this world might be with as much silence, as his 
 course through it was. 
 
 Yet however, had I been to have preached a funeral 
 sermon upon his account, I should never have laid aside 
 for that the thoughts of this text. For I could not have 
 found one in the whole Bible, from whence I might have
 
 610 
 
 THE OBLIGATIONS TO 
 
 Serjl 1. 
 
 more taken occasion to represent him, as to his person and 
 as to his family, as an example of both personal and do- 
 mestical religion, single and family godliness. And indeed 
 were they who profess godliness generally in these respects 
 like him, there would be much less need of preaching upon 
 such a subject, or of taking up such a resolution as you 
 have heard hath been general in reference thereunto. 
 
 But it hath been generally apprehended and feared, by 
 them whom God hath set as watchmen amongst us, that 
 the case is too much otherwise; and that the religion of 
 families languisheth, or indeed hath no place at all in 
 many lamilies, where yet there is a profession of and a 
 pretence unto godliness above the common rate. For my 
 own part, I do not know that there is this sinful omission 
 with any of you that have families; I do not know that 
 there is: and therefore I cannot be understood, without 
 great injury to me, to intend a reflection upon any parti- 
 cular person. But yet for all that, I cannot think a dis- 
 course upon this subject needless : for it is possible, many 
 may be guilty of this omission, though I know nothing of 
 it ; who do not covet to pry into families, beyond any par- 
 ticular occasion or call that I may have thereunto. And 
 if it be so, it is not to be despaired of, but that through the 
 blessing of God his word may be made use of to effect a 
 conviction and a reformation of so great and so insuffer- 
 able an evil. 
 
 And it is possible too, that it may serve for the confirm- 
 ation of such in that good course, as may be tempted to de- 
 sist from it. For have none ever come within the compass 
 of your knowledge, who have for some time continued to 
 practise and keep on foot the worship of God in their fa- 
 milies, but have at length abandoned it and given it over? 
 That is a far fouler case. Turpius ejicitur, qudm non ad- 
 millitur : It is a more ignominious thing to throxo your re- 
 ligion and your God out of your families, than never to have 
 admitted them.. I would labour to fortify all, as much as 
 is possible against that temptation. 
 
 And it is possible further to be useful to divers, who yet 
 have not families, but who may have; so as to be a guide 
 and incentive to their purpose and practice for the future, 
 -^hen there shall be such occasions. 
 
 And even to us all, who are ever so resolute in the pre- 
 sent use and for the continuance of this holv course, it mav 
 be useful for our quickenmg to manage this holy work 
 with more seriousness, with more vigour, with more spi- 
 rituality, and to better purpose, than we have been any of 
 us wont to do. 
 
 And as to the subject itself, you see the words of this 
 text are very plain words: I and my house will serve the 
 Lord. The word, house, indeed doth sometimes signify 
 more largely ; but it cannot be understood to signify any 
 thing else here but a household : and so we are saved from 
 any thing of a disputation about that matter. For Joshua 
 speaks only of them, for whom he would answer, at least 
 as to their visible practice, and whom he had a power over. 
 " I and my house will serve the Lord." And he contra- 
 distinguisheth the case of his own family from the sup- 
 posed different common case. For he supposeth all the 
 rest to be gone off to paganism or the service of other gods ; 
 notwithstanding which the practice of his house and family 
 should be the same that it was. 
 
 And for the term, serve, it is true the Hebrew word here 
 used is rendered promiscuously by the Septuagint in several 
 places, so as sometimes to signify Xarpcdi, that is, that ser- 
 vice which is peculiar and appropriate to God under the 
 notion of worship to him ; and sometimes to signify inXcm, 
 service in a much larger sense. Therefore I lay no stress 
 upon the word, abstractly considered, but only considered 
 according to the present circumstances. Abstractly con- 
 sidered, it is very true it doth sometimes signify not only 
 service to God, but to man. And again being referred to 
 God, it sometimes signifies any other service, or obedience, 
 or duty, besides worship; as we are to obey and comport 
 with his pleasure in other things besides worshipping of 
 him: and then this word serves to express that service. 
 But in this place it can signify nothing but worship. 
 That is most plain. It signifieth that sort of service, 
 which must either be paid to the true God, or will be paid 
 to false ones. " You may serve other gods; but I and my 
 house will serve the Lord." So that if is worship or reli- 
 
 gion that is meant here, and nothing else. And therefore 
 about that, there is no place or room left for disputation. 
 And now so much being plain, you find a twofold resolu- 
 tion expressed in the text. 
 
 1. Concerning personal religion : the religion of a single 
 person, solitary worship: that worship, that may be con- 
 fined to a man's soul and to his closet. " I will serve the 
 Lord : I will be a worshipper of him, as long as I live, let 
 the rest of the world do wliat they will." And then here if 
 a resolution expressed too. 
 
 2. Concerning family religion ; and that as the care oJ 
 the family master, the governor of the family. He did noi 
 think he should answer the obligation that lay upon him 
 as such, or do the part incumbent on him as so related, il 
 he should shut up himself and his religion in a closet. 
 No, but " I and my house will serve the Lord;" implying 
 his resolution, both to do what was incumbent upon him- 
 self in worshipping God even among them, and to use the 
 power he had to oblige them to a compliance and concur- 
 rence therein. Otherwise he must be thought to have 
 spoken absurdly, when he says, " As for my house, we 
 will serve the Lord ;" if he must not be understood to have 
 the authority in his own family to oblige them to attend 
 thereupon. 
 
 It is the latter of these, which it suits our purpose to 
 speak unto; though we shall in the close, God willing, 
 look back upon the other two, as there will be occasion. 
 The text will give it, and the series of the discourse will 
 lead to it. So that, that which is left as the designed sub- 
 ject of my present discourse, is family religion ; the reli- 
 gion that belongs to a family as such, and which it belongs 
 to a family as such to set on foot and to keep on foot in the 
 family. 
 
 And here I cannot but be apprehensive, that wherever 
 there is among professed Christians a disinclination and 
 aversion from such a course and practice as this, there wilV 
 be (that they may give themselves a relief, that they may 
 have some pretence and shelter against the urgency of 
 what may be said in such a case) an aptness clamorously 
 to insist and cry out; "But where is your proof? what 
 proof have you, that there ought to be such a thing as fa- 
 mily religion ? where is it required, that we must so, and 
 so often, or in such and such a continued course, attend 
 upon God in the performance of family duties, and the ex- 
 ercises of domestical religion"?" I doubt not, but by the 
 blessing of God you will find, that there is proof clear and 
 strong enough ; as it was to be expected there should be 
 in so important a case, and upon which so much depends. 
 But before I come to give you any, I shall lay down seme 
 few things by way of preparation and promise. As, 
 
 1. That whereas this is matter of doubt, and is to be 
 matter of dispute; that which is doubted of, is to be gene- 
 rally supposed not the substance of the thing spoken of, 
 hut only this or that circumstance. I hope that generally 
 the matter that any would have brought into dispute, or for 
 which they would desire proof, is not, whether there shouM 
 be any such thing as religion in the world, or no. That 
 cannot be the question with any, that call themselves Chris- 
 tians, with any reason or modesty, at least till they have 
 renounced that name ; nor can any make that a question, 
 consistently with themselves and with the dictates of hu- 
 man nature, unless they will renounce the name of man 
 too. But the question must be, whether there ought to be 
 religion in a family as such ; and to be performed so, and 
 so often, or in so orderly, continued, and stated a course. 
 Hereupon I would add, 
 
 2. That where the substance of any duty is agreed to be 
 plainly required, it would be the most unreasonable thing 
 in all "the world to throw it off, upon a pretence that such 
 and such circumstances are not enjoined. Nothing can be 
 more unreasonably absurd than that. For so you would 
 come to throw out of the world the most undoubted parts 
 of all religion whatsoever, the most essential, most noble, 
 and substantial parts. There could be nothing of solitary 
 and personal religion upon suchoerms. For instance; at 
 this rate a man should be excused from ever remembering 
 God as long as he lived, from ever having any thought of 
 him, because Scripture doth not expressly tell us how 
 often in a day we shoukl think of him. And the same 
 may be said of all other vital acts of religion. At this rate
 
 SSUM. 1. 
 
 FAMILY RELIGION AND WORSHIP. 
 
 611 
 
 nobody should be obliged to love God, because we are not 
 told how of'len in a day we must put forth an act of love 
 to him ; and nobody should be obliged to fear God, to ex- 
 ert any reverential act towards him, because we are not 
 told at what hour of the day it must be. And so for so- 
 cial worship, there could be no such thing upon these 
 terms; if any man should say, I am not obliged to worship 
 God in Christian societies any where, because he hath not 
 expressly told us, you shall come together at nine, or ten, 
 or eleven o'clock for such purposes. And so under that 
 pretence here would be an end of all religion, because 
 every circumstance, and particularly this of time and fre- 
 quency, is not stated expressly and determined in Scrip- 
 ture. I add, 
 
 3. That wheresoever the substance of any duty is ex- 
 pressly enjoined, and the circumstances are not deter- 
 mined; if it be plain and evident, that the thing is neces- 
 sary, (and I will now suppose, that so family religion is, 
 as well as religion in general, as that which I hope you 
 will see proved,) then it is left to us to choose the circum- 
 stances; but not to choose them arbitrarily, or unfitly, or 
 inconsistently with the end and design of the duty. This 
 is one of the good man's characters, that he orders his af- 
 fairs with discretion, (Psalm cxii. 5.) with judgment, as 
 the word admits to be read : he judiciously considers the 
 several obligations that lie upon him, so as seasonably to 
 answer them all. If the thing itself be manifestly enjoined, 
 it is required of us, that we find out the way of circum- 
 stantiating it, so as may most comport with the mind and 
 pleasure of the legislator in laying us under such an obli- 
 gation : and at our peril be it, if we do not find the cir- 
 cumstances, when the thing is required to be done. 
 
 As for instance, to suit this with a parallel case ; you 
 know it is an obligation upon family masters to take care 
 as to externals for them that are oif the household. He 
 that doth not provide for them of his own house, hath de- 
 nied the faith, and is worse than an infidel, 1 Tim. v. 8. 
 This charge lies upon him, that according to his ability he 
 is to provide for his domestics : it is enforced upon him 
 by a general law and precept: " Thou shalt do no mur- 
 der." He would be a murderer before God, and before all 
 rational and considering men, that should famish his fam- 
 ily, when he could provide for them, and when his pre- 
 tence is nothing else but this, " God hath not told me in 
 his word how many meals they shall have in a day, or at 
 what hmir of the day I am to dine or sup them ; he hath 
 not said, it shall be at eleven, or twelve, or one o'clock, or at 
 seven or eight, that I shall so and so provide for them." 
 This man will be nothing less than a murderer, than if the 
 particular hour were told him in the Bible, when he must 
 take care that they shall have that which is convenient 
 and competent for their meat and drink. And I hope, in 
 process of time we shall come to evince, that they are not 
 less liable to be found guilty as murderers before God, that 
 do famish the souls of them that are committed to their 
 charge ; but that that guilt is unspeakablj' more foul and 
 horrid and hateful. And therefore I observe, 
 
 4. That when any thing by general rules is enjoined in 
 Scripture, then we are to use our understandings in de- 
 ducing and bringing down that general rule to particular 
 cases. For the Scriptures were writ not for brutes, but for 
 men; for an intelligent sort of creatures, that have under- 
 standings about them, and are capable of using them, so 
 as to deduce and collect particulars out of generals, and 
 so as to infer from such and such plain grounds suitable 
 conclusions and inferences : and what is by manifest and 
 just deductions to be drawn from a Scripture ground, will 
 equally oblige, as if it were, cerfis verb-is, expressed in the 
 Scripture itself God doth speak to us as men, and it doth 
 not beseem the majesty of God to trifle with his creatures. 
 Indeed it would be thought unfit for the majesty of a 
 prince, a secular prince, to descend to every little punctilio, 
 when his mind in his public edicts is plainly enough ex- 
 pressed. It may better be expected, that there should be 
 a grandeur observed by the supreme and universal Lord 
 of^all ; and we should not expect him to descend to every 
 minute thing, to gratify the litigious cavilling humour of 
 every one that hath a mind to find all the flaws he can in 
 God's commands, rather than obey them; even all the 
 flaws and defects that he can any way suppose. 
 
 The great cry in this case is, " Is not the Scripture a 
 perfect rule both of faith and manners'? And therefore 
 what is not to be found there, as to faith, we are not bound 
 to believe; as to manners or practice, we are not bound to 
 do." This is the allegation when any have a mind rather 
 to throw off such a piece of duty towards him that gave 
 them breath, than to comport with his mind and pleasure 
 in it. I therefore add, 
 
 5. That divers things, not so expressly contained in 
 Scripture, will be found equally to oblige, 'if ihey be mat- 
 ters of practice. They will equally oblijje to such prac- 
 tice, though not in so many words expressed in Scripture, 
 if by any other light, than what is contained in Scripture 
 as such, it shall be made to appear, that they are just and 
 necessary. 
 
 You will say. What other light ? I say, the light and law 
 of nature. For we are to know, that the Scriptures were 
 not written to repeal the law of nature. That is an unre- 
 pealable law, never possibly to be repealed, while God is 
 God, and man is man. For therefore is it called the law 
 of nature, because it results from the correspondency be- 
 tween the nature of man and the nature of Goil ; and so is 
 as impossible to be repealed, as it is impos>ible at once, 
 that God should be ungodded, and that you should be nul- 
 lified and reduced to nothing. It is true indeed, if the 
 former were, the latter would be. But the former being 
 altogether impossible, as long as a reasonable creature 
 continueth such, the obligation of the law of nature will 
 unalterably lie upon it. 
 
 You are therefore to consider ; Was there no sin or duty 
 in the world, before tlie Scriptures were written, for two 
 thousand years together 1 when we are told, that before 
 the law sin was in the world ; but sin is not imputed, wheL 
 there is no law, Rom. v. 13. And therefore there was this 
 law of nature, in respect whereof men are a law unit. 
 themselves, Rom. ii. 14. That is, if they will look impar- 
 tially and faithfully into their own souls, and not wilfulh' 
 overlook their natural dictates and sentiments ; if they 
 will commune with themselves. And the very writing of 
 the Scriptures doth suppose this, and all preaching accoid- 
 ing to the Scriptures supposeth it. Otherwise what means 
 the apostle's saying in that text, 2 Cor. iv. 2. Recommend- 
 ing ourselves to every man's conscience in the sight of 
 God 1 That, which upon an impartial appeal to the con- 
 science of a man in the sight of God he shall be obliged 
 to judge is just and equal, binds his practice, and hath its 
 ground in Scripture too, though every circumstance lela- 
 ting hereunto be not found there. 
 
 Scriptural revelation doth graft upon nature, that is, it 
 supposeth us men. Otherwise to what purpose were it to 
 put such a book into our hands ; if we were not with dc- 
 pendance, with subordination, to apply our own under- 
 standings to consider what is contained there: i-iill expect- 
 ing and looking up to the Father of lights, from whom this 
 collection of truths doth come tons, that he would irradi- 
 ate or direct our minds, and enable us to discern his mind, 
 as it is signified to us the one or the other way ? All ap- 
 peals unto the judgments and consciences of men wore in 
 vain and to no purpose, if what I now say were not to be 
 admitted. I speak to wise men, says the apostle, judsreye 
 what I say, 1 Cor. x. 15. God's own cxposiulaiions with 
 men suppose it. "Are not my ways equal] are not your 
 ways unequal V Ezek. xviii. 29. All this doth suppose, 
 that there is an understanding and a conscience, that is 
 capable of judging. And whatsoever shall appear just 
 and requisite, and necessary unto that principle, must be 
 understood to oblige by the authority of the Supreme Le- 
 gislator, whose law this is. For he, that has made us and 
 made our natures, has made this law that is written there. 
 
 Therefore this law is an inviolable law, and most deeply 
 fundamental to all that we have contained in the Bible ; 
 which is hut a superadded light. Inasmuch as it is nnisi 
 true, that this law of nature doih m>t declare, what is to 
 he done bv apostate and lost creatures in order to their re- 
 covery ; therefore a supervening light is needful. The law 
 of nature was impressetl upon the mind of innocent man, 
 and respected his innocent state. But then, those that 
 were oblii^ations of duiv laid upon him in that state, are 
 incessant obligations. What! will God say, '-Because 
 mv creature has made a defection from me, shall he by
 
 612 
 
 THE OBLIGATIONS TO 
 
 Serm. II. 
 
 his own fault excuse himself from duty, and nullify the 
 obligation of my law 1" If that did oblige men to worship 
 God, and oblige societies to worship him, lesser societies, 
 supposing there had been such, while the state of inno- 
 cency lasted ; do we think, that that obligation is taken off 
 by sin, by men's having offended and made a defection 
 from God ^ As if men could nullity God's laws by dis- 
 obeying them. And therefore, I say what doth by the 
 law of nature appear to be necessary, will equally oblige 
 our practice, as if it were in so many express words in 
 Scripture. And in the last place, I propose this to be 
 considered too, 
 
 6. That it is a master-piece of the devil's artifice, to op- 
 pose the means of our direction in matters of practice to 
 one another, and to their common end. And they are most 
 stupid creatures, who will sutfer themselves to be befooled 
 oy him in this matter. A great artifice of the devil! first 
 to go about to oppose the light of nature, that is simply and 
 truly such, (and there are characters, by which that may 
 be discerned, though that is not the business of this hour,) 
 unto Scripture light; and then to oppose one piece of 
 Scripture to another ; and then to make it be thought, that 
 all together is insufficient to the true end; or else to set 
 the means against tlie end. This is a great design that he 
 hath been driving, ever since there was a church in the 
 world ; and to engage men in broils and disputes upon 
 such seeming oppositions : but all to divert the practice of 
 what was really most necessary unto men's serving of 
 God in this world, and their being happy with him in the 
 other; and then to represent the means as insufficient to 
 the end, and by consequence as opposite ; as if all together 
 would not serve, because one alone will not. As indeed 
 this is plain, that the light of nature alone will not serve 
 to enable a man to glorify God as God, and to conduct a 
 man to a final felicity in him. Therefore, says the devil, 
 " It is of no use at all ;" and so men are to be given up to 
 enthusiasm. Thus he imposeth upon one sort of men. 
 Again, if such and such things be found not to be con- 
 tained expressly in the Scripture revelation, then Scrip- 
 ture revelation alone is represented as in.sufficient; and 
 thereupon there must be I know not how many traditions 
 and inventions of men pitched upon, to supply or makeup 
 the defects of Scripture ; or otherwise, upon pretence of 
 this insufficiency, the end, that should be served by it, is 
 represented as impossible to be served; and the Scriptitre 
 shall be pretended to throw religion out of the world be- 
 cause it is no sufficient means to serve it: and at last men 
 shall be left to live irreligiously, according to the disincli- 
 nation and bent of a disaifected heart. 
 
