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PIETY WITHOUT ASCETICISM, 
 
 THE PROTESTANT KEMPIS. 
 
Published by the Editor. 
 
 I. SERMONS, on Subjects chiefly Practical. 3d Edition. 
 II. SACRED LITERATURE. 2d Edition. 
 
 III. PRACTICAL THEOLOGY. 2 vols. 
 
 IV. PRACTICAL DISCOURSES, by THOMAS TOWNSON, D. D., with 
 
 a Biographical Memoir. Edited by JOHN, Bishop of Limerick. 
 
 LONDON : 
 
 Printed by A. & R. Spottiswoode, 
 New-Street- Square, 
 
PIETY 
 
 WITHOUT ASCETICISM, 
 
 OR 
 
 THE PROTESTANT KEMPIS 
 
 CHRISTIAN FAITH AND PRACTICE, 
 
 SELECTED FROM 
 
 THE WRITINGS 
 
 OF 
 
 SCOUGAL, CHARLES HOW, AND CUDWORTH ; 
 
 WITH CORRECTIONS, AND OCCASIONAL NOTES. 
 
 BY JOHN JEBB, D.D. F.R.S. 
 H 
 
 BISHOP OF LIMERICK, ARDFERT AND AGHADOE. 
 
 LONDON: 
 
 JAMES DUNCAN, 37. PATERNOSTER-ROW; AND 
 JOHN COCHRAN, 108. STRAND. 
 
 MDCCCXXX. 
 
' Some one has said, that, as often as he mingled in the company of men, 
 he came out of it less humanized than he went in : and, to the truth of this, 
 our own experience, after much conversation, bears testimony. It is much 
 easier, to be wholly silent, than not to exceed in talk : and it is much 
 easier to keep concealed at home, than to preserve ourselves from sin abroad. 
 He, therefore, that presses forward to the perfection of the internal and 
 spiritual life, must, with JESUS, withdraw from the multitude. No man can 
 safely go abroad, that does not willingly stay at home ; no man can safely 
 speak, that does not w illingly hold his tongue ; no man can safely govern, 
 that would not willingly be governed ; no man can safely command, that 
 has not well learned to obey ; and no man can safely rejoice, but he that has 
 the testimony of a good conscience. ' Thomas a Kempis. 
 
PREFACE. 
 
 IT has been long thought desirable by the Editor, 
 that ' the life of God in the soul of man,' with 
 some of the ' Discourses of the Rev. Henry 
 Scougal;' the ' Meditations of the Hon. Charles 
 How ;' and two Sermons of the great Cudworth, 
 usually annexed to his Intellectual System, 
 should reappear together, in a handsome volume. 
 Conjointly, they seemed likely to do a service, for 
 which, in their separate form, they were less per- 
 fectly adapted : presenting, as they do when taken 
 together, a complete and harmonious scheme of 
 practical religion. While, by the recommendation 
 of an attractive appearance, they might, possibly, 
 engage the attention of a class of readers, hitherto 
 unacquainted with their very existence. Into 
 these views, the respectable and spirited publishers 
 cordially entered ; and, it is hoped, that the pre- 
 sent undertaking may be so far successful, as, at 
 once, to remunerate their liberality, and to afford 
 the public a specimen of Christian instruction, not 
 only unexceptionable in its nature, but uniformly 
 tending to edification of the best kind. 
 
 A 3 
 
VI PREFACE. 
 
 It must, indeed, be admitted, that, in the pre- 
 sent day, there is no deficiency of religious publi- 
 cations ; several excellent in their kind. But, it 
 cannot be denied, that many offend against good 
 taste; and, what is of far graver consequence, 
 that many give erroneous and distorted views of 
 the Gospel System. With either of these defects, 
 the works which form this compilation do not, in 
 any degree, seem chargeable. On the contrary, it 
 may truly be affirmed, that they are written with 
 great purity and elegance of manner, and that they 
 present, to all capable minds, the very 'pith and 
 kernel' of inward practical Christianity. 
 
 The writings of Scougal and How, in particular, 
 frequently remind one of the ' Imitation ' of 
 Thomas a Kempis : but they are wholly free from 
 that ascetic gloom, which, more or less, disfigures 
 all Roman Catholic piety. In depth and ante- 
 riority of religion, indeed, they cannot readily be 
 excelled, or equalled ; but they uniformly breathe 
 the sober cheerfulness of the Divine Author of 
 Christianity ; and remind us of his heavenly in- 
 junction, that, whatever be our inward feelings, we 
 should " anoint our head, and wash our face, and 
 appear not unto men to fast." 
 
 By our relish for books of this nature, we may, 
 perhaps, best form a judgment of our spiritual 
 state. And happy shall we be, if we feel ourselves 
 gradually formed to that purity, humility, and love 
 of God and man, which they always recommend 
 and exemplify. 
 
PREFACE. vil 
 
 It may be satisfactory, to add a few words, con- 
 cerning the respective Authors. 
 
 The Rev. HENRY SCOUGAL, A. M., second son 
 of the Right Rev. PATRICK SCOUGAL, Bishop of 
 Aberdeen, was born at Saltoun, in East Lothian, 
 in the year 1650. From his earliest years, he was 
 devoted, not less by his own choice, than by his 
 father's piety, to the service of the ministry ; and 
 it is remarkable, that, almost from infancy, he took 
 special delight in devotional retirement, in the 
 study of the best books, and in the conversation of 
 wise and good men ; while, his very amusements 
 indicated the greatness and energy of his mind ; 
 for, together with the most ingenious of his youth- 
 ful associates, he was in the habit of composing 
 little orations, and delivering them in the per- 
 sonated character of some distinguished Roman 
 Senator.* At the University, he made a singular 
 proficiency in classical and mathematical learning ; 
 but it was his chief delight to acquire just appre- 
 hensions of God and religion ; and he fixed his 
 notions deeply and permanently, by the composi- 
 tion of pious meditations, remarkable at once for 
 exactness and eloquence. He was educated at the 
 University of Aberdeen ; where, at twenty years of 
 age, he became Professor of Philosophy, and was 
 the happy instrument of training multitudes to 
 follow in his steps. On taking orders, he accepted 
 
 * A similar circumstance is related of Sir William Jones. 
 See his Life, by Lord Teignmouth ; and Dr. Johnstone's Me- 
 moirs of Dr. Parr. 
 
 A 4 
 
VI11 PREFACE. 
 
 the country parish of Auchterless ; and there, bv 
 unwearied diligence in catechizing, preaching, and 
 instructing from house to house, he gave full proof, 
 that the ministry was, indeed, his vocation. But 
 he was soon called to a more important sphere. 
 In 1675, by the unanimous voice of the electors, 
 he was chosen Professor of Divinity, in King's 
 College, Aberdeen ; from whence, in the midst of 
 a full career of usefulness, he was mysteriously, 
 but, no doubt, mercifully, removed to a better 
 world, in the year 1678, at the early age of eight 
 and twenty. * Being made perfect in a short 
 time, he fulfilled a long time : for wisdom is the 
 grey hair unto men, and an unspotted life is old 
 age/ * 
 
 From numerous testimonies to Scougal's chief 
 work, it seems sufficient, to extract that of Bishop 
 Burnet, that the book was a transcript of the 
 divine impressions on his own heart; and that he 
 had written nothing in it, which he did not himself 
 well know and feel/ 
 
 Of the Hon. CHARLES How, less is known, than 
 might have been desired. He seems to have held 
 the noiseless tenor of his way, in the exercise of an 
 unobtrusive benevolence, and in the cultivation of 
 his own heart. 
 
 * The profoundly learned, and pious John Smith of Cam- 
 bridge, died also at the early age of thirty-five. See his select 
 discourses, in the last edition, which is incomparably the best. 
 It was published in 1821, by Messrs. Rivingtons and Cochran, 
 Strand. 
 
PREFACE. IX 
 
 His ' Meditations' were intended merely for 
 his private use ; and, during his long life, no 
 human eye saw them, but his own. After his 
 death, however, they came into the possession of 
 his grand-daughter; and, with her permission, 
 were made public by her husband, Mr. George 
 Mac Aulay ; but, in the first instance, without the 
 Author's name. To the Second Edition this was 
 prefixed, at the earnest suggestion of several good 
 literary judges ; among the rest, of Doctor Young, 
 author of the Night Thoughts ; whose testimony 
 to the work, should, by no means, be omitted. 
 
 * The book of Meditations,' says this eminent man, 
 
 * I have read, more than once ; and I shall never 
 lay it far out of my reach : for a greater demonstra- 
 tion of a sound head, and a sincere heart, I never 
 saw.' 
 
 Mr. How was a gentleman of good fortune, and 
 of a family ennobled in several of its branches. 
 He was himself a native of Gloucestershire, but 
 the stock originally came from the county of Not- 
 tingham. His birth took place in the year 1661 ; 
 and, during the latter end of the reign of Charles II., 
 he was much about the Court. In 1686, he went 
 abroad in an official situation, in the suite of a near 
 relative, ambassador to a foreign Court. And, his 
 friend suddenly dying, he completed, by powers 
 specially entrusted to him, the business of the 
 embassy ; with such reputation, that he had an 
 offer of the full and permanent appointment to the 
 diplomatic office. This, however, from a dislike 
 
X PREFACE. 
 
 of the measures then pursued at court, he thought 
 proper to decline ; and immediately returned to 
 England. Soon after, he married a lady of rank 
 and fortune ; who, dying in a few years, left be- 
 hind her an only daughter, frequently mentioned 
 in the Meditations. From this period, he lived, for 
 the most part, in the country ; and spent many of 
 his latter years in close retirement, consecrating his 
 time to religious exercises and meditations. His 
 conduct was exemplary, his conversation cheerful, 
 and his death peaceful and serene. He reached 
 the extraordinary term of eighty-four years ; when 
 he exchanged the happiness of a virtuous and a 
 good old age, for the greater, but congenial happi- 
 ness, of a blessed immortality, A. D. 1745. 
 
 Of the excellent CUD WORTH, it were superfluous 
 to speak in detail : the reputation of such men is 
 the glory of our country. His writings, especially 
 the Intellectual System, are known, and prized by 
 the learned throughout Europe ; and will continue 
 to be so, while piety and erudition are accounted 
 valuable among men. His first Sermon, given in 
 this Collection, was preached before the House of 
 Commons, in the year 164/7 ; and, with singular 
 boldness and intrepidity, was directed point blank, 
 and without compromise or qualification, against 
 the epidemic evil of the times. In the present 
 day, it were most desirable, that the mantle of 
 Cudworth might descend upon some true son of 
 the Church of England. He was born A. D. 1617, 
 a.nd died in the memorable year 1688. 
 
PREFACE. xi 
 
 The^Editor will only add, that he has sometimes 
 slightly modified the phraseology, where it seemed 
 likely that ordinary readers might be checked, by 
 the occurrence of an unusual, an antiquated, or an 
 unperspicuous word. If he were re-publishing 
 these tracts, as works of their respective Authors, it 
 might, indeed, be proper to adhere, even to their 
 errors, with scrupulous fidelity. But, in a prac- 
 tical and devotional manual, (and for such espe- 
 cially, this compilation is intended,) it seemed the 
 first duty, to take care, that no slight obscurity, no 
 awkwardness of expression, should be allowed to 
 mar the general effect ; whilst, at the same time, 
 the sense, spirit, and peculiar vein of thought, of 
 each writer, should be carefully preserved. He 
 now concludes with an earnest wish, that these 
 treatises may have, at least, a portion of the bene- 
 ficial result, which they are eminently calculated 
 to produce. 
 
 JOHN LIMERICK. 
 
 Leamington, 
 September 27. 1830. 
 
IN THE MOUTH OF TWO OR THREE WITNESSES, 
 SHALL EVERY WORD BE ESTABLISHED. 
 
 SAINT PAUL. 
 
CONTENTS, 
 
 I. SCOUGAL'S NATURE AND EXCELLENCY OF THE 
 CHRISTIAN RELIGION; OR, THE LIFE OF GOD, 
 IN THE SOUL OF MAN - Page 1 
 
 DISCOURSES ON IMPORTANT SUBJECTS, BY 
 HENRY SCOUGAL, A. M. 
 
 II. SERMON I. 
 
 THE SUPERIOR EXCELLENCY OF THE RELIGIOUS. 
 
 PROVERBS, xii. 26. 
 
 The righteous is more excellent than his neighbour. 
 
 96 
 
 III. SERMON II. 
 
 THE INDISPENSABLE DUTY OF LOVING OUR ENEMIES. 
 
 S. LUKE, vi. 27. 
 
 But I say unto you which hear, Love your enemies. 
 
 121 
 
 IV. SERMON III. 
 
 THE NECESSITY AND ADVANTAGE OF EARLY 
 AFFLICTIONS. 
 
 LAMENT, iii. 27, 28. 
 
 It is good for a man, that he bear the yoke in his youth. 
 He sitteth alone and keepeth silence, because he has 
 borne it upon him. - - 152 
 
 V. SERMON IV. 
 
 THAT THERE ARE BUT A SMALL NUMBER SAVED. 
 
 S. LUKE, xiii. 23. 
 
 Then said one unto him, Lord, are there a few that 
 be saved ? - - - - - 175 
 
XIV CONTENTS. 
 
 VI. SERMON V. 
 
 THE DUTY AND PLEASURE OF PRAISE AND 
 THANKSGIVING. 
 
 PSALM cvii. 15. 
 
 O that men would praise the Lord for his goodness ; 
 And for his wonderful works to the children of men. 
 
 Page 200 
 
 VII. SERMON VI. 
 
 THE IMPORTANCE AND DIFFICULTY OF THE 
 
 MINISTERIAL FUNCTION. 
 (Preached before the Synod of Aberdeen.) 
 
 2 COR. ii. 16. 
 Who is sufficient for these things ? - 220 
 
 VIII. How's DEVOUT MEDITATIONS - - 255 
 
 
 Two SERMONS, BY RALPH CUDWORTH, D.D. 
 
 IX. SERMON I. 
 
 THEY KNOW CHRIST, WHO KEEP HIS COMMANDMENTS. 
 
 1 JOHN ii. 3, 4. 
 
 And hereby we do know, that we know him, if we 
 keep his commandments : he that saith, I know 
 him, and keepeth not his commandments, is a iiar, 
 and the truth is not in him. - 407 
 
 X. SERMON II. 
 
 THE CHRISTIAN'S VICTORY, OVER SIN, THE LAW, AND 
 
 DEATH. 
 
 1 COR. xv. 57. 
 
 But thanks be to God, which giveth us the victory, 
 through Jesus Christ our Lord. - 4-69 
 
THE 
 
 NATURE AND EXCELLENCY 
 
 OF 
 
 THE CHRISTIAN RELIGION; 
 
 OR, 
 THE LIFE OF GOD, IN THE SOUL OF MAN ; 
 
 WITH 
 
 SIX OTHER DISCOURSES 
 
 ON IMPORTANT SUBJECTS. 
 
 BY THE REV. HENRY SCOUGAL, A.M. 
 
 * Perfectionis ac felicitatis summum est uniri Deo.' 
 
* Let not the word heaven be in our mouths only ; let it be in our 
 hearts. Let us do the will of God on earth, as it is done m heaven ; 
 and then we shall make it appear, that the kingdom of God is come, 
 that it is come into us. 
 
 ' Christians then live as such, when their life approaches nearer to the 
 life of angels, and blessed saints ; when a life of purity and holiness, a 
 life of entire resignation and obedience to the divine will, is their nature 
 and element, their choice and delight.' Dr. John Worthington. 
 
NATURE AND EXCELLENCY 
 
 OF 
 
 THE CHRISTIAN RELIGION. 
 
 PART I. 
 
 THE OCCASION OF THIS DISCOURSE. 
 
 My dear Friend, 
 
 designation gives you a title to all the en- 
 deavours whereby I can serve your interests ; and 
 your pious inclinations so happily conspire with my 
 duty, that I need not step out of my road to gra- 
 tify you. I may, at once, perform an office of 
 friendship, and discharge an exercise of my func- 
 tion ; since the advancing of virtue and holiness 
 (which I hope you make your greatest study) is 
 the peculiar business of my employment. This, 
 therefore, is the most proper instance wherein I 
 can vent my affection, and express my gratitude 
 towards you ; and I shall not any longer delay the 
 performance of the promise I made you, to this pur- 
 pose. For, though I know that you are provided 
 with better helps of this nature, than any I can 
 
 B 
 
2 NATURE AND EXCELLENCY [SCOUGAL. 
 
 offer; and that you are not likely to meet with 
 any thing here, which you knew not before ; yet I 
 am hopeful, that what comes from one whom you 
 are pleased to honour with your friendship, and 
 which is more particularly designed for your use, 
 will be kindly accepted by you ; and God's provi- 
 dence, perhaps, may so direct my thoughts, that 
 something or other may prove useful to you. Nor 
 shall I doubt your pardon, if, in order to mould my 
 discourse into the better frame, I lay a low found- 
 ation, beginning with the nature and properties of re- 
 ligion ; and all along give such way to my thoughts, 
 in the prosecution of the subject, as may bring me 
 to say many things which were not necessary, did I 
 only consider to whom I am writing. 
 
 MISTAKES ABOUT RELIGION. 
 
 I cannot speak of religion, without lamenting, 
 that, among so many pretenders to it, so few under- 
 stand what it means. Some place it in the under- 
 standing, in orthodox notions and opinions : and 
 all the account they can give of their religion, is, 
 that they are of this or the other persuasion, and 
 have joined themselves to one of those many sects, 
 into which Christendom is most unhappily divided. 
 Others place it in the outward man, in a constant 
 course of external duties : if they live peaceably 
 with their neighbours, keep a temperate diet, ob- 
 serve the returns of worship, frequent the church, 
 or their closet, and sometimes extend their hands 
 to the relief of the poor, they think they have suffi- 
 
SCOUGAL.] OF THE CHRISTIAN RELIGION. 3 
 
 ciently acquitted themselves. Others, again, place 
 all religion in the affections, in rapturous heats and 
 ecstatic devotion : and all they aim at, is, to pray 
 with passion, to think of heaven with pleasure, and 
 to be affected with those kind and melting expres- 
 sions wherewith they court their Saviour ; till they 
 persuade themselves that they are mightily in love 
 with him, and, from thence, assume a great confi- 
 dence of their salvation, which confidence, they es- 
 teem the chief of Christian graces. Thus, are those 
 things which have any semblance of piety, and 
 which, at the best, are but means of obtaining it, or 
 particular exercises of it, frequently mistaken for 
 the whole of religion ; nay, sometimes wickedness 
 and vice pretend to that' name. I speak not now 
 of those gross impieties, wherewith the heathen 
 were wont to worship their gods : there are but 
 too many Christians, who would consecrate their 
 vices, and hallow their corrupt affections ; whose 
 rugged humour, and sullen pride, must pass for 
 Christian severity ; whose fierce wrath, and bitter 
 rage against their enemies, must be called holy 
 zeal ; whose petulancy towards their superiors, or 
 rebellion against their governors, must have the 
 name of Christian courage and resolution. 
 
 WHAT RELIGION IS. 
 
 But, certainly, religion is quite another thing: 
 and they who are acquainted with it, will entertain 
 far different thoughts, and disdain all those shadows 
 and false imitations of it. They know by expert- 
 
4 NATURE AND EXCELLENCY [SCOUGAL. 
 
 ence, that true religion is an union of the soul with 
 God, a real participation of the divine nature, the 
 very image of God drawn upon the soul ; or in the 
 apostle's phrase, it is Christ formed within us. 
 Briefly, I know not how the nature of religion can 
 be more fully expressed, than by calling it a divine 
 life.* And under these terms I shall discourse of 
 it : showing, first how it is called a life ; and then, 
 how it is termed divine. 
 
 ITS PERMANENCY AND STABILITY. 
 
 I chuse to express it by the name of life : first, 
 because of its permanency and stability. Religion 
 is not a sudden start, or passion of the mind ; not 
 though it should rise to the height of a rapture, and 
 seem to transport a man to extraordinary perform- 
 ances. There are few who have not convictions of 
 the necessity of doing something for the salvation of 
 their souls, which may push them forward some 
 steps, with a great deal of seeming haste. But anon 
 they flag and give over: they were in a hot mood, 
 but now they are cooled; they did shoot forth fresh 
 and high, but are quickly withered, because they 
 had no root in themselves. These sudden fits may 
 
 * * Such a life and knowledge as this is, peculiarly belongs 
 to the true and sober Christian : who lives in him, who is life 
 itself; and is enlightened by him, who is the truth itself; and 
 is made partaker of the divine unction, and " knoweth all 
 things," as St. John speaks. This life is nothing else, but 
 God's own breath within him, and an infant- Christ) if I may 
 use the expression, formed in his soul.' John Smith.. Select 
 Discourses, p. 24. ED. 
 
SCOUGAL.] OF THE CHRISTIAN RELIGION. 5 
 
 be compared to the violent and convulsive motions 
 of bodies newly beheaded, caused by the agitations 
 of the animal spirits, after the soul is departed ; 
 which, however violent and impetuous, can be of 
 no long continuance : whereas the motions of holy 
 souls are constant and regular, proceeding from a 
 permanent and lively principle. It is true, this 
 divine life continues not always in the same strength 
 and vigour ; it many times suffers sad decays ; 
 and holy men often find greater difficulty in resist- 
 ing temptations, and less alacrity in the perform- 
 ance of their duties, than they could wish : yet is 
 the religious principle never quite extinguished, 
 nor are they abandoned to the power of those cor- 
 rupt affections, which sway and over-rule the rest 
 of the world. 
 
 ITS FREEDOM AND UNCONSTRAINEDNESS. 
 
 Again, religion may be defined by the name of 
 life, because it is an inward, free, and self-moving 
 principle ; and those who have made progress in it, 
 are not actuated only by external motives, driven 
 merely by threatenings, nor bribed by promises, 
 nor constrained by laws; but are powerfully in- 
 clined to that which is good, and delight in the 
 performance of it. The love which a pious man 
 bears to God and goodness, is not so much in 
 virtue of a command enjoining him so to do, as by 
 a new nature instructing and prompting him to it ; 
 nor does he pay his devotions as an unavoidable 
 tribute, only to appease the divine justice, or ta 
 
 B 3 
 
6 NATURE AND EXCELLENCY [SCOUGAL. 
 
 quiet his clamorous conscience ; but those religious 
 exercises are the proper emanations of the divine 
 life, the natural employments of the new-born soul. 
 He prays, and gives thanks, and repents, not only 
 because these things are commanded, but rather 
 because he is sensible of his wants, and of the 
 divine goodness, and of the folly and misery of a 
 sinful life. His charity is not forced, nor his alms 
 extorted from him : his love makes him willing to 
 give ; and, though there were no outward obliga- 
 tion, his " heart would devise liberal things." In- 
 justice, intemperance, and all other vices, are as 
 contrary to his temper and constitution, as the 
 basest actions are to the most generous spirit, and 
 impudence and scurrility to those who are natu- 
 rally modest : so that I may well say with Saint 
 John, " Whosoever is born of God, doth not com- 
 mit sin; for his seed remaineth in him: and he 
 cannot sin, because he is born of God." * Though 
 holy and religious persons much eye the law of 
 God, and have a great regard unto it ; yet it is not 
 so much the sanction of the law, as its reasonable- 
 ness, and purity, and goodness, which prevail with 
 them : they account it excellent and desirable in 
 itself, and feel that in keeping of it there is great 
 reward; and that divine love wherewith they are ac- 
 tuated, makes them become a law unto themselves : 
 
 Quis legem det amantibus ? 
 Major est amor lex ipse sibi. f 
 
 Who shall prescribe a law to lovers ? 
 Love is a greater law, itself to itself. 
 
 * 1 John, iii. 9. f Boethius. 
 
SCOUGAL.] OF THE CHRISTIAN RELIGION. 7 
 
 In a word, what our blessed Saviour said of him- 
 self, is, in some measure, applicable to his fol- 
 lowers, that " it is their meat and drink to do their 
 Father's will : " * and, as the natural appetite is 
 carried out toward food, though we should not 
 reflect on the necessity of it for the preservation of 
 our lives; so are they borne, with a natural and 
 unforced propension, toward that which is good 
 and commendable. It is true, external motives 
 are many times of great use, to excite and stir up 
 this inward principle ; especially in its infancy and 
 weakness, when it is often so languid that the man 
 himself can scarce discern it, hardly being able to 
 move one step forward, but when he is pushed by 
 his hopes or his fears ; by the pressure of an afflic- 
 tion, or the sense of a mercy ; by the authority of 
 the law, or the persuasion of others. Now, if such 
 a person be conscientious and uniform in his obe- 
 dience, and earnestly groan under the sense of 
 his dulness, and be desirous to perform his duties 
 with more spirit and vigour ; these are the first 
 motions of a divine life : which, though it be faint 
 and weak, will surely be cherished by the influ- 
 ences of heaven, and grow unto greater maturity. 
 But he who is utterly destitute of this inward 
 principle, and does not aspire unto it, but contents 
 himself with those performances whereunto he is 
 prompted by education or custom, by the fear of 
 hell, or by carnal notions of heaven, can no more 
 be accounted a religious person, than a puppet can 
 
 * John, iv. 34-. 
 B 4 
 
8 NATURE AND EXCELLENCY [SCOUGAL 
 
 be called a man. This forced and artificial reli- 
 gion is commonly heavy and languid, like the 
 motion of a weight forced upward : it is cold and 
 spiritless, like the uneasy compliance of a wife 
 married against her will, who carries it dutifully 
 toward the husband whom she does not love, out 
 of some sense of virtue and honour. Hence, also, 
 this religion is scant and niggardly, especially in 
 those duties which do greatest violence to men's 
 carnal inclinations ; and those slavish spirits will 
 be sure to do no more, than is absolutely required. 
 It is a law which compels them, and they will be 
 loth to go beyond its strict demands ; nay, they 
 will ever be putting such glosses on it, as may 
 leave themselves the greatest liberty. Whereas, the 
 spirit of true religion is frank and liberal, far from 
 such peevish and narrow reckoning ; and he who 
 has given himself entirely to God, will never think 
 he does too much for Him. 
 
 RELIGION A DIVINE PRINCIPLE. 
 
 By this time I hope it appears, that religion is, 
 with a great deal of reason, termed a life, or vital 
 principle ; and that it is very necessary to distin- 
 guish between it, and that obedience which is con- 
 strained, and depends on external causes. 
 
 I come next to give an account, why I defined it 
 by the name of divine life. And so it may be 
 called, not only with respect to its fountain and 
 original, having God for its author, and being 
 wrought in the souls of men by the power of his 
 
SCOUGAL.] OF THE CHRISTIAN RELIGION. 9 
 
 Holy Spirit, but with respect to its nature also ; 
 religion being a resemblance of the divine perfec- 
 tions, the image of the Almighty shining in the 
 soul of man : nay, it is a real participation of his 
 nature ; it is a beam of the eternal light, a drop of 
 that infinite ocean of goodness ; and they who are 
 endued with it, may be said to have God dwelling 
 in their souls, and Christ formed within them. 
 
 WHAT THE NATURAL LIFE IS. 
 
 Before I descend to a more particular consider- 
 ation of that divine life wherein true religion con- 
 sists, it will, perhaps, be fit to speak a little of that 
 natural, or animal life, which prevails in those who 
 are strangers to the divine. And by this I under- 
 stand nothing else, but our inclination and propen- 
 sion toward those things which are pleasing and 
 acceptable to nature : or self-love, issuing forth, and 
 spreading itself into as many branches, as men have 
 several appetites and inclinations. The root and 
 foundation of the animal life I reckon to be sense; 
 taking it largely, as it is opposed to faith, and as 
 it imports our perception and sensation of things 
 that are either grateful or troublesome. Now, 
 these animal affections considered in themselves, 
 and as they are implanted in us by nature, are not 
 vicious or blameable ; nay, they are instances of 
 the wisdom of the Creator, furnishing his creatures 
 with such appetites as tend to the preservation and 
 welfare of their lives. These are instead of a law 
 unto the ' brute beasts ; whereby they are directed 
 
10 NATURE AND EXCELLENCY [SCOUGAL. 
 
 towards the ends for which they were made. But 
 man, being made for higher purposes, and to be 
 guided by more excellent laws, becomes guilty and 
 criminal, when he is so far transported by the inclin- 
 ations of this lower life, as to violate his duty, or 
 neglect the higher and more noble designs of his 
 creation. Our natural affections are not wholly 
 to be extirpated and destroyed; but only to be 
 moderated and over-ruled by a superior and more 
 excellent principle. In a word, the difference be- 
 tween a religious and wicked man, is, that in the 
 one, divine life bears sway, in the other, animal life 
 prevails. 
 
 THE DIFFERENT TENDENCIES OF THE NATURAL LIFE. 
 
 But it is strange to observe, unto what different 
 courses this natural principle will sometimes carry 
 those who are wholly guided by it, according to 
 the diverse circumstances that concur with it to 
 determine them. And the not considering this, 
 frequently occasions very dangerous mistakes, mak- 
 ing men think well of themselves on account of 
 that seeming difference which is between them and 
 others ; whereas, perhaps, their actions all the 
 while flow from one and the same original. If we 
 consider the natural temper and constitution of 
 men's souls, we shall find some to be airy, frolick- 
 some, and light, which makes their behaviour ex- 
 travagant and ridiculous : others are naturally 
 serious and severe, and their whole carriage is com- 
 posed into such gravity, as gains them a great deal of 
 
SCOUGAL.] OF THE CHRISTIAN RELIGION. 11 
 
 reverence and esteem. Some are of an humorous, 
 rugged, and morose temper, and can neither be 
 pleased themselves, nor endure that others should 
 be so. But all are not born with such sour and un- 
 happy dispositions; some persons have a certain 
 sweetness and benignity rooted in their natures, and 
 they find the greatest pleasure in the endearments 
 of society, and the mutual complacency of friends, 
 and "covet nothing more, than to have every body 
 obliged to them. And it is well that nature has 
 provided this complexional tenderness, to supply 
 the defect of true charity in the world, and to in- 
 cline men to do something for one another's wel- 
 fare. Again, with respect to education, some have 
 never been taught to follow any other rules than 
 those of pleasure or advantage ; but others are so 
 inured to observe the strictest rules of decencv 
 
 / 
 
 and honour, and, in some instances, of virtue, that 
 they are hardly capable of doing any thing which 
 they have been accustomed to look upon as base 
 and unworthy. 
 
 In fine, it is no small difference in the deport- 
 ment of mere natural men, that arises from the 
 strength or weakness of their wit or judgment, and 
 from their care or negligence in using them. Intem- 
 perance and impurity, injustice and oppression, and 
 all those other impieties which abound in the world, 
 and render it so miserable, are the issues of self- 
 love ; the effect of the animal life, when it is neither 
 overpowered by religion, nor governed by natural 
 reason. But, if it once take hold of reason, and 
 
12 NATURE AND EXCELLENCY [SCOUGAL. 
 
 get judgment and wit to be of its party, it will, 
 many times, disdain the grosser sort of vices, and 
 spring up unto fair imitations of virtue and good- 
 ness. If a man have but so much reason, as to 
 consider the prejudice which intemperance and inor- 
 dinate desires bring upon his health, his fortune, 
 and his reputation, self-love may suffice to restrain 
 him : and one may observe the rules of moral justice 
 in dealing with others, as the best way to secure 
 his own interest, and maintain his credit in the 
 world. But this is not all. This natural principle, 
 by the help of reason, may take a higher flight, and 
 come nearer the excellence of piety and religion. 
 It may incline a man to the diligent study of divine 
 truths; for why should not these, as well as other 
 speculations, be pleasant and grateful to curious 
 and inquisitive minds ? It may make men zeal- 
 ous in maintaining and propagating such opinions 
 as they have espoused, and desirous that others 
 should submit to their judgment, and approve 
 the choice of religion which themselves have 
 made. It may make them delight to hear and 
 compose excellent discourses, about the matters of 
 religion ; for eloquence is very pleasant, whatever 
 be the subject. Nay, some it may dispose to no 
 small height of sensible devotion. The glorious 
 things that are spoken of heaven, may make even 
 a carnal heart in love with it ; the metaphors and 
 similitudes made use of in Scripture, of crowns and 
 sceptres, and rivers of pleasure, will easily affect a 
 man's fancy, and make him wish to be there, though 
 
SCOUGAL.] OF THE CHRISTIAN RELIGION, 13 
 
 he neither understand nor desire those spiritual 
 pleasures, which are described and shadowed forth 
 by those similitudes. And, when such a person 
 comes to believe that Christ has purchased those 
 glorious things for him, he may feel a kind of ten- 
 derness and affection towards so great a benefactor, 
 and imagine that he is mightily enamoured with 
 him ; and yet, all the while, he may continue a 
 stranger to the holy temper and spirit of the 
 blessed Jesus. And what share the natural consti- 
 tution may have in the rapturous devotions of some 
 melancholy persons, has been excellently disco- 
 vered of late, by several learned and judicious pens. 
 To conclude, there is nothing proper to make a 
 man's life pleasant, or himself eminent and conspi- 
 cuous in the world, to which this natural principle, 
 assisted by wit and reason, may not prompt him. 
 And, though I do not condemn these things in 
 themselves, yet it concerns us nearly to know and 
 consider their nature ; both that we may keep 
 within due bounds, and also that we may learn 
 never to value ourselves on account of such at- 
 tainments, nor give the name of religion to our 
 natural appetites or performances. 
 
 WHEREIN THE DIVINE LIFE CONSISTS. 
 
 It is now time to return to the consideration of 
 that divine life, whereof I was discoursing before ; 
 that " life which is hid with Christ in God," and 
 therefore has no glorious show or appearance in 
 the world, and to the natural man will seem a 
 
14 NATURE AND EXCELLENCY [SCOUGAL. 
 
 mean and insipid notion. As the animal life con- 
 sists in that narrow and confined love which 
 terminates in a man's self, and in his propension 
 towards those things which are pleasing to nature ; 
 so the divine life stands in an universal and un- 
 
 
 
 bounded affection, and in the mastery over our 
 natural inclinations, that they may never be able to 
 betray us to those things which we know to be 
 blameable. 
 
 The root of the divine life is faith ; the chief 
 branches are, love to God, charity to man, purity, 
 and humility : for, as an excellent person has well 
 observed, however these names be common and 
 vulgar, and make no extraordinary sound, yet they 
 carry such a mighty sense, that the tongue of man 
 or angel, can pronounce nothing more weighty or 
 excellent. 
 
 Faith has the same place in the divine life, which 
 sense has in the natural ; being, indeed, nothing else, 
 but a kind of sense, or feeling persuasion of spiritual 
 things. It extends itself unto all divine truths : but, 
 in our lapsed estate, it has a peculiar relation to 
 the declaration of God's mercy and reconcileable- 
 ness to sinners through a Mediator ; and therefore, 
 receiving its denomination from that principal ob- 
 ject, is ordinarily termed faith in Jesus Christ. 
 
 The love of God is a delightful and affectionate 
 sense of the divine perfections ; which makes the 
 soul resign and sacrifice itself wholly unto him, 
 desiring above all things to please him, and delight- 
 ing in nothing so much, as in fellowship and com- 
 
SCOUGAL.] OF THE CHRISTIAN RELIGION. 
 
 munion with him, and in being ready to do or suffer X$7 A* 
 any thing, for his sake, or at his pleasure. Though 
 this affection may have its first rise from the favours 
 and mercies of God towards ourselves, yet, in its 
 growth and progress, it transcends such particular 
 considerations, and grounds itself on his infinite 
 goodness, manifested in all the works of creation and 
 providence. A soul thus possessed with divine love, 
 must needs be enlarged towards all mankind in a 
 sincere and unbounded affection, because of the 
 relation they have to God, being his creatures, and 
 having something of his image stamped upon 
 them. And this is that charity, which I named as 
 the second branch of religion, and under which, all 
 the parts of justice, all the duties which we owe to 
 our neighbour, are eminently comprehended : for 
 he who truly loves all the world, will be nearly con- 
 cerned in the interest of every one ; and, far from 
 wronging or injuring any person, will resent any 
 evil that befalls others, as if it happened to him- 
 self. 
 
 By purity, I understand a due abstractedness 
 from the body, and mastery over the inferior appe- 
 tites ; or such a temper and disposition of mind, as 
 makes a man despise, and abstain from, all pleasures 
 and delights of sense or fancy, which are sinful in 
 themselves, or which tend to extinguish or lessen 
 our relish for more divine and intellectual pleasures ; 
 which also infers a resoluteness to undergo all 
 those hardships he may meet with, in the perform- 
 ance of his duty : so that, not only chastity and 
 
16 NATURE AND EXCELLENCY [SCOUGAL. 
 
 temperance, but also Christian courage and magna- 
 nimity, may come under this head. 
 
 Humility, imports a deep sense of our own mean- 
 ness, with a hearty and affectionate acknowledg- 
 ment of our owing all that we are to the divine 
 bounty : which is always accompanied by a pro- 
 found submission to the will of God, and by great 
 deadness towards the glory of the world, and ap- 
 plause of men. 
 
 These are the highest perfections of which either 
 men or angels are capable ; the very foundation 
 of heaven laid in the soul. And he who has attained 
 them, needs not pry into the hidden rolls of God's 
 decrees, or search the volumes of heaven, to know 
 what is determined about his everlasting condition ; 
 he may find a copy of God's thoughts concerning 
 him, written in his own breast. His love to God, 
 may give him assurance of God's favour to him ; and 
 those beginnings of happiness, which he feels, in the 
 conformity of the powers of his soul to the nature 
 of God, and in compliance with his will, are a sure 
 pledge that his felicity shall be perfected, and con- 
 tinued to all eternity. And it is not without reason 
 that one said, ' I had rather see the real impressions 
 of a God-like nature upon my own soul, than have 
 a vision from heaven, or an angel sent to tell me 
 that my name were enrolled in the book of life.' * 
 
 * < Though I think it worthy of a Christian, to endeavour the 
 assurance of his own salvation ; yet, perhaps, it might be the 
 safest way to moderate his curiosity of prying into God's book 
 of life, and to stay awhile, until he sees himself within the con- 
 fines of salvation itself. Should a man hear a voice from 
 
SCOUGAL.] OF THE CHRISTIAN RELIGION. IJ 
 
 RELIGION BETTER UNDERSTOOD BY ACTIONS THAN 
 BY WORDS. 
 
 When we have said all that we can, the secret 
 mysteries of a new nature and divine life, can never 
 
 heaven, or see a vision from the Almighty, to testify unto him 
 the love of God towards him, yet, methinks, it were more de- 
 sirable, to find a revelation of all from within, arising up from 
 the bottom and centre of a man's own soul, in the real and 
 internal impressions of a godlike nature upon his own spirit ; 
 and thus, to find the foundation and beginning of heaven and 
 happiness within himself: it were more desirable, to see the 
 crucifying of our own will, the mortifying of the mere animal 
 life, and to see a divine life rising up in the room of it, as a 
 sure pledge and inchoation of immortality and happiness, the 
 very essence of which, consists in a perfect conformity, and 
 cheerful compliance, of all the powers of our souls, with the 
 will of God. 
 
 The best way of gaining a well-grounded assurance of the 
 divine love, is this, for a man to overcome himself, and his own 
 will : " To him that overcometh shall be given that white stone, 
 and in it the new name written, which no man knoweth, but he 
 that receiveth it." He that beholds the sun of righteousness 
 arising upon the horizon of his soul, with healing in its wings, 
 and chaseth away all that misty darkness of his own self-will 
 and passions, such a one desires not now the star-light, to 
 know whether it be day or not ; nor cares he, to pry into 
 heaven's secrets, and to search into the hidden rolls of eternity, 
 there to see the whole plot of his salvation ; for he views it, 
 transacted upon the inward stage of his own soul, and, reflect- 
 ing upon himself, he may behold a heaven opened from within, 
 and a throne set up in his soul, and an Almighty Saviour 
 sitting upon it, and reigning within him : he now finds the 
 kingdom of heaven within him, and sees that it is not a thing 
 merely reserved for him without him, being already made 
 partaker of the sweetness and efficacy of it.' John Smith's 
 Select Discourses, p. 460. ed. 8vo. ED. 
 
 C 
 
18 NATURE AND EXCELLENCY [SCOUGAL. 
 
 be sufficiently expressed; language and words 
 cannot reach them ; nor can they be truly under- 
 stood, but by those souls that are enkindled within, 
 and awakened to the sense and relish of spiritual 
 things : " There is a spirit in man, and the inspir- 
 ation of the Almighty giveth this understanding." 
 The power and life of religion may be better ex- 
 pressed in actions than in words ; because actions 
 are more lively things, and better represent the 
 inward principle whence they proceed. And, 
 therefore, we may take the best measure of those 
 gracious endowments, from the deportment of 
 those in whom they reside ; especially, as they are 
 perfectly exemplified in the holy life of our blessed 
 Saviour ; a main part of whose business in this 
 World, was, to teach by his practice what he re- 
 quired of others, and to make his own convers- 
 ation an exact resemblance of those unparalleled 
 rules which he prescribed : so that, if ever true 
 goodness was visible to mortal eyes, it was then, 
 when his presence did beautify and illustrate this 
 lower world. 
 
 DIVINE LOVE EXEMPLIFIED IN OUR SAVIOUR; HIS 
 DILIGENCE IN DOING GOD'S WILL, AND HIS PA- 
 TIENCE IN BEARING IT. 
 
 That sincere and devoted affection with which 
 his blessed soul constantly regarded his heavenly 
 Father, expressed itself in an entire resignation 
 to his will. This was his " very meat, to do 
 the will, and finish the work, of Him that sent 
 
SCOUGAL.] OF THE CHRISTIAN RELIGION. 19 
 
 him." This was the exercise of his childhood, this 
 the constant employment of his riper age. He 
 spared no travail or pains, while he was about his 
 Father's business, but took such infinite content 
 and satisfaction in the performance of it, that, 
 when, faint and weary with his journey, he 
 rested himself on Jacob's well, and intreated water 
 of the Samaritan woman, the success of his con- 
 ference with her, and the accession which was made 
 to the kingdom of God, filled his mind with such 
 delight, as seemed to have redounded to his very 
 body ; refreshing his spirits, and making him forget 
 the thirst of which he had complained before, and 
 refuse the meat, which he had sent his disciples 
 to buy. 
 
 Nor was he less patient and submissive in suffer- 
 ing, than diligent in performing, the will of God. 
 He endured the sharpest afflictions, and extremest 
 miseries, that ever were inflicted on any mortal, 
 without a repining thought, or discontented word. 
 For, though he was far from a stupid insensibility, 
 or a fantastic or Stoical obstinacy, and had as quick 
 a sense of pain as other men, and the deepest 
 apprehension of what he was to suffer in his soul, 
 (as his bloody sweat, and the sore amazement 
 and sorrow which he professed, abundantly de- 
 clare ;) yet he entirely submitted, and willingly 
 acquiesced in, that severe dispensation of provi- 
 dence. 
 
 And he prayed to God, that " if it were pos- 
 sible" (or, as one of the Evangelists has it, "if he 
 
 c 2 
 
20 NATURE AND EXCELLENCY [SCOUGAL. 
 
 were willing,") " that cup might be removed ;" 
 yet he gently added, " Nevertheless, not my will, 
 but thine be done." Of what strange import are 
 the expressions, where he first acknowledges the 
 anguish of his spirit, " Now is my soul troubled :" 
 which would seem to produce a kind of demur, 
 " And what shall I say?" And then he proceeds, 
 to deprecate his sufferings, " Father, save me from 
 this hour ; " words, which he had no sooner uttered, 
 than, as it were, on second thoughts, he recals 
 them, in these expressions : " But for this cause 
 came I into the world ;" and concludes, " Father, 
 glorify thy name." Now, we must not look on 
 this, as any levity, or blameable weakness in the 
 blessed Jesus. He knew, all along, what he was 
 to suffer, and did most resolutely undergo it. But 
 it shows us the inconceivable weight and pressure 
 that he was to bear ; which, being so afflicting, 
 and so contrary to nature, he could not think of 
 it without terror ; yet, considering the will of God, 
 and the glory which from thence was to redound to 
 him, he was not only content, but desirous, to 
 suffer to the uttermost. 
 
 HIS CONSTANT DEVOTION. 
 
 Another instance of his love to God, was his de- 
 light in conversing with Him by prayer. This made 
 him frequently retire from the world, and, with 
 the greatest devotion and pleasure, spend whole 
 nights in that heavenly exercise, though he had no 
 sins to confess, and but few secular interests to 
 
SCOUGAL.] OF THE CHRISTIAN RELIGION. 21 
 
 pray for. Which, alas ! are almost the only things 
 that are wont to drive us to our devotions. Nay, 
 we may say his whole life was a kind of prayer, a 
 constant course of communion with God. If the 
 sacrifice was not always offering, yet was the fire 
 still kept alive. Nor was ever the blessed Jesus 
 surprized, with that dulness or tepidity of spirit, 
 which we must, many times, wrestle with, before we 
 can be fit for the exercise of devotion. 
 
 HIS CHARITY TO MEN. 
 
 In the second place, I should speak of his love 
 and charity towards all men. But he who would 
 express it, must transcribe the history of the gos- 
 pel, and comment upon it : for scarce any thing is 
 recorded to have been done or spoken by him, 
 which was not designed for the good and advan- 
 tage of some one or other. All his miraculous 
 works were instances of his goodness, as well as 
 his power ; and they benefited those on whom 
 they were wrought, as well as amazed the be- 
 holders. His charity was not confined to his 
 kindred or relations : nor was all his kindness 
 swallowed up, in the endearments of that peculiar 
 friendship, which he felt towards the beloved 
 disciple ; every one was his friend, who obeyed 
 his holy commands ; and " whosoever did the will 
 of his Father, 55 the same was as " his brother, and 
 sister, and mother." 
 
 Never was any person unwelcome to him, who. 
 came with an honest intention ; nor did he deny any 
 
 c 3 
 
NATURE AND EXCELLENCY [SCOUGAL. 
 
 request, which tended to the good of those that 
 asked it. So that, what was spoken of that Roman 
 emperor, whom, for his goodness, they called the 
 darling of mankind*, was really performed by him. 
 Never did any depart from him with a heavy coun- 
 tenance, except that rich youth t, who was sorry 
 to hear, that the kingdom of heaven was valued at a 
 rate so costly, and that he could not save his soul 
 and his money too. And, certainly, it troubled our 
 Saviour, to see, that, when a price was in his hand 
 to get wisdom, yet he had no heart to it. The inge- 
 nuousness that appeared in his first address, had 
 already procured some kindness for him ; for it is 
 said, " And Jesus beholding him, loved him." 
 But must he, for his sake, cut out a new way to 
 heaven, and alter the nature of things, which 
 make it impossible that a covetous man can be 
 happy ? 
 
 And what shall I speak of his meekness, who 
 could encounter the monstrous ingratitude and 
 dissimulation of his betrayer, in no harsher terms 
 than "Judas, betrayest thou the Son of man 
 with a kiss?" What further evidence could we 
 desire, of his fervent and unbounded charity, than, 
 that he willingly laid down his life even for his 
 most bitter enemies; and, mingling his prayers 
 with his blood, besought the Father, that his death 
 might not be laid to their charge, but might be- 
 come the means of eternal life, to those very per- 
 sons who procured it ? 
 
 * Deliciac humani generis. f Mark, x. 
 
SCQUGAL.] OF THE CHRISTIAN RELIGION. 23 
 
 HIS PURITY. 
 
 The third branch of the divine life* is purity ; 
 which, as I said, consists in a neglect of worldly 
 enjoyments and accommodations, and in a resolute 
 endurance of all such troubles, as we meet with 
 in doing our duty. Now, surely, if ever any per- 
 son was wholly dead to all the pleasures of the 
 natural life, it was the blessed Jesus ; who seldom 
 tasted them when they came in his way, but never 
 stepped out of his road to seek them. Though he 
 supplied the want of wine with a miracle, yet he 
 would not work one for the relief of his own 
 hunger in the wilderness : so gracious and divine 
 was the temper of his soul, in allowing to others 
 such lawful gratifications, as himself thought good 
 to abstain from ; and supplying, not only their more 
 extreme and pressing necessities, but even their 
 smaller and less considerable wants. We, many 
 times, hear of our Saviour's sighs, and groans, and 
 tears ; but never, that he laughed, and but once, 
 that he rejoiced in spirit; so that, through his 
 whole life, he exactly answered that character 
 given of him by the prophet of old : he was 
 " a man of sorrows, and acquainted with grief." 
 Nor were the troubles and disaccommodations of 
 his life, other than matter of choice. For never 
 did any one appear on the stage of the world, 
 with greater advantage to have raised himself to 
 the highest secular felicity. He who could bring 
 together such a prodigious number of fishes into 
 liis disciples' net, and, at another time, receive that 
 
 c 4 
 
24 NATURE AND EXCELLENCY [SCOUGAL. 
 
 tribute from a fish, which he was to pay to the 
 temple, might easily have made himself the richest 
 person in the world. Nay, without any money, he 
 could have maintained an army powerful enough 
 to have jostled Caesar out of his throne ; having, 
 oftener than once, fed several thousands with a few 
 loaves and small fishes. But, to show how small 
 esteem he had for all the enjoyments in the world, 
 he chose to live in so poor and mean a condition, 
 that " though the foxes had holes, and the birds 
 of the air had nests, yet he who was lord and heir 
 of all things, had not whereon to lay his head." 
 He did not frequent the courts of princes, nor 
 affect the acquaintance and converse of great ones ; 
 but, being reputed the son of a carpenter, he had 
 fishermen, and such other poor people, for his com- 
 panions, and lived in such a manner, as suited the 
 meanness of that condition. 
 
 HIS HUMILITY. 
 
 And thus I am brought unawares to speak of his 
 humility ; the last branch of the divine life, where- 
 in he was a most eminent pattern to us, that we 
 might " learn of him, to be meek and lowly in 
 heart." I shall not now speak of that infinite 
 condescension of the eternal Son of God, in taking 
 our nature upon him; but only reflect on our 
 Saviour's lowly and humble deportment, while he 
 was in the world. He had none of those sins and 
 imperfections, which may justly humble the best of 
 men ; but he was so entirely swallowed up, with a 
 
SCOUGAL.] OF THE CHRISTIAN RELIGION. %5 
 
 deep sense of the infinite perfections of God, that 
 he appeared as nothing in his own eyes, I mean, so 
 far as he was a creature. He considered those 
 eminent perfections which shone in his blessed 
 soul, as not his own, but the gifts of God ; and, 
 therefore, assumed nothing to himself for them, 
 but, with the profoundest humility, renounced 
 all pretences to them. Hence, he refused that 
 ordinary compellation of good master, when ad- 
 dressed to his human nature, by one, who, it seems, 
 was ignorant of his divinity : " Why callest thou 
 me good? there is none good, but God only:" as 
 if he had said, ' The goodness of any creature (and 
 such only, thou takest me to be), is not worthy to 
 be named or taken notice of; it is God alone, who 
 is originally and essentially good.' He never made 
 use of his miraculous power, for vanity or ostenta- 
 tion. He would not gratify the curiosity of the 
 Jews, with a sign from heaven, with some prodigious 
 appearance in the air : nor would he follow the 
 advice of his countrymen and kindred, who would 
 have had all his great works performed in the eyes of 
 the world, for the purpose of gaining him the greater 
 fame. But, when his charity had prompted him to 
 the relief of the miserable, his humility made him, 
 many times, enjoin the concealment of the miracle; 
 and when the glory of God, and the design for 
 which he came into the world, required the publica- 
 tion of his mighty works, he ascribed the honour 
 of all to his Father, telling them, " that of himself 
 he was able to do nothing." 
 
26 NATURE AND EXCELLENCY [SCOUGAL. 
 
 I cannot insist on all the instances of humility, in 
 his deportment towards men : his withdrawing 
 himself, when they would have made him a king ; 
 his subjection, not only to his blessed mother, but 
 to her husband, during his younger years ; and 
 his submission to all the indignities which his 
 rude and malicious enemies affixed upon him. 
 The history of his holy life, recorded by those who 
 conversed with him, is full of such passages as 
 these. And, indeed, the serious and attentive study 
 of it, is the best way to get right measures of hu- 
 mility, and all the other parts of religion, which I 
 have been attempting to describe. 
 
 But now, that I may lessen your trouble in read- 
 ing a long letter, by making some pauses in it, let 
 me here subjoin a prayer ; which might be proper, 
 when one, who had formerly entertained some false 
 notions of religion, begins to discover what it is. 
 
 A PRAYER. 
 
 < INFINITE and eternal Majesty, author and 
 fountain of being and blessedness, how little do 
 we, poor sinful creatures, know of Thee, or the 
 way to serve and please Thee ! We talk of religion, 
 and pretend to it ; but, alas ! how few are there 
 that know and consider what it means ! How easily 
 do we mistake the affections of our nature, and the 
 issues of self-love, for those divine graces which 
 alone can render us acceptable in thy sight ! It may 
 justly grieve me, to consider, that I should have 
 wandered so long, and contented myself so often, 
 
SCOUGAL.] OF THE CHRISTIAN RELIGION. ^7 
 
 with vain shadows and false images of piety and 
 religion. Yet, I cannot but acknowledge and adore 
 thy goodness, who hast been pleased, in some mea- 
 sure, to open mine eyes, and to let me see what it 
 is, at which I ought to aim. I rejoice, to consider, 
 of what mighty improvements my nature is capa- 
 ble, and what a divine temper of spirit shines in 
 those, whom Thou art pleased to chuse, and 
 causest to approach unto thee. Blessed be thine 
 infinite mercy, who sentest thine own Son, to dwell 
 among men, and to instruct them by his example, 
 as well as by his laws ; giving them a perfect pattern 
 of what they ought to be. O that the holy life of 
 the blessed Jesus, may be always in my thoughts, 
 and before mine eyes, till I receive a deep sense 
 and impression, of those excellent graces which 
 shone so eminently in him. And, let me never cease 
 my endeavours, till that new and divine nature pre- 
 vail in my soul, and Christ be formed within me.' 
 
28 NATURE AND EXCELLENCY [SCOUGAL. 
 
 PART II. 
 
 THE EXCELLENCY AND ADVANTAGE OF RELIGION. 
 
 AND now, my dear friend, having discovered the 
 nature of true religion, before I proceed any fur- 
 ther, it will not, perhaps, be unfit to employ our me- 
 ditations a little on its excellency and advantages ; 
 that we may be excited to the more vigorous and 
 diligent prosecution of those methods, whereby 
 we may obtain so great a felicity. But, what 
 words shall we find, to express that inward satisfac- 
 tion, those hidden pleasures, which can never be 
 rightly understood, but by those holy souls who 
 feel them ? " A stranger intermeddleth not with 
 their joy."* Holiness, is the right temper, the 
 vigorous and healthful constitution, of the soul. 
 Its faculties had formerly been so enfeebled and 
 disordered, that they could not exercise their 
 natural functions ; it had wearied itself with end- 
 less tossings and rollings, and was never able to 
 find any rest: now, that distemper being removed, 
 it feels itself well ; there is a due harmony in its 
 faculties, and a sprightly vigour possesses every 
 part. The understanding can discern what is good, 
 and the will can cleave unto it ; the affections are 
 not tied to the motions of sense, and the influence 
 
 * Prov. xiv. 10. 
 
SCOUGAL.] OF THE CHRISTIAN RELIGION. 29 
 
 of external objects ; they are stirred by more 
 divine impressions, they are touched by a sense 
 of invisible things. 
 
 THE EXCELLENCY OF DIVINE LOVE. 
 
 Let us now descend, if you please, to a nearer and 
 more particular view of religion, in those several 
 branches of it which were named before. Let us 
 consider the love and affection by which holy 
 souls are united to God, that we may see what ex- 
 cellency and felicity it involves. Love is that 
 powerful and prevalent passion, by which all the 
 faculties and inclinations of the soul are determined, 
 and on which both its perfection and happiness 
 depend. The worth and excellency of a soul is to 
 be measured by the object of its love : he who 
 loves mean and sordid things, thereby becomes 
 base and vile ; but a noble and well-placed affec- 
 tion, advances and improves the spirit, into a con- 
 formity with the perfections which it loves. The 
 images of these, frequently present themselves to 
 the mind, and, by a secret force and energy, in- 
 sinuate themselves into the very constitution of the 
 soul, and mould and fashion it unto their own like- 
 ness. Hence we may see, how easily lovers or 
 friends slide into the imitation of the persons whom 
 they regard ; and how, even before they are aware, 
 they begin to resemble them, not only in the more 
 considerable instances of their deportment, but in 
 their very voice and gesture, and in that which we 
 call their mien and air. And, certainly, we should 
 
30 NATURE AND EXCELLENCY [SCOUGAL. 
 
 as well transcribe the virtues and inward beauties of 
 the soul, if they were the object and motive of our 
 love. But now, as all the creatures with whom we 
 converse, have their mixture and alloy, we are always 
 in danger of being sullied and corrupted, by placing 
 our affections on them. Passion easily blinds our 
 eyes, so that we first approve, and then imitate, 
 the things that are blameable in their conduct. The 
 true way to improve and ennoble our souls, is by fix- 
 ing our love on the divine perfections ; that we may 
 have them always before us, and may derive an 
 impression of them on ourselves; and, "beholding, 
 with open face, as in a glass, the glory of the Lord, 
 we may be changed into the same image, from 
 glory to glory." He, who, with a generous and 
 holy ambition, has raised his eyes towards that 
 uncreated beauty and goodness, and fixed his affec- 
 tion there, is quite of another spirit, of a more 
 excellent and heroic temper, than the rest of the 
 world ; he cannot but infinitely disdain all mean 
 and unworthy things ; and will not entertain any 
 low or base thoughts, which might disparage his 
 high and noble pretensions. Love is the greatest 
 and most excellent thing we are masters of: and, 
 therefore, it is folly and baseness to bestow it un- 
 worthily ; it is, indeed, the only thing we can call 
 our own : other things may be taken from us by 
 violence, but none can ravish our love. If any 
 thing else be counted ours, by giving our love we 
 give all : we make over our hearts and wills, by 
 which we possess all other enjoyments* It is not 
 
SCOUGAL.] OF THE CHRISTIAN RELIGION. 31 
 
 possible to refuse him any thing, to whom, by love, 
 we have given ourselves. Nay, since it is the pri- 
 vilege of gifts, to receive their value from the mind 
 of the giver, and not to be measured by the event, 
 but by the desire, he who loveth, may, in some 
 sense, be said not only to bestow all that he has, 
 but all things else which may make the beloved 
 person happy ; since he heartily wishes them, and 
 would readily give them, if they were in his power: 
 in which sense it is, that one makes bold to say, 
 'That divine love doth, in a manner, give God unto 
 himself; by the complacency it takes, in the happi- 
 ness and perfection of his nature.' But, though 
 this may seem too strained an expression, certainly 
 love is the worthiest present we can offer unto God ; 
 and it is extremely debased, when we bestow it 
 in any other way. 
 
 When this affection is misplaced, it often vents 
 itself in such expressions, as point at its genuine 
 and proper object, and insinuate where it ought 
 to be placed. The flattering and blasphemous 
 terms of adoration, in which men sometimes express 
 their passion, are the language of that affection 
 which was made and designed for God * ; as he 
 who is accustomed to speak to some great person, 
 
 * An example may be cited, from an author who rarely 
 thus offends : 
 
 " Come, Stella, queen of all my heart ! 
 Come, born to fill its vast desires ! 
 Thy looks perpetual joys impart, 
 Thy voice perpetual love inspires." 
 
 Johnson, ED. 
 
32 NATURE AND EXCELLENCY [SCOUGAL. 
 
 will, perhaps unawares, accost another with those 
 titles which he was. wont to give to him. But cer- 
 tainly that passion which accounts its object a Deity, 
 ought to be bestowed on Him alone, who really is so. 
 Those unlimited submissions, which would debase 
 the soul, if directed to any other, will exalt and 
 ennoble it when placed here. Those chains and 
 cords of love are infinitely more glorious than 
 liberty itself; this slavery is more noble, than all 
 the empires in the world. 
 
 THE ADVANTAGES OF DIVINE LOVE. 
 
 Again, as divine love advances and elevates the 
 soul, so it is that alone which can make it happy. 
 The highest and most enchanting pleasures, the 
 most solid and substantial delights, of which human 
 nature is capable, are those which arise from the 
 endearments of a well-placed and successful affec- 
 tion. That which embitters love, and makes it 
 ordinarily a very troublesome and hurtful passion, 
 is the fixing it on those, who have not worth 
 enough to deserve it, or affection and gratitude to 
 requite it, or whose absence may deprive us of the 
 pleasure of their converse, or their miseries occasion 
 pur trouble. To all these evils are they exposed, 
 whose chief and supreme affection is fixed on crea- 
 tures like themselves : but the love of God delivers 
 us from them all. 
 
 THE WORTH OF THE OBJECT. 
 
 First, love must needs be miserable, and full of 
 trouble and disquietude, when there is not worth 
 
SOCUGAL.] OF THE CHRISTIAN RELIGION. 3$ 
 
 and excellency enough in the object, to answer the 
 vastness of its capacity. So eager and violent a 
 passion, cannot but fret and torment the spirit, 
 when it finds not materials to satisfy its cravings. 
 And, indeed, so large and unbounded is its nature, 
 that it must be extremely pinched and straitened, 
 when confined to any creature ; nothing below an 
 infinite good can afford it room to stretch itself, 
 and exert its vigour and activity. What is a little 
 skin-deep beauty, or some small degrees of good- 
 ness, to match or satisfy a passion which was made 
 for God; designed to embrace an infinite good? 
 No wonder lovers so hardly suffer any rival, and do 
 not desire that others should approve their passion 
 by imitating it. They know the scantiness and 
 narrowness of the good which they love ; that 
 it cannot suffice two, being, in effect, too little for 
 one. Hence love, " which is strong as death," 
 occasions "jealousy which is cruel as the grave ; " 
 the coals whereof are coals of fire, which has a 
 most violent flame. 
 
 But divine love has no mixture of this gall ; when 
 once the soul is fixed on that supreme and all- 
 sufficient good, it finds so much perfection and 
 goodness, as not only answers and satisfies its 
 affection, but masters and overpowers it too: it 
 finds all its love to be too faint and languid for 
 such a noble object, and is only sorry that it can 
 command no more. It wishes for the flames of a 
 seraph, and longs for the time when it shall be 
 wholly melted and dissolved into love: and, be- 
 
34} NATURE AND EXCELLENCY [SCOUGAL. 
 
 cause it can do so little itself, it desires the assist- 
 ance of the whole creation, that angels and men 
 would concur with it, in the admiration and love of 
 those infinite perfections. 
 
 THE CERTAINTY TO BE BELOVED AGAIN. 
 
 Again, love is accompanied with trouble, when 
 it misses a suitable return of affection ; love is the 
 most valuable thing we can bestow, and by giving 
 it, we give, in effect, all that we have: and, 
 therefore, it must needs be afflicting to find so 
 great a gift despised ; that the present, which one 
 has made of his whole heart, cannot prevail to 
 obtain any return. Perfect love is a kind of self- 
 dereliction, a wandering out of ourselves ; it is a 
 kind of voluntary death, wherein the lover dies to 
 himself, and to his own interests, not thinking of 
 them, nor caring for them any more, and minding 
 nothing but how he may please and gratify the 
 party whom he loves. Thus, he is quite undone, 
 unless he meets with reciprocal affection ; he ne-, 
 gleets himself, and the other has no regard to him ; 
 but if he be beloved, he is revived, as it were, and 
 lives in the soul and care of the person whom he 
 loves; and now he begins to mind his own con- 
 cernments, not so much because they are his, as 
 because the beloved is pleased to own an interest in 
 them. He becomes dear unto himself, because he 
 is. so unto the other. 
 
 But why should I enlarge on so known a matter ? 
 Nothing can be more clear, than that the happi- 
 
-SCOUGAL.] OF THE CHRISTIAN RELIGION. 35 
 
 ness of love depends on the return it meets with. 
 And here the divine lover has unspeakably the 
 advantage, having placed his affection on him 
 whose nature is love ; whose goodness is as infinite 
 as his being ; whose mercy prevented us, when we 
 were his enemies, and, therefore, cannot help em- 
 bracing us, when we are become his friends. It is 
 utterly impossible, that God should deny his love 
 to a soul wholly devoted to him, and which desires 
 nothing so much, as to serve and please him. He 
 cannot disdain his own image, nor the heart in 
 which it is engraven. Love is all the tribute which 
 we can pay ; and it is a sacrifice which he will not 
 despise. 
 
 THE PRESENCE OF THE BELOVED PERSON. 
 
 Another thing which disturbs the pleasure of 
 love, and renders it a miserable and unquiet passion, 
 is absence and separation from those we love. It 
 is not without a sensible affliction that friends part, 
 though for a little time. It is sad to be de- 
 prived of that society which is so delightful ; our 
 life becomes tedious, being spent in an impatient 
 expectation of the happy hour wherein we may 
 meet again. But if death have made the separa- 
 tion, as at some time or other it must, this occasions 
 a grief scarce to be paralleled by all the misfortunes 
 of human life, and wherein we pay dear enough for 
 the comforts of friendship. But O how happy 
 ^re those who have placed their love on Him, who 
 can never be absent from them ! they need but 
 
 D 2 
 
36 NATURE AND EXCELLENCY [SCOUGAL. 
 
 open their eyes, and they shall every where behold 
 the traces of his presence and glory, and converse 
 with him whom their soul loveth. And this makes 
 the darkest prison, or wildest desert, not only sup- 
 portable, but delightful to them. 
 
 THE DIVINE LOVE MAKES US PARTAKE OF AN 
 INFINITE HAPPINESS. 
 
 In fine, a lover is miserable, if the person whom 
 he loves be so. They who have made an exchange 
 of hearts by love, get, thereby, an interest in one 
 another's happiness and misery: and this makes 
 love a troublesome passion, when placed on earth. 
 The most fortunate person has grief enough to mar 
 the tranquillity of his friend ; and it is hard to hold 
 out, when we are attacked on all hands, and suffer, 
 not only in our own person, but in that of another. 
 But if God were the object of our love, we should 
 share in an infinite happiness, without any mix- 
 ture or possibility of diminution : we should rejoice 
 to behold the glory of God, and receive comfort 
 and pleasure, from all the praises with which he 
 is extolled, by men and angels. It should delight 
 us beyond all expression, to consider, that the be- 
 loved of our souls is infinitely happy in himself, 
 and that all his enemies cannot shake or unsettle 
 his throne : " that our God is in the heavens, and 
 doeth whatever he pleaseth." 
 
 Behold ! on what sure foundations his happiness 
 is built, whose soul is possessed with divine love ; 
 whose will is transformed into the will of God ; and 
 
SCOUGAL.] OF THE CHRISTIAN RELIGION. 87 
 
 whose greatest desire is, that his Maker should be 
 pleased : O the peace, the rest, the satisfaction, 
 which attends on such a temper of mind ! 
 
 HE THAT LOVES GOD FINDS SWEETNESS IN EVERY 
 DISPENSATION. 
 
 What an infinite pleasure must it needs be, thus, 
 as it were, to lose ourselves in Him, and, swallowed 
 up in the overcoming sense of his goodness, to offer 
 ourselves a living sacrifice, always ascending to 
 him in flames of love. Never does a soul know 
 what solid joy and substantial pleasure is, till, being 
 weary of itself, it renounces all self-property, gives 
 itself up to the author of its being, and feels itself 
 become a hallowed and devoted thing. Till it can 
 say, from an inward sense and feeling, * My beloved 
 is mine, I account all his interest mine own. And / 
 am His ; I am content to be any thing for him ; I 
 care not for myself, but that I may serve him.' 
 A person moulded into this temper, would find 
 pleasure in all the dispensations of Providence. 
 Temporal enjoyments would have another relish, 
 when he could taste the divine goodness in them, 
 and consider them as tokens of love sent by his 
 dearest Lord and Maker. And chastisements, 
 though they be not joyous but grievous, would 
 lose their sting : the rod as well as the staff would 
 comfort him ; he would snatch a kiss from the 
 hand that was smiting him, and gather sweet- 
 ness from that severity; nay, he would rejoice, 
 that, though God did not the will of such a worth* 
 
 D 3 
 
38 NATURE AND EXCELLENCY [sCOUGAL. 
 
 less and foolish creature as himself, yet he did his 
 own will, and accomplished his own designs, which 
 are infinitely more holy and wise. 
 
 sdj o.j 
 
 THE DUTIES OF RELIGION ARE DELIGHTFUL TO HIM. 
 
 The exercises of religion, which to others are 
 insipid and tedious, yield the highest pleasure and 
 delight, to souls possessed with divine love : they 
 rejoice, when they are called to "go up to the 
 house of the Lord, that they may see his power 
 and his glory, as they have formerly seen it in his 
 sanctuary."* They never think themselves so 
 happy, as, when, having retired from the world, 
 and escaped from the noise and hurry of affairs, 
 and silenced all their clamorous passions, those 
 troublesome guests within, they have placed them- 
 selves in the presence of God, and entertain fellow- 
 ship and communion with him: they delight to 
 adore his perfections, and recount his favours ; to 
 protest their affection to him, and tell him a thou- 
 sand times that they love him ; to lay their troubles 
 or wants before him, and disburthen their hearts in 
 his bosom. Repentance itself is a delightful exer- 
 cise, when it flows from the principle of love ; there 
 is a secret sweetness, which accompanies those tears 
 of remorse, those meltings and relentings of a soul 
 returning unto God, and lamenting its former un- 
 kindness. 
 
 The severities of a holy life, and that constant 
 
 HBO 
 *Psalmlxiii.2. 
 
SCOUGAL.] OF THE CHRISTIAN RELIGION. 39 
 
 watch which we are obliged to keep over our hearts 
 and ways, are very troublesome to those who are 
 only ruled and actuated by an external law, and 
 have no law in their minds, inclining them to the 
 performance of their duty : but where divine love 
 possesses the soul, it stands as sentinel to keep out 
 every thing that may offend the beloved, and dis- 
 dainfully repulses those temptations which assault 
 it; it complies cheerfully, not only with explicit 
 commands, but with the most secret notices of the 
 beloved's pleasure ; and is ingenious in discovering 
 what will be most grateful and acceptable unto 
 him : it makes mortification and self-denial change 
 their harsh and dreadful names, and become easy, 
 sweet, and delightful things. 
 
 But I find this part of my letter swell more than 
 I designed ; indeed who would not be tempted to 
 dwell on so pleasant a theme ? I shall, however, 
 endeavour to make compensation, by brevity in the 
 other points* 
 
 THE EXCELLENCY OF CHARITY. 
 
 The next branch of the divine life is an universal 
 charity and love. The excellency of this grace 
 will be easily acknowledged ; for what can be more 
 noble and generous, than a heart enlarged to em- 
 brace the whole world ; whose wishes and designs 
 are levelled at the good and welfare of the uni- 
 verse ; which considers every man's interest as its 
 own ? He who loves his neighbour as himself, can 
 never entertain any base or injurious thought, or 
 
 D 4 
 
40 NATURE AND EXCELLENCY [SCOUGAL. 
 
 be wanting in expressions of bounty. He had 
 rather suffer a thousand wrongs, than be guilty of 
 one ; and never accounts himself happy, but when 
 some one or other has been benefited by him. 
 The malice or ingratitude of men is not able to 
 resist his love; he overlooks their injuries, and 
 pities their folly, and overcomes their evil with 
 good ; and never designs any other revenge against 
 his most bitter and malicious enemies, than to confer 
 all the obligations he can upon them, whether they 
 will or not. Is it any wonder that such a person 
 is reverenced and admired, and accounted the 
 darling of mankind? This inward goodness and 
 benignity of spirit, reflects a certain sweetness and 
 serenity upon the very countenance, and makes it 
 amiable and lovely. It inspires the soul with a 
 noble resolution and courage, and makes it capable 
 of enterprizing and effecting the highest things. 
 Those heroic actions which we are wont to read 
 with admiration, have, for the most part, been the 
 effect of the love of one's country, or of particular 
 friendships ; and certainly a more extensive and 
 universal affection must be much more powerful 
 and efficacious. 
 
 THE PLEASURE THAT ATTENDS IT. 
 
 Again, as charity flows from a noble and ex- 
 cellent temper, so it is accompanied with the 
 greatest satisfaction and pleasure. It delights the 
 soul to feel itself thus enlarged; to be delivered 
 frpm those, disquieting^ as well as deformed passions, 
 
SCOUGAL.] OF THE CHRISTIAN RELIGION. 41 
 
 malice, hatred, and envy ; and to become gentle, 
 sweet, and benign. Had I my choice of all things 
 that might tend to my present felicity, I would 
 pitch upon this, to have my heart possessed with 
 the greatest kindness and affection towards all men 
 in the world. I am sure, this would make me par- 
 take in all the happiness of others : their inward 
 endowments, and outward prosperity, every thing 
 that did benefit and advantage them, would afford 
 me comfort and pleasure. And, though I should 
 frequently meet with occasions of grief and com- 
 passion, yet, there is a sweetness in commiseration, 
 which makes it infinitely more desirable than a 
 stupid insensibility : and the consideration of that 
 infinite goodness and wisdom which governs the 
 world, might repress any excessive trouble for par- 
 ticular calamities that happen in it : and the hopes 
 or possibility of men's after-happiness, might mode- 
 rate their sorrow for their present misfortunes. 
 Certainly, next to the love and enjoyment of God, 
 that ardent charity and affection with which blessed 
 souls embrace one another, is justly to be reckoned 
 as the greatest felicity of those regions above ; and, 
 did it universally prevail in the world, it would an- 
 ticipate that blessedness, and make us taste of the 
 joys of heaven upon earth. 
 
 THE EXCELLENCY OF PURITY. 
 
 That which I named as a third branch of re- 
 ligion, was purity; and you may remember I 
 described it to consist in a contempt of sensual 
 
42 NATURE AND EXCELLENCY [SCOUGAL. 
 
 pleasures, and a resoluteness to undergo those 
 troubles and pains with which we may meet, in the 
 performance of our duty. Now, the naming of this, 
 may suffice to recommend it, as a most noble and 
 excellent quality. There is no slavery so base, as 
 that whereby a man becomes a drudge to his own 
 passions ; nor any victory so glorious, as that which 
 is obtained over them. Never can that person be 
 capable of any thing that is noble and worthy, who 
 is sunk in the gross and feculent pleasures of sense, 
 or bewitched with the light and airy gratifications 
 of fancy : but the religious soul is of a more sublime 
 and divine temper; it knows it was made for 
 higher things, and scorns to step aside one foot 
 out of the way of holiness, for the obtaining any 
 of these. 
 
 THE DELIGHT IT AFFORDS. 
 
 And this purity is accompanied with a great deal 
 of pleasure : whatsoever defiles the soul, disturbs 
 it too ; all impure delights have a sting in them, 
 and leave smart and trouble behind them. Excess 
 and intemperance, and all inordinate desires, are so 
 much enemies to the health of the body, and the 
 interests of this present life, that a little consider- 
 ation might oblige any rational man to forbear 
 them on that very score : and if religious persons 
 go higher, and not only abstain from noxious 
 pleasures, but neglect those that are innocent, this 
 is not to be looked upon as any violent and un^ 
 easy restraint, but as the effect of better choice \ 
 
r* 
 
 iO 
 
 
 A, 
 
 \V^ - A v"' ' 
 
 SCOUGAL.] OF THE CHRISTIAN RELIGION. \ 43 
 
 ^ff?fc %? 
 
 their minds are taken up in the pursuit of more 3[fffA 
 sublime and refined delights, and they cannot, 
 therefore, be concerned in these. Any person 
 that is engaged in a violent and passionate affection, 
 will easily forget his ordinary gratifications ; will 
 be little curious about his diet, or his bodily ease, 
 or the divertisements he was wont to delight in. 
 No wonder, then, if souls overpowered with divine 
 love, despise inferior pleasures ; and are almost 
 ready to grudge the body its necessary attendance, 
 for the common accommodations of life ; judging 
 all these impertinent to their main happiness, and 
 to those higher enjoyments which they are pursu- 
 ing. As for the hardships with which they may 
 meet, they rejoice in them, as opportunities to ex- 
 ercise and testify their affection : and, since they 
 are able to do so little for God, they are glad of the 
 honour to suffer for him. 
 
 THE EXCELLENCY OF HUMILITY. 
 
 The last branch of religion is humility. And 
 however, to vulgar and carnal eyes, this may ap- 
 pear an abject, base, and despicable quality, yet 
 really, the soul of man is not capable of an higher 
 and more noble endowment. It is a silly igno- 
 rance that begets pride : but humility arises from a 
 nearer acquaintance with excellent things ; which 
 keeps men from doting on trifles, or admiring 
 themselves because of some petty attainments. 
 Noble and well-educated souls have no such high 
 opinion of riches, beauty, strength, and other like 
 
44 NATURE AND EXCELLENCY [SCOUGAL. 
 
 advantages, as to value themselves for them, or 
 despise those that want them : and as for inward 
 worth and real goodness, their sense of the divine 
 perfections, makes them think very meanly of 
 any thing they have hitherto attained ; still endea- 
 vouring to surmount themselves, and make nearer 
 approaches to those infinite excellencies which they 
 admire. 
 
 I know not what thoughts people may have of 
 humility : but I see almost every person pretending 
 to it, and shunning such expressions and actions, 
 as may make them be accounted arrogant and pre- 
 sumptuous ; so that those who are most desirous of 
 praise, will be loth to commend themselves. What 
 are all those compliments and modes of civility, so 
 frequent in our ordinary converse, but so many 
 protestations of the esteem of others, and the low 
 thoughts we have of ourselves ; and must not that 
 humility be a noble and excellent endowment, 
 when the very shadows of it are accounted so ne- 
 cessary a part of good breeding ? * 
 
 * ' It is now some years since I was engaged, unawares, in 
 a conversation with a strong reasoner, who, at first, urged the 
 wickedness of the American Indians, as a bar to our hope of 
 converting them to Christianity. But when I mentioned their 
 temperance, justice, and veracity (according to the accounts I 
 had then received), it was asked, Why, if those heathens are 
 such men as these, what will they gain by being made Chris- 
 tians ? What will they gain by being such Christians, as we see 
 every where around us ? I could not deny, they would lose, 
 not gain, by such a Christianity as this. Upon which she asked, 
 Why, what else do you mean by Christianity ? My plain answer 
 was, What do you apprehend to be more valuable, than good 
 
.SCOUGAL.] OF THE CHRISTIAN RELIGION. 45 
 
 THE PLEASURE AND SWEETNESS OF AN HUMBLE 
 TEMPER. 
 
 Again, this grace is accompanied with a great 
 deal of happiness and tranquillity. The proud and 
 arrogant person is a trouble to all that converse 
 with him, but most of all to himself; every thing 
 is enough to vex him ; but scarce any thing suffi- 
 cient to content and please him. He is ready to 
 quarrel with every thing that falls out; as if he 
 himself were such a considerable person, that God 
 Almighty should do every thing to gratify him ; 
 and as if all the creatures of heaven and earth 
 should wait upon him and obey his will. The 
 leaves of high trees shake with every blast of wind ; 
 and every breath, every evil word, will disquiet 
 and torment an arrogant man : but the humble per- 
 son has this advantage when he is despised, that 
 none can think more meanly of him than he thinks 
 of himself; and therefore, he is not troubled at 
 the matter, but can easily bear those reproaches 
 which wound others to the soul. And as he 
 is less affected with injuries, so indeed he is less 
 
 sense, good nature, and good manners? All these are con- 
 tained, and that in the highest degree, in what I mean by 
 Christianity. Good sense, so called, is but a poor dim shadow 
 of what Christians call faith. Good nature, is only a faint 
 distant resemblance of Christian charity. And good manners, 
 if of the most finished kind that nature assisted by art can 
 attain to, is but a dead picture of that holiness of conversation, 
 which is the image of God visibly expressed. All these put 
 together by the art of God, I call Christianity. Sir, if this be 
 Christianity, said my opponent in amaze, I never saw a Christian 
 in my life.' John Wesley s Works, vol. xiv. p. 118. Ed. 
 
46 NATURE AND EXCELLENCY [SCOUGAL. 
 
 obnoxious unto them : " contention which cometh 
 of pride," betrays a man into a thousand incon- 
 veniences, which those of a meek and lowly temper 
 seldom meet with. True and genuine humility 
 begets both a veneration and love, among all wise 
 and discerning persons; while pride defeats its 
 own design, and deprives a man of that honour, to 
 which it makes him pretend. 
 
 But, as the chief exercises of humility, are those 
 which relate unto Almighty God ; so these are ac- 
 companied with the greatest satisfaction and sweet- 
 ness. It is impossible to express the great pleasure 
 and delight, which religious persons feel in the 
 lowest prostrations of their soul before God, when, 
 having a deep sense of the divine majesty and glory, 
 they sink, if I may so speak, to the bottom of their 
 beings, and vanish and disappear in the presence of 
 God, by a serious and affectionate acknowledgment 
 of their own nothingness, and the shortness and im- 
 perfections of their attainments ; when they under- 
 stand the full sense and emphasis of the Psalmist's 
 exclamation, <' Lord, what is man ? " and can utter 
 it with the same affection. Never did any haughty 
 and ambitious person receive the praises and ap- 
 plauses of men with so much pleasure, as the hum- 
 ble and religious renounce them : " Not unto us, 
 O Lord, not unto us, but unto thy name, give the 
 glory." 
 
 Thus, I have spoken something of the excel- 
 lencies and advantage of religion in its several 
 branches; but I should be very injurious to the 
 
SCOUGAL.] OF THE CHRISTIAN RELIGION. 47 
 
 subject, did I pretend to have given any perfect 
 account of it. Let us acquaint ourselves with it, 
 my dear friend, let us acquaint ourselves with it, and 
 experience will teach us more, than all that ever has 
 been spoken or written concerning it. But, if we 
 may suppose the soul to be already awakened unto 
 some longing desires after so great a blessedness, it 
 will be good to give them vent, and suffer them to 
 issue forth in some such aspirations as these : 
 
 A PRAYER. 
 
 ' Good God ! what a mighty felicity is this, to 
 which we are called ! How graciously hast thou 
 joined our duty and happiness together; and pre- 
 scribed that for our work, the performance whereof 
 is a great reward ! And shall such silly worms be 
 advanced to so great a height ? Wilt thou allow 
 us to raise our eyes to thee ? Wilt thou admit and 
 accept our affection ? Shall we receive the impres- 
 sion of thy divine excellencies, by beholding and 
 admiring them, and partake of thy infinite blessed- 
 ness and glory, by loving thee, and rejoicing in 
 them ? O the happiness of those souls, that have 
 broken the fetters of self-love, and disentangled 
 their affection from every narrow and particular 
 good ; whose understandings are enlightened by 
 thy Holy Spirit, and their wills enlarged to the ex- 
 tent of thine ; who love thee above all things, and 
 all mankind for thy sake ! I am persuaded, O 
 God, I am persuaded, that I can never be happy, 
 
48 NATURE AND EXCELLENCY [SCOUGAL. 
 
 till my carnal and corrupt affections be mortified ; 
 till the pride and vanity of my spirit be subdued; 
 and till I come seriously to despise the world, and 
 think nothing of myself. But O, when shall these 
 things be ? O when wilt thou come unto me, and 
 satisfy my soul with thy likeness, making me holy 
 as thou art holy, even in all manner of conver- 
 sation ? Hast thou given me a prospect of so great 
 felicity, and wilt thou not bring me unto it ? Hast 
 thou excited these desires in my soul, and wilt thou 
 not also satisfy them ? O teach me to do thy will, 
 for thou art my God : thy spirit is good, lead me 
 unto the land of uprightness. Quicken me, O 
 Lord, for thy name's sake, and perfect that which 
 concerneth me. Thy mercy, O Lord, endureth 
 for ever: forsake not the works of thine own 
 hands/ 
 
SCOUGAL.J OF THE CHRISTIAN RELIGION. 49 
 
 PART III. 
 
 THE DESPONDENT THOUGHTS OF SOME, NEWLY 
 AWAKENED TO A RIGHT SENSE OF THINGS. 
 
 I HAVE hitherto considered wherein true religion 
 consists, and how desirable a thing it is. But 
 when one sees how extremely distant the common 
 temper and frame of men is from it, he may, per- 
 haps, be ready to despond, and think it utterly 
 impossible to be attained. He may sit down in 
 sadness, and bemoan himself, and say in the 
 anguish and bitterness of his spirit : ' They are 
 happy indeed, whose souls are awakened unto the 
 divine life, who are thus renewed in the spirit of 
 their minds. But, alas ! I am quite of another 
 constitution, and am not able to effect so mighty a 
 change : if outward observances could have done 
 the business, I might have hoped to acquit myself 
 by diligence and care ; but since nothing but a new 
 nature can serve the turn, what am I able to do ? 
 I could bestow all niy goods in oblations to God, 
 or alms to the poor : but I cannot command that 
 love and charity, without which this expense would 
 profit me nothing. This gift of God cannot be 
 purchased with money ; * if a man should give 
 all the substance of his house for love, it would 
 
 * Acts, viii. 20. 
 E 
 
50 NATURE AND EXCELLENCY [SCOUGAL. 
 
 utterly be contemned. * I could pine and macerate 
 my body, and undergo many hardships and trou- 
 bles ; but I cannot get all my corruptions starved, 
 nor my affections wholly weaned from earthly 
 things. There are still some worldly desires lurk- 
 ing in my heart ; and those vanities which I have 
 shut out of the doors, are always getting in by the 
 windows. I am, frequently, convinced of my own 
 meanness, of the weakness of my body, and the 
 far greater weakness of my soul : but this rather 
 begets indignation and discontent, than true humi- 
 lity in my spirit ; and, though I should come to think 
 meanly of myself, yet I cannot endure that others 
 should think so too. In a word, when I reflect on 
 my highest and most specious attainments, I have 
 reason to suspect, that they are all but the effects 
 of nature, the issues of self-love acting under 
 several disguises : and this principle is so powerful, 
 and so deeply rooted in me, that I can never hope 
 to be delivered from the dominion of it. I may 
 toss and turn as a door on the hinges, but can never 
 be clear off, or be quite unhinged of self, which is 
 still the centre of all my motions. So that, all the 
 advantage which I can draw from the discovery of 
 religion, is but to see, at a vast distance, that 
 felicity which I am not able to reach : like a man 
 in a shipwreck, who discerns the land, and envies 
 the happiness of those who are there, but thinks it 
 impossible for himself to get ashore.' 
 
 * Cant. viii. 7. 
 
SCOUGAL.] OF THE CHRISTIAN RELIGION. 51 
 
 THE UNREASONABLENESS OF THESE FEARS. 
 
 These, or such desponding thoughts, may arise 
 in the minds of those persons, who begin to con- 
 ceive somewhat more of the nature and excellency 
 of religion than before. They have spied the land, 
 and seen that it is exceeding good ; that it floweth 
 with milk and honey : but they find they have the 
 children of Anak to grapple with ; many powerful 
 appetites and corruptions to overcome, and they fear 
 they shall never prevail against them. But why 
 should we give way to such discouraging sugges- 
 tions ? Why should we entertain such unreasonable 
 fears, which damp our spirits, and weaken our 
 hands, and augment the difficulties of our way ? 
 Let us encourage ourselves, my dear friend, let us 
 encourage ourselves, with those mighty aids, which 
 we are to expect in this spiritual warfare; for 
 greater is he that is for us, than all that can rise 
 against us : " The eternal God is our refuge, and 
 underneath are the everlasting arms." * " Let us 
 be strong in the Lord, and in the power of his might; 
 for he it is, that shall tread down our enemies." 
 God has a tender regard for the souls of men, 
 and is infinitely willing to promote their welfare. 
 He has condescended to our weakness, and de- 
 clared with an oath, that he has no pleasure in our 
 destruction. There is no such thing as despite or 
 envy lodged in the bosom of that ever blessed 
 
 * Deut. xxxiii. 27. 
 
 Euf 
 J& 
 
52 NATURE AND EXCELLENCY [SCOUGAL. 
 
 being, whose name and nature is love. He cre- 
 ated us, at first, in a happy condition ; and now, 
 when we are fallen from it, " he hath laid help 
 upon one that is mighty to save," * hath committed 
 the care of our souls to no meaner person, than the 
 eternal Son of his love. It is he that is the Cap- 
 tain of our salvation ; and what enemies can be 
 too strong for us, when we are fighting under his 
 banners ? Did not the Son of God come down 
 from the bosom of his Father, and pitch his taber- 
 nacle amongst the sons of men, that he might 
 recover and propagate the divine life, and restore 
 the image of God in their souls ? All the mighty 
 works which he performed; all the afflictions 
 which he sustained, had this for their scope and 
 design ; for this, did he labour and toil ; for this, 
 did he bleed and die : "He was with child ; he 
 was in pain, and hath he brought forth nothing but 
 wind ? Hath he wrought no deliverance in the 
 earth ? t Shall he not see the travail of his soul ?"$ 
 Certainly it is impossible, that this great con- 
 trivance of heaven should prove abortive ; that 
 such a mighty undertaking should fail and mis- 
 carry. It has already been effectual for the salva- 
 tion of many thousands, who were once as -far from 
 the kingdom of heaven, as we can suppose our- 
 selves to be ; and our " High Priest continue th 
 for ever, and is able to save them to the uttermost, 
 
 * Psalm Ixxxix. 19. f Isaiah, xxvi. 9. 
 
 + Isaiah, liii. ] 1. 
 
SCOUGAL.] OF THE CHRISTIAN RELIGION. 53 
 
 that come unto God by him."* He is tender and 
 compassionate ; he knows our infirmities, and had 
 experience of our temptations : " A bruised reed 
 will he not break, and smoaking flax will he not 
 quench, till he send forth judgment unto victory, "t 
 He has sent out his Holy Spirit, whose sweet, but 
 powerful breathings are still moving up and down 
 in the world, to quicken and revive the souls of 
 men, and awaken them unto the sense and feeling 
 of those divine things for which they were made ; 
 which is ready to assist such weak and languishing 
 creatures as we are, in our essays towards holiness 
 and felicity ; and which, when once it hath taken 
 hold of a soul, and kindled in it the smallest spark 
 of divine love, will be sure to preserve and cherish, 
 and bring it forth into a flame, which many waters 
 shall not quench, neither shall the floods be able to 
 drown it.t Whenever this day begins to dawn, 
 and this " day-star to arise in the heart," it will 
 easily dispel the powers of darkness, and make 
 ignorance and folly, and all the corrupt and selfish 
 affections of men, flee away before it, as fast, as the 
 shades of night when the sun cometh out of his 
 chambers : for " the path of the just is as the 
 shining light, which shineth, more and more, unto 
 the perfect day." || " They shall go on from 
 strength to strength, till every one of them appear 
 before God in Zion. " 1T 
 
 * Heb. vii. 24, 25. f Matt. xii. 20. 
 
 f Cant. viii. 7. 2 Pet. i. 19. 
 
 || Prov. iv. 18. f Psalm lxxxvi.7. 
 
 E 3 
 
54t NATURE AND EXCELLENCY [SCOUGAL. 
 
 Why should we think it impossible, that true 
 goodness and universal love should ever come to 
 sway and prevail in our souls ? Is not this their 
 primitive state and condition ; their native and 
 genuine constitution, as they came first from the 
 hands of their Maker ? Sin and corruption are but 
 usurpers; and, though they have long kept the 
 possession, yet " from the beginning it was not so." 
 That inordinate self-love, which one would think 
 were rooted in our very being, and interwoven 
 with the constitution of our nature, is, nevertheless, 
 of foreign extraction, and had no place at all in 
 the state of integrity. We have still so much 
 reason left, as to condemn it. Our understandings 
 are easily convinced, that we ought to be wholly 
 devoted to Him, from whom we have our being ; 
 and to love him, infinitely more than ourselves, 
 who is infinitely better than we; and our wills 
 would readily comply with this, if they were 
 not disordered and put out of tune. And is not 
 he who made our souls, able to rectify and mend 
 them again ? Shall we not be able, by his assist- 
 ance, to vanquish and expel those violent intruders, 
 " and turn unto flight the armies of the aliens ? " * 
 
 No sooner shall we take up arms in this holy war, 
 but we shall have all the saints on earth, and all 
 the angels in heaven, engaged on our party. The 
 holy church throughout the world, is daily inter- 
 ceding with God, for the success of all such en- 
 
 * Heb. xi. 34. 
 
SCOUGAL.] OF THE CHRISTIAN RELIGION. 55 
 
 deavours ; and, doubtless, those heavenly hosts 
 above, are nearly concerned in the interests of re- 
 ligion, and infinitely desirous to see the divine life 
 thriving and prevailing in this inferior world j and 
 the will of God done by us on earth, as it is done 
 by themselves in heaven : may we not then en- 
 courage ourselves, as the prophet did his servant, 
 when he showed him the horses and chariots of fire : 
 " Fear not, for they that be with us, are more than 
 they that be against us." * 
 
 WE MUST DO WHAT WE CAN, AND DEPEND ON 
 THE DIVINE ASSISTANCE. 
 
 Away, then, with all perplexing fears and de- 
 sponding thoughts. To undertake vigorously, and 
 rely confidently on the divine assistance, is more 
 than half the conquest : " Let us arise and be 
 doing, and the Lord will be with us."t It is true, 
 religion in the souls of men, is the immediate work 
 of God ; and all our natural endeavours can 
 neither produce it alone, nor merit those super- 
 natural aids by which it must be wrought : the Holy 
 Ghost must come upon us, and the power of the 
 Highest must overshadow us, before that holy 
 thing can be begotten, and Christ formed within 
 us. But yet, we must not expect that this whole 
 work shall be done, without any concurring endea- 
 vours of our own : we must not lie loitering in the 
 ditch, and wait till omnipotence pulls us from 
 
 * 2 Kings, vi. 16, 17. f 1 Chron. xxii. 16. 
 
 E 4 
 
56 NATURE AND EXCELLENCY [SCOUGAL. 
 
 thence. No, no; we must bestir ourselves, and 
 actuate those powers which we have already re- 
 ceived : we must put forth ourselves to our utter- 
 most capacities, and then we may hope that " our 
 labour shall not be in vain in the Lord." * All the 
 art and industry of man cannot form the smallest 
 herb, or make a stalk of corn to grow in the field : 
 it is the energy of nature, and the influences of 
 heaven, which produce this effect ; it is God " who 
 causeth the grass to grow, and herb for the service 
 of man:"t and yet nobody will say, that the 
 labours of the husbandman are useless or unneces- 
 sary. So, likewise, the human soul is immediately 
 created by God; it is he who both forms and en- 
 livens the child: and yet he has appointed the 
 marriage-bed, as the ordinary means for the propa- 
 gation of mankind. Though there must intervene a 
 stroke of omnipotence to effect this mighty change 
 in our souls, yet ought we to do what we can to fit 
 and prepare ourselves. For we must break up our 
 fallow ground, and root out the weeds, and pull 
 up the thorns,^ that so we may be more ready to 
 receive the seeds of grace, and the dew of heaven. 
 It is true, God has been found of some, who sought 
 him not; he has cast himself in their way, who 
 were quite out of his ; he has laid hold upon them, 
 and stopped their course on a sudden : thus was 
 Saint Paul converted, in his journey to Damascus. 
 But, certainly, this is not God's ordinary method of 
 
 * 1 Cor. xv. 58. f Psalm civ. 14?. f Jer. iv 3. 
 
SCOUGAL.] OF THE CHRISTIAN RELIGION. 57 
 
 dealing with men. Though he has not tied himself 
 to means, yet he has tied us to the use of them ; 
 and we have never more reason to expect the divine 
 assistance, than when we are doing our utmost en- 
 deavours. It shall, therefore, be my next work, to 
 show what course we ought to take, for attaining 
 that blessed temper which I have been hitherto de- 
 scribing. But here, if^in delivering my own thoughts, 
 I shall chance to differ from what is, or may be, said 
 by others in this matter, I would not be thought to 
 contradict and oppose them, more than physicians 
 do, when they prescribe several remedies for the 
 same disease, which, perhaps, are all useful and 
 good. Every one may propose the method he 
 judges most proper and convenient ; but he does 
 not thereby pretend that the cure can never be 
 effected, unless that method be exactly observed. 
 I doubt, it has occasioned much unnecessary dis- 
 quietude to some holy persons, that they have not 
 found such a regular and orderly transaction in 
 their souls, as they have seen described in books ; 
 that they have not passed through all those steps 
 and stages of conversion, which some (who perhaps 
 have felt them in themselves) have too peremptorily 
 prescribed to others. God has several ways of 
 dealing with the souls of men ; and it suffices if the 
 work be accomplished, whatever the methods have 
 been. 
 
