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THE 
 
 COUNSELS OF A FATHER. 
 
Printed by T. Miller, Noble Street, Cfieaptide. 
 
SIR AtATTHETT HAiJE. 
 
 ^4MuU^.p.rt//f'/dy^,/j.9:^^ ^.^r^/ee/'S^i. 
 
COUNSELS OF A FATHER, 
 
 I^ 
 
 FOUR LETTERS 
 
 OF 
 
 SIR MATTHEW HALE TO HIS CHILDREN. 
 
 TO WHICH IS ADDED, 
 
 Zf)f practical %iU of a true ©^risittatt, 
 
 IN THE ACCOUNT OF 
 
 THE GOOD STEWARD AT THE GREAT AUDIT. 
 
 BY SIR MATTHEW HALE. 
 
 WITH A" NEW MEMOIR OF THE AUTHOR'S LIFE. 
 
 " I am now on the shady side of three-score years : I write to yon what 
 '^oa have often heard me in substance speak." First Letter. 
 
 SECOND EDITION. 
 
 LONDON : 
 
 PBINTED FOR TAYLOR AND HESSEY, 
 
 93, FLEET STREET. 
 
 1817. 
 
GIFT 
 

 ADVERTISEMENT, 
 
 Sm Matthew Hale was twice married ; 
 first to Anne More, the sister of Sir Henry 
 More, of Fanley, Berks, Knight; and se- 
 condly, to Anne, daughter of Bishop, 
 
 Esq. of the same place. By the former he 
 had six children : Robert, Matthew, Thomas, 
 Edward, Mary, and Elizabeth. They were 
 all living in 1662, the date affixed to one of 
 these letters ; and the eldest, Robert, was at 
 that time in his 23d year. It is to this son 
 he alludes in the above-mentioned letter, 
 when he says, " Let the original be laid up 
 safely for your brother R." These letters 
 of Sir Matthew Hale were written when he 
 was on the circuit : — thus the duties of the 
 parent were fulfilled, without interfering with 
 those of the judge. 
 
VI 
 
 Of these children, Robert died in J 670, 
 Matthew in 1675, and Thomas, in May, 
 1676, half a year before his father. These 
 were sad blows to a sinking man, whose 
 children appear to have been most dear to 
 him. But he had other cares to occupy his 
 latter days, and other claims upon him as a 
 parent. His son Robert had married Frances, 
 daughter of Sir Francis Chokke, of Aving- 
 ton, Berkshire, Knight. But she dying at 
 nearly the same time with her husband, the 
 charge of their €i\e orphan children, all of 
 them infants, devolved upon Sir Matthew 
 and his second wife. Thus he had another 
 young family to protect and educate in his 
 old age. With these he pursued the same 
 system which he had adopted towards his 
 own children ; writing to them a long letter 
 of sound advice, which was become the more 
 necessary, as in the common course of events 
 he could not hope much longer to superin- 
 tend their conduct. It is preserved among 
 his MSS. in Lincoln's Inn library, and is 
 entitled, *' A Letter of Advice to my Grand- 
 
Vll 
 
 children ; especially to my two Sons, Mat- 
 thew and Gabriel Hale, and to my three 
 Daughters, Anne, Mary, and Frances Hale, 
 all Children of my eldest Son Robert Hale, 
 and Frances his Wife, both deceased." These 
 all survived their grandfather. The three girls 
 died at the ages of 16, 17, and 18 years. 
 
 The Four Letters of Sir Matthew Hale 
 to his own Children are now, for the first 
 time, presented to the public in a handsome 
 volume, and with the text comparatively free 
 from errors. For subject and style, and it 
 is hoped for accuracy and elegance, the work 
 deserves to be considered as a standard 
 English classic, fit for the instruction of 
 youth, and the edification of all men. 
 
 The Account of the Good Steward being 
 the work of the same hand, is added to the 
 Letters, with the view of rendermg them 
 more complete. It is pleasing to see all 
 those precepts which are enforced in the 
 former part of the volume, embodied, and 
 
vm 
 
 reduced to practice in this latter treatise, 
 which, as it contains a summary of the whole 
 faith and duty of a Christian, has been ad- 
 judged by many to be little more than a 
 portrait of its estimable author. 
 
 The materials for the Memoir prefixed 
 to this edition, were drawn chiefly from the 
 excellent Life of Sir Matthew Hale, by 
 Bishop Burnet, and from the Appendix 
 to that account, written by Mr. Richard 
 Baxter. The length and minute detail of 
 both those articles, prevented the Editor 
 from reprinting them, as he wished, in their 
 original form. 
 
 ^■. %\ 
 
THE LIFE 
 
 SIR MATTHEW HALE. 
 
 A LIFE of extraordinary incidents, and con- 
 tinual action, forms the most interesting 
 subject of biography ; but the most useful 
 example is often met with in very different 
 situations. Of this we have an instance. in 
 the Memoirs of Sir Matthew Hale, which 
 exhibit few circumstances of striking occur- 
 rence; but as they give a portrait of one 
 who faithfully discharged all the duties of 
 his station, who lived in the practice of every 
 virtue, and whose conduct is of universal 
 application as a rule of life for others, 
 scarcely any have a better claim to the rea- 
 der's attention. 
 