 God hath not left us altogether " ignorant of Satan's de- 
 vices;" and " in vain is the net spread in the sight of any 
 bird." When he would so grossly impose upon us in so 
 plain cases, we are very foolish creatures, sillier than the 
 silliest bird, if we will suffer ourselves to be beguiled and 
 imposed upon ; especially as to such parts and pieces of 
 our religion, as upon which all our present comfort and 
 welfare, and our future and eternal hopes, do so immedi- 
 ately depend. It would be great folly in so plain a case. 
 
 Do but consider a little, wherein this doth appear most 
 plain, so that every one may understand it if he will. 
 Take the most unquestionable and indisputable things, 
 that lie within the compass of natural revelation, and that 
 cannot be understood to serve any ill purpose, or to gratify 
 any corrupt inclination in the heart of a man, but directly 
 the contrary; take these natural sentiments, and take the 
 whole compass of Scripture together with them ; and here 
 is that, which in point of rule both for faith and practice 
 is every way sufficient to serve its end. When we sa}', 
 the Scripture is a complete rule, we do not mean as severed 
 and cut off from the law of nature, or in opposition to that, 
 or as excluding that ; but as including it ; and as exclu- 
 ding only the unnecessary and arbitrary inventions of 
 men, and the additions that they think fit to subnect to it. 
 Take the Scripture, in conjunction with the frame of most 
 unquestionably natural dictates and sentiments; and here 
 we have an entire discovery of all that is requisite to our 
 acceptable walking v/ith God. And indeed all those more 
 essential necessary dictates of the law of nature are con- 
 ained in the Scripture. But there are many things, that 
 * Prcaclied December 17tli, 1693. 
 
 are .still to be borrowed from thence, which may respect 
 the matter of undetermined circumstances; and circum- 
 stances of that kind, that they are necessary to actions to 
 be done. Not merely unnecessary circumstances. For il 
 any would take their advantage and occasion from thence, 
 to devise what circumstances they please ; that is a ground- 
 less and injurious pretence. There can be no action done 
 but with circumstances ; and the determination of some 
 circumstances is necessary: as, it is impossible for an as- 
 sembly ever to meet together, if they do not agree upon a 
 time : there can be no such thing as social worship, if the 
 persons that are to associate do not agree. Such a circum- 
 stance as this is necessary, because there cannot be wor- 
 ship without it. But forunnecessary circumstances, which 
 signify nothing to the work, and without which it may be, 
 and may be as well and perhaps better; these cannot be 
 fetched from the law of nature. But from the law of na- 
 ture I can fetch this circumstance ; if I be obliged to wor- 
 ship God, then I must find some time for it. And if per- 
 sons be obliged to worship God together, then they must 
 find some time to come together. And therefore all that 
 is substantial in religion, though a great deal of it be in the 
 law of nature, you have it over again in Scripture. And 
 for whatsoever of circumstance is necessary unto such ex- 
 ercises of religion, if you have not all those circumstances 
 in the Scripture, yet the law of nature compared with 
 Scripture will oblige you to find out fit circumstances ; 
 such as by which it shall be possible for the enjoined duty 
 to be done, and such as without which it cannot be done. 
 
 And so in this sense the Scripture is a perfect rule, in 
 opposition to unnecessary inventions; but not in opposi- 
 tion to the necessary parts of the law of nature, or what- 
 soever that is necessarily to be directive to us in. As, if 
 Scripture say, " Worship God :" the laAV of nature saith 
 the same thing ; but it over and above obligeth me to cir- 
 cumstance it duly, and so as that the thing designed may 
 be possible to be done. And if both together do lay me 
 under an obligation to this or that part or kind of religion 
 and duty, my obligation will be indisputable and indispen- 
 sable hereupon. 
 
 These preparations b ing laid, we shall (God willing) 
 go on hereafter to evince to you the obligation that is upon 
 us to family worship ; on the governors of families to take 
 care, that it be set up; and to oblige those under their 
 charge to concur ; and their obligation spontaneously and 
 willingly to concur. 
 
 SERMON II.* 
 
 Because I lay a great stress in the argument before ns 
 upon the law of nature, as you may see by what hath been 
 already offered ; it may be requisite, before I proceed upon 
 the forelaid grounds to the proofs, that I should obviate 
 some things which may arise in the minds of some or other 
 concerning this law. 
 
 Objection. It may be said : " To lay a weight in this 
 matter upon the law of nature, is to lay it upon the most 
 uncertain thing in all the world. Who can tell what the 
 law of nature isl How obscure and dark, how dubious 
 and mutable, a thing doth it seem to be; depending with 
 one man upon this or that apprehension or fancy or incli- 
 nation, and with other upon another 1" To this I would 
 say as follows, 
 
 1. The law of nature, as it lies in the minds of men, is 
 a mightil}^ shattered thing. But, 
 
 2. It is not equally obscure in all things. 
 
 3. In reference to what I design to appeal to it in, it is 
 most clear and indisputable ; and I shall lay a weight and 
 stress upon it no where else, but where it is so. 
 
 4. As to what relates to this matter, religion and the 
 worship of God in* general, and which we shall afterwards 
 have occasion to deduce and draw down to family worship; 
 it is so very plain, that is, the general is so plain, that I 
 may be as sure what the law of nature is in the case, as I 
 ma)' be that contradictions cannot be true. For the wor-
 
 Serm. II. 
 
 FAMILY RELIGION AND WORSHIP. 
 
 613 
 
 ship of Grod or religion doth carry that in it, the assertion 
 or affirmation whereof must as necessarily exclude the 
 contrary, as one proposition must exclude another contra- 
 dictory to it. 
 
 For instance. When I worship God, my worshipping 
 of him doth imply these affirmations in it; that he is 
 supreme, that he is the best of beings, that all things do 
 depend upon him, that I have my own absolute depend- 
 ance upon him, that in his favour stands my life, that his 
 displeasure and anger towards me not reconciled must be 
 a mortal and destructive thing to me. My declining or re- 
 fusing to worship him implieih all the contrary negations. 
 If the former affirmations be true, (and the conscience of 
 every man may be appealed unto, whether they be not 
 true,) the contrary negations can no more be true, that is, 
 the contradictory, than it is possible for the same thing to 
 be true and false. 
 
 So little do we need to be at an uncertainty or in a sus- 
 
 fense, what the law of nature, as we shall refer to it, is. 
 t is nothing else, but that essential reference between God 
 and his creatures, which, upon the supposed existence of 
 both, is necessarily and unavoidably, whether I think uf it, 
 yea or no. It is not an uncertain or mutable thing; it 
 doth not depend upon my thinking or not thinking of it. 
 Whether I think or think not, whether I sleep or wake ; 
 if God is and I am, such obligations must lie upon me 
 necessarily and uiKilterably in this state of the case. That 
 is, there are these things to be considered in God ; and such 
 really is the state of things between him and me, that I 
 cannot but be under such obligations. And therefore it Ls 
 vain to suppose that the law of nature in these respects is 
 an arbitrary and changeable thing. It is no more change- 
 able, than the essential references must be between God 
 and me, while he exists, and I exist ; so that I cannot make 
 these obligations to be by my thinking of them, nor can I 
 unthink them into nothing. 
 
 And when we therefore read of the law of nature as a 
 law written in us, as the apostle's expression is ; that must 
 suppose it to have been before it is written, that is, in order 
 of nature before. For what is it that is written 1 Some- 
 thing that was before, at least in the order of nature. 
 Those mutual references must be between God and us, 
 which are only founded upon our own natures. They had 
 a pre-existence ; that is, whether there be any such impres- 
 sion upon me or no; if it remain, or if it be blotted out, 
 that doth not nullify the obligations between me and my 
 Maker. And if those obligations do unalterably and in- 
 dispensably lie upon me in reference to myself, it will be 
 a very easy deduction, when we come to that, to show that 
 they must lie upon me also, in reference to those that I am 
 concerned for. And hereupon, though after the apostle we 
 call this a " law written in our hearts," we must consider 
 it as antecedent to that impression. Cicero, a heathen, 
 calls it non scripta sed nata lex, a law born with vs ; which 
 results from the very existence of such a creature, of such 
 a nature, related to the Supreme Being as his oflspring, or 
 one that hath immediately been raised up out of nothing 
 by him. 
 
 But new upon all this, such preparatories being forelaid, 
 we shall proceed to the proof of what hath been asserted ; 
 that is, — That it is incumbent upon the governors of fami- 
 lies to take care that there be such a thing as family reli- 
 gion preserved and kept up in their families as such. — We 
 must here note to you, that by the exercises of religion in 
 families, we do not mean, that all the exercises of religion 
 must be there; that every instituted Christian ordinance 
 can have place in a family. We do not intend that, un- 
 less in such fatnilies as may be also churches ; as we read 
 of some such in Scripture. But we mean such exercises 
 of religion, as a family is the capable seat and subject of; 
 as it is of those parts of merely natural worship, which are 
 wont to be referred to that head ; as prayer, comprehend- 
 ing confession of sin, and thanksgiving for mercies ; and 
 instruction, the endeavour of knowing and of being ac- 
 quainted with the mind and will of God, touching what we 
 are to believe concerning him, and touching what we are 
 to do in a way of duty towards him. These are things 
 which lie within the compass of natural worship. 
 
 It is true, that there are instituted ordinances of worship 
 besides, (as even these mentioned are instituted, as w^ell as 
 43 
 
 natural,) that do belong to a certain s-pecified seat and sub- 
 ject; to wit, such and such societies, which the verj' insti- 
 tution itself doth characterize and notify a.s the apt and 
 convenient seat and subject of such worship. Those I do 
 not speak of. But that such parts of worship, that have 
 been .spoken of, which are natural as well as instituted, riz. 
 praying to God, and instruction in the matters thai con- 
 cern us towards him, do belong to families as such, I shall 
 labour to evince and make out to you. And I shall en- 
 deavour to do this, partly upon rati'mal, and partly unun 
 scriptural grounds. And I snail do it in reference to these 
 two things: 
 
 I. To the substance of family religion ; that there ought 
 to be such a thing as family religion, containing those two 
 substantial parts that I have mentioned. And, 
 
 II. To the frequency thereof; when and how often such 
 and such acts and exercises of religion ought to be per- 
 formed. 
 
 I. That there ought to be such a thing as family religion, 
 made up of the mentioned parts, /awii/y prayer, amd familif 
 instruction. 
 
 First, I shall labour to make out this to you upon rational 
 grounds. And to that purpose I shall give you one gene- 
 ral argument, — from the notion of religion generally con- 
 sidered ; — which, as such, must be understood to cany 
 with it a double respect, — 1st, to its object — the great God ; 
 and '2dly, to its subject — a reasonable or intelligent crea- 
 ture, or a collection of such, by whom it Ls to be perform- 
 ed. Under the former notion, or in the former reference, 
 it is to be looked upon as a duty to him, to whom I per- 
 form it, or such and such exercises of it. Under the la'ter 
 notion, it is to be looked upon as a thing necessary for 
 ourselves, for our own welfare and advEUitage, present and 
 eternal. 
 
 The former notion doth not extinguish or exclude the 
 other. But it showelh, how admirably God hath con- 
 nected things, even in their natures; and with how tender 
 regard to his creatures, that shall continue in, or that shall 
 be reduced to an obediential or governable state and pos- 
 ture towards him: that they cannot do what is for his ho- 
 nour and glory, but they must be promoting their own true 
 interest at the same time and by the same thing; that as 
 religion is a homage to the Eternal Being, a debt that the 
 reasonable nature ought to pay him ; so it is as to ourselves 
 a means to refine our spirits, to purge them from terrene 
 dross; in the acts and exercises of which, we converse 
 with the best of beings, the most pure, the most gloriou.s, 
 the most vital ; and so derive an enlivening and purifying 
 influence into our own souls. These notions are not in- 
 consistent, or exclusive of one another. But the Author 
 of our beings hath so kindl}' ordered the state of things be- 
 tween himself and us, that that which sums up all our duty 
 sums up all our felicity too. Love to Grod ; this sums up all 
 that we are to do, and all that we are to enjoy. By one 
 and the same love, we Wtally do all that can be done by us 
 in point of duty, and vitally enjoy all that can be enjoyed 
 by us in point of felicity. Therefore wonder not, that there 
 should be these two references of religion, that belong to 
 it in itself most abstractly considered, so that we cannot 
 consider or form a notion of it, but we must involve both 
 of these; for it must be performed to some one, and by 
 some one. There can be no such thing as vital religion, 
 but it must be terminated upon God, and subje'ctcd in our- 
 selves ; and so cannot but have these distinct references 
 with it. Hereupon then, 
 
 1. Consider religion according to the former reference, 
 as a homage to God; and if it be found equally to be a 
 hoinage to him from a family, as it is from a sinele person, 
 then the obligation to family religion will be indispensable 
 and indisputable upon this ground. We shall consider, 
 how this obligation as to persons doth arise, that is. to pay 
 such a continual homage to Grod as religion includes and 
 involves in it. 
 
 1st. As he is the viost excellent of all beings, so there is 
 an obligation to worship him, or to bear a religions dispo- 
 sition and affection of soul towards him. That name of 
 God, which includes all divine excellencies and perfections 
 in it, " is exalted above all blessing and praise." Neh. ix. 5. 
 Hence it is consequent, that my capacity measures my 
 obligation. And I pray consider that ; and let your own
 
 614 
 
 THE OBLIGATIONS TO 
 
 Serm. II. 
 
 thoughts, as you hear it, examine it. If the Divine name, 
 comprehensive of all excellencies, be exalted above all 
 blessing and praise ; then I can never go beyond what I 
 owe in pomt of homage thereunto. And therefore it can- 
 not be, but that capacity mast measure obligation. If I 
 am capable of doing so much in a way of homage to the 
 supreme and most excellent Being, I am bound to come 
 up to that. If I caw do more, I must still do that more: 
 and so on still ; because this blessed name is exalted above 
 all blessing and praise. If I have a capacity then in my 
 own person to do any thing in a way of duty towards this 
 most excellent Being, whereunto therefore I owe that duty ; 
 whatsoever that capacity of mine extends to, I am to serve 
 and glorily him according to the utmost of it. And if I 
 am to be considered, not only in my own single personal 
 capacity, but as the head of a family also; then, if capa- 
 city do measure obligation, I am to do all that in me lies, 
 that he may have as nmch honour from my family, as he 
 is to have from me; because it is as much owing, and I 
 san never over-do in point of duty towards him, in what- 
 ev^er capacity I stand. 
 
 Suppose then my single capacity to be indeed improved 
 to serve and glorify him, but that I neglect the other ; may 
 not he come and say, " There is another capacity in which 
 you stand, pray what do you for me in that 1 Do you owe 
 me no duty, as you are the master of a family, and have 
 the care of others upon you'? Both you and those for 
 whom you are concerned owe me duty in that capacity; 
 and you are concerned to see that that duty be done, by 
 reason of the authority that you have over them, and the 
 obligation that you can subordinately lay upon them." 
 This is implied in the text; "As for me and my house, 
 we will serve the Lord." He supposeth that capacity in- 
 herent in him, that he could not only do such duty or ser- 
 vice himself, but that he could oblige those that were under 
 his care. 
 
 Now where is that man, that dare stand forth and say, 
 " It is true I owe all the homage I am capable of perform- 
 ing for my own person, to that most excellent of all beings, 
 because lie is most excellent, and because his name is far 
 exalted above all blessing and praise ; but my family owes 
 him nothing, or I owe him nothing for my family 7" 
 Whereas you are in the capacity of a governor of a family, 
 as well as in a single capacity; and may do still more to 
 glorify that name in your family capacity, than you could 
 do in the other alone; but while there is a capacity unan- 
 swered of glorifying the most excellent Being, an obliga- 
 tion must remain upon me to answer it, since I can never 
 here exceed or even come up to what he deserves. 
 
 2dly, The obligation to religion ariseth also from our 
 dependance upon the Divine Being for our first and for our 
 '.ontinued being, as he is our Creator, and our continual 
 Preserver, and consequently our Owner. And can any 
 man say, "God hath created me, but he hath not created 
 mine ! He continually preserves and sustains me, but he 
 doth not preserve and sustain mine !" But if I owe him 
 my all, upon account of my own dependance on him, for 
 my being, and for my hoped and expected well-being, pre- 
 sent and eternal ; is not the case so with my family also ? 
 Is he not the Proprietor and Owner of that, as well as of 
 myself? Who would not tremble to say, " God hath no in- 
 terest in my family, no right there V And if he hath an 
 interest and propriety there, shall he not be owned and 
 have a homage paid him by my family as such 1 And I 
 being a certain sponsor for them, and set over them, am 
 bound to do all that in me is, that the obligation upon them 
 be answered as well as that personally upon myself. 
 
 3dly, The dueness of religion as a homage to God, may 
 be further argued from the very nature of man ; not only 
 with reference to personal, but to domestical religion, as he 
 is naturally not only a reasonable, but a sociable creature. 
 As he is a reasonable creature, so he owes religion as a 
 homage to him, who has been the Author of this rational, 
 intelligent nature to him. As he is a sociable creature, so 
 he owes social religion, or worship in society; and in that 
 society first, wherein he is first capable of rendering it, that 
 is, in his family. This obligation lies upon him, and is 
 always first to be answered. There was social worship in 
 families before there could be other social worship. And 
 that obligation, if it lay once, lieth always upon the same 
 
 sort of persons. As God hath made me a creature apt for 
 society, and hath cast me into such societies, I am obliged 
 to worship him in them, by the very law of my own na- 
 ture. 
 