 Again, though, in proposing directions, I must 
 follow that order which the nature of things shall 
 suggest ; yet I do not mean, that the same method 
 
58 NATURE AND EXCELLENCY [SCOUGAL. 
 
 should be so punctually observed in the practice, as 
 if the latter rules were never to be heeded, till some 
 considerable time have been spent in practising the 
 former. The directions which I intend, are mutually 
 conducive one to another ; and are all to be per- 
 formed, as occasion shall serve, and as we find 
 ourselves enabled to perform them. 
 
 WE MUST SHUN ALL MANNER OF SIN. 
 
 But, if we desire to have our souls moulded to 
 this holy frame, to become partakers of the divine 
 nature, and to have Christ formed in our hearts, 
 we must seriously resolve, and carefully endeavour, 
 to avoid and abandon all vicious and sinful prac- 
 tices. There can be no treaty of peace, till we lay 
 down those weapons of rebellion with which we 
 fight against heaven ; nor can we expect to have 
 our distempers cured, if our daily food be poison. 
 Every wilful sin gives a mortal wound to the soul, 
 and removes it to a greater distance from God and 
 goodness ; and we can never hope to have our 
 hearts purified from corrupt affections, unless we 
 cleanse our hands from vicious actions. Now, in 
 this case, we cannot excuse ourselves by the pre- 
 tence of impossibility ; for surely our outward 
 man is some way in our power ; we have some 
 command of our feet, and hands, and tongue, nay, 
 and of our thoughts and fancies too ; at least, so 
 far, as to divert them from impure and sinful 
 objects, and to turn our mind another way : and 
 we should find this power and authority much 
 
SCOUGAL.] OF THE CHRISTIAN RELIGION. 59 
 
 strengthened and advanced, if we were careful to 
 manage and exercise it. In the mean while, I 
 acknowledge our corruptions are so strong, and 
 our temptations so many, that it will require a 
 great deal of stedfastness and resolution, of watch- 
 fulness and care, to preserve ourselves, even in this 
 degree of innocence and purity. 
 
 WE MUST KNOW WHAT THINGS ARE SINFUL. 
 
 And first, let us inform ourselves well, what 
 those sins are, from which we ought to abstain. 
 And here we must not take our measures from the 
 maxims of the world, or from the practices of 
 those, whom, in charity, we account good men. 
 Most people have very light apprehensions of these 
 things, and are not sensible of any fault, unless it 
 be gross and flagitious : and scarcely reckon any 
 crime so great, as that which they call preciseness : 
 and those who are more serious, allow themselves, 
 many times, too great latitude and freedom. 
 Alas ! how much pride and vanity, and passion 
 and humour, how much weakness, and folly, and 
 sin, every day shows itself, in our converse and 
 behaviour. It may be they are humbled for it, and 
 striving against it, and are daily gaining some 
 ground ; but then, the progress is so small, and 
 their failings so many, that we had need to chuse 
 an exacter pattern. Every one of us must answer 
 for himself; and the practices of others will never 
 warrant and secure us. It is the highest folly, to 
 regulate our actions by any other standard, than 
 
60 NATURE AND EXCELLENCY [SCOUGAL. 
 
 that by which they must be judged. If ever we 
 would " cleanse our way," it must be " by taking 
 heed thereunto, according to the word of God." * 
 And that "word, which is quick and powerful, 
 and sharper than any two-edged sword, piercing 
 even to the dividing asunder of soul and spirit, and 
 of the joints and marrow, and is a discerner of the 
 thoughts and intents of the heart," t will certainly 
 discover many things to be sinful and heinous, 
 which pass for very innocent in the eyes of the 
 world. Let us, therefore, imitate the Psalmist, 
 who says, concerning the works of men, " by the 
 words of thy lips, I have kept myself from the 
 paths of the destroyer." t Let us acquaint our- 
 selves well, with the strict and holy laws of our re- 
 ligion ; let us consider the discourses of our blessed 
 Saviour (especially that divine sermon on the 
 mount), and the writings of his holy apostles, where 
 an ingenuous and unbiassed mind may clearly dis- 
 cern those limits and bounds, by which our actions 
 ought to be confined. And then, let us never look 
 upon any sin as light and inconsiderable ; but be 
 fully persuaded, that the smallest, is infinitely 
 heinous in the sight of God, and prejudicial to the 
 souls of men ; and that, if we had a right sense of 
 things, we should be as deeply affected with the 
 least irregularities, as now we are with the highest 
 crimes. 
 
 * Psalm cxix. 9. f Heb. iv. 12. J Psalm xvii. 4. 
 
SCOUGAL.] OF THE CHRISTIAN RELIGION. 61 
 
 WE MUST RESIST THE TEMPTATIONS TO SIN, BY 
 CONSIDERING THE EVILS THEY WILL DRAW 
 ON US. 
 
 But, amongst those things which we discover to 
 be sinful, there will be some, unto which, through 
 the disposition of our nature, or long custom, or 
 the endearments of pleasure, we are so much 
 wedded, that it will be like cutting off the right 
 hand, or pulling out the right eye, to abandon 
 them. But, must we therefore sit down, and wait 
 till all difficulties be over, and every temptation be 
 gone ? This were to imitate the fool in the poet, 
 who stood the whole day at the river side, till all 
 the waters should run by.* We must not indulge 
 our inclinations, as we do little children, till they 
 grow weary of the thing which they are unwilling to 
 let go ; we must not continue our sinful practices, in 
 hopes that the divine grace will one day overpower 
 our spirits, and make us hate them for their own 
 deformity. 
 
 Let us suppose the worst ; that we are utterly 
 destitute of any supernatural principle, and want 
 that taste, by which we should discern and abhor 
 perverse things : yet surely we are capable of some 
 considerations, which may be of force to persuade 
 us, to this reformation of our lives. If the inward 
 deformity, and heinous nature of sin, cannot affect 
 
 * Qui recte vivendi prorogat horam, 
 
 Rusticus expectat dum defluat amnis ; at ille 
 Labitur, et labetur in omne volubilis aevum.' 
 
 HORAT. Epist I. ii. 41. Ed. 
 
62 NATURE AND EXCELLENCY [SCOUGAL. 
 
 us, at least we may be frighted by those dreadful 
 consequences which attend it: that same selfish 
 principle which urges us forward unto the pursuit 
 of sinful pleasures, will make us loth to buy them 
 at the rate of everlasting misery. Thus we may 
 encounter self-love with its own weapons; and 
 employ one natural inclination, for repressing the 
 exorbitances of another. Let us, therefore, accus- 
 tom ourselves to consider seriously, what a fearful 
 thing it must needs be to irritate and offend that 
 infinite Being, on whom we depend every moment ; 
 X who needs but withdraw his mercies, to make us 
 miserable, or his assistance, to make us nothing. 
 Let us frequently remember the shortness and un- 
 certainty of our lives ; and how, after we have 
 taken a few turns more in the world, and conversed 
 a little longer among men, we must all go down 
 unto the dark and silent grave, and carry nothing 
 along with us, but anguish and regret for all our 
 sinful enjoyments ; and then, think what horror 
 must needs seize the guilty soul, to find itself 
 naked and alone, before the severe and impartial 
 Judge of the world, to render an exact account, 
 not only of its more important and considerable 
 transactions, but of every word that the tongue has 
 uttered, and of the swiftest and most secret thoughts 
 that have ever passed through the mind. Let us 
 sometimes represent unto ourselves the terrors of 
 that dreadful day,* when the foundations of the 
 
 * 2 Pet. iii. 10. 
 
SCOUGAL.] OF THE CHRISTIAN RELIGION. 63 
 
 earth shall be shaken, and the heavens shall pass 
 away with a great noise, and the elements shall 
 melt with fervent heat, and the present frame of 
 nature shall be dissolved, and our eyes shall see 
 the blessed Jesus, (who came once into the world, 
 in all humility, to visit us, to purchase pardon for 
 us, and beseech us to accept of it,) now appearing 
 in the majesty of his glory, and descending from 
 heaven in a flaming fire, to take vengeance on 
 those who have despised his mercy, and persisted 
 in rebellion against him : when all the hidden 
 things of darkness shall be brought to light, and 
 the counsels of all hearts shall be made manifest : * 
 when those secret impurities and subtile frauds, 
 whereof the world never suspected us, shall be 
 exposed and laid open to public view, and many 
 thousand actions, which we never dreamed to be 
 sinful, or else had altogether forgotten, shall be 
 charged home upon our conscience, with such evident 
 conviction of guilt, that we shall be able neither to 
 deny nor excuse them. Then shall all the angels 
 in heaven, and all the saints that ever lived on 
 earth, approve that dreadful sentence which shall 
 be passed on wicked men : and those who perhaps 
 loved and esteemed them when they lived in the 
 world, shall look upon them with indignation and 
 abhorrence, and never make one request for their 
 deliverance. Let us consider the eternal punish- 
 ment of damned souls, which are shadowed forth 
 
 * 1 Cor. iv. 5. 
 
64 NATURE AND EXCELLENCY [SCOUGAL. 
 
 in Scripture, by metaphors taken from those things 
 that are most terrible and grievous in the world, 
 and yet all insufficient, to convey any full appre- 
 hension of them to our mind. When we have 
 joined together the import of all these expressions, 
 and added to them whatever our fancy can con- 
 ceive of misery and torment, we must still re- 
 member, that all this comes infinitely short of the 
 truth and reality of the thing. 
 
 It is true, this is a sad and melancholy subject, 
 there is anguish and horror in the consideration of 
 it ; but surely it must be infinitely more dreadful to 
 endure it? And such thoughts as these, may be 
 very useful to fright us from the courses, which 
 would lead us thither : how fond soever we may be 
 of sinful pleasures, the fear of hell would make us 
 abstain ; our most forward inclinations will startle 
 and give back, when pressed with that question in 
 the prophet : " Who amongst us can dwell with 
 everlasting burnings ? " * 
 
 To this very purpose it is, that the terrors of 
 another world are so frequently represented in 
 holy writ ; and that, in such terms as are most 
 proper to affect and influence a carnal mind. These 
 fears can never suffice, to make any person truly 
 good ; but, certainly, they may restrain us from 
 much evil, and have often made way for more 
 ingenuous and kindly impressions. 
 
 * Isaiah, xxxiii. 14-. 
 
SCOUGAL.] OF THE CHRISTIAN RELIGION. 65 
 
 WE MUST KEEP A CONSTANT WATCH OVER 
 OURSELVES. 
 
 But it will not suffice to consider these things 
 once and again ; nor to form some resolutions of 
 abandoning our sins, unless we maintain a constant 
 guard, and continual watch over them. Some- 
 times the mind is awakened to see the dismal 
 consequences of a vicious life, and straight we are 
 resolved to reform : but alas ! it presently falls 
 asleep, and we lose that prospect which we had of 
 things, and then temptations take the advantage ; 
 they solicit and importune us continually, and 
 frequently engage our consent, before we are 
 aware. It is the folly and ruin of most people, to 
 live at peradventure, and to take part in every thing 
 that comes in their way ; seldom considering what 
 they are about to say or do. If we would have 
 our resolutions take effect, we must take heed unto 
 our ways, and set a watch before the door of our 
 lips, and examine the motions that arise in our 
 hearts, and cause them to tell us whence they 
 come, and whither they go ; whether it be pride 
 or passion, or any corrupt and vicious humour, 
 that prompts us to any design ; and whether 
 God will be offended, or any body harmed by it. 
 And, if we have no time for long reasonings, let us, 
 at least, turn our eyes towards God, and place 
 ourselves in his presence, to ask his leave and 
 approbation for what we do : let us consider our- 
 selves under the all-seeing eye of that divine 
 
 F 
 
66 NATURE AND EXCELLENCY [J3COUGAL. 
 
 Majesty, as in the midst of an infinite globe of 
 light, which compasseth us about both behind and 
 before, and pierceth to the innermost corners of 
 our souls. The sense and remembrance of the 
 divine presence, is the most ready and effectual 
 means, both to discover what is unlawful, and to 
 restrain us from it. There are some things which 
 a person could make shift to palliate or defend, and 
 yet he dares not look Almighty God in the face, 
 and adventure upon them. If we look unto him, 
 we shall be enlightened ; if we " set him always 
 before us, he will guide us by his eye, and instruct 
 us in the way wherein we ought to walk." 
 
 WE MUST OFTEN EXAMINE OUR ACTIONS. 
 
 This care and watchfulness over our actions, 
 must be seconded by frequent and serious reflec- 
 tions upon them ; not only, that we may obtain the 
 divine mercy and pardon for our sins, by an hum- 
 ble and sorrowful acknowledgment of them, but 
 also, that we may reinforce and strengthen our 
 resolutions, and learn to decline or resist the tempt- 
 ations, by which we have been formerly foiled. It 
 is an advice wortfty of a Christian, though it first 
 dropped from a heathen pen : * That, before we 
 betake ourselves to rest, we review and examine 
 all the passages of the day ; that we may have the 
 comfort of what we have done aright, and may 
 redress what we find to have been amiss, and make 
 the shipwrecks of one day, be as marks to direct 
 
SCOUGAL.] OF THE CHRISTIAN RELIGION. 67 
 
 our course in another.' * This may be called the 
 very art of virtuous living, and would contribute 
 wonderfully to advance our reformation, and pre- 
 serve our innocency. But, withal, we must not 
 forget to implore the divine assistance ; especially 
 against those sins that most easily beset us : and, 
 though it be supposed that our hearts are not yet 
 moulded into that spiritual frame, which should 
 render our devotions acceptable, yet, methinks, 
 sucli considerations as have been proposed to deter 
 us from sin, may also stir us up to some natural 
 seriousness, and make our prayers against it as 
 earnest, at least, as they are wont to be against 
 other calamities : and I doubt not but God, who 
 heareth the cry of the ravens, will have some regard 
 even to such petitions as proceed from those na- 
 tural passions which himself hath implanted in us. 
 Besides, those prayers against sin, will be powerful 
 engagements on ourselves, to excite us to watchful- 
 ness and care ; and common ingenuousness will 
 make us ashamed to relapse into those faults, 
 which we have lately bewailed before God, and 
 against which we have begged his assistance. 
 
 " Each night, ere needful slumber seal thine eyes, 
 Home to thy soul let these reflections rise : 
 How has this day my duty seen express'd ? 
 What have I done, omitted, or transgress'd ? 
 Then grieve the moments thou hast idly spent : 
 The rest will yield thee comfort and content." 
 
 Golden Verses of Pythagoras ED. 
 F 2 
 
68 NATURE AND EXCELLENCY [sCOUGAL. 
 
 i 
 
 IT IS FIT TO RESTRAIN OURSELVES IN MANY 
 LAWFUL THINGS. 
 
 Thus are we to make the first essay for recover- 
 ing the divine life, by restraining the natural incli- 
 nations, that they break not out into sinful prac- 
 tices. But I must add, that Christian prudence 
 will teach us to abstain from gratifications that are 
 not simply unlawful. And that, not only that we 
 may secure our innocence, which would be in con- 
 tinual hazard if we should strain our liberty to the 
 utmost point, but also, that hereby we may 
 weaken the forces of nature, and teach our appe- 
 tites to obey. We must do with ourselves, as pru- 
 dent parents with their children ; who cross their 
 wills in many little indifferent things, to make them 
 manageable and submissive in more considerable 
 instances. He who would mortify the pride and 
 vanity of his spirit, should stop his ears to the 
 most deserved praises ; and sometimes forbear his 
 just vindication from the censures and aspersions 
 of others, especially, if they reflect only upon his 
 prudence and conduct, and not on his virtue and 
 innocence. He who would check a revengeful 
 humour, with do well to deny himself the satis- 
 faction of representing unto others, the injuries 
 which he has sustained ; and if we would so take 
 heed to our ways, that we sin not with our tongue, 
 we must accustom ourselves much to solitude and 
 silence, and sometimes, with the Psalmist, hold 
 our peace even from good, till we have obtained 
 
SCOUGAL.] OF THE CHRISTIAN RELIGION. 69 
 
 some command over that unruly member. Thus, 
 I say, we may bind up our natural inclinations, 
 and make our appetites more moderate in their 
 cravings, by accustoming them to frequent refusals : 
 but it is not enough to have them under violence 
 and restraint. 
 
 WE MUST STRIVE TO PUT OURSELVES OUT OF LOVE 
 WITH THE WORLD. 
 
 Our next essay must be to wean our affections 
 from created things, and from all the delights and 
 entertainments of the lower life ; which sink and 
 depress the souls of men, and retard their motions 
 towards God and heaven. And this we must do, 
 by possessing our minds with a deep persuasion of 
 the vanity and emptiness of worldly enjoyments. 
 This is an ordinary theme, and every body can 
 make declamations upon it. But alas! how few 
 understand and believe what they say? These 
 notions float in our brains, and come sliding off 
 our tongues, but we have no deep impression of 
 them on our spirits. We feel not the truth, which 
 we pretend to believe. We can tell, that all the 
 glory and splendour, all the pleasures and enjoy- 
 ments, of the world, are vanity and nothing : and 
 yet these nothings take up all our thoughts, and 
 engross all our affections ; they stifle the better 
 inclinations of our soul, and inveigle us into many 
 a sin. It may be, in a sober mood, we give them 
 the slight, and resolve to be no longer deluded 
 with them : but these thoughts seldom outlive the 
 
 F 3 
 
70 NATURE AND EXCELLENCY [SCOUGAL. 
 
 next temptation ; the vanities which we have shut 
 out at the door, get in at a postern ; there are 
 still some pretensions, some hopes that flatter us ; 
 and, after we have been frustrated a thousand 
 times, we must continually be repeating the ex- 
 periment: the least difference of circumstances is 
 enough to delude us, and make us expect that 
 satisfaction in one thing, which we have missed in 
 another ; but, could we once come to a real and 
 serious contempt of worldly things, this were a 
 very considerable advancement in our way. The 
 soul of man is of a vigorous and active nature, and 
 has in it a raging and inextinguishable thirst, an 
 immaterial kind of fire, always catching at some ob- 
 ject or other, in conjunction with which it expects 
 to be happy ; and, were it once rent from the world, 
 and from all the bewitching enjoyments under the 
 sun, it would quickly search after some higher and 
 more excellent object, to satisfy its ardent and im- 
 portunate cravings ; and, being no longer dazzled 
 with glittering vanities, it would fix on that su- 
 preme and all-sufficient good, where it would dis- 
 cover such beauty and sweetness, as would charm 
 and overpower all its affections. The love of the 
 world, and the love of God, are like the scales of a 
 balance ; as the one falls, the other rises : when 
 our natural inclinations prosper, and the creature 
 is exalted in our soul, religion is faint, and lan- 
 guishes ; but when earthly objects wither away, 
 and lose their beauty, and when the soul begins to 
 flag in its prosecution of them, then the seeds of 
 
SCOUGAL.] OF THE CHRISTIAN RELIGION. 71 
 
 grace take root, and the divine life begins to 
 X flourish and prevail. It, therefore, nearly concerns 
 us, to convince ourselves of the emptiness and 
 vanity of creature-enjoyments, and to reason our 
 hearts out of love with them : let us seriously con- 
 sider all that our reason, or our faith, our own 
 experience, or the observations of others, can sug- 
 gest to this effect ; let us ponder the matter over 
 and over, and fix our thoughts on this truth, till we 
 become really persuaded of it. Amidst all our 
 pursuits and designs, let us stop and ask ourselves, 
 For what end is all this? At what do I aim? 
 Can the gross and muddy pleasures of sense, or 
 a heap of white and yellow earth, or the esteem 
 and affection of silly creatures like myself, satisfy 
 a rational and immortal soul ? Have I not tried 
 these things already? Will they have a higher 
 relish, and yield me more contentment to-morrow 
 than yesterday ; or the next year, than they did the 
 last ? There may be some little difference between 
 that which I am now pursuing, and that which I 
 enjoyed before ; but sure my former enjoyments 
 appeared as pleasant, and promised as fair, before 
 I attained them ; like the rainbow, they look very 
 glorious at a distance, but when I approached, I 
 found nothing but emptiness and vapour.* O 
 
 * " As yon summits soft and fair, 
 Clad in colours of the air, 
 Which, to those who journey near, 
 Barren, brown, and rough appear: 
 Still we tread the same coarse way ; 
 The present's still a cloudy day.'' Dyer. ED. 
 F 4 
 
72 NATURE AND EXCELLENCY [SCOUGAL. 
 
 what a poor thing would the life of man be, if it 
 were capable of no higher enjoyments! 
 
 I cannot insist on this subject, and there is the 
 less need, when I remember to whom I am writing. 
 Yes, my dear friend, you have had as great ex- 
 perience of the emptiness and vanity of human 
 things, and have at present as few worldly engage- 
 ments, as any that I know. I have sometimes re- 
 flected on those passages of your life, with which 
 you have been pleased to acquaint me ; and, me- 
 thinks, through all, I can discern a design of the 
 divine Providence, to wean your affections from 
 every thing here below. The trials which you have 
 had of those things which the world doats upon, 
 have taught you to despise them ; and you have 
 found by experience, that neither the endowments of 
 nature, nor the advantages of fortune, are sufficient 
 for happiness ; that every rose has its thorn, and 
 there may be a worm at the root of the fairest 
 gourd ; some secret and undiscerned grief, which 
 may make a person deserve the pity of those, who, 
 perhaps, admire or envy their supposed felicity. 
 If any earthly comforts have got too much of your 
 heart, I think they have been your relations and 
 friends ; and the dearest of these are removed out 
 of the world, so that, when you would think upon 
 them, you must ra*se your mind towards heaven. 
 Thus God has provided, that your heart may be 
 loosed from the world, and that he may not have 
 any rival in your affection ; which I have always 
 observed to be so large and unbounded, so noble 
 
SCOUGAL.] OF THE CHRISTIAN RELIGION. ^3 
 
 and disinterested, that no inferior object can an- 
 swer or deserve it. 
 
 WE MUST DO THOSE OUTWARD ACTIONS THAT ARE 
 COMMANDED. 
 
 When we have got our corruptions restrained, 
 and our natural appetites and inclinations towards 
 worldly things in some measure subdued, we must 
 proceed to such exercises, as have a more imme- 
 diate tendency to excite and awaken the divine 
 life. And first, let us endeavour conscientiously 
 to perform those duties, which religion requires, 
 and to which it would incline us, if it prevailed 
 in our souls. If we cannot get our inward dis- 
 position presently changed, let us study, at least, 
 to regulate our outward deportment. If our hearts 
 be not yet inflamed with divine love, let us, how- 
 ever, own our allegiance to that infinite Majesty, 
 by attending his service, and listening to his word ; 
 by speaking reverently of his name, and praising 
 his goodness, and exhorting others to serve and 
 obey him. If we want that charity, and those 
 bowels of compassion, which we ought to have 
 towards our neighbours, yet must we not omit any 
 occasion of doing them good. If our hearts be 
 haughty and proud, we must, nevertheless, study a 
 modest and humble deportment. These external 
 performances are of little value in themselves, but 
 they may help us forward to better things. The 
 apostle, indeed, tells us, that bodily exercise pro- 
 fiteth little ; but he seems not to affirm that it is 
 
74* NATURE AND EXCELLENCY [SCOUGAL. 
 
 altogether useless. It is always good to be doing 
 what we can, for then God is wont to pity our 
 weakness, and assist our feeble endeavours. And 
 when true charity and humility, and other graces 
 of the divine Spirit, come to take root in our souls, 
 they will exert themselves more freely, and with 
 less difficulty, if we have before been accustomed 
 to express them in our outward conversation. Nor 
 need we fear the imputation of hypocrisy, though 
 our actions do thus somewhat outrun our affec- 
 tions : since they still proceed from a sense of our 
 duty ; and since our design is, not to appear better 
 than we are, but, that we may really become so. 
 
 WE MUST ENDEAVOUR TO FORM INTERNAL ACTS OF 
 DEVOTION, CHARITY, ETC. 
 
 But as inward acts have a more immediate in- 
 fluence on the soul, to mould it to a right temper 
 and frame, so ought we to be most frequent and 
 sedulous in the exercise of them. Let us be often 
 lifting up our hearts towards God ; and, if we do 
 not say, that we love him above all things, let us at 
 least acknowledge, that it is our duty, and would 
 be our happiness, to do so : let us lament the dis- 
 honour done to him by foolish and sinful men, 
 and applaud the praises and adorations that are 
 given him, by that blessed and glorious company 
 above : let us resign and yield ourselves up unto 
 him a thousand times, to be governed by his laws, 
 and disposed of at his pleasure. And, though our 
 stubborn hearts should start back and refuse, yet 
 
SCOUGAL.] OF THE CHRISTIAN RELIGION. ^5 
 
 let us tell him we are convinced that his will is 
 always just and good ; and let us, therefore, desire 
 him to do with us whatsoever he pleaseth, whether 
 we will or not. And so, in order to beget in us an 
 universal charity towards men, we must be fre- 
 quently putting up wishes for their happiness, and 
 blessing every person that we see. And when we 
 have done any thing for the relief of the miserable, 
 we may second it with earnest desires, that God 
 would take care of them, and deliver them out of 
 all their distresses. 
 
 Thus should we exercise ourselves unto godli- 
 ness. And when we are employing the powers 
 that we have, the Spirit of God is wont to interfere, 
 and elevate these acts of our soul beyond the pitch 
 of nature, and give them a divine impression : and, 
 after the frequent reiteration of these, we shall 
 find ourselves more inclined unto them ; they flow- 
 ing with greater freedom and ease. 
 
 CONSIDERATION A GREAT INSTRUMENT OF RELIGION. 
 
 I shall mention but two other means for be- 
 getting that holy and divine temper of spirit, 
 which is the subject of the present discourse. And 
 the first is, a deep and serious consideration of the 
 truths of our religion ; and that, both as to their 
 certainty, and importance. The assent which 
 is ordinarily given to divine truths, is very faint 
 and languid ; very weak and ineffectual ; flowing 
 only from a blind inclination to follow that religion 
 which is in fashion, or from a lazy indifference and 
 
76 NATURE AND EXCELLENCY [SCOUGAL. 
 
 unconcernedness whether things be so or not. Men 
 are unwilling to quarrel with the religion of their 
 country ; and, since all their neighbours are Chris- 
 tians, they are content to be so too. But they are 
 seldom at the pains to consider the evidences of 
 those truths, or to ponder the importance and tend- 
 ency of them ; and hence it is, that they have so 
 little influence on their affections and practice. Those 
 spiritless and paralytic thoughts (as one rightly terms 
 them), are not able to move the will and direct 
 the hand. We must, therefore, endeavour to work 
 up our minds to a serious belief, and full persuasion, 
 of divine truths ; to a sense and feeling of spiritual 
 things. Our thoughts must dwell upon them, till 
 we are both convinced of them, and deeply affected 
 by them. Let us urge forward our spirits, and 
 make them approach the invisible world. Let us 
 fix our minds upon immaterial things, till we clearly 
 perceive that they are no dreams; nay, that all 
 things, besides them, are but dreams and shadows. 
 When we look about us, and behold the beauty 
 and magnificence of this goodly frame, the order 
 and harmony of the whole creation, let our 
 thoughts, from thence, take their flight towards 
 that omnipotent wisdom and goodness, which first 
 produced, and which still establishes and upholds 
 them. When we reflect upon ourselves, let us 
 consider that we are not a mere piece of organized 
 matter ; a curious and well contrived engine : that 
 there is more in us, than flesh, blood, and bones > 
 even a divine spark, capable of knowing, and loving, 
 
SCOUGAL.] OF THE CHRISTIAN RELIGION. 77 
 
 and enjoying our Maker: and, though it be now ex- 
 ceedingly clogged with its dull and lumpish com- 
 panion, yet ere long it shall be delivered ; and shall 
 subsist without the body, as well as the body can 
 do without the clothes, which we throw off at our 
 pleasure. Let us often withdraw our thoughts 
 from this earth ; this scene of misery, folly, and 
 sin: and let us raise them towards that more vast 
 and glorious world, whose innocent and blessed 
 inhabitants solace themselves eternally in the divine 
 presence, and know no other passion, but an un- 
 mixed joy, and an unbounded love. Let us con- 
 sider, how the blessed Son of God came down to 
 this lower world, to live among us, and to die for 
 us, that he might bring us to a portion of the same 
 felicity ; and let us think, how he hath overcome 
 the sharpness of death, and opened the kingdom of 
 heaven to all believers, and is now set down on the 
 " right hand of the Majesty on high*," and yet, 
 is not the less mindful of us, but receives our 
 prayers, and presents them to his Father; and is 
 daily visiting his church with the influences of his 
 Spirit, as the sun reacheth us with his beams. 
 
 TO BEGET DIVINE LOVE, WE MUST CONSIDER THE 
 EXCELLENCY OF THE DIVINE NATURE. 
 
 The serious and frequent consideration of these, 
 and such divine truths, is the most proper method 
 to beget that lively faith, which is the foundation 
 
 * Heb. i. 3. 
 
78 NATURE AND EXCELLENCY [SCOUGAL. 
 
 of religion, the spring and root of the divine life. 
 Let me further suggest some particular subjects of 
 meditation, for producing the several branches of 
 it. And, first, to enflame our souls with the love 
 of God, let us consider the excellency of his nature, 
 and his love and kindness towards us. It is little 
 we know of the divine perfection, and yet, that 
 little may suffice to fill our souls with admiration 
 and love ; to ravish our affections, as well as to raise 
 our wonder. For we are not merely creatures of 
 sense, that we should be incapable of any other 
 affection, except that which enters by the eyes. 
 The character of an excellent person, whom we 
 have never seen, will many times engage our 
 hearts, and make us greatly concerned in all his 
 interests. And what is it, I pray you, that en- 
 gages us so much, to those with whom we converse ? 
 I cannot think, that it is merely the colour of their 
 face, or their comely proportions ; for then we 
 should fall in love with statues, and pictures, and 
 flowers. These outward accomplishments may a 
 little delight the eye, but would never be able to 
 prevail so much on the heart, if they did not repre- 
 sent some vital perfection. We either see or ap- 
 prehend, some greatness of mind, or vigour of spirit, 
 or sweetness of disposition ; some sprightliness, or 
 wisdom, or goodness, which charms our spirit, and 
 commands our love. Now, these perfections are 
 not obvious to the sight ; the eyes can only dis- 
 cern their signs and effects; and, if it be the 
 understanding that directs the affection, and vital 
 
SCOUGAL.] OF THE CHRISTIAN RELIGION. 79 
 
 perfections prevail with it, certainly the excellencies 
 of the divine nature (the traces of which we cannot 
 but discover in every thing we behold), would not 
 fail to engage our hearts, if we seriously viewed and 
 regarded them. Shall we not be infinitely more 
 transported with that almighty wisdom and good- 
 ness, which fills the universe, and displays itself in 
 all the parts of creation; which establishes the 
 frame of nature, and turns the mighty wheels of 
 Providence, and keeps the world from disorder and 
 ruin, than with the faint rays of the same perfec- 
 tions, which we meet with in our fellow-creatures? 
 Shall we doat on the scattered pieces of a rude and 
 imperfect picture, and never be affected with the 
 original beauty ? This were an unaccountable stu- 
 pidity and blindness. Whatever we find lovely in 
 a friend, or in a saint, ought not to engross, but 
 elevate our affection. We should conclude with 
 ourselves, that if there be so much sweetness in a 
 drop, there must be infinitely more in the fountain; 
 if there be so much splendour in a ray, what must 
 the sun be in its glory ? 
 
 Nor can we pretend the remoteness of the ob- 
 ject, as if God were at too great a distance for our 
 converse or our love : " He is not far from every 
 one of us : for in him we live, and move, and have 
 our being."* We cannot open our eyes, but we 
 must behold some footsteps of his glory ; and can- 
 not turn them towards him, but we shall be sure to 
 
 * Acts, xvii. 27. 
 
80 NATURE AND EXCELLENCY [SCOUGAL. 
 
 find his, intent upon us ; waiting, as it were, to 
 catch a look, ready to entertain with us, the most 
 intimate fellowship and communion. Let us, there- 
 fore, endeavour to raise our minds to the clearest 
 conceptions of the divine nature. Let us consider, 
 all that his works declare, or his word discovers, of 
 him unto us ; and let us, especially, contemplate 
 that visible representation of him, which was made 
 in our own nature by his Son ; who was the " bright- 
 ness of his glory, and the express image of his per- 
 son*," and who appeared in the world to discover, 
 at once what God is, and what we ought to be. 
 Let us represent him to our minds, as we find 
 him described in the Gospel ; and there we shall 
 behold the perfections of the divine nature, though 
 covered with the veil of human infirmities ; and, 
 when we have framed unto ourselves the clearest 
 notion that we can, of a being, infinite in power, 
 in wisdom, and goodness, the author and fountain 
 of all perfections, let us fix the eyes of our soul 
 upon itt, that our eyes may affect our heart, and 
 while we are musing the fire will burn.t 
 
 WE SHOULD MEDITATE ON GOD*S GOODNESS AND 
 
 LOVE. 
 
 Especially, if hereunto we add the consideration 
 of God's favour and good- will towards us : nothing 
 is more powerful to engage our affection, than to 
 find that we are beloved. Expressions of kindness 
 
 * Heb. i. 3. f Lara. iii. 51. $ Psalm xxxix. 31. 
 
SCOUGAL.] OF THE CHRISTIAN RELIG 
 
 are always pleasing and acceptable, tl 
 person should be otherwise mean and ccmtempt- 
 ible : but, to have the love of One who is V 
 gether lovely, to know that the glorious Majesty 
 of heaven hath any regard unto us, how must it 
 astonish and delight us. How must it overcome our 
 spirits and melt our hearts, and put our whole soul 
 into a flame ! Now, as the word of God is full of 
 the expressions of his love towards man, so, all his 
 works most loudly proclaim it; he gave us our 
 being, and, by preserving us in being, renews the 
 donation every moment. He has placed us in a 
 rich and well-furnished world, and liberally pro- 
 vided for all our necessities ; he rains down bless- 
 ings from heaven upon us, and causes the earth to 
 bring forth our provision ; he gives us our food and 
 raiment, and, while we are spending the produc- 
 tions of one year, he is preparing for us, against 
 another. He sweetens our lives with innumerable 
 comforts, and gratifies every faculty with suitable 
 objects ; the eye of his providence is always upon 
 us, and he watches for our safety when we are fast 
 asleep, neither minding him nor ourselves. But, 
 lest we should think these testimonies of his kind 
 ness less considerable, because they are the easy 
 issues of his omnipotent power, and do not put him 
 to any trouble or pain, he has taken a more won- 
 derful method to endear himself to us ; he has tes- 
 tified his affection to us, by suffering as well as by 
 doing ; and, because he could not suffer in his own 
 nature, he assumed ours. The eternal Son of God 
 
 G 
 
82 NATURE AND EXCELLENCY [SCOUGAL. 
 
 clothed himself with the infirmities of our flesh, and 
 left the company of those innocent and blessed 
 spirits, who knew well how to love and adore him, 
 that he might dwell among men, and wrestle with 
 the obstinacy of that rebellious race, to reduce 
 them to their allegiance and felicity, and then to 
 offer himself up as a sacrifice and propitiation for 
 them. I remember one of the poets has an in- 
 genious fancy to express the passion, by which, 
 after a long resistance, he found himself overcome : 
 ( That the god of love had shot all his golden ar- 
 rows at him, but could never pierce his heart ; till, 
 at length, he put himself into the bow, and darted 
 himself straight into his breast.'* Methinks, this, in 
 some measure, adumbrates God's method of dealing 
 with men. He had long contended with a stubborn 
 world, and thrown down many a blessing upon 
 them ; and, when all his other gifts could not pre- 
 vail, he at last made a gift of himself, to testify his 
 affection, and engage theirs. The account which 
 we have of our Saviour's life in the Gospel, all along 
 presents us with the story of his love ; all the pains 
 that he took, and the troubles that he endured, 
 were the wonderful effects, and uncontrollable 
 evidences of it. But O that last, that dismal 
 scene ! Is it possible to remember it, and question 
 
 * C Q$ ^ OUX ET* 1% OifTTOUff, 
 
 xat / 
 
 Anacreon. Ode xiv. ED. 
 
SCOUGAL.] OF THE CHRISTIAN RELIGION. 83 
 
 his kindness, or deny him ours ? Here, here it is, 
 my dear friend, that we should fix our most serious 
 and solemn thoughts : " that Christ may dwell in 
 our hearts by faith ; that we, being rooted and 
 grounded in love, may be able to comprehend with 
 all saints, what is the breadth, and length, and 
 depth, and height: and to know the love of Christ, 
 which passeth knowledge, that we may be filled 
 with all the fulness of God." * 
 
 We ought, also, frequently to reflect on those 
 particular tokens of favour and love, which God 
 has bestowed on ourselves ; how long he has borne 
 with our follies and sins, and waited to be gracious 
 unto us ; wrestling, as it were, with the stubborn- 
 ness of our hearts, and essaying every method to 
 reclaim us. We should keep a register in our 
 minds, of all the eminent blessings and deliverances 
 which we have experienced; some of which have 
 been so conveyed, that we might clearly perceive 
 them not to be the mere issues of chance, but gra- 
 cious effects of the divine favour, and signal returns 
 of our prayers. Nor ought we to embitter the 
 thoughts of these things, with any harsh or unworthy 
 suspicion, as if they were designed on purpose to 
 enhance our guilt, and heighten our eternal damn- 
 ation. No, no, my friend, God is love, and he 
 hath no pleasure in the ruin of his creatures : if 
 they abuse his goodness, and turn his grace into 
 wantonness, and hereby plunge themselves into the 
 
 * Eph. iii. 17. 19. 
 G 2 
 
84 NATURE AND EXCELLENCY [SCOUGAL. 
 
 greater depths of guilt and misery, this is the effect 
 of their obstinate wickedness, and not the design 
 of those benefits which he bestows. 
 
 If these considerations had once begotten in our 
 hearts a real love and affection towards Almighty 
 God, that would easily lead us unto the other 
 branches of religion, and therefore I shall need to 
 say the less of them. 
 
 TO BEGET CHARITY, WE MUST REMEMBER THAT ALL 
 MEN ARE NEARLY RELATED UNTO GOD. 
 
 We shall find our hearts enlarged in charity 
 towards men, by considering the relation which 
 they bear to God, and the impresses of his 
 image, which are stamped upon them. They are 
 not only his creatures, the workmanship of his 
 hands, but his resemblances, of whom he takes 
 special care, and for whom he has a very dear and 
 tender regard ; having laid the design of their hap- 
 piness, before the foundations of the world, and 
 being willing to live and converse with them, to all 
 the ages of eternity. The meanest and most con- 
 temptible person whom we behold, is the offspring 
 of heaven, one of the children of the most High ; 
 and, however unworthily of that relation he may 
 behave himself, so long as God hath not disowned 
 him by a final sentence, he will have us to ac- 
 knowledge him as one of His, and, as such, to 
 embrace him with a sincere and cordial affection. 
 You know what a great interest we are wont to 
 have, for those who, in any way, belong to the per- 
 
SCOUGAL.] OF THE CHRISTIAN RELIGION. 85 
 
 son whom we love ; how gladly we lay hold on 
 every opportunity to gratify the child or servant 
 of a friend : and surely our love towards God would 
 as naturally spring forth, in charity towards men, 
 were we mindful of the interest that he is pleased 
 to take in them ; and did we consider, that every 
 soul is dearer unto him, than all the material world; 
 and that he did not account the blood of his Son, 
 too great a price for their redemption. 
 
 THAT THEY CARRY GOD*S IMAGE UPON THEM. 
 
 Again ; as all men stand in a near relation to 
 God, so they have still so much of his image 
 stamped upon them, as may oblige and excite us 
 to love them ; in some, this image is more eminent 
 and conspicuous, and we can discern the lovely 
 traces of wisdom and goodness ; and though, in 
 others, it is miserably sullied and defaced, yet it is 
 not altogether erased; some lineaments, at least, 
 still remain. * All men are endued with rational 
 and immortal souls, with understandings and wills 
 capable of the highest and most excellent things ; 
 and if they be, at present, disordered and put out of 
 
 * ' Yet the human mind, however stunned and weakened 
 by its dreadful fall, still retains some faint idea, some confused 
 and obscure notions, of the good it has lost, and some remain- 
 ing seeds of its heavenly original, cognati semina coeli.' 
 
 Abp. Leightoji, Prelect, ii. 
 
 * The image of God in the soul of man, is not so thoroughly 
 defaced by the stain of earthly affections, that some extreme 
 lineaments, as it were, do not remain upon it.' 
 
 S. August, tora. x. p. 3. ED. 
 G 3 
 
86 NATURE AND EXCELLENCY ^SCOUGAL. 
 
 tune, by wickedness and folly, this may, indeed, 
 move our compassion, but ought not, in reason, 
 to extinguish our love. When we see a person in 
 a rugged humour, and perverse disposition ; full of 
 malice and dissimulation ; very foolish and very 
 proud, it is hard to fall in love with an object, 
 that presents itself unto us under an idea so little 
 grateful and lovely. But, when we shall consider 
 these evil qualities as the diseases and distempers 
 of a soul, which, in itself, is capable of all that wis- 
 dom and goodness, with which the best of saints 
 have ever been adorned ; and which may, one day, 
 be raised unto such heights of perfection, as 
 shall render it a fit companion for the holy angels, 
 this will turn our aversion into pity, and make 
 us behold him, with such feelings, as we should 
 have, when we look upon a beautiful body, that 
 was mangled with wounds, or disfigured by some 
 loathsome disease ; and, however we hate the vices, 
 we shall not cease to love the man. 
 
 TO BEGET PURITY, WE SHOULD CONSIDER THE 
 DIGNITY OF OUR NATURE. 
 
 In the next place, for purifying our souls, and 
 disentangling our affections from the pleasures and 
 enjoyments of this lower life, let us frequently 
 ponder the excellency and dignity of our nature ; 
 and think, what a shameful and unworthy thing it 
 is, for so noble and divine a creature as the soul of 
 man, to be sunk and immersed in brutish and 
 sensual desires, or amused with airy and fantastical 
 
SCOUGAL.] OF THE CHRISTIAN RELIGION. 87 
 
 delights, and so to lose the relish of solid and 
 spiritual pleasures ; that the beast should be fed 
 and pampered in us, and the man and the Christian 
 be starved. Did we but consider who we are, and 
 for what we were made, this would teach us, in a 
 right sense, to reverence and stand in awe of our- 
 selves*; it would beget a modesty and shame- 
 facedness, and make us very shy and reserved, 
 in the use of the most innocent and allowable 
 pleasures. 
 
 WE SHOULD MEDITATE OFTEN ON THE JOYS OF 
 HEAVEN. 
 
 It will be very effectual to the same purpose, 
 that we frequently raise our minds towards heaven, 
 and represent to our thoughts, the joys that are at 
 God's right hand, " those pleasures that endure 
 for evermore ; for every man that hath this hope 
 in him, purifieth himself, even as he is pure."t If 
 our heavenly country be much in our thoughts, it 
 will make us, " as strangers and pilgrims, abstain 
 from fleshly lusts, which war against the soul, and 
 keep ourselves unspotted from this world," that we 
 may be fit for the enjoyments and felicities of the 
 other. But then, we must see to it, that our notions of 
 heaven be not gross and carnal, that we dream not 
 of a Mahometan Paradise, nor rest on those meta- 
 
 * MaXiora d oncr^vvso crayrov. 
 
 Especially reverence thyself. 
 
 Pythag. ED. 
 f 1 John, iii. 3. 
 
 G 4 
 
88 NATURE AND EXCELLENCY [SCOUGAL. 
 
 phors and similitudes, by which these joys are 
 sometimes represented, for this might, perhaps, 
 have quite a contrary effect : it might entangle us 
 farther in carnal affections, and we should be ready 
 to indulge ourselves in a very liberal foretaste of 
 those pleasures, wherein we had placed our ever- 
 lasting felicity. But, when we come once to con- 
 ceive aright of those pure and spiritual pleasures ; 
 when the happiness we propose to ourselves, is 
 from the sight, and love, and enjoyment of God ; 
 and when our minds are filled with the hopes and 
 forethoughts of that blessed estate, O how mean 
 and contemptible, will all things here below appear 
 in our eyes ! With what disdain shall we reject the 
 gross and muddy pleasures, that would deprive us 
 of those celestial enjoyments, or, in any way, unfit 
 and indispose us for them ! 
 
 HUMILITY ARISES FROM THE CONSIDERATION OF 
 OUR FAILINGS. 
 
 The last branch of religion is humility, and surely 
 we can never want matter of consideration for 
 begetting it. All our wickednesses and imperfec- 
 tions, all our follies and our sins, may help to pull 
 down that fond and overweening conceit, which 
 we are apt to entertain of ourselves. That which 
 makes any body esteem us, is their knowledge or 
 apprehension of some little good, and their igno- 
 rance of a great deal of evil, that may be in our 
 character ; were they thoroughly acquainted with 
 us, : they wpuld .quickly change, their opinion. The 
 
SCOUGAL.] OF THE CHRISTIAN RELIGION. 89 
 
 thoughts which, in the best and most serious day of 
 our life, pass in our heart, if exposed to public view, 
 would render us either hateful or ridiculous : and 
 now, however we conceal our failings from one 
 another, yet surely we are conscious of them our- 
 selves; and some serious reflections upon them, 
 would much qualify and allay the vanity of our 
 spirits. Thus holy men have come really to think 
 worse of themselves, than of any other person in the 
 world : not but that they knew, that gross and scan- 
 dalous vices, are, in their nature, more heinous than 
 the surprisals of temptations and infirmity ; but, 
 because they were much more intent on their own 
 miscarriages, than on those of their neighbours, 
 and considered all the aggravations of the one, and 
 every thing that might be supposed to diminish 
 and alleviate the other. 
 
 THOUGHTS OF GOD GIVE US THE LOWEST THOUGHTS 
 OF OURSELVES. 
 
 But it is well observed by a pious writer, that 
 the deepest and most pure humility does not so 
 much arise from the consideration of our own faults 
 and defects, as from a calm and quiet contempla- 
 tion of the divine purity and goodness. Our spots 
 never appear so clearly, as when we place them 
 before this infinite light ; and we never seem less 
 in our own eyes, than when we look down upon 
 ourselves from on high. O how little, how no- 
 thing, do all those shadows of perfection then appear, 
 for which we are wont to value ourselves. That 
 
90 NATURE AND EXCELLENCY [SCOUGAL. 
 
 humility which comes from a view of our own sin- 
 ful ness and misery, is more turbulent and bois- 
 terous; but the other lays us full as low; and 
 wants nothing, but that anguish and vexation 
 wherewith our souls are apt to boil, when they are 
 the nearest objects of our thoughts. 
 
 PRAYER, ANOTHER INSTRUMENT OF RELIGION ; AND 
 THE ADVANTAGES OF MENTAL PRAYER. 
 
 There remains yet another means for begetting 
 a holy and religious disposition in the soul ; and 
 that is fervent and hearty prayer. Holiness is the 
 gift of God; indeed the greatest gift he can 
 bestow, or we are capable to receive ; and he has 
 promised his holy Spirit to those that ask it of him. 
 In prayer, we make the nearest approaches to God, 
 and lie open to the influences of heaven : then it 
 is, that the sun of righteousness visits us with his 
 directest rays, and dissipates our darkness, and 
 imprints his image on our souls. I cannot now 
 insist, on the advantage of this exercise, or the dis- 
 positions wherewith it ought to be performed ; and 
 there is no need that I should, there being so many 
 books which treat on this subject. I shall only tell 
 you, that there is one sort of prayer, wherein we 
 make use of the voice, which is necessary in public, 
 and may sometimes have its own advantage in 
 private ; and another, wherein, though we utter no 
 sound, yet we conceive the expressions, and form 
 the words, as it were, in our minds : but there is 
 a third and more sublime kind of prayer, wherein 
 
SCOUGAL.] OF THE CHRISTIAN RELIGION. 91 
 
 the soul takes a higher flight; and, having col- 
 lected all its forces by long and serious meditation, 
 darts itself, if I may so speak, towards God, in 
 sighs and groans, and thoughts too big for expres- 
 sion. As when, after a deep contemplation of the 
 divine perfections, appearing in all his works of 
 wonder, it addresses itself to Him, in the pro- 
 foundest adoration of his majesty and glory : or 
 when, after sad reflections on its vileness and mis- 
 carriages, it prostrates itself before him, with the 
 greatest confusion and sorrow, not daring to lift up 
 its eyes, or utter one word in his presence : or 
 when, having well considered the beauty of holi- 
 ness, and the unspeakable felicity of those that 
 are truly good, it pants after God, and sends up 
 such vigorous and ardent desires, as no words 
 can sufficiently express ; continuing and repeat- 
 ing each of these acts, as long as it finds itself 
 upheld by the force and impulse of the previous 
 meditation. 
 
 This mental prayer, is, of all other, the most 
 effectual to purify the soul, and dispose it unto 
 a holy and religious temper ; it may be termed 
 the great secret of devotion, and one of the most 
 powerful instruments of the divine life : and it 
 may be, the apostle hath a peculiar respect unto it, 
 when he says, that " the Spirit helpeth our infirmi- 
 ties, making intercession for us with groan ings 
 that cannot be uttered;" or, as the original may 
 bear, that cannot be worded. Yet I do not so 
 recommend this sort of prayer, as to supersede the 
 
92 NATURE AND EXCELLENCY [SCOUGAL. 
 
 use of the other; for we have so many several 
 things to pray for, and every petition of this nature 
 requires so much time, and so great an intention of 
 spirit, that it were not easy therein to overtake 
 them all. To say nothing of the fact, that the 
 deep sighs and heavings of the heart, which are 
 wont to accompany it, are something oppressive 
 to nature, and make it hard to continue long in 
 them. But, certainly, a few of these inward as- 
 pirations will do more, than a great many fluent 
 and melting expressions. 
 
 RELIGION IS TO BE ADVANCED BY THE SAME MEANS, 
 BY WHICH IT IS BEGUN ; AND THE USE OF THE 
 HOLY SACRAMENT TOWARDS IT. 
 
 Thus, my dear friend, I have briefly proposed 
 the method, which I judge proper for moulding 
 the soul into a holy frame. And the same means 
 which serve to get this divine temper, must still 
 be practised for strengthening and advancing it. 
 Therefore I shall recommend but one more, for 
 that purpose ; and that is the frequent and consci- 
 entious use of that holy Sacrament, which is pecu- 
 liarly appointed to nourish and increase the spiritual 
 life, when once it is begotten in the soul. All the 
 instruments of religion meet together in this ordi- 
 nance ; and while we address ourselves to it, we 
 are induced to practise all the rules which have 
 been mentioned before. Then it is, that we make 
 the severest survey of our actions, and lay the 
 
SCOUGAL.] OF THE CHRISTIAN RELIGION. ' 93 
 
 strictest obligations on ourselves : then are our 
 minds raised to the highest contempt of the world, 
 and every grace exercises itself with the greatest 
 advantage : and then, if ever, the soul makes its 
 most powerful sallies towards heaven, and assaults 
 it with a holy and acceptable force. And, cer- 
 tainly, the neglect or careless performance of this 
 duty, is one of the chief causes that bedwarfs 
 our religion, and makes us continue of so low 
 a size. 
 
 But it is time I should put a close to this letter, 
 which is grown to a far greater bulk than at first 
 I intended. If these poor papers can do you the 
 smallest service, I should think myself very happy 
 in this undertaking ; at least, I am hopeful you 
 will kindly accept the sincere endeavours, of a 
 person who would fain acquit himself, of some 
 part of that which he owes you. 
 
 A PRAYER. 
 
 * And now, O most gracious God, father and 
 fountain of mercy and goodness, who hast blessed 
 us with the knowledge of our happiness, and the 
 way that leads to it, excite in our souls such 
 ardent desires after the one, as may put us forth 
 to the diligent prosecution of the other. Let us 
 neither presume on our own strength, nor distrust 
 thy divine assistance ; but, while we are doing our 
 utmost endeavours, teach us still to depend on 
 thee for success. Open our eyes, O God, and 
 
94 NATURE AND EXCELLENCY [SCOUGAL. 
 
 teach us out of thy law. Bless us with an exact 
 and tender sense of our duty, and a knowledge to 
 discern perverse things. O that our ways were 
 directed to keep thy statutes ; then shall we not be 
 ashamed, when we have respect unto all thy com- 
 mandments. Possess our hearts with a generous 
 and holy disdain of all those poor enjoyments, 
 which this world holds out to allure us, that they 
 may never be able to inveigle our affections, or 
 betray us to any sin. Turn away our eyes from 
 beholding vanity, and quicken thou us in thy law. 
 Fill our souls with such a deep sense, and full 
 persuasion, of those great truths which thou hast 
 revealed in the Gospel, as may influence and re- 
 gulate our whole conversation ; and that the life 
 which we henceforth live in the flesh, we may live, 
 through faith in the Son of God. O that the in- 
 finite perfections of thy blessed nature, and the 
 astonishing expressions of thy goodness and love, 
 may conquer and overpower our hearts ; that they 
 may be constantly rising towards thee, in flames of 
 the devoutest affection, and, for thy sake, enlarg- 
 ing themselves in sincere and cordial love towards 
 all the world ; and that we may cleanse ourselves 
 from all filthiness of flesh and spirit, perfecting 
 holiness in thy fear, without which, we can never 
 hope to behold and enjoy thee. Finally, O God, 
 grant that the consideration of what thou art, and 
 what we ourselves are, may both humble, and 
 lay us low before thee, and also stir up in us the 
 
SCOUGAL.] OF THE CHRISTIAN RELIGION. Q5 
 
 strongest, and most ardent aspirations towards 
 thee. We desire to resign, and give ourselves up. 
 to the conduct of thy holy Spirit ; lead us in thy 
 truth and teach us, for thou art the God of our 
 salvation : guide us with thy counsel, and after- 
 wards receive us into glory, for the merits and in- 
 tercession of thy blessed Son our Saviour.* Amen. 
 
96 
 DISCOURSES 
 
 ON IMPORTANT SUBJECTS. 
 
 BY THE REV. H. SCOUGAL. 
 
 SERMON I. 
 
 THE SUPERIOR EXCELLENCY OF THE RELIGIOUS. 
 
 PROV. XII. 26. 
 The Righteous is more excellent than his Neighbour. 
 
 HE who considers the excellency and advantage 
 of piety and religion, how conformable it is to the 
 best principle of our nature, and how profitable 
 to our interests, may justly be surprised, at the 
 bad entertainment it receives in the world; and 
 will easily conclude, that this must needs flow 
 from some gross mistakes about it, and prejudices 
 against it; since, when things are not misrepre- 
 sented, it is so natural to us, to love that which is 
 good, and delight in that which is amiable. 
 
 Certainly, all who are enemies to holiness, have 
 taken up false measures, and disadvantageous no- 
 tions of it. The sensual person hates it, as harsh 
 and unpleasant, doing violence to his carnal appe- 
 tites; and looks on religion, as a contrivance to 
 deprive and rob him of the pleasures of this world, 
 
DISC. I.] EXCELLENCY OF THE RELIGIOUS. 97 
 
 by proposing those of another. The politic wit 
 slights it as foolish and imprudent; and, though 
 he acknowledges it, as a necessary instrument of 
 government, as a good device to overawe a mul- 
 titude, yet he counts it a great weakness, to be 
 further concerned in it, than may be consistent 
 with, and subservient to, secular designs. Again, 
 the gallants of our age, despise it as a base ignoble 
 temper, unworthy of a high birth and genteel edu- 
 cation ; incident to meaner souls, proceeding from 
 cowardly and superstitious fear, depressing the 
 mind, and rendering it incapable of high and 
 aspiring thoughts. Hence they made it their 
 business, to pour contempt upon piety, and to 
 advance the reputation of those vicious courses 
 which themselves have embraced. And because 
 there are yet some left, wh6, by practising and 
 recommending virtue, oppose and condemn their 
 lewd practices, they study to avenge themselves on 
 them, by the persecution of their tongues, and 
 by all the scoffs and reproaches they can invent 
 and utter. A means, which has proved most un- 
 happily successful, in deterring many weak minds 
 from goodness ; making them chuse to be wicked, 
 that they may not be laughed at. 
 
 It is to discover the grossness of this mistake, 
 and to expose the absurdities and unreasonableness 
 of these principles and practices; to vindicate 
 the excellency of piety, and to recommend it to 
 all truly generous souls, that we have made 
 choice of this text ; which tells us, in short and 
 
 H 
 
98 THE SUPERIOR EXCELLENCY [SCOUGAL. 
 
 plain terms, that " the righteous is more excellent 
 than his neighbour." 
 
 None can be so little acquainted with the scrip- 
 ture dialect, as not to know, that, though right- 
 eousness, in its truest acceptation, imports only 
 the observation of those duties which we owe our 
 neighbour, yet it is usually taken, more largely, 
 for piety and virtue in general. And good reason 
 too ; since there is no part of our duty, which we do 
 not owe as a debt unto God ; no exercise of religion, 
 which is not an act of justice : whence the clear 
 import of the text is, that, whatever excellency 
 other persons may pretend to, pious and religious 
 men alone, are the truly noble and generous persons 
 in the world ; as the Psalmist expresses it, " The 
 saints are excellent ones in the earth." 
 
 Now, we shall not trouble you, with any further 
 explication of the words, which are so clear, or with 
 any division of a proposition so simple. But shall 
 rather illustrate and confirm the assertion, by pro- 
 ducing such undoubted evidences of nobleness and 
 excellency, as are proper to godliness, and to those 
 who practise it. Where we may have occasion to 
 hint at such characters of a pious man, as, besides 
 the general design, may, perhaps, serve to put us 
 in mind of some parts of our duty, which we are 
 not so careful to observe ; and which, therefore, 
 may be useful, even to those who have already 
 embraced the practice of religion. 
 
 Being to speak of the nobleness and excellency 
 of religion, it may be expected, that we should say 
 
DISC. I.J OF THE RELIGIOUS. 99 
 
 something of its origin and extract ; the whole 
 of nobility, which some understand, and others 
 pretend to. We might take occasion to discover 
 the folly, of glorying in the antiquity of an illus- 
 trious house, or the famed virtue of worthy an- 
 cestors, who, perhaps, were they alive, would disown 
 their degenerate progeny. But I shall not insist 
 upon this ; it is a vanity which has been chastised 
 sufficiently even by heathen pens.* Nay, we 
 shall so far comply with the common sentiments 
 of the world, as to acknowledge, that high birth 
 and liberal education may contribute much, to 
 elevate the minds of men, and accustom them to 
 great thoughts. But surely, whatever advantages 
 any may pretend to by their birth, there are none 
 to be preferred to the children of God, the 
 blood-royal of heaven, the brethren of Christ; 
 of whom we may say, that " as he is, so are they ; 
 each one resembling the son of a king/' 
 
 If we trace the lines of earthly extraction, we 
 shall find them all meet in one point ; all terminate 
 in dust and earth. But in the heraldry of heaven, 
 we shall find a twofold pedigree. Sin is the off- 
 spring of hell ; and " wicked men are of their father 
 the devil,** whose work they perform. On the 
 other hand, holiness is the seed of God; and the 
 saints have obtained to be called " the Sons of the 
 Most High." And think not, that these are empty 
 titles, and big words, to amuse the world ; no, they 
 
 * See particularly Juvenal, Sat. viii. Er>. 
 H g 
 
100 THE SUPERIOR EXCELLENCY [SCOUGAL. 
 
 are equally just and important. Pious men are 
 really " partakers of the divine nature," and shall 
 obtain an interest in the inheritance which is en- 
 tailed on that relation. Never were the qualities 
 of a parent more really derived unto their children, 
 than the image and similitude of the divine ex- 
 cellencies are stamped upon these heaven-born 
 souls. Some beams of that eternal light are darted 
 in upon them, and make them shine with an 
 eminent splendour : and they are always aspiring to 
 a nearer conformity with him, still breathing after 
 a further communication of his Holy Spirit, and 
 daily finding the power of that spirit correcting the 
 ruder deformities of their natures, and superinduc- 
 ing the beautiful delineations of God's image upon 
 them : so that, any who observe them, may per- 
 ceive their relation to God, by the excellency of 
 their deportment in the world. 
 
 Having spoken of the righteous or godly man's 
 excellency, in respect of his birth and extraction, 
 we proceed to consider his qualities and endow- 
 ments ; and shall begin with those of his under- 
 standing, his knowledge, and wisdom. The wise 
 man tells us, that " a man of understanding is of 
 an excellent spirit." And surely, if any man in 
 the world is to be esteemed for knowledge, it is the 
 pious man. His knowledge is conversant about 
 the noblest objects ; he contemplates that infinite 
 being, whose perfections can never enough be 
 admired, but still afford new matter to astonish 
 and delight him ; to ravish his affections ; to raise 
 
DISC. I.] OF THE RELIGIOUS. 101 
 
 his wonder. He studies the law of God, " which 
 maketh him wiser than all his teachers." As 
 Dr. Tillotson has it, ' It is deservedly accounted 
 an excellent piece of knowledge, to understand 
 the laws of the land, the customs of the coun- 
 try we live in ; how much more to know the sta- 
 tutes of heaven, the eternal laws of righteousness, 
 the will of the universal monarch, and the cus- 
 toms of that country where we hope to live for 
 ever ? ' And, if we have a mind to the studies 
 of nature and human science, he is best disposed 
 for it, having his faculties cleared, and his under- 
 standing heightened, by divine contemplations. 
 
 But his knowledge does not rest in speculation ; 
 it directs his practice, and determines his choice. 
 And he is the most prudent, as well as the most 
 knowing person. He knows how to secure his 
 greatest interest ; to provide for the longest life ; 
 to prefer solid pleasures to gilded trifles ; the soul 
 to the body ; eternity to a moment. He ' knows 
 the temper of his own spirit ; he can moderate his 
 passions, and over-rule his carnal appetites : which, 
 certainly, is a far more important piece of wisdom, 
 than to understand the intrigues of a state, to 
 fathom the councils of princes, to know the pulse 
 of a people, or to balance the interests of kingdoms. 
 Yea, piety heightens and advances even moral 
 prudence itself: for while both direct and oblige 
 a man to " order his affairs with discretion," piety 
 " maketh the simple wise." And what was said by 
 holy David, and twice repeated by his wise son, 
 
 H 3 
 
102 THE SUPERIOR EXCELLENCY [SCOUGAL. 
 
 will hold good in every man's experience, that 
 " the fear of the Lord is the beginning of wisdom. 5 * 
 And thus much of the knowledge and wisdom, in 
 which the righteous man excelleth his neighbour. 
 
 We proceed to another of his endowments ; the 
 greatness of his mind, and his contempt of the 
 world. We can never take better measures of a 
 man's spirit, than from the things in which he de- 
 lights, and on which he sets his heart.* To be 
 taken up with trifles, and concerned in little things, 
 is an evidence of a weak and naughty mind. And 
 such are all wicked and irreligious persons : their 
 thoughts are confined to low and mean things ; to 
 designs of scraping together money, or spending it in 
 luxury ; of satisfying an appetite, or pleasing a pas- 
 sion ; of obtaining the favour of great ones, or the 
 applause of the vulgar. The greatest happiness at 
 which they aim, is to be masters of the country 
 where they live ; to dwell in stately houses, and to 
 be backed with a train of attendants ; to lie softly, 
 and fare deliciously, and such miserable attain- 
 ments; which a wise man would think himself 
 unhappy, if he could not despise. 
 
 But the pious person has his thoughts far above 
 these painted vanities. His felicity is not patched 
 up of so mean shreds ; it is simple and comprized 
 in one chief good: his soul advances itself, by 
 rational movements, towards the Author of its 
 being, the fountain of goodness and pleasure ; "I 
 
 * ' Qualis amor, talis animus/ 
 
DISC. I.] OF THE RELIGIOUS. 103 
 
 have none in heaven, but Thee ; and there is none 
 upon earth, whom I desire beside Thee." 
 
 The knowledge of nature has been reputed a 
 good means to enlarge the soul, and to breed in it 
 a contempt of earthly enjoyments. He that has 
 accustomed himself to consider the vastness of the 
 universe, and the small proportion which the point 
 we live, in bears to the rest of the world, may, per- 
 haps, come to think less, of the possession of some 
 acres, or of that fame, which can, at most, spread 
 itself through a small corner of this earth. What- 
 ever be in this, sure I am, that the knowledge of 
 God, and the frequent thoughts of heaven, must 
 needs prove far more effectual, to elevate and 
 aggrandize the mind. When once the soul, by 
 contemplation, is raised to any right apprehension 
 of the divine perfections, and to foretastes of ce- 
 lestial bliss, how will this world, and all that is in 
 it, vanish and disappear before his eyes? With 
 what holy disdain, will he look down upon things, 
 which are the highest objects of other men's am- 
 bitious desires ? All the splendour of courts, all 
 the pageantry of greatness, will no more dazzle his 
 eyes, than the faint lustre of a glow-worm will 
 trouble the eagle, after it has been beholding the 
 sun. He is little concerned, who obtained this 
 dignity, or that fortune ; who sits highest at table, 
 or goes first out of the door. His thoughts are 
 taken up with greater matters ; how he shall please 
 his Maker, and obtain an interest in that land 
 of promise, some of whose fruits he has already 
 
 H 4 
 
104 THE SUPERIOR EXCELLENCY [SCOUGAL. 
 
 tasted. And from hence arises that constant and 
 equal frame of spirit, which the pious man's mind 
 maintains, in all the changes and vicissitudes of 
 things. While he who has not his spirit balanced 
 by religious principles, is lifted up, and cast down, 
 like a ship on the sea, with every variation of 
 fortune ; and partakes, perhaps, of all the motions 
 of this inferior world, to which his heart and 
 affections are riveted. And, certainly, he must 
 be far more happy and generous too, who sits 
 loose to the world, and who can, with the greatest 
 calmness and tranquillity, possess his own soul, 
 while all things without are hurry and confusion. 
 Private disasters cannot discompose, nor public 
 calamities reach him ; he looks upon the troubles 
 and combustions of the world, as men do on the 
 ruin and desolation of cities in which themselves 
 have little interest; with no other concernment, 
 than that of pity, to see men trouble themselves 
 and others, to so little purpose. If the world 
 should shake, and the foundations of the earth be 
 removed*, yet would he rest secure, in a full acqui- 
 escence to the will of God, and a confident de- 
 pendence on his providence : " He shall not be 
 afraid of any evil tidings : his heart is fixed, trust- 
 ing in the Lord." 
 
 And this, by the affinity, will lead us to an- 
 other endowment, in which the excellency of the 
 righteous man appears; that heroic magnanimity 
 
 * ' Si fractus illabatur orbis, &c.' 
 
DISC. I.] OF THE RELIGIOUS. 105 
 
 and courage, with which he is inspired ; which 
 makes him confidently achieve the most difficult 
 actions, and resolutely undergo the hardest suf- 
 ferings, that he is called to. For this, see the 
 epistle to the Hebrews : " Through faith some 
 have subdued kingdoms;" this was their active 
 courage. " Others again were tortured, &c. ;" this 
 was their passive courage, which, in Christians, 
 is most eminent and useful. True valour more 
 appears, by suffering than by doing ; and, doubt- 
 less, this is the harder trial of the two. Were 
 it not for suffering hardships, the greatest coward 
 in the world, would be man enough for the 
 highest enterprises. It is not so much the dif- 
 ficulty of great actions, as the danger that attends 
 them, which makes men fear to undertake them : 
 so that, to suffer cheerfully, must be the greatest 
 proof of courage. And surely, we may appeal to 
 the world, to produce such eminent instances of 
 fortitude and resolution, as Christian martyrs have 
 shown, under those torments which cannot be 
 mentioned without horror. How often has their 
 constancy amazed their bloody persecutors, and 
 outwearied the cruelties of their tormentors! Nor 
 was this patience per-force : they might have saved 
 themselves that trouble, by throwing a little in- 
 cense into the fire, or speaking a few blasphemous 
 words ; but well had they learned " not to fear 
 those who can kill the body, &c." Nor were they 
 borne out by an obstinate humour, and perverse 
 stoical wilfulness : they were neither stupid and 
 
106 THE SUPERIOR EXCELLENCY [SCOUGAL. 
 
 insensible, nor proud and self-conceited ; their 
 sufferings were undertaken with calmness, and 
 sustained with moderation. 
 
 Let Heathen Rome boast of a Regulus, a Decius, 
 or some two or three more, stimulated by a desire 
 of glory, and perhaps animated by some secret 
 hopes of future reward, who have devoted their 
 life to the service of their country. But what 
 is this, to an infinite number, not only of men, but 
 even of women and children, who have died for the 
 profession of their faith ; neither seeking, nor ex- 
 pecting, any praise from men ? And tell me, who 
 among the heathen, willingly endured the loss of 
 reputation? Nay, that was their idol, and they 
 could not part with it. And, certainly, it is great 
 meanness of spirit, to be overawed with fear of dis- 
 grace, and to depend upon the thoughts of the 
 people. True courage equally fortifies the mind 
 against all those evils, and will make a man hazard 
 his honour, as well as other things, when occasion 
 calls for it 
 
 Now, if the celebrated actions of the Heathen 
 come short of true courage, what shall we say of 
 the furious boldness of the Hectors of our age, who 
 pretend to prowess and gallantry, by far less reason- 
 able methods ? When, blinded with passion, and 
 animated with wine, they are ready enough, on 'half 
 a quarrel, to hazard their own, and their neigh- 
 bour's life, and soul too, in a duel ! Yea, they will 
 not scruple to brave heaven itself, and to provoke 
 the Almighty, by their horrid oaths and blasphemies* 
 
DISC. I.] OF THE RELIGIOUS. 107 
 
 One would think, that these must needs be the 
 hardiest and most valiant people in the world ; if 
 they are not afraid of the Almighty, surely nothing 
 else should fright them. And yet, you shall find 
 these very persons, when cast on a bed by sickness, 
 or brought to the scaffold by justice, betraying a 
 miserable faintness and pusillanimity. They are 
 forced now to think on the terrors of death, and the 
 more terrible consequences of it ; and their counter- 
 feit courage, destitute of those props which formerly 
 sustained it, now discovers its weakness. Nor is 
 it any wonder : for what should make a man wil- 
 lingly leave this world, unless he expected a more 
 happy condition in another? Certainly, nothing 
 can fortify the soul with a true and manly courage, 
 but a confidence in God, and the hope of future 
 blessedness. " The wicked flee when no man 
 pursueth ; but the righteous is bold as a lion ;" and, 
 from that, he is justly accounted " more excellent 
 than his neighbour." 
 
 From courage and magnanimity, we pass to that, 
 which is its genuine issue, and ordinary consequence, 
 the liberty and freedom of the righteous person. 
 Liberty is a privilege so highly rated by all men, that 
 many run the greatest hazards for its very name : 
 but there are few who enjoy it in reality. I shall 
 not speak of those fetters of ceremony, and chains 
 of state, wherewith great men are tied ; which make 
 their actions constrained, and their converse uneasy: 
 this is more to be pitied than blamed. But wicked 
 and irreligious persons are under a far more shame- 
 
108 THE SUPERIOR EXCELLENCY [SCOUGAL. 
 
 ful bondage : they are slaves to their own passions, 
 and suffer the violence and tyranny of their irregular 
 appetites. This is frequently talked of, but seldom 
 considered or believed; and therefore it will not be 
 amiss to bring an instance or two, for the illustration 
 of it. Observe a passionate man, and you shall find 
 him frequently transported and overpowered by his 
 anger, and carried to those extremities, of which a 
 little time makes him ashamed ; and he becomes as 
 much displeased with himself, as formerly he was 
 with his adversary : and yet, on the next occasion, 
 he will obey that same passion which he has con- 
 demned. What a drudge is a covetous man to his 
 riches ; which take up his thoughts all the day long, 
 and break his sleep in the night ? How must the am- 
 bitious man fawn and flatter, and cross his very hu- 
 mour, with hopes to satisfy it ; stoop to the ground, 
 that he may aspire ; courting and caressing those 
 whom he hates : which, doubtless, is done with a 
 great violence and constraint. The drunkard, when 
 he awakes, and has slept out his cups and his frolic 
 humour, and finds his head aching, his stomach 
 qualmish, perhaps his purse empty, and reflects on 
 the folly, and, unhandsome expressions or actions, 
 into which he may have fallen, in his drink, how will he 
 condemn himself for that excess ? What harangues 
 shall we have from him, in the praise of temperance ! 
 What promises and resolutions of future sobriety ! 
 And yet, on the next occasion, the poor slave shall 
 be dragged away to the tavern, by those whom he 
 must call his friends ; and must thank them, who put 
 
DISC. I.] OF THE RELIGIOUS. 109 
 
 upon him that abuse, which a wise and sober person 
 would rather die than suffer. Further, the luxurious 
 would fain preserve, or recover, his health ; and, to 
 this end, he finds it' requisite to keep a temperate 
 and sober diet. No ; but he must not. He is present 
 at a feast, and his superior appetite calls for a large 
 measure of delicious fare ; and his palate must be 
 pleased, though the whole body should suffer for it : 
 or he has met with a profligate woman ; and though 
 his whole bones should rot, " and a dart strike 
 through his liver," yet must he obey the command 
 of his passions : "He goeth after her straightway, 
 as the ox goeth to the slaughter, or as a fool to the 
 correction of the stocks." Now, there can be no 
 greater evidence of slavery and bondage, than thus 
 to do, what themselves know to be prejudicial. It 
 were easy to illustrate this bondage and thraldom 
 of the soul, in all the other .instances of vice and 
 impiety. And certainly, what Saint Peter says of 
 some false teachers, may be well applied to all 
 wicked persons : " While they promise freedom, 
 they themselves are the servants of corruption : for, 
 of whom a man is overcome, of the same is he 
 brought in bondage." 
 
 But the holy and religious person has broken 
 these fetters : has cast off the yoke of sin, and be- 
 come the freeman of the Lord. It is religion, that 
 restores freedom to the soul, which philosophy did 
 but pretend to : it is that, which sways and mode- 
 rates all those blind passions and impetuous affec- 
 tions, which else would hinder a man from the 
 
110 THE SUPERIOR EXCELLENCY [SCOUGAL. 
 
 possession and enjoyment of himself; and which 
 makes him master of his own thoughts, motions, 
 and desires; that he may do with freedom, what he 
 judges most honest and convenient. And thus 
 "the righteous man excelleth his neighbour," as 
 much as a freeman excels the basest slave. 
 
 Another particular, wherein the nobleness and 
 excellency of religion appears, is in a charitable 
 and benign temper. There is no greater evidence 
 of a base and narrow soul, than for a man to have 
 all his thoughts taken up with private and selfish in- 
 terests ; and if those interests be prosperous, not to 
 care what becomes of the rest of the world. On the 
 other hand, an extensive charity and kindness, as it 
 is the one half of our religion, so it is an eminent 
 point of generosity. " The righteous is gracious, 
 and full of compassion ; he sheweth favour and 
 lendeth :" and makes it his work, to serve mankind 
 as much as he is able. His bounty is not confined 
 to his kindred and relations, to those of his own 
 party and mode of religion: this were but a dis- 
 guised kind of self-love. It is enough to him, that 
 they are Christians ; or, if they were not, yet are 
 they men ; and therefore deserve our pity, not our 
 hatred or neglect, because of their errors. It 
 is true, he has a special kindness for those, in 
 whom he discovers a principle of goodness and 
 virtue: in those excellent ones, is all his delight. 
 But then, he takes his measure, not so much from 
 their judgment and opinions, as from the integrity 
 of their life, and the exactness of their practices. 
 
DISC. I.] OF THE RELIGIOUS. Ill 
 
 His charity does not express itself in one parti- 
 cular instance, for example, that of giving alms ; but 
 is vented in as many ways, as the variety of occa- 
 sions require, and his power can attain. He assists 
 the poor, with his money ; the ignorant, with his 
 counsel ; the afflicted, with his comfort ; the sick, 
 with the best of his skill ; all, with his blessings 
 and prayers. If he cannot build hospitals, yet he 
 will study to persuade those who can. If he has no 
 money to redeem captives, yet will he employ his 
 interest in the court of heaven for their deliver- 
 ance. Though he cannot recover a dying child to 
 the afflicted parents, yet will he endeavour to per- 
 suade them to submission and resignation, which 
 will render them more happy. And thus, in every 
 emergency, it will go hard with him, if he does 
 not find some way, either to benefit, or oblige, 
 every man with whom he converses. Nor, let any 
 man upbraid us, with the contrary practices of 
 many high pretenders to religion, who are notedly 
 selfish and churlish persons. We are not to defend 
 the actions of all who would be thought godly; nor 
 must you take your measures of piety, from what 
 you observe in them. But look through the Gospel, 
 and you shall find charity and bounty so passion- 
 ately recommended, so frequently inculcated, and 
 so indispensably required, that you may easily con- 
 clude there are no Christians in earnest, but those 
 who practise it. Yea, so peculiar is this liberal 
 and benign temper to holy and religious persons, 
 that nothing but a faint resemblance, and false imi- 
 
THE SUPERIOR EXCELLENCY [SCOUGAL. 
 
 tation, is to be found elsewhere in the world. 
 Other men's seeming bounty is always marred, by 
 the base principle from which it proceeds, and the 
 selfish purpose to which it tends. The Apostle has 
 told us, that " a man may give all his goods to 
 feed the poor, and yet want charity;" and all 
 these expenses shall profit him nothing. Impor- 
 tunity, or a willingness to be delivered from the 
 trouble of a miserable spectacle, may, perhaps, 
 wring something out of his pocket ; but vanity and a 
 desire of applause, have, usually, the greatest in- 
 terest in his distributions. This made the hypocrites 
 of old, proclaim their alms with trumpets ; and this 
 makes their successors in our times, delight to have 
 their good works of this kind, recorded to the 
 greatest advantage, that posterity may read them 
 on walls, and in public registers. 
 
 To the same principle, must we refer, what, in 
 the world, passes for a very considerable instance 
 of generosity ; the keeping of a great house, and 
 well-furnished table : which, nevertheless, is more 
 ordinarily the effect of pride and vain-glory, than 
 of humility or hospitality. It is a part of men's 
 splendour and state ; and they deck their tables, 
 for the same end that they put on fine clothes, to 
 be talked of and admired in the world. You may 
 guess it, by the persons whom they entertain ; who 
 are usually such as need least of their charity, and 
 for whom they have, very often, as little kindness 
 or concernment, as an innkeeper for his guests ; nor 
 are they less mercenary than he ; the one sells his 
 
DISC. I.] OF THE RELIGIOUS. 113 
 
 meat for money, the other for praise. Far more 
 generous is the practice of the pious man ; who, as 
 he chuses most to benefit those who can make him 
 no recompence, so he does not trouble the world 
 with the noise of his charity: yea, " his left hand 
 knoweth not, whatliis right hand bestoweth :" and 
 that which most endears his bounty, is the love 
 and affection whence it proceeds. 
 
 We shall name but one instance more, in which 
 the righteous man excels his neighbour ; and 
 that is, his venerable temperance and purity. He 
 has risen above the vaporous sphere of sensual 
 pleasure, which darkens and debases the mind; 
 which sullies its lustre, and abates its native vigour : 
 while profane persons, wallowing in impure desires, 
 sink themselves below the condition of men. Can 
 there be any spark of generosity, any degree of 
 excellency, in him, who makes his belly his god, or 
 who places his felicity in the madness of sensual en- 
 joyment ? We spoke before of the slavery, we speak 
 now of the deformity, of these sins : and shall add, 
 that one of the most shameful and miserable spec- 
 tacles in the world, is, to see a man born to the use 
 of reason, and perhaps to an eminent fortune, drink 
 away his religion, his reason, his sense ; and so 
 expose himself to the pity of wise men ; the con- 
 tempt of his own servants; the derision of his 
 children, and fools ; to every danger, and to every 
 snare ; and that this must pass, in the eyes of many, 
 for a piece of gallantry, the necessary accomplish, 
 ment of a gentleman. How are the minds of men 
 
 i 
 
THE SUPERIOR EXCELLENCY [SCOUGAL. 
 
 poisoned with perverse notions ? What unreason- 
 able measures do they take of things ? We may 
 expect next, that they shall commend theft, and 
 make harangues in praise of parricide ; for they 
 are daily advancing the boldness of their impieties, 
 and with confidence avowing them. Other ages 
 have practised wickedness ; but to ours, is reserved 
 the impudence to glory in it. But, would men 
 but open their eyes, and give way to the senti- 
 ments of their own minds, they would soon alter 
 their maxims, and discover the miserable deformity 
 of vice, and the beauty and majesty of religion; 
 that it at once adorns and advances human na- 
 ture ; and has in it every thing generous and 
 noble, cheerful and spiritual, free and ingenuous ; 
 in a word, that the righteous is more excellent than 
 his neighbour. 
 
 Before we proceed further, it will be necessary 
 to remove some prejudices and objections, which 
 arise against the nobleness and excellency of re- 
 ligion. And the first is, that it enjoins lowliness 
 and humility ; which men ordinarily look upon as 
 an abject and base disposition. What, will they 
 say, can that man ever aspire to any thing ex- 
 cellent, whose principles oblige him to lie low 
 and grovel on the ground ; who thinks nothing of 
 himself, and is content that all the world think 
 nothing of him ? Is this a disposition fit for any, 
 but those whose cross fortune obliges them to suffer 
 miseries and affronts ? Such are men's thoughts of 
 humility ; which God loves so much, that, we may 
 
DISC. I.] OF THE RELIGIOUS. 115 
 
 say, he sent his own Son from heaven, to teach and 
 recommend it. But, if we ponder the matter, we 
 shall find, that arrogance and pride are the issues 
 of base and silly minds, a giddiness incident to 
 those who are raised suddenly to an unaccustomed 
 height. Nor is there any vice, which more palpa- 
 bly defeats its own design ; depriving a man of that 
 honour and reputation, which it makes him aim at. 
 On the other hand, we shall find humility no 
 silly and sneaking quality ; but the greatest height 
 and sublimity of the mind, and the only way to 
 true honour: " Before destruction the heart of man 
 is haughty, and before honour is humility." Low- 
 liness is the endowment of high-born and well- 
 educated souls, who are acquainted with the know- 
 ledge of excellent things ; and, therefore, do not 
 doat upon trifles, or admire little things, merely be- 
 cause they are their own. They have no such high 
 opinion of riches, beauty, strength, or any similar 
 advantages, as to value themselves for them, or to 
 despise those who want them : but they study to 
 surmount themselves, and all the little attainments 
 they have hitherto reached, and are still aspiring 
 to higher and more noble things. And it is worth 
 our notice, that the most deep and pure humility 
 does not so much arise from the consideration of our 
 own faults and defects (though that also may have 
 its proper place), as from a calm contemplation of 
 the divine perfections. By reflecting on ourselves, 
 we may discover something of our own sinfulness and 
 misery; and, consequently, may be filled with a kind 
 
116 THE SUPERIOR EXCELLENCY [SCOUGAL. 
 
 of boisterous and turbulent grief and indignation : 
 but, by fixing our eyes on the infinite greatness and 
 holiness of God, we are most fully convinced of 
 our own meanness. This will sink us to the very 
 bottom of our beings, and make us appear as 
 nothing in our own sight, when beheld from so 
 great a height. And this is, really, the greatest 
 elevation of the soul : and there is nothing in the 
 world so noble and excellent, as the sublimity of 
 humble minds. 
 
 Another objection against the excellency of a 
 religious temper, is, that the love of enemies, and 
 the pardon of injuries, which it includes, are utterly 
 inconsistent with the principles of honour. Now, 
 though it be highly unreasonable to examine the 
 laws of our Saviour by such rules as this, yet we 
 shall consider the matter a little. Nor shall we 
 seek to elude or qualify this precept, as some do, 
 by such glosses and evasions, as may suit with their 
 own practices: nay, we shall freely profess, that 
 there is no salvation without the observation of it. 
 A man had even as well abandon Christianity, and 
 renounce his baptism, as obstinately refuse to obey 
 it. But, if we have any value for the judgment of 
 him, who was, at once, both the wisest man, and 
 a great king, he will tell us, that "it is the honour 
 of man, to cease from strife ; and he that is slow to 
 wrath, is of great understanding." The meek and 
 lowly person lives above the reach of petty injuries, 
 and blunts the edge of the greatest, by his patience 
 and constancy j he has compassion towards those 
 
DISC. I.] OF THE RELIGIOUS. 117 
 
 who offend him: being more sorry for the preju- 
 dice they do themselves, than for that which they 
 intended him. And, let all the world judge, whether 
 it be more generous to pity and love even those who 
 hate us, and to pardon the greatest offences, than 
 peevishly to quarrel on every petty occasion, and 
 make men fear our passion, hate our humour, and 
 abandon our society? So that, what is here 
 brought as an objection against religion, might, 
 with reason enough, have been brought as an 
 instance of its nobleness. 
 
 Having thus illustrated and confirmed what is 
 asserted in the text, that the righteous is more 
 excellent than his neighbour ; let us improve it, as 
 a check to that profane and atheistical spirit of 
 drollery and scoffing at religion, which has got 
 abroad in the world. Alas ! do men consider what 
 it is, which they make the butt of their scoffs and 
 reproaches ? Have they nothing else to exercise 
 their wit, and vent their jests upon, but that which 
 is the most noble and excellent thing in the world ? 
 What design can they propose to themselves, by 
 this kind of impiety? Would they have religion 
 banished from the face of the earth, and forced to 
 retire for shame ? What a goodly world should 
 we then have of it ! What a fine harmony and order 
 of things ! Certainly the earth would then become 
 a kind of hell, with tumults and seditions, rapines 
 and murders, secret malice, and open frauds, by 
 every vice, and every calamity. Some little re- 
 mainders of piety and virtue in the world, alone 
 
 i 3 
 
118 THE SUPERIOR EXCELLENCY [SCOUGAL. 
 
 keep it in any tolerable condition, or make it 
 possible to be inhabited. And must not those be 
 wretched persons, and woful enemies to mankind, 
 who do what they can, to reduce the world to such 
 a miserable condition ? But let them do what they 
 will ; they but kick against the pricks. Religion has 
 so much native lustre and beauty, that, notwithstand- 
 ing all the dirt which they study to cast upon it, all 
 the melancholy and deformed shapes in which they 
 dress it, it will attract the eyes and admiration of all 
 sober and ingenuous persons : and while these 
 men study to make it ridiculous, they shall but 
 make themselves so. And O ! that they would 
 consider, how dear they are to pay for those dull 
 and insipid jests, wherewith they persecute religion, 
 and those who practise it, or recommend it ! What 
 thoughts they are likely to have of them, when 
 sickness shall arrest, and death threaten them; 
 when the physicians shall have forsaken them, and 
 the poor despised Minister is called in, and they are 
 expecting comfort from him, that they were wont 
 to mock, and perhaps it is little he can afford them : 
 "O that men were wise, that they understood this, 
 that they would consider their latter end! " 
 
 There are others, who have not yet arrived to 
 this height of profaneness, who do not absolutely 
 laugh at all religion ; but who vent their malice, at 
 those who are more conscientious and severe than 
 themselves, under presumption that they are hypo- 
 crites and dissemblers. But, besides, that in this, 
 they may be guilty of a great deal of uncharitable- 
 
DISC. I.] OF THE RELIGIOUS. 119 
 
 ness, it is to be suspected, that they bear some secret 
 dislike to piety itself; and hate hypocrisy more for 
 its resemblance of that, than for its own vicious- 
 ness : otherwise, whence comes it, that they do not 
 express the same animosity, against other vices ? 
 
 To this, also, we may refer those expressions, 
 which sometimes drop from persons not so utterly 
 debauched, but which yet are blasphemous and 
 profane : c that this man is too holy, and that man 
 too religious ;' as if it were possible to exceed in 
 these things. What! can a man approach too 
 near to God ? Can he be too like his Maker ? Is 
 it possible to be over-perfect, or over-happy? I 
 confess, a man may over-act some parts of religion, 
 and dwell too much on some particular exercises 
 of it, neglecting other as necessary duties. But 
 this is not an excess of piety, it is a defect of 
 discretion. And reason would teach us, rather to 
 pardon men's infirmities for their pious inclinations, 
 than to blame piety for their infirmities. 
 
 Let me, therefore, entreat you all, especially those 
 whose birth and fortunes render them more con- 
 spicuous in the world, to countenance holiness, 
 which you see is so excellent ; and to beware, that 
 you do not, by scoffing at the most serious things in 
 the world, contribute to that deluge of wickedness 
 which overflows the earth. And, if I obtain this, 
 I shall make bold to beg one thing more, but it is 
 in your own favours ; that you would also abandon 
 every kind of impiety in your own practice, since, 
 in it, every vile ruffian may vie and contend with 
 
 i 4 
 
EXCELLENCY OF THE RELIGIOUS. [SCOUGAL. 
 
 you. In other cases, you forsake modes and cus- 
 toms when they become common. Wickedness is 
 now the most vulgar and ordinary thing in the 
 world. Shift, I beseech you, the fashion, and em- 
 brace piety and virtue ; in which none but excellent 
 persons shall rival you. Learn to adore your 
 Maker : and think it not beneath you, to stand in 
 awe of Him, who can rend the heavens, and make 
 the foundations of the earth shake ; who needs but 
 withdraw his mercies, to make you miserable ; or 
 his assistance, to reduce you to nothing. Study to 
 ennoble your souls, with solid knowledge and true 
 wisdom ; with an eminent greatness of mind, and 
 contempt of the world ; with a great liberty and 
 freedom of spirit ; an undaunted magnanimity and 
 courage ; an extensive charity and goodness ; a 
 venerable temper and purity; an amiable meek- 
 ness and humility. So shall you render yourselves 
 honourable, and more excellent than your neigh- 
 bours in this world ; and be partakers of immortal 
 honour and glory, in the world to come. Amen. 
 
THE INDISPENSABLE DUTY OF LOVING OUR 
 ENEMIES. 
 
 LUKE, vi. 27 
 But I say unto you which hear, Love your Enemies. 
 
 WHILE we travel through the wilderness of this 
 world, much of the comfort of our pilgrimage de- 
 pends on the good correspondence, and mutual 
 services and endearments, of our fellow-travellers. 
 Therefore, our blessed Saviour, whose precepts are 
 all intended for our perfection and felicity, fitted 
 to procure to us the good things, both of this world, 
 and of that which is to come, has taken especial care 
 to unite the minds of men, in the strictest bonds of 
 friendship and love. He has been at great pains, 
 by his precepts and by his example, by earnest per- 
 suasion and powerful motives, to smooth our rugged 
 humours, to calm our passions, and to free our 
 natures from that roughness and asperity, which 
 hinder us from cementing together. Now, were 
 we to converse with none but such as are Christians 
 in earnest, we should find it no hard matter to live 
 in concord and love ; we should meet with no 
 occasion of quarrel and contention ; and should 
 only be obliged to love our friends, because all 
 
THE INDISPENSABLE DUTY [SCOUGAL. 
 
 men would be such. But well did our Saviour 
 know, that his part was to be small in the world ; 
 that many would oppose the profession, and many 
 more would neglect the practice, of that religion 
 which he taught ; and that his followers, besides 
 common injuries incident to all men, were to meet 
 with much enmity and hatred for their master's sake. 
 Arid, therefore, that, amidst all these storms, they 
 might maintain that constant serene tranquillity, 
 that sweetness and benignity of spirit, without 
 which they could neither be like him, nor happy 
 in themselves, he was pleased to enjoin such an 
 ardent affection and charity towards all men, as no 
 neglect can cool, no injury can extinguish. To love 
 those who have obliged us, is that which nature 
 might teach, and wicked men practise ; to favour 
 those who have never wronged us, is merely an act of 
 common humanity: but our religion requires us to 
 extend our kindness even to those who have injured 
 and abused us, and who continue to do and wish us 
 mischief: and enjoins, that we never shall design 
 any other revenge, against our most bitter and 
 inveterate enemies, than to wish them well, and do 
 them all the good we can, whether they will or 
 not: for unto those that hear him, our Saviour 
 saith, " Love your enemies." 
 
 But, alas ! how little is this regarded, by the 
 greater part of those, who call themselves Christians. 
 Other precepts are broken and slighted, but this is 
 industriously baffled and discredited. In other 
 cases, we acknowledge our fault, but study to qua- 
 
DISC. II.] OF LOVING OUR ENEMIES. 
 
 lify and excuse it, by the frailty of our nature, or vio- 
 lence of a temptation : < we are all sinners ; it is a fault 
 indeed ; but who can help it?' Now, though these 
 excuses are very frivolous, and will be of no force 
 in the great day of account, yet they imply some- 
 thing of modesty and ingenuous acknowledgment ; 
 and men may repent, and forsake what they already 
 condemn. But in the instance of loving enemies, 
 and pardoning offences, many are so bold and im- 
 pudent, that, instead of obeying, they quarrel with 
 the law, as impossible and unjust ; passing sentence 
 upon that, by which themselves must be judged. 
 * How unreasonable is it, say they, that we should 
 love those that hate us? What congruity be- 
 tween that act, and those objects ? Can cold snow 
 produce heat, or enmity beget affection ? Must we 
 be insensible of the injuries with which we meet, or 
 reward him that offers them ? Must we dissolve 
 the principles of our nature, and cease to be men, 
 that we may become Christians?' These are either 
 the expressions or thoughts of too many among 
 us. And either Christ must come down in his 
 terms, and remit somewhat of the rigour of his 
 laws, or else, all the promises of the Gospel, all the 
 pleasures of the other world, shall not engage them 
 to his obedience. They will rather chuse to burn 
 in eternal flames of fury and discord, than live at 
 peace with those that have wronged them. 
 
 It can, therefore, never be unseasonable to press 
 a duty, so very necessary, yet so much neglected* 
 The text which I have chosen for this purpose, is 
 
THE INDISPENSABLE DUTY [SCOUGAL. 
 
 very plain and clear : " Love your enemies." But, 
 because many strain the precept, to some such sense 
 as may suit with their own practice, we shall first 
 search into its import, and then persuade you to 
 its performance. The full meaning and import of 
 the precept will appear, if we consider, first, Who 
 they are, whom we are commanded to love ; and 
 secondly, Wherein the love which we owe them 
 consists. 
 
 The persons whom we, are commanded to love, 
 are called our " enemies." And lest we should mis- 
 take them, they are clearly described in the follow- 
 ing words : the fountain of their enmity is within ; 
 they are those " who hate us ; " who envy our happi- 
 ness ; who wish our misery ; and who abhor our per- 
 sons and society. Now, were this fire kept within 
 their breast, it might well scorch themselves, it could 
 not prejudice us : but, " out of the abundance of the 
 heart the mouth speaketh ; " their malice sharpens 
 their tongues ; they are further described as those 
 that "curse us;" they vent their wrath in oaths and 
 imprecations, secret calumnies, and open reproaches. 
 Nor are their hands always bound up ; they "use 
 us despitefully," and procure us mischief. Now, if 
 our love must be extended to all these, we shall 
 hardly find any, whom we dare safely exclude. Of 
 our private enemies, there can be no question. But 
 what shall be said, of the enemies of our country ? 
 I see no warrant to exclude them from our charity. 
 We may, indeed, lawfully oppose their violent in- 
 vasion, and defend our rights with the sword, under 
 
DISC. II.] OF LOVING OUR ENEMIES. 
 
 the banner of the public magistrate, to whom such 
 authority is committed : but all this may be done, 
 with as little malice and hatred, as a judge feels, in 
 punishing a malefactor ; the general may be as void 
 of passion, as the lord chief justice ; and the sol- 
 dier, as the executioner. But charity will oblige a 
 prince, never to have recourse to the sword, till all 
 other remedies fail : to blunt the edge of war, by 
 sparing, as much as may be, the shedding of inno- 
 cent blood, with all other barbarities that use to 
 accompany it; and to accept of any reasonable 
 capitulation. 
 