 B 
 
He wa8 .bom <mi the first ©f November, 
 1 669/ at Aiderley, iu Oloucesiershire . His 
 father had practised as a barrister ; but from 
 a tenderness of conscience, which, even if 
 unfounded, can never be too highly respect- 
 ed, he retired from the profession of the law : 
 he could not reconcile himself to the custom 
 of setting up false pleas, which, as he 
 thought, was to tell a lie ; and in the legal 
 character, as it seemed to him, there were 
 many other things required, which were in- 
 compatible with the duties of a Christian. 
 
 Matthew Hale lost his mother when he 
 was only three years old, and his excellent 
 father died in two years after. But some 
 kmd relations took charge of the orphan; 
 and if a good education were the only advan- 
 tage he could have derived from the longer 
 life of his parents, the care of these new 
 friends to have him properly instructed, left 
 him no room to regret his loss. But there 
 is an influence in the person of every father, 
 which neither he can forfeit, nor his child 
 
can disregard. The infant naturally imbibes 
 a love and respect for that being, under 
 whose protection he feels safe ; in whose 
 wisdom he places his reliance ; whose smiles 
 are his reward ; and whose displeasure is 
 the only thing he dreads. So far from 
 being able to make comparisons, to ap- 
 prove what is right, and to shun what is 
 otherwise, the child has a sacred feeling 
 towards his father, which prevents him 
 from conceiving even a thought to his dis- 
 paragement. In his estimation he is not 
 so much the best, as the only perfect being 
 in the world. Fathers should consider this, 
 and for the sake of their offspring should 
 preserve appearances at least; for it is a 
 melancholy day for both, when the veil is 
 rent, and the conviction flashes on the mind 
 of the child, that the conduct of a parent 
 must be no longer his example. 
 
 Had his father lived, Matthew Hale 
 would have had, in addition to a good edu- 
 cation, the advantage of an admirable model 
 
for imitation. To the want of this, it was 
 possibly owing that he contracted some 
 dissolute habits. When he quitted the uni- 
 versity, he took too much pleasure, and 
 spent too much time, 
 
 " In feats of strength, dexterity, and speed." 
 
 He was addicted to company, loved fine 
 clothes, and frequented the theatres to such 
 a degree, that his mind was not only unset- 
 tled, but in danger of being quite corrupted. 
 Of this he was soon after sensible ; and so 
 strong was his impression of the danger he 
 had escaped, that he resolved he would ne- 
 ver see another play. It is not the mere 
 circumstance of being present at these en- 
 tertainments which constitutes the wrong. 
 They who attend but seldom, may perhaps be 
 amused without injury to their morals ; but 
 when men grow fond of such exhibitions, 
 or feel the diversions of a theatre begin to 
 take hold of their minds, then the indul- 
 gence is pernicious, and they should avoid 
 it altogeth^. 
 
There is a redeeming spirit about some 
 men, more than others, which will not long 
 allow them to be guilty of misconduct. That 
 tenderness of conscience, for which the father 
 was distinguished, was possessed by the son; 
 and to its predominating influence may be 
 ascribed all that is valuable in his charac- 
 ter, or advantageous in the events of his life. 
 Travelling one Sunday from the West of 
 England, he met with many accidents : one 
 horse fell lame, and another died. These, 
 might have happened on another day, but 
 occurring when they did, they gave rise to 
 many serious reflections, the result of which 
 was, his firm determination never again to 
 abuse the Sabbath, but to honour and ob- 
 serve it in the way that God had command- 
 ed ; and in this determination he so steadily 
 persisted, that, for thirty-six years together, 
 he never failed attending divine service on 
 that day. 
 
 To a mind so susceptible of admonition, 
 and desirous of improvement, opportunities 
 
are never wanting. Events, as trifling as the 
 falling of an apple from a tree, will lead a 
 thinking person to great moral, as well as 
 scientific discoveries ; and happy are they 
 who have a wise and understanding heart, 
 to profit by the first hint that offers. But 
 the most awful lessons are too frequently 
 neglected. In company with some students, 
 Mr. Hale was one day dining and making 
 merry, when, from excessive drinking, a 
 young man of the party fell down to all ap- 
 pearance dead. All those who were present 
 were much terrified: some of them, it is to 
 be hoped, felt lasting good effects from the 
 impression which that moment made upon 
 their hearts. Mr. Hale was deeply affected: 
 he went into another room, and on his knees 
 most fervently besought God to restore his 
 friend, and to pardon the intemperance of 
 which they had been guilty. For himself, 
 he vowed that he would never keep compa- 
 ny in that free manner again, nor drink even 
 a health for the future. His friend was rcr 
 stored to life, and Mr. Hale, as long as he 
 