 4thly, This debt of religion to God, even as from a 
 family, is to be argued from the very constitution of fami- 
 lies. They are divine plantations settled by God himself, 
 for this very end and purpose, to be nurseries of religion 
 and godliness. If God be the Author of such a constitu- 
 tion, and if religion be the end for which he hath purposely 
 constituted them, then certainly there ought to be lamily 
 religion and godliness. For the former, nothing is plainer. 
 "God setteth the solitary in families," Psalm Ixviii. 6. 
 God hath so provided, that men should not live single and 
 apart in this world in an ordinary course ; but he hath 
 so stated things, that they must be united and meet to- 
 gether first in families. And he in his providence makes 
 so many single persons to be so and so related, as to con- 
 stitute a family. And what will he have these families 
 for? Plainly to be seminaries of religion. And see, how 
 his design for that purpose may be evinced. If the most 
 fundamental relation in a family, the conjugal relation, 
 be for that end, and was appointed by God for that end, 
 then certainly the family must be in the design of its con- 
 stitution set up for that end ; but the former is plain. The 
 fundamental relation in the family was, that God might 
 have out of it a godly seed; as the original constitution of 
 families is referred to in Mai. ii. 15. " Did not he make 
 one" for one at first 1 "And wherefore one 1 That he 
 might seek a godly seed." He did not design the original 
 constitution of that fundamental relation, by which man- 
 kind was to be continued and propagated in this world, 
 only that there might be a continual descent of human 
 nature; but that religion might .still be transmitted from 
 age to age. And this design of his he never quits. For is 
 it a supposable thing, that his creature, by revolting from 
 him, and sinning against the obligaiion of that law, 
 which was naturally and primarily laid upon him as he 
 was such a creature, should be capable thereby of nullify- 
 ing God's constitution, or making such obligation to 
 cease 1 
 
 Nothing then can be plainer, than that, if God have ap 
 pointed families to be nurseries of religion from age to age 
 in this world, there must then be such a thing as family 
 religion. Otherwise why should he seek such a godly seed 
 out of human families, more than out of the cells of wild 
 beasts, if there were no such thing as religion and godli- 
 ness designed by him to be kept up in families 1 How shall 
 godliness spring up with human nature in families, if there 
 be no such thing as family godliness carefully maintained 
 and kept up in the several exercises of it there ? 
 
 Thus far the obligation unto religion, as it is a debt to 
 God, and equally concerning families as persons, may be 
 plainly inferred from rational grounds ; and that these 
 things were not unapprehensible to men, even by natural 
 light; though they depend not thereupon; for whether 
 we understand this or understand it not, this truly is the 
 state of the case. But that the thing hath such a founda- 
 tion in nature, may be collected hence, that they who have 
 had no other light than merely natural, have apprehended 
 an obligation upon them to family religion. For other- 
 wise how came it to pass, that besides their temple wor- 
 ship, among the pagans they had their lares, their penutes, 
 to worship in their families, their family and domestical 
 gods, as they called them 1 Whence came it to pass, that 
 Laban had his gods in his house, which were carried 
 away from him by Rachel 1 Whence was it, that Micah 
 had his idol in his house, and his domestical priest to ma- 
 nage religion in his family? As in Judg. xviii. you have 
 the story at large, from ver. 14. But you may say, " All 
 this was but idolatry." 
 
 But then I would appeal to your reason or any man's 
 else ; in the room and stead of what stood that idolatry 1 
 Was it to be supposed, that it must stand in the room of 
 irreligion, or in the room of no religion 1 Or did it only 
 stand in the stead of true religion 1 Let any man answer 
 by the rules of reason and conscience, when he considers 
 this case. Here was idolatrous worship in families among 
 wilder pagans ; they had their lares, their pcna/es. What 
 was to be in the room of this 1 Or what was this to be in
 
 Serm. III. 
 
 FAMILY RELIGION AND WORSHIP. 
 
 615 
 
 the room of 1 Was it to be in the room of no religion, or 
 of true religion 1 Sure it must be in the room of true reli- 
 gion ; and that it had supplanted. It did not stand in the 
 room of no religion, or no religion was not to be the thing 
 which should succeed it, if this idolatrous wonhip were to 
 be removed out of such families. 
 
 So may this matter be argued concerning family reli- 
 gion and the dueness of it; if you consider religion in 
 general as a homage owing to God, and equally owing to 
 him from a family as from single persons ; and to w^hich a 
 single person, if he be also a master of a family, is equally 
 obliged for them as for himself to do the utmost that he 
 can, that it should be rendered to God as a debt to the 
 Divine Majesty. 
 
 SERMON III.* 
 
 To prove that there ought to be such a thing as family 
 religion, it hath been proposed to consider both the ra- 
 tionol and the scriptural grounds, upon which it stands. 
 
 First, For the former, the rational grounds of it, we 
 have chosen to insist upon one general argument from the 
 nature of religion ; which, as hath been observed, is to be 
 considered under a twofold notion, both of which it na- 
 turally involves ; — as a homage to God, and — as an advan- 
 tage to men. — If it be found in this double reference to 
 concern men in families as such, then it ought upon both 
 accounts to have place there. 
 
 1. We have already considered it for this purpose in the 
 former reference, as a homage to God. Proceed we now 
 to the other branch. 
 
 2. Consider religion as an advantage to men. And if 
 upon that account too, the reason of the thing doth as much 
 reach my family, as it doth myself; then family religion 
 ought to be inferred upon me as a charge, as an obligation 
 necessarily incumbent, as well as personal religion. Plain 
 it is that religion is the greatest advantage to a man that he 
 is any way capable of Do not we know, that he is an un- 
 done, lost creature, separate from God, having nothing to do 
 with God 1 It is by religion, that he comes to have to do wnth 
 God. He neither trusts him, nor loves him, nor feareth him, 
 nor delighteth in him, if there be no religion ; for these are 
 all the essential, vital parts of it. And therefore religion, 
 as it is that by which I have to do with God, is necessary 
 for me. And it is necessary for mine, as much as for me. 
 
 And a twofold consideration will evince to us the ob- 
 ligation, that must lie upon family governors to introduce 
 and to keep up religion in their families, upon this ac- 
 count, as a necessary advantage to them; namely, ^^rt^cr- 
 nal love, and polernal fidelity. When I say paternal, 
 it is not as if I would confine the duty as owing from a 
 parent to a child only. For the notion of paternal goeth 
 further. Every family governor is a pater-familias, in a 
 sort, a father unto the whole family ; as a prince is a father 
 to the whole community which he governs. And so it is 
 a sort of paternal love and paternal fidelity, that he oweth 
 and is chargeable with in reference to the whole family, 
 who is the head and governor of it. Whereupon it is, that 
 duty among all relatives is summed up in the fifth com- 
 mandment, " Honour thy father and thy mother." We must 
 thereupon understand it to be implied, that all superiors are 
 signified by father and mother, and all inferiors by children, 
 the implied opposite term. Hereupon then I say, that, 
 
 1st, Paternal love doth oblige the governor of a family, 
 the pater-familias, to take care, that family religion do ob- 
 tain in his family, as it is a necessary advantage to them. 
 The thing speaks itselfso plainly, that I need not insist upon 
 it -, but on.y direct your thoughts thereupon to the con- 
 trary, that you may see, with how odious and frightful a 
 visage tViatwiU.. look. If paternal love do oblige and would 
 prompt to such a care of a family, as that religion may ob- 
 tain and ta^e jlace among them, as a necessary advantage 
 which ftiey cannot want; then the contrary unto this, 
 must spearf in the root the contrary unto love: and that 
 contrary must be the luost horrid thing in this case that 
 can be thought, that is, cruelty unto the verj' height. For, 
 
 * Preached December 24, 1693. 
 
 as this love s-peaks tenderness, mercifulness, compa.s.sioQ 
 to the souls of men, that I cannot endure to see them 
 perish in ignorance of God, and estrangement from him 
 and neglect of him ; the contrary must needs speak the 
 most horrid and the most barbarous cruelty; a.s if a man 
 should say, and nut care if it was written in his forehead, 
 " I mind not what becomes of the .souls of men that are 
 committed to my charge, I care not whether they be saved 
 or perish, whether they be happy or miserable to all eterni- 
 ty." With how horrid and frightful a vi.sage doth this look, 
 only to represent and slate the matter just a.s it is ! And, 
 
 2dly, Paternal /(ie/iVj/ doth oblige to it also. For there 
 is a trust committed by the great and universal Lord of all 
 to every master of a family, over them that are under his 
 charge ; and in reference to them he is a trustee. It is 
 virtually said to every one, by the Divine law and pro- 
 vidence compared and put together; "I constitute thee 
 my trustee in reference to this part of mankind, as many 
 as are collected and gathered into thy famih', and belong 
 to it, whether naturally or by accession ; they are thy 
 charge, I intrust them to thee." Thereupon, as hath been 
 noted to you lormerly, from 1 Tim. v. 8. He that doih not 
 provide for his own, and especially for tho.se of his own 
 house, hath denied the faith, and is worse than an infidel. 
 The word is very emphatical, toovocX; he that doth not use 
 his mind and forethought about the affairs and concerns of 
 his family. Let it be but according to common reason 
 considered, how far that providing for one's own must ex- 
 tend. And to say, that one that doth it not is worse than 
 an infidel, is to say, that infidels even by the light and law 
 of nature may be directed to do much, in reference to the 
 care of their families in matters of religion. As is intima- 
 ted by what was noted to you the last lime about their lares 
 and their peiiates, their household gods to worship in fami- 
 lies, besides the worship which they used to pay in the 
 temples; and whereof you have instances in Laban's and 
 in Micah's families. And wherea.s it may be obvious to 
 say, "But this was all but idolatry:" this must indeed be 
 confessed to be true. But what was to be in the room of 
 that idolatry ? Sure true religion, and not irreligion ! So 
 that room should have been filled up. And no man, that 
 doth but commune with himself and consult his own un- 
 derstanding, can allow himself upon serious thoughts to 
 think, " I do owe, even upon account of a trust reposed 
 in me, a care and concern about the outward man of the 
 several individual persons of my family, but none at all 
 about their souls ; I am to lake care, that they have meat 
 and drink and all necessaries for their bodies, but about 
 their souls I am to take no care." Men will know one day, 
 that they owe an account, and a severe account too, unto 
 the Author of all nature, if they allow themselves to violate 
 the law of nature; which is not an arbitrary thin?, doth 
 not depend upon the minds of men, or what they think or 
 think not. But whether they think or not, the nature of 
 things alters not; but God 'will be a God still, and a 
 creature will be a creature still, and the respects the 
 same between God and a creature. So that it is an 
 idle mistake to think, that the laM' of nature is a mutable 
 thing. Men do so impose upon themselves, merely upon 
 this ground, that they think there is no law of nature hut 
 what exists in men's minds ; whereas it lies even in the 
 natureof things, and their natural references toone another. 
 It is to be considered in its objective state, before it be con- 
 sidered in its subjective. Those respects that result be- 
 tween one thing and another, and especially between 
 Creator and creature, will be unalterably the same, what- 
 soever is or is not in our minds. 
 
 And so whether you consider religion as a homage to 
 God, or as an advantage to man, you see the oblisration 
 that will lie upon men either way unto family religion. 
 But then, according to the method proposed. 
 
 Secondly, I come to evince to you the substance of the 
 thing, that' there ought to be family religion, from scrip- 
 tvrc grouiuls. And, 
 
 1. I shall labour to establish the general fmind/it ion upon 
 such grounds; namely, that there is a charge lying upon 
 the governors of families to take care, thai there be such a 
 thing as familv religion : that there may be no shifting 
 here; but that "they may know where the obligation pri-
 
 GIG 
 
 THE OBLIGATIONS TO 
 
 Serm. II. 
 
 marity lies, and where the fault lieth, if it be not answered : 
 that it is incumbent upon heads of families, to settle and 
 keep on foot religion in them. 
 
 1st, If there be a power given them, there is a care lying 
 upon them. These two will answer one another. But 
 they have a power given them. The station of superiority, 
 wherein God hath set them, speaks that. " Honour thy 
 father and thy mother." In reference to the inferior rela- 
 tives of the family they have a governing power: and if 
 there is a duty to be paid them, then there is a power 
 wherewith they are invested, that renders them the due 
 objects thereof. Therefore the great God himself, speak- 
 ing of himself as invested with such capacities, and person- 
 ating the governor of a family, saith, (Malac. i. 6.) " A 
 sou honoureth his father : I am a father, where is the 
 honour due to me hereupon"? A servant feareth or reve- 
 rencelh his master; I am a master, where is my rever- 
 ence 1" Therefore there is an honour and reverence due 
 to fathers and masters as such, and therefore a power con- 
 feired upon them ; and with a power a care cannot but 
 be incumbent. 
 
 '2d ly, How otherwise was it possible for Joshua, as here 
 iu the text, to undertake for his family as well as himself? 
 to be a sponsor for theml " But as for me and my house, 
 we will serve the Lord." 
 
 3dly, How comes it to pass, that Abraham is so highly 
 commended for this, and his example recommended, that 
 he would command his household, that they should keep 
 the way of the Lord 1 that he should use an authority, 
 and lay an obligation upon them to keep God's ways, that 
 is, no doubt, to attend upon the exercise of religion 1 
 
 4ihly, If there were not such a charge and care lying 
 upon a family master, what meaning can we suppose the 
 words of the fourtli commandment should have 1 " Thou 
 shall remember to keep holy the Sabbath-day, thou, and 
 thy son, and thy daughter, and thy man-servant, and thy 
 maid-servant, and even the stranger," a lodger. Whence 
 is this, that such a charge should be laid upon the puter- 
 familias ? though as is commonly and very aptly observed, 
 "it doth comprehend together the conjugal relatives, who 
 are spoken to but as one person. These two are one : and 
 tlien the other relatives in the family ensue, "thy son, thy 
 daughter," &c. Yea, and if there be a stranger, he is to 
 partake, if in the provisions, in the religion of the family 
 too. And I remember it to have been one of the medita- 
 tions of Mr. Fuller in his miscellanies; that, having had 
 a person of great quality one night lodged under his roof 
 as a stranger, out of an excess of modesty he forbore the 
 duties of his family that night: and he hath a penitential 
 meditation hereupon, acknowledging his great fault, and 
 making very solemn resolutions and vows never to be 
 guilty of the like again; but if any one, though never so 
 great, did partake in the provisions, he should partake in 
 the religion of his family. 
 
 But that this charge should be laid upon the family 
 master, even about that piece of religion, the observation 
 of the Lord's day ; it bespeaks a charge from God incum- 
 bent upon the pater-familias in reference to the religion of 
 the family. 
 
 And if any should yet pretend to have a doubt ; I would 
 have them to consider the matter with caution, whether 
 there be any such charge lying upon them. Truly it con- 
 cerns men, in point of prudence, to beware how they are 
 shy of owning an authority in their families; for if you 
 should pretend to doubt it, you would teach them it may 
 be to doubt and to deny it too, and so make yourself to 
 signify nothing in your family. But if that is but of small 
 concernment to j^ou ; it is of the greatest concern imagin- 
 able, in reference to him whom you represent, and with 
 whose authority you are invested. You have so much of 
 the power of God lodged and seated in you; and it is 
 treachery and falsehood to the great Lord and Ruler of 
 the world, to let his authority, wherewith he hath invested 
 you, be neglected and slighted and trampled upon, or not 
 exerted and put forth to the uttermost for the ends of 
 which he hath so seated it. 
 
 And if yet any should think, that such a charge is not 
 sufficiently evinced to lie upon them ; I would very fain 
 know, in reference to what relative of the family you think 
 't lieth not ? For, 
 
 1st, In reference to the conjugal relatives, they are joint 
 partakers therein ; and there is a duty incumbent upon 
 both, even upon the inferior relative, especially in case of 
 the other's absence or indisposition. But it lieth supreme- 
 ly upon him that is first in that relation, who is required to 
 dwell with his wife, even as a man of knowledge, accord- 
 ing to knowledge; (1 Pet. iii. 7.) implying therefore, that 
 he hath a charge even in reference to her. And it is his 
 great iniquity, if he do not labour to render himself capable 
 to discharge it; to add to her treasury of knowledge of 
 divine things, that concern her God-ward. They are to 
 be mutual helpers one to another, in reference to the con- 
 cernments of their souls and a future state, and to the joint 
 duty, which they owe to the Author of their beings, as par- 
 takers together " of the grace of life." But the charge 
 lieth chiefly here, (though it be mutual towards one an- 
 other,) upon the superior relative; though each is also to 
 endeavour to the uttermost the saving of the other's soul, 
 " What knowest thou, O wife, whether thou shalt save thy 
 husband'? or how knowest thou, O man, whether thou 
 shalt save thy wifel" 1 Cor. vii. 16. Both are as it were 
 to engage to their uttermost in an endeavour to save one 
 another's souls. 
 
 2dly, In reference to children, there can never be any 
 doubt ; who are .sprung from you, in reference to the souls 
 of whom you have a special charge lying upon you. It is 
 true, you did not make their souls ; there is another Father 
 of their spirits. You are the fathers of their flesh, not of 
 their spirits: as these two are contradistinguished in Heb. 
 xii. 9. But you are the means of those souls coming into 
 union with mortal flesh, and of bringing them mto a world 
 of .snares and temptations dangerous to their souls. Can 
 it then be, that you should be exempt from care and con- 
 cern in reference to their souls'? 
 
 3dly, As to servants, God hath charged them to obey 
 you. He hath most expressly directed you to command 
 them equally, as knowing yourselves to be under a com- 
 mand, that you have a Master in heaven, and are to com- 
 mand them for his ends and purposes. Nothing is plainer, 
 if you look to Eph. vi. Col. iii. and iv. 1 Tim. vi. where 
 these relative duties are spoken of. So that they come by 
 contract, as your children do by nature, under your com- 
 manding and governing power and authority. And that 
 power infers care, and principally about their souls. 1 
 could appeal to any master of servants in .such a case. Do 
 you expect, that your servants should serve you only with 
 their hands 1 Do you not expect they should serve you 
 with their minds and understandings, as well as their 
 limbs 1 Sure then their inward man, their souls, are to be 
 cared for by j'ou, as well as their outward man, their 
 bodies. You would not have them to do you only such 
 service as you can receive from a beast ; and therefore you 
 are to take care of their spirits, as well as their brutal part. 
 
 So much I reckoned it was necessary to lay down here 
 upon Scripture grounds, to clear our foundation, that there 
 is such a thing as a charge, a care lying upon governors 
 of families over the families which God hath intrusted 
 them with, to keep up religion there. Hereupon, 
 
 2. We shall proceed to give you proof upon Scripture 
 grounds, that there ought to be in particular those two parts 
 of family religion maintained and kept up by them, upon 
 whom this care and charge hath been evinced to lie; to 
 wit, family instruction, and family prayer. And we shall 
 endeavour to evince both, 
 
 1st, Prom such scriptures, as either command the one 
 or the other of the.se, in such terms as that it may be dis- 
 cernible that the obligation will reach to families; that is, 
 to the family governors in reference to the family: either 
 express precepts ; or virtual precepts, such passages as 
 some way imply and infer precepts, and are so applicable, 
 or from whence inferences may be collected and drawn. 
 As, 
 
 [l.J For family instruction. You have a most express 
 command upon masters of families, that they shall teach 
 the substance of religion to them who are under their care : 
 nothing can be plainer than those words in Deut. vi. After 
 this was given in charge in general, (which contains all re- 
 ligion in it,) ver. 5, 6. " Thou shalt love the Lord thy God 
 with all thine heart, and with all thy soul, and with all 
 thy might: and these words, which I command thee this
 
 Serm. III. 
 