 We come next to the enemies of our religion : 
 and, indeed, many are so far from thinking them 
 to be among the number of those whom they are 
 obliged to love, that they look upon it as a part of 
 their duty to hate and malign them. Their zeal 
 is continually venting itself in fierce invectives 
 against Antichrist, and every thing they are pleased 
 to call Antichristian ; and they are ready to apply 
 all the prophecies and imprecations of the Old 
 Testament, in their very prayers, against those that 
 differ from them. And ordinarily, the animosities 
 are greatest, where the differences are least ; and 
 one party of a reformed church shall be more 
 incensed against another, than either against the 
 superstition and tyranny of Rome, or the carnality 
 of the Mahometan faith. Yea, perhaps you may find 
 some who agree in opinion, and only differ in several 
 ways of expressing the same thing, and yet can 
 scarce look on one another without displeasure 
 
THE INDISPENSABLE DUTY [SCOUGAL. 
 
 and aversion. But, alas! how much do these men 
 disparage that religion, for which they appear so zeal- 
 ous; how much do they mistake the spirit of Christi- 
 anity ! Are the persons whom they hate, greater 
 enemies to religion, than those who persecuted the 
 Apostles and martyrs for professing it? And yet 
 these were the persons, whom our Saviour com- 
 manded his disciples to love : and he himself prayed 
 for those that crucified him ; and severely checked 
 the disciples, when, by a precedent brought from 
 the Old Testament, they would have called for 
 fire from heaven, on those who would not receive 
 them; telling them, " They knew not what spirit 
 they were of: " that is, they did not consider by what 
 spirit they were prompted to such cruel inclinations ; 
 or, as others explain it, they did not yet sufficiently 
 understand the temper and genius of Christianity; 
 which is pure and peaceable ; gentle and meek ; 
 full of sweetness, and full of love. If men would 
 impartially examine their hatred and animosity 
 against the enemies of their religion, I fear they 
 would find them proceed from a principle, which 
 themselves would not willingly own. Pride and 
 self-conceit will make a man disdain those of a 
 different persuasion ; and think it a disparagement 
 to his judgment, that any should differ from it. 
 Mere nature and self-love will make a man hate 
 those, who oppose the interest and advancement of 
 that party which himself has espoused. Hence men 
 are, many times, more displeased at some small mis- 
 takes in judgment, than at the greatest immoralities 
 
DISC. II.] OF LOVING OUR ENEMIES. 127 
 
 in practice ; yea, perhaps, they will find a secret 
 pleasure, and wicked satisfaction, in hearing or 
 reporting the faults or scandal of their adversaries. 
 Certainly the power of religion rightly prevailing 
 in the soul, would mould us into another temper : 
 it would teach us to love, and pity, and pray for the 
 persons, as well as hate and condemn the errors 
 which they are supposed to espouse : it would make 
 us wish their conversion, rather than their confusion ; 
 and be more desirous that God would fit them for 
 another world, than that he would take them out 
 of this. We may, indeed, wish the disappointment 
 of their wicked purposes ; for this is charity to 
 them, to keep them from being the unhappy in- 
 struments of mischief in the world ; but he that 
 can wish plagues and ruin to their persons, and 
 that delights in their sins, or in their misery, has in 
 his temper, more of the devil, than the Christian. 
 
 Thus you have seen, who those enemies are, to 
 whom our charity must be extended. It remains 
 to be considered, what is the nature of the love we 
 owe them. I shall not now spend your time in 
 any nice or curious speculations, about the nature 
 of this master-passion. It is the prime affection of 
 the soul, which gives measures, and sets bounds, to 
 all the rest ; every man's hatred, grief, and joy, 
 depending upon, and flowing from, his love. I 
 shall now only observe to you, that there is a sensi- 
 ble kind of love, a certain tenderness and melting 
 affection, implanted in us by nature towards our 
 nearest relations, on purpose to engage us to those 
 
128 THE INDISPENSABLE DUTY [SCOUGAL. 
 
 peculiar services which we owe them ; and there is 
 an intimacy and delightful union betwixt friends, 
 arising from some especial sympathy of humours, 
 and referring to the maintenance of such corre- 
 spondencies. These are not always at our com- 
 mand ; nor are we obliged to love either strangers 
 or enemies, at this rate. It is not to be expected, 
 that, at first sight of a person, who hath nothing 
 singularly taking, we should find such a special 
 kindness and tenderness arising for him in our 
 hearts ; much less, can fondness and passionate 
 affection, proceed from the sense of any harm 
 received from him. The command in the text does 
 not amount to this ; though there be a great ad- 
 vantage in a tender and affectionate disposition, 
 both to secure and facilitate our duty. But we 
 are, certainly, obliged to such a sincere and cordial 
 good-will to all men, as will incline us to perform 
 all the good offices in our power, even to those who 
 have offended us. But the nature and measures of 
 this love, will more fully appear, if we consider 
 what it excludes, and what it implies. 
 
 First, then, it excludes all harsh thoughts and 
 groundless suspicions. The Apostle tells us, 
 that " charity thinketh no evil ; that it hopeth all 
 things, believeth all things." To entertain, with 
 pleasure, every bad report of those who have 
 offended us, and to put the worst construction on 
 their doubtful actions, is both a clear evidence of 
 our hatred, and an unhappy method to continue it. 
 Were the love which we recommend once seated 
 
DISC. II.] OF LOVING OUR ENEMIES. 
 
 in the soul, it would soon cast out those restless 
 jealousies, sour suspicions, harsh surmises, and im- 
 bittered thoughts : it would display itself in a more 
 candid and gentle disposition ; in fair glosses, and 
 friendly censures ; in a favourable extenuation of 
 greater faults, and a generous covering of lesser 
 ones. It would make a man interpret all things, 
 in the best manner of which they are capable ; and 
 chuse, rather to be mistaken to his own prejudice, 
 by a too favourable opinion, than to that of his 
 neighbour, by a groundless jealousy. And even 
 in this sense it may be, that " Charity cov^reth a 
 multitude of sins." 
 
 Again, the love which we owe to enemies, ex- 
 cludes all causeless and immoderate anger : "It suf- 
 fereth long, and is not easily provoked, and endureth 
 all things." Our Saviour tells us, that " Whoso is 
 angry with his brother without a cawse, shall be in 
 danger of the judgment ;" and if hi& anger exceed 
 the cause, he is equally guilty. All anger is not 
 vicious ; we may be angry, and not sin. This pas- 
 sion, as all others implanted in us by God, is innocent, 
 when kept within its due bounds : it has its proper 
 office in the mind, as the spleen in the body ; but 
 its excess and distemper swells into a disease. To 
 make it allowable, it must not exceed the vaJue of 
 the cause, nor the proportion of the circumstances. 
 It must be governed by discretion, and kept within 
 the bounds of reason, that it break not forth into in- 
 decent expressions, or violent and blameable actions. 
 And, further, it must not be too permanent and last- 
 
130 THE INDISPENSABLE DUTY SCOUGAL. 
 
 ing : we must not let the sun set upon our anger. 
 Plutarch tells us, that the Pythagoreans were careful 
 to observe the very letter of this precept : for, if 
 anger had boiled up to the height of an injury or re- 
 proach, before sunset they would salute each other, 
 and renew their friendship ; they were ashamed, that 
 the same anger which had disturbed the counsels of 
 the day, should also trouble the quiet and repose of 
 the night ; lest, mingling with their rest and dreams, 
 it should become prevalent and habitual in them. 
 And, surely, we owe an infinitely greater deference 
 to the precepts of our blessed Saviour, and his holy 
 apostles, than they did to their master's reasoning 
 and advices. And, though we should not take this 
 precept in its strictest and literal signification, yet 
 this we must know, that the same passion and re- 
 sentment, which was innocent and rational in its 
 first rise, may become vicious and criminal by its 
 continuance. Anger may kindle in the breast of a 
 wise man, but rests only in the bosom of a fool. 
 And this will lead us to a third thing, which the pre- 
 cept in our text condemns. 
 
 The love of enemies here commanded, excludes 
 all rooted malice and rancour, proceeding from 
 the memory and resentment of injuries, after the 
 prejudice sustained by them is over. Certainly, 
 there is nothing more contrary to charity, than 
 a peevish ruminating and poring on the offences 
 we have met with ; and their memories are very ill 
 employed, who seldom remember a courtesy, or 
 forget a wrong. It is ordinary for some, who dare 
 
DISC. II.] OF LOVING OUR ENEMIES. 131 
 
 not profess intentions of revenge, to express their 
 resentment in some such threatening as this : that 
 they will forgive the injury, but never forget it.' I 
 hope they do not mean, they will pass it by at this 
 time, and revenge it afterward. This would but 
 make the sin the greater, by being more deliberate. 
 Is it, then, that they intend them no harm, but will 
 cease to do them good ? This is a lame and imper- 
 fect charity ; expressly contradictory to the precept 
 in the text, enjoining us " to bless them that curse 
 us, to do good to them that hate us, and to pray for 
 them that despitefully use us." Nor must we expect 
 the blessing of God, if this be all we allow to others ; 
 " for, with what measure we mete, it shall be mea- 
 sured to us again." There is but one way, in which 
 we may lawfully remember an injury; and that is, to 
 be more cautious, in trusting one who has deceived 
 us, or in exposing ourselves to the power of him 
 who has wronged us. In this case, religion allows 
 and directs us, to join the wisdom of the serpent, 
 with the innocency of the dove. But then, I am 
 sure, it is neither necessary nor fit, to threaten 
 those who have wronged us, with our resolution 
 to remember the injury. Without threatening, we 
 may be as cautious as we please. And our threats 
 would infallibly rankle and displease our adversary, 
 which ought to be no part of a Christian's design. 
 A meek and charitable person will be loth to have 
 his memory infested, and his thoughts soured, with 
 resentment of wrongs ; and, if they occur to his 
 mind, he will make no other use of them, than to 
 
 K 2 
 
THE INDISPENSABLE DUTY [SCOUGAL. 
 
 put himself on his guard; unless, indeed, he thence 
 take occasion to benefit and oblige the person who 
 has offended him, and, as our text expressly directs, 
 to do him good, to bless, and pray for him. 
 
 Again, this precept prohibits the taking or pro- 
 curing any revenge. By revenge, we mean such a 
 simple evil done to our adversary, as brings no real 
 benefit or reputation to ourselves. For, certainly, 
 it is not unlawful, unless some special circumstance 
 makes it so, to seek the reparation of our own right 
 by an authorized judge ; nor yet, to provide for the 
 public security, by the punishment of offenders. 
 This may, many times, be done, without pre- 
 judice or hatred, yea, with great kindness and com- 
 passion, towards the person of the offender. But, 
 if we have any charity or love to our adversaries, 
 we shall be really afflicted with the evil that befalls 
 them ; and, therefore, will never willingly procure 
 ourselves that trouble, by inflicting it on them. It 
 is evidence of a wicked and malicious humour, to 
 please ourselves in the misery of another ; or to 
 delight in an evil, that brings us no good. What- 
 ever latitude the Jews either had, or pretended to, 
 it is not lawful for us to desire eye for eye, or tooth 
 for tooth ; unless we could say, that our enemy's 
 eye would serve our head, or his hand fit our arm, 
 or his pain allay our torment. 
 
 From hence we may judge, what is to be thought 
 of those, who are ready to revenge the smallest 
 injury, even an uncivil expression, with the death 
 of the offender ; unsatisfied, till thev have ventured 
 
DISC. II.] OF LOVING OUR ENEMIES. 133 
 
 two lives, and as many souls, in the combat : a 
 thing which should not be named among Chris- 
 tians, but with the same detestation as the vilest 
 actions ; for, with whatever colours of bravery or 
 gallantry it may be painted, it is really nothing 
 else, than a more specious and formal kind of mur- 
 der. Nor does it differ from the basest assassin- 
 ation, save only in this respect, that, together with 
 the wickedness of attempting another man's life, it 
 joins the rashness and folly of exposing our own. 
 
 Lastly, the love which we owe our enemies, ex- 
 cludes all supercilious and scornful contempt and 
 neglect of them ; which I mark the rather, because 
 some think they have sufficiently obeyed the pre- 
 cept, if they overlook an injury, as thinking the 
 injurious person beneath their revenge. Meanwhile, 
 their corrupt nature feels as much pleasure, in the 
 scorn and disdain of their enemies, as it could in 
 the revenge of the injury : their wicked humours 
 are not starved, but only change their diet. Of this 
 nature was the answer of the philosopher, to some 
 who incited and provoked him to revenge : < If an 
 ass kicks me, shall I kick him again ? ' This is but 
 a lame and mis-shapen charity ; it has more in it of 
 pride than goodness. We should learn of the holy 
 Jesus, who was not only meek, but lowly. We 
 should contemn the injury, and pity the weakness, 
 but we should not disdain or despise the persons 
 of our enemies : " CKarity vaunteth not herself, is 
 not puffed up, doth not behave herself unseemly." 
 
 Having thus discovered those things which are 
 K 3 
 
I34f THE INDISPENSABLE DUTY [SCOUGAL. 
 
 inconsistent with charity, and excluded by the love 
 of our enemies, it remains, that we show what it 
 imports and requires. 
 
 First, then, it imports an inward kindness and 
 affection ; which, if it does not amount to that 
 passionate tenderness which we have for our near 
 relations and intimate friends, implies, at least, a 
 good will towards them, and a friendly concern- 
 ment in their interest. If we love an enemy, we 
 shall wish his welfare, and rejoice in it, and be un- 
 feignedly sorry for any disaster which befalls him : 
 so far shall we be, from rejoicing in his misfortunes. 
 And, certainly, had we a right sense of things, we 
 should be more troubled, for the harm which our 
 enemy does to his own soul by wronging us, than 
 for any prejudice, which we sustain by him : our 
 compassion towards him, would diminish, if not 
 altogether swallow up, our resentment. 
 
 But our kindness and good will towards our 
 enemies, should not rest in empty wishes ; it must 
 express itself in kind words, and friendly actions. 
 When we speak to our enemy, it must be in such 
 smooth, discreet, and obliging terms, as are most 
 likely to mollify and gain him ; that, by soft an- 
 swers, we may turn away his wrath ; and may shun 
 all grievous words, which stir up anger. When 
 we speak of him, it should be as advantageously, 
 as we can with truth ; concealing or qualifying his 
 faults, and praising whatever is good in him. And, 
 surely, he must be singularly bad, in whom we can 
 find nothing to commend. 
 
DISC. II.] OF LOVING OUR ENEMIES. 135 
 
 Again, we must perform for them all those 
 good offices, which their necessities demand, and 
 which our power can reach. " Do good to them 
 that hate you. If our enemy hunger, we must 
 feed him ; if he thirst, we must give him drink : 
 so shall we heap coals of fire upon his head," to 
 mollify his obdurate temper, and overcome his 
 evil by our good ; not to aggravate his guilt and 
 punishment, as some mistake the words : for, 
 though that be many times the issue, yet ought it 
 not to be any part of our design. 
 
 Lastly, because all that we can do for the good 
 of enemies, signifies little, we must employ our 
 interest in their behalf, in the court of heaven ; 
 begging of God, that he would turn their hearts 
 to himself, and to us ; that he would bless them, 
 with the pardon of all their sins, particularly the 
 wrongs they have done to ourselves ; and that he 
 would give them all things necessary, for their 
 present welfare or future happiness : " Pray for 
 them that despitefully use you." And this will 
 be the surest evidence of our charity to them. 
 Mild words, may be designed as a snare to entrap 
 them ; courtesy, may be shown them to gratify our 
 vanity, or a generous kind of pride ; we may feel a 
 certain delight, in having our enemy indebted to 
 us, as knowing that it is more glorious in the eyes 
 of the world, to raise a fallen adversary, than to 
 trample on him. But it can be cheerful obedience 
 to God's commands, and sincere love to our enemy, 
 which alone, can induce us to take him into our 
 
 K 4) 
 
136 THE INDISPENSABLE DUTY [SCOUGAL 
 
 closets, and into our hearts ; which alone can share 
 our prayers with him, and make him participate 
 in the fruits of our devotion ; which alone can 
 make us have the same regard for his interests as 
 for our own, at once recommending them both, 
 with equal fervour, to our heavenly Father. 
 
 By this time, I hope, you understand the import 
 of this precept, " Love your enemies :" it remains, 
 that we exhort you to the performance. I shall 
 begin, then, with an argument, which may be of 
 some force, to give the first assault to our re- 
 bellious inclinations, and to make way for further 
 and more mild persuasions ; and this argument 
 shall be, the indispensable necessity of the duty. 
 We must not look upon this, as a matter which 
 we may do or omit at pleasure ; nor as a counsel 
 of perfection, highly commendable, but not ab- 
 solutely necessary to salvation. It is as indis- 
 pensably required, as any other duty of our 
 religion ; and he who resolves not to obey in this 
 instance, may renounce his baptism, and abandon 
 Christianity. None can escape the obligation of 
 the precept, unless he be so rarely fortunate, as to 
 have no enemies ; nor must any think to redeem 
 themselves from this duty, by any other perform- 
 ance. Let our opinions be never so orthodox, and 
 our zeal in maintaining them, never so fervent ; 
 let our prayers be never so frequent, and all our 
 discourses eloquent and convincing ; let our attain- 
 ments be never so great, and our confidence of 
 salvation never so strong and undoubting ; yet, if 
 
DISC. II.] OF LOVING OUR ENEMIES. 137 
 
 we refuse to obey this precept, we are not Christ's 
 disciples : " Though I speak with the tongues of 
 men and angels ; though I have the gift of pro- 
 phecy, and understand all mysteries, and all know- 
 ledge ; though I bestow all my goods to feed the 
 poor ; yea, though I give my body to be burned, 
 and have not this charity," even to mine enemies, 
 " it profiteth me nothing." And our Saviour him- 
 self tells us, in express terms, that unless we 
 forgive men their trespasses, neither will God 
 forgive us ours. Yea, he has taught us to pray 
 for pardon, in such terms, as import a dreadful 
 curse upon ourselves, if we are malicious and 
 revengeful ; while we beg, that God would 
 pardon us, in the same manner, that we pardon 
 those who sin against us ; subscribing, as it were, 
 with our own hands, and confirming out of our 
 own mouths, that sentence which shall be pro- 
 nounced against us : for even so, will God for- 
 give us ; that is, he will take vengeance on us, if 
 we have dealt so with others. And as those who 
 do not love their enemies, beg their own condemna- 
 tion in prayer, so also they eat and drink it, in the 
 holy sacrament. And men are commonly so far 
 convinced of this, that many chuse to keep back 
 from the table of the Lord, that they may, the more 
 freely, entertain their animosities. But, alas ! what 
 a folly and madness this is ! Think they to excuse 
 a sin, by the neglect of a duty? Or can they put off 
 death, as they put off the participation of the sacra- 
 ment? Or can they hope to be admitted into the 
 eternal enjoyment of God, if they should die in 
 
138 THE INDISPENSABLE DUTY [SCOUGAL. 
 
 that malice, which renders them unfit to approach 
 him, in that holy ordinance ? Do not deceive 
 yourselves : never shall any enter into those blessed 
 mansions, those regions of peace and love, whose 
 heart is not first inspired with charity, and softened 
 into a compliance with this very precept. And it 
 were as absurd, to think that a man may be ma- 
 licious and revengeful all his days, and yet after- 
 ward go to heaven, there to learn meekness and 
 charity, as to think that a man may be luxurious 
 and dishonest in this world, and become temperate, 
 and honest, and happy in the other. In a word, 
 whatever shifts we may make to deceive ourselves, 
 the command is clear and express, the sanction 
 severe and peremptory ; we have but our choice 
 of these two, love of enemies, or future condem- 
 nation. 
 
 Nor can this seem unreasonable, to any who con- 
 siders, that God, the author of our natures, the 
 creator of all our faculties, may justly rule our in- 
 clinations, and dispose of our love and affection. 
 And yet he is content, if I may so speak, to bar- 
 gain with us, and to buy off our natural, or rather 
 our wicked and unnatural resentments ; offering us 
 freedom from hell, his own mercy and favour, and 
 everlasting happiness, on this, amongst other con- 
 ditions, that we love our enemies. 
 
 Nay, further, the duty in itself is so reasonable, 
 that the more sober of the Heathen, who had no- 
 thing above reason to teach them, have acknow- 
 ledged it, if not as necessary, yet as highly becom- 
 ing, and an eminent instance of a virtuous and 
 
DISC. II.] OF LOVING OUR ENEMIES. 
 
 s[c\ 
 
 generous mind. Plato could say, * That injury is 
 
 by no means to be done, nor to be repaid to m^ 
 that has done it.' When a malicious person 
 said to Zeno, ' Let me perish, if I do you not a 
 mischief;' his answer was, * Let me perish, if I 
 do not reconcile you to me.' Antoninus tells us 
 frequently, ' That all reasonable creatures are 
 born for one another ; and that it is the part of 
 justice to bear with others : that it is through igno- 
 rance they offend us, as not knowing the right 
 way to their own happiness ; and therefore, we 
 should rather instruct them better, than hate them : 
 that the best kind of revenge is, not to become like 
 them in wickedness and malice.' And many other 
 excellent arguments does that royal philosopher 
 bring, to the same purpose. And Plutarch gives 
 this, as one of the reasons why God is so slow in 
 punishing wicked persons, * that we may learn 
 meekness and patience by his example,' adding 
 that excellent observation, that our greatest hap- 
 piness and perfection consists in the imitation of 
 our Maker.' 
 
 But to leave the testimonies of Heathen, the ob- 
 ligation of this precept of loving our enemies, may 
 be deduced from another, which every man will 
 acknowledge to be highly reasonable; the doing 
 to others, what we would have done to ourselves. 
 Every one of us desires, to be loved and cherished 
 by mankind ; to have our faults pardoned, our fail- 
 ings overlooked, and our necessities supplied. Or, 
 if any be so haughty and stubborn, that they dis- 
 dain a courtesy from an enemy, yet I hope there is 
 
140 THE INDISPENSABLE DUTY [SCOUGAL. 
 
 none so mad, as not to desire the favour of God ; 
 whose hatred he deserves infinitely more, than the 
 most bitter enemy can deserve his. How, then, can 
 we think it unreasonable, to show that mercy to 
 others, which ourselves expect and desire ? Can we 
 look, that our master should forgive us ten thousand 
 talents, if we take our fellow-servant by the throat, 
 and hale him into prison for one hundred pence ? 
 Or with what confidence can we say, Pardon our 
 sins, unless we be willing to add, that we pardon 
 those, who sin against us ? Certainly, if it be rea- 
 sonable to seek pardon, it is just and equal to give 
 it ; and nothing but blind selfishness, and extra- 
 vagant partiality, can teach us to make so unreason- 
 able a difference between ourselves and others. 
 
 Again, the reasonableness of this duty will far- 
 ther appear, if we compare it with that malice and 
 revenge, which it opposes. Can there be any 
 thing more against natural reason, than to delight 
 in an evil, which can bring no benefit to us ? Yet, 
 this is the very nature and essence of revenge : for, 
 if the damage we sustain can be repaired, it is no 
 revenge to seek it j and, if it cannot, it, in no de- 
 gree, alleviates the evil of the accident, that we draw 
 him who caused it, into as great a misery ; nay, 
 unless we are unnatural, and without bowels, it 
 will augment our trouble, to see any evil befall him* 
 And he is a miserable person, indeed, whose delight 
 is in mischief; whose good is the evil of his neigh- 
 bour. Yea, I may say, that he who returns an 
 injury, is many times more unreasonable, than he 
 who offered it : for he who first wrongs another, 
 
DISC. II.] OF LOVING OUR ENEMIES. 141 
 
 has commonly some temptation of advantage by 
 it ; which revenge cannot pretend to. But if he 
 has done it out of mere malice, yet he is not worse 
 than the man who returns it. There is as much 
 fantastic pleasure in spite, as in revenge : both are 
 alike miserable and extravagant. 
 
 And who are they, against whom we bend our 
 malice and revenge ? Are they not men, partakers 
 of the same nature, descended from the same stock 
 with ourselves, fellow-citizens with us in this world, 
 and with whom we should hope to live, for ever, in 
 a better ? And shall we not bear much, from those 
 who are so nearly related to us ? Nay more, they 
 are the workmanship of God's hands, and, for any 
 thing we know, either are, or may become, his 
 children and friends : and dare we pretend any love 
 to God, if we do not spare them, for his sake ? And, 
 lastly, if they have done us any real wrong, they 
 are, in so far, foolish, and destitute of reason: and 
 who would quarrel with a madman ? Certainly, an 
 injurious person knows not what he is doing : for 
 he can never wound his neighbour, but through his 
 own sides ; nor prejudice another in a trifling 
 interest, without hazarding his own eternal con- 
 cernment ; and, therefore, he deserves our pity, 
 rather than our hatred. 
 
 Much more might be brought, to demonstrate the 
 reasonableness of the duty to which our Saviour calls 
 us in the text : but I hope what has been already 
 said, may suffice to stop the mouths of malicious and 
 revengeful men, who are ready to quarrel with it. 
 
THE INDISPENSABLE DUTY [SCOUGAL. 
 
 And, if this, or any other duty, appear to us absurd 
 or unreasonable, we may learn the cause from 
 the Apostle : " The carnal man receiveth not the 
 things of the Spirit of God ; for they are foolish- 
 ness to him." * It is the carnality of our heart that 
 makes it seem so ; and therefore, instead of disput- 
 ing the duty, let us endeavour to purify our souls, 
 and open the eyes of our mind ; and we shall find 
 that to be true, which wisdom said of her doctrines : 
 " They are all plain, to him that understandeth ; 
 and right to them that find knowledge." 
 
 But, in the third place, the love of enemies is 
 not only reasonable, but delightful ; it has a great 
 deal of pleasure and sweetness in it. Of this, I con- 
 fess, the greatest evidence must be had, from ex- 
 perience and practice ; the nature, even, of earthly 
 pleasures being such, that the enjoyment, only, 
 can make a man know them. But, though the 
 full knowledge of this fact, require a nearer 
 acquaintance, yet, even those who look at a 
 distance, may perceive something of amiableness 
 in the love of enemies ; especially, comparing 
 it with the trouble and uneasiness, of that vice 
 from which it would deliver us. Malice and re- 
 venge are the most restless and tormenting pas- 
 sions, that can possess the mind ; they keep it in 
 continual hurry and disorder : they gnaw a man's 
 heart with anguish and vexation, and embitter all 
 his enjoyments ; they mar the pleasures of the day, 
 and interrupt the repose of the night. Solomon 
 * 1 Cor. ii. 14. 
 
DISC. II.] OF LOVING OUR ENEMIES. 143 
 
 describes these men : " They sleep not, except they 
 have done mischief; their sleep is taken away, ex- 
 cept they cause some to fall." * 
 
 On the other hand, the meek and peaceable 
 man, whose mind is brought to a compliance with 
 this precept, is above the malice of his enemies. It 
 is not in their power to vex him. Amidst all the 
 assaults of injuries and affronts, he is firm as a rock ; 
 which no winds can shake, no waves remove. He 
 is happy, in the calmness and serenity of his spirit ; 
 and is sure, by his patience and friendly behaviour, 
 either to convert, or shame his adversary. And 
 then, the consciousness of performing his duty, 
 and the assurance of future reward, afford him a 
 pleasure, infinitely more pure and solid than any can 
 expect, by indulging and gratifying their vengeful 
 humour. 
 
 The advantages of this duty will more clearly 
 appear, when we take a view of those prejudices, 
 which commonly are entertained against it. 
 
 First, then, some cry out upon this precept, as 
 enjoining impossibilities : as doing violence to the 
 very constitution of nature ; as obliging men to a 
 debt, that no man is able to pay. They will tell 
 you, that it is as easy, to hate ourselves, as to love 
 our enemies ; to love pain, as to bear an injury 
 meekly : flesh and blood cannot endure it. What 
 arrogance and presumption is this, thus to impeach 
 the divine laws ! It is impossible ; therefore God 
 should not have commanded it. Such is the rea- 
 
 * Prov. iv. 16. 
 
144 THE INDISPENSABLE DUTY [SCOUGAL. 
 
 soning. Were it not far more rational to argue 
 thus? It is indispensably commanded, therefore 
 it must needs be possible. And so it has been, to 
 all good men that ever lived ; and so it will be, by 
 God's assistance, to all who make it their study. 
 Flesh and blood cannot do it. True enough. But 
 then take this into the account, Flesh and blood 
 shall never enter into the kingdom of heaven. It is, 
 indeed, against the propensities of our corrupt na- 
 ture ; but it is the work of Christians, to mortify their 
 corruptions. And, if we think it impossible, at the 
 command of God, and for the purchase of heaven, 
 to love an enemy, and pardon an injury, how 
 would we bear those hard trials, which Christians 
 have suffered, by the cruelty of persecutors ? Whe- 
 ther is it easier to suffer a wrong, or to give our 
 body to be burned? Certainly, when we have 
 obeyed this precept, we have not yet resisted unto 
 blood ; and, therefore, that obedience can never be 
 impossible, since harder things may be expected 
 from us. Therefore seriously set about the work, 
 and endeavour to bring your minds to a compli- 
 ance with it ; and then, your own experience shall 
 confute these idle pretences, and evince the possi- 
 bility of the performance. 
 
 Another prejudice against this precept, is, that it 
 seems to encourage injuries, by hopes of impunity 
 and reward ; giving the delinquent occasion to ex- 
 pect kindness and love, instead of the punishment 
 which he deserves ; and so, we should draw upon 
 ourselves a second injury, by not requiting the first. 
 
DISC. II.] OF LOVING OUR ENEMIES. 145 
 
 But we have already told you, that this precept 
 does not forbid the exercise of justice, by those to 
 whom the sword is committed, when the public 
 security calls for it. As a parent may at once love 
 and correct his child, so may a judge be in charity 
 with the person whom he punishes. And, though it 
 should be granted, that by pardoning injuries that 
 are past, we expose ourselves to new ones, yet would 
 this amount to no more, than our suffering hard- 
 ships, by obedience to God ; which, I hope, is not 
 sufficient to dispense with our duty. But, truly, 
 the fact stands not commonly thus : for, if we 
 consult either our own observation, or the ex- 
 perience of others, we shall find, that meek and 
 charitable persons are most seldom exposed to in- 
 juries, or engaged in troubles. He must needs be 
 a desperately wicked person, who will offer a second 
 injury, to one who has requited the first with kind- 
 ness and love. Such a sweet disposition will mollify 
 the hardest hearts, and charm the most froward hu- 
 mours ; especially if we carry ourselves with sucii 
 prudence and discretion, as may testify, that we are 
 actuated by a noble and generous charity, not 
 by a stupid insensibility. How often does a soft 
 answer turn away wrath, and the overlooking of 
 an injury prevent farther trouble ; throwing water 
 upon the spark, before it break forth into a flame ? 
 Hence, if we look upon meek and quiet persons, 
 we shall ordinarily find them happy in the peace of 
 their families, and in the favour and kindness of all 
 their neighbours : whereas, the angry, quarrelsome, 
 
 L 
 
146 THE INDISPENSABLE DUTY [SCOUGAL. 
 
 and malicious person, is an eye-sore to all about 
 him ; his neighbours shun him, his servants dread 
 him, and all abhor and avoid him. And therefore 
 the observation of this precept of our Lord, is so 
 far from exposing us to new injuries, that, by the 
 mercy of God, it will prove the best means to se- 
 cure our tranquillity. Peace shall be the reward of 
 a peaceable temper. 
 
 But, lastly, some will tell us, that the love of ene- 
 mies, and the pardoning of injuries, are inconsistent 
 with the principles of honour ; and will expose us 
 to contempt and derision. But, alas! to what a sad 
 pass are we come, if neither reason nor religion may 
 prescribe the rules of honour ; if our notions of it, 
 must be taken from the language of the sons of 
 Belial, of strife and violence ; ii\ to imitate the 
 Deity in his most glorious attribute of mercy and 
 forgiveness, and to become perfect, as our Father 
 which is in heaven is perfect, be accounted a base 
 and dishonourable thing ; and if, from this vain, 
 imaginary, fantastic shadow of reputation, we will 
 violate all laws, human arid divine, and forfeit 
 eternal happiness. But who are they, that will 
 think the worse of you for your patience ? Some 
 vain empty fools, some profane atheistical wretches, 
 whose judgments are not valuable, nor their praise 
 worth having. Or what can they say of you, 
 but that you are meek and lowly, imitators of that 
 blessed Master, whom we profess to serve ? And 
 why do we own the name of Christians, if we be 
 ashamed of the spirit and life of Christianity ? Why 
 
DISC. II.] OF LOVING OUR ENEMIES. 14-7 
 
 do we not call ourselves after the name of Cain, or 
 Nimrod, or some other angry and revengeful de- 
 stroyer, if we esteem those qualities more glorious 
 and excellent ? But, if we have any deference for so 
 wise a man, and so great a king, as Solomon, he will 
 tell us, that, " it is the honour of a man, to cease 
 from strife;" and that "he who is slow to anger, 
 is better than the mighty ; and he who ruleth his 
 spirit, better than he who taketh a city." 
 
 Thus, you see how unreasonable those prejudices 
 are, which keep men from the practice of this neces- 
 sary duty. It remains, now, that we hint at some 
 helps for its performance. 
 
 The heathen were pretty ingenious, in devising 
 motives of patience. They would tell us, that 
 c if we were newly offended, it was too soon to 
 resent it ; if long since, it was too late. If the 
 offender be too strong for us, it were folly to con- 
 tend ; if he were too weak, it were a shame. Are 
 we offended by a friend, let us remember our old 
 friendship ; if by an enemy, let us do him a kind- 
 ness, and he will do so no more.' But Christianity 
 will direct us to better means, for composing the 
 soul into the meekness and charity, which it 
 requires. 
 
 The first I shall recommend, is humility. Let 
 us learn to have low thoughts of ourselves ; and 
 then we shall both have fewer enemies, and be 
 more inclined to love them. Pride and self-conceit 
 make us over-rate every petty injury, and incline 
 us to revenge : but, if we consider what poor con- 
 
 L 2 
 
148 THE INDISPENSABLE DUTY [SCOUGAL. 
 
 temptible things we are in ourselves, and what we 
 have deserved, if not from men, yet from God, 
 whose instruments they are for our correction, we 
 shall be little concerned at what the world calls 
 affronts, and easily reconciled to those who have 
 wronged us. 
 
 Secondly, let us learn to have a low esteem of 
 the present world, and all things therein ; and this 
 will cut off the occasions of our hatred and animo- 
 sities. Men may wrong us in our fortune or repu- 
 tation, but they cannot rob us of piety and virtue ; 
 of the favour of God, and eternal happiness. And 
 therefore, if our minds be once raised above all 
 transitory vanities, we cannot meet with injuries 
 worth the resenting. If we aim at heaven, and the 
 glory of another world, we shall not stand to quarrel 
 and contend, about any trifling interest in our way 
 thither. 
 
 Thirdly, the frequent and serious thoughts of 
 death, would conduce much to allay our hatred, 
 and dispose us to meekness and charity. Natural- 
 ists tell us, that when swarms of bees fight in the 
 air, they are dispersed by throwing dust among 
 them.* Did we, in our thoughts, often reflect upon 
 that dust to which we must all shortly return, we 
 should more easily lay down our quarrels, and ani- 
 mosities. While we contend about small things, 
 little do we consider, that death is coming on 
 apace, and will swallow up the victor and the van- 
 
 * Hi motus animorum, atque haec certamina tanta 
 Pulveris exigui jactu compressa quiescent.' 
 
 Virg\ Georg. iv. 86. Ei>. 
 
DISC. II.] OF LOVING OUR ENEMIES. 149 
 
 quished ; him that is in the right, and him that is 
 in the wrong. Look back upon the private con- 
 tentions, or public commotions, which infested the 
 world an hundred years ago. Where are they who 
 managed them ? They are all gone down into the 
 dark and silent grave. Death has decided their 
 controversies, and within a few days it will do so 
 with ours, and send us all to plead our cause, be- 
 fore our great Judge ; and it will go ill with us, if 
 we appear there in malice. Therefore, why should 
 our hatred be long, since our life is so short ? One 
 would think we should find better employment, for 
 the short time we have to spend here. 
 
 But, lastly, and above all, let us propose to 
 ourselves the blessed example of the holy Jesus : 
 "who, when he was reviled, reviled not again; 
 when he suffered, threatened not ; but committed 
 himself to Him, that judgeth righteously." 
 
 Let us frequently remember, what great things he 
 has done and suffered, for us poor sinful wretches ; 
 even while we were enemies and rebels to him ; 
 how, in all the passages of his life, and throughout 
 the bloody scene of his sufferings, he was actuated 
 by that same charity and love to his enemies, 
 which he calls for at our hands. It was this, which 
 moved him to descend from heaven, and clothe 
 himself with the frailties of our nature, and endure 
 the troubles of a calamitous life, and the pains of 
 a bitter death, to deliver us from that eternal 
 misery, into which we had plunged ourselves. And 
 shall not his goodness and mercy to us, mollify our 
 
 L 3 
 
150 THE INDISPENSABLE DUTY [SCOUGAL. 
 
 hearts, and overpower the corruption of our re- 
 vengeful nature, and inspire us with earnest desires 
 and resolutions to imitate his blessed example? 
 After all that he has done and suffered for us, 
 can we be guilty of such a shameful ingratitude, as 
 to deny him this poor satisfaction and acknowledg- 
 ment, to pardon an enemy for his sake ? Has he 
 died for us, when we were his enemies, and shall 
 we refuse to live at peace with ours ? Remember, 
 with what patience, he endured the contradiction 
 of sinners against himself; with what humility, he 
 condescended to wash the feet of him, who was, 
 at the same time, resolved to betray him ; with 
 what mildness, he bare the supine negligence and 
 stupidity of his disciples, who slept in the time of 
 his agony. What charity and meekness did he 
 evince, towards those who sought his life ! He 
 could have called for legions of angels to destroy 
 them, or made the earth to open her mouth and 
 swallow them up : but he would not employ his 
 miraculous power, save only for their good; re- 
 storing a servant's ear, and reproving the prepos- 
 terous zeal of him who cut it off. Yea, while he hung 
 upon the cross, and was approaching to the gates 
 of death, all the cruel pains of body, and far more 
 intolerable pressure of spirit, which he then sus- 
 tained, did not lessen his tenderness and affection 
 for his murderers : " Father, forgive them, for they 
 know not what they do." Let us be frequent and 
 serious in the meditation of these things. And, . if 
 we have any veneration for the example of our 
 
DISC. II.] OF LOVING OUR ENEMIES. 151 
 
 Saviour, and any sense of his infinite mercy, this 
 will dispose us to the practice of his precepts, and 
 the obedience of his laws ; and particularly to the 
 observation of this necessary, this reasonable, this 
 delightful duty, that we love our enemies. 
 
 J, 
 
152 
 
 . 
 
 SERMON III. 
 
 THE NECESSITY AND ADVANTAGE OF EARLY 
 AFFLICTIONS. 
 
 LAM. in. 27, 28. 
 
 It is good for a man, that he bear the yoke in his youth. He 
 sitteth alone and Jceepeth silence, because he hath borne it 
 upon him. 
 
 THE great difference between the maxims of 
 the world, and those which religion proposes, is 
 in nothing more observable, than in taking the 
 measures of happiness and felicity. The world 
 accounts him a happy man, who enjoys a perpetual 
 calm and sunshine of prosperity ; whose pleasant 
 and joyful days are never overcast with any cloud, 
 nor his tranquillity interrupted by any disastrous 
 accident; who was never acquainted with any 
 other change, but that which brought him the new 
 and fresh relish of succeeding pleasures and enjoy- 
 ments. But religion has taught us to look upon 
 this, as a condition full of danger ; much more to 
 be pitied than envied; to be feared, than to be 
 desired. It has taught us, to consider afflictions as 
 instances of the divine goodness, as tokens and 
 pledges of his love ; for " whom the Lord loveth, 
 he chasteneth, and scourgeth every son whom he 
 
DISC. III.] OF EARLY AFFLICTIONS. 153 
 
 receiveth ; " and these severe dispensations are 
 very necessary, and may prove useful and advan- 
 tageous : " Blessed is the man," saith the Psalmist, 
 " whom thou chastenest, O Lord ; " * " It is good 
 for me, that I have been afflicted ; that I may learn 
 thy statutes." t And the Prophet in the text, 
 " It is good for a man, that he bear the yoke in his 
 youth." He was, at this time, loaded with the 
 heaviest weight of trouble and sorrow ; what for 
 the public calamities of his nation, and what for 
 his own particular sufferings : " His eyes were 
 running down with rivers of water, for the destruc- 
 tions of the daughter of his people ; " they trickled 
 down, and ceased not. Judah was gone into cap- 
 tivity because of affliction: she dwelt among the 
 Heathen, and found no rest; all her persecutors 
 overtook her in the straits. The ways of Zion 
 mourned, because none came to the solemn feasts ; 
 the young and the old, were lying on the ground in 
 the streets ; the virgins and young men, were fallen 
 by the sword ; and the few that remained, were 
 starving for hunger. The people sighed, and 
 sought bread ; they gave their pleasant things, for 
 meat to relieve their soul ; the children and suck- 
 lings swooned in the streets, their soul was poured 
 out into their mother's bosom ; the women ate 
 their fruit, their children of a span long. And the 
 Prophet had a large share in these calamities, both 
 by his own interest, and by his compassion towards 
 
 * Psalm xciv. 12. f Psalm cxix. 71. 
 
154 THE NECESSITY AND ADVANTAGE [SCOUGAL. 
 
 his neighbour : " I am the man," saith he, " that 
 hath seen affliction, by the rod of his wrath. Surely 
 against me is he turned ; he turneth his hand 
 against me all the day." 
 
 But, after he had thus bemoaned himself, and 
 given some vent to his passion and sorrow, he puts 
 a stop to the current that was grown too impetu- 
 ous, and turns his thoughts another way. He 
 acknowledges the justice of God's dispensations ; 
 and that it was a favour they suffered no more : 
 " This I recall into my mind, therefore have I 
 hope. It is of the Lord's mercies that we are not 
 consumed, because his compassions fail not. They 
 are new every morning." Nay, when he had fur- 
 ther pondered the matter, he finds himself indebted 
 to the goodness of God, even for the afflictions he 
 endured : " It is good for a man, that he bear 
 the yoke in his youth." 
 
 The bearing of the yoke is an easy and obvious 
 metaphor, importing the restraint of liberty ; when 
 our desires are denied, and we have not our wills, and 
 cannot ramble up and down as we please : and also, 
 the pressure of afflictions, which gall and torment 
 us, under which we smart and groan. Such is the 
 yoke, which the Prophet tells us, it is good for a man 
 that he bear. A strange doctrine indeed to flesh and 
 blood ; and how few there are that believe it ! We 
 judge of things, by their outward appearance, and 
 as they affect us at present : " Now no affliction or 
 chastening seemeth, for the present, to be joyous, 
 
DISC. III.] OF EARLY AFFLICTIONS. 155 
 
 but grievous ;" * and we cannot persuade ourselves, 
 that there is any good, in that which we feel to be 
 troublesome and unpleasant. But, if we consult 
 our reason and our faith, they will soon bring us 
 to the acknowledgment of this truth, that " affliction 
 cometh not forth of the dust, neither doth trouble 
 spring out of the ground." The crosses with which 
 we meet, are not the effects of blind chance ; but 
 the results of a wise and unerring providence ; 
 which knows what is fittest for us, and loves us far 
 better than we can love ourselves. There is no 
 malice or envy lodged in the bosom of that blessed 
 being, whose name and nature is love. He takes 
 no delight in the troubles and miseries of his crea- 
 tures : " He doth not afflict willingly, nor grieve 
 the children of men." It were infinitely unworthy 
 of his wisdom and goodness, to please himself, in 
 seeing such poor creatures as we are, tossed up and 
 down in the world ; to behold our anguish, and hear 
 our groans. It is our happiness and welfare which 
 he designs, in all his dispensations ; and he makes 
 choice of the most proper and effectual means for 
 that end. He sees us wandering out of the way, 
 ready to ruin and undo ourselves : and first he 
 essays to reduce us, by milder and more gentle me- 
 thods ; he tries our gratitude and ingenuity, by 
 all the endearments of mercy and goodness ; he 
 draws us with the cords of love, with the bands of a 
 man. But, if we break all these bands asunder, 
 
 .* Heb. xiL 11. 
 
15&* THE NECESSITY AND ADVANTAGE [SCOUGAL. 
 
 and cast away these cords from us ; if we abuse his 
 goodness, and turn his grace into wantonness; 
 then, not only his justice, but his love, not only his 
 hatred to sin, but his affection for us, will oblige 
 him to alter his method, and take the rod in his 
 hand, and try what severity can do. God's design 
 in afflicting us, is excellently expressed by the 
 author to the Hebrews : " He chasteneth us for 
 our profit, that we may be partakers of his holiness." 
 Holiness is the highest perfection, and greatest hap- 
 piness, of which we are capable : it is a real parti- 
 cipation of the divine nature, the image of God 
 drawn on the soul ; and all the chastisements with 
 which we meet, are designed to reduce us to this 
 blessed temper, to make us like unto himself; and 
 thereby, capable of being happy with him, to all 
 eternity. This will more clearly appear, if we 
 reflect on the natural temper of our minds, and 
 the influence which prosperous or adverse fortune 
 is wont to have upon them. 
 
 And, first, we are naturally proud and self- 
 conceited ; we have a high esteem of ourselves, 
 and would have every body else value and esteem 
 us. This disease is very deeply rooted in our 
 fallen nature: it is, ordinarily, the first sin, that 
 betrays itself in the little actions and passions of 
 children ; and, frequently, the last which religion 
 enables us to overcome. And such is its malig- 
 nity, that it renders us odious and vile, in the 
 sight both of God and man. It cannot but be in- 
 finitely displeasing to that great and glorious Ma- 
 
DISC. III.J OF EARLY AFFLICTIONS. 157 
 
 jesty, to see such silly creatures, whom he brought 
 forth out of nothing, who are every moment 
 ready to return into nothing again, and who have 
 nothing of their own but folly, and misery, and 
 sin, to see such creatures, either so blind as to 
 value themselves, or so unreasonable as to desire 
 others to value them. Good men must needs hate 
 us for it, because God does so ; and evil men hate 
 us for it, because they are themselves proud, and 
 therefore, are jealous of the attempts of others 
 at self-exaltation, as tending to depress and dimi- 
 nish them. Pride alone, is the source and foun- 
 tain of almost all the disorders in the world ; of 
 all our troubles, and of all our sins. And we shall 
 never be truly happy, or truly good, till we come 
 to think nothing of ourselves, and be content 
 that all the world think nothing of us. Now, 
 nothing has a more natural tendency to foment 
 and heighten this natural corruption, than constant 
 prosperity and success. The Psalmist, speaking of 
 the prosperity of the wicked, who are not in trouble 
 as others, neither are they plagued like other men, 
 presently subjoins the effect, " Therefore pride 
 compasseth them about, as a chain." * Sanctified 
 afflictions contribute to abate and mortify the pride 
 of our hearts, to lance the swelling imposthume, to 
 make us sensible of our weakness, and convince us 
 of our sins. Thus " doth God open the ears of 
 men, and seal their instruction, that he may with- 
 
 * Psalm Ixxiii. 6. 
 
1,58 THE NECESSITY AND ADVANTAGE [SCOUGAL. 
 
 draw man from his purpose, and hide pride from 
 man.* And if they be bound in fetters, and be 
 holden in cords of affliction ; then he sheweth them 
 their work, and their transgressions that they have 
 exceeded." t Afflictions put us on the search, both 
 to find out the offences by which we have pro- 
 voked God, and to make us more sensible of the 
 heinousness and malignity of their nature : "I 
 have surely heard Ephraim bemoaning himself thus, 
 Thou hast chastised me, and I was chastised, as a 
 bullock unaccustomed to the yoke : turn thou me, 
 and I shall be turned ; for thou art the Lord my 
 God. Surely, after I was chastised I repented; 
 and after I was instructed, I smote upon my thigh : 
 I was. ashamed, yea, even confounded, because I 
 did bear the reproach of my youth." t 
 
 Another distemper of our minds, is our too great 
 affection to the world, and worldly things. We are 
 too apt to set our hearts wholly upon them ; to 
 take up our rest, and seek our happiness and satis- 
 faction in them. But, though they may well divert 
 and amuse awhile, they can never satisfy, or make 
 us happy ; the souls which He made for Himself, 
 can never rest, till they return unto Him : and, 
 therefore, he often finds it necessary, either to 
 remove our comforts, or embitter them ; to put 
 aloes and wormwood on the breasts of the world, 
 
 * Job, xxxiii. 16, 17. f Job, xxxvi. 8, 9. 
 
 J. Jer. xxxi. 18, 19. 
 
 ' Fecisti nos ad te, Domine ; et inquietum est cor nostrum, 
 donee requiescat in te.' S. Augustin. ED. 
 
DISC. Ill,] OF EARLY AFFLICTIONS. 159 
 
 that thereby we may wean ourselves from it ; 
 and finally we may be carried to the end of our 
 being, the fountain of blessedness and felicity. 
 The few and little comforts of this life, not- 
 withstanding all the troubles and crosses with 
 which they are interlarded, are apt to keep the 
 hearts, even of good men, in too great love of 
 this world. What would become of us, if our 
 whole life were altogether prosperous and content- 
 ing, without any intermixture of crosses and afflic- 
 tions ? It is too probable, we should never look 
 any farther ; but conclude, with Peter on the mount 
 of transfiguration, " Lord, it is good for us to be 
 here." As Almighty God hath a very great affection 
 to us, so he is very desirous of our love ; not that 
 it brings any advantage to him, but because it is 
 our greatest happiness and perfection. He bestows 
 his mercies, to gain our hearts : but when we begin 
 to idolize the gifts, and forget the giver, he be- 
 comes jealous, and takes them away, that he may 
 not have any rival in our affection. And, certainly, 
 it is no small advantage, to have our hearts, in any 
 measure, loosened from the world, disentangled from 
 every thing here below. He makes a good pur- 
 chase, who obtains this privilege, let it cost him 
 never so dear. * 
 
 Another bad effect, which prosperity is wont to 
 produce in our corrupt nature, is, that it makes us 
 forgetful of God, and unthankful for his mercies. 
 
 * ' Quocunque pretio, bene emitur/ 
 
160 THE NECESSITY AND ADVANTAGE [SCOUGAL. 
 
 When second causes answer our expectations and 
 desires, we are seldom wont to look beyond them : 
 we never regard the fountain, till the cisterns begin 
 to fail. This it was, that made Agur pray against 
 a plentiful fortune, " lest I be full, and deny thee, 
 and say, Who is the Lord ?" When the weather is 
 fair, and the sails are filled with a prosperous gale, 
 the rough and stubborn mariners are seldom at their 
 devotion ; but when the storm is risen, and the sea 
 begins to swell, and every wave threatens to devour 
 them, " then they call to the Lord in their trouble," 
 as on him who can alone " deliver them out of their 
 distress." The Psalmist, speaking to the Jews of 
 their stiff-necked and rebellious predecessors, says, 
 that " when God slew them, then they sought him ; 
 they remembered that God was their rock, and the 
 high God their redeemer." * "In their affliction," 
 saiththe Lord, by the Prophet, "they will seek me 
 early." t I doubt not, a great many devout persons 
 will acknowledge, that it was some affliction or other 
 which first taught them to pray. And, as afflictions 
 contribute to make us remember our dependence 
 on God, and then excite us to seek unto him ; so 
 also, they render us more sensible of our obliga- 
 tions to him, and more thankful for the mercies 
 which he has bestowed on us. We are so dull and 
 insensible, that we seldom value any of the divine 
 mercies, till we find what it is to want them. We 
 put very little value on our food and raiment, and 
 
 * Psalm Ixxviii. 3*, 35. f Hosea, v. 15. 
 
DISC. III.] OF EARLY AFFLICTIONS. l6l 
 
 the ordinary means of our subsistence, unless we 
 have been sometimes pinched with want. We con- 
 sider not, how much we are indebted to God for 
 preserving our friends, till some of them be re- 
 moved from us. How little do we prize our health, 
 if we have never had experience of sickness or 
 pain? Where is the man, who seriously blesses 
 God for his nightly quiet and repose ? And yet, if 
 sickness or trouble deprive us of them, we then find 
 them to have been a great and invaluable mercy, 
 and that it is God who giveth his beloved sleep. 
 
 Once more, prosperity renders us insensible of 
 the miseries and calamities of others. Those "who 
 were at ease in Zion, did not grieve for the afflic- 
 tions of Joseph." But afflictions soften the heart, 
 and make it more tender and kindly ; and we are 
 always most ready to compassionate those griefs, 
 which ourselves have sometime endured : the suf- 
 ferings of others make the deepest impressions upon 
 us, when they put us in mind of our own. It is 
 mentioned, as a powerful motive to engage the 
 children of Israel to be kind and merciful to 
 strangers, that " they knew the heart of a stranger, 
 having been strangers themselves in Egypt." Now, 
 this tender and compassionate temper well becomes 
 a Christian, whose duty it is, to weep with those 
 that weep, and to have as deep a sense and feeling 
 of the griefs of others, as he is wont to have of 
 his own. 
 
 These and many more advantages, do sanctified 
 and well-improved afflictions bring to a Christian; 
 
 M 
 
162 THE NECESSITY AND ADVANTAGE [SCOUGAL. 
 
 on account of which, "it is good for him, that 
 he hath borne the yoke." But I hasten to that 
 which is mentioned in the text. Only, by the way, 
 that I may not need to return, let me here take 
 notice of the season which is here mentioned, as 
 fittest for a man to bear affliction : " It is good for 
 a man that he bear the yoke in his youth." 
 
 We are all willing to put off the evil day ; and, 
 if we must needs bear the yoke, we would choose to 
 have it delayed, till we grow old. We think it sad, 
 to have our morning overcast with clouds, to meet 
 with a storm, before we have well launched forth 
 from the shore. We are wont to indulge and ap. 
 plaud children and young folks, in their frolics and 
 jovial humours ; we tell them they will have time 
 enough for cares and troubles, when they grow 
 older ; we turn that irony of Solomon's into a seri- 
 ous advice, " Rejoice, O young man, in thy youth, 
 and walk in the ways of thy heart, and the sight of 
 thine eyes." But the divine wisdom, which knows 
 what is fit for us, often makes choice of our 
 younger years, as the most proper to accustom us to 
 the bearing of the yoke. And a little consideration 
 will make us discover the advantages of this season, 
 for suffering afflictions ; they being, at that time, 
 most necessary, most tolerable, and most advan- 
 tageous. First, I say, they are then most necessary. 
 For youth is the time of our life which implies the 
 greatest danger of our running into wild and extra- 
 vagant courses : our blood is then hot, and our spirits 
 unstayed and giddy ; we have too much pride, to be 
 
DISC. III.] OF EARLY AFFLICTIONS. 163 
 
 governed by others ; and too little wisdom, to govern 
 ourselves. The yoke is, then especially, needful to 
 tame our wildness, and reduce us to a due stayed- 
 ness and composure of mind. Then also, it is most 
 supportable. The body, is strong and healthful, 
 less apt to be affected with the troubles of the 
 mind ; the spirit, stout and vigorous, will not so 
 easily break, and sink under them. Old age is a 
 burthen, and will soon faint under any supervenient 
 load. The smallest trouble, is enough to bring 
 down grey hairs with sorrow to the grave. And 
 therefore, since we must meet with afflictions, it is, 
 certainly, a favourable circumstance to have them, 
 at that time of our life, when we are most able to 
 endure them. And lastly, the lessons which afflic- 
 tions teach us, are then most advantageous, when 
 we learn them betimes ; that we may have the use 
 of them, in the conduct of our after lives. An early 
 engagement in the ways of religion is a great feli- 
 city ; and the means by which this is to be effected, 
 can never be too soon administered. Youth is more 
 soft and pliable, and evil dispositions are more 
 easily cured, before time and custom have hardened 
 us in them. A tree needs little force to bend 
 it, when it is young; and there needs the less 
 of the rod, if the child be brought under disci- 
 pline betimes. And thus, on many accounts, 
 "it is good for a man, to bear the yoke in his 
 youth." 
 
 We proceed, to the particular advantage of afflic- 
 tions, which is mentioned in the text: " He sitteth 
 
 M 2 
 
164 THE NECESSITY AND ADVANTAGE [SCOUGAL. 
 
 alone and keepeth silence, because he hath borne 
 it upon him." The words are capable of a twofold 
 interpretation ; and both meanings suit well with the 
 purpose : for, we may either understand them pro- 
 perly, of solitude and silence ; or metaphorically, 
 of patience and quiet submission ; both of which are 
 the good effects of sanctified and well-improved 
 afflictions : and, accordingly, we shall say some- 
 thing to both. 
 
 Nature has made us sociable creatures; but 
 corruption has carried this inclination to excess: 
 so that most persons think it an intolerable 
 burthen, to be, for any considerable time, alone. 
 Though they love themselves out of measure, 
 yet they cannot endure their own conversation ; 
 they had rather be hearing, and discoursing of, 
 the most naughty and trivial things, than be sit- 
 ting alone, and holding their peace. Outward 
 prosperity heightens this humour. When the heart 
 is dilated with joy, it seeks to vent itself, in every 
 company. When a man is free from trouble and 
 cares, he thinks of nothing but how to please him- 
 self, with variety of diversions and conversations. 
 Crosses, on the other hand, render a man pensive 
 and solitary : they stop the mouth, and bind up 
 the tongue, and incline the person to be much 
 alone. Sadness makes his company disagreeable to 
 others, and he finds theirs as little agreeable to 
 him : " He sitteth alone and keepeth silence, be- 
 cause he hath borne it upon him." Thus the same 
 prophet said, "I sat not in the assembly of the 
 
DISC. III.] OF EARLY AFFLICTIONS. 165 
 
 mockers, nor rejoiced: I sat alone, because of thine 
 hand."* 
 
 Now, he who considers, on the one hand, the 
 guilt which we are wont to contract, and the pre- 
 judice which we sustain, by too much conversation 
 with others, and, on the other hand, the excellent 
 improvement which we may make, of solitude and 
 retirement, will account it a good effect of afflic- 
 tions, that they dispose us to be alone. In con- 
 sidering the evils of frequent conversation, we are 
 not to prosecute the grosser and more scandalous 
 vices of the tongue. It might seem a poor com- 
 mendation of solitude and silence, that a man is 
 not swearing, or lying, or scolding, or talking pro- 
 fanely, when he is alone ; a man may converse 
 enough, and keep himself free from these. We 
 rather chuse to mention such evils, as are wont to 
 be less noticed, and can be with more difficulty 
 avoided. 
 
 And, first, experience may teach us, that much 
 conversation ordinarily begets a remissness and 
 dissolution of spirit; that it slackens and relaxes 
 the bent of our minds ; and disposes us to soft- 
 ness and easy compliances. We find it hard enough, 
 at any time, to compose our spirits to that stay- 
 edness and severity which religion requires ; but, if 
 we be too much in company, it is almost impossible 
 to maintain it. That cheerfulness and complais- 
 ance, which are judged necessary to render conver- 
 sation agreeable, easily degenerate into levity and 
 
 * Jer. xv. 17. 
 M 3 
 
166 THE NECESSITY AND ADVANTAGE [SCOUGAL* 
 
 sin : and we are very ready to displease our Maker, 
 when we are too intent on pleasing our friends. 
 This loose frame and dissipation of mind, which 
 society occasions, made a wise man complain, that 
 he always came out of company less a man.* 
 
 Another prejudice which we receive from society, 
 is, that it fills our minds with noxious images, and 
 fortifies our corrupt notions and opinions of things. 
 Our hearts are naturally too much addicted to the 
 things of the world ; we regard them too much, and 
 place too high a value upon them : and the dis- 
 courses which we hear, redouble the temptation, by 
 bringing them continually into our thoughts, and 
 setting them off to the greatest advantage. When we 
 are alone, in a sober temper, and take time to reflect 
 and consider of things, we are sometimes persuaded 
 of the vanity and worthlessness of all those glitter- 
 ing trifles, by which the generality of mankind are 
 so sadly bewitched : but, when we come abroad, 
 and listen to the common talk, and hear people 
 speak of greatness, and riches, and honour, with 
 concern and admiration, we quickly forget our more 
 sober and deliberate thoughts, and suffer ourselves 
 to be carried away, with the stream of the com- 
 mon opinion. And, though the effects be not so 
 sudden and observable, yet these discourses are 
 still making some secret and insensible impressions 
 upon us. 
 
 Thus, also, is our judgment corrupted, about 
 
 * Ex hominum consortio, semper venio minus homo.' 
 
 Seneca. 
 
DISC. III.] OF EARLY AFFLICTIONS. 
 
 the qualities and endowments of the mind. Courage 
 and gallantry, wit and eloquence, and other ac- 
 complishments of this nature, are magnified and 
 extolled beyond all measure : whereas, humility, 
 and meekness, and devotion, and all those Christian 
 graces which render a soul truly excellent and 
 lovely, are spoken of as mean and contemptible 
 things : for, though men have not the impudence 
 formally to make the comparison, and prefer the 
 former ; yet, their very air, and way of discours- 
 ing about these things, sufficiently testifies their 
 opinion. With what affection and concernment 
 will they represent a gallant or learned man ; but 
 how faintly do they utter the character of a good 
 man ! And so, in censuring men's failings, they ex- 
 aggerate the smallest instances of weakness or im- 
 prudence, but speak lightly enough of the greatest 
 crimes. Drunkenness and impurity are mentioned 
 in such terms, as express little sense of their heinous 
 nature, and tend to lessen the horror, in which we 
 should hold them. Ambition and revenge, and such 
 other plausible vices, are rather allowed than con- 
 demned. And, while we converse in the world, and 
 are accustomed to such representations of things, our 
 judgments are, thereby, exceedingly corrupted, and 
 we entertain false and pernicious maxims. And, so 
 hard it is to guard ourselves against the contagion, 
 that we had better sit alone and keep silence, than 
 be continually exposed to the temptation. 
 
 I shall mention but another of those evils, with 
 which our conversation is commonly attended. The 
 
 M 4 
 
168 THE NECESSITY AND ADVANTAGE [SCOUGAL. 
 
 most ordinary subject of our entertainments are the 
 faults and follies of others. We meet, and talk, and 
 fall to describe the life and deportment of others.* 
 Were this one theme of discourse discharged, we 
 should often find but little to say. I scarcely know 
 any fault, of which, good persons are so frequently 
 guilty, and so little sensible. They know, perhaps, 
 the truth of the things asserted, and they have no 
 malicious design in reporting them ; they tell them, 
 only as they do the public news, to divert themselves, 
 and gratify their friends. But, would we consult 
 our own hearts, and apply the great rule of right- 
 eousness, of doing unto others as we would be 
 done unto ourselves, we should soon be convinced 
 that there is much more guilt and sinfulness in such 
 discourses, than we are ready to apprehend. How 
 ill do we take it, to have our own failings thus ex- 
 posed, and to hear, that any person has made as 
 bold with us, as we are wont to make with others? 
 Again, how unwilling would we be, that the per- 
 sons of whom we speak so freely, should overhear 
 our discourse, or be informed of it ? Now, if the 
 practice had nothing blameable in it, why should 
 we be so shy to avow it ? 
 
 I have only hinted at these things : but he who 
 shall seriously ponder them, will acknowledge, 
 that there is no little mischief, even in those 
 entertainments, which pass for very innocent in 
 the world; and that he shuns much guilt, and 
 
 * ' Itur in verba, sermo seritur, vita aliena describitur.' 
 
DISC. III.] OF EARLY AFFLICTIONS. 169 
 
 many snares, who sits alone and keeps silence. 
 But solitude and retirement not only deliver us 
 from these inconveniences, but also afford very 
 excellent opportunities for bettering our souls.' 
 Those hours which we mispend, in needless visits, 
 and idle talk, if rightly improved, might set us a 
 great way forward, on our journey to heaven. 
 While we are too busy, in making or entertaining 
 acquaintance with men, we often fall out of ac- 
 quaintance, both with God and ourselves. 
 
 The most profane and irreligious persons, will 
 find some serious thoughts rise in their minds, if 
 they be much alone. And the more any person is 
 advanced in piety and goodness, the more will he 
 delight in retirement, and the more benefit will he 
 receive from it. Then it is, that the devout soul 
 takes its highest flight in divine contemplations, and 
 makes its nearest approaches to God. I find the 
 vulgar Latin renders the words of the text *, " The 
 solitary person will sit still and hold his peace, be- 
 cause he has lifted himself up, above himself; " has 
 raised his spirit, above his ordinary pitch, t In soli- 
 < tude,' says one of the fathers, we breathe, as 
 it were, in a purer air, heaven is more open unto 
 us, and God is more familiar and frequent in his 
 visits/ To which purpose, some have applied that 
 passage of the Prophet Hosea, " Behold, I will 
 allure her, and bring her into the wilderness, and 
 there speak comfortably unto her j " or, as the ori- 
 
 * " Sedebit solitarius et tacebit, quia levavit se, supra se." 
 t ' In solitudine, aer purior, cesium apertius, familiarior 
 Deus. 
 
170 THE NECESSITY AND ADVANTAGE [SCOUGAL. 
 
 ginal imports, I will speak unto her heart.' That 
 rule which our Saviour gives for our devotion, to 
 enter into our closet, and shut the door behind us, is 
 as necessary to preserve us from distraction, as from 
 vanity and ostentation. When we have retired as 
 much as we can from the world, we still carry too 
 much of it along with us. The images of things suf- 
 ficiently persecute and disturb us, though we be not 
 exposed to the objects themselves. Our blessed 
 Saviour thought not the mountains and deserts re- 
 tired enough for his devotions ; but would add the 
 darkness and silence of the night. Little does the 
 world understand those secret and hidden plea- 
 sures, which devout souls feel, when, having got 
 out of the noise and hurry of the world, they sit 
 alone and keep silence, contemplating the divine 
 perfections, which shine so conspicuously in all his 
 works of wonder ; admiring his greatness, and wis- 
 dom, and love, and revolving his favours towards 
 themselves; opening before him their griefs and 
 their cares, and disburdening their souls into his 
 bosom : protesting their allegiance and subjection 
 unto him, and telling him a thousand times that 
 they love him ; and then, listening unto the voice 
 of God within their hearts, that still and quiet 
 voice, which is not wont to be heard in the streets, 
 that they may hear what God the Lord will speak : 
 for he will speak peace unto his people, and to his 
 saints ; and will visit them, with the expressions of 
 his love. No wonder, if those blessed souls who have 
 tasted the pleasures of holy retirement, and found 
 
DISC. III.] OF EARLY AFFLICTIONS. 
 
 themselves, as it were, in the suburbs of heaven, 
 grow weary of company and affairs, and long for 
 the returning of those happy hours, as the hireling 
 for the shades of the evening : no wonder they pity 
 the foolish busy world, who spend their days in 
 vanity, and know not what it is indeed to live. 
 
 But here I would not be mistaken, as if I re- 
 commended a total and constant retirement, or 
 persuaded men to forsake the world, and betake 
 themselves unto deserts. No, certainly ; we must 
 not abandon the stations wherein God hath placed 
 us, nor render ourselves useless to mankind. Soli- 
 tude has its temptations, and we may sometimes be 
 very bad company to ourselves. It was not without 
 reason, that one wise man warned another, who pro- 
 fessed to delight in conversing with himself, * Have 
 a care, that you be keeping company with a good 
 man.'* Abused solitude may whet men's passions, 
 and irritate their desires, and prompt them to things 
 which company would restrain. And this made 
 one say, that ' he who is much alone, must either 
 be a saint or a devil.' Melancholy, which inclines 
 men most to retirement, is often too much nou- 
 rished and fomented by it; and there is a peevish 
 and sullen loneliness, which some people affect 
 under their troubles, whereby they feed on dis- 
 contented thoughts, and find a kind of perverse 
 pleasure in refusing to be comforted. But all this 
 says no more, but that good things may be abused : 
 
 * ' Vide, ut cum homine probo. ' 
 
172 THE NECESSITY AND ADVANTAGE [SCOUGAL. 
 
 that excess or disorder may turn the most whole- 
 some food into poison. And therefore, though I 
 would not indifferently recommend much solitude 
 unto all ; yet, surely, I may say, it were good for the 
 most part of men, that they were less in company, 
 and more alone. 
 
 Thus much of the first, and proper sense, of sitting 
 alone, and keeping silence. We told you it might 
 also import, a quiet and patient submission to the 
 will of God ; the laying of our hand on our mouth, 
 that no expression of murmur or discontent may 
 escape us : "I was dumb," said the Psalmist, " I 
 opened not my mouth, because thou didst it." * 
 And the prophet describes our Saviour's patience, 
 that " he was oppressed, and was afflicted, yet he 
 opened not his mouth : he was brought as a lamb 
 to the slaughter, and as a sheep before the shearers 
 is dumb, so he opened not his mouth." t Indeed, 
 a modest and unaffected silence, is a good way to 
 express our submission to the hand of God, under 
 afflictions. The heathen moralists, who pretended 
 much to patience, could never hold their peace ; 
 but desired always, to signalize themselves, by some 
 fetches of wit, and expressions of unusual courage. 
 But, certainly, the mute and quiet Christian be- 
 haves himself much better. That eloquent and 
 expressive silence says more, than all their vain 
 and stoical boastings. We cannot now insist, at 
 any length, on this Christian duty, of patience, and 
 
 * Psalm xxxix. 9. f Isaiah, liii. 7. 
 
DISC. III.] OF EARLY AFFLICTIONS. 173 
 
 submission to the will of God ; we shall only say 
 two things of it, which the text imports. First, 
 That this lesson is most commonly learned, in 
 the school of afflictions : " He sitteth alone and 
 keepeth silence, because he hath borne it upon 
 him." In that forecited place of Jeremiah*, 
 Ephraim bemoaning himself, acknowledges " that 
 he had been as a bullock unaccustomed to the 
 yoke ; " which makes the greater reluctancy against 
 it. Children that are much indulged, are the more 
 impatient if they come to be crossed ; and there 
 too much of the child in us all. The Apostle 
 tells us, that " tribulation worketh patience." t 
 Custom makes every thing more tolerable ; and, 
 if it please God to sanctify the first stroke, the 
 second is received with the greater submission. 
 The other thing which I have to say on this duty, is, 
 that this advantage of afflictions is very great and 
 desirable ; that it is, indeed, very good for a man to 
 have borne the yoke in his youth, if he has thereby 
 learned to sit alone and keep silence, when the 
 hand of the Lord is upon him. There is nothing 
 more acceptable unto God, no object more lovely 
 and amiable in his eyes, than a soul thus prostrate 
 before him, thus entirely resigned to his holy will, 
 thus quietly submitting to his severest dispens- 
 ations. Nor is it less advantageous to ourselves : 
 it sweetens the bitterest occurrences of our life, 
 and makes us feel an inward and secret pleasure, 
 
 * Ch. xxxi. 18. t Romans, v. 3. 
 
174 OF EARLY AFFLICTIONS. [SCOUGAL. 
 
 notwithstanding all the smart of affliction : so that 
 the yoke becomes supportable ; the rod itself com- 
 forts us ; and we find much more delight in suffer- 
 ing the will of God, than if he had granted us our 
 own. 
 
 Now, to this God, who loveth us, and correcteth 
 us for our profit, that we may be partakers of his 
 holiness, and thereby of his happiness, to Him, 
 Father, Son, and blessed Spirit, be all honour, 
 praise, and glory, now and for ever. Amen. 
 
THAT THERE ARE BUT A SMALL NUMBER SAVED, 
 
 LUKE, xiii. 23. 
 Then said one unto him, Lord, are there few that be saved ? 
 
 THOSE who have so much charity and goodness, 
 as to be nearly touched with the interests of man- 
 kind, cannot but be, more especially, concerned 
 about their everlasting condition ; and very anxious 
 to know what shall become of poor mortals, when 
 this scene is over ; when they shall cease to appear 
 on the stage of the world, being called off to give 
 an account of their deportment on it. And, since 
 we are assured, that there are different, and very 
 opposite, states of departed souls, some being ad- 
 mitted into happiness, and others doomed to misery, 
 beyond any thing that we can conceive, this may 
 suggest a farther inquiry : how is mankind likely to 
 be divided ? shall heaven or hell have the greater 
 share? Such a laudable curiosity as this, it was, 
 that induced one of our blessed Saviour's followers 
 to propose the question in the text, "Lord, are 
 there few that be saved?" 
 
 Our Saviour had been lately foretelling the great 
 success the gospel should have : how, like a little 
 
176 THAT THERE ARE BUT [SCOUGAL, 
 
 leaven, that quickly ferments the whole mass into 
 which it is received, Christianity should soon pro- 
 pagate itself through the world, and many nations 
 should embrace the profession of it. This disciple, 
 it seems, was desirous to know, whether the efficacy 
 should be answerable to the extent? Whether it 
 should take as deep root in the hearts of those that 
 owned it, as it was to spread itself far and wide, on 
 the face of the earth? In a word, whether the greater 
 part of men were to be saved by it ? I called this a 
 laudable curiosity; and there is reason to think it is 
 so, since our Saviour himself, who best knew the occa- 
 sion and import of it, does not check, but satisfy the 
 inquiry ; which he was not wont to do, when the 
 questions were useless or blameable. Those who 
 inquired into the time of the general judgment, 
 received no other account, but that it was among 
 those secrets which God reserved for himself. And, 
 again, when they asked of the time that the king- 
 dom should be restored unto Israel, he tells them 
 plainly, it was not for them, it concerned them not 
 at all, to know such things as these. But here, as 
 the question seems to have proceeded from zeal for 
 the honour of God, and concern in the happiness 
 of mankind ; so its resolution might be very useful : 
 and accordingly it is improved by our Saviour ; 
 who, at once, resolves the doubt, and presses a 
 very weighty exhortation, in the following words : 
 " Strive to enter in at the strait gate : for many, 
 I say unto you, will seek to enter in, and shall not 
 be able." 
 
DISC. IV.] A SMALL NUMBER SAVED. 177 
 
 We are not, at this time, to prosecute the whole 
 import of this latter verse ; for that, we refer you to 
 an excellent sermon, entitled, The Way to Happi- 
 ness. We shall only consider the answer, which is 
 implied in it, to the foregoing question; namely, 
 that the number of those who are to be saved, is 
 really small. 
 
 On this point, we design to fix our meditations, 
 at this time. And, indeed, there is scarcely any 
 doctrine that needs to be more inculcated : for, 
 amongst all the stratagems, by which the great 
 enemy of mankind plots and contrives their ruin, 
 few are more unhappily successful, than the fond 
 persuasion, that heaven and everlasting happiness 
 are easily attainable. What one says of wisdom, 
 we may, with a little alteration, apply to this pur- 
 pose; that many might have reached heaven, if they 
 had not been confident of doing so.* The doors of 
 the Christian church are now very wide, and men 
 have access to them upon very easy terms. Nay, this 
 privilege descends to men by their birth, and they 
 are reckoned among Christians, before they well 
 know what the term means. The ordinances and 
 mysteries of our religion are common to all, save 
 those whom gross ignorance, or notorious crimes, 
 exclude. There are no marks on the foreheads of 
 men, whereby we can judge of their future condi- 
 tion ; they die, and are laid in their graves, and none 
 come back to tell how it fares with them ; and we 
 
 * ' Multi ad sapientiam pervenissent, nisi putassent se per- 
 venisse.' 
 
 N 
 
178 THAT THERE ARE BUT [SCOUGAL. 
 
 desire to think the best of every particular person. 
 But, whatever charity be in this, there is little pru- 
 dence in the inference which many draw from it ; 
 who think, that they may live as their neighbours 
 do, and die as happily as they; and, since the great- 
 est part of men are such as themselves, that heaven 
 must be a very empty place, if all of them be debar- 
 red. Thus, perhaps, you have seen a flock of sheep 
 on a bridge, and the first leaps over, and the rest, 
 not knowing what is become of those that went be- 
 fore, each of them follow their companions into that 
 hazard or ruin. Interest and self-love so strongly 
 blind the minds of men, that they can hardly be 
 withheld from the belief of that, which they would 
 very fain have true. Hence it is, that, notwith- 
 standing all we are told to the contrary, the opinion 
 of the broadness of the way that leads to heaven, 
 and the easy access to it, is still the most epi- 
 demic, and, I think, the most dangerous heresy. 
 Many of the commonalty are so ignorant, as to 
 avow it ; and the strange security of more knowing 
 persons, as loudly proclaims it. I know he un- 
 dertakes an unwelcome errand, who goes about to 
 dispossess the minds of men, of such a pleasant and 
 flattering error. But what shall we do ? Shall we 
 suffer them to sleep on and take their rest, till the 
 everlasting flames awake them? Shall we draw 
 their blood on our heads, and involve ourselves in 
 their ruin, by neglecting to advertize them of their 
 hazard ? No, my friends : duty obliges, and the 
 holy Scriptures warrant us, to assure you, that 
 
J3ISC. IV.] A SMALL NUMBER SAVED. 179 
 
 there are few that shall be saved ; that " the whole 
 world lieth in wickedness,"* and that " they are 
 a little flock, to whom the Father will give the 
 kingdom." t 
 
 That this certain, though lamentable truth, may 
 make deeper impression on our minds, we shall, 
 first, propose some considerations, for the better 
 understanding what great things are required, in 
 those who look for everlasting happiness ; and then, 
 we shall reflect on the actions and ways of men ; 
 that, comparing the one with the other, we may 
 see how little ground of hope there is, for the 
 greatest part to build on. 
 
 First, then, consider the nature of that divine 
 Majesty, whose presence and enjoyment it is, that 
 makes heaven desirable; and think how inconsist- 
 ent it is with his infinite holiness, to admit impure 
 and impenitent sinners into the habitation of his 
 glory. Certainly, " he is of purer eyes than to 
 behold evil, and cannot look on iniquity." t " He 
 is not a God that hath pleasure in wickedness : 
 neither shall evil dwell with Him. The foolish 
 shall not stand in his sight. " It is strange what 
 conceptions foolish men entertain of Almighty 
 God; imagining, that those who have been all 
 their days wallowing in sin, shall be admitted into 
 an everlasting fellowship with Him. Sooner shall 
 light and darkness dwell together, and heat and 
 cold, in their greatest violence, combine, and all 
 
 * 1 John v. 19. t Lukexii. 32. 
 
 $ Hab. i. 13. Psalm v. 4, 5. 
 
 N 2 
 
180 THAT THERE ARE BUT [SCOUGAL. 
 
 contrarieties of nature be reconciled. Can two 
 walk together, except they be agreed ? Can there 
 be any converse, between those whose natures suit 
 so ill together ? Surely, they who think so easily 
 to attain happiness, must imagine God altogether 
 such a one as themselves ; else they could never 
 hope, that he would chuse them, and cause them 
 to approach unto him. But how widely shall they 
 find themselves mistaken, when he shall reprove 
 them, and set their sins in order before them : 
 and they shall discover to their confusion, that he 
 is a " consuming fire, to all the workers of ini- 
 quity ! " Men are wont to frame a notion of God, 
 according to their own wishes, as if he were but an 
 empty name : and this is the common shelter, 
 against every convincing reproof. But this teme- 
 rity shall, at length, sufficiently confute itself; and 
 men shall feel that justice, which they will not be- 
 lieve. There is not strife among the attributes of 
 God ; that one of them should swallow up another. 
 Mercy is open to all, who forsake their sins ; but 
 justice shall seize on those, who continue in them. 
 That compassion, which made God to give his dear 
 Son for the redemption of mankind, will never 
 prevail for the pardon and deliverance of any im- 
 penitent sinner. Abused goodness will certainly 
 turn into fury ; and infinite mercy, being de- 
 spised, shall bring down upon sinners all the 
 dreadful effects of an omnipotent vengeance. 
 
 Consider, secondly, what that happiness is, which 
 all men so confidently promise to themselves ; and 
 
DISC. IV.] A SMALL NUMBER SAVED. 181 
 
 see, whether it be likely, that it should be so easily 
 attained. Glorious things are every where spoken, 
 of that heavenly Jerusalem ; and all that is ex- 
 cellent or desirable in this world, is borrowed to 
 shadow it forth in the holy Scriptures: we are told 
 of crowns, and kingdoms, and treasures, and rivers 
 of pleasure, and fountains of living waters, and of 
 an exceeding eternal weight of glory. 
 
 But, thirdly, all these, do not suffice to convey 
 into our minds any full apprehension, of the happi- 
 ness we expect ; and, after all that can be said, it 
 does not yet appear what we shall be. These me- 
 taphors and allegories serve but to assist our minds 
 a little, and give us some confused apprehensions 
 of the things which eye hath not seen, nor ear 
 heard ; nor, said that beloved disciple who lay in 
 the bosom of our Saviour, can it enter into the 
 heart of men to conceive, what God hath prepared 
 for them that love him. Can we, then, expect 
 that so glorious a prize shall be gained without any 
 labour ? Shall such a recompense be bestowed, 
 on those who never were at any pains about it ? 
 What toil and travail does it cost the avaricious, to 
 gather together that white and yellow earth which 
 they call money ? With what care and pains, do 
 the ambitious ascend to any degree of preferment? 
 What industry and study do studious men em- 
 ploy, to reach a little knowledge, and be reckoned 
 amongst the learned ? And shall heaven and ever- 
 lasting happiness slide into our arms, when we are 
 asleep ? No, certainly. God will never disparage 
 
 N 3 
 
182 THAT THERE ARE BUT [SCOUGAL. 
 
 the glories of that place, to bestow them on those, 
 who have not thought them worthy of their most 
 serious endeavours. But, as the greatness of that 
 happiness may justly discourage all pretenders to 
 it, so its nature leaves small ground of hope, to 
 the greater part of the world. I wonder, what 
 most men expect to meet with in heaven, who 
 dream of coming thither. Think they to feast and 
 revel, and luxuriate there, and to spend eternity 
 in foolish mirth and vain talk ; in sport and 
 drollery, and sensual pleasure ? for such alone are 
 the exercises of which they are capable, or in which 
 they can find relish or satisfaction. Away with all 
 those Turkish notions, whereby we disparage the 
 happiness to which we pretend. The joys of that 
 place are pure and spiritual, and no unclean thing 
 shall enter there. The felicity of blessed spirits con- 
 sists in beholding and admiring the divine perfec- 
 tions, and finding the image of them shining in 
 themselves, in perfect conformity to the will and 
 nature of God, and intimate and delightful so- 
 ciety and communion with Him. And shall souls 
 be blessed, in seeing and partaking of the divine 
 likeness, who never loved it, and who would chuse 
 any thing, rather than to converse with God ? A 
 little reflection on the common temper of men's 
 minds, may assure us, that they are very far from 
 that meetness and aptitude " for the inheritance 
 of the saints in light " * which the Apostle speaks 
 
 * Col. i. 12. 
 
DISC. IV.] A SMALL NUMBER SAVED. 183 
 
 of. The notion and nature of blessedness must 
 surely be changed ; or else, the temper of their 
 spirits : either they must have new hearts, or a 
 new heaven created for them, before they can be 
 happy. It is a strange infatuation of self-love, 
 that men in the gall of bitterness, should think it 
 is well with their souls, and fancy themselves in a 
 case good enough, for the enjoyment of divine 
 pleasures. 
 
 In the fourth place, Let us reflect on the at- 
 tempts and endeavours of those, who have gone to 
 heaven before us. How they did fight and strive, 
 wrestle and run, for obtaining that glorious prize ; 
 and we shall see how improbable it is, that the 
 greatest part of men should gain it, with so little 
 pains. Noah, Abraham, Jacob, David, and all 
 those ancient worthies, recorded in holy writ, have 
 either done or suffered so great things, as gave 
 ground to expect that country which they looked 
 after, " accounting themselves strangers and pil- 
 grims on the earth ;" as you may see in the eleventh 
 chapter of Hebrews: where, after a large catalogue 
 of their performances, the author tells us of others, 
 " who were tortured, not accepting deliverance ; 
 that they might obtain a better resurrection. And 
 others had trial of cruel mockings, and scourgings, 
 yea, moreover, of bonds and imprisonment. They 
 were stoned, they were sawn asunder, were tempted, 
 were slain with the sword: they wandered about 
 in sheep-skins, and goat-skins; being destitute, 
 afflicted, tormented : of whom the world was not 
 
 N 4 
 
184 THAT THERE ARE BUT [SCOUGAL. 
 
 worthy. They wandered in deserts and in moun- 
 tains, and in dens and caves of the earth." Such, 
 also, was that holy violence, wherewith the Chris- 
 tians of the first and golden ages, forced open 
 the gates of heaven, and took possession of it. 
 The ardent affection with which these blessed souls 
 were inflamed towards their Maker and Redeemer, 
 made them willingly give up their bodies to be 
 burned in the fire, for the glory of God, and the 
 propagation of the Christian faith. Their constancy 
 in sufferings, amazed their bloody persecutors, 
 and outwearied the cruelty of their tormentors ; 
 they rejoiced in nothing more, " than that they were 
 accounted worthy to suffer shame, for the name of 
 Jesus." And what shall we say of their universal 
 charity and love, which reached their very enemies ? 
 Of their humility and meekness, justice and temper- 
 ance, and all those other virtues, which many of 
 the heathen themselves observed and admired? 
 4 Behold/ said one, * how the Christians love one 
 another!' 'These are the men,' says another, 
 4 who speak as they think, and do as they speak.' 
 Pliny, after an exact inquiry, writes to the Emperor 
 Trajan, that he could never find any other guilt 
 in the Christians, except they met together be- 
 fore day-break, to sing a hymn to Christ, as if he 
 were God ; and then to bind themselves with a 
 sacrament or oath, not to do any mischief; but on 
 the contrary, that they shall not rob, steal, or com- 
 mit adultery, or falsify their words, or deny their 
 trust, &c.' This was the crime of Christians, i- 
 
DISC. IV.] A SMALL NUMBER SAVED. 185 
 
 those first ages, to engage themselves not to com- 
 mit any crime. They needed not, in those days, 
 to be pursued by tedious processes, or dragged 
 against their will to the profession of repentance. 
 They would sue for it with tears, and stand, for 
 many years, at the door of the church, begging to 
 be received. The censures of the Church were 
 then looked upon as very serious and dreadful 
 things : and they who would encounter death, in the 
 most terrible form, would tremble, if threatened 
 with excommunication. Now, tell me, I pray 
 you, what you think of these men? Did they 
 supererogate, and go beyond their duty ? Or were 
 they fools in doing these things, when half the 
 pains might have served their turn ? Did heaven 
 and happiness cost them so much labour, and think 
 you to be carried thither fast asleep, or rather, while 
 you are bending your forces quite another way ? 
 If you cannot look so far back, or if you imagine 
 these but romances, like the poetic accounts of the 
 golden age, when all men were happy and good, 
 I shall then desire you to take notice of a few per- 
 sons, whom the divine goodness has rescued from 
 that deluge of wickedness, which overflows the 
 world. There are, perhaps, some two or three in a 
 city, or in a county, who live very far beyond the 
 common rate of men, and who may be accounted 
 angels upon earth, if compared with the multitude. 
 They have escaped the pollution that is in the world, 
 and have learned to despise all its vanities ; their 
 affections are above, and their greatest business is, 
 
186 THAT THERE ARE BUT [SCOUGAL. 
 
 to please and serve their Maker ; their thoughts 
 and affections are, in a great measure, holy and 
 pure, their converse innocent and useful, and in 
 their whole deportment they observe such strict 
 rules of holiness and virtue, as others may think 
 needless or superstitious: arid yet, these persons 
 are deeply sensible of their own imperfections, and 
 afraid enough to come short of heaven. I speak 
 not now of those scrupulous persons, whom me- 
 lancholy exposes to perpetual and unaccountable 
 fears : much less of others, who make a trade of 
 complaining ; and would be the better thought of, 
 for speaking evil of themselves ; and would be very 
 ill pleased, if you should believe them. I speak of 
 rational and sober men, whose fears arise from their 
 due consideration and measure of things ; from the 
 right apprehensions which they have, of the holiness 
 of God, and the meaning and import of the gospel- 
 precepts. And, certainly, such holy jealousies over 
 themselves ought not to be judged needless ; Saint 
 Paul himself, who had been rapt up into the third 
 heaven, and thereby received an earnest of eternal 
 happiness, found it necessary to take care, " lest, 
 by any means, while he preached to others, 
 himself should be a cast-away."* I know it is 
 ordinary for men, to laugh at those, who are more 
 serious and conscientious than themselves ; to 
 wonder what they aim at, and to hope to be as 
 sure of heaven as they. But, ere long, they shal 
 
 * 1 Cor. xi. 27. 
 
DISC. IV.] A SMALL NUMBER SAVED. 187 
 
 discover their mistake, and shall say, with those 
 spoken of in the book of Wisdom : " This was he, 
 whom we had sometimes in derision, and a proverb 
 of reproach. We fools accounted his life madness, 
 and his end to be without honour. How is he 
 numbered among the children of God, and his lot 
 is among the saints ! Therefore, have we erred from 
 the way of truth ; and the light of righteousness 
 hath not shined unto us ; and the sun of righteous- 
 ness rose not upon us." 
 
 To come yet closer to our present purpose : a 
 serious consideration of the laws and precepts of the 
 gospel, will fully convince us of the straitness of 
 the gate, and narrowness of the way, that leadeth 
 to eternal life. We cannot name them all, nor insist 
 upon any at length. Look through the excellent 
 sermon on the mount, and see what our Saviour 
 requires of his followers. You will find him en- 
 joining such a profound humility, as shall make 
 us think nothing of ourselves, and be content that 
 others think nothing of us ; a meekness, which no 
 injuries can overcome, no affronts nor indignities 
 can exasperate ; a chastity, which restrains the 
 sight of the eyes, and the wandering of the desires ; 
 such an universal charity, as will make us tender 
 other men's welfare as our own, and never take any 
 other revenge against our most bitter enemies, but to 
 wish them well, and to do them all the good we can, 
 whether they will or not. Whatever corrupt glosses 
 men are bold to put on our Saviour's words, the 
 offering the other cheek to him who smote the right 
 
188 THAT THERE ARE BUT [SCOUGAL. 
 
 one, and the giving our coat, to him who hath taken 
 our cloak, obliges us to suffer injuries, and part 
 with something of our right, in order to avoid strife 
 and contention. The pulling out our right eye, and 
 cutting off our right hand, that offends, imports the 
 renouncing of the most gainful callings, or plea- 
 sant enjoyments, when they become a snare to us. 
 The hating of father and mother for the sake of 
 Christ, at least, implies the loving of Him, infinitely 
 beyond our dearest relations ; and the being ready 
 to part with them, when either our duty, or His 
 will calls for it. And we must not look upon these 
 things, as only counsels of perfection ; commend- 
 able in themselves, but which may yet be neglected 
 without any great hazard. No, certainly ; they are 
 absolutely necessary : and it is folly to expect hap- 
 piness, without the conscientious and sincere per- 
 formance of them all : " Whosoever shall break one 
 of these least commandments, and shall teach men 
 so, he shall be called the least in the kingdom of 
 heaven ;" that is, according to all interpreters, he 
 shall have no interest in it. You see, then, by 
 what strict rules he must square his actions, who 
 can, with any ground, hope to be saved. But I 
 must tell you further, that he must not be excited 
 to the performance of his duty, merely by the 
 force and sanctions of these laws. True religion 
 is an inward, free, and self-moving principle : and 
 those who have made a progress in it, are not 
 actuated only by external motives ; are not merely 
 driven by threatenings, nor bribed by promises, nor 
 
DISC. IV.] A SMALL NUMBER SAVED. 189 
 
 constrained by laws ; but are powerfully inclined 
 to that which is good. Though holy and religious 
 persons much regard the law of God, yet it is not 
 so much the authority and sanction of it, as its rea- 
 sonableness, and purity, and goodness, that pre- 
 vails with them. They account it excellent and 
 desirable in itself. They feel that in keeping of it 
 there is great reward ; and that divine love by 
 which they are actuated, makes them become a 
 law unto themselves : 
 
 Quis legem det amantibus ? 
 Major est amor lex ipse sibi. 
 
 In a word, what our blessed Saviour said of him- 
 self, is in some measure applicable to his followers, 
 that it is their meat and drink, to do their Father's 
 will. And, as the natural appetite is carried out 
 towards food, though we should not reflect on 
 its necessity, for the preservation of our lives ; 
 so are they carried, with a natural and unforced 
 propension, towards that which is good and com- 
 mendable. 
 
 Hitherto, we have been speaking of the qua- 
 lifications, which are necessary for obtaining an en- 
 trance into heaven. It is high time, we were cast- 
 ing our eyes upon the world, to see how the tempers 
 and actions of men agree with those qualifications. 
 And first, if we look back upon the old world, we 
 shall see how soon wickedness overspread the face 
 of the earth, and all flesh had corrupted their way ; 
 and of all the multitudes that were then in the world, 
 
190 THAT THERE ARE BUT [SCOUGAL. 
 
 only Noah and his family were found worthy to 
 escape the general deluge ; nay even in it there was 
 a cursed Cham, the father of a wicked generation. 
 After that, the church of God was confined to a 
 very narrow corner. And, while darkness covered 
 the face of the earth, only Palestine was enlight- 
 ened with the knowledge of God : " He shewed his 
 word unto Jacob, his statutes and his judgments 
 unto Israel. But he dealt not so with every nation : 
 as for his judgments, they have not known them.* 
 They were given up to the lusts of their own hearts, 
 and worshipped the works of their own hands." 
 Their devotions were performed unto devils, and 
 their religious mysteries were full of the grossest 
 impurities. I shall not now enter on the debate, 
 whether ever any Heathen might possibly have 
 been saved ? We are more concerned to secure our 
 own salvation, than to dispute about theirs : and 
 yet I must say, that, amongst all the lives of cele- 
 brated Heathen, I could never meet with the cha- 
 racter of a truly good man. And, though I love 
 not to decry morality, yet that pride and self-con- 
 ceit which mingled itself with their fairest actions, 
 makes me look upon them as, indeed, splendida 
 peccata/ a more specious kind of sins. But, sup- 
 posing something could be said for Socrates and 
 Plato, and two or three others, what is that to those 
 huge multitudes, who, without all peradventure, 
 ran head-long into everlasting destruction? But 
 
 * Psalm cxlvii. 19, 20. 
 
DISC. IV.] A SMALL NUMBER SAVED. 191 
 
 let us leave those times, and look upon the present 
 condition of the world. It is a sad account of it 
 that is given by Breerwood, in his * Inquiries,' 
 that, dividing the whole world into thirty parts, 
 nineteen are Pagan, six are Mahometan, and only 
 five remain for Christians of all persuasions. I 
 shall not warrant the exactness of his reckoning : 
 but, certainly, the number of Christians bears but 
 a very small proportion to the rest of mankind. 
 And of these again, how few are there orthodox in 
 their religion ? I dare not condemn all those who 
 live in the Romish communion : but surely they 
 labour under very great disadvantages ; and, be- 
 sides the common difficulties of Christianity, their 
 errors and superstitions are no small hindrances to 
 their progress. 
 
 But we may, perhaps, think ourselves little con- 
 cerned in them. Let us, then, consider those who 
 live in communion with ourselves ; and see, what 
 is to be thought of the generality. And first, 
 we shall find a very great number, so grossly 
 ignorant, that they know not the way that leads to 
 life. And truly it is not so broad, that people 
 should keep it by guess. And, however they ima- 
 gine, that their ignorance will not only be excus- 
 able in itself, but afford a cloak to their other wick- 
 edness, yet dreadful is that threatening of the 
 Prophet Isaiah, " It is a people of no understand- 
 ing : therefore He that made them, will not have 
 mercy upon them ; and He that formed them, will 
 shew them no favour." But, besides those many 
 
192 THAT THERE ARE BUT [SCOUGAL. 
 
 thousands that perish for lack of knowledge, how 
 great are the number of vicious and scandalous 
 persons ? Remove but our gluttons and drunkards, 
 our thieves and deceivers, our oppressors and ex- 
 tortioners, our scolders and revilers, our forni- 
 cators and adulterers, and all that abominable 
 crew, that are guilty of such heinous crimes, and 
 how thin should our churches be? To what a 
 small number should we quickly be reduced ? A 
 little corner would hold us all. And think you 
 these I have been speaking of, are fit to enter 
 into the kingdom of heaven ? Perhaps you may 
 account us rash, to condemn so many of our 
 neighbours, but the Apostle has done it to 
 our hands : " Know ye not that the unrighteous 
 shall not inherit the kingdom of God ? Be not 
 deceived : neither fornicators, nor idolators, nor 
 adulterers, nor effeminate, nor abusers of them- 
 selves with mankind, nor thieves, nor covetous, 
 nor drunkards, nor revilers, nor extortioners, shall 
 inherit the kingdom of God."* You see, what a 
 heavy sentence is pronounced : and O how many 
 are included under it ! I shall name one other 
 vice, which I fear will drive in no small number, 
 of those who are yet behind ; and that is, the 
 unaccountable sin of swearing ; by which men 
 commonly throw away their souls, without any 
 temptation, pleasure, or advantage. How often do 
 men baffle the sacred name of God, by calling him 
 
 * 1 Cor. vi, 9, 10. 
 