lived, religiously kept his vow. In extreme 
 distress, when all our hopes are fixed on the 
 special interposition of Heaven, we are very 
 ready to promise extraordinary goodness on 
 our own part ; as if that were a condition 
 which it became us to propose, or depend- 
 ed on us to fulfil : but our inability to do 
 any thing that is right without divine assis- 
 tance, the worthlessness of our best actions 
 in the sight of God, and the consciousness 
 that we have no merits of our own, let us 
 live ever so virtuously, should make us hum- 
 ble, patient, and apprehensive, full of sup- 
 plication, with fear and trembling, and too 
 well aware of our own nature to place any 
 confidence in our own strength. Prayers 
 are a much better preservative than Vows. 
 These, however, are frequently made by 
 persons in Mr. Hale's situation, who have 
 not the grace to keep them with the same 
 fidelity. In all such cases, it would be much 
 better, silently to resolve, and yet as stea- 
 dily to execute ; and to avoid imposing any 
 more restraints on ourselves, than are abso- 
 
lutely necessary to some good end. Mr. 
 Hale was placed in disagreeable and even 
 dangerous situations, from his vow to drink 
 no healths. It caused his loyalty to be sus- 
 pected, during the civil wars in the reign of 
 Charles the First ; and, but for uncommon 
 prudence, it might have cost him his life. 
 Dilemmas like these it is better to avoid, 
 when the object for which they are encoun- 
 tered is no more than an innocent custom ; 
 and that Mr. Hale himself thougljt so after- 
 wards, may be inferred, from his modest 
 unwillingness to give pledges to the world, 
 even for the maintenance of his religious 
 practices. 
 
 Reclaimed from the error of his youth, 
 by the reflections which these accidents pro- 
 duced, and encouraged by the advice of the 
 learned counsellor, Serjeant Glanvil, Mr. 
 Hale commenced that vigorous course of 
 study in the profession of the law, which laid 
 the foundation for his future greatness. He 
 was in his twenty-first year when he was 
 admitted into Lincoln's inn. His constitu- 
 
9 
 
 tion was naturally a good one ; and he could 
 endure severe application for a longer time 
 than most men ; but it is almost incredible 
 what fatigue he underwent, in the prosecu- 
 tion of his undertaking. For many years, he 
 devoted sixteen hours a day to reading. He 
 always rose early in the morning, and would 
 never allow himself to be idle during the 
 day. He held no correspondence or con- 
 versation upon trifling subjects, conceiving 
 Time to be God's gift, who did not bestow 
 upon us more than was strictly necessary. 
 And certainly we should think that miller a 
 foolish man, who stopt his mill to talk 
 about news, while all the water was running 
 to waste : yet we are guilty of this absurdity 
 every day ; and what is worse, we draw from 
 a reservoir which can never be replenished. 
 
 By means of unwearied diligence, Mr. 
 Hale attained to such a depth and variety of 
 knowledge as is seldom equalled. Law and 
 divinity formed the principal subjects of his 
 studies : when he was tired of these, he had 
 
 B 5 
 
10 
 
 recourse to experimental philosopky and the 
 mathematics, which to him were diversions. 
 His readiness in arithmetic was very uncom- 
 mon. He was profoundly skilled in chro- 
 nology, and well acquainted with the writings 
 of the Greek philosophers. Tn physic, ana- 
 tomy, and surgery, he possessed as much 
 knowledge as could be obtained without 
 actual practice ; and as a reason for such 
 acquisitions, he used to say, that " no man 
 could be absolutely a master in any profes- 
 sion, without having some skill in other 
 
 But, next to the study of the law, divinity 
 engaged his chief attention. In this pursuit, 
 not only his mind but his heart was occu- 
 pied. He delighted in that most profitable 
 part of it, contemplation — " to commune 
 with his own heart, and in his chamber, and 
 be still ;" and at these times he would en- 
 deavour to conceive such exalted ideas con- 
 cerning God, as might purify his thoughts, 
 and invest his soul with a holy calmness, not 
 
11 
 
 liable to bejinvaded by the cares of the world. 
 The choicest of these speculations are be- 
 queathed to us in his Contemplations, Moral 
 and Divine, 2 vols. 8vo, and in several MSS. 
 deposited in the library of Lincoln's Inn, 
 which as yet remain unpublished. 
 
 His manner of study was liberal, and 
 adapted to the character of the man. He 
 loved to be abroad very early in the morn- 
 ing, not so much for the health and exercise 
 of his body, as of his mind. With the works 
 of the Almighty before his eyes, and an in- 
 clination to make the most of the sentiments 
 they suggested, he emancipated his under- 
 standing from the chains of prejudice and 
 passion ; he got above that short-sighted view 
 of things which the narrow policy of this 
 world is apt to engender ; and having impar- 
 tially brought his judgment to a balance, he 
 then began to weigh the subject which he 
 intended to investigate. In all his inquiries he 
 went as nearly as possible to the fountain- 
 head ; not contenting himself with current 
 opinions in the place of truth, but examining 
 