 FAMILY RELIGION AND WORSHIP. 
 
 er 
 
 day, shall be in thine heart." Then it fulJows, ver. 7. " And 
 thou shall leach them diligenJy unto thy children, and 
 shalt talk of them when thou siitest in thine house, and 
 when thou walkest by the wa}-, and when thou liest down, 
 and when thou risest up." Observe what they were to 
 teach them; the substance of" religion, all comprehended 
 in the love of God, which is the fulfilling of the law: 
 " Thou shalt love the Lord thy God, &c. And these 
 words,'.' and all that may be referred thither, to that great 
 and all-eoraprehending topic, "thou shalt teach and dili- 
 gently teach thy chiklren." Children means the family, 
 as we noted to you before ; an apt synecdochical expres- 
 sion, as pater-familias is the head of the whole family. 
 " And thou shalt teach them, when thou sittest in thine 
 house." It is true, there are other occasions to be taken : 
 but this speaks a stated teaching, to have times on purpose 
 to collect and gather the family, and to set oneself in 
 the authority of a family master, and there instruct and 
 teach those under his care and charge, in the great sub- 
 stantials of religion. You have the same thing inculcated 
 in Deut. xi. 19. 
 
 And more general precepts of the same kind are appli- 
 cable plainly enough unto this purpose. As, when we are 
 required to " exhort one another," and to do it " daily, 
 while it is called to-day, lest any be hardened through the 
 deceitfulness of sin," Heb. iii. 1.3. And to have the word 
 of Christ dwelling richly in us, that we may teach and ad- 
 monish one another. Col. iii. IG. How obvious is it to 
 any one of common sense to infer, that if I owe this occa- 
 sionally unto a fellow-Christian, I owe it statedly to my 
 own family 1 If there were no such express precept, and 
 a man had this to allege in the judgment of the great day, 
 Lord, thou gavest me no command ; suppose there were 
 no such positive commands, as those in Deuteronomy, 
 and that in Proverbs, for instructing and training up chil- 
 dren in the way they should go : suppose such general 
 precepts as those just mentioned were alleged to any man 
 in the great day, " You knew well enough, that it was a 
 duty lying upon you towards any fellow-Christian, as there 
 was occasion, to teach and exhort and instruct him ; and 
 he was under the same obligation towards you ; had you 
 not reason and understanding enough to make an infer- 
 ence, that if you owe so much to another occasionally, 
 you must owe much more statedly to your own '?" What 
 could a man say, if this were urged upon him from the 
 tribunal of the Supreme Judge ? 
 
 [■2.] For family prayer, such general precepts, as the 
 Scripture is full of, are capable enough of application to 
 this particular case. And we owe so much to God, yea to 
 ourselves, to our own nature, as we are creatures endued 
 with a reasonable nature, as to make the inference. That 
 is, that when we are charged to pray with all prayei' and 
 with all supplication, we collect hence; sure it cannot be 
 said, that family prayer is no prayer. 
 
 And it is a very observable thing, though I have not 
 found it observed, to this purpose ; that in those several 
 places of Scripture, where the duties of domestical relatives 
 are largely spoken of, immediately thereupon there is a 
 charge given about prayer, or some mention of prayei-. 
 Thus, after the apostle had directed in the 5lh and tjth 
 chapters to the Ephesians, Ye wives, carry it so and so to 
 your husbands, and ye husbands to your wives ; ye children 
 to your parents, and parents to children ; ye servants to 
 masters, and masters to servants ; and after some directions 
 given to arm ourselves for spiritual conflicts, he imme- 
 diately subjoins, (chap. vi. 18.) " Praying always with all 
 prayer and supplication." So in Col. iv. 2. just after a 
 summary of the several duties of family relatives, follows 
 this exhortation, "Continue in prayer;" implying, that 
 there must be a continued course of family prayer between 
 these several family relations, or else all is in vain and to 
 no purpose. And when the apostle Peter had given like 
 directions, all is enforced upon this consideration, that 
 " the eyes of the Lord are over the righteous, and his ears 
 are open unto their prayers," 1 Pet. iii. 12. Be sure you 
 do so and so, and let your consideration be orderly and 
 regular, as ever you expect your prayers should be answer- 
 ed, that in your families shall from time to time be put up. 
 
 And if to pray, when there is occasion, with other 
 Christians be highly recommended by our Saviour himself, 
 
 as more grateful, and likely to be more successful, when 
 " two or three are met together;" if to do so with any two 
 or three be .so recommended, then most of all with those of 
 our own family ; because with them the occasions are more 
 frequent, and may more easily be had, and the obligation 
 is deeper and stronger ; as any man, that considers what 
 it is to have a family, and lo have a charge lying upon 
 him in reference thereto, cannot but apprehend. 
 
 But beside direct precepts; either referring to a family 
 in particular, or enjoining both family instruction and 
 family prayer to fellow-Chri.stians in general, which must 
 be more obligatory in reference to those with whom we 
 have a particular concernment; besides these, I say. there 
 are virltud precepts, or rules extendable unto this ca'^e, that 
 may with great cogency and evidence of rea^^on be applied 
 to it; which suppose matter of precept in the case. 
 
 As, when the religion of families is spoken of as matter 
 of Divine acceptance; that implieth it to be agreeable to 
 God's preceptive will, without which nothing could be 
 acceptable. As when it is spoken by way of encomium, 
 that "the voice of joy and salvation is in the tabernacles 
 of the righteous;" (Psal. cxviii. l.'j.) the solemnities ot 
 religion there are most manifestly intended. Go to the 
 dwelling of a righteous man, and there you may hear tlte 
 voice of rejoicing and praise ; it belongs to a ris;hieous man 
 as such, therefore it cannot be the common, cama) rejoicing 
 of the wicked that is there meant ; but it must be a holy, 
 religious thanksgiving and praising of God ; which i.s biit 
 a synecdochical expression of all the other parts of his 
 worship: as if he had said, " You may so distinguish the 
 houses and tabernacles of the righteous and unrighie.ju.s. 
 You may pass the unrighteous man's dwelling, and ihtre 
 you hear swearing and blaspheming of God, it may be 
 higher jollity than in the other ; but in the other you hear 
 the v^oice of joy and salvation ; God is owned and taken 
 notice of." 
 
 So again, when we are told, what com.f.lacency God doih 
 difTerenily take in the solemnities of his own worship, 
 (Psalm Ixxxvii. 2.) " The Lord loveih the g^ies (jJZion, 
 more than all the dwellings of Jacob." He is more 
 honoured and glorified by the public solemnities of wor- 
 ship; and therefore doth take more complacency in thom. 
 Yet there is a complacency he also takes in the wor-hip 
 performed in the several habitations of his people. Why 
 doth God love the gales of Zion, more than all the dwellings 
 of Jacob, but only because there was the seat of moie 
 public, solemn religion 1 But when it is said, he loveih 
 them more, it is intimated that he loveth the dwellings of 
 Jacob too; and upon the same account, because every 
 such dwelling was to be looked upon as a seat of religion. 
 For Zion was loved and delighted in under no other no- 
 tion, and the several dwellings of Jacob are delighted in 
 under the same notion ; though less, as they are less pub- 
 lic and solemn. 
 
 And again, threatenings and menaces do imply precepts, 
 for violations of which they are given out. As that terrible 
 one, Jer. X. 25. Pour out thy fury, thine indignation, upon 
 the heathen that know thee not, and upon the families that 
 call nut upon thy name. It is an imprecation; but what 
 is imprecated bv an inspired pei'son, is denounced by that 
 God that inspires him. It is ven* true indeed, that families 
 are frequently taken in a larger sense, sometimes they 
 signifv nations ; but both beins put together in that text, it 
 is manifestly ihe design of the Holy Ghost to notify to us 
 irreligious families, composing and making upirreligiwis 
 nations. For what is a profane, carnal nation and people 
 made up of? Heathen and nations are all one. When 
 nations then are first mentioned, and afterwards families; 
 it is plain ihev are mentioned as constituent parts of athe- 
 istical, ungodly, and irreligious nations. And when it is 
 said, " Pour o"ut thy fury upon such ;" it signifies a de- 
 nunciation of Divine fury upon such. Dismal, horrid 
 clouds of wrath han? over" such families, that will be dis- 
 chnrsred in terrible destructive storms. 
 
 But beside what maybe thus collected from precepts, 
 which are expressly so," or virtual, implied ones; we shall 
 proceed to evince this to yon, 
 
 2.l!v, From recommended examples in Scripture ; ex- 
 amples in reference lo one or the other, or both of those 
 \ parts of familv religion already mentioned, family instruc-
 
 CIS 
 
 THE OBLIGATIONS TO 
 
 Serm. III. 
 
 tion, or family-prayer. And one, or the other, or some- 
 times both together, we find recommended examples of, as 
 ancient as we have any records whatsoever. 
 
 The religion at first, that began so early in the world, 
 tTiat of sacrificing, which could never be without invoca- 
 tion, could but be domestical; whether you look back as 
 high as Abel, or look forward at your leisure. Do but pe- 
 ruse the short history of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob, in all 
 their several commorations and commigrations ; you hear 
 of their settling no where, or removing no whither, but 
 there was presently an altar built for worship, and for call- 
 ing on the name of the Lord. You have a treatise on 
 those passages, called " A Family Altar," written by a 
 worthy servant of Christ, Mr. Oliver Heywood ; which 
 would be of singular use for those who have a mind to 
 peruse a short book on this subject. You read of two al- 
 tars set up, in one chapter, upon a twofold removal of that 
 great saint Abraham; at such a place he pitcheth, and 
 there he builds an altar; and by and by to such a place. he 
 removes, and there he places an altar for calling on the 
 name of the Lord, for the solemn worship of his family. 
 Gen. xii. 7, 8. So you find it afterwards to be wath Isaac 
 and Jacob in their removals, or in their settlings, this way 
 or that, or in this place or that. 
 
 That instance also of Job is very considerable to this 
 purpose ; who, in the absence of his sons and daughters 
 offers sacrifices for them. Job i. 5. Which could never 
 be unaccompanied with solemn invocation and calling 
 upon God. And thus, it is said, he did continually. It was 
 a stated course with him ; he did not omit it when they 
 were absent ; for he must be understood to have a great 
 family about him even then. And it is implied to have 
 been his stated course, whether his children were with him 
 or not ; he kept up a course of family religion all along. 
 
 That action of David, though I do not find it taken no- 
 tice of by others, seems to me to be mighty observable to 
 this purpose ; that in the history given us of his bringing 
 home of the ark to the place which he had appointecl for 
 it, we find how greatly he was transported with the so- 
 lemnity of that action and undertaking. But when all that 
 was over, which was public and solemn, we are told, that 
 he retired at length to bless his household, 2 Sam. vi. 20. 
 He went home to bless his household. Nothing is more 
 probable, than that this was a stated course with him; 
 and that he had so contrived and ordered the work of that 
 public solemnity, as that it might not interfere with the 
 worship of his family; and therefore, amidst all the great 
 pompous triumph, wherein he was more publicly engaged, 
 upon this account he bethinks himself; " Well, now my 
 hour of prayer is come at home ;" and so the matter w'as 
 prudently ordered, that that solemnity being over, he might 
 return home to perform the ordinary duty that was to be 
 done there, that is, to bless his household, and call upon 
 the name of the Lord there. If you compare this with that 
 which was his declared resolution, in Psal. ex. 2. " I will 
 behave myself wisely in a perfect way ; — I will walk within 
 my house with a perfect heart;" " I will keep an even 
 steady course, there shall be no baulks, no ups and downs 
 in my way in my family ;" undoubtedly meaning a way of 
 religion. If you compare, I say, that resolution, with his 
 sudden bethinking himself, v/lien he had been engaged in 
 that great solemnity but now mentioned, " Now the time 
 is come that I must go home and bless my house ;" it ap- 
 pears to have been a stated thing with him. 
 
 If from thence you look further to that great instance of 
 Daniel ; when he was, though a great prince in another 
 land, yet an exile from his own ; and that terrible and se- 
 vere interdict was published, that for thirty days no man 
 should pray to God or man, but to the prince of those 
 countries only ; (a snare purposely laid for Daniel's life ;) 
 you read, that he went on in his course, as he was wont 
 to do, as it is expressly said ; and no doubt but those 
 wretched conspirators against his life knew his course, 
 otherwise they could not have laid this snare for him. And 
 how should they know it 1 It is said, Dan. vi. 10. He 
 went into his house, and his windows being open in his 
 chamber toward Jerusalem, he kneeled upon his knees 
 three times a day, and prayed, and gave thanks unto his 
 God, as he did aforetime. It was a stated course with him. 
 And that this must be family prayer, and the ordinary re- 
 
 ligion of his household, is the most reasonable supposition 
 imaginable. For otherwise, if it were secret closet prayer, 
 how should it be known to have been his course before 1 
 and how should they be able to accuse him nowl But 
 consider him as a great prince in a foreign country, and as 
 having a family, and how heroic and generous a resolution 
 he had taken up, and with how holy a fortitude and brave- 
 ry of spirit, to own God against that insolent decree of 
 the wicked creatures who would arrogate that honour to 
 the prince that was only due to God : considering all 
 these things, it is with the greatest reason imaginable to be 
 supposed, that this was a stated course with him of family 
 religion. He resolved, that his worship should be, as it 
 was aforetime, open in his house. And thereupon the ad- 
 vantage was taken against him. 
 
 The instance of the centurion is very observable, and 
 observed by many, in Acts x. 2. He is said to be a devout 
 man, a religious man, that feared God, (that is an ordinary 
 expression to signify worship ; he was a worshipper of 
 God,) with all his house. He was a worshipping person, 
 and his family a worshipping family: "And he prayed 
 unto God alway." Afterwards you read in the chapter, 
 that at the time when the angel appeared to him, he was 
 praying in his house, (ver. 30.) house being put for house- 
 hold, as is ordinary. He was praying in his family in his 
 ordinary course; and there he had the benign appearance 
 of that kind messenger from heaven, to direct him to the 
 way by which he might come to a more distinct know- 
 ledge of the Mediator, and of worshipping God in Christ. 
 According to the light he had, and the sincerity that God 
 had given him in proportion thereunto, his acceptance 
 above was declared before. But God resolved to help 
 hira, in the method and way which he most approved, 
 unto more distinct notices; and these he is directed how 
 to come by, even at the time when he was engaged in his 
 domestic performances of religion in his house. 
 
 We need not further to insist for the eviction of this 
 truth in the general, that there ought to be such a thing as 
 family religion. It were easy, if necessary, to add to all 
 these considerations, (and it ought to have some weight,) 
 the accounts that we otherwise have of the practice of the 
 primitive church, in those earlier times of it whereof we 
 have any account, since the completing of the canon of 
 Scripture, That is, we are told by some of the ancients, 
 and in some of the early centuries, of the twofold social 
 prayer that was in common use among them, family prayer 
 and church prayer, or prayer in their church assemblies. 
 We are told, what things they were wont to insist upon in 
 prayer. Besides the spiritual blessings, which they con- 
 tinually and daily sought, and apprehended themselves to 
 need, they were wont to pray for the lives of the emperors 
 that ruled over them, though they were then pagans. And 
 this(saith that ancient author) was their constant practice, 
 both in their prayers in public assemblies, and in their own 
 houses. 
 
 Having gone through what I thought fit to offer in proof 
 of the substance of family religion, that there ought to be 
 such a thing ; I shall only hint this to you for a close : That 
 the great thing, which will either facilitate or obstruct a 
 general compliance with the mind of God in this matter, 
 will be the consideration that men shall have of their fami- 
 lies, that is, whether they will consider them as constitu- 
 tions for this world, or for the world to come. If you can 
 but agree with yourselves, under which of these notions 
 to look upon your families; accordingly your compliance 
 with the mind of God in this matter will either be facile 
 or difl[icult. 
 
 It is true, we are to have a very distinct consideration of 
 the nature of societies, from the ends of them. There are 
 societies, that in their design, and consequently in their 
 nature, are purely civil ; and others, that in their design, 
 and consequently in their nature and constitution, are 
 purely sacred. Of the former sort are kingdoms and na- 
 tions and incorporate towns, and the like ; they are in their 
 very nature, because they are from their ends, purely civil 
 There are those that are purely sacred, as churches; the 
 very end and design, upon which they are collected, is wor- 
 ship and religion. But now families are the elements of 
 both these sorts of societies ; that is, both churches and 
 commonwealths are made up of families. Therefore both
 
 Serm. IV. 
 
 FAMILY RELIGION AND WORSHIP. 
 
 619 
 
 these must meet in a family, religion, and civil and secu- 
 lar business ; for the other societies, some whereof are 
 purely sacred, others purely civil, do arise out of families. 
 Persons are elements of families; families are the ele- 
 ments, of which both churches and kingdoms, or common- 
 wealths, are composed and made up. And as the one sort 
 of these is purely civil, the other purely sacred ; that which 
 is elementary unto both, must be both. And therefore 
 now, when any come to turn this matter in their thoughts, 
 " I am the head of a family ; but what sort of society is my 
 family 1 Is it made purely for this world, or for the world 
 to come 1" Sure, where the consideration of both worlds 
 meet, the other world should be superior or uppermost; 
 and therefore all things must be measured there with sub- 
 serviency and reference to that. But if any will say, " No ; 
 families are made only for this world :" then I would ask. 
 What is the world made for 1 Is it made for nothing ? Or 
 is it made for itself, to centre in itself, and to be its own 
 end 1 You can never avoid it, but that families must be 
 supremely and ultimately made for the other world ; and 
 then they are made for religion principally and chiefly. 
 And no man can behave himself well in any station or re- 
 lation in a family, that doth not let this thouglit lie deep 
 in his mind ; " My family, as well as others, is a consti- 
 tution made for religion, as well as for other businesses; 
 and principally for that noblest business ; for where both 
 meet, that must certainly be principal." 
 
 SERMON IV.* 
 
 In speaking of family religion, the method proposed 
 wa-s, to evince the obligation to it, in reference to the sub- 
 stance of the thing, and then in reference to the frequency 
 of it. 
 
