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 TREATISE 
 
 ON 
 
 S^mS^^^H^ Wmm® ©a I 
 
 SHEWING 
 
 THE NATURE AND BENEFIT 
 
 OF THAT 
 
 IMPORTANT SCIENCE, 
 
 AND 
 
 THE WAY TO ATTAIN IT: 
 
 INTERMIXED WITH 
 
 IREFLECTIONS AND OBSERVATIONS 
 
 ON 
 
 HUMAN NAfURE. 
 
 BY JOHN MASON, A. M. 
 
 L EXINGT ON, KY. 
 
 182^. ' ' ^
 
 ^V'^.M^'^ 
 
 -'^.^
 
 CONTENTS: 
 
 r53 
 
 1^7 
 
 Fage/ 
 
 Dedication, 5 
 
 Preface, T 
 
 PART I. 
 
 Chap. I. The nature and importance of tlie subject, IS 
 Cii.AP. II. The several branches of Self-knowledg^e. 
 We must know what sort of creatures we are, and 
 what we shall be, 22 
 
 Chap. III. The several relations wherein we stand 
 to God, to Christ, and our fellow creatures, 28 
 
 « Chap. IV. We must duly consider the rank and sta- 
 tion of life in wliich Providence has placed us, and 
 p^ what it is tliat becomes and adorns it, 4S 
 
 ^ Chap. V. Every man should be well acquainted wiih 
 CO his own talents and capacities, and in what man- 
 ^ ner they arc to he exercised and improved to tlie 
 oe greatest advantap:c, 49 
 
 OS Chap. Vi. We must be well acquainted with our 
 S inabilities, and tliose thinj^s in which we are natu- 
 rally deficient, as well as those in which w& excel» 52 
 Chap. Vll. Concerning tlie knowledge of our con- 
 ^ slitiitional sins, 55 
 
 Chap. VIII. The knowledge of our most dangoi'ous 
 
 01 tempatioDS necessary to self-knowledg-c, GO 
 g Chap. IX. Self-knowledge discovers the secret pre- 
 
 2 judiccs of the heart, G4 
 Chap. X. The necessity and means of knowing our 
 
 natural temper, 77 
 
 Chap. XI. Concerning the secret springs of our ac- 
 © tions, 84 
 
 CiiKv. XIT. Every one that knows himself, is in a par- 
 jr licular manner sensible how fur he is governed by a 
 
 S thirst for applause, 87 
 
 ■ Cirxp. XIII. iVhat kind of knowledge we are already 
 furnished with, and what degree of esteem we set 
 '^ upon it, 91 
 
 Chap. XIV. Concerning the knowledge, guard and 
 
 government of the thoughts, 98 
 
 ("hap. XV. Concerning the memory, 1 14 
 
 Chap. XVI. Concerning the mental taste, JIB 
 
 t-HAP. XVII. Of our great and governing views in 
 
 life, ^ ]04 
 
 Chap. XVIII. IIow to know the true state of our 
 souls; and whether we are fit to die, 127 
 
 UJ 
 
 4G1455
 
 i CONTENTS, 
 
 Pa§e 
 PART II. 
 
 Showing tliC great excellency and advantage of this 
 kind of science, 
 
 Chap. I. Self-knowledge the spring of self-possession, 131 
 
 *'iiAP II. Self-knowledge leads to a wise and steady 
 conduct, 13G 
 
 Chap. III. Humility the effect of self-Imowledge, 137 
 
 Chap. IV. Charity another effect of self-knowledge. 139 
 
 (.'hap. V. Moderation the effect of self-knowledge, 142 
 
 Chap. VI. Self-knuwletige improves the judgment, 145 
 
 C'hap. Vll. Self-knowledge directs to the proper ex- 
 ercise of self-denial, 148 
 
 CriAP. Vlfl. Self-knowledge promotes our (isefulness 
 in the world, 152 
 
 Chap. IX. Self-knowledge leads to a decorum and 
 consistency of character, 155 
 
 . ;ap.X. Piety the effect of self-knowledge, 158- 
 
 Ci'Ap. XI. Self-knowledge teaches us rightly to per- 
 furm the duties of religion, 159 
 
 ( HAP. Xli. Self-knowledge the best preperation for 
 death, 163 
 
 PART III. 
 Siiowing how self-knowledge is to be attained, 165 
 
 I'uAP. I. Self-examination necessary to self-knowl- 
 edge. 168 
 
 Chap. II. Constant watchfulness necessary to self- 
 knowledge, 186 
 
 Chap. III. We should have seme regard to the cpin- 
 ions of others concerning us, particularly of our en- 
 emies, 188 
 
 Chap. IV. Frequent converse with superiors, a help 
 to self-knowledge, 191 
 
 Chap. V. Of cultivating such a temper as will be ihe 
 
 best disposition to self-knowledge, 193 
 
 Chap. VI. To be sensible of cur false knowledge, a 
 good step to self-knowledge, 196 
 
 Chap. VII. Self-inspection peculiarly necessary upon 
 some particular occasions, 199 
 
 Chap. VIII. To know ourselves, we must wholly ab- 
 stract from external appearances, 205 
 Chap. IX. The practice of self-knowledge a great 
 
 means to promote it, 20&- 
 
 Chap. X. Fervent and frequent prayer the most ef- 
 fectual means for attaining true self-knowledge, 217 
 ?*roTES, 2.2&
 
 DEDICATION. 
 
 TO SAMUEL LESINGHAM, Esq. 
 
 TREASURER OF ST. TUOMAS S HOSriTAL. 
 
 SIR, 
 
 MODESTY and self-diffidence arc llic allowed chari 
 acleristics of self-knowledge. If tlien my presuming to 
 address this piece to you may seem to discover more 
 assurance and self-confidence liian hccomes a true ac- 
 quaintance with the suhject 1 write upon, 1 have only this 
 to say — your known condescension and candour have 
 encouraged that presumption; nor ran any thing animate 
 an address of this nature more, than an assurance that 
 the person to whom it is made, has so good an underfctard- 
 ing in the practical part of tiiis subject as Avill incline him 
 to excuse the defects that may appear in the management 
 of it. 
 
 But after all, Sir, my own proficiency in this science 
 is so poor, that I dare not be confidcnt'l am nut wrong in 
 my views, with which 1 desire this small tract may appear 
 under your patronage. That it may have refuge from the 
 petulance of censure, an encouragement in tiie publication, 
 and I, at the same time, an opportunity of testifying 
 my grateful sense of many past favours, arc my open 
 and avowed ends herein. But still, whether an ambition 
 to be known to the world under the advantage of your 
 friendsliip, be not the secret and true motive, 1 cannot be 
 certain. 
 
 However, if in this point I may be mistaken, there is 
 another in whii-h I think I cannot; and that is, that it 
 is at least a pardonable ambition, in which I shall cer- 
 tainly stand acquitted by every one who ki-.ows your 
 character, tlie delicacy of your taste in the choi<:e of yunr 
 friends, and the rcu.1 honour it docs to those you a.rc 
 pleased to ad.mit into that number.
 
 ^ DEDICATION. 
 
 But, even this, sir, your penetration will soon discover 
 to proceed from the same vanity I before suspected myself 
 to be guilty of. And the world will judge, that I speak 
 it rather to do myself honour than you. However, I am 
 beforehand with them iu the observation. And that I 
 jnay not be tempted, in this address, to enhance your 
 character (according to the usual style of dedications) in 
 order to do honour to my own, and at once oppress your 
 modesty and expose my vanity, I shall put an end to it 
 without so much as attempting to describe a character, 
 which I shall, however, always aim to imitate. 
 
 But that you may continue to adorn that public and 
 useful station you are in, and long live a patron and 
 pattern of solid and disinterested virtue; and that your 
 many charitable offices, and good works on earth, may 
 meet with a large and late reward in heaven, is the hearty 
 prayer of, 
 
 Sir, 
 Your much obliged, and very humble servant, 
 
 J. MASON. 
 
 Dorking, Jan. 31, 1744-r-3<.
 
 PREFACE. 
 
 THE subject of the ensuing treatise i» of great im- 
 portance; and yet I do not remember to have seen it 
 cultivated With that precision, perspicuity, and force with 
 which many other moral and ttieological themes have 
 been managed. And indeed it is but rarely that we find 
 it professedly and fully recommended to us in a set and 
 regular discourse, either from the pulpit or the press. 
 This consideration, together with a full persuaion of its 
 great and extensive usefulness, hath excited the present 
 attempt to render it more familiar to the minds of Chris- 
 ians. 
 
 Mr. Baxter, indeed, has a treatise on this subject, en- 
 titled, The Mischief of Self-lguurance, and the Benefit of 
 Self-Acquaintance. And I freely acknowledge some helps* 
 I have received from him. But he hath handled it (ac- 
 cording to his manner) in so lax and diffuse a way, intro- 
 ducing so many things into it that are foreign from it, 
 omitting others that properly belong to it, and skimmin"- 
 over some with a too superficial notice, that I own 1 found 
 myself much disappointed in what I expected from liira; and 
 was convinced that something more correct, nervous, and 
 methodical, was wanting on this subject. 
 
 1 am far from having the vanity to think that this which 
 I now offer to the public, is entirely free from tliose faults 
 which 1 have remarked in that pious and excellent au- 
 thor; and am sensible, that if 1 do not fall under a much 
 heavier censure myself, it must be owing to the great can- 
 dour of my reader, which he will be convinced I have 
 some title to, if he but duly consider the nature and ex- 
 tent of the subject. For it is almost impossible to Idt the 
 thoughts run freely upon so copious and comprehensive a 
 theme, in order to do justice to it, without taking too large 
 a scope in some particulars that have a close connexion 
 with it; as I fear 1 have done (Part I. Ciiap. XIV.) con- 
 cerning the kuowiedge, guard uud goveruiuent ef the 
 thoughts. 
 
 ^
 
 •» PREFACE. 
 
 But there is a great difference between a short, occa- 
 sional and useful digression, and wide rambling from the 
 subject, by following the impulse of a luxuriant fancy. A 
 judicious taste can hardly excuse the latter; though it 
 may be content the author should gather a few flowers out 
 of the common road, provided he soon returns into it 
 again. 
 
 This brings to my mind another thing, for which, I am 
 sure, I have great reason to claim the reader's indulgence; 
 and that is, the free use I have made of some of the an- 
 cient heathen writers, in my marginal quotations, which I 
 own looks like an ostentation of reading, which I always 
 abhorred. But it was conversing with those authors that 
 first turned my thoughts to this subject. And the good 
 sense I met with in most of their aphorisms and sentiments 
 gave me an esteem for them; and made it difficult for 
 me to resist the temptation of transcribing several of 
 them, which I thought pertinent to the matter in hand. 
 In this edition, they are placed at the close of the work; 
 and if the reader thinks they will too much interrupt the 
 course of the subject, he may entirely omit reading them, 
 though by that means he will perhaps lose the benefit of 
 some of the finest sentiments in the book. 
 
 I remember a modern writer, I have very lately read, 
 is grievously offended whh Mr. Addison for so much as 
 mentioning the name of Plato, and presuming in one of 
 his Spectators to deliver his notions of humour in a kind 
 of allegory, ^fter the manner of that Greek author; which 
 he calls a formal method of trifling, introduced under a 
 deep ostentation of learning, which deserves the severest 
 rebuke. And perhaps a more severe one was never given 
 upon so small a provocation. From gentlemen of so re- 
 fined and delicate a taste I can expect no mercy. But 
 the public is to judge, whether this be not as culpable an 
 affectation as the contrary one, which prevailed so much 
 in the last century. 
 
 One great view I had in mine eye, when I put these 
 thoughts together, was the benefit of youth, and especially 
 those of them that are students and candidates for the sa- 
 cred ministry; for which they will find no science more 
 immediately necessary (next to a good acquaintance with 
 the word of God) than that which is recommended to 
 them in the following treatise; to which every branch of 
 human litcrsiture is subordinate, and ought to be subservi' 
 
 S^^
 
 PREFACE. 9 
 
 eat. For certaift it is, the great end of philosophy, both 
 natural and moral, is to know ourselves and to know- 
 God. The highest learni.ior is to be wise, and the great- 
 est wisdom is to be good; as Marcus Antoninus some- 
 where observes. 
 
 It has often occurred to my mind, in digesting my 
 thoughts upon this subject, what a pity it is that this most 
 useful science should be so generally neglected in the 
 modern methods of education; and that preceptors and 
 tutors, both in public and private seminaries of learning, 
 should foro-et that the forming the manners is more neces- 
 sary to a finished education than furnishing tie minds of 
 youth. Socrates, who made all his philusopliy subservi- 
 ent to morality, was of this sentiment; and took more 
 pains to rectify the tempers than replenish the under- 
 standings of his pupils; and looked upon all ki owlcdge 
 as useless speculation, that was not brosight to this end, 
 to make us wiser and better men. And, without dcubt< 
 if in the academy the youth has Oiice happily learned the 
 great art of irianaging his temper, governing his passions, 
 and guarding his i"oibles, he will find a more solid advan- 
 tage from it in after life, tliau he could expect from the 
 belt acquaintance with all the systems of ancient and 
 modern philosophy. 
 
 It was a very just and sensible answer, which Agcsi- 
 laus, the Spartan King, returned to one who asked him. 
 What it was in which youth ought principally to be in- 
 structed? He replied. That which they have most need 
 to practise when they are men. Were this single rule 
 but carefully attended to in the method of educaticm, it 
 might probably be conducted in a manner much more to 
 the' advantage of our youth than it ordinarily is. For, as 
 Dr. Fuller observes, that pains we take in books or arts, 
 wliich t rcaTofthings remote from the use of life, is but a 
 busy idleness. And what is there in life which youth 
 will have a more frequent occasion to jiractisc than this"? 
 What is there which tliey afterwards more regret the want 
 of! What is tiiere in wJiich tiiey want more direction and 
 assitance than the right government of their passions and 
 prejudices! And wiiat more proper season to receive 
 those assistances, and to lay a foundation for this diilicult 
 but very important science, than tli€ early part of youth! 
 It may be said, "It is pnqurly the office and care of 
 parents to watch over and correct the tempers of their
 
 I^ PREFACB. 
 
 children in the first years of their infancy, when it may 
 easiest be done." But if it be not done effectually then, 
 (as it very seldom is) there is the more necessity for it 
 afterwards. But the truth is, it is the proper office and 
 care of all who have the charge of youth, and ought to 
 be looked upon as the most important and necessary part 
 of education, 
 
 It was the observatioji of a great divine and reformer, 
 that he who acquires his learning at the expense of his 
 morals, is the worse for his education. And we may add, 
 that he who does not improve his temper, together with 
 his understanding, is not much the Letter for it. for 
 he ought to measure his progress in science by the im- 
 provement of his morals; and remember that he is no 
 no further a learned man than he is a wise and good man; 
 and that he cannot be a finished philosopher till he is a 
 Christian. But whence is it that moral philosophy, which 
 was so carefully cultivated in the ancient academy, should 
 be forced in the modern to give place to natural, that 
 was oricrinally d signed to be subservient to it^ Which 
 is to exalt the handmaid into the place of the mistress. 
 This appears not only a preposterous but a pernicious 
 method of instruction. For as the mind takes a turn of 
 thought in future life, suitable to the tincture it hath re- 
 ceived in youth, it will naturally conclude, that there is 
 no necessity to regard, or at least to lay any stress upon, 
 what was never inculcated upon it as a matter of import- 
 ance then. And so will grow up in a neglect or disesteem 
 of those things whicli are more necessary to make a per- 
 son a wise and truly understanding man, than all those ru- 
 diments of science he brought with him from the school or 
 college. 
 
 It is really a melancholy thing to see a young gentle- 
 man of sliining parts, and a sweet disposition, who has 
 gone through the common course of academical studies, 
 come out into the world under an absolute government 
 of his passions and prejudices: which have increased with 
 his learning, and which, when he comes to be better ac- 
 quainted with human life and human nature, he is soon 
 sensible and ashamed of; but perhaps is never able to 
 conquer as long as he lives, for want of that assistance 
 which he ought to have received in his education. For a 
 wrong education is one of those three things to which it is 
 owing (as an ancient Christian and philosopher justly
 
 rREFACE. 
 
 A 
 
 obserres) that so few have the right government of their 
 passions. 
 
 I would not be thought to depreciate any part of liu^ 
 jnan literature, but should be glad to see this most use- 
 ful branch 6f science, tije knowledge of the heart, the 
 detecting and correcting turtful prejudices, and the right 
 government of tlie temper and passions, in more general 
 esteem; as necessary at once to form the geutlemau, the 
 scholar, and the Christian- 
 
 And if there be any thing in this short treatise wliich 
 may be helpful to students, who have a regard to the right 
 government of their minds, whilst they are furnisliing 
 hem with useful knowledge, I would particularly recom- 
 mend it to their perusal. 
 
 1 have nothing further to add, but to desire the read- 
 er's excuse for the freedom with which I have delivered 
 my sentiments in this matter, and for detaining him so 
 long from his subject; which 1 now leave to his candid and 
 serious thoughts, and Ibe blessing of Almighty God ^ 
 
 mi^« it ueefiU to hi/a^
 
 A 
 iTtEATlSE 
 
 OM 
 
 ommi^^miro w^iB ©^1 
 
 egi<> 
 
 PART L 
 
 CHAPTER 1. 
 
 7'Ac JYatiwe and Importance of the Subject. 
 -.1' 
 
 A DESIRE of knowledge is natural to 
 the mind of man. And nothing discovers 
 the true quality and disposition of the mind 
 more, than the particular kind of knowl- 
 edge it is most fond of 
 
 Thus we see that low and little minds 
 are most delightejd with tlie knowledge of 
 trifles; as in children. An indolent mind, 
 with that which serves only for amusement, 
 or tlic entertainment of tlie fancy. A cu- 
 rious mind is hest pleased with facts. A 
 judicious, penetrating mind, with demon- 
 stration and mathematical science. A 
 
 worldly mind esteems no knowledge like 
 
 9
 
 14 THE NATURE AND IMPORTANCE 
 
 that of the world. But a wise and piou? 
 inan, before all other kinds of knowl- 
 edge, prefers that of God and his own soul. 
 
 But some kind of knowledge or other 
 the mind is continually craving after. And 
 by considering what that is, its prevailing 
 turn and temper may easily be known. 
 
 This desire of knowledge, like other af- 
 fections planted in our nature, vvill be very 
 apt to lead us wrong, if it be not well reg- 
 ulated. When it is directed to improper 
 objects, or pursued in a wrong manner, it 
 degenerates into a vain and criminal curi- 
 osity. A fatal instance of this in our first 
 parents wo have upon sacred record: the 
 vmhappy effects of which are but too visi- 
 ble in all. 
 
 Self-knowledge is the subject of the en- 
 suing treatise, A subject which, the more 
 I think of, the more important and exten- 
 sive it appears. So important, that every 
 branch of it seems absolutely necessary to 
 the right government of the life and tem- 
 per. And so extensive, that the nearer 
 view we take of its several branches, the 
 more are still opening to view, as nearly 
 connected with it as the other. Like what we 
 find in microscopical observations on natu- 
 ral objects. The better the glasses, and the 
 Hearer the scrutinv. the more wonders we
 
 OF SELF-KNOWLEDGE. 15 
 
 explore; and llic more surprising discover- 
 ies we make of certain properties, parts or 
 affections belonging to them, which were 
 never before thought of. For in order to a 
 true self-knowledge, the human mind,v/itli 
 its various powers and operations, must be 
 narrowly inspected, nil its secret bcndings 
 and doublings displayed. Otherwise our 
 self-acquaintance will be but very partial 
 and defective ; and the heart, after all, will 
 deceive us. So that, in treating tiiis sub- 
 ject, tliere is no small danger, either of do- 
 ing injury to it, by slight and superficial in- 
 quest on the one hand, or of running into a 
 research too minute and philosophical for 
 common use o-n the other. The two ex- 
 tremes I shall keep in my eye, and endeav- 
 our to steer a middle course between them. 
 
 Know thyself, i? one of the most useful 
 and comprehensive precepts in the whole 
 moral system. And a is well known in 
 how great a veneration this maxim was 
 held by the ancients; and in how high es- 
 teem the duty of self-examination, as ne- 
 cessary to it. 
 
 Thales, the Milesian, is said to be the 
 first author of it ; [1] who used to say, that 
 
 [1] See the Notes at the end of this work. All the 
 figures inclosed in brackets, refer to those Notes^
 
 16 THE NATURE AND IMPORTANCE 
 
 for a man to know liiraself is tlie hardest 
 thing in the world. It was afterwards 
 adopted by Chylon,the Lacedemonian ; and 
 is one of those three precepts vA'hich Pliny 
 affirms to have been consecrated at Delphos 
 in golden letters. It was afterwards great- 
 ly admired and frequently used by others; 
 [2] till at length, it acquired the authority 
 of a divine oracle : and was supposed to 
 have been given originally by Apollo him- 
 self. Of which general opinion Cicero 
 gives us this reason: "Because it hath such 
 a weight of sense and wisdom in it as ap- 
 pears too great to be attributed to any 
 man." [3] And this opinion of its coming 
 originally from Apollo himself, perhaps was 
 the reason that it v,as written in golden 
 capitals over the door of his temple at 
 Delplios. 
 
 And why this excellent precept should 
 not be held in as hi?:h esteein in the Chris- 
 tian world as it was in the heathen, is hard 
 to conceive. Human nature is the same 
 now as it was then. The heart is as de- 
 ceitful ; and the necessity of watching, 
 knowing, and keeping it, the same. Nor 
 are we less assured that this precept is di- 
 vine. Nay, we have a much greater assu- 
 rance of this than the heathens had; they 
 supposed it came down from heaven, we
 
 QF SELF-KNOWLEDGE. 17 
 
 know it did: what they conjectured, wc 
 are sure of. For this sacred oracle is dic- 
 tated to us in a manifold light, and ex- 
 plained to us in various views by the Holy 
 Spirit, in that revelation which Gou hath 
 been pleased to give us as our guide to du- 
 ty and happiness; by which, as in a glass, 
 we may survey ourselves, and know what 
 manner of persons we are. (James i. 23.) 
 
 This discovers ourselves to us; pierces 
 into the inmost recesses of the mind ; strips 
 off every disguise; lays open the inward 
 part; makes a strict scrutiny into the very 
 soul and spirit, and critically judges of thc 
 thoughts and intents of the heart. It shows 
 us with what exactness and care we are to 
 search and try our spirits, examine our- 
 selves, and watch our ways, and keep our 
 Jiearts, in order to acij^uire this important 
 self-science; which it often calls us to do. 
 Examine yourselves. Prove your own 
 selves; know ye not yourselves'/ [4] Let 
 a man examine himself. (1 Cor. xi. 28.) Our 
 Saviour upbraids his disciples with tlieiv 
 self-ignorance, in not knowing what man- 
 ner of spirit they were of. (Luke ix. 55.) 
 And, saith the apostle, If a man (through 
 self-ignorance) thinketh himself to be 
 something, when he is nothing, jic deceiv- 
 oth himself. But let every man niovc his
 
 18 THE NATURE AND IMPORTANCE 
 
 work, and then shall he have rejoicing ia 
 himself, and not in another. (Gal.v.3.) Here 
 we are com m a nded, instead of judging a.thers, 
 to judge ourselves; and to avoid the in- 
 excusable rashness of condemning others 
 for the very crimes we ourselves are guil- 
 ty of, (Rom. ii. 1, 21, 22,) which a self-ig- 
 norant man is very apt to do; nay, to be 
 more offended at a small blemish in anotb- 
 er'*s character, than at a greater in his 
 own; which folly, self-ignorance, and hy- 
 pocrisy, our Saviour, with just severity, ani- 
 madverts upon, Matthew vii. 3 — 5. 
 
 And what stress was laid upon this un- 
 der the Old Testament disj)ensation, ap- 
 pears sufficiently from those expressions — 
 Keep thy heart with all diligence. (Prov. iv. 
 23.) Commune with your own heart. (Psal. 
 iv. 4.) Search me O, God, and know my 
 heart ; try nte, and know mv thoughts. (Psal. 
 cxxxix. 23.) Examine me, O Lord, and prove 
 me ; try my reins and my heart. (Psal. xxvi. 
 2.) 'Let US search and try our ways. (Lam. iii. 
 4.) Recollect [5J yourselves, O nation not 
 desired. (Zeph. ii. 1.) And all this is ne- 
 cessary to that self-acquaintance which 
 is the only proper basis of solid peace. [6] 
 
 Were mankind but more generally con- 
 vinced of the imporlnnce and necessity of 
 tlusself-knowledge,aadpossessedwithadu€
 
 «r SELF-KNOWLEDGE, l9 
 
 <iSteem for it; did they but know the true 
 way to attain it; and under a proper sense 
 of its excellence, ancT the fatal effects of 
 self-injnorance, did they but make it their 
 business and study every day to cultivate 
 it; how soon should we find a happy al- 
 teration in the manners and spirits of men! 
 — But the misery of it is, men will not 
 think; will not employ their thoughts in 
 good earnest, about the things which most 
 of all deserve and demand them. By which 
 unaccountable indolence, and aversion to 
 self-reflection, they are led blindfold and in- 
 sensibly into the most dangerous paths of 
 infidelity and wickedness, as the Jews 
 were heretofore: of whose amazing ingrat- 
 itude and apostacy God himself assigns this 
 single cause — My people do not consider, 
 (Isaiah, i. 3.) [7] 
 
 Self-knowledge is that acquaintance 
 with ourselves, which shows us wliat we 
 are, and do, and ought to be, and do in or- 
 der to our living conifortabiy and usefully 
 here, and happily hereafter. The means 
 of it is self-examination: the end of it self- 
 government, and self-fruition. It principal- 
 1}^ consists in the knowledge of our souls; 
 which is attained by a particular attention 
 to their various powers, capacities, j-.as- 
 sions, inclinytions, operations, state, hap-
 
 20 THE NATURE AND IMPORTANCE 
 
 piness and temper. For a man's soul is 
 properly himself. Matt. xvi. 26, compar- 
 ed with Luke ix. 25. [8J The body is but 
 the house, the soul is the tenant that in- 
 habits it: the body is the instrument, the 
 soul the artist that directs it. [9J 
 
 This science, which is to be the subject 
 of the ensuing treatise, hath these three pe- 
 culiar properities in it, which distinguish it 
 from, and render it preferable to all others. 
 — 1. It is equally attainable by all. It re- 
 quires no strength of memory, no force of 
 genius, no depth of penetration ; as many 
 other sciences do, to come at a tolerable 
 degree of acquaintance with them; which 
 therefore renders them inaccessible to the 
 greatest ]jart of mankind. Nor is it pla- 
 ced out of their reach through a want of 
 opportunity, and proper assistance and di- 
 rection how to acquire it; as many other 
 parts of learning are. Every one of a 
 common capacity hath the opportunity and 
 ability to attain it, if he will but recol- 
 lect his rambling tlioughts, turn them in 
 upon himself, watch the motions of his 
 heart, and compare them with his rule. — 2. 
 It is of equal importance to all, and of the 
 highest importance to every one. [10] Oth- 
 er sciences are suited to the various con- 
 ditions of life. Some, more necessary to
 
 OF SELF-KNOWLEDGE. 21 
 
 V 
 
 some; others, to otl\ers. But this equally 
 concerns every one that hath an immortal 
 soul, whose final happiness he desires and 
 seeks. — !3. Other knowledge is very apt to 
 make a man vain; this always keeps him 
 humble. JVay, it is for want of this knowl- 
 edge that men are vain of that they have. 
 Knovvledgepuffethup. (iCor.viii. 1.) A small 
 degree of knowledge often hath this effect on 
 weak minds. And the reason why greater 
 attainments in it have not so generally the 
 same effect, is, because they open and en- 
 large the views of the mind so far, as to 
 let into it at the same time a gocd degree 
 of self-knowledge. For the more true 
 knowledge a man hath, the more sensible 
 he is of the want of it; which keeps him 
 iuimble. 
 
 And now, reader, whoever thou art, 
 whatever be th\ character, station, or dis- 
 tinction in life, if thou art afraid to look in- 
 to thine heart, and hast no inclination to 
 self-acquaintance, read no farther: lay 
 aside this book; for thou wilt find nothing 
 here that will flatter thy self-esteem; but 
 perhaps something that may abate it. But 
 if thou art desirous to cultivate this im])ort- 
 ant kind of knowledge, and to live no 
 longer a stranger to thyself, proceed; and 
 keep thy eye open to thy own image, with
 
 22 WHEREIN SELF-KNOWLEDGE 
 
 whatever unexpected deformity it may 
 present itself to thee; and patiently at- 
 tend, whilst, by divine assistance, I endeav- 
 our to lay open thine own heart to thee, 
 and to lead thee to the true knowledge of 
 thyself, in the following Chapters 
 
 CHAP. II. 
 
 The several Branches of Self- Knowledge. 
 We must know ichat sort of Creatures ive 
 arc, and what we shall be. 
 
 That we may have a more distinct 
 and orderly view of this subject, I shall 
 here consider the several branches of self- 
 knowledge; or some of the chief particu- 
 lars wherein it consists. Whereby, per- 
 haps, it will appear to be a more copious 
 and comprehensive science than we ima- 
 gine. And, 
 
 I. To know ourselves, is to know and 
 seriously consider what sort of creatures 
 we are, and what we shall be. 
 
 ]. What we are. , 
 
 Man is a complex being, trimeres upos- 
 tasis, 3. tripartite person; or a compound 
 creature made up of three distinct parts.
 
 DOTH CONSIST. 23 
 
 Viz. the body, which is the earthly or mor- 
 tal part of him; the soul, which is the 
 animal or sensitive part; and the spirit or 
 mind, which is the rational and immor- 
 tal part. [II j Each of these three parts 
 have their respective offices assigned them. 
 And a man then acts becoming himself, 
 when he keeps them employed in their 
 proper functions, and preserves their na- 
 tural subordination. — But it is not enough 
 to know this merely as a point of specula- 
 tion; we must pursue and revolve the 
 thought, and urge the consideration to all 
 the purposes of a practical self-acquaint- 
 ance. 
 
 We are not all body, nor mere animal 
 creatures. We find we have a more noble 
 nature than the inanimate or brutal part of 
 the creation. We can not only move and 
 act freely, but we observe in ourselves a 
 capacity of reflection, study and forecast, 
 and various mental operations, which irra- 
 tional animals discover no symptoms of. 
 Our souls, therefore, must be of a more ex- 
 cellent nature than theirs; and from the 
 power of thought with which they are en- 
 dowed, they are proved to be immnterial 
 substances. And consequently, in their own 
 nature, capable of immortality. And that 
 they are actually immortal, or will never 
 die, the sacred scriptures do abundantly
 
 M 
 
 WHEREIN SELF-KNO\VLEDGi; 
 
 testify. [12] Let us then hereupon seri- 
 ously recollect ourselves in the following 
 soliloquy. 
 
 "O my soul, look back but a (ew years, 
 and thou wast nothing !— And how didst thoii 
 spring out of that nothing? — thou couldst 
 not make thyself. That is quite impossi- 
 ble. — Most certain it is, that that almighty, 
 self-existent and eternal Power, which 
 inade the world made thee also out of noth- 
 ing ; called thee into being, when thou wast 
 not; gave thee these reasoning and reflect- 
 ing faculties, which thou art nov/ employ- 
 ing in searching out the end and happiness 
 of thy nature. It was He, O my soul, that 
 made thee intelligent and immortal. It was 
 He that placed thee in this body, as in a 
 prison, where thy capacities are cramped, 
 thy desires debased, and thy liberty lost.— - 
 It was He that sent thee into this world, 
 whicli, by all circumstances, appears to be 
 a state of short discipline and trial. And 
 wherefore did he place thee here, when he 
 might have made thee a more free, uncon- 
 fmed, and happy spirit? — But check that 
 thought; it looks like a too presumptuous 
 curiosity, — A more needftil and important 
 inquiry is— What did he place thee here 
 for? — .^nd what doth he expect from thee 
 whilst thou art here? — What part hath he
 
 DWTH CONSl.S,T. 2.) 
 
 allotted me to act on the stage of humnn life ; 
 where He, angels and men are spectatorrs 
 of my behaviour? The part he hath given 
 me to act here is, doubtless, a very import- 
 ant one; becrinse it is for eternity. [13] 
 And what is it but to live up to the dignity 
 of my rational and intellectual nature; 
 and fis becomes a creature born for innnor- 
 taliT\ ? 
 
 "And tell me, O my soul, (for as I am 
 now about to cultivate a better acquaint- 
 ance with thee, to whom I have been too 
 long a stranger, I must try thee, and put 
 many a close question to thee,) tell rac, I 
 say, whilst thou confinest thy desire to 
 sensual gratifications, wherein dost thou 
 differ from the blasts that perish? Capti- 
 vated by bodily appetites, dost thou not 
 act beneath thyself? Dost thou not put 
 thyself upon a level with the lower class 
 of beings, which were made to serve thee, 
 offer an indignity to thyself, and despise 
 the work of thy Maker's iiands? O, re- 
 member thy heavenly extract! Remember 
 thou art a sjjirit! Check then the solicita- 
 tions of the fiesh, and dare to do noiliino- 
 that may diminisli thy native excellence, 
 dishonour thy high original, or degrade thy 
 noble nature. [14] But let me still urge it. 
 Consider, I say, O mv soul, tliat thou art 
 
 *3
 
 26 V/HEREII^ SELF-KKOWLEDGJJ 
 
 an immortal spirit. Thy body dies; \m% 
 thou, thou must live forever, and thine eter- 
 nity will take its tincture from the manner 
 of thy behaviour, and the habits thou con- 
 tractest, during this thy short copartner- 
 ship vvith flesh and blood. O! do nothing 
 nov/, but what thou mayest with pleasure 
 look back upon a million of ages hence. 
 For know, O my soul, that thy self-consci- 
 ousness and reflecting faculties will not 
 leave thee with thy body; but will follow 
 thee after death, and be the instrument of 
 unspeakable pleasure or torment to thee 
 in that separate state of existence." [15] 
 
 2. In order to a full acquaintance with 
 ourselvesy we must endeavour to know not 
 only what we are, but what we shall be. 
 
 And O! what different creatures shall 
 we soon be, from what we now are! Let 
 us look forwards, then, and frequently 
 glance our thoughts towards death; 
 though they cannot penetrate the dark- 
 ness of that passage, or reach the state 
 behind it. That lies veiled from the eyes 
 of our mind ; and the great God hath not 
 thought fit to throw so much light upon it, 
 as to satisfy the anxious and inquisitive de- 
 sires the soul hath to know it. However, 
 let us make the best use we can of that 
 little light which scripture aud reason
 
 DOTII CONSIST 27 
 
 have let in upon this dark and important 
 subject. 
 
 "Compose; thy tlioualits, O my soul, and 
 imagine how it will fare with tlice, ^^ hen 
 thou goest a naked, unemhodied spirit, in- 
 to a world, an unknown world, of spirits, 
 with all thy selt-consciousness about tliee, 
 where no material object shall strike thine 
 eye; and where thy dear partner and com- 
 panion, the body, cannot come nigh thee; 
 but where, witliout it, thou wilt be sensible 
 of the most noble satisfactions, or the most 
 exquisite pains. Embarked in death, thy 
 passage will i)e dark; and the shore on 
 which it will land thee, altogether "strange 
 
 and unknown. It doth not yet appear 
 
 what we shall be." [16] 
 
 That revelation, which God hath heen 
 pleased to make of his will to mankind, was 
 designed rather to fit us for the future hap- 
 piness, and direct our way to it, than open 
 to us the particular glories of it; or dis- 
 tinctly show us what it is. This it hath 
 left still very much a mystery: to check 
 our too curious inquiries into the nature of 
 it, and to bend our thoughts more intently 
 to that which more concerns us, vi/. an 
 habitual preparation for it. Au(\ what 
 that is, we cannot be ignorant of, if we be- 
 lieve either our Bible or our reason. For
 
 28 WHEREIN SELF-KNOWLEDGE 
 
 both these assure us, that that which 
 makes us like to God, is the only tiling that 
 can fit us for the enjoyment of him. Here 
 then ict us hold. Let our g'reat concern 
 be, to be holy as he is holy. And then, 
 then only, are we sure to enjoy liim, in 
 whose light we shall see ]ight. And be 
 the future state of existence what it will, 
 we shall some way be happy there. Ard 
 much more iuippy than we cai:- now con- 
 ceive; thougii in what particular manner 
 we know not, because God hath not reveal- 
 ed it. 
 
 CHAP III. 
 
 The several relations wherein ice stand to God, 
 to Christ, a7id our Fellow-creatures. 
 
 Self-knowledge requires us to be well 
 acquainted with the various relations in 
 wliich we stand to other beings, and the 
 several duties that result from those rela- 
 tions. And. 
 
 ]. Our first and principal concern is, to 
 consider the relation wiierein we stand to 
 Him wbr^ gave us being. 
 
 We are the creatures of his hand, and 
 the objects of his care. His jiower up-
 
 DOTH CONSIST. 29 
 
 holds the being his goodness gave us. 
 His bounty accommodates iis with the blcs 
 sings of this life, and liis grace provides 
 for us the happiness of a better. — Nor arc 
 we merely his creatures, but his rational 
 and intelligent creatures. It is the dignity 
 of our natures, that nvc are capable of 
 knowing and enjoying him that made us. 
 And as the rational creatures of God, 
 there are two relations especially that we 
 bear to him; the frequent consideration of 
 which is absolutely necessary to a right 
 self-knowledge. For as our Creator, he is 
 our king and father. And as his creatures, 
 we are the subjects of his kingdom, and 
 the children of his family. 
 