DISC. IV.] A SMALL NUMBER SAVED. IQ3 
 
 to witness such trifles, as they might be ashamed 
 to attest, before any grave or sober person ? This 
 they account an ornament of speech; and their 
 words would never sound big enough without it. 
 I cannot pause, to reckon up all the aggravations 
 of this sin. It is, certainly, inconsistent with a 
 religious temper : and this alone, if there were no 
 more, would condemn the greater part of the 
 Christian world. And what shall we say of all 
 those other vices, which are so frequently practised, 
 yea, and defended too, among us ? For, alas ! we 
 are arrived at that height of impiety, that virtue 
 and vice seem to have shifted places ; evil and 
 good, to have changed their names. It is counted 
 a gallant thing, to despise all divine and human 
 laws ; and a childish scrupulosity, to forbear any 
 thing that may gratify our passions. A strong faith, 
 is accounted an argument of weak judgment; 
 dependence upon providence, is judged want of 
 foresight ; and there is no wit, but in deceiving 
 others : no man is reckoned generous, unless he 
 be extremely ambitious ; and it is want of courage, 
 to forgive an injury. O Religion, whither art thou 
 fled ? In what corner of the world shall we find thee ? 
 Shall we search for thee, in the courts and palaces 
 of great men ? Pride and luxury have driven thee 
 thence ; and they are too much concerned in the 
 business and pleasures of this world, to regard those 
 of another. Shall we seek thee in the cottages of 
 the poor ? Envy and discontent lodge there ; 
 their outward want takes up all their thoughts, and 
 
 o 
 
THAT THERE ARE BUT [SCOUGAL. 
 
 they have little regard for their souls. Shall we 
 go into the city ? Cheating and extortion, and in- 
 temperance, are almost all that we can meet with 
 there. And if we retire into the country, we shall 
 find as little innocence in it : " We may look for 
 judgment, but behold oppression ; for righteous- 
 ness, but behold a cry." 
 
 After all that we have hitherto said, some may 
 think themselves safe enough ; being conscious of 
 none of those vices, which we have named. But, 
 alas ! what is all this ? They may still be far from 
 the kingdom of heaven. Religion consists not of 
 negatives ; and the being free from gross and 
 scandalous vices, is a poor plea for heaven. Look 
 how thy soul is furnished with those divine graces, 
 which ought to qualify thee for it. I shall name 
 but one ; and it is, the love of God ; every body 
 pretends to it: but how few are there in the 
 world, that understand what it means; that 
 feel its power and efficacy, on their own spirits! 
 Love is that weight, by which a soul is carried 
 towards the object which it loves, and rests in it 
 as its proper centre.* Those who are acquainted 
 with this noble passion, even in its wanderings and 
 deviations from its proper object, when it is wholly 
 fixed on some silly creature like ourselves, these, 
 I say, know what mighty effects it is wont to pro- 
 duce, on the souls where it prevails ; how it makes 
 them, almost forget their own interest, and consult 
 that only of another ; how careful they are, of every 
 
 * * Amor est pondus animi.' 
 
DISC. IV.] A SMALL NUMBER SAVED. 195 
 
 thing that may please or advantage the person 
 loved, and afraid, in any action, to offend them ; 
 what delight they have in their conversation, and 
 how hardly they endure to be absent from them. 
 See, therefore, if thou findest any thing answer- 
 able to these effects, in the affection which thou 
 pretendest unto God. Are His glory and honour, 
 the dearest of all things unto thee ; wouldst thou 
 rather hear thyself and all thy friends reviled, than 
 His holy name blasphemed? Is it thy greatest 
 care and business to please Him, and art thou 
 watchful against every sin? Is there nothing in 
 the world so dear unto thee, but thou wouldst 
 part with for his sake ? Desirest thou that he 
 should do his own will, rather than thine ? Is 
 nothing so delightful, as to converse with him? 
 And does every thing seem burthensome, which 
 detains thee long from him ? If we would examine 
 ourselves by these tests, I fear most of us would find 
 our confidence built on a sandy foundation. 
 
 Perhaps you will tell me, that though things be 
 not so well at present, though you have not yet 
 attained these endowments, which are necessary to 
 fit you for heaven, nor indeed have begun to en- 
 deavour after them, yet, hereafter, you hope all 
 shall be well ; you will repent and amend before 
 you die. Consider, I beseech you, my brethren, 
 what it is that you say. When think you that 
 this promised reformation shall begin ? Some two or 
 three years after this, when you have pleased your- 
 selves, and indulged your appetites a little more ? 
 
 o 2 
 
196 THAT THERE ARE BUT [SCOUGAL. 
 
 But what assurance have you to live so long ? Are 
 not your neighbours, who expected death as little 
 as you, dropping down every day around you? 
 And suppose you live, what greater probability is 
 there of your reformation, at a future time, than 
 now ? Had you not, several years ago, the same 
 thoughts and resolutions which yet have taken no 
 effect ? Will you not again have the same tempt- 
 ations and snares ? Will your passions be more easily 
 overcome, when strengthened by longer custom ? 
 Will it be more easy to return, after you have 
 wandered further out of the way ? Perhaps it is 
 on a death-bed-repentance, that you have grounded 
 your hopes ; you resolve to part with your appetites, 
 when you can keep them no longer, and to serve 
 God Almighty, with the dregs of your time. I 
 shall not tell you, what shrewd objections are pro- 
 posed, by some great and learned men, against the 
 validity and acceptableness of such a repentance : 
 some of them, perhaps, have been too peremptory 
 and severe. True and unfeigned repentance, which 
 includes the sincere love of God, and resignation to 
 him, will never come too late : the foundation of 
 heaven is laid in the souls of those that have it. 
 But, when we consider, what a great matter true 
 repentance is ; the shortness of the time, the hind- 
 rances of a distempered body, and the ordinary 
 relapses of men who have promised fair on such 
 occasions, and have outlived that sickness, which 
 they thought had been mortal ; when we consider 
 these things, we cannot but acknowledge, that a 
 
DISC. IV.] A SMALL NUMBER SAVED. 197 
 
 death-bed repentance is seldom sincere ; and that 
 it is an unfit time, to begin to fight with principal- 
 ities and powers, when, perhaps, we have not 
 strength to turn ourselves on our beds ; in a word, 
 that of those, who thus delay and put off the 
 momentous business, but very few shall be saved. 
 When we have said all that we can say, there are 
 many, who will never be persuaded of the truth of 
 that which we have been proving. They cannot 
 think it consistent with the goodness and mercy of 
 God, that the greatest part of mankind should be 
 damned : they cannot imagine, that heaven should 
 be such an empty and desolate place, and have so 
 very few to inhabit it. But what folly and mad- 
 ness is this ; for sinful men to set rules unto the 
 Divine goodness, and to draw conclusions from it, 
 so expressly contrary to what He has himself re- 
 vealed ! Is it not enough, that he has taught us 
 the way to be happy, and given his own Son to the 
 death, to make it possible ; that he has waited so 
 long, and invited us so earnestly, and so fre- 
 quently told us our hazard ? If all this cannot 
 prevail ; if we be obstinately resolved to continue 
 wicked and miserable ; if we despise his goodness, 
 and turn all his grace unto wantonness ; if we 
 slight his threatenings, and will have none of his 
 reproof; if we court damnation, and throw our- 
 selves headlong into hell, how can we expect, 
 that he should interpose his omnipotency to pull 
 us from thence, and place us in heaven against our 
 will ? Those blessed regions are not like our new 
 
 o 3 
 
198 THAT THERE ARE BUT [SCOUGAL. 
 
 plantations, which are sometimes peopled with the 
 worst sort of persons, lest they should be altogether 
 desolate. There are thousands of angels, and ten 
 thousand times ten thousand, that stand about 
 the throne. We know little the extent of the 
 universe ; or what proportion the wicked or miser- 
 able part of rational beings, bears to those that are 
 happy and good : but this we know, that God was 
 infinitely happy, before he had made any creature ; 
 that he needs not the society of the holy angels, 
 and will never admit that of wicked and irreligious 
 men. 
 
 The doctrine on which we have been insisting, 
 is sad and lamentable ; but the consideration of 
 it may be very useful. It must needs touch any 
 serious person, with very much of grief and trouble, 
 to behold a multitude of people convened together, 
 and to think, that, before thirty or forty years, a little 
 more, or a great deal less, they shall all go down 
 unto the dark and silent grave, and the greater, the 
 far greater part of their souls, shall perish everlast- 
 ingly. But this consideration may urge us to the 
 greater diligence and care, that we may do what 
 we can, towards the prevention of these sad conse- 
 quences. Were the sense of this truth deeply en- 
 graven on all our minds, with what care and dili- 
 gence, with what seriousness and zeal, would 
 ministers deal with the people committed to their 
 charge, that, by any means, they might save some ! 
 How would parents, and husbands, and wives, 
 employ all their diligence and industry, and make 
 
DISC. IV.] A SMALL NUMBER SAVED. 199 
 
 use of the most likely methods, for reclaiming their 
 near relations, and pulling them from the brink of 
 hell ? Lastly, what holy violence would each of 
 us use, for saving ourselves from this common ruin, 
 and making our calling and election sure? This 
 is the use of what we have been endeavouring to 
 enforce : and may Almighty God so accompany it 
 with his blessing and power, that it may be happily 
 effectual, to so excellent a purpose. And unto this 
 God, Father, Son, and Holy Spirit, be all honour, 
 praise, and thanksgiving, now, and for ever. Amen. 
 
.OW1 VI" 200 
 
 irmi buff 977 ob noiio woH sar/ib *iri 'to 
 
 iu) nio( oJ il 
 ft' C1 A ,~ 
 
 MB I SERM rbia- m X o!q 
 
 THE DUTY AND PLEASURE OF PRAISE AND 
 f}fIB fH3 lIlW I .bTHANKSGIVING.X t boO ( 
 
 idi Yoiroioiftwgni nwo girt *lo 
 
 ; rioxlto 'lo iSttHb/JJEfe^fat- 89li7^ti od <2how 
 
 ^^ 7^^ woM praism^tmeffi'his goodness, and 
 
 for his wonderful works to the children of men ! 
 9iil 'io gb^Jibnii 9^ O bioJ 9fll o^nu. s/iO rfti9 
 THERE is scarcely any duty of religion more com- 
 monly neglected, or more slightly performed, than 
 this of praise and thanksgiving. The sense of our 
 wants urges us to beg favours from God ; and the 
 consciousness of our sins constrains us to deprecate 
 his wrath. Thus interest and self-love send us to 
 our prayers. But, alas ! how small a part has an 
 ingenuous gratitude, in our devotion ? How sel- 
 dom are we serious and hearty, in our acknowledg- 
 ment of the divine bounty ? The slender returns 
 of this nature which we make, are often a formal 
 ceremony, a preface to usher in our petitions for 
 what we want, rather than any sincere expression 
 of our thankfulness for what we have received. 
 Far different was the temper of the holy Psalmist ; 
 whose affectionate acknowledgments of the good- 
 ness and bounty of God, in the cheerful celebra- 
 tion of his praise, make up a considerable part 
 
DISC. V.] OF PRAISE AND THANKSGIVING. 201 
 
 of his divine songs. How often do we find him 
 exciting and disposing himself to join voice, hand, 
 and heart, together, in .this holy and delightful em- 
 ployment ? " Bless the Lord, O my soul : and all 
 that is within me, bless his holy name.* My heart 
 is fixed, O God, my heart is fixed. I will sing and 
 give praise. Awake up, my glory, awake psaltery 
 and harp: I myself = will awake right early." t 
 And, conscious of his own insufficiency for the 
 work, he invites the co-operation of others ; calling 
 in the whole creation to assist him : " O sing unto 
 the Lord a new song ; sing unto the Lord all the 
 earth. Give unto the Lord, O ye kindreds of the 
 people, give unto the Lord glory and strength.^ 
 Praise ye the Lord. Praise ye the Lord, from the 
 heavens : praise him, in the heights. Praise him, 
 ye sun and moon : praise him, all ye stars of light ; 
 mountains, and all hills ; fruitful trees, and all 
 cedars ; beasts, and all cattle ; creeping things, and 
 flying fowl. Bless the Lord, all his works, 
 in all places of his dominion." || Many such figu- 
 rative expressions occur, and allowance must be 
 made for the poetical strain : but, in the text, we 
 have a proper and passionate wish, " Oh that men 
 would praise the Lord for his goodness ; and for 
 his wonderful works to the children of men ! " 
 
 Man is the great priest of this lower world ; by 
 whom all the homage and service of the other 
 
 * Psalm ciii. 1. f Psalm Ivii. 7, 8. 
 
 J Psalm xcvi. 1.7. Psalm cxlviii. 1. 3. 9, 10. 
 
 |j Psalm ciii* 22. 
 
202 THE DUTY AND PLEASURE [SCOUGAL. 
 
 creatures, is to be paid to their common lord and 
 maker. " God hath made him to have dominion 
 over the works of his hand ; he hath put all things 
 under his feet : all sheep and oxen ; yea, and the 
 beasts of the field : the fowl of the air, the fish of 
 the sea, and whatsoever passeth through the paths 
 of the seas."* The divine bounty, in maintain- 
 ing these poor creatures, redounds to man ; and 
 therefore it is highly reasonable that he should 
 pay the tribute of praise for them, who are not 
 capable of knowing their dependence on God, or 
 their obligations unto him. " The young lions 
 roar, and seek their meat from God."t " The 
 young ravens do cry unto him."t But these are 
 only the complaints of languishing nature, heard 
 and relieved by the God of nature ; though not 
 directly and particularly addressed to him. Man 
 alone is capable to entertain communion with God ; 
 to know his goodness, and to celebrate his praise. 
 
 " Oh that men would praise the Lord !" Praise is 
 the acknowledgment of the goodness and excellency 
 of a person : and, though the desire of it' in us, 
 who have nothing of our own but folly and sin, 
 and whose best performances have a miserable 
 alloy of adherent infirmity, be a blameable vanity 
 and presumption, yet, certainly, it is highly 
 reasonable for God, who is the author and foun- 
 tain of all good, to require and expect praise from 
 his creatures. He has made this great world, as a 
 
 * Psalm viii. 6, 7, 8. f Psalm civ. 21. $ Job xxxviii. 41. 
 
DISC. V.] OF PRAISE AND THANKSGIVING. 203 
 
 temple for his honour : and it should continually 
 resound with his praise. It is true, all the praises 
 of men and angels can add nothing to his happiness 
 and glory; yet, there is a fitness and congruity in 
 the thing ; and it is our happiness, as well as our 
 duty, to perform it : " for it is good to sing praises 
 to our God; for it is pleasant, and praise is 
 comely." * This is the blessed employment of the 
 holy ones above: and, if ever we taste the pleasures 
 of heaven upon earth, it is then, when our souls 
 are transported with an overflowing sense of the 
 divine goodness, and our mouths are filled with 
 his praise. 
 
 " Oh that men would praise the Lord, for his 
 goodness ! " All the attributes of God deserve our 
 highest praise. Power, wisdom, and goodness are 
 all one in him ; but, as we have different concep- 
 tions of these, goodness is that lovely attribute, 
 which peculiarly attracts our affection, and excites 
 our praise. Our love to God, does not so much 
 flow from the consideration of his greatness, where- 
 by he can do whatever he will, as from the con- 
 sideration of his goodness, that he always wills what 
 is best; that his almighty power is regulated by 
 infinite wisdom, and actuated and exerted by un- 
 speakable bounty. 
 
 " O that men would praise the Lord, for his good- 
 ness ; and for his wonderful works to the children 
 of men ! " The divine goodness spreads and extends 
 
 * Psalm cxlvii. J. 
 
THE DUTY AND PLEASURE [SCOUGAL. 
 
 itself, over all the parts of the universe ; and em- 
 braces the whole creation in its arms : it not only 
 displays itself most illustriously, to the blessed in- 
 habitants above ; but also reaches to the meanest 
 worm, that crawls upon the ground. The beasts of 
 the field, and the fowls of the air, and the fishes of 
 the sea, and the innumerable swarms of little insects 
 which we can hardly discern with our eyes, are all 
 subjects of that almighty care : by him, they are 
 brought forth into the world ; by him, they are fur- 
 nished with provision suitable for them : " These 
 all wait upon thee ; that thou mayest give them 
 their meat in due season. That thou givest them, 
 they gather; thou openest thine hand, they are 
 filled with good." * But here, to excite us to thank- 
 fulness, he makes choice of an instance in which we 
 ourselves are more nearly concerned ; and exhorts 
 us to praise the Lord for his wonderful works to 
 the children of men. If the goodness of God to 
 the holy angels, be above our reach ; and his bounty 
 to the inferior creatures, be below our notice, 
 yet, surely, we must be infinitely dull, if we do not 
 observe his dealings with ourselves, and those of our 
 kind. As our interest makes us more sensible of 
 this peculiar bounty, so gratitude obliges us, to a 
 more particular acknowledgment of it. 
 
 Thus, you have the meaning and import of the 
 text. I know not how we can better employ the 
 rest of the time, than by suggesting to your medi- 
 
 * Psalm civ. 27^8. 
 
DISC. V.] OF PRAISE AND THANKSGIVING. 205 
 
 tations particular instances of this goodness, and of 
 God's wonderful works to the children of men. 
 
 Let us, then, reflect on the works both of creation 
 and providence. Let us consider, in what a goodly 
 and well-furnished world, he hath placed us, how 
 " he hath stretched out the heavens as a curtain 
 over our heads, and therein hath set a tabernacle 
 for the sun;" which, as an universal la^ip, en- 
 lightens all the inhabitants of the earth. " His 
 going forth is from the end of the heaven, his cir- 
 cuit to the ends thereof; and there is nothing hid 
 from his heat." In the morning he arises, and 
 makes the darkness flee before him, and discovers 
 all the beauty and lustre of things. And truly, 
 " the light is sweet ; and a pleasant thing it is, .for 
 the eyes to behold the sun." Nor is it less useful 
 and advantageous, for directing our ways, and 
 ordering our several employments : " Man goeth 
 forth to his work, and to his labour, until the even- 
 ing. He maketh darkness, and it is night."* The 
 curtains are drawn, and all things hushed into 
 silence, that man may enjoy the more quiet re- 
 pose : and yet, to lessen the horror of darkness, and 
 to guide such as are obliged to travel in the night, 
 while the sun is enlightening another part of the 
 world, we have the moon and stars to supply his 
 room. " O give thanks unto the Lord, for he is 
 good : for his mercy endureth for ever. To him, 
 that by wisdom made the heavens : for his mercy 
 
 * Psalm civ. 23. 
 
206 / THE DUTY AND PLEASURE [SCOUGAL, 
 
 endureth for ever. To Him, that made great lights : 
 for his mercy endureth for ever. The sun to rule 
 by day: for his mercy endureth for ever. The 
 moon and stars to rule by night: for his mercy 
 endureth for ever." 
 
 Again, how wonderfully has he furnished this 
 lower world for our maintenance and accommoda- 
 tion. " The heaven, even the heaven of heavens 
 are the Lord's : but the earth hath he given to the 
 children of men. * He hath made us to have do- 
 minion over all the works of his hands ; he hath 
 put all things under our feet : all sheep and oxen, 
 yea, and the beasts of the field : the fowl of the air, 
 the fish of the sea, and whatsoever passeth through 
 the paths of the seas." t By the art and industry 
 of man, the swiftest fowls are caught ; the fiercest 
 creatures are tamed ; the strongest beasts are over- 
 come ; and all are made conducive to his service. 
 The horse helps our journey, both with speed and 
 ease ; the oxen labour the ground for us ; sheep afford 
 us meat and clothes ; from the bowels of the earth 
 we dig fuel, metals, and stones ; which are still the 
 more plentiful, as they are useful and advantageous 
 to us. Those stones which serve for building, are, 
 almost every where, ready at hand; while rubies and 
 diamonds, and other such glittering trifles, are found 
 but in a few places of the world, and obtained with 
 a great deal of toil. And to what hardship should 
 all sort of artificers be put, if iron were as scanty as 
 gold ? The surface of the earth yields grass for the 
 * Psalm cxv. 16. f Psalm viii. 6, 7, 8. 
 
DISC. V.] OF PRAISE AND THANKSGIVING. 207 
 
 cattle, and herb for the service of man ; and wine 
 that maketh glad the heart of man, and bread 
 which strengthens his heart. These it affords us, 
 from time to time ; and, while we are spending the 
 productions of one year, God is providing for us 
 against another. There is no small variety of sea- 
 sons and influences, which concur for the production 
 of that corn, which we murmur for so much when 
 we want it, and value so little when it abounds. The 
 winter cold, must temper and prepare the earth ; the 
 gentle spring, must cherish and foment the seed ; 
 vapours must be raised, and condensed into clouds, 
 and squeezed out and sifted into little drops, to 
 water and refresh the ground ; and then, the sum- 
 mer heat must ripen and digest the corn, before it 
 be fit to be cut down. " Thou visitest the earth and 
 waterest it : thou greatly enrichest it with the river 
 of God which is full of water : thou preparest them 
 corn, when thou hast so provided for it. Thou 
 waterest the ridges thereof abundantly : thou settlest 
 the furrows thereof: thou makest it soft with 
 showers; thou blessest the springing thereof: thou 
 crownest the year with thy goodness ; and all thy 
 paths drop fatness. They drop upon the pastures 
 of the wilderness ; and the little hills rejoice on 
 every side. The pastures are clothed with flocks ; 
 the valleys also are covered over with corn ; they 
 shout for joy, they also sing."* 
 
 " O Lord, how wonderful are thy works ! in 
 wisdom hast thou made them all : the earth is full 
 
 * Psalm Ixv. 9, 10, 11, 12, 13. 
 
208 THE DUTY AND PLEASURE [SCOUGAL.' 
 
 of thy riches. So is the great and wide sea, wherein 
 are things creeping innumerable, both small and 
 great fishes. There go the ships," those great 
 engines of traffic and commerce, by which every 
 country is easily furnished with the productions of 
 another. And, indeed, it is a wonderful and asto- 
 nishing contrivance of nature, that men should be 
 easily transported to the remotest places, in such 
 floating houses, and carried, so to speak, upon the 
 wings of the wind ; that they should be able to find 
 out their way, in the widest ocean and darkest 
 night, by the direction of a trembling needle, and 
 by the unaccountable influence of a sorry stone. 
 " They that go down to the sea in ships, that do 
 business in great waters : these men see the works 
 of the Lord, and his wonders in the deep. For he 
 commandeth, and raiseth the stormy wind, which 
 lifteth up the waves thereof. They mount up to 
 the heaven, they go down again to the depths, 
 their soul is melted because of trouble. They reel 
 to and fro, and stagger like a drunken man, and 
 are at their wits' end. Then they cry unto the 
 Lord, in their trouble, and he bringeth them out 
 of their distresses. He maketh the storm a calm, 
 so that the waves thereof are still. Then are they 
 glad, because they are quiet ; so he bringeth them 
 unto the desired haven. Oh that men would there- 
 fore praise the Lord for his goodness, and for 
 all the wonders that he doeth for the children of 
 men." * 
 
 * Psalm, ciii. 27. &c. 
 
DISC. V.] OF PRAISE AND THANKSGIVING. 209 
 
 But now, we are fallen, unawares, from the works 
 of creation, to those of Providence. Indeed, it is 
 hard to keep to any exact method, in a subject so 
 copious ; where one thing obtrudes itself upon us, 
 before we have done with another. Let us call 
 back our thoughts, to a more orderly consideration 
 of that bountiful providence, which follows us from 
 time to time. We are infinitely indebted to the 
 divine goodness, before we see the light of the 
 world. " He poureth us out as milk, and curdleth 
 us like cheese. He clothes us with skin and flesh, 
 and fenceth us with bones and sinews. He grant- 
 eth us life and favour, and his visitation preserveth 
 our spirit." * This is so entirely the work of God, 
 that the parents do not so much as understand 
 how it is performed j for, who knows the way of the 
 spirit, how it comes to enlighten a piece of matter ; 
 or how the bones grow, in the womb of her that 
 is with child? " I will praise thee, for I am fear- 
 fully and wonderfully made : marvellous are thy 
 works, and that my soul knoweth right well. My 
 substance was not hid from thee, when I was made 
 in secret, and curiously wrought in the lowest parts 
 of the earth. Thine eyes did see my substance 
 yet being unperfect, and in thy book were all my 
 members written; which in continuance were 
 fashioned, when as yet there was none of them. 
 How precious also are thy thoughts unto me, O 
 God ! How great is the sum of them ! " t Nine 
 
 * Job, x. 10, 11, 12. f Psalm cxxxix. 14, 15, 16, 17. 
 
 P 
 
210 THE DUTY AND PLEASURE [SCOUGAL. 
 
 months ordinarily pass in the forming of this 
 curious and wonderful piece, before it be exposed 
 to the view of the world ; and then, the prisoner is 
 released from that narrow confinement, and the 
 mother and the child are delivered together. The 
 mother forgetteth her anguish and pangs, for joy 
 that a man child is born into the world. The poor 
 infant is naked and weak, ready to expire for 
 hunger and cold, unable to do any thing for itself 
 but weep and cry : but he that brought it into the 
 world, has already provided for its sustentation. 
 The mother's breasts are filled with a whole- 
 some and delicious liquor, which fails not, from 
 time to time ; but is invisibly supplied, like the 
 widow of Sarepta's oil, till the child become ca- 
 pable of stronger food. 
 
 But it was not enough, that mothers should be 
 enabled to sustain their infants, unless they had 
 been also powerfully inclined to it ; and, therefore, 
 God hath implanted in them those bowels of kind- 
 ness and compassion, which prompts them to the 
 most tender and affectionate care, and makes them 
 as ready to help their children's necessities as their 
 own: which, though it hardly deserve the name 
 of a virtue, being common to them with the brutes, 
 for " even the sea-monsters draw out their breasts, 
 and give suck to their young; " * yet, certainly, it is 
 an effect of the divine wisdom, that infants may 
 not want those succours, which would never have 
 
 * Lam. iv. 3. 
 
> ^Jbs 
 0#*$ 
 
 DISC. V.] OF PRAISE AND THANKSGIVING. ^^11 
 
 jfa'sj 
 
 been so effectually secured to them by a " 
 Meanwhile, the poor infant is so weak, arid so 
 unable to endure the least violence, and withal ex- 
 posed to so innumerable dangers, that the mother's 
 solicitude and care would be to little purpose, if it 
 were not preserved by a higher and invisible power, 
 which watches for its safety, and keeps it from being 
 overlaid, when the mother and nurse are fast asleep. 
 As we grow in years, our necessities multiply, 
 and dangers increase rather than diminish ; and we 
 are still more and more obliged to God, for the 
 supply of the one, and for our preservation from the 
 other. We think, perhaps, c we have now set up 
 for ourselves ; and can provide what is necessary 
 by our own industry ; and can keep ourselves out of 
 harm's way.' But there cannot be a more foolish 
 and unreasonable thought. There needs but a 
 little consideration to undeceive us. All that we 
 project and do for ourselves, depends on the in- 
 tegrity of our faculties, and the soundness of our 
 reason 5 a happiness, which we can never secure 
 to ourselves. I chuse this instance the rather, 
 because it is a mercy invaluable in itself, and I 
 fear very seldom considered by us. What an un- 
 speakable blessing it is, that we are preserved in 
 our right wits; that we are not roaring in some 
 bedlam, or running furiously up and down the 
 streets ; that we have not our spirits sunk into silli- 
 ness or stupidity, which would make every little child 
 mock and deride us ! It is possible enough, that 
 
THE DUTY AND PLEASURE [SCOUGAL. 
 
 this should befall the wisest and most stedfast of us 
 all. A stroke on the head, a few more degrees of 
 heat in the blood, a little more agitation of the vital 
 spirits, were enough to do the business. So weak 
 and mutable creatures are we; so small is the 
 distance between a wise man and a fool. Next to 
 the use of our reason, how much are we indebted 
 to the divine goodness, for our health and welfare ! 
 These bodies of ours are made up of so various 
 parts, and withal, so nice and delicate, that the 
 least thing in the world is enough to entangle and 
 disorder them. A drop of humour, or a grain of 
 sand, will sometimes occasion such anguish and 
 pain, as render a man insensible to all the comforts 
 which he enjoys in the world : and they who under- 
 stand any thing of the human body, will justly won- 
 der that all the parts are kept in order for an hour.* 
 What a mercy, therefore, ought we to account it, 
 
 * ' Death meets us every where, and is procured by every 
 instrument, and in all chances, and enters in at many doors ; 
 by violence and secret influence, by the aspect of a star and 
 the smell of a mist, by the emissions of a cloud, and the meet- 
 ing of a vapour, by the fall of a chariot, and the stumbling at 
 a stone, by a full meal or an empty stomach, by watching at 
 the wine, or by watching at prayers ; by the sun or the moon; 
 by a heat or a cold ; by sleepless nights, or sleeping days ; by 
 water frozen into the hardness and sharpness of a dagger ; or 
 water thawed into the floods of a river ; by a hair or a raisin ; 
 by violent motion, or sitting still ; by severity, or dissolution ; 
 by God's mercy, or God's anger ; by every thing in providence 
 and every thing in manners, by every thing in nature, and 
 every thing in chance.' 
 
 Jeremy Taylor. Works, vol. iv. p. 34?1. 
 
DISC. V.] OF PRAISE AND THANKSGIVING. 213 
 
 to find ourselves in health and vigour ; no aching 
 in our head, no noisomeness in our stomach, no 
 fever in the blood, none of the humours vitiated, 
 none of those innumerable conduits broken which 
 convey them, but all the organs performing their 
 proper functions, and a sprightly vigour possessing 
 every part ? How much are we indebted to that 
 providence, which preserves us from falls and 
 bruises, and keeps all our bones so that none of 
 them is broken ; which watches over us, when we 
 are not able to care for ourselves ? What a blessing 
 it is, to enjoy the repose of the night ; that we are 
 not wearied with endless tossings and rollings, nor 
 " scared with dreams, and terrified with visions," 
 visitations, of which holy Job complains ; that we 
 are protected, from fire and violence, from evil 
 spirits, and from evil men : " I will both lay me 
 down in peace, and sleep ; for thou, Lord, only, 
 makest me to dwell in safety ! " 
 
 And what shall we say, of our food and raiment, 
 
 r Some from the stranded vessel force their way; 
 Fearful of fate, they meet it in the sea: 
 Some, who escape the fury of the wave, 
 Sicken on earth, and sink into a grave. 
 In journeys or at home, in war or peace, 
 By hardships many, many fall by ease. 
 Each changing season does its poison bring, 
 Rheums chill the winter, agues blast the spring : 
 Wet, dry, cold, hot, at the appointed hour, 
 All act subservient to the tyrant's power ; 
 And, when obedient Nature knows his will, 
 A fly, a grape-stone, or a hair can kill.' Prior. ED. 
 p 3 
 
THE DUTY AND PLEASURE [SCOUGAL. 
 
 of our houses and manifold accommodations, of the 
 kindness of our neighbours, and the love of our 
 friends, of all the means of our subsistence, and 
 all the comforts of our lives ? We are made up, as 
 it were, of a great many several pieces, have such 
 a variety of interests and enjoyments concurring to 
 our present happiness, that it is an unspeakable 
 goodness which continues them all with us, from 
 time to time : that, when we awake in the morning, 
 we shall find our minds clear, our bodies well, our 
 house safe, all our friends in health, and all our 
 interests secure. He is " a wall of fire about us, 
 and about all that we have, by night and by day, 
 and his mercies are new every morning." It were 
 tedious to speak of those more public mercies, 
 the peace and tranquillity of kingdoms, and all the 
 happy effects of society and government. I shall 
 only say, that it is a signal instance of the divine 
 wisdom and goodness in the government of the 
 world, that such a vast number of persons, actuated 
 only by self-love, should all conspire for the public 
 interest, and so eminently advance one another's 
 welfare ; that magistrates should so willingly un- 
 dergo the trouble of government ; and that a heady 
 and inconsiderate multitude should be commanded 
 and overawed by a single man. Certainly, it can 
 be no other, but that same God, who stilleth the 
 noise of the waves, that can prevent or compose, 
 the tumults of the people. 
 
 Hitherto, we have considered those instances 
 of the divine bounty, which relate to our temporal 
 
DISC. V.] OF PRAISE AND THANKSGIVING. 215 
 
 concerns. But, surely, we were made for some 
 higher and more excellent end, than to pass a few 
 months or years in this world to eat, drink, sleep, 
 and die. God has designed us for a more lasting 
 and durable life ; and has, accordingly, made 
 greater provisions for it. He takes care of our 
 very bodies ; but has an infinitely greater regard to 
 those spiritual and immortal substances which he 
 has breathed into us. And here, in all reason, we 
 ought to begin with that great and fundamental 
 mercy, which is the root and spring of all his other 
 mercies towards the souls of men ; I mean, the 
 incarnation and the death of his only begotten Son. 
 But alas ! where are those affections, with which 
 that mercy should be spoken and heard of? Our 
 dulness makes me almost afraid to meddle with so 
 high a theme. That the eternal Son of God, the 
 Wisdom of the Father, the Maker and Lord of all 
 things, should clothe himself with the infirmities of 
 the human nature, and come down from the habit- 
 ation of his glory, and take up his abode among 
 the wretched and rebellious children of men, to 
 reclaim them from their wickedness and folly, and 
 reduce them to their duty and their happiness, 
 that he should have gone up and down in the 
 world, for upwards of thirty years, in poverty, afflic- 
 tion, and contempt ; doing good and suffering evil, 
 scattering blessings and enduring injuries, wherever 
 he came ; and, at last, should have yielded up his 
 life, in unspeakable anguish and torment, to be a 
 propitiation for our sins, these are matters which 
 
 p 4. 
 
THE DUTY AND PLEASURE [SCOUGAL. 
 
 should never be spoken or heard of, without our 
 losing ourselves, as it were, in a rapture of admira- 
 tion, gratitude, and love : " O the breadth, length, 
 depth, and height, of that love, which passeth all 
 knowledge ; " which made God assume our nature, 
 that we might become partakers of His ! It is true, 
 all that our Saviour has done and suffered, proves 
 ineffectual to the greater part of mankind. But 
 surely they have themselves to blame. God hath 
 both said and sworn, " that he hath no pleasure in 
 the death of sinners, but would have them rather 
 repent and live." And, indeed, his way of dealing 
 with them, sufficiently declares the same truth. 
 With what long-suffering patience, does he wait 
 for their repentance ; what pains does he take, to 
 reclaim, and to restore them ! 
 
 It is an astonishing thing, to consider, what in- 
 dignities and affronts are, every day, done unto 
 that infinite Majesty, by sinful dust and ashes, and 
 that he does not avenge himself by their total 
 overthrow ; that they should violate his law, and 
 despise his threatenings, and defy him, as it were, 
 to his very face, and yet that he should pity and 
 spare them, and wait to be gracious unto them. 
 Were the government of the world committed to 
 the meekest person on the face of the earth, he 
 would never endure the outrages which are com- 
 mitted against heaven ; he would presently lose 
 all his patience, and turn the whole frame into 
 ruin. But God is love. " His thoughts and ways 
 are not like those of men ; but, as the heavens are 
 
DISC. V.] OF PRAISE AND THANKSGIVING. 
 
 higher than the earth, so are his thoughts and ways 
 higher than ours." And, when the obstinate wick- 
 edness of sinful creatures forces, as it were, and 
 extorts punishment from his hands, what reluct- 
 ancy, what unwillingness does he express to this 
 work ; this strange and unnatural work, as himself 
 seems to term it ? " How shall I give thee up, 
 O Ephraim ? How shall I give thee up ? O that 
 my people had hearkened unto me, that Israel 
 had known my ways ! O Jerusalem ! Jerusalem ! 
 thou that killest the prophets, and stonest them 
 which are sent unto thee, how often would I have 
 gathered thy children together, even as a hen 
 gathereth her chickens under her wings, and ye 
 would not. Behold, your house is left unto you 
 desolate ! " 
 
 Again, as God waits patiently for our reform- 
 ation, so he makes use of many methods and 
 means, to bring us unto it. He has published the 
 Gospel through the world, and brought down the 
 knowledge of it to our days, in spite of all the op- 
 position of devils and men. . He has established a 
 church, and appointed a whole order of men, 
 whose peculiar calling and business in the world, is, 
 to take care of people's souls, to instruct them in 
 the way to heaven, and, as ambassadors in Christ's 
 stead, to beseech them to be reconciled unto God. 
 These are some of his common mercies : but who 
 can express that favour and love, which he shows 
 to his own ; to those blessed persons, whom he 
 chuses, and causes to approach unto himself, when 
 
218 THE DUTY AND PLEASURE [SCOUGAL. 
 
 he rescues them from the vanity of their con- 
 versation, and from " that pollution which is in 
 the world, through lust ;" when he moulds their 
 souls into a conformity with himself, and stamps 
 his blessed image upon them ; when he visits them 
 with his Holy Spirit, and fills their heart with those 
 hidden pleasures, which none can understand but 
 those that feel them : " A stranger intermeddleth 
 not with their joy." And yet even these, are but 
 the earnest, of that great felicity for which he has 
 designed us, of " those joys that are at his right 
 hand, those pleasures which endure for evermore." 
 " Eye hath not seen, nor ear heard, nor can it enter 
 into the heart of man to conceive, what God hath 
 prepared for those that love him." And " it doth 
 not yet appear, what we shall be." Meanwhile, those 
 small and imperfect discoveries which are made to 
 us in the holy Scriptures, of that inconceivable 
 happiness, are enough to overwhelm us with admir- 
 ation and wonder. To think, that the blessed day 
 is coming, when we shall be loosed from these dull 
 and lumpish bodies ; those sinks of corruption, 
 diseases, and pains ; those prisons and dungeons of 
 our heaven-born souls ; and, being clothed with 
 robes of light and glory, shall get above the clouds, 
 and all those storms and tempests which are here 
 below ; and be carried into those blessed regions of 
 calmness and serenity, of peace and joy, of happi- 
 ness and security ; when we shall come unto the 
 innumerable company of angels, and the general 
 assembly of the church of the first-born, and the 
 
DISC. V.] OF PRAISE AND THANKSGIVING. 
 
 spirits of just men made perfect ; and to Jesus the 
 mediator of the new covenant;" there to behold 
 the glory of God, and all the splendour of the 
 court of heaven : to view and contemplate that 
 infinite power which created the world, that un- 
 searchable wisdom which orders all things, that 
 unspeakable goodness which employs them both ; 
 nay, " so to see God, as to become like unto him ;" * 
 and " beholding, with open face, the glory of the 
 Lord, to be changed into the same image, from 
 glory to glory ;"t to receive the continual illapses 
 of the divine goodness, and the constant expres- 
 sions of his favour and love ; to have our own souls 
 melted and dissolved, into the flames of reciprocal 
 affection, and that fire fed and nourished, by unin- 
 terrupted enjoyments ; in a word, to be continually 
 transported into ecstacies and raptures, and swal- 
 lowed up in the embraces of eternal sweetness, and 
 to be lost, as it were, in the source and fountain of 
 happiness and bliss ! " Lord, what is man, that 
 thou takest knowledge of him ? or the son of man, 
 that thou makest such account of him ?t and that 
 thou shouldst set thine heart so much upon him?j 
 Oh that men would therefore praise the Lord for 
 his goodness, and for his wonderful works to the 
 children of men ! O give thanks unto the Lord, 
 for he is good : for his mercy endureth for ever. 
 Blessed be the name of the Lord from this time 
 forth and for evermore." Amen. 
 
 * 1 John, iii. 2. f 2 Cor. iii. 18. 
 
 J Psalm cxliv. 3. Job, vii. 17. 
 
220 
 
 SERMON VI. 
 
 THE IMPORTANCE AND DIFFICULTY OF THE 
 MINISTERIAL FUNCTION. 
 
 PREACHED BEFORE THE SYNOD OF ABERDEEN. 
 
 2 COR. ii. 16. 
 Who is sufficient far these things ? 
 
 REVEREND and dearly beloved men, brethren, and 
 fathers. It is one of the advantages of that peace 
 and tranquillity, with which Almighty God is 
 pleased to bless the poor church, that its officers have 
 liberty of assembling together on these occasions, 
 for mutual assistance and counsel, in the exercise 
 of their holy function. And, indeed, if there were 
 no matter of public deliberation, yet, ought we 
 gladly to embrace the opportunity of seeing one 
 another's faces ; not only, that we may maintain and 
 express a brotherly correspondence and affection, 
 but also, that we may animate and excite one 
 another to greater measures of diligence and zeal ; 
 as coals, being gathered together, mutually receive 
 and propagate some new degrees of vigour and 
 heat. This, I have always looked upon, as none 
 of the meanest advantages of these synodical meet- 
 ings j and shall think myself very happy, if my 
 
DISC. VI.] THE MINISTERIAL FUNCTION. 
 
 poor endeavours, in the performance of this present 
 duty, may, by the divine blessing, contribute any 
 thing towards this excellent and desirable purpose. 
 To this end, I have made choice of a text, which 
 I hope, may afford us some useful meditations, for 
 awakening in our souls a deeper sense, of those 
 great engagements under which we lie. 
 
 The blessed Apostle, in the former verse, and in the 
 beginning of this, had been speaking of the different 
 success the Gospel met with, among those to whom 
 it was preached ; that it was not like those weak 
 and harmless medicines, which, if they do no good, 
 are sure to do no hurt ; but, like some perfumes, 
 which are comfortable and strengthening to the 
 wholesome, but troublesome and noxious to the 
 weak, so does it prove a vital savour to those who 
 receive and obey it, but a most deadly poison to 
 all who reject and despise it : " For we are unto 
 God a sweet savour of Christ, in them that are 
 saved, and in them that perish ; to the one, we are 
 a savour of death, unto death ; and to the other, a 
 savour of life, unto life." And then, he takes oc- 
 casion to consider, what a great matter it is to be 
 employed in those administrations, which so nearly 
 concern the happiness and misery of mankind: 
 " and who is sufficient for these things ? " 
 
 We shall not detain you, with an explication of 
 the words. Two things, I conceive, are implied 
 in them: 1. The importance, 2. The difficulty, 
 of the Ministerial Function. For, if a business be 
 of small concern, it is little matter who have the 
 
IMPORTANCE AND DIFFICULTY OF [SCOUGAL. 
 
 management of it ; there is no great harm done if 
 it miscarry ; any body is sufficient for that thing. 
 On the other hand, let the matter be never so 
 weighty, if there be no difficulty in it, no extraor- 
 dinary endowments are necessary, in those to whom 
 it is committed ; common prudence, and little care 
 will suffice ; there is no likelihood that it can mis- 
 carry. But the work of the ministry is at once so 
 important and so difficult, of so great consequence, 
 and so hard to be performed, that there is a great 
 deal of reason for an emphatic interrogation : " Who 
 is sufficient for these things ? " 
 
 I. First, Let us fix our thoughts awhile, on the 
 weight and importance of the ministry ; and we 
 shall find, that it is a greater burthen lying on our 
 shoulders, than if the greatest affairs of this world 
 were devolved upon us, and we held up the pillars 
 of the earth. This will appear, whether we consider 
 the relation in which we stand to the Almighty God, 
 or the charge of the flocks which are committed 
 to our care. 
 
 To begin with the first. That infinite Majesty 
 which created, and which continually upholds, the 
 earth, and all things in it, as the just Owner and 
 Lord of the whole creation, (for all are his servants, 
 and must obey his will,) is yet pleased to claim a 
 special property in some things, which he chuses 
 for himself, and employs for peculiar designs : 
 " Nevertheless of old did he chuse a house for 
 himself, and a place to be called by his name. At 
 Salem was his tabernacle, and his dwelling-place in 
 
DISC. VI.] THE MINISTERIAL FUNCTION. 
 
 Zion. The Lord loved the gates of Zion, more than 
 all the dwellings of Jacob." And the church, in 
 all ages, has thought it fit, to separate some places 
 from vulgar and common use, and to appropriate 
 them to the service of God. Again, though all 
 times and seasons belong unto God, yet has he 
 set apart a day for his worship, and sanctified a 
 sabbath for himself.* All men were created for 
 the honour of God, and are infinitely obliged to 
 serve him ; yet, because the greater part of man- 
 kind are too much engaged in worldly affairs, and 
 have their souls fettered in the distracting cares of 
 this life, and almost buried in their bodies, it has 
 pleased the divine wisdom to call forth a select 
 number of men, who, being delivered from those 
 intanglements, and having their minds more highly 
 purified, and more peculiarly fitted for the offices 
 of religion, may attend continually on that very 
 thing. Religion is every man's general calling ; 
 but it is our particular calling also : and, while the 
 labourer is at his plough, the craftsman at his forge, 
 and the merchant in his shop, the minister ought 
 to be employed in the exercise of devotion, for the 
 purpose of advancing piety, and the honour of our 
 Maker. My beloved, you are deputed, as it were, 
 by the whole creation, at least by the inferior world, 
 to present their homage and service to God, and 
 to praise him for all his works. You ought to 
 maintain a correspondence between heaven and 
 
 * See Joseph Mede's masterly sermon on 1 Cor. xi. 22., and 
 Dr. Townson's discourse on * The sabbath and sanctuary.' ED. 
 
IMPORTANCE AND DIFFICULTY OF [SCOUGAL. 
 
 earth, to deprecate the wrath of God, and to avert 
 his vengeance and plagues from mankind. Your 
 business is the same with that of the holy angels : 
 you dwell in the house of God, and should be 
 continually praising him. And this is an employ- 
 ment so holy, that, were our souls as pure as che- 
 rubs, as zealous and active as the blessed spirits 
 above, we should yet have reason to cover our 
 faces, and to be swallowed up, in a deep sense of 
 our own insufficiency. And what is sinful dust 
 and ashes, that he should stand in so near a re- 
 lation to the Lord of glory ? What is man, O 
 blessed God ! that thou shouldst chuse him, and 
 cause him to approach unto thee ? " that he should 
 dwell in thy courts ; and be satisfied with the good- 
 ness of thy house, even of thy holy temple?"* The 
 priesthood, under the law, was a very sacred and 
 venerable thing ; and no profane hand might in- 
 termeddle with the meanest offices that belonged 
 unto it. All the zeal, and seemingly religious care, 
 which Uzzah had for the tottering ark, served not 
 to excuse his presumption, when he intruded upon 
 the Levitical function : but, as the gospel-ministry 
 is so much more excellent and sublime, being en- 
 trusted with the administration of those holy mys- 
 teries, which were but shadowed in the former, 
 how pure and holy ought those lips to be, by 
 which God speaks unto his people, and by which 
 they speak unto him ; which sometimes pronounce 
 
 * Psalm Ixv. 4. 
 
DISC. VI.] THE MINISTERIAL FUNCTION. 
 
 those powerful and effectual sentences of absolution 
 and excommunication, which are so surely ratified 
 in heaven : and those hands, which are employed 
 in the laver of regeneration, and to handle the 
 bread of life ! * These are the men who assist at the 
 pangs of the new birth, and to whom baptismal 
 regeneration is committed: by those who put on 
 Christ, and are buried with the Son of God, and 
 so become members of that blessed head. Upon 
 which account, the sacerdotal function is more 
 creditable than that of kings and princes ; and we 
 owe more honour unto priests, than unto parents 
 themselves ; for they have begotten us of blood, 
 and of the will of the flesh; but these are the 
 authors of that nativity, which we have from God; 
 that adoption, whereby, through grace, we become 
 the children of the Most High.' * And, again, the 
 same Father, speaking of the sacerdotal power, ex- 
 presses it in these terms : * Men who live on earth, 
 dispense the things that are in heaven ; and are en- 
 trusted with a power, to which neither angels nor 
 archangels can pretend : for to none of these was 
 it said, " What ye bind on earth, shall be bound 
 in heaven." Earthly princes have the power of 
 binding, but it is only the bodies of men. These 
 bands that I speak of, take hold of their souls, 
 and reach unto the very heavens; so that God 
 ratifies above, what the priest determines below ; 
 and the decrees of his servants are confirmed by 
 
 * S. Chrysostom. de Sacerdotio, lib. iii. 
 Q 
 
IMPORTANCE AND DIFFICULTY OF [SCOUGAL. 
 
 their Lord. " The Father hath given all judgment 
 to the Son ;" but now, it seems, the Son delivers it 
 to the pastors of the church ; and so eminent is 
 this authority, that, one would think, the persons 
 invested with it, must needs be raised above the 
 common condition of men, and exempted from 
 human affections, and, as it were, already placed 
 in heaven.' Thus far this holy Father. Nor can I 
 pass by what he says of that ineffable privilege, of 
 the celebration of the holy sacrament, though some 
 of his expressions, being figurative and hyper- 
 bolical, have been abused by the Romish party: 
 ' When thou dost behold the Lord of glory offered 
 up, and the priest performing the sacrifice, and 
 the people round about dyed, as it were, and made 
 red, with that precious blood ; where, I pray thee, 
 dost thou conceive thyself to be ? Dost thou think 
 thou art on earth, and conversing among mortal 
 creatures ; or art thou not, rather, on a sudden, 
 transported into heaven ? Dost thou not lose all 
 thoughts of the body, and material things, and, 
 with a pure mind, and naked soul, behold the 
 things that are done in those regions above ? And, 
 when the minister has invoked the divine Spirit, 
 and performed those reverend and dreadful myste- 
 ries, and holds the Lord of all things in his hand, 
 tell me, I beseech you, in what order of things we 
 are to place him ? What uprightness, what purity 
 is required of him ! What hands should they be, 
 that administer those things ! What lips, that utter 
 and pronounce those words ! For, at that time, 
 
DISC. VI.] THE MINISTERIAL FUNCTION. 227 
 
 the holy angels stand by the priest ; the place is 
 full of blessed spirits, who desire to look into those 
 things ; and all the orders of the heavenly host 
 shout, and raise their voice together, as we may 
 easily believe, if we consider the work that is then 
 in hand/ I cannot relate all that this excellent 
 person speaks to the same purpose, but shall pro- 
 ceed to the next thing we proposed. Namely, 
 
 The weight and importance of the ministerial 
 function, considered in relation to the people com- 
 mitted to our charge. We are not entrusted with 
 their fortune or estate, nor with their bodily health 
 and welfare, nor with the affairs of state, or the 
 interest of kingdoms ; though, indeed, religion has 
 no small influence on these ; and the labours of 
 ministers, if successful, would contribute exceed- 
 ingly to the public tranquillity, and the present 
 felicity of men. But our main business lies an- 
 other way. We have to do with rational and 
 immortal souls, those most noble and divine sub- 
 stances, which proceeded from God, and, are capa- 
 ble of being united to him eternally, but, withal, in 
 hazard of being eternally separated from him, 
 4 these stakes,' as the poetical and philosophic 
 father calls them, ' between God and the devil ; ' * 
 and on us, it, in some measure, depends, to whose 
 share they shall fall ; whether they shall be angels, 
 or fiends. We may say, with reason, of our office, 
 what the painter vainly boasted of, 4 we work for 
 eternity.' t The impresses we make, shall last for 
 
 * A/x(>tcrW>7/xaTa TOV sou xat ^at/xovwv. Syncsius. 
 f ' Laboramus aeternitati.' 
 
 Q 2 
 
IMPORTANCE AND DIFFICULTY OF [SCOUGAL. 
 
 ever. My beloved, the most serious of our thoughts 
 come very far short of the inestimable worth of the 
 4 depositum/ that treasure which is committed to our 
 care. He who created and redeemed the souls of 
 men, best understands their value : and we see in 
 what esteem he holds them, by the pains which he is 
 pleased to take about them. Their salvation was 
 contrived, before the mountains were brought forth, 
 before the foundation of the earth was laid ; the 
 design was formed from all eternity ; and glorious 
 are the methods by which it is accomplished. < At 
 this, both the law and the prophets aimed. To 
 this purpose, the Deity emptied itself, and was 
 clothed with the human nature ; to this purpose, 
 was that strange and wonderful conjunction, God 
 and man united together ! ' * At this end, all the a,c- 
 tions, and all the sufferings, of our blessed Saviour 
 aimed ; for this, he was born, and for this, he died. 
 And shall we undervalue the price of his blood, or 
 think it a small matter, to have the charge of those 
 for whom it was shed ? It is the Church of God, 
 which we must oversee and feed ; that Church, for 
 which the world is upheld, which is sanctified by the 
 Holy Ghost, on which the angels themselves attend. 
 What a weighty charge is this we have undertaken 1 
 " Who is sufficient for these things?" 
 
 That these matters may yet make a deeper im- 
 pression on our hearts, let us farther consider, the 
 dreadful consequences of miscarriage in the dis- 
 
 * ' Hue magistra lex tendit ; hue, inter Christum et legem, 
 interjecti prophetae ; hue exinanita Deitas ; hue assumpta 
 caro ; hue nova ilia mixtio.' S. Gregor. Naz. 
 
DISC. VI.] THE MINISTERIAL FUNCTION. 229 
 
 charge of the ministerial function ; and we shall 
 find, that it reflects a great deal of dishonour on 
 the divine Majesty, and on our blessed Saviour; 
 that it very much hazards the souls of our people, 
 and certainly ruins our own. I say, it reflects dis- 
 honour on Almighty God ; as the faults of servants 
 commonly prejudice the reputation of their masters, 
 and as the failings of ambassadors are imputed to 
 their princes. We stand in a nearer relation to 
 God, and are supposed to be best acquainted with 
 his will, and to carry the deepest impressions of his 
 nature on our minds. And ignorant people will 
 entertain the meaner thoughts of the holiness of 
 God, when they miss it in those who are called his 
 servants. Certainly, it is no small reproach which 
 the faults or miscarriages of ministers bring upon 
 the ways of godliness, and upon the holy religion 
 which we profess. It is no small affront, that is, 
 hereby, offered to the blessed Author of Christianity ; 
 greater, without question, than all the malice and 
 spite of his open enemies is able to practise : for, 
 by the negligence of ministers, he is crucified 
 afresh, and put to open shame. And how great 
 is the hazard which our poor people run, by our 
 negligence or failings? Even as much, as the 
 worth of their souls amounts to. If the watchmen 
 be not faithful, and give not timely warning, 
 the sword will speedily come, and the people will 
 be taken away in their sins.* Like people, like 
 priests,' will still be a proverb of general truth : but, 
 * ' Causa sunt ruinae populi sacerdotes mali.' 
 ft 3 
 
230 IMPORTANCE AND DIFFICULTY OF [SCOUGAL. 
 
 if the negligence and miscarriage of a minister 
 hazards the souls of others, it certainly ruins his 
 own ; which made St. Chrysostom say, c Equidem, 
 ex ecclesise ministris, non arbitror multos servari : ' 
 words so terrible, that I tremble to put them into 
 English : and yet, if a man should speak fire, blood, 
 and smoke ; if flames could come out of his mouth, 
 instead of words ; if he had a voice like thunder, 
 and an eye like lightning, he could not sufficiently 
 represent the dreadful account that an unfaithful 
 pastor shall make. Into what horror and confusion 
 shall it cast them, at the last day, to hear the 
 blood of the Son of God plead against them ; to 
 hear our great Master say, < It was the purchase of 
 my blood which ye did neglect. God died for 
 these souls, of whom ye took so little pains ! Think 
 not, therefore, to be saved by that blood, which 
 ye have despised, or to escape the torments into 
 which, multitudes are plunged, through your faults ! ' 
 By this time, I hope it is apparent, that the work 
 of the ministry is of great weight and importance ; 
 that much depends on the right discharge of this 
 holy office ; and, that a miscarriage in it, is the 
 most dangerous thing in the world. 
 
 II. The second thing of which we had to speak, 
 is, the difficulty of managing this charge aright. 
 And this will appear, if we consider, 1. The end 
 and design of the ministerial function : 2. The im- 
 pediments which we have to overcome, in the pro- 
 secution of that end : and, 3. The several sorts of 
 duties and exercises, incumbent upon us. 
 
DISC. VI.] THE MINISTERIAL FUNCTION. 231 
 
 1. As for the first : the great business of our calling 
 is, to advance the divine life in the world ; to make 
 religion sway and prevail ; to frame and mould the 
 souls of men into a conformity to God, and superin-* 
 duce the lineaments of his blessed image upon them ; 
 to enlighten their understandings, inform their 
 judgments, rectify their wills, order their passions,- 
 and sanctify all their affections. The world lieth 
 in sin ; and it is our office to awaken men out of 
 their deadly sleep ; to rescue them out of that 
 dismal condition. We are the instruments of God, 
 for effectuating these great designs : and, though^ 
 when we have done what lies in our power, we be 
 not accountable for the success, yet nothing below 
 complete success should be our aim : and we should 
 never cease our endeavours, until that gracious 
 change be wrought in every person committed to 
 our charge. Now, if any think this an easy work,- 
 let them pitch on some person of their acquaintance, 
 whom they know to be addicted to some one par- 
 ticular vice, and try whether it be easy to reclaim 
 him. Persuade the drunkard, if you can, to for- 
 sake his cups ; the covetous wretch, to part with 
 his money ; reason but the wild gallant into serious 
 thoughts, and a grave and sober deportment ; try 
 to purge your neighbourhood of gross crimes, and 
 scandalous vices ; and persuade those that live about 
 you, to live at least as becomes men. In this under- 
 taking, you have the advantage of dealing with that 
 self-love, which prevails in them. You may easily 
 convince them, that the practice of these virtues 
 
 Q 4 
 
IMPORTANCE AND DIFFICULTY OF [SCOUGAL. 
 
 which you recommend, would contribute much to 
 their temporal felicity, to those interests of pleasure, 
 advantage, and honour, for which they have the 
 greatest regard ; and yet, you shall find even this 
 task, not easy to be performed. But, to raise men 
 to the greatest heights of mortification and self- 
 denial; to make them truly humble, meek, and 
 resigned to the will of God ; to overpower that 
 selfish principle, which is so deeply rooted in the 
 constitution of our souls, and which so readily in- 
 sinuates itself into all our affections and designs ; so 
 to place divine love and universal charity upon the 
 throne, that the honour of God, and the welfare of 
 their fellow creatures, may be as dear to men, as 
 their own concerns ; to have religion become another 
 nature unto them, and they, as it were, a living law 
 unto themselves : this, this is so great and wonder- 
 ful a change, that, as Omnipotence only is able to 
 produce it, so, certainly, they have a mighty task, 
 who are employed as instruments in its production. 
 Again ; let me appeal to the conscience and ex- 
 perience of every one, what difficulty they find, in 
 dealing with their own souls, in regulating their 
 own passions, and in mortifying their own corrupt 
 affections : yet here, we have the advantage of a 
 nearer application ; we can carry home our reasons, 
 with more force upon ourselves, than upon others ; 
 our thoughts and meditations must be more clear 
 and lively, than our words and expressions are. If 
 it be hard, then, to persuade ourselves to be good, it 
 is, surely, much harder to persuade others to be so* 
 
DISC. VI.] THE MINISTERIAL FUNCTION. 233 
 
 2. Consider, in tne next place, the enemies 
 whom we must encounter; enemies, that oppose 
 the design of our employments. "We wrestle not 
 against flesh and blood, but against principalities and 
 powers." All the forces of hell are up in arms against 
 us ; all the powers of darkness continually oppose us ; 
 and little do we know those hidden arts, by which 
 these accursed spirits apply themselves to the souls 
 of men, to suggest and insinuate their temptations. 
 The world, also, with all its cares and pleasures, is 
 daily fighting against us ; and there is no estate or 
 condition in it, which is not surrounded with a 
 thousand temptations. The poor, are so much 
 taken up in providing for the necessities of this 
 life, that they can hardly be persuaded to think 
 upon another. The rich, are commonly drowned 
 in sensual pleasures ; and our Saviour tells us, " It 
 is easier for a camel to go through the eye of a 
 needle, than for a rich man to enter into the king- 
 dom of heaven." The influence of sensual objects 
 is very strong. And, though the possessions of 
 the other world be as far beyond our enjoyments 
 here, as this world is above nothing ; yet, because 
 the things of this world are present, and are ever 
 and anon offering themselves unto us, and bearing 
 upon our senses, therefore they too frequently pre- 
 vail, against all the persuasions of reason, and reli- 
 gion too. And what shall we say of the evil com- 
 pany and bad example, that inveigle the souls 
 of men? We, perhaps, see them once a week, 
 and bring them to some degree of sobriety, and a 
 
IMPORTANCE AND DIFFICULTY OF [SCOUGAL. 
 
 sound mind ; but then, their wicked neighbours, 
 and the companions of their sin, meet them every 
 day, and, by their counsel and example, obliterate 
 any good impression which has been made upon 
 them : and thus, we lose more in a week, than we 
 are able to recover in a whole year. But the 
 greatest enemies we have, are those within the 
 souls of men ; their depraved affections, their in- 
 ordinate desires, and their corrupt inclinations. 
 When physicians undertake the cure of bodily dis- 
 tempers, they have the consent of the party ; he is 
 ready to comply with their prescriptions. But our 
 greatest difficulty, is in dealing with the wills of men, 
 and making them consent to be cured. They hug 
 the disease, and shun the medicine as poison, and 
 have no desire to be well. Hence it is, that they do 
 their utmost, to keep us strangers to their souls ; 
 and take as much pains, to conceal their inward dis- 
 tempers, as they ought to do in revealing them. 
 We have justly shaken off the tyranny of the Romish 
 confession : but, alas ! our people go too far in the 
 other extreme ; and, because they are not obliged 
 to tell every thing to their pastors, in effect, they 
 acquaint them with nothing. Perhaps some persons, 
 lying under some terrors and trouble of mind, may 
 apply themselves to us, to give vent to the fire 
 that burns within them ; but otherwise, they con- 
 tent themselves to see us in the pulpit, and care not 
 how little we be acquainted with their temper and 
 conduct. It will be long, ere any come to tell us, 
 that they find themselves proud, or passionate, or 
 
DISC. VI.] THE MINISTERIAL FUNCTION. 235 
 
 revengeful, and inquire how they shall get these 
 vices subdued ; that they are covetous and uncha- 
 ritable, and beseech us to tell them how they shall 
 amend ; to acquaint us with their temptations, and 
 to learn the fittest methods to oppose them. We 
 are seldom troubled with addresses of this nature ; 
 and it is hard to do any thing towards a cure, when 
 they will not let us know the disease. 
 
 3. The difficulty of the ministerial function will 
 further appear, if we will consider its several 
 duties and exercises. We shall but touch some 
 of them, at present, and may, perhaps, have occa- 
 sion to speak more in the application. 
 
 Catechizing is a necessary but painful office. It 
 is no small toil, to tell the same things, a thou- 
 sand times, to dull and ignorant people, who, per- 
 haps, shall know but little when we have done. It 
 is this laborious exercise, thatsometimes tempts a 
 minister to envy the condition of those who gain 
 their living by the sweat of their brows, without 
 the toil and distraction of their spirits. 
 
 Preaching is an exercise of which many are am- 
 bitious ; none more, than those who are least qua- 
 lified. And, it is probable, that the desire of this 
 liberty is no small temptation to some of our giddy 
 people, to go over to that sect and party, where all 
 ranks, and both sexes, are allowed the satisfaction 
 to hear themselves talk in public. But it is not so 
 easy a matter, to perform this task aright ; to stand 
 in the presence of God, and to speak to His people, 
 in His name, with that plainness and simplicity, that 
 
236 IMPORTANCE AND DIFFICULTY OF [SCOUGAL 
 
 seriousness and gravity, that zeal and concern, 
 which the business requires ; to accommodate our- 
 selves to the capacity of the common people, 
 without disgusting our more knowing hearers by 
 the insipid flatness of our discourse ; to excite and 
 awaken drowsy souls, without terrifying and dis- 
 turbing more tender consciences : to bear home 
 the convictions of sin, without the appearance of 
 any personal reflection ; in a word, to approve 
 ourselves unto God, as " workmen that need not 
 be ashamed, rightly dividing the word of truth." * 
 
 Discipline is an edged tool ; and they had needs 
 be no fools that meddle with it. It is a hard thing, 
 to manage the processes of the censures of the 
 church, with such care and prudence, that we may 
 neither encourage flagitious persons, by our remiss- 
 ness ; nor irritate others, by needless severity ; nor 
 give advantage to captious and troublesome men, 
 for want of some legal formality. 
 
 But, certainly, the greatest and most difficult 
 work of a minister is, to apply himself particularly, 
 to the several persons under his charge ; to acquaint 
 himself with their behaviour, and the temper of 
 their souls ; to redress what is amiss, and to prevent 
 their future miscarriages. Without this private 
 work, his other endeavours will do little good. 
 And, considering the great variety that is among 
 the humours and dispositions of men, equal, 
 almost, to that of their faces, this must needs be an 
 infinite labour. ' It is the art of arts, and the most 
 * 2 Tim. ii, 15. 
 
DISC. VI. J THE MINISTERIAL FUNCTION. \\*?. 23J 
 
 ^C- 
 
 difficult of all sciences, to govern such a manifold 
 and various creature as man.' * And another 
 
 Gregory has written a whole tractate, * Of the 
 diversity there is amongst men's tempers, and the 
 several ways of dealing with them.' What a mar- 
 tyrdom is it, for some modest and bashful tempers, 
 when they find themselves obliged to use freedom 
 and severity, in reproving the faults of those who, 
 in quality or age, are above themselves! And, 
 what a hard matter it is, to deal with people that 
 are ready to leave the world, and enter upon 
 eternity ; when their souls, as it were, hang on 
 their lips, and they have one foot, as we use to 
 say, already in the grave ! The minister is seldom 
 sent for, till the physician has given the patient 
 over : and then, they beg of him to dress their souls 
 for heaven, when their winding-sheet is preparing, 
 and their friends are almost ready to dress the 
 body for the funeral. Now, though some of these 
 have lived well, and, like the wise virgins, have oil 
 in their lamps ; yet, it is a great matter to calm 
 them, and to dispose their souls for that great 
 change, which they are presently to undergo. But, 
 alas! it fares otherwise with the greater part. 
 They are yet strangers to the ways of religion ; the 
 work of their salvation is yet to begin ; their pas- 
 sions to be mortified, their corruptions subdued, the 
 whole frame of their souls to be changed: and, 
 though they have scarce so much strength as to 
 turn them on their beds, yet their warfare against 
 * Gregor. Naz. Orat. Apologet. 
 
38 IMPORTANCE AND DIFFICULTY OF [^SCOUGAL. 
 
 principalities, powers, and spiritual wickedness, is 
 but newly commenced ; their work is great, their 
 disadvantages many, and the time very short that 
 is before them. Perhaps they are dull and insensi- 
 ble, and we shall hardly persuade them of their 
 danger. They will acknowledge ' they are sinners, 
 and so are all others, as well as they ; they trust to 
 the mercies of Christ, and have confidence enough 
 of their salvation ; and cannot be persuaded they 
 want any thing, that is necessary for its secu- 
 rity/ Others, again, are seized with fear, and call 
 for the minister to comfort them. What shall 
 he do ? Shall he tell them, that all their terrors 
 are just, and it is now too late to repent ? I know 
 some divines are peremptory in this case, and 
 think they should be left in despair ; but, surely, it 
 were a sad employment for a minister, to visit a 
 dying man, only in order to tell him that he is 
 damned ; and, withal, it is too great boldness in us, 
 to limit the grace and mercy of God. True and sin- 
 cere repentance will never come too late ; but, cer- 
 tainly, a death-bed repentance is seldom sincere ; 
 and it is hard, either for the minister, or for the 
 man himself, to tell, whether it be only the fear of 
 hell, or a true and godly sorrow, that he feels with- 
 in his soul. All that a minister can do, is, to press 
 him to all possible seriousness, and to resign him- 
 self to God for the event ; or to lay before him, 
 in general, the terms and conditions of the gospel- 
 covenant: the application will be hard and un- 
 certain. 
 
DISC. VI.] THE MINISTERIAL FUNCTION. 
 
 , These, and many more, are the difficulties of 
 the ministerial function. It was not without a 
 great deal of reason, that one of the Fathers called 
 it, ' A weight under which the shoulders of an angel 
 might shrink.'* Hence it was, that the holy men 
 of old have been so mightily afraid to undertake it. 
 Jeremiah, who was sanctified from the womb, and 
 ordained a prophet to the nations, when he re- 
 ceived his commission, cried out, " Ah ! Lord 
 God, behold, I cannot speak, for I am a child." 
 Ezekiel, though strengthened and confirmed by 
 God, yet went unwillingly ; yea, " in the bitter- 
 ness and indignation of his spirit." And, in the 
 ancient church, the more eminent and remarkable 
 persons were, in piety and worth, the more sensible 
 they were of the greatness of this charge, and the 
 more unwilling to engage in it. Some of them, have 
 fled into the mountains and deserts, or hid them- 
 selves' in the dens and caverns of the earth ; and 
 were more afraid to be laid hands on by the bishop, 
 than by the most bloody persecutors. Three times 
 did Saint Ambrose flee from Milan ; and it is re- 
 ported, that, after he had travelled hard all night, 
 he found himself, next morning, at the outer gate 
 of that City, which he endeavoured to avoid. Saint 
 Gregory Nazianzen, being taken in his flight, and 
 ordained by force, composed that excellent oration, 
 which is at the beginning of his works \ in which 
 he so well expresses the greatness and the danger 
 of the ministry, that the reading of it, and I wish it 
 * * Onus angelicis huraeris formidandum.' 
 
240 IMPORTANCE AND DIFFICULTY OF [SCOUGAL. 
 
 were frequently and attentively read, might, I think, 
 do much, to quell the confidence of the most confi- 
 dent intruders. Saint Augustine entered, by chance, 
 into the church of Hippo, just as the bishop Valerius 
 was speaking to the people, concerning the choice of 
 a minister, of whom they stood in great need. He 
 was presently pitched upon, and ordained almost 
 by force, after he had, with tears, deprecated the 
 charge : and, in these remarkable terms : ' What, 
 do you wish that I should perish ?' * intimating the 
 hazard he should thereby run. And Saint Chry- 
 sostom professes of himself, that, when he was 
 chosen to a Bishopric, his soul and body were almost 
 parted asunder, so great was the grief and fear that 
 seized upon his spirits ; and that he many times 
 wondered, how he had ever entered into the minds 
 of those who chose him, or of what great offence 
 that church had been guilty, which had provoked 
 God to suffer it to be committed to such an un- 
 worthy person. So sensible were these excellent 
 men of the difficulties of this holy function, even 
 in those first and golden ages of the church. And, 
 certainly, they are much augmented to us, who 
 live in these dregs of time, when religion is almost 
 banished out of the world; its principles called in 
 question, by many pretenders to judgment and 
 wit ; and its practice not only neglected, but de- 
 rided : insomuch, that men are frighted from god- 
 liness, by the contempt that lies upon itt We have 
 
 * * Quid ! vultis ut peream ?' 
 
 f ' Mali esse coguntur, ne ridiculi fiant.' 
 
DISC. VI.] THE MINISTERIAL FUNCTION. 
 
 a world of wickedness to fight against ; and " Who 
 is sufficient for these things ?" 
 
 Thus, having prosecuted the import of the text, 
 it is time to make some application of it. And, 
 first, I shall address myself to those of the laity 
 who vouchsafe us their presence ; that they may 
 not think their time mis-spent, in some hours of 
 attendance. 
 
 You see, what a weighty and difficult charge 
 they have, to whom your souls are committed. 
 Whence is it, then, that some of you account the 
 ministerial function the most useless employment 
 in the commonwealth, and that which might be most 
 easily spared ? And think, that ministers have easy 
 lives, gaining their living by the breath of their 
 mouths, as some of you are pleased to word it? 
 Whence is it, that this holy calling comes to be so 
 much despised, and that the names of Minister, 
 Parson, or Priest, are become words of ignominy 
 and contempt? And, whatever advantages of 
 birth and education a minister may have, yet his 
 employment is thought enough to degrade him, 
 and put him below every one that can pretend to 
 the name of a gentleman ? 
 
 Again, how comes it, that those small gleanings 
 of the church's patrimony, which sacrilege and op- 
 pression have left us, should yet be envied, and 
 looked upon with an evil eye; and that a clergyman, 
 who has spent his time, and much of his fortune, in 
 the schools of the prophets, to fit himself for that 
 employment in which he may be most beneficial to 
 
 R 
 
IMPORTANCE AND DIFFICULTY OF [SCOUGAL. 
 
 mankind, should yet be maligned for a small an- 
 nuity during life, which, perhaps, amounts not to 
 the gains of the meanest tradesman ? And yet, if 
 those persons had chosen another employment, if 
 they had taken Galen or Justinian for their masters, 
 perhaps they would have had parts and abilities 
 sufficient to have advanced themselves, as well as 
 others, to wealth and honours ; and would not have 
 been envied for it. My beloved, I account him 
 not worthy of the name of a Minister of Christ, 
 who cannot patiently suffer injury, contempt, and 
 envy. But, certainly, it is no good part in the 
 people, to put these upon them : it is a shrewd 
 token, that they have a small regard to piety and 
 religion ; and that their own souls are the things 
 about them, for which they have the least concern. 
 Learn, I beseech you, dear Christians, learn to take 
 more rational measures of things. Think, how 
 much you are indebted to the divine goodness, 
 which has taken so great care of your everlasting 
 happiness, as to set apart an order of men, whose 
 business it shall be to promote and advance it. Do 
 all that you can, to encourage and assist them in 
 their work ; give them the encouragement of your 
 constant attendance, and assist them, by helping 
 to instruct those children and servants, who are 
 under your several charges* Apply yourselves fre- 
 quently to them, for advice and direction, and be 
 often putting up that important question, " What 
 shall we do to be saved?" Yield them that sub- 
 mission and obedience, which is due unto them in 
 
DISC. VI.] THE MINISTERIAL FUNCTION. 243 
 
 the Lord. Go not to church to sit as judges, and 
 censure the sermon when you return. If you be 
 not pleased with it, your ignorance or indisposition 
 may be the cause, and modesty should oblige you 
 to silence. If you be taken with what you have 
 heard, spend not your time in talk about it ; practice 
 is the best way to commend it. Beware of that 
 spiritual pride and conceitedness, which makes 
 " the people to strive with their priests;"* which 
 the prophet Hosea notes as an heinous sin. Finally, 
 to sum up your duty in the Apostle's words : 
 " Obey them that have the rule over you, and sub- 
 mit yourselves : for they watch for your souls, as 
 they that must give account : that they may do it 
 with joy, and not with grief: for that is unprofit- 
 able for you."t 
 
 I might, in the next place, take an occasion from 
 what has been said, to press the great obligation 
 that lies on patrons of churches, to seek out, and 
 to make choice of, those whom they judge to be best 
 qualified ? for so high and weighty a charge ; and 
 might show, that it is no small guilt that he draws 
 upon himself, who presents a person to the care of 
 souls, of whose prudence and fidelity, it may be, he 
 hath so little confidence, that he dare not intrust 
 him with the management of his fortune, or the 
 tuition of his child ; while, perhaps, others are over, 
 looked, who might be capable of doing much more 
 service in the church, merely because they have 
 not the good fortune to be related or recommended 
 * Hosea, iv. 4> f Hebrews, xiii, 17. 
 
 E 2 
 
IMPORTANCE AND DIFFICULTY OF [SCOUGAL. 
 
 to the patron, or because they have less money, or 
 more conscience, than to bargain for the living. 
 But I forbear this : and shall crave liberty of this 
 venerable auditory, to take this occasion of doing 
 something that relates to my peculiar function *, in 
 speaking a little, to those sons of the prophets, those 
 candidates for holy orders, whose diligence and 
 study aim at the ministry, and who are to be em- 
 ployed in the vineyard of God, when the present 
 labourers shall be called off to receive their reward. 
 You see, Sirs, what a dreadful and important 
 charge it is, to which you aspire. Consider, I beseech 
 you, what great pains are necessary, to fit and qualify 
 you for it. Ordinary callings are not learned, with- 
 out a long apprenticeship ; and will the art of govern- 
 ing souls be learned on a sudden? It is not a 
 knowledge of controversy, or the gift of eloquence, 
 much less a strong voice and bold confidence, that 
 will qualify you for it. The errors that abound 
 among us, make it necessary, indeed, that you 
 should know how to deal with the adversaries ; for 
 the clergy are many times put to the pass the Jews 
 were, at the building of the second temple : " with 
 one hand they must build the house of God, and 
 with the other they must hold a weapon :"t yet, 
 certainly, your greatest work lies within, in purify- 
 ing your minds, and learning that wisdom which is 
 necessary for souls. Begin, then, I pray you, and 
 preach to your passions, and try what good you can 
 
 * Divinity-Professor, in King's College, Aberdeen. 
 Nehemiah, iv. 17. 
 
DISC. VI.] THE MINISTERIAL FUNCTION. 245 
 
 do to your friends and neighbours. Study that gra- 
 vity and seriousness, that humility and self-denial, 
 that purity and mortification, which become those, 
 who may one day stand in so near a relation to God, 
 and bear so eminent a charge in his church. Be not 
 too hasty and forward in rushing into public ; it is 
 better you be drawn than run. Nazianzen complains 
 of some in his time, who, with profane hearts and 
 unwashed hands, rushed into the holy function ; 
 and, before they were fit to receive the Sacrament, 
 would take upon them to celebrate it ; and though 
 they be not come unto the age of men, if they have 
 learned some pious words, think themselves fit to be 
 overseers of others : O prcefecturum ! O elatum am- 
 mum ! Sacer etiam d cunabulis Samuel ! Sapientes 
 et magistri sumus ! This, I say, was the humour of 
 some in his days ; and I am afraid the case is not 
 much better in ours. But if you be truly sensible 
 of what you are to undertake, you would think no 
 time too much, to be spent in preparation for it. 
 
 It remains, yet, that I address myself briefly 1o 
 you, my Reverend brethren, and Right Reverend 
 fathers. We have been endeavouring to lay before 
 you the importance and difficulty of your employ- 
 ment ; and you know them, much better than we 
 can tell you. But these things ought not to dis- 
 courage you, or make you faint under the weight, 
 but rather to animate and excite your care. As 
 Alexander said once, of an eminent hazard he 
 had encountered, ' that now he had met with a 
 danger worthy his courage :' so may I say of your 
 
 R 3 
 
46 IMPORTANCE AND DIFFICULTY OF [sCOUGAL. 
 
 office, that it is a business worthy of your zeal, and 
 of the love and affection which you owe unto your 
 blessed Master. And, indeed, you can give no 
 greater testimony of it, than by a faithful and con- 
 scientious discharge of the duties of your calling. 
 If your work is great, your reward is infinitely 
 greater; and you have Omnipotence engaged in 
 your assistance. Up and be doing, and the Lord 
 shall be with you : only let us be careful to main- 
 tain such a deep and constant sense of the engage- 
 ments under which we lie, as may awaken us unto 
 the greatest diligence and watchfulness, both over 
 ourselves and others. 
 
 As for the particulars of your duty, I dare not 
 take upon me to be an instructor, who have much 
 more need to learn my own. Yet, since I am not 
 placed here to be altogether silent, I shall offer to 
 you the Apostle's exhortation to Titus, and take 
 the liberty to insist a little upon the particulars of 
 it : " These things speak, and exhort, and rebuke 
 with all authority. Let no man despise thee." 
 These things speak. Here he points at that, which 
 ought to be the matter of our doctrine and instruc- 
 tion. We are not to entertain our people with 
 subtile speculations, metaphysical niceties, perplexed 
 notions, and foolish questions, which engender 
 strife ; but let us speak the things which become 
 sound doctrine. Let us frequently inculcate the 
 great and uncontroverted truths of our religion, 
 and trouble our people no further with contro- 
 versy, than necessity requires. Let us study to 
 
DISC. VI.] THE MINISTERIAL FUNCTION. 24/7 
 
 acquaint them with the tenor of the gospel-cove- 
 nant, and what they must do to be saved ; to inform 
 them of the particular duties which they owe, both 
 to God and man : for the Apostle had before been 
 speaking of the duties to be recommended to every 
 one, according to their several capacities and rela- 
 tions. And, indeed, it were not amiss, that in cate- 
 chizing, ministers would bring home the articles of 
 faith, by practical improvements ; both teaching 
 men their particular duties, and pressing them to 
 the performance. But it is not enough to speak 
 these things ; to tell men what is incumbent upon 
 them : we must, besides, endeavour to excite them 
 by the most powerful and effectual persuasions ; the 
 judgment being informed, we must do all to influ- 
 ence the affections : and this is the proper use of 
 our preaching ; which, though it be overvalued 
 by those, who place all religion in hearing, yet, 
 certainly, it is of excellent use, and ought to be 
 managed with a great deal of care. Let the matter 
 be weighty and grave, the method plain and clear, 
 the expression neither soaring on the one hand, nor 
 too familiar on the other.* Some good men are 
 not aware, what contempt they draw on religion, 
 by their coarse and homely allusions, and by the 
 silly and trivial proverbs of which they make use. 
 Nor should our expressions be too soft or effeminate, 
 nor our pronunciation affected or childish. Reli- 
 
 * ' Oratio sit pura, simplex, dilucida, et manifesta ; plena 
 gravitatis et ponderis ; non affectata elegantia ; sed non inter- 
 missa gratia.' S. Ambr. de Off. i. 22. ED. 
 
 R 4 
 
248 IMPORTANCE AND DIFFICULTY OF [jSCOUGAL. 
 
 gion is a rational and manly thing ; and we should 
 strive to recommend it, with the greatest advantage. 
 But, above all, let us study such a zeal and fervour, 
 as, flowing from a deep sense of the things we 
 speak, and being regulated with prudence and de- 
 cency, may be fittest to reach the hearts of the 
 hearers. The vulgar, that usually sit under the 
 pulpit, as the excellent Herbert speaks, are com- 
 monly as hard and dead as the seats they sit on, 
 and need a mountain of fire to kindle them. The 
 best way is, to preach the things first to ourselves, 
 and then frequently to recollect in whose presence 
 we are, and whose business we are doing. And I 
 think it no small advantage, that some of a neigh- 
 bouring nation have y who make some considerable 
 pause when they have done with a point, that they 
 may raise their souls towards God, and that the 
 people may renew their attention. 
 
 But, when we have done all that we can by 
 public and general exhortation, we shall effectuate 
 very little, without a more particular application to 
 the persons under our charge. Interest and self- 
 love will blind the eyes, and stop the ears, of men ; 
 and make them shift off from themselves, those 
 admonitions from the pulpit which are displeasing. 
 And, therefore, we are commanded not only to 
 teach and exhort, but also to rebuke with all au- 
 thority. Now, those whom we are to rebuke, are, 
 in the first place, persons of a different persuasion, 
 who dissent from our religion, or withdraw from 
 our ordinances ; and these must be dealt with very 
 
DISC. VI.] THE MINISTERIAL FUNCTION. 249 
 
 patiently, and with much long-suffering. It is not 
 to be expected, that a hasty conference, or an 
 abrupt disputation, should prevail with those, who 
 have been long habituated to false persuasions, and, 
 perhaps, have drunk them in with the first of their 
 serious thoughts, and religious inclinations. We 
 must first study to combat the perverseness of their 
 will, the prejudices of the world, the desire of vic- 
 tory and applause, their pre-engagement in a party, 
 and their shame and unwillingness to yield ; and 
 strive to render them meek and pliable, and sin- 
 cerely desirous to know the truth. When we have 
 obtained this, they will be both more easily con- 
 vinced, and more inexcusable, if, through weak- 
 ness, they still continue in their errors. But let us 
 never rest in having drawn over a person to our 
 party, till we have engaged him to seriousness in 
 the practice of religion ; for if he continue a 
 stranger to that, it is little matter whether he be 
 Protestant or Papist, Pagan or Mahometan, or any 
 thing else in the world : nay, the better his religion 
 is, the more dreadful will his condemnation be. 
 It was an excellent saying of an eminent and holy 
 person, yet alive in our church, That he would 
 rather be instrumental, in persuading one man to 
 be serious in religion, than the whole nation to be 
 conformists.' Another class, whom we have to re- 
 buke, are, in the next place, those of our own re- 
 ligion, for the vices and failings of their lives. 
 And this must be done with a great deal of courage 
 and zeal -, of prudence and discretion ; of meek- 
 
250 IMPORTANCE AND DIFFICULTY OF [SCOUGAL. 
 
 ness and love. More knowing and ingenious per- 
 sons may be dealt with, sometimes, by secret insinu- 
 ations, and oblique reflections, on the vices of which 
 they are guilty ; and we may sometimes seek a 
 way to reprove their failings, by regretting and 
 condemning our own. But that artifice is not 
 necessary with the less educated : having professed 
 our love and good intentions, it will be best to come 
 directly to the point. Now, this supposes a great 
 deal of care, to acquaint ourselves with the humours 
 and conversation of our people ; and the name of 
 watchmen, that is given us, implies no less. And, 
 though the lamentable vastness of some of our 
 charges make it impossible to do all that we could 
 wish, yet must we not fail to do all that we can. 
 It is an excellent practice of some ministers whom 
 I have the happiness of knowing, that seldom 
 miss any day, wherein they do not apply them- 
 selves to some or other of their people, and treat 
 about the affairs of their souls. 
 
 Another thing which may be implied in rebuk- 
 ing with all authority, is, the conscientious exercise 
 of that authority which Christ has delegated, in the 
 public censures and rebukes of the church. But of 
 this I shall say no more, save only, that it were an 
 intolerable presumption, and horrid sacrilege, to 
 make use of these, to serve the ends of our passion 
 and private revenge. 
 
 The last clause of the passage we cited, sounds 
 somewhat strange : " Let no man despise thee." 
 Surely nobody desires to be despised ; and it is not 
 
DISC. VI.] THE MINISTERIAL FUNCTION. &51 
 
 always in the power of man to hinder it. But the 
 meaning of the words is, that there should be 
 nothing in our carriage and deportment which may 
 deserve contempt. We ought still to have that 
 apology of the orator in readiness : ' Quid putem ? 
 contemptumne me ? Equidem, non video quid sit, 
 in vita, moribusque nostris, quod despici possit.' 
 There is nothing that exposes a minister to so much 
 contempt, as a vicious and irreligious deportment. 
 Even those who are profane themselves, and who love 
 vice in their other companions, yet abhor it in a 
 clergyman; as thinking it too gross and disinge- 
 nuous, to practise all the week what he has been 
 condemning on Sunday. I shall not insist upon 
 the grosser sort of vices. Nolo tarn male ominari 
 de ecclesia ; I would not bode so much evil to the 
 church, as to imagine the clergy capable of them. 
 I shall point but to a few things, which, though 
 less heinous in their nature, tend to the contempt 
 and disrespect of the clergy. 
 
 And first, the least imputation of covetousness 
 does a great deal of mischief this way. And you 
 know that will be reckoned covetousness in you, 
 which is not so in others. You will be more 
 blamed, for taking your own, than they for in- 
 croaching on their neighbours. And therefore, to 
 prevent this imputation, so far as the meanness 
 of a minister's provision, and necessity of his 
 family, will permit, he should show himself frank 
 and liberal in his dealings, especially with the 
 poorer sort 
 
IMPORTANCE AND DIFFICULTY OF [SCOUGAL. 
 
 Another occasion of contempt is, the too much 
 frequenting the company of the laity, and a 
 vain and trifling conversation among them. It 
 was a wise saying, whoever he was that spoke it, 
 * Quotidiana clericorum cum laicis conversatio, 
 contemptibiles ipsos reddit.' And that of Hierom 
 to Nepotian is very observable, * Facile contem- 
 nitur clericus, si ad prandium invitatus saepius 
 veniat.' A minister, in his conversation, ought 
 carefully to avoid all foolish and excessive jesting, 
 and immoderate mirth. I could never think it a 
 good character of a clergyman, to call him a merry 
 fellow, or a notable droll ; and yet, I do not con- 
 demn all cheerfulness and freedom, nor the inno- 
 cent exercise of wit: but it is one thing to make 
 use of these now and then, when they come in our 
 way ; and another, to search and hunt after them ; 
 and those who have the knack of it, are ready 
 enough to fall into excess. 
 
 A third thing which will bring a clergyman into 
 contempt, is, an unallowable patience, in hearing 
 his Master dishonoured, by the oaths and profane 
 talk of those of whom he stands in awe. My 
 brethren, if we had no more but the common 
 principles of ingenuousness and honour, they might 
 make us resent these, as greater affronts than if 
 men should spit in our faces : and yet this is but 
 one of the meanest engagements that lie upon 
 us, to check these exorbitancies with the greatest 
 severity. 
 
 I shall name but another, and it is this : when 
 
DISC. VI.] THE MINISTERIAL FUNCTION. 253 
 
 men, on purpose to avoid this contempt, would 
 seem to disclaim their employment, by imitating 
 the habit and deportment of secular persons ; when 
 they study the gentleman so much, that they for- 
 get the clergyman. If we be ashamed of our own 
 employment, no wonder if others despise it. Far 
 different were the thoughts of that worthy gentle- 
 man, and excellent minister, whom I named be- 
 fore, that sweet singer of Israel, Mr. Herbert; 
 who, the same night that he was admitted into the 
 office of the ministry, said to his friend, ( I now 
 look back, on my aspiring thoughts, and I think 
 myself more happy, than if I had obtained what I 
 so ambitiously thirsted for. And I can now behold 
 the court with an impartial eye, and see plainly, 
 that it is made up of fraud, and titles, and flattery, 
 and many such other imaginary painted pleasures. 
 My greatest ambition, from henceforth shall be, 
 that I bring glory to my Jesus, whom I have this 
 day taken to be my master and governor ; and I am 
 so proud of his service, that I will always observe 
 and obey, and do his will, and always call him, 
 Jesus, my master. I will always contemn my birth, 
 and any title or dignity that can be conferred upon 
 me, when I shall compare them with the title of 
 being a Priest, and serving at the altar of Jesus, 
 my master.'* 
 
 I am afraid I have incroached too far on your 
 patience. I shall close all, with a serious obtest- 
 ation of our great Apostle to Timothy, which, you 
 * Izaac Walton's Life of George Herbert. ED. 
 
THE MINISTERIAL FUNCTION. [SCOUGAL, 
 
 may believe, I durst not utter in my own name, 
 but in the name of the great Master of us all : " I 
 charge thee before God, and the Lord Jesus Christ, 
 who shall judge the quick and the dead at his ap- 
 pearing, and his kingdom: preach the word, be 
 instant in season, and out of season ; reprove, re- 
 buke, exhort with all long-suffering and doctrine." 
 And the Lord, of his mercy, so assist and prosper 
 us all in his own work, that we may be the happy 
 instruments of advancing his kingdom, and the 
 welfare of souls, through Jesus Christ our Lord. 
 
DEVOUT MEDITATIONS: 
 
 A COLLECTION OF THOUGHTS 
 
 UPON 
 
 RELIGIOUS 
 AND PHILOSOPHICAL SUBJECTS. 
 
 THE HON. CHARLES HOW. 
 
* Sir, I pray, give my brother Farrer an account of the decaying con- 
 dition of my body, and tell him, I beg him to continue his daily prayers 
 for me : and let him know, that I have considered, that God only is 
 what he would be ; and that I am, by his grace, become now so like 
 him, as to be pleased with what pleaseth him : and tell him, that I do 
 not repine, but am pleased with my want of health : and tell him, my 
 heart is fixed on that place, where true joy is only to be found : and that 
 I long to be there, and do -wait for my appointed change, with hope 
 and patience.' GEORGE HERBERT. 
 
"^,3* 
 
 MEDITATIONS, 
 
 $ 
 - 
 
 I. I HERE purpose, by the grace of my good God, 
 which I most v humbly, beg that he will be pleased 
 always plentifully to afford me, to write down some 
 meditation or reflection, as often as I can con- 
 veniently, from this time forward. And that for 
 these two reasons : first, to oblige myself frequently 
 to enter into a serious contemplation of the great 
 God, and of the most proper means to render my- 
 self acceptable to him : and next, that, by help of 
 these meditations and reflections, I may be able to 
 make a judgment of the state and condition of my 
 mind for the time past, and to compare it with that 
 of the present, in order to make my life as uniform 
 as is possible in all virtue : for all which pur- 
 poses, I most humbly beg the assistance of my 
 gracious God. 
 
 II. There is one picture which a man should be 
 drawing all the days of his life ; the picture of God 
 upon his soul : and, though the resemblance must 
 needs be extremely faint and imperfect, yet, by a 
 constant application and meditation upon the 
 
258 DEVOUT MEDITATIONS. [HOW. 
 
 beauties of the original, he cannot fail to make an 
 admirable piece. 
 
 III. Prayer, unaccompanied with a fervent love 
 of God, is like a lamp unlighted ; the words of the 
 one, without love being as unprofitable, as the oil 
 and cotton of the other, without flame. 
 
 IV. Faith is as necessary to the soul, as the sun 
 is to the world : were it not for these bright prolific 
 lights, both the one and the other must remain 
 dark and fruitless. 
 
 V. Had we, (what we can only have by a divine 
 illumination of our reason, which I beg of my good 
 God to vouchsafe me,) had we, I say, true notions 
 of God, and eternity, right notions of ourselves, 
 and of the world, they could not fail to create in 
 us thoughts full of humility towards ourselves, full 
 of contempt towards the world, full of the highest 
 adoration towards God, and full of earnestness to 
 acquire a happy eternity. 
 
 VI. The faculty of thinking justly, is a more 
 desirable talent than that of eloquence in speaking; 
 the one being in order to an advantage only in ex- 
 pectation, whereas the other is the assured mark of 
 a mighty advantage already received ; the one 
 tends to the advancement of interest or reputation, 
 the other to the increase of wisdom and virtue ; the 
 one may make a man more agreeable to the world, 
 the other will infallibly render him most agreeable 
 to himself, and, what is infinitely more valuable, 
 most acceptable to God. 
 
HOW.] DEVOUT MEDITATIONS. $59 
 
 VII. My adorable God, I humbly beseech thee 
 to accept the sacrifice I here, in all humility, and, 
 I trust, sincerity, desire to make thee, of the re- 
 mainder of my life ; to be entirely employed, with 
 the utmost vigour, both of my soul and body, in thy 
 service and adoration. And I humbly implore thee, 
 to bestow upon me every grace, and every virtue, 
 which may render me acceptable to thee, and 
 worthy of thy service. Pardon, I beseech thee, all 
 the heinous sins and offences of my life past, for 
 the sake of thy blessed Son, my Saviour Jesus Christ; 
 and be pleased to bestow upon me, a stedfast faith, 
 an ardent love, an humble and perfect obedience, 
 and a will, capable of no other inclination, than 
 what it shall continually receive from the absolute 
 guidance of thy divine will ; to which, I beg it may 
 be ever perfectly subservient, with all readiness and 
 cheerfulness. And, if any action of my life, or 
 thought of my soul, should ever, in the least, be 
 contradictory to it, I heartily renounce both that 
 and myself. My good God, as I could not have 
 taken this resolution without thy particular mercy, 
 so, I know, that I shall never be able to maintain it, 
 without thy continual assistance. Give me, there- 
 fore, of thy great goodness, entirely to overcome 
 all my passions, and to contract and draw all my 
 affections into one constant and ever-flowing stream 
 of love to thee. Let neither the world, nor life 
 itself, be ever able to withdraw the least part of 
 them from this channel. But, as all my thoughts 
 
260 DEVOUT MEDITATIONS. [HOW. 
 
 and actions are continually before thee, so I humbly 
 beseech thee, that they may never be unworthy of 
 thy divine presence, for Jesus Christ his sake, thy 
 blessed Son, my merciful Redeemer. 
 
 VIII. That is an admirable expression in the first 
 collect in the morning prayer, " Thy service is 
 perfect freedom." And a noble freedom it is in- 
 deed, to have the soul released from the insup- 
 portable slavery of ignorance and vice, and set at 
 liberty, to range in the spacious and delicious plains 
 of wisdom and virtue ; to have it delivered from 
 the harsh and turbulent tyranny of insulting pas- 
 sions, and established under the gentle and delight- 
 ful government of right reason. O my good God, 
 grant my soul this happy freedom, and set my 
 heart at liberty, that I may cheerfully run the ways 
 of thy blessed commandments, and suffer no im- 
 pediment to obstruct my course ! 
 