 I. To the substance of the thing; that there ought to be 
 such a thing as family religion. The two last discourses'' 
 have been employed in the proof of this. We proceed to 
 speak somewhat also, 
 
 II. To the more doubted frequency of such religious 
 exercises, as lie within the compass of families, or where- 
 of families are to be the stated seats : how often, or at 
 what seasons, such family worship ought to be. And in 
 reference to this, 
 
 F^rst, I would suggest some few things, byway of pre- 
 paration. As, 
 
 1. That it will greatly concern us all to get an habitual 
 spirituality inwrought into the temper of our souls, in or- 
 der to our making a right judgment of this matter ; when, 
 at what time, how often, we ought to apply ourselves to 
 the exercises of .such family religion. If there be a frame 
 of spirit suitable to the general rules of practical religion 
 and godliness, the determination of this matter will be very 
 easy. But if there be a prevailing carnality, nothing will 
 be more difficult. And let me in this but appeal to your 
 own reason, to that common understanding that belongs 
 to us as we are an intelligent sort of creatures : that is, 
 you would be loath in other instances to commit any cause, 
 wherein you are concerned, especially if your all were 
 concerned in it, to the judgment of an enemy, if you could 
 help it. But " the carnal mind is enmity against God;" 
 not only an enemy, but enmity itself. And I beseech you, 
 do you think, that an enemy to God can be your friend ? 
 Therefore let not a carnal mind make a judgment in this 
 case ; whatsoever you do, let it not be judged by that mea- 
 sure; but labour to get an habitual spirituality inwrought 
 into your souls, and then the judgment of this case will lie 
 very easy. 
 
 2. We should look upon family religion, not merely 
 under the notion of a duty, and as imposed ; but as a pri- 
 vilege and a singular vouchsafement of grace, that there 
 may be such a thing; that God will be invocateol, or even 
 mentioned in our families, in the families of such wretched 
 
 * Preached December 31, 1M3. a See pa?e 613. &c. 
 
 b .Si qiiis ant privatiis a'lt i^ ililicti?, eonim (nemp'^ ilrniilunii decreto non .ste 
 terit. sarrifinii'i interdiciiiit. Hsec pcena apud eos est smvin-iima. tiuibiis ita 
 est iiiterdictiim, u numero impiorum ac scolcr.itorum Imboiitiir ; iio nii;iii's Ju . 
 
 cresiures as we, who inhabit the dark and dismal region 
 of this lower world ; that God will have wor>hip ascend 
 and go up to him from olf our earth, and out of our hou.^es 
 and families. Look upon it as a marvellou.s vouchsafe- 
 ment of grace ; and that will greatly facilitate the deiermi- 
 naiion of this case also. And nothing can be more oppro- 
 brious to us than not to think .so: that, when God doth so 
 far vouchsafe to let his tabernacle be with men on earth ; 
 " Every tabernacle of yours shall be my tabernacle ; if 
 you con.sent, if you donot shut me out, you shallno where 
 have a tabernacle but what shall be mine ; I, the high and 
 lofty One that inhabit eternity, am content to cohabit 
 with you, and to have your house for my sanctuary." 
 What a vouchsafement is this ! and how opprobrious a 
 thing not to count it so ! 
 
 It hath been accounted so, even in the very pagan world- 
 A divine presence, to have a praslo numen, a numen at 
 hand and ready, how great a privilege hath it been reck- 
 oned ! In the dark and dismal days of poperj', when that 
 hath been regnant, what a terrible thing hath it been ac- 
 counted to excommunicate a nation ; to put it under an in- 
 terdict, that there should be no religion in that nation ! 
 Our own records tells us, how such a thing hath been un- 
 derstood and resented in this Innd in former days. And if 
 we look further and further back into the days of pagan- 
 ism, I remember Ca;sar in his Commentaries b tells us, 
 that the ancient Gauls did reckon no more terrible punL'-h- 
 ment could he put upon them, than to be interdicted the 
 sacrifices. And by that means it wa.s, that their Arch-fia- 
 mens ruled over them; lliey were mere absolute governors 
 among that people, because if they would not be pre- 
 scribed to and directed bj' them in every case, if they 
 would not suffer them to take up all controversies among 
 them, they would presently forbid them the sacrilices; 
 than which no penalty was reckoned more^ nor any so 
 grievous. 
 
 Now let us consider the matter so. What if instead of 
 being bidden to pray in our families, we should be forbic - 
 den to pray in them 1 Make but that fearful .supposition, 
 to see how it will relish with you. Suppose there should 
 be a particular interdict upon your house; suppose by 
 some special signification of the mind of God from heaven 
 it should be said, " I will allow all the neighbouring 
 houses to call upon me, but I will have no worship out of 
 your house ; let all the rest in the street worship me, and 
 I will hear and accept them, but from your house I will 
 accept no sacrifice, I will hear no prayer." What a terri- 
 ble doom were this ! What a dark and horrid cloud would 
 be drawn over that habitation, if it should be said, " Here 
 shall be no prayer, here shall be no mention of the name 
 of God !" So that, as in a like case represented to us in 
 reference to the people of the Jews, the poor forlorn mem- 
 bers of that family should say, " We may not make men- 
 tion of the name of the Lord," Amos vi. 10. What a di.s- 
 mal thing were this ! Labour but to get your souls pos- 
 sessed with the apprehension, that the liberty of family 
 worship is a great pri\ilcge ; and let that be forelaid in 
 your minds, when you come to determine with yourselves 
 about the frequency, how often we shall solace ourselves 
 with this gracious vouchsalement of God from heaven unto 
 us. Then it will be no hard thing to determine. And 
 take this also, 
 
 3. That in reference to the determination of this matter, 
 the same consideration is to be had of family religion, that 
 we formerly told you was to be had of r^Migion in general; 
 that is, that it ought to be considered, either as a noniage 
 to God, or as an advantage to ourselves. And so ii will 
 be easy hence to determine, that tlie exercise of family 
 religion ought to be so frequent, as religion considered 
 under this twofold notion doth require ; as frequent as a 
 homage lo God is to be paid, and as our own spiritual ad- 
 vantage is to be sought : as frequently as that can be in 
 consislencv with the other necessary affairs of human life. 
 For indeed nothing is plainer, and that therefore must with 
 less hesiiancv be granted, than that nothing can be at that 
 time necessary, when that which is inconsistent with it 
 
 reilnnf. nditum eomni sermonemqiie defngiuiif. ne qiiid OT contvione incom- 
 inodi acripiant : neqiio iis ivtentilHis ju« redditur. ne<iiie hoiiiK ullui commuiu- 
 catus. Cesar, de Bell. Gallic. L. «. sect- 13. edit. Clcr.
 
 6^0 
 
 THE OBLIGATIONS TO 
 
 Serm. IV. 
 
 is Inily necessary. That must be acknowledged. But 
 then there is a great deal of caution to be used in judging 
 of this necessity that shall exclude for this or that time so 
 great a thing as a solemn exercise of religion out of a 
 family. It must be a great thing, that shall prevail to 
 exclude that. 
 
 But let me ask myself the question ; I am one that ow- 
 eth a homage to God, and so doth my family. When do I 
 not owe it 1 And when doth my family not owe it ; so that 
 if I have opportunity, consi.stent with the other necessary 
 occasions of human life, that opportunity should not be 
 taken V And whereas religion, and so family religion, 
 is a means of advantage to ourselves and them, as well as 
 a homage to God; when can it be said, I stand in no need 
 of the exercises of religion, or that those under my care 
 do not, when those exercises can be had consistently with 
 the other necessary occasions of human life 1 These 
 things being premonished, 
 
 Secondly, I shall now offer somewhat by way of deter- 
 minaiion of the propounded case. As, 
 
 1. Nothing is plainer, than that the exercises of family 
 religion ought to be daily. That seems out of all question. 
 Every day will I bless thee, Psalm cxlv. 2. A synecdochi- 
 cal expression of religion ; and that cannot be understood 
 for any reason reaching a particular person, which will 
 not reach a family too. And so the same thing is to be 
 said to that in Psalm cxli. 2. Let my prayer be set before 
 thee as incense; (that was stated solemn prayer ;) and the 
 uplifting of ray hands as the evening sacrifice. That is, 
 every evening let it go up as incense. That was a juge 
 sacrificium, a daily solemnity. So look to that direction 
 given us by our Lord, to pray for our daihj bread, day by 
 day. He tieih us not indeed to the use of those very 
 words. So the instruction being given occasionally, plainly 
 enough signifieth, that he did not intend this direction as 
 a form ; but that he directs it only as a summary or a 
 form to be used with Christian wisdom and understand- 
 ing, in enlarging upon the particulars contained in that 
 prayer, and to guide and direct ourselves thereby in our 
 solemn addresses unto God. Though also the use of these 
 verj'- words, as they lie, nobody can doubt to be lawful ; 
 yet, that they are enjoined, and so made necessar}'', there 
 is little reason to affirm. But however, take them as a 
 general direction in reference unto prayer; they signify 
 that the things to be prayed for are to be daily prayed for. 
 " Give us this day our daily bread ;" this day. At the 
 same time, when we pray for all things contained in that 
 prayer, we are to pray too for daily bread. And that this 
 is meant of social prayer, and that this direction is given 
 to the disciples with reference to their praying together, to 
 let them know what things they should insist upon in 
 prayer, is made more than probable by the form of speech. 
 For, when our Saviour was directing secret or closet 
 prayer. Matt. vi. 6. then he saith, TAom; " Thou, when 
 thou prayest, enter into thy closet, and shut thy door," &c. 
 But when he cometh to give this direction concerning 
 prayer, he saith. Ye. He speaks to them in the plural 
 number; and directs them to speak in the plural number, 
 " Our father," &c. And therefore, that it was social 
 prayer, about which he giveth this direction; the prayer 
 of such as could daily pray together ; that seems most evi- 
 dent ; and therefore also that such exercises of religion 
 ought to be daily. 
 
 2. Such exercises of religion ought to be every day 
 more than once. We read sometimes of thrice in a day. 
 Psalm. Iv. 17. Evening, and morning, and at noon I will 
 pray, and cry aloud ; and he shall hear my voice. This 
 in all likelihood must refer too to family prayer. He speaks 
 of crying with his voice, a loud voice. And so the be- 
 fore-mentioned instance of Daniel, which seems most 
 likely to be meant of family religion, the prayer or reli- 
 gion of his family, was with him thrice a day. And in- 
 deed so it cannot but be in religious families ; that is, that 
 at least at noon there will be solemn invocation of God in 
 reference to the use of his creatures; which, the apostle 
 saiih, " are good, if they be received with thanksgiving, 
 but they are sanctified by the word of God and prayer," 1 
 Tim. iv. 4, 5. There must be prayer to sanctify the crea- 
 tures ; or else they are unholy things to you, profane 
 things. It is unhallowed m.eat and drink. And therefore, 
 
 3. I doubt not, it is with a great deal of reason, and 
 from Scripture light too, to be determined, that the exer- 
 cises of religion ought to be steadily twice a day, that is, 
 with greater solemnity. This is spoken of as a most 
 comely and becoming thing, a thing that carries its own 
 greatness along with it, (Psalm xcii. 1, 2.) " It is a good 
 thing to give thanks unto the Lord, and to sing praises im- 
 to thy name, O most high ; (giving of thanks being one es- 
 sential part of prayer ;) to show forth thy loving-kindness 
 in the morning, and thy faithfulness every night." There 
 can be no reason assigned, why this should concern one par- 
 ticular person, more than why it should concern every per- 
 son ; no more, why it should concern the masterof a family 
 alone, than those under his care. If the reason of the thing 
 extend to a family as such, the thing itself ought to extend 
 to a family as such. That is with serious and apprehen- 
 sive minds and spirits to convene and meet together, to 
 give God his due acknowledgment for his loving-kind- 
 ness every morning, and his faithfulness every night. 
 
 And you see how the Psalmist represents this case in 
 Psalm xlii. 8. The Lord will command his loving-kind- 
 ness in the day-time, and in the night his song shall be 
 with me, and my praj'^er unto the God of my life. Observe, 
 how his vu^Bfjjicfiat, his days and nights, were composed 
 and made up, by the continual meeting together of God's 
 loving-kindness and of his prayer and song every day and 
 every night, morning and evening ; so it is to be under- 
 stood. " Thy loving-kindness and my prayer and praise 
 shall meet one another. So shall my mornings and even- 
 ings be continually made up of that grateful contexture, 
 of mercy and loving-kindness on thy part, and of prayer 
 and praise on mine." But this cannot concern a particu- 
 lar person upon any reason, but upon which it will equally 
 concern his family, that religious exercises should be there 
 in a stated and continual course. 
 
 I may further reason this matter by some few consider- 
 ations. 
 
 Suppose any will admit, (which in itself is sufficiently 
 evident,) that it is a very reasonable thing, and manifestly 
 the mind of God, that there should be daily exercises of 
 religion in our families; then I would fain know, which 
 should be excluded, if you would have one excluded 1 
 The Lord saith, morning and night ; which would you 
 have excluded, the morning or the evening sacrifice 1 
 
 Would you exclude the morning exercise of religion 1 
 Pray how dare )'ou think of that 1 Would not you desire 
 God's blessing on your family this day 1 Would you not 
 have the labours of the several members of it to be pros- 
 pered and succeeded this day 1 Ask yourselves seriously 
 that question ; do not you desire a blessing should descend 
 this morning upon your family as such 1 Again, do not 
 you know, that this world is a place of snares and tempta- 
 tions 1 How dare you adventure your sons and daughters 
 and servants into the world, without praying down a bless- 
 ing upon thcrh, beibre they go forth or set about their bu- 
 siness 1 Suppose a disaster should happen, suppose a 
 member of your family should be drawn into some scan- 
 dalous wickedness; would it not be an uncomfortable re- 
 flection, " I ventured them out without family prayer; see 
 what comes of it. Here is a blot and disgrace brought 
 upon my family ; was not this owing to my self-confi- 
 dence, to neglect of God 1 was it not, because I was con- 
 tent to let mine go out abroad unblestl I forgot, that the 
 world, the persons or things that they might have to do 
 with, were all full of snares ; this was not considered and 
 taken to heart, and God hath let such a blast befall me or 
 mine upon this account." 
 
 Or would you omit the evening exercise of religion in 
 your family, of one sort and another 1 How can you think 
 of that "? Do you need none to watch over you this night 1 
 Doth not your house need a better keeper than you can be, 
 especially when you are asleep ; the Keeper of Israel, who 
 neither slumbereth nor sleepeth 1 When we dwell in the 
 midst of continual dangers, as we have so frequent expe- 
 rience ; when some, that went to bed possessed of comfort- 
 able habitations, are unhoused and outed of all by the 
 morning? Is it not pretended, that family prayer or family 
 religion will be a certain protection of your habitations 
 from such disasters, as experience hath from time to lime 
 shown ; but I would appeal to you concerning the differ-
 
 Serm. V. 
 
 FAMILY RELIGION AND WORSHIP. 
 
 62t 
 
 ence, suppose such a calamity to befall a religious family, 
 and suppose it to befall an impious ungodly lamily. On 
 ihe one hand, " My family hath been the seat of religion ; 
 I have desired, that God might be served and honoured 
 there ; of this I have been studious to the uttermost." How 
 free and easy is the way of acce.ss to God, when such a 
 person is not affrighted by guilt, and the horrors of an 
 amazed conscience ! But on the other side, to be forced to 
 say, " I can look for no relief from God in this case, for I 
 have neglected him, I have forsaken him and banished 
 him my house and habitation ; he had no abode or dwell- 
 ing with me, no acknowledgment or worship from me and 
 mine." What will this issue in 1 But if there be no such 
 bar in the way between God and us ; " Now my habitation 
 is consumed and turned into flames and ashes, I have no 
 dwelling; but thanks be to God, the secret of the Divine 
 presence lielh open to me ; I can go to him and say. Lord, 
 thou hast been thy people's habitation through all genera- 
 tions. I shall never be destitute of a dwelling, as long a.s 
 I have such a God to go to, and may solace myself in his 
 love." For he that dwelleth in love, dwelleth in God, and 
 God in him. How unsolicitous will that heart be, that 
 finds itself possessed of a dwelling in the Divine love I 
 That love will carry through all the straits and difficulties 
 of time, and provide richly for us in an immense eternity 
 that shall ensue. This makes a vast difference betwixt 
 one that serveth the Lord and one that serveth him not. 
 
 Further ; How are we directed by the course of nature 
 itself? Do you think that those diurnal alternations of day 
 and night carry no signification with them to an intelligent 
 sort of creatures 1 When it is so inculcated to us in Scrip- 
 ture, what sacred things those ordinances of day and night 
 are, and the statedness of their succession to one another ; 
 what can this intend, but to give us a measure as to the 
 exercises of religion ? Why else should this be so much 
 insisted on, and we be called to fix our eye and take more 
 special notice of those two great luminaries in this world 
 of ours, "the sun that rules b}' day, and the moon that 
 rules by night V We are taught by nature itself to shape 
 our other afiairs accordingly. " Thou makest darkness, 
 and it is night : — The sun ariseth ; — Man goeth forth to his 
 work and to his labour, until the evening," Psalm civ. 20, 
 22, 23. May he indeed do so, and shall he not take God 
 along with him 1 And when the return of night calls him 
 back from his affairs, ought he not then to be put in mind, 
 who must be his keeper while he slumbers and sleeps, 
 even that Keeper that never slumbers nor sleeps 1 
 
 That it might be more expressly signified unto us, how 
 nature may and should be a measure unto us of religion, 
 as to this thing ; do but take notice of that passage in 
 Amos V. 8. Seek him (though these words, " seek him," 
 are not in the Hebrew text in this verse, yet they are in the 
 words but a little before, in several verses, and it is plain 
 ought to be repeated or understood here, as the sense itself 
 dictateth:) "Seek ye me, and ye shall live. Seek not 
 Bethel, nor enter into Gilgal, and pass not lo Beersheba. 
 Seek the Lord, and ye shall live. Seek him that made the 
 seven stars and Orion, and turneth the shadow of death 
 into the morning, and maketh the day dark with night," 
 &c. Seek him that doth so and so ; Avhat is the meaning 
 of that 1 Seek him, because he doth so and so; seek him 
 under that notion, as it is he that maketh the day dark 
 with night, and turneth the shadow of death into the morn- 
 ing. What stupid, insensible creatures shall we be, if so 
 wonderful a change doth not instruct us ! If such a 
 change were not common, it would be a subject of the 
 greatest wonder to us. But that is the infirmity uf our 
 minds, that great things are little regarded, because they 
 are common. That there should be that steady course 
 kept in nature, as to make so vast a change in the world 
 within the space of twenty-four hours, as the vicissitudes 
 of day and night, of light and darkness; that we should 
 have the brightness of an orient sun illustrating our hemi- 
 sphere, and that within so man)' hours it is gone, and the 
 shadow of death covers it ; certainly this should set all 
 religious minds upon adoring that Author of nature, that 
 doth this in so steady a course, and in a way so un.^peak- 
 ably above all human conception, and which makes so 
 many indeterminable controversies and disputes among the 
 
 • Preached Jannary Hll), 16W. 
 
 wisest philosophers, that are never like to be decided as 
 long as this world lasts; particularly whether it be the 
 earth that successively moves to the sun, or whether it be 
 the sun that is whirled about the earth. The latter of these 
 is so unapprehensible a thing, that the sun should run so 
 vast a circle in so little a space of lime, that it hath made 
 many very considering men more to incline to the other 
 opinion. But that we should be compa.ssed about daily, 
 once in twenty-four hours, with the strange vicissitudes of 
 day and night, and not Ije disposed thereupon to adoration, 
 is a most unaccouniable thing; and will .speak the inha- 
 bitants of this earth to be as stupid, as the earth on which 
 they dwell. 
 