 1st. Wc are the subjects of his king- 
 dom. And as sucii we are bound, 
 
 1. To yield a faithfid obedievncc to the 
 laws of his kingdom.— And the advan- 
 tages by wbicii these conic recommended 
 to us above a1i luiman laws are many. — 
 They are calculated for the private inter- 
 est of every one, as well as that of the i)ub- 
 lic; and are designed to promote our pres- 
 ent as well as our future happiness. They 
 are jilainly and exj^licitly published; easi- 
 ly understood; and in fair and legible 
 characters writ in every man's heart; and 
 the wisdom, reason, and necessity of them 
 
 3*
 
 30 WHEREIN SELF-KNOWLEDGE 
 
 are readily discerned.— They are urged 
 with the most mighty motives that can 
 possibly affect the human lieart. And if 
 . any of them are difficult, the most effectual 
 grace is freely offered to encourage and as- 
 sist our obedience: advantages which no 
 human laws have to enforce the observ- 
 ance of them.~2. As his subjects, we 
 must readily pay him the homage due to 
 his sovereignty. And this is no less than 
 the homage of the heart; humbly ac- 
 knowledging that we hold every thing of 
 liim, and have every thing from him. 
 Earthly princes are forced to be content 
 with verbal acknowledgments or mere 
 formal homage. For thev can command 
 nothing but what is external. But God, 
 who knows and looks at the hearts of all 
 his creatures, will accept of nothing but 
 what comes from thence. He demands 
 the adoration of our whole souls, which is 
 most justly due to him who formed them, 
 and gave them the very capacities to know 
 and adore him. — 3. As faithful subjects, 
 we must cheerfully pay him the tribute he 
 requires of us. This is not like the tribute 
 which earthly kings exact; who as much 
 depend upon their subjects for the support 
 of their power, as their subjects do upon 
 them for the protection of their property.
 
 BOTH roKsisT, 61 
 
 But the tribute God requires of us, is a 
 tribute of praise and honour, which he 
 stands in no need of from us: for his pow- 
 er is independent, and his glory immutable; 
 and he is infinitely able of himself to sup- 
 port the dignity of his tmiversal govern- 
 ment. But it is the most natural duty we 
 owe to him as creatures. For to praise 
 him, is only to show forth his praise; to 
 glorify him, to celebrate his glory; and to 
 honour him, is to render him and his ways 
 honourable, ill the eyes and esteem of 
 others. And as this is the most natural 
 duty that creatures owe to their Creator, 
 so it is a tribute he requires of every one 
 of them in proportion to their respective 
 talents and abilities to pay it. — 1. As du- 
 tiful subject, we must contentedly and 
 quietly subu^it to the methods and admins 
 istration of his government, however dark, 
 involved ^H\^ intricate. All governments 
 have their ai^cana imperii, or secrets of 
 state; which common subjects cannot pen- 
 etrate. And therefore th(\y cannot com- 
 petently judge of the wisdom or rectitude 
 of certain public nn^asures; bee luse they 
 are iy^noranr either of the springs of them, 
 or the ends of them, or the expediency of 
 the means arisins; frosn the particular situ- 
 ation of things in the present juncture.
 
 32 WHEREIN SELF-KNOWLEDGE 
 
 And how much truer is this with relatioa 
 to God's government of the world, whose 
 wisdom is far above our reach, and whose 
 ways are not as our's. Whatever then 
 may be the present aspect and appear- 
 ance of t))in,^s, as dutiful subjects we are 
 bound to acquiesce ; to ascribe wisdom and 
 righteousness to our Maker, in confidence 
 that the King and Judge of all the earth 
 will do right. Again, 5. As good sub- 
 jects of God's kingdom, we are bound to 
 pay a due regard and reverence to his min- 
 isters; especially if they discover an un- 
 corrupted fidelity to his cause, and a pure, 
 unaffected zeal for his honour; if they do 
 5wt seek their own interest more than that 
 of their divine Master. The ministers of 
 earthly princes too often do this; and it 
 would be happy if all the ministers and 
 ambassadors of the heavenly King were 
 entirely clear of the imputation, it is no 
 uncommon thing for the honour of an 
 earthly monarch to be wounded through 
 the sides of his ministers. The defama- 
 tion and slander that is directly thrown at 
 them is obliquely intended against him; 
 and as such it is taken. So, to attempt to 
 make the ministers of the gospel, in gen- 
 eral, the objects of derision, as some do, 
 plainly shows a mind very dissolute and
 
 DOTH CONSIST. 
 
 ^'^ 
 
 disaffected to God and lelierion itself; rnd 
 is to act a part very nnbeccaiiine^ the du- 
 tilul subjects of his kingdom. — Lastly: 
 As good subjects, we are to do all we can 
 to promote the interest of his kingdom; 
 by defending the wisdom of his adminis- 
 tration, and endeavouring to reconcile oth- 
 ers thereunto, under all the darkness and 
 difficulties, that may appear therein, in op- 
 position to the profane censures of the 
 prosperous wicked, and the doubts and 
 dismays of the afflicted lighteous. This 
 is to act in chaiacter as loyal sub- 
 jects of the King of heaven. And wIku v- 
 er forgets this part of his character, or 
 acts contrary to it, shows a great degree 
 of self-ignorance. 
 
 2d. As rhe creatures of God, we are 
 not only the subjects of his kingdom, but 
 the children of his family. And to this 
 relation, and the obligations of it^ must we 
 carefully attend, if we would attain the 
 true knowledge of ourselves. We are his 
 children by creation; in which respect he 
 is truly our father. But now, O Lord, 
 thou art our father; we are the clay, and 
 thou our potter: and we all are the work 
 of thine hands. (Isa. Ixiv. 8) And in a 
 more special sense we are his children by 
 Holoption. For ye all are the children of
 
 34 WHEREIN SELF-KNOWLEDGE 
 
 God by faith in Christ Jesus. (Gal. iii. 26) 
 And therefore, 1. We are under the highest 
 obligations to love him as our father. The 
 love of children to parents is founded on 
 gratitude for benefits received, which can 
 never be requited, and ought in reason to 
 be proportioned to those benefits. And 
 what duty more natural than to love our 
 benefactors? What love and gratitude 
 then is due to him, from whom we have 
 received the greatest benefit, even that 
 of our being, and every thing that contri- 
 butes to the comfort of it? — 2. As his 
 children we must honour him; that is, 
 must speak honourably of him, and for 
 him; and carefidly avoid every thing that 
 may tend to dishonour his holy name and 
 ways. A son honoureth his father: — If I 
 then be a father, where is mine honour? 
 (Mai. i. QJ — 3. As our father, we are to 
 apply to mm for what we want. Whither 
 should childrjen go,, but to their father, for 
 protection, help and relief in every danger, 
 difficulty and distress? — And, 4. We must 
 trust his power and wisdom, and paternal 
 goodness, to provide for us, take care of 
 us, and do for us that which is best; and 
 what that is he knows best. To be anx- 
 iously fearful what will become of us, and 
 discontented and perplexed under the ap-
 
 DOTH CONSIST. 3S 
 
 prehensions of future evils, whilst we are in 
 the hands and under the care of our Fa- 
 tl)er which is in heaven, is not to act like 
 children. Earthly parents cannot avert 
 from their children all the calamities they 
 fear, because their wisdom and power are 
 limited; but our all-wise and abwighty Fa- 
 ther in heaven can. They may possibly 
 want love and tenderness, but our heavenly 
 Father cannot. (Isa. xlix. l/>). — 5. As chil- 
 dren, we must quietly acquiesce in his dis- 
 posal, and not expect to see into the wis- 
 dom of all his will. It would be indecent 
 and undntiful in a child to dispute the au- 
 thority, or question the wisdom, or neglect 
 the orders, of his parents every time he 
 could not discern the reason and design 
 thereof Much more unreasonable and 
 unbecoming is such a behaviour towards 
 God, who giveth not account of any of his 
 matters; whose judgments are unsearch- 
 able, and whose ways are past finding out. 
 (Job xxxiii. 13. Rotji xi. 33.) — -Lastly: As 
 children, we must patiently subniit to his 
 discipline and correction. Earthly par- 
 ents may sometimes punish their children 
 through passion, or for their pleasure; but 
 our heavenly Father always corrects his 
 for their profit, (Heb. xii. '0.) and only if 
 need be, (1 Pel, i 6.) and never so muck
 
 36 WHEREIN SELF-KNOWLEDGE 
 
 as their iniquities deserve. (Ezra ix. 13.j 
 Under his fatherly rebukes, then, let us ev- 
 er be humble and submissive. Such now 
 is the true filial disposition. Such a tem- 
 per, and such a behaviour should we show 
 towards Goi^ if we would act in cliarac- 
 ter as his children. 
 
 These then are the two special rela- 
 tions, which, as creatures, we stand in to 
 God, And not to act towards him in the 
 manner before mentioned, is to show that 
 we are io;norant of, or have not yet duly 
 cousidored our obligations to, him a-s his 
 suDJects and his children; or that we are 
 as yet ignorant both of God and ourselves. 
 — Thus we see how directly the knowl- 
 edc^e of ourselves leads us to the knowl- 
 edge of God. So true is the observation 
 of a late 'pious and very worthy divine, 
 that "He that is a stranger to himself, is a 
 stranger to God, and to every thing that 
 may denominate him wise and happy." 
 
 But, 2. In order to know ourselves, 
 there is another important relation we 
 sh:! dd often think of, and that is, that in 
 which we stand to Ji^bus Christ our Re- 
 deemer. 
 
 Tlie former was common to us as men; 
 this is peculiar to us as Christians, and 
 opens to us a new scene of duties and
 
 DOTH CONSIST,. 37 
 
 . obligations, which a man can never foii^et, 
 that does not grossly forget himself. For, 
 as Christians, we are the disciples, the 
 followers, and the servants of Christ, re- 
 deemed by him. 
 
 And, 1. As the disciples of Christ, w'o 
 are to learn of him. To take our religious 
 sentiments only from his gospel, in opposi- 
 tion to all the authoritative dictates of men, 
 who are v/eak and fallible as ourselves. 
 Call no man nmster on earth. While 
 
 I some affect to distinguish tiiemselves by 
 party names, as the Corinthians formerly 
 did, (for which the apostle blames them) 
 one saying, I am of Paul; another, f am 
 of Apollos; another, 1 am of Cephas, (3 
 Cor. T. 12.) let us remember that we are 
 the disciples of Christ; and in this sense 
 make mention of his name only. It is re- 
 ally injurious to it, to seek to distinguish 
 ourselves by any other. There is more 
 carnality in such party distinctions, de- 
 nominations and attacliinents, than many 
 good souls are aware of; though not more 
 
 - th.in the apostle Paul (who was unwil- 
 lingly placed at the head of one himself) 
 hath apprized them of. (1 Cor. iii. 4.) We 
 are of Christ; our concern is, to lionour 
 that superior denomination, by living up to 
 it; and to adhere inflexibly to his gospel, 
 
 4 
 
 461455
 
 38 WHEREIN SELF-KNOWLEDGE 
 
 as the only rule of our faith, the guide of 
 our life, and the foundation of our hope; 
 whatever contempt or abuse we may suffer 
 either from the profane or bigotted part of 
 mankind for so doing. — 2. As Christians, 
 we are followers of Christ; and therefore 
 bound to imitate him, and copy after that 
 most excellent pattern he hath set us, who 
 liath left us an example, that we should fol- 
 low his steps. (1 Pet. ii. 21.) To see that 
 the same holy temper be io us which was in 
 him; and to discover it in the same man- 
 ner that he did, and upon like occasions. 
 To this he calls us: (Matt. xi. 29.) and no 
 man is any further a Christian than as he 
 is a follower of Christ; aiming at a more 
 perfect conformity to that most perfect ex- 
 ample which he hath set us of universal 
 goodness. — 3. As Christians, we are the 
 servants of Christ; and the various du- 
 ties which servants owe to their masters 
 in any degree, those we owe to him in the 
 highest degree; who expects we should 
 behave ourselves in his service with that 
 fidelity and zeal, and steady regard to his 
 lionour and interest, at all times, which 
 we are bound to by virtue of this relation, 
 and to which his unmerited goodness and 
 love lay us under infinite obligations. — 
 Lastly: We are moreover his redeemed
 
 DOTH CONSIST. 39 
 
 servants; and as such are under tlie 
 slroni^cst motives to love and trust bim. 
 
 This deserves to be more particularly 
 considered, because it opens to us another 
 view of the human nature, in wiiich we 
 should often survey ourselves, if we desire 
 to know ourselves; and that is as deprav- 
 ed or degenerate beings. The inward 
 contest we so sensibly feel, at some sea- 
 sons especially, between a good and a bad 
 principle, (called, in scripture language, 
 the flesh and the spirit) of which some 
 of the wisest heathens secerned not to be 
 ignorant: [17J this, I say, is demonstration 
 that some way or other the human nature 
 has contracted an ill bias, (and how that 
 came about, the sacred scriptures have 
 sufficiently informed us) and that it is not 
 what it was when it came originally out 
 of the hands of its Maker; so that the 
 words which St. Paul spake with refer- 
 ence to the Jews in particular, are justly 
 applicable to the present state of mankind 
 in general, — There is none righteous, no, 
 not one; — they are all gone out of the 
 way, they are together become unprofit- 
 able, there is none that docth good, no, 
 not one. (Rom. iii. 10, 12.) 
 
 This is a very mortifying thought; but 
 an undeniable truth, and one of the first
 
 40 WHEREIN SELF-KNOWLEDGE 
 
 principles of that science we are treating 
 of, and very necessary to be attended to, 
 if we would be sensible of the duty and 
 obligations we owe to Christ as the great 
 Redeemer; in which character he ap- 
 pears for the relief and recovery of man- 
 kind under this their universal depravity. 
 
 The two miserable effects of the luiman 
 apostasy are, 1. That perverse disposi- 
 tions grow up in our minds from early in- 
 fancy, soon settle into vicious habits, and 
 render us weak, and unwilling to obey the 
 dictates of conscience and reason: this is 
 commonly called the dominion of sin. 2. 
 'At the same time we are subject to the 
 displeasure of God, and the penalty of his 
 law, which is commonly called the con- 
 demnation of sin. Now in both these re- 
 spects did Christ the Lamb of Go© come 
 to take away the sin of the world ; that is, 
 to take away the reigning power of it by 
 the operation of his grace ; and the condemn- 
 ing power of it by the atonement of his 
 blood ; to sanctify us by his Spirit, and 
 justify us by his death; by the former he 
 reconciles us to God, and by the latter he 
 reconciles God to us, and is at once our 
 righteousness and strength. He died to 
 purchase for us the happiness we had for- 
 feited, and sends his grace and Spirit to fit
 
 DOTII CONSIST. 41 
 
 US for that happiness he hath thus piu- 
 chased. So complete is this redemption: 
 so precisely adapted is the remedy ho 
 hath provided, to the malady we had con- 
 tracted! — ''O blessed Redeemer of wretch- 
 ed, ruined creatures, how unspeakable, 
 are the obligations I owe thee! But ah! 
 how insensible am I to those obligations! 
 The saddest symptom of degeneracy [ 
 fmd in my nature, is that base ingratitude 
 of heart which renders me so unaflected 
 with thine astonishing compassions. Till 
 I know thee, I cannot know myself: and 
 when I survey myself, may I ever think of 
 thee! May the daily consciousness of my 
 weakness and guilt lead my thoughts to 
 thee; and may every thought of thee kindle 
 in my heart the most ardent glow of grati- 
 tude to thee, O thou divine, compassion- 
 ate friend, lover, and Redeemeil of man- 
 kind/' 
 
 Whoever then he be that calls himself 
 a Christian, that is, who professes to take 
 the gospel of Christ for a divine revela- 
 tion, and the only rule of his faiih and 
 practice; but at the same time, pays a 
 greater regard to the dictates of men, than 
 to the doctrines of Christ; who loses 
 sight of thai great example of Christ 
 which should animate his Christian walk ; 
 
 4*
 
 42 WHEREIN SELF-KNOWLEDGE 
 
 is unconcerned about his service, honour 
 and interest, and excludes the considera- 
 tion of his merits and atonement from his 
 hope of happiness; he forgets that he is a 
 Christian; he does not consider in what 
 relation he stands to Christ, (which is one 
 great part of his character) and conse- 
 quently discovers a great degree of self-ig- 
 norance. 
 
 3. Self-knowledge moreover implies a 
 due attention to the several relations in 
 which we stand to our fellow creatures: 
 and the obligations that result from 
 thence. 
 
 If we know ourselves, we shall remem- 
 ber the condescension, benignity, and love 
 that is due to inferiors: the affability 
 friendship and kindness we ought to 
 show to equals: the regard, deference, and 
 honour which belong to superiors: and the 
 candour, integrity, and benevolence we 
 owe to all. 
 
 The particular duties requisite in these 
 relations are too numerous to be here 
 mentioned. Let it suffice to say, that if a 
 man doth not well consider the several re- 
 lations of life in which he stands to oth- 
 ers, and does not take care to preserve the 
 decorum and propriety of those relations, 
 he may be justly charged with self-ignor- 
 ance. 
 
 ?
 
 DOTH CONSIST. 43 
 
 And this is so evident in itself, and so 
 generally allowed, that nothing is more 
 common than to say, vviien a person does 
 not behave with due decency toward iiis 
 superiors, — Such an one does not under- 
 stand himself. But why may not this with 
 equal justice be said of those who act in 
 an ill manner towards their inferiors! The 
 expression, I know, is not so often thus 
 applied; but 1 see no reason why it should 
 not be, since one is as common, and as 
 plain an instance of self-ignorance, as 
 the other. Nay, of the two, perhaps men 
 in general are more apt to be defective in 
 their duty and behaviour towards those 
 beneath them, than they are towards those 
 that are above them. And the reason 
 seems to be, because an apprehension of 
 the displeasure of their superiors, and the 
 detrimental consequence which may ac- 
 crue from thence, may be a check upon them, 
 and engage them to pay the just regards 
 which they expect. But there being no 
 such check to restrain them from violating 
 the duties they owe to inferiors, (from 
 whose displeasure they have little to fear) 
 they are more ready, under '".ertMin tempta- 
 ations, to treat tiiem in a;i uiiljeroming 
 manner. And as wisdom and seli-knowl-
 
 44 WHEREIN SELF-KNOWLEDGE 
 
 cd^e will direct a man to be particularly 
 careful, lest he neglect those duties he is 
 most apt to forget; so as to the duties he 
 owes to inferiors, in which he is most in 
 danger of transgressmg, he ought more 
 strongly to urge upon himself the indis- 
 pensable obligations of religion and con- 
 science. And if he does not, but suffers 
 himself, through the violence of ungovern- 
 ed passion, to be transported into the ex- 
 cesses of rigor, tyranny, and oppression, 
 toward those whom God and nature have 
 put into his power, it is certain that he does 
 not know himself; is not acquainted with 
 his own particular weakness; is ignorant 
 of the duty of his relation; and whatever 
 he may think of himself, hath not the 
 true spirit of government; because he 
 wants the art of self-government. For he 
 that is unable to govern himself, can nev- 
 er be fit to govern others. 
 
 Would Vi/e know ourselves then, we 
 must consider ourselves as creatures, as 
 Christians, and as men; and remember 
 the obligations which, as such, we are un- 
 der to God, to Christ, and our fellow men, 
 in the several relations we bear to them, 
 in order to mantain tlie propriety, and ful- 
 fil the duties of those relations.
 
 DOTH CONSIST. 4S 
 
 CHAP. IV. 
 
 TVe must duly cor) aider the Rank and Sta- 
 tion of L:Jc in which Providence has pla- 
 ced us^ and what it is that becomes and 
 adorns it. 
 
 A MAN that knows Iiimself, will deliber- 
 ately consider and attend to the particu- 
 lar rank and station in life in which Provi- 
 dence hath placed him ; and what is the du- 
 ty and decorum of that station; what part 
 is given him to act; what character to 
 maintain, and wiih what decency and pro- 
 priety he acts that part, or maintains that 
 character. 
 
 For a man to assume a character, or 
 aim at a part that does not belong to him, 
 is affectation. And whence is^it that affec- 
 tation of any kind appears so ridiculous, 
 and exposes men to universal and just 
 contempt, but because it is a certain indi- 
 cation of self-ignorance? Whence is it 
 that any seem so willing to be thought 
 something when they are nothing; and 
 seek to excel in those things in which they 
 cannot; whilst thoy neglect those things 
 in which they may excel? Whence is it
 
 46 WHEREIN SELF-KNOWLEBGE 
 
 that they counteract the intention of na- 
 ture and Providence; that when these in- 
 tended them one thing rliey would fain be 
 another? — Whence, I say, but from an ig- 
 norance of themselves, the rank of life 
 they are in, and of the part and charac- 
 ter which properly belong to them? 
 
 It is a just observation, and an excel- 
 lent document of a moral heathen, that 
 human life is a "drama, and mankind the 
 actors, who have their several parts as- 
 signed them by the master of the theatre, 
 who stands behind the scenes, and ob- 
 serves in what manner every one acts. 
 Some have a short part allotted them, and 
 some a long one ; some a low, and some a 
 high one. It is not he that acts the high- 
 est or most shining part on the stage, that 
 comes off with the greatest applause: but 
 he that acts his part best, whatever it be. 
 To take care then to act our respective 
 parts in life well, is ours; but to choose 
 what part in life we shall act, is not ours, 
 but God's." [18] But a man can never act 
 his part well, if he does not attend to it; 
 does not know what becomes it ; much 
 less, if he affect to act another, which na- 
 ture never designed him. It is always 
 self-ignorance that leads a man to act out 
 «f character.
 
 DOTH CONSIST. 47 
 
 Is it a mean and low station of life thou 
 art in'?; Know then, that Providtnce calls 
 thee to the exercise of industry, content- 
 ment, submission, patience, hope, and 
 humble dependence on him, and a respect- 
 ful deference to thy superiors. In this 
 way thou mayest shine througli thine ob- 
 scurity; and render thyself amiable in the 
 sight of G(^D and man. And not only so, 
 but find more satisfaction, safety, and self- 
 enjoyment, than they who move in a high- 
 er sphere, from whence they are in danger 
 of falling. 
 
 But hath Providence called thee to act 
 in a more public character, and for a more 
 extensive benefit to the world? — Thy first 
 care then ought to be, that thy example, 
 as far as its influence reaches, may be an 
 encouragement to the practice of univer- 
 sal virtue. And next, to shine in those 
 virtues especially which best adorn thy 
 station: as benevolence, charity, wisdom, 
 moderation, firmness, and inviolable integ- 
 rity ; with an undismayed fortitude to 
 press through all opposition in accom- 
 plishing those ends which thou hast a 
 prospect and probability of attaining for 
 the apparent good of mankind. 
 
 And as self-ac(iuaintance will teach us 
 what part in life we ought to act, so the
 
 48 WHEREIN SELF-KNOWLEDGE 
 
 knowledge of that will shew us whom wc 
 ought to imitate, and wherein. We are 
 not to take examples of conduct from 
 those who have a very different part as-» 
 signed them from ours; unless in those 
 things that are universally ornamental 
 and exemplary. If we do, we shall but 
 expose our affectation and weakness, and 
 ourselves to contempt for acting out of char- 
 acter. For what is decent in one may 
 be ridiculous in another. Nor must we 
 blindly follow those who move in the 
 same sphere, and sustain the same 
 character with ourselves; but only in 
 those things that are befitting that char- 
 acter. For it is not the person, but the 
 character, we are to regard ; and to imi- 
 tate him no farther than he keeps to that. 
 This caution particularly concerns 
 youth, who are apt to imitate their supe- 
 riors very implicitly, and especially such 
 as shine in the profession they themselves 
 are intended for; but for want of judg- 
 ment to distinguish what is fit and decent, 
 are apt to imitate their very foibles; 
 which a partiality for their persons makes 
 them deem as excellencies: and thereby 
 they become doubly ridiculous, both by 
 acting out of character themselves, and 
 by a weak and servile imitation of others
 
 DOTII CONSIST, 49 
 
 la the very things in which they do so too. 
 To maintain a character then with decen- 
 cy, we must keep our eye only upon that 
 which is proper to it. 
 
 In fine, as no man can excel in every 
 thing, we must consider what part is allot- 
 ted us to act, in the station in which Prov- 
 idence hath placed us, and keep to that, 
 be it what it will, and seek to excel in 
 that only. 
 
 CHAP. V. 
 
 Every Man should be icell acquainted witk 
 his own Talents and Capacities ; and in 
 what Manner they arc to be exercised and 
 •improved to the greatest Advantage. 
 
 A MAX cannot be said to know himself, 
 till he is well acquainted with his projDer 
 talents and capacities; knows for wliat 
 ends he received them, and how they may 
 be most fitly applied and improved for 
 those ends. 
 
 A wise and self-understanding man, in- 
 stead of aiming at talents he hath not, 
 will set about cultivating those he hath 5 
 
 5
 
 50 WHEREIN SELF-KNOWLEDGE 
 
 as the way in which Providence points 
 out his proper usefulness. 
 
 As, in order to the edification of the 
 church, the Spirit of God at first conferred 
 upon the ministers of it a great variety 
 of spiritual gifts, (1 Cor xii. 8 — 10) so, for 
 the good of the community, God is pleas- 
 ed now to confer upon men a great varie- 
 ty of natural talents: and every one hath 
 his proper gift of God; one after this man* 
 ner, another after that. (1 Cor. vii. 7.) 
 And every one is to take care not to neg- 
 lect, but to stir up the gift of God which 
 is in him. (1 Tim. iv. 14. 2 Tim. i. 6.) Be- 
 cause it was given hira to be improved. 
 And not only the abuse, but the neglect of 
 it, must hereafter be accounted for. Wit- 
 ness the doom of that unprofitable ser- 
 vant, who laid up his single pound in a 
 napkin; (Luke xix. 20. 24.) and of him 
 who went and hid his talent in the earths 
 (Matt. XXV. 25, 30.) 
 
 It is certainly a sign of great self-ignor- 
 ance, for a man to venture out of his 
 depth, or attempt any thing he wants op- 
 portunity or capacity to accomplish. And 
 therefore a wise man will consider with 
 iiimself, before he undertakes any thing 
 of consequence, whether ho hath abilities 
 to carry him through it, and whether the
 
 DOTH CONSIST. 51 
 
 issue of it is like to be for his credit; lest 
 he sink under the weii^ht lie lavs upon 
 liimself, and incur tlie just censure of 
 rashness, ])resuinption and folly. Sec 
 Luke xiv. 28—32. [lO] 
 
 It is no uncommon tiling for some who 
 excel in one thins^, to imagine they may 
 excel in every thin?. And not content 
 with that share of merit which every one 
 allows them, are still catching at that 
 which doth not belong to them. Why 
 should a good orator wish to be thought 
 a poet? VVIiy must a celebrated divine 
 set up for a politician? Or a statesmen 
 affect the philosopher? Or a mechanic 
 the scholar? Or a wise man labour to be 
 thought a wit? This is a weakness that 
 flo'.vs from self-ignorance, and is incident 
 to the greatest men. Nature seldom forms 
 a universal genius; but deals out favours 
 in the present state with a parsimonious 
 liand. — Many a man by his foibles hath 
 weakened a well-established reputation, 
 [20]
 
 52 
 
 WHEREIN SELF-KNOWLEDGE 
 
 CHAP. VI. 
 
 We must he well acquainted with our Inabili- 
 ties, and those 2' kings in which we are na- 
 turally deficient, as well as those in which 
 we excel. 
 
 We must, in order to a thorough self-ac- 
 qnaintance, not only consider our talents 
 and proper abilities, but have an eye to 
 our frailties and deficiencies, tliat we may 
 know where our weakness as well as our 
 strength lies. Otherwise, like Samson, we 
 may run ourselves into iufinite tempta- 
 tions and troubles. 
 
 Every man hath a weak side. Every 
 v.ise man knows where it is, and will be 
 sure to keep a double guard there. There 
 is some wisdom in concealing a weakness. 
 This cannot be done, till it he first known; 
 nor can it be known, without a good de- 
 gree of self-acquaintance. 
 
 It is strange to observe what pains 
 some men are at to expose themselves; to 
 signalize their own folly; and to set out 
 to the most public view those things 
 which they ought to be ashamed to think 
 should ever enter into their character 
 
 1
 
 DOTH CONSIST. 53 
 
 But SO it is; some men seem to be asham- 
 ed of those things which should be their 
 gh)rv, u hilst other glory in their shame. 
 (Phil. iii. 10.) 
 
 The greatest weakness in man is, to 
 publish his follies, and to appear fond to 
 jiavc them known. But vanity will often 
 prompt a man to this; who, unacquainted 
 with the jnrasure of his capacities, at- 
 tempts things out of his power and be- 
 yond his reach; whereby he makes the 
 world acquainted with two things to his 
 disad\ antage, which they were ignorant 
 of before, viz. his deficiency, and his self- 
 ignorance in appearing so blind to it. 
 
 It is ill judged (though very common) 
 to be less ashamed of a want of temper 
 than understanding. For it is no real 
 dishonour or fault in a man to have but a 
 small ability of mind, provided he have 
 not the vanity to set up for a genius, 
 (which would be as ridiculous, as for a 
 man of small strength and stature of body, 
 to set up for a cham])ion) because this is 
 w hat we cannot help. But a ma -. may in 
 a good measure correct the fault of his 
 natural temper, if he be well acquainted 
 with it, and duly watchful over it. And 
 therefore, to betray a prevailing weakness 
 of temper, or an ungoverned passion, di- 
 
 5*
 
 M WHEREIN SELF-KNOWLEDGE 
 
 niinishes a man's reputation much more 
 than to discover a weakness of judgment 
 or understanding. But what is most dis- 
 honourable of all is, for a man at once 
 to discover a great genius and an ungov- 
 erned mind ; because that strength of 
 reason and understanding he is master of, 
 gives him a great advantage for the gov- 
 ernment of his passions. And therefore 
 his suffering himself, notwithstanding, to be 
 governed by them, shows, that he hath 
 too much neglected or misapplied his na- 
 tural talent; and willingly submitted to 
 the tyranny of those lusts and passions, 
 over which nature hath furnished him 
 with abilities to have secured an easy con- 
 quest 
 
 A wise man hath his foibles as well as 
 a fool. But the difference between them is, 
 that the foibles of the one are known to 
 himself, and concealed from the world; 
 the foibles of the otiier are known to the 
 world, and concealed from himself. The 
 wise man sees those frailties in himself, 
 which others cannot; but the fool is blind 
 to those blemishes in his character, which 
 areconspicuous to everv body else. Whence 
 it appears, that self-knowledge is that 
 which makes the main difterence between
 
 POTH CONSIST 55 
 
 a wise man and a fool, in the moral sense 
 of that word. 
 
 CHAP, VII. 
 
 Concerning the Knoiv/edire of our Const itii' 
 iional Sins. 
 
 ScLF-AcquAiNTANCE sliows a man the 
 particular sins he is exposed and addicted 
 to; and discovers not only what is ridicu- 
 lous, but wliat is criminal, in his conduct 
 and temper. 
 
 A man's outward actions are generally 
 the plainest index of his inward disposi- 
 tions. — And by the allowed sins of bis 
 life, yon may know the reigninj^ vices of 
 liis mind. Is be adilicted to luxury or de- 
 baucb? Sensuality then appears to be his 
 prevailing; tasto Is he given to revenge 
 and cruelty? Choler and malice then reign 
 in his beart. Is be confident, bold, and 
 enterprising? Ambition appears to be the 
 secret spring. Is he sly and designing, 
 given to" intrigue and artifice? You may 
 conclude there is a natural subtilty of 
 tempi'r tbat prom|)ts bi n to th's: and this 
 secret disposition is criminal, iu propor-
 
 56 WHEREIN SELF-KNOWLEDGE 
 
 tion to the degree in which these outward 
 actions, which spring from it, transgress 
 the bounds of reason and virtue. 
 
 Every man hath something peculiar in 
 the turn or cast of his mind, which distin- 
 guishes iiim as much as the particular 
 constitution of his body. And both these, 
 viz. his particular turn of mind, and con- 
 stitution of body, not only incline and dis- 
 pose him to some kind of sins, more than 
 to others, but render the practice of cer- 
 tain virtues much more easy. [21] 
 
 Now those sins to which men are com- 
 monly nujst inclined, and the temptations 
 which they have the least power to resist, 
 are, and not improperly, called their con- 
 stitutional sins; their peculiar frailties; 
 and in scripture, tlieir own iniquities, 
 (Psalm xviii. .32,) and the sins which do 
 most easily beset us. (Ileb. vii. 1.) 
 
 "As in the humours of the body, so in 
 the vices of the mind, there is one pre- 
 dominant; which has an ascendant over 
 us, and leads and governs us. It is in the 
 body of sin, what the heart is in tlie body 
 of o'.ir nature; it begins to live first, and 
 dies last. And whilst it lives, it comnui- 
 nicates life and spirit to the whole body 
 of sin; and when it dies, the body of sin 
 expires with it. It is the sin to which our
 
 DOTH CONSIST. 57 
 
 constitution leads, our circumstances be- 
 tray, and custom enslaves us; the. sin to 
 which ncH our virtues only, but vices too, 
 lower their topsai!, anci submit; the sin, 
 which when we would impose upon God 
 and our consciences, mc excuse and dis- 
 guise with all imaginable artifice and 
 sophistry; but, when we are sincere with 
 both, we oppose first, and conquer last. 
 It is, in a word, the sin which reigns and 
 rules in the unrei';enerate, and too often 
 alarms and disturbs (ah! that I could say 
 no more) the regenerate." 
 
 Some are more inclined to the sins of 
 the flesh; sensuality, intemperance, un- 
 cleanness, sloth, self-indulgence, and ex- 
 cess in animal gratifications. Others to 
 the sins of the spirit; pride, malice, cov- 
 etousness, ambition, wrath, revenge, envy, 
 &c. And I am persuaded there are few, 
 but, upon a thorough search into them- 
 selves, may find that some one of these 
 sins hath ordinarily a greater power over 
 them than the rest. Others often observe 
 it in them, if they themselves do not. 
 And for a man not to know his predomin- 
 ant iniquity, is great sell-ignorance indeed; 
 and a sign that he has all his life lived 
 far from home; because he is not ac- 
 quainted with that relating to himself,
 
 58 WHEREIN SELF-KNOWLEDGE 
 
 which every one who is but half an hour 
 in his company, perhaps, may be able to 
 inform hi«i of. Hence proceeds that ex- 
 treme weakness which some discover in 
 censuring others, for the very same faults 
 they are guilty ^f themselves, and per- 
 haps in a much higher degree; on which 
 the apostle Paul animadverts, Rom. ii. 1. 
 
 [22] 
 
 It must be owned, it is an irksome and 
 disagreeable buisness for a man to turn 
 his own accuser: to search after his own 
 faults, and keep his eye upon that which 
 gives him shame and pain to see. It is 
 like tearing open an old wound; but it is 
 better to do this, than to let it mortify. 
 The wounds of the conscience, like those 
 of the body, cannot be well cured till 
 they are searched to the bottom; and 
 they cannot be searched without pain. A 
 man that is engaged in the study of himself 
 must be content to know the worst of 
 himself. [23] 
 
 Do not therefore shut your eyes against 
 your dnrling sin, or be averse to find it 
 out. Why should you study to conceal or 
 excuse it; and fondly cherish that viper 
 in your bosom? — ''Some men deal by their 
 sins, as some ladies do bv their persons. 
 When their beauty is decayed, they seek
 
 1>0TH CONSIST, 69 
 
 to hide it from themselves by false 
 glasses, and from others by paint. So, 
 many seek to hide their sins from them- 
 selves by false glasses, and from others 
 by excuses, or fulse colours." But the 
 greatest cheat they put upon themselves. 
 They that cover their sins shall not pros- 
 per. (Prov. xxviii. 13.) It is dangerous self- 
 flattery to give soft and smoothing names 
 to sins, in order to disguise their nature. 
 Rather lay your hand upon your heartj 
 iand thrust it into your bosom, though 
 it come out (as Moses' did) leprous as 
 snow. (Exod. iv. C.) [21J 
 
 And to And out our niost beloved sin, 
 let us consider what are those worldly ob- 
 jects or amusements which give us the 
 highest delight; this, it is probable, will 
 lead us directly to some one of our dar- 
 ling iniquities, if it be a sin of commis- 
 sion: and what are those duties which we 
 tead, or hear of from the word of God, to 
 which we find ourselves most disinclined 1^ 
 And this, in all likelihood, will help us to 
 detect some of our peculiar sins of omis- 
 sion ; which, without such previous exam- 
 ination, we may not be sensible of. And 
 thus we may make a proficiency in one 
 considerable branch of self-knowledge, 
 [25]
 
 60 WftfiREIN SELF-KNOWLEDGfi 
 
 CHAP. VIII. 
 
 The Knowledge of our most dangerous 
 Temptations^ necessary to Sclf-Knowlcdge. 
 
 A MAN that rightly knows himself, is 
 acquainted with his peculiar temptations; 
 and knows when, and in what circum- 
 stances, he is in the greatest danger of 
 transgressing. 
 
 Reader, if ever you would know your- 
 self, you must examine this point thor- 
 oughly. And if you have never yet done 
 it, make a pause when 3^ou have read this 
 chapter, and do it now. Consider in what 
 company you are most apt to lose the 
 possession and government of yourself; on 
 what occasions you are apt to be most 
 vain and unguarded, most warm and pre- 
 cipitant. Flee that company, avoid those 
 occasions, if you would keep your con- 
 science clear. What is it that robs you 
 of your time and your temper? If you 
 have a due regard to the improvement of 
 the one, and the preservation of the oth- 
 er, you will regret such a loss; and shun 
 the occasions of it, as carefully as you 
 would a road beset with robbers.
 
 toOTII CONSIST. Cl 
 
 But especially must you attend to the 
 occasions wliicli most usually betray \ ou 
 into your favourite vices; and consider 
 the spring from whence they arise, and the 
 circinnstances which most favour them. 
 They arise doubtless Ironi your natural 
 temper, wliicli strongly disposes and in- 
 clines you to them. That temper, then, or 
 particular turn of desire, must be careful- 
 ly watched over, as a most dangerous 
 quarter. — And tiie opportunities and cir- 
 cumstances which favour those inclina- 
 tions must be resolutely avoided, as the 
 strongest temptations. For the way to 
 subdue a criminal inclination is, first, to 
 avoid the known occasions which excite it; 
 and to then curb the lirst motions of it. [26] 
 And thus having no opportunity of being 
 indulged, it will of itself in time lose its 
 force, and fail of its wonted victory. 
 
 The surest way to conquer, is sometimes 
 to decline a battle; to weary out the ene- 
 my by keeping him at bay. Fabius Max- 
 imus did not use this stratagem more suc- 
 cessfully against Hannibal than a Chris- 
 tian may against his peculiar vice, if he 
 be but watchful of his advantages. It is 
 dangerous to provoke an unequal enemy 
 t© the fight, or run into such a situation.
 
 62 .WHEREIN SELF-KNOWLEDGE 
 
 where we cannot expect to escape with- 
 out a disadvantageous encounter. 
 