 IX. Nothing can be truly valuable, that will 
 not be valuable an hundred years together. To 
 demonstrate this truth to our understanding, we have 
 but to consider the millions of years that have pre- 
 ceded this hundred years, and the vast eternity 
 that preceded them ; the millions of years that 
 must succeed this hundred years, and the bound- 
 less eternity that will succeed them : and, after a 
 serious and just comparison between the one and 
 the other, we shall find a hundred years a most 
 contemptible portion of time. After the same 
 manner, we have but to consider riches, honour, 
 reputation, and even life itself; they must all 
 
HOW.] DEVOUT MEDITATIONS. 
 
 have an end, as to any particular person, within 
 a much shorter compass, than that of an hundred 
 years : and, upon such a consideration, we shall be 
 forced to acknowledge, that our contempt would 
 be bestowed upon them, with much more reason 
 and justice, than that high esteem and veneration 
 which most men think their due. And it is, in- 
 deed, much more worthy of a wise man, to labour 
 to despise, rather than to procure them, and to seek 
 his felicity, more in the contempt, than in the 
 enjoyment of them.* 
 
 X. The great uncertainty and inconstancy so 
 generally observed in mankind, is, doubtless, from 
 this cause, that all their fancies and imaginations 
 spring, not from the truth and reality of things, 
 but from their passions ; which, being very change- 
 able and irregular, can never produce regular ideas, 
 any more than a crooked rule can be the measure 
 of a straight line. A mind surrounded with pas- 
 sions, is in as miserable a condition as a country, 
 too weak to defend itself, seated in the midst of 
 many powerful princes, continually contending for 
 the possession of it : sometimes it is surprised by 
 one, sometimes by another; but it is never long 
 under the government of the same master ; nor can 
 it have the benefit to be governed by settled and 
 
 * In this and in a subsequent meditation (sect, xv.) such as 
 are conversant in the writings of Epictetus, and Marcus Anto- 
 ninus, will discern a great connection between the reasoning 
 of our author and that of the ancient Stoics. FIRST ED 
 
 S 3 
 
262 DEVOUT MEDITATIONS. [HOW. 
 
 regular laws, which will always be altered by every 
 new intruder. In this deplorable state, is the mind 
 surrounded with powerful passions ; sometimes sub- 
 dued by one, and sometimes by another, but always 
 a slave ; ever variable and changing, but never for 
 the better. Now, that this is the true cause of man's 
 inconstancy, evidently appears from the following 
 considerations. What different ideas arise in the 
 mind, from the two passions of prodigality and 
 avarice ? How unlike are the images drawn upon 
 it by the passion of love, to those which are drawn 
 by malice and revenge ? Nay, at different times, 
 how unlike will the same passion make a man to 
 himself? How strange and ridiculous a change 
 does pride make in a man : one hour, it shall humble 
 him to act the part of a base mean flatterer, making 
 most servile courtship and addresses, to some power- 
 ful favourite ; the next hour, raising him to the 
 highest pitch of insolence, it shall make him look 
 with contempt and disdain upon all whom he thinks 
 his inferiors? When a man is thus governed by 
 his passions, it is impossible to know any thing of 
 him certainly, but his name : for, like a Proteus, he is 
 continually transformed by those passions, into some 
 new monster ; and this changeableness in himself] 
 will make his judgment uncertain and variable ; at 
 one time approving, what he dislikes at another; the 
 same things becoming, alternately, the objects of 
 his pleasure and displeasure ; eagerly pursued one 
 day, and rejected the next ; and thus, things con- 
 tinually change their shapes and appearances, ac- 
 
HOW.] DEVOUT MEDITATIONS. 
 
 cording as his deceitful passions shall 
 represent them. Now, it is easy to 
 the mind must labour with anxiety, under these 
 false representations of things made by the pas- 
 sions ; and what a comfort and support it would 
 be, to be enabled to steer a steady course : to be 
 able, truly to distinguish good from evil, to chuse 
 the one, and refuse the other ; and, having made a 
 right choice of things pleasant and profitable, to be 
 sure to have them constant, and, as such, always to 
 be approved and embraced by the judgment. Now 
 these true representations of things to the mind, can 
 be made only by illuminated reason ; and we may 
 be sure, that, such images as she draws of them, will 
 have a true likeness. And, if she were to copy them 
 over again ten thousand times, she would draw them 
 exactly with the same lineaments and features ; for, 
 where the things themselves do not alter, we may 
 be sure her pencil will not vary. 
 
 XL In order to pass a right and just judgment 
 in any case whatsoever, it is necessary to have un- 
 biassed affections. How, then, can a man, captivated 
 and inflamed with the love of sensual pleasures, be 
 capable of giving an impartial judgment, between 
 God and the world ? Or how is a man, with affec- 
 tions enslaved by vice, fit to judge between that 
 and virtue ? And yet, men, thus incapacitated to 
 be judges in these cases, are often very confidently 
 passing sentence : and, what is worse, too many, 
 seemingly unconcerned spectators, are apt to be 
 persuaded, that their judgment is equitable. 
 
 s 4 
 
DEVOUT MEDITATIONS. [HOW. 
 
 XII. Meditation is the life of virtue, as virtue is 
 the life of the soul. It is the conduit, by which a 
 happy and delightful communication is maintained, 
 between God and the soul ; through which, the 
 graces and blessings of God descend to the soul, 
 and through which, the ardour, the praises, and 
 adoration of the soul, ascend to God. It is the 
 exercise of the soul, which makes it, and preserves 
 it, vigorous and healthful ; without which, it would 
 soon become heavy and languid, void of pleasure, 
 and weary of its own, being ; and this uneasiness 
 would oblige it to seek its satisfaction in vain and 
 trifling entertainments, and debase it, at last, even 
 to folly and vice. 
 
 XIII. I suppose these words, " Pray without 
 ceasing," may very well be interpreted according 
 to the literal meaning. For, if the soul can once 
 get an absolute dominion over its passions, keeping 
 continually a strict guard over them ; if it be always 
 duly prepared, and have, in their just degrees, all 
 the requisites of prayer, which are faith, repentance, 
 love, humility, obedience, thankfulness, resignation, 
 charity, and sincerity ; though the man be not al- 
 ways upon his knees, yet, his conversation will, in 
 such a manner, be in heaven, his soul will be so 
 abstracted from the world, as to be almost con- 
 tinually exercising itself, in some act either of praise, 
 petition, or adoration of God. Which, no doubt, 
 his infinite goodness will accept as an incessant 
 prayer, though it be not accompanied with all the 
 outward circumstances of devotion : which, to be 
 
HOW.] DEVOUT MEDITATIONS. 265 
 
 sure, will not be neglected neither, by such a one, 
 at proper seasons. And, in reality, a formal and 
 customary kneeling, a lifting up the hands and eyes 
 to heaven without the heart, a cold and careless 
 uttering of words, are but the dead carcass of 
 prayer. The life of it consists, in the combination 
 of the forementioned qualifications ; without which, 
 it can neither be satisfactory to a wise man, nor, it 
 is to be feared, acceptable to the Almighty God. 
 Whom I humbly beg, to instruct and enable me 
 both how and what to pray; that none of my 
 addresses to Him, may be unworthy of so great 
 and glorious a being. 
 
 XIV. Had men but the same curiosity in their 
 inquiries relating to the essence of God, and the 
 immortality of their own souls, that they have in 
 other philosophical matters, it would carry them 
 earnestly to implore his assistance ; which is abso- 
 lutely necessary, in order to make the experiments 
 requisite for such sublime discoveries. By the help 
 of these experiments, a mighty progress would soon 
 be made, in those most profitable sciences of wis- 
 dom and virtue ; which, indeed, are the only sciences 
 worthy of our time and pains ; the only ones, that 
 can conduct us to substantial happiness in this life, 
 and to that which is eternal in the next. But hap- 
 piness, temporal and eternal, are too generally neg- 
 lected, through our ignorance of their beauties and 
 advantages. Now, the experiment I would have all 
 men try, is this : first, having made a serious and sin- 
 cere application to God, to betake themselves heartily 
 
266 DEVOUT MEDITATIONS. [HOW. 
 
 to subdue all their passions, which are so many 
 clouds and fatal impediments to the mind's advance- 
 ment in this most excellent knowledge ; to purify 
 the soul, as much as possible, from all vicious 
 and impure affections and inclinations ; and, after 
 these things are done, it were hard to conjecture, 
 what infinitely profitable, and consequently delight- 
 ful, discoveries she would be enabled to make, of 
 her own nature, and, in how extraordinary a manner, 
 the good God would be pleased to reveal himself to 
 her, being thus purified. Those happy few alone 
 can tell, who have made the experiment ; none but 
 they can know, what evidences and assurances of 
 their own immortality are conveyed by that Divine 
 Being, to souls thus disposed to receive them ; 
 what glances of his eternal brightness and glory, 
 he is pleased to dart upon them, for their comfort 
 and encouragement ; and what extraordinary mea- 
 sures of faith, how nearly approaching to certainty, 
 he may vouchsafe, for the completion of their feli- 
 city, to afford them, by the more intimate commu- 
 nication and operation of His blessed Spirit. 
 
 XV. It is of great use to reflect, that the riches, 
 honours, and pleasures, which we are apt so eagerly 
 to pursue, when past, leave no advantage behind 
 them ; and that all the pains, miseries, and trou- 
 bles, which we so carefully avoid, when they 
 depart from us, carry all their mischiefs along with 
 them.* So that it is equal, when a man comes to 
 
 * The same sentiment has been finely expressed by Mu- 
 sonius ; who was honoured with banishment by Nero. I take 
 
HOW.] DEVOUT MEDITATIONS. 
 
 die, whether he spent all his time in pleasures r and 
 delights, lying at his ease on beds of down, or 
 whether he had lain all his lifetime tormented upon 
 a rack ; whether he had lived a king, or a beggar : 
 so great are the vanities of the one condition ; so 
 short, the miseries of the other. * 
 
 XVI. That a man should not find in his heart to 
 betake himself to the solid comforts of a virtuous 
 life, for fear of interrupting or spoiling the gay 
 diversions of the world, is just as reasonable, as 
 that a man should be so much delighted with the 
 neatness of his garden, and charmed with the 
 variety of plants and flowers, and its other pretty 
 contrivances, that he could not find in his heart 
 to deface it, though he were sure to discover a 
 mine of gold by digging it up. 
 
 XVII. Whosoever would be wise, and conse- 
 quently happy, must raze out of his mind all those 
 false mistaken notions which have been imprinted 
 there from his infancy; and must endeavour to 
 expel from thence, that pernicious infection of 
 error, which it has been so long hatching from 
 erroneous customs and examples, and which, if too 
 long neglected, will prove fatal to it. Among ten 
 thousand other things, of which we have mistaken 
 
 the liberty of transferring the passage, from the vast common- 
 place book of Aulus Gellius : 
 
 Av n TT^afns xaXov jusra irovov' 6 JUEV TTOVOJ attract, TO tie xaXov yum*. 
 
 Ay Ti 7ro*n<7H5 ato-p^pov j^sfi' rtftovns' TO fj.iv n'^u o^srai, TO $ aio-%pov juem. 
 
 Aid. Gell xvi. 2. ED. 
 
 * See medit. ix. and the note there given, at the foot of the 
 page. 
 
268 DEVOUT MEDITATIONS. [HOW. 
 
 notions, I will make choice of life and death, for 
 my present consideration. How charmingly de- 
 sirable does our fancy paint the one, and with what 
 dreadful deformity does it disguise the other ? And 
 how uneasy are these wrong conceptions apt to make 
 us, by fixing our affections upon that life, which 
 we must not long enjoy, and raising our aversion to 
 that death, which we cannot possibly avoid ? Our 
 great business, then, in order to make our days 
 serene and happy, is, to remove our affection 
 from life, and our aversion from death. And, 
 to compass this, we must deface those images of 
 them both, which our deluding fancies have drawn 
 upon our minds, and set ourselves diligently to 
 trace out new lines, and more resembling features. 
 And first, to consider that gaudy blaze of life, 
 which appears so fair, and shines so bright ; which 
 is extinguished almost as soon as kindled, and, by 
 its speedy decay, becomes contemptible: let us 
 paint it, binding and fettering the soul, and detain- 
 ing it in a dark uncomfortable prison, darkened by 
 ignorance, and made uncomfortable by folly. And 
 let death be drawn in its natural shape, as the 
 friend and deliverer of the soul, approaching to re- 
 lease it from this hated confinement, and to put it 
 into the possession of that desirable liberty, after 
 which it had so long been languishing. What we 
 improperly call life, is no more of life, than that 
 which a child has in the womb ; who cannot pro- 
 perly be said to enter into life, till it is born, and 
 the midwife is thought to do it no unkind office, in 
 
HOW.] DEVOUT MEDITATIONS. 269 
 
 bringing it into the world. Why, then, should we 
 think death our enemy, for doing the same friendly 
 office to the soul ; which cannot truly be said to 
 enter into life, till it enters into eternity ; since 
 that only is worthy to be called life, which is 
 eternal, and to which it can attain, only by the 
 kind assistance of death ? Then, those glimmer- 
 ing sparks of life which it had here below, will be 
 kindled into a glorious unextinguishable flame. 
 And, instead of those faint rays of pleasure, which, 
 by the means of faith and virtue, it pleased the 
 great and good God to make shine upon it here, 
 eternal streams of joy and brightness shall then flow 
 in upon it, from the incomprehensible glories of 
 the divine presence.* 
 
 * ' He that is no fool, but can consider wisely, if he be in 
 love with this world, we need not despair, but that a witty 
 man might reconcile him with tortures, and make him think 
 charitably of the rack, and be brought to dwell with vipers 
 and dragons, and entertain his guests with the shrieks of man- 
 drakes, cats, and screech-owls, with the filing of iron, and the 
 harshness of rending of silk, or to admire the harmony that is 
 made by a herd of evening wolves, when they miss their 
 draught of blood in their midnight revels. The groans of a 
 man in a fit of the stone, are worse than all these ; and the dis- 
 tractions of a troubled conscience are worse than those groans ; 
 and yet a careless merry sinner is worse than all that. 
 
 * But if we could, from one of the battlements of heaven, espy, 
 how many men and women, at this time, be fainting and dying 
 for want of bread, how many young men are hewn down by the 
 sword of war, how many poor orphans are now weeping over 
 the graves of their fathers, by whose life they were enabled to 
 eat : if we could but hear, how many mariners and passengers 
 are, at this present, in a storm, and shriek out, because 
 their keel dashes against a rock, or bulges under them ; how 
 
270 DEVOUT MEDITATIONS. [HOW. 
 
 XVIII. Faith is the brightness of the great God 
 shining upon the soul : and virtue, which is nothing 
 else but a combination of love and obedience to 
 Him, is a light proceeding from faith. They both 
 ebb and flow together ; and when faith rushes in 
 plentifully, and rises high in the soul, virtue will 
 maintain a proportionable height ; but, as faith re- 
 tires and grows low, virtue will retreat and sink 
 also. Now our passions are the black thick clouds, 
 that cause so frequent and tedious eclipses of this 
 light of faith : and, by their interposition, deprive 
 the soul of its only comfort. They are those fierce 
 and strong winds, which keep back this tide from 
 flowing in upon the soul, both to refresh and enrich 
 it ; which, I think, is argument sufficient, for the 
 absolute necessity of the utter extirpation of our 
 pernicious passions.* 
 
 XIX. How long is the soul kept and nourished 
 in ignorance of itself, and of its original: like a 
 child of noble extraction, obliged, by some misfor- 
 tune, to be concealed, and educated as their own, 
 by poor peasants. Believing himself to be of no 
 
 many people there are, that weep with want, and are mad with 
 oppression, or, are desperate by too quick a sense of a constant 
 infelicity ; in all reason, we should be glad to be out of the 
 noise and participation of so many evils. This is a place of 
 sorrows and tears, of great evils and a constant calamity : let 
 us remove from hence, at least in affections and preparation of 
 
 mind/ Jer. Taylor, Holy Dying, vol. iv. p. 367 ED. 
 
 * When I speak of the extirpation of passions, I mean only 
 the restraint of the vicious extravagance of our affections. 
 See sect, xxiii. 
 
HOW.] DEVOUT MEDITATIONS. 
 
 higher birth, the child entertains no other than 
 mean and low thoughts and designs, suitable to such 
 a condition. But, so soon as his true parents are 
 made known to him, he quickly banishes from his 
 mind all that is base and ignoble, and, animated by 
 the knowledge of his true condition, conceives such 
 thoughts as are answerable to it. It is faith which 
 makes this discovery to the soul. And no sooner 
 acquaints it, that it has the great God for its parent, 
 than it discards all base, ungenerous designs, and 
 renounces its former trifling pleasures, and mean 
 affections, disdaining the low objects of its love 
 and desire. It is immediately filled with noble and 
 aspiring thoughts ; all its aims and designs, from 
 thenceforth, become great and elevated, and worthy 
 of its divine birth. 
 
 XX. It is wonderful that pride should be so na- 
 tural to man ; that it should take root so deep, in 
 so impotent and helpless a creature. For, when 
 rightly considered, all human power is entirely 
 founded upon human weakness : it is not the em- 
 pire over beasts, but over his fellow-creature man, 
 that is the subject of his ambition, and cause of his 
 pride. And this reflection ought to be his morti- 
 fication, that he himself is liable to all the injuries 
 which he can offer to another ; and that it is the 
 weakness and infirmity of human nature, common 
 alike, to himself and others, which renders any 
 man obnoxious to his cruelty or oppression. 
 
 XXI. Pride, by a great mistake, is commonly 
 taken for greatness of soul, as if the soul was to be 
 
DEVOUT MEDITATIONS. [HOW. 
 
 ennobled by vice. Now, that pride is one of the 
 most enormous of vices, I think no reasonable man 
 will dispute ; it is the base offspring of weakness, 
 imperfection, and ignorance ; since, were we not 
 weak and imperfect creatures, we should not be 
 destitute of the knowledge of ourselves ; and, had 
 we that knowledge, it were impossible we should 
 be proud. But, on the contrary, genuine humility 
 is the certain mark of a bright reason, and elevated 
 soul ; for, in truth, it is their natural consequence. 
 When we come to have our minds cleared by rea- 
 son, from the thick mists that our disorderly pas- 
 sions cast about them ; when we come, to discern 
 more perfectly, and consider more nearly, the im- 
 mense power and goodness, the infinite glory and 
 duration, of God ; when we come, to make a com- 
 parison between his perfections, and our own frailty 
 and weakness, and the shortness and uncertainty of 
 our beings, then, we should humble ourselves 
 even to the dust, before Him. Can the greatest 
 monarch upon earth, free himself from the least 
 mischief, incident to the meanest of men ? Can 
 he, by his own power, give vigour to his body, 
 or length to his life? Can he free the body from 
 pains and diseases, or the life from vexation and 
 trouble ? If not, what excellence has he to boast 
 of, above other men ? What advantage has he to 
 be proud of, in relation to his fellow-creatures? 
 Custom has made a wide difference, indeed, be- 
 tween man and man ; but it is a difference purely 
 fanciful, and not real ; for it must be some intrinsic 
 
HOW.] DEVOUT MEDITATIONS. 273 
 
 worth in any creature, that gives it the preference 
 to another. Titles, riches, and fine houses, con- 
 tribute no more to making one man better than 
 another, than the finer saddle to making the better 
 horse. And it truly shows a poor spirit, for one 
 man to take these paltry advantages of another. If 
 he is ambitious to excel his fellows, let it be in 
 something that belongs to himself something that 
 demonstrates him to be a better creature. Let him 
 not think, like a false jewel among ignorant people, 
 to derive a value from being set in gold. Let him 
 contend in virtue, which alone is capable of putting 
 a great and true difference between man and man. 
 Whosoever gains the advantage here, has reason to 
 value it, though it will never make him proud. 
 
 XXII. At first, it seems a little strange, that 
 reason, which is always constant and the same, 
 should make such various impressions upon the 
 minds of men. But, when we come to consider, it is 
 no more to be wondered at, that men differ in their 
 judgments and opinions, than that they are unlike 
 in their faces. For the same argument must have 
 different effects, according to men's different under- 
 standings ; as the same distant object appears dif- 
 ferently to several men, according as it happens to 
 strike each man's sight. That which seems green 
 to one, may appear blue to another : * so that, till 
 the sense of seeing becomes uniform in several 
 
 * I recollect having read, several years ago, in the * Trans- 
 actions of the Literary and Philosophical Society of Man- 
 chester,' a very interesting paper, describing an extraordinary 
 organic hallucination of this kind. ED. 
 
 T 
 
274 DEVOUT MEDITATIONS. [HOW. 
 
 men, it is impossible that any object should have 
 the same appearance to them. And it holds alike, 
 as to the operation of reason and arguments, upon 
 the mind. Reason, we know, is uniform ; and 
 whatever disputes concerning it arise, it is not that 
 there are really different appearances in reason, but 
 the difference is, in our conception and understand- 
 ings. Reason is not various, though our weak 
 judgments concerning her are so. If the sight of 
 all men were alike and true, every object must neces- 
 sarily appear alike to them, and such as really they 
 are, without any deception ; and, in like manner, 
 were the minds of all men alike, and rightly disposed, 
 all arguments and reasons would work alike upon 
 them all. But interest, partiality, pride, and other 
 ungovernable affections, cause all the disorders in 
 the mind ; and, consequently, in the world. 
 
 XXIII. The passions and affections * of the 
 mind are commonly confounded one with another, 
 and promiscuously used, as two different words to 
 signify the same thing : which I think prejudicial, 
 and apt to lead men into great and fatal mistakes. 
 For, since some passions only are taken to be vicious, 
 and others allowed to be innocent; as, by such 
 nice distinctions, the difference between them is 
 not easily discovered ; so, by men's partiality, and 
 indulgence to their own frailties and their pleasure, 
 it is to be feared, that such passions only will be 
 by them interpreted to be vicious, as do not thwart 
 their inclinations, and to which they themselves are 
 
 * The passions and affections are innocent or vicious, ac- 
 cording to their degrees or tendency. 
 
HOW.] DEVOUT MEDITATIONS. 
 
 not greatly addicted. By this means, vicious pas- 
 sions may attack us in disguise, and, at distance, 
 may hang out friendly colours ; but, when they ap- 
 proach to assault us, we shall perceive to our smart, 
 that they are enemies. Besides, I think it is 
 treating vice rather too favourably, to let it shelter 
 itself under the same name with innocence. There- 
 fore, for my own private assistance, I shall take 
 the liberty to make a distinction, between affection 
 and passion ; that, when the just boundaries be- 
 tween these two very different territories, are fairly 
 marked out, I may the better be able to keep 
 within the limits of the one, without making incur- 
 sions into the other. Now, I take the affections of 
 the soul to be the life and vigour of it ; by whose 
 warmth and activity, all its springs receive their 
 power of moving and acting ; and, without which, 
 the soul could no more subsist, than the body with- 
 out the soul : for it is by the help of the affections, 
 that it moves to good or evil, that it acts virtuously 
 or viciously. The affections may be called the fire 
 of the soul ; which, wisely managed, is ready to 
 serve it for all sorts of beneficial purposes ; but, 
 carelessly neglected, or foolishly employed, is ca- 
 pable of breaking into unruly flames, to man's utter 
 ruin and destruction. So long as this fire is under 
 the management of reason, it is both useful and 
 necessary, and still retains the name of affection : 
 but, when it becomes disorderly, and breaks loose 
 from the government of reason, then it becomes 
 pernicious and vicious, and deservedly assumes the 
 
276 DEVOUT MEDITATIONS. [HOW. 
 
 name of passion, which signifies the disorder and 
 anguish of the soul. When, therefore, at any time, 
 I speak of the necessity of eradicating, or extin- 
 guishing the passions, I do not mean to eradicate, 
 or extinguish the affections of the soul, without 
 which it cannot subsist ; but to eradicate and ex- 
 tinguish its disorders and anguish, with which it 
 cannot subsist comfortably. 
 
 XXIV. Human reason, of itself, has not power 
 sufficient to conduct a man to wisdom and virtue. 
 These are of so noble and sublime a nature, that 
 nothing but the divine influence can produce them 
 in the soul of man. Virtue may, therefore, be 
 termed a new affection, not born in the soul, but 
 introduced into it by the divine influence ; which 
 moves a man to love those things that are pleasing 
 to God, and to hate and reject whatsoever may 
 t)fFend him. 
 
 XXV. Man is both born and nourished in error: 
 he imbibes not only his nurse's milk, but her 
 errors : he receives from his parents, not his being 
 only, but, together with it, their errors also : he 
 is not only diverted with the conversation of his 
 companions, but infected with their mistakes. 
 Thus error takes the earliest possession of the 
 soul, and never quits her hold, till obliged to it, 
 either by the grace of God, or by the stroke of 
 death. Nor is it any wonder, in these circum- 
 stances, that man should be ignorant of the right 
 ends of life, and of his true business in the world. 
 It is to be feared, that too many have no other 
 notion, than that they are placed in the world, like 
 
HOW. 3 DEVOUT MEDITATIONS. 277 
 
 beasts in a pasture, to devour its product ; and 
 that their great work is to endeavour to excel each 
 other in large possessions, rich clothes, stately- 
 houses, costly furniture, splendid equipage, deli- 
 cate tables, and such other trinkets of pride and 
 luxury, and incitements to violence and injustice. 
 And this is the noble ambition, that kind parents 
 strive to kindle in their beloved children ! Great 
 God ! that men's understandings and ambition 
 should be so short-sighted, as neither to see, nor 
 aim at any thing, beyond the poor extent of these 
 impertinent vanities! And that any man can 
 think that thou hast given him a being, to be 
 wholly employed in these pursuits ! That thou 
 hast bestowed reason upon him, only that he may 
 sully it with his passions ; as if the use of it were, 
 not to give him the pre-eminence over beasts, but 
 to render him inferior to them ; for, doubtless, a 
 rational brute is the worst of brutes, as having 
 larger capacities for mischief. It is strange that 
 men can think, that they receive blessings from 
 God, not to make them more mindful of him, or 
 to excite their addresses to him, but to make them 
 neglect and forget him ! That his gifts are be- 
 stowed upon them, to rob the great Benefactor of 
 that affection, which should be the usual conse- 
 quence of his beneficence ! And that the faint and 
 forced adorations of their last breath, are the only 
 tribute due to God, as it is, too often, the only 
 one that falls to his share ! 
 
 XXVI. All men have some chief aim superior to 
 T 3 
 
-DEVOUT MEDITATIONS. [HOW. 
 
 all others ; the compassing of which, is the great 
 employment of their thoughts, and labour of their 
 souls. Other designs are carried on only leisurely 
 and accidentally, without any great concern ; the 
 soul being entirely bent upon the success of that 
 object, which it has made choice of, as its grand 
 business and satisfaction. The object of the ambi- 
 tious man, is power and honour ; that of the lux- 
 urious man, is sensual pleasure ; that of the covet- 
 ous man, is the increase of his wealth. But that of 
 the wise man, is the increase of his virtue. He 
 looks upon the world as a stage, where he is 
 placed by the great Creator, to act his part ; and 
 upon life, as the time allowed him to act it in. He 
 is diligently careful of all his actions and behaviour, 
 knowing that his fate depends upon his perform- 
 ances. He values not the hissings or applauses of 
 the inconstant ignorant multitude ; but is most in- 
 dustriously solicitous to obtain the approbation of 
 the Almighty Spectator. 
 
 XXVII. Man is the only creature in the world, 
 whose happiness is imperfect, and who is sensible 
 that it is so ; who has something in him, that dis- 
 dains the imperfection of his own being, and 
 languishes after a condition more perfect. Were 
 he, like other animals, composed only of flesh and 
 blood, he would find no more faults with his being, 
 than they do with theirs ; since the matter of which 
 his body and theirs is made, s not capable of such 
 reflections. But these are the secret repinings of 
 the soul, by which she plainly discovers herself; 
 and our attentive observations of her, will soon 
 
HOW.] DEVOUT MEDITATIONS. 279 
 
 turn into demonstrations that we have such a prin- 
 ciple existent in us. And, since it is natural for 
 all beings to seek and thirst after happiness, it is 
 necessary to know where the seat of happiness is 
 fixed. It is the want of this knowledge, which makes 
 us waste so much time in vain pursuits, and unprofit- 
 able attempts ; endeavouring to confine happiness 
 to the body, which is a prison too weak to hold it. 
 The senses which conduct it thither, are too feeble, 
 long to guard and detain it : it is always attempt- 
 ing to make its escape ; and what is worse, it never 
 misses its aim. Besides, if it has no other exist- 
 ence than the body, it must be. very short-lived, 
 and, in a contemptible portion of time, must perish 
 with the body. A man that is of this opinion, must 
 be sure to keep his thoughts always steadily confined 
 within the compass of this life and world. For, if 
 they happen to wander beyond it, they will enter 
 into dark uncomfortable regions, that will afford 
 them nothing but black and dismal prospects ; 
 which too many unthinking people find by sad ex- 
 perience. Now virtue, which I may define to be 
 the science of happiness, will give us true notions of 
 happiness, and teach us, that its true seat is in the 
 soul. This, is of a capacity large enough to contain 
 it, and of a duration lasting enough to preserve it to 
 eternity: there, it may rise to unmeasurable heights, 
 without restraint ; it can never overburthen or 
 overpower the immortal spirit. It is the poor 
 feeble body only, that is not able to support it ; 
 too weak, to bear the rapid and violent motions of 
 
 T 4 
 
280 DEVOUT MEDITATIONS. [HOW. 
 
 the soul, when filled and agitated with an excessive 
 joy. The heart is capable of supporting but a small 
 insignificant measure of enjoyment ; it may easily 
 be overcharged with it, like a gun with powder, 
 and be rent and destroyed with its irresistible 
 efforts ; according to the several degrees of which, 
 it often occasions ecstasies, swoonings, and death. 
 The heart can no more sustain immoderate joy, 
 than immoderate grief; the one is destructive by 
 too much dilation, the other by too great a depres- 
 sion ; and it is equal, whether the vessel be crushed 
 by too strong a pressure without, or torn in pieces 
 by too violent an extension from within ; which- 
 soever of them happens, the frail cask is broken, 
 and life spilt. 
 
 XXVIII. In case of temptation, it is a prudent 
 caution to avoid the encounter, when we are con- 
 scious of weakness, or unable to withstand it. But 
 I do not think it the part of a generous mind, to 
 rest satisfied in a safety, that is always owing to 
 flight. It is much braver to keep the mind conti- 
 nually exercised, and inured by imaginary conflicts, 
 till it is taught and enabled to overcome in those 
 that are real. That whatsoever temptation offers 
 itself, the soul may be intrepid; and, coming 
 bravely to the encounter, may know how to be 
 victorious by its own force and virtue.* 
 
 * What is here so forcibly and beautifully recommended, 
 would seem to be included in that pithy injunction of the 
 Apostle, Meditate upon these things, 1 Tim. iv. 15. The Editor 
 trusts he may be pardoned, for extracting the following eluci- 
 dative passage : 
 
HOW.] DEVOUT MEDITATIONS. 281 
 
 XXIX. It is a preposterous resolution that some 
 people take, of deferring to be virtuous till they 
 grow old, imagining, that wisdom is the natural 
 consequence of old age ; as if that which is the 
 greatest imperfection of human nature, were most 
 proper to confer upon us its highest perfection. 
 
 < The verb p&tTcw, which, from the want of a more adequate 
 representative, we render by the English verb to meditate, has 
 a very comprehensive meaning. Among rhetoricians, it in- 
 _ eludes all the previous discipline, study, examination of the 
 subject, invention of topics, provision of materials, distribution 
 of arguments, selection and arrangement of words, in short, all 
 the kinds and degrees of preparation which the orator employs, 
 that he may be qualified to plead with ability and success. 
 In military affairs, and agonistic games, it embraces the scien- 
 tific training, the study of tactics both in theory and practice, 
 the habituation both of mind and body to endurance of fatigue, 
 the performance of all manly and warlike exercises in time of 
 peace, the indispensable though mimic conflicts, of country- 
 men with countrymen, and friends with friends, in order, 
 when the real conflict shall arrive, to a vigorous opposition 
 to the foe or the rival, in the arena or the field. And with 
 moral writers, both profane and sacred, it has a meaning 
 quite analogous to the former two : it denotes that thoughtful 
 investigation of goodness and virtue, which flows from a heart- 
 felt interest in the subject, and which issues in uniform, con- 
 sistent, and exemplary practice ; the forecasting, also, of pro- 
 bable or possible contingencies, which may bring our virtue 
 into trial ; the habitual comparison of means with ends, of our 
 duties with our powers ; the frequent resolution of human 
 obligation at large, and of our own special obligations in par- 
 ticular, into their several parts and degrees, with respect to 
 our God, our neighbour, and ourselves ; the continued moral 
 recollection of the several relations in which we stand, that 
 there may be, so far as possible, no excess, and no defect, in 
 our dealings and communications with our fellow-men.' 
 Practical Theology, vol. ii. p. 184. 
 
282 DEVOUT MEDITATIONS. [HOW. 
 
 Long observation, indeed, gives experience ; but 
 that is a thing very different from wisdom ; though it 
 is the utmost advantage which old age can pretend 
 to bestow upon us. Now, it is to be considered, 
 that virtue is a habit of the mind, to be acquired 
 with great industry and application ; to be forcibly 
 introduced into the soul, in opposition to vice, 
 which, it is to be feared, has obtained long and 
 undisturbed possession, and which must be dis- 
 lodged with great difficulty, and by a persevering 
 resolution. Now, this is not to be effected in a 
 little time ; the inhabitants are all of its side ; and 
 it has so carefully strengthened the place, that the 
 siege must be both long and doubtful. It is 
 likely to be an achievement, which will not only 
 require the vigour of youth, but more time also 
 than old age has to bestow upon it. The chief 
 end of a virtuous life, is to give us as near a resem- 
 blance, as is possible, to God, to make us pure 
 as he is pure ; that is, to raise us to the utmost de- 
 gree of purity, of which our frail nature is capable. 
 Now, to defer this work till we grow old, is to re- 
 solve to be as unlike God as is possible ; in a 
 confident, but very ridiculous assurance, that old 
 age will help our deformity, will give us a very 
 good resemblance of Him, and will, in an instant, 
 confer upon us purity like his, after we have wil- 
 fully passed our whole life in contracting pollution. 
 So wonderful a change as this, it is indeed pos- 
 sible, for Him who can do all things, though not for 
 
HOW.] DEVOUT MEDITATIONS. 283 
 
 age, to make ; but it is such a change, as no man 
 can reasonably expect. Can we think, when the 
 purest and sprightliest part of life has been drawn 
 off in the service of vice, that the dregs are an 
 offering fit for God ? Can we think it, then only, 
 fit to please him, when we are unable to offend 
 him any longer ? This is no better, than being cast 
 upon God Almighty by age and infirmity, against 
 our will ; like mariners, who are forced, by storms 
 and tempests, upon a coast which they never in- 
 tended to come near. 
 
 XXX. It is generally believed, that the deluge 
 occasioned the shortness of man's life; which is 
 much contracted since that time, in comparison of 
 its length, in the time of the antediluvian patriarchs. 
 The viciousness of mankind occasioned the flood : 
 and, very probably, God thought fit to drown the 
 world, for these two reasons : first, to punish the 
 then living offenders ; and, next, to prevent men's 
 plunging into those prodigious depths of impiety, 
 for all future ages. For, if, in the short term of 
 life, which is now allotted to mankind, men are ca- 
 pable of being puffed up to such an insolent degree 
 of pride and folly, as to forget God and their own 
 mortality, his power and their own weakness : if a 
 prosperity, bounded by threescore and ten years (and 
 what mortal's prosperity, since the deluge, ever lasted 
 so long ?) can swell the mind of so frail a creature, 
 to such a prodigious size of vanity, what boundaries 
 could be set to his arrogance, if his life and pros- 
 perity, like that of the patriarchs, were likely to 
 
DEVOUT MEDITATIONS. 
 
 continue eight or nine hundred years together ? If, 
 under the existing circumstances of life, men's pas- 
 sions can rise so high ; if the present, short, and 
 uncertain enjoyments of the world, are able to 
 occasion such an extravagant pride, such unmea- 
 surable ambition, such sordid avarice, such barba- 
 rous rapine and injustice, such malice and envy, 
 and so many other detestable things, which compose 
 the numerous train of vice, how, then, would the 
 passions have flamed, and to what a monstrous 
 stature would every vice have grown, if those 
 enjoyments which provoked and increased them, 
 were of eight or nine hundred years' duration? If 
 eternal happiness, and eternal punishment, are able 
 to make no stronger impressions upon men's minds, 
 so near at hand, it may well be imagined, that, at 
 so great a distance, they would have made no im- 
 pression at all ; that eternal happiness would have 
 been entirely divested of its allurements, and eternal 
 misery of its terrors ; and the great Creator would 
 have been deprived of that obedience and adora- 
 tion, which are so justly due to him from his crea- 
 tures. Thus, the inundation of vice, has, in some 
 measure, by the goodness of God, been prevented 
 by an inundation of water. That which was the 
 punishment of one generation, may be said to have 
 been the preservation of all those which have suc- 
 ceeded. For, if life had not been thus clipped, one 
 Tiberius, one Caligula, one Nero, one Louis the 
 Fourteenth, had been sufficient to have destroyed 
 the whole race of mankind : each of whose lives, 
 
HOW.] DEVOUT MEDITATIONS. 285 
 
 had they been ten times as long, and the mischiefs 
 they occasioned multiplied by that number, it 
 might easily be computed how great a plague one 
 such long-lived monster would have been to the 
 world. 
 
 XXXI. Men are apt to place very narrow 
 limits to human virtue ; and, as a reason for their 
 so doing, they plead the frailty of human nature ; 
 which, they pretend, has such scanty bounds set to 
 it, that it is in vain to attempt to enlarge them. 
 Men may flatter themselves if they please with such 
 pretences ; but, I doubt, they will not pass for 
 warrantable excuses of our carelessness and negli- 
 gence. I doubt, it will appear, that if the stream 
 of our affections is too small to water a larger field 
 of virtue, it is because it is diverted for other pur- 
 poses, into other channels. Where interest and 
 ambition lead men, they can break through the 
 bounds of possibility, and march far into the terri- 
 tories even of seeming impossibility. But, when 
 virtue is our conductor, we are not ashamed to 
 stop, long before we arrive within sight of those 
 borders. In the former case, men can depend upon 
 the help of that imaginary idol Fortune ; but, in 
 the latter, they dare not rely upon the promised 
 and sure assistance of the all-powerful God. The 
 riches and magnificence of a Persian king, the 
 wealthy treasures of the far distant Indies, could 
 so inflame the soul of Alexander the Great, as to 
 make him perform actions incredible, and surmount 
 difficulties, seemingly insurmountable. But the 
 
286 DEVOUT MEDITATIONS. [HOW. 
 
 eternal joys of heaven, the infinitely glorious and 
 inestimable treasures of the great King of kings, 
 have not, it seems, charms sufficient to kindle in 
 our souls the same ardour. So much is the thirst 
 of fame greater than the thirst of virtue ; so much, 
 to our confusion be it spoken, are our passions 
 stronger than our faith. 
 
 XXXII. A wise man must take care, not only 
 to govern his own passions, but to prevent himself 
 from being governed by the passions of other men : 
 for, if we must be subject to passion, it is equal 
 whether it be our own, or that of other people. When 
 the right way is lost, it is no matter to which hand 
 we wander. Now it may happen, in many cases^ 
 that, when a man has withstood his own passions, 
 and acted in conformity to reason, yet other men, 
 guided by passion, not by reason, finding fault with 
 his actions, will be apt to give him a dislike of his 
 own proceedings, unless he be very well fixed and 
 confirmed in his principles and reason. This is a 
 matter which very well deserves our utmost atten- 
 tion ; since upon it depends, not only the peace 
 and tranquillity of our lives, but our virtue also ; 
 which will be in danger to be shaken, if the mind 
 be not steady, and proof against the reproaches and 
 derisions of the, world. 
 
 XXXIII. Most men are ready enough to reckon 
 up the income of their estates, and compute how 
 it will answer their several expenses. But few 
 employ their arithmetic to calculate the value and 
 income of their life and time ; or consider how 
 
HOW.] DEVOUT MEDITATIONS. 287 
 
 they may be expended to the best advantage. In 
 these, though they are justly accounted the more 
 valuable treasure, the beggar has as large a re- 
 venue as the king. The gracious God has distributed 
 equal portions of life and time to all degrees and 
 conditions of men, though not to every particular 
 man the same proportion ; and the sum total of 
 this, is threescore and ten years, all beyond that, 
 and many years also on this side of it, being but 
 labour and sorrow. Now, we have to consider, 
 how much of this time is likely to be spent in hap- 
 piness and enjoyment, and how much will be em- 
 ployed to less pleasing purposes. Which may be 
 thus easily computed. Twenty years may be de- 
 ducted for education, which is a time of discipline 
 and restraint, and young people are never easy till 
 they are got over it ; and the last ten years of the 
 seventy, may be deducted for sickness and infirmi- 
 ties, which very often are the portion of those years : 
 so that, these thirty taken out of life, there remain 
 but forty; out of which, a third part, being at 
 least eight hours in the four and twenty, which 
 amounts to about fourteen years more, must be 
 deducted for sleep, that sister and image of death \ 
 and then there remain but twenty-six ; out of 
 which, when the requisite allowances are taken, 
 for the time we are made uneasy with our own 
 passions, and tormented with the passions of other 
 people ; for what passes in sickness, pain, loss, and 
 affliction ; for what we consume in anxiety, respect- 
 ing things that must inevitably happen, and what 
 
288 DEVOUT MEDITATIONS. [HOW. 
 
 in anguish, for accidents irrecoverably past ; for 
 what passes in stupid and insipid amusements, or 
 brown studies, without either trouble or pleasure : 
 when this is summed up, I doubt, we shall not 
 render a much better account of the poor incon- 
 siderable remainder ; it being generally unprofit- 
 ably wasted in vice and vanity. 
 
 XXXIV. I suppose men's passions not only 
 make them miserable in this world, but are no in- 
 considerable part of their torment in hell. For the 
 body limits and restrains the soul ; so that the 
 flame either of virtue or vice, cannot, in this life, 
 blaze to an excessive degree. But, when it is freed 
 from that confinement, the passions become ten 
 thousand times more furious and raging, being let 
 loose by divine vengeance, to torment and rack the 
 vicious soul : as, on the other hand, every virtue is 
 heightened and increased immeasurably, to the 
 infinite joy of the soul that is virtuous. For, it is 
 to be supposed, that the inclinations, either to 
 virtue or vice, which the soul has at its departure 
 out of the body, are not changed, but exceedingly 
 augmented and strengthened, after its separation. 
 It is highly necessary, therefore, to endue the soul 
 with an habitual virtue, before it passes into eternity, 
 where habits are not altered, but improved. 
 
 XXXV. The soul agitated with passions, fares 
 like a weak bird in a stormy day. She is not able 
 to make a straight flight, but is tossed from the 
 track she would pursue, being lost and carried in 
 the air at the pleasure of the winds. In this con- 
 
HOW.] DEVOUT MEDITATIONS. 289 
 
 dition is the soul ; till, by a constant meditation 
 upon the great God, and application to Him, it 
 has obtained a strong and vigorous faith to ballast 
 and strengthen it, and enable it to maintain the 
 straight and steady course of virtue. * 
 
 XXXVI. Reputation and praise may be useful 
 supports to a weak virtue ; but, when it becomes 
 strong, it must cast them away, with the same 
 indignation and disdain, that a child does his lead- 
 ing-strings, when he has strength enough to walk 
 without them. 
 
 XXXVII. It is a contradiction to imagine, that 
 reputation or praise is a suitable recompence for 
 virtue. This is a reward, which nothing but vanity 
 can make acceptable : it declares a man both 
 foolish and vicious, who can be pleased and satis- 
 fied with it ; and proves, that his supposed merit is 
 owing only to his pride. True virtue, as it has no 
 other aim than the service and honour of the great 
 God, so the least and only recompence to which 
 it aspires, is his approbation and favour. 
 
 XXXVIII. It gives a greatness of soul, truly 
 noble, to a virtuous man, to consider how honour- 
 able he is made, by his being the servant of so 
 great and glorious a master. With what generous 
 thoughts, what firm and graceful confidence, does 
 the assurance of His favour and love inspire him ? 
 How much does he disdain to increase the gaudy 
 slavish crowd, that so assiduously attend the levees 
 of poor frail princes, whose beings are no better 
 
 * See Jeremy Taylor. Return of Prayers ; Serm. v. p. 33. ED. 
 
 U 
 
290 DEVOUT MEDITATIONS. [HOW. 
 
 than his own ? With how much indignation does 
 he despise a fawning courtship, and attendance, 
 upon insolent and vicious favourites, scorning to 
 pay such homage to vice ? How contemptible do 
 the vain interests and pursuits, hopes and fears, 
 desires and aversions, that so much busy and dis- 
 turb the world, appear to him, who has his soul 
 enlightened and enlarged with the love of its great 
 Creator, and merciful Redeemer ? 
 
 XXXIX. It is wonderful to consider how vast 
 a progress the ancient philosophers made in virtue, 
 apparently by the help of natural reason only. 
 Many of them, indeed, were not ignorant of the 
 inability of human reason, singly, to make men 
 virtuous ; but were conscious of the necessity of 
 divine assistance, in order to so great a perform- 
 ance. And I make no question, but many of them 
 had that assistance to the consummation of their 
 own virtue. It is astonishing to reflect upon the 
 strength of their faith, both as to the existence of 
 a deity, and the immortality of the soul ; and what 
 surprising effects it had upon them, in rendering 
 their lives highly virtuous, in begetting in them 
 the utmost contempt of the world, and the most 
 profound reverence and adoration of God. With 
 how much bravery and courage, in those cloudy 
 times, without the help and direction of that 
 compass of revelation which we enjoy, did those 
 bold and generous navigators sail in the wide and 
 vast sea of virtue ? What great and useful dis- 
 coveries did they there make ? What rich mines 
 did they lay open to the world, if men had but 
 
HOW.] DEVOUT MEDITATIONS. 
 
 possessed industry enough to have wrought them, 
 and wisdom sufficient to have exhausted their 
 treasures ? But, O merciful God ! how much 
 greater and plainer discoveries hast thou, in thine 
 infinite goodness, been pleased to reveal to man- 
 kind, by the example and doctrine of the blessed 
 Jesus ; who has brought life and immortality out of 
 thick clouds and darkness, not only into a clearer 
 and brighter, that were to say too little, but into 
 an open and manifest light ! Whose gospel is a 
 system of so refined a philosophy, so exalted a 
 wisdom, and the divine characters that shine in it 
 are so conspicuously legible, that nothing can 
 hinder us from reading them, but the darkest 
 ignorance and blackest corruption. From both 
 which, I beseech thee, O blessed Saviour, to 
 deliver me ; imploring, that thou wilt be pleased to 
 endue me with the same blessed spirit of eternal 
 truth, by whom thy holy word was dictated to thy 
 disciples ; that, by the assistance of that spirit in 
 reading, I may understand thy word; and, by 
 understanding, may evermore delight in it, and 
 conform my life entirely to its precepts. 
 
 XL. Most great and glorious God, who hast 
 appointed the rivers to hasten with a rapid motion 
 to the sea, be graciously pleased, I most humbly 
 beseech thee, to make the stream of my will per- 
 petually to flow with a cheerful and impetuous 
 course, bearing down pleasure, interest, afflictions, 
 death, and all other obstacles and impediments 
 whatsoever, before it, till it plunge itself joyfully 
 
 u 2 
 
DEVOUT MEDITATIONS. [HOW- 
 
 into the unfathomable ocean of thy divine will, for 
 the sake of thy beloved son, my Saviour, Jesus 
 Christ. Amen ! 
 
 XLI. This may be laid down as a general maxim, 
 that whosoever is not sincere to man, can never be 
 sincere to God ; nor can he that is insincere to 
 God, be ever sincere to man : for without sin- 
 cerity there can be no virtue, either moral or 
 divine. 
 
 XLII. The original and progress of virtue seems 
 to me to be this : God, in the first place, gives 
 grace to man, which grace produces faith, faith 
 wisdom, and wisdom virtue. Grace enlightens the 
 soul, and makes the objects of faith visible to it ; 
 faith having the prospect of felicity in view, neces- 
 sarily begets wisdom, or a most earnest desire, and 
 most prudent prosecution, of that felicity ; the 
 consequence of which is virtue, or a suitable con- 
 duct of our lives, for the attainment of the same 
 end. But there is another sort of faith, of a 
 wretched kind, which may arise in the soul of 
 vicious men, at the approach of death. For, the 
 deluding scene of the pleasures and vanities of 
 this world being withdrawn, a new and real world 
 will discover itself to them ; they must then have 
 faith ; their eyes can no longer then be kept shut \ 
 they must then be convinced, that there is a God, 
 from whose glorious presence they must for ever 
 be excluded ; a heaven never to be enjoyed, and a 
 hell not to be avoided. As to the mercies of God 
 to sinners, I desire to have as enlarged notions of 
 
HOW.] DEVOUT MEDITATIONS. 
 
 them, as may be consistent with reason ; having 
 abundant need of them, and humbly imploring 
 them for my own salvation. I make no doubt, 
 that repentance and conversion may be, and some- 
 times are, wrought by God Almighty, in a mo- 
 ment ; and, he that sees its sincerity, may, without 
 further proof, be pleased to accept it. But it is an 
 intolerable presumption, for any one to expect, and 
 depend upon, such a favour ; besides, that he who 
 has this sudden and late sincerity, cannot have the 
 satisfaction of knowing it himself, having no time 
 to make any convincing trial of it ; but must lie 
 under extraordinary doubts, whether it be real or 
 not, whether it be the effect of grace, or only the 
 effect of fear. At best, it is infinitely hazardous ; 
 and the case is of such prodigious consequence, 
 that a wise man, if possible, would run no hazard 
 at all. 
 
 XLIII. Avarice can overcome pleasure, and con- 
 strain the covetous man to abandon it all the days 
 of his life, for no other end than to heap up an 
 useless treasure. And, were it not a shame, should 
 vice have power to do, what virtue cannot per- 
 form ? Shall not our love and duty to the adorable 
 God, so much as oblige us to exchange an inconsi- 
 derable pleasure, for a vastly great one ? A plea- 
 sure, which, like a flower, is no sooner blown than 
 it fades, for a joy, which, beginning to take root, 
 and blossom here, will flourish and bear delicious 
 fruit to all eternity ? 
 
 XLIV. It is necessary to be wise, in order to love 
 u 3 
 
DEVOUT MEDITATIONS. [HOW. 
 
 wisdom ; to be good, that we may love mercy ; 
 and, to be charitable, that we may love bounty : 
 for, if these things be wanting in us, how can we 
 love God, and adore him as we ought to do, for 
 those lovely attributes ? On the contrary, it is as 
 necessary to be temperate, that we may hate in- 
 temperance; to be just, that we may hate injus- 
 tice ; to be humble, that we may hate pride ; other- 
 wise how can we hate vice, which is so odious to 
 God? 
 
 XLV. My most gracious God, who hast been 
 infinitely merciful to me and my dear child, not 
 only in the year past, but through all the years of 
 our life, be pleased to accept my most unfeigned 
 thanks, for thy innumerable blessings to us ; gra- 
 ciously pardoning the manifold sins and infirmities 
 of my life past, and bountifully bestowing, both 
 upon my dear child and myself, all those graces 
 and virtues which may render us acceptable to thee. 
 And every year which thou shalt be pleased to add 
 to our lives, add also, I most humbly implore thee, 
 more strength to our faith, more ardour to our love, 
 and a greater perfection to our obedience; and 
 grant, that, in an humble sincerity, and constant 
 perseverance, we may serve thee most faithfully the 
 remainder of our lives, for Jesus Christ his sake, 
 thy blessed Son, our merciful Redeemer. Amen. 
 
 XLVL Reason must be careful to keep all the 
 affections of the soul, as a skilful general does his 
 soldiers, under a constant exercise and strict dis- 
 cipline. For too much rest and liberty will make 
 
HOW.] DEVOUT MEDITATIONS. 
 
 them grow licentious and mutinous: and, when 
 they have once learned to be disobedient, it will be 
 a difficult task to reduce them again under good 
 command. 
 
 XL VI I. How happy is the soul, to whom virtue 
 and vice are the only objects of its desires and 
 aversions. Which loves nothing but what it is sure 
 to obtain, and dreads nothing but what it is certain 
 to avoid. Which rests upon a rock whose found- 
 ation is immoveable, and leans upon a support that 
 can never deceive it. Which securely reposes it- 
 self, upon the great and gracious God. And, un- 
 lading itself of all its cares, lays them upon Him, 
 who so tenderly cares for us, and loves us, with a 
 dearer and much better love, than we are able to 
 feel for ourselves. 
 
 XLVIII. If we do not believe God Almighty 
 to be infinitely wiser than ourselves, why do we 
 worship him? If we do, why do we not, with a 
 happy assurance, commit ourselves, and all that 
 belongs to us, entirely to his will and disposal ? 
 
 XLIX. Lively and elevated ideas of God, and 
 of eternal life, must necessarily create in us most 
 despicable and contemptible notions of this life and 
 world. For it is a notorious contradiction to say, 
 that our love to God is hearty and sincere, and 
 yet, at the same time, that we feel in ourselves a 
 great and earnest love of the world. It is a natural 
 effect of love, to create an ardent desire to enjoy 
 the company and presence of that which is beloved. 
 But vehemently to love this life and this world, is 
 
 u 4f 
 
DEVOUT MEDITATIONS. j^HOW. 
 
 to desire to be as far distant, and as long absent, 
 as possible, from God, whom we pretend to be the 
 object of our love. 
 
 L. I am convinced, that the pleasure of virtue 
 has been, and ever will be, a riddle in the world, as 
 long as it lasts. The meaning of it has never been, 
 nor ever can be, known OP conceived, but by those 
 to whom it shall please God, out of his infinite 
 goodness, to expound it. 
 
 LI. Faith is the blessed tree, which produces 
 the noble and divine fruits of wisdom, virtue, and 
 true felicity. But it is of so fine and delicate a 
 nature, that it will not grow and thrive in the cold 
 and barren soil of man's heart, without his incessant 
 care and industry, and the enlivening influence of 
 the divine Spirit, O gracious God, so cherish and 
 increase, I most humbly beseech thee, that small 
 grain of it, which thou hast been pleased to plant in 
 my heart, that it may spread and flourish, and take 
 such firm root there, as to be able to defend itself, 
 and protect me, under tbe secure shelter of its 
 branches, from all storms and tempests that shall 
 ever assault either, in life or death ! 
 
 LIL Man must consider his being in one of these 
 two capacities; either as liable to an utter disso- 
 lution by death, or as capable of an eternal con- 
 tinuance after death, in happiness, or in misery. 
 If he believe the former, why does he ever disturb 
 his mind, with the doubtful thoughts of a God? 
 If he believe the latter, why does he unprofitably 
 entertain his mind, with any thing else ? 
 
HOW.] DEVOUT MEDITATIONS. 297 
 
 LIU. My most good and bountiful God, what 
 numberless praises have I to givethee, and pardons 
 to beg of thee, both arising from the employment 
 about which I have been, for some months past. 
 What thanks have I to return thee, for the ease, the 
 conveniences, and comforts of life, which thou hast 
 so abundantly bestowed upon me ! But, O my 
 gracious Lord ! what fervent addresses ought I to 
 make to thy infinite mercy, to forgive my ingrati- 
 tude and weakness, in suffering my thoughts to 
 wander from thee, and my affections to grow lan- 
 guid towards thee ! How much time have I been 
 impertinently consuming, in building a house, which 
 I ought to have employed, in endeavouring to form 
 my mind to a perfect obedience to thee ! * Pardon, 
 great God ! I beseech thee for Jesus Christ's sake, 
 all my omissions and neglects, and my too often 
 cold and distracted addresses to thee ; and grant, 
 that I may pass the rest of my life, in an uninter- 
 rupted endeavour to please thee, and in a continual 
 return of thanks for this, and for all those in- 
 numerable blessings, which thou art never ceasing 
 to bestow upon so undeserving a wretch. 
 
 LIV. Assurance of eternal happiness, that 
 sublimest degree, that finishing stroke, of human 
 felicity in this life, is that, which every soul pants 
 after, which makes any serious reflections in matters 
 of religion. It is, therefore, necessary to know, 
 upon what foundation this blessed state is built, 
 
 and from what principles it arises. And those, I 
 
 w 
 
 * See Sections lix. Ixvi. Ixxxi. ED. 
 
298 DEVOUT MEDITATIONS. [HOW. 
 
 think, it is plainly evident, are faith, love, and obe- 
 dience: since no man can have assurance, that 
 does not feel in himself the principle of obedience ; 
 nor can he have obedience, without the principle 
 of love ; nor love, without the principle of faith. 
 For it is a notorious contradiction, to imagine, that 
 any one can be assured of God Almighty's pardon, 
 without obeying Him ; of his favour, without loving 
 Him; or of the eternal enjoyment of his goodness, 
 without a firm and stedfast belief in Him. But I 
 am persuaded, that the word, faith is too frequently 
 misunderstood, and taken for a bare, careless, and 
 faint assent, to any truth we pretend to believe ; 
 which notion, is not only deceitful and false, 
 but pernicious and destructive. This, therefore, is 
 what I mean by a firm belief in God ; when, from 
 intent meditation and mature reflection, the judg- 
 ment, reason, understanding, and all the faculties 
 of the soul, are overpowered with an irresistible 
 conviction of the necessary existence of such a 
 Divine Being ; who is also represented to the 
 mind, as infinite in glory, in power, in wisdom, in 
 goodness, and in all perfection ; with such charms, 
 such beauty, such loveliness, as to captivate and 
 ravish the affections of the soul, and smite it with 
 a divine love. Such a love, as may possess it with 
 an ardent desire after the enjoyment of him, with 
 diligent endeavours to please him, and with inces- 
 sant strivings to resemble him, and render itself 
 amiable and acceptable to him. Such a love, as 
 may reign triumphantly in the soul, engrossing all 
 
HOW.] DEVOUT MEDITATIONS. 299 
 
 its affections, divesting all other objects of their 
 charms, nay, making them appear vile and con- 
 temptible ; and delivering up the absolute and en- 
 tire dominion of the soul, to its great and glorious 
 Creator. Accept, great God, of such an entire do- 
 minion over my soul, and be pleased to maintain it 
 against all opposition and temptation whatsoever, 
 by thy infinite power, evermore ! 
 
 LV. The next thing necessary to be seriously and 
 impartially considered relating to faith, is what 
 measures and degrees of it we have. For, since 
 our eternal happiness depends upon our being 
 possessed of this virtue, we cannot make too nice 
 and diligent inquiries, what proportion of it we 
 feel in ourselves. And to that end, we are to con- 
 sider, whether there be any thing that we fear, or 
 love, more than God ; whether his favour be the 
 centre, to which all our aims, designs, and desires 
 tend; whether his displeasure is the evil, which 
 we most carefully and solicitously strive to avoid ; 
 whether our chief study be, to know his divine 
 will, and our constant labour, or rather delight, to 
 perform it ; whether any temptation, either of plea- 
 sure or gain, be capable of moving us to do an ill 
 action ; or whether the fear of any loss or mischief, 
 either to our persons or estates, be capable of deter- 
 ring us from perseverance in good ones : for, if we 
 value estate, reputation, or life, more than we hate 
 sin and vice, and would be induced to commit the 
 latter, to save any of the former, it is demonstrable, 
 that we fear the loss of those things, more than we 
 
300 DEVOUT MEDITATIONS. '[ HOW - 
 
 fear God. And, if we find ourselves capable of be- 
 ing tempted and allured, either by pleasure or profit, 
 to do an unjust or vicious action, it is as plain, that 
 we love those things more than we love Him ; and 
 that the consideration of His favour and displeasure 
 prevails upon us, then only, when nothing else 
 comes in competition with them. But, if we find 
 that we reject many things, which otherwise we 
 should chuse ; that we despise many things, which 
 otherwise we should value ; that we refrain from 
 many actions, which otherwise we should have 
 committed ; and do many others, which else we 
 should have avoided ; and all this, only in regard to 
 the favour or displeasure of God, it is evident, 
 that we are actuated by the influence of a true and 
 vigorous faith. Which grant, most gracious God, 
 to me thy poor unworthy servant, in the most per- 
 fect manner of which my frail nature is capable ; 
 pardoning in me all the defects of it hitherto, for 
 Jesus Christ's sake ! 
 
 LVI. Duty and happiness are so closely linked 
 together, that the performance of the one, naturally 
 draws the other after it. For, as it is our duty 
 gratefully to adore the great God for all his bless- 
 ings, and contentedly to submit to all his dispens- 
 ations ; so it is a pleasure to be grateful and con- 
 tented : but he that is discontented, can never 
 be grateful ; nor he that is contented, miserable. 
 Blessed be the most bountiful God, who has an- 
 nexed an unspeakable pleasure to faith and virtue ; 
 who has, in his infinite goodness, made those things 
 
HOW.] DEVOUT MEDITATIONS. 301 
 
 that are of the highest advantage to mankind, so 
 exceedingly delightful ! 
 
 LVIL Such is the weakness and imperfection 
 of bare human nature, supported only by its own 
 force, that it is capable of conducting us but rarely 
 to truth ; though it frequently leads us to innu- 
 merable errors. A remarkable instance of this, is 
 the opinion of that learned and great philosopher 
 Aristotle, that the world and race of man were 
 eternal ; than which, nothing was more injudiciously 
 imagined ; nor was there ever a greater contra- 
 diction advanced, nor more repugnant to common 
 sense. The falsity of the notion plainly appears 
 from this consideration, without recurring to reve- 
 lation to confute it : if there were an eternal suc- 
 cession of men, we must, in our thoughts, trace 
 this eternity up from one man to another, till we 
 arrive at that man who was the first possessor of it ; 
 since it is plain, from the nature of succession, that 
 there must have been a first ; and whosoever that 
 first was, who was the possessor of eternal life, we 
 must necessarily conceive to be likewise possessed 
 of eternal power ; and, being eternal without be- 
 ginning, he must infallibly continue eternal with- 
 out end ; which naturally leads us to the conception 
 of a being vastly different from man. So that this 
 wild incoherent notion of the eternity of mankind, 
 shows us plainly how glimmering a light the clearest 
 human reason gives, and how much we stand in 
 need of brighter illuminations. But, though life 
 in man has so short a period, we cannot but con- 
 
302 DEVOUT MEDITATIONS. [HOW. 
 
 ceive it to be somewhere eternal. For, if we could 
 possibly imagine a time when no being had life, it 
 is; I think, impossible to conceive how any being 
 could ever have begun to live. For it is evident, 
 that life having annexed to it a measure of power, 
 must, consequently, be the work and product of 
 power. And, in supposing a time when there was 
 no such thing as life, we suppose a time when there 
 was no such thing as power, since there can be no 
 power without life. And, consequently, it were 
 impossible that life could have had any where a 
 beginning : from whence it follows, that life, in 
 some one being, is eternal, and, from that inex- 
 haustible fountain, has been conveyed and be- 
 stowed to all creatures that have ever possessed it. 
 And that eternal fountain of life is God : who is, 
 also, the sole fountain of wisdom, of power, of hap- 
 piness, and of all goodness ; and who, out of his 
 infinite bounty, dispenses, to all his creatures, such 
 proportions of these several blessings as he thinks 
 fit ; each of them being totally and entirely com- 
 prehended in his own blessed being; whom my 
 soul most humbly adores, and to whom it desires 
 faithfully to render all honour, praise, and dutiful 
 obedience, evermore. 
 
 LVIII. Man is of such a base and perverse dis- 
 position, that he is seldom prevailed upon by mild- 
 ness and goodness ; but is restive and obstinate, 
 like an untamed horse, contending against the 
 fixed methods of God's providence in the world. 
 His mind seldom submits to reason, but must be 
 
HOW.] DEVOUT MEDITATIONS. 303 
 
 mastered and broken by rough usage and affliction, 
 till he is sensible of his own weakness, and inability 
 to contend against almighty power. Were man's 
 reason more strong, or his pride less powerful, 
 he would never be pushed on to so dangerous an 
 experiment. 
 
 LIX. There is no less necessity of the mind's 
 being fixed and steady, in order to its right direc- 
 tion to the subject of its consideration, than of the 
 hand's being firm and unshaken, that it may surely 
 hit the mark at which it aims. For, when the mind is 
 pointing at a subject, if it has not firmness enough 
 to keep itself fixed upon it, every light thought or 
 imagination is capable of pushing it beside the 
 mark, and making it lose its aim. And, being 
 thus unstable and uncertain, it is like a weak bird 
 in a strong tempest, that has neither force nor 
 weight sufficient to keep a direct course, but is 
 carried by the violence of the storm, beside the 
 place where it endeavours to settle. In this con- 
 dition is the mind, when capable of being hurried 
 from the subject of its contemplation, by every gust 
 of passion. And, though it has reason in view, it 
 wants force to bear up to it, and ballast sufficient 
 to resist the fierce assaults of its unruly affections, 
 which keep it in a continual wavering course, and 
 hinder it from arriving at security and repose. 
 The greatest concern, therefore, which a man has, 
 is to labour to gain such a steadiness of mind, such 
 a method of reasonable thinking, as may not be 
 capable of any interruption. And, when this is 
 
30i DEVOUT MEDITATIONS. [HOW. 
 
 obtained, the next care must be, with the utmost 
 diligence, to preserve the mind in this happy state. 
 And, to this end, w r e must not be less watchful 
 over innocent, than over vicious recreations ; and 
 must take care that an undue eagerness in the one, 
 does not amuse and lead us insensibly to the other. 
 For, the thoughts being once unfixed, it is not so 
 easy a matter to settle them again ; and the affec- 
 tions being by degrees disengaged from their true 
 and proper objects, will be in danger of betaking 
 themselves to false and trifling ones : nay, it is 
 well, being once upon the wing, if they stop on 
 this side folly and vice ; the first step towards each 
 of which, is a coolness and indifference to wisdom 
 and virtue. Now, such a case is not the less de- 
 plorable, because innocent diversions were its occa- 
 sion : and, indeed, I doubt no diversions can pro- 
 perly be called innocent, which have that fatal effect. 
 Besides, by disuse, the mind, as well as the body, 
 contracts sluggishness and impotence : so that, 
 when it is brought to exercise, and we endeavour 
 to turn it to reasonable thoughts, it appears, that it 
 has not only lost its vigour, but its pleasure also ; 
 since the pleasure of wisdom and virtue, which are 
 the result of right reason, depends upon the vigor- 
 ous impressions made by them upon the mind. So 
 that, it is impossible that a languid soul can ever 
 be a happy one, any more than a wavering soul, 
 doubtfully hovering between virtue and vice. I am 
 but too sensible, how ill an effect idle and imperti- 
 nent cares and amusements, though very innocent 
 
HOW.] DEVOUT MEDITATIONS. 305 
 
 ones, by some continuance, and frequent repeti- 
 tions, have upon the mind. I had hopes, when I 
 began to build my house, that I was pretty well 
 prepared against this danger ; being very well 
 aware of it, and, as carefully as I could, endea- 
 vouring to prevent it. But I found, to my great 
 dissatisfaction and trouble, that those necessary 
 cares and contrivances with which I was obliged 
 to fill my head, were so great a prejudice and in- 
 cumbrance to my mind, that I had neither liberty 
 nor power, however zealous my efforts, to penetrate 
 far into those thoughts and reasonings, which I 
 passionately desired, and after which I often earn- 
 estly laboured ; thoughts and reasonings, of which 
 I would rather be continually master, than of all 
 the houses and kingdoms upon earth. My soul 
 was clogged, and grown too heavy to soar above 
 the reach of low insipid conceptions ; its springs 
 seemed relaxed, and incapable of pushing it to 
 vigorous imaginations ; all its bright ideas were 
 clouded ; it grieved and languished, to think from 
 whence it was fallen ; and it dreaded the misery of 
 sinking yet lower. It mourned and was ashamed, 
 to stoop to those fairy delusions, those shadows of 
 pleasures, which the world affords, and which it 
 could not forbear to despise ; though it had not 
 force to reach its wonted joys, by bearing itself up 
 to lively meditations, full of love and adoration to 
 its great Creator. By this, my ever gracious God, 
 thou hast taught me, that thou being the only 
 fountain of true joy and felicity, every step I ad- 
 
306 DEVOUT MEDITATIONS. [HOW. 
 
 vance towards thee, the nearer I approach my 
 happiness ; and every degree I depart from thee, 
 the more I hasten towards my misery. O be thou 
 mercifully pleased to guard and protect my faith, 
 that neither the open force of the most violent 
 temptations may be able to shake it, nor the insinu- 
 ating allurements of innocent diversions,* by gentle 
 unsuspected impressions, to undermine it ; but 
 keep me, perpetually and firmly adhering to thee, 
 constantly persevering, to the last moments of my 
 life, in all those things which are pleasing and 
 acceptable in thy sight, for Jesus Christ's sake, my 
 ever blessed Redeemer : 
 
 A peaceful life all other ways you'll miss ; 
 Through virtue lies the only path to bliss ! 
 
 LX. The first two things to be sought after, 
 in order to the acquiring of a settled calmness and 
 undisturbed pleasure of mind, are a constant and 
 fervent love of the adorable God, and a real and 
 entire contempt of the world. Now, the love of 
 God, will certainly flow from a frequent and serious 
 contemplation of his continual and unspeakable 
 goodness ; as the contempt of the world, will un- 
 doubtedly ensue from a reasonable and impartial 
 consideration of its worthlessness. These I look 
 upon as the necessary foundation, upon which alone 
 may be built that noble, beautiful, and desirable 
 structure of an intrepid, virtuous, and peaceful 
 
 * It was a favourite saying of the great Sir Matthew Hale, 
 that perimus licitis; < We perish [by the abuse of] things 
 allowable.' ED. 
 
HOW.] DEVOUT MEDITATIONS. 
 
 mind : the only valuable treasure upon 
 that alone, of which we may be innocently co 
 a dominion more glorious, than all the 
 the world ; in the pursuit after which alone, am- 
 bition is justifiable. O my God, possess my soul 
 with such an ardent love of thee, so buoyant 
 above all my other affections, that no one may 
 ever come in competition with it ; such a love, as 
 may not only subdue all other affections, but purify 
 and make them innocent; such a love, as may create 
 in my soul a perpetual pleasure in the contempla- 
 tion of Thee, and a continual thirst after Thee, 
 never to be quenched, but, by the fulness of en- 
 joyment ; a love, which may transport my soul 
 with thy divine perfections, and paint there such 
 lively images, such bright ideas of thy glorious 
 Majesty, that none of the trifling pleasures and 
 temptations of this world, may be able to make on it 
 the least impression. And as, my gracious Lord, 
 thou hast given me much, and forgiven me much, 
 so raise my love to a degree proportionable to thy 
 bounty and mercy ! * 
 
 LXI. Death is said to be the king of terrors. 
 These words I suppose are usually misunderstood ; 
 they are not, in Scripture, meant of a natural death, 
 as it is only the separation of soul and body ; but 
 must be understood of damnation, that eternal death, 
 which is, most properly, though not emphatically 
 
 * ' Semel ergo, breve praeceptum tibi praecipitur ; DILIGE, ET 
 QUOD vis FAC. Radix sit intus dilectionis, non potest de ista 
 radice nisi bonum existere.' S. August, torn. iii. p. 875. ED. 
 
 X 2 
 
308 DEVOUT MEDITATIONS. [HOW. 
 
 enough, if words were to be found to heighten the 
 expression, termed the king of terrors ; as being the 
 eternal separation of the soul from God, its ever- 
 lasting exclusion from any portion of felicity. And 
 I think it is evident, it ought to be taken in this 
 sense : for a man who has either led a virtuous 
 or innocent life, or, who having done otherwise, 
 truly and sincerely repents, resolving upon a per- 
 fect and universal obedience to his God for the 
 future ; who is conscious to himself of no wilful 
 breach of his resolution, but continually begs 
 pardon for such failings and infirmities, as he can- 
 not either discover or avoid ; who unfeignedly 
 abhors those follies and vanities, which he fancied 
 so much pleasure in before, placing his greatest de- 
 light, in love and obedience to God ; who looks 
 upon his being, as made for another world, not 
 for this ; and who can, with the piercing eye of 
 faith, cast frequent, though imperfect glances 
 thither, and make such discoveries of the glories of 
 heaven, as to inflame his soul, with an earnest de- 
 sire to enjoy them, such a one must needs behold 
 death, with a wishing eye ; it will appear to him no 
 otherwise, than as that which opens the door to his 
 liberty and happiness, and lets him into those joys, 
 for which he has so greatly longed : he would be- 
 hold death approaching, with the same pleasure, 
 that a man cast upon a desert island, would see a 
 ship sailing to his relief; he would run eagerly to 
 the shore, and embark with delight. 
 
 LXIL It is not amiss, in the matter of benefits 
 received, to consider how easily and almost na- 
 
HOW.] DEVOUT MEDITATIONS. 309 
 
 turally, the love of corrupt, ungrateful man passes 
 from the giver to the gift, and, only glancing upon 
 the former, fixes itself on the latter. And this 
 being remarkably notorious, in the case of benefits 
 received from Almighty God, it concerns us to 
 consider well what we receive, and how much we 
 pay ; that we may know whether our payments in 
 love, duty, and adoration, bear any tolerable pro- 
 portion to what we owe, and what we have re- 
 ceived, in real benefits ; whether our love to God 
 be pure and sincere, or only mercenary and inter- 
 ested ; whether it flows from those infinite perfec- 
 tions that render him truly amiable, or proceeds 
 only from our value for the things which he bestows. 
 If the last be the case, then, to speak plainly, 
 we must confess, that we love God a little, be- 
 cause he gives us those things which we love a 
 great deal ; and, I doubt, it may too often be added, 
 much better than himself. For, if our love of 
 Him be grounded upon our love for the things 
 which he gives us, it is demonstrable, that we 
 loved those things not only before, but better than 
 him ; and that our love to him was kindled, not 
 by his own excellence, but by the excellence we 
 fancied in his gifts. Now, if those things have no 
 intrinsic value in them, nor have any just title to 
 our affection, and yet rob God of it, to whom it so 
 justly belongs ; I fear, such a love can hardly be 
 cleared from being in some measure idolatrous. 
 But there are gifts that have a real value in them- 
 selves, such as faith, wisdom, virtue, &c. ; the love 
 x 3 
 
310 DEVOUT MEDITATIONS. [HOW. 
 
 of these will increase our love to God : in these, 
 we need not fear loving the gift, more than the 
 giver, since it is by the love of these excellences 
 only, that we can arrive at the love of God ; for 
 faith gives us true notions and apprehensions of 
 him ; wisdom leads us to the knowledge of him ; 
 and virtue to the obedience of him. And the same 
 may be shown from every other grace or virtue. 
 In loving truth, justice, bounty, &c., we actually love 
 God : for these virtues are a part of his essence, 
 and inseparable from it; not belonging properly 
 to any other, but exclusively his own ; no portion 
 or degree of any of them reside in any other being, 
 otherwise than by a gracious communication of 
 them by God, from their several originals remain- 
 ing entire and complete in himself. From whom, 
 I humbly beg continual supplies, and increase, of 
 all graces and virtues, through his infinite bounty 
 and compassion. 
 
 LXIII. Pleasure results from an impetuous mo- 
 tion of the united affections, in the prosecution, 
 expectation, or enjoyment of some good ; or, at 
 least, of what we take to be such. But, even in 
 sensual pleasures, it is more in the expectation, than 
 in the enjoyment. For the share which the body has 
 in pleasure, is very inconsiderable ; the much greater 
 part, either of pleasure or pain, being lodged in 
 the mind, and felt there ; though the body is 
 capable of a greater, and more lasting perception 
 of pain, than it is of pleasure. Now, to be sensible 
 of this truth, we have but to consider some one of 
 
HOW.] DEVOUT MEDITATIONS. 311 
 
 the most sensual pleasures, that of gluttony for in- 
 stance ; and it is the same, of all the rest. This, at 
 first, may appear to be entirely the enjoyment of the 
 body, though that bears a very small share in it ; for 
 it lasts no longer, than the meat is going down, and 
 tasted upon the palate. The chief of this pleasure, 
 is in the fancy and imagination j in the earnest 
 longings after it, and expectation of it, before it is 
 really tasted : so that the participation of any sensual 
 pleasure, is, properly, rather the cessation of plea- 
 sure, than the enjoyment of it ; since enjoyment 
 extinguishes that principal part of pleasure, which 
 was tasted in the mind, by the help of fancy and 
 imagination. 
 
 LXIV. A great part of wisdom consists in 
 knowing how to make a right estimate of things. 
 For our affection and aversion always attend upon 
 our esteem and disesteem ; and if these be built 
 upon a false foundation, the affection and aversion 
 will be fixed upon wrong objects. So that, we 
 shall either love what we ought to hate, and hate 
 what we ought to love ; or, at least, our love and 
 hatred will exceed their due bounds, with respect 
 to the value of the different objects upon which 
 they are placed. Happiness and misery are things, 
 the one of which is most earnestly coveted, the 
 other most carefully avoided, by all mankind. But 
 how can a man, with any judgment, set himself 
 to procure happiness, and escape misery, unless 
 he has first the knowledge of those good and evil 
 things, which conduce severally to them : for we 
 
 x 4 
 
DEVOUT MEDITATIONS. [HOW. 
 
 must call every thing good, that contributes to our 
 happiness, and every thing evil, that procures our 
 misery. Ignorance and mistake are fatal, in the 
 choice of good and evil : wherefore, it behoves 
 every man to be able to discern between the one 
 and the other, no less than it behoves a physician to 
 distinguish wholesome herbs from poisonous plants ; 
 lest, where he designs a remedy, he should admi- 
 nister destruction. If men are ignorant, what are the 
 ingredients that enter into the composition of hap- 
 piness and misery, or if they are mistaken in the 
 choice of those ingredients, they will be wretched 
 enough to chuse the contrary of what they seek after. 
 Is it reasonable to imagine, that care and skill are ne- 
 cessary for the acquisition of every trifle upon which 
 we ignorantly set a value, as riches, and honour, 
 and all those sciences, by the means of which, 
 we hope to reach any of these attainments ; and yet, 
 that true and substantial happiness, which is the 
 perfection of our being, comes by chance, without 
 being sought after ? Can man be vain enough to 
 imagine, that the mind can be furnished with just 
 and true notions, without ever taking the pains to 
 think ; with lofty and generous conceptions, with- 
 out giving itself the trouble to meditate and re- 
 flect ? That it can, to the utmost of its power, 
 fathom the depths of the knowledge of God and 
 itself, without an unwearied diligence and con- 
 stant application ? And, finally, that, having by 
 such means, ascended to a high degree of felicity, 
 it (tan ue able to maintain its station, without 
 industry and assiduity ? 
 
HOW.] DEVOUT MEDITATIONS. 313 
 
 LXV. We are not only miserable enough, to be 
 governed by our passions, but foolish enough, to 
 repine and murmur, that God Almighty will not 
 submit to be governed by them too. This is the 
 cause of our so frequent quarrels at his pleasure, 
 in ordering and disposing the affairs of the world ; 
 and of our uneasiness, in vainly contending with his 
 unchangeable decrees, which are unchangeable 
 therefore only, because they are the result of His 
 infinite unerring wisdom ; all whose determinations, 
 as they are best in themselves, so, doubtless, are 
 they the most beneficial to his poor creatures. 
 What we want is, simply confidence enough to 
 rely entirely on His mercy ; this is the one ground 
 of reliance, which will never disappoint us. 
 
 LXVI. How many irretrievable inconveniences 
 do men fall into, purely from the fickleness and 
 continual mutability of their dispositions. It were 
 good, therefore, thoroughly to understand our- 
 selves, in order to prevent the miseries accruing 
 from this cause. We think, perhaps, this instant, 
 that such a thing would please us, and make us 
 happy ; accordingly we apply our utmost diligence, 
 sparing no pains to procure it : and it is ten to one, 
 by that time we have it, our humour is altered, our 
 labour lost, and all our expectations of happiness 
 frustrated. Then our inconstant fancy pitches 
 upon some other object, persuading us it is that 
 which will give us content; this also obtained, 
 from the same cause, disappoints us as much as the 
 former ; and not pleasing us, the consequence is, 
 
314 DEVOUT MEDITATIONS. [HOW. 
 
 that we grow weary, and disgusted ; and it is well, 
 if we have it in our power conveniently to get rid 
 of it, when we think fit : for a thousand instances 
 may be given, of cases where a mistake in the 
 satisfaction which we propose to ourselves, proves 
 vastly prejudicial, and often causes the misery of 
 our whole lives. How frequently are young people 
 ruined, and elder ones unfortunate, upon this very 
 account? Imagining, that the warmth of their 
 present temper will continue, and procure them 
 satisfaction, in despite of all the inconveniences 
 which may attend its gratification ; but that eager- 
 ness unexpectedly relaxes, they are left in the 
 lurch, defrauded of their happiness, and loaded 
 with vexation. Thus, unhappy man turns rest- 
 lessly from one thing to another, hoping by change 
 to find relief ; and never reflects, that the desire of 
 change is his disease ; that his disquiets will never 
 cease, till he has unalterably fixed upon the objects 
 of his pleasure ; and till, having brought his mind 
 to like and love only what is fit and reasonable, he 
 keeps it firm and constant in the approbation of 
 these things. When the vagrancy of humour and 
 fancy is settled, a man has but to chuse, for once, 
 his pleasures, and, so far as the nature of human 
 things will permit, he is assured to have them 
 permanent. I myself was in great danger of 
 making a scurvy experiment, of what I have been 
 saying ; and had not my mind, by my ever good 
 God's assistance, taken a pretty strong bent before- 
 hand, towards the satisfaction which I had previously 
 
HOW.] DEVOUT MEDITATIONS. 315 
 
 fixed upon, it would have run the hazard of declining 
 from it ; for the ideas which it had conceived, began 
 to wear away, for want of renewing the impressions, 
 by intent meditation and frequent reasonings ; and 
 from these, I was in a great measure precluded, by an 
 incessant hurry, for six or seven months together, 
 of trivial employments, in conversing with work- 
 men, and contriving for building. Thence, I found 
 it no easy matter, to bring my mind up to its former 
 station; and it considerably lost ground, notwith- 
 standing my continual endeavours to keep it im- 
 moveable in those principles, in which I had 
 resolved to persevere, to my life's end : for though, 
 I thank God, I found no inclination to be vicious, 
 yet the ardour of my virtue, and consequently the 
 pleasure I received from it, were extremely abated. 
 And, though I still retained an abhorrence to vice, 
 yet my indignation at it, was much slackened : so 
 that, virtue did not seem to have altogether so 
 charming, nor vice so deformed, an aspect, as they 
 used formerly to appear in : and the passions, which 
 1 hoped had been pretty well overcome, began to 
 strive and struggle for mastery again. Now, had 
 they prevailed, the house which I was building for 
 a comfortable retreat from the world, where I de- 
 signed to spend my days in the service and ador- 
 ation of my most merciful God, and in studying to 
 cultivate my mind, and to improve it in all virtue, 
 and to render it less unworthy of his favour, 
 would have seemed to me a melancholy habitation. 
 And, after all my charge and pains in building it, I 
 
316 DEVOUT MEDITATIONS. [HOW. 
 
 should have grown weary of a solitary life ; for 
 solitariness without virtue, is an unsupportable 
 burthen. And I should probably have left my 
 retreat, to have played the fool somewhere else. 
 But, blessed be my gracious God, who has averted, 
 and, I trust in his infinite mercy, ever will avert, 
 from me, so fatal a mischief! Oh let me never 
 stray from thee, nor shrink, in the least, from" my 
 resolutions of an entire obedience to thee. Hold 
 thou me up, that I may never fall ; and, in thy 
 glorious light, let me evermore see light. Leave 
 me not to my own vain imaginations, the greatest 
 curse that can befall wretched man. 
 
 LXVII. As a reasonable, well-grounded faith is 
 the highest perfection, and supreme felicity, of 
 human nature, in this imperfect state, so, an un- 
 reasonable and obstinate belief, is most destructive 
 in its consequences to salvation. He is as sure to 
 miss the mark at which he aims, who over- shoots it, 
 as he that shoots below it ; and, perhaps, he is not 
 less likely to fail of salvation, who over-believes, 
 than he who believes too little, or does not believe 
 at all ; for, though it is absolutely necessary to be- 
 lieve, that Jesus Christ came into the world to be 
 the Saviour of mankind, and that it is through his 
 merits, propitiation, and intercession alone, that 
 we can reasonably hope to be saved, yet, if we 
 think that he has so absolutely purchased salva- 
 tion for us, as to disengage us from the obligation 
 of our utmost obedience, and to release us ;from 
 labouring and striving diligently, according to the 
 utmost extent of our power, to serve and please 
 
HOW.] DEVOUT MEDITATIONS. 
 
 the great God, to imitate his perfections, to ex- 
 terminate, as far as possible, all sin and impurity 
 out of our souls, and to be always renewing in them 
 the almost worn-out traces of his glorious image, 
 he that has such an unreasonable, preposterous faith, 
 I doubt, will find himself as much wide of the 
 mark in the affair of his salvation, as he that be- 
 lieves nothing relating to it. Such an unlimited 
 mercy were rather to render us libertines *, than 
 make us free ; it were to suppose, that the in- 
 finitely pure God, had purchased and given a liberty, 
 to those whom he was pleased to love and favour, 
 of being as impure and vicious as they thought fit ; 
 which is the most notorious contradiction imagin- 
 able ; since no reasonable man can conceive, that 
 a being of an essence perfectly pure, can delight 
 in perverse, polluted creatures, of a nature entirely 
 opposite to his own. Yet, after all, we must not 
 pretend a title to the favour of God, from any 
 virtue or purity of which we are capable ; but, 
 having, to the utmost we are able, performed our 
 duty, we must cast ourselves wholly upon his 
 mercy, through the merits and intercession of 
 Jesus Christ our Saviour. For, it were a rash pre- 
 sumption to think, that such a creature as man is, 
 were capable of doing or being any thing, that could 
 merit from the Deity ; who bestows all things upon 
 his indigent creatures, but who neither needs, nor 
 can receive, any thing from them ; who accepts, 
 indeed, our most imperfect praises and adoration, 
 
 * Mr. How cannot here be defended, from a sort of classical 
 pun. ED. 
 
318 DEVOUT MEDITATIONS. [HOW. 
 
 not flowing from ourselves, but from the influence 
 and inspiration of his blessed Spirit in us, who is 
 the Author of all our virtue, and by whose power 
 alone it is, that we are able to forego any vice. How, 
 then, can frail man merit aught of his Creator, who 
 has nothing of his own to bestow upon Him? 
 Who, with all his pride and arrogance, is likewise 
 so impotent, as not to be able to give himself the 
 life of the poorest insect, nor so much as to retain 
 his expiring breath one moment ; how much less, 
 then, has he power to assume and lead a virtuous 
 life ? such a life, as makes some approaches toward 
 that of angels ; which nevertheless, not being the 
 result of man's wisdom or ability, can claim no title 
 to merit ? If the seed sown, produce a pleasant 
 harvest, it is to the sower the praise belongs. And 
 whatsoever virtues, from the divine influence, 
 spring up in the soul, to the bountiful God alone 
 the honour is due. 
 
 LXVIII. Neither vicious nor innocent pleasures, 
 which are communicated by the bodily senses, can 
 ever give satisfaction to a rational man ; who, by a 
 clearer reason, discovering their vanity and insuf- 
 ficiency, will not unprofitably waste his desires and 
 affections upon them. But the pleasures of virtue, 
 which are conveyed to the mind by thought and 
 reflection, come attended with a delightful force, 
 which convinces the reason of every wise man : so 
 that his soul may freely, without check or restraint, 
 devote itself to their enjoyment. 
 
 LXIX. Though it is impossible to describe all 
 the delusions which wild passions impose upon man- 
 
HOW.] DEVOUT MEDITATIONS. 319 
 
 kind, the two following may justly be reckoned 
 amongst the greatest ; and are, indeed, the pillars 
 upon which error, vice, and ignorance, are erected, 
 and by which they are supported. The first is, 
 man's conceptions of eternity are slight and super- 
 ficial : he is, as though he had neither share nor 
 concern in it ; his imagination is filled and loaded 
 with the enjoyments of time, as though it were his 
 own unalterable and unalienable possession. The 
 second, and no less mischievous delusion, is, that 
 man's thoughts and notions of the Deity, are low, 
 mean, and unworthy of that most glorious Being : 
 while his mind is fraught with great and lofty ideas 
 of his own sufficiency and excellence, very un- 
 suitable to so impotent and helpless a creature. 
 Were these two gross mistakes rectified, man would 
 soon grow better acquainted with himself; would 
 lead a life becoming a reasonable creature; and 
 would have a more true and intimate knowledge of 
 God, in comparison with which, all the things we 
 see, or can conceive, are of no value. 
 
 LXX. This day* puts me in mind of the great 
 perplexity and uneasiness which I have perceived 
 in many people, occasioned by the superstitious im- 
 pressions made upon their minds, by the tales of 
 weak and ignorant people in their infancy. A pe- 
 riod, when the tender mind is most apt to receive the 
 impressions of error and vice, as well as those of 
 truth and virtue ; and, having once received either 
 the one or the other, is likely to retain them, as 
 * Childermas-day. 
 
3"20 DEVOUT MEDITATIONS. [HOW. 
 
 long as it subsists in the body. How charitable a 
 care is it, therefore, and how much the duty of 
 every parent whom it has pleased God to bless 
 with a right understanding, to endeavour to trans- 
 mit that understanding, with what improvement he 
 can, to his children ? To have, at least, as much 
 care of them, as a gardener has of a nice delicate 
 plant that he values ; when he diligently shelters and 
 defends it, from the pernicious assaults of storms and 
 tempests, and blasting winds, till a milder season and 
 warmer sun put it out of danger ? With no less in- 
 dustry, ought a kind parent to guard the tender mind 
 of his child, from the hurtful notions, and supersti- 
 tious conceits, of foolish, ignorant people ; who, by 
 senseless, impertinent tales, begin to plant errors 
 and vice in the innocent soul, even from the cradle. 
 It is in the nursery, where ignorantly deluded, and 
 deluding wretches, first sow those tares in the 
 child, which it is ten to one whether the grown-up 
 man is afterwards ever able to root out. There, 
 every simple creature, if not prevented, will be 
 blotting the yet clear and unspotted soul, and 
 sullying it with false lines, and foul characters; 
 besmearing it, after their awkward manner, with 
 horrid images of frightful sprites and hobgoblins, 
 and painting upon it a thousand monstrous and 
 terrific shapes of death, to make their future 
 life miserably wretched. Thus, with a barbarous 
 folly, they create, betimes, the most abhorring 
 aversion in the mind, to that which Providence has 
 ordained ; and, with a detestable impiety, sow in it 
 
HOW.] DEVOUT MEDITATIONS. 
 
 the seeds of reluctance and contradiction to the wis- 
 dom, will, and unalterable decrees of the Almighty. 
 So that, when wiser people come to try their skill, 
 they find their unhappy soul so bedaubed with 
 those odious, hideous figures, that there is little 
 room left for fairer and better impressions. Here 
 is laid the groundwork of an erroneous judgment, 
 and wrong understanding; and, amongst other 
 mischiefs that have here their beginning, are those 
 very grievous ones, of a timorous and superstitious 
 spirit, apt to give credit to the luckiness or unlucki- 
 ness of certain days, and to a thousand ominous 
 whimsies and conceits ; which, as they are the un- 
 happy offspring of weakness and ignorance, so are 
 they the never enough to be detested parents of grief 
 and misery, to those who are weak and wretched 
 enough to be deluded by them. All these de- 
 plorable follies proceed from wrong and unworthy 
 apprehensions of God's providence, in his care of 
 man, and government of the world. For no reason- 
 able creature can ever imagine, that the all-wise 
 God should inspire owls and ravens to hoot out the 
 elegies of dying men ; that he should have ordained 
 a fatality in number, and inflicted punishment with- 
 out an offence ; and that, the$ being one amongst 
 the fatal number at a table, should, though con- 
 trary to no command, be a crime not to be ex- 
 piated, but by death ! That even spiders and 
 candles should have a foreknowledge of man's 
 destiny ; that certain days are unlucky, as if the 
 good and virtuous were not, at all times, in. all 
 
 Y 
 
DEVOUT MEDITATIONS. [HOW. 
 
 places, and in all numbers too, assured of the pro- 
 tection of the infinitely merciful God. These are 
 such horrid conceits, so void of reason, and so full 
 of impious folly, that those people can neither have 
 right notions of him, nor trust, nor faith in him, 
 that give credit to them. I might have added 
 amongst the nursery-accomplishments, that the pas- 
 sions are generally nourished there, as carefully as 
 the child ; and it is well, if the indulgent mother, 
 as well as others in the family that should have 
 more wit, do not think pride and ambition ad- 
 mirable ingredients in a genteel and virtuous edu- 
 cation. Thus folly, like gunpowder, runs in a 
 train from one generation to another, preserved 
 and conveyed by the perpetual tradition of tattling 
 gossips. 
 
 LXXI. Though, as I have formerly said, man, 
 who has no goodness or virtue originally in his own 
 power, can merit nothing from that Being to whom 
 all power belongs, yet he ought so to live, and so 
 to act, as if the highest pitch of human virtue were 
 scarcely, or, at most, but just sufficient, to procure 
 the eternal favour of God ; the consequence of 
 which, to those on whom it is bestowed, is no less 
 than eternal felicity. 
 
 LXXII. The affections of the soul of man, being 
 encumbered with as many distractions as there are 
 objects to excite and engage them, what measure 
 of proportion, Oh most gracious God, can the gra- 
 titude of so frail and imperfect a creature, bear to 
 the obligations ever flowing upon him from thy 
 
HOW.] DEVOUT MEDITATIONS. 323 
 
 unlimited bounty ! If every moment of time comes 
 from thee loaded with blessings, what an unac- 
 countable sum must the year produce ? And, if 
 the blessings of a year surpass our account, how 
 must we be confounded and lost, in the reckoning 
 of our whole lives ? And should we, by the same 
 method, most merciful God, strive to number our 
 sins and offences, we should find it a task equally 
 impossible, with that of numbering thy mercies : 
 accept, therefore, I most humbly beseech thee, the 
 imperfect thanks and adoration of my soul, and 
 continually augment its power and capacity, more 
 perfectly to render them both to Thee. Accept, 
 likewise, of its unfeigned sorrow for all my sins and 
 offences, and continually diminish in it the force of 
 corruption, and all tendency and inclination to vice 
 and disobedience. And, as thou renewest thy 
 blessings with the year, to me and my dear child, 
 so I beg thou wilt be pleased to make us both clean 
 hearts, and to renew also right spirits within us ; 
 that we may most gratefully, obediently, and 
 acceptably, serve thee all the days of our lives, 
 for Jesus Christ's sake, our gracious Lord and 
 Saviour. 
 
 LXXIII. Man's excessive love of the world, 
 and want of love to the great Creator, is, I may 
 affirm, the cause of nine parts in ten of the vexa- 
 tions and uneasinesses of this life. Nor must he 
 depend, for a remedy, upon the force of his reason ; 
 which, without assistance, is too weak to subdue 
 the fierce and obstinate passions that it has to en- 
 
 Y 2 
 
DEVOUT MEDITATIONS. [HOW. 
 
 counter. Now, the passions, though they suffer a 
 small defeat, can immediately levy new recruits, 
 and return to the attack with fresh vigour ; while 
 reason, having no such supplies, must needs at 
 length be overcome. Those ever-multiplying hy- 
 dra's heads are not to be lopped off, by so weak 
 an arm; and it were but inconsiderate rashness 
 to attempt the labour of a Hercules, without the 
 strength of a Hercules. Nor can so difficult a 
 work be successfully undertaken, otherwise than 
 by the help of that divine irresistible power, which 
 is communicated to man by faith ; a power, sufficient 
 to make him more than conqueror. But, of all the 
 mistakes which men continually make, there are, 
 perhaps, none more frequent, and, I am sure, none 
 more dangerous, than those concerning faith ; a 
 treasure, with the possession of which, they are too 
 apt to flatter themselves ; though, when it is re- 
 quisite to be employed, it were well, if they did 
 not too often find themselves deceived. This one 
 instance I think is sufficient to demonstrate this 
 matter: no man will walk upon the brink of a 
 precipice, where he is assured that every slip is 
 attended with death ; nay, few care to approach, 
 even within a moderate distance, where they might 
 stand secure enough ; because their fear, in that 
 case, always represents to them the danger much 
 greater and nearer, than it really is. Now, if 
 men believed the eternal displeasure of God to 
 be as great a mischief as the precipice, they 
 would undoubtedly dread it as much, and as care- 
 fully avoid it. But we see many men, who think 
 
DEVOUT MEDITATIONS. 325 
 
 they have faith, or at least who would be thought 
 to have it, not only walking continually upon the 
 outwardmost borders of innocence, but frequently 
 stumbling, and falling far within those of vice ; 
 without greatly concerning themselves, to prevent 
 such slips for the future. Thus, in the case of 
 temporal evil, it is evident, that the firm belief of 
 the danger will not suffer men to approach it so 
 remotely even, as where no danger is ; but, in the 
 case of spiritual evil, their want of faith leads them 
 confidently, into situations where it is impossible 
 for them to escape.* So much can fear, in base 
 degenerate man, prevail beyond reason ! So weak 
 is reason, without the strength of faith ! Oh, my 
 gracious God, grant me that inestimable treasure, 
 by which my life may be furnished with all virtues, 
 that may render it pleasing in thy sight, for Jesus 
 Christ's sake ! 
 
 LXXIV. Fancy is a weather-cock, that turns 
 with every blast of the opinion and applause, of the 
 inconstant, unthinking world. Whatever point it 
 stands at this moment, the next, perhaps, it shall 
 be hurried to that which is directly opposite. And 
 he that steers his life by this compass, will be sure 
 to make a very uncertain and vexatious voyage. 
 