It 
 
 all with a jealous eye, and striving to trace 
 them, in every instance, to those immutable 
 first principles M'hence only they derive au- 
 thority. When all this was done, and his 
 inquiries fell short of certainty, he did not 
 draw positive conclusions from what he had 
 learnt, but left his mind open to further 
 light, from whatever quarter it might come. 
 As far as he had gone, he cast up the amount 
 of evidence, and saw the state of the ques- 
 tion ; but he never closed the account. With 
 the same forbearance and humility, he be- 
 lieved that on many subjects it was impos- 
 sible for human reason to be satisfied, yet 
 this impression did not lead. him to cut oflF 
 all speculation concerning those higher mat- 
 ters. He rather applied another kind of 
 argument suitable to their nature, and by 
 analogy obtained an insight beyond that of 
 the senses. Of the sublime mysteries of our 
 religion he loved to reason, not rashly or 
 with presumption, but according to that in- 
 tellectual scale by which God has permitted 
 us to estimate things so far above mortal 
 reach : and he had this proof given him of 
 
13 
 
 the propriety of his practice in this respect, 
 that after all his theories, he found himself 
 still more lowly-minded, more conscious of 
 his own ignorance and weakness, fuller of 
 every christian grace, and fitter to practise 
 every virtue. On Sunday evenings, after 
 attending public worship, he made it a rule 
 to meditate on some important question 
 in religion; and because he could better 
 follow the order of his thoughts when he 
 wrote them down, as well as for the sake of 
 improving himself by their subsequent peru- 
 sal, he was accustomed to commit them to 
 paper at the time. Though these opportu- 
 nities may not seem to promise the comple- 
 tion of any considerable undertaking, yet it 
 is a fact, that all his moral and religious works 
 are the production of these scattered hours. 
 
 As he was himself a great lover of learn- 
 ing, so was there nothing more delightful to 
 him than to encourage it in others. To young 
 people, who were fond of reading, he was 
 particularly kind and attentive, pointing out to 
 
14 
 
 them the best plans for study, and answering 
 all their questions with a readiness and sweet- 
 ness, which won them to acquaint him with 
 all their doubts and difficulties. He was no 
 less earnest to promote their moral improve- 
 ment, availing himself of his high character 
 and great experience, to give advice on many 
 things relating to their appearance and be- 
 haviour; so that many young men forsook the 
 vanities of dress, with other youthful follies, 
 from a desire to obtain his favourable opi- 
 nion. 
 
 A benevolent disposition, and great sim- 
 plicity of manner, gave a charm to his 
 deportment which fascinated all who ap- 
 proached him. But his friends were par- 
 ticularly happy in his company, for he was 
 playfully free and communicative in dis- 
 course, and never at a loss for some pleasant 
 topic, which might e qually interest and inform 
 them by its discussion. It v\ as a rule with 
 him,never to interrupt another in his speech ; 
 and this forbearance caused others to lis- 
 
15 
 
 ten to him with equal patience; by which 
 means, many a subject came to be sifted to 
 the bottom, which would otherwise have pro- 
 cured only a smart remark. It allowed every 
 one time to look over and arrange his own 
 thoughts, and to offer the best of his judg- 
 ment for the edification of his hearers. If 
 any person could bejustified, in anticipating 
 and interrupting the delivery of another's ob- 
 servations, it would have been Mr. Hale, 
 whose information and ingenuity were not 
 often matched; but he was so far from 
 presuming on this account, or thinking he 
 had more to confer than to acquire, that he 
 would have held it a proof of his want of 
 sense, if he failed to extract something va- 
 luable out of every man's discourse. This 
 caused Mr. Richard Baxter, the great theo- 
 logian, to say of him, " I never more per- 
 ceived in any man, how much great know- 
 ledge and wisdom facilitate addition, and 
 the reception of any thing not before known. 
 Such a one presently perceiveth that evi- 
 dence which another is incapable of." 
 
16 
 
 Hale said of himself, thathe was naturally 
 passionate-^ butso effectually had he subdued 
 the irritability of his temper, that except for 
 a momentary rising of his colour, it could not 
 be perceived that he was ever greatly moved. 
 Persons of quick tempers are said to com- 
 pensate for the frequency of their passion, by 
 the shortness of its duration; while those who 
 from duller feelings are slow to anger, take 
 a long time to get rid of their resentment. It 
 is almost a balance of evils. The best dis- 
 position is undoubtedly that which, naturally 
 alive to provocation, is yet chastened to a 
 gentleness which will not take offence, but 
 makes every allowance for a brother's infir- 
 mity. A man of this temper will not be the 
 less ready, when humanity or justice requires 
 it, to defend himself, and to protect others, 
 against the wantonness of insult, oppression, 
 or brutality. Such was the character of 
 Hale. He gave, without a fee, the best pro- 
 fessional advice to a man who had once 
 grievously injured him, " thanking God that 
 he had learned to forget injuries." And when- 
 
17 
 
 evter his children or his servants had offended 
 him, he deferred speaking till he was per- 
 fectly calm : then with a serenity and tender- 
 ness that could not be withstood, he so dis- 
 creetly set before them their fault and its 
 consequences, that he had no occasion to 
 censure or condemn — their own hearts- had 
 done it already. But he would not retain 
 in his service those who were decidedly im- 
 moral, observing, " he that by his place 
 ought to punish disorders in other people, 
 must by no means suffer them in his own 
 house/' 
 
 His kindness extended to the brute crea- 
 tion, as it must ever do, when it is founded 
 on a right principle : the merciful man is 
 merciful to his beast. He kept all his horses 
 and dogs till they died of old age, and would 
 never suffer them to be over-worked or ijl 
 treated. The only time he was ever known 
 to be thoroughly angry was, when one of his 
 servants suffered a little bird, that was kept 
 in the house, to die for want of food. 
 