 It is of unspeakable importance, in or- 
 der to self-knowledge and self-government, 
 to be acquainted with all the accesses 
 and avenues to sin, and to observe which 
 way it is that we ourselves too often ap- 
 proach it; and to set reason and con- 
 science to guard those passes, those usual 
 inlets to vice, which, if a man once enters, 
 he will find a retreat extremely difficult, 
 [27] 
 
 "Watchfulness, which is always ne- 
 cessary, is chiefly so when the first as- 
 sults are made: for then the enemy is 
 most easily repulsed, if we never suffer 
 him to get within us, but upon the very 
 first approach draw up our forces, and 
 fight him without the gate. And this 
 will be more manifest, if we observe by 
 what methods and degrees temptations 
 grow upon us. — The first thing that pre- 
 sents itself to the mind, is a plain single 
 thought; this straight is improved into a 
 strong imagination ; that again enforced 
 by a sensible delight; then follow evil 
 motions; and when these are once stirred, 
 their wants nothing but the assent of the 
 will, and the work is finished. Now the 
 first steps to this are seldom thought
 
 DOTH CONSIST. 63 
 
 worth our care; sometimes not taken no- 
 tice of; so that the enemy is frequently 
 got close up to us, and evrn within our 
 trenches, Ijeforo we ohserve him." 
 
 As men havc^ tlieir particular sins, 
 which do most easily beset them; so tliey 
 have their particular temp^tations, whicii 
 do most easily overcome them. Tiiat 
 may be a very great temptation to one, 
 which is none at all to another. And if 
 a man does not know what are his great- 
 est temptations, he must have been a 
 great stranger indeed to the business of 
 self-employment. 
 
 As the subtle enemy of mankind takes 
 care to draw men gradually into sin, so 
 he usually draws them by degrees into 
 temptation. As he disguises the sin, so 
 he conceals the tem))tation to it; well 
 knowing, that were they but once sensi- 
 ble of their danger of sin, they would be 
 ready to be on their guard against it. 
 Would we know ourselves thoroughly, 
 then, we must get acquainted not only 
 with our most usual temptations, that we 
 be not unawares drawn intf) sin, but with 
 the previous steps and preparatory cir- 
 cumstances, which make way for those 
 temipta lions, that we be not drawn una- 
 wares into the occasions of sin; for those
 
 04 TYHEREIN SELF-KNOWLEDGE 
 
 things which lead us into temptations, are 
 to be considered as temptations, as well 
 as those which immediately lead iis into 
 sin. And a man that knows himself, will 
 be aware of his remote temptations, as 
 well as the more immediate ones; t. g. If 
 he find the company of a passionate man 
 is a temptation, (as Solomon tells ns it is, 
 Prov. xxii. 24, 25,) he will not only avoid 
 it, but those occasions that may lead him 
 into it. And the petition in tlie Lord's 
 Prayer makes it as much a man's di!ty to 
 be upon his guard against teUiptation, as 
 under it. Nor can a man pray from his 
 heart that God would not lead him into 
 temptation, if he take no care hin^self to 
 avoid it. 
 
 CHAP. IX. 
 
 Self- Know ledge discovers the secret Prejudi- 
 ces of the Heart. 
 
 Another important branch of self- 
 knowledge is, for a man to be acquainted 
 with his own prejudices; or those secret 
 prepossesions of heart, which, though so 
 •deep and latent, that he may not be sensi-
 
 DOTH CONSIST. (jj 
 
 bio of them, are often so stroiii? nnrl pre- 
 VHl'.nt as to give ii mighty, impercepiible 
 bias to the iiiiiul. 
 
 There is no one particular that I know 
 of, wherein self-knowledge more eminent- 
 \y consists, than it does in this. It being 
 therefore so essential a branch of my sub- 
 ject, and a point to which men seldom j)ay 
 attention eqoal to its importance, 1 beg 
 leave to treat it with a little more ))reci- 
 sion. 
 
 These ];)reiiu1ices of the human mind 
 may be considered with regard to opinions, 
 persons, and things. 
 
 1. With regard to opinions. 
 
 It is a common observation, but well ex- 
 pressed by a late celebrated writer, "that 
 we set out in life v.ith such poor beginnings 
 of knowledge, and grow up under such re- 
 mains of superstition v.nd ignorance, such 
 influences of company and fashion, such in- 
 sinuations of pleasure, &:c. tl^at it is no 
 wonder, if men get iiabits of thinking on- 
 ly in one way; that these habits in time 
 grow rigid and confirmed; and so their 
 minds come to be overcast with thick pre- 
 judices, scarce penetrable by any ray of 
 truth, or light of reason." 
 
 There is no man but is more attached 
 to one particular set or scheme of opin- 
 
 6*
 
 66 WHEREIN SELF-KNOWLEDGE 
 
 ions in philosophy, politics, and religion, 
 than he is to another; I mean, if he hath 
 employed his thoughts at all about thein. 
 The question we should examine then is, 
 How came we by these attachments? 
 Whence are we so fond of these particu- 
 lar notions? Did we come fairly by them? 
 Or were they imposed upon us, and dicta- 
 ted 50 our easy belief, before we were 
 able to judge of them? This is most like- 
 ly. For the impressions we early receive 
 generally grow up with us, and are those 
 we least care to part with. However, 
 w hich way soever we came by them, they 
 must be re-examined and brought to the 
 touchstone of sound 'sense, sold reason, 
 and plain scripture. If they will not bear 
 tliis, after hard rubbing, they must be dis- 
 missed, as no genuine principles of truth, 
 but as counterfeits impossed upon us un- 
 der the guise and semblance of it. 
 
 And as reason and scripture must dis- 
 cover our prejudices to us, so they only 
 can help us to get rid of them. By these 
 are we to rectify, and to these are we to 
 conform, all our opinions and sentiments 
 in religion, as our only standard, exclusive 
 of all other rules, light or authority, what- 
 toever. 
 
 And care must further be taken that we
 
 bOTH CONSIST. 67 
 
 ^0 not make scripture and reason bend 
 an'] buckle to our notif)n: which will 
 vathcr conlirni our prejudices than cure 
 them. For whatever cannot evidently be 
 proved, without the help of overstrained 
 metaphors, and the arts of sophistry, is 
 much to be suspected; which used to 
 make archbishop Tiilotson say — Non amo 
 ar'iutius in Theologia ; 1 do not love sub- 
 leties in divinity. But, 
 
 2. The human mind is very apt to be 
 prejudiced either for or against certain 
 persons, as well as certain sentiments. 
 And as prejudice will lead a man to talk 
 very unreasonably with regard to the 
 latter, so it will lead him to act as un- 
 reasonably with regard to the former. 
 
 What is the reason, for instance, that 
 we casmot iielp having a more hearty af- 
 fection for some persons than others? Is it 
 from a similaritv of tas^e and temj^er? 
 Or something in their address, that flut- 
 ters our vanity? Or something in tlieir 
 liumour, that hits our fancy? Or some- 
 thnig in their conversation, that improves 
 our understanding? Or a certain svveet- 
 ness of disposition, and a.""reecal)leness 
 of manner, that is naturally engcigiug? 
 Or lV(Mn benefits received or eynect(d 
 froitt tliciii? Or from some eminent and
 
 68 WHEREIN SELF-KNOWLEDGE 
 
 distinguished excellency in them? Or from 
 none of these; but somelhiug else, we 
 cannot tell what? — Such sort of inquiries 
 will show us whether our esteem and af- 
 fections be rightly placed; or flow from 
 mere instinct, blind prejudice, or some- 
 thing worse. 
 
 And so on the other hand, with regard 
 to our disaffection towards any one, or the 
 disgust we have taken against him; if we 
 would know ourselves, we must examine 
 into the bottom of this; and see not only 
 what is the pretended, but the true cause 
 of it; whether it be justifialde, and resent- 
 ments duly proportioned to it. is his 
 
 manner of thinking, talking and acting, 
 quite different from mine, and therelbre 
 what I cannot approve? Or have I received 
 some real affront or injury from him? Be it 
 so; my continued resentment against him, 
 on either of thesp accounts, may be ow- 
 ing, notwithstandng, more to some unreas- 
 onable prejudice in me, than to any real 
 fault in him. 
 
 For as to the former, his way of think- 
 ing, talking and acting, mav possibly be 
 juster than mv own ; which the mere force 
 of custom and habit onl> nmkes nie pre- 
 fer to his Howeyer. he it ever so wrong, 
 he may not have had the same advantage
 
 DOTH CONSIST. 69 
 
 of improving; liis iiiulerstandinfr, ndtlress, 
 and conduct, as I have had; and tlu re- 
 forcj his deltcts herein are more excusea- 
 b!e. And he may have many otlier kinds 
 of exceHencies which I have not. — '•Hut 
 he is not only i»iU)rant and iinmanncred, but 
 unsufferably vam, conceited -nul ovc^-bear- 
 ing at the same tinie." Why. that jjcr- 
 hnps he cannot help. It is the fault of 
 his nature. Ke is the object of pity rath- 
 er than resentment. And had I such a 
 disposition by nature, i should, prehaps, 
 with all my self-improvement, find it a dif- 
 ficult thing to uKiuage. And therefore, 
 though f can never elioose such a one for an 
 agreeahle companion. yet I ought not to har- 
 bour a dislike to him, but love, and pity, and 
 pray for him, as a person under a great 
 misfortune; and be thankful that I am not 
 under the same. — "But he is quite blind to 
 this fault of his tem})er, and does not ap- 
 pear to be in the least sensible of it."' — 
 Why, that is a ^neater misfortune still; 
 and he ought to be the more pitied. And 
 as to the other pretended ground of dis- 
 gust, "he hath often offended and injured 
 me:"' Let me consider, 1. Whether an 
 offence was really intended; whether I do 
 not impute to ill nature, which was onlj 
 owing to ill manners; or that to design,
 
 TO WHEREIN SELF-KNOWLEDGE 
 
 which proceeded onl}^ from ignorance. Do 
 I not take offence before it is given? If so, 
 the ffiult is mine, and not his. And the 
 resentment I have conceived against him, 
 I ought to turn upon myself. [28] — Again, 
 2. Did I not provoke him to it, when I 
 knew his temper? The fault is still my 
 own. 1 did, or might know the pride, pas- 
 sion or perverseness of his nature; why 
 tiien did I exasperate him? A man that 
 would needlessly rouse a lion, must not 
 expect always to come off so favourably 
 as the hero of La Mancha.— But, 3. 
 Suppose I were not the aggressor; yet, 
 how came I into his company? Who led 
 me into the temptation? He hath acted ac- 
 cording to his nature in what he hath done ; 
 but 1 have not acted according to my reas- 
 on, in laying myself so open to him. I 
 knew him; why did I not shun him, as I 
 would any other dangerous animal that 
 does mischief by instinct? If I must needs 
 put my finger into a wasp's nest, why 
 should I blame them for stinging me? — 
 Or, 4. If I could not avoid his company, 
 why did 1 not arm myself? Why did I ven- 
 ture defenceless into so much danger? — Or 
 5. Suppose he hath done me a real and 
 undeserved injury, without my fault or 
 provocation ; yet dQes not rny discontent
 
 bOTH CONSIST 71 
 
 aggravate it.^ Does it not appear jireater 
 to me, liiHii It does to any body tlse.^ Or 
 than it will to me, after the present fer- 
 ment is over.^ — And lastly, after all, must 
 I never forgive.^ How sliall 1 be able to 
 repeat the Lord's prayer, or read our Sav- 
 iour's comment upon it, (Matt vi. 14, 15,) 
 with an unforgiving temper.^ Do I not 
 h())je to be forgiven ten tliousand talents; 
 and cannot r forgive my fellow servant thir- 
 ty pence. '^ VV'ien 1 know not but he hath 
 repented, and (j!oj> hath foraiven him, 
 whose fori^iveness I want infinitely m'>re 
 tha-.i my <;reatest enemy does mine. (29) 
 
 Such considerations are of great use td 
 soften our prejudices against persons; and 
 at once to discover the true spring, and 
 prevent the bad effects of them. And 
 happy would it be for a Christian, co(dd 
 he l)ut call to mind, and apply to his relief, 
 half the good things which that excellent 
 heathen emperor and phiiiosopher, Mar- 
 cus Antnrjius. could say upon this sub- 
 ject. Some of which I have, for the bene- 
 fit of the Enidish reader, extracted and 
 thrown into the margin, [30] 
 
 3. The mind is apt to be prejudiced 
 against or in favour of certain things and 
 actions, as well as certain sentiments and 
 persons.
 
 72 WHEREIN SELF-KNOWLEDGE 
 
 Do you not sometimes find c1p>1I. clisa" 
 greeable ideas annexed to eennin places^ 
 seasons, or employments, which give you a 
 secret aversion to them.^ '1 hese arise from 
 the rSmenibrance of some unpleasing inci- 
 dents you have heretofore met with, and 
 which you apprehend niav again befal 
 you on such occasions. But tliey are 
 notliing more than the mere misrepresen- 
 tations of fancy; and ought to be repelled, 
 because they will be apt to lead you to 
 neglect the duties of your character. 
 
 If therefore you find in yourself a se- 
 cret disindiiuition to any particular action 
 or duty, anri the mind begins to cast about 
 for exciises and reasons to justify the 
 neglect of it, consider the matter well: go 
 to the bottom of that reluctance; and 
 senrch out what it is that gives the mind 
 this aversion to it. Whether it be the 
 thing, or action itself, or some discourag- 
 ing circuinstHnces that may attend it; or 
 son\e disagreeable consequences that may 
 possibly flow from it; or your supposed 
 unfitness for it at present. Why, all these 
 things may be only imaginary. And to 
 neglect a plain and positive duty upon 
 such consideration, shows that vou are 
 governed by appearances more than real-
 
 DOTH CONSIST. '..5 
 
 ities, by fancy more than reason, and by 
 inclination more tiian conscience. 
 
 But let I'ancy muster up all the discour- 
 aging circumstances, and set them in the 
 most formidalile light, to bar your way to 
 a supposed duty; ibr instance, ''it is very 
 difficult; 1 want capacity, at least am so 
 indisposed to it at present, that 1 shall 
 make nothing of it; and then it will be at- 
 tended with danger to my person, reputa- 
 tion or peace ; and the opposition 1 am 
 like to meet with is great, &c." But after 
 all, is the call of Providence clear? Is the 
 thing a plain duty.^ Such as reason, con- 
 science, and scripture, your ofiice charac- 
 ter, or personal engagements, call upon 
 you to discharge.? If so, all the aforesaid 
 objections are vain and delusive; and you 
 have nothing to do but to summon youF 
 courage, and, in dependance on divine 
 help, to set about tlie business immediate- 
 ly, and in good earnest, and in the best and 
 wisest manner you can; and you may de- 
 pend upon it you will find the greatest dif- 
 ficulty to lie only in the first attempt; 
 these frightful aj)pearances to be all vis- 
 ionary, the mere figments of fancy, turning 
 lambs into lions, and mole-hills into moun- 
 tains; and that nothing but sloth, folly and 
 self-indulgence thus set your imagination 
 
 7
 
 74 WHEREIN SELF-KNOWLEDGE 
 
 on work to deter you from a plain duty. 
 Your heart would deceive you, but you 
 have found out the cheat, and do not be 
 imposed upon. [31] 
 
 i\gain, suppose the thing done; consid- 
 er how it vvill look then. Take a view of 
 it as past; and whatever pains it may 
 cost yon, think whether it will not be 
 abundantly recompensed by the inward 
 peace and pleasure, which arise from a con- 
 sciousness of having acted right. It cer- 
 tainly will. And the difficulties you now 
 dread, will enhanceyour future satisfaction. 
 [32J But think again how you will bear the 
 reflections of your own mind, if you wil- 
 fully neglect a plain and necessary duty; 
 whether this will not occasion you much 
 more trouble than all the pains you might 
 be at in performing it. And a wise man 
 will always determine-himself by the end; 
 or by such a retrospective view of things, 
 considered as past. 
 
 Again, on the other hand, if you find a 
 strong propension to any particular action* 
 examine that with the like impartiality. 
 Perhaps it is what neither your reason nor 
 conscience can fully approve. And yet 
 every motive to it is strongly urged, and 
 and every objection to it is slighted. Sense 
 and appetite grow iniportunate and cla-
 
 DOTH CONSIST. 75 
 
 moiuous, and want to lead, wliile reason 
 remonstrates in vain. But turn not aside 
 from that lailhfnl and friendly monitor, 
 whilst, with a low, still voice, siie address- 
 es you in this soft l)ut earnest ianguaf^e — 
 "Hear me, I beseech yon, but this one word 
 more. The action is indeed out of char- 
 acter; what I shall never approve. The 
 pleasure of it is a ^reat deal overrated; 
 you will certainly be disappointed. It is 
 a false appearance that now deceives you. 
 And what will you think of yourself wlicn 
 it is past, and you come to reflect serious- 
 ly on the matter? Believe it, you will then 
 wish you had taken me for your counsel- 
 lor, instead of those enemies of mine, your 
 lusts and passions, which have so often 
 misled you, though you know I never did." 
 Such short recollections as these, and a 
 little leisure to take a view of the nature 
 and consequences of things or actions, be- 
 fore we reject or approve them, will pre- 
 vent much false judgment and bad con- 
 duct; and by degrees wear off the "^preju- 
 dices which fancy has fixed in the mind, 
 either Un- or against any particular action ; 
 teach us to distinguish between things and 
 their appearances; strip them of those false 
 colours that so often deceive us; correct
 
 7G WHEREIN S'ELF-KNOWLEDGE 
 
 the sallies of the imagination, and leave 
 the reins in the hand of reason. 
 
 Before I dismiss this head, I must ob- 
 serve, that some of our strongest prejudi- 
 ces arise from an excessive self-esteem, or 
 too great a complacency in our own good 
 sense and understanding. Philatus in eve- 
 ry thing shews himself well satisfied with 
 his own wisdom ; which makes him very 
 impatient of contradiction, and gives him 
 a distaste to all who shall presume to op- 
 pose their judgment to his in any thing. 
 He had rather persevere in a mistake than 
 retract it, lest his judgment should suffer; 
 not considering that his ingenuity and 
 good sense suffer much more by such ob- 
 stinacy. The fulness of his self-sufficien- 
 cy makes him blind to those imperfections, 
 Vvhich every one can see in him but him- 
 self. So that, however wise, sincere and 
 friendly, however gentle and seasonable, 
 your remonstrance may be, he takes it 
 immediately to proceed from ill-nature or 
 ignorance in you, but from no fault in him. 
 
 Seneca, 1 remember, tells us a remarka- 
 ble story, which very well illustrates this 
 matter. — Writting to his friend Lucilius, 
 "My wife (says lie) keeps Harpastes in 
 her house still, who, you know, is a sort of 
 family fool, and an incumbrance upon us.
 
 DOTH CONSIST. 77 
 
 For my part, I am far from taking any 
 pleasure in such prodigies. If I have a 
 mind to divert myself witli a fool, I have 
 not far to go for one; 1 can laugli at my- 
 self This silly girl, all on a sduden, lost 
 her eye-sight; and (which perhaps may 
 seem incredible, but it is very true) she 
 does not know' she is blind; but is every 
 now and then desiring her governess to 
 lead her abroad, saying the house is dark. 
 Now, what \we laugh at in this poor 
 creature, you may observe, hapi)ens to us 
 all. No man knows that he is covetous or 
 insatiable. Yet with this dilTerence; the 
 blind seek somebody to lead them, but we 
 are content to wander without a guide. — 
 But why do we thus deceive ourselves? 
 The disease is not without us, but fixed 
 deep within. And therefore is the cure so 
 difficult, because we do not know that we 
 are sick." 
 
 CHAP. X. 
 
 The Necessity and Means of knowing oui 
 jYaiaral Temper. 
 
 AMOTiinn very important branch of self- 
 knowledge is the knowledge of those gov-
 
 78 WHER^lX SELF-KNOWLEDGE 
 
 erning passions or dispositions of the 
 mind, which generally form what we call 
 a man's natural temper. 
 
 The difference of natnral tempers seems 
 to be chiefly owing to the different degrees 
 of influence the several passions have up- 
 on the mind. e. g. If the passions are ea- 
 ger and soon raised, we say the man is of 
 a warm temper; if more sluggish and 
 slowly raised, he is of a cool temper; ac- 
 cording as anger, malice or ambition pre- 
 vail, he is of a fierce, chnrlish, or haughty 
 temper; the influence of the softer pas- 
 sions of love, pity, and benevolence, forms 
 a sweet, sympathizing and courteous tem- 
 per; and when all the passions are duly 
 poised, and the milder and pleasing ones 
 prevail, they make what is commonly call- 
 ed a quite good natured man. 
 
 So that it is the prevalence or predom- 
 inance of any particular passion, which 
 gives the turn or tincture to a man's tem- 
 per, by which he is distinguished, and for 
 which he is loved and esteemed, or shun- 
 ned and despised by others. 
 
 Now what this is, those we converse 
 with are soon sensible of. They present- 
 ly see the faults of our temper, and order 
 their behaviour accordii^igly. If tiiey are 
 \YJse and well-mannered, they will avoid
 
 DOTH CONSIST. 79 
 
 tonrbiiiG: the string which they know will 
 jar and raise a discord within us. If they 
 are our enemies, they will do it on pur- 
 pose to set us on tormenting ourselves. 
 And our friends we must suffer sometimes 
 wilh a gentle hand to touch it, either 
 by way of pleasant raillery or faithful ad- 
 vice. 
 
 But a man must be greatly unacquaint- 
 ed with himself, if he is ignorant of his 
 predominant passion, or distinguishing 
 temper, when every one observes it. And 
 yet how common is this piece of self-ig- 
 norance? The two apostles, James and 
 J(din, discovered it in that very action 
 wherein they meant to express nothing but 
 a liearty zeal fur their Master's honour; 
 which made him tell them, that they knew 
 not what manner of spirii they were of, 
 (Luke ix. .O.) i. e. that instead of a princi- 
 ple of love and genuine zeal for him, they 
 were at that tinje governed by a S|)irit of 
 pride, reveuiie and cruelty; and vet kuiw 
 it not. And that the apostle .John should 
 be liabb^ to this censure, whose tciuper 
 seenied io 'ic ull love and sveetness, is a 
 meujorai)le instance hou rfficnlt a thing 
 it is for a man at all tinx s to know his 
 ov.n spirit; and that that ])MSsioTK which 
 seems to have the least power over his
 
 80 WHEREIN SELF-KNOWLEDGE 
 
 mind may on some occasions insensibly gain 
 a criminal ascendant there. 
 
 The necessity of a perfect knowledge of 
 our reigning passions appears further from 
 hence; that they not only j^ive h tincture 
 to the temper, but to the understanding al- 
 so; and throw a strong bias on the judg- 
 ment. They huve much the same effect 
 upon the eye of the mind, as some distem- 
 pers have upon that of the body. If they 
 do not put it out, they weaken it, or throw 
 false colours before it, and make it form a 
 wrong judgment of things; and, in short, 
 are the source of those forementioned pre- 
 judices, which so often abuse the human 
 understanding. 
 
 Whatever the different passions them- 
 selves that reign in the mind may be ow- 
 ing to, whether to the different texture of 
 the bodily organs, or the different quanti- 
 ty of motion of the animal spirits, or to 
 the native turn and cast of the soul itself; 
 yet certain it is, that men's different ways 
 of thinking are much according to the 
 predominance of their different passions; 
 and especially with regard to religion. 
 Thus, e. g. sve see melancholy people are 
 apt to throw too much gloom upon their 
 religion, and represent it in a very unin- 
 viting and unlovely view, as all austerity
 
 I>OTM CONSIST. 81 
 
 and mortification; whilst they who are 
 governed by the more gay and cheerful 
 passions, are apt to run into the other ex- 
 treme, and too ninch to miniile the plea- 
 sures of sense with those of religion; and 
 are as mucii too lax, as the others are too 
 severe. A\u\ thus, by the prejudice or 
 bias of their resjiective passions, or the 
 force of their natural temper, they are led 
 into different mistakes. 
 
 ''So that would a man know himself, he 
 must study his natural temper, his consti- 
 tutional inclinations, and favourite pas- 
 sions; for by these a man's judj^ment is 
 easily preverted, and a wrong bias hung 
 upon his mind: these are the inlets of pre- 
 judice; the unguarded avenues of the 
 mind, by which a thousand errors and se- 
 cret faults find admission, without being 
 observed or taken notice of." 
 
 And that we may more easily come at 
 the knowledge of our predominant affec- 
 tions, let us consider what outward events 
 do most impress and move us, and in what 
 manner^ — \V'hat is it that usually creates 
 the greatest pain or ]:)leasure in ihe mind? 
 — And as for pain, a stoic indeed may tell 
 ns, "that we must keep things at a dis- 
 tance; let nothing that is outward come 
 within us; let externals be externals still."
 
 82 WHEREIN SELF-KNOWLEDGE 
 
 But the human make will scarce bear 
 the rigour of that philosophy. Outward 
 things, after all, will impress and affect 
 ns; and there is no harm in this, provided 
 they do not get the possession of us, over- 
 set our reason, or lead us to act unbecom- 
 ing a man or a Ciiristian. And one ad- 
 vantage we mav reap from hence is, the 
 manner or degree in vihich outward things 
 impress us, may lead us into a better ac- 
 quaintance with ourselves, discover to us 
 our weak side, and the passions which 
 most predominate in us. 
 
 Our pleasures will likewise discover our 
 reigning passions, and the true temper and 
 disposition of the soul. If it be captiva- 
 ted by the pleasures of sin, it is a sign its 
 prevailing taste is very vicious and cor- 
 rupt; if with the pleasures of sense, very 
 low and sordid ; if imaginary pleasures, and 
 the painted scenes of fancy and romance 
 do most entertain it, the soul hath then a 
 trifling turn; if the pleasures of science or 
 intellectual improvements are those it is 
 most fond of, it has then a noble and re- 
 fined taste; but if its chief satisfactions 
 derive from religion and divine contem- 
 plation, it has then its true and proper 
 taste; its temper is as it should be, pure, 
 divine, and heavenly j provided these satis-
 
 toOTH CONSIST. 83 
 
 factions spring from a truly religions prin-- 
 cii)lc, free iVom that supersitition, bigotry 
 and enthusiasm, under which it is often dis- 
 guised. 
 
 And thus, by carefully observing what 
 it is that gives the mind the greatest pain 
 and torment, or the greatest pleasure and 
 entertainment, we come at the knowledge 
 of its reigning passions, and prevailing 
 temper and disposition. 
 
 '^Include thyself, tiim, O my soul, with- 
 in tile compass of thine own iieart; if it 
 be not large, it is deep, and thou wilt 
 there find exercise enough. Tiion wilt nev- 
 er be able to sound it; it cannot be known 
 but by Him, who tries the thonfj;hts and 
 reins. But dive into the subject as deep 
 as thou canst. Examine thyself; and this 
 knowledge of that which passes within 
 thee, will be of more use to thee, than the 
 knowledge of all that passes in the world. 
 Cnncern not thyself with the w^ars and 
 quarrels of public or private persons. 
 Take cognizance of those contests which 
 are between thy flesh and thy spirit; be* 
 twixt the lav/ of thy members, and that of 
 thy understanding. Appease those differ-^ 
 cnces. Teach thy flesh to be in subjec- 
 tion. Replace reason on its throne; and 
 give it piety for its consellor. Tame thy
 
 S4 WHEREIN SELF-KNOWLEDGE 
 
 passions, and bring them under bondage; 
 Put thy little state in good order. Gov- 
 ern wisely and holily those numerous peo- 
 ple which are contained in so little a king- 
 dom; that is to say, that multitude of af- 
 fections, thoughts, opinions and passions 
 which are in thine heart." 
 
 CHAR XL 
 
 Concerning the secret Springs of Actions, 
 
 Another considerable branch of self- 
 acfiuaintance is, ihe knowledge of tlie 
 trne motives and secret springs of our ac- 
 tions. 
 
 This will sometimes cost us much pains 
 to acquire. But for want of it; we shall 
 be in danger of passing a false judgment 
 upon our actions, and of entertaining a 
 wrong opinion of our conduct. 
 
 It is not only vety possible, but very 
 common, for men to be ignorant of the 
 chief inducements of their behaviour; and 
 to imagine they act from one motive, 
 whilst they are apparently governed by 
 another. If we examine our views and 
 look into our hearts narrowly, we shall
 
 BOTH «ONSIS«. 85 
 
 find that tliey more frequently deceive us 
 in tliis respect than we are aware of; by 
 persuading us that we are governed by 
 much better motives than we really are. 
 The honour of Gov, and the interest of re- 
 ligion, may be the open and avowed mo- 
 tives; whilst secular interest and secret 
 vanity may be the hidden and true one. 
 Whilst we think we are serving God, we 
 may be only sacrificing to Mammon. We 
 may, like Jehu, boast our zeal for the 
 Lord, when we are only animated by the 
 heat of our natural passions; (2 Rings x. 
 16.) may cover a censorious spirit under a 
 cloak of piety ; and giving admonition to 
 others may be only giving vent to our 
 spleen. 
 
 Many come to the place of public wor- 
 ship out of custom or ciniosity, who would 
 be thought to come thither only out of 
 conscience. And whilst their extenal 
 and professed view is to serve God, and 
 -gain jjood to their souls, their secret and 
 inward motive is only to show themselves' 
 t© advantage, or to avoid singularity, and 
 prevent others making observations on 
 their absence. Munificence and almsgiv- 
 ing may often proceed from a principle of 
 pride and party spirit, when it may appear 
 
 8
 
 86 WHEREIN SELF-KNOWLEDGE 
 
 to be the effect of pine piety and charity, 
 and seeming acts of friendship fronr a mer- 
 cenary motive. 
 
 By thus disguising our motives, we may 
 impose upon men, but at the same time we 
 are imposing upon ourselves; and whilst , 
 we are deceiving others, our own hearts 
 deceive us. And of all impostures, self- 
 deception is the most dangerous, because 
 least suspected. 
 
 Now, unless we examine this point nar- 
 rowly, we shall never come to the bottom 
 of it; and unless we come at the true 
 spring and real motive of our actions, we 
 shall never be able to form a right judg- 
 ment of them ; and they may appear very 
 different in our own eye, and in the eye of 
 the world, from what they do in the eye 
 of God. For the Lord seeth not as man 
 seeth: For man looketh on the outward 
 appearance, but the Lord looketh on the 
 heart. (1 Sam. xvi. 7.) And hence it is, 
 that that which is highly esteemed among 
 men, is, oftentimes, abomination in the 
 sight of God. (Luke xvi. 15.) Every way 
 of a man is right in his own eyes; but the 
 Lord pondereth the hearts. (Prov. xxi. 2.)
 
 DOTH CONSIST 87 
 
 CHAP. XII. 
 
 Everyone that knows himself^ is in a partic- 
 ular Manner sensible how Jar he is gov- 
 erned by a Thirst Jo r ^/Ipplause. 
 
 Another tliini? necessary to unfold a 
 man's heart to hims(ilf is, to consider what 
 is his appetite for fame, and by what 
 means he seeks to gratifiy it. 
 
 Tiiis passion in particular havinr^ al- 
 ways so main a stroke, and oftentinies so 
 unsuspected an influence on the most im- 
 portant parts of our conduct, a perfect ac- 
 quaintance with' it is a very material 
 branch of self-knowledge, and therefore 
 requires a distinct consideration. 
 
 Emulation, like tiie other passions of 
 the human mind, shows itself much more 
 plainly, and works much more strongly in 
 some than it does in others. It is in itself 
 innocent; and was planted in our natures 
 for very wise ends, and, if kept under 
 proper regulations, is capable of serving 
 very excellent purposes; otherwise it de- 
 generates into a mean and criminal ambi- 
 tion.
 
 88 WHEREIN SELF-KNOWLEDeE 
 
 When a man finds something within 
 him that pushes him on to exc( ! in worthy 
 deeds, or in actions truly good and virtu- 
 ous, and pursues that design with a steady, 
 unaffected ardour, without reserve or false- 
 hood, it is a true sign of a noble spirit. 
 For that love of praise can never be crim- 
 inal that excites and enables a man to do 
 a great deal more good th.ui he could do 
 without it. And perhaps their never was 
 a fine genius or a noble spirit, that rose a- 
 bove the common level, and disLingi<ished 
 itself by high attainments in what is truly 
 excellent, but was secretly, and perhaps 
 insensibly, prompted by the impulse of this 
 passion. 
 
 But, on the contary, if a man's views 
 centre only in the applause of others, 
 whether it be deserved or not; if he pants 
 after popularity and fame, not regarding 
 how he comes by it; if his passion for 
 praise urge him to stretch himself beyond 
 the line of his capacity, and to atten)pt 
 things to which he is unequal; to conde- 
 scend to mean arts and low dissimulation 
 for the sake of a name; and, in a sinister, 
 indirect way, sue hard for a little incense, 
 not caring from whom he receives it, his 
 ambition then becomes vanity. And if it 
 excite a man to wicked attempts, make
 
 BOTM CONSIST. 89 
 
 him willing to sacrifice tlie esteem of ail 
 wise and good men to the acclamations of 
 a mob; to overleap the bounds of decen- 
 cy and truth, and break through the obli- 
 gations of lionour and virtue, it is then not 
 only vanity but vice; and vice the most 
 destructive to the peace and happiness of 
 human society, and which, of all others, 
 hath made the greatest havoc and devas- 
 tation among men. 
 
 What an instance have we here of the 
 wide difference between common opinion 
 and truth? That a vice so big with mis- 
 ciiief and misery should be mistaken for a 
 virtue! And that they who have been 
 most infamous for it, should be crowned 
 with laurels, even by those who have been 
 ruined by it; and have those laurels per- 
 petuated by the common consent of 
 men, through after ages! Seneca's judg- 
 ment of Alexandria is certainly more a- 
 agreeable to truth than the common opin- 
 ion ; who called him "a public cut-throat, 
 rather timn a hero; and who, in seeking 
 only to be a terror to mankind, arose to 
 no greater an excellence than what be- 
 longed to the most hurtful and hateful ani- 
 mals on earth."' [33] 
 
 Certain it is, that those false heroes, 
 who seek their glory from the destruction 
 
 8*
 
 / 
 
 90 WHEREIN SELF-KXOWLEDGE 
 
 of their own species, are of all men most 
 ignorant of themselves; and by this \\ ick- 
 ed ambition entail infamy and curses upon 
 their name, instead of that immortal glo- 
 ry they pursued. According to the proph- 
 et's words — Wo to him who coveteth an 
 evil covetousness to his house, that he 
 may set his nest on high ; that he may be 
 delivered from the power of evil. Thou 
 hast consulted shame to thine home, by 
 cutting off many people: and hast sinned 
 against thy soul." (Hab. ii. 9, 10.) [34J 
 
 No man can truly know himself till he 
 be acquainted with this, which is so often 
 the secret and unperceived spring of his 
 actions, and observes how far it governs 
 him in his conversation and conduct. Vir- 
 tue and real excellence will rise to view, 
 though they be not mounted on the wings 
 of ambition, which, by soaring too high, 
 procures but a more fatal fall. 
 
 And to correct the irregularity and ex- 
 travagance of this passion, let us but re- 
 flect how airy and unsubstantial a plea- 
 sure the highest gratifications of it afford; 
 how many cruel mortifications it exposi s 
 ■us to, by awakening the envy of others; to 
 what meanness it often makes us submil ; 
 how, frequently it loserh its end by pur- 
 suing it with too much ardour; and 
 how m»ch more solid pleasure the appro-
 
 DOTH CONSIST. 01 
 
 bation of conscience will yield, than the 
 acclamations of ignorant and mis-iaken 
 men, who, jndging by externals only, 
 cannot know our true character; and 
 whose commendations a wise man would 
 rather despise than court. "Examine but 
 the size of people's sense, and the condi- 
 tion of their understandings, and you will 
 never be fond of popularity, nor afraid of 
 censure ; nor solicitous what judgment they 
 may form of you, who know not how to 
 judge of rightly themselves." 
 
 CHAP. XIII. 
 
 j^liat Kind of Know/edge we are a/ ready 
 furnished with, and what Degree of Es- 
 teem we set upon it. 
 
 A MAX can never rightly know himself, 
 unless he examines into his knowledge of 
 other things. 
 
 We must consider then the knowledge 
 we iiave; and whellur we do not set too 
 hi'ih a price upon it, and too great a val- 
 ue (ipcm ourselves on the account of it; of 
 what real use it is to us, and what elfect 
 it has upon us; whether it does not make 
 us too siitV, unsociable, and assuming; tes-
 
 i)2 WHERSIN SELF-KNOWLEDGE 
 
 ty and supercilious, and ready to despise 
 others for their supposed ignorance. If 
 so, our knowledge, be it what it will, does 
 us more harm than good. We were better 
 without it; ignorance itself would not ren- 
 der us so ridiculous. Such a temper, with 
 all our knowledge, shows that we know 
 not ourselves. 
 
 "A man is certainly proud of that 
 knowledge he despises others for the want 
 of." 
 
 How common is it for some men to be 
 fond of appearing to know more than they 
 do, and of seeming to be thought men of 
 knowledge! To which end they exhaust 
 their fund almost in all companies, to out- 
 shine the rest. So that in two or three 
 conversations they are drawn dry, and jou 
 see to the bottom of them much sooner 
 than you could at first imagine. And e- 
 ven that torrent of learning, which they 
 pour out upon you at first so unmercifully, 
 rather confounds than satisfies you; their 
 visible aim is not to inform your judgment, 
 but display their own; you have many 
 things to query and except against, but 
 their loquacity gives you no room; and 
 their good sense, set off to so much ad- 
 vantage, strikes a modest man dumb. If 
 you insist upon your right to examine, they 
 retreat either in conj'usion or equivocation ;
 
 ©OTH CONSIST. 93 
 
 and, like the cuttle fish, throw a laroe 
 quantity of ink behind, them that you may 
 not see where to pursue. Whence this foi- 
 ble flows is obvious enough. Self-knowl- 
 edge would soon correct it. 
 