 * ' The point between lawful pleasures and vice, is like a 
 boundary between two kingdoms at war with each other. It 
 is, therefore, most prudent, weak and defenceless as we are, 
 not to venture to the very edge of our own side, but leave 
 some space between, lest an insidious enemy surprize and take 
 us captive, unawares.' Dr. Toivnsons Works> vol. ii. p. 223. 
 ED. 
 
 Y 3 
 
326 DEVOUT MEDITATIONS. [HOW. 
 
 Instead of ever arriving at the haven of tranquil- 
 lity and enjoyment, he will be forced upon the 
 rocks of delusion and disappointment, where he 
 will be wretchedly entertained, with repentance 
 and despair. 
 
 LXXV. Religion is a thing much talked of, but 
 little understood; much pretended to, but very 
 little practised ; and the reason why it is so ill 
 practised, is, because it is not better understood. 
 Knowledge, therefore, must precede religion ; 
 since it is necessary to be wise, in order to be vir- 
 tuous. It must be known to whom, and upon 
 what account, duty is owing, otherwise it can 
 never be rightly paid. It must therefore be con- 
 sidered, that God is the object of all religion, and 
 that the soul is the subject wherein it exists and 
 resides. From the soul it must proceed, and to 
 God it must be directed ; as to that Almighty 
 Being, whose power alone could create a rational 
 soul, and whose goodness only could move him to 
 make it capable of an eternal felicity. This infinite 
 bounty of God has laid a perpetual obligation upon 
 the soul, to a constant love, obedience, and ador- 
 ation of Him ; and to an undoubting assurance, 
 that the same power and goodness which created 
 man, will, if he perseveres in the sincere perform- 
 ance of his duty, for ever preserve and protect him. 
 The body, therefore, can have no other share in 
 religion, than by its gestures to represent and dis- 
 cover the bent and inclination of the mind. Which 
 representations, also, are but too often false and 
 
HOW.] DEVOUT MEDITATIONS. 32? 
 
 treacherous, deluding those that behold them, into 
 the opinion of a saint, but truly discovering a noto* 
 rious hypocrite to God ; who sees the vast distance 
 between real intentions, and deceptive pretences. 
 People are as much deceived themselves, as they 
 deceive others, who think to use religion as they 
 do their best clothes ; only wearing it at church on 
 a Sunday, to appear fine, and make a show, and, 
 as soon as they come home again, laying it aside 
 carefully, for fear of wearing it out : but religion 
 is good for nothing, that is made of so slight a 
 stuff as will not endure wearing ; which ought, in 
 truth, to be as constant a covering to the soul, as 
 the skin is to the body ; division, being the ruin 
 of both. Nor must it be thought, that religion 
 consists only in the bending of the knees, which is 
 a fitting posture of humility, but in the fervent and 
 humble adoration of the soul ; nor in the lifting 
 up of the hands and eyes, but in the warmth of the 
 affection. Outward gestures and decent behaviour 
 are things very fit and reasonable, being all that 
 the body can pay ; but inward sincerity alone, can 
 render them both acceptable. Much less, does 
 religion consist in dismal looks and sour faces ; 
 which only show, that it is very unpalatable to those 
 who make them ; and it seems to me, as if they 
 were swallowing something that went grievously 
 against their stomachs. It is likewise to be con- 
 sidered, that the frequency and fervency, not the 
 length of prayer, give it acceptance ; that one 
 petition, from a well-disposed mind, rightly ad- 
 
 Y 4 
 
328 DEVOUT MEDITATIONS. [HO\V. 
 
 dressed to God, is more efficacious, than ten ser- 
 mons carelessly heard, and more carelessly prac- 
 tised. But hearing being much an easier duty 
 than praying, because it can often change into 
 sleeping, is therefore so much preferred to it by 
 a great many people : but if, in the end, their pro- 
 found ignorance will not excuse them, I am sure 
 their stupid obstinacy never will. But, in order 
 to praying rightly, so many virtues are required, 
 that people think, perhaps, it would take up 
 too much time and pains to acquire them : and 
 they are much in the right, if they think their 
 prayers will be insignificant without virtue, and 
 that an ill man can never pray well, and to pur- 
 pose; for the stream will always partake of the 
 fountain : and, if the mind, which is the fountain 
 of all our addresses to God, be vicious and impure, 
 the prayers which proceed from it, must needs be 
 sullied with the same pollutions. But, on the con- 
 trary, if the mind be once made virtuous, all that 
 proceeds from it will be pleasing and accepted. 
 And as to dejected looks, and a sorrowful counte- 
 nance, they are nowise graceful in religion ; which 
 is so far from being a melancholy thing, that it can 
 never appear displeasing, or tiresome, to a mind 
 where wisdom and virtue do not first seem trouble- 
 some ; for wisdom, instructing the soul to act rea- 
 sonably, instructs it, likewise, to serve and obey 
 God readily and cheerfully. And, to a wise man, 
 that which appears reasonable, will always appear 
 delightful ; and religion is that very same reason 
 
HOW.] DEVOUT MEDITATIONS. 329 
 
 and wisdom, whose ways are ways of pleasantness, 
 and all whose paths are peace. 
 
 LXXVI. The peace of God being what we 
 often pray for, and earnestly desire, ought, so far 
 as possible, to be understood, in order to be more 
 earnestly coveted, and surely possessed. For that, 
 in which it is said to pass all understanding, is the 
 invaluable advantage and delight with which it is 
 constantly attended ; and not that it is so unintelli- 
 gible a thing, as not possibly to be apprehended 
 by us : since that, which, in a great degree, we are 
 capable of feeling, we are, certainly, in some mea- 
 sure, capable of understanding. This blessing is 
 prayed for, that we may have the unspeakable 
 comfort of feeling it ; and, indeed, there is no un- 
 derstanding it, but by feeling it. But, though we 
 may comprehend enough of its value to make it 
 infinitely desirable, yet the utmost extent of it, as 
 far surpasses our understanding, as the blessings 
 which precede and follow it ; which are the favour 
 of God, and the inconceivable bliss that accom- 
 panies the eternal enjoyment of Him. Therefore, 
 I will never cease my endeavours to know as much, 
 nor my petitions to thee, my gracious God, to 
 make me feel as much, of this blessed peace of 
 thine, a peace which all the power, wealth, and 
 glory of this world, can never give, as thou, 
 of thy infinitely tender mercy, shalt think fit to 
 bestow upon me. It is natural that the word peace, 
 should put us in mind of its contrary, war ; since 
 peace arises from the conclusion of war, and from 
 the cessation of strife and combat : and that there 
 
330 DEVOUT MEDITATIONS. [HOW. 
 
 is a contest in the soul of man, between reason and 
 passion, wisdom and folly, virtue and vice, is too 
 evident to need proof. And it is as plain, that 
 wheresoever there is strife and contention, there 
 must be trouble and disorder : therefore, the agi- 
 tated mind, must needs be perplexed and restless, 
 so long as this intestine war continues, and till there 
 be a complete victory gained on one side or other. 
 If vice and passion absolutely prevail, the contest 
 indeed will be at an end, but it will be a wretched 
 termination ; and such a peace only will ensue, as 
 will suffer those outrageous enemies to tyrannize, 
 without opposition or control ; a peace fatal to the 
 soul, debarring it from any future hopes of liberty 
 or happiness. But, if it please the all-merciful, 
 as well as all-powerful God, to succour man's 
 weak reason and virtue, engaged in this doubtful 
 and dangerous conflict, and so to illuminate the 
 one, and strengthen the other, as to give them an 
 entire victory, then, he crowns the transported 
 soul with his divine peace ; the joy and comfort 
 of which, as much surpass all expression, as its 
 infinite benefit and blessing surpass all understand- 
 ing; which peace, most gracious God, grant ever- 
 more, I beseech thee, to thy poor unworthy servant, 
 for Jesus Christ's sake. Amen. 
 
 LXXVII. Imperfection is an argument that 
 there is such a thing as perfection ; and the experi- 
 ence of so many things imperfect, plainly leads us 
 to a certainty of others that are perfect. For, one 
 contrary is an argument of another opposite to it, 
 s cold of heat, darkness of light, death of life, 
 
HOW.] DEVOUT MEDITATIONS. 331 
 
 and so of innumerable others : the former, in all 
 these cases, being the privation of the latter, and, 
 therefore, an evident demonstration of them. The 
 world were a prodigious heap of imperfection, if it 
 could be conceived to be independent, and to bear 
 no relation to any thing but itself; and man is the 
 most unfinished and imperfect of all its animals ; 
 who seems to have a capacity, only of aiming at, 
 and pretending to, power and wisdom, without 
 any ability of attaining to either ; whose greatest 
 advantage is, from his own manifest insufficiency 
 and imperfection, to raise to himself a most con- 
 vincing argument of the union of all those virtues 
 and perfections in the Deity, of which he himself 
 possesses little more than confused notions and 
 faint conceptions : and thus, from his own clouds 
 and darkness, he may reason himself into an as- 
 surance of the existence of that blessed and un- 
 clouded light. Since man, therefore, finds in him- 
 self such a deficiency of power and wisdom, he 
 must needs perceive how unfit and unable he is to 
 be his own governor ; being assaulted, from with- 
 out, by unhappy accidents, which he cannot pre- 
 vent, and from within, by vexations and perturb- 
 ations of mind, which he is not able to redress ; 
 and, by consequence, he must be conscious, that 
 his corrupted will and depraved affections have 
 much less any title to be his rulers. Why, then, 
 does he not betake himself to consider, what is the 
 will and pleasure of that transcendent Being, whom 
 superior power and excellence, by an unquestion- 
 able right, have constituted his lord and governor ; 
 
330, DEVOUT MEDITATIONS. [HOW. 
 
 bending the utmost of his endeavours, and dedi- 
 cating his whole life, to the fulfilment and per- 
 formance of God's holy will ? As, by thy grace 
 and mercy, most merciful Creator, which, in all 
 humility, I implore of thee, it is my full purpose 
 and design to do. 
 
 , LXXVIII. The great preference frequently 
 given, to sermons above prayer, makes me desirous 
 to consider that matter, in order to a true disco- 
 very, to which of them the preference is justly 
 due, and what the real value of each of them is. 
 
 Sermons serve for these two purposes : to teach 
 their duty, to those who are ignorant of it ; and to 
 put those in mind of their duty, who are neglectful 
 of it : showing the first sort, how to perform it ; 
 and persuading the latter, effectually to put it in 
 practice. In both which things, sermons contribute 
 to salvation, no otherwise, than he who shows a tra- 
 veller his right way, and advises him to keep in it, 
 contributes to his reaching his journey's end. For, 
 if the traveller shall rest satisfied, in the bare advice 
 and instruction which he has received, and proceed 
 no further, he is never likely to reach the place of his 
 original designation ; since, it is not to be supposed, 
 that he who directs him, is to carry him thither 
 upon his back. It is just the same case, in hearing 
 sermons. The minister's business is no more, than 
 to teach us how to be saved; our own piety 
 and virtue must carry us to heaven. This is the 
 use of sermons, and a very great and necessary use 
 it is ; and yet a man may be damned, notwith- 
 standing all the good instructions that enter in at 
 
HOW.] DEVOUT MEDITATIONS. 333, 
 
 his ears, unless they make a right impression on his 
 heart. But it cannot be imagined, that the same 
 thing will serve for all purposes. The ear is 
 made for one use, and the heart for another ; the 
 one is the conduit of instruction, the other the 
 seat of wisdom. So the mouth is very useful, in 
 receiving food for the body ; but it is the stomach 
 that must digest and prepare it for strength and 
 nourishment. Thus, it sufficiently appears, what 
 the use of sermons is. 
 
 The use of prayer is now to be considered. 
 And first, it must be known, that the affections 
 of the soul have something that corresponds and 
 sympathizes with them in the body, by which 
 they usually discover themselves ; as grief in the 
 soul, appears by 'the weeping of the eyes ; and 
 joy displays itself, in a gay and cheerful counte- 
 nance. And so, in our several duties to God, ac- 
 cording as the soul is affected, from the same 
 causes, it will certainly make the same outward 
 discoveries. If it be oppressed with trouble, or has 
 a lively sense of its wants and imperfections, it will 
 oblige the tongue to utter them ; seeking redress 
 in humble petitions. If it abounds with gratitude, 
 the lips will not be able to refrain their thanks ; 
 nor to withhold their praises and adorations, when 
 the soul is inflamed with love. Thus, prayer is 
 the language of the soul, whereby it expresses its 
 several conditions and affections to the Almighty 
 God ; between whom and it, by this means, a con- 
 stant correspondence is held. By prayer, the soul 
 explains and unfolds itself to God, and, by the 
 virtue of prayer, draws down continual benefits and 
 
3Si DEVOUT MEDITATIONS. [HOW. 
 
 blessings from heaven ; asking being made the con- 
 dition of receiving. And it is a folly for any one to 
 expect favours, that he will not take the pains to 
 ask for. 
 
 And thus, the advantages, of those different, 
 but necessary, duties are discovered. Sermons 
 hold the light, for the direction of prayer : the 
 former, being the instruments of instruction ; the 
 latter, the instrument of salvation. Nay, I might 
 add, that were all people as wise and as virtuous 
 as they ought to be, and could continue so, 
 there would be no need at all of sermons ; * since 
 there would be no occasion for teaching or per- 
 suading ; the former relating only to the ignorant, 
 and the latter to the obstinate and vicious. Inso- 
 much, that, as folly, weakness, and vice, have alone 
 made sermons necessary, so, nothing but such a 
 perfection in wisdom and virtue, as the frailty of 
 human nature will hardly admit of, can ever render 
 them useless. But the obligation to prayer, is that 
 which nothing can ever cancel or discharge : for, 
 the more perfect wisdom and virtue grow, the more 
 vehement and incessant will they render prayer ; 
 which can never cease, so long as there remains 
 any spark of the love of God in the soul, or any 
 sense of his bounty and benefits. Could prayer 
 have an end, the pleasure of the soul must end 
 with it ; since the smothering of strong affections 
 
 * * I do verily believe, that, if parents did their duty as they 
 ought, the word publicly preached would not be the ordinary 
 means of regeneration in the church ; but only without the 
 church, among infidels/ Baxter. Saint's Rest, iii. 14-., Works, 
 vol. iii. p. 223. ED. 
 
HOW.] DEVOUT MEDITATIONS. 
 
 causes as great an uneasiness in the mind, as the 
 venting of them gives relief, and consequently de- 
 light. Wherefore, so long as there is love in the 
 soul, it will take pleasure in declaring that love ; 
 and, so long as there is gratitude, it will delight in 
 expressing that gratitude ; and, whilst it continues 
 virtuous and happy, it must have these affections. 
 Therefore prayer must be as eternal, as the soul 
 itself. 
 
 LXXIX. All virtue is imitation : every wise 
 man knowing full well, that his own virtue is no 
 original, but a faint and imperfect copy only, 
 of the divine perfections. It is plain, that whoso- 
 ever would gain the affection of other men, must 
 form his humour to the model of theirs ; other- 
 wise, he can never hope to be successful, since 
 likeness and agreeableness of humours, is that which 
 creates mutual friendship and affection. And the 
 same method must be observed towards God : his 
 favour must be obtained by resemblance ; and 
 his image must be drawn upon the soul, before 
 he will place his love upon it. And I know not, 
 whether this will not be the main question at the 
 day of judgment, ' Whose image and superscription 
 does he bear?' This will be the mark, that shall 
 discover to whom every soul belongs, whether to 
 God, or to the devil ; a proprietorship, according 
 to which, they must be finally disposed of. For, 
 though both body and soul must share in the judg- 
 ment, yet the soul alone shall undergo the trial. 
 It will not, therefore, be by a demure or sanctified 
 look, but by a virtuous and sanctified soul, that 
 
836 DEVOUT MEDITATIONS. [HOW. 
 
 every one must be acquitted. Be ye perfect, as 
 God is perfect, is the entire sum and substance 
 of religion. 
 
 LXXX. How pride can so far intoxicate the 
 understandings of men, as to make them really think 
 themselves exalted above other men, by riches and 
 honour, and, in the vanity of their hearts, to look 
 down with contempt upon their supposed inferiors, 
 is prodigious, usual as it is. Certainly, it cannot 
 be imagined, that the richer clothes create the 
 nobler heart, or the choicer meats the more honour- 
 able blood. Though, with all the senseless boasting 
 of noble blood, it is the quails and woodcocks, and 
 other dainties, that give it all the pre-eminence it 
 has, above that which is bred by coarser diet; 
 with the adoption of gouts and scurvies, and other 
 honourable attendant diseases, into the bargain. 
 
 LXXXI. Every body that wishes me well, seeing 
 I have built a convenient and pleasant house, to 
 show their kindness, are apt to wish that I may 
 live long to enjoy it : which I take very kindly of 
 them, since I know their wishes are correspondent 
 to their own natural desires. Though, at the same 
 time, I perceive, that their notions of life and hap- 
 piness, and mine, are very different. For I can- 
 not think this life worth desiring, barely upon ac- 
 count of pleasure ; and I should be ashamed to put 
 up so unworthy a petition to the all-wise God, as 
 to prolong my life, for no other end, than for the 
 short and insignificant enjoyments that attend it. 
 As if there were no expectation of a more complete 
 and perfect happiness, than what we enjoy in this 
 
HOW.] DEVOUT MEDITATIONS. 337 
 
 world ; as if the flesh and blood with which our 
 souls are invested, were the only vehicles of pleasure ; 
 and, by consequence, as if the Almighty Creator 
 had made creatures to be more happy than him self ', 
 and those innumerable companies of blessed spirits, 
 who rejoice in the beams of his glory. God is in- 
 finitely gracious to man : indulging him in the 
 innocent gratification of his appetites ; and sup- 
 plying his wants, while he continues in this world. 
 But that is a very wrong reason, why a man should 
 desire that he may never go out of this world. He 
 ought to consider, that his conveniences are suited 
 to the necessities of this life, and are no longer 
 useful, than that lasts ; and it were unreasonable to 
 expect, that his life should be lengthened and pro- 
 portioned to his conveniences. As long as we live 
 in this world, a house is necessary ; but it is not 
 necessary to live, because we have a house. So 
 long as cold weather lasts, a cloak is necessary; 
 but nobody would wish the continuance of ill 
 weather, because he had a cloak. This life, of 
 which we are here so fond, is but the dawning to 
 life ; * and we must be conducted through that 
 gloomy, but short passage of death, into the 
 bright and perfect day, that shall be eternally en- 
 lightened by the splendour of the divine glories in 
 heaven. It is immortality that makes life a de- 
 sirable blessing ; without this, it would be but an 
 unprofitable and burthensome trifle, preserved with 
 
 * Dies iste, quern tanquam extremum reformidas, aeterni 
 natalis est.' Seneca, Epist. 102. ED. 
 
 Z 
 
338 DEVOUT MEDITATIONS. [HOW. 
 
 anxiety, and quitted with terror. And how great 
 a weakness of faith must we discover, when we are 
 capable of preferring a bauble of a house, before 
 the eternal enjoyment of the Almighty God ; who 
 will first enlarge all the capacities of the soul to 
 love, desire, resemble, and adore him ; and then 
 abundantly replenish it with suitable gratifications. 
 There, the soul, languishing and thirsting after 
 wisdom and truth, will have free access to the 
 blessed and eternal fountain of them, to satiate 
 itself with boundless draughts of delight : there, it 
 may ever gratify, ever satisfy, without ever ex- 
 tinguishing, its unmeasurable desires. For the 
 pleasures of the soul are quite different from those 
 of sense, which are destroyed by fruition ; as they 
 must needs be, since pleasure, which has its entire 
 existence in desire, must necessarily increase and 
 abate, live and perish, with it. But, though I 
 say, that pleasure has its existence in desire, yet 
 desire is so far from being productive of pleasure, 
 that it always creates pain and uneasiness, so long 
 as the desire remains wholly unsatisfied. For, 
 though nothing pleases us, but what we like and 
 desire, yet we must have some sort of enjoyment 
 of what we like, before it can give us pleasure : 
 and, for this reason, the hungering and thirsting 
 after righteousness, is very different from the 
 hungering and thirsting after meat and drink. The 
 thirsting of David's soul after the living God, was 
 very different from that of the hart after the 
 water brooks, though the allusion is very lively 
 
HOW.] DEVOUT MEDITATIONS. 339 
 
 and elegant. For none ever thirst after God 
 and righteousness, but those who, in some mea- 
 sure, already enjoy the one, and possess the other. 
 And, from the knowledge of the pleasure arising 
 from that lesser degree of enjoyment and possession, 
 they are still desiring and thirsting after a greater. 
 Happy, notwithstanding, in what they possess and 
 enjoy, and ravished with the assured expectation 
 of a more full and complete felicity, full in its 
 abundance, and complete in its duration. Whereas, 
 in the natural hunger and thirst of the body, it is 
 pain and want that create the desire -, and pleasure 
 proceeds only from the ceasing of the pain, and 
 relieving of the want; which makes it differ ex- 
 tremely from the other cases, where the want of 
 enjoyment is continually relieved, and the present 
 supplies, which God affords to the eager desire, at 
 once gratify and inflame it. There are but two 
 things, which, were they not both limited by en- 
 tire resignation to the will of my God, would make 
 me desirous of life ; the one for my own advantage, 
 the other for my dear child's. And I most humbly 
 implore of thee, my ever gracious Lord, to grant 
 me for myself, to live till thou hast so far perfected 
 my faith, love, obedience, and sorrow for having 
 ever offended thee, that I may be received into 
 thy everlasting favour. Which I have confidence, 
 through thy infinite mercy, and through the medi- 
 ation of thy blessed son Jesus Christ, that thou wilt 
 grant me, and not suffer thy poor servant to perish 
 for ever. And, for my dear child, I humbly com- 
 
 z 2 
 
340 DEVOUT MEDITATIONS. [HOW. 
 
 mit both her and myself to thy protection ; and 
 beg, that thou wilt graciously be pleased to bless 
 her with a continued innocence and purity of life ; 
 bestowing upon her plentifully of thy grace and 
 wisdom, and making her thy accepted servant, to 
 trust in thee, to love thee, and to obey thee faith- 
 fully, all the days of her life, that thou mayest give 
 her eternal bliss in thy heavenly kingdom. And, 
 for her instruction in virtue, my tenderness inclines 
 me to wish to live to see her confirmed in it. For 
 I must confess, that in my conflicts with aversion 
 to death, and love of the world, when I consider 
 her youth, and the scarcity of friends, I always find 
 that the weakest, and worst-guarded part, in which 
 I can be assaulted. But I most humbly resign both 
 her and myself, to the determination of thy divine 
 will ; which I beg may always be done ; and that thou 
 wilt ever make mine, most joyfully conformable to 
 it. In full confidence, that thou wilt answer my 
 humble petition, to make my dear child a virtuous 
 woman, zealously mindful evermore to perform her 
 duty to thee, by such ways and methods, as thou, 
 in thy infinite wisdom and mercy, shalt think fit. 
 
 LXXXIL Where there is not a strong faith, 
 there can be no love ; where there is no love, there 
 can be no desire ; where there is no desire, there 
 is no notion or conception of beauty; and, where 
 there is no notion or conception of beauty, there 
 can be no delight : and, by consequence, there is 
 no beauty in that holiness which is not supported 
 by faith, and pursued with delight. O grant me, 
 
HOW.] DEVOUT MEDITATIONS. 
 
 my most adorable God, evermore to serve thee in 
 the beauty of holiness ; and give me all those graces 
 and virtues, which are necessary for so glorious, so 
 sublime a performance ! 
 
 LXXXIII. So teach me, great God, to number 
 my days, that I may apply my heart unto wisdom ! 
 This is an arithmetick truly worth learning ; most 
 of our errors being committed for want of a right 
 calculation of time and eternity ; for want of com- 
 puting how much we have to do in time, and how 
 long to continue in eternity : how unspeakable the 
 concern ; how short and uncertain the preparation. 
 Display, good Lord, I beseech thee, to my under- 
 standing, the inestimable treasures of thy truth ; 
 the only treasures, of which I am ambitious ; the 
 knowledge of thy truth being that invaluable pearl 
 of wisdom, which I am most desirous to purchase 
 at any rate. Instruct me in all my addresses to 
 thee, and dictate all my petitions ; grant, that they 
 may always be for those things that may fit me to 
 please thee, and not for such as may be the fittest 
 to please myself; and, for an accumulation of 
 blessing, so influence my soul with thy divine spirit, 
 that thy will may ever be my pleasure. 
 
 LXXXIV. Every man, when he perceives the 
 near approach of death, finds it reasonable to be- 
 .take himself to hearty prayer for the mercy and 
 favour of God. And can any one be so infatuated, 
 as to think it fit to pass his whole life in an entire 
 ignorance and neglect of that Almighty Being, to 
 whom at last he will be obliged to resort, as to his 
 
 z 3 
 
DEVOUT MEDITATIONS. [HOW. 
 
 only refuge and support ? But so much, in poor 
 man, does base fear prevail above reason ; so much 
 stronger an influence has the terror of almighty 
 power, over man's degenerate spirit, than the 
 charming allurements of infinite bounty and good- 
 ness. 
 
 LXXXV. How faint are the impressions which 
 truth usually makes upon the mind of man ? not 
 for want of force in the one, but through the ob- 
 duracy of the other. What an unhappy skill has 
 vice and folly, in forging such wretchedly hardened 
 armour for the soul, as will not suffer it to be pene- 
 trated by truth, though never so sharp and piercing? 
 A miserable defence, against an instrument that is 
 never employed to wound, but to cure; but a 
 treacherous shield, that never opposes those cruel 
 weapons, which give not only wounds, but death. 
 
 LXXXVI. If the passions of men make their 
 lives uncomfortable, and are hardly to be endured, 
 for so short a space, how can they be borne with, 
 when they shall become eternal ? For I take it for 
 granted, that one mighty torment of damnation 
 will be an excessive heightening and enlarging of 
 all the passions, with an utter deprivation of any 
 prospect of enjoyment. But, on the other side, if 
 the love of wisdom and virtue be so sweet and de- 
 lightful to the soul in this its imperfect state, what 
 floods and torrents of joy will be poured in upon it, 
 when all its affections shall be boundlessly and 
 eternally enlarged for their reception ? As doubt- 
 less they will be, to the inconceivable bliss of those 
 
HOW.] DEVOUT MEDITATIONS. 34f3 
 
 most happy souls, who shall be received into the 
 everlasting favour of the Almighty. And that I, 
 and my dear child, may be of that blessed number, 
 grant, my most merciful God, I humbly beseech 
 thee, for the sake of thy dear son Jesus Christ, our 
 Saviour ! 
 
 LXXXVII. Honesty is like a strong perfume: 
 one little grain of it suffices to enrich a great mass, 
 that had neither scent nor value before. How 
 little honesty is there in the world? and, yet, what 
 numbers of men, that by some or other are termed 
 honest ? A small proportion of this noble, though 
 unfashionable virtue, is sufficient to gain the vulgar 
 esteem ; though the most of it, that one who truly 
 endeavours to be an honest man, can make himself 
 master of, will scarce give him a tolerable opinion 
 of himself: for here it is requisite, that his desires 
 should enlarge themselves beyond what he pos- 
 sesses j or else, a very moderate degree of it will 
 make him sit down contented. Some men are 
 satisfied, if they can but shelter themselves from 
 ignominy, under the shadow of honesty \ and 
 others, if they have but enough of it to procure 
 them a pretty good reputation, have as much as 
 they desire ; and, I am sure, if the esteem of un- 
 thinking people were of any value, much more than 
 they deserve, since that is all they aim at. Thus 
 the first sort betake themselves to honesty, as they 
 would to a spreading tree in a storm, only for 
 shelter and protection ; the latter make use of it, 
 as they who want true ones, do of false jewels, to 
 
344 DEVOUT MEDITATIONS. [HOW. 
 
 amuse the world with their counterfeit lustre, and 
 deceitfully to procure themselves that respect, to 
 which they had no just title. What worth, then, 
 must there be in the thing itself, whose bare ap- 
 pearance can give protection, and confer esteem ? 
 But, as honesty deserves diligently to be sought 
 after, so it is most difficult to be acquired ; being, 
 as I may say, an elixir extracted from all the virtues ; 
 never right, when any one of them is wanting in 
 its composition. For, it is not enough, to be 
 honest, only so long as a man may be honest 
 without disadvantage; he ought to be so, at the 
 peril of all he is worth. Nor is it sufficient to be 
 honest, only so long as a man may be honest with 
 safety; he ought to preserve his integrity, at 
 the expence of his life. He that designs to be a 
 real honest man, must think that the most honour- 
 able character he can possibly aspire to ; and must 
 have the least falsehood or injustice in as great a 
 detestation, as murder or blasphemy. So far must 
 he be from doing wilfully a dishonest action, that 
 his soul must abhor a dishonest thought. In short, 
 he ought to be unmoveable and unshaken ; neither 
 to be deterred by fear, nor allured by advantage, 
 but to be proof against all temptations ; and he 
 should value his sincerity equally with the favour 
 of his God, believing that he shall undoubtedly 
 forfeit the one, whenever he foregoes the other. 
 
 LXXXVIII. Wisdom, which is sometimes called 
 holiness, sometimes righteousness, is that vital prin- 
 ciple, whose separation is as fatal to the soul, as the 
 
HOW.] DEVOUT MEDITATIONS. 345 
 
 separation of the soul is to the body. It is that lamp 
 of faith, which enlightens it, and introduces into it 
 those beauties, and glories of the divine perfections, 
 which irresistibly inflame it with love and desire. 
 A love, whose pure fire purges the soul from dross 
 and impurity ; a love, that utters peace and pardon 
 to it; a love, that vanquishes sin, and triumphs 
 over temptation. Great God, I beseech thee, 
 cleanse and enlarge all the clogged and narrow 
 passages of my soul, that thy glories may rush in, 
 and perpetually feed it with this divine flame, con- 
 stantly to ascend, with an uncontrollable motion, 
 in praises and adorations, to thy heavenly throne ! 
 LXXXIX. I make no doubt, that many people 
 would be apt to judge, by my way of living, and 
 by what I write, that my thoughts and life are 
 the effects of a dismal melancholy. Which is a 
 great mistake. For, I thank God, they are both 
 of them the effect of his infinite goodness, as they 
 are the cause of a far more serene and pleasant life, 
 than ever I led under the conduct of folly and 
 passion. My vicious inclinations made me but 
 too well acquainted with the pleasures that most 
 men are so fond of; nor did I naturally want pride 
 and ambition, sufficient to have pushed me to the 
 utmost extravagance of endeavouring to procure 
 riches and honour. But, my gracious God, whom 
 I can never enough love and adore, for his invalu- 
 able mercies to me, has clearly discovered to my 
 reason, the wretched folly of such pursuits ; and 
 has so far strengthened it, as not to suffer it to be 
 
34<6 DEVOUT MEDITATIONS. [HOW. 
 
 overpowered and dazzled, with such childish and 
 gaudy vanities. So that, my contempt of the world, 
 and its advantages, is not for want of knowing the 
 value of them ; but that very knowledge makes me 
 despise them. It is natural, amongst men that are 
 ignorant of what it is that dictates and governs 
 their own thoughts, and the thoughts of others, to 
 wonder at any body, whose judgment and opinion 
 differs from their own ; not considering, that the 
 same diversity of judgment and opinion, causes the 
 same astonishment on the other side. But that 
 wonder ceases, when, by reason and reflection, a 
 man is led to an insight of that common nature, 
 which he shares with the rest of mankind. For 
 then, he readily discovers the sources and causes of 
 all their severally different opinions, and the vari- 
 ous conceptions arising from each passion, as far as 
 the windings of such an intricate labyrinth are ca- 
 pable of being traced. No wise man, therefore, 
 will wonder even at the folly of another ; because 
 I take it for granted, that the wisest of men, now- 
 a-days, have found difficulty enough to overcome 
 their own folly, and to restrain their still natural 
 propensity to it. Which will incline them, not 
 only to be thankful to that infinite wisdom, which 
 has so graciously communicated itself to them, but, 
 to be very compassionate of the weaknesses and 
 follies of other men, and heartily to wish and pray 
 for their relief. But a presumptuous, inconsider- 
 ate fool has no mercy for those, who have different 
 sentiments from his own ; which is the cause of so 
 
HOW.] DEVOUT MEDITATIONS. 347 
 
 much blind zeal, and so many barbarous perse- 
 cutions, as have been in the world. Men in power 
 and authority, being unreasonably bent to model 
 the opinions of others exactly to their own, without 
 considering or caring whether they be right or 
 wrong ; and without imagining, that they have any 
 dependence, upon any being, greater or wiser 
 than themselves. 
 
 XC. It would seem strange, perhaps, should I 
 say, that it is a sin to be miserable, and that it is a 
 sin not to be happy. But yet, when narrowly 
 examined, I believe it will appear no more 
 strange than true. For the effect must needs par- 
 take of the cause, and misery must therefore be 
 undoubtedly sinful, because it is acknowledged to 
 be the offspring of sin. But there are two sorts of 
 miseries incident to mankind : the one not to be 
 avoided, and therefore to be pitied ; the other to 
 be remedied, and therefore inexcusable. The 
 former sort, are such as are occasioned by bodily in- 
 dispositions ; the latter, are the diseases of a vicious 
 mind. To the miseries of a distempered body, we 
 are enslaved by nature ; to those of a distempered 
 mind, we voluntarily submit. In the former case, 
 we want power to break our chain ; in the latter, 
 we want will to obtain our freedom. I think it 
 cannot be denied, that it is a sin to be miserable, 
 through the vice of the mind ; since it is apparent, 
 that those miseries generally proceed, either from 
 desiring things vicious or impossible, or from dread- 
 ing things natural or unavoidable ; in all which 
 
348 DEVOUT MEDITATIONS. [HOW. 
 
 cases, we are guilty of disobeying or repining at 
 the will of God, to which we ought cheerfully, 
 and in all humility, to submit: for, by desiring 
 things vicious, we discover our disobedience ; by 
 desiring things impossible, we demonstrate our im- 
 piety; and, by dreading things natural and un- 
 avoidable, we betray our infidelity. Thus, it being 
 proved, that it is a sin to be miserable, it will fol- 
 low, by undeniable consequence, that it is a sin 
 not to be happy. It is evident, that true happi- 
 ness consists in such a peaceful tranquillity and 
 contentment of mind, as is neither to be ruffled by 
 fear, nor discomposed by desire. And it is as cer- 
 tain, that such a blessed temper can never be 
 obtained without faith, love, obedience, and sub- 
 mission, in their several relations to God, and all of 
 them to a great perfection. Now, happiness re- 
 sulting from the union of these virtues, and the 
 want of any one of them being sinful, it must be 
 granted, that it is a sin not to be happy. 
 
 XCL Whosoever thinks himself wise enough, or 
 virtuous enough, is in a fair way never to be either. 
 He that engages in those difficult paths, must keep 
 in perpetual motion ; there is no stopping, without 
 losing ground. He must consider, that if his un- 
 dertaking be glorious, it is also laborious ; that he 
 has a strong tide to stem ; which, if he does not 
 keep resolutely advancing, will inevitably bear him 
 down the stream. The current of passion is fierce 
 ^nd rapid, not to be resisted by feeble reason, and 
 .wavering resolution; But, if the difficulties to be 
 
HOW.] DEVOUT MEDITATIONS. 849 
 
 overcome be great, the prize to be obtained ex- 
 ceeds all value. He, therefore, whose noble am- 
 bition pushes him to the pursuit of wisdom and 
 virtue, must not be discouraged at their height; 
 nor must he think to rest upon the steep ascent of 
 those aspiring mountains, which hide their lofty 
 tops in heaven ; thither we must climb, before we 
 can reach them, securely to sit down, and enjoy 
 eternal happiness and repose. 
 
 XCII. It fares with a feeble mind, too weak to 
 resist the powerful assaults made upon it, by the 
 cares, necessities, and contingencies of life, as it 
 does with the poor bee in a windy day, who, spying 
 the flowers which afford honey, makes eager at- 
 tempts to settle upon them; but the impetuous 
 storm drives it away, and often obliges it to rest 
 upon some tasteless plant, from whence it can ex- 
 tract nothing that is useful, nothing that is sweet. 
 And, in the same manner, the inconstant mind, 
 not sufficiently upheld by wisdom and virtue, is 
 apt to be hurried from the objects of its pleasure 
 and happiness, and forced to fix upon such objects, 
 as not only yield it neither, but envenom it with 
 anxiety and disquiet. 
 
 XCIII. Either we owe no obedience to God 
 Almighty, or else we owe the most exact obe- 
 dience, that it is possible for us to pay him. For, 
 if any duty belongs to him, it must necessarily be 
 the most perfect duty, that the utmost capacity of 
 our nature can enable us to perform ; even as per- 
 
350 DEVOUT MEDITATIONS. [HOW. 
 
 feet, as an indigent creature is capable of expressing 
 to his bountiful Creator. 
 
 XCIV. No! By the grace of God, justice and 
 equity, not favour and interest, shall be the pillars 
 I will make use of, to support my fortune in the 
 world. When those are too weak to uphold it, let 
 it take its chance. And I hope I should be able 
 to take the same course, if my life itself were the 
 stake at issue. For I had much rather lose my 
 right or my life, by another man's injustice, than 
 obtain the one, or preserve the other, by any base 
 pursuit, or unworthy application of my own. Nor 
 shall I ever value, or seek for, any favour, but that 
 of my God ; to whom he that has grace enough to 
 commit himself, may with security enough commit 
 his fortune. Of him, therefore, I humbly beg, to 
 dispose both of me and of mine, perfectly accord- 
 ing to his own pleasure ; trusting that he will always 
 vouchsafe to support my faith, whatever else he shall 
 permit to fail me. 
 
 XCV. Faith, that fruitful parent of all other 
 graces, can never be too carefully cultivated and 
 improved. It is the source of pleasure, the lamp 
 of wisdom, and the soul of virtue. It is that 
 mysterious ladder, by which the soul ascends to 
 heaven, and heaven descends to the soul ; by which 
 a joyful correspondence is continually held, between 
 it and its Creator. Faith is that celestial flame, which 
 purifies the soul from dross and pollution ; and which 
 opens in it a new and glorious scene, gilded with the 
 ineffable brightness of the Deity, adorned with the 
 
HOW/) DEVOUT MEDITATIONS. 351 
 
 inconceivable delights of blissful eternity, and en- 
 riched with holy hopes, pure desires, love divine, 
 and joy unutterable. 
 
 XCVI. No man can truly be termed an honest 
 man, who is capable of being moved, by any tempt- 
 ation whatsoever, to be dishonest. For, though 
 there were but one temptation in the world that 
 had power to work that effect, yet such a person 
 still lies under the possibility of being an ill man. 
 And the best that can be said of him is, that he is 
 honester than thousands of others; and has but 
 that one unhappy exception, to his being a per- 
 fectly upright and virtuous man. A citadel may 
 be called strong, in comparison of a weaker, be- 
 cause it can hold out a longer siege ; but, if any 
 force be able to make it surrender, it cannot be 
 called impregnable : neither can the soul of man 
 be positively termed virtuous, till it is so fortified, as 
 to become impregnable against all manner of vice. 
 
 XC VII. Virtue and Vice are words better known 
 in the world by their sound, than by their true mean- 
 ing. Men take the liberty to give such an inter- 
 pretation to them, as is most suitable to their own 
 fancy and inclination. But he who thinks it ne- 
 cessary to lead a virtuous life, and designs to apply 
 himself heartily to the doing so, must come to a 
 better and juster understanding of what the things 
 are, that are really meant by those words. I take 
 it, that virtue consists in acting conformably to the 
 divine attributes and perfections of God ; and vice, 
 in acting in opposition and contradiction to those 
 
352 DEVOUT MEDITATIONS. [HOW. 
 
 perfections. This latter is very properly called 
 sinning against God ; as offending not only against 
 his commands, but against his very essence. For, 
 as acting falsely and deceitfully, oppressively and 
 unjustly, cruelly and maliciously, covetously or im- 
 purely, is acting viciously, because plainly against 
 the attributes of truth, justice, mercy, bounty and 
 purity in God : so, acting faithfully and sincerely, 
 generously and justly, kindly and mercifully, cha- 
 ritably and temperately, is acting virtuously, be- 
 cause in conformity to those several divine attri- 
 butes. And, as every reasonable man must conceive 
 the Deity to be the exact model of perfection, so 
 he must necessarily contemplate Him as the model 
 for his most exact imitation. 
 
 XCVIII. Strife and contest are evidences of 
 difference and contrariety ; and difference and con- 
 trariety demonstrate clearly a plurality of principles : 
 for, where there is unity, there is no contradiction ; 
 all contest must, at least, be between two. Fire 
 being of an uncompounded nature, has no variance 
 in itself; but an addition of water to it, causes a 
 strife, and plainly discovers the diversity of ele- 
 ments. Thus man, were he a simple, uncom- 
 pounded principle, would never find any strife or 
 contradiction in himself j any more than there is in 
 other animals, in whom no such thing can be per- 
 ceived. But, being compounded of the two very 
 different principles of soul and body, he is sensible 
 of continual disputes and contradictions in himself. 
 Which, I think, is a very sufficient demonstration 
 
HOW.] DEVOUT MEDITATIONS. 353 
 
 of the existence of those two different principles of 
 soul and body in his composition. Nay further, 
 there is a possibility of the one being pleased, while 
 the other grieves ; of the one being delighted, while 
 the other feels pain ; as has been evident, in men 
 that have chosen to suffer punishment, rather than 
 do a vicious unjustifiable action. And, though it 
 is sufficiently known, that the body abhors pain 
 and dissolution, yet there have been those, who 
 have rejoiced in flames, and delighted in death. 
 A manifest triumph of the soul over the body; 
 which shows it to be, not only a different, but 
 a far more excellent principle, than any thing in 
 mere corporeal life. 
 
 XCIX. I have formerly had it in my thoughts, 
 that imperfection is an undeniable argument of 
 perfection ; which I find confirmed by this further 
 reflection, that whatsoever is imperfect, has some 
 degrees of perfection in it; as a part has some por- 
 tion of the whole, and is an argument of a whole. 
 If, therefore, that which is imperfect, has some 
 degree of perfection, as must be acknowledged, 
 then it is plain, that there is such a thing as per- 
 fection ; since it is impossible, that there should be 
 any degrees, of a thing which is not. The next 
 inquiry must be, where is this perfection lodged ? 
 It is evidently, not in the insensible, nor in the 
 brutish, part of the creation ; nor yet in man, to 
 whom his little portion of reason must clearly evi- 
 dence that it is not in him ; though it as clearly 
 discovers, that imperfection is in him. Where then 
 
 A A 
 
354 DEVOUT MEDITATIONS. [HOW. 
 
 shall we seek it, or expect to find it, but in thee, 
 O infinitely perfect, all-wise, all-mighty, all-glori- 
 ous, and all-bountiful God ! My soul, then, most 
 humbly adores thee, and begs this inestimable 
 blessing, that thou wilt enable it most fervently, 
 sincerely, uninterruptedly, and acceptably, to love, 
 serve, and adore thee, from this moment to all 
 eternity, for Jesus Christ his sake, thy blessed son, 
 my most merciful Redeemer ; to whom, with thee, 
 and the Holy Spirit, the one great God, be ever- 
 more attributed all honour, power, praise, majesty, 
 and perfection ! 
 
 C. We can assign an end for the creation of all 
 beasts, fowls, fishes, trees and plants, and even of 
 the sun, moon, and stars ; namely, for the use, sup- 
 port, and convenience of man. And can it be 
 imagined, that man was made for no other end, 
 than to consume and devour the rest of the creation ; 
 and that he himself is a useless, worthless, insig- 
 nificant thing, though lord and master of the whole 
 earth? Great God! that thou, whose power, 
 wisdom, and glory shine so bright in all thy works, 
 shouldst yet remain almost undiscovered to thy 
 creature man ; on whom thou hast bestowed a 
 rational soul, on purpose to enable him to arrive at 
 the felicity of knowing, loving, obeying, and ador- 
 ing thee. Which, grant that I may faithfully per- 
 form ; and account those duties the highest excel- 
 lencies and advantages of my being ; and enjoy the 
 blessing of them to all eternity ! 
 
 CI. Upon whatsoever foundation happiness is 
 
HOW.] DEVOUT MEDITATIONS. 355 
 
 built, when that foundation fails, happiness must 
 be destroyed. It is wisdom, therefore, to chuse 
 such a foundation for it, as is not liable to destruc- 
 tive accidents. If happiness be founded upon 
 riches, it lies at the mercy of theft, deceit, op- 
 pression, war, and tyranny; if, upon fine houses 
 and costly furniture, one spark of fire is able to con- 
 sume it ; if, upon wife, children, friends, health, 
 or life, a thousand diseases, and ten thousand fatal 
 accidents, have power to destroy it. But, if it be 
 founded upon the infinite bounty and goodness of 
 God, and upon those virtues that entitle to his 
 favour, its foundation is immoveable, and its dura- 
 tion eternal. 
 
 CII. Could I ever sufficiently value the worth 
 and benefit of that noble virtue faith, I might be 
 induced to think I had already mentioned it often 
 enough. But every degree of advancement in the 
 knowledge of it, discovers such infinite beauties 
 and excellencies, that, were I to live a thousand 
 years, and were able to employ my whole time in 
 meditating upon this one incomparable virtue alone, 
 I must, of necessity, leave much more unthought 
 and unadmired concerning it, than my mind, by 
 such slow progresses as it is now capable of making 
 towards wisdom and knowledge, could possibly, in 
 that space of time, comprehend. This, to many 
 people, might seem a studied encomium, rather 
 than an urgent truth. But I do not desire to 
 amuse myself with such trifling conceits : truth is 
 the thing I labour after; and I hope that great 
 
 A A 2 
 
356 DEVOUT MEDITATIONS. [HOW. 
 
 Being, who is environed with the bright glories of 
 it, will vouchsafe to shed a portion of its pure 
 enlightening rays upon my soul, darkened and 
 clouded with sin and ignorance. If the expression 
 will be allowed, I may say, that there is as great a 
 variety of climates in the mind of man, as there is 
 in the globe of the earth. The one occasioned by 
 the nearness or distance of faith, as the other is 
 by the vicinity or remoteness of the sun ; the former 
 shedding the same happy influences upon the soul, 
 as the latter does upon the world. They who, by 
 a near approach, bask in the beams of that illus- 
 trious virtue, like the inhabitants of Spain and Italy, 
 enjoy the serenity and delights of so fortunate a 
 situation ; ever gratified with the rich and delicious 
 fruits, which are its natural product. While those, 
 who, by an unhappy separation, are divided from 
 it, and have but rarely the benefit even of its short, 
 remote, and imperfect glances, may be compared 
 to the natives of Lapland and Norway, doomed 
 and confined to uncomfortable regions, abounding 
 only in ice and storms, barrenness and obscurity. 
 
 CHI. Virtue requires the utmost force, applica- 
 tion, and exercise of the mind, both in order to 
 its acquisition and preservation. True notions, and 
 right ideas, are not to be acquired, without our 
 utmost labour and industry: nor to be preserved, 
 without unwearied thought and diligence. And 
 yet, it is absolutely requisite, to have both true 
 notions, and right ideas, of things ; without which, 
 we must inevitably make a thousand mistakes in 
 
HOW.] DEVOUT MEDITATIONS. 357 
 
 the disposal of our affections and aversions, fatal to 
 our present tranquillity, and future happiness. For 
 we cannot forbear to love and hate, according to 
 our ideas of things ; and, if our ideas deceive 
 us, we shall love where we should hate, and hate 
 where we should love. From which cause it is, 
 that so many prefer folly and vice, to wisdom and 
 virtue ; deceived by the false ideas and conceptions 
 formed in the mind, of the one and the other. 
 How much, then, ought we to love, and how dili- 
 gently to seek after, truth ; which is the original of 
 all our happiness, as falsehood is of all our misery ? 
 It is faith, it is truth, that is the only unerring 
 light, which can guide and conduct the soul to 
 present peace, and eternal felicity ; and it is doubt 
 and falsehood which endeavour to seduce it from 
 both. But, after all, when we are happy enough to 
 have obtained right ideas, and imprinted them upon 
 the soul, we have then done but half our work. 
 The other no less difficult part is, to preserve them 
 bright and entire ; and, by continual reflection and 
 meditation, to renew those impressions which they 
 have made : for, as these decay, our affections, as 
 well as our aversions, will grow languid towards 
 their objects ; till, at last, by a long neglect, if we 
 should be so wretchedly careless, virtue and vice 
 will grow indifferent to us : and that indifference, 
 in the end, will naturally terminate in the prefer- 
 ence of vice, and the rejection of virtue. Than 
 which, there is but one greater curse attending 
 upon folly ; and that is, the soul's eternal confine- 
 
 A A 3 
 
358 DEVOUT MEDITATIONS. [HOW.. 
 
 ment to it, even after the discovery of its misery 
 and deformity : 
 
 Scorn the world, abandon folly, 
 
 Purchase faith, that glorious treasure ; 
 
 Faith is wisdom, wisdom virtue, 
 Virtue truth, and truth is pleasure. 
 
 CIV. I make no doubt but many think a con- 
 templative life, an idle life. But they who are of 
 that opinion, know better what belongs to the 
 labour of the hands, than to that of the mind ; to 
 the force of the body, than to the vigour of the 
 soul. That body may be able to bear a great bur- 
 then, which would find itself too weak to support 
 the violent impulses of an active mind ; and would 
 sooner languish, tire, and grow lean, with mental 
 exercise, than with corporeal. That metal would 
 resist the weaker assaults of a common fire, which 
 would be immediately forced to yield and dissolve, 
 by the subtile and impetuous flames of the piercing 
 lightning. The thinnest bodies make the most 
 quick and violent impressions ; a rapid stream will 
 do that, which a cannon bullet cannot effect ; and 
 the furious rage of a tempest surpasses the force of 
 water ; though the yet thinner body of fire is less 
 to be resisted, than both the former. If, then, the 
 most solid bodies are not able to oppose the efforts 
 of those which are more thin and pure, how unequal 
 a match is flesh and blood, to the violent concus- 
 sions of an active spirit ? * 
 
 * It is an acknowledged truth, that the most yielding, are 
 also the most powerful agents in the natural world. Those 
 
HOW.] DEVOUT MEDITATIONS. 359 
 
 CV. This day, I have lived forty-two years; 
 being born in the year 1661. And I humbly thank 
 my most gracious God, for having given me life, 
 and that he did not destroy it, whilst it was 
 miserably clogged with sin and folly. I humbly 
 adore thy glorious Majesty, for having given me a 
 capacity of loving, obeying, and contemplating 
 thee ; and, consequently, a foretaste of happiness 
 eternal, in the adoration of thee. Give me, I im- 
 plore thee, a power to exercise this privilege, in the 
 most perfect manner, that thy infinite bounty shall 
 enable me to do ; and grant, that the remainder of 
 my life may be spent in the exactest performance 
 of every part of my duty to thee, for Jesus Christ's 
 sake. 
 
 CVI. In any adversity that happens to us in 
 the world, we ought to consider, that misery and 
 affliction are not less natural than snow and hail, 
 storm and tempest : and that it were as reasonable 
 to hope for a year without winter, as for a life with- 
 out trouble. Life, how sweet soever it seems, is 
 a draught mingled with bitter ingredients. Some 
 drink deeper than others, before they come at these 
 
 finer elements, which scarcely afford perceptible resistance to 
 our touch, are yet, in the hands of Omnipotence, the great 
 movers of this earthly system ; and we learn from late dis- 
 coveries, that their energy increases, exactly as their substance 
 is attenuated and refined ; whilst we are equally assured, that 
 the hardest, the most unyielding, and most impenetrable 
 bodies, are absolutely void of all intrinsic power.' JeWs 
 Practical Sermons, p. 249. 
 
 A A 4 
 
300 DEVOUT MEDITATIONS. [HOW. 
 
 ingredients : but, if they do not swim at the top for 
 youth to taste them, it is ten to one but old age 
 will find them thick in the bottom. And it is the 
 employment of faith and patience, and the work of 
 wisdom and virtue, to teach us to drink the sweet 
 part down with pleasure and thankfulness, and to 
 swallow the bitter without reluctance. 
 
 CVII. He that has pleasure in himself, is pleased 
 with every thing ; and he that wants that pleasure, 
 is pleased with nothing : but to think reasonably, 
 and act reasonably, will give a man pleasure in 
 himself; therefore to think reasonably and act rea- 
 sonably, is the sure way to be happy. To illustrate 
 this argument, it is necessary to consider, that the 
 pleasure of a fool flows from things without him- 
 self; whereas the pleasure of a wise man springs 
 up within himself: the former arises from the 
 bodily senses, the latter from the understanding ; 
 the one 13 the pleasure of the body, the other of 
 the soul. Now, it is evident, that the body has not, 
 at all times, power to communicate its pleasure to 
 the soul; no! not even to the soul of the most 
 vicious fool : which makes its pleasures very imper- 
 fect ; since they extend but to one half of the man. 
 But the pleasures of the soul never fail to commu- 
 nicate themselves to the body ; and, by that com- 
 munication, are rendered as perfect as our being is 
 capable of; because they become the pleasures of 
 the whole man. To give an instance of this : when 
 envy, anger, grief, or any other passion, disturbs 
 the mind, all the gratifications that can enter by 
 

 HOW.] DEVOUT MEDITATIONS. 
 
 the senses of the body, are not able to give i 
 sure ; nor is the man, under these disturbances 
 mind, capable of being happy. But, when the 
 mind is freed from all perplexing and disquieting 
 passions, and is at liberty both to think and to act 
 reasonably, without any opposition from the body, 
 such a happy disposition of the soul necessarily 
 diffuses and communicates itself to the body, and 
 gives pleasure to the whole entire man. And, 
 under this pleasing temper of mind, whatsoever 
 portion of pleasure the body is capable of contri- 
 buting, will considerably raise and increase the 
 stock of happiness, which before was great enough 
 not to stand in need of any addition. Our main 
 care, therefore, must be, not to abandon bodily 
 pleasures that are innocent, and consistent with 
 wisdom and virtue, since they are capable of con- 
 tributing to our happiness ; but to avoid laying in, 
 too lavishly, such stores of them, as may oppress 
 and stifle the supreme reasonable pleasure of the 
 mind ; that flame kindled by wisdom, and main- 
 tained by virtue : without which, it is impossible 
 to enjoy any tolerable or lasting measure of hap- 
 piness. 
 
 CVIII. Doubts and uncertainty are the most 
 general roots of all human misery and discontent, 
 in virtuous as well as vicious men. The vicious 
 man often doubts, that, by following his inclinations 
 he may destroy his happiness ; and the virtuous 
 man will be sometimes too apt to doubt, that he 
 has in vain washed his hands in innocence ; and 
 
362 DEVOUT MEDITATIONS. [HOW. 
 
 that, by renouncing his inclinations, he has aban- 
 doned his happiness. But we must take care not 
 to permit ourselves to think, that we are out of the 
 way, because we walk out of the road of the gene- 
 rality of the world ; on the contrary, we may rest 
 assured, that the narrowest path, and where we 
 find the least company, is the right way. 
 
 CIX. So long as virtue does not appear lovely 
 to a man, it is in vain for him to imagine that he 
 can love God; since it is impossible to love the 
 author of the injunction, whilst the duty enjoined 
 is repugnant and distasteful to us. Did ever a 
 slothful servant cordially love his master ? Or did 
 ever a faithful, diligent servant, who was convinced 
 of the reasonableness of all his master's commands, 
 hate him ? No : where duty and reason are per- 
 fectly reconciled, affection will instantly unite itself 
 to them ; and then obedience will become not 
 merely an easy, but a delightful task. 
 
 CX. Grief and discontent have generally their 
 foundation in desire : so that, whosoever can ob- 
 tain the sovereignty over his desire, will be master 
 of his happiness. On the other hand, all such de- 
 sires as occasion grief and discontent, are founded 
 upon weakness or ignorance ; therefore, we must 
 gain possession of the contrary qualities, which are 
 wisdom and constancy, before we can reasonably 
 hope to be masters of our desires. The two chief 
 heads, to which all human griefs and discontents 
 may be reduced, bodily pains and indispositions 
 excepted, are these ; either we desire to have what 
 
HOW.] DEVOUT MEDITATIONS. 363 
 
 we cannot possess, or else we desire to be freed 
 from what we cannot get rid of. And it appears 
 plainly, that both these sorts of desires are founded 
 upon weakness and ignorance ; being founded 
 upon impossibilities, which it must be either weak- 
 ness or ignorance to languish after. For, if the things 
 which we desire are in our own power, there is no 
 cause of grief; and if they are not, it is vain and 
 unreasonable to grieve. Sometimes, indeed, we 
 make ourselves miserable, by desiring things pos- 
 sible ; but then, they are such as are hurtful and 
 inconvenient : so that, in this case, though our de- 
 sires are grounded upon possibility, they are yet 
 grounded upon inconsistency, which is altogether 
 as bad ; since the gratification of such desires is 
 incompatible with our happiness. Thus, generally, 
 our discontents are owing to our folly and impiety : 
 to our folly, because they are vain and fruitless ; 
 and to our impiety, because we cannot, as we 
 ought, submit to the divine will, and cheerfully 
 acquiesce in the divine determinations. A mani- 
 fest proof, either that we think ourselves wise 
 enough to contrive our own happiness ; or, that we 
 mistrust the infinite bounty of God, lest it should 
 fall short in the distribution of it to us. As to 
 grief for the loss of friends, which still proceeds 
 from impossible desire, it must necessarily flow 
 from one of these two causes : either that we think 
 their death, a diminution of our happiness, or of 
 theirs ; or else that we grieve we know not why, 
 and, consequently, that our grief is unreasonable. 
 
364 DEVOUT MEDITATIONS. [HOW. 
 
 If the diminution of our own enjoyment cause our 
 lamentation, we are moved by interest and self- 
 love, not by the love of our friend. On the other 
 hand, if the diminution of our friend's enjoyment 
 be the occasion of it, we must have an ill opinion 
 of his condition. But, if our felicity depends either 
 upon friends, or any thing else in this world, it 
 is very uncertain ; and if we conceive, that the feli- 
 city of our friends is entirely dependent upon the 
 present union of soul and body, our faith is as doubt- 
 ful as our happiness. O good God, how many 
 degrees of doubt wilt thou allow to enter into the 
 composition of saving faith, if uncompounded faith 
 be too sublime for human nature ! If ten degrees of 
 doubt for one of faith, will not be accepted, I fear 
 the number of those who are saved by faith, is very 
 small. O great God, increase my faith ! Increase 
 the faith of all mankind that have it, and bestow it 
 upon those who want it, out of thy infinite com- 
 passion. And let the defects of our faith be supplied 
 by thy mercy, through Jesus Christ our Saviour. 
 
 CXI. I would examine whether grief be an effect 
 of infidelity ; and if it appear to be so, I am sure 
 we ought to endeavour, by all means, as far as 
 possible, to banish it out of our souls. Our Saviour 
 tells us, that a sparrow does not fall to the ground, 
 without the knowledge and will of God, and that 
 the very hairs of our head are numbered ; by which 
 doctrine, he would more forcibly inculcate, that 
 nothing befals man without his knowledge and ap- 
 pointment. Since, therefore, whatsoever happens 
 
HOW.] DEVOUT MEDITATIONS. 365 
 
 to man in this world, is either directed by the 
 will, or consented to by the permission, of God, 
 what ground has grief to stand upon, but human 
 weakness? All opposition to the will of God, is 
 wrestling with his power; all reluctance to his 
 appointments, and repining at them, is contending, 
 so far as man is able to contend, with almighty 
 power, by condemning and disapproving the ex- 
 ercise of it, and avowing that we would oppose 
 and contradict it, if we were able ; which is the 
 most insolently foolish impiety imaginable. And, 
 for things that befal us through the bare permission 
 of God, where he does not exert his own immediate 
 power to bring them to pass, though, in this case, 
 it were not impious to grieve, yet it would be un- 
 reasonable ; since, where there is a power, and a 
 propensity, in any means sufficient to effect a 
 thing, unless it should please God to supersede 
 that power, which he does not think fit to do, but 
 permits it to act according to its own propensity, 
 I say, that, in this case, the non-interposition of the 
 Almighty power, leaves an absolute force in that 
 means, to produce that effect : so that, the accident 
 which it occasions is as inevitable, as if it had been 
 actually performed by Almighty power ; and, there- 
 fore, it would be unreasonable to lament it. Nay, 
 in truth, I think myself obliged, upon further con- 
 sideration, to retract my saying, that, in such cases, 
 it would be no impiety to grieve ; because, though 
 this were not to repine at Providence, for doing 
 something, which we would have undone, yet it 
 
366 DEVOUT MEDITATIONS. [HOW. 
 
 is evidently repining at it, for not putting a stop to 
 the power of second causes, and, by consequence, 
 for not doing something, which we would have 
 done ; which is the same thing in effect. But as 
 to the sort of grief, which, I said, shared of im- 
 piety, I mean only such a grief, as is occasioned 
 by such actions as are the appointment of divine 
 Providence, and not by such as he permits to be 
 within the compass of our own determination and 
 performance. For there is a grief, that does not 
 proceed from our contradiction to the will of God, 
 but from our having acted in a manifest contra- 
 diction to it, which is called repentance. And 
 though, by this grief, we cannot revoke the sins 
 which we have committed, yet we discover by it our 
 inclination and desire, if it were possible, to revoke 
 them ; and we, thereby, give a testimony of our 
 sincere abhorrence of them, and of our purpose 
 and resolution never to be guilty of them more. 
 Which grief is most effectual to the procuring its 
 end, and therefore most reasonable : for, though it 
 does not really revoke the sin, yet it actually annuls 
 the punishment which would have attended the 
 guilt of it ; and has the desired effect of reinstating 
 the sinner into the same degree of God's favour, 
 which he enjoyed before the commission of it. 
 But for our grief for the loss of friends, all that 
 can be said of it, is this, that there is a strong pro- 
 pensity in human nature to lament the loss of any 
 person, or thing, that is agreeable to us, and con- 
 tributes to our comfort and satisfaction ; and that 
 
HOW.] DEVOUT MEDITATIONS. 367 
 
 it is very difficult, to derive a sufficient power from 
 reason to oppose its efforts. A man must not pre- 
 tend, therefore, to claim an exemption from grief 
 for the loss of his friend, who does not make it 
 appear, from the rest of the actions of his life, that 
 he uses his utmost endeavours to govern himself 
 entirely by reason ; to subdue his passions, and to 
 get the mastery over pleasure, as well as over grief: 
 otherwise, his not grieving, will be an evidence, 
 rather of his ill-nature, than of his philosophy and 
 religion. And that man who conforms his life and 
 behaviour to the usual methods and customs of the 
 generality of mankind in other things, ought like- 
 wise to do it in this ; since it is reasonable to 
 imagine, that his thoughts, in the main, resemble 
 theirs : and death, according to the common notion 
 of mankind, being looked upon as the greatest evil, 
 it were the highest pitch of ill-nature, in a man that 
 thinks it so, not to lament when it happens to his 
 friend. But he who has established in his mind a 
 firm belief, that death is no evil ; but, on the con- 
 trary, esteems it to be only the passage to perfect 
 felicity, may justly be allowed to have the same 
 sentiments of it, in relation to his friend, as he 
 would have in regard to himself. And now, having 
 been so long on the consideration of grief, in order 
 to a more perfect knowledge of it; I will enter 
 upon that of another affection of the soul, which 
 has a very close connection with it, and which is 
 inseparable from it; and that is love. For it is 
 plain we grieve, because we love either ourselves 
 
368 DEVOUT MEDITATIONS. [HOW. 
 
 or something else. And since I have discovered, 
 that grief is generally both impious and unreason- 
 able, as deviating from that perfect obedience- and 
 resignation which we owe to God, and therefore is 
 not allowable in a wise and virtuous man, who 
 makes it his endeavour to know and perform his 
 duty, with the utmost exactness he is able, it 
 may be expected, that I should tell what other 
 marks and demonstrations a wise and virtuous man 
 can give of his love ; which I think no difficult task 
 to do. For, if grief be the only mark of his love to 
 his friend, which a man is able to give, let him 
 have as sorrowful a heart as he pleases, I would 
 not give a rush for his friendship. These, in my 
 opinion, are the true properties of valuable friend- 
 ship, to desire to have done, and to endeavour to 
 do, all imaginable good to those we love ; to assist 
 and comfort them, as far as we are able, while they 
 are in a capacity of being assisted and comforted 
 by us ; to contribute, with all our power and 
 skill, to their satisfaction and happiness ; to be as 
 covetous of their advantage as of our own ; and, 
 when any disaster, or unhappy accident of any 
 kind, befals them, to ransack all the faculties of 
 our souls to procure their relief. But for lament- 
 ation, when a friend is no longer in a situation to 
 receive, or to need, the marks of our affection, it is 
 neither beneficial nor reasonable, either in respect 
 of our friend, or of ourselves ; though the world, 
 whose love generally flows only from their tongues 
 and eyes, may think tears and complaints decent 
 
HOW.] DEVOUT MEDITATIONS. 369 
 
 things. And thus, they would make an easy 
 amends by hypocrisy, for their want of real friend- 
 ship. 
 
 CXII. It is as impossible for a vicious man, 
 under the habit and power of vice, to conceive 
 what is the pleasure of a man that is virtuous, as it is 
 for a beast to conceive what is his pleasure. A beast 
 is not endued with such a spirit, as is capable of re- 
 ceiving the ideas of vice. Neither is a vicious man 
 endued with such purity, brightness, and elevation 
 of soul, as to enable him to receive and apprehend 
 the form of virtue. And, consequently, he is as 
 great a stranger to the manner of a virtuous man's 
 thinking, as a beast is to his manner of thinking. 
 
 CXIII. Amongst great numbers of men ac- 
 counted rich, but few really are so. I take 
 him to be the only rich man, that lives upon 
 what he has, owes nothing, and is contented. For 
 there is no determinate sum of money, nor quantity 
 of estate, that can denote a man rich ; since no man 
 is truly rich, that has not so much as perfectly 
 satiates his desire of having more. For the desire 
 of more is want, and want is poverty. 
 
 CXIV. A fine gentleman may as well think to 
 go abroad in a blustering day, without disordering 
 his dress, as a wise man may fancy that he can 
 abandon his mind to the trifling business and hurry 
 of the world, without disordering his thoughts. 
 
 CXV. Thought is, undoubtedly, in a great mea- 
 sure, governed and directed by the affections. 
 Which shows the necessity of subduing the affec- 
 
 B B 
 
370 DEVOUT MEDITATIONS. [HOW. 
 
 tions to right reason ; otherwise, our thoughts can 
 never be reasonable ; and all human actions are, or 
 ought to be, governed by thought : therefore, such 
 as the thoughts are, such must be the actions ; 
 equally partaking of wisdom or folly. And I doubt 
 that folly, by the natural consequence of this argu- 
 ment, has the greater share in the government of 
 the world; in the same manner as Themistocles 
 said his little boy governed Athens ; < For this 
 child/ said he, * governs his mother, his mother 
 me, and I the Athenians/ 
 
 CXVI. Since almost every man, in these parts of 
 the world, thinks his salvation and happiness de- 
 pend upon his being a Christian, it is highly neces- 
 sary to know what is the true meaning, of the word, 
 and the thing, Christian. In order to which, it 
 must be observed, that, in all ages, the most rea- 
 sonable men have applied themselves, with their 
 utmost industry, to search after truth ; the know- 
 ledge of which, can alone be properly termed wis- 
 dom. And these were called philosophers, or 
 lovers of wisdom ; of which there were several 
 sects, according to the several doctrines and opi- 
 nions of the authors, or beginners of them. So 
 that, whosoever, upon the examination of the several 
 doctrines of these philosophers, afterwards made 
 choice of any one sect, preferring it to all the rest, 
 and endeavoured to regulate his life and actions 
 after its tenets, was called, according to the name 
 of that sect, either a Stoic, Peripatetic, Epicurean, 
 &c. Now, after many philosophers had introduced 
 
HOW.] DEVOUT MEDITATIONS. 3? 1 
 
 several opinions, to instruct men how to arrive at 
 their supreme happiness, for this is the philosophy 
 I mean, and the only one worth our care and 
 thought, Jesus Christ was born into the world; 
 who, unacquainted with learning and its professors, 
 taught a doctrine much more clear, reasonable, and 
 excellent, than any which was ever known before ; 
 and, indeed, so far surpassing all human power of 
 thought, that it were of itself sufficient to give him 
 a title to Divinity, had there been no other argu- 
 ments for his being the son of God. And the 
 embracers of his doctrine were called Christians. 
 But, though the bare profession of this admirable 
 doctrine, is sufficient to give a man the name, yet 
 something else is requisite to make him a real 
 Christian ; and that is, thoroughly to contemplate 
 both the life and doctrine of our Saviour ; to obtain, 
 so far as possible, the same spirit ; to enter into the 
 same temper of mind ; to be moved by the same 
 influences, governed by the same principles ; and, 
 in short, to form the life, as exactly as possible, 
 after his model ; that is, to think as he thought, 
 and act as he acted : and this, according to my 
 notion, is that alone, which can truly and de- 
 servedly confer upon a man the name of Christian ; 
 though, perhaps, it may reduce the number of 
 Christians within a narrow compass. For, I fear, 
 there are as many that bear that title, who are not 
 Christians indeed, as there were Israelites, who 
 were not Israelites indeed. He, therefore, that 
 aspires to be a Christian, must never slacken his 
 
 r. B 2 
 
372 DEVOUT MEDITATIONS. [HOW. 
 
 endeavours, till he really feels himself one. And 
 this is very possible ; for the soul is as capable of 
 the perception of things within itself, as the body 
 is of heat or cold, hunger or thirst, ease or pain. 
 And a man may as reasonably conclude, that he is 
 a good Christian, without feeling himself such, as 
 he may fancy that he is cold, or hungry, or in pain, 
 without feeling that he is any one of them. It 
 is evident, that a man may feel within himself 
 whether he is, or is not, endued with the qualities 
 belonging to a Christian ; and therefore ought not 
 to rest satisfied of his being perfectly such, till he 
 feels those qualities within him : till he finds him- 
 self, in relation to his God, firm in faith, fervent in 
 love, humble, sincere, constant in obedience, and 
 cheerful in resignation. Whilst he is labouring 
 after these several graces, he is endeavouring to be 
 a Christian ; and, when he has obtained them, he 
 is most certainly a Christian indeed. 
 
 CXVII. Every sincerely virtuous man, fixed in 
 the principles of virtue, and entirely influenced by 
 reason, must needs be in a fair way to be a good 
 Christian. Nor do I doubt, that, if Pythagoras, 
 Socrates, Plato, with many other virtuous heathens, 
 had been happy enough to have lived contemporary 
 with our Saviour, and to have been acquainted 
 with his life and precepts, they would readily have 
 embraced the Christian doctrine, and been eminent 
 in the first rank of its professors. Was it not the 
 integrity and virtue of Joseph of Arimathea, and 
 of Nathanael, that had fitted them for Christianity, 
 
HOW.] DEVOUT MEDITATIONS. 
 
 and that had disposed their mind for the reception 
 of truth, when and wheresoever they could find it ? 
 And, in my opinion, there had been sufficient reason 
 for the belief of the Gospel delivered by our Saviour, 
 though there had been neither predictions nor 
 miracles to confirm his extraordinary mission ; and 
 that upon this consideration. Every truly virtu- 
 ous man feels in himself an utter abhorrence and 
 aversion to falsehood and deceit, and is assured, 
 that, so long as he continues under the influence of 
 virtue, he is capable of neither ; for he knows, that 
 virtue is a power conferred by God upon the mind 
 of man, to capacitate him to act in conformity to 
 the Divine will and commands : so long, therefore, 
 as he feels this divine power in his soul, which is 
 what the Scripture terms grace, he knows himself to 
 be in no danger of being false or deceitful ; since 
 this power and falsehood are inconsistent, and can- 
 not possibly subsist in the mind of man at the same 
 time. A virtuous man, thus conscious of his own 
 principles, is acquainted with the effect that the 
 same principles must necessarily have, in the minds 
 of other men ; and, by consequence, discovering 
 in the life, behaviour, and doctrine of our Saviour, 
 by infinite degrees, the most exalted purity, virtue, 
 and integrity, that ever any man was possessed 
 of j he will be perfectly convinced, that it was im- 
 possible for any thing but truth to proceed from 
 him. I trust, through God's great goodness, that 
 even I myself am not capable of lying or deceiv- 
 ing, for any advantage, or upon any account what- 
 
 B B 3 
 
374 DEVOUT MEDITATIONS. [HOW. 
 
 soever; and, from the abhorrence and aversion I 
 feel to those detestable vices, which I beg my good 
 God ever to continue in me, I am as confidently 
 assured, that it was impossible for any thing but 
 truth to proceed from the lips of the blessed Jesus, 
 whose name I am not worthy to mention, as I am 
 assured, that it is impossible for cold and darkness 
 to proceed from the sun. He, then, who has so 
 often owned himself to be the son of God, is cer- 
 tainly so. And my merciful Redeemer, through 
 whose purity in life, satisfaction in death, and me- 
 diation in glory, I trust I shall receive the perfect 
 remission of all my sins and corruptions, and enjoy 
 the eternal felicity of loving, praising, serving, and 
 adoring him, is assuredly God ; to whom, with 
 the Father, and Holy Spirit, I humbly ascribe all 
 power and glory, world without end. 
 
 CXVIIl. It were worth a man's while to con- 
 sider, whether his present temper of mind be such 
 as he would be willing to possess, as long as he 
 lives. And if, upon reflection, he finds his soul 
 overspread with malice, pride, envy, avarice, in- 
 justice, or any other vice, let him consider, whether 
 that be the state he desires it should be in, when 
 it leaves his body. If it be, let him acknowledge 
 himself an atheist ; if it be not, let him own him- 
 self a fool, and endeavour to grow wiser as soon as 
 he can. 
 
 CXIX. Wheresoever pride predominates in the 
 soul of man, self-love is the most powerful and 
 active principle in that pride. The extraordinary 
 
HOW.] DEVOUT MEDITATIONS. 375 
 
 opinion of himself which a proud man has, makes the 
 extravagant value he has for his own imaginary merit 
 appear to him just, and the great contempt he has 
 for all other men reasonable. And, from this vain 
 and foolish conceit, he fancies, that all the bounties 
 and blessings of Providence ought to centre in him ; 
 and looks upon the prosperous events that happen 
 to others, as so many unjust distributions of that 
 good, to which he alone has a right. It is no 
 wonder, therefore, that a man, possessed with such 
 wild notions, should always be ready to bestow 
 upon himself any advantage that lies in his power, 
 how much soever it may be to the detriment of 
 others, whom he considers as so many cyphers in 
 the creation, and himself as the only significant 
 figure. It is this excessive pride, this unreasonable 
 self-love, which excites in the mind of man, all 
 those motions and agitations, that hurry him to 
 tyranny, oppression, fraud, rapine, cruelty, and 
 almost every other mischievous and detestable 
 vice; so that, wherever this passion rules, she 
 governs with an imperious sway, and is surrounded 
 with a numerous retinue, composed of every ill. 
 From this it is plain, that a wise and virtuous man 
 can never be proud ; nor can he be exalted in his 
 thoughts, at any advantages he has above others ; 
 because he is conscious of his own weakness and 
 inability to become either wise or virtuous, by any 
 thing he finds in his own power. And his sense 
 of the goodness of the bountiful God, in bestowing 
 upon him more abundantly, what he has been 
 
 B B 4 
 
376 DEVOUT MEDITATIONS. [HOW. 
 
 pleased more sparingly to vouchsafe to others, will 
 inspire his soul with humility, thankfulness, and 
 adoration. Besides, he will reflect, how unworthy 
 he would be of so glorious a distinction, and of so 
 invaluable, as well as undeserved a preference to 
 other men, if he could be capable of acting so, as 
 to seem to attribute any part of it to himself; and 
 how just it would be in that adorable Being, to 
 deprive him of those blessings which have flowed 
 from the Divine bounty alone ; and to degrade him 
 to the lowest rank of human nature. But no reason- 
 able man can think himself able to acquire and pre- 
 serve wisdom by his own strength, when he knows, 
 that either a blow or disease is capable of making 
 an idiot of him : and thus, finding himself too weak 
 to preserve wisdom, his reason will readily de- 
 monstrate to him, that he wants force to acquire 
 it. But, on the contrary, a proud, and, which is 
 all one, a foolish man, thinks nothing too good for 
 himself, and every thing too good for others ; he 
 thinks he has an indisputable title to all the enjoy- 
 ments of life, and that other men are unworthy of 
 them. His pride and envy make him unconcerned, 
 how little other men enjoy of happiness; whilst his 
 viciously tender love for himself, gives him the vain 
 conceit, that he alone ought of right to engross it : 
 his narrow mind, therefore, is confined to the com- 
 pass of his own body ; whereas the virtuous, which 
 is the only great and generous soul, admits of no 
 limits to its bounty and love, but such as give 
 bounds to the creation. 
 
HOW.] DEVOUT MDDITATIONS. 377 
 
 CXX. How wretchedly disposed is the heart of 
 man towards God ! In prosperity, it is apt to be 
 full of neglect, in adversity, of repining ; and as 
 for love and obedience, they may crowd in, when 
 the other two think fit to make room for them. 
 
 CXX I. I find the business upon which I have 
 resolved, and in which I am employed, is, to oppose 
 most of my natural inclinations : so that, if Nature 
 be in the right, I am to blame in contradicting 
 her ; but, if not, which is the infallible truth, I 
 doubt the greatest part of mankind are fatally in 
 the wrong. 
 
 CXXII. The capacity of thinking, is a most 
 noble and delightful faculty ; but we have not the 
 absolute government of it. It is often busy and 
 waking in me, when my frail body would willingly 
 be at rest ; and it is many times heavy and drowsy, 
 when I am desirous to keep it awake. We must, 
 therefore, patiently watch and attend upon wisdom; 
 and embrace every opportunity of conversing with 
 her, that she will please to favour us with. For my 
 own part, I have often wished, that four hours only 
 of the four and twenty would sufficiently satisfy my 
 body with sleep, that I might have the happiness 
 of employing as many of the rest as possible, in 
 the agreeable exercise of thought, the parent of 
 wisdom. 
 
 CXXIII. The scheme and manner of our think- 
 ing is formed and altered, either by the impressions 
 of outward objects upon the mind, by the inward 
 disposition of the body affecting it, or by divine 
 
378 DEVOUT MEDITATIONS. [HOW. 
 
 impulse : so that every new temper of mind, dis- 
 plays a new scene of thought. But, notwithstand- 
 ing that numberless variety of schemes of thinking, 
 which roll with an incessant vicissitude in the mind, 
 there is but one that is right, one that is reasonable ; 
 unity being the inseparable property of truth. Now, 
 the first great difficulty, is to light on the right 
 scheme ; and the next, is to fix upon it : for it is 
 this alone, which proceeds from the divine impulse ; 
 and this is continually combated by those other 
 trains of thought, which arise from other causes ; 
 which makes it impossible for us firmly to retain, 
 and establish the truth in our minds, without a 
 force derived and continued to them, from the 
 divine bounty and power. Which force, we must 
 labour to procure ; and act, as if we were able to 
 deserve it ; which force, O my great and good God, 
 bestow, I beseech thee, upon thy most unworthy 
 creature, for his sake who enjoyed it most amply 
 and perfectly, leading a life in this world spotless 
 of sin, and triumphant over all temptations ! 
 
 CXXIV. Having lately observed so many new 
 authors, who pretend to give an account of the 
 nature of God, and of the human soul, and who are 
 usually men of no very virtuous principles, I would 
 willingly consider, how such men came to be quali- 
 fied for such a performance, and how the secret of 
 God comes to be intrusted with them; which, 
 David observes, was always used to be committed 
 to another sort of men. Now it plainly appears to 
 me, that a vicious man can have no true notion of 
 
HOW.] DEVOUT MEDITATIONS. 379 
 
 God ; because the knowledge of a thing, is neces- 
 sary to the forming a notion of it. And no man 
 can have the knowledge of God, but he on whom 
 God himself shall be pleased to bestow it: for that 
 knowledge is the consequence of faith, and faith is 
 not naturally implanted in the mind of man ; it 
 being solely the gift of God, conferred upon men, at 
 such time as he thinks fit. For, if it were originally 
 implanted in the mind, there would be no such 
 thing as a vicious man or unbeliever ; nor yet could 
 there be any such thing as a regenerate man ; since, 
 if faith were natural to the soul, there would be no 
 need of any such work, as rooting up, and new 
 planting; which is the laborious business of re- 
 generation, which is the happy effect of a lively 
 faith. How, then, should the vicious man come 
 by this knowledge, which he neither has from na- 
 ture, nor can possibly have by his own acquisition ? 
 Besides, it is evident, that the moment God Al- 
 mighty gives the knowledge of himself to any one, 
 it makes him cease to be vicious : for he who, by 
 faith, has obtained the knowledge of God, must 
 immediately discover his glorious beauties and per- 
 fections ; and he who has discovered those, will 
 find himself obliged to love God ; and he who 
 loves God, must needs obey him; and he who 
 obeys God as he ought to do, is the direct contrary 
 to a vicious man. 
 
 CXXV. Where there is no constancy of mind, 
 there can be no constancy of happiness. Immuta- 
 bility is that admirable attribute, which crowns the 
 beatitude of the Almighty. Inconstancy and 
 
380 DEVOUT MEDITATIONS. [HOW. 
 
 change are the great imperfections under which 
 human nature labours, the divine nature being 
 entirely exempt from them. 
 
 CXXVL If happiness be necessary to man, re- 
 ligion is necessary in order to attain happiness. For 
 religion is, properly, nothing else, than a right 
 guided pursuit after happiness. We must not ima- 
 gine, when we perform any duty towards God, or 
 put up our addresses to him, that we literally do 
 him either honour or service ; but that we are doing 
 the most reasonable thing in the world, and the most 
 beneficial to ourselves, by which we aspire after, 
 and acquire effectually, our greatest felicity, from 
 the bountiful acceptance of our performances by 
 God ; to whom they are utterly unprofitable, and 
 to whose complete and perfect sufficiency and bliss, 
 all the united beings of the creation would not be 
 able to make the most inconsiderable addition. 
 We must, therefore, by no means entertain such 
 absurd notions, as to fancy, that, in our religious 
 duties, we are doing service to God, when we are 
 actually doing the greatest imaginable honour and 
 service to ourselves ; whilst He is pleased to per- 
 mit us to enter into any communication with 
 him, upon which he shall vouchsafe, through his 
 own pure bounty, to confer his favour. And, 
 indeed, our performing any duty to God, as we 
 ought, as well as the means of procuring and 
 increasing it, is the consequence of his favour ; 
 since it is by his favour only, that we are induced 
 and enabled to make any right applications to him. 
 
 CXXVII. There are two extraordinary virtues 
 
HOW.] DEVOUT MEDITATIONS. 381 
 
 to be learned from human imperfection. The im- 
 perfections of others, may teach us patience ; the 
 imperfections of ourselves, may teach us humility. 
 
 CXXVIII. We are not to imagine, that we do 
 honour to Jesus Christ by believing in him ; for 
 our faith is a tribute due to his excellence : and we 
 do ourselves honour in manifesting, by our faith in 
 him, that discerning wisdom, by which we are led 
 to discover the infinitely superior excellence, which 
 was in him, above all the men that have ever lived 
 in the world ; which superiority is evident in various 
 instances, and, particularly, in his wonderful and 
 intimate knowledge, both of the divine and human 
 nature. Our own experience, compared attentively 
 with his discourses and reasonings, upon that sub- 
 ject, will sufficiently demonstrate to us, that no 
 man ever had so clear an inspection into all the 
 powers and weaknesses, motions and mutations, 
 vices and virtues, of the mind of man, as he had ; 
 nor did ever any man understand the perfections 
 and imperfections, the miseries and happiness, inci- 
 dent and belonging to human nature, in any degree 
 equally with him ; neither was any man ever able 
 to prescribe such just rules and methods of attain- 
 ing happiness, and avoiding misery, as he, to the 
 infinite benefit and advantage of mankind, has been 
 pleased to do. And, since we have so sensible 
 a demonstration, by our own inward feeling of 
 what passes in ourselves, and by our continual dis- 
 coveries and observations of what passes in others, 
 that Jesus Christ has made so lively, just, and true 
 
382 DEVOUT MEDITATIONS. [HOW, 
 
 a description of human nature, no reasonable man 
 ought to doubt either his knowledge, or sincerity, 
 in what he has discovered to us of the divine : for 
 his truth in describing human nature, is a justifica- 
 tion of his truth in describing the divine ; and his 
 knowledge of the one, a justification of his know- 
 ledge of the other. 
 
 CXXIX. The chief reason why few arrive at the 
 felicity of a clear and strong faith, seems to me to 
 be this ; the soul is not able so to disengage itself 
 from the objects to which its affections have united 
 it, as to give itself up freely to the disquisition of 
 abstracted and important truths : such is the slavery 
 to which our vices and corruptions have betrayed 
 us ; and such is the glorious liberty, which we can 
 never obtain, but by the bountiful assistance of 
 divine power ; which, by enlightening the reason, 
 and displaying before it far more excellent and 
 noble objects, can alone enable it to make a truer 
 and better choice. But, whosoever is happy enough 
 to enjoy such an illumination, must not imagine, 
 that his reason is more easy to be kept bright, than 
 a piece of brass or iron ; for if he neglect frequently 
 to rub and polish it, he will soon be convinced, 
 that it will lose its lustre. And nothing but our 
 ignorance of the difference between a clear and 
 sullied reason, can ever make us with patience 
 endure the latter. 
 
 CXXX. Jesus, my Lord, have mercy upon me. 
 I believe thee, I know thee, to be the son of the 
 ever -living God ; not more from the miracles which 
 
HOW.] DEVOUT MEDITATIONS. 383 
 
 thou hast wrought, than from the words which 
 thou hast spoken. Thy words are no less a demon- 
 stration of infinite wisdom, than thy works of infi- 
 nite power ; and I most humbly implore thy favour 
 and mercy, both as my Saviour and my God. 
 
 CXXXI. Thou great and adorable God, the com- 
 plete knowledge of whom, is perfect felicity ; and 
 even the imperfect knowledge of whom, the most 
 desirable blessing; enlarge and purify my soul for 
 the contemplation of thee, that, when I consider 
 thy incomprehensible glories, I may adore thee, in 
 a measure proportionable to my conceptions of thee. 
 Make my knowledge and adoration of thee to in- 
 crease, every moment of my life ; and, if it please 
 thee, raise them still higher in the last moments of 
 it ; that, by a lively faith, humble obedience, fixed 
 hopes, and ardent love, I may ascend to the eter- 
 nal fruition of thee, in thy everlasting kingdom of 
 glory, through Jesus Christ, my Saviour. Amen. 
 
 CXXXII. I think the mystery of the Trinity 
 may be very well accounted for by human reason ; 
 so far as to vindicate it from being a contradiction. 
 But, to imagine that human reason is capable of 
 arriving at a clear and just notion of it, is to imagine, 
 that human reason is not human reason ; that it is 
 neither finite nor limited, but capable of extending 
 itself, even to the infinite extent of all truth. There 
 is nothing more vain, than to fancy, that human 
 reason is the measure of all truth, and that no- 
 thing can be true, but what is measured by it. 
 We may as justly think, that a man's span is the 
 
SS4f DEVOUT MEDITATIONS. [HOW- 
 
 measure of infinite space, or the hollow of his 
 hand the measure of all matter, as that his un- 
 derstanding is the measure of all truth. It is ob- 
 jected, that one cannot be three, nor three one : if 
 this be affirmed of numbers, I grant it is true ; but 
 if it be affirmed, that by granting it to be true as 
 to numbers, it must necessarily be true as to the 
 Trinity, I absolutely deny that affirmation ; for the 
 case is not the same between them. And this ob- 
 jection is only a fallacy, which supposes two cases 
 alike, which are not alike ; and therefore its con- 
 clusion is false. It is evident, that the number 
 three contains three units, and that three units is 
 more than one unit; it is also evident, that one 
 unit is not so much as three units, and therefore 
 that one unit cannot be three units. Now, to make 
 the case the same in the Trinity, and this a just 
 confutation of it, somebody must affirm, but who 
 that somebody is I do not know, that one essen- 
 tially distinct God, maybe three essentially distinct 
 Gods ; and that three essentially distinct Gods, 
 may be but one essentially distinct God. But no- 
 body that believes the Trinity rightly, believes it in 
 this manner ; and, therefore, this is a fallacious 
 comparison, and a wrong argument. The true 
 notion of the Trinity, as I conceive, is, that God 
 the Father has existed from all eternity ; that God 
 the Son has been begotten by Him from all eter- 
 nity, and has eternally existed with him ; that God 
 the Holy Ghost has, by an eternal procession, pro- 
 ceeded from the Father and the Son, and eternally 
 
HOW.] DEVOUT MEDITATIONS. 385 
 
 existed with them. But nobody imagines, that 
 either the Son, or the Holy Ghost, were ever sepa- 
 rated and divided from the Father ; since such a 
 separation would make three essentially distinct 
 Gods. On the contrary, the Christian belief is, 
 that both the Son and Holy Ghost are inseparably 
 united to the Father ; that they remain one same 
 and indivisible substance with Him, so as with 
 Him to make but one God. Now this is as far 
 from a contradiction as to say, that a thousand 
 houses are but one city, and one city is a thousand 
 houses ; that millions of drops are one stream, and 
 that one stream is a million of drops. All the dif- 
 ference is, that we know, by our own perception, 
 how thousands of houses make one city, and how 
 millions of drops make one stream ; and so on 
 the contrary. But we do not know, because it is 
 out of the reach of our senses, and beyond the 
 bounds of our understanding, how the three per- 
 sons of the Trinity, as we call them, are one God ; 
 or how the undivided Godhead contains the three 
 persons in the Trinity. But, to give a yet clearer 
 and juster instance of the matter ; when we see a 
 plant or tree, with different shoots, growing out of 
 the same root, we think we speak properly, and so 
 we do, when we say it is one plant or tree : and we 
 speak as properly, when, designing to distinguish 
 the differences of that plant or tree, we say, tbat 
 the root and two shoots growing out of it are three ; 
 for there is both such a diversity and distinction, 
 as must be numbered by three ; and yet, in another 
 
 c c 
 
386 DEVOUT MEDITATIONS. [HOW. 
 
 respect, there is such an unity, as can be called 
 but one. There is such an union and connection 
 between the root and those shoots which grow out 
 of it, that when we conceive of them altogether, 
 we can have no notion but of one undivided plant 
 or tree ; but, when we conceive of the root and its 
 several shoots, as distinguished from one another, 
 we lay aside the notion of unity, and consider them 
 as three distinct things ; and yet, this is so far from 
 any contradiction, that our notions in both respects 
 are very right, and agreeable to the real truth of 
 things. Thus, it is evident we have notions of 
 Trinity in unity without absurdity, how wittily 
 soever some men may make an unwary and dan- 
 gerous jest of it. This, in relation to the Deity, 
 whose essence and perfection are incomprehensible, 
 must be acknowledged to be a great mystery ; a 
 truth revealed to us, but not explained to our un- 
 derstandings : we have reason to believe it true, 
 though we cannot comprehend, by our reason, after 
 what manner it is true. We are assured, and we 
 have the fullest reason to believe, that all those 
 beings which shall for ever continue in the favour 
 and presence of God, must necessarily enjoy a 
 perfect felicity ; but, to comprehend the full na- 
 ture, extent, and manner of that felicity, is above 
 the reach and capacity of our understandings ; 
 and must be so, till, by being made capable of en- 
 joying it, we become capable of understanding it. 
 In short, as it is not reasonable to believe very 
 strange things, without good grounds for our belief; 
 
HOW.] -DEVOUT MEDITATIONS. 387 
 
 so it is unreasonable, positively to conclude every 
 thing to be false, the truth of which does not lie 
 evidently open and level to our understandings. 
 A wise man knows certainly many truths, which 
 an ignorant man cannot comprehend ; but the 
 wisest of men know, by many degrees, fewer truths 
 than they are ignorant of. 
 
 MODERATION IS VIRTUE.* 
 
 The word moderation has of late been so much 
 in every body's mouth, that it gave me the curiosity 
 to examine the nature of the thing represented by 
 that word. There is, doubtless, one true original 
 idea belonging to every singly significant word ; 
 though custom may have applied several other sig- 
 nifications to it, different from its first and proper 
 meaning. And it is in the labyrinth of this various 
 acceptation of words, or rather misunderstanding 
 of ideas, that contending parties are apt to lose 
 themselves in endless disputes. My design, there- 
 fore, is to consider, in as few words as possible, 
 the nature of moderation, abstracted from party 
 and passion ; what it really is, and wherein it con- 
 sists. It is granted, on all hands, that moderation 
 is a virtue : but I think that is to say too little of 
 it ; since it is the indivisible point in which all 
 virtue centres. For all excess is vicious ; and that 
 spot only, which is free and unpossessed by excess, 
 is the point of moderation, and the very centre of 
 
 * This dissertation was written in December, 1711- 
 C C 2 
 
388 DEVOUT MEDITATIONS. [lIOW. 
 
 virtue and truth ; surrounded with extremes, with- 
 out partaking of them. The virtue of prudence, 
 is moderation in judgment; the virtue of temper- 
 ance, is moderation in appetite ; the virtue of 
 justice, is moderation in mutual dealings and inter- 
 course amongst men ; and the virtue of fortitude, is 
 moderation, setting just bounds and limits to fear 
 and desire, and equally balancing the mind between 
 timidity and rashness. I might as easily trace 
 moderation, in all the inferior subordinate virtues, 
 as I have done in these principal and original ones ; 
 but this suffices to show, that moderation is the 
 point in which all virtue resides, and that there 
 can be no separation between them. So that, when 
 it is required, that our moderation should be known 
 to all men, nothing less is meant, than that we 
 should give to the world undeniable evidences of 
 our virtue, truth, and sincerity; which are all com- 
 prehended in that one word moderation. But if 
 any body imagines, that, in a contest concerning 
 an important truth, to yield up the point, and 
 depart from that truth, is moderation, he is in- 
 finitely mistaken ; for it is so very far from it, that 
 it is a vicious, and, by consequence, immoderate 
 compliance. To comply in indifferent matters, is 
 charity and civility ; but, to comply where justice 
 and truth are concerned, is a manifest renunciation 
 both of the one and the other ; and men must have 
 a care that they do not permit their virtue to be 
 overpowered, either by their good-nature or good- 
 breeding. Where there is a contest between two 
 
HOW.] DEVOUT MEDITATIONS. 389 
 
 persons, the one is apt to desire the other to be 
 more moderate ; that is, to yield up the point in 
 dispute : and the other, if he has more right on his 
 side, may more reasonably and justly make that 
 demand to him ; since it is most certain, that the 
 adherence to justice and truth, is moderation; and 
 he who so adheres, is a moderate or virtuous man : 
 and, on the contrary, he who either opposes justice 
 and truth, or departs from them, is an immoderate 
 or vicious one. Should a Jew press a Christian to 
 renounce his religion, and, finding him firm to his 
 principles, desire him to be more moderate, no man 
 can imagine that it would be a virtuous moderation 
 in the Christian, to renounce Christianity, and turn 
 Jew. But, here lies the fallacy and mistake : both 
 vice and virtue are, for want of a true distinction, 
 indifferently attributed to moderation ; which is 
 vulgarly and falsely taken for yielding and comply- 
 ing, no matter whether reasonably or unreasonably: 
 and he who cannot oblige another to comply with his 
 interest or passion, will always be apt to accuse him 
 of want of moderation. But I do not wonder that 
 moderation is more talked of than understood ; since 
 most men's virtue lies more in their tongues, than 
 in their affections and understanding ; and he who 
 does not feel the influence of virtue and moderation 
 in himself, must needs talk as ignorantly and im- 
 perfectly of it, as a blind man does of colours. 
 But, were there more moderation in men's minds, 
 there would be more in their manners ; more justice 
 and integrity, more charity and generosity. And, 
 
 c c 3 
 
390 DEVOUT MEDITATIONS. [HOW. 
 
 when the world is more possessed with that virtue 
 of moderation, it will be better known, better 
 practised, and less talked of: it will then be at- 
 tended with those natural effects of unity, peace, 
 and kindness, which it would never fail to produce, 
 were it more real and universal. In the mean time, 
 I take the liberty to advise all contending parties, 
 to examine very impartially, whether, at the same 
 time that they upbraid their adversaries, for having 
 the mote of immoderation in their minds, they have 
 not a beam of it lying across their own ; and, if 
 they have, to remove it as soon as they can ; for, 
 having experimentally learned to work that cure in 
 themselves, they may more justly reprove, and 
 more skilfully and successfully advise and assist, 
 their neighbours. As for my own particular, I 
 profess to be of no other party than that of mode- 
 ration ; which is the party of right reason and truth : 
 yet, at the same time, I clearly foresee, that it will 
 be my fate, though I shall never think it my mis- 
 fortune, to be always on the weakest side ; since 
 power and superiority never fail to get the better of 
 moderation ; which is ever successively abandoned 
 by all prevailing parties, and left as a poor neg- 
 lected portion, for those few who value it enough, 
 to content themselves with it even nakedly, or 
 divested of power and advantage. 
 