 But the idolatry of pagans will be a testimony against 
 Christians, if it should be .so. What tempted ihern to that 
 idulatrous notion of worshipping the sun and moon, but 
 that they thought them to be a sort of deities, from whom 
 they received such a continual course of favours, that they 
 thought they did owe continual adoration to them there- 
 upon 1 If they falsely thought so, how truly and justly 
 should we do what they have thought, if we reckon ilial 
 the God of heaven and earth, of sim and moon, and of the 
 whole creation, doth in such wisdom and in such kind- 
 ness and benignity to us provide, that there should be so 
 necessary an alternation, as this of light and darkness in 
 so continued a course ! 
 
 What then doth this require and call for from us? To 
 seek the Lord upon this account, the Lord that maketh the 
 day dark with night, and that turneth the shadow of death 
 into the morning. He doth even impose upon as those 
 daily acknowledgments and acts of worship morning and 
 evening, by the very course and current of nature itstlf, as 
 he is the Author and God of nature. And wonder not, 
 that the light and law of nature is so often appealed unio 
 in this case. It is what we find the apostle does in a mat- 
 ter of far less import, than this that is now before us ; when 
 he speaks about the business of hair, 1 Cor. xi. 14. Surely 
 we are to act according to the unerring plain dictates of 
 nature, in so great and important a matter as this Ls, much 
 more. 
 
 I might further add upon all this that general precept, 
 Phil. iv. 8. " Whatsoever things are honest, comelii, what- 
 soever things are lovely, of good report, think on these 
 things." What a lovely thing is a praying, orderly family ! 
 a family, where religion is kept up in a stated course, so as 
 that that course is a^ constant as the course of daj- and 
 night! It is not left to us as a mere arbitrary thing, whe- 
 ther we will do things lovely, comely, honest, and of good 
 report, yea or no; but as a necessary thing, founded upon 
 necessary reasons. And therefore to be unconcerned and 
 indifferent, whether those of our family (if we have fami- 
 lies) do things so necessary, or not, is a contradiction in 
 terms ; for it is to say, that which is necessary is not ne- 
 cessary ; or, it is an indifferent thing, whether that which 
 is necessary be done or not done. 
 
 SERMON V.' 
 
 Having endeavoured to evince to you, that there ought 
 to be such a thing as family religion; and then to show 
 you, what we weie to conceive and practice, a-s to the fre- 
 quency of the exerci.ses of it, or when and at what times it 
 ought to be performed ; I would further speak to a q^ifsiion 
 or two relating to this matter, and answer one or two 
 objections, and so shut up all with some Use. 
 
 There are some questions that occur, which may require 
 some consideration. 
 
 Cluestion I. Some have desired tobe informed. "Whether 
 in case of the absence or sickness of a husband from or in 
 the familv, it be incumbent on the wife to keep up family 
 duty in such a case V' And the case is the same a^ to 
 widows, or others of that sex, who are sole governesses of 
 families. 
 
 Answer. It must be said in general to this, that one
 
 622 
 
 THE OBLIGATIONS TO 
 
 Skrm. V. 
 
 rule cannot be suited to all cases. There maybe very great 
 variet}^, as circumstances differ. But, 
 
 1. Nothing is plainer, than that while the conjugal re- 
 latives remain, the female relation hath a real part in the 
 government of the family. That is plainly enough a.sserted 
 in I Tim. v. 14. that it is the woman's part to "guide the 
 house." The word is otKoicoTroTciv, to have a despolical power 
 in the family, a governing power ; which must be solely 
 in her in the absence or failure of the other relative ; and 
 that must by no means be abandoned or quitted. And 
 whereas all power and all order is from God, it cannot be 
 denied or disowned or laid aside without an injury to 
 him. 
 
 2. Hereupon, if there be in a family a prudent pious son, 
 or a prudent pious man-servant, who may be assigned to 
 this work ; it may fitly enough be done by such a one by 
 her appointment. And so the authority that belongs to her 
 in her station, is preserved, and the thing done. That such 
 a work as that is may be assigned to another, is out of all 
 doubt, and ought to be so, where it may most fitly and most 
 duly be so. And none question the fitness of assigning 
 such a work statedly to another, in such families where per- 
 sons are kept on purpo.se for the discharge of family duties. 
 
 3. It is po.s.sible, there may be families, that do entirely 
 at present consist of those that are of the female sex; and 
 concerning them there is no question. 
 
 4. Where the family is more numerous, and consists of 
 the male sex, of whom none are fit or willing to undertake 
 that business, and it cannot be done by the governess with 
 decency or to edification ; in that case she is to follow the 
 example of Esther, (a very laudable one.) with her maid- 
 ens and younger children still to keep up to this worship 
 in her family ; and, as much as in her lies, to warn and 
 charge the rest, that they be not omi.ssive for their part, 
 (though they do not concur with them,) together or .seve- 
 rally in calling on the name of the Lord daily. 
 
 Cluestion II. A second question that occurs in this ca.se, 
 is, " Whether, where there is no competent ability to per- 
 form such a duty, as that of family prayer, with decency 
 and edifyingness, it be fit to make use of helps, the pre- 
 conceived words of others'?" 
 
 Answer. As to that the matter seems to me so plain, 
 that we need make no long discourse about it. I make no 
 question at all, but that the substance of every duty is to 
 take place of circumstance. It is better that the duty be 
 done, than that upon the account of a mere circumstance it 
 should be omitted and let alone. And there are useful 
 helps, such as " The Practice of Piety," and other good 
 books contain in them, which may fitly be made use of for 
 that purpose ; provided that they be not rested in, or that 
 there be not a design of taking up there. 
 
 But persons in that case are more to study the Scrip- 
 tures, the excellencies and attributes of the Divine nature, 
 the natures and office.^ of Christ; to acquaint themselves 
 with the particular office of the Holy Gho.st, as he is the 
 Spirit of grace and supplication; and to study their own 
 hearts more, and to consider what are their true necessi- 
 ties. And in time, if people do conscientiously lalour to 
 make themselves acquainted with these things, and espe- 
 cially to get a sense upon their own hearts of their own 
 true and great spiritual necessities ; that will easily furnish 
 them with matter, and matter will dictate words. Every 
 one can tell, how eloquent necessity is wont to make beg- 
 gars, that are pinched with want and hunger ; they do not 
 use to want words to represent their case. And for a more 
 special help in this matter, if any such as make it a matter 
 of doubt, would but allow themselves the leisure and give 
 themselves the trouble, (but shall any call it a trouble'? 
 they would not account it so, if they did the thing,) to 
 peruse Bishop Wilkin's treatise about " The Gift of 
 Prayer ;" they would there see, not only what the judg- 
 ment of so great a man was, concerning the best and most 
 eligible way of managing our addresses to God in prayer; 
 but how also an ability may be obtained through the grace 
 and blessing of God, ior applying ourselves in the name' 
 and on the behalf of others to God in prayer. 
 
 But there is yet an objection or two, that needs to be 
 considered. 
 
 Objection I. Some will say perhaps, " That they want 
 time, and that their necessary secular affairs cannot admit 
 
 of time for a stated course of family wor.-^hip, morning and 
 evening." As there can be no reason, as you have heard, 
 alleged for the one of these times, that will not be as 
 weighty for the other. 
 
 Answer. To this I have several things to say. 
 
 1. It would be a very great piece of justice, if such, as 
 are wont to object, would but represent the case as truly 
 it is ; that is, that they would rather say, they want hearts 
 than that they want time. Undoubtedly, where there is a 
 bent of heart right set in this matter, time will be found ; 
 it will not be a difficulty to find it. 
 
 2. I would fain know of such, why they do not object 
 too, that they cannot find time to have solemn meals in 
 their families, set meals; that they cannot find lime for 
 eating or drinking, no, nor for sleeping. But are these 
 things more necessary than religion"? What is become of 
 their understanding ■? How forlorn an understanding is 
 that grown, that can apprehend a necessity for set and ap- 
 pointed seasons for repa.st and the repairing of natural de- 
 cays, and cannot apprehend a necessity of constant family 
 religion, or seem to think of that as a matter less necessary ! 
 Will they pretend to believe, that they have souls, immor- 
 tal spirits about them; and that an immortal mind or 
 .spirit is a more valuable thing than a clod of clay "? Do 
 we need to maiie speeches to Christians or to men for such 
 purposes as the.>e 1 Therefore I add again, 
 
 3. It is very true, that nothing is at that time necessary, 
 when somewhat inconsistent therewith is truly necessary. 
 That is a concession, that must be stated and established, 
 for it cannot be shaken. And therefore we are to lake our 
 measures, not against it, but by it, and according to it. 
 For in morality it is impossible that necessaries should be 
 repugnant one to another, any more than that truths can ; 
 that one duty to be practised should be contrary to another 
 duty, than that one truth to be believed should be contrary 
 to another truth. They are all of a family, of a kind and 
 alliance, and very easily reconcilable with one another. 
 But as we formerly had occasion to mind you, so I must 
 remind you, that it is the good man's character, that he 
 "orders his affairs with discretion." If men will do this, 
 they will then find out ways and methods, how to reconcile 
 their important necessary affairs with one another. 
 
 There are cases, wherein even a religious duly itself 
 must yield and give place to other necessary occurrences. 
 It may not only in some cases be lawful, but a duty, to in- 
 termit the course of family duty in the ordinary season 
 thereof. As, suppose a person be taken with a sudden, sur- 
 prising fit, that endangers life, and requires the pre.><ent 
 attendance of all the house ; or suppose my house be on 
 fire, or my neighbour's house. The strict observance of 
 the religion of the sabbath-day was among the Jews dis- 
 pensed with upon a less occasion, when there was but an 
 ox or a sheep to be pulled out of a ditch. 
 
 But if any will pretend such necessary occasions to be 
 constant, then the pretence overthrows itself; that they 
 must constantly or in an ordinary course exclude religion 
 out of their families upon account of their constant or or- 
 dinary secular business. If this be pretended, the very 
 pretence showeth it to be a false necessitj', or the false pre- 
 tence of a necessity; and so is a pretence, that doth over- 
 throw itself even in the allegation. This is none of those 
 cases, to which that great maxim is applicable, that "God 
 will have mercy and not sacrifice." Such cases there are ; 
 but these cannot be constant : for then there could be no 
 such thing as sacrifice ; that is, religion upon these terms 
 must quite be thrown out of doors and out of the world. 
 
 4. I would appeal to yourselves, or to ordinary observa- 
 tion, whether it be not evident that there are many in- 
 stances in former and latter time, that make it manifest that 
 there maybe diligence in a calling, and great success upon 
 such diligence; and yet no exclusion of family religion, 
 but that kept up in great constancy and order 1 I believe 
 you, or mostof yoUj can instance in many such observable 
 cases. And if I shotild instance them to you, many of you 
 would upon knowledge consent and concur with me. 
 
 I doubt not, but that many of you have seen the Life of that 
 famous man Mr. Ignatius Jordan, who fifty or sixty years 
 aa:o was a magistrate and sometimes mayor of the noted city 
 of Exeter. I mention him because, besides his extant Life, I 
 have had opportunities to converse with seme, that lived a
 
 Sehm. V. 
 
 FAMILY RELIGION AND WORSHIP. 
 
 r,23 
 
 considerable time in his family ; and who did assure me, 
 that his daily course was to s^o to bed early, and to take 
 care that his family should do so too. Then generally he 
 was up first of all the house; usually at four o'clock in the 
 morning, both winter and summer. Two hours he com- 
 monly spent alone in his secret devotions. About si.x 
 o'clock, it was his .usual way to call his family together, 
 \nd to spend a considerable time in the serious exercises 
 of religion among them : and so all went with great order 
 about their several afi'airs and businesses about seven. 
 A very signal instance of the easy reconcileableness (by the 
 use of discretion and prudence) of religion with secular 
 business ! And an instance too, how discernible a blessing 
 did ensue and follow upon all ; so as to leave it no matter 
 of objection against religion, that it must impoverish the 
 families into which it comes. 
 
 Nor should I doubt the concurrence of more of you, if 
 I should instance in the known conduct of alderman Ash- 
 arst." I have had opportunity myself to know much of 
 the order of his family in this respect, as to the daily ex- 
 ercises of religion in it. And I think his posterity left 
 behind are a sufficient proof to you, that religion doth not 
 beggar a family. 
 
 I mention these instances, not as if I thought an opulent 
 condition in the world to be any considerable part of the 
 reward of religion, or any constant reward of it. That 
 were to dishonour religion, to think that we should need 
 to mention so mean a thing, as outward and worldly pros- 
 perity, wealth and riches, as the recompense and reward 
 of religion. There are much greater things to be men- 
 tioned, the secret blessing of God upon a man's spirit ; the 
 hoped blessing, that may descend upon one's relatives: the 
 peace, that a man shall have in his own bosom, from the 
 consideration of his not having the blood of souls on his 
 head, the blood of children, and the blood of servants, for 
 not having taken care of their souls: the instinctive good 
 remembrance, that such a one will leave behind him ; 
 which may be of use to others, when he is dead and gone : 
 the glory that he brings to God : the eternal recompenses 
 that sincere religion will find at the last : the present 
 pleasure and satisfaction, that a man will have, while he 
 survives, where God blesseth his endeavours ; and where 
 he can see godly children springing up under the influence 
 of godliness practised and kept up in the family ; or a godly 
 servant becoming or made such under his eye, though it 
 was not always so ; it may be, he may see such a child or 
 servant gone out of his family, and planting other families. 
 What a comfort is it to the heart of a man in such a case, 
 to see the godly, praj'ing parent and master of such an- 
 other famil}^ ; who must say, he carried his religion out 
 of my family, and that God blessed the worship and reli- 
 gion of my house so to season his spirit, that I can reckon 
 such or such a religious family springing out of mine ! 
 What a comfort is this ! 
 
 But what I speak of worldly emolument, (as sometimes 
 by the especial blessing of God a consequent, though not a 
 necessary or constant consequent of family religion,) hath 
 this further design — That if this be the case with any of 
 you, that 3''ou are descended of godly parents, and sprung 
 out of families where religion was kept up, and there is a 
 blessing descended upon you in inward respects also ; if 
 God hath enlarged your portion as to the things of this life, 
 and with that blessing hath blessed you indeed ; then I 
 reckon the mention of such instances may be useful to 
 such a~ V ju in this respect ; that you may take encourage- 
 ment and understand your engagement from thence to keep 
 up the religion which you find hath not been a useless dis- 
 advantageous thing to your famil}-. — Religion hath not 
 dishonoured your families, nor you : do not you dishonour 
 it ; be not ashamed of the religion of your fathers, who 
 have gone before you in this way and course. In the last 
 place, as to the objection of want of lime, I would add, that, 
 
 5. It ought deeply to be considered, whether more time 
 might not be redeemed, not only from such occasions a.s 
 are in a degree necessary, but from such as are altogether 
 unnecessary ; and this without any prejudice to health 1 
 Where such an allegation is used and stood upon, ceriaitily 
 one half hour without any great prejudice might be gained 
 
 a The father of Sir Henry Asliurst, Bart, and of Sir Wilham Ashursf, Kiit. 
 Lord Mayor of London in 1693, when these sermons were preached. 
 
 from sleep by rising so much the earlier in the morning. 
 But as that rnay be said to be a gaming and sparing of 
 time from that which is necessary, how much more may 
 be gained from that which is unnecessary 1 And about 
 that I must appeal to yourselves. I know not other people's 
 circumstances, but every one is supposed to know his own : 
 and so yourselves know, whether some lime might not he 
 spared from the coflise-house, or from unsea.v.nable vigils, 
 at that hour of the day that would be mo.st fit for the reli- 
 gion and worship of your family. I can but appeal to 
 yourselves, whether it maj'^ not be so. 
 
 I know, it may possibly be alleged in a particular ca.se, 
 if it be asked, " Why were you not at a more seasonable 
 hour about the exerci.ses of religion in your family?" 
 Why, " I was obliged to observe such an appointment with 
 such a one about business in a coffee-house or a tavern." 
 But I would inquire ; Is it necessary, that this mu.st be con- 
 stantly so, or more ordinarily so "? Or can it not be pro- 
 vided, that such meetings might be at more seasonable 
 hours, so as not to exclude family duty in its proper sea- 
 son ; that is, to occasion it either to be quite laid a.^ide, or 
 (w'hich may be as culpable) to be deferred to so late an 
 hour of the day or night, (for the greatest danger of this 
 kind is in the evening,) till every one naturally is more 
 disposed to sleep, than to prayer, or to hear God's word 
 read or opened to them 1 Might it not be managed other- 
 wise 1 And then may I not appeal to you, whether this be 
 not an affront to the majesty of God 1 According to ibal 
 which is urged by the prophet Malachi, (ch. i. 13.) "When 
 ye bring that which was torn, and the lame and the sick lor 
 an offering, should I accept this at your hand I saiih the 
 Lord." Or, as in ver. 8. " is not such a sacrifice evil ? 
 Oflfer it now unto thy governor; will he be pleased with 
 thee 1" It is to offer God an afliont, instead of a sacrifice ; 
 the worship of a carcase, instead of a living sacrifice or 
 service. It speaks your contempt of the Divine Maje>iy, 
 when you dare ordinarily presume to do so; insltad of thin 
 reverence which ought to animate all your worship. 
 
 And therefore about this, no other coiiise can be taken 
 by one who shall preach to you upon such an occasion, 1 lit 
 only to leave you to serious communing about this mailer 
 between God and your own souls. Bring the case before 
 him, and consider your rule, and consider your judge ; for 
 you are not to be final judges, nor are you to judse arbi- 
 tarily in a subordinate way, but by rule. 
 