 But as some ignorantly affect to be more 
 knowing, so others vainly affect to be 
 more ignorant than th»\v are: who, to 
 show tiiey have greater insight and pen- 
 etration than other men, insist upon 
 the absolute uncertainty of science; will 
 dispute even first principles; grant noth- 
 ing as certain, and so run into downright 
 Pvrrhonism; the too commom effect of ab- 
 stracted debates excessively refined. [35] 
 
 Every one is apt to set the greatest val- 
 ue upon that kind of knowledge, in which 
 he imagines he himself most excels; and 
 to undervalue all other in comparison of 
 it. There wants some certain rule, then, 
 by which some men's knowledge is to be 
 tried, and the value of it estimated. And 
 let it be this — "That, is the best and most 
 valuable kind of knowledge, that is most 
 subservient to the best ends; i, e. which 
 tends to make a man wiser and better, or 
 more agreeable and useful, both to himself 
 and others.*' — For knowledge is but a means 
 that relates to some end. And as all 
 means are to be judged of by the excellea-
 
 ©4 WHEREIN SELF-KNOWLEDGE 
 
 cy of the end, and their expediency to pro- 
 duce it; so that must be the best knowl- 
 edge that hath the most direct tendency 
 to promote the best ends: viz, a man's 
 own true happiness, and that of others; 
 in which the glory of God, the ultimate 
 end, is ever necessarily comprised. 
 
 Now, if we were to judge of the sever- 
 al kinds of science by this rule, we should 
 find, 1. Some of them to be v^ry hurtful 
 and pernicious; as tending to pervert the 
 true end of knowledge ; to ruin a man's 
 own happiness, and make him more injuri- 
 ous to society.— Such is the knowledge of 
 vice, the various temptations to it, and the 
 secret ways of practising it; especially the 
 arts of dissimulation, fraud and dishones- 
 ty. 2. Others will be found unprofitable 
 and useless. As those parts of knowl- 
 edge, which, though they may take up 
 much time and pains to acquire, yet an- 
 swer no valuable purpose; and serve on- 
 ly for amusement, and the entertainment 
 of the imagination. For instance, an ac- 
 quaintance with plays, novels, games and 
 modes, in which a man may be very criti- 
 cal and expert, and yet not a whit the 
 wiser or more useful man. 3. Other kinds 
 of knowledge are good only relatively, or 
 conditionally, and may be more useful t©
 
 »OTft CONSIST, yfi 
 
 one tlian to another; viz. a skill in a man's 
 particular occupation or calliiig, on which 
 his credit, livelihood, or usefulness in the 
 world depends. And as the kind of 
 knowledge is valuable in proportion to its 
 end, so it ought to be cultivated with a 
 diligence and esteem answerable to that. 
 Lastly, other kinds of knowledge are good, 
 absolutely and universally; viz. the knowl- 
 edge of God and ourselves; the nature of 
 our final hapi)incss and the way to it. 
 This is equally nt-cessary to all. And 
 how thankful should we be, that we, who 
 live under tiie light of the gospel, and en- 
 joy that light in its perfection and purity, 
 have so many happy means and opportu- 
 nities of attaining this most useful and ne- 
 cessary kind of knowledLJ;e. 
 
 A. man can never understand himself 
 then, till he makes a right estimate of his 
 knowledge; till he examines what kind of 
 knowledge he values himself, and most dili- 
 gently cultivates; how high a value he 
 sets upon it; what good it does him; what 
 effect it hath upon him; what he is the 
 better for it; what end it answers now; or 
 what it is likely to answer herafter. 
 
 There is nothing in which a man's self- 
 ignorance discovers itself more, than in 
 the esteem he hath for his understanding,
 
 96 WHEREIN SELF-KNOWLEDGE 
 
 or for himseh on the account of it. It is a 
 trite and true observation, that empty 
 things make the most sound. Men of tlie 
 least knowledge are most apt to make a 
 show of it, and to value themselves upon 
 it, which is very visible in frovvard, con- 
 fident youth, raw, conceited academics, 
 and those who, uneducated in their child- 
 hood, betake themselves in later life to 
 reading, without taste or judgment, only as 
 an accomplishment, and to make a show 
 (of scholarship; who have just learned 
 enough to spoil company, and render 
 themselves ridiculous, but not enough to 
 make either themselves or others at all 
 the wiser. 
 
 But besides the forementioned kinds of 
 knowledge, there is another, which is com- 
 monly called false knowledge; which, 
 though it often imposes upon men under 
 the show and semblance of true 'knowl- 
 edge, is really worse than ignorance. Some 
 men have learned a great many things, and, 
 have taken a great deal of pains to learn 
 them, and stand very high in their own o- 
 pinion on account of them, which yet they 
 must unlearn before they are truly wise. 
 They have beten at a vast expense of 
 time, and pains, nnd patience, to heap to- 
 gether, and to confirm themselves in a set
 
 *OTH CONSIST. %7 
 
 of wrong notions, which they lay up in their 
 minds as a fund of valuable knowledge; 
 which if they try by the foreinentioned 
 rules, viz. "the tendency they have to make 
 them wiser and better, or more useful and 
 beneficial to others," will be found to bo 
 worth just nothing at all. 
 
 Beware of this false knowledge. For 
 as there is nothing of which men are 
 more obstinately tenacious, so there is 
 nothing that renders them more vain, or 
 more averse to self-knowledge. Of all 
 things, men are most fond of their wrong 
 notions. 
 
 The apostle Paul often speaks of these 
 men, and their self-sufficiency, in very 
 poignant terms; who, though they seem 
 wise, yet (says he) must become fools be- 
 fore they are wise, (1 Cor. iii. 18.) Though 
 they think they know a great deal, know 
 nothing yet as they, ought to know. (1 Cor. 
 viii. 2.) But deceive themselves, by think- 
 ing themselves something when they are 
 nothing. (Gal. vi. 3.) And whilst they 
 desire to be teacheis of others, under- 
 stand not what they say, nor whereof 
 they affirm. (1. Tim. i. 7.) And want 
 themselves to be taught what are the 
 first rudiments and principles of wis- 
 (^om. (Heb. v. 12.) 
 
 9
 
 9S WHEREIN SELF-KNOWLEDGE 
 
 CHAP. XIV. 
 
 Concerning the Knoivledgc, Guards and Gov- 
 ernment of the Thoughts. 
 
 Another part of self-knowledge consists 
 in a due acquaintance with our own 
 thoughts, and the inward workings of the 
 imagination. • 
 
 The right government of the thoughts 
 requires no small art, vigilance and reso- 
 lution. But it is a matter of such vast im- 
 portance to the peace and improvement of 
 the mind, that it is worth while to be at 
 some pains about it. A man that hath so 
 numerous and turbulent a famil}' to govern 
 as his own thoughts, which are too apt to 
 be at the command of his passions and ap- 
 petites, ought not to be long from home. If 
 he be, they will soon grow mutinous and 
 disorderly under the conduct of those two 
 headstrong guides, and raise great clam- 
 ours and disturbance, and sometimes on 
 the slightest occasions. And a more 
 dreadful scene of misery can hardly be 
 imagined, than that which is occasioned 
 by such a tumult and uproar within, when 
 a raging conscience or inflamed passions
 
 DOTH CONSIST. 99 
 
 are let loose without clieck or control. A 
 city in flames, or the mutiny of a drunken 
 crew on board, who have murdered the 
 captain, and are butchering one another, 
 are i)ut faint emblems of it. Tlie torment 
 of the mind, under such an insurrection 
 and merciless ravage of the jiassions, is not 
 easy to be conceived. The most revenge- 
 ful man cannot wish his enemy a greater. 
 
 Of what vast importance then is it for 
 a man to watch over his thoughts, in or- 
 der to a right government of them: to con- 
 sider what kind of thoughts find the easi- 
 est admission, in what manner they insin- 
 uate themselves, a'nd upon what occa- 
 sions! 
 
 It was an excellent rule which a wise 
 heathen prescribed to himself, in his pri- 
 vate meditations: Manage (saith he) all 
 your actions and thoughts in such a man- 
 ner as if you were just going out of the 
 world. Again, (saith he) A man is sel- 
 dom, if ever, unhappy for not knowing the 
 thoughts of others; but he that does not 
 attend to the motions of his own, is cer- 
 tainly miserable. [36] 
 
 It may be worth our while then to dis- 
 cuss this matter a little more precisely; 
 and consider, 1. What kind of thoughts 
 are to be excluded or rejected. And 2,
 
 100 ITHEREIN SELF-KNOWLED«E 
 
 What ought to be indulged and ehtcrtai«- 
 ed. 
 
 1. Some thoughts ought to be immedi- 
 ately banished as soon as they have fond 
 entrance.— And if we are often troidded 
 with them, the safest way will be to keep 
 a good guard on the avenues of the mind, 
 by which they enter, and avoid those oc- 
 casions which commonly excite them. 
 For sometimes it is much easier to prevent 
 a bad thought entering the mind, than to 
 get rid of it when it is entered. — More 
 particularly, 
 
 1. Watch against all fretful and discon- 
 tented thoughts, which do but chafe and 
 corrode the mind to no purpose. To har- 
 bour these, is to do yourself more injury 
 than it is in the power of your greatest 
 enemy to do you. It is equally a Chris- 
 tian's interest and duty to learn, in what- 
 soever state he is, therewith to be content. 
 (Phillip, iv. 11.) 
 
 2. Harbour not too anxious and appre- 
 hensive thoughts. By giving way to tor- 
 menting fears, suspicions of some ap- 
 proaching danger or troublesome event 
 we not only anticipate, but double the e- 
 vil we fear; and undergo much more from 
 the apprehension of it before it comes, 
 than from the whole weight of it when
 
 DOTH CONSIST. ]0I 
 
 present. Tliis is a great but common 
 weakness; which a man should endeav- 
 our to arm liimself against by sucli kind 
 of reflections as these: — "Are not all these 
 events under the certain direction of a 
 wise Providence? If they befal me, they 
 are then that share of suffering which God 
 both appointed me; and which he ex- 
 pects 1 should bear as a Christian, How 
 often hath my timorous heart magniiied 
 former trials which I found to be less in re- 
 ality than they appeared npon their ap- 
 proach. And perhaps the formidable as- 
 pect they ]}ut on, is only a stratagem of the 
 great enemy of my best interest, designed 
 on purpose to divert me from some point 
 of my duty, or to draw me into some sin 
 to avoid them. However, why should I 
 torment myself to no purpose? The pain 
 and afiliction the dreadful evil will give 
 me when it comes, is of God's sending; 
 the pain I feel in the apprehension of it 
 before it comes, is of my own procuring. 
 Whereby I often make my suffering more 
 than double; for this overplus of them, 
 which 1 bring npon myself, is often great- 
 er than that measure of iliem which iho 
 hand of Providence immediately brings 
 upon me." 
 
 3. Dismiss, as soon as may be, all angry 
 
 9*
 
 102 WHEREIN SELF-KNOWLEDGE 
 
 and wrathful thoughts. These will but 
 canker and corrode the mind, and dispose 
 it to the worst temper in the world, viz. 
 that of fixed malice and revenge. Anger 
 may steal into the heart of a wise man, 
 but it rests only in the bosom of lools. 
 (Eccl. vii. 9.) Make all the most candid 
 allowances for the offender. Consider his 
 natural temper. Turn your anger into 
 pity. Repeat 1 Cor. xiii. Think of the 
 patience and meekness of Christ, and the 
 petition in the Lord's prayer; and how 
 much you stand in need of forgiveness 
 yourself, both from God and man; how 
 fruitless, how foolish is indulged resent- 
 ment; how tormenting to yourself. You 
 have too much good nature willingly to 
 give others so much torment; and why 
 should you give it yourself ? You are com- 
 manded to love your neighbour as your- 
 self, but not forbidden to love yourself as 
 much. And why should you do yourself 
 that injury, which your enemy would be 
 glad to do you? [37 J 
 
 But above all, be sure to set a guard on 
 the tongue whilst the fretful mood is upon 
 you. The least spark may break out in- 
 to a conflagration, when cherished by a 
 resentful heart, and fanned by the wind of 
 an angry breath. Aggravating expres°
 
 DOTH CONSIST. 103 
 
 sions at such a time, are like oil thrown 
 upon flames, which always makes ihein 
 rage the more. Especially, 
 
 4. H?inisli all malignant and revengeful 
 thoughts. A spirit ol" revenge, is the very 
 spirit of the devil, than which nothing 
 makes a man more like him; and nothing 
 can he more opposite to (he temper which 
 Christianity was designed to promote. If 
 your revenge be not satislied, it will give 
 you torment now; if it be, it will give you 
 greater hereafter. — None is a greater self- 
 tormentor than a malicious and revengeful 
 mnn, who turns the poison of his own tem- 
 per in upon himself. [38] 
 
 5. Drive from the mind all silly, trifling, 
 and unreasona!)le thoughts; which some- 
 times get into it we know not how, and 
 seize and possess it before we are aware; 
 and hold it in empty, idle amusements, 
 that yield neither pleasuse nor profit, and 
 turn to no manner of account in the world; 
 only comsume time, and prevent a better 
 employment of the mind. And indeed 
 there is little difference whether we spend 
 the time in sleep, or in thf^se waking 
 dreamy. Nay, if the thfM'rrhts which il.ns 
 insensi!)ly steal upcui voi! he nor altogeth- 
 er Mhsnrd and uhimsio;!. vet if ihev he 
 imperiimeut and unseasonable, they ought
 
 104 WHEREIN SELF-KNGWLEBGE 
 
 to be dismissed, because they keep out 
 better company. 
 
 6. Cast out all wild and extravagant 
 thoughts, all vain and fantastical imagin- 
 ations. Suffer not your thoughts to roam 
 upon things that never were, and perhaps 
 never will be; to give you a visionary 
 pleasure in the prospect of what you have 
 not the least reason to hope, or a needless 
 PR in in the apprehension of what you 
 have not the least reason to fear. The 
 truth is, next to a clear conscience and a 
 sound judgment, there is not a greater 
 blessing than a regular and well govern- 
 ed imagination: to be able to view things 
 as they are, in their true light and proper 
 colours; and to distinguish the false ima- 
 ges that are painted on the fancy, from 
 the representations of truth and reason. 
 For how common a thing is it for men, be- 
 fore they are aware, to confound reason 
 and fancy, truth and imagination, togeth- 
 er? To take the flashes of the animal 
 spirit for the light of evidence; and think 
 they believe things to be true or false, 
 when they only fancy them to be so? and 
 fancy them to be so, because they would 
 have them so? Not considering that mere 
 fancy is only the ignis fatuus of the mind; 
 which often appears brightest, when the
 
 DOTH CONSIST iO^ 
 
 mind is most covered with darkness; and 
 will be sure to lead them astray, who fol- 
 low it as their guide. iSear akin to tiiese 
 are, 
 
 7. Romantic and chimerical thoughts. 
 By which I mean that kind of wild-fire, 
 which the briskness of the animal spirit 
 sometimes suddenly flashes on the mind, 
 and excites imaoes that are so extremely 
 ridiculous and absurd, that one can scarce 
 forbear wondering how they could get ad- 
 mittance. These random fiiiihts of the 
 fruic}'' are soon gone; and herein differ 
 from tiiat castle-building of the imagina- 
 tion before mentioned, which is a more 
 settled amusement. But these are too in- 
 coherent and senseless to be of long con- 
 tinuance; and are the maddest sallies, and 
 the most ramping reveries of the fancy 
 that can be. 1 know not whether my read- 
 er understands now what I mean; but if 
 he attentively regards all that passes 
 through his mind, perhaps he may Iiereaf- 
 ter, by experience. 
 
 8. Repel all impure and lascivious 
 thouglils ; which taint and pollute the mind ; 
 and though hid from men, are known to 
 God, in whose eyethcy are abominable. Our 
 Saviour warns lis against these as a kind 
 <jf spiritual fornication, (Matt. v. 28.) and in-
 
 106 WHEREIN SELF-KNOWLEDGE 
 
 consistent with that purity of heart which 
 his gospel requires. 
 
 9. Take care how you too much in- 
 dulfre gloomy and melancholy thoughts. 
 Some are disposed to see every thing in the 
 worst light. A hlack cloud hangs hovering 
 over their minds; which, when it falls in 
 showers through their eyes, is dispersed; 
 and all within is serene again. This is of- 
 ten purely mechanical; and owing either 
 to some fault in the bodily constitution, or 
 some accidental disorder in the animal 
 frame. However, one that consults the 
 peace of his own mind, will be upon his 
 guard against this, which so often robs him 
 of it. 
 
 10. On the other hand, let not the ima- 
 gination be too sprightly and triumphant. 
 Some are as unreasonbly exalted, as oth- 
 ers are'depressed ; and the same person at 
 different times often runs into both ex- 
 tremes; according to the different temper 
 and flow of the animal spirit. And there- 
 fore the thoughts, which so eagerly croud 
 into the mind at such times, ought to 
 be suspected and well guarded ; otherwise 
 they will impose upon our judgments, and 
 lead us to form such a notion of ourselves 
 and of things, as we shalj soon see fit to
 
 DOTH CONSISt. lOY 
 
 alter, when the mind is in a more settled 
 and sedate frame. 
 
 Before we let our thoughts judge of 
 things, we must set reason to judge our 
 thoughts; for they are not always in a 
 proper condition to execute that office. We 
 do not believe the character which a man 
 gives us of another, unless we have a 
 good opinion of his own ; so neither should 
 we believe the verdict which the mind 
 pronounces, till we first examine whether 
 it be impartial and unbiassed; whether it 
 be in a proper temper to judge, and have 
 proper lights to judge by. The want of 
 this previous act of self-judgmemt, is the 
 cause of much self-deception and false 
 judgment. 
 
 Lastly; with abhorence reject imme- 
 diately all profane and blasphemous 
 thoughts; which are sometimes suddenly 
 injected into the mind, we know not how, 
 though we may give a pretty good guess 
 from whence. And all those thoughts 
 which are apparently temptations and in- 
 ducements to sin, our Lord hath, by his 
 example, taught us to treat in this manner. 
 (Matt. iv. 10.) 
 
 These then are the thoughts we should 
 carefully guard against. — And as they 
 will (especially some of them) be fre°
 
 i08 WHERBIIV SELF-KNOWLEDGE 
 
 ^nently insinuating themselves into the 
 heart, remember to set reason at the door 
 of it to guard the passage, and bar their 
 entrance, or drive them out forthwith \\ hen 
 entered ; not only as impertinent, but mis^ 
 (Shievous intruders. 
 
 But, 2. There are other kinds oi 
 thoughts which we ought to indulge, and 
 with great care and diligence retain and 
 improve. 
 
 Whatever thoughts give the mind a ra- 
 tional or religious pleasure, and tend to 
 improve the heart and understanding, are 
 to be favoured, often recalled, and care- 
 fully cultivated. Nor should we dismiss 
 them, till they have ntiade some impres- 
 sions on the mind, which are likely to a- 
 bide there. 
 
 And to bring the mind into a habit of 
 recovering, retaining, and improving such 
 thoughts, two things are necessary. 
 
 1. To habituate ourselves to a close and 
 rational way of thinking. And, 2. To 
 moral reflections, and religious contem- 
 plations, 
 
 1. To prepare and dispose the mind for 
 the entertainment of good and useful 
 thoughts, we must take care to accustom 
 it to a close and rational way of thinking. 
 
 When you have started a good thought^
 
 botil coNsisi;. lot) 
 
 pursue it ', do not presently lose sigitt of 
 it, or suffer any trifling suggestion that may 
 intervene to divert you from it. Dismiss it 
 not till you have sifted and exhausted it; 
 and well considered the several conse- 
 quences and inferences that result from it. 
 However, retain not the subject any long- 
 er than you tind your thoughts run freely 
 upon it; for to confine tliem to it wlien it 
 is quite worn out, is to give them an unna- 
 tural bent, without sufficient employment; 
 which will make them flag, or be more apt 
 to run off to something else. 
 
 And to keep the mind intent on the sub- 
 ject you think of, you must be at some 
 pains to recal and refix your desultory and 
 rambling thoughts. Lay open the subject 
 in as many lights aiid views as it is capa- 
 ble of being represented in. Clothe your 
 best ideas in pertinent and well chosen 
 words, deliberately pronounced; or com- 
 mit them to writing. 
 
 Whatever be the subject, admit of no in- 
 ferences from it, but what you see plain 
 and natural. This is the way to furnish 
 the mind with true and solid knowledge. 
 As, on the contary, false knowledge pro- 
 ceeds from not understanding the subject, 
 or drawing inferences from it which are 
 forced and unnatural ; and allowing to 
 
 10
 
 110 WHEREIN SELF-KNOWLEDCrE 
 
 those precarious inferences, or conse° 
 quences drawn from them, the same degree 
 of credibility, as to the most rational and 
 best established principles. 
 
 Beware of a superficial, slight, or con-= 
 fused view of things. Go to the bottom 
 of them, and examine the foundation; and 
 Ve satisfied with none but clear and dis-*- 
 tinct ideas (when they can be had) in ev- 
 ery thing you read, hear, or think of. For 
 resting in imperfect and obscure ideas, 
 is the source of much confusion and mis- 
 take. 
 
 Accustom yourself to speak naturally^ 
 pertinently and rationally, on all subjects, 
 and you will soon learn to think so on the 
 the best; especially if you often converse 
 with those persons that speak, and those 
 authors that write in that manner. 
 
 Such a regulation and right manage- 
 ment of your thoughts and rational pow- 
 ers, will be of great and general advan- 
 tage to you, in the pursuit of useful knowl- 
 edge, and a good guard against the le- 
 vities and frantic sallies of the imagina- 
 tion. Nor will you be sensible of any dis- 
 advantage attending it, excepting one. viz. 
 its making you more sensible of the weak- 
 ness and ignorance of others, who are of- 
 ten talking in a random, inconsequential
 
 DOTH CONSIST. 1 1 1 
 
 manner; and whom it may oftentimes be 
 more prurient to bear with, than contra- 
 dict. But tiie vast benefit this mpthod 
 will be of in tracing out trutii, and detect- 
 ing error, and the satisfaction it will give 
 you in the cool and regular exercise of 
 self-employment, and in the retaining, i)ur- 
 suing, and improving good and useful 
 thoughts, will more than compensate that 
 petty disadvantage. 
 
 2. If we would have the mind furnished 
 and entertained with good thouglits, wo 
 must inure it to moral and religious sub- 
 ject. 
 
 It is certain the mind cannot be more 
 nobly and usefully employed than in such 
 kind of contemplations. Because the 
 knowledge it thereby reqaires, is of all 
 others the most excellent knowledge; and 
 that both in regard of its object and its 
 end ; the object of it being God, and the 
 end of it eternal happiness. 
 
 The great end of religion is to make us 
 like God, and to conduct us to the enjoy- 
 ment of him. A.nd whatever hath not 
 this plain tendency, and especially if it 
 have the contrary, men may call religion, 
 (if they please) but they cannot call it 
 more out of its name. And whatever is 
 called religious knowledge, if it does noC
 
 112 WHEREIN SELF-KNOWLEBGE 
 
 ilirect us in the way to this end, is not re- 
 ligious knowledge ; but something else 
 falsely so called. And some are unhappi- 
 ly accustomed to such an abuse of words 
 and understanding, as not only to call, but 
 to think those things religion, which are 
 quite the reverse of it, and tiiose notions 
 religious knowledge, which lead them the 
 farthest from it. 
 
 The sincerity of a true religious princi- 
 ple, cannot be better known, tiian by the 
 readiness with which the thoughts advert 
 to God, and the pleasure with which they 
 are employed in devout exercise. And 
 though a person may not always be so 
 well pleased with hearing religious things 
 talked of by others, whose different taste, 
 sentiments, or manner of expression, may 
 have something disagreeable; yet if he 
 have no inclination to think of them him- 
 self, or to converse with himself about 
 them, he hath great reason to suspect that 
 his heart is not right with God. But if 
 he frequently and delightfully exercise his 
 mind in divine contemplations, it will not 
 . only be a good mark of his sincerity, but 
 will habitually dispose it for the reception 
 of the best and most useful thoughts, and 
 fit it for the noblest entertainments. 
 
 Upon the whole, then, it is of as great
 
 liOTH CONSIST. 113 
 
 impoitnncc for a man to take heed what 
 thoughts he entertains as what company 
 he keeps; for they have the same effect 
 upon the mind. Bad thoughts are as in- 
 fectious as bad company; and good 
 thoughts solace, instruct, and entertain the 
 mind, like good company. And this is 
 one great advantage of retirement; that a 
 man may choose what company he please? 
 from within himself. 
 
 As in the world we oftener light into 
 bad company than good, so in solitude we 
 are oftener troubled with impcrtiment and 
 unprofitable thoughts, than entertained 
 with agreeable and useful ones. And a 
 man that hath so far lost the command of 
 himself, as to lie at the mercy of every 
 foolish or vexing thought, is much in the. 
 same situation as a host, whose house is 
 open to all comers; whom, though ever so 
 noisy, rude and troublesome, he cannot get 
 rid of; but with this difference, that the 
 latter hath some recompense for his trou- 
 ble, the former none at all: but is robbed 
 of his peace and quiet for nothing. 
 
 Of such vast importance to the ])eace 
 as well as the improvement of the mind,i< 
 the right regulation of the thoughts, Thi?? 
 must be my apology for dwelling so long oit 
 this branch of the subject; which I shall 
 
 10*
 
 ! 14 WHEREIN SELF-KNOWLEDGE 
 
 conclude with this one observation more; 
 that it is a very dangerous thing, to think 
 as too many are apt to do, that it is a mat- 
 ter of indifference what thoughts they en- 
 tertain in their hearts; since the reason of 
 things concurs viith the testimony of the ho- 
 ly scriptures to assure us, that the allowed 
 thought of foolishness is sin. (Prov. xxiv. 
 9.) [39] 
 
 CHAP. XV. 
 
 Concerning the Memory. 
 
 A MAN that knows himself will have a 
 regard not only to the management of his 
 thoughts, but to the improvement of his 
 memory. 
 
 The memory is that faculty of the soul, 
 which was designed for the store-house or 
 repository of its most useful notions; 
 where they may be laid up in safety, to be 
 produced upon proper occasions. 
 
 Now a thorough self-acquaintance can- 
 not be had without a proper legard to this 
 in' two respects, 1, Its furniture. 2. Its 
 improvement. 
 
 i, A maii that knows himself will have
 
 BOTH CONSlSt. J 15 
 
 a regard to the furniture of his memory; 
 not to load it with trash and himber, a 
 set of unless notions or low conceits, which 
 he will be ashamed to produce before per- 
 sons of taste and judgment. 
 
 If the retention be bad, do not crowd it. 
 It is of as ill consequence to overlade a 
 weak memory, as a weak stomach. And 
 th.'it it may not be cumbered with trash, 
 take heed what company you keep, what 
 books you read, and what thoughts you 
 favour; otherwise a great deal of useless 
 rubbish may hx there before you are a- 
 ware, and take up the room which outrht 
 to be possessed by better notions. But 
 let not a valuable thought slip from you, 
 thoiiii:h you pursue it with much time and 
 pains before you overtake it. The regaining 
 and refixitig it may be of more avail to 
 you than many hour's reading. 
 
 VV^hat pity it is that men should take 
 such immense pains, as some do, to learn 
 those things, which, as soon hs they be- 
 come wise, they must take as much pains 
 to unlearn! — A thought that should make 
 us very curious and cautions about the 
 proper furniture of our miiids. 
 
 2. Self-knowledge will acquaint a mm 
 with the extent and CRpacitv of his mem- 
 ory, and the ri^ht way to improve it.
 
 116 WHERWN SELF-KNOWLEDGE 
 
 There is no small art in improving a 
 weak memory, so as to turn it to as great 
 an advantage as nr>any do their's which 
 are much stronger. A few short rules to 
 this purpose may be no uaproiitable dis- 
 gression, 
 
 1. Beware of every sort of intemper- 
 ance in the indulgence of the appetites 
 and passions. Excesses of all kinds do a 
 great injury to the memory. 
 
 2. If it be weak, do not overlade it. 
 Charge it only with the most useful and 
 solid notion. A small vessel should not 
 be stuffed with lumber. But if its freight 
 be precious, and judiciously stowed, "it 
 hiay be more valuable than a ship of twice 
 its burden. 
 
 3. Recur to the help of a common place 
 book, according to Mr. Locke's method; 
 [40] and review it once a year. But take 
 care that by confiding to your minutes or 
 memorial aids, you do not excuse the la- 
 bour of the memory; which is one disad- 
 vantage attending this method. 
 
 4. Take every opportunity of uttering 
 5'our best thonj?hts in oAwersation, when 
 the subject will admit it; that will deep- 
 ly imprint them. Hence the tales which 
 ccnimon storv-teilers relate, they never 
 forget, though ever so silly.
 
 BOTH CONSIST. 117 
 
 5. Join to the idea you would remem- 
 ber, some oilier that is more frimilar to 
 you, wliicli bears some similitude to it, 
 either in its nature, or in the sound of the 
 word by whicli it is expressed ; or that hath 
 some relation to it either in time or place. 
 And then by recallinii this, v. hich is easi- 
 ly remembered, you will (by that conca- 
 tenation or connexion of icUas which Mr. 
 Locke takes notice of) draw in that which 
 is thus linked or joined with it; which 
 otherwise you might hunt after in vain. — • 
 This rule is of excellent use to help you to 
 remember names. 
 
 6. What you are determined to remem- 
 ber, think of before you go to sleep at 
 night, and the first thing in the morning 
 when the faculties are fresh. And recol- 
 lect at evening every thing worth remem- 
 bering the day past. 
 
 7. Think it not enough to furnish this 
 store-house of the mind with good 
 thoughts, but lay them up there in order, 
 digested or ranged unHer proper subjects 
 or classes; that, whatever subjects, you 
 have occasion to think or talk upon, you 
 may have recourse immediately to a 
 good thought which you heretofore laid up 
 there under that subject. So that the ve- 
 ry mention of the subject may bring the 
 thought to hand ; by w hich means you will
 
 lis WHEREIN SELF-KNOWLEDGE 
 
 carry a regular common place book in 
 your memory. And it may not be amiss 
 sometimes to take an inventory of this 
 mental furniture, and recollect how many 
 good thoughts you have treasured np un- 
 der such particular subjects, and whence 
 you had them. 
 
 Lastly, nothing helps the memory more 
 than often thinking, writing or talking on 
 the subjects, you would remember. — But 
 enough of this. 
 
 CHAP. XVI. 
 
 Concernins: the Mental Taste, 
 
 "Q 
 
 A MAN that knows himself, is sensible 
 of, and attentive to the particular taste 
 of his mind, especially in matter of reli- 
 gion. 
 
 As the late Mr. Howe judiciously ob- 
 serves, '-there is besides bare understand- 
 ing and judgment, and diverse from that 
 heavenly gift, which in the scripture is 
 called grace, such a thing as gust and rel- 
 ish belonging to the mind of man, (and, I 
 doubt not, with all men, if they observe 
 themselves) and which are as unaccounta-
 
 »OTH CONSIST. il9 
 
 ble and as various as the relishes and dis- 
 gusts of sense. — 'J'his they only wonder at 
 who understand not themselves, or will con- 
 sider nobody but themselves. — So that ii 
 cannot be said, universally, that it is a 
 better judgiuent, or more grace that deter- 
 mines men the one way or the other; but 
 somewhfit in the temjjer of their minds dis- 
 tinct from both, which I know not how bet- 
 ter to express than by mental taste. And 
 this hath no more of myslery in it, than 
 that there is such a thing belonging to our 
 natures as comi)lacency and displaceucy 
 in reference to tl'.e objects of the mind. 
 And this, in the kind of it, is as common to 
 men as human nafurcj but as much diver° 
 sifted in individuals as men's other inclina-* 
 tions are." 
 
 Now this different taste in matters rela-. 
 ting to religion, (though it may be some- 
 times natural, or what is born with a man, 
 yet) generally arises from the diffciences 
 of education and custom. 7\nd the true 
 reason why some persons have an inveter- 
 ate disrelish to certain circumstantials of 
 religion, though ever so justifiable, and at 
 the same time a fixed esteem for others 
 that are more exceptionable, may be no 
 better than wlial I have heard some very 
 honestly profess, viz. that the one they
 
 120 WHEREIN SELF-KNOWLEDGE 
 
 have been used to, and the other not. As 
 a person by long use and habit acquires a 
 greater relish for coarse and unwbolt sf^me 
 food than the most delicate diet; so a per- 
 son long habituated to a set of phrasesj 
 notions, and modes^may, by degrees, come 
 to have such a veneration and esteem for 
 them, as to despise and condemn others 
 which he has not been accustomed to, 
 though perhaps more edifying and more 
 agreeable to scripture and reason. 
 
 This particular taste in matters of reli- 
 gion differs very much (as Mr. Howe 
 well observes) both from judgment and 
 grace. 
 
 However, it is often mistaken for both. 
 When it is njistak^n for the former, it 
 leads to error; when mistaken for the lat- 
 ter, to censoriousness. 
 
 This different taste of mental objects 
 is much the same with that, which, with 
 regard to the objects of sense, we call fan- 
 cy ; for as one man cannot be said to have 
 a better judgment in food than another, 
 purely because he likes some kind of 
 meats better than he; so neither can he 
 be said to have a better judgment in mat- 
 ters of religion, purely because he hath 
 a greater fondness for some particular doc- 
 trines and forms.
 
 t)OTH CONSI&T. 121 
 
 iBut thoiigli this mental taste be not the 
 same as the judgment, yet it often draws 
 the judgment to it, and sometimes very 
 much perverts it. 
 
 This appears in nothing more evidently 
 than in the judgment people pass upon the 
 sermons they hear. Some are best pleas- 
 ed with those discourses which are pathet- 
 ic and warming; others with what is more 
 solid and rational, and others with the 
 sublime and mystical; nothing can be too 
 plain for the taste of some, or too refined 
 for that of others. Some are for having 
 the address only to their reason and un- 
 derstanding, others only to their affections 
 and passions, and others to their experi- 
 ence and consciences. And every hearer 
 or reader is apt to judge according to his 
 particular taste, and to esteem him the 
 best preaciier or writer who pleases him 
 most; without exa Mining first his own par- 
 ticular taste, by which he judgeth. 
 
 It is natural, indeed, for every one to de- 
 sire to have his own taste pleased ; but it 
 is unreasonable in him to set it up as the 
 best, and make it a test and standard to 
 others. But much more unreasonable to 
 expect that he who speaks in public 
 should always speak to his taste; which 
 might as reasonably be expected by an- 
 il
 
 •1,22 WHEREIN SELF-KNOWLEDGE 
 
 Other of a different one. It is equally im« 
 possible that what is delivered to a nmlti- 
 tnde of hearers, should alike suit all their 
 taste, as that a single dish, though prepar- 
 ed with ever so much art and exactncbS, 
 should equally please a great variety of 
 appetites; among which there may be 
 some, perhaps, very nice and sickly. 
 
 It is the preacher's duty to adapt his 
 Subjects to the taste of his hearers, as far 
 as fidelity and conscience will admit; be- 
 cause it is well known from reason and ex* 
 perience, as well as from the advice and 
 practice of the apostle Paul, (Rom. xv. 2. 
 1 Cor. ix. 22.) [4i] that this is the best 
 way to promote their edification. But if 
 their taste be totally vitiated, and incline 
 them to take in that which will do them 
 more harm than good, and to relish poison 
 more than food, the most charitable thing 
 the preacher can do in that case is, to 
 endeavour to correct so vicious an appe- 
 tite, which loaths that which is most 
 wholesome, and craves pernicious food ; 
 this, I say, it is his duty to attempt in the 
 most gentle and prudent manner he can, 
 though he run the risk of having his judg-^ 
 ment or orthodoxy called into question by 
 them, as it very possibly may ; for com- 
 monly they are the most arbitrary and un-
 
 DOTH CONSIST. 123 
 
 merciful jiuVcs in this case, who arc 
 least of all qualified for that office. 
 
 There is not perhaps a more unaccount- 
 ble weakness in human nature tiian this, 
 that with regard to religious matters, our 
 animosities are generally greatest where 
 our differences are least; they who come 
 pretty near to our standard, but stop short 
 there, are more the ohjects of our disgust 
 and censures, than they who continue nt 
 the greatest distance from it. And in 
 some cases it requires much candour and 
 self-command to get over this weakness. 
 To whatever secret spring in the Iviiman 
 mind it may be owing, I shall not stay to 
 inquire; but the thing itself is too obvious 
 not to be to taken notice of. 
 
 Now we should all of us be careful to 
 fmd out and examine our proper taste of 
 religious things, that iC it be a false one, 
 we nmy rectify it it; if a bad one, mend it; 
 if a right and good one, strengthen and 
 improve it. For the mind is capable of a 
 false gust, as well as the palate; and 
 comes by it the same way; viz. by being 
 long used to unnatural relishes, which by 
 custom become grateful. yVnd having found 
 out what it is, and examined it by the test 
 of scripture, reason and conscience, if it 
 ke not very wrong, let us indulge it, and
 
 124 WHEREIN S'ELF-KNOWLEDSE 
 
 read those books that are most suitable to 
 it, which for that reason will be most edi- 
 fying. But at the same time let us take 
 care of two things. I. Tliat il do not 
 bias our judgment, and draw us into er- 
 ror. 2. That it do not cramp our charity, 
 and lead us to censoriousness. 
 
 CHAP. XVII. 
 
 Of our great and governing Views in Life. 
 
 Another part of self-knowledge is, to 
 know what are the great ends for which 
 we live. 
 
 We must consider what is the ultimate 
 scope we drive at; the general maxims 
 and principles we live by; or whether we 
 have not yet determined our end, and are 
 governed by no fixed principles; or by such 
 as we are ashamed to own. 
 
 The first and leading dictate of pru- 
 dence is, "that a man propose to himself 
 his true and best interest for his end ; and 
 the next is, that he make use of all those 
 means and opportunities whereby that end 
 is to be obtained. — This is the most effec- 
 tual way that 1 know of to secure to one's
 
 DOTH CONSIST 12!) 
 
 self the character of a wise man here, and 
 the reward of one hereafter. And be- 
 tween these two there is such a close con- 
 nexion, that he who does not do the hitter, 
 cannot be supposed to intend the former. 
 He that is not careful of his actions, shall 
 never persuade me that he seriously pro- 
 poses to himself his best interest as his 
 end : for if he did, he would as seriously 
 apjdy iiimself to the other, as the means." 
 