 REPUTATION NO TRUE RULE OF ACTION. 
 
 One reason why men usually have such wrong 
 notions of things, is, because they receive general 
 
HOW.] DEVOUT MEDITATIONS. 391 
 
 rules, which yet have many exceptions to them, 
 without having any regard to those exceptions ; or, 
 rather it is, because they receive those rules for 
 general ones, which are not general. For want of 
 knowledge and judgment, they do not make right 
 distinctions between that part of a rule which must 
 always be the same, and other parts which are 
 liable to variation and change. It is a great mis- 
 take amongst many people, that reputation is to be 
 the rule of action ; which is as much as to affirm, 
 that an uncertain and variable thing is to be a cer- 
 tain and fixed direction ; that a heap of sand, which 
 will be scattered by the first wind, is a sufficient 
 land-mark for travellers for ever to know their way 
 by ; that a thing which is capable of as many forms 
 and sudden changes, as the clouds in the air, is a 
 constant and settled rule of behaviour and action. 
 In short, if we have no other rule of action but 
 reputation, I must affirm, that we have no rule at 
 all. But I think we have another, which we may 
 securely follow and depend upon ; such a one, as 
 will keep us always in the right way, if we can but 
 t>e happy enough to keep our eyes ever fixed upon 
 it: which rule is, the united principles of right reason 
 arid religion, or rather of true Christianity, which is 
 right reason. Here, we have a substantial rule; 
 there, we have only the wavering shadow of one : 
 here, we have something that will last as long as 
 right reason lasts ; there, we have something that 
 will change as often, as the stream of men's fancies 
 and opinions change, which is as often as the 
 
 c c 4 
 
392 DEVOUT MEDITATIONS. [HOW. 
 
 weathercock : and those who resolve to be directed 
 by it, must be as inconstant as the wind. Were a 
 m&n always to be governed by reputation, he must 
 change the fashion of his virtues, as often as the 
 fashion of his clothes ; otherwise he will run the 
 hazard to be laughed at for an old-fashioned virtue, 
 as well as for an old-fashioned coat. A foundation 
 that is unfixed is a foundation upon sand, fit only 
 for fools to build on. Wise men, therefore, will 
 find another, and chuse a foundation, that has itself 
 a foundation to rest upon ; r and then they know 
 they may build securely. The true foundation of 
 action, is the truth and rectitude of action ; and 
 the foundation of that truth and rectitude, is the 
 eternal perfection and will of the divine nature. 
 We are to do things because they are right, not 
 because they are commendable ; always consider- 
 ing, that they are not right, because they are com- 
 mendable, but commendable because they are right. 
 Wisdom, not vanity, ought to move us to virtue. 
 We are to act for the sake of truth, in order to 
 please God ; not for the sake of praise, in order to 
 please fools. Neither are we to satisfy ourselves, 
 with the trifling bauble of vain reputation, but with 
 the substantial benefit of having done our duty, 
 and of having pleased that adorable Being, whom 
 we are obliged to make it the whole business of 
 our lives to please. But to come to a clearer state 
 of this matter, without which there can be no 
 avoiding of confusion, it is necessary to distinguish 
 between the different notions of virtue, and the 
 
HOW*] DEVOUT MEDITATIONS. 
 
 different motives to it ; by which we may 
 the difference there is in men's notions of 
 tation. I will confine myself to two, viz. the 
 heathen notion of virtue, and the Christian notion 
 of it ; for we must not confound the one with the 
 other: but, when we speak of virtue, we must 
 know what virtue we mean ; or else, when men 
 speak of reputation, we shall never know what 
 reputation they mean. The notion of most of the 
 celebrated heathens was, that glory was the only 
 object fit for the pursuit of great and generous 
 souls; and that such designs only, were to be 
 formed and prosecuted by them, as would procure 
 them the most lasting, and, as they vainly enough 
 imagined, immortal glory ; that is, the praise and 
 applause of their actions while they lived, and the 
 perpetuation of their fame in after-ages ; so that fu- 
 ture generations might bestow that commendation 
 upon their names and memories, which the present did 
 upon their living persons. This present and future 
 glory was the idol of the more generous heathens ; 
 it was the ultimate good which they proposed to 
 themselves in this life, and the only felicity for 
 which they hoped after death : so that, the only 
 motive of all their actions, the only incitement to 
 their ambition, was glory and praise ; a thin diet for 
 a rational mind to feed upon ; all the pleasure and 
 immortality of which, was to be enjoyed in the 
 short space of this present life only, by the help of 
 a vain fancy, and over-heated imagination. The 
 other notion of Christian virtue, is this, that the 
 
394 DEVOUT MEDITATIONS. [HOW. 
 
 principal thing towards which a wise man ought to 
 bend his thoughts, designs, and actions, is the ap- 
 probation and favour of God ; the eternal enjoy- 
 ment of whom, is the true immortal glory after 
 which he ought ambitiously to aspire. This is no 
 vain imaginary pleasure, but a real felicity ; to be 
 felt, tasted, and enjoyed for ever. It will not fail 
 and vanish, when the heat of imagination is extin- 
 guished, like the pleasure of commendation and 
 praise ; but it will be so inseparably united to our 
 very souls and beings, that the one must last, as 
 long as the other. This is the true virtue, the 
 true principle of action, as well as the true rule by 
 which it is to be regulated. When our actions are 
 formed and finished by this rule, they will deserve 
 praise and commendation ; and we may with assur- 
 ance give it to ourselves, though all the world re- 
 fuse it to us. He who has the approbation, of a 
 well-instructed, well-regulated conscience, needs 
 no other; if that acquits him, it is a divine acquittal, 
 nor needs he care who condemns him. Those who 
 walk altogether by reputation, travel in a labyrinth, 
 amongst such a multiplicity of ways, that they 
 never find the right one, but weary themselves in 
 fruitless and endless labour. Among good fellows, 
 it is a reputation to drink ; among the debauched, 
 to be intemperate ; among the atheists, to blas- 
 pheme ; among the pickpockets, to cheat and 
 steal ; among politicians, to deceive and circum- 
 vent ; and among heroes, to plunder and oppress. 
 In short, every one commends what he likes best 
 
HOW.] DEVOUT MEDITATIONS. 3Q5 
 
 himself; and where there is such variety of dif-> 
 ferent directors, a man who has no other knowledge 
 of his road, will be very apt to miss it. Among 
 the clamours of so many false reputations, the low 
 voice of a true reputation is hardly to be heard ; 
 and, if heard, it will hardly be credited, against so 
 strong an opposition. There are so few who value 
 either men or actions, because they are good, that 
 he who only considers reputation, will be apt to 
 chuse one, that makes a loud noise. Men generally 
 love to have their praises proclaimed, not whis- 
 pered. There are not many who can have the 
 patience to stay till the day of judgment, to receive 
 the approbation and applause of their actions. If 
 a man is scorched with the thirst of praise, he wilt 
 strive to quench it, though it be in the first puddle ; 
 he will not take the pains to search far for a clear 
 fountain, if muddy water be near at hand. But it 
 may be objected, that certainly reputation is a 
 valuable thing, since it has been accounted so by 
 the wisest of men : neither will I deny that a just 
 and true reputation is a most desirable thing ; but 
 I deny that it is desirable, only as it is praise and 
 commendation ; since ill actions, among many 
 people, may procure those, as well as good ones; 
 but it is desirable, as it is the effect of a desirable 
 cause; it is desirable, because true merit, which, 
 only can give a true reputation, confers it; and 
 true merit is what every body ought to aspire after, 
 and to be thankful to God for giving it to them, 
 when they have it. Men ought to be truly virtu- 
 
396 DEVOUT MEDITATIONS. [HOW. 
 
 ous, because true virtue is in itself a desirable thing, 
 loved by that adorable wisdom, which is the foun- 
 tain of all wisdom, as well as of all virtue ; and 
 whether it is its fortune to be commended or neg- 
 lected, esteemed or despised, it will not, or at least 
 it ought not, to appear less amiable to those who 
 admire, covet, and possess it, because they are 
 assured it will make them approved and accepted, 
 where approbation and acceptance is a more valu- 
 able, lasting, and substantial blessing, than even 
 that immortal fame and glory, which is so generally 
 and foolishly preferred before it. 
 
 " How can ye believe, which receive honour 
 one of another; and seek not the honour that 
 cometh of God only?" 
 
 A strong vanity, makes a weak faith ; 
 And a strong faith, a weak vanity. 
 
 A RATIONAL ESSAY UPON THE TRINITY. 
 
 In relation to the Trinity, I would have it con- 
 sidered, whether unity of nature or essence, and 
 plurality of persons, is not necessary to absolute 
 felicity and perfection ; at least, whether, accord- 
 ing to the best conjectures of human reason about 
 a matter so far beyond its reach, it does not seem 
 highly probable that it is so. Infinite perfection 
 undoubtedly belongs to the Deity; but whether that 
 is consistent with unity of person, and a solitary 
 existence, is what I would now consider only in a 
 rational manner, without any regard to revelation. 
 
HOW.] DEVOUT MEDITATIONS. 397 
 
 We can attain to the knowledge of most of the at- 
 tributes of God, even to what is equal to a demon- 
 stration, by just deductions and inferences from 
 what we find to be in ourselves. We are sensible 
 of some small degree of power and wisdom in our- 
 selves ; from whence we must certainly conclude, 
 that what we find imperfectly in such creatures as 
 we are, must be most perfectly in the Deity ; and 
 that, by consequence, almighty power and infinite 
 wisdom are attributes belonging to him. Since we 
 can, by this manner of reasoning, enter so far into the 
 knowledge of the divine nature, as to find out many 
 of its perfections, why may we not, by the same 
 method, discover something of the nature of its feli- 
 city ? We agree that the felicity of friendship is one 
 of the greatest belonging to human nature ; that 
 an intimate affection between two friends, with a 
 conformity of temper, thoughts, and inclinations, is 
 a great happiness of human life ; and yet, we per- 
 ceive there is an exceeding imperfection in this 
 happiness, from the separation and division of the 
 persons; which necessarily obstructs that entire 
 union, and perfect communication of thought and 
 affection, which are requisite to a complete felicity. 
 From hence we may reasonably infer, that the 
 felicity of the Deity is rendered infinitely perfect 
 by a plurality of persons, between whom there is 
 an exact harmony of thought, of will, and of affec- 
 tions; who are inseparable and indivisible, from 
 a complete union of nature and essence, in one 
 eternal infinite and glorious Being. As to the 
 
398 .DEVOUT MEDITATIONS. [HOW. 
 
 number of persons necessary to supreme felicity, 
 there is no foundation for human reason to deter- 
 mine any thing concerning it ; and therefore we 
 can come by revelation only to the knowledge of 
 the number. This alone can confirm to us the 
 former conjectures of our reason ; by discovering, 
 that a Trinity of persons united in essence, is what 
 composes the felicity and perfection of the Deity. 
 We may, by our reason, farther conceive concern- 
 ing the eternal generation of the Son, and the 
 eternal procession of the Holy Ghost ; that since 
 a Trinity of persons is the perfection of the Deity, 
 the Father necessarily exists, not only eternally, 
 but perpetually imparting his divine nature to the 
 Son ; and that both the Father and the Son 
 eternally and perpetually exist, imparting the divine 
 nature to the Holy Ghost. So that the Son re- 
 ceives his divine nature by a spiritual generation, 
 or communication from the Father, as the Holy 
 Ghost receives his divine nature by a spiritual pro- 
 cession, or communication of it from the Father 
 and the Son. Had the existence of the Son been 
 only from an act of the will of the Father, and the 
 existence of the Holy Ghost only from an act of 
 the will of the Father and the Son, we might have 
 supposed a time before those acts of the will took 
 place; and, by consequence, that the generation 
 of the Son, and procession of the Holy Ghost, was 
 in time : but, when we take it for granted, that 
 the perfection of the Deity consists in the union of 
 three ^persons .in one nature or essence, we must 
 
HOW.] DEVOUT MEDITATIONS. 399 
 
 conclude that union to be necessary, perpetual, 
 and eternal, as also the generation and procession 
 to have been necessary, perpetual, and eternal. 
 From hence it appears, wherein consists the supe- 
 riority of the Father, which is in being the foun- 
 tain and source of the Deity, and in communicating 
 the divine nature to the Son, and jointly with him 
 to the Holy Ghost ; as the subordination of the 
 Son consists in his receiving the divine nature 
 from the Father, and the subordination of the 
 Holy Ghost in his receiving the divine nature from 
 the Father and the Son : and hereby it is evident, 
 that the co-equality of the Son and of the Holy 
 Ghost to the Father, consists in the full and 
 complete participation and reception of the divine 
 nature from him. Upon this foundation, we may 
 securely worship and adore the ever-blessed Trinity 
 in unity, one in perfect consent and harmony, one 
 in perfect complacency and love, as well as in 
 nature and essence, without danger of tritheism 
 and idolatry. 
 
 I do not pretend to establish this way of reason- 
 ing, as a foundation of faith, nor do I fix my faith 
 upon the conclusions I have drawn from reason, 
 which can amount to no more than a rational pro- 
 bability. I absolutely believe those conclusions no 
 further, than they are supported and confirmed by 
 Scripture, as understood by the Catholic church. 
 I only tried, for my own satisfaction, how nearly 
 .1 could reconcile revelation and reason. The pro- 
 position from which all my other inferences and 
 
400 DEVOUT MEDITATIONS. [HOW. 
 
 conclusions seem to me clearly and naturally to 
 flow, is what I should no otherwise regard, than as 
 a reasonable conjecture, which might either be true 
 or false, were it not warranted from Scripture, 
 which declares the Godhead to exist in three 
 persons united in one nature or essence ; from 
 whence I make no difficulty to conclude, that it is 
 that particular mode of existence, which constitutes 
 the perfection and felicity of the Deity. And I 
 think I may, without presumption, affirm, that, in 
 conjunction with infinite wisdom and almighty 
 power, infinite harmony and love are the felicity of 
 the Deity, and complete its perfection. In calling 
 this a rational essay, all that I mean, is, to show, 
 that the Trinity, as it is revealed in scripture, is 
 not a notion absurd or contradictory to our reason ; 
 which is too frequently objected to it. 
 
 AN HUMBLE ATTEMPT, TO ILLUSTRATE THE TRUE 
 
 MEANING AND END OF THE SACRAMENT OF THE 
 LORD'S SUPPER. 
 
 I will not suppose, that any question will be 
 made, whether a person, who believes the divinity 
 of our Saviour, and acknowledges his satisfaction 
 for the sins of mankind, who truly repents of his 
 sins, and resolves sincerely to forsake them, and 
 who, in obedience to our Saviour's commands, com- 
 municates in the sacrament of his body and blood, 
 receives worthily or not. 
 
 His believing that there is no change or alter- 
 ation in the elements of bread and wine after con- 
 
HOW.] DEVOUT MEDITATIONS. 
 
 secration, will not, I suppose, alter the case. If 
 he believes, as it is most natural to believe, that 
 our Saviour, when he said, " This is my body, this 
 is my blood," did, by the same almighty word of 
 fower, which said, " Let there be light, and there 
 was light," ordain and decree, that all those bless- 
 ings and benefits, which he had purchased and 
 procured for mankind, by his passion, death, and 
 intercession, should, as long as the world con- 
 tinues, attend upon the sacred action, and be 
 annexed to it; and that every individual person, 
 who, in a just and thankful remembrance of what 
 his Saviour had done and suffered for him, .should* 
 in obedience to his command, receive the sacra- 
 ment of his body and blood, every such person, 
 should be made a partaker of all the blessings and 
 benefits of his passion and death ; obtaining a per- 
 fect remission of his sins, and eternal salvation 
 through his merits and intercession, if he persevered 
 in obedience to him : so that, according to the de- 
 finition of our church, the bread and wine in this 
 sacrament would be, most certainly, the outward 
 and visible sign of an inward and spiritual grace. 
 
 This notion would put an end to all the disputes 
 about transubstantiation and consubstantiation, and 
 would fully answer all the desirable ends and pur- 
 poses of this sacrament ; and, indeed, it really and 
 truly seems to be the plain and natural meaning of 
 the words of our blessed Saviour. 
 
 We are not to imagine, that this last injunction, 
 of the highest endearment, between our Saviour 
 
 D D 
 
402 DEVOUT MEDITATIONS. [HOW. 
 
 and his disciples, was only a barren * rite or cere- 
 mony, if I may so say, to entitle them to the same 
 blessing of acceptance, common to all other acts 
 of obedience and devotion ; but that these words 
 of our Saviour, " This is my body, this is my blood," 
 without his having any thought of changing the 
 elements of bread and wine, do, by a plain inter- 
 pretation, assure us, that the action of receiving 
 should effectually be attended with a full parti- 
 cipation of the benefits purchased, and of the 
 atonement made for us, by his body crucified, and by 
 his blood shed upon the cross, for the redemption 
 of mankind. 
 
 It is infinite mercy and almighty power, that has, 
 to the end of the world, annexed those blessings 
 to this holy sacrament ; and it is by faith and obe- 
 dience only, that we can be rendered capable of 
 receiving them ; nor does it depend, as the Papists 
 absurdly imagine, upon the intention of the priest, 
 whether the communicants shall receive these bless- 
 ings or not ; neither is there any occasion or rea- 
 son for the repeated sacrifices of the mass. The 
 foregoing notion can be confuted by nothing, but 
 by plain and positive words of Scripture, which are 
 nowhere to be found. As for inferences to be 
 drawn from them, those which favour and support 
 this notion, are the most just, easy, and natural, 
 and, freeing the mind from doubts and difficulties, 
 render this great mystery as intelligible as it is pos- 
 
 * By barren is only meant, void of any new or extraordinary 
 privilege. 
 
HOW.] DEVOUT MEDITATIONS. 403 
 
 sible to be ; sufficiently affording to every devout 
 communicant a rational satisfaction and comfort. 
 When we consider how much is given, and how 
 much is forgiven us, it cannot fail to kindle in our 
 souls the strongest flame of love they are capable 
 of entertaining, for each of the divine persons in 
 the blessed Trinity ; to whom all duty, praise, and 
 love must be for ever due. 
 
 The best preparation for the performance of this 
 duty, is, a constant endeavour of becoming a sin- 
 cere Christian : without which, all devotion is vain 
 and ineffectual; and with which, every religious 
 duty will most certainly be accompanied with suc- 
 cess and acceptance. But, since, through the ex- 
 ceeding weakness and imperfection of our nature, 
 even the best of men are too often apt to be remiss 
 in their duties, and to slacken their endeavours of 
 pleasing God, it is most reasonable, that, when we 
 are about to commemorate the exceeding love of 
 our blessed Saviour, in his death and sufferings for 
 us, we should diligently apply ourselves to repair 
 our remissness, and strive to raise our minds and 
 affections to the highest sense of duty and gra- 
 titude ; which is all the return we are capable of 
 making, for these inestimable blessings we are about 
 to receive. 
 
 The celebration of this sacrament is most fitly 
 and solemnly performed in the church of England, 
 and in a manner perfectly agreeable to its first 
 institution. The elements are set apart and conse- 
 crated for that holy purpose, and prayer is made for 
 
 D D 2 
 
404i DEVOUT MEDITATIONS. [HOW. 
 
 the fulfilling of that promise which was virtually 
 made by the words of our blessed Saviour ; who is 
 petitioned, that his body which was given for us, and 
 his blood which was shed for us, may preserve our 
 bodies and souls unto everlasting life, and that we 
 should ever thankfully remember his infinite mercy 
 towards us. All divine promises for mercy and 
 blessings, though fixed and positive, yet the stated 
 condition of our obtaining them, is by duty and 
 prayer ; it being vain to imagine, that the greatest 
 of benefits should be bestowed upon any, who do 
 not earnestly covet and desire them. 
 
TWO SERMONS, 
 
 RALPH CUDWORTH, D.D. 
 
 U TEXVOV 
 
 D D 3 
 
' Thus, Moses-like, conversing with God in the mount, and there 
 beholding his glory shining thus out upon us, in the face of Christ, we 
 should be deriving a copy of that eternal beauty upon our own souls ; 
 and our thirsty and hungry spirits would be perpetually imbibing a true 
 participation and image of his glory. A true divine love would wing 
 our souls, and make them take their flight swiftly towards heaven and 
 immortality. Could we once be thoroughly possessed and mastered with 
 a full confidence of the divine love, and of God's readiness to assist 
 such feeble, languishing creatures as we are, in our essays after heaven 
 and blessedness, we should then, finding ourselves borne up by an 
 eternal and almighty strength, dare to adventure, courageously and 
 confidently, upon the highest degrees of happiness, to assail the King of 
 heaven witfya holy gallantry and violence, to pursue a course of well- 
 doing without weariness ; knowing that our labour shall not be vain in 
 the Lord, and that we shall receive our reward, if we faint not : we 
 should work out our salvation, in the most industrious manner, trusting 
 in God, as one ready to instil strength and power into all the vital 
 faculties of bur souls : we should " press towards the mark, for the 
 prize of the high calling of God, in Christ Jesus, that we may appre- 
 hend that, for which also we are apprehended, of Christ Jesus." 3 
 
 John Smith. Select Discourses. 
 
TWO SERMONS, 
 
 BY RALPH CUDWORTH, D. D. 
 
 SERMON I. 
 
 THEY KNOW CHRIST, WHO KEEP HIS COMMANDMENTS, 
 
 1 JOHN, ii. 3, 4. 
 
 And hereby we do know, that we know him, if we keep his 
 commandments. 
 
 He that saith, I know him, and keepeth not his command- 
 ments, is a liar, and the truth is not in him. 
 
 WE have much inquiry concerning knowledge, in 
 these latter times. The sons of Adam are now as 
 busy, as ever Adam himself was, about the tree of 
 knowledge of good and evil ; shaking its boughs, 
 and scrambling for the fruit: whilst, I fear, many 
 are too unmindful of the tree of life. And, though 
 there be now no cherubim, with their flaming 
 swords, to fright men off, yet the way that leads to 
 it, seems to be solitary and untrodden, as if there 
 were but few that had any mind to taste of its 
 fruit. There are many, that speak of new glimpses 
 and discoveries of truth, of dawnings of gospel 
 light. And no question, but God has reserved 
 
 D D 4 
 
408 THEY KNOW CHRIST, [CUDWORTH. 
 
 much of this, for the very evening and sun-set of 
 the world; for, in the latter days, " knowledge shall 
 be increased." But yet, I wish we could, in the 
 mean time, see that day dawn, which the apostle 
 speaks of, and that " day-star arise, in men's 
 hearts." I wish, whilst we talk of light, and dis- 
 pute about truth, that we could walk more as 
 " children of the light." But, if Saint John's rule, 
 in the text, be good, that no man truly knows 
 Christ, but he who keeps his commandments, it is 
 much to be suspected, that many of us, who pre- 
 tend to light, have a thick and gloomy darkness 
 within, overspreading our souls. 
 
 There are now many large volumes and dis- 
 courses, written concerning Christ; thousands of 
 controversies discussed, infinite problems deter- 
 mined, concerning his Divinity, humanity, union of 
 both together, and what not. So that our bookish 
 Christians, who have all their religion in writings 
 and papers, think they are completely furnished 
 with all kinds of knowledge concerning Christ. 
 And, when they see all their leaves lying about 
 them, they think they have a goodly stock of 
 knowledge and truth, and cannot possibly miss 
 the way to heaven ; as if religion were nothing but 
 a little book-craft, a mere paper-skill. 
 
 But if Saint John's rule here be good, we must 
 not judge of our knowing Christ, by our skill in 
 books and papers, but by our keeping his com- 
 mandments. And that, I fear, will discover many 
 of us, notwithstanding all this light which we boast 
 
SERM. I.] WHO KEEP HIS COMMANDMENTS. 409 
 
 of round about us, to have nothing but Egyptian 
 darkness within our hearts. 
 
 The vulgar sort think, that they know Christ 
 enough, out of their creeds, and catechisms, and 
 confessions of faith : and, if they have but a little 
 acquainted themselves with these, and, like parrots, 
 have conned the words of them, they doubt not, but 
 that they are sufficiently instructed in all the mys- 
 teries of the kingdom of heaven. Many of the 
 more learned, if they can but wrangle and dispute 
 about Christ, imagine themselves to be grown 
 great proficients in the school of Christ. 
 
 The greater part of the world, whether learned 
 or unlearned, think, that there is no need of pur- 
 ging and purifying their hearts, for the right 
 knowledge of Christ and his Gospel. But, though 
 their lives be never so wicked, their hearts never 
 so foul within, yet they may know Christ suf- 
 ficiently, out of their treatises and discourses, out 
 of their mere systems and bodies of divinity. 
 Which I deny not to be useful, in a subordinate 
 way ; although our Saviour prescribes to his dis- 
 ciples another method, for coming to the right 
 knowledge of Divine truths : " He that will do my 
 Father's will, shall know of the doctrine, whether it 
 be of God." The true Christian, indeed, is not he 
 that is only book-taught, but he, that is God-taught ; 
 he, that has " an unction from the Holy One," 
 " that teacheth him all things;" he, that has the 
 Spirit of Christ within him, that searcheth out the 
 deep things of God : " For, as no man knoweth 
 
410 .' THEY KNOW CHRIST, [CUDWORTH. 
 
 the things of a man, save the spirit of a man, 
 which is in him ; even so, the things of God 
 knoweth no man, but the spirit of God." 
 
 Ink and paper can never make us Christians, 
 can never beget a new nature, a living principle in 
 us ; can never form Christ, or any true notions of 
 spiritual things, in our hearts. The Gospel, that 
 new law, which Christ delivered to the world, is 
 not merely a dead letter without us, but a quick- 
 ening spirit within us. Cold theorems and maxims, 
 dry and jejune disputes, lean syllogistical reason- 
 ings, could never yet, of themselves, beget the least 
 glimpse of true heavenly light, the least sap of 
 saving knowledge, in any heart. All this is but 
 the groping of the poor dark spirit of man after 
 truth ; to find it out with his own endeavours, and 
 feel it with his own cold and benumbed hands. 
 Words and syllables, which are but dead things, 
 cannot possibly convey the living notions of hea- 
 venly truths to us. The secret mysteries of a 
 Divine life, of a new nature, of Christ formed in 
 our hearts, cannot be written or spoken, language 
 and expressions cannot reach them : neither can 
 they be ever truly understood, except the soul 
 itself be kindled from within, and awakened into 
 the life which animates them. A painter, that 
 would draw a rose, though he may flourish some 
 likeness of it in figure and colour, can yet never 
 paint the scent and fragrancy ; or, if he would 
 draw a flame, he cannot put a constant heat into 
 Jiis colours ; he cannot make his pencil drop a 
 
SERM. I.] WHO KEEP HIS COMMANDMENTS. 
 
 sound, as the echo in the epigram mocks at him.* 
 All the skill of cunning artizans and mechanics, 
 cannot put a principle of life into a statue of their 
 own making. Neither are we able to enclose in 
 words and letters, the life, soul, and essence, of any 
 spiritual truths, and, as it were, to incorporate it 
 in them. 
 
 Some philosophers have determined, that virtue 
 cannot be taught, by any certain rules or precepts. 
 Men and books may propound some direction to 
 us, that may engage us in a course of life, and 
 practice, by means of which, we shall at last find 
 virtue within ourselves, and be experimentally 
 acquainted with it ; but they cannot teach it us, 
 like a mechanic art or trade. No, surely : " there 
 is a spirit in man ; and the inspiration of the 
 Almighty giveth understanding." But we shall 
 not meet with this spirit, any where but in the 
 way of obedience : the knowledge of Christ, and 
 the keeping of his commandments, must always 
 go together, and be mutual causes of one another : 
 " Hereby we know, that we know him, if we 
 keep his commandments. 
 
 " He that saith, I know him, and keepeth not 
 his commandments, is a liar, and the truth is not 
 in him." 
 
 I come now to these words themselves ; which 
 
 ,are so pregnant, that I shall not need to force out 
 
 any thing from them. I shall, therefore, Only take 
 
 notice of some few observations, which drop from 
 
 * ' Si vis similem pingere, pinge sonum/ 
 
THEY KNOW CHRIST, [CUD WORTH. 
 
 them, of their own accord ; and then conclude, 
 with some application of them to ourselves. 
 
 I. First, then, If our keeping Christ's command- 
 ments, be the right method of discovering our know- 
 ledge of Christ, then, we may safely draw conclu- 
 sions concerning our state and condition, from the 
 conformity of our lives to the will of our Redeemer. 
 
 Would we know, whether we know Christ aright, 
 let us consider whether the life of Christ be in us. 
 He that has not the life of Christ in him, has 
 nothing but the name, nothing but a fancy of 
 Christ; he has not the substance of him.* Whoso 
 builds his house upon this foundation, not an 
 airy notion of Christ swimming in his brain, but 
 on Christ really dwelling and living in his heart, as 
 our Saviour himself bears witness, he " buildeth 
 his house upon a rock;" and when the floods come, 
 and the winds blow, and the rain descends, and 
 beats upon it, it shall stand impregnably. But he 
 who builds all his comfort, upon an ungrounded 
 persuasion, that God, from all eternity, has loved 
 him, and absolutely decreed him to life and happi- 
 ness, and seeks not for God really dwelling in his 
 soul, he builds his house upon a quicksand, and 
 it shall suddenly sink, and be swallowed up : " His 
 hope shall be cut oft', and his trust shall be a spider's 
 web; he shall lean upon his house, but it shall 
 not stand; he shall hold it fast, but it shall not 
 endure." 
 
 We are nowhere commanded to pry into these 
 * ' Qui non habet vitara Christi, Christum non habet.' 
 
SERM. I.] WHO KEEP HIS COMMANDMENTS. 413 
 
 secrets; but the wholesome counsel and advice 
 given us is this, " to make our calling and election 
 sure." We have no warrant in Scripture, to peep 
 into these hidden rolls and volumes of eternity ; 
 and to make it our first object, when we come to 
 Christ, to spell out our names in the stars ; and to 
 persuade ourselves, that we are certainly elected to 
 everlasting happiness, before we see the image of 
 God, in righteousness and true holiness, shaped in 
 our hearts. God's everlasting decree is too daz- 
 zling and bright an object, for us to set our eye 
 upon. It is far easier and safer for us, to look 
 upon the rays of his goodness and holiness, as they 
 are reflected in our hearts ; and there to read the 
 mild and gentle characters of God's love to us, in 
 our love to him, and our hearty compliance with 
 his heavenly will : as it is safer for us, if we would 
 see the sun, to look upon it here below in a pail of 
 water, than to cast up our daring eyes upon the 
 body of the sun itself, which is too radiant and 
 scorching for us. The best assurance that any one 
 can have of his interest in God, is, doubtless, the 
 conformity of his soul to God. Those Divine pur- 
 poses, whatsoever they may be, are altogether un-. 
 searchable and unknowable : they lie wrapped up in 
 everlasting darkness, and covered in a deep abyss. 
 Who is able to fathom the bottom of them ? 
 
 Let us not, therefore, make this our first attempt 
 towards God and religion, to persuade ourselves 
 strongly of these everlasting decrees. For if] at 
 our first flight, we aim so high, we shall haply but 
 
441< THEY KNOW CHRIST, [CUDWORTH. 
 
 scorch our wings, and be struck back with light- 
 ning ; as those giants of old were, that would needs 
 attempt to assault heaven. And it is, indeed, a 
 most gigantic essay, to thrust ourselves so boldly 
 into the lap of heaven. It is a prank of Nimrod, 
 of a mighty hunter, thus rudely to deal with God ; 
 and to force heaven and happiness before his face, 
 whether he will or not. The way to obtain a good 
 assurance, indeed, of our title to heaven, is not to 
 clamber up to it, by a ladder of our own un- 
 grounded persuasions, but to dig as low as hell, by 
 humility and self-denial in our own hearts: and, 
 though this may seem to be the farthest way about, 
 yet it is, indeed, the nearest and safest way to it. 
 We must, as the Greek epigram speaks, ascend 
 downward, and descend upward*, if we would 
 indeed come to heaven, or get any true persuasion 
 of our title to it. 
 
 The most gallant and triumphant confidence of 
 a Christian riseth safely and surely on this low 
 foundation, that lies deep underground, and there 
 stands firmly and steadfastly. When our heart is 
 once turned into a conformity with the word of 
 God, when we feel our will perfectly to concur 
 with his will, we shall then presently perceive a 
 spirit of adoption within ourselves, teaching us to 
 cry, Abba, Father ! We shall not then care for 
 peeping into those hidden records of eternity, to 
 see whether our names be written there in golden 
 characters ; no, we shall find a copy of God's 
 
 xarwj and xccra^camv aw. 
 
SERM. I.] WHO KEEP HIS COMMANDMENTS. 415 
 
 thoughts concerning us, written in our own breasts. 
 There, we may read the characters of his favour to 
 us ; there, we may feel an inward sense of his love 
 to us, flowing out of our hearty and unfeigned love 
 to him. And we shall be more undoubtedly per- 
 suaded of it, than if any of those winged watch- 
 men above, who are privy to heaven's secrets, 
 should come and tell us, that they saw our names 
 enrolled in those volumes of eternity. But, on the 
 contrary, though we strive to persuade ourselves 
 ever so confidently, that God from all eternity 
 hath loved us, and elected us to life and happi- 
 ness, if yet, in the mean time, we entertain 
 any iniquity within our hearts, . and willingly close 
 with any temptation, do what we can, we shall 
 find many a cold qualm, every now and then, seiz- 
 ing upon us, at approaching dangers : and, when 
 death itself shall grimly look us in the face, we 
 shall feel our hearts die within us, and our spirits 
 quite faint away, though we strive to raise them, 
 and recover them, never so much, with the strong 
 waters* of our ungrounded presumptions. The 
 least inward evil, willingly continued, will be like 
 a worm, fretting the gourd of our jolly confidence, 
 and presumptuous persuasion of God's love, and 
 always gnawing at the root of it ; and, though we 
 strive to keep it alive, and continually besprinkle 
 it with some dews of our own, yet, it will be always 
 dying and withering in our bosoms. But a good 
 conscience within, will be always better to a Chris- 
 * Aqua vitae. 
 
416 THEY KNOW CHRIST, [CUDWORTH. 
 
 tian, than " health to his navel, or marrow to his. 
 bones ;" it will be an everlasting cordial to his 
 heart ; it will be softer to him than a bed of down, 
 and he may sleep securely upon it, in the midst of 
 raging and tempestuous seas, when the winds 
 bluster, and the waves beat round about him. A 
 good conscience is the best looking-glass of heaven; 
 in which, the soul may see God's thoughts and 
 purposes concerning it, reflected as so many shin- 
 ing stars : " Hereby we know Christ ; hereby we 
 know, that Christ loves us, if we keep his com- 
 mandments." 
 
 II. Secondly, If hereby only we know, that we 
 know Christ, by our keeping his commandments, 
 then the knowledge of Christ does not consist 
 merely in a few barren notions, in a form of cer- 
 tain dry and sapless opinions. 
 
 Christ came not into the world, to fill our heads 
 with mere speculations ; to kindle a fire of wrang- 
 ling and contentious dispute, among us; and to 
 warm our spirits against one another, with angry, 
 and peevish debates : whilst, in the mean time, our 
 hearts remain all ice within towards God, and have 
 not the least spark of true heavenly fire, to melt 
 and thaw them. Christ came not to possess our 
 brains with some cold opinions, that send down a 
 freezing and benumbing influence upon our hearts. 
 Christ was a master of life, not of the schools * : 
 and he is the best Christian, whose heart beats with 
 
 / 
 * Vitae magister, non scholae. 
 
SERM. I.] WHO KEEP HIS COMMANDMENTS. 417 
 
 the purest pulse towards heaven; not he, whose 
 head spins out the finest cobwebs. 
 
 He that endeavours really to mortify his passions, 
 and, in his life, to comply with that truth, which his 
 conscience is convinced of, is nearer a Christian, 
 though he never heard of Christ, than he, who 
 believes all the vulgar articles of the Christian 
 faith, and plainly denies Christ in his life. 
 
 Surely the way to heaven, that Christ has taught 
 us, is plain and easy, if we have but honest hearts : 
 we need not many criticisms, many school dis- 
 tinctions, to come to a right understanding of it. 
 Surely Christ came not to ensnare us, and entangle 
 us, with captious niceties ; or to puzzle our heads, 
 with deep speculations ; or to lead us, through hard 
 and craggy notions, into the kingdom of heaven. 
 I persuade myself, that no man shall ever be kept 
 out of heaven, for not comprehending mysteries 
 that were beyond the reach of his shallow under- 
 standing, if he had but an honest and good heart, 
 that was ready to comply with Christ's command- 
 ments. " Say not in thy heart, Who shall ascend 
 into heaven?" that is, with high speculations, to 
 bring down Christ from thence ; or, " Who shall 
 descend into the abyss beneath?" that is, with 
 deep searching thoughts, to fetch up Christ from 
 thence : but lo, " the word is nigh thee, even in 
 thy mouth, and in thy heart." 
 
 But I wish it were not the distemper of our times, 
 to scare and fright men with opinions, and make 
 them solicitous only about entertaining this and 
 
 E E 
 
418 THEY KNOW CHRIST, [CUD WORTH. 
 
 that speculation, which will not render them any 
 thing the better in their lives, or the liker unto 
 God; whilst, in the mean time, there is no such 
 care taken, about our keeping Christ's command- 
 ments, and being renewed in our minds, according 
 to the image of God, in righteousness and true 
 holiness. We say, "Lo, here is Christ," and, 
 " Lo, there is Christ," in these and those opir 
 nions; whereas, in truth, Christ is neither here, 
 nor there, nor any where, but where the Spirit of 
 Christ, where the life of Christ is. 
 
 Do we not, now-a-days, open and lock up heaven 
 with the private key of this and that opinion of our 
 own, according to our several fancies, as we please ? 
 And, if any one observe Christ's commandments 
 never so sincerely, and serve God with faith and 
 a pure conscience, yet, haply, understands not 
 some contended-for opinions, some darling notions, 
 he has not the right shibboleth, he has not the true 
 watch- word, he must not pass the guards into 
 heaven. Do we not make this and that opinion^ 
 this and that outward form, to be the wedding- 
 garment ; and boldly sentence to outer darkness, 
 those who are not invested with it? Whereas, 
 every true Christian finds the least dram of hearty 
 affection towards God, to be more cordial and 
 sovereign to his soul, than all the speculative no- 
 tions and opinions in the world; and though he 
 study, also, to inform his understanding aright, 
 and free his mind from all error and misappre- 
 hensions, yet it is nothing but the life of Christ 
 
SERM. I.] WHO KEEP HIS COMMANDMENTS. 419 
 
 deeply rooted in his heart, that is the chemical 
 elixir, which he feeds upon. Had he " all faith, 
 that he could remove mountains," as Saint Pajul 
 speaks, had he " all knowledge, all tongues and 
 languages," yet he prizes one dram of love, be- 
 yond them all. He accounts him, that feeds upon 
 mere notions in religion, to be but an airy and ca- 
 meleon-like Christian. He now finds himself other- 
 wise rooted and centred in God, than formerly, 
 when he merely contemplated and gazed upon 
 Him ; he tastes and relishes God within himself; 
 he has quendam saporem Dei, a certain savour of 
 God ; whereas, before, he did but rove and guess 
 after Him at random. He feels himself safely 
 anchored in God, and will not be dissuaded from 
 enjoying God, though perhaps he skill not many of 
 those subtilties, which others make the alpha and 
 omega of their religion. Neither is h'e scared by 
 those childish afrrightments, with which some 
 would force their private conceits upon him; he 
 is above the superstitious dread of mere specula- 
 tive opinions, as well as the superstitious reverence 
 of mere outward ceremonies ; he cares not so much 
 for subtilty, as for soundness and health of mind. 
 And, indeed, as it was well spoken by a noble phi- 
 losopher, that, ' without purity and virtue, God is 
 nothing but an empty name ;' * so it is as true 
 here, that, without obedience to Christ's command- 
 ments, without the life of Christ dwelling in us, 
 
 E0 CV3^C6 [J.OVQV. 
 
 E E 2 
 
420 THEY KNOW CHRIST, [CUDWORTH. 
 
 whatsoever opinion we may entertain of him, Christ 
 is only named by us, he is not known. 
 
 I speak not here against a free and ingenuous 
 inquiry into all truth, according to our several 
 abilities and opportunities ; I plead not for cap- 
 tivating and enthralling our judgments to the 
 dictates of men ; I do not disparage the natural 
 improvement of our faculties, by true knowledge, 
 which is so noble and gallant a perfection of the 
 mind. The thing, which I aim against, is, dis- 
 piriting the life and vigour of our religion, by dry 
 speculations; and making it nothing but a mere 
 dead skeleton of opinions, a few dry bones, tied up 
 together, without any flesh and sinews ; and mis- 
 placing, upon an eager prosecution of these opi- 
 nions, all that zeal, which should be spent to better 
 purpose, upon nobler objects. 
 
 Knowledge, indeed, is a thing far more excellent 
 than riches, outward pleasures, worldly dignities, 
 or any thing else in the world, besides holiness, 
 and the conformity of our wills to the will of God ; 
 yet, our happiness consists not in knowledge, but 
 in a certain divine temper and constitution of soul, 
 which is far above it. 
 
 But it is a piece of that corruption, which runs 
 through human nature, that we naturally prize 
 truth, more than goodness ; knowledge, more than 
 holiness. We think it a gallant thing, to be flutter, 
 ing up to heaven with our wings of knowledge 
 and speculation ; whereas, the highest mystery of 
 a divine life here, and of perfect happiness here- 
 
SERM. I.] WHO KEEP HIS COMMANDMENTS. 421 
 
 after, consists in nothing but mere obedience to 
 the Divine will. Happiness is nothing but that 
 inward sweet delight, which will arise from the 
 harmonious agreement between our wills and the 
 will of God. 
 
 There is nothing contrary to God in the whole 
 world, nothing that fights against him, but self- 
 will. This is the strong castle, that we all keep 
 garrisoned against heaven, in every one of our 
 hearts, which God continually layeth siege unto : 
 and it must be conquered and demolished, before 
 we can conquer heaven. It was by reason of this 
 self-will, that Adam fell in paradise ; that those 
 glorious angels, those morning stars, kept not their 
 first station, but dropped down from heaven like 
 falling stars, and sunk into that condition of bitter- 
 ness, anxiety, and wretchedness, to which they 
 are now reduced. They all entangled themselves 
 with the length of their own wings ; they would 
 needs will more, and otherwise, than God would 
 will in them ; and, going about to make their wills 
 wider, and to enlarge them into greater amplitude, 
 the more they struggled, they found themselves 
 the faster pinioned, and crowded up into narrow- 
 ness and servility i insomuch, that now they are 
 not able to use any wings at all, but, inheriting the 
 serpent's curse, can only creep with their bellies 
 upon the earth. Now, our only way to recover 
 God and happiness again, is, not to soar up with 
 our understandings, but to destroy this self-will of 
 ours; and then, we shall find our wings grow 
 
 E E 3 
 
THEY KNOW CHRIST, [CUDWORTH. 
 
 again, our plumes fairly spread, and ourselves 
 raised aloft into the free air of perfect liberty, 
 which is perfect happiness. 
 
 There is nothing in the whole world able to do 
 us good or hurt, but God, and our own will: 
 neither riches nor poverty, nor disgrace nor ho- 
 nour, nor life nor death, nor angels nor devils ; 
 but willing or not willing, as we ought. Should 
 hell itself cast all its fiery darts against us, if our 
 will be right, if it be informed by the Divine will, 
 they can do us no hurt ; we have then, if I may so 
 speak, an enchanted shield, that is impenetrable, 
 and will bear off all. God will not hurt us, and 
 hell cannot hurt us, if we will nothing but what 
 God wills. Nay, then we are actuated by God him- 
 self, and the whole Divinity flows in upon us ; and, 
 when we have cashiered this self-will of ours, which 
 did but shackle and confine our souls, our wills shall 
 then become truly free, being widened and en- 
 larged, to the extent of God's own will. " Here- 
 by we know, that we know Christ indeed," not by 
 our speculative opinions concerning him, but " by 
 our keeping of his commandments." 
 
 III. Thirdly, if hereby we are to judge, whether 
 'we truly know Christ, by our keeping of his com- 
 mandments, so that, he that saith he knoweth 
 him, and keepeth not his commandments, is a liar ; 
 then, this was not the plot and design of the 
 Gospel, to give the world, upon what pretence 
 soever, an indulgence to sin. 
 
 But we are too prone to make such misconstrue* 
 
SERM. I.] WHO KEEP HIS COMMANDMENTS. 423 
 
 tions of the Gospel ; as if God had intended 
 nothing else by it, but to dandle our corrupt 
 nature, and contrive a smooth and easy way for us 
 to attain happiness, without the toilsome labour of 
 subduing our appetites, and sinful affections : or, as 
 if the Gospel were nothing else, but a declaration 
 to the world, of God's engaging his affections, from 
 all eternity, on some particular persons ; in such a 
 manner, that he would resolve to love them, and 
 dearly to embrace them, though he never made 
 them partakers of his image, in righteousness and 
 true holiness ; and, though they should remain 
 under the power of all their appetites, yet they 
 should still continue his beloved ones, and he 
 would, notwithstanding, bring them, at last, un- 
 doubtedly into heaven. Which is nothing else, 
 but to make the God whom we worship, the God 
 of the New Testament, an accepter of persons ; one, 
 who encourages that in the world, which is dia- 
 metrically opposite to God's own life and being. 
 
 And, indeed, nothing is more ordinary, than to 
 shape out such monstrous and deformed notions 
 of God to ourselves ; looking upon him, through 
 the coloured medium of our own corrupt hearts, 
 and having the eye of our soul tinctured, by the 
 suffusions of our own desires. And therefore, be- 
 cause we mortals can fondly love and hate, and 
 sometimes hug the vices, of those to whom our 
 affections are engaged, and kiss their very deform- 
 ities, we are ready to shape out a deity like 
 unto ourselves, and to fashion out such a god, as 
 
 E E 4 
 
THEY KNOW CHRIST, [CUDWORTH' 
 
 will, in Christ at least, hug the very wickedness of 
 the world ; and, in those that are once his own, 
 by I know not what fond affection, appropriated to 
 himself, connive at their very sins, so that they 
 shall not make the least breach between himself 
 and them. Some there are, who question, whether 
 of the two be the worse idolatry, and of the deeper 
 stain, for a man to make a god out of " a piece of 
 wood, and fall down unto it, and worship it, and 
 say, Deliver me, for thou art my God," as it is 
 expressed in the prophet Isaiah, or to set up 
 such an idol-god as this, of our own imagination, 
 fashioned according to the similitude of our own 
 fondness and wickedness : and, when we should 
 paint God with the liveliest colours that we can 
 possibly borrow from any created being, with 
 the purest perfections that we can abstract from 
 them, to draw him thus, with the black coal 
 of our own corrupt hearts, and to make the very 
 blots and blurs of our own souls, constitute the 
 letters, by which we spell out his name. Thus do 
 we, that are children of the night, make black and 
 ugly representations of God unto ourselves, as the 
 Ethiopians were wont to do ; copying him out, 
 according to our own likeness, and setting up unto 
 ourselves for a god, that which we love most 
 dearly in ourselves, that is, our appetites and pas- 
 sions. But there is no such god as this, any where 
 in the world ; but only in some men's false imagi- 
 nations, who know not, all this while, that they 
 look upon themselves instead of God, and make an 
 
SERM. I.] WHO KEEP HIS COMMANDMENTS. 
 
 idol of themselves, which, instead of him, they wor- 
 ship and adore : being so full of themselves, that, 
 whatsoever they see round about them, even God 
 himself, they colour with their own tincture ; like the 
 person of whom Aristotle speaks, that, wheresoever 
 he went, and whatsoever he looked upon, still saw 
 his own face, represented to him, as in a glass. And, 
 therefore, it is no wonder, if men seem naturally 
 more devoutly affected, toward such an imaginary 
 god as we have now described, than toward the 
 true real God, clothed with his own real attributes ; 
 since it is nothing but an image of themselves, 
 with which, Narcissus-like, they fall in love. And 
 no wonder, if they kiss and dandle such a baby- 
 god as this ; which, like little children, they have 
 dressed up out of the clouts of their own fond 
 fancies, according to their own likeness, on purpose 
 that they might play and sport with it. 
 
 But, howsoever we paint and disfigure him here 
 below, God will ever dwell in spotless light; he 
 will still be circled about with his own rays of 
 unstained and immaculate glory. And, though 
 the Gospel be not God as he is in his own bright- 
 ness, but God veiled and masked to us, God in 
 a state of humiliation, and condescent, as the 
 sun in a rainbow, yet, it is nothing else, but a 
 clear and unspotted mirror of divine holiness, 
 goodness, purity ; in which attributes, lie the very 
 life and essence of God himself. The Gospel, is 
 God descending into the world in our form, and 
 conversing with us in our likeness ; that he might 
 
426 THEY KNOW CHRIST, [CUD WORTH. 
 
 allure and draw us up to God, and make us par- 
 takers of his divine form. ( God was therefore 
 incarnated, and made man, that he might deify 
 us ; ' * that is, as Saint Peter expresses it, make us 
 " partakers of the divine nature." Now, I say, the 
 very proper character, and essential tincture, of 
 God himself, is nothing else but goodness. Nay, 
 I may be bold to add, that God is therefore God, 
 because he is the highest and most perfect good ; 
 and good is not therefore good, because God, out 
 of 'an arbitrary will of his, would have it so. 
 Whatsoever God doeth in the world, he doeth it 
 as suitable to the highest goodness ; the idea and 
 fairest copy of which, is his own essence. 
 
 Virtue and holiness in creatures, as Plato well 
 discourses in his Euthyphro, are not therefore 
 good, because God loves them, and will have 
 them to be accounted such ; but rather, God 
 therefore loves them, because they are, in them- 
 selves, simply good. Some of our own authors go 
 a little further yet ; and tell us, that God does not 
 fondly love himself, because he is himself; but 
 therefore he loves himself, because he is the 
 highest and most absolute goodness. So that, if 
 there could be any thing in the world better than 
 God, God would love that better than himself: 
 but, because he is essentially the most perfect 
 good, therefore he cannot but love his own 
 goodness, infinitely above all other things. And 
 another mistake, which sometimes we make re- 
 
 j. <S. AthcinttSlUS* 
 
SERM. I.] WHO KEEP HIS COMMANDMENTS. 
 
 specting God, is shaping him out according to the 
 model of ourselves, when we make him nothing 
 but a blind, dark, impetuous self-will, running 
 through the world; such as we ourselves, who 
 have not the ballast of absolute goodness to poise 
 and settle us, are furiously actuated by. 
 
 That I may, therefore, come nearer to the sub- 
 ject in hand. God, who is absolute goodness, 
 cannot love any of his creatures, and take pleasure 
 in them, without bestowing upon them a commu- 
 nication of his goodness and likeness. God can- 
 not make a Gospel, to promise men life and happi- 
 ness hereafter, without being regenerated, an,; 
 made partakers of his holiness. As soon mav 
 heaven and hell be reconciled, and lovingly shaKe 
 hands with one another, as God can be fondly in- 
 dulgent to any sin, in whomsoever it be. As 
 soon may light and darkness be espoused together, 
 and midnight be married to noon-day, as God can 
 be joined in a league of friendship with any wicked 
 soul. 
 
 The great design of God in the Gospel, is to 
 clear up this mist of sin and corruption, with which 
 we are here surrounded ; and to bring up his 
 creatures, out of the shadow of death, to the re- 
 gion of light above, the land of truth and holiness. 
 The great mystery of the Gospel, is, to establish 
 in the hearts of men, a god-like frame and dispo- 
 sition of spirit, which consists in righteousness and 
 true holiness. And Christ, who is the great and 
 mighty Saviour, came into the world, on purpose, 
 
428 THEY KNOW CHRIST, [CUDWORTH. 
 
 not only, to save us from fire and brimstone, but, 
 also, to save us from our sins. Christ has, there- 
 fore, made an expiation of our sins, by his death 
 upon the cross, that we, being thus " delivered 
 out of the hands of" these " our" greatest "ene- 
 mies, might serve God without fear, in holiness 
 and righteousness before him, all the days of our 
 life." This " grace of God, that bringeth salva- 
 tion," has therefore " appeared unto all men," 
 in the Gospel, that it might " teach us to deny 
 ungodliness, and worldly lusts, and that we should 
 live soberly, righteously, and godlily in this pre- 
 sent world; looking for that blessed hope, and 
 glorious appearing of the great God and our 
 Saviour Jesus Christ, who gave himself for us, that 
 he might redeem us from all iniquity, and purify 
 to himself a peculiar people, zealous of good 
 works." " These things I write unto you," says 
 the Apostle, a little before my text, " that you 
 sin not ; " thus expressing the end of the whole 
 Gospel, which is, not to cover sin, by spreading 
 the purple robe of Christ's death and sufferings 
 over it, while it still remains in us, with all its filth 
 and noisomeness unremoved, but to convey a pow- 
 erful and mighty spirit of holiness, to cleanse us 
 and free us from it. And this is a greater grace 
 of God to us, than the former, which still go 
 both together in the Gospel; first, the free re- 
 mission and pardon of sin in the blood of Christ, 
 then, the delivering us from the power of sin, 
 by the Spirit of Christ dwelling in our hearts. 
 
SERM. I.] WHO KEEP HIS COMMANDMENTS. 429 
 
 Christ came not into the world merely to cast a 
 mantle over us, and hide all our filthy sores from 
 God's avenging eye, with his merits and righteous- 
 ness ; but he came especially to be a chirurgeon and 
 physician of souls, to free us from the filth and 
 corruption of them ; which is more grievous and 
 burthensome, more noisome to a true Christian, 
 than the guilt of sin itself. 
 
 Should a poor wretched and diseased creature, 
 full of sores and ulcers, be covered all over with 
 purple, or clothed with scarlet, he would take 
 but little contentment in it, whilst his sores and 
 wounds remain upon him ; and he had much rather 
 be arrayed in rags, so that he might obtain but 
 soundness and health within. The Gospel is a true 
 Bethesda, a pool of grace, where such poor, lame, 
 and infirm creatures as we are, upon the moving 
 of God's Spirit, may descend down, not only to 
 wash our skin and outside, but also to be cured 
 of our diseases within. And, whatever the world 
 thinks, there is a powerful Spirit, that moves upon 
 these waters, the waters of the Gospel, spreading 
 its gentle, healing, quickening wings over our 
 souls. The Gospel is not like Abana and Pharpar, 
 those common rivers of Damascus, that could only 
 cleanse the outside ; it is a true Jordan, in which 
 such leprous Naamans as we all are, " may wash 
 and be clean." " Blessed, indeed, are they, 
 whose iniquities are forgiven, and whose sins are 
 covered : blessed is the man, to whom the Lord 
 will not impute sin ; " but yet, rather blessed are 
 
430 THEY KNOW .CHRIST, [CUD WORTH. 
 
 they, whose sins are like a morning cloud, and 
 quite taken away from them. Blessed, thrice 
 " blessed are they, that hunger and thirst after 
 righteousness, for they shall be satisfied : blessed 
 are the pure in heart, for they shall see God." 
 
 Our Saviour Christ came, as John the Baptist 
 tells us, " with his fan in his hand, that he might 
 throughly purge his floor, and gather his wheat 
 into his garner : but the chaff he will burn up, with 
 unquenchable fire." He came, as the prophet 
 Malachi speaks, " like a refiner's fire, and like 
 fuller's soap; to sit as a refiner and purifier of 
 silver, and to purify all the sons of Levi, and purge 
 them as gold and silver, that they may offer unto 
 the Lord an offering in righteousness." 
 
 Christ came, not only to write Holiness to the 
 Lord upon Aaron's forehead, and to put his Urim 
 and Thummim upon his breast-plate, but, " This 
 is the covenant, saith the Lord, that I will make 
 with them in those days ; I will put my law in 
 their inward parts, and write it in their hearts ; 
 and I will be their God, and they shall be my 
 people." They shall be all kings and priests unto 
 me. " God sent his own Son, in the likeness of 
 sinful flesh, and, by a sacrifice for sin, condemned 
 sin in the flesh ; that the righteousness of the law 
 might be fulfilled in us, who walk not after the 
 flesh, but after the Spirit." 
 
 The first Adam, as the Scripture tells us, brought 
 in a real defilement, which, like a noisome leprosy, 
 has overspread all mankind: and therefore the 
 
SERM. I.] WHO KEEP HIS COMMANDMENTS. 431 
 
 second Adam must not only fill the world with a 
 conceit of holiness, and mere imaginary righteous- 
 ness, but he must really convey such an im- 
 mortal seed of grace into the hearts of believers, 
 as may prevail still more and more in them, till it 
 have, at last, quite wrought out that poison of the 
 serpent. 
 
 Christ, who was, in fact, Divinity dwelling in a 
 tabernacle of flesh, and God himself immediately 
 actuating a human nature, came into the world, to 
 kindle here among men that divine life, which is 
 certainly dearer to God, than any thing else what- 
 soever in the world ; and to propagate this celestial 
 fire continually, from one heart unto another, until 
 the end of the world. Neither is he, nor was 
 he, ever absent from this spark of his Divinity 
 kindled amongst men, wheresoever it be, though 
 he seem, bodily, to be withdrawn from us. He is 
 the standing, constant, inexhausted fountain of 
 this divine light and heat, that still touches every 
 soul that is enlivened by it, with an outstretched 
 ray, and freely lends his beams, and disperses his 
 influence to all, from the beginning of the world, 
 to the end of it. " We all receive of his fulness, 
 grace for grace ; " as all the stars in heaven are said 
 to light their candles at the sun's flame. For, 
 though his body be withdrawn from us, yet, by the 
 lively and virtual contact of his Spirit, he is always 
 kindling, cheering, quickening, warming, and en- 
 livening hearts. Nay, this divine life, begun and 
 kindled in any heart, wheresoever it be, is some- 
 
432 THEY KNOW CHRIST, fcUDWORTH. 
 
 thing of God in flesh, and, in a sober and qualified 
 sense, Divinity incarnate ; and all particular Chris- 
 tians, that are really possessed of it, are so many 
 mystical Christs. 
 
 And, God forbid, that God's own life and na- 
 ture, here in the world, should be forlorn, forsaken, 
 and abandoned, of God himself. Certainly, where- 
 ever it is, though never so little, like a sweet, 
 young, tender babe, once born in any heart, when 
 it crieth unto God the father of it, with pitiful and 
 bemoaning looks imploring his compassion, it can- 
 not chuse but move his fatherly bowels, and make 
 them yearn, and turn towards it, and, by strong 
 sympathy, draw his compassionate arm to help and 
 relieve it. Never was any tender infant so dear 
 to its human parent, as an infant new-born Christ, 
 formed in the heart of any true believer, to God 
 the father of it. Shall the children of this world, 
 the sons of darkness, be moved with such tender 
 affection and compassion towards the fruit of their 
 bodies, their own natural offspring? And shall 
 God, the father of lights, the fountain of all good- 
 ness, be moved with no compassion towards his 
 true spiritual offspring, and have no regard to those 
 sweet babes of light, engendered by his own beams 
 in men's hearts, who, in their lovely countenances, 
 bear the resemblance of his own face, and call him 
 their father ? Shall he see them lie fainting, and 
 gasping, and dying here in the world, for want of 
 nothing to preserve and keep them, but an influence 
 from him, who first gave them- life and breath ? 
 
SERM. I.] WHO KEEP HIS COMMANDMENTS. 433 
 
 No ; hear the language of God's heart, hear the 
 sounding of his bowels towards them : "Is it 
 Ephraim, my dear son ? is it that pleasant child ? 
 Since I spake of him, I do earnestly remember 
 him ; my bowels, my bowels are troubled for him ; 
 I will surely have mercy upon him, saith the Lord." 
 If those expressions of goodness and tender affec- 
 tion, here, among the creatures, be but drops of that 
 full ocean which is in God, how then can we ima- 
 gine, that this father of our spirits should have so 
 little regard to his own dear offspring, I do not 
 say to our souls, but to that, which is the very life and 
 soul of our souls, the life of God in us, which is 
 nothing else but God's own self communicated to 
 us, his own Son born in our hearts, as that he 
 should suffer it to be cruelly murdered in its infancy, 
 by our sins, and, like young Hercules, in its very 
 cradle to be strangled by those vipers? that he 
 should see him crucified by fleshly lusts, nailed 
 fast to the cross by invincible corruptions, pierced 
 and gored, on every side, with the poisonous spears 
 of the devil's temptations, and at last giving up the 
 ghost; and yet, that his tender heart should riot at 
 all relent, nor be, all this while, impassionated with 
 so sad a spectacle ? Surely, we cannot think he hath 
 such an adamantine breast, such a flinty nature, 
 as this is. 
 
 What then ? Must we say, that though indeed 
 he be willing, yet he is not able, to rescue his cru- 
 cified and tormented Son, now bleeding upon the 
 cross ; to take him down from thence, and save 
 
 F F 
 
434 THEY KNOW CHRIST, [CUDWORTH. 
 
 him ? Then must sin be more powerful than God ; 
 that weak, crazy, and sickly thing, more strong 
 than the Rock of ages ; and the devil, the prince 
 of darkness, more mighty than the God of light. 
 No, surely ; there is a weakness and impotency in 
 all evil, but a masculine strength and vigour in all 
 goodness ; and therefore, doubtless, the highest good 
 is the strongest thing in the world. God's power, 
 displayed in the world, is nothing but his goodness 
 strongly reaching all things, from height to depth, 
 from the highest heaven to the lowest hell ; and 
 irresistibly imparting itself to every thing, accord- 
 ing to those several degrees, in which it is capable 
 of receiving the heavenly visitant. 
 
 Have the fiends of darkness, then, those poor 
 forlorn spirits, which are fettered and chained up in 
 the chains of their own wickedness, any strength 
 to withstand the force of infinite goodness, which 
 is infinite power ? Or, do they not rather skulk in 
 holes of darkness, and fly, like bats and owls, 
 before the approaching beams of this Sun of 
 Righteousness? Is God powerful to kill and to 
 destroy, to damn and to torment ? And is he not 
 powerful to save ? Nay, it is the sweetest flower 
 in all the garland of his attributes, it is the richest 
 diadem in his crown of glory, that he is mighty to 
 save : and this is far more noble and magnificent, 
 than to be styled mighty to destroy. For that, ex- 
 cept it be in a way of justice, speaks no power, 
 but mere impotency ; for the root of all power is 
 goodness. 
 
SERM. 1-3 WHO KEEP HIS COMMANDMENTS. 43* 
 
 Or must we say, lastly, that God, indeed, when 
 we sigh and groan towards him, is able to rescue 
 us out of the power of sin and Satan, but that, 
 sometimes, to exercise his absolute authority, his 
 uncontrollable dominion, he delights rather in 
 plunging wretched souls down, into infernal night, 
 and everlasting darkness ? What shall we, then, 
 make the God of the whole world ? Nothing but 
 a cruel and dreadful Erinnys, with curled fiery 
 snakes about his head, and firebrands in his hands, 
 thus governing the world ? Surely this will make 
 us, either secretly to think, that, if he must needs 
 be such, there is no God at all in the world ; or 
 else, to wish heartily that there were none. But, 
 doubtless, God will, at last, confute all these our 
 misapprehensions : he will unmask our hypocritical 
 pretences, and clearly cast the shame of all our 
 sinful deficiencies, upon ourselves ; and will vindi- 
 cate his own glory, from receiving by them the 
 least stain or blemish. In the mean time, let us 
 know, that the Gospel now requires far more of us, 
 than the law ever did ; for it requires a new crea- 
 ture, a divine nature, Christ formed within us: 
 but then, it bestows a quickening spirit, an enliven* 
 ing power, to enable us to perform that which is 
 required of us. Whosoever, therefore, truly knows 
 Christ, the same also keepeth Christ's commandr 
 ments. But " he that saith, I know him, and 
 keepeth not his commandments, is a liar, and the 
 truth is not in him." 
 
 I have now done with the first part of my dis- 
 F F 2 
 
436 THEY KNOW CHRIST, [CUDWORTH. 
 
 course, concerning those observations, which arise 
 naturally from the words, and offer themselves to our 
 acceptance. I shall, in the next place, proceedf to 
 make some general application of them all together. 
 Now, therefore, I beseech you, let us consider, 
 whether we know Christ indeed : not by our ac- 
 quaintance with systems and models of divinity, 
 not by our skill in books and papers, but by our 
 keeping Christ's commandments. All the books 
 and writings, with which we converse, can but re- 
 present spiritual objects to our understandings ; 
 which, yet, we can never see in their own true figure, 
 colour, and proportion, until we have a divine 
 light within, to irradiate and shine upon them. 
 Though there be never such excellent truths set 
 dow r n in words and letters, concerning Christ and 
 his Gospel, yet they will be but unknown cha- 
 racters to us, until we have a willing spirit within 
 us, that can decipher them; until, by secret 
 whispers in our hearts, the same spirit which at first 
 indited them, become a commentary upon them. 
 There are many, that understand the Greek and 
 Hebrew of the Scripture, the original languages, 
 in which the text was written, who never under- 
 stood the language of the Spirit. 
 ; There is a flesh and a spirit, a body and a soul, 
 in all the writings of Scripture. It is but the 
 flesh and body of divine truths, that is printed 
 upon paper ; which alone, many moths of books and 
 libraries feed upon ; many walking skeletons of 
 knowledge, who bury and entomb truths in the liv- 
 
SERM. I.] WHO KEEP HIS COMMANDMENTS. 437 
 
 ing sepulchres of their souls, and converse only with 
 these ; men, who never did any thing else, but pick 
 at the mere bark and rind of truths, and crack the 
 shells of them. But there is a soul and spirit of 
 divine truth, which could never yet be congealed 
 into ink, which could never be blotted upon paper; 
 which, by a secret traduction and conveyance,' 
 passes from one soul unto another, being able to 
 dwell or lodge nowhere, but in a spiritual being, 
 in ^ living thing, because itself is nothing but life 
 and spirit. Neither can it, where indeed it is, ex- 
 press itself sufficiently in words and sounds; it 
 will best declare and speak itself in actions : as the 
 old manner of writing among the Egyptians was, 
 not by words, but things. The life of divine 
 truths is better expressed in actions, than in words, 
 because actions are more living things than words. 
 Words are nothing, but dead resemblances and 
 pictures of those truths, which live and breathe in 
 actions ; and " the kingdom of God," as the Apostle 
 speaks, " consisteth not in word," but in life and 
 power. < Sheep do not come and bring their fodder 
 to their shepherd, and show him how much they 
 eat; but, inwardly concocting and digesting it, 
 they make it appear, by the fleece which they wear 
 upon their backs, and by the milk which they 
 give. 5 * And let not us Christians, affect only to 
 talk and dispute of Christ, and so, measure our 
 
 ^ Ta Tz^oSaTaj ov xpgrov ^spovra TOH; 7rotju.Ecriv, t7Ti$Eix,vvti ifopov s^ 
 TVIV yojt/,v ECTW Trs^avTa, ipiov e%ca Qtpti KOU yaAa. Epictetus* 
 FF 3 
 
438 THEY KNOW CHRIST, [CUDWORTH. 
 
 knowledge of him by our words ; but let us show 
 our knowledge concocted into our lives and actions: 
 and, then, let us really manifest that we are Christ's 
 sheep indeed, that we are his disciples, by that 
 fleecy of holiness which we wear, and by the fruits 
 which we daily yield in our lives and conversations : 
 for " herein," saith Christ, " is my Father glori- 
 fied, that ye bear much fruit ; so shall ye be my 
 disciples." 
 
 Let us not, I beseech you, judge of our know- 
 ing Christ, by our ungrounded persuasions, that 
 Christ, from all eternity, hath loved us, and given 
 himself particularly for us, without the conformity of 
 our lives to Christ's commandments, without a real 
 participation of the image of Christ in our hearts. 
 The great mystery of the Gospel does not lie in 
 Christ without us only (though we must know, also, 
 what he has done for us) ; but the very pith and 
 kernel of it, consists in Christ inwardly formed in 
 our hearts. 
 
 Nothing is truly ours, but what lives in our 
 spirits. Salvation itself cannot save us, as long as 
 it is only without us, any more than health can 
 cure us, and make us sound, when it is not within 
 us, but somewhere at a distance from us ; any more, 
 than arts and sciences, whilst they lie only in books 
 and papers without us, can make us learned. The 
 Gospel, though it be a sovereign and medicinal 
 thing itself, yet, the mere knowing and believing 
 of its history, will do us no good ; we can receive 
 no virtue from it, till it be inwardly digested and 
 
SERM. I.] WHO KEEP HIS COMMANDMENTS. 439 
 
 concocted into our souls ; till it be made ours, and 
 become a living thing in our hearts. The Gospel, 
 if it be only without us, cannot save us, any more 
 than that physician's bill could cure the ignorant 
 patient of his disease, who, when it was commended 
 to him, took the paper only, and put it up in his 
 pocket, but never drank the potion that was de- 
 scribed in it. 
 
 All that Christ did for us in the flesh, when he 
 was here upon earth, from his lying in a manger, 
 when he was born in Bethlehem, to his bleeding 
 upon the cross on Golgotha, will not save us from 
 our sins, unless Christ by his Spirit dwell in us. 
 It will not avail us to believe, that he was born of 
 a virgin, unless the power of the Most High over- 
 shadow our hearts, and beget him there likewise. 
 It will not profit us, to believe, that he died upon 
 the cross for us, unless, by the mortification of all 
 our evil affections, we be baptized into his death ; 
 unless the old man of sin be crucified in our hearts. 
 Christ, indeed, has made an expiation for our sins 
 upon his cross, and the blood of Christ is the 
 only sovereign balsam to free us from their guilt. 
 But yet, besides the sprinkling of the blood of 
 Christ upon us, we must be made partakers also of 
 his spirit. Christ came into the world, as well to 
 redeem us from the power and bondage, as to 
 free us from the guilt, of our sins. " Ye know," 
 says Saint John, "that he was manifested, to 
 take away our sins : whosoever, therefore, abideth 
 in him, sinneth not ; whosoever sinneth, hath not 
 
 F F 4 
 
440 THEY KNOW CHRIST, [CUDWORTH. 
 
 seen nor known him." Lo, the end of Christ's 
 coming into the world ! Lo, a design worthy of 
 God manifested in the flesh ! 
 
 Christ did not take all those pains, to lay aside 
 his robes of glory, and come down hither into the 
 world, to enter into a virgin's womb, to be born in 
 our human shape, to be laid a poor crying infant 
 in a manger, and, having no form or comeliness, 
 to take upon him the form of a servant, to undergo 
 a reproachful and ignominious life, and, at last, to 
 be abandoned to a shameful death, a death upon 
 the cross, He did not do all this, I say, merely to 
 bring a notion into the world, without producing 
 any real, substantial effect; without changing, 
 mending, and reforming the world ; so that men 
 should still be as wicked, and as much under the 
 power of the prince of darkness, as they were be- 
 fore, only, they should not be thought so ; so that 
 they should still remain as full of all the filthy sores 
 of sin and corruption, as before, only, they should 
 be accounted whole. Shall God come down from 
 heaven, and pitch a tabernacle amongst men ? 
 Shall he undertake such a vast design, and make 
 so great a display of doing something, which, when 
 it is all summed up, shall not, at last, amount to a 
 reality ? Surely Christ did not undergo all this, to 
 so little purpose ; he would not take all this pains 
 for us, that he might be able, at last, to put into our 
 hands nothing but a blank. He " was with child," 
 he " was in pain and travail ; " and hath " he 
 brought forth nothing but wind ? Hath he been 
 
SERM. I.] WHO KEEP HIS COMMANDMENTS. 441 
 
 delivered of the east wind ? " Has that great design, 
 which was so long carried in the womb of eternity, 
 now proved abortive, or else, nothing but a mere 
 windy birth ? No surely : the end of the Gospel is 
 life and perfection ; it is a divine nature ; it is a 
 godlike frame and disposition of spirit; it is to 
 make us partakers of the image of God, in right- 
 eousness and true holiness ; without which, salva- 
 tion itself were but a notion. 
 
 Christ came into the world to make an expiation 
 for our sins ; but the end of this was, that we might 
 eschew sin ; that we might forsake all ungodliness 
 and worldly lusts. The Gospel declares pardon of 
 sin, to those that are heavy laden with it, and willing 
 to be disburthened; to this end, that it might quicken 
 and enliven us to new obedience. Whereas, other- 
 wise, the guilt of sin might have detained us in 
 horror and despair, and so have kept us still more 
 strongly under its power, in sad and dismal appre- 
 hensions of God's wrath, provoked against us, and 
 inevitably falling on us : but Christ has now ap- 
 peared like a day-star, with most cheerful beams ; 
 nay, he is the Sun of Righteousness himself, who 
 has risen upon the world, with his healing wings, 
 with his exhilarating light, that he might chase 
 away from us all those black despairing thoughts. 
 But Christ did not rise, that we should play, and 
 sport, and wantoriize with his light ; but that we 
 should do " the work of the day" in it; that we 
 should walk, not in our night-clothes of sinful de- 
 formity, but clad all over with the comely garments 
 
442 THEY KNOW CHRIST, [CUDWORTH. 
 
 of light. The Gospel is not great with child of a 
 fancy, of a mere conceit of righteousness without 
 us, hanging at a distance over us, whilst our hearts 
 within, are nothing but cages of unclean birds, and 
 like houses continually haunted with devils, nay, 
 the very rendezvous of those fiends of darkness. 
 
 Holiness is the best thing that God himself can 
 bestow upon us ; either in this world, or the world 
 to come. True evangelical holiness, that is, Christ 
 formed in the hearts of believers, is the very cream 
 and quintessence of the Gospel. And, were our 
 hearts sound within, were there not many thick 
 and dark fumes, which arise from thence, and 
 cloud our understandings, we could not easily 
 conceive the substance of heaven itself, to be any 
 thing else but holiness, freed from those encum- 
 brances, which ever dogged and accloyed it here ; 
 neither should we wish for any other heaven, 
 besides this. But many of us are like those 
 children, whose stomachs are so vitiated by some 
 disease, that they think ashes, coal, mud- wall, or 
 any such trash, more pleasant, than the most 
 wholesome food. Such sickly and distempered 
 appetites have we about these spiritual things, 
 hankering after I know not what vain shows of 
 happiness, whilst, in the mean time, we neglect 
 that, which is the only true food of our souls, which 
 is able to nourish them unto everlasting life. 
 
 Grace is holiness militant; holiness, encumbered 
 with many enemies and difficulties, which it ever 
 fights against, and manfully acquits itself. And 
 
SERM. I.] WHO KEEP HIS COMMANDMENTS. 443 
 
 glory is nothing else, but holiness triumphant; 
 holiness, with a palm of victory in her hand, and a 
 crown upon her head. ' God himself cannot make 
 me happy, if he be only without me, and unless he 
 vouchsafe a participation of himself, and his own 
 likeness, into my soul.' * Happiness is nothing but 
 the releasing and unfettering of our souls from all 
 narrow, scant, and particular good things ; and the 
 espousing of them to the highest and most universal 
 good, which is not this or that particular good, 
 but goodness itself: and this is the same thing, 
 which we call holiness. With which, because we 
 ourselves are so little acquainted, for the most part 
 ever courting its mere shadow, therefore, we have 
 such low, abject, and beggarly conceits of it; 
 whereas, it is, in itself, the most noble, heroical, 
 and generous thing, in the world. For I mean by 
 holiness, nothing else but God stamped and printed 
 on the soul. And we may please ourselves with 
 what conceits we will ; but, so long as we are void 
 of this, we do but dream of heaven, and I know 
 not what fond paradise ; we do but blow up and 
 down, an airy bubble of our own fancies, which 
 rises out of the froth of our vain hearts ; we do 
 but court a painted heaven, and woo happiness in 
 a picture, whilst, in the mean time, a true and real 
 hell will absorb our souls into it, and will soon make 
 us sensible of solid woe, and substantial misery. 
 . Divine wisdom has so ordered the frame of the 
 
 * ' Deus ipse, cum orani sua bonitate, quatenus extra me 
 est, non facit me beatum, sed quatenus in me est.' 
 
444 THEY KNOW CHRIST, [CUDWOUTH. 
 
 whole universe, that every thing should have a 
 certain proper place, a fit receptacle for it. Hell 
 is the sink of all sin and wickedness. The strong 
 magic of nature pulls and draws every thing, con- 
 tinually, to that place which is suitable to it, and 
 to which it belongs. So, all heavy bodies press 
 downwards, towards the centre of our earth, drawn 
 in by its attraction. In like manner, hell, where- 
 soever it is, will, by strong sympathy, pull in all 
 sin, and magnetically draw it to itself. While 
 true holiness is always breathing upwards, and 
 fluttering towards heaven, striving to embosom 
 itself with God : and it will, at last, undoubtedly 
 be conjoined with him ; no dismal shades of dark- 
 ness can possibly stop it in its course, or bear 
 it back.* Nay, we do but deceive ourselves 
 with names. Hell is nothing but the orb of sin 
 and wickedness, that hemisphere of darkness, in 
 which all evil moves ; and heaven is the opposite 
 hemisphere of light, the bright orb of truth, 
 holiness, and goodness. And, in this life, we 
 actually instate ourselves in the possession of one 
 or other of them. Take sin and disobedience out 
 of hell, and it will presently clear up into light, 
 tranquillity, serenity, and shine out into a heaven. 
 Every true saint carries his heaven about with 
 him, in his own heart ; and hell, that is without, 
 can have no power over him. He might safely 
 wade through hell itself, and, like the three chil- 
 dren, pass through the midst of that fiery fur- 
 
SERM. I.] WHO KEEP HIS COMMANDMENTS. 445 
 
 nace, and yet not at all be scorched with its 
 flames. He might walk through the valley of the 
 shadow of death, and yet fear no evil. 
 
 Sin is the only thing in the world, that is con- 
 trary to God. God is light, and that is darkness. 
 God is beauty, and that is ugliness and deformity. 
 All sin is direct rebellion against God ; and, with 
 what notions soever we sugar it, and sweeten it, 
 yet God can never smile upon it, he will never 
 make a truce with it. God declares open war 
 against sin, and bids defiance to it ; for it is a pro- 
 fessed enemy to God's own life and being. God, 
 who is infinite goodness, cannot but hate sin, 
 which is purely evil. Sin is, in itself, but a poor, 
 impotent, and crazy thing ; nothing but straitness, 
 poverty, and nonentity ; so that, of itself, it is the 
 most wretched and miserable thing in the world, 
 and needs no farther punishment, besides itself. 
 Divine vengeance beats it off, still further and 
 further from God ; and, wheresoever it is, will be 
 sure to scourge it and lash it continually. God 
 and sin can never agree together. 
 
 That I may, therefore, yet come nearer to our- 
 selves. This is the message, which I have now to 
 .declare unto you, that " God is light, and in him 
 is no darkness at all : if we say, that we have 
 fellowship with him, and walk in darkness, we 
 lie, and do not the truth." Christ and the Gospel 
 are light, and in them there is no darkness at all. 
 If you say, that you know Christ and his Gospel, 
 and yet keep not Christ's commandments, but 
 
446 v THEY KNOW CHRIST, [CUDWORTH. 
 
 dearly hug your private darling corruptions, you 
 are liars, and the truth is not in you ; you have 
 no acquaintance with the God of light, nor the 
 Gospel of light. If any of you say, that you 
 know Christ, and have an interest in him, and 
 yet, as I fear too many do, still nourish ambi- 
 tion, pride, vain-glory, within your breasts ; har- 
 bour malice, revengefulness, and cruel hatred to 
 your neighbours, in your hearts ; eagerly scramble 
 after sordid pelf, and make the strength of your 
 parts and endeavours serve that blind mammon, 
 the god of this world ; if you wallow and tumble 
 in the filthy puddle of fleshly pleasures, or if, 
 in your lives, you aim only at selfish ends, and 
 make interest the compass by which you sail, 
 and the star by which you steer your course, 
 looking at nothing higher or more noble than your- 
 selves, if these things be so, then deceive not 
 yourselves ; you have neither seen Christ, nor 
 know him ; you are deeply incorporated, if I may 
 so speak, with the spirit of this world ; and have 
 no true sympathy with God and Christ, no fellow- 
 ship at all with the Father and the Son. 
 
 And, I beseech you, let us consider: are there 
 not many of us, who pretend much to Christ, 
 that are plainly, in our lives, as proud, ambitious, 
 vain-glorious, as any others? Are there not 
 many of us, as much under the power of unruly 
 passions, as cruel, revengeful, malicious, censo- 
 rious as others? Many, that have our minds as 
 deeply engaged in the world, and as much envas- 
 salled to riches, gain, profit, those great admirer? 
 
SERM. I.] WHO KEEP HIS COMMANDMENTS. 447 
 
 deities of the sons of men, and their souls as much 
 overwhelmed and sunk, with the cares of this life ? 
 Do not many of us, as much give ourselves to the 
 pleasures of the flesh, and, though not without 
 regrets of conscience, yet, every now and then, 
 secretly soak ourselves in them ? Are there not 
 many of us, who have as deep a share, likewise, in 
 injustice and oppression, in vexing the fatherless 
 and the widows ? I wish it may not prove some 
 of our cases, at that last day, to use such pleas as 
 these unto Christ in our behalf: * Lord, I have 
 prophesied in thy name ; I have preached many 
 a zealous sermon for thee ; I have kept many a 
 long fast ; I have been very active for thy cause 
 in church, in state ; nay, I never made any ques- 
 tion, but that my name was written in thy book 
 of life : ' when yet, alas ! we shall receive no 
 other return from Christ but this : "I know you 
 not ; depart from me, ye workers of iniquity." I 
 am sure, there are too many of us, who have long 
 pretended to Christ, and yet, make little or no pro- 
 gress in true Christianity, that is, in holiness of 
 life ; men who ever hang hovering, in a twilight of 
 grace ; who never seriously put ourselves forward, 
 into clear day-light, but esteem that glimmering 
 crepusculum which we are in, and like that faint 
 twilight, better than broad, open, meridian splen- 
 dour : whereas, " the path of the just is as the 
 shining light, that shineth more and more unto the 
 perfect day." I am sure there are many of us, 
 who are perpetual dwarfs, in our spiritual stature ; 
 
448 THEY KNOW CHRIST, [CUDWORTH. 
 
 like those silly women, laden with sins, and led 
 away by strange desires, who are " ever learning, 
 and never able to come to the knowledge of the 
 truth ; " who are not now one jot taller in Chris- 
 tianity, than we were many years ago ; but have 
 still as sickly, crazy, and unsound, a temper of soul, 
 as we had long before. 
 
 Indeed, we seem to do something : we are al- 
 ways moving and lifting at the stone of corruption, 
 which lies upon our hearts, but yet we never stir it, 
 or at least never roll it off from us. We are some- 
 times a little troubled with the guilt of our sins, 
 and then, we think we must thrust our desires out 
 of our hearts; but afterwards, we sprinkle our- 
 selves over with I know not what holy water, and so, 
 are contented to let those desires, still abide quietly 
 within us. We every day truly confess the same 
 sins, and pray against them; and yet, we still 
 commit them as much as ever, and lie as deeply 
 under the power of them. We have the same 
 water to pump out, in every prayer ; and still we 
 let the same leak in again upon us. We make a 
 great deal of noise, and raise a great deal of dust 
 with our feet ; but we do not move from off the 
 ground, on which we stood, we do not at all go for- 
 ward. Or, if we do sometimes make a little pro- 
 gress, we quickly lose again the ground which we 
 had gained ; like those upper planets in the hea- 
 ven, which, as the astronomers tell us, sometimes 
 move forward, sometimes quite backward, and 
 sometimes perfectly stand still ; have their stations 
 
SERM. I.] WHO KEEP HIS COMMANDMENTS. 449 
 
 and retrogradations, as well as their direct motions. 
 As if religion were nothing else, but a dancing up 
 and down upon the same piece of ground, and 
 making several motions and friskings on it ; and 
 not a sober journeying, and travelling onwards, 
 toward some certain place. We do and undo ; we 
 weave sometimes a web of holiness, but then we 
 let our passions come, and undo and unravel all 
 again.* Like Sisyphus in the fable, we roll up a 
 mighty stone, with much ado, sweating and tug- 
 ging up the hill; and then we let it go, and 
 tumble down again unto the bottom ; and this is 
 our constant work. Like those Danaides, whom 
 the poets speak of, we are always, by our prayers, 
 duties, and performances, filling water into a sieve, 
 which still runs out, as fast as we pour it in. 
 
 What is it, that thus cheats us, and gulls us of 
 our religion ? That makes us thus constantly tread 
 the same ring and circle of duties, where we make 
 not any progress forward, and how far soever we 
 go, we are still never the nearer to our journey's 
 end ? What is it, which thus starves our religion, 
 and makes it look like those kine in Pharaoh's 
 dream, ill-favoured and lean-fleshed, no colour in 
 its face, no blood in its veins, no life nor heat 
 in any of its members ? What is it, that thus be- 
 dwarfs us in our Christianity ? By what low, sor- 
 did, unworthy principles do we act, which thus 
 hinder our growth, and make us stand at a stay, and 
 keep us always at the very porch and entrance, where 
 * Penelopes telam texere. 
 G G 
 
450 THEY KNOW CHRIST, [CUDWORTH. 
 
 we first began ? Is it a sleepy, sluggish conceit, that 
 it is enough for us, if we be but once in a state of 
 grace, if we have but once stepped over the thresh- 
 old ; that we need not take so great pains, to travel 
 any farther ? Or is it another damping, choaking, 
 stifling opinion, that Christ has done all for us 
 already without us, and nothing more needs to be 
 done within us ? No matter how wicked we are in 
 ourselves, for we have holiness without us ; no 
 matter how sickly and diseased our souls are within, 
 for they have health without them. Why may we 
 not as well be satisfied and contented, to have 
 happiness too without us, to all eternity, and so 
 ourselves for ever continue miserable ? " Little 
 children, let no man deceive you ; he that doeth 
 righteousness is righteous, even as He is righteous : 
 but he that committeth sin, is of the devil." I 
 shall therefore exhort you, in the wholesome words 
 of Saint Peter : " Give all diligence, to add to your 
 faith, virtue ; and to virtue, knowledge ; and to know- 
 ledge, temperance; and to temperance, patience; 
 and to patience, godliness ; and to godliness, bro- 
 therly-kindness ; and to brotherly-kindness, charity : 
 for, if these things be in you, and abound, they 
 make you, that ye shall neither be barren, nor 
 unfruitful, in the knowledge of our Lord Jesus 
 Christ." The Apostle still goes on, and I cannot 
 leave him yet : " But he that lacketh these things 
 is blind, and cannot see far off, and hath forgotten, 
 that he was once purged from his old sins. Where- 
 fore, the rather, brethren, give diligence to make 
 
SERM. I.] WHO KEEP HIS COMMANDMENTS. 451 
 
 your calling and election sure ; for, if ye do these 
 things, ye shall never fall." Let us not only talk 
 and dispute of Christ, but let us indeed " put on 
 the Lord Jesus Christ." Having those " great and 
 precious promises," which he hath given us, let us 
 strive to be made " partakers of the divine nature, 
 escaping the corruption that is in the world through 
 lust ;" and, being begotten again, to a lively hope 
 of enjoying Christ hereafter, " let us purify our- 
 selves, even as he is pure." 
 
 Let us really declare, that we know Christ, 
 that we are his disciples, by our keeping his com- 
 mandments ; and, among the rest, that command- 
 ment especially, which our Saviour Christ himself 
 commends to his disciples, in a peculiar manner: 
 " This is my commandment, that ye love one an- 
 other, as I have loved you ;" and again, " These 
 things I command you, that ye love one another." 
 Let us follow peace with all men, and holiness, 
 without which no man shall see the Lord. Let us 
 put on, as the elect of God, holy and beloved, bowels 
 of mercies, kindness, humbleness of mind, meek- 
 ness, long-suffering, forbearing one another, and 
 forgiving one another, if any man have a quarrel 
 against any, even as Christ forgave us : and above all 
 these things, let us put on charity, which is the bond 
 of perfectness. Let us in meekness instruct those 
 that oppose themselves, if God, peradventure, will 
 give them repentance, to the acknowledging of the 
 truth ; that they may recover themselves out of the 
 snares of the devil, who are taken captive by him 
 
 G G 2 
 
THEY KNOW CHRIST, [CUDWORTH. 
 
 at his will. Beloved, let us love one another ; for 
 love is of God, and whosoever loveth, is born of 
 God, and knoweth God." 
 
 O divine love ! the sweet harmony of souls ! the 
 music of angels ! the joy of God's own heart ! the 
 very darling of his bosom ! the source of true 
 happiness ! the pure quintessence of heaven ! that 
 which reconciles the jarring principles of the world, 
 and makes them all chime together! that which 
 melts men's hearts into one another! See how 
 Saint Paul describes it, and you cannot chuse but 
 have your affections enamoured towards it : " Love 
 envieth not, is not puffed up, doth not behave itself 
 unseemly, seeketh not her own, is not easily pro- 
 voked, thinketh no evil, rejoiceth not in iniquity ; 
 beareth all things, believeth all things, hopeth all 
 things, endureth all things." I may add, in a 
 word, it is the best-natured thing, the best-com- 
 plexioned thing, in the world. Let us express this 
 sweet harmonious affection, in these jarring times : 
 that so, if it be possible, we may tune the world 
 into better music. Especially in matters of re- 
 ligion, let us strive, with all meekness, to instruct 
 and convince one another. Let us endeavour to 
 promote the Gospel of peace, the dove-like Gospel, 
 with a dove-like spirit. This was the way, by 
 which the Gospel at first was propagated in the 
 world : Christ " did not cry, nor lift up his voice 
 in the streets; a bruised reed he did not break, 
 and the smoking flax he did not quench " ; and 
 yet, "he brought forth judgment unto victory." 
 
SERM. I.] WHO KEEP HIS COMMANDMENTS. 453 
 
 He whispered the Gospel to us, from mount Sion, 
 in a still voice ; and yet the sound thereof went 
 out quickly, throughout all the earth. The Gospel, 
 at first, came down upon the world gently and 
 softly, like the dew upon Gideon's fleece ; and yet, 
 it quickly penetrated quite through it : and, doubt- 
 less, this is still the most effectual way to promote it 
 further. Sweetness and ingenuousness will more 
 command men's minds, than passion, sourness, and 
 severity ; as the soft pillow sooner breaks the 
 flint, than the hardest marble. Let us follow truth 
 in love * ; and of the two, indeed, be contented 
 rather to miss conveying a speculative truth, than 
 to part with love. When, by the strength of truth, 
 we would convince men of any error, let us withal 
 pour the sweet balm of love upon their heads. 
 Truth and love are the two most powerful things 
 in the world ; and, when they both go together, 
 they cannot easily be withstood. The golden 
 beams of truth, and the silken cords of love, 
 twisted together, will draw men forward with 
 a sweet violence, whether they will or not. 
 
 Let us take heed, lest we sometimes call that 
 zeal for God, and his Gospel, which is nothing else 
 but our own tempestuous and stormy passion. 
 True zeal is a sweet, heavenly, and gentle flame, 
 which makes us active for God, but always within 
 the sphere of love. It never calls for fire from 
 heaven, to consume those who differ a little from 
 us in their apprehensions. It is like that kind of 
 
 G G 3 
 
454 THEY KNOW CHRIST, [CUDWORTH. 
 
 lightning, which the philosophers speak of, that 
 melts the sword within, but singes not the scab- 
 bard : it strives to save the soul, but hurts not the 
 body. True zeal is a loving thing, and makes us 
 always active to edification, and not to destruction. 
 If we keep the fire of zeal within the chimney, in 
 its own proper place, it never does any hurt ; it only 
 warms, quickens, and enlivens : but if once we let 
 it break out, and catch hold of the thatch of our 
 flesh, and kindle our corrupt nature, and set the 
 house of our body on fire, it is no longer zeal, it is 
 no heavenly fire, it is a most destructive and de- 
 vouring thing. True zeal is a soft and gentle 
 flame *, which will not scorch one's hand ; it is no 
 predatory or voracious thing: but carnal and 
 fleshly zeal is like the spirit of gunpowder set on 
 fire, which tears and blows up all that stands before 
 it. True zeal is like the vital heat in us, that we 
 live upon, which we never feel to be angry or 
 troublesome'; but, though it gently feed upon the 
 radical oil within us, that sweet balsam of our 
 natural moisture, yet it lives lovingly with it, and 
 maintains that by which it is fed : but that other 
 furious and distempered zeal, is nothing else but 
 a fever in the soul. To conclude, we may learn 
 what kind of zeal it is that we should make use of, 
 in promoting the Gospel, by an emblem of God's 
 own, given us in the Scripture ; those fiery tongues, 
 which, on the day of Pentecost, sat upon the apos- 
 tles, which sure were harmless flames ; for we cannot 
 
 * Ignis lambens. 
 
SERM. I.] WHO KEEP HIS COMMANDMENTS. 455 
 
 read that they did any hurt, or that they did so 
 much as singe a hair of their heads. 
 
 I will therefore shut up this advice, with that of 
 the Apostle : " Let us keep the unity of the Spirit, 
 in the bond of peace." Let this soft and silken 
 knot of love, tie our hearts together ; though our 
 heads and apprehensions cannot meet, as indeed 
 they never will, but always stand at some distance 
 from one another. Our zeal, if it be heavenly, if 
 it be true vestal fire kindled from above, will not 
 delight to tarry here below, burning up straw, and 
 stubble, and such combustible things, and sending 
 up nothing but gross and earthy fumes to heaven ; 
 but it will rise up, and return back, pure as it came 
 down, and will ever be striving to carry up men's 
 hearts to God along with it. It will be occupied, 
 about the promoting of those things only, which 
 are unquestionably good ; and, when it moves in 
 the irascible way, it will quarrel with nothing but 
 sin. Here let our zeal busy and exercise itself; 
 every one of us beginning first, at our own hearts. 
 Let us be more zealous than ever we have yet 
 been, in fighting against our inordinate desires, in 
 pulling down these strong holds of sin and Satan, 
 in our hearts. Here let us exercise all our courage 
 and resolution, all our manhood and magnanimity. 
 
 Let us trust in the almighty arm of our God, 
 and doubt not but he will as well deliver us from 
 the power of sin in our hearts, as preserve us from 
 the wrath to come. Let us go out against these 
 uncircumcised Philistines, I mean our appetites 
 
 G G 4 
 
456 THEY KNOW CHRIST, [CUDWORTH. 
 
 and passions, not with shield or spear, not in any 
 confidence of our own strength, but in the name of 
 the Lord of hosts ; and we shall prevail, we shall 
 overcome : " for greater is he that is in us, than 
 he that is in them. The eternal God is our refuge, 
 and underneath are the everlasting arms ; he shall 
 thrust out all enemies from before us; and he 
 shall say, Destroy them." We shall enter the 
 true Canaan, the good land of promise, " that 
 floweth with milk and honey," the land of truth 
 and holiness. " Wherefore, take unto you the 
 whole armour of God, that you may be able to 
 withstand. Let your loins be girt about with 
 truth ; have on the breast-plate of righteousness ; 
 and let your feet be shod with the preparation of 
 the Gospel of peace. Above all, take the shield of 
 faith, whereby ye shall be able to quench all the 
 fiery darts of the wicked ; and take the helmet of 
 salvation, and the sword of the Spirit, which is the 
 word of God." And lastly, be sure of this, that 
 ye "be strong in the Lord only, and in the power 
 of his might." 
 
 There are some, who dishearten us in this spi- 
 ritual warfare, and would make us let our weapons 
 fall out of our hands, by working in us a despair 
 of victory. There are some evil spies, who weaken 
 the hands and hearts of the children of Israel, 
 and bring an ill report upon that land, which we 
 are to conquer, telling of nothing but strange 
 giants, the sons of Anak, there, whom we shall 
 never be able to overcome: "The Amalekites 
 
SERM. I.] WHO KEEP HIS COMMANDMENTS. 457 
 
 dwell in the south ; the Hittites, Jebusites, Amor- 
 ites, in the mountains ; and the Canaanites by the 
 sea-coast ; " huge armies of tall invincible desires : 
 " We shall never be able to go against this people ; " 
 we shall never be able to prevail against our cor- 
 ruptions. Hearken not unto them, I beseech you, 
 but hear what Caleb and Joshua say : " Let us 
 go up at once, and possess it, for we are able to 
 overcome them ; " not by our own strength, but by 
 the power of the Lord of hosts. There are, in- 
 deed, sons of Anak there ; there are mighty giant- 
 like hosts, with whom we are to grapple ; nay, 
 there are principalities and powers too, that we are 
 to oppose : but the great Michael, the Captain of 
 the Lord's host, is with us ; he commands in chief 
 for us, and we need not be dismayed. " Under- 
 stand therefore this day, that the Lord thy God is 
 he, which goeth before thee as a consuming fire ; 
 he shall destroy these enemies, and bring them 
 down before thy face." If thou wilt be faithful to 
 him, and put thy trust in him, as the fire consumeth 
 the stubble, and as the flame burneth up the chaff, 
 so will he destroy thy inordinate desires : their root 
 shall be rottenness, and their blossom shall go up 
 as the dust. 
 