 Consider, I say, the rules you are to judge by, what such 
 laws as these lay upon us. Whatsoever we do, ^^e are to 
 do all to the glory of God, 1 Cor. x. 31. Can you go to 
 God ill this case, and say, " Lord, I appeal to thee, who 
 knowest all things, whether I was not about business at 
 the coffee-house or tavern, which did more lend to elurily 
 thee, than inspecting my family would then have done ; 
 than reading out of thy holy word or calling upon thy 
 name would then have done." 
 
 We are required to do all that we do in the name of our 
 Lord Jesus Christ, Col. iii. 17. A most awful ihoucht 
 that ! This is to run through our lives, to do all we do in 
 the name of our Lord Jesus. Nor is it an unreasonable 
 thing, that this law should he laid upon us. For by whose 
 vouchsafement and procurement is it, that we have a 
 being in this world ? It is '■ by him that all things consist." 
 This world, if it had not been for him, would have been 
 pulled in pieces about the cars of its inhabitants many a 
 year ago. It was said concerning Joseph, exalted in ihat 
 high trust in Egypt ; and it was said to him by the prince 
 upon the throne, " Without thee shall no man lift up bis 
 hand or his foot in all the land of Egypt," Gen. xli. 4-1. If 
 God say so concerning him, of whom that Joseph was but 
 a type, our glorious blessed Lord : " The creation is giv«^ 
 to thee, it might have been all made 'o vanish into nothing 
 long ago, but" it is now devolved into ihy hands; be thou 
 absobUe arbiter of lii'c and death, and of all concernments 
 to ihis whole creation ; all power is given to thee in heavm 
 :ind in earih :" ihis being the slate of the case, it is not an 
 unreasonable law that I now mention, iha: what.«;oever ye 
 do in word or deed, ye should do all in the name of Ch' ist , 
 vou have nothing to do in this world, but in hi.^ name. 
 Now can you go by this rule, and say, " Lord, it was in
 
 624 
 
 THE OBLIGATIONS TO 
 
 Serm. VI. 
 
 the name of Jesus Christ, that I thought myself more 
 concerned to mind such and such business at a public 
 house at such an hour in the evening, rather than the one 
 business of my family in the exercises of religion ; rather 
 than in reasoning, and in opening and urging the Scrip- 
 tures to them, and calling on thy name with them 1" Let 
 these things be considered in the fear of God ; and not like 
 persons that mean to trifle in matters, wherein God will 
 not trifle with us one day. I need to do no more, than to 
 leave such cases to a communing between God and your 
 own souls. If you will let the matter be heard there, it 
 will bring the case before God, and the appeal will be 
 made to him about it. But if you will judge the matter 
 without hearing, and as the sole judges, when you are no 
 way so but in subordination ; if you will have it deter- 
 mined finally by an improper judgment, without debate, 
 without examining the mailer pro and con: this argueth a 
 bad cause and a guilty conscience; when you dare not try 
 the matter between God and your own souls ; and dare not 
 to see how it will go there, when there is none to audit 
 the account but He and you. 
 
 I would fain have you consider the matter in this light 
 day by day in such cases ; that, when you go to take your 
 rest at night, you may lie down and sleep in peace; not 
 because you do not consider the state of your case, whether 
 you have done your duty or not ; but because you have ; 
 and so can appeal to God about it, that you have done ac- 
 cording to the obligations of the Christian law, lying 
 upon you in reference to yourself and in reference to 
 yours. 
 
 Objection II. Some may say, " It is true they begin to 
 apprehend and admit a conviction, that it is very reason- 
 able and fit, there should be religion in families, even as 
 such ; but they know not how to master the great difficulty 
 of heginningy It hath been hitherto an unwonted thing 
 with them ; and if the truth of the matter should be con- 
 fessed, it would be plainly this, that they are ashamed to 
 be taken notice of by their relatives and dependants, as 
 those who have admitted a conviction that they have been 
 hitherto in the wrong. They think it will be an owning 
 if a sort of guilt in their omi.ssion hitherto, when they 
 shall set this on foot as a new course. 
 
 Answer. But methinks the providence of God hath 
 mighty opportunely provided you an answer against this 
 objection, if it hath any place in the minds of any ; by 
 ordering the matter so, that the duty should be recom- 
 mended so unanimously at the same time by so great a 
 body of the ministry, that in many considerable congrega- 
 tions in this city this subject of family religion hath newly 
 been insisted on at once. Is it a shame to hearken to the 
 voice of instructors, so instructed (as we may believe) of 
 God, as unitedly to give a kind oi cclcvsma, lo cry, " Come 
 let us all at once see what can be done to beat down the 
 erowing irreligion and profaneness of the age, and to re- 
 vive languishing religion, and to cause it to spring up 
 afresh in families !" 
 
 Oh what a comely, lovely example was London to the 
 rest of the Christian world, when religion and the order 
 of families was more generally kept up in it ! Such a lus- 
 tre in this respect did haidly shine upon any spot on earth, 
 as did upon this city. And when there is so common a 
 cry only to revive a former practice, should it be a shame 
 to hearken to it 1 
 
 We are indeed to take all heed imaginable, that this 
 may not degenerate into a dead or sleepy formality. It is 
 no necessary consequence, that it should do so. It is not 
 the design, either of the Scripture precept, or of them that 
 enforce such precepts upon you, that you should re-t in 
 the external form of this piece or part of religion ; but that 
 we should all labour to get the form filled up with life and 
 spirit more and more. And by how much the more it 
 shall be so ; as London hath been an eminent instance of 
 religion in former times and ages, especially since the 
 Ref^ormation, so it will be much more so. As it is grown 
 more in other respects, so may it through the blessing of 
 God grow in this respect also ! 
 
 We are expecting the time, when the Spirit of the Lord 
 is to be poured forth more copiously, more generally, and 
 in a greater measure, than hitherto: and what an honour 
 * Preached January 2l8t, 16W. 
 
 will it be, that shall be put upon London, if that shall be 
 made a luminary to so great a part of ihe world besides, 
 as such a city can fall under the notice and observation 
 of! Instead of shame, here will be glory. Do you glory 
 (instead of being ashamed) to bear your part in so noble a 
 design, to revive languishing religion in our land, and in 
 London, and in our age. If you think it fit, that Christ- 
 ian religion should not dwindle and go out in a snuff; oh, 
 contribute your utmost in j'our several stations, that it 
 may be more and more a spreading and vivid thing, such 
 as may spread and recommend itself. 
 
 SERMON VL* 
 
 We now proceed to the Use, which may be proper to be 
 made of all the foregoing discourses. And, 
 
 I. That which hath been said may be useful for our in- 
 struction in sundry inferences, which it will be very ob- 
 vious to deduce from it. 
 
 First, That if there ought to be such a thing as family 
 religion, then certainly there ought to be such a thing as 
 personal. For as families do suppose persons, and are 
 made up of them ; so family religion must suppose per- 
 sonal religion. For the reason formerly mentioned, I did 
 select out of this text for my main subject the business of 
 family religion, and do not design a distinct discourse 
 concerning personal ; that being the business of all our 
 preaching and hearing all the year about. But yet, as I 
 told you, I shall not pass over upon this subject the busi- 
 ness of solitary or personal religion. But I leckon it very 
 fitly comes in by way of inference and deduction from 
 what hath been said to the former : for there cannot be a 
 greater absurdity or solecism in all the world, than that a 
 man should pretend to set up religion in his family, and 
 yet know notning what belongs to any exercises of reli- 
 gion alone and apart by himself 
 
 I know many pretend, (but I hope from what you have 
 heard it is but a pretence,) that the obligation unto family 
 religion is obscure and hard to be made out. But in the 
 mean time, as to personal religion, nothing can be more 
 express. How distinct is the command of our great and 
 blessed Lord, in Matt. vi. 6. " Enter into thy closet, and 
 shut thy door, and pray to him in secret that seeth in se- 
 cret, and he will reward thee openly." Because then we 
 have shown, that religion is not to be shut up in a closet, 
 is it therefore to be shut out thence, against so express a 
 precept as this 1 I intend no more than only to touch upon 
 this subject; and pursuantly unto my design in taking no- 
 tice of it, it will suffice to say briefly these four things 
 concerning it. 
 
 1. That there is more constant and easy opportunity for 
 the exercise of personal and solitary religion, than there 
 can be for any other. And a migh:y privilege that is, 
 which a good soul would be loth to forfeit or to make no- 
 thing of: " I can be with God alone at any time ; I can 
 retire myself, when I will, to the more stated exercises of 
 personal religion. Whenever my heart is in a disposition, 
 I can presently ejaculate a thought, a desire, a holy aspi- 
 ring Godvvard. It is possible that men may hinder the 
 meeting of others together for the exercises of religion.; 
 but who can come between God and me? With him I ca'n 
 converse in any den, in any desert, in any dungeon ; and 
 none can prevent me." 
 
 2. There is more liberty and freedom of spirit in the se- 
 cret exercises of religion. Then I can pour out my soul 
 and vent myself unto God freely, when I am with him in 
 a corner. This is one of the great privileges of friend- 
 ship. It is the mutual sense of those that are entirely 
 friends to one another, " We are theatre enough to one 
 another," as the noted moralist speaks. Alter alteri satis 
 amplnm theatrvm sumus. I and my friend ; there needs no 
 witness, no spectator : it is enough for us, that we can be 
 entirely and inwardly conversant with one another. 
 
 3. There is hereupon so much more of delight in it, the 
 highest complacency. You know what the delights are of
 
 Serm. VI. 
 
 fa:m!LY religion and worship. 
 
 G25 
 
 friendly commerce with one of a suitable spirit. But as 
 there is no friendship like the divine, so there are no de- 
 lights like those of divine friendship. When I retire my- 
 self with him on purpose, "My meditation of him shall 
 be sweet," saith the Psalmist, Psal. civ. 34. He forecasts 
 thus with himself "How precious are thy thouj^hts to 
 me, O God ! I can be with God, as soon as I can think a 
 thought ; and how delightful is it, when he is pleased to 
 mingle thoughts with me, to inject thoughts !" That is 
 the way of spirits conversing with one another ; and most 
 of all of the paternal Spirit, the Father of spirits, that 
 knoweth how most immediately andinwardly to influence 
 his own offspring. 
 
 4. There is the fullest expression of sincerity in secret 
 and closet religion. It is in opposition to the practice of 
 hypocrites, that our Saviour gives that injunction which I 
 mentioned in Matt. vi. 5, 6. " When ye pray, be not as 
 the hypocrites; they would fain appear to men to pray; 
 they love to pray in the synagogues, and in the corners of 
 the streets, that they may be seen of men." All their re- 
 ligion is street religion, synagogue religion; they know 
 no other. " But do thou enter into thy closet, and shut 
 the door," (fcc. There is nothing of design in this, but to 
 meet with God, to pay him the homage I owe to him, and 
 to seek from him the vital communications which I need. 
 Here is nothing of pomp, nothing of ostentation. When 
 our Saviour saith, hypocrites do so and so ; you may easi- 
 ly by other places in the Gospel know whom he means by 
 that character, namely, the scribes and Pharisees, men- 
 tioned in the foregoing chapter and elsewhere. Theyare 
 often mentioned in conjunction with that other title, in 
 Matt, xxiii. " Wo unto you, scribes and Pharisees, hypo- 
 crites." Of all religions in the world, I would never 
 make a Pharisee the measure of my religion ; to have but 
 a Pharisaical religion, a religion with others or in the 
 sight of others, but none to myself How many please 
 themselves, if they think they have a more excellent gift 
 in this kind, to make ostentation of it to others ; but to- 
 wards God alone they are dumb and silent ! They seem 
 to be all religion with others; but alone they are nothing 
 in it, their hearts are all earth and stone. 
 
 Secondl}', If there ought to be family religion setup and 
 kept up by governors of families; then — they in families, 
 who are under government, are obliged to comply there- 
 unto. — Any duty, that is incumbent upon one relative as 
 such, doth manifestly imply the duty of the correlative or 
 of the correlate. If governors of families must set up and 
 keep up religion in their families ; then they that are un- 
 der government must comply. The same authority, that 
 binds the one, binds the other too. So that they, who re- 
 fuse to comply, are not only rebels against the governors 
 of the family ; but rebels against the Lord of heaven and 
 earth, with whose authority such governors are invested : 
 for there is no power but from him. 
 
 And though it be true indeed, that a human governor 
 can see no further than to an external conformity; he 
 from whom the obligation principally comes, seeth further, 
 seeth into the heart and soul with the strictest and most 
 prying inspection. And therefore with reference to him, 
 such as are under government in families are obliged to 
 concur in heart and spirit, and not to afford an external 
 and bodily presence only. For your business lies with 
 the God of the spirits of all flesh ; who takes notice, whe- 
 ther you come with an inclined heart or a disinclined, 
 with aversion or with desire ; or whether you attend upon 
 such duties with complacency or without delight. There 
 is no deceiving of him. The same law, that obliges you 
 to pray, obliges you to " pray in the Holy Ghost ;" and 
 implieth, that if you desire his communications and as- 
 sisting influences, as " a Spirit of grace and supplication," 
 they will ordinarily be afforded ; and that you will not be 
 destitute of those assistances but by slighting them, by de- 
 spising and resisting and vexing that Spirit, who is ready 
 to assist you, and to engage your hearts and to do them 
 good by such a duty. 
 
 And let me tell you, that as it is a eulog}% a character 
 of praise and commendation, in any one to be good in a 
 bad family; so it must proportionably be a horrid brand 
 upon any one to be bad in a good family. It was thought 
 fit to be put upon record concerning Abijah the son of 
 
 Jeroboam, (1 Kings xiv. 13.) that " there was some good 
 thing found in him towards the Lord his God, even in the 
 house of Jeroboam ;" good desires, good inclinations, even 
 in so wicked a family as Jeroboam's was. It is propor- 
 tionably a horrid mark upon that person, who coniinueih 
 ungodly in a godly family ; that is, aprayerless wretch in 
 a praying family; whose heart at least never prayeth, hath 
 no desires after God; no contrition, no sense in the con- 
 fession of sin ; no love, no gratitude in the acknowledgment 
 of mercy. For one to continue ungodly in a godly family, 
 or to go out ungodly from a godly family, what a horrid 
 thing will this be! How much of terror and amazement 
 will it carry in it at last, when the case comes to open it- 
 self to view, and to be looked upon and considered in its 
 proper and native aspect ! And even as it now is ; to think 
 with oneself, " That such or such children or fellow-ser- 
 vants in a family, where I may have lived a considerable 
 time, may have had their hearts melted in bearing the word 
 read and opened and applied, but mine was always hard : 
 they have had their souls humbled in the acknowledgment 
 of sin, but mine was unhumbled : they have had desires 
 enlarged in seeking for mercy, but I had no desire after 
 spiritual good." — To live so in a good family, and to go 
 out such from a good family; oh, the horror of this case, 
 and the reflections it will cau.se in the close of time ! or, 
 if not so, m an eternity of miser)', that will never end ! 
 
 Thirdly, We may further collect hence, that if family 
 governors are to resolve, for their families as well as them- 
 selves, upon serving the Lord ; then — they have a power 
 and a trust over their families, and about their familic-, in 
 reference hereto. — Otherwise Joshua had said he knew not 
 what, or whv, v.-hen he said, " I and my house will serve 
 the Lord." But this I have evinced already by several 
 considerations; as was necessary in reference to a dis- 
 course of this nature. It is plain, such a power God doth 
 invest every governor of a family with. 
 
 Fourthly, If there be such a power lodged in family go- 
 vernors, then — this power ought to have its exercise. There 
 is no power in nature, that is frustraneous, and never to 
 be reduced into act. Such an incongruity as that is never 
 to be found in the whole volume of nature. And it is as 
 little to be found in matters that are of a moral and spirit- 
 ual consideration. If there be then such a power, it ought 
 to be reduced into act. That is, masters of families, by 
 the use and exercise of this power, mu.st oblige those that 
 live under their government to comport becomingly with 
 the duties and exercises of religion in theii families. 
 There ought to be a paternal, a despotical use of this pow- 
 er in reference to this case. 
 
 If j^ou ask. Wherein"? we must speak with distinction, 
 because the subordinate relatives in a family are not all of 
 one order, but there is great diversity among them. 
 
 If where there is a godly praying hu.^'and. there is an 
 ungodly wife, who cannot endure to comport with such 
 exercises of religion in the family; here is indeed, in re- 
 ference to what is past, matter of deep shame and humili- 
 ation, that no wiser and better a choice was made. Persons 
 in their choice ought mutually to have reference to this as 
 the fir.'it and main thing, to match minds and spirits, ra- 
 ther than fancies and fortunes. And it should be matter 
 of deep humiliation, if it have not been so. But as to 
 what is future, there can be no more done in this case, 
 than to exhort with authority, and so to reprove as may 
 be most suitable to the end. and most likely to attain it. 
 
 If it be the case as to the husband in reference to the 
 wife, that he discovers an aversion to ever>- thing of reli- 
 gion, and especiallv to anv family exercises of it : here is 
 no authority to be used ; (the woman hath none over the 
 man ;) but in that relation there must be all the prudent 
 and gentle persuasions that can be, and a resolution to en - 
 gage^as many of the familv as she can to bear a part with 
 her in the exercises of family religion : as you heard of 
 Esther and her maids. For 'she is to obey but " in the 
 Lord :" and not so to obey, as to abandon religion npon 
 his account, and to throw' it out of the family. And she 
 is kind to him herein, and puts the greatest obligation 
 upon him, (which he mav come to understand in time,) 
 in that she labours to keep off a curse from coming upon 
 the family; as Abigail did once keep off from Nabal a 
 vengeance that was just coming upon him.
 
 626 
 
 THE OBLIGATIONS TO 
 
 Serm. vr. 
 
 But as to children; where there are godly parents that 
 ha 'e ungodly children, disci-vering early a disinclination 
 to religion ; (as indeed lor the most part it is too early dis- 
 coverable;) where this is discoverable, there ought to be 
 so much the more serious, earnest endeavour used to cul- 
 tivate this wilderness of nature, and to correct it betimes. 
 There ought to be early insinuations and endeavours to 
 instil principles of religion, to be instrumental towards 
 the possessing of souls with a reverence of that Majesty, 
 whom they themselves reverence. As no doubt it was 
 from what Jacob had long observed concerning his father 
 Isaac, that, swearing by God, he swore by him under the 
 name of " the fear of his father Lsaac ;" (Gen. xxxi. 53.) 
 him, whom he had long observed his father to have a 
 great reverence for. 
 