 There are few that live so much at ran- 
 dom as not to have some main end in eye; 
 something that influences their conduct, 
 and is the great object of their pursuit and 
 hope. A man cannot live without some 
 leading views; a wise man will always 
 know what they are, whether it is fit he 
 should be led by them or not; whether 
 they be such as his understanding and 
 reason approve, or only such as fancy and 
 inclination suggest, lie will be as much 
 concerned to act with reason, as to tislk 
 with reason; as much asimmed of a sole- 
 cism and contradiction in his character, as 
 in his conversation. 
 
 Where do our views centre? In this 
 world we are in; or in that we are going 
 to? If our hopes and joys centre here, it 
 is a mortifying thought, that we are every 
 day departing from our happiness: but if 
 
 11*
 
 126 WHEREIN SELF-KNOWLEDGE 
 
 they are fixed above, it is a joy to think 
 that we are every clay drawing nearer to 
 to the object of our highest wishes. 
 
 Is our main care to appear great in the 
 eye of man; or good in the eye of Gojj.^ 
 If the former, we expose ourselves to the 
 pain of a perpetual disappointment; for it 
 is much if the envy of men do not rob us 
 of a good deal of our just praise, or if our 
 vanity will be content with that portion of 
 it they allow us. But if the latter be our 
 main care, if our chief view is to be ap- 
 proved of God, we are laying up a fund of 
 the most lasting and solid satisfactions: 
 Not to say that this is the truest way to 
 appear great in the eyes of men, and to 
 conciliate the esteem of all those whose 
 praise is worth our wish. 
 
 "Be this then, O my soul, thy wise and 
 steady pursuit; let this circumscribe and 
 direct thy views; be this a law to thee, 
 from which account it a sin to depart, 
 whatever disrespect or contempt it may 
 expose thee to from others; [42] be this 
 the character thou resolvest to live up to, 
 and at all times to maintain, both in pub- 
 lic and private ; [43] viz. a ; friend and lov- 
 er of God; in whose favour thou center- 
 est all thy present and future hopes. Car- 
 ij this view with thee through life, and
 
 »OTH CONSIST. 127 
 
 dare not in any instance to act inconsist- 
 ently witli it." 
 
 CHAP. XVIII. 
 
 How to Jcnow the true State of our Soiiis; 
 and whether we arc ft to die. 
 
 Lastly: The most important point of 
 self-knowledge, after all, is, to know the 
 true state of our souls toward God; and 
 in what condition we are to die. 
 
 These two tilings are inseparably con- 
 nected in their nature, and therefore 1 put 
 tliem together. The knowledge of the 
 former will fletermine the latter, and is 
 the only thing that ran determine it; for 
 no man can tell whether he is fit for death, 
 till he is acquainted with the true state of 
 his own soul. 
 
 This now is a matter of such vast mo- 
 ment, that it is amazing any considerate 
 man, or any one who thinks what it is to 
 die, can be satisfied, so long as it remains 
 an uncertainty. — Let us trace out this im- 
 portant iK)jut then uiih all possible pluin- 
 ness; and sec if we cannot come to some
 
 -128 WHEREIN SELF-KNOWLEDGE 
 
 satisfaction in it upon tlie most solid prin- 
 ciples. 
 
 In order to know then whether we are 
 fit to die, we must first know what it is 
 that fits us for death.^ — And the answer to 
 this is very natural and easy; viz. that on- 
 ly fits us for death, that fits us for happi- 
 ness after death. 
 
 Tills is certain. — But the question re- 
 turns: What is it that fits us for happiness 
 after death.^ 
 
 Now, in answer to this, there is a pre- 
 vious question necessary to be determined j 
 viz. What that happiners is? 
 
 It is not a fool's paradise, or a Turkish 
 dream of sensitive gratification. It must 
 be a happiness suited to the nature of the 
 soul, and what it is capable of enjoying in 
 a state of separation from the body. And 
 what can that be, but the enjoyment of 
 God, the best of beings, and the author of 
 our*s? 
 
 The question then comes to this: What 
 is that which fits us for the enjoyment of 
 God, in the future state of separate spirits? 
 
 And methinks we may bring this mat- 
 ter to a very sure and short issue, by say- 
 ing, it is that which makes us like to him 
 now. — This only is our proper qualification 
 for the enjoynieni of him after death, and
 
 BOTH CONSIST. 129 
 
 therefore our only proper preparation for 
 death. For how can they, who are unlike 
 to God here, expect to enjoy him hereaf- 
 ter? And if they have nojustgronnd to hope 
 that they shall enjo> God in the other 
 world, how are they fit to die? 
 
 So that the great question, Am I fit to 
 die? resolves itself into this. Am I like to 
 God? For it is this only that fits me for 
 heaven; and that x^hich fits me for hea- 
 ven, is the only thing that fits me for 
 death. 
 
 Let this point then be well searched in- 
 to, and examined very deliberately and 
 imparlially. 
 
 Most certain it is, that God can take no 
 real complacency in any but those that 
 are like him; and it is as certain, that 
 none but those that are like him can take 
 pleasure in him. — But God is a most pure 
 and holy being; a being of infinite love, 
 mercy and patience ; whose righteousness 
 is invariable, whose veracity inviolable, 
 and whose wisdom unerring. These are 
 the moral attributes of the Divine Beins:, 
 in which he requires us to imitate him; the 
 exjiress lineanuMits of the Divine Nature, 
 in which all good men bear a resemblance 
 to him; and for the sake of which only 
 they are the objects of his delight; for
 
 130 WHEREIN SELF-KNOWLEDGE DOTH CONSIST. 
 
 God can love none but those that bear this 
 impress of his own image on their souls. 
 — Do we find then these visible traces of 
 the divine image here? Can we make 
 out our likeness to him in his holiness, 
 goodness, mercy, righteousness, truth, and 
 wisdom? If so, it is certain we are capa- 
 ble of enjoying him, and are the proper 
 objects of his love. — By this we know we 
 are fit to die; because by this we know we 
 are fit for happiness after death. 
 
 Thus then, if we are faithful to our con- 
 sciences, and impartial in the examination 
 of our lives and tempers, we may soon 
 come to a right determination of this im- 
 portant question: What is the true state 
 of our souls towards God? and in what 
 condition are we to die? [44] Which, as 
 it is the most important, so it is the last 
 instance of self-knowledge I shall men- 
 tion; and with it close the first part of 
 this subject.
 
 Showmg the great Excellency and Advantage 
 of thin Kind of Science. 
 
 Having in the former part of this sub- 
 ject laid open some of the main branches of 
 self-knowled.£!;e, or pointed out the princi- 
 pal thine;s which a man OM^^iht to be ac- 
 quainted with, relating' to himself; I am 
 now, readers, to hiy before you the excel- 
 lency and usefulness of this kind of knowl- 
 edge, as an inducement to labour after it, 
 by a detail of the several great advanta- 
 ges attending it, which shall be recounted 
 in the following chapters. 
 
 CHAP. L 
 
 Self Knowledge the Spring of SclfPosseS' 
 
 sion. 
 
 One great advantage of self-knowledge 
 is, that it gives a man the truest and most 
 constant self-possession.
 
 132 THE GREAT ADVANTAGE 
 
 A man that is endowed with this excel- 
 lent knowledge is calm and easy. 
 
 ]. Under affronts and defamation. For 
 he thinks thus: "1 am sure I know myself 
 better than any man can pretend to know 
 me. This calumniator hath indeed, at 
 this time missed his mark, and shot his ar- 
 rows at random ; and it is my comfort, 
 that my conscience acquits me of his an- 
 gry imputation. However, there are worse 
 crimes which he might more justly accuse 
 me of; which, though hid from him, are 
 known to myself. Let me set about re- 
 forming them; lest, if they come to his 
 notice, he shoukl attack me in a more de- 
 fenceless part, find something upon which 
 to fasten his obloquy, and fix a lasting re- 
 proach upon my character. [45j 
 
 There is a great deal of truth and good 
 sense in that common saying and doctrine 
 of the Stoics, though they might carry it 
 too far, that it is not things but thoughts 
 that disturb and hurt us. [46] Now, as self- 
 acquaintance teaches a man the right gov- 
 ernment of the thoughts, (as is shown a- 
 bove, Part I. Chap. XIV,) it will help him 
 to expel all anxious, tormenting and fruit- 
 less thoughts, and retain the most quieting 
 and useful ones; and so keep all easy 
 within. Let a man but try the experiment,
 
 •P SELF-KNOWI.P.B«E. A^ 
 
 and he will find, that a litfle resolution 
 will make the greatest part of the difiicul- 
 ty vanish. 
 
 2. Self-knowledge will be a good bal- 
 last to the mind under any accidental hur- 
 ry or disorder of the passions. It curbs 
 their impetuosity; puts the reins into the 
 hands of reason ; quells the rising storm, 
 ere it nvikes shipwreck of the conscience; 
 and teaches a man to leave off contention 
 before it be meddled with, (Prov. xvii. 14.) 
 it being much safer to keep the lion chain- 
 ed than to encounter it in its full strength 
 and fury. And tluis will a wise man, for 
 his own peace, deal with the passions of 
 others, as well as his own. 
 
 Self-knowledge, as it acquaints a man 
 with his weakness and worst qualities, will 
 be his guard against them, and a happy 
 counterbalance to the faults and excesses 
 of his natural temper. 
 
 3. It will keep the mind sedate and 
 calm under the suprise of bad news or 
 afflicting providences. 
 
 "For, am I not a creature of God.^ and 
 mv life and comforts, arc they not wholly 
 at his disposal, from whom I have receiv- 
 ed thrm; and by whose favour I have so 
 long enjoyed them; and by whose mercy 
 and goodness I have still so many left.'? 
 
 12
 
 134 THE GREAT ADVANTAfiE 
 
 "A heathen can teach me, under such 
 losses of friends, or estate, or any comfort, 
 to direct my eyes to the hand of Gol>, by 
 whom it was lent me, and is now recalled; 
 that I ought not to say, it is lost, but re- 
 stored. And though I be injuriously de- 
 prived of it, still the hand of God is to 
 be acknowledged; for what is it to me, by 
 what means, he that gave me that bles- 
 sing, takes it from me again.'' 
 
 He that rightly knows himself, will 
 live every day dependent on the divine 
 Author of his mercies, for the continuance 
 and enjoyment of them. And will learn 
 from a higher authority than that of a 
 heathen moralist, that he hath nothing he 
 can properly call his own, or ought to de- 
 pend upon as such. That he is but a 
 steward employed to dispense the good 
 things he possesses, according to the di- 
 rection of his Lord, at whose pleasure he 
 holds them; and to whom he should be 
 ready at any time cheerfully to resign 
 them. (Luke xvi. 1.) 
 
 4. Self-knowledge will help a man to 
 preserve an equanimity and self-possession 
 under all the various scenes of adversity 
 and prosp-erity. 
 
 Both have their temptations; to some 
 the temptations of prosperity are the
 
 OF SELF-KNOWLEDGE. 135 
 
 greatest; to others, those of adversity. 
 Self-knowledge shows a man which of 
 these are the greatest to him; and, at the 
 apprehension of them, teaches him to arm 
 himself accordingly, that ifothing may de- 
 prive him of his constancy and self-pos- 
 seesion, or lead to him act unbecoming 
 the man or the Christian. 
 
 We commonly say, no one knows wh<'it 
 he can bear till he is tried. And many 
 persons verify the observation, by bearing 
 evils mnch better than they feaml. Nay, 
 tiie apprehension of an aioproaciiing evil , 
 often gives a man a greater pain tirtn t!je 
 evil itself. This is owing to inexperience 
 and self-ignorance. 
 
 A man that knows iiimself, his own 
 strength and weakness, is not so subject as 
 others to the melancholy presages of the 
 imagination; and whenever they intrude, 
 he m ikes no other use of them than to take 
 the warning, collect himself, and prepare for 
 the coming evil; leaving the degree, dura- 
 tion, and the issue of it with him, who is 
 the sovereign Disposer of all events, in a 
 quiet dependence on his power, wisdom 
 and goodness. 
 
 Such self-possession is one groat effect 
 and advantage of self-knowledge.
 
 136 THE GREAT ADVANTAGE 
 
 CHAP. ir. 
 
 Sc/f'K?ioivlcdge leads to a wise and steady 
 
 Conduct. 
 
 As self-knovv ledge will keep a man calm 
 and equal in his temper, so it will make 
 him wise and cautions in his conduct. 
 
 A precipitant and rash conduct is ever 
 the effect of a confused and irregular 
 hurry of thought. So that when, by the 
 infl'ience of self-knowledge, the thoughts 
 become cool, sedate and rational, the con- 
 duct will be so loo. It will give a man 
 that even, steady, and uniform behaviour 
 in the management of his affairs, that is 
 so necessary for the dispatch of business; 
 and prevent many disappointments and 
 troubles which arise from the unsuccess- 
 ful execution of immature of ill-judged 
 projects. 
 
 In short, most, of the troubles which 
 men meet with in the world may be tra- 
 ced up to t.iis source, and resolved into 
 self-ignorance. We may complain of Prov- 
 idence, and complain of men ; but the 
 fault, if we examine it, will commonly be 
 found to be our own. Our imprudence.
 
 OF SELF-KNOWLEDGE. 137 
 
 y 
 which arises from self-ignorance, either 
 brings our troubles upon us, or increaiyes 
 them. Want of temper and conduct will 
 make any affliction double. 
 
 What a long train of difficulties ^a 
 sometimes proceed from one vt^rong step in 
 our conduct, into which self-ignorance ov 
 inconsideration betrayed us? And every e- 
 vil that befals us in consequence of that, 
 we are to charge upon ourselves. 
 
 CHAP. III. 
 
 Humility the Effect of Self-Knowledge. 
 
 True self-knowledge always produces 
 humility. 
 
 Pride is ever the oftspring of self-ignor- 
 ance. The reason men are vain and self- 
 sufficient is, because they do not know 
 their own failings; and the reason they 
 are no better acquainted with them is, be- 
 cause they hate self-inspection. Let a man 
 but turn his eyes within, scrutinize himself, 
 and study his own heart, and he will soon 
 see enough to make l)im humble. Behold, 
 I am vile, (Job xi. 4.) is the language only 
 of self-knowledge. [47] 
 
 12*
 
 138 THE GREAT ADVANTAGE 
 
 Whence is it that young people are gen- 
 erally so vain, self-sufficient and assured, 
 but because they have taken no time nor 
 pains to cultivate a self-acquaintance? 
 and why does pride and stiffness appear 
 so often in advanced age, but because 
 men grow old in self-ignorance? A mod- 
 erate degree of self-knowledge would cure 
 an inordinate degree of self-complacency. 
 
 Humility is not more necessary to sal- 
 vation than self-knowledge is to hnmilitv, 
 [49] 
 
 It would effectually prevent that bad 
 disposition which is too apt to steal upon, 
 and infect some of the best human minds, 
 (especially those who aim at singular and 
 exalted degrees of piety) viz. a religious 
 vanity or spiritual pride; which, without a 
 good deal of self-knowledge and self-at- 
 tention, will gradually insinuate into the 
 heart, taint the mind, and sophisticate our 
 virtues, before we are aware; and, in pro- 
 portion to its prevalence, make the Chris- 
 tian temper degenerate into the Pharisai- 
 cal. 
 
 "Might I be allowed to choose my own 
 lot, [ should think it much more eligible to 
 want my spiritual comforts, than to a- 
 l|ouad in these at the expense of my hii-
 
 ©F SELF-KNOWLEDGE. 139 
 
 mility. No; let a penitent, a contrite 
 spirit be always my portion; and may I 
 ever so-be the favourite of Heaven, as ne- 
 ver to forget that lam tlie chief of sinners. 
 Knowledge in the sublime and glorious 
 mysteries of the Christian faith, and ravish- 
 ing comteinphitions of God and a future 
 state, are most <lesirable advantages; but 
 still I prefer charitv which edifieth, before 
 the highest intellectual perfections of that 
 knowledge which puffeth up. — (1 Cor. viii. 
 1.) Those spiritual advantages are cer- 
 tainly best for us, which increase our mod- 
 esty anil awaken our caution, and dispose 
 us to s'ispect and deny ourselves. — The 
 highest in God's esteem, are meanest in 
 their owil And their excellency consists 
 in the meekness and truth, not in the pomp 
 and ostentation of piety, which affects to 
 be seen and admired of men." [.50J 
 
 CHAP. IV. 
 
 Charity another Effect of Sc/f-Know/erh'-c. 
 
 Si-:LF-K\owr.Ei>GE greatly promotes a 
 spirit of meekness and charity. 
 
 The more a man is acquainted with his
 
 149 THE GREAT ADVANTAGE 
 
 ( 
 
 own failings, the more he is disposed t© 
 make allowances for those of others. The 
 knowledge he hath of himself, will in- 
 cline him to be as severe in his animad- 
 versions on his own conduct, as he is on 
 that of others; and as candid to their 
 faults as be is to his own. [51] 
 
 There is an uncommon beauty, force, 
 and propriety in that caution which our 
 Saviour gives us, And why beholdest thou 
 the mote that is in thy brother's eye, but 
 considerest not the beam that is in thine 
 own eye? Or how wilt thou say to thy 
 brother, let me pull out the mote out of 
 thine eye, and behold a beam is in thine 
 own eye? Thou hypocrite, first cast the 
 beam out of thine own eye, and then shalt 
 thou see clearly to cast out the mote oi!t 
 of thy brother's eye. (Matt. vii. 3 — 5.) In 
 which words these four things are plainly 
 intimated; 1. That some are much more 
 quick-sighted to discern the faults and 
 blemishes of others, than their own; can 
 spy a mote in another's eye, sooner than a 
 beam in their o^wn. 2 That they are of- 
 ten the most forward to correct and cure 
 the foibles of others, who are most unqual- 
 ified for that office. The beam in their 
 own eye makes them altogether unfit to 
 pull out the mote from their brother's. A
 
 OF SELF-KNOWLEDGE. 141 
 
 iflan half blind himself should never set 
 up for an occulist. 3. That they who are 
 inclined to deal in censure should always 
 begin at home. 4. Great censoriousness 
 is great hypocrisy. Thou hypocrite, &;c. 
 all this is nothing but the effect of woful 
 self-ignorance. 
 
 This common failing of the human na- 
 ture, the heathens were very sensible of; 
 [52] and imaged it in the following 
 manner: Every man, sav they, carries a 
 wallet or two bags with him ; the one hang- 
 ing before him, and the other behind him; 
 into that before, he puts the faults of oth- 
 ers; into that behind, his own; by which 
 means he never sees his own failings 
 whilst he lia: those of others always be- 
 fore his eyes. 
 
 But self-knowledge now helps us to turn 
 this wallet; and place that which hath 
 our own faults before our eyes, and that 
 which hath in it those of others behind 
 our back. A very necessary regulation 
 this, if we would behold our own faults in 
 the same light in which they do. For we 
 must not expect that others will be as 
 blind to our foibles as we ourselves are. 
 They will carry them before their eyes, 
 whether we do or not. And to imagine 
 that the world takes no notice of them,
 
 142 THE GREAT ADYANTAGE 
 
 because we do not, is just as wise as to 
 fancy that others do not see us, because 
 we shut our eyes. 
 
 CHAP. V. 
 
 Moderation the Effect of Self- Knowledge. 
 
 Another genuine offspring of self-knowl- 
 edge is moderation. 
 
 This indeed can hardly be conceived to 
 be separate from that of meekness and 
 charity before-mentioned ; but I choose to 
 give it a distinct mention, because I con- 
 sider it under a different view and opera- 
 tion, viz. as that which guards and influences 
 our spirits in all matters of debate and 
 controversy. 
 
 Moderation is a great and important 
 Christian virtue, very different from that 
 bad quality of the mind under which it is 
 often misrepresented and disguised, viz. 
 lukewarmness and indifference about the 
 truth. Tiie former is very consistent with 
 a regular and well-corrected zeal, the lat- 
 ter consists in a total want of it; the for- 
 mer is sensible of, and endeavours with 
 peace and prudence to maintain the digni-
 
 OP SELF-KNOWLF.DGE- I4i5 
 
 ty and importance of divine doctrines, the 
 latter hatli no manner of concern about 
 them; the one feels the secret influences 
 of them, the other is quite a stranger to 
 their power and effiacy; the one laments 
 in secret the sad decay of vitial religion, 
 the other is an instance of it. In short, 
 the one proceeds from true knowledge, the 
 other from great ignorance; the one is a 
 good mark of sincerity, and the other a 
 certain sign of hypocrisy. — And to cnn- 
 fonud two things together, which are so 
 essentially d lift rent, can he the effect of 
 nothing but great ignorance, inconsidera- 
 tion, or an overheated, injudicious zeal. 
 
 A self-knowing man can easily distin- 
 guish between these two. And the knowl- 
 edge which he has of human nature in 
 general, from a thorough contemplation of 
 his own in particular, shows him the ne- 
 cessity of preserving a medium (as in ev- 
 ry thing else so especially) between the 
 two extremes of a bigoted zeal on the one 
 hand, and indolent lukewarmness on the 
 other. As he will not look upon every thing 
 to be worth contending for, so he will look 
 upon nothing worth losing his temper for in 
 the contention; because, though thetruthbe 
 of ever so great importance, nothing can 
 do a greater disservice to it, or make a
 
 144 THE GREAT ADVANTAGE 
 
 man more incapable of defending it, thau 
 intemperate heat and passions; whereby 
 he injures and betrays the cause he is o- 
 ver-anxious to maintain. The wrath of 
 man worketh not the righteousness of God. 
 (James i. 20.) 
 
 Self-knowledge heals our animosities, 
 and greatly cools our debates about mat- 
 ters of dark and doubtful Speculation. 
 One who knows himself, sets too great a 
 value upon his time and temper, to plunge 
 rashly into those vain and fruitless contro- 
 versies, in which one of them is sure to be 
 lost, and the other in great danger of be- 
 ing so; especially when a man of bad 
 temper and bad principles is the oppo- 
 nent ; who aims rather to silence his adver- 
 sary with overbearing confidence, dark, 
 unmeaning language, authoritative airs, 
 and hard words, than convince him with 
 solid argument; and who plainly contends 
 not for truth l>ut victory. Little good can 
 be done to the best cause in such a cir- 
 cumstance. And a wise and moderate 
 man, who knows human nature, and knows 
 himself, will rather give his antagonist the 
 pleasure of an imaginary triumph, than 
 engage in so unequal a combat. 
 
 An eagerness and zeal for dispute, on 
 every subject, and with every one, shows
 
 Ot SELF-KNOWLEDGt. 145 
 
 great self-sufficiency, that never-failing sign 
 of great self-ignorance. 
 
 And true moderation, which creates an 
 indifference to little things, and a wise 
 and well proportioned zeal for things of 
 importance, can proceed from nothing but 
 true knowledge, which has its foundation 
 in self-acquaintance. 
 
 CHAP. VL 
 
 Self-Knowledge improves the Judgment. 
 
 Another great advantage of being well 
 acquainted with ourselves is, that it helps 
 us to form a better judgment of other 
 things. 
 
 Self-knowledge indeed does not enlarge 
 or increase our natural capacities, but it 
 guides and regulates them; leads us to 
 the right use and application of them; 
 and removes a great many things which 
 obstruct their due exercise, as pride, pre- 
 judice, passion, kc. which oftentimes mis- 
 erably prevert the rational powers. 
 
 He tliat hath taken a just measure of 
 himself is thereby better able to judge of 
 other things. 
 
 13
 
 146 THE GREAT ADVANTAGE 
 
 1. He knows how to judge of men and 
 laiman nature better. — For human nature, 
 setting aside the difference of natural ge- 
 nius, and the improvements of education 
 and religion, is pretty much the same in 
 all. There are the same passions and 
 appetites, the same natural infirmities and 
 inclinations, in all mankind; though some 
 are more predominant, and distinguishable 
 in some, than they are in others. So that 
 if a man be but well acquainted with his 
 own, this, together with a very little ob- 
 servation on human lifc; will soon discov- 
 er to him those of other men; and show 
 him very impartially their particular tail- 
 ings and excellencies, and help him to 
 form a much truer sentiment of them, than 
 if he were to judge only by their exterior, 
 the appearance they make in the eye of 
 the world, or the character given of them 
 by others; both which are often very fal- 
 lacious. 
 
 2. Self-know'ledge will teach ns to judge 
 rightly of facts as well as men. It will 
 exhibit things lo the mind in a proper 
 light, and true colours, without those false 
 glosses and appearances which fancy 
 throws-upon them, or in which the imagina- 
 tion often paints them. It will teach us 
 to judge not with the imagination, but
 
 OP SELF-KNOWLEDGE. 147 
 
 with tlie understanding; and will set a 
 guard ni)on the former, which so often rep- 
 resents things in wrong views, and gives 
 the mind false impressions. See part 1. 
 Chap. IV. 
 
 3. It helps to estimate the true value of 
 all worldly good things. It rectifies our 
 notions of them, and lessens that enor- 
 mous esteem we are apt to have for them. 
 For when a man knows liimself, and his 
 true interest, he will see how far, and in 
 what degree, these things are suitable to 
 him, and subservient to his good; and how 
 far they are unsuitable, ensnaring and per- 
 nicious. This, and not the common opin- 
 ion of the world, will be his rule of judg- 
 ment concerning them. By this he will 
 see quite through them: see what they 
 really are at bottom; and how far a wise 
 man ought to desire them. The reason 
 why men value them so extravagantly is, be- 
 cause they take but a superficial view of 
 them, and only look upon their outsides, 
 where they are most showy and inviting. 
 W(Me they to look within them, consider 
 their intrinsic worth, their ordinary effects, 
 their tendency, and their end, they w-)nld 
 not be so apt to overvalue them. And a 
 man that has learned to see through him- 
 self, can easily see through these, [r/.i.j
 
 148 THE GREAT ADVANTAGE 
 
 CHAP. VII. 
 
 Self-KnowUd^e directs to the proper Exer-^ 
 cise of Self-Denial. 
 
 A MAN that knows himself best, knows 
 how, and wherein, he ought to deny him- 
 self. 
 
 The great duty of self-denial, which our 
 Saviour so expressly requires of his fol- 
 lowers, plain and necessary as it is, has 
 been much mistaken and abused; and 
 that not only by the church of Rome, in 
 tlieir doctrines of penance, fasts and pil- 
 grimages, but by some Protestant Chris- 
 tians in the instances of voluntary absti- 
 nence and unnecessary austerities. — • 
 Vvhence they are sometimes apt to be too 
 censorious against those who indulge them- 
 selves in the use of those indifferent things, 
 which they make it a point of conscience 
 to abstain from. Whereas, would they 
 confine their exercise of self-denial to the 
 plain and important points of Christian 
 practice, devoutly performing the necessa- 
 ary duties they are most averse to, and 
 resolutely avoiding the known sins they 
 are most inclined to, under the direction 
 of scripture, they would soon become more
 
 OP SELF-KNOWLEDGE. 149 
 
 solif!, jiiHicioiis and examplary Christians; 
 and did tliey know themselves, they would 
 easily see that herein there is occasion and 
 scope enough for self-denial; and that to 
 a de'j^ree of greater severity and difficulty 
 than there is in those little corporeal ab- 
 stinences and mortifications they enjoin 
 themselves. 
 
 1. Self-knowledge will direct us to the 
 necessary exercise of self-denial, with re- 
 gard to the duties our tempers are most 
 averse to. 
 
 There is no one, but at sometimes, finds 
 a great backwardness and indisposition to 
 some duties which he knows to be season- 
 able and necessary. This then is a prop- 
 er occasion for self-discipline. For to in- 
 dulge this indisposition is very dangerous, 
 and leads to an habitual neglect of known 
 duty ; and to resist and oppose it, and to 
 prepare for a diligent and faithful discharge 
 of the duty, notwithstanding the many 
 pleas and excuses that a carnal disposi- 
 tion may urge for the neglect of it, this 
 requires no small pains and self-denial ; and 
 yet it is very necessary to the peace of 
 conscience. 
 
 And for our encouragement to this piece 
 of self-denial, we need only remember 
 that the difficulty of the duty, and our ua- 
 
 13*
 
 150 THE GREAT ADVANTAGE 
 
 fitness for it, will, upon the trial, be founrl 
 to be much less than we apprehend. And 
 the pleasure of reflecting, that we have 
 discharged our consciences, and given a 
 fresh testimony of our uprightness, will 
 more than compensate the pains and diffi- 
 culty we found therein. And the oftener 
 the criminal propensions to the wilful neg- 
 lect of duty are opposed and conquered, 
 the seldomer will they return, or the weak- 
 er will they grow — till at last, by divine 
 grace, they will be wholly overcome; and 
 in the room of them will succeed an hab- 
 itual readiness to every good work, (Titus 
 iii. 1.) and a very sensible delight therein: 
 a much happier effect than can be expect- 
 ed from the severest exercise of self-deni- 
 al, in the instances before mentioned. 
 
 2. A man that knows himself will see 
 an equal necessity for self-denial, in order 
 to check his inclinations to sinful actions; 
 to subdue the rebel within; to arrest the 
 solicitations of sense and appetite; to sum- 
 mon all his wisdom to avoid the occasions 
 and temptations to sin, and all his strength 
 to oppose it. 
 
 All this (especially if it be a favour- 
 ite constitutional inirpjity) will cost a man 
 pains and mortification enough, for in- 
 stance, the subduing a violent passion, or
 
 OF SELF-KNOWLEDGE. 1/31 
 
 tamin;r n sensual inclination, or forgiving 
 an apparent injury anti ai'front. [t is evi- 
 dent, sucii a self-conquest can never be at- 
 tained without much self-knowledge and 
 self-denial. 
 
 And that self-denial that is exercised 
 this way, as it will be a better evidence of 
 oin sincerity, so it will be more helpful 
 and ornamental to the interests of reli- 
 gion, than the greatest zeal in those par- 
 ticular fluiies which are more suitable to 
 our natural tem|)ers, or thnn the greatest 
 austerities in some i)articular instances of 
 mortilication, which are not vet so neces- 
 sary, and perhaps not so difficult or disa- 
 greeable to us as this. 
 
 To what amazing heights of piety may 
 some be tau;a;ht to mount, (raised on the 
 wings of (laming zeal, and distinijuished 
 by uncommon preciseness and severity a- 
 bout little things) who all the while, per- 
 liaps, cannot .rio' ern one passion, and ap- 
 P'jar yet ignorant of, and slaves to their 
 darling iniquity: through an ie;norance of 
 themselves, they misappU th<^ir zeal, and 
 misplace their stdf-flenial ; and by that 
 means blemish their characters w ith a vis- 
 ble inconsistency.
 
 152 THE GREAT ADVANTAGE 
 
 CHAP. VIII. 
 
 Self-Knowledge promotes our Usefulness iw 
 
 the World. 
 
 The more we know of ourselves, the 
 more useful we are like to be, in those sta- 
 tions of life in which Providence hath fix- 
 ed us. 
 
 When we know our proper talents and 
 capacities, we know in wliat manner we 
 are capal)]e of being useful; and the con- 
 sideration of our characters and relations 
 in life, will direct us to the proper applica- 
 tion of those talents; show us to what 
 ends they were given us, and to what pur- 
 poses they ought to be improved. 
 
 "rvlany of those who set up for wits, and 
 pretend to a more than ordinary sagacity 
 and delicacy of sense, do, notwithstanding, 
 spend their time unaccountably; and live 
 away whole days, weaks, and sometinies 
 months together, to as little purpose, 
 though it may not be so innocently, as if 
 they had been asleep all the while. But 
 if their parts be so good as they would 
 have others believe, sure they are worth 
 impiovingj if not, they have the more
 
 OF SELF-KNOWLEDGE. 153 
 
 jneerl of it. Greatness of parts is so far 
 from being a discharge from industry, that 
 I find men of the most exquisite sense in 
 all ages were always most precious of 
 their time. And therefore I very much 
 suspect the excellency of those men's 
 parts, who are dissolute and careless mis- 
 penders of it." 
 
 It is a sad thini^ to observe, how miser- 
 ably some men debase and prostitute tlirir 
 capacities. These gifts and indulgencies 
 of nature, by which they outshine many 
 others, and by which they are capable of 
 doing real service to the cause of virtue 
 and religion, and of being eminently use- 
 ful to mankind, they either neglect, or 
 shamefully abuse, to tlie dishonour of God, 
 and the prejudice of their fellow creatures, 
 by encouraging and embolding them in the 
 ways of vice and vanity. For the false 
 glare of a profane wit will sometimes 
 make such strong impression on a weak, 
 unsettled mind, as to overbear the prin- 
 ciples of reason and wisdom, and give it 
 too favourable sentiments of what it before 
 abhorred. Whereas the same force and 
 sprightliness of genius could have been 
 very happily and usefully employed in 
 putting sin out of countenance, and in ral-
 
 154 THE GREAT ADVANTAGE 
 
 lying the follies and exposing the inconsist- 
 encies of a vicious and profligate character. 
 
 The more talents and abilities men are 
 blessed with, the more pains they ought 
 to take. — This is Chrysostom's observa- 
 tion. And the reason is obvious; because 
 they have more to answer for than other 
 men; which I take to be a better reason 
 than what is assigned by this father, viz. 
 because they have more to lose. 
 
 When a man once knows where his 
 strength lies, wherein he excels, or is ca- 
 pable of excelling, how far his influence 
 extends, and in what station of life Provi- 
 dence hath fixed him, and the duties of 
 that station; he then knows what talents 
 he ought to cultivate, in what manner and 
 to what objects they are to be chiefly di- 
 rected and applied, in order to shine in 
 that station, and be useful in it. This will 
 keep him even and steady in his pursuits 
 and views, consistent with hi u self, uni- 
 form in his conduct, and useful to man- 
 kind ; and will not permit iiis shooting at 
 a wrong mark, or missing the right one he 
 aims at; as thousands do, for want of this 
 necessarv branch of self-knowledge. See 
 Part 1. Chap. V.
 
 OP SELF-KNOWLEDGE. 15 J 
 
 CHAP IX. 
 
 Scif-Knoulcdgc leads to a Decorum and Cow 
 siatcncy of Character. 
 
 A MAN that knows liitnself, knows how 
 to aci with discretion and dignity in every 
 staticjn and character. 
 
 Ahnost all the ridicule we see in the 
 worhl takes its rise from self-ignorance, 
 and to this mankind by common assent as- 
 cribe it, when they say of a person that 
 acts out (.if character, he does not know 
 himself. Affectation is the spring of all rid- 
 icule, and self-ignorance the true source of 
 affectation. A man that does not know his 
 proper character, nor what becomes it, 
 cannot act suital)ly to it. He will often 
 affect a character that does not belong; to 
 him; and will either act above or beneath 
 himself, which will make him equally 
 contemptible in the eyes of them that 
 know him. 
 
 A man of superior rank and character, 
 that knows himself, knows that he is but 
 a man; subject to the same sickness, frail- 
 ties, disappointments, pains, passions and 
 sorrows, as other men; that true honour
 
 156 THE GREAT ADVANTAGE 
 
 lies in those things in vvhich it is possible 
 for the meanest peasant to excel him; and 
 therefore he will not be vainly arrogant. 
 He knows that they are only fransistory 
 and accidental things, that set him above 
 the rest of mankind; that he will soon be 
 upon a level with theni; and therefore 
 learns to condescend; and there is a digni" 
 ty in this condescension; it does not sink, 
 but exalts his reputation and character. 
 
 A man of inferior rank, that knows him- 
 self, knows how to be content, quiet, and 
 thankful, in his lower sphere. As he hath 
 not an extravagant veneration and es- 
 teem for those external things which raise 
 one man's circumstance so much above 
 another's, so he does not look upon him- 
 self as the worse or less valuable man, 
 purely because he has them not; much less 
 does he envy them that have them. As 
 he ha^ not their advantages, so neither 
 has he their temptations; he is in that 
 state of life, which the great Arbiter and 
 Disposer of all things hath alioted him; 
 and he is satisfied. But as a deference is 
 Owing to external superiority, he knows 
 how to pay a proper respect to those that 
 are abovie him, without that abject and 
 servile cringing, vvhich discovers an inor- 
 dinate esteem for their condition. As he
 
 OF belf-knoWledge. 1511 
 
 does not over-esteem them for those little 
 accidental advantages in which ihey ex- 
 cel him, so neither does he over-value him- 
 self for those things in vt'hich he excels 
 others. 
 
 Were hearers to know themselves, they 
 would not take upon them to dictate to 
 their preachers, or teach their ministers 
 how to teach them; (wiiich, as St. Austin 
 observes, is the same thing as if a patient, 
 when he sends for a physician, should pre- 
 scribe to him what he would have him 
 prescribe;) but if they happen to hear 
 something not quite agreeable to their for- 
 mer sentiments, would betake themselves 
 more diligently to the study of their Bi- 
 bles, to know whether those things were 
 so. (Acts xvii. 11.) 
 
 And were ministers to know themselves, 
 they would know the nature and duty of 
 their office, and the wants and infirmities 
 of their hearers, better than to domineer 
 over their faitli, or shoot over their heads', 
 and seek their own popularity, rather than 
 their benefit. They would be more soli- 
 citous for their edirtcation tiian their ap- 
 probation; (the most palatal)le food is not 
 always the most wholesome;) and like a 
 faithful physician, would earnestly intend 
 and endeavour their good, though it be in 
 
 14
 
 lj)8 THE GREAT ADVANTAGE 
 
 a wa.y they may not like; and rather risk 
 their own characters with weak and cap- 
 tious men, than withhold any thing that is 
 needful for them, or be unfaithful to Gob 
 and their own consciences. Patients must 
 not expect to be always pleased, nor phy- 
 sicians to be always applauded. 
 
 CHAP. X. 
 
 Piety the Effect of Self- Knowledge. 
 
 Self-knowledge tends greatly to culti- 
 vate a spirit of true piety. 
 
 Ignorance is so far from being the moth- 
 er of devotion, that nothing is more de- 
 structive of it. And of all ignorance^ 
 none is a greater bane to it than self-ignor- 
 ance. This indeed is very consistent with 
 superstition, bigotry and enthusiasm, those 
 common counterfeits of piety, which, by 
 weak and credulous minds, are often mis- 
 taken for it. But true piety and real de- 
 votion can only spring from a just knowl- 
 edge of God and ourselves; and the rela- 
 tion we stand in to him, and the depend- 
 ence we have upon him. For when we 
 consider ourselves as the creatures of Goi?,
 
 OF SELF-KNOWLEDGK. 1.j9 
 
 whom he made for his honour, and as 
 creatures incapable of any happiness, but 
 what results from his favour; and as en- 
 tirely and continually dependent upon him 
 for every thing we have and hope for; 
 whilst we bear this thought in our minds, 
 what can induce or prompt us more to love 
 and fear and trust Him, as our God, our 
 Father, and all-sufficient Friend and Help- 
 er. 
 