 But let us take heed, that we be not discouraged, 
 and, before we begin to fight, despair of victory : 
 for, to believe and hope well in the power of our 
 God, and in his strength, will be half a conquest. 
 Let' us not think holiness in the hearts of men, 
 here, in the world, is a forlorn, forsaken, and out- 
 
458 THEY KNOW CHRIST, [CUDWORTH. 
 
 cast thing from God, and that he hath no regard 
 for holiness ; wherever it is, though never so small, 
 if it be but hearty and sincere, it can no more be 
 cut off and discontinued from God, than a sun- 
 beam here upon earth, can be broken off from its 
 intercourse with the sun, and be left alone amidst 
 the mire and dirt of this world. The sun may as 
 well discard its own rays, and banish them from 
 itself into some region of darkness, far remote 
 from it, where they shall have no dependence upon 
 it, as God can forsake and abandon holiness 
 in the world, and leave it a poor orphan thing, 
 that shall have no influence from Him to pre- 
 serve and keep it. Holiness, wherever it be, is 
 something of God ; it is an efflux from him, that 
 always hangs upon him, and lives in him : as the 
 sun-beams, although they gild this lower world, 
 and spread their golden wings over us, yet they 
 are not so much here, where they shine, as in the 
 sun, from whence they flow. God cannot draw a 
 curtain between himself and holiness, which is 
 nothing but the splendour and shining of himself j 
 he cannot hide his face from it, he cannot desert 
 it in the world. He that is born of God, shall 
 overcome the world, and the prince of this world 
 too, by the power of God in him. Holiness is no 
 solitary neglected thing ; it has stronger confede- 
 racies, greater alliances, than sin and wickedness. 
 It is in league with God and the universe ; the 
 whole creation smiles upon it : there is something 
 
SERM. I.] WHO KEEP HIS COMMANDMEN 
 
 of God in it, and therefore it must needs 
 torious and triumphant thing. 
 
 Wickedness is a weak, cowardly, and guilty 
 thing, a fearful and trembling shadow. It is the 
 child of ignorance and darkness ; it is afraid of 
 light, and cannot possibly withstand its power, 
 nor endure the sight of its glittering armour. 
 It is allianced to none but wretched, forlorn, and 
 apostate spirits, who do what they can, to sup- 
 port their own weak and tottering kingdom of 
 darkness, but are only strong in weakness and 
 impotency. The whole polity and commonwealth 
 of devils, is not so powerful as one child of light, 
 one babe in Christ ; they are not able to quench 
 the least smoking flax, to extinguish one spark 
 of grace. Darkness is not able to make resist- 
 ance against light, but ever, as it comes, flies be- 
 fore it. But if wickedness invite the society of 
 devils, so that those cursed fiends most readily 
 apply themselves to it, and offer their service to 
 feed and encourage it, because it is their own 
 life and nature, their own kingdom of darkness, 
 which they strive to enlarge, and to spread its do- 
 minions, shall we therefore think, that holiness, 
 which is so nearly allied to God, has no good 
 genius in the world to attend upon it, to help it, 
 and encourage it ? Shall not the kingdom of light 
 be as true to its own interest, and as vigilant 
 for its self-enlargment, as the kingdom of dark- 
 ness ? Holiness is never alone in the world : God 
 is always with it, and his loving Spirit ever as- 
 
460 THEY KNOW CHRIST, [CUDWORTH. 
 
 sociates and joins itself to it. He, that sent it 
 into the world, is with it, as Christ speaketh of 
 himself: " The Father hath not left me alone, 
 because I do always those things that please him." 
 Holiness is the life of God, which, wheresoever it 
 is, he cannot but feed and maintain : and, as 
 devils are always active to encourage evil, so we 
 cannot imagine, but that the heavenly host of 
 blessed angels above, are busily employed in the 
 promoting of that, which they love best, that which 
 is dearest to God, whom they serve, the life 
 and nature of God in the soul. " There is joy in 
 heaven, at the conversion of one sinner ; " heaven 
 gladly takes notice of it ; there is a choir of angels, 
 that sweetly sings the epithalamium of a soul di- 
 vorced from sin and Satan, and espoused unto 
 Christ. What, therefore, the wise man speaks con- 
 cerning wisdom, I shall apply to holiness : " Take 
 fast hold of holiness, let her not go, keep her, for 
 she is thy life : keep thy heart with all diligence, for 
 out of it are the issues of life," and of death too. 
 Let nothing be esteemed by thee, of greater con- 
 sequence and concernment, than what thou doest 
 and actest, how thou livest. Nothing without, can 
 make us either happy or miserable ; nothing can 
 either defile, or hurt us, but what goes out from 
 us, what springs and bubbles up out of our own 
 hearts. We have dreadful apprehensions of the 
 flames of hell without us ; we tremble, and are 
 afraid, when we hear of fire and brimstone ; whilst, 
 in the mean time, we securely nourish within our 
 
SERM. I.] WHO KEEP HIS COMMANDMENTS. 46l 
 
 own hearts a true and living hell.* The dark fire 
 of our appetites and passions consumes our bowels 
 within, and miserably scorches our souls ; and we 
 are not troubled at it. We do not perceive how 
 hell steals upon us, whilst we live here. And as 
 for heaven, we only gaze abroad, expecting that it 
 should come to us from without, but never look 
 for the beginnings of it to arise within, in our own 
 hearts. 
 
 But, lest there should yet haply remain any pre- 
 judice against that, which I have all this while 
 heartily commended to you, " true holiness/' and 
 the " keeping of Christ's commandments," as if it 
 were a legal and a servile thing, that would sub- 
 ject us to a state of bondage, I must here needs 
 add a word or two, either for the prevention, or 
 removal, of that prejudice. I do not, therefore, 
 mean by holiness, the mere performance of the out- 
 ward duties of religion, coldly acted over as a task; 
 nor our habitual prayings, hearings, fastings, mul- 
 tiplied one upon another, though these be all good, 
 as subservient to a higher end; but I mean an 
 inward soul and principle of divine life, which 
 inspirits all these ; which enlivens and quickens 
 the dead carcase of all outward performances what- 
 soever. I do not here urge the " dead law of 
 outward works," which indeed, if it be alone, sub- 
 jects us to a " state of bondage;" but the inward 
 law of the Gospel, the " law of the spirit of life," 
 than which, nothing can be more free and in- 
 
 * Et caeco carpimur igni. 
 
.gTMEM^THEY KNOW CHRIST, [CUDWORTH. 
 
 genuous: for it does not act by principles without 
 us, but is an inward self-moving principle, living 
 in our hearts. 
 
 The first, though it work us into some outward 
 conformity to God's commandments, and so has a 
 good effect upon the world, yet we are, all this 
 while, but like dead instruments of music, that 
 sound sweetly and harmoniously, only when they 
 are struck and played upon from without by the 
 musician's hand, who has the theory and law of 
 music living within himself. 
 
 But the second, the living law of the Gospel, the 
 " law of the Spirit of life " within us, is, as if the 
 soul of music should incorporate itself with the in- 
 strument, and live in the strings, and make them, 
 of their own accord, without any touch or impulse 
 from without, dance up and down, and warble out 
 their harmonies. 
 
 They, that are actuated only by an outward law, 
 are but like neurospasts, or those little puppets, 
 that skip nimbly up and down, and seem to be 
 full of quick and sprightly motion ; whereas, they 
 are, all the while, moved artificially by certain wires 
 and strings from without, and not by any principle 
 of motion from themselves within : or else, they are 
 like clocks and watches, which go pretty regularly 
 for a while, but are moved by weights and plum- 
 mets, or some other artificial springs, which must be 
 every now and then wound up, or else they cease. 
 
 But they, who are actuated by the new law of the 
 Gospel, by the "law of the Spirit," have an inward 
 
SERM. I.] WHO KEEP HIS COMMANDMENTS. 463 
 
 principle of life in them, which, from its own 
 centre, puts forth itself, freely and constantly, into 
 all obedience to the will of Christ. This new law 
 of the Gospel, is a kind of musical soul, informing 
 the dead organs of our hearts ; which makes them, 
 of their own accord, delight to act harmoniously, 
 according to the rule of God's word. 
 
 The law, of which I speak, is a law of love ; 
 the most powerful law in the world : and yet it 
 frees us, in a manner, from all law without us, be- 
 cause it makes us become a law unto ourselves. 
 The more it prevails in us, the more it eats up and 
 devours all other laws without us ; just as Aaron's 
 living rod swallowed up those rods of the magicians, 
 which were made only to counterfeit a little life. 
 Love is, at once, a freedom from all law, a state of 
 purest liberty; and yet a law, too, of the most 
 constraining and indispensable necessity. 
 
 The worst law in the world is the " law of sin, 
 which is in our members ;" which keeps us in a 
 condition of most absolute slavery, when we are 
 wholly under the tyrannical commands of our 
 passions. This is a cruel Pharaoh indeed, who 
 sets his hard task-masters over us, and makes us 
 wretchedly drudge in mire and clay. 
 
 The law of the letter without us, sets us in a con- 
 dition of a little more liberty, by restraining us from 
 many outward acts of sin ; but it does not dis- 
 enthral us from the power of sin in our hearts. 
 
 But the " law of the Spirit of life," the Gospel 
 law of love, puts us into a condition of most pure 
 
464 THEY KNOW CHRIST, [CUDWORTH. 
 
 and perfect liberty ; and whosoever really enter- 
 tains this law, has " thrust out Hagar" quite, 
 he has " cast out the bond-woman and her chil- 
 dren ;" from henceforth Sarah, the free- woman, 
 shall live for ever with him, and she shall be to 
 him a mother of many children ; her seed shall be 
 " as the sand of the sea-shore for number," and 
 " as the stars of heaven." Here is evangelical 
 liberty, here is Gospel freedom, when " the law of 
 the Spirit of life, in Christ Jesus, hath made us free 
 from the law of sin and death ;" when we have a 
 liberty from sin, and not a liberty to sin : for our 
 Lord and Master hath told us, that " whosoever 
 committeth sin, is the servant of it. 
 
 He that lies under the power and vassalage of 
 his base appetites, and yet talks of Gospel freedom, 
 is but like a poor condemned prisoner, who, in his 
 sleep, dreams of being set at liberty, and of walking 
 up and down wheresoever he pleases, whilst his 
 legs are, all the while, locked fast in fetters and 
 irons. To please ourselves with a notion of Gospel- 
 liberty, while we have not a Gospel-principle of 
 holiness within, to free us from the power of sin, is 
 nothing else, but to gild over our bonds and fetters, 
 and to fancy ourselves the inmates of a golden 
 cage. There is a straitness, slavery, and narrow- 
 ness, in sin : sin crowds and crumples up our souls, 
 which, if they were freely spread abroad, would 
 be as wide and as large as the whole universe. 
 
 No man is truly free, but he that has his will 
 enlarged, to the extent of God's own will, by 
 
SERM. I.] WHO KEEP HIS COMMANDMENTS. 46,5 
 
 loving whatsoever God loves, and nothing else. 
 Such an one does not fondly hug this and that 
 particular created good thing, and envassal himself 
 unto it ; but he loves every thing that is lovely, 
 beginning at God, and descending down to all his 
 creatures, according to the several degrees of per- 
 fection in them. He enjoys a boundless liberty, 
 and a boundless sweetness, according to his bound- 
 less love. He enclaspeth the whole world within 
 his outstretched arms ; his soul is as wide as the 
 whole universe, as large as " yesterday, to-day, and 
 for ever." Whosoever is once acquainted with 
 this disposition of spirit, he never desires any thing 
 else ; and he loves the life of God in himself, 
 dearer than his own life. To conclude this, there- 
 fore ; if we love Christ, and " keep his command- 
 ments, his commandments will not be grievous to 
 us ; his yoke will be easy, and his burthen light : " 
 it will not put us into a state of bondage, but of 
 perfect liberty. For, that is most true of evan- 
 gelical obedience, which the wise man speaks of 
 wisdom : " her ways are ways of pleasantness, and 
 all her paths are peace : she is a tree of life, to 
 those that lay hold upon her; and happy are all 
 they, that retain her." 
 
 I will now shut up all, with one or two consider- 
 ations, to persuade you further to the keeping of 
 Christ's commandments. 
 
 First, from the desire which we all have, of 
 knowledge. If we would indeed know divine 
 truths, the only way to come to this, is by keeping 
 
 H H 
 
466 THEY KNOW CHRIST, [CUDWORTH. 
 
 Christ's commandments. The grossness of our 
 apprehensions in spiritual things, and the many 
 mistakes, which we make about them, proceed 
 from those dull and foggy steams, which rise up 
 from our foul hearts, and becloud our understand- 
 ings. If we but heartily complied with Christ's 
 commandments, and purged our hearts from all 
 gross and sensual affections, we should not then 
 look about for truth, wholly without ourselves, and 
 enslave ourselves to the dictates of this and that 
 teacher, and hang upon the lips of men ; but we 
 should find the great eternal God, inwardly teach- 
 ing our souls, and continually instructing us, more 
 and more, in the mysteries of his will ; and from 
 within us " should flow rivers of living water." 
 Nothing puts a stop and hindrance to the passage 
 of truth in the world, but the carnality of our 
 hearts, the corruption of our lives. 
 
 It is not wrangling disputes, and syllogistical 
 reasonings, that are the mighty pillars, which un- 
 derprop truth in the world : if we would but 
 underset it with the holiness of our hearts and 
 lives, it should never fail. Truth is a prevailing 
 and conquering thing; and would quickly over- 
 come the world, did not the earthiness of our 
 dispositions, and the darkness of our false hearts, 
 hinder it. Our Saviour Christ bids the blind man 
 wash off the clay, that was upon his eyes, in the 
 pool of Siloam, and then he should see clearly ; 
 intimating this to us, that it is the earthiness of 
 men's affections, which darkens the eye of their 
 
SERM. I.] WHO KEEP HIS COMMANDMENTS. 46? 
 
 understandings in spiritual things. Truth is always 
 ready and near at hand, if our eyes were not closed 
 up with mud, if we could but open them to look 
 upon it. Truth always waits upon our souls, and 
 offers itself freely to us, as the sun offers its beams 
 to every eye, that will but open, and let them shine 
 in upon it. If we could but purge our hearts from 
 that filth and defilement, which hangs about them, 
 there would be no doubt at all of truth's prevailing 
 in the world. " For truth is great, and stronger 
 than all things : all the earth calleth upon truth, 
 and the heaven blesseth it ; all works tremble at 
 it. The truth endureth, and is always strong ; it 
 liveth and conquereth for evermore. She is the 
 strength, kingdom, power, and majesty, of all ages. 
 Blessed be the God of truth." 
 
 Secondly, if we desire a true reformation, as 
 some would be thought to do; let us begin, by 
 reforming our hearts and lives, by keeping Christ's 
 commandments. All outward forms and models 
 of reformation, though they be never so good in 
 their kind, yet they are of little worth to us, with- 
 out this inward reformation of the heart. Tin, or 
 lead, or any baser metal, if it be cast into never 
 so good a mould, and made up into never so 
 elegant a figure, yet it is but tin or lead still ; it is 
 the same metal, that it was before. If adulterate 
 silver, with much alloy or dross, have never so 
 current a stamp, yet it will not pass, when the 
 touchstone tries it. We must be reformed within, 
 with a spirit of fire, and a spirit of burning, to 
 
 H H 2 
 
468 THEY KNOW CHRIST, ETC. [CUDWORTH. 
 
 purge us from the dross and corruption of our 
 hearts, and to refine us as gold and silver; and 
 then, we shall be reformed truly, and not before. 
 When this once comes to pass, then shall Christ be 
 set upon his throne indeed ; then, " the glory of the 
 Lord shall overflow the land ; " then, we shall be a 
 people acceptable unto him, and as mount Sion, 
 which he dearly loved. 
 
469 
 
 SERMON II. 
 
 THE CHRISTIAN'S VICTORY, OVER SIN, THE LAW, 
 AND DEATH. 
 
 1 COR. xv. 57. 
 
 But thanks be to God, which giveth us the victory, through 
 our Lord Jesus Christ. 
 
 CHRIST'S resurrection, which the Apostle treats of 
 in the former part of this chapter, is one of the 
 main and principal articles of our Christian faith. 
 For, though Christ, by his death upon the cross, 
 made a propitiatory sacrifice for the world, yet it 
 was his resurrection only, which manifested his 
 death to be effectual and available for that end, and 
 evidenced its acceptance with God. For, if the 
 grave had detained Christ, and held him prisoner, 
 this would have been an argument, that the debt, 
 for which he was committed to that dark dungeon, 
 was not yet paid, nor satisfaction made ; for, " if 
 Christ be not raised, your faith is in vain, ye are 
 yet in your sins." But now, death and the grave 
 having delivered up Christ out of their custody, his 
 resurrection is an undoubted argument, that they 
 had no more to lay to his charge, as he was a surety 
 and undertaker for mankind ; but the debt which 
 
 H H 3 
 
4/70 THE CHRISTIAN'S VICTORY, [CUD WORTH. 
 
 was owing to the law and divine justice, was in 
 the court of heaven fully acquitted and discharged. 
 For " Christ was delivered for our sins, and rose 
 again for our justification." 
 
 And, though Christ's other miracles ought to 
 have conciliated belief to his doctrine from the 
 Jews ; yet, his resurrection from the dead (foretold 
 by himself, and really accomplished) added to all 
 the rest, was a most undoubted and unquestionable 
 confirmation of his prophetical ministry. For if it 
 were supposed (as the Jews of old, and the Tal- 
 mudists of later times, maliciously calumniated our 
 Saviour Christ), that a mere wizard or magician 
 should have appeared, and not only have done 
 many miracles, by Beelzebub and the powers of 
 darkness, but also have foretold, that, after he had 
 been put to death, he should rise again, and have 
 given this as a further sign to confirm his prophecy, 
 as our Saviour did*, it could never be conceived, 
 that Divine Providence should suffer such an im- 
 postor miraculously to rise again, in so remarkable 
 a manner, and so often to appear before the eyes 
 of so many spectators, and at last visibly to ascend 
 up to heaven. Because this would have been an 
 invincible temptation to mankind ; it being not 
 imaginable, what greater assurance than this, heaven 
 itself could give, to confirm and seal a prophet, and 
 persuade the world, that what he did was by the 
 finger of God, and not by magical imposture. And 
 therefore, it is observable, that, though a good 
 
 * Matt. xii. 39. 
 
SERM. II.] OVER SIN, THE LAW, AND DEATH. 
 
 while after our Saviour's time, when the Jews had 
 forfeited that peculiar Providence which watched 
 over them, a certain counterfeit Messias, one David 
 El-Roy, was permitted to do several strange and 
 miraculous things by magic and witchcraft, if the 
 Jewish relations be true ; yet, when he gave this 
 for a sign to the Persian king, to prove himself the 
 Messias, that after he was beheaded by him, he 
 should rise again, he plainly discovered his impos- 
 ture, to the great disappointment of the deluded 
 Jews, who, as Maimonides writes*, in vain ex- 
 pected his resurrection a good while after. 
 
 Moreover, if Christ had not risen again after 
 death, the world would not have had sufficient 
 ground to trust and believe in him as a Saviour. 
 Saint Austin reckoned it as great a miracle as any 
 that Christ ever did upon earth, that the world 
 should be brought oft* to believe in a crucified 
 Saviour. For to worship 'ibnUj as the Jews by way 
 of disgrace call our Saviour, orroy ava0-xoXo7r/o'jU,sv0v, 
 in Lucian's language, one that was hanged, for a 
 God, and to believe in him, could not but seem a 
 monstrous and prodigious thing, both to Jews and 
 Gentiles; and, certainly, it would never have been 
 brought to pass, had there not been unquestionable 
 assurance given, of Christ's resurrection from the 
 dead. For who would be so sottish as to believe in 
 a dead Saviour, and to expect help and assistance 
 from him, that had not been able to help himself, 
 and, therefore, had given no proof that he was 
 
 * In Iggeretk Teman. 
 H H 4 
 
472 THE CHRISTIAN'S VICTORY, [CUDWORTH. 
 
 able to help others ? Nay, from him, that, to all 
 human appearance, had now no being at all ? 
 Upon which account, the Psalmist upbraids the 
 sottish heathen, that " they ate the sacrifices of 
 the dead." Wherefore, it is observable, in the 
 Gospel, that, when Christ was now dead, and 
 buried in his sepulchre, the hope and expectation 
 of his disciples, who had formerly believed in him, 
 lay, as it were, entombed in the same sepulchre 
 with him. And then the two disciples, that went 
 to Emmaus, could only say, " We trusted, that 
 this had been he, which should have redeemed 
 Israel." But afterwards, when they were able, upon 
 good grounds, to affirm, that the Lord was risen 
 indeed, then, their faith revived anew, and mounted 
 up higher than ever, and grew triumphant in their 
 hearts. 
 
 Again, there was another excellent design in 
 Christ's resurrection from the dead, which the 
 Apostle pursues largely also in this chapter. Namely, 
 to give the world assurance of a life after death, and 
 of a blessed immortality, to be enjoyed by all true 
 believers and followers of Christ. Christ, by his 
 resurrection, has " abolished death, and brought 
 life and immortality to light," as the Apostle speaks*, 
 or, as the church sings in that divine anthem, 
 ' After he had overcome the sharpness of death, 
 he opened the kingdom of heaven to all believers/ 
 The reasons of philosophy, which prove the soul's 
 immortality, though firm and demonstrative in 
 
 * 2 Tim. i. 10. 
 
SERM. II.] OVER SIN, THE LAW, AND DEATH. 
 
 themselves, are, to vulgar apprehensions, so thin 
 and subtile, that they glide away, and leave no 
 such palpable impressions behind them, as can be 
 able sufficiently to bear up against that heavy 
 weight of gross infidelity, which continually sinks 
 down the minds of men to a distrust of such high 
 things, as are above the reach of sense. Neither 
 are these considerations any longer of force, than 
 men can actually attend to the strength and cohe- 
 rence of the demonstration ; and, when that actual 
 attention, which is operose and difficult, is taken 
 off, then the truth itself, like a spectre or apparition, 
 suddenly vanishes away, and men question with 
 themselves afterwards, whether there were any 
 such thing, or no. Such thin and evanid things 
 are philosophical speculations about the high mys- 
 teries of faith and religion. But Christ's raising of 
 the self-same body which was laid in the sepulchre, 
 and afterwards appearing in it often to his disciples, 
 gave such evident assurance of the soul's immor- 
 tality and life after death, as must needs strike 
 more strongly upon vulgar minds, and make more 
 palpable impressions on them, and be always of 
 more present and ready use, than any philosophical 
 reasons and demonstrations. 
 
 And the Scripture is, in this particular, very 
 harmonious, and agreeable to itself; for, as in the 
 Old Testament, it makes the original of death's en- 
 trance into the world to be the sin and disobedience 
 of the first Adam, who was of the earth, earthy ; so, 
 in the New Testament, it attributes the recovery of 
 
474 THE CHRISTIAN'S VICTORY, [CUDWORTH. 
 
 life and immortality to the meritorious obedience of 
 the second Adam, who was the Lord from heaven, 
 heavenly ; who, by his death, vanquished and de- 
 stroyed death. For, as Samson, who was a type of 
 our Saviour, when he was besieged by the Philis- 
 tines in the city of Gaza, rose up at midnight, 
 and pulled up the gates of the city, and the posts, 
 and laying them upon his shoulders, carried them 
 up to the top of the hill ; in like manner, Christ 
 our Lord, when he was environed and encompassed 
 by death, after he had been awhile detained under 
 its custody, ascended victoriously out of the power 
 of the grave, and carried the gates of hell and 
 death, upon his shoulders, along with him, triumph- 
 antly, into heaven. He slighted and dismantled 
 that mighty garrison, whose walls were stronger 
 than brass, and whose gates harder than adamant ; 
 determined, that it should no longer be a prison, 
 with doors and bars to shut up those that believe in 
 Him, but an open and free passage, and a broad 
 highway to life and immortality. He is " the re- 
 surrection and the life," and " he that believeth in 
 him, though he were dead, yet shall he live." For, 
 " he that liveth, and was dead, and is alive for 
 evermore, even he hath the keys of hell and of 
 death." 
 
 But, that at which I chiefly aim, concerning the 
 resurrection and ascension of Jesus into heaven, is 
 this ; that by, and after it, he was made Lord and 
 Christ, King and Saviour, and Sovereign of his 
 church. Not that Christ's humanity was not al- 
 
SERM. II.] OVER SIN, THE LAW, AND DEATH. 
 
 ways hypostatically united to the Divinity ; but 
 because the economical kingdom of Christ, as 
 mediator, according to the Scripture calculation, 
 seems not to commence, till after the state of humi- 
 liation ; and so, begins its epocha from Christ's 
 resurrection, or his exaltation to sit at God's right 
 hand in heaven. " Let all the house of Israel know 
 assuredly, that God hath made that same Jesus, 
 whom ye have crucified, both Lord and Christ." 
 " Jesus whom ye slew, and hanged on a tree, him 
 hath God exalted on his right hand, to be a prince 
 and a Saviour." " Who humbled himself, and be- 
 came obedient to the death of the cross ; where- 
 fore God hath highly exalted him, and given him a 
 name above every name, that at the name of Jesus 
 every knee should bow ; and, that every tongue 
 shall confess, that Jesus Christ is Lord, to the glory 
 of God the Father." And that article of our creed, 
 concerning Christ's sitting at God's right hand in 
 heaven, signifies to us thus much ; that Christ, 
 after his resurrection and ascension into heaven, 
 hath all power given unto him, both in heaven and 
 in earth, all things being made subject to him, 
 " excepting Him only, that hath put all things 
 under him." He being, for the comfort of his 
 church and members here upon earth, according 
 to his humanity, made God's vicegerent, and seated 
 in his Father's throne ; and having a mediatorial 
 kingdom bestowed upon him, that shall continue, 
 " till he hath put down all authority and power, 
 and hath subdued all enemies under his feet ;" and 
 
476 THE CHRISTIAN'S VICTORY, [CUDWORTH. 
 
 then, hath delivered up this economical kingdom 
 to God the Father, " that God may be all in all." 
 
 And this is an unspeakable consolation, which 
 the Christian religion affords us ; and a most gra- 
 cious condescension of the all-wise God. That, 
 forasmuch as we, who dwell in these houses of 
 clay, are far removed from the pure and abstracted 
 Deity, and infinitely disproportioned to it, there 
 should be such a divine contrivance set on foot, 
 that we should have one of our own flesh and 
 blood, who was in all things tempted like unto us, 
 and had experience of all our difficulties and cala- 
 mities ; who demonstrated his infinite love, in laying 
 down his life for us, and therefore we cannot doubt, 
 that he has a most tender sympathy and fellow- 
 feeling with us, in all our infirmities ; I say, that 
 we should have such an one, exalted to God's right 
 hand, and invested with all authority and power, 
 both in heaven and earth> that he might administer 
 all things for the good of his church and members, 
 and supply them in all their wants and necessities. 
 Which consideration must needs be far more com- 
 fortable, cheering, and reviving, to every true 
 Christian, than it was to the sons of Jacob, when 
 they went down to Egypt to buy corn and pro- 
 vision for their necessities, to think, that Joseph 
 their brother was made lord of all the land. 
 
 But this is wholly eluded and evacuated by those 
 high-flown spiritualists of these latter times, who 
 slight and reject the letter of the New Testament, 
 as a mean and carnal thing ; and will acknowledge 
 
SERM. II.] OVER SIN, THE LAW, AND DEATH. 477 
 
 no other death and resurrection of Christ, no other 
 ascension and sitting at God's right hand, nay, no 
 no other day of judgment, nor resurrection of the 
 body, but what is mystical and allegorical. Thus, 
 they not only impudently slur the Gospel, accord- 
 ing to the history and the letter, in making it no 
 better than a romantic legend, or a mere ^Esopic 
 fable, that contains a good moral * under it ; but 
 also plainly defeat the counsel of God, against 
 themselves and mankind, by antiquating Christi- 
 anity, and by introducing in its room old paganism 
 again, disguised under a few canting phrases of 
 Scripture language. For, though Moses had a 
 veil over his face, though there were many obscure 
 umbrages and allegories in the law, (the children 
 of Israel being then not able to bear the brightness 
 of that evangelical truth that shone under them ;) 
 yet now, under the Gospel, " we do all, with open 
 face, behold as in a glass, the glory of the Lord'* 
 nakedly represented to us, being " changed into 
 the same image, from glory to glory." 
 
 But, to let these pass, and still to improve our 
 former meditation further ; let us, in the next place, 
 consider, that Christ, who received all this power 
 after his resurrection and ascension, did not re- 
 ceive it in vain and to no purpose ; either taking 
 no notice of our human transactions here below, 
 as having removed his pavilion too far from us, 
 into those regions of light and glory; or else, 
 remaining an idle spectator, and not concerning or 
 
478 THE CHRISTIAN'S VICTORY, [CUDWORTH. 
 
 interesting himself, in the issues of our human 
 affairs. Which will be so much the more im- 
 probable, if we consider what the Scripture and 
 experience tells us; that the devil and apostate 
 spirits are perpetually active and busy, in pro- 
 moting the concernments of the kingdom of dark- 
 ness. And therefore, doubtless, he, whom God hath 
 made the shepherd and bishop of our souls, can 
 never be so regardless of his office, nor so careless 
 of his flock, and tender lambs, committed to his 
 charge, as to suffer those cruel wolves to prey 
 upon them at pleasure ; and to have no pity at all 
 for them, nor to extend his watchful providence 
 over them, whom once he vouchsafed to redeem 
 with his own precious blood. No, certainly; he, 
 who waded through so many difficulties and ago- 
 nies for us, in the days of his flesh ; he, who "bore 
 our griefs and carried our sorrows ; " he, who was 
 " wounded for our transgressions, and bruised for 
 our iniquities ; " who did sweat drops of blood in 
 the garden, and was nailed to the cross for us in 
 Golgotha ; he cannot so easily forget those, whom 
 he has so dearly bought, nor suffer all that power 
 with which, for the good of his church, God has 
 invested him, to lie by him idle and unemployed. 
 
 But, to the end that there might not be the least 
 ground of suspicion, or distrust, concerning this 
 particular, left in the minds of men, Christ, after 
 his ascension into heaven, gave us a sensible de- 
 monstration, both of his kingly power, and of his 
 watchful care and providence over his church, that 
 
SERM. II.] OVER SIN, THE LAW, AND DEATH. 479 
 
 he would not leave them orphans, and destitute of 
 all assistance, by sending down his Holy Spirit 
 upon his disciples, on the day of Pentecost, in a 
 visible and miraculous manner : " This Jesus hath 
 God raised up, of which we are all witnesses : 
 therefore, being by the right hand of God exalted, 
 and having received of the Father the promise of 
 the Holy Ghost, he hath shed forth this, which 
 you now see and hear." And verily, if there had 
 been no news heard of our Lord and Saviour 
 Christ, after he ascended above the clouds out of 
 his disciples' sight; no real and visible demon- 
 stration of his existence, power, and providence 
 over his church ; the distrustful hearts of men 
 would have been too prone to suspect, that the 
 pretence of an invisible kingdom, at God's right 
 hand above, had been no better than a mere 
 dream, an airy and fantastic notion ; and they 
 would have been too ready to have called in 
 question, the truth of all his other miracles, his 
 resurrection and ascension, witnessed only by his 
 own disciples; and to have surmised, that those 
 several apparitions of his, which we read of after 
 his death, had been nothing else but spectres, or 
 phantasms, like the vulgarly-believed apparitions 
 of the ghosts of men in airy bodies. But the 
 sensible and miraculous pouring out of the Holy 
 Ghost upon his disciples, after his ascension into 
 heaven, was a palpable confirmation of all Christ's 
 other miracles, of the validity of his meritorious 
 death and passion, of the truth of his resurrection 
 
480 THE CHRISTIAN'S VICTORY, [CUDWORTH. 
 
 and ascension ; and gives most comfortable assur- 
 ance to all believers, to the world's end, that, 
 though his bodily presence be withdrawn from 
 them, yet he has not left his church utterly forlorn, 
 and destitute of all assistance ; but that his Spirit, 
 the holy Comforter, continues to be present amongst 
 them, as his vicegerent, to assist them for all the 
 holy purposes of the Gospel, to the world's end. 
 Now, the principal effects of Christ's Holy Spirit, 
 which are to be hoped for and expected by every 
 true believer and private Christian, are comprized 
 by the Apostle under three heads, here in the text, 
 as consisting in a threefold victory, over a three- 
 fold enemy. " The sting of death is sin, and the 
 strength of sin is the law : but thanks be to God, 
 which giveth us the victory, through our Lord 
 Jesus Christ : " 
 
 1. A victory over sin, as that which is the cause 
 of death. 
 
 2. A victory over the law, as that which aggra- 
 vates the guilt, and exasperates the power of sin. 
 
 3. Lastly, A victory over death, the fruit and 
 consequence of sin. 
 
 First, therefore, There is a victory over sin, to be 
 obtained in and through Christ. 
 
 Some there are, who will acknowledge no other 
 victory over sin, but an external one; that, by 
 which it was conquered for us, sixteen hundred 
 years since, by Christ upon the cross ; where he 
 " spoiled principalities and powers, and made a 
 show of them openly, triumphing over them in 
 
SERM. II.] OVER SIN, THE LAW, AND DEATH. 481 
 
 it,"* and where he " redeemed us from the curse 
 of the law, being made a curse for us." t And, 
 doubtless, this was one great end of Christ's coming 
 into the world, to make a propitiatory sacrifice for 
 the sins of mankind: not only, that he might, 
 thereby, put a period to those continually repeated 
 and ineffectual sacrifices of brute beasts, and the 
 offering of the blood of bulls and goats, which 
 could not take away sin, nor propitiate his Divine 
 Majesty ; but also, that he might, at once, give a 
 sensible demonstration, both of God's high dis- 
 pleasure against sin, and of his placableness and 
 reconcileableness to sinners returning to obedience ; 
 and, therefore, to that end, that the despair of par- 
 don might not hinder any from repentance and 
 amendment of life, he promulgated free pardon 
 and remission of sins, through his blood, to all those 
 who should repent and believe the Gospel. 
 
 But it is a very unsound and unwholesome in- 
 terpretation of this salutary undertaking of Christ 
 in the Gospel, that its ultimate end was to procure 
 remission of sin, and exemption from punishment 
 only, to some particular persons still continuing 
 under the power of sin, and to save them, at last, 
 in their sins, that is, with a mere outward and 
 carnal salvation ; it being a thing utterly impossi- 
 ble, that those undefiled rewards of the heavenly 
 kingdom should be received and enjoyed, by men 
 in their unregenerate and unrenewed nature. 
 
 * Col. ii. 15. f Gal. iii. 13. 
 
 I I 
 
482 THE CHRISTIAN'S VICTORY, [CUDWORTH. 
 
 For what is this else, but to make Christ the 
 grand patron of the kingdom of darkness ; and to 
 suppose that God may be bribed and corrupted, 
 by sacrifice and intercession, to a partial conniv- 
 ance, and fond indulgence of men in their sins, to 
 all eternity? Or else, to insinuate, that there is 
 no other evil at all in sin, but in respect only 
 of that outward punishment consequent upon it ? 
 Which is to destroy the nature and reality of sin 
 and to make it nothing but a mere name or fancy ; 
 as if good and evil, just and unjust, had no reality 
 in nature, but depended only upon arbitrary laws, 
 enforced by outward punishments, or mere opi- 
 nions : and so were mere factitious, or else fictitious 
 and imaginary things. If either of which opinions 
 were true, then indeed, remission of sin, and ex- 
 emption from punishment, would quite take away 
 all the evil of sin. 
 
 But, if sin be not a mere name or fancy ; if it 
 have in it a real and intrinsical evil, greater than 
 that of outward punishment, then, certainly, it 
 cannot be so transcendent a happiness, as some 
 men carnally conceit, to have an impunity in sinning 
 to all eternity; and the effecting of this impunity 
 should not be thought the only fit undertaking for 
 the Son of God to engage in, the only one which 
 would deservedly entitle him the Saviour of man- 
 kind. For that of Socrates in Plato must needs be 
 true, * that, in those who are not incorrigible and 
 
 * Tov aoiY.owra, //,*) oiSovsu dtvc^v, Travrwy jucsytoroy TE xa; 
 
 lVi. 
 
SERM. II.] OVER SIN, THE LAW, AND DEATH. 483 
 
 incurable, it is the greatest evil that can possibly 
 befal them, to continue in wickedness unpunished ; 
 and the greatest kindness which they can receive, 
 by the lesser evil of punishment and castigation, to 
 be cured of the greater evil of sin. For, as the same 
 philosopher speaks, chastisement and correction is 
 the natural remedy and cure of wickedness ; * 
 which our Saviour confirms, when he said, "As 
 many as I love, I rebuke and chasten : " and surely 
 the remedy is not worse than the disease. 
 
 Wherefore, it was so far from being the ultimate 
 end of Christ's undertaking, to die for sin that 
 men might securely live in it, that, on the contrary, 
 the death of Christ was particularly intended as an 
 engine to batter down the kingdom of sin and 
 Satan, and to bring men effectually to God and 
 righteousness, as the Scripture plainly witnesses : 
 " His own self bare our sins, in his body, on the 
 tree, that we, being dead to sin, might live to 
 righteousness." t The death of Christ conducing 
 to this great end, not only as it was exemplary, 
 and hieroglyphically instructed us, that we ought 
 to take up the cross likewise, and follow our cru- 
 cified Lord and Saviour, suffering in the flesh, and 
 ceasing from sin; but also, as, in a most lively 
 manner, it demonstrates God's high displeasure 
 against sin, and its malignant nature ; which could 
 not otherwise be expiated, than by the blood of 
 that innocent and immaculate Lamb, the only- 
 begotten Son of God ; and, lastly, as the hope of 
 
 XM. -J- 1 Pet. li. 24^ 
 
 I I 2 
 
484 THE CHRISTIAN'S VICTORY, [CUDWORTH. 
 
 pardon and free remission of sin, in the blood 
 of Christ, for the truly penitent, might invite and 
 animate men to cheerful and vigorous endeavours 
 against sin. 
 
 Others there are, who tell us, that there is, in- 
 deed, something farther aimed at in the Gospel, 
 than the bare remission of sins ; that it is, however, 
 nothing else, but the imputation of an external 
 righteousness, or another's inherent holiness, which 
 is made ours, to all intents and purposes, as com- 
 pletely, as if we ourselves had been really and 
 perfectly righteous ; and this, upon no other con- 
 dition or qualification required, except that simply 
 of mere faith, scrupulously prescinded from all holi- 
 ness and sanctification. A laying hold or appre- 
 hending only, as they use to phrase it, of this 
 external and imputed righteousness 5 that is, the 
 merely believing and imagining it to be ours : 
 which kind of faith, therefore, is but the imagin- 
 ation of an imagination ; or of that, which really is 
 not ; and, as Pindar calls man, the very dream of a 
 shadow.*' 
 
 For, though this be pretended by some, to be 
 spoken only of justification, as contradistinct from 
 sanctification, the latter of which they conceive 
 must by no means have any conditional influence 
 upon the former, yet it will unavoidably extend 
 to the taking away of the necessity of inherent 
 righteousness and holiness, and all obligation to it: 
 upon which very account it is so highly acceptable, 
 because, under a specious show of modesty and 
 
SERM. II.] OVER SIN, THE LAW, AND DEATH. 485 
 
 humility, it exceedingly gratifies men's hypocrisy 
 and carnality. For he that is thus completely 
 justified, by the imputation of a mere external 
 righteousness, must needs have, ipsojacio, a right 
 and title, by that imputation, to heaven and happi- 
 ness, without holiness ; for " whom he justifieth, 
 them he also glorifieth." Neither can any thing be 
 required inherently in them, where all inherency is 
 perfectly supplied by imputation. And, though it 
 be pretended, that sanctification will spontaneously 
 follow after, by way of gratitude, yet this is likely 
 to prove but a very slippery hold, where it is believed, 
 that gratitude itself, as well as all other graces, is 
 already in them by imputation. Neither can it be 
 reasonably thought, that true holiness should spring 
 by way of gratitude or ingenuousness, from such 
 a principle of carnality, as makes men so well con- 
 tented with a mere imaginary righteousness. 
 
 But this opinion, as it makes God, in justifying, 
 to pronounce a false sentence, and to conceive of 
 things otherwise than they are, and to do that, 
 which himself hath declared to be abominable, to 
 justify the wicked, in a forensic sense ; and as it is 
 irreconcilable to those many passages of scripture, 
 which assure us, that God will render to every man 
 according to his works ; so, it also takes away the 
 necessity of Christ's meritorious and propitiatory 
 sacrifice, for the remission of sins : for, where a 
 complete righteousness is imputed, there is no sin 
 at all to be pardoned. And, lastly, it vainly sup- 
 poses righteousness and holiness to be mere fan- 
 
 i i 3 
 
486 THE CHRISTIAN'S VICTORY, [CUDWORTH. 
 
 tastical and imaginary things ; for, otherwise, it 
 were no more possible, that a wicked man should 
 be made righteous, by another's righteousness 
 imputed, than that a sick man should be made 
 whole, by another's imputed health. " If a 
 brother or sister be naked and destitute of daily 
 food, and one of you say unto them, Depart in 
 peace, be you warmed, and be you filled ; not- 
 withstanding you give them not those things, which 
 are needful for the body ; what doth it profit ? 
 Even so, what doth it profit, my brethren, if a 
 man say he hath faith [[or imputed righteousness], 
 and have not works ? [that is, real and inherent 
 righteousness, or inward regeneration] can such a 
 faith [that is, imagination or imputation] save him?" 
 Certainly, no more than mere words can clothe a 
 naked man's back, or feed a hungry man's belly, or 
 warm and thaw him whose blood is frozen and 
 congealed in his veins. Nay, it is no more possible 
 for a man to be made holy, than to be made happy, 
 by mere imputation, which latter, few men would 
 be contented with ; and, were it not for their 
 hypocrisy, they would be as little contented with 
 the former; and it would as little please them, to 
 be just only in opinion, as happy only in opinion, * 
 to use Tully's expression against the Epicureans. 
 Nay, since it is most certain, that the greatest 
 part of our happiness consists in righteousness and 
 holiness, it will unavoidably follow, that, if we 
 have no other than an imputative righteousness, we 
 
 * Opinione tantumjusti: opinione tantum beati. 
 
SERM. II.] OVER SIN, THE LAW, AND DEATH. 487 
 
 can have no other than an imputative happiness ; a 
 mere imaginary heaven, which will little please us, 
 when we feel ourselves to be in a true and real 
 hell. 
 
 But it is not our intention here, to quarrel about 
 words and phrases, as if Christ's meritorious satis- 
 faction might not be said to be imputed, to those 
 that repent and believe the gospel for remission of 
 sins ; much less to deny, what the holy Scripture 
 plainly asserts, that true and living faith, which 
 worketh by love, which is the very essence of the 
 new creature, or regenerate nature, is imputed, or 
 accounted for righteousness, under the gospel dis- 
 pensation ; where God will proceed, not according 
 to legal rigour and severity, with his fallen crea- 
 tures, but according to that equity, and 'ETrisixeia, 
 which the philosopher tells us is the truest justice. 
 But our only design is, to caution against that 
 Antinomian error, which is too often insinuated, 
 under the notion of imputed righteousness : as if 
 there were no necessity of inherent righteousness, 
 and a real victory over sin, in order to salvation, 
 but that an imputed or imaginary one might serve 
 the turn. Which error springing up very early 
 amongst the Gnostic Christians, Saint John gives a 
 very seasonable antidote against it : " Little chil- 
 dren, let no man deceive you; he that doth 
 righteousness, is righteous, even as He is righteous :" 
 and, " He that saith, I know him, and keepeth 
 not his commandments, is a liar, and the truth is 
 not in him." To which purpose, is that also in his 
 
 i i 4 
 
488 THE CHRISTIAN'S VICTORY, [CUDWORTH. 
 
 first chapter: " This is the message which we have 
 heard of him, and declare to you, that God is 
 light, and in him is no darkness at all. If we say 
 that we have fellowship with him, and walk in 
 darkness, we lie, and do not the truth : but, if we 
 walk in the light, as he is in the light, we have 
 fellowship one with another, and the blood of Jesus 
 Christ his Son cleanseth us from all sin." Where- 
 fore, the same apostle, tells us of overcoming the 
 wicked one, and of overcoming the world, by our 
 faith in Christ. And in the Apocalypse he pro- 
 pounds, from Christ himself, divers remarkable 
 promises to him that overcometh : " That he shall 
 eat of the tree of life, which is in the midst of the 
 paradise of God : That he shall not be hurt of the 
 second death : That he shall have the hidden 
 manna, and a white stone with a new name written 
 in it, which no man knoweth, save he that re- 
 ceiveth it: That he will give him the morning- 
 star : That he shall be clothed in white raiment, 
 and his name shall not be blotted out of the book 
 of life : That he shall be a pillar in the temple of 
 God: and, That he shall sit with Christ in his 
 throne, as he overcame, and sat down with his 
 Father in his throne." The condition of all which 
 promises being " overcoming," we may well con- 
 clude from thence, that there is a real, and not an 
 imaginary victory only, to be obtained over the 
 power of sin, as well as the guilt of it. 
 
 Nay, it is true, and very observable, that those 
 places, which are usually quoted as ' the found- 
 
SERM. II.] OVER SIN, THE LAW, AND DEATH. 489 
 
 ation of an imputed righteousness, in some other 
 sense than that which we before mentioned, are, 
 indeed, no otherwise to be understood than of a real 
 inward righteousness, wrought or infused by the 
 Spirit of Christ. As that principal one : " Yea 
 doubtless, and I count all things loss for the 
 excellency of the knowledge of Christ Jesus my 
 Lord; that I may win him, and be found in 
 him, not having mine own righteousness, which 
 is of the law, but that which is of the faith of 
 Christ, the righteousness which is of God by 
 faith." Where Christ, whom the apostle desires 
 to win, and to be found in ; and the righteousness, 
 which is through the faith of Christ ; and the 
 righteousness, which is of God through faith, 
 are no external imputed righteousness, but the real 
 inward righteousness of the new creature, wrought 
 by the Spirit of Christ through faith, which is 
 opposed here to our own righteousness, and the 
 righteousness which is of the law ; that is, to the 
 righteousness of outward works, done by our own 
 natural power, according to the letter of the law, 
 in our unregenerate state ; for so the following 
 words explain the meaning : " that I may know 
 him, and the power of his resurrection, and the 
 fellowship of his sufferings, being made conform- 
 able unto his death ; if by any means I might attain 
 to the resurrection of the dead." And this same 
 inward and real righteousness is often elsewhere 
 called Christ, and the new man, that is said to be 
 in us, and which we are exhorted to put on, not 
 
490 THE CHRISTIAN'S VICTORY, [CUDWORTH. 
 
 by conceit or imagination only, but by real confor- 
 mity to his nature, and participation of his spirit. 
 
 And whereas the magnifiers of free grace in an 
 Antinomian sense, and the decriers of inherent 
 righteousness, commonly conceive, that the free 
 grace of God consists in nothing but either in the 
 pardon of sin and exemption from punishment, or 
 in the imputation of an external holiness, and ac- 
 counting men just freely, without any condition 
 but only the mere believing of this, that they are 
 so accounted ; and that faith is no otherwise con- 
 sidered in the gospel, than in order to the believ- 
 ing of this imputation ; and that our own works, 
 when they are undervalued, comparatively to 
 grace and faith, are to be taken for all inherent 
 righteousness and holiness, even the new creature it- 
 self: that all these conceptions are errors, as it might 
 be abundantly proved from sundry other places of 
 Scripture, so it may sufficiently appear from this 
 one : " God, who is rich in mercy, for his great 
 love, wherewith he loved us, even when we were 
 dead in sins, hath quickened us together with 
 Christ, (by grace ye are saved,) and hath raised us 
 up together. That, in the ages to come, he might 
 show the exceeding riches of his grace, and his 
 kindness towards us in Christ Jesus. For, by grace 
 are ye saved, through faith, and that not of your- 
 selves ; it is the gift of God : not of works, lest any 
 man should boast. For we are his workmanship, cre- 
 ated in Christ Jesus, unto good works." For, when 
 we are here said to be saved by grace, it is plain, 
 
SERM. II.] OVER SIN, THE LAW, AND DEATH. 491 
 
 that the apostle means by saved, inwardly quick- 
 ened and sanctified : a-w^ea-Qoii (says Grotius well 
 here) is purgari a vitlis : which inward sanctifica- 
 tion is here attributed to God's free grace, and 
 denied to ourselves and to works ; the meaning 
 of which is, that it is not effected by our own 
 works (whether of outward morality, or legal cere- 
 monies), done by our natural power in the un- 
 regenerate state, but, by the quickening and 
 enlivening spirit of Christ, inwardly creating us 
 anew. And, lastly, faith is plainly made the instru- 
 ment of this inward sanctification, wrought, not by 
 our own works, but by the grace and spirit of Christ. 
 Whence we may well conclude, that the true 
 object of the Christian faith, is, not only the blood 
 of Christ, shed upon the cross, for the remission 
 of sm ; but, also, the renewing spirit of Christ, for 
 the inward conquering and mortifying of sin, and for 
 the quickening or raising of us to an heavenly life. 
 And I dare be bold to say, that the inward 
 sense of every true and sincere-hearted Christian, 
 in this point, speaks the same language with the 
 Scripture. For a true Christian, that has any 
 thing of the life of God in him, cannot but 
 earnestly desire an inward healing of his sinful 
 maladies and distempers, and not an outward 
 hiding and palliation of them only. He must 
 needs passionately long more and more,, after a 
 new life and nature, and the divine image more 
 fully formed in him ; insomuch, that if, without 
 it, he might be secured from the pains of hell, 
 
492 THE CHRISTIAN'S VICTORY, [CUDWORTH. 
 
 he could not be fully quieted and satisfied with 
 such security. It is not the effects and consequence 
 of sin only, the external punishment due unto it, 
 from which he desires to be freed ; but from the in- 
 trinsical evil of sin itself, from the plague of his own 
 heart. As he often meditates with comfort, upon 
 that outward cross, to which his Saviour's hands 
 and feet were nailed for his sins ; so he impatiently 
 desires to feel the virtue of that inward cross of 
 Christ also, by which, the world may be crucified 
 to him, and he unto the world ; and to experience 
 the power of Christ's resurrection within him, still 
 to raise him further unto newness of life. Neither 
 will he be more easily persuaded to believe, that 
 his sinful desires, the malignity and violence of 
 which he feels within himself, can be conquered 
 without him, than that an army here in England, 
 can be conquered in France or Spain. He is so 
 deeply sensible of the real evil, which is in sin itself, 
 that he cannot be contented, to have it only histri- 
 onically triumphed over. And to fancy himself co- 
 vered all over, with a thin veil of mere external im- 
 putation, will afford little satisfactory comfort unto 
 him, that hungers and thirsts after righteousness, 
 and is weary and heavy laden with the burthen of 
 sins, and does not desire to have his inward ma- 
 ladies hid and covered only, but healed and 
 cured. Neither can he be willing to be put off till 
 the hour of death, for a divorce between his soul 
 and sin ; nor easily persuaded, that, though sin 
 should rule and reign in him all his life long, yet 
 
SERM. II.] OVER SIN, THE LAW, AND DEATH. 493 
 
 the last parting groan, that shall divide his soul 
 and body asunder, may have so great an efficacy, 
 as, in a moment also, to separate all sin from his 
 soul. 
 
 But, that we may not seem here, either to beat 
 the air in generals and uncertainties, or, by an in- 
 discreet zeal, to countenance those conceited and 
 high-flown enthusiasts of latter times, who, forgetting 
 that example of modesty given us by the blessed 
 apostle, " Not as though I had already attained, 
 or were already perfect. But this one thing I do ; 
 forgetting those things which are behind, and reach- 
 ing forth unto those things which are before, I 
 press towards the mark," boldly arrogate to 
 themselves such an absolute perfection, as would 
 make them not to stand in need of any Saviour, 
 nor to be cleansed by the blood of the Lamb, 
 which, accordingly, they allegorize into a mystical 
 sense, we must, therefore, declare, that we speak 
 not here of inherent righteousness, and of a victory 
 over sin, in a legal or pharisaical sense, but in such 
 an evangelical sense, as yet, notwithstanding, is 
 true and real. 
 
 The first degree of which, is a principle of new 
 life, infused into the soul by the spirit of Christ 
 through faith, (which the apostle calls the seed 
 of God, * ) inclining it to love God and righteous- 
 ness, as a thing correspondent to its own nature ; 
 and enabling it to act freely and ingenuously in the 
 ways of God, out of a living law written upon the 
 
 * 1 John, iii. 9. 
 
194 THE CHRISTIAN'S VICTORY, [CUDWORTH. 
 
 heart, and to eschew sin as contrary to a vital prin- 
 ciple. For the true gospel-righteousness, which 
 Christ came to set up in the world, does not consist 
 merely in outward works, whether ceremonial or 
 moral, done by our own natural power, in our un- 
 regenerate state, but in an inward life and spirit, 
 wrought by God. Which those very philosophers 
 seemed in a manner to acknowledge, who denied 
 that virtue could be taught by outward rules and 
 precepts, like an art or trade ; and Aristotle him- 
 self, also, when he inclines to think, that men's 
 being good, depends upon some extraordinary 
 divine influence and assistance. Which I the 
 rather take notice of, because some late pretenders 
 to philosophy have profanely derided this doctrine, 
 after this manner, as if it made good thoughts and 
 virtuous dispositions to be POURED and BLOWN into 
 men by God. But there is a second degree of vic- 
 tory over sin, which every true Christian ought not 
 only to look upon as possible, but also to endeavour 
 after, and ceaselessly to pursue ; which is " such a 
 measure of strength in the inward man," and such 
 a degree of mortification or crucifixion of our sin- 
 ful lusts, as that a man will not knowingly and de- 
 liberately do any thing, that his conscience plainly 
 tells him is a sin, though there be never so great 
 temptations to it. 
 
 Whether or no this, or any thing farther, be that 
 evangelical perfection, which was the mark that St. 
 Paul pressed towards, and which he seems mystically 
 to call the " resurrection from the dead," I leave 
 
SERM. II.] OVER SIN, THE LAW, AND DEATH. 495 
 
 it to others to make a judgment of. But doubt- 
 less, they, that have attained to such a principle of 
 new life, and such a measure of inward strength, as 
 is already mentioned, that is, to the perfection 
 of unfeigned sincerity, may, notwithstanding the 
 irregularities of the first motions, violent assaults, 
 and importunities of temptations, sudden incur- 
 sions, and obreptions, sins of mere ignorance and 
 inadvertency, (which are all washed away in the 
 blood of Christ) in a true evangelical sense, be said 
 to have attained to a victory over sin. 
 
 Wherefore, I demand, in the next place, Why it 
 should be thought impossible, by the grace of the 
 gospel, and the faith of Christ, to attain to such a 
 victory over sin? For sin owes its original to no- 
 thing else but ignorance and darkness : every wicked 
 man is ignorant. And, therefore, in that sense, 
 another maxim of the Stoics may have some truth, 
 also, that men sin against their will ; because, if 
 they knew that those things were indeed so hurtful 
 to them, they would never do them. Now, we all 
 know, how easily light conquers darkness, and, upon 
 its first approach, makes it fly before it, and, like a 
 guilty shade, seeks to hide itself from it, by running 
 round about the earth. And certainly, the light of 
 God, arising in the soul, can with as much ease 
 scatter away the night of sinful ignorance before it. 
 For truth has a cognation with the soul ; and 
 falsehood, lies, and impostures, are no more able to 
 make resistance against the power of truth break- 
 ing forth, than darkness is able to dispute with 
 
496 THE CHRISTIAN'S VICTORY, [CUDWORTH. 
 
 light. Wherefore, the entrance in of light upon the 
 soul, is half a conquest over our sinful inclinations. 
 Again, though sin have had a long and custom- 
 ary possession in the soul, yet, it has no just title, 
 much less a right of inheritance. For sin is but a 
 stranger and foreigner in the soul, an usurper and 
 intruder into the Lord's inheritance. Sin is no 
 nature, as Saint Austin and others of the Fathers 
 often inculcate, but an adventitious and extraneous 
 thing ; and the true and ancient nature of the soul 
 of man, suffers violence under it, and is oppressed 
 by it. It is nothing else, but the preternatural 
 state of rational beings ; and, therefore, we have 
 no reason to think it must needs be perpetual and 
 unalterable. Is it a strange thing, that, by the 
 hand of a skilful musician, a jarring instrument 
 should ever be set in tune again ? Doubtless, if 
 an instrument of music were a living thing, it 
 would be sensible of harmony as its proper state, 
 and abhor discord and dissonancy as a thing pre- 
 ternatural to it. The soul of man was harmonical 
 as God at first made it; till sin, disordering the 
 strings and faculties, put it out of tune, and marred 
 the music of it : but, doubtless, that great Harmos- 
 tes, who tunes the whole world, and makes all 
 things keep their times and measures, is able to 
 set this lesser instrument in tune again. Sin is 
 but a disease and dyscrasy in the soul ; righteous- 
 ness is its health and natural complexion j and 
 there is a propensity in the nature of every thing, 
 to return to its proper state, and to cast off what- 
 
SERM. II.] OVER SIN, THE LAW, AND DEATH. 497 
 
 ever is heterogeneous to it. And some physicians 
 tell us, that medicaments are but subservient to 
 nature, by removing obstructions and impediments ; 
 but nature itself, and the inward Archaeus, released 
 and set at liberty, works the cure. Bodies, when 
 they are bent out of their place, and violently 
 forced out of the natural position of their parts, 
 have a spring of their own, and an inward strong 
 propension to return to their own natural posture, 
 which produces that motion of restitution, of which 
 philosophers endeavour to give a reason. As, for 
 example ; air may be forced into much a lesser 
 room, than that into which it would naturally expand 
 itself: but, while it is under this violence, it has a 
 spring, or strong conatus, to return to its proper 
 state (of which several ingenious observations have 
 been lately published by a learned hand). Now, 
 sin being a violent and preternatural state, and 
 a sinner's returning to God and righteousness being 
 that motion, by which the soul is restored to its 
 true freedom and ancient nature, why should 
 there not be such an elater or spring in the soul 
 (quickened and enlivened by divine grace), such a 
 natural conatus, of returning to its proper state 
 again ? Doubtless, there is ; and the Scripture 
 seems sometimes to acknowledge it, and to call it 
 by the name of Spirit, when it speaks of our free- 
 acting in God's ways, from an inward principle. 
 For the spirit is not always to be taken for a 
 breath or impulse from without : but, also, for an 
 inward propension of the soul, awakened and re- 
 
 K K 
 
498 THE CHRISTIAN'S VICTORY, [CUDWORTH. 
 
 vived in it, to return to its proper state, as it is intel- 
 lectual ; and then, to act freely in that state, accord- 
 ing to its ancient nature. For, if the spirit were a 
 mere external force acting upon the soul, without 
 the concurrence of an inward principle, then, to be 
 actuated by the spirit would be a state of violence to 
 the soul, under which it could not delight always 
 to continue ; whereas, the state of the spirit, is 
 a state of freedom, and not of violence, as the 
 apostle witnesses, when he calls it the freedom of 
 the spirit : it is the soul's acting, from an inward 
 spring and principle of its own intellectual nature, 
 not by a mere outward impulse, like a boat, that is 
 tugged on by oars, or driven by a strong blast of 
 wind. Wherefore, the soul's returning from sin to 
 righteousness, which is its primitive nature, must 
 needs have great advantages ; for it goes on secundo 
 flumine, according to the genuine current of its 
 true intellectual nature, and has, besides, the assist- 
 ance of a gentle gale of the Divine Spirit from with- 
 out, to help it forward. 
 
 Why should it be thought so great an impossibi- 
 lity, for men willingly to do that, which is agreeable 
 to the law of goodness ? Since this is the genuine 
 nature of the soul, when freed from mistakes and 
 incumbrances, from that which is heterogeneous 
 and adventitious, from that which clogs and oppresses 
 it ; and since every life and nature acts freely, ac- 
 cording to its own propensions. Why should it 
 seem strange, that the superior faculties of the soul 
 should become predominant, since they are of a 
 
SERM. II.] OVER SIN, THE LAW, AND DEATH. 499 
 
 lordly nature, and made to rule ; and since the infe- 
 rior faculties are of a servile temper, and made to be 
 subject ? Why should it seem impossible, for equity, 
 light, and reason, to be enthroned in the soul of 
 man again, and there to command and govern 
 those exorbitant affections, which so lawlessly rebel 
 against them ? For, if some grave commanders and 
 generals have been able, by the majesty of their 
 very looks, to hush and silence a disorderly and 
 mutinous rout of soldiers, certainly reason, re- 
 enthroned in her majestic seat, and re-invested 
 with her ancient power and authority, which is 
 natural, and not usurped, would, much more easily, 
 be able to check and controul within us, the tu- 
 multuous rabble of appetites and passions. 
 
 Doubtless, God has no other design upon us, 
 in religion, and the Gospel of his Son, than what is 
 for our good ; than to restore us to the rectitude 
 and perfection of our beings. Wherefore, he seeks 
 to redeem, and call off our affections, from the 
 perishing vanities of this world ; which, being so 
 unspeakably below us, debase and pollute our 
 spirits. He would not have us, therefore, addict 
 ourselves wholly to the gratifications of our lower 
 faculties, which are but the brute in us. But he 
 would have our best faculties to be uppermost; 
 the man, to rule the brute ; and that which is of 
 God in us, to rule our manly and rational faculties. 
 He would not have us, Narcissus-like, to be always 
 courting our own shadow in the stream. For, 
 even according to the ancient Democritical phi- 
 
 K K 2 
 
500 - THE CHRISTIAN'S VICTORY,, [CUDWORTH. 
 
 losophy, this whole visible world is mere extended 
 bulk, and has nothing real in it, but atoms or 
 particles of a different magnitude, diversely placed, 
 and agitated in a continual whirlpool. But all the 
 colour, beauty, and varnish, all that which charms 
 and bewitches us, in external objects, is nothing 
 but the vital sensations and relishes of our own 
 souls. These give all the paint and lustre to those 
 outward beauties which we court and fall in love 
 with ; which are, in themselves, as devoid of reality, 
 and as fantastical, as the colours of the rainbow. 
 So that, this outward world is not unfitly compared 
 to an enchanted palace ; which seems, indeed, most 
 pleasing and delightful to our deluded sense, 
 but which, in reality, is all imaginary, a mere 
 prestigious show ; those things, with which we are 
 enamoured, thinking them to be without us, being 
 nothing but the vital energies of our own spirits. 
 In a word, God would have man to be a living 
 temple, for himself to dwell in ; and man's faculties, 
 instruments to be used and employed by him: 
 which need not be thought impossible, if that be 
 true, which philosophy tells us, that there is a 
 certain near kindred and alliance, between the 
 soul and God. 
 
 Lastly, we must observe, that, though this inward 
 victory over sin, be no otherwise attainable, than 
 by the Spirit of Christ, through faith ; and by 
 a divine operation within us ; so that, in a certain 
 sense, we may be said to be passive recipients : yet, 
 we must not dream that our active co-operation 
 
SERM. II.] OVER SIN, THE LAW, AND DEATH. 501 
 
 and concurrence, are not also necessarily required. 
 For, as there is a Spirit of God in nature, pro- 
 ducing vegetables and minerals, which human art 
 and industry could never be able to effect ; a 
 certain nutritive spirit within, as the poet sings, 
 which yet, does not work absolutely, uncondition- 
 ately, and omnipotently, but requires certain pre- 
 parations, conditions, and dispositions in the matter, 
 which it works upon ; (for, unless the husbandman 
 plough the ground, and sow the seed, the Spirit of 
 God in nature will not give any increase :) in like 
 mariner, the Scripture tells us, that the divine 
 Spirit of grace does not work in the souls of 
 men, absolutely, unconditionately, and irresistibly ; 
 but requires in us certain preparations, conditions, 
 and co-operations ; forasmuch, as it may both be 
 quenched, and stirred up or excited, in our souls. 
 And indeed, unless we plough up the fallow-ground 
 of our hearts, and sow to ourselves in righteousness, 
 as the prophet speaks, by our earnest endeavours, 
 we cannot expect, that the divine Spirit of grace 
 will shower down that heavenly increase upon us. 
 Wherefore, if, by the spirit of Christ, we would 
 attain a victory over sin, we must endeavour to 
 fight a good fight, and run a good race, and to 
 " enter in at the strait gate ; " that so, overcoming, 
 we may receive the crown of life. And thus much 
 it shall suffice me to have spoken, at this time, con- 
 cerning the first particular, the victory over sin. 
 
 I shall now proceed to speak something briefly 
 to the two other victories that remain, which, are 
 
 K K 3 
 
THE CHRISTIAN'S VICTORY, [CUDWORTH. 
 
 attainable also by Christ, over the law and over 
 death. 
 
 And the law may be considered two manner of 
 ways : first, as an outward covenant of works, which 
 pronounces death and condemnation against all, 
 who do not yield absolute and entire obedience to 
 whatever is, by that law, commanded; and which 1 
 imposed also, with the same severity, a multitude of 
 outward ceremonial observances, which had no in- 
 trinsical goodness in them, but kept men in a state 
 of bondage and servility. Now, the law, in this 
 sense, as it is an outward letter and covenant of 
 works, is already conquered externally for us, 
 by Christ's death upon the cross. " Christ hath 
 redeemed us from the curse of the law, being 
 made a curse for us ; for it is written, Cursed is 
 every one that hangeth on a tree ; that the blessing 
 of Abraham might come on the Gentiles, through 
 Jesus Christ, that we might receive the promise 
 of the Spirit, through faith." And he has, thereby, 
 freed us also from our obligation to those com- 
 mandments which were not good ; having " broken 
 down the middle wall of partition, that was between 
 Jew and Gentile, abolishing in his flesh the enmity, 
 even the law of commandments ; and blotting out 
 the hand- writing of ordinances, that was against us, 
 which was contrary to us, and taking it out of the 
 way, nailing it to his cross." 
 
 Secondly, the law is, sometimes also, considered 
 in Scripture, as an inward state of mind, wrought 
 by the law and truth of God ; whether written out- 
 
SERM. II.] OVER SIN, THE LAW, AND DEATH. 603 
 
 wardly in the letter of the Scripture, or inwardly 
 in the conscience ; prevailing only so far, as to 
 beget a conviction of men's duty, and of the wrath 
 of God against sin; but not enabling them, with 
 inward strength and power, to do what is com- 
 manded, willingly, out of a love of it. It is such 
 a state, when men are only passive to God's law, 
 and unwillingly subject to it, as an enemy, for fear 
 of wrath and vengeance. And this must needs be 
 a state of miserable bondage and servility, distrac- 
 tion and perplexity of mind ; when men are, at 
 once, strongly convinced of the wrath of God 
 against sin, and yet, under the power of their ap- 
 petites, haling and dragging them to the commis- 
 sion of sin. It is that state, as I conceive, which 
 Saint Paul describes after this manner : " The 
 law is spiritual, but I am carnal, sold under sin : 
 for that which I do, I allow not ; for what I would, 
 that do I not ; but what I hate, that do I." * And 
 again, " I see another law in my members, warring 
 against my mind, and bringing me into captivity 
 under the law of sin. O wretched man that I am ! 
 who shall deliver me from this body of death?" 
 Now, from the law in this sense, that is, from the 
 bondage and servility of the legal state, we are not 
 delivered, nor made conquerors, by what Christ 
 did outwardly upon the cross, as some imagine ; as 
 if he had there purchased for us an indulgence to 
 sin without controul ; but, by the inward working 
 of his Holy Spirit, freeing us from the power and 
 
 * Rom. vii. 
 K K 4 
 
504 THE CHRISTIAN'S VICTORY, [CUDWORTH. 
 
 bondage of sin, and unbewitching us from the love 
 of it. 
 
 Wherefore, there is a double freedom from this 
 legal state, to be taken notice of; a true and a false 
 freedom ; which I cannot better explain, than by 
 using the Apostle's own similitude, in the beginning 
 of the seventh chapter : " Know ye not, brethren, 
 that the law hath dominion over a man as long 
 as he liveth ? [or, rather, as long as it, that is, the 
 law, liveth?] For the woman, which hath a husband, 
 is bound by the law to her husband, so long as he 
 liveth; but, if her husband be dead, she is loosed 
 from the law of the husband. So then, if, while 
 her husband liveth, she be married to another man, 
 she shall be called an adulteress : but, if her hus- 
 band be dead, she is free from that law ; so that 
 she is no adulteress, though she be married to an- 
 other man." Here, the law is compared to a hus- 
 band ; and one that is under the law, or in a legal 
 state, to a woman, that has a husband. Now, 
 there are two ways, by which a woman may be 
 freed from her husband : the one, if she break 
 loose from him whilst he yet lives, contrary to 
 the laws of wedlock, and marry another man ; 
 an undue and unlawful freedom, and then she is 
 justly styled an adulteress ; another, if she stay 
 till her husband be dead, and then, being free from 
 the law of her husband, lawfully marries another 
 man. In like manner, there are two ways, by 
 which men may be freed from the law, as it is an 
 inward state of bondage and servility : the first is, 
 
SERM. II.] OVER SIN, THE LAW, AND DEATH. 505 
 
 when men, illegally and unlawfully, break loose 
 from the law, which is their husband, whilst he is 
 yet alive, and ought to have dominion over them, 
 and marry themselves to another husband ; which 
 husband's name is carnal liberty, or licentiousness, 
 too often miscalled in these latter times by the 
 name of Christian liberty ; and such as these, may 
 well be styled, in the Scripture-language, adul- 
 terers and adulteresses : but there is another free- 
 dom from the law, which is a due and just freedom, 
 when we do not make ourselves free before the 
 time, violently breaking loose from it; but when we 
 stay, till the law, which is our husband, is dead, and 
 the compulsory power of it is taken away, by the 
 mortification of our desires and affections ; and so, 
 marry another husband, which is Christ, or the 
 Spirit of righteousness : " The law of the spirit of 
 life in Christ Jesus, hath made me free from the 
 law of sin and death.*' * 
 
 Wherefore, there are three general states of men, 
 in order to God and religion, of which we may here 
 take notice. 
 
 The Jirst is the state of those, who are alive to 
 sin, and dead to the law. This the Apostle thus 
 speaks of: " I was alive without the law once." 
 These are they, whose consciences are not yet con- 
 siderably awakened to any sense of their duty, nor 
 to the discrimination of good and evil; who sin 
 freely, without any check or controul, without any 
 disquieting remorse of conscience. 
 
 * Rom. viii. 2. 
 
506 THE CHRISTIAN'S VICTORY, [CUDWORTH. 
 
 The second state is, when men are at once alive 
 both to the law and sin ; to the conviction of the one, 
 and the power and love of the other ; both these 
 struggling together, within the bowels of the soul ; 
 checking and controlling one another. This is a 
 broken, confounded, and shattered state ; and 
 these, in the Apostle's language, are said to be 
 slain by the law : " I was alive without the law 
 once ; but, when the commandment came, sin re- 
 vived, and I died. And the commandment, which 
 was ordained to life, I found to be unto death. 
 For sin, taking occasion by the commandment, de- 
 ceived me, and by it slew me." Here is no peace, 
 rest, nor comfort, to be had in this state ; men's 
 souls being distracted and divided, by an intestine 
 and civil war, between the law of the mind, and 
 the law of the members, conflicting with one 
 another. 
 
 The third state is, when men are dead both to 
 the law and sin, and are " alive unto God and 
 righteousness ; the law of the Spirit of life, freeing 
 them from the law of sin and death." 
 
 In the Jirst of these three states, which is the 
 most wretched and deplorable of all, we are sin's 
 freemen ; that is, free to commit sin, without check 
 or controul. 
 
 In the second, we are bondmen to God and 
 righteousness, and serve God out cf a principle 
 of fear, and according to an outward rule only ; 
 children of Hagar the bondmaid, and of the letter. 
 
 In the third, we are God's freemen and sons, 
 
SERM. II.] OVER SIN, THE LAW, AND DEATH. 507 
 
 and serve him, in the newness of the spirit, out of 
 a love to God and righteousness ; children of the 
 New Testament, and of Sarah the free woman. 
 
 Now, there are two mistakes or errors to be taken 
 notice of, which defeat and disappoint the design of 
 Christ in giving us the victory over the law. 
 
 Thejirsf, is the mistake of those, whom we have 
 already mentioned ; who seek to themselves a free- 
 dom from the bondage of the law, otherwise than by 
 Christ and the Spirit of righteousness ; namely, in a 
 way of carnal liberty and licentiousness; whereby, in- 
 stead of being bondmen to God and righteousness, 
 they become perfect freemen to sin and wicked- 
 ness ; a state of the most deplorable thraldom in the 
 world. These men, instead of going forward from 
 the second state unto higher perfection, wheel 
 back again to the first. Just, as if the chil- 
 dren of Israel, after they had been brought out 
 of Egypt, and had travelled a while in the desert 
 of Arabia, where the law was given, instead of 
 entering into Canaan, should have wheeled back 
 into Egypt, and there, enjoying the garlic, and 
 onions, and flesh-pots, should persuade themselves 
 this was, indeed, the true " land of promise, 
 flowing with milk and honey." And there is very 
 great danger, lest, when men have been tired out, 
 by wandering a long time in the dry and barren 
 wilderness of the law, where they cannot enjoy the 
 pleasure of sin as formerly, and yet, from their im- 
 patience, have not arrived to the relish and love of 
 righteousness, lest they should, at last, make more 
 
508 THE CHRISTIAN'S VICTORY, [CUDWORTH. 
 
 haste than good speed, seduced by certain false 
 shows of freedom, which are very tempting to such 
 weary travellers, and which promise them much 
 comfort and refreshment, inviting them to sit down 
 under their shadow. Such are, a self-chosen holi- 
 ness ; ceremonial righteousness ; opinionative zeal ; 
 the tree of knowledge, mistaken for the tree of 
 life ; high-flown enthusiasm and seraphicism ; epi- 
 curizing philosophy ; and antinomian liberty, under 
 the pretence of free grace, and a gospel-spirit. 
 
 The second mistake, is, that of those, who would, 
 by all means, persuade themselves, that there is no 
 higher state of Christian perfection to be aimed at, 
 or hoped for, in this life, than this legal state. 
 That the good they would do, they do not ; the 
 evil they would not do, that they do ; that the law 
 of sin in their members, still leads them captive 
 from the law of their minds. Now, for this pre- 
 sumptuous error, their sole ground is a novel in- 
 terpretation of one paragraph in the Epistle to the 
 Romans, contrary to other express places of Scrip- 
 ture, and to the sense of all ancient interpreters. 
 And this opinion they support with as much zeal, as 
 if it were a principal part of the gospel-faith, while, 
 in fact, it is arrant infidelity ; as if it were no less 
 than presumption or impiety, to expect a living 
 law written upon our hearts. But this, instead of 
 seeking liberty from the bondage of the law, is to 
 fall in love with our bonds and fetters ; is plainly 
 to d?ny the victory over the law, by Christ ; and is 
 to affirm, that the Gospel is but the ministration of 
 
SERM. II.] OVER SIN, THE LAW, AND DEATH. 509 
 
 a dead and killing letter, and not of the Spirit which 
 quickeneth and maketh alive. 
 
 I come now, in the third and last place, to the 
 victory over death, expressed by the resurrection 
 of the body to life and immortality. This, as it 
 was meritoriously procured for us, by Christ's 
 dying upon the cross, his resurrection afterward 
 being an assured pledge of the same resurrection to 
 us, so it will be really effected at last, by the same 
 Spirit of Christ that gives us victory over sin here. 
 " If the Spirit of him, that raised up Jesus dwell in 
 you, he that raised up Christ from the dead, shall 
 also quicken your mortal bodies by his Spirit, that 
 dwelleth in you : " as though he had said, if the 
 Spirit of Christ dwell in you, regenerating and re- 
 newing your souls, the self same Spirit shall also 
 hereafter immortalize your very bodies. Avicen, 
 the Mahometan philosopher, in his Almahad, has 
 a conceit, that the meaning of the resurrection of 
 the body, is merely to persuade vulgar people, that, 
 though they seem to perish, and their bodies rot 
 in the grave, when they die, yet, they shall 
 have a real subsistence after death, by which they 
 shall be made capable, either of future happiness 
 or misery. But, because the apprehensions of the 
 vulgar are so gross, that the permanency and im- 
 mortality of the soul is too subtile a notion for 
 them, who commonly count their bodies for them- 
 selves, and cannot conceive, how they should have 
 any being after death, unless their very bodies 
 should be raised up again, therefore, by way of 
 
510 THE CHRISTIAN'S VICTORY, [CUDWORTH. 
 
 condescension to vulgar understandings, the future 
 permanency and subsistence of the soul, in pro- 
 phetical writings, is expressed under this scheme 
 of the resurrection of the body, which yet is meant 
 Kara 8oav only, and not tear aX^siav. Which con- 
 ceit, how well soever it may befit a Mahometan 
 philosopher, I am sure it no way agrees with the 
 principles of Christianity : for the Scripture, here 
 and elsewhere, assures us, that the resurrection of 
 the body is to be understood plainly, and without a 
 figure ; and that the saints, departed this life in 
 the faith and fear of Christ, shall not be mere 
 souls without bodies to all eternity, as Avicen, 
 Maimonides, and other philosophers dreamed, but 
 shall consist of soul and body united together. 
 Which bodies, though, as the doctrine of the 
 church instructs us, they shall be both specifically 
 and numerically the same with what they were 
 here, yet, the Scripture tells us, they shall be 
 so changed and altered, in respect of their qualities 
 and conditions, that, in that sense, they shall not be 
 the same : " Thou fool, that, which thou sowest, is 
 not quickened, except it die : thou sowest not that 
 body, that shall be, but bare grain, it may chance 
 of wheat, or of some other grain : but God giveth 
 it a body, as it pleaseth him, and to every seed his 
 own body." The Apostle here imitates the manner 
 of the Jews, who, as appears from the Talmud*, 
 were wont familiarly to illustrate the " resurrection 
 of the body " by the similitude of seed sown into 
 * See Gemara, in Chetuboth, cap. 13. Ein Israel, num. 50. 
 
SERM. II.] OVER SIN, THE LAW, AND DEATH. 511 
 
 the ground, and springing up again. Accordingly 
 he goes on, " It is sown in corruption, it is raised 
 in incorruption ; sown in dishonour, it is raised in 
 glory ; sown in weakness, it is raised in power ; sown 
 a natural body, it shall be raised a spiritual body." 
 Which epithet was used also, in this case, both by 
 the philosophers and the Jews ; for Hierocles, upon 
 the Golden Verses, calls them o^^ara Trvsu^arixa, 
 vehicula spiritualia, spiritual bodies ; and R. Mena- 
 chem, from the ancient cabalists, nit^lbn ni^tm, 
 the spiritual clothing. Lastly, the Apostle con- 
 cludes, thus : " Now, this I say, brethren, that 
 flesh and blood cannot inherit the kingdom of 
 God, neither doth corruption inherit incorruption." 
 For which cause, he tells us elsewhere, that they, 
 who do not die, must, of necessity, be changed. 
 And, indeed, if men should be restored after death 
 to such gross, foul, and cadaverous bodies, as 
 these are here upon earth, which is the very region 
 of death and mortality, without any change at all, 
 what else would this be, but, as Plotinus the 
 philosopher writes against the Gnostics, syeiQsa-Qou 
 ii$ aXXov UTTVOV, to be raised up to a second sleep ; 
 or to be entombed again in living sepulchres? 
 " For, the corruptible body presseth down the 
 soul, and the earthly tabernacle weigheth down 
 the mind, that museth upon many things." Where- 
 fore, we must needs explode that old Jewish con- 
 ceit, commonly entertained amongst the rabbinical 
 writers to this day, that the future resurrection is to 
 be understood of such gross and corruptible bodies, 
 
THE CHRISTIAN'S VICTORY, [CUDWORTH. 
 
 as.these are here upon earth, to eat, drink, marry, 
 and be given in marriage, and, which must needs 
 follow, afterward to die again. Nachmanides, in 
 his Shaar Haggemul, is the only Jewish author 
 who ventures to depart from the common road 
 here, and to abandon this popular error of the 
 Jews, endeavouring to prove, that the bodies of 
 the just, after the resurrection, shall not eat and 
 drink, but be glorified bodies : but Abravanel * 
 confutes him with no other argument than this ; 
 that this was the doctrine and opinion of the 
 Christians. Let us, therefore, now consider, how 
 abundantly God has provided for us by Jesus 
 Christ, in respect both of our souls, and of our 
 bodies ; of our souls, in freeing us by the Spirit of 
 Christ, if we be not wanting to ourselves, from the 
 slavery of sin, and from the bondage of the law, as it 
 is a letter only ; of our bodies, in that this corrupti- 
 ble shall put on incorruption, and this mortal shall 
 put on immortality, and these vile bodies shall be 
 made like unto Christ's glorious body. In both of 
 which, the complete salvation of man consists ; in the 
 perfection and happiness both of soul and body. For, 
 though our salvation consists chiefly in the former, 
 in the victory over sin, and in the renovation of the 
 mind, yet without the latter, which is the victory 
 
 * In Nachalath Avoth, cap. 4. This is the very same with 
 the opinion of the Christians, who hold, that after the resurrec- 
 tion, men shall not eat, drink, marry, or be given in marriage, 
 or die again, but continue eternally in those bodies, resembling 
 the heavenly bodies ; and these they vulgarly call glorified bo- 
 dies. 
 
SERM. II.] OVER SIN, THE LAW, AND DEATH. 513 
 
 over death, and the immortalizing of our bodies, it 
 would be a very lame and imperfect thing. For 
 righteousness alone, if it should dwell always in 
 such inconvenient houses, as these earthly taberna- 
 cles are, however the high-flown Stoic may boast, 
 could not render our condition otherwise, than 
 troublesome, solicitous, and calamitous. Where- 
 fore, the holy men in Scripture, not without cause, 
 longed for this future change : " We groan within 
 ourselves, waiting for the adoption, to wit, the re- 
 demption of our bodies." "In this we groan 
 earnestly, desiring to be clothed upon with our 
 house, which is from heaven." But there is no 
 obtaining this future victory over death and mor- 
 tality, except we first get a victory over sin here. 
 For this is that crown of life, which Christ, the 
 first-begotten from the dead, will set upon the 
 heads of none, but those, who have here fought 
 a good fight, and overcome. For, as death pro- 
 ceeds only from sin and disobedience, so, the way 
 to conquer death, and to arrive at life and im- 
 mortality, is, by seeking after an inward conquest 
 over sin. For "righteousness is immortal," and 
 will immortalize the entertainers of it.* Hitherto 
 we have shown, what the great things are, which 
 we hope to attain by Christ, and after which we are 
 to endeavour ; namely, to procure an inward and 
 real victory over sin, by the Spirit of Christ, that 
 
 * As the Chaldee oracle speaks : 
 
 L L 
 
5l4f THE CHRISTIAN'S VICTORY, [CUDWORTH. 
 
 so, we may hereafter attain a victory over death 
 and mortality. We cannot, now, but take notice 
 briefly of some errors, of those, who, either pre- 
 tending the impossibility of this inward victory 
 over sin, or else hypocritically declining the com- 
 bat, make up a certain religion to themselves, out 
 of other things, which are either impertinent, and 
 nothing to the purpose, or else evil and noxious. 
 
 For, first, some, as was intimated before, make 
 to themselves a mere fantastical and imaginary 
 religion ; they conceit that there is nothing for 
 them to do, but confidently to believe, that all is 
 already done for them ; that they are dearly be- 
 loved of God, without any conditions or qualifica- 
 tions to make them lovely. But such a faith as 
 this, is nothing but mere fancy and carnal imagin- 
 ation, proceeding from that natural self-love, with 
 which men fondly dote upon themselves, and are apt 
 to think, that God loves them as fondly and as par- 
 tially, as they love themselves, tying his affection to 
 their particular outward persons, to their very flesh 
 and blood : thus, making God a being like unto 
 themselves, that is, wholly actuated by arbitrary self- 
 will, fondness, and partiality ; and perverting the 
 whole nature and design of religion, which is, not 
 a mere pharitastry and historical show, but a real 
 victory over the real evil of sin ; without which, 
 neither can God take pleasure in any man's person, 
 nor can there be any possibility of happiness, any 
 real turning of the soul from darkness unto light, 
 from the power of Satan unto God. 
 
SERM. II.] OVER SIN, THE LAW, AND DEATH. 515 
 
 Again, some there are, who, instead of walking 
 in the narrow way, which Christ commends, of sub- 
 duing and mortifying our sinful appetites, make to 
 themselves certain other narrow ways of affected 
 singularity, in things which belong not to life and 
 godliness; outward strictnesses and severities, of 
 their own chusing and devising; and who persuade 
 themselves, that this is the strait gate and narrow 
 way of Christ, which leadeth unto life. Whereas, 
 these are, indeed, nothing else but some particular 
 paths, and narrow slices, cut out of the broad 
 way. For, though they have an outward and 
 seeming narrowness, yet they are so broad within, 
 that camels with their burthens, may easily pass 
 through them. These, instead of taking up Christ's 
 cross upon them, make to themselves certain crosses 
 of their own; and, laying them upon their shoulders 
 and carrying them, please themselves with a con- 
 ceit, that they bear the cross of Christ ; while, in 
 truth and reality, they are frequently too much 
 strangers to that cross, by which the world should 
 be crucified to them, and they unto the world. 
 
 Some place all their religion in endless scrupu- 
 losities about indifferent things, neglecting, in the 
 mean time, the more weighty matters, both of law 
 and gospel ; straining at a gnat, and swallowing 
 a camel ; that is, being not so scrupulous, as they 
 ought to be, about the substantials of religion, and 
 a good life. For, as we ought not to place the 
 chief of our religion in the mere observance of out- 
 ward rites and ceremonies, whilst, in the mean time, 
 
 L L 2 
 
516 THE CHRISTIAN'S VICTORY, [CUDWORTH. 
 
 we hypocritically neglect the morals and substan- 
 tiate, which may deservedly be branded with the 
 name of superstition : so, we ought to know, that it 
 is equal superstition, to have such an abhorrence of 
 indifferent things, as to make it the main of our 
 religion to abstain from them. Both of these argue 
 equal ignorance of the nature of God, as if he 
 were some morose, humorous, and captious being ; 
 and of that righteousness, in which the kingdom 
 of God consists ; as if these outward and indifferent 
 things could either hallow or defile our souls, or as 
 if salvation and damnation depended upon the 
 mere using or not using of them. The Apostle 
 himself instructs us, that the kingdom of God con- 
 sists no more in uncircumcision than in circum- 
 cision; that is, no more in not using outward 
 ceremonies and indifferent things, than in using 
 them. Wherefore, the negative superstition is equal 
 to the positive. And both of them alike call off men's 
 attention from the main objects of religion, by en- 
 gaging them over-much in small and little things. 
 But the sober Christian, who neither places all his 
 religion in external observances, nor yet is super- 
 stitiously anti-ceremonial, as he will think himself 
 obliged to have a due regard to the commands of 
 lawful authority, in adiaphorous things, and to pre- 
 fer the peace and unity of the Christian church, 
 and the observation of the royal law of charity, be- 
 fore the satisfaction of any private humour or 
 interest, so he will be aware of that extreme, into 
 which many run, of banishing away, quite out of 
 
SEUM. II.] OVER SIN, THE LAW, AND DEATH. 517 
 
 the world, all the solemnity of external worship, the 
 observance of the Lord's day, and the participation 
 of the Christian sacraments, under the notion of 
 useless ceremonies. To conclude ; unless there be 
 a due and timely regard had to the commands of 
 lawful authority, in indifferent things, and to order, 
 peace, and unity in the church, it may easily be fore- 
 seen, that the reformed part of Christendom will 
 be brought to confusion, and at length to utter 
 ruin by crumbling into infinite sects and divisions. 
 Again, many mistake the vices of their natural 
 complexion for supernatural and divine graces. 
 Some think that dull and stupid melancholy, is 
 Christian mortification : others, that turbulent and 
 fiery zeal, is the vigour of the Spirit. Whereas, 
 zeal is one of those things, which Aristotle calls of a 
 middle nature ; neither good nor bad in itself, but 
 which, as it is circumstanced, may indifferently be- 
 come either virtue or vice. For there is a bitter 
 zeal, as the Apostle calls it, which is contrary to all 
 Christian love and charity ; and which is nothing 
 else, but the vices of acerbity, envy, malice, cruelty, 
 tinctured and gilded over with a religious show. 
 And there may be also a turbulent and factious 
 zeal, when men, under a pretence of acting for the 
 glory of God, violate just and lawful authority, in 
 order to the advancement of their own private self- 
 interest. Indeed, there was amongst the Jews a 
 certain right, called the right of zealots ; by which 
 private persons, actuated by a zeal for God, might 
 do immediate execution upon certain malefactors, 
 
518 THE CHRIST FAN'S VICTORY, [CUD WORTH. 
 
 without expecting the sentence of any court of judi- 
 cature. And some conceive, that, by this right of 
 zealots, our Saviour whipped the buyers and sellers 
 out of the temple, and overturned the tables of the 
 money-changers ; because he was never called into 
 question by the Jews, for those acts. But this was 
 then a legal and regular usage, permitted, in some 
 certain cases, by the public laws of that nation ; yet 
 so, as that those zealots were afterward accountable 
 to the Sanhedrim, for what they did. However, a 
 little before the destruction of the temple, as 
 Josephus tells us, there were a crew of desperate 
 miscreants, who, abusing this right, and calling 
 themselves by the name of zealots, made a pre- 
 text from thence to commit most villainous actions. 
 And I wish some had not too much entertained 
 the opinion, that private persons might reform 
 public abuses, whether belonging to the eccle- 
 siastical or the civil polity, without and against the 
 consent of the supreme magistrate, in a turbulent 
 manner, by the right of zealots ; nay, and that 
 actions, otherwise altogether unwarrantable in them* 
 selves, may be justified, by zeal for God, and good 
 ends. But God needs no man's zeal, to promote 
 an imaginary interest of his in the world, by doing 
 unjust things for him. " Will you speak wickedly 
 for God, or talk deceitfully for him ? will you 
 accept his person?" was the generous expostu- 
 lation of Job with his friends ; and he tells them in 
 the following words, that this was nothing else, but 
 " to mock God, as one* man mocketh another." 
 
SERM. II.] OVER SIN, THE LAW, AND DEATH. 519 
 
 True divine zeal is no corybantic fury ; it is a 
 calm and regular heat, guided and managed by 
 light and prudence, and carried out principally, 
 neither for, nor against, indifferent rites and unne- 
 cessary opinions, but for those things which are im- 
 mutably good, and fundamental to Christianity; 
 always acknowledging a due subordination to that 
 authority, civil and ecclesiastical, which is over us. 
 
 Lastly, some there are, whose pretence to reli- 
 gion and the Spirit is founded in nothing else but 
 a faculty of rhetoricating and extemporizing with 
 zeal and fervency; which they take to be nothing 
 less than divine inspiration, and that which the 
 Scripture calls " praying in the Holy Ghost," an 
 undoubted character of a person truly regenerated. 
 This is a great delusion, by which many are 
 hindered from seeking after the real effects of the 
 divine Spirit ; idolizing, instead of it, that which is 
 merely natural, if not artificial : I think it not im- 
 pertinent, therefore, here to speak a little of it. And 
 certainly, that, which is frequently attained to, in 
 the very height, by persons grossly hypocritical and 
 debauched, can never be concluded to be divine 
 inspiration, can never proceed from any higher 
 principle, than mere natural enthusiasm. For there 
 is not a only a poetical enthusiasm, of which Plato 
 discourses in his Ion, but, though oratory be a more 
 sober thing, there is a rhetorical enthusiasm also, 
 which makes men very eloquent, affectionate, and 
 bewitching in their language, beyond what the 
 power of any bare art and precepts could enable 
 
520 THE CHRISTIAN'S VICTORY, [CUDWORTH. 
 
 them to reach ; insomuch that both poets and 
 orators have, oftentimes, fancied themselves to be 
 indeed divinely inspired : as those known verses 
 testify : 
 
 Est Deus in nobis, agitante calescimus illo; 
 
 And, 
 
 Sedibus aethereis Spiritus ille venit. 
 
 And, concerning orators, the like might be 
 proved, if the time would here permit, by sundry 
 testimonies. But I shall here instance only in 
 Aristides, a famous orator, who not only speaks 
 positively of himself, as inspired in his orations, 
 but affirms the same also, concerning rhetoric in 
 genera], when it is extraordinary, that it comes by 
 immediate inspiration, as oracles and prophecies 
 do, and not from art or nature. Wherefore, it is 
 not at all to be wondered at, if, when men are em- 
 ployed in religious arid devotional exercises, the 
 same natural enthusiasm, (especially having the 
 advantage of religious melancholy, which makes 
 men still more enthusiastical,) should so wing and 
 inspire the fancies of these religious orators, as to 
 make them wonderfully fluent, eloquent, and rap- 
 turous, so that they beget strange passions in their 
 auditors, and conclude themselves to be divinely 
 inspired. Whereas, they may, in fact, have no 
 more of divine inspiration in all this, than those 
 poets and orators before mentioned had; that is 
 to say, they are no otherwise inspired, than by a 
 rhetorical or hypochondriacal enthusiasm, which is 
 
am 
 
 SERM. II.] OVER SIN, THE LAW, AND DEATH. 
 
 j/n ot 
 merely natural. But it is far from my intention 
 
 here to disparage the sincere and ardent affections 
 of devout souls, naturally and freely breathing out 
 their earnest desires unto God in private ; although, 
 perhaps, this be not without some kind of enthusiasm 
 also. For enthusiasm, as well as zeal, and other 
 natural things, may be well used, and, being 
 rightly circumstantiated and subservient to a better 
 principle, becomes irreprehensible. Some have 
 observed, that no great work of the brain, which 
 begot much admiration in the world, was ever 
 achieved without some kind of enthusiasm ; and 
 the same may be affirmed, of the most transcend- 
 ently virtuous and heroical actions. But then, the 
 goodness of these actions is never to be estimated, 
 merely by the degree of enthusiastic heat and ardour 
 that is in them, but by such other laws and cir- 
 cumstances, as moralize human actions. Where- 
 fore, my meaning, as I said before, is only this, 
 to caution men against that vulgar and popular 
 error, of mistaking the natural and enthusiastical 
 fervour of their spirits, and the ebulliency of their 
 fancy, when it is tinctured with religion, and 
 against idolizing it, as though it were the super- 
 natural grace of God's Holy Spirit ; to caution 
 them, in a word, against the error, of looking 
 for the effect of God's Spirit principally in words 
 and talk, and against thinking, that God is 
 chiefly glorified with a loud noise, and long 
 speeches. For the true demonstration of God's 
 Holy Spirit is no where to be looked for, but 
 
 M M 
 
THE CHRISTIAN'S VICTORY. [CUDWORTH. 
 
 in life and action, or in such earnest and affec- 
 tionate breathings after a further participation of 
 the divine image, as are accompanied with real 
 and unfeigned endeavours to attain it : this is the 
 true praying in the Holy Ghost, though there be 
 no extemporaneous effusion of words. And, there- 
 fore, when some Corinthians were puffed up, by 
 reason of a faculty which they had of rhetoricating 
 religiously, Saint Paul, like an apostle, tells them, 
 that he would come amongst them and " know, 
 not the speech of them that were puffed up, but 
 the power. For the kingdom of God consisteth 
 not in word, but in power and life." Wherefore, 
 laying aside these, and similar childish mistakes, 
 and things which are little to the purpose, let us 
 seriously apply ourselves to the main work of our 
 religion : that is, to mortify and vanquish our sinful 
 natures, by the assistance of God's Holy Spirit, 
 through faith in Christ ; that so, being dead to sin 
 here, we may live with God eternally hereafter. 
 
 THE END. 
 
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