 But when any are growTi up with this aversion, (which 
 It may be through great negligence was not animadverted 
 upon betimes, as it should have been,) and do now disco- 
 ver open enmity against the religion of their father and of 
 their family; wise and holy parents have ways yet to make 
 use of their paternal authority in that case, at least in the 
 disposal of what is theirs. They may let it be understood 
 and known, that by how much the less they show them- 
 selves lovers of God, they the parents shall show them- 
 selves so much the less lovers of them, and the more 
 sparingly provide for them. And they ought not only to 
 say so, but to do so. There is not a greater fault to be an- 
 imadverted upon among persons professing religion, who 
 are governors of families, than that they let a fond and 
 foolish affection to their children prevail against that duti- 
 ful and loyal love which they owe to God; that is, that 
 without distinction they labour to put all that they can into 
 the hands of an ungodly son: which is indeed to aim him 
 against God's interest in the world, and against religion. 
 They should take care, that such shall live ; but that they 
 shall have all the advantages that they can give them, 
 wherewith to maintain and keep up a war against heaven, 
 this is what good parents can never give an account for, 
 thai when they are only intrusted as stewards of the mani- 
 fold grace of God, they should dispose of it so. These 
 Te the gifts of his grace, taken in a larger sense, of his 
 bounty and goodness. And if they shall employ them, in 
 order so much the more effectually to keep up and main- 
 tain a war against the universal Ruler of the world ; this 
 is a most undutiful and disloyal affection. 
 
 As for servants; they are no such inseparable parts of 
 a family, but that, if they be found finally inflexible, and 
 discover an enmity against God and religion that cannot 
 be overcome and got out of their hearts, they m.ay be got 
 out of the house. And they w(M5< be so. As the Psalmist 
 speaks concerning telling a lie, (Psalm ci.) when he had 
 expressed in the beginning of the Psalm his resolution 
 concerning family order, that " he would walk" or con- 
 verse " in a perfect way and with an upright heart in his 
 house," perform and do the duties of a family governor 
 with integrity and uprightness ; (that must be meant by 
 walking there ;) so in what follows he tells you, what the 
 characters should be of one that should stay or should not 
 stay in his house. He speaks to this purpose, both nega- 
 tively and positively. Negatively; The work of them 
 that "turn aside, should not cleave to him, ver. 3. That is, 
 of them that decline and are opposite to religion; so it 
 must principally be understood. "A froward heart shall 
 depart from me; I will not know a wicked person," ver. 
 4. He had spoken before of the rule he would observe 
 in reference to his house and family; and to this, those 
 following expressions must be understood to have a direct 
 reference. And for the expression oi froii:o,rd, and that 
 other of turning aside ; they are used in divers places of 
 Scripture to signify disinclination to religion, an averse, 
 disaffected heart towards God. As in Psalm liii. 2, 3. one 
 of these words is there used; When "God looked down 
 from heaven, to see if any did understand and seek God ;" 
 (it is said,) "every one of them is gone back ; they are in 
 an averse, disaffected posture, all hanging off from God 
 and disaffected to him." So one of those words is used 
 in Psalm Iviii. 3. " The wicked are estranged from the 
 womb; they go astray as soon as they be born." This re- 
 ference the expressions must be understood to have here, 
 I o signify disaffection to religion. Now such a one, saith 
 
 he, " .shall depart from me, and I will not know him." 
 And afterwards, ver. 7. " He that worketh deceit, i^hall 
 not dwell within my house ; he that telleih lies, shall not 
 tarry in my sight ;" one, in whom this conjunction is ac- 
 tually found, (which is always to be expected,) disaffection 
 to God and falsehood to oneself. A thing, that a heathen 
 took notice of long ago ; Qui Deum non timent, fallent 
 homines : They that fear not God, have no truth towards 
 men. 
 
 But the Psalmist tells us who shall stay in his house, 
 ver. 6. " Mine eyes shall be upon the faithful of the land, 
 that they may dwell with me; and he that walketh in a 
 perfect way, or uprightly, he shall serve me." " I will 
 have mine eyes every where ; and if there be an honest, 
 upright-hearted person to be found, I will choose such a 
 one for my servant." 
 
 This ought to be a measure to all of us. A godly, faith- 
 ful servant is, I am afraid, a too little vaJued thing with 
 many among us; they are more indifferent, how their ser- 
 vants stand affected towards religion ; whether they have 
 any love of God or godliness, yea or no. But ii such can 
 be found, saith the Psalmist, they shal. serve me, .ive with 
 me ; I will labour to furnish my house, as far as in me is, 
 with such as will labour to comply and fall in with me in 
 the great business of religion. You have heard concern- 
 ing this same Psalmist David, (2 Sam. vi. 20.) how, after 
 that great solemnity wa-s over of placing the ark, " he re- 
 turned to bless his household." It is obvious enough to 
 collect, that this was a stated practice with him, from 
 which that great solemnity should not divert him, when 
 the time and season wa.s come of going to perform the or- 
 dinary exercises of religion in his house: and unto that 
 therefore in its proper time he applieth himself. 
 
 It will therefore be the care of good family masters, to 
 have such for members of their families, as may contri- 
 bute to the drawing down of a blessing upon their house; 
 that they may not counteract themselves ; and, as the dai- 
 ly exercise of religion is the blessing of a family, that 
 they may not, by connivance and indulgence to wicked- 
 ness and disaffection to religion, undo their work and pull 
 down a curse, more effectually than they can hope in a 
 half and divided way to gain or draw down a blessing. 
 
 These several ways there ought to be an exercise of the 
 power, that God hath invested each master of a family 
 with. And it ought to be considered, that wherever 
 there is a power, there is a trust. There can be no pow- 
 er but from God; and where he lodgeth this power, he 
 doth also commit a trust into such hands ; and the weight 
 of this ought, to lie, and will lie, upon every one that is 
 conscientious. And therefore, 
 
 II. I shall shut up all the discourse upon this subject 
 with a few words of exhortation. 
 
 1. Wheresoever family religion hath been set on foot, 
 let it be continued, and labour to improve it ; that is, to be 
 more and more serious and lively and spiritual ; both they 
 that are to manage the duty, and they that are to concur 
 and join. Let there be an endeavour to grow more quick 
 and lively herein. When I spoke about the circumstances 
 of such exercises, I said nothing how much time was to be 
 spent in them. Indeed there is no particular rule to be 
 .set for that ; as I have told you the matter stands upon 
 other accounts. In such cases prudence is to be exercised 
 in matters of relisfion, as well as in other matters. " A 
 good man will order his affairs with discretion," as hath 
 been said again and again. Every man is to take his rule 
 and measure for that from discretion; but by no means 
 from indiscretion. It ought to be considered with pru- 
 dence and judiciousness, what is most likely to serve the 
 end of religion, in such exercises of it as we have been 
 speaking of. I reckon, that one quarter of an hour spent 
 with spirit and life, is a great deal better than hours toge- 
 ther spent in nauseous flatting repetitions, (which was the 
 Pharisaical way,) in such a tedious and fulsome way, as 
 tends to make religion a burden and grievance. I think 
 that is applicable to the purposes of religion, which hath 
 been applied to meaner, much meaner purposes; that it 
 is good to come from a meal with an appetite ; that it is 
 good to come so too from an exercise of religion, with 
 those pleasant lively relishes left upon one's spirit as may 
 make him wish for the return of such a season ; " Whea 
 
 I
 
 Serm. VI, 
 
 FAMILY RELIGION AND WORSHIP. 
 
 62? 
 
 will the time for prayer and solemn attendances upon God 
 come again "?" But this, beyond all thmgs, should be en- 
 deavoured, that there may be an improvement in life and 
 vigour and spirituality in the performance of these things, 
 both in them that manage them, and in those that are to 
 concur and join ; where such a thing as family religion 
 is set up and hath been kept up. 
 
 2. I must desire you to suffer the exhortation too, where 
 family religion hath not hitherto been begun. Oh, make 
 haste and begin it, keep it off no longer. Defer no longer 
 to God so indisputable a right ; or to make use of so great 
 an advantage for yourselves, and for yours that you are 
 concerned for. I hinted to you in what was said to an 
 objection, that it may be a great difficulty with some how 
 to begin. They are ashamed to be taken notice of, as hav- 
 ing received a conviction of this matter, and so to own a 
 fault by applying to a contrary practice. But we all pro- 
 fess ourselves Christians ; and as we are men, we are 
 under the government of the Supreme Ruler, and must be 
 accountable to him. It becomes us on both accounts, to 
 jearn to be ashamed of our sin, and not to be ashamed of 
 our duty. And if what hath been said shall obtaia to be 
 considered and laid to heart ; I cannot but hope, that they 
 who are ashamed to begin, will rather be ashamed not to 
 oegin, to defer and neglect so great and important and 
 olessed a work as this is. 
 
 think, how shame will be estimated one day in " the 
 general assembl}' ;" when all the world, the whole creation 
 of intelligent creatures, angels and men, shall be convened 
 before the judgment-seat. Think how shame and reputa- 
 tion will be estimated in the great day. You are told that 
 the resurrection of ungodly ones will be a resurrection and 
 awakening to shame and everlasting reproach. (Dan. xii. 
 2.) Many of them that sleep in the dust of the earth, shall 
 awake: some to shame and everlasting reproach. Oh! 
 for a man to ^e hurried away from the bright, glorious pre- 
 sence of the blessed God, under the notion of one that 
 would not call upon him; severed from all "the spirits of 
 just men made perfect," and from that innumerable com- 
 pany of glorious and blessed angels, to be made an asso- 
 ciate and companion of devils to all eternity, for this very 
 reason 1 Why is he driven into darkness, and cast out 
 into those regions, where there is weeping and wailing and 
 gnashing of teeth 1 Why, he would never call upon God ; 
 he had a family, but there was no religion in it ; he never 
 cared to keep up God's interest in his earthly station. 
 This is therefore his portion and punishment. Think, 
 whether this will not be a greater shame, than to begin a 
 holy religious course, that hath been nc^l- cted hitherto. 
 
 1 shall briefly shut up all with the following considerations, 
 that may through God's blessing help to enforce all upon us. 
 
 1. Consider, How come you to have a family, and your 
 family to have a place and habitation in this world 1 Do 
 you not know, that the Lord is the Ruler of all this world, 
 and that he sets the solitary in families, and appoints to all 
 the bounds of their habitation "? And for what 1 That 
 they might seek the Lord : (as is signified, Acts xvii. 26, 
 27, 28.) if so he they may feel and find him out, who is 
 not far from any one of us, since in him we all live and 
 move and have our being. Will you defeat the design, for 
 which God made such a world of creatures, and hath dis- 
 posed them into societies and convenient stations here 
 upon this earth 1 Was this done merely to gratify and 
 please these creatures'? That is to suppose a creature 
 designed by God to be its own end, and that he had re- 
 signed the prerogative of his Deity to the work of his own 
 hands now in rebellion against him. 
 
 2. Do not you know, that you need a constant preserver 
 in your several dwellings? Except the Lord build the 
 house they labour in vain that build it ; except the Lord 
 keep the city, the watchmen waketh but in vain. Psalm 
 cxxvii. I. A city you know is made up of .so many 
 houses inhabited; but every such house is kept in vain, if 
 God be not the keeper. And what ! is he not worth the 
 taking notice of, that watcheth over you night after night 
 and day after day"? 
 
 3. How can you expect to live comfortably in your 
 dwellings without God 1 What good will your enjoyments 
 do you? Can a blessing for a soul spring out of the earth, 
 a good suitable to an immortal mind? It is an amazing 
 
 thing, a.s Job represent!! it, (chap. xxi. 7, &c.) that men 
 should outwardly flourish in their external circumstances, 
 " live, become old, and mighty in power, have their seed 
 established in their sight, and their offspring before their 
 eyes and their houses safe I'rom fear ;" ihey dwell securely 
 in them, they are safe from fear, though not from danger; 
 and yet take no notice, who it is that makes them dwell in 
 that safety; and thereupon say unto God, notwith-standing 
 all this, that they live under his wing and upon his bounty, 
 " Depart from us, lor we desire not the knowledge of thy 
 ways," ver. 14. " Our hou.ses shall be as much strangers 
 to religion, as they are to fear : they are free from fear, and 
 they shall be as free from piety too." This they are 
 pleased with as their greatest privilege, to be without God. 
 And yet, as it follows ver. 16. " Their good is not in their 
 own hand : the counsel of the wicked is far from me." 
 Let it be far from me ! I would not have my soul bound 
 up with such a one's soul ! O my soul, enter not into the 
 secret of those horrid creatures, those monsters of ingrati- 
 tude, undutifulness, and disaffection, towards a kind gra- 
 cious, and benign Lord ! They have not their good in their 
 own hand, but it is all in his, to whom they yet say, " De- 
 part from us !" And they may seem to prosper in this 
 course awhile ; but see what comes of it at length, ver. 
 17, &c. "How often is the candle of the wicked pui 
 out !" their prosperity reversed, their light extinguished ! 
 and how often comcih their destruction upon them ! Ver. 
 19. " God layeth up his iniquity for his children ;" (thu> 
 comethof itat last ;) "he rewardethhim,and he shall know 
 it." Many times he takes care, that he shall know it in 
 such ways as are there expressed, ver. 20. " His own eyes 
 shall see his own destruction, and he shall drink of the 
 wrath of the Almighty. For what pleasure hath he in his 
 b^use after him, when the number of his months is cut off 
 in the midst ?" He hath children .springing up, it may be, 
 and furnished by his foolish and fond care and concern 
 with great things in this world ; such a son is married 
 into such a family, and .such a daughter into another, 
 where they are richly and opulently provided for. But his 
 children come to destruction in his very sight. It is often 
 so; he seeth all wasting and melting away, even as ? 
 heap of snow before the sun. This is often the heritage o; 
 wicked men from the Lord in this world; and if it be not 
 so in this world, worse and more dismal things ensne after- 
 wards. In the mean time, what comfort ran there be, 
 with all the enjoyments and affluence that a man can have 
 in his house, be it ever so pleasing a habita'ion. while God 
 is a stranger, dwells not there; is not worshipped, and so 
 dwells not there? 
 
 4. Consider, how amiable a thing a religious family is, 
 where the fear of God governeth and flourisheih. Do but 
 read to that purpose the 128th Psalm, which might fruit- 
 fully be run over. 
 
 5.' Do not you desire, that the world should mend 7 
 that you may see better times, and to see your city flourish 1 
 If trade languish, every one is sensible : methinks we 
 should not be insensible, if religion languish. But how 
 shall it live, if not in families? There is the great failure 
 And any place, that hath been long the seat of religion, 
 when it comes to decay in that respect, will decay in other 
 respects too. " Be instructed, O Jerusalem, lest my soul 
 depart from thee : and I leave thee desolate without in- 
 habitant," Jer. vi. 8. If that, which is the verA- soul of 
 any people's good estate, even of the political boilv; if 
 that retire, all moulders : as, if the soul of a man retires, 
 is gone and withdrawn, the body crumbles and turns to 
 dust. How desirable a thing is' it to a Londoner, to see 
 London in a prosperous, flourishing coiuli'.ion ! But never 
 expect to see it so, if religion shall be in a hmguishinri'c- 
 caying condition gradually from day to day. That will 
 be a dreadful foretoken. 
 
 6. Consider, that all family masters are stewards, and 
 all stewards must be accountable. O consider within how 
 little a time we are every one of us to be called to an ac- 
 count : " What did vou do in vour station as governor or 
 governed in .<;uch a family ?'"' Prepare that you may be 
 capable of rendering a good account, an account comfort- 
 able to yourselves. 
 
 7. Consider, that there cannot be a better omen of % 
 ?')od state of things coming than if we could see that
 
 628 
 
 THE OBLIGATION TO FAMILY RELIGION. 
 
 Serm. VI. 
 
 take effect, which hath been designed and endeavoured by 
 so many servants of God at this time, upon the subject of 
 family religion. There could not be a more promising 
 token to us. God hath touched the minds of those who 
 are associated in the work of the Gospel among us, all at 
 once by a kind of celeusma, to cry up family religion. If 
 this should have its good effect, (and why should we not 
 hope it will ■?) we cannot have abetter token for good. The 
 cry of wickedness is loud. If the cry of prayer, when it 
 shall come to be so united a cry, shall prevail and be 
 louder, this will draw down blessings. The cry of wick- 
 edness is calling for wrath and vengeance, for the vials to 
 be poured out upon us : but if so many houses, as there are 
 in London, wherein religion is professed, should really be- 
 come so many oratories, houses of prayer : it is to be hoped 
 there will be so many louder cries, ascending up to heaven 
 for mercy. If there had been fifty, forty, thirty, twenty, 
 nay, ten righteous persons in Sodom; that would have 
 prevailed for mercy upon that city. If so many as profess 
 religion in London, would but practice it, and this part of 
 it in particular, to set prayer on work with importunity 
 and fervour in their several families ; in this respect vox 
 populi w ill be vox Dei: the voice of a praying people will 
 be as the voice of God blessing us from above ; and telling 
 us that you have prevailed, the course of wrath is stopped, 
 the decree reversed, prayer is heard, and that 3'ou shall see 
 
 London, the city of your solemnities, a quiet habitatiop 
 This is said by way of answer to the people, who are 
 brought in at the beginning of Isa. xxxiii. 2. praying, " O 
 Lord be gracious unto us, let thine arm be awakened for 
 us every morning." Here was daily prayer ascending and 
 going up. It follows in ver. 20. " Look upon Zion the 
 city of our solemnities, thine eyes shall see Jerusalem a 
 quiet habitation, a tabernacle that shall not be taken down, 
 not one of the stakes thereof shall ever be removed, nei- 
 ther shall any of the cords thereof be broken." And so many 
 prayers ascending out of so many several families of Lon- 
 don, will be harbingers to those, from whom those prayers 
 proceeded, and in whose souls they were formed and in- 
 wrought. Such praying souls shall ascend at length and 
 follow their prayers. And if we who are now here as- 
 sembled have not this hope, what are we here for ? Why 
 do we worship; if this be not our hope, that our souls 
 shall follow our adoration! We know we are to be here 
 but a little while. We send up prayers, desires, and praises 
 here in our assembly, in the hope and expectation, that we 
 shall follow the prayers and praises which ascend out of 
 our assembly ere it be long. Worship God with the same 
 hope and expectation in your families, that you yourselves 
 shall ere -ong follow your prayers and praises ascendmg 
 from thence also.
 
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