18 
 
 Even in the best cause, he did not suflfer 
 his feelings to get the victory over reason. 
 His son died under circumstances pecuharly 
 distressing. To so kind-hearted a man, and 
 so affectionate a father, this must have been 
 a very severe affliction ; yet to all outward 
 appearance he maintained his usual equa- 
 nimity ; and, like a wise man, he observed to 
 one who condoled ^vith him on the occasion, 
 that " these are the sad effects of living long : 
 such must look to see many sad and unac- 
 ceptable things." 
 
 Soon after he was called to the bar, the 
 civil wars broke out, and it became a diffi- 
 cult task for men in conspicuous stations, to 
 conduct themselves so as not to give offence. 
 The rules by which Mr. Hale governed his 
 actions at this critical season were, first, hy 
 engaging in no faction, and secondly, hy the 
 constant favouring and receiving those that 
 uere lowest. 
 
 He had noticed in Cornelius Nepos, that 
 
19 
 
 Pomponius Atticus, by closely adhering to 
 these two maxims of prudence, had safely, 
 and with the esteem of all parties, passed 
 through the most hazardous times of the 
 Roman republic ; and he thought it an ex- 
 periment worth repeating. That he was 
 equally fortunate may be collected from this 
 striking fact, that though he heartily de- 
 fended many of the royal party when they 
 were tried for high treason, and had the 
 honour to be appointed counsel for the un- 
 happy Charles, when he fell the victim of 
 an indiscreet opposition to popular senti- 
 ment, yet Cromwell so well knew the in- 
 tegrity of the man, and the influence of his 
 high reputation, that he made him one of his 
 judges in the Court of Common Pleas. On 
 the restoration. King Charles the Second 
 appointed him Lord Chief Baron : and the 
 great Earl of Clarendon, when he delivered 
 him his commission, concluded his speech 
 with the folio wing singular compliment; "that 
 if the king could have found out an honester 
 and fitter man for that employment, he would 
 
90 
 
 not have advanced him to it; and that he 
 had therefore preferred him, because he 
 knew none that deserved it so well." The 
 honour of knighthood is usually granted to 
 those who are advanced to this dignity; but 
 such was the modesty of Mr. Hale, that it 
 was only by the stratagem of meeting him 
 unexpectedly at the Lord Chancellor's, that 
 the king could find an opportunity of con- 
 ferring the title. 
 
 As he felt a real love for his fellow- crea- 
 tures, so with the strongest emotions of pity 
 did he regard all those, who for their crimes 
 were brought before him in his judicial ca- 
 pacity. During their trials, he expressed him- 
 self towards them with a solemnity, that be- 
 spoke his deep sense of the awful responsi- 
 bility of his office, yet accompanied with a 
 certain compassionate and encouraging de- 
 meanour, which left them nothing to fear 
 from the influence of private feeling. The 
 terrors of the law were sufficient he thought, 
 without any aggravation or colouring from 
 
21 ^ 
 
 him. Not that he omitted to make those salu- 
 tary impressions which his duty enjoined him; 
 but he preferred exciting them by plain and 
 simple language. And when he had to pass 
 sentence, there was something so fervent 
 and pathetic in his speech to the prisoner, 
 that many persons have said '* they heard 
 few such sermons." 
 
 In his earlier years, he laid down certain 
 rules for the regulation of his life, which 
 mark by what steps he arrived at eminence. 
 Happily for those who wish to follow his 
 example, a rough draught of these has been 
 preserved. 
 
 MORNING. 
 
 I. To lift up the heart to God, in thankful- 
 ness for renewing my life. 
 
 II. To renew my covenant with God in 
 Christ, 1. By renewed acts of faith, re- 
 ceiving Christ, and rejoicing in the height 
 of that relation. 2. Resolution of being 
 one of his people, doing him allegiance. 
 
2« 
 
 III. Adoration and prayer. 
 
 IV. Setting a watch over my own infirmi- 
 ties and passions, over the snares laid in 
 our way. Perimus liciiis ^, 
 
 DAY EMPLOYMENT. 
 
 There must be an employment : two kinds. 
 
 I. Our ordinary calling : to serve God in it. 
 It is a service to Christ though never so 
 mean. Colos. iii. Here faithfulness, 
 diligence, cheerfulness* Not to overlay 
 myself with more business than I can 
 bear. 
 