 CHAP. XI. 
 
 Self- Knowledge (caches us rightJij to perform 
 the Duties of Religion. 
 
 Self-knowledge will be a good help 
 and direction to us in many of our devout 
 and Christian exercises. Particularly, 
 
 1. In the duty of prayer; both as to the 
 matter and mode. [.51] He that rightly 
 knows himself, will be very sensible of his 
 spiritual wants; and he that is well ac-. 
 quainted with his spiritual wants, will not 
 be at a loss what to pray for. "Our hearts 
 woidd be the best prayer books, if we 
 were well skilled in readins; them. Why 
 do men pray, and call for prayers when
 
 160 THE GREAT AD7ANTA«E 
 
 they come to die, but that they begin st 
 little better to know themselves? And 
 were they now but to hear the voice of 
 God and conscience, tiiey would not re- 
 main speechless. But they that are born 
 deaf are always dumb." 
 
 Again: Self-knowledge will teach us to 
 pray, not only with fluency, but fervency; 
 will help us to keep the heart, as well as 
 order our speech before God; and so pro- 
 mote the giace as well as the gift of pray- 
 er. Did we but seriously consider what 
 we are, and what we are about; whom 
 we pray to, and what we pray for, it is 
 imj;o5sible we should be so dead, spiritless, 
 and formal in this duty, as we too often 
 are. The very thought would inspire us 
 with life, and faith, and fervour. 
 
 2. Self-knowledge will be very lielpful 
 to us in the duty of thanksgiving; as it 
 shows us both how suitable and how sea- 
 sonable the mercies are which we we re- 
 ceive. A Christian that keeps up an in- 
 telligence with himself, considers what he 
 hath, as well as what he wants; and is no 
 less sensible of the value his mercies, than 
 his unworthiness of them ; and this is what 
 mokes him tharskful. For this reason it is, 
 that one Christian's heart even melts with 
 gratitude for those very mercies, which oth-
 
 OP SELF-KNOTVLEDCE. iGl 
 
 CYS discsteem and depreciate, and porlinps 
 despise, because they liave not what they 
 think j?reater. But a man that knows him- 
 self, knows tliat he deserves nothing, and 
 therefore is thankful for every thing. For 
 thankfulness as necessarily flows from 
 humility, as humility does from self-ac- 
 quaintance. 
 
 3. In the duties of reading and hearing 
 the word of God, self-knowledge is of ex- 
 cellent use to enable us to understand and 
 apply that which we read or hear. Did 
 we hunderstand our hearts better, we 
 should understand the word of God better; 
 for that speaks, to the heart. A man that 
 is acquainted with iiis own heart, present- 
 ly sees how the divine word penetrates 
 and exj)lorcs, searches and lays open its 
 most inward parts, feels what he reads; 
 and finds that a quickening spirit, which to 
 to a self-ignorant man is but a dead let- 
 ter. 
 
 Moreover, this self-acquaintance teaches 
 a man to apply what he reads and hears 
 of the word of God. lie sees the perti- 
 nence, congruity, and suitableness of it to 
 his own case; and lays it up faithfully in 
 the store-room oi" his mind, to be digested 
 and improved by his after-thoughts, And 
 it is bv this art of applying scripture, ard 
 
 14*
 
 162 THE «REAT ADVANTAGE 
 
 urging the most suitable instructions and 
 admonitions of it home upon our conscien- 
 ces, that we receive the greatest benefit 
 by it. 
 
 4. Nothing is of more eminent service in 
 the great duty of meditation; especially 
 in that part of it which consists in heart- 
 converse A man who is unacquainted with 
 hin}self, is as unfit to converse with his 
 iieart, as he 'is with a stranger he never 
 saw, and whose taste and tentper he is al- 
 together unacquainted with. He knows 
 not how to get his thoughts about him. And 
 when he has, he knows not how to r?(nge and 
 fix them ; and hath no more \he command of 
 them, than a general has of a wild, undis- 
 ciplined arm>, that has never been exercis- 
 ed or accustomed to obedience and order. 
 But one who hath made it the study of 
 his life to be acquainted with himself, is 
 soon disposed to enter into a free and fa- 
 miliar converse with his own heart; and 
 in such a self-conference improves more in 
 true wisdom, and acquires more useful and 
 substantial knowledge, than he could do 
 from the most polite and refined conversa- 
 tion in the world. Of such excellent use 
 is self-knowledge in all the duties of de- 
 *Totioia and piety.
 
 or SELF-KNOWLEDGE. 163 
 
 CHAP. XII 
 
 Se/f-Knoivkdgc the best Preparation fat 
 
 Death. 
 
 Self-knowlkbge will be an habitual pre- 
 paration for death, and a constant guard 
 against the surprise of it. Because it fix- 
 es and settles our hopes of future happi- 
 ness — That which makes the thoughts* of 
 death so terrifying to the soul, is its «tter 
 uncertainty what will become of it after 
 death. Were this uncertainty to be remov- 
 ed, a thousand things would reconcile us to 
 the thoughts of dying. [55] 
 
 "Distrust and darkness of a future state, 
 "Is that whicli makes tnankind to dread their fate! 
 "Dying is notliing, but 'tis this we fear, 
 "To be we know not what, we koow not where." 
 
 Now self-knowledge in a good degree 
 dissipates this gloom, aiul removes this 
 dreadful doubt. For as the word of God 
 hath reveahnl the certainty of a future 
 state of hi'ppuuss, which the good man 
 shall enter upon after death, and plainly 
 described the requisite cpialiiication for it; 
 when, bv a long and laborious self-ac- 
 (^uaiiUcUice, he comes disiiiiciiy to discern
 
 ik64r THE GREAT ADVANTAGE, &C. 
 
 those qualifications in himself, his hopes 
 of heaven soon raise him above the fears 
 of death. And though he may not be able 
 to form any clear or distinct conc^])tion of 
 the nature of that happiness, yet, in gen- 
 eral, he is assured that it will be a most 
 extensive one, and will contain in it every 
 thing necessary lo it make complete; be- 
 cause it will come inmiediately from God 
 himself. Whereas they who know not what 
 they are. must necessarily be ignorant what 
 they shall be. A man that is all darkness 
 within, can have but a dark prospect for- 
 ward. [.56] 
 
 Oh, what would we not give for solid 
 hope in death? Reader, wouldst thou have 
 itj know God, and know thyself.
 
 i^ASii^ mi^ 
 
 Showing how Self-Knowhdge is to he attain- 
 ed. 
 
 From what has been said under the two 
 former parts of the subject, self-knowledge 
 appears to be in itself so excellent, and in 
 its effects so extensively useful and con- 
 ducive to the happiness of human kind, 
 that nothing need further be added by 
 way of motive or inducement to excite us 
 to make it the great object of our study 
 and pursuit, ff we regard our present 
 peace, satisfaction and usefulness, or our 
 future and everlasting interests, we shall 
 certainly value and prosecute this knowl- 
 edge above all others; as what will be 
 most ornamental to our characters and 
 beneficial to our interests in every stale of 
 jile, and abundantly recompense all our 
 labour. 
 
 Were there need of any further motives 
 to excite us to this, I might lay o])en (he 
 many dreadful effects of self-ignorance, 
 aixl show how plainly it appears to be 
 the original spring of all the follies and 
 incongruities we see in the characters of
 
 166 HOW SELF-KNOWLEDGE 
 
 men, and of most of the mortifications 
 and miseries they meet with here. This 
 would soon appear by only mentioning the 
 reverse of those advantages before speci- 
 fied, which result from self-knowledge. 
 For what is it but a want of self-knowl- 
 edge that makes us so unsettled and vola- 
 tile in our dispositions? So subject to 
 transport and excess of passions in the 
 varying scenes of life? So rash and un- 
 guarded in our conduct.? So vain and self- 
 sufficient? So censorious and malignant? 
 So eager and confident? So little useful in 
 the world, in comparison of what we 
 might be? So inconsistent with ourselves? 
 So mistaken in our notions of true religion ? 
 So generally indisposed to, or unengaged 
 in, the holy duties of it.? And finally, so 
 unfit for death, and so afraid of dying? — 1 
 say, to what is all this owing, but self-ig- 
 norance? the first and fruitful source of ail 
 this long train of evils. And indeed there 
 is scarce any, but what may be traced up 
 to it. In short, it brutifies man to be ignor- 
 ant of himself. Man that is in honour, ynd 
 vinderstandeth not (himself especially) is 
 like the beasts that perish. (Psalm xlix. 
 20.) 
 
 "Come home then, O my wandering, 
 self-neglecting soul; lose not thyself, in a
 
 Id TO BE ATTAINE1>. I6t 
 
 wilderness or tumult of impertinent, vain, 
 distracting things. Thy work is nearer 
 thee ; tlie country thou shouldest first sur- 
 vey and travel, is within thee; from which 
 thou must pass to that above thee; when, 
 by losing thyself in this without thee, thou 
 wilt find thyself before tliou art aware in 
 that below thee. Let the eyes of fools 
 be in the corners of the earth; leave it to 
 men beside themselves, to live as without 
 themselves; do thou keep at home, and 
 mind thine own business. ' Survey thvself, 
 thine own make and nature, and thou wilt 
 find full employment for all thy most active 
 thoughts. [57 j But dost thou delight in the 
 mysteries of nature? Consider well the 
 mystery of thy own. The compedium of 
 all thou studiest is near thee, even within 
 thee; thyself being the epitome of the 
 world. [.58] If neither necessity or duty, 
 nature or grace, reason or faith, internal 
 inducements, external impulses, or eternal 
 motives, might determine the subject of 
 thy study and contemplation, thou wouldst 
 call home thy distracted thoughts, and em- 
 ploy them more on thyself and thy God." 
 
 Now then let us resolve that hence- 
 forth the study of ourselves shall be the 
 business of our lives. That by the bles- 
 sing of God we may arrive at such a de-
 
 168 JHOW SELF-KNOWLEDGE 
 
 gree of self-knowledge as may secure to 
 us the excellent benefits before mentioned;, 
 To which end, we should do well to attend 
 diligently to the rules laid down in the fol- 
 lowing chapters. 
 
 CHAP. L 
 
 Self-Examination necessary to Self-Knowl^ 
 
 edge. 
 
 The first thing necessary to self-knowl- 
 edge is self-inspection. 
 
 We must often look into our hearts, if 
 we would know them. They are very de- 
 ceitful; more so than we can imagine till 
 we have searched and tried and watched 
 them well. We may meet with frauds and 
 faithless dealings from men; but after all, 
 our own hearts are the greatest cheats ; and 
 there are none we are in a greater danger 
 from than ourselves. We must first sus- 
 pect ourselves, then examine ourselves, 
 then whtch ourselves, if we expect ever 
 to know ourselves. How is it possible 
 there should l)e any self-acquaintance 
 without self-converse? 
 
 Were a man to accustom himself to such
 
 is T« *E ATTA^^*fc>- 169 
 
 self-employment, he need not live till thir- 
 ty before he suspects himsell" a fool, or till 
 forty before he knows it. [59] 
 
 Men could never be so bad as they are^ 
 if they did but take a i)roper care and 
 scope in this business of self-examination; 
 [60J if they did but look backwards to 
 what they were, inwards to what they are, 
 and forwards to what they shall be. 
 
 And as this is the first and most neces- 
 sary step to self-ac(iuaintance, it may not 
 be aniiss to be a little more particular in it. 
 Therefore, 
 
 1. This business of self-scrutiny must be 
 performed with ^reat care and diligence, 
 otherwise our hearts will deceive us, even 
 whilst we are examining of them. "When 
 we set ourselves to think, some trifle or 
 other presently interrupts and draws us oHf 
 from any profitable recollection. Nay, 
 we ourselves fly out, and are glad to be di- 
 rected from a serere examination into our 
 own state; which is sure, if diligently pur- 
 sued, to present us with objects of shame 
 and sorrow, which will wound our sight, 
 and soon make us weary of this necessary 
 work. 
 
 Do not let us flatter ourselves then that 
 this is a mighty easy business. Much 
 pains and care are necessary sometimes to 
 
 15
 
 .170 HOW SELF-KNOWLEDGE 
 
 keep the mind intent, and more to keep it 
 inipartial. And the difficulty of it is the 
 reason that so many are averse to it, and 
 care not to descend into themselves. 
 
 Reader! try the experiment; retire now 
 into thyself; and see if thou canst not 
 strike out some light within, by closely urg- 
 ing such questions as these: — "What am 
 I? For what was I made? And to what 
 ends have I been preserved so long by the 
 favour of my Maker? Do I remember or 
 forget those ends? Have f answered or 
 perverted them.^ What have 1 been do- 
 ing since I came into the world*? What 
 is the world, or myself, the better for my 
 living so many years in it? What is my 
 allowed course of action? Am I sure it 
 will bear the future test? Am I now in 
 that state 1 shall wish to die in? And, O 
 my soul, think, and think again, what it is 
 to die: do not put that most awful event 
 far from thee; nor pass it by with a su- 
 perficial thought. Canst thou be too well 
 fortified against the terrors of that day? 
 And art tiiou sure that the props which 
 support thee now, will not fail thee then? 
 — What hopes hast thou for eternity! 
 Hast thou indeed that godly temper which 
 alone can fit thee for the enjoyment of 
 God? Which world art thou most cojicern-
 
 IS TO BE ATTAINED. 171 
 
 ed for? What thines do most deeply af- 
 fect thee? — O my soul, rememl)rr thy die;- 
 nity; think how soon the scene will shift. 
 Why wouldst thou forget that thou art im- 
 mortal.? 
 
 2. This self-excitation and scrutiny 
 must be frequently made. — They who 
 *have a great deal of important business 
 on their hands should often look over their 
 accounts, and frequently adjust them; lest 
 they should be going backwards, and not 
 know it. And custom will soon take off 
 the difficulty of this duty, and make it de- 
 lightful. 
 
 In our morning retreat, it will be proper 
 to remember, that we cannot preserve 
 throughout the day that calm and even 
 temper we may then be in. That we shall 
 verv probably meet with some things to 
 ruffle us ; some attack on our weak side. 
 Place a guard there now. Or, however, if 
 no incidents happen to discompose us, 
 our tempers will vary; our thoughts will 
 flow |)retty much with our blood; and the 
 dispositions of the mind be a good deal 
 governed by the motions of the animal 
 spirit; otu* souls will be serene or cloud}', 
 our tempers volatile or phlegmatic, and 
 our inclinations sober or irregular, accord- 
 ing to the briskness or sluggishness of the
 
 172 HOW SELF-KNOWLEDGE 
 
 the circulation of the animal fluids, what- 
 ever may be the natural and immediate 
 cause of that ; and, therefore, we must re- 
 solve to avoid all occasions that may 
 raise any dangerous ferments there; which, 
 when once raised, will excite in us very 
 different thoughts and dispositions from 
 from those we now have; which, together 
 with the force of a fair opportunity and 
 urgent tenjptation, may overset ov-v reason 
 and resolution, and betray us into those 
 sinful indulgences which will wound the 
 conscience, stain the soul, and create bit- 
 ter remorse in our cooler reflections. Pious 
 thoughts and purposes in the morning will 
 set a guard upon the soul, and fortify it 
 under all the temptations of the day. 
 
 But self-inspection, however, should not 
 fail to make part of our evening devotions. 
 V/hen we should review and examine the 
 several actions of the day, the various 
 tempers and dispositions we have been in, 
 and the occasions that excited them. Ft 
 is an advice worthy 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 la
 
 IS TO BR ATTAINED. 17 'J 
 
 direct our course on anolher. — A practice 
 that iuith been reconiniended by many ol" 
 the heathen moralists of the greatest 
 name, as Plutarch, E|)ictetus, Marcus An- 
 toninus; and particularly Pythagoras, in 
 the verses that go under his name, and are * 
 called his golden verses; wherein he ad- 
 vises his scholars every night to recollect 
 the pissai!,es of the day, and ask them- 
 selves these nuestions: Wherein have I 
 transgressed this day? What have Idone.^ 
 What duty have I omitted? kc. [61] vSenc- 
 ca recommends the same practice. "Sec- 
 tius (saith he) did this: at the close of 
 the day, before he betook himself to resi, 
 he addressed his soul in the following 
 manner: What evil of thine hast tliou 
 cured this day? What vice w^ithstood.^ in 
 what respect art thou better.?'' Passion 
 will cease, or become more cool, when it 
 knows every day it is to be thus called to 
 account. What can be more advanta- 
 geous than this constant custom of search- 
 ing through the day? And the same 
 
 course (saith Seneca) I take myself; and \ 
 every day sit in judgment on myself; and 
 at even, when all is Jiush and still, I make 
 a scrutiny into the day; look over ni} 
 words and actions, and hide nothing from 
 myself; conceal none of my mi'^takci? 
 
 15^
 
 174 HOW SELF-KNOWLEDGE 
 
 through fear; for why should I, when I 
 have it in my power to say thus: "This 
 once I forgive thee; but see thou do so no 
 more. In such a dispute 1 was too keen; 
 do not for the future contend with ignor- 
 ant men; they will not be convinced, be- 
 cause they are unwilling to show their ig- 
 norance. Such a one I reproved with too 
 much freedom; whereby I have not re- 
 formed, but exasperated him; remember 
 hereafter to be more mild in your cen- 
 sures; and consider not only whether 
 what you say be true, but whether the 
 person you say it to, can bear to hear the 
 truth." — Tiius far that excellent moral- 
 ist. 
 
 Let us tnke a few other specimens of a 
 more pious and Christian turn, from a ju- 
 dicious and devout vvriter. 
 
 "This morning when I arose, instead of 
 of applying myself to God in prayer, 
 which I generally find it best to do, imme- 
 diately after a few serious reflections, I 
 gave way to idle musing, to the great dis- 
 order of my heart and frame. How often 
 have I suffered for want of more watch- 
 fulness on this occasion? When shall I 
 
 be wise.? 1 have this day shamefully 
 
 trifled, almost through the whole of it; 
 w.as in my bed when I should have been
 
 IS TO BE ATTAINED. 175 
 
 UDOn my knees; prayed but coolly in the 
 m Jiiiing: was strangely oft' my guard in the 
 business and conversation 1 was concerned 
 within the day, particularly at ; [ in- 
 dulged very foolish, sinful, vile thoughts, 
 &c. 1 fell in with a strain of conversa- 
 tion too common amongst all sorts, viz. 
 speaking evil of others; taking up a re- 
 proach against mv neighbour. I have often 
 resolved against this sin, and yet run into 
 it again. How treacherous this wicked 
 lieart of mine! I have lost several hours 
 this day in more sauntering and idleness. — 
 This day I had an instance of mine own 
 infirmity, that I was a little surprised at, 
 and 1 am sure 1 ought to be humble for. 
 
 The behaviour of from whom I can 
 
 expect nothing but humour, indiscretion 
 and folly, strangely ruffled me; and that 
 after I have had warning over and over 
 again. — What a poor, impotent, contempti- 
 ble creature am 1? This day I have been 
 kept in a great measure from my too fre- 
 quent failings. — 1 had very cojnfortable as- 
 sistance from Cou, upon an occasion not a 
 little trying — what shall I render?" 
 
 3. See that tlu; mind be in the most 
 composed and disengaged frame it can, 
 when we enter upon this busiuess of sc.-lf- 
 judgment. — Choose a time when it is most
 
 176 HOW SELF-KNOWLEDGE 
 
 at leisure from the cares and affairs of life. 
 A judge is not like to bring a cause to a 
 good issue, that is either intoxicated with 
 liquor on the bench, or has his mind dis- 
 tracted with other cares, when he should 
 be intent on the trial. Remember you sit 
 in judgment upon yourself, and have noth- 
 ing to do at present but to sift the evi- 
 dence which conscience may bring in, eith- 
 er for against you, in order to pronounce a 
 just sentence; which is of much greater 
 concernment to you at present than any 
 thing else can be; and therefore it should 
 be transacted with the utmost care, com- 
 posure and attention. 
 
 4. Beware of partiality, and the influence 
 of self-love, in this weighty business; 
 which, if you do not guard against, will 
 soon lead you into self-delusion; the con- 
 sequences of which may be fatal to you. 
 Labour to see yourself as you are; and 
 view things in a just light, and not in that 
 in which you would have them appear. 
 Remember that the mind is always apt to 
 believe those things which it would have 
 to be true, and backward to credit what it 
 wishes to be false; and this is an influence 
 you will certainly lie under in this affair of 
 self-judgment. 
 
 You need not be much afraid of being
 
 IS TO BE ATTAINED. 177 
 
 too severe upon yourself. Your great dan- 
 ger will be of passing a too favourable 
 judgment. A judge ought not indeed to 
 be a party concerned ; and should have no 
 interest in the person he sits in judgment 
 upon. But this cannot be the case here; 
 as you yourself are both judge and crimi- 
 nal, which shows the danger of pronoun- 
 cing a too favourable sentence. But re- 
 incmber, your business is only with the ev- 
 idence and the rule of judgment; and 
 that, ho'.vever you come off now, there will 
 be a rehearinc" in another court, where judg- 
 ment will be itccording to truth, 
 
 '•However, look not unequally either at 
 the good or evil that is in you; but view 
 them as they are. If you observe only 
 the good that is in you, and overlook the 
 bad, or search only after your faults, and 
 overlook your graces, neither of these 
 will bring you to a true acquaintance with 
 yourself." 
 
 And to induce you to this impartiality, 
 remember that this business (though it 
 may be hid from the world) is not done 
 in secret: God sees how you manage it, 
 before whose tril)unal you must expect a 
 righteous judenient. "We should order 
 our thoughts so (saith Seneca) as if we 
 had a window in our breasts, through whick
 
 178 HOW SELF-KNOWLEDGE 
 
 any one might see what passes there. And 
 indeed there is one that does; for what 
 does it signify that our thoughts are hid 
 from men? From God nothing is hid.*' 
 
 5. Beware of false rules of judgment. 
 This is a sure and common way to self- 
 deception: e. g. Some judge of themselves 
 by what they have been. But it does not 
 follow, if men ar^ not so had as they have 
 been, that therefore they are as good as 
 they should be. It is wrong to make our 
 past conduct implicitly the measure of our 
 present; or the present the rule of our fu- 
 ture; when our past, present and future 
 conduct must, be all brought to another 
 rule. And they who measure themselves 
 by themselves, are not wise. (2 Cor. x. 12.) 
 Again, others are apt to judge of them- 
 selves by the opinions of men; which is 
 the most uncertain rule that can be; for 
 in that very opinion of theirs you may be 
 deceived. How do you know they have 
 really formed so good an idea of you as 
 they profess? But if they have, may not 
 others have formed as bnd.^ And why 
 should not the judgment of these be your 
 rule, as well as the opinion of those? Ap- 
 peal to self-flattery for an answer. Howev- 
 er, neither one nor the other of them per- 
 haps appear even to know themselves; and
 
 IS TO BE ATTAINED. \7% 
 
 how should they know you.^ How is it 
 possible they should have opportunities of 
 knowing you better than you know your- 
 self? A man can never gain a right knowl- 
 edge of himself from the opinion of oth- 
 ers, which is so various, and generally so 
 ill founded. For men commonly judge by 
 outward appearances, or inward prejudice, 
 and therefore for the most part think and 
 speak of us very much at random. Again, 
 others are for judging of themselves by the 
 conduct of their superiors^ who have op- 
 portunities and advantages of knowing, 
 acting, and i)eing belter; *'and yet, without 
 vanity be it spoken, (say they) we are not 
 behind hand with them." But what then? 
 Neither they nor you, perhaf)S, are what 
 the obligations of your character indispen- 
 sably require you to be, and what you 
 iTiusr be ere you can be happy. But con- 
 sider how easily this argument may be re- 
 torted. You are better than some, you 
 snv. who have greater opportumities and 
 advantages of being good than you have; 
 and therefore your state is safe. But you 
 yourself have greater opportunities and 
 advantages of being good thftn some oth- 
 ers have, who are nevertheless better 
 than you; and therefore, by the same ride, 
 your state cannot be safe. — Again, others
 
 180 HOW SELF-KNOWLEDGE 
 
 judge themselves by the common maxims 
 of the vulgar world concerning honour and 
 honesty, virtue and interest; which max- 
 ims, though generally very corrupt and 
 very contrary to those of reason, con- 
 Science, and scripture, men will follow, as 
 a rule, for the sake of the latitude it al- 
 lows them; and fondly think, that if they 
 Stand right in the opinion of the lowest 
 kind of men, they have no reason to be 
 severe upon themselves. Others, whose 
 sentiments are more delicate and refined, 
 they imagine, may be mistaken, or may o- 
 verstrain the matter. In which peisuasion 
 they are confirmed, by observing how sel- 
 dom the consciences of the generality of 
 men smite them for those things which 
 these nice judges condemn as heinous 
 crimes. I need not say how false and per- 
 nicious a rule this is. Again, others may 
 judge of themselves and their state by 
 isudden impressions they have had, or 
 strong impulses upon their spirits, which 
 they attribute to the anger of God; and 
 by which they have been so exceedingly 
 affected as to make no doubt but that it 
 was the instant of their conversation. But 
 whether it was or not, can never be known 
 but by the conduct of their lives. — In like 
 manner, others judge of their good state
 
 by their good frames; though very rave, it 
 may be, and very transient; soon passing 
 off like a morning cloud, or as the early 
 dew. "But we should not judge of our- 
 selves by that which is unusual or extra- 
 ordinary with us; but by the ordinary tenor 
 and drift of our lives. A bad man may saem 
 good in some good mood ; and a good man 
 may seem bad in some extraordinary falls. 
 To judge of a bad man by his best hours^ 
 and a good man by his worst, is the way 
 to be deceived in them both." And the 
 same way may you be deceived in your- 
 self. Pliaraoli, Ahab, Herod, and Pclix, 
 
 had all of them their softenings, their tran- 
 sitory fits of goodness ; but yet they re- 
 main upon record under the blackest char- 
 acters. 
 
 Tiiese then are all wrong rules of judg- 
 ment; and to trust to them, or to try our- 
 selves by them, leads to fatal self-decep- 
 tion. Again, 
 
 6. In the business of self-examination 
 you must not only take care you do not 
 judge by wrong rules, but that you do not 
 judge wrong by right rules. You must en- 
 deavour, tlien, to be well acquainted with 
 them. The office of a judge is not only to 
 collect the evidence and the circumstances 
 
 16
 
 182 HOW SELF-KNOWLEDaE 
 
 of facts, but to be well skilled in the lawsf 
 by which those facts are to be examined. 
 
 Now the only right rules by which we 
 are to examine, in order to know ourselves, 
 are reason and scripture. Some are for set- 
 ting aside these rules, as too severe for 
 them; too stiff to bend to their perverse- 
 ness; too straight to measure their crook- 
 ed ways; are against reason, when reason 
 is against them, decrying it as carnal rea- 
 son; and against scripture, when scripture 
 is against them, despising it as a dead let- 
 ter. And thus, rather than be convinced 
 they are wrong, they reject the only means 
 that can set them right. 
 
 And as some are for setting aside these' 
 rules, so others are for setting them one 
 against the other; reason against scrip- 
 ture, and scripture against reason; when 
 they are both given us by the God of our 
 natures, not only as perfectly consistent, 
 but as proper to explain and illustrate 
 each other, and prevent our mistaking eith- 
 er; and to be, when taken together, (as 
 they always should) the most complete 
 and only rule by which to judge both of 
 ourselves, and every thing belonging to our 
 salvation, as reasonable and fallen crea- 
 tures.
 
 IS TO BE ATTAIN'ED. 183 
 
 1. Then one part of that rule which 
 God hath given us, to judge of ourselves 
 by, is right reason. By which i do not 
 mean tiie reasoning of nny particular 
 man, which may be very different from the 
 reasoning of another particular man; and 
 both, it may be, very different from right 
 reason; because both may be influen- 
 ced not so much by the reason and na- 
 ture of things, as by partial prej^osses- 
 sions and the power of passions. But by 
 right reason, I mean those common princi- 
 ples, which are readily allowed by all who 
 lire capable of understanding them, and 
 not notoriously perverted by the force of 
 prejudice; and which are ronlirmed by 
 the coininon consent of all the sober and 
 thinking part of mankind; and may be 
 easily learned by the light of nature. 
 Therefore, if any doctrine or ])ractice, 
 though supposed to be founded in, or coun- 
 tenanced bv revelation, be nevertheless ap- 
 parently repugnant to these doctrines of 
 right reason, or evidently contradict our 
 natural notions of the divine attributes, 
 or weaken our obligations to universal vir- 
 tue, that we may be sure is no part of rev- 
 elatiin; because, then one part of our rule 
 womKI clash vvifh and be opposite to the 
 other. And thus reason was designed to
 
 184 HOW SELF-KI^OVVLEDGE 
 
 be our guard against a wild and extrava- 
 gant construction of scripture. 
 
 2. The otlier part of our rule is the sa- 
 cred scriptures, which we are to use as 
 our guard against the licentious excursions 
 of fancy, which is often imposing itself 
 upon us for right reason. Let any religious 
 scheme or notion then appear ever so 
 pleasing or plausible, if it be not estab- 
 lished on the plain principles of scripture, 
 it is forthwith to be discarded; and that 
 sense of scripture that is violently forced 
 to bend towards it, is very much to be sus-' 
 pected. 
 
 It must be very surprising to one who 
 reads and studies the sacred scriptures 
 with a free, unbiassed mind, to see what 
 elaborate, fine-spun, flimsy glosses, men 
 w^ill invent to put upon some texts as the 
 true and genuine sense of them; for no 
 other reason but because it is most agree- 
 able to the opinion of their party, from 
 which, as the standard of their orthodoxy, 
 they durst never depart; who, if they were 
 to write a critique in the same manner on 
 any Greek or Latin author, would make 
 themselves extremely ridiculous in the eyes 
 of the learned world. But if we would not 
 pervert our rule, we must learn to think as 
 scripture speaks, and not compel that to 
 speak as we think,
 
 IS TO BE ATTAINED. 185 
 
 Would we know ourselves, then, wt 
 must often view ourselves in the glass of 
 Goi>'s word. And when we have taken a 
 full survey of ourselves from thence, let us 
 not soon forget what manner of persons 
 we are. (James i. 2'.i, 24.) If our own image 
 do not please us, let us not quarrel with 
 our mirror, but set about mending our- 
 selves. 
 
 The eye of the mind, indeed, is not like 
 that of the body, which can see every 
 thing else hut itself; for the eye of the 
 mind can turn itself inward, and survey it- 
 self. — However, it must be owned, it can 
 see itself much better when its own image 
 is reflected upon it from this mirror. And 
 it is by this only that we can come at the 
 bottom of our hearts, and discover those 
 secret prejudices and carnal [)reposscs- 
 sions, which self-love would hide from us. 
 
 This then is the first thing we must do 
 in order to self-knowledge; we must exam- 
 ine, scrutinize, and judge ourselves dili- 
 gently, leisurely, frequently, and impartial- 
 ly; and that not by the false maxims of 
 the world, but by the rules which God 
 hath given us, reason and scripture; and 
 take care to understand those rides, and not 
 set them at variance.
 
 186 HOW SELF-KNOWLEDGE 
 
 CHAP. II. 
 
 Constant Watchfulness necessary to Self' 
 Knowledge. 
 
 Would we know ourselves, we must be 
 very watchful over our hearts and lives. 
 
 1. We must keep a vigilant eye upon 
 our hearts, i. e. our tempers, inclinations 
 and passions. A more necessary piece of 
 advice, in order to self-acquaintance, 
 there cannot be, then that which Solomon 
 gives us. Keep your heart with all dili- 
 gence, (Prov. iv. 23.) or, as it is in the or- 
 iginal, above all keeping, q. d. Whatev- 
 er you neglect or overlook, be sure you 
 mind your heart. [62J Narrowly observe 
 all its inclinations and aversions, all its 
 motions and affections, together with the 
 several objects and occasions which ex- 
 cite them. And this precept we find in 
 scripture enforced with two very urgent 
 reasons. The first is, because out of it 
 are the issues of life; i. e. As our heart is, 
 so will the tenor of our life and conduct 
 be. As is the fountain, so are the streams; 
 8I.S is the root, so is the fruit. (Matth. vii. 18.)
 
 IS TO BE ATTAINED. 187 
 
 And the other is, because it is deceitful a- 
 bove ciU things. (Jer. xviii, 9.) And therefore, 
 without a constant guard upon it, we shall 
 insensibly run into many hurtful self-decep- 
 tions. To which I may add, that without 
 this careful keeping of the heart, we 
 shall never be able to acquire any consid- 
 erable degree of self-acquaintance or of 
 self-government. 
 
 2. To know ourselves, we must watch 
 our life and conduct, as well as our hearts. 
 And by this the heart will be better 
 known: as the root is best known by the 
 fruit. We must attend to the nature and 
 consequences of every action we are dispo- 
 sed or solicited to, before we comply; and 
 consider how it will appear in a future re- 
 view. We are apt enough to observe and 
 watch the conduct of others; a wise man 
 will be as critical and severe upon his 
 own. For indeed we have a great deal 
 more to do with our own conduct than 
 that of other men; as we are to answer 
 for our own, but not for theirs. By observ- 
 ing the conduct of other men, we know 
 them; by carefully observing our own, we 
 must know ourselves.
 
 188 HOW SELF-KNOWLEDGE 
 
 CHAP. III. 
 
 TVe should have some Resrard to the Opin- 
 ion of others concerning us, particularly 
 of our Enemies. 
 
 Would we know ourselves, we should 
 not altogether neglect the opinion which 
 others may entertain concerning us. 
 
 Not that we need be very solicitous a- 
 bout the censures or applause of the 
 world; which are generally very rash and 
 wrong, and proceed from the particular 
 humours and prepossessions of men; and 
 he that knows himself, will soon know 
 how to despise them both. — "The judg- 
 ment which the world makes of us is gener- 
 ally of no manner of use to us; it adds 
 nothing to our souls or bodies, not lessens 
 any of our miseries. Let us constantly 
 follow reason, (says Montaigne) and let 
 the public approbation follow us the same 
 way, if it please." 
 
 But still, I say, a total indifference in this 
 matter is unwise. We ought not to be en- 
 tirely insensible to the reports of others; no, 
 not to the railings of an enemy ; for an ene- 
 my may say something out of ill will to us,
 
 15 TO BE ATTAhVED. 18§ 
 
 which it may concern us to think of coolly 
 when we are by ourselves; to examine 
 wiicthcr the accusation be just, and what 
 tliere is in our conduct and temper which 
 may make it appear so; and by this mean 
 our enemy may do us more good than he 
 intended, and discover to us something in 
 our hearts which wc did not bef'.»re advert 
 to. A man that hath no enemies oiiglu 
 to have very faithful friends; and one who 
 hath no such friends, ought to liiink it no 
 calamity that he hath -nemies to be his ef- 
 fectual monitors. '• Our friends (says 
 
 Mr. Addison) very often flatter us as 
 much as our own hearts. They either do 
 not see our faults, or conceal them from 
 us; or soften them by their it-piesentations 
 after such a manner, that we think them 
 too trivial to be taken notice of. An ad- 
 versary, on the contrary, makes a stricter 
 search into us, discovers every flaw and 
 imperfection in our tempers; and, though 
 his malice may set them in too strong a 
 light, it has generally some ground for 
 what it advances. A friend exaggerates a 
 man's virtues; an enemy inflames his 
 crimes. A wise man should give a just 
 attention to both of them, so far as it may 
 tend to the improvement of the one, and 
 the diminution of the other. Plutarch has
 
 190 HOW SELF-KKOWLEDGE 
 
 written an essay on the benefits which a 
 man may receive from his enemies: an^ a- 
 mong the good fruits of enmity, mentions this 
 in particular, that by the reproaches it casts 
 upon us, we see the worst side of our- 
 selves, and open our eyes to several blemi- 
 ishe-^ and defects in our lives and conver- 
 sations, which we should not have observ- 
 ed without the help of such ill-natured 
 monitors. 
 
 '•In order, likewise, to come at a true 
 knowledge of ourselves, we should consider, 
 on the other hand, how far we may deserve 
 the praises and approbations which the 
 world bestow upon us; whether the ac- 
 tions they celebrate proceed from lauda- 
 ble and worthy moiives. and how far we 
 are really possessed of the virtues which 
 gain us applause amongst those with whom 
 we converse. Sucii a reflection is absolute- 
 ly necessary, if we consider how apt we 
 are either to value or condemn ourselves 
 by the opinions of others, and sacrifice 
 the report of our own hearts to the judg- 
 ment of the world." 
 
 In that treatise of Plutarch here refer- 
 red to, there are a great many excellent 
 things pertinent to this subject; and therefore 
 I thought it not improper to throw a few 
 extracts out of it into the margin. [63]
 
 13 TO BE ATTAINED. 191 
 
 It is tlie character of a dissolute mind, 
 to be entirely insensible to all that the 
 world says of us; and shows such a confi- 
 dence of self-knowledge as is usually a sure 
 sign of self-ignorance. The most knowing 
 minds are ever least presumi^tuous. And 
 true self-knowledge is a science of so much 
 depth and difficulty, that a wise man would 
 not choose to be over-confident that all his 
 notions of himself are right, in opposition to 
 the judgment of all mankind; some of 
 whom perhaps have better opportunities 
 and advantages of knowing him (at some 
 seasons especially) then he has of know- 
 ing himself. Because herein they never 
 look through the same false medium of self- 
 flattery. 
 
 CHAP. IV. 
 
 Frequent Converge with Superiors a Help to 
 Sclf'KnowledifC. 
 
 Another proper means of self-knowledge 
 is to converse as much as you can with 
 those who are your superiors in real excel- 
 lence. 
 
 He that vvalkcth with wise men shall be
 
 \M 
 
 HOW SELF-KNOWLEDGE 
 
 wise. (Prov. xiii. 20.) Their example will 
 not only be your motive to laudable pur- 
 suits, but a mirror to your mind ; by which 
 you may possibly discern some failings or 
 deficiencies, or neglect in yourself, which 
 before escaped you. You will see the un- 
 reasonableness of your vanity and self-suf- 
 ficiency, when you observe how much 
 you are surpassed by others in knowledge 
 and goodness. Their proficiency will make 
 your defects the more obvious to yourself; 
 and by the lustre of their virtues you will 
 better see the deformity of your vices; 
 your negligence by their diligence; your 
 pride by their humility ; your passion by 
 their meekness; and your folly by their 
 wisdom. 
 