 II. Our spiritual employments : mingle 
 somewhat of God's immediate service in 
 this day. 
 
 BEFBESHHENTS. 
 
 I. Meat and drink, moderation seasoned 
 with somewhat of God. 
 
 II. Recreations. 1 . Not our business. 2. 
 Suitable. No games, if given to covet- 
 ousness or passion. 
 
 • We perish bj indulgences. 
 
23 
 
 IP ALONr. 
 
 L Beware of wandering, vain, lustful 
 thoughts ; fly from thyself rather than en- 
 tertain these. 
 
 II. Let thy solitary thoughts be profitable. 
 View the evidences of thy salvation, the 
 state of thy soul, the coming of Christ, 
 thy own mortality : it will make thee hum- 
 ble and watchful. 
 
 COMPANY. 
 
 Do good to them. Use God's name reve- 
 rently. Beware of leaving an ill impres- 
 sion of ill example. Receive good from 
 them if more knowing. 
 
 EVENING. 
 
 Cast up the accounts of the day. If ought 
 amiss, beg pardon. Gather resolution of 
 more vigilance. If well, bless the mercy 
 and grace of God that hath supported 
 thee* 
 
24 
 
 When he was made a Judge, he drew up 
 another paper for his government. Though 
 it has reference to duties which few are 
 placed in situations to perform, it contains 
 some excellent principles of universal appli- 
 cation, which render it worthy of attention. 
 
 THINGS NECESSARY TO BE CONTINUALLY HAD 
 IN REMEMBRANCE. 
 
 I. That, in the administration of justice, I 
 am entrusted for God, the King, and 
 Country ; and therefore, 
 
 II. That it be done ; 1. Uprightly ; 2. De- 
 liberately; 3. Resolutely. 
 
 III. That I rest not upon my own under- 
 standing or strength, but implore and 
 rest upon the direction and strength of 
 God. 
 
 IV. That, in the execution of justice, I 
 carefully lay aside my own passions, and 
 not give way to them, however provoked. 
 
 V. That I be wholly intent upon the busi- 
 ness that I am about, remitting all other 
 
25 
 
 cares and thoughts, as unseasonable, and 
 interruptions. 
 
 VI. That I suffer not myself to be prepos- 
 sessed with any judgment at all, till the 
 whole business and both parties be heard. 
 
 VII. That I never engage myself in the 
 beginning of any cause, but reserve my- 
 self unprejudiced till the whole be heard. 
 
 VIII. That in business capital, though my 
 nature prompt me to pity, yet to consider 
 that there is also a pity due to the coun- 
 try. 
 
 IX. That I be not too rigid in matters 
 purely conscientious, where all the harm 
 is diversity of judgment. 
 
 X. That I he not biassed with compassion 
 to the poor, or favour to the rich, in point 
 of justice. 
 
 XI. That popular, or court applause, or 
 distaste, have no influence into any thing 
 I do, in point of distribution of justice. 
 
 XII. Not to be solicitous what men will 
 say or think, so long as I keep myself ex- 
 actly according to the rules of justice. 
 
 c 
 
26 
 
 XIII. If in criminals it be a measuring 
 cast, to incline to mercy and acquittal. 
 
 XIV. In criminals that consist merely in 
 words, when no more harm ensues, mo- 
 deration is no injustice. 
 
 XV. In criminals of blood, if the fact be 
 evident, severity is justice. 
 
 XVI. To abhor all private solicitations, of 
 what kind soever, and by whomsoever, in 
 matters depending. 
 
 XVII. To charge ipy servants : 1. Not to 
 interpose in any business whatsoever. 2. 
 Not to take more than their known fees. 
 3. Not to give any undue precedence to 
 causes. 4. Not to recommend counsel. 
 
 XVIII. To be short and sparing at meals, 
 that I may be the fitter for business. 
 
 In the year l671, Sir Matthew Hale was 
 appointed Lord Chief Justice of the Court of 
 King's Bench. In this situation he mani- 
 fested his usual humiHty, benevolence, in- 
 dustry, judgment, and piety ; but to greater 
 advantage, as the sphere of his usefulness 
 
27 
 
 was enlarged. For four years and a half he 
 faithfully discharged this important trust. 
 At the end of that time his constitution sud- 
 denly gave way. He became afflicted with 
 asthma, and soon after was attacked by drop- 
 sy. Feeling that he could not possibly re- 
 cover, he made haste to resign his office, that 
 he might set his affairs in order, and prepare 
 for death. Bishop Burnet says, in that 
 biography from which this Memoir is prin 
 cipally composed, that Sir Matthew "had 
 been a long time wearied with the distrac- 
 tions that his employment had brought on 
 him ; and his profession had become un- 
 grateful to him." Herein we perceive traces 
 of the same conscientious scruples by which 
 his father had been influenced : but in Sir 
 Matthew tbfey were qualified by other con- 
 siderations. What tliese were, and in what 
 light he always regarded his profession, may 
 be seen from the following paper, drawn up 
 when he was resolved to retire altogether 
 from public business. 
 
 c 2 
 
28 
 
 " First, If I consider the business of my 
 profession, whether as an advocate or as a 
 judge, it is true, I do acknowledge, by the 
 institution of Almighty God, and the dis- 
 pensation of his Providence, I am bound to 
 industry and fidelity in it ; and as it is an act 
 of obedience unto his will, it carries with it 
 some things of religious duty, and I may and 
 do take comfort in it, and expect a reward 
 of my obedience to him, and the good that 
 I do to mankind therein, from the bounty 
 and beneficence, and promise of Almighty 
 God : and it is true also, that without such 
 employments, civil societies cannot be sup- 
 ported, and great good redounds to mankind 
 from them ; and in these respects, the con- 
 science of my own industry, fidelity, and 
 integrity in them, is a great comfort and 
 satisfaction to me. But yet this I must say 
 concerning these employments, considered 
 simply in themselves, that they are very full 
 of cares, anxieties, and perturbations. 
 
 " Secondly, That though they are bene- 
 
^9 
 
 ficial to others, yet they are of the least 
 benefit to him that is employed in them. 
 
 " Thirdly, That they do necessarily in- 
 volve the party, whose office it is, in great 
 dangers, difficulties, and calumnies. 
 
 " Fourthly, That they only serve for the 
 meridian of this life, which is short and un- 
 certain. 
 
 "Fifthly, That though it be my duty, 
 faithfully to serve in them, while I am called 
 to them, and till I am duly called from them, 
 yet they are great consumers of that little 
 time we have here ; which, as it seems to 
 me, might be better spent in a pious con- 
 templative life, and a due provision for eter- 
 nity. I do not know a better temporal em- 
 ployment than Martha had, in testifying her 
 love and duty to our Saviour, by making 
 provision for him ; yet our Lord tells her. 
 That though she was troubled about many 
 things, there was only one thing necessary, 
 and Mary had chosen the better part." 
 
 Consistently with the result of these views 
 
30 
 
 he obtained his discharge, after much delay, 
 from the king's unwilHngness to part with 
 so faithful a servant. Then did his spirit 
 rejoice in its new found liberty, as a bird 
 that has escaped from the cage. But the 
 bird that has been long confined, loses the 
 power to fly about and enjoy itself as forr 
 merly : and now Sir Matthew Hale had 
 got liberty indeed; but his health was ruined, 
 and the energies of his mind were rapidly 
 decaying. He had but little power and a 
 short time left, to realize that happy privacy 
 which he so feelingly describes, in the follow- 
 ing translation from Seneca's Thyestes. 
 
 Let him, that will, ascend the tottering seat 
 Of courtly grandeur, and become as great 
 As are his mounting wishes : as for me, 
 JjCt sweet repose and rest my portion be. 
 Give me some mean obscure recess ; a sphere 
 Out of the road of business, or the fear 
 Of falling lower ; where I sweetly may 
 Myself and dear retirement still enjoy. 
 Let not my life or name be known unto 
 The grandees of the time, tost to and fro 
 By censures or applause j but let my age 
 Slide gently by, not overthwart the stage 
 
31 
 
 Of public action ; unheard, unseen, 
 And unconcern'd, as if I ne'er had been. 
 And thus, while I shall pass my silent days 
 In shady privacy, free from the noise 
 And bustles of the mad world, then shall I 
 A good old innocent plebeian die. 
 Death is a mere sm'prise, a very snare 
 To him, that makes it his life's greatest care. 
 To be a public pageant, known to all, — 
 But unacquainted with himself doth fall. 
 
 He quitted office on the 15th of February, 
 1676; and died on the Christmas-day fol- 
 lowing. The interval was spent in exercises 
 of piety and devotion. He had always been 
 constant in the use of family prayer, per- 
 forming the duty himself, if there was no 
 clergyman present : and on Sundays it had 
 been his uniform practice to repeat to his 
 family the heads of the sermons, with some 
 further remarks and expositions of his own* 
 He usually invited his poor neighbours to 
 dine with him, on that day, at his own table ; 
 and when any were sick, he sent the choicest 
 of bis food to their houses. 
 
From the commencement of his public 
 life, he had laid aside a tenth of his income 
 for charitable uses; and with his perquisites, 
 when he was a judge, he secretly liberated 
 many poor debtors from prison. He did 
 not neglect even common beggars, but felt 
 it his duty to relieve them with the small 
 sums he could conveniently spare ; thinking 
 that charity consisted not so much in tlie 
 good actually done, as in the motive with 
 which it is attempted to be done. It is well 
 for mankind, that Charity, w^hich is the great- 
 est and most necessary of all christian vir- 
 tues, is not the impulse of a feeling heart ; 
 for that depends on certain constitutional 
 tendencies, with which no man can endow 
 himself: nor that it consists in the success 
 which attends our alms ; for much of that is 
 derived from prudence and penetration, in 
 which the best of men are frequently de- 
 ficient : still less, that the magnitude or 
 splendour of the gift declares the charity of 
 the donor ; for riches are not the lot of all ; 
 