 Examples not only move, but teach and 
 direct much more effectually than precepts; 
 and show us not only that such virtues 
 may be practised, but how; and how love- 
 ly they appear when they are. And there- 
 fore, if we cannot have them always before 
 our eyes, we should endeavour to liave them 
 always in our mind; and especially that 
 of our great Head and Pattern, who hath 
 Set us a perfect example of the most in- 
 nocent conduct under the worst and most 
 disadvantageous circumstances of human 
 life. [64]
 
 IS to BE attaikb*- ld3 
 
 CHAP. V. 
 
 Of cultivafhg such a Temper as loiU he ilit 
 best Disposition to Self-Knowledge. 
 
 If a man would know himself, he must 
 Nvith great care cultivate that tempci 
 which will hest dispose him to receive this 
 knowledge. 
 
 Now, as there are no greater hind- 
 rances to self-knowledge than pride and 
 ohstinacy; so there is nothing more help- 
 ful to it than humility and an openness to 
 conviction. 
 
 1. One who is in quest of self-knowl- 
 edge, must aljove all things seek humility. 
 And how near an affinity there is between 
 these two, appears from'hence, that they 
 are both acquired the same way. The ve- 
 ry means of attaining humility are the 
 properest means for attaining self-acquaint- 
 ance. By keeping an eye every day upon 
 onr faults and wants, we become more 
 humble, and by the same means we be- 
 come more self-intelligent. By consider- 
 ing how far we fall short of our rule and 
 our duty, and how vastly others exceed us, 
 and especially by a daily and diJigent stu- 
 
 17
 
 194 HOW SELF-KNOWLEDGE 
 
 dy of the word of Got), we come to have 
 meaner thoughts of ourselves; and by the 
 very same means we come to have a bet- 
 ter acquaintance with ourselves, 
 
 A proud man cannot know himself; 
 Pride is that beam in the eye of the mind, 
 which renders him quite blind to any 
 blemishes there. Hence nothing is a su- 
 rer sign of self-ignorance than vanity and 
 ostentation. 
 
 Indeed, true self-knowledge and humility 
 are so necessarily connected, that they 
 depend upon, and mutually beget each oth- 
 er. A man that knows himself, knows the 
 worst of himself, and therefore cannot but 
 be humble; and a humble mind is frequent- 
 ly contemplating its own faults and weak- 
 nesses, which greatly improves it in self- 
 knowledge; so that self-acquaintance 
 makes a man humble, and humility gives 
 him still a better acquaintance with him- 
 self. 
 
 2. An openness to conviction is no less 
 necessary to self-knowledge than humility. 
 
 As nothing is a greater bar to true 
 knowledge than an obstinate stiffness in 
 opinion, and a fear to depart from old no- 
 tions, which (before we were capable of 
 judging, perhaps) v/e had long taken up 
 for the truth: so nothing is a greater bar
 
 IS TO BE ATTAINED. 195 
 
 to self-knowl-edgc, tlian a strong aversion 
 to part wilh those scntii\u;nts of ourselves 
 which we have been blindly aocustoined 
 to, and to think worse of ourselves than 
 we are wont to do. 
 
 And such an unwillingness to retract our 
 sentiments in both cases proceeds from the 
 same cause, viz. a reluctance to self-con- 
 demnation. For he that takes up a new 
 way of thinking, contrary to that which he 
 hath long received, therein condemns him- 
 self of having lived in an error; and he 
 that begins to see faults in himself he nev- 
 er saw before, condemns himself of hav- 
 ing lived in ignorance and sin. Now this 
 is a most ungrateful business, and what 
 self-flattery can by no means endure. 
 I But such an inflexibility of judgment, 
 and hatred of conviction, is a very unhap- 
 py and hurtful turn of mind. And a man 
 that is resolved never to b(; in the wrong, 
 is in a fair way never to be in the right. 
 
 As infallibility is no privilege of the hu- 
 man nature, it is no diminution to a man's 
 good sense or judgment to be found in an 
 error, provided he is willing to retract it. 
 He acts with the same freedom find liber- 
 ty as before, whoever be his monitor; and 
 it is his own good sense and judgment that 
 still guides him; which shines to great ad-
 
 196 HOW SELF-KNOWLEDGE 
 
 vantage in thus directing him against the 
 bias of vanity and opinion. And in thus 
 changing his sentiments, he only acknowl- 
 edges that he is not (what no man ever 
 was) incapahle of being mistaken. In 
 short, it is more merit, and an argument of 
 a more excellent mind, for a man freely to 
 retract when he is in the wrong, than to he 
 overbearing and positive when he is in the 
 right. [65] 
 
 A man, then, must be willing to know 
 himself, before he can known. He must 
 open his eyes: if he desires to see; yield 
 to evidence and conviction, though it be 
 at the expense of his judgment, and to the 
 mortification of his vanity. 
 
 CHAP. VI. 
 
 To he sensible of our False Knowledge, a 
 good Step to Self- Knowledge. 
 
 Would you know yourself, take heed 
 and guard against false knowledge. 
 
 See that the light that is within you be 
 not darkness; tiiat your favourite and 
 leading principles be right. Search your 
 furniture, and consider what you have t©
 
 IS TO BE ATTAINED. 197 
 
 unlearn. For oftentimes there is as much 
 wisdom in casting off some knowledge 
 which we have, as in acquiring that which 
 we have not. Wiiich pcrliaps was what 
 made Thcmistocles reply, when one offer- 
 ed to teach him the art of memory, that 
 lie had much rallier he would teach hiai 
 the art of forgetfulness. 
 
 A scholar that hath been all his life col- 
 lecting books, will find in his library at 
 least a great deal of rubbish. And as iiis 
 taste alters, and his judgment improves, he 
 will throw out a great many as trash and 
 lumber, which, it may be, he once valued 
 and paid dear for; and replace them with 
 such as are more solid and useful. Just so 
 should we deal with our understandings; 
 look over the furniture of the mind ; separate 
 the chaff from the wheat, which are gen- 
 erally received into it together; and take 
 as mucii pains to forget what wc ought 
 not to have learned, as to retain what we 
 ought not to forijet. To read froth and tri- 
 fles all our life, is the way always to retain 
 a llashy and juvenile turn; and only tu 
 contemplate our fust (which is generally 
 our worst) knowledge, cramps the progress 
 of the understanding, and makes our self- 
 survey extremely deficient. In short, would 
 we improve the understanding to tlie vaU 
 
 17*
 
 198 HOW SELF-KNOWLEDGE 
 
 liable purposes of self-knowledge, we must 
 take as much care what books we read, as 
 what companj' we keep. 
 
 "The pains we take in books or arts, 
 which treat of things remote from the use 
 of life, is a busy idlenesss. If 1 study, 
 (says Montaigne) it is for no other science 
 than what treats of the knowledge of my- 
 self, and instructs me how to live and die 
 well." 
 
 It is a comfortless speculation, and a 
 plain proof of the imperfection of the hu- 
 man understanding, that, upon a narrow 
 scrutiny into our furniture, we observe a 
 great many things we think we know, but 
 do not; and many which we do know, but 
 ought not; that a good deal of the knowl- 
 edge we have been all our lives collecting 
 is no better that mere ignorance, and some 
 of it worse; to be sensible of which is 
 a very necessary step to self-acquaint- 
 ance,
 
 19 TO BE ATTAlNEt). 199 
 
 CHAP. VII. 
 
 Se/f- Inspection peculiarly necessary tipon soinc 
 parlicular Occasions. 
 
 Would you know yourself, you must ve- 
 ry ctuetully attend to the frame and enio- 
 tions of your mind under some extraordina- 
 ry incidents. 
 
 Some sudden accidents which befal you 
 when the n\in(l is most off its guard, will 
 better discover its secret turn and prevail- 
 ing dis])OsiTioii, than much greater events 
 you are prepared to meet. e.g. 
 
 1. Consider how you behave under any 
 sudden affronts or provocations from men. 
 A fi>o]'s wrath is presently known, (Prov. 
 xvii. IG.) i. e. a fool is presently known 
 by his wrath. 
 
 If your anser be soon kindled, it is a 
 sign that secret pride lies in the heurt; 
 which, like gun-povvder, takes hre at eve- 
 ry spark of provocation that lii'hts upon 
 it. Tor whatever may be owing to ?» na- 
 tural temper, it is certain that |)rid(> is the 
 chief cause of frecpient and wrathful le- 
 sentivunts. For pride and anger arc; as 
 nearly allied as huiuiiity and meekness.
 
 200 HOW SELF-KNOWLEBGE 
 
 Only by pride cometh contention. (Prov, 
 xiii. 10.) And a man would not know what 
 mud lay at the bottom of his heart, if 
 provocation did not stir it up. 
 
 Athenodorus, the philosopher, by reason 
 of his old age, begged leave to retire from 
 the court of Augustus, which the emperor 
 granted him; and in his compliments of 
 leave, "Remember, (said he) Caesar, when- 
 ever you are angry, you say or do noth- 
 ing before you have distinctly repeated to 
 yourself the four and tw^enty letters of the 
 aljjhabet." Whereupon Caesar, catching 
 him by the hand, "1 have need (says he) of 
 your presence still;" and kept him a year 
 longer. This is celebrated by the ancients 
 as a rule of excellent wisdom, but a Chris- 
 tian may prescribe to himself a much wis- 
 er, viz. "When you are angry, answer 
 not till you have repeated the first petition 
 of the Lord's prayer — Forgive us our tres- 
 passes, as we forgive them that trespass 
 against us; and our Saviour's comment up- 
 on it — For if ye forgive men their trespass- 
 es, your heavenly Father will also forgive 
 you; but if ye forgive not men their tres- 
 passes, neither will your Father forgive 
 your trespasses. (Matt. vi. 14. 15.) 
 
 It is a just and seasonable thought, that 
 of Marcus Aatoninus,upoii such occasions
 
 IS TO BE ATTAINED. 201 
 
 — "A man misbel)aves himself lowaiHs me 
 — what is that to me? The action is his; 
 and the will that sets him ij'on it is his; 
 and therefore let him look tc it. Tne fault 
 and injury belong '^ him, not to me. As 
 for me, 1 am in tiie condition Providence 
 would have me, and am doing what be- 
 comes me." 
 
 But, after all, this amounts only to a 
 philosophical contempt of injuries; and 
 falls much beneath the dignity of a Chris- 
 tian forgiveness, to which self-knowledge 
 will happily disp.ise us. And therefore, in 
 order to judge of our improvements therein, 
 we must always take care to examine and 
 observe in what manner we are affected 
 in such circumstances. 
 
 2. How do you behave under a severe 
 and unexpected affliction from the hand of 
 Providence? which is another circum- 
 stance, wherein we have a fair opportu- 
 nity of coming to a right knowledge of 
 ourselves. 
 
 If there be an habitual discontent or im- 
 patience lurking within us, this will draw 
 it forth, especially if the affliction be at- 
 tended with any of those aggravating cir- 
 cumstances which accumulated that of Job. 
 I Afflictions are often sent with this intent, 
 to teach us to know ourselves; and there-
 
 *20£ HOW SELF-KNOWLEDGE 
 
 fore ought to be carefully improved to this 
 purpose. 
 
 And much of the wisdom and goodness 
 of our heavenly Father is seen by a seri- 
 ous and attentive mind, not only in propor- 
 tioning the degrees of his corrections to his 
 children's strength, but in adapting the 
 kinds of them to their tempers; afflicting 
 one in one way, another in another, accor- 
 ding as he knows they are most easily 
 wrought upon, and as will be most for their 
 advantage. By which means a small afflic- 
 tion of one kind may as deeply affect us, 
 and be of more advantage to us, than a 
 much greater of another. 
 
 It is a trite but true observation, that a 
 wise man receives more benefit from his 
 enemies, than from his friends; from his 
 afflictions, than from his mercies; by 
 which means his enemies become in effect 
 his best friends, and his afflictions his 
 greatest mercies. Certain it is, that a 
 inan never has an opportunity of taking a 
 more fair and undisguised view of himself, 
 than in these circumstances. And there- 
 fore, by diligently observing in what man- 
 ner he is affected at such times, he may 
 make an improvement in the true knowl- 
 edge of himself, very much to his future 
 advaatage, though perhaps not a litttle t^
 
 IS TO BE ATTAINED. 
 
 2o3 
 
 his present mortification. For a sudden 
 provocation from man, or a severe afflic- 
 tion from God, may detect something wliich 
 lay latent and undiscovered so long at the 
 bottoiu of his heart, that lie never once 
 suspected it to have had any place there. 
 Thus the one excited wrath in the meek- 
 est man, (Psalm cvi. 33.) and the oiher 
 passion in t!ip most patient. (Job. iii. 3.) 
 
 By considering tlien in what manner we 
 bear the particidar afflictions God is pleas- 
 ed to allot us, and what berietit we receive 
 from them, we may come to a very consid- 
 erable acfpiaintance with ourselves. 
 
 3. What is our usual temper and dispo- 
 sition in a time of peace, prosperity, and 
 pleasure, when tiie soul is generally most 
 uri?uarded. 
 
 This is the warm season that nourishes 
 and impregnates the seeds of vanity, self- 
 confidence, and a supercilious contempt of 
 others. If there be such a root of bitter- 
 ness in the heart, it will be very apt to 
 shoot forrh in the sunshine of unintenupt; 
 ed prosperity ; even after the frost of arlver- 
 sity had nipped it, and, as we thought, kil- 
 led it. 
 
 Prosperity is a trial, as well as adversi- 
 ty; and is commonly attended with more 
 dangerous temptations. And were the
 
 204 HOW SELF-KNOWLEDGE 
 
 mind but as seriously disposed to self-re° 
 flection, it would have a greater advan- 
 tage of attaining a true knowledge of it- 
 self under the former than under the lat- 
 ter. But the unhappiness of it is, the mind 
 is seldom rightly turned for such an em- 
 ployment under those circumstances. It 
 has something else to do; has the concerns 
 of the world to mind; and is too much en- 
 gaged by the things without it, to advert 
 to those within: and is more disposed to 
 enjoy than examine itself. However, it is 
 a very necessary season for self-examin- 
 ation, and a very proper time to acquire a 
 good degree of self-acquaintance, if right- 
 ly improved. 
 
 Lastly: How do we behave in bad com 
 pany ? 
 
 And that is to be reckoned bad compa- 
 ny, in which there is no probability of our 
 doing or getting any good, but apparent 
 danger of our doing or getting much harm; 
 1 mean, our giving oftence to others, by an 
 indiscreet zeal, or incurring guilt to our- 
 selves, by a criminal compliance. 
 
 Are we carried down by the torrent of 
 vanity and vice? Will a flash of wit, or 
 a brilliant fancy, make us excuse a pro- 
 fane expression? If so, we shall sooi
 
 IS TO BE ATtPALNE*. -205 
 
 come to relish it, when thus seasoned, and 
 use it ourselves. 
 
 This is a time when our zeal and wis- 
 dom, ouV fortitude and firmness, are gen- 
 erally put to the most delicate proof; and 
 when we may too often take notice of the 
 unsuspected escapes of folly, fickleness, 
 and indiscretion. 
 
 At such seasons as these, then, we may 
 often discern what lies at the bottom of 
 our hearts, better than we can in the more 
 even and customary scenes of life, when 
 .the passions are all calm and still. And 
 therefore, would we know oruselves, we 
 should be very nttentive to our frame, tem- 
 per, disposition, and conduct, upon such oc- 
 casions. 
 
 CHAP. VIII. 
 
 To know oursche<f^ we must wholely abstract 
 from cxte rnal Appca ranees. 
 
 Would you know yourself, you, must, as 
 far as possible, get above the influence of 
 exteriors, or a mere outward show. 
 
 A man is, what his heart is. The knowl- 
 edge of himself is the knowledge of his 
 
 18
 
 206 HOW SELF-KNOWLEDGE 
 
 heart, vvhicli is entirely an inward thing; 
 to the knowledge of which, then, outward 
 things (such as a man's condition and 
 state in the world) can contribute nothing; . 
 but, on the other hand, is too often a great 
 bar and hindrance to him in his pursuit of 
 self-knowledge. 
 
 1. Are your circumstances in the world 
 easy and prosperous? Take care you do 
 not judge of yourself too favourably on 
 that account. 
 
 These things are without you, and there- 
 fore can never be the measure of what is. 
 within; and, however the world may res- 
 pect you for them, they do not in the least 
 make you either a wiser or more valuable 
 man. 
 
 In forming a true judgment of yourself, 
 then, you must entirely set aside the con- 
 sideration of your estate and family; your 
 wit, beauty, genius, health, &.c. which are 
 all but the appendages or trappings of 
 a man, a smooth and shining varnish, 
 which mav lacker over the basest metal. 
 [66] 
 
 A man may be a good and a happy 
 man without these things, and a bad and 
 wretched one with tiiem. Nay, he may 
 have all these, and be the worse for them. 
 They are so far from being good and ex-
 
 IS TO BE ATTAINED. 207 
 
 cellcnt in themselves, tliat we often sec 
 Providence bestows them upon tlie vilest, 
 of men, and in kindness denies them to 
 some of the best. They are oftentiines 
 the greatest temptations, and put a man's 
 faith and wisdojn to the most dangerous 
 trial. 
 
 2. Is vour condition in life mean and af- 
 flicted? Do not judge the worse of your- 
 self for not having those external axlyan- 
 tages which others have. 
 
 None will think the worse of you for 
 the want of them, but those who think the 
 better of themselves for having them ; in 
 both wiiich they show a very depraved 
 and perverted judgment. These arc (ta 
 ouk eph emin) tilings entirely without us, 
 and out of our power; for which a man is 
 neither the better nor the worse, but ac- 
 cording as he uses them; and therefore 
 you ought to be as indifferent to them as 
 they are to you. A good man shines ami- 
 ably through all the obscurity of his low 
 fortune; and a wicked man is a poor lit- 
 tle wretch in the midst of all his grandeur. 
 [67] 
 
 Were we to follow the judgment of tlie 
 world, we should indeed think otherwise 
 of these things, ami by that mistake be 
 led into a wrong notion of ourselves. But
 
 208 HOW SELF-KNOWLEDGE 
 
 we have a better rule to follow, to which 
 if we adhere, the consideration of our ex- 
 ternal condition in life, whatever it be, will 
 have no undue influence on the mind, in its, 
 search after self-knowledge. 
 
 CHAP. IX 
 
 'Vke practice of Self" Knowledge a great 
 JMcaris to promote it. 
 
 Let all your self-knowledge be reduced 
 into ])ractice. 
 
 The right improvement of that knowl- 
 edge we have, is the best way to attain more. 
 
 The great end of self-knowledge is self- 
 government; without which (like all oth- 
 er) it is but a useless speculation. And 
 as all knowledge is valuable in proportion 
 to its end, so this is the most excellent, 
 only because the practice of it is of the 
 most extensive use. 
 
 "Above all ocher subjects, (says an an- 
 cient, pious writer) study thine own self.— 
 For no knowledge that terminates in curi- 
 osity or speculation is comparable to that 
 which is of use; and of all useful knowl- 
 edge, that is most so which consists in the
 
 IS TO EE ATTAINED. 209 
 
 due care and just notions of ourselves' 
 This study is a debt which every one owes 
 himself. Let us not then be so lavish, so 
 unjust, as not to pay this debt; by spend- 
 ing some part, at least, if we cannot all, or 
 niost of our time and care upon tliat 
 which has the most indefeasible claim to 
 it. Govern your passions; manage your 
 actions with prudence; and where false 
 steps have been made, correct them for 
 the future. Let nothing be allowed to 
 grow headstrong and disorderly; but bring 
 all under discipline. Set all your faults 
 before your eyes; and pass sentence upon 
 yourself with the same severity as you 
 would do upon another, for whom no par- 
 tiality hath biassed your judgment." 
 
 What will our most exact and diligent 
 self-researches avail us, if, after all, \vc 
 sink into indolence and sloth? Or, what 
 will it signify -to be convinced that there is 
 a great deal amiss in our deportments and 
 dispositions, if we sit still contentedly un- 
 der that conviction, without taking one 
 step towards a reformation? It will h\- 
 deed render us but the more guilty in the 
 sight of God. And how sad a thing will 
 it be to have our self-knowledge hereafter 
 rise up in judgment against us-^ 
 
 Examination is in order to correction 
 
 18*
 
 210 HOW SELF-KNOWLEDGE 
 
 and amendment. We abuse it and our- 
 selves, if we rest in the duty, without look- 
 ing farther. We are to review our daily 
 walk, that we may reform it ; and, conse- 
 quently, a daily review will point out to us 
 the subject and matter of our future daily 
 
 care." " This day (saith the Christian, 
 
 upon his review of things at night) I lost 
 
 so much time; particularly at 1 took 
 
 too great a liberty; particularly in 1 
 
 omitted such an opportunity, that might 
 have been improved to better purpose. I 
 mismanaged such a duty. — 1 find such a 
 corruption often working; my old infirimity 
 
 ■ still cleaves to me: how easily doth 
 
 sin beset me? O, may 1 be more atten- 
 tive for the time to come, more watchful 
 over my heart! take more heed to my 
 
 ways! May I do so the next day." 
 
 ^'The knowledge of a distemper, is a good 
 step toward a cure: at least it directs to 
 proper methods and apj)lications in order 
 to it. Self-acquaintance leads to self-re- 
 formation. He that at the close of each 
 day calls over what is past, inspects him- 
 self, his behaviour and mrinners. will not 
 fall into that security, and those uncen- 
 sured follies that are so common and so 
 ilangerous." 
 And it may not be improper, in order to
 
 K TO BE ATTAINED. 2TI 
 
 make US sensible of, and attentive to, some 
 of the more secret faults and foibles of our 
 tempers, to pen them down at night, ac(;ord- 
 ini< as they appeared durin;^ the transac- 
 tions of the day. By vvhicii means, we 
 shall not only have a more distinct view 
 of tiiat part of our character to which we 
 are generally most blind; but shall be a- 
 ble to discover son»e defects and blem- 
 ishes in it, which perhaps we never ap- 
 prehended before. For the wiles and doub- 
 lings of the heart are sometimes so hidden 
 and intricate, that it requires the nicest care 
 and most steady attention to detect and 
 unfold them. 
 
 For instance: "This day I read an 
 author, whose sentimenst were very differ- 
 ent from mine, and who expressed himself 
 with much warinth and confidence. It 
 excited my spleen, I own, and 1 immedi- 
 ately passed a severe censure upon him. 
 So that, had he been present, and talked in 
 the same strain, my ruffled temper would 
 have prompted me to use harsh and un- 
 grateful lunguage, which miH,ht have occa- 
 sioned a very unchristian contention. — But 
 I now recollect, that thoimh the author 
 might be mistaken in tiiose sentiments, (as 
 I still believe he \vas) vet, by his i)arlicu- 
 lar circumstances in life, and the method
 
 212 MOW SELF-KNOWLEDGE] 
 
 of his education, he has been strongly led 
 into that way of thinking. So that his pre- 
 judice is pardonable; but my uncharita- 
 bleness is not ; especially, considering that 
 in many respects he has the ascendant of 
 lYie. — This proceeds then from uncharita- 
 bleness, which is one fault of my temper 
 I have to watch against; and which [ nev- 
 er was before so sensible of, as 1 am now 
 upon this recollection. Learn more mod- 
 eration, and make more allowances for the 
 mistaken opinions of others for the future. 
 Be as charitable to others who differ from 
 you, as you desire they should be to you, 
 who differ as much from them. For it may 
 be you cannot be more assured of being in 
 the right than they are. 
 
 Again: this day I found myself strong- 
 ly inclined to put in something by way of 
 abatement to an excellent character giv- 
 en of an absent person, by one of his great 
 admirers. It is true. I had the command 
 of myself to hold my tongue, and it is 
 well I had. for the ardour of his zeal 
 would not have admitted the exception, 
 (thou?;h 1 still think Unit in some dei!;ree it 
 was just) which might have raised a 
 wrnngling debate about his character, per- 
 haps at the expense of mv ou n ; or. how- 
 ever, occasioned much animosity and con-
 
 IS TO BE ATTAINED. 213 
 
 tention. — But I have since examined the 
 secret spring of tiiat impulse, and find it 
 to be envy; which I was not then sensi- 
 ble of; but my antagonist had certainly 
 imputed it to tliis; and had he taken the 
 liberty to have told me so, I much ques- 
 tion whetlier I should have had the tem- 
 per of the philosopher; who, when he was 
 really injured, being asked wMiether he 
 was angry or not, replied, No; but I am 
 considering with mvself wdiether 1 ouirlit 
 not to be so i d .'ubt 1 sliould not have had 
 so much composure, but siiould have imme- 
 diately resented it as a false and malicious 
 aspersion: But it was certainly envy, and 
 nothing else; for the person who was the 
 object of the encomium was much inv su- 
 perior in many respects. And the excep- 
 tion that arose to my mind was the only 
 flaw in his character; which nothing but 
 a quick-sighted envy could descry. Take 
 heed then of that vice for the future. 
 
 Again: this day I was much surprised 
 to o!)serve in myself the symptoms of a 
 vice, which, of all others, 1 ever thought 
 myself most clear of, and have aKvays ex- 
 press(id the greatest detestation of in oth- 
 ers, and that is,covetousness. For what else 
 tould it be that proinpted me to withhold 
 my charity from my fello\y creature in dis-
 
 214 HOW SELF-KNOWLEDGE 
 
 tress, on pretence that he was not in eve- 
 ry respect a proper object; or to dispense , 
 it so sparingly to another, who 1 knew was 
 so, on pretence of having lately been at a 
 considerable expense upon another occa- 
 sion? This could proceed from nothing 
 else but a latent principle of covetousness ; 
 which, though I never before observed in 
 myself, yet it is likely others have. O, 
 how inscrutable are the depths and de- 
 ceits of the human heart! Had ray enemy 
 brought against me a charge of indolence, 
 self-indulgence, or pride and impatience, or 
 a too quick resentment of affronts and in- 
 juries, my own heart must have confirmed 
 the accusation, and forced m~e to plead 
 guilty. Had he charged me with bigotry, 
 self-opinion, and censoriousness, I should 
 have thought it proceeded from the same 
 temper injiimself, having rarely observed 
 any thing like it in my own. But had he 
 charged .me with covetousness, I should 
 have taken it for downright calumny, and 
 despised the censure with indignation and 
 triumph. And yet, after all, I find it had 
 been but too true a charge.^ — O, how hard 
 a thing is it to know myself! — This, like 
 all other knowledge, the more I have of 
 it, the more sensible I am of my want ♦£ 
 it."
 
 18 TO BE ATTA1NE». 215 
 
 l^hc difficulty of self-government and 
 seif-possession arises from the difficulty of 
 a thorough self-acquaintance, which is ne- 
 cessary to it. I say, a thorough self-ac- 
 quaintance, such as has been already set 
 forth in its several branches. (Part I.) For 
 as self-government is simply impossible (I 
 mean considered as a virtue) where self- 
 ignorance prevails, so the difficulty of it 
 will decrease in proportion to the degree 
 in which self-acquaintauce improves. 
 
 Many, perhaps, may be ready to think 
 this a paradox; and imagine that they 
 know their predominant passions and foi- 
 bles very well, but still find it extremely 
 difficulty to correct them. But let them 
 examine this point again, andperhaps they 
 may find, that that difficulty arises either 
 from their defect of self-knowledge, (for it 
 is in this, as in other kinds of knowledge, 
 wherein some are very ready to think 
 themselves much greater proficients th in 
 they are) or else from their neglect to put 
 in practice that degree of sell-knowledge 
 they have. They know their particular 
 failings, yet will not guard against the im- 
 mediate temptations to them. And they 
 are often betrayed into the immediate temp- 
 tations wbich overcome them, because 
 they are ignorant of, or do not guard a-
 
 ^16 HOW SELF-KNOWLEDGE 
 
 gainst, the more remote temptations, whicli 
 lead them into those which are more im- 
 jnediate and dangerous, which may not 
 improperly be called the temptations to 
 temptations; in observing and guarding 
 against which, consists a very necessary 
 part of self-knowledge, and the great art 
 of keeping clear of danger, which, in our 
 present state of frailty, is the best means 
 of keeping clear of sin, 
 \ To correct what is amiss, and to improve 
 what is good in us, is supposed to be our 
 hearty desire, and the great end of all our 
 self-research. But if we do not endeavour 
 after this, all our labour after self-knowl° 
 edge will be in vain. Nay, if we do not en- 
 deavour it, we cannot be said heartily to 
 desire it. ''For there is most of the heart, 
 where there is fflTJst of the will; and there 
 is most of the will, where there is most en- 
 deavour; and where there is most endeav- 
 our, there is generally most sucess; so that 
 endeavour must prove the truth of our de- 
 sire, and success will generally prove the 
 sincerity of our endeavour." This, I think, 
 we may safely say, without attributing too 
 •much to the power of the human will, con- 
 sidering that we are rational and free a- 
 gents, and considering what effectual as- 
 sistance is offered to them who seek it. tu
 
 IS TO BE ATTAINED. -217 
 
 rencler their endeavours successfal, if they 
 are sincere; which introduces the subject 
 of the following chapter. 
 
 CHAP. X. 
 
 Fervent and frequent Prayer the most ejfectii" 
 al Means for attaining true SclJ-Knowl- 
 edge. 
 
 The last means to self-knowledge which 
 I shall mention, is frequent and devout ap- 
 plications to the Fountain of Light, and the 
 Father of our spirits, to assist us in this 
 important study, and give us the true 
 knowledge of ourselves. 
 
 This I mention last, not as the least, but 
 on the contrary, as the greatest and best 
 means of all, to attain a right and thor- 
 ough knowledge of ourselves, and the way 
 to render all the rest elTectual ; and there- 
 fore, though it be the last means mention- 
 ed, it is the first that should be used. 
 
 Would we know ourselves, we must of- 
 ten converse not only with ourselves in me- 
 diation, but with God in prayer; in the 
 lowest prostration of soul, beseeching the 
 
 19
 
 218 HOW SELF-KNOWLEDGE 
 
 Father of our spirits to discover them to 
 us; in whose light we may see light, where 
 before there was nothing but darkness; to 
 make known to us the depth and devices 
 of our heart. For without the grace and 
 influence of his divine illuminations and in- 
 structions, our hearts will, after all our 
 care and pains to know them, most cer- 
 tainly deceive us. And self-love will so 
 prejudice the understanding, as to keep us 
 still in self-ignorance. 
 
 The first thing we are to do in order to 
 self-knowledge, is, to assure ourselves that 
 our hearts are deceitful above all things. 
 And the next is, to remember that the 
 Lord searcheth the hearts and trieth the 
 reins, (Jer. xvii. 10.) /. c. that He, the (Kar- 
 diognostees) Searcher of all hearts, (1. 
 Chron. xxviii. 9.) hath a perfect knowledge 
 of them, deceitful as they are; which con- 
 sideration, as it suggesteth to us the strong- 
 est motive to induce us to labour after a 
 true knowledge of them ourselves, so it 
 directs us at the same time how we may 
 attain this knowledge; viz. by an humble 
 and importunate application to Plim, to 
 whom alone they are known, to make them 
 known to us. And this, by the free and 
 near access which his Holy Spirit hath t©
 
 IS TO BE ATTAINED. 2l9 
 
 our spirits, Tie can effectually do various 
 ways; viz. by fixing our attentions; by 
 qnickening our apprehensions; renioviiip; 
 our prejudices, (which, like a false medi- 
 um before the eye of the mind, prevents 
 its seeing things in a just and proper 
 light;) by mortifying our pride, strength- 
 ening the intellective and r^^tlecting facul- 
 ties, and enforcing upon the nnnd a lively 
 sense and knowledge of its greatest hap- 
 piness atul duty; and so awakening the 
 soul from that carnal security and indiffer- 
 ence about its best interests, into which a 
 too serious attention to the world is apt to 
 betray it. 
 
 Besides, prayer is a very proper expedi- 
 ent for attaining self-knowledge, as the 
 actual engagement of the mind in this de- 
 votional exercise is in itself a great help 
 to it. For the mind is never in a better 
 frame, than when it is intently and devout- 
 ly euDjaged in this duty: it has then the liest 
 apprehensions of God, the truest notions of 
 itself, and the justest sentiments of earth- 
 ly things; the clearest concej)tions of its 
 own weakness, and the deepest sense of 
 its own vileness; and, consequently, is in 
 the l)est dispisition that can be to receive 
 SI true and right knowledge of itself.
 
 220 HOW SELF-KNOWLEDGE 
 
 And O! could we but always think of 
 ourselves in such a manner, or could we 
 but always be in a disposition to think of 
 ourselves in such a manner, as we sometimes 
 do in the fervour of our humiliations bffore 
 the throne of grace, how great a progi'^ss 
 should we soon make in this important 
 science? Which evidently shows the ne- 
 cessity of such devout and humble engage- 
 ments o^tlie soul, and how happy a means 
 they are to attain a just self-acquaint- 
 ance. 
 
 AND NOW, reader, whoever thou art, 
 that hast taken the pains to peruse these 
 sheets, whatever be thy circumstances or 
 condition in the world, whatever thy capa- 
 city or understanding, whatever thy occu- 
 pations and engagements, whatever thy 
 favourite sentiments and principles, or 
 whatever religious sect or party thou es- 
 pousest, know for certain, that thou hast 
 been deeply interested in what thou hast 
 been reading; whether thou hast attended 
 to it or not. For it is of no less concern 
 to thee than the security of thy peace 
 and usefulness in this world, and thy happi- 
 ness in another; and relates to all thy in- 
 terests, both as a man and a Christian.
 
 IS TO BE ATTAINED. 221 
 
 ' Perhaps thou bast seen something; of 
 thine own iniage in the glass that has 
 now been held up to thee. And wilt thou 
 go away, and soon forget what manner 
 
 of person thou art? Perhaps thou 
 
 hast met with some things thou dost not 
 well understand or approve. But shall 
 that take off thine attention from those 
 things thou dost understand or approve, 
 
 and art convinced of the necessity of? 
 
 If thou hast received no improvement, no 
 benefit, from this plain practical treatise 
 thou hast now perused, read it over again. 
 The same thought, you know, often im- 
 presses one more at one time than anoth- 
 er. And we sometimes receive more 
 knowledge and profit by the second peru- 
 sal of a book than by the first. And 1 
 would fain hope that thou wilt find some- 
 thing in this that may set thy thoughts on 
 work, and N\hich, by the blessing of God, 
 may make thee more observant of thy 
 heart and conduct; and, inconsequence of 
 that, a more solid, serious, wise, establish- 
 ed Christian. 
 
 But will you, after all, deal by this book 
 you have now read, as you have dealt by 
 many sermons you have lieard? Pass 
 your judgmcut upon it according to yoiir 
 
 19*
 
 222 HOW SELF-KNOWLEDGE 
 
 received and established set of notions; 
 and condemn or applaud it, only as it is 
 agreeable or disagreeable to them; and 
 commend or censure it, only as it suits or 
 does not suit your particular taste; 
 without attending to the real weight, im- 
 portance, and necessity of the subject, ab- 
 tracted from those views? Or will you be 
 barely content with the entertainment 
 and satisfaction, which some parts of it 
 may possibly have given you; assent 
 to the importance of the subject, the just- 
 ness of the sentiment, or the propriety of 
 some of the observations you have been 
 reading; and so dismiss all, without any 
 further concern about the matter? Believe 
 it, O Christian reader, if this be all the ad- 
 vantage you gain by it, it were scarce 
 worth while to have confined yourself so 
 long to the perusal of it. It has aimed, it has 
 sincerely aimed, to do you a much greater 
 "benefit; to bring you to a better acquaint- 
 ance with one you express a particular re- 
 gard for, and who is capable of being the 
 best friend, or the worst enemy, you hare 
 in the world ; and that is, yourself. — It was 
 designed to convince you, that would you 
 live and act consistently, either as a man, 
 tr a Christian, you must -know yourself;
 
 18 Te BE ATTAINED. 223 
 
 and to persuade you under the influence of 
 the foregoini:; iTKUives, and by the help of 
 the forernentioned directions, to make self- 
 knowledg*^ the great study, and self-gov- 
 ernment the great business of your life. In 
 which resolution may Almighty God con- 
 firm you; and in which great business 
 may his grace assist you, against all fu- 
 ture discouragements and distractions. 
 With him I leave the success of the, 
 whole; to whom be glory and praise for- 
 ever.
 
 NOTES. 
 
 [1] Thales was the prince of the philosophers, 
 and flovirished about A. M. 3330, and was con- 
 temporary with Josiah, kingof Judah. 
 
 [2] Spurn what thoii canst riot claim: the flat- 
 terer'^ dross 
 Throwback: and learn how little is thy own. 
 
 H'ok not thyself without. 
 
 Coijs.ilt thyself, thyself tell what ihou art. 
 Shake thy own powers, and prove thee. 
 True warfare is to cope with our vices. 
 Think not that the precept, Kaoio thyself, was 
 meant merely to lessen pride; but also that we 
 might become acquainted with our virtues. 
 
 That should be a man's chief pursuit which 
 chiefly belongs to him. Let him therefore study 
 his own disposition, a.id become an inflexible judge 
 of his own virtues and vices. 
 
 Let us penetrate inio the nature of things, and 
 that thoroughly: let us scrutinize what it de- 
 mands. It is otherwise impossible for us to know 
 ourselves. 
 
 [3] True philosophy, as it teaches us every thing 
 else, teaches us also that most dillicult of sciences, 
 a knowledge of ourselves. The precept to this 
 effect contains in it so much weight and wisdom
 
 226 
 
 NOTES T© 
 
 as not to be ascribed to any human being, but to the 
 Delr)hic Divinity. 
 
 VVnich precept, as being beyond the scope of 
 human invention, has been attributed to God: for 
 the Pjtuian Apollo commands us '-to know our- 
 selves." 
 
 [4] That our translators have hit upon the true 
 sense of the world here, in rendering it jaroue your- 
 selves, is aj)pare..t not only from the word imme- 
 diately preceding', which is of the same import, 
 bnt because self probation is always necessary to 
 a rig'it s'^lf-approbation. 
 
 "Everv Christian ought to try himself, and may 
 know him>elf, if he be faithful in examining. — ' 
 Tiie frequent exhortations in scripture hereunto, 
 innply liotb these, viz. that the knowledge of our- 
 selves is attainable, and that we should endeavour 
 after it. Why should the Apostle put them upon 
 examining and proving themselves, unless it was 
 possible to know themselves upon such trying and 
 proving?" — BenneCs Christ. Oratory^ p. 568. 
 
 [5] The verb properly signifies to glean, or gath- 
 er together scattered sticks or straws; as appears 
 fr )m all the places where the word is used in the 
 Old Testament. (Exud. v. 7. 12.— Numb. xv. 32. 
 — 1 Kings xvii. lO.) Hence, by an easy metaphor, 
 It signifies to recollect, or gather the scattered 
 thoughts together; and ought to be so rendered, 
 when used in the reflected form, as here it is. 
 
 [6] Clemens Alexandrinus saith, that Moses, by 
 that phrase, so common in his writings, "Take 
 heed to thyself," (Exod. x. 28.— xxxiv. 12.— Deut.
 
 SELF-KNOWLEDGE 227 
 
 iv. 9.) means the same th'iw^ as the ancienl-5 did 
 by the precept, "Know thyselt." — — Strom, lib. ii. 
 chap. 15. 
 
 [7] "There is nothing men are more deficient 
 in, than Ui:o\ving llieif own characters. I know 
 not !t 'vv this scieiiCc comes to he so much neglect- 
 ed. V^'^e spend a {<,reat deal of time in leari'ing 
 usfriesif* 'hiiigs, bui take no pains in the stud^ of 
 ©ui\selves, aiid lit opening the folds and doubles 
 of the heart." — Tiijleclions on Ridicule^ p. 61, 
 
 [8] The precept of Apollo, which teaches that 
 every .-r>v should know himself, does not teach, aa 
 I conceive, that we should he acquainted with our 
 own members, our stature, or our form. T'le 
 body does not constitute the man; nor do I, wi.ile 
 saying this to thee,* say it to thy body. When, 
 therefore, he says linow thyself, he says Knoxo thy 
 soul; for the body is hut, as it were, the vesfel or 
 receptacle of the soul: whatever is done by thy 
 soul, that is done by lliyself. 
 
 [9] When you talk of a man, I would not have 
 von tack flesh and blood to the notion, nor those 
 limbs neither which arc made out of it: these are 
 but tools for the soul to woik with; ajid no more 
 a part of a man, then an axe or a plane is a piece 
 of a carpenter. It is true, Nature hath glued them 
 together, and they grow as it were to the soul, and 
 there is all the dilference. — Collier. 
 
 [10] 'Tis virtue only makes our bliss below. 
 And all our knowledue is ourselves to /cnovn 
 
 Poj)c's Essay on Man.
 
 ^23 KOTES ON 
 
 [11] This doctrine, I think, is established be^ 
 yond all dispute, not only by experience, but by 
 authority. It was received by ahnost all the an- 
 cient philosophers. The Pythagoreans, as we learn 
 from Janfiblicus, vid. Proinpt. p. 34, 35. The 
 platonists, as appear? from Nemesius, Sallust, and 
 Laertius, vid. Dion Laertius, lib. iii. p. 219. The 
 Stoics, as appears from A.itoninus; who saith ex- 
 pressly, "There are three thit ijs which belong to 
 a man; the body, soul, and the mind. And as to 
 the properties of the division, sensatioir belongs 
 to the body, appetite to the soul, and reason to 
 the mind." It appears also to have been the opin- 
 ion of most of the Fathers, vid. Irenceus. lib. v. 
 cap. 9. lib. ii. cap. 33. ed. Par. — Clem. Alex. 
 Str. 3. p. 642. ed. Oxon. — Origen. Philocal. p. 
 8. — Ignat, Ep. ad Philadelph. ad calcem. See al- 
 so, Josr-ph. Antiq. lib. i. cap. 2. p. 5. — Constitut. 
 Apostol. lib. vii. cap. 34. — But above all these, is 
 the authority of Scripture, which, speaking of 
 the original formation of man, mentions the three 
 distinct parts of his nature. Gen. ii. 7. viz. the 
 dust of the earth, or the body; the living soul, or 
 the. animal and sensitive part; and the breath of 
 life, i. e. the spirit, or rational mind. In like man- 
 ner the Apostle Paul divides the whole man into 
 the spirit, the soul, and the body (1 Tlies. v. 23.) 
 — Tliey who would see more of this may consult 
 ■JVemesius de JYatiira Hominis, cap. i. and Whistoiis 
 Prim. Christ, vol. iv. p. 262. 
 
 All the observation I shall make hereupon is, 
 that this consideration may serve to soften the pre- 
 judices of some against the account which scrip- 
 ture gives of the mysterious manner of the subsist- 
 ence of the divine nature; of which every man,
 
 self-knowli:dgl 22§ 
 
 tts created in the image of God, carries about him 
 a kind of emblem, in ihe threefold distinctions of 
 his own; which, if he did not every minuie (ind it 
 by experience to be (act, would dout>ile^s appear to 
 him every whit as m}sterious aed incomprehensi- 
 ble as the scripture doctrine of the Trinity. 
 
 "Man consists of three parts; spirit, soul, and 
 body; and hence, man is an image of the Holy 
 Trinity." 
 
 [12] As Nature delights in the most easy tran- 
 isitions from one cla*s of beings to another, and as 
 the nexHft iilriusque generis is observahle in several 
 creatures of iimhiguous nature, wliich seem to con- 
 nect the lifeless and vegetable, the vegetable and 
 animal, (he animjil and rational worlds togeiner; 
 (see J\^rmesius de A'.l. Uo/a. cap. i. p. 6.) wiiy 
 may not the souls of brutes be considered as ilic 
 nexM5 between material and immaterial substances, 
 or njatter and spirit, or somelhing between b-uli? 
 Ttie great dissimilitude oi iiaiure, in these two 
 substances, 1 apprehend, can be no solid objection 
 to this hypothesi>, if we consider (beside our own 
 ignorance of tlie nature of spiiii>,j b it how near 
 ly th(;y approach in other instances, and how close- 
 ly tiiey are united in man. 
 
 [13J It is said, when the prince of the Latin 
 poets was asked l)y liis (Viend, why he studied so 
 mucii accuracy in toe plan of his poem, (lie pro- 
 priety of his characters, and the purity of his dic- 
 tion; he replie<i. In (tlernuni pingo^ 1 am wri(ing 
 for o(ernity. What ni »re weighty consitUration to 
 justify and enforce liie utmosl viuilauce and cir- 
 
 20
 
 230 NOTES ON 
 
 cumspection of life, than this:' In ceternum vivo^ I 
 am Jiving for eternity ? 
 
 [14] I am too noble, and of too high a birth, 
 (saith Seneca, that excellent moralist) to be a 
 slave to my body; which 1 look upon only as a 
 chain thrown upon the liberty of my soul. 
 
 [15] As it is not the design of this treatise to 
 enter into a nice and philosophical disquisition 
 concerning the nature of the human soul, but to 
 awaken men's attention to the inward operations 
 and affections of it, (which is by far the most ne- 
 cessary part of self knowledge,) so they who would 
 be more particulary informed concering its nature 
 and original, and the various opinions of the an- 
 cients about it, may consult A'enies de JVo/. Horn. 
 cap. i. and a treatise called The Government of 
 the Thoughts, chap. i. and Chambers's Cyclopoeaia, 
 under the word -SV;m/. 
 
 [16] "Thou must expire, my soul, ordain'd ^ 
 to range | 
 
 "Through unexperienc'd scenes and mys- ^ 
 teries strange; | 
 
 "Dark the event, and dismal the exchange. J 
 "But when compeird to leave this house of clay, 
 "Aiid to an unknown somewhere wing thy way; 
 "When time shall be eternity, and thou ^ 
 
 "Shalt be thou know'st not what, nor where, | 
 nor how, )> 
 
 "Trembling and pale, what wilt thou say or j 
 do? J 
 
 "Amazing state! — No wonder that we dread 
 "The thoughts of death, cr faces of the dead.
 
 SELF-KNOWLEDGE. 231 
 
 "His l)Iack retinue sorely strikes our mind; 
 
 "Sickness and pain beiore, and darkness all be- 
 hind. 
 "Some courteous ^host, the secret then revealt 
 
 "T*;!! us what you have felt, and we mu3l feel. 
 
 "You warn us of approachinin; death, and why 
 
 "Will you not teach us what it is to die? 
 
 "But having shot the gulf, you love to view 
 
 "Succeeding spirits plung'd along like you; 
 
 "Nor lend a friendly hand to guide them 
 through. 
 "When dire disease shall cut, or age untie 
 
 "The knot of life, and sufFer us to die; 
 
 "When after some delay, some trembling strife, 
 
 "The soul stands quiv'ring on the ridge of life; 
 
 "With fear and hope she throbs, then curious 
 tries 
 
 "Some strange hcreaOer and some hid(Jen skies." 
 
 [Altered from the irregular verse of Norris, by the Au- 
 thor of the present Treatise Editor.] 
 
 [17] A fatal inbred strife lurks deep within, 
 The cause of all this misery and sin. 
 
 [18] Life is a slagc-pla}'; it matters not how 
 long we act, so wc act well. 
 
 It is not life, but living well, that is the bles- 
 sing. 
 
 [19] Prove the full standard of thy power, the 
 weight 
 Thy soul can bear, in little or in great. 
 ife that takes up a burrhMi that is too heavy for 
 him, is in a fair way to break his back. 
 
 In every business, consider, lirist, what it is yoft
 
 232 NOTES TO 
 
 are about; and then your own ability, whether it 
 be sufficient to carry you through it. 
 
 [20] we cannot all do all thinjjs. 
 
 Cacijius, a famous rhetoiician of Sicily, who 
 Jived in the time of Augustus, and wrote a trea- 
 tise on (he Sublime, (which is censured by Longi- 
 nus in the begin iiig of his,) was a man of a hasty and 
 enterprising spirit, and very apt to overshoot liim- 
 self on all occasions; and particularly ventured 
 far out of his depth in his comparison of Demos- 
 thenes and Cicero. Whereupon Plutarcli makes 
 this sage and candid remark: "If,"' saith he, "it 
 was a thing obvious and easy for every man to 
 kn«)w himself, pos5i()ly that saying, Khow thyself, 
 had not passed for a divine oracle.'"— P/u/. Liv* 
 vol. vii. p. 347. 
 
 [21] Men, with regard to their bodies and bod- 
 ily appetites, are pretty much alike; but, with re- 
 gard to their souls, their mental tastes and disposi- 
 tions, they are often as different as if they were 
 quite of another species; governed by diiferent 
 views, entertained with different pleasures, anima- 
 ted with different hopes, and affected by different 
 motives, and distinguished by as different tempers 
 and inclinations, as if they were not of the same 
 kind. So that \ am very ready to believe, that 
 there is not a greater difference between an angel, 
 aiid some of tlie best and wisest of men; or be- 
 tween a devil and some of the worst and wicked- 
 est of men, with regard to their tempers and dis- 
 positions, than there is between some sort of men 
 and some others. And what inclines me to this 
 sentiment is, considering the easy transition which
 
 SELF-KNOWLEBGE* 233 
 
 nature always observes in passing from one order 
 or kind of beings to anotlicr, (which I have before 
 taken notice of,) together with the prodigious dif- 
 ference there appears to be between some and 
 others of the human species, almost in every thing 
 belonging to their souls. For some there are "ia 
 whom," as one expresses it, "one would think na- 
 ture had placed every thing the wrong way;" de- 
 praved in their opinions, unintelligible in their rea- 
 sonings, irregular in their actions, and vicious in ev- 
 ery disposition. Whilst in somi; others we see al- 
 most every thing amiable and excellenl, that can 
 addrn and exalt the human mind, under the dis- 
 advantages of mortality. 
 
 [2-2] Who could hear Gracchus censure civil 
 broils? 
 Clodins, adulterers? Catalino, Celhegus 
 In guilt his equal? 
 
 [23] O grievous sfraiti If I look into myself, I 
 cannot endure myself: if I look not into myself, I 
 cannot know myscll". If I consider myself, my 
 own face atlViglits me: if 1 consider not myself, 
 my damnation t'oilows me. If I see myself, my 
 horror is intolerable: if I see not myself, death is 
 unavoidable. 
 
 [24] The knowledge of sin is the first step to- 
 wards amendment: for he that doth not know he 
 hath otfet^ded, is not v\iHing to be reproved. You 
 must therefore tuid out yourself, before you can 
 amend yourself. Some glory in their vices: And 
 do you imagine they have any thoughts about re- 
 forming, who place their very vices in the room of 
 
 20*
 
 234 NOTES 0N 
 
 virtues? Therefore reprove thysaelf: search thy- 
 self very narrowly. First turn accuser to thyself, 
 then a judge, and then a suppliatit. And dare for 
 once to displease thyself. 
 
 [25] It is a good argument of a refornned mind, 
 that it sees those vices in itself, which it was be- 
 fore ignorant of. 
 
 A man's predominant sin visually arises out of 
 his predominant passion; which, therefore, he 
 should diligently observe. The nature and force 
 of which is beautifully described by a late great 
 master of English verse. 
 
 "On different senses different objects strike; 
 "Hence ditferent passions more or less inflame, 
 "As strong or weak the organs of the frame: . 
 "And hence one master-passion in the breast, 
 "Like Aaron's serpent, swallows up the rest. 
 
 "Nature its mother, habit is its nurse; 
 "Wit, spirit, faculties, but make it worse; 
 "Reason itself but gives it edge and power, 
 "As heaven's blest beam turns vinegar more 
 sour. 
 
 "Ah ! if she lend not arms as well as rules, 
 "What ran she more than tell us we are fools? 
 "Teach us to mourn o"ir nature, not to mend; 
 "A sharp accuser, but a helpless friend?'' 
 
 Pope''s Essay on Man. 
 
 |26] Resist in time; all medicine is but play, 
 When the disease is strengthened by de- 
 lay.
 
 aELP-KNOWLED«B. 23§ 
 
 r27] The palh alarms me; 'tis a fearful 
 bourne: 
 All seek thy visage, but none e'er return. 
 Easy the entrance to the realms below; 
 By night, by day, lie ope the doors of woe; 
 But to wind back, and bieaihe, the balmy air^ 
 Tt)is is the task; a labour who can dare? 
 
 [28] For every trifle scorn to take oirence ; 
 That always shows great pride, or little 
 
 sense. 
 Good nature and good sense must always 
 
 join; 
 To err is human, to forgive divine Pope. 
 
 [29] A man despises me: what then? Did he 
 know me more, he would perhaps despise me 
 more. But I know myself better than he can 
 know me; and therefore despise myself more: and 
 though his contempt in this instance may be 
 groundless, yet in others it would be but too 
 well founded. I will therefore not only bear with, 
 but forgive it. — Contemnendus est iste contcmplus : 
 This contempt is itself to be contemned, saith 
 Seneca. ^But such retorted scorn is more becom- 
 ino- the character of a Stoic than a Christian. 
 
 It has been reckoned a wise and willy ans.ver 
 which one of the philosophers returned to his 
 friend, who advised him to revenge an injury that 
 had been done him: ''VVlial," says he, ''if an ass 
 kicks me, must I needs kick him again!" And 
 perhaps there is more wit than wisdom in that re- 
 ply. It seems indeed to carry in it something of 
 a true greatness of mind; but does it not, at the
 
 236 ^OTES ON 
 
 same time, discover a kind of haughty and com- 
 temptuous spirit? The truth is, (as a judicious 
 writer observes upon it,) "It is at best but a lame 
 and mishapened charity; it has more of pride 
 than goodness. We should learn of tiie holy JesUS, 
 who WHS not only meek, but lowly. We should 
 contemn the injury, and pity the weakness; but 
 should not disdain or despise the persons of our 
 enemies. Ciiarity vaunteth not herself, is not 
 puffed up, d^th not behave itself unseemly." — See 
 Scougal's Duty of loving our Enemies. 
 
 [30] In the mornitig remember to say to thyself: 
 T lis day perhaps I may meet with some imperti- 
 nent, ungrateful, peevish, trickinpf, envious, chur- 
 lish fellow. N )vv all these ill qualities in them 
 proceed from their ignorance of good and evil. 
 And since I am so happy as to understand the na- 
 tural beauty of a good action, and the deformity 
 of an ill one; and since the person that disobliges 
 me is of near kin tome; and fhough not just the 
 same blood and family, yet of the sam^ divine ex- 
 tract as to his mind; and finally, since I am con- 
 vinced that no one can do me a real ir.jury, be- 
 cause he cannot force me to do a dishonest thing: 
 for these reasons I cannot find in my heart to hate 
 him, or so miich as to be ansjry with him. 
 
 Mrrc. Anton. Madit. book. ii. § 1. 
 
 You are just taking leave of the world; and 
 have you not yet learned to be friends with every 
 b>>dv? And that to be an honest mail, is the ordy 
 way to be a wise one? Id. book iv. § 37. 
 
 To expect an impossibility is madness: it is im- 
 possible for ill men not to do ill things 
 
 Id. book V. § 1 7.
 
 ftELF-KNOWLEDOE 237 
 
 It is <he privilege of human nature above brntetf 
 to love those thai offend us. In order to this, con- 
 •ider Mrst, That the ofloiiding party is of kin to you. 
 Secondly, That he acts thus, because lie knew-; no 
 better. Thirdly, He may have no design lo .-trmd 
 you. Fourthy, You will huth of you (|uickly be in 
 your graves. But above all, fifthly, You have re- 
 ceived no harm from him: f.r your mind or rea- 
 son is the same as it was. before. 
 
 Id. book vii. § 22. 
 
 Think upon your la>t hour, and d-* not trouble 
 yourself about other people's faults, but leave 
 tiicm where the\ must l>e answered for. 
 
 Mu-c. Anton. Mcdit. book vii. § 29. 
 
 Do not return the temper of ill-natured people 
 upon themselves, nor treat them as they do (he 
 rest of mankind. //. bo )k vii. § 55. 
 
 Thougli the god=! are immortal, yet they not on- 
 ly patiently bear with a wicked world through 
 So many ages; but, what is mt^re, liberally pro- 
 vide for it: and are you, who are just going off 
 the stage, -.veirv ^vi^ii bearing, thousjh you are 
 one of those unhappy mortals yourself? 
 
 Id. book vii. § 70. 
 
 Never disturb yourself; for men will d*) the 
 same untoward actions over again, thongh you 
 burst with spleen. Id. book viii. § 4. 
 
 Reform an injurious person if you can; if not, 
 remember your patience was given you to bear 
 with him. The gods patiently bear with such 
 men, and sometimes bestow upon them health, and 
 fame, and fortune. Id. book ix. § 11. 
 
 When people treat you ill, and show their spite, 
 and slander you, enter into their little souls, go to 
 the bottom of them, search their understandings;
 
 238 NOTES ON 
 
 and you will soon see, that nothing they may think 
 or say of you need give you one troublesome 
 thought. Id. book ix. § 27. 
 
 That is the best thing for a mar., which God 
 sends him; and that is the best time, when he 
 sends it. Id. book x. § 20. 
 
 It is sometimes a hard matter to be certain, 
 whether you have received ill usage or not; for 
 men's actions oftentimes look wore than they are: 
 and one must be thoroughly informed of a great 
 many things, before he can rightly judfje. 
 
 Marc. Anton. Med it. book xi. § 16. 
 
 Consider how much more you often suffer from 
 your anger and grief, than from those very things 
 for which you are angry and grieved, 
 
 Id. book i. § 18. 
 
 When you fancy any one hath trangressed, say 
 thus to yourself: How do I know this is a fault? 
 But admit it is, it may be his conscience hath cor- 
 rected him; and then he hath received his pun- 
 ishment from himself. Id. book xii. § 16. 
 
 To these I shall add two more quotations out 
 of the sacred writings, of incomparably greater 
 weight and dignity than any of the foremention- 
 ed. 
 
 The discretion of a man deferreth his anger: 
 and it is his glory to pass over a tratisgression. 
 
 Prov. xix. 11. 
 
 If thine enemy hunger, feed him; if he thirst, 
 give him drink: for in so doing thou shalt heap 
 coals of tire on his head. Be not overcome of e- 
 vil, but overcome evil with good. 
 
 Roin. xii. 20, 21. 
 
 [31] The wise and prudent conquer difficulties 
 By daring to attempt them. Sloth and Folly
 
 SELF-KNOWLEDGE. 239 
 
 Shiver and shrink at sight of toil and danger^ 
 And make th' impossibility they fuar. 
 
 Rowe» 
 
 [32] Perhaps e'en these in memory may dc" 
 light. 
 
 [33] How different (*rom this in the judgment 
 of Phitarch in this maitpr? who, in his Oration 
 concerning the. Fortune <ind of Virtue Alexander^ exalts 
 him into a true hero; aiid justifies all (he wasie he 
 made of mankind under a pretence of civihzing 
 them; the s;ime colour with wliich the Spaniards 
 excused their inhuman barbarities towards the poor 
 Indians. And in ailribuling all his success to his 
 virtues, he talks more like a soldier serving undef 
 him in his wars, than a historian who lived many 
 years afterwards, whose bu^iness it was to transmit 
 his character impartially to future ages. And in 
 whatever other respects Mr. Drvden may give the 
 preference to Plutarch before Seneca, (wliich he 
 does with much zeal in his Preface to Plutarch's 
 Lives,) yet it must be allowed that, in this in- 
 stance at least, the latter shows more of the phi- 
 losopher. — See Pint. Mor. vol. i. ad tin. 
 
 [34] That gaineth a wicked gain. 
 
 Oh, sons of earth! attempt ye ?till to rise 
 By mountains piTd on muuntains to the skies? 
 Hcav'n still with laughter the vain toil surveys, 
 And buries madmen in the heaps they raise. 
 Who wickedly is wise, or rnndly nravc, 
 Is but the more a fool, the more a knave. 
 
 Pope's Essny on Man,
 
 Mo frOTES 61? 
 
 [35] Socrates' saying, That he knew nothin| 
 bii liis ij^nora.ice of every thing, savoured of an 
 affected liumilii}. But they that folh;v. ed went 
 further; and paticularly Arcesihis; who denied 
 thai he kne«v ai.y thing, eveti that which Socrates 
 admitted as an exception. And thut* the absurdity 
 grtu to a size li»a( was monstrous. "For to know 
 that one knows noliitHii,, is a contradiction; aid not 
 to know Uiat he knows even that, is not to know 
 but that he may know something."' 
 
 Relig. of A'aL del. p. 40. 
 
 [36] Nothing can be more unhappy than that 
 man, wlio ranges every wiiere, ransacks evej'y 
 thing, digs into the bowels of th^s earth, dives into 
 other men's bosoms, but does not consider all the 
 while that his own mind will aff-^id him sufficient 
 scope for inquiry and entertainment and that the 
 care and improvement of himself will give him 
 business enough, Id. lib. ii. § 13. . 
 
 Your disposition will be suitable to that which 
 you most frequently think of; for the snul is, as 
 it were, tinged with the colour and complexion of 
 its own thoughts. Id. lib. v. § 16. 
 
 [37] The Christian precept in this case is, "Let 
 Jiot tlie sun go down upon your wrath." Eph. iv. 
 36. And this precept Plutarch tells us the Py- 
 thagoreans practised in a literal sense: "Who, if, 
 at any time in a passion, they broke out into op- 
 probrious language before sun-set, gave one an- 
 other their hands, and with them a discharge 
 from all injuries; and so with a mutual reconcilia- 
 tion, parted friends." Plut, Mor. vol. iii. p. 89.
 
 5ELF-KN0WLE»«E. *24l 
 
 [38] Malice itself drinks in the best part of its 
 6wn poison. Tliat of serpents is deadly to otiiers, 
 but harmless to themselves. This has no resem- 
 blance to it; it is deadliest to its possessors. 
 
 Sen. ep. 82. 
 
 [39] And he who meditates a crirhe within, 
 Incurs the penalty of practis'd sin. — Hodgson. 
 
 [40] This method is peculiarly distinguished by 
 the facility with which any individual subject may 
 be found oat and turned to in the midst of a mul- 
 tiplicity of other subjects. The index for this 
 purpose is formed, first of the letters of the alpha- 
 bet regularly arranged, and at a convenient dis- 
 tance from each other, along the outer and de- 
 scending margin of the book. The space allotted 
 to each letter is next divided into five smaller 
 compartments, one for each of the vowels. The 
 book is then to be paged regularly from the be- 
 ginning to the end: and the general name of the 
 subject, into whatever part of the book it is copi- 
 ed, is finally to be entered in the index, under the 
 general division to which its initial letter refers, 
 and in that compartment of the division which con- 
 stitutes its first vowel: the pages being next added 
 into which the subject has been written. Thus, 
 the subject of Knowledge would necessarily be en- 
 tered in the index under K o, these letters being 
 the intial and the first vowel of the word. If the 
 "Word commence with a vowel, and be at the same 
 timt' ft monosyllable, but not otherwise, Mr Locke 
 proposes that such vowel should form hoth the ini- 
 tial and the vowel itself: thus Art and Ant would 
 
 21
 
 il42 NOTES ©N 
 
 both stand under A a; and Ox and Ore Under 0©» 
 
 '"-Editor. 
 
 [41] Let every one of us please his neighbour 
 for his good to edification.— /?om. xv. 22. 
 
 To the weak became 1 weak, that I might gain 
 ihe weak: I am made all thii.gj. to all men, that 
 I might by all means save some.— 1 Cor. ix. 22. 
 
 [42] What you have once wisely proposed, stick 
 to as a law not to be violated without guilt. And 
 MTiind not what others say of you. 
 
 [43] Fix your character, and keep to itj wheth= 
 tT alone or in company. 
 
 [44j Nor do I apprehend the knowledge of our 
 state (call it assurance if you please) so utjcommon 
 and extraordinary a thing as some are apt to ima- 
 gine. Understand by assurance a satisfactory evi- 
 dence of the thing, such as excludes all reasona- 
 ble doubts and disquieting fears of the contra- 
 ry, though, it may be, not all transient suspicion* 
 and jealousies. And such an assurance and certain- 
 ty multitudes have attained, and enjoy the comfort 
 of; and indeed it is of so high importance, that 
 it is a wonder any thoughtful Christian, that be- 
 lieves an eternity, can be easy one week or day 
 without it. Bennetts Christ, Oral. p. 569. 
 
 [45] If you are told that another reviles you, do 
 not go about to vindicate yourself, but reply thus: 
 My other faults, I fi'.d, are hid from him, else I 
 should have heard of them too.
 
 geLF-KNOWLEDCE. 243 
 
 t 
 
 [46] It is not things, but men's opinions of thing?, 
 that disturb them. 
 
 Remember, it is not ho that reviles or assaults 
 you, that injures you, but your thinking that lie 
 has injured you. 
 
 No man can hurt you, unless you please to let 
 him: (hen only are you hurt, when you ihink your- 
 self so. 
 
 Thins? do not touch the mind, but stand quiet- 
 ly without: the vexation comes from within, from 
 our suspicions only. 
 
 Again: 
 
 Things themsclvos cannot affect the mind; for 
 they have no entrance into it, to turn and move 
 it. It is the miiul alone that turns and moves it- 
 self. 
 
 [47] He who knows himself vvell, abases him- 
 self; nor is tickled by human flatteries. 
 
 [48] The less a man sees of himself, the less 
 he is disgusted with himself. 
 
 [49] I am confident that no mnn can be saved 
 without a knowledge of himself: wiience, indeed, 
 springs the source of salvation — humility, and the 
 fear of the Lord. 
 
 A knowledge of God and of thyself are both 
 necessary to salvation; for as from a knowledge 
 of thyself proceeds the fear of God, and from a 
 knowledge of God, love of him; so, on the con- 
 trary, from ignorance of thyself proceeds pride, 
 and from ignorance of God utter ruin.
 
 244 NOTES ON 
 
 [50] '(CHRIST.) My son, when thou feelest 
 thy soul warmed with devotion and holy zeal for 
 my service, it w^ill be advisable to decline all those 
 laiethods of publishing it to the world, which vain 
 men are so industrious to take, and content thy- 
 self with its being known to GOD and thine own 
 conscience. Rather endeavour to moderate and 
 suppress those pompous expressions of it, in 
 which some plrce the very perfection of zeal. 
 Think meanly of thy own virtues. — Some men, of 
 a bold ungoverned zeal, aspire at things beyond 
 their strength, and express more vehemence than 
 conduct in their actions. They are perfectly car- 
 ried out of themselves with eagerness; forget that 
 they are still poor insects upon earth, and think of 
 iiotiiing less than building their nest in heaven. 
 Now these are often left to themselves, and taught 
 by sad experience, that the faint flutterings of men 
 are weak and ineffectual; and that none soars to 
 heaven except I assist his flight, and mount him on 
 my own wings. — Virtue does not consits in abund- 
 ance of illumination and knowledge: but in lowli- 
 ness of mind, in mer.knese, and charity ; in a mind 
 entirely resigned to God, and sincerely disposed 
 to serve and please him; in a just sense of a man's 
 own vileness: and not only thinking very meanly 
 of one's self, but being well content to be so 
 thought of by others.' Id. book iii. c. 8. 
 
 'It is a dangerous drunkenness, I confess, that of 
 wine: but there is another more dangerous. How 
 many souls do I see in the world drunk with vanw 
 ty, and a high opinion of themselves? This 
 drunkenness causes them to make a thousand 
 false steps, and a thousand stumble. Their ways 
 are all oblique and crooked. Like men in drink,
 
 ^ELF-KNOWLEDfiE 24S 
 
 they have always a great opinion of their own wis- 
 dom, their power, and their prudence: all which of- 
 ten fail them. — Examine well thys^elf, my soul; see 
 if thou art not tainted with this evil. Ala?, if thou 
 denies! it, thou provest it. It is great pnde, to 
 think one ha? no pride; for it is to think you arc 
 as good, indeed, as you esteem yourself. But there 
 is no man in the world, but esteems himself better 
 than he truly is. 
 
 'Thou wilt say, it may be, thou hast a very ill 
 opinion of thyself. Bui be assured, my soul, Ihou 
 dost not despise thyself so much as thou art truly 
 despicable. If thou dost despise thyself indeed, 
 thou makest a merit of that very thing: so that 
 pride is attached to this very contempt of thyself.' 
 — Jcrieii's Method of Dcvolion, p. 3. chap. 10. 
 
 [51] The great God seems to have given that 
 commandment, Knon; thyself to those men more 
 especially, who arc apt to make remarks on other 
 men's actions, and forget themselves. — Plut. J\Ior, 
 vol. i, p. 273. 
 
 [52] I spare myself, says Ma?vius. — Dotins: fool! 
 This is a fondness hissed through every school. 
 But to yourself thus blind, thus blear-eyed, 
 
 why 
 Pxy you through others with a lynx's eye? — 
 
 liar. 
 It happens, I know not how, that whenever any 
 thing is wrong, we see it much sooner in other per- 
 sons than in ourselves. — Cicero. 
 
 [53] Riches, honours, power, and the like, which 
 owe all their worth to our false opinion of tiiem 
 
 21*
 
 246 NOTES ON 
 
 are too apt to draw the heart from virtue. We 
 know not how to prize them; the) are not to be 
 judged of by the comnnon vogue, but by their own 
 nature. They have nothing to attract our esteem, 
 but that we are used to admire them; they are 
 not cried up becanse they are things that ought 
 to be desired, but they are desired because they 
 are generally cried up. — Sen. epist. 02. 
 
 [54] He who knows himself, makes the most 
 genuine prayer to God. — Greg. 
 
 [55] It is this makes us averse to death, that it 
 translates us to things we are unacquainted with, 
 and we tremble at the thought of those things that 
 are unknown to us. We are naturally afraid of 
 being in the dark; and death is a leap in the dark, 
 — Sen, epist. 83. 
 
 [56] Who, expos'd to others' eyes, 
 Into his own heart ne'er pries, 
 Death's to him a strange surprise. 
 
 [57] Some men admire the heights of moun- 
 tains, the huge waves of the sea, the steep falls 
 of rivers, the compass of the ocean, and the cir- 
 cuit of the stars, and pass by themselves without 
 admiration. — St. Augustine. 
 
 [58] Who can sufficiently admire the noble na- 
 ture of that creature man, who hath in him the 
 mortal and the immortal, the rational and irration- 
 al natures united, and so carries about with him the 
 image of the whole creation; whence he is called 
 microcosm) or the little world ; for whose sake (so
 
 SELF-KNOWLEDGE 247 
 
 highly is he honoured by God) all thinj^s are made, 
 both present and future; nay, for whoso sake GOD 
 himself became man? 
 
 So that it was not unjustly said by Gregory 
 Nessene, that man was the macrocosm, (the great 
 world,) and the world without the microcosm. 
 
 [69] At thirty man suspects himself a fool, 
 Knows it at forty, ai'd leforms his plan; 
 At tifty chides his infamous delay, 
 Pushes his prudent purpose to resolve; 
 111 all the matruanimity of Ihoujrlit, 
 Resolves, and rc-resolves — then dirs the same* 
 
 JVight Thoughts. 
 
 [60] This makes us worst of all, that no man 
 examines into his own life. What we are going 
 to do we may perhaps think about, though rarely: 
 what we ouglit to do we never think about. — Sen. 
 e^Ut. 84. 
 
 [61] Let not your eyes the sweets of slum- "^ 
 
 her taste j 
 
 Till keen, severe reflections you have )► 
 
 pass'd [ 
 
 On the day's actions, thrice from first last. J 
 
 What done have 1? Wherein have I Irans- 
 
 gress'd ? 
 What virtue cherish'd, and what vice repress'd? 
 A'.d if, on search, your actions ill you find, 
 Let grief; if good, let joy possess your mind. 
 This do, this tnink, to this your heart iiicline- 
 This way w.ill lead you to the life divine.
 
 /248 '»OTE3 ON 
 
 [62] Parallel to this advice of the royal preach- 
 er is that of the imperial piulosopher: 
 
 "Look within: for within is the fountain of 
 ^ood." 
 
 [63] The foolish and inconsiderate spoil the ve- 
 ry friendships they are engaged in; but tlie wise 
 and prudent make good use of the hatred and en- 
 mity of men against them. 
 
 Why should we not take an enemy for our tu- 
 tor, who will instruct us gratis in those things we 
 knew not before? For an enemy sees and under- 
 stands more in matters relating to us than our 
 friends do. Because love is blind; out spite, mal- 
 ice, ill-will, wrath, and contempt, talk much, and 
 are very inquisitive and quick-sighted. 
 
 Our enemy, to gratify his ill-will tovCards us, ac- 
 quaints himself with the infirmities both of our 
 bodies and minds; sticks to our faults, and makes 
 his invidious remarks upon them, and spreads thenn 
 abroad by his uncharitable and ill-natured reports. 
 Hence we are taught this useful lesson for the di- 
 rection and management of our conversation in 
 the world, viz. that we be circumspect and wary 
 in every thing we speak or do, as if our enemy 
 always stood at our elbow, and overlooked our ac- 
 tions. 
 
 Those persons, whom that wisdom hath brought 
 to live soberly, which the fear and awe of enemies 
 hath infused, are by degrees drawn into a habit of 
 living so, and are composed and tised in their obe- 
 dience to virtue by custom and use. 
 
 When one asked Diogenes how he might be a-, 
 venged of his enemies, he replied, "To be your- 
 self a good and honest man.''
 
 SELF-KNOW^LEDGE. 249 
 
 Anlisthenes spake incomparably well ; "that, if 
 a man would live a safe and unblameable life, it 
 was necessary that he should have very ingcnous 
 and faithful friends, or very bad enemies: because 
 the first by their kind admonitions would keep 
 him from sinning, the latter by their invectives." 
 
 He that hath no friend to give him advice, or re- 
 prove him when he does amiss, must bear patient- 
 ly the rebukes of his enemies, and thereby learn 
 to mend the errors of his ways; considering seri- 
 ously the object which these severe censures aim 
 at, and not what he is wlio makct! them. For he 
 who designed the death of Prometheus, the Thes- 
 salian, instead of giving him a fatal blow, only o- 
 pened a swelling which he had, which did really 
 save his life. Just so may the harsh reprehen- 
 sions of enemies cure some distempers of the mind, 
 which were before either not known or neglected; 
 though their angry speeches do originally proceed 
 from malice or ill-will. 
 
 If any man, withoj)probrious language, objects to 
 you crimes you know nothing of, you ought to in- 
 quire into the causes or reasons of such false accusa- 
 tions; whereby you may learn to take heed fortlie 
 future, least you should unwarily commit those of- 
 fences which are unjustly imputed to yon. 
 
 Whenever any thing is spoken against you that 
 is not true, do not pass it by, or despise it, because 
 it is false; but forthwith examine yourself, aiid con- 
 sider what you have said or done that may adnan- 
 ister a just occasion of reproof. 
 
 Nothing can be a greater instance of wisdom 
 and humanity, than for a man to bear silently and 
 quietly the follies and rcvilings of an enemy ; tak-
 
 250 NOTES ON SELF-KNOWLEDGB; 
 
 ing as much care not to provoke him as he would 
 to sail safely bj a dangerous rock. 
 
 It is an emineiit piece of humanity, and a mani- 
 fest token of a Latuie truly generous, to put up 
 with the affronts of an enemy, at a time when you 
 have a lair opportunity to revenge them. 
 
 Let us carefully observe those good qualities 
 wherein our enemies excel us. And endeavour 
 to excel them, by avoiding what is faulty, and im- 
 itating what is excellent ir ilie. 
 
 Plut. Mor, vol. i. p. 265. et esp. 
 
 [64] He who thoroughly desires to know what 
 he ought to be, should study tliose that exhibit 
 what he is not: as a man best sees his own de- 
 fects in a correct form. — Greg, 
 
 [65] If any one can convince me that I am 
 wrong in any point of sentiment or practice, 1 will 
 alter it with all my heart. For it is truth I seek; 
 and that can hurt nobody. It is only persisting 
 in error or ignorance that can hurt us. — M, Axi- 
 reL 
 
 - [66] If thou wouldst estimate thyself, put away 
 wealth, land, honours; scrutinize thyself within. — 
 
 Sen. 
 
 [67] The dwarf is a dwarf though on a hill: the 
 Colossus preserves its size in a valley. — Sen, 
 
 "Pigmies are pigmies still, though plac'd in alpsj 
 "And pyramids are pyramids in vales." 
 
 Mght Tho^Lghts,
 
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