33 
 
 and we know that a man may give all he has 
 to the poor, and his body to be burned, and 
 yet want charity. True charity is known by 
 the motive, and by that alone ; and none but 
 He who sees the heart, can tell who is cha- 
 ritable, and who is not. It is not for us, 
 therefore, to judge others : nor should we 
 attempt to do it, if we have charity ; for 
 charity " thinketh no evil ; rejoiceth not in 
 iniquity, but rejoiceth in the truth ; beareth 
 all things, believeth all things, hopeth all 
 things, endureth all things." But though 
 we judge not others, we are commanded to 
 judge ourselves; and this is the test by 
 which we may try our charity : — Love to 
 God. If we love Him we shall keep his 
 commandments, and obedience to these is 
 perfect charity — it comprises the whole of 
 our duty to our neighbour. If we do every 
 thing to them, which we in their situations 
 should wish them or others to do to us ; and 
 this, not for the relief of our own feelings, or 
 to gain the good opinion of men, but from a 
 desire to please God by our behaviour ; 
 
34 
 
 then we possess that charity which shall 
 never fail : and this charity is what every 
 man may possess, by God's grace, when- 
 ever he pleases. 
 
 The habit of considering himself as he 
 appeared in the sight of the Almighty, and 
 not in the estimation of men, made Sir 
 Matthew Hale avoid all undue opportunities 
 of giving publicity to the good parts of his 
 character. He had such an aversion to all 
 ostentation in religion, that he was careful to 
 make no great professions, wishing that his 
 deeds, rather than his tongue, should make 
 known his faith ; and humbly fearing lest by 
 any means he should at last fall away, and 
 cause the religion of Christ to be evil spoken 
 of. This was especially the case with him 
 in his private devotions, wherein he se- 
 cluded himself from the observation even 
 of his own family. 
 
 The nearer his death approached, the 
 more fervent and frequent were his prayers ; 
 
S5 
 
 and when his voice could no longer be 
 heard, it mi^ht be seen from his eyes and 
 hands being almost constantly lifted up, that 
 his soul was still in earnest communion with 
 that blessed Spirit, whQ soon after called it 
 out of darkness into his marvellous light. 
 For more than a year, he had suffered such 
 pain that he was unable to lie down in bed, 
 but he never complained. His end was 
 peaceful : he had no struggling, nor seemed 
 to be in any pajtigs in his last moments. 
 
 Such was the lif^ and death of Sir 
 Matthew Hale. His character speaks for 
 itself, and needs.no comment : it is seen in 
 all his actions ; and is further pourtrayed in 
 the Letters which compose this little vo- 
 lume. They were written at different pe- 
 riods, while he was on the circuit as a judge. 
 They prove how much the happiness of his 
 children was the object of his constant so- 
 licitude. Loving them so sincerely, he 
 could not but address to them the best of 
 his understanding. Whatever conduct would 
 
36 
 
 carry them most comfortably through this 
 world intQ a blessed eternity, we may be 
 sure he would recommend ; and such pre- 
 cepts only would he give them, as he had 
 found by experience were conducive to so 
 desirable an end. Many books on such 
 topics have been composed for the sole pur- 
 pose of being published, and what they 
 contain is therefore sometimes the result of 
 ingenious speculation ; but these Letters 
 were designed purely for private use, and 
 every word of them is practical wisdom. 
 Let them be read then with that confidence 
 and prepossession in their favour, with 
 which, as his own children, we should have 
 received them ; and, by the blessing of 
 Heaven, they will not fail of producing a 
 good effect. 
 
LETTER I. 
 
 ON RELIGION. 
 
 DEAR CHILDREN, 
 
 I INTENDED to havc bccn at Alderley this 
 Whitsuntide, desirous to renew those Counsels 
 and Advices which I have often given you, in 
 order to your greatest concernment j namely, 
 the everlasting good and welfare of your Souls 
 hereafter, and the due ordering of your Lives 
 and conversations here. 
 
 And although young people are apt, through 
 their own indiscretion, or the ill advice of 
 others, to think these kind of entertainments 
 but dry and empty matters, and the morose 
 and needless interpositions of old men 5 yet 
 give him leave to tell you, that very well 
 knows what he says, these things are of more 
 
38 LETTER I. 
 
 importance and concernment to you, than ex- 
 ternal gifts and bounties, (wherein) neverthe- 
 less I have not been wanting to you, according 
 to my ability. 
 
 This was my intention in this journey) and 
 though 1 have been disappointed therein, yet 
 I thought good, by letters and messages, to do 
 something that might be done that way for 
 your benefit, that I had otherwise intended to 
 have done in person. 
 
 Assure yourselves, therefore, and believe it 
 from one that knows what he says, from one 
 that can neither have any reason or end to de- 
 ceive you J that the best gift I can give you is 
 good Counsel j and the best counsel I can give 
 you is that which relates to your greatest import 
 and concernment J namely. Religion. 
 
 And therefore since I cannot at this time 
 deliver it to you in person, I shall do it by this 
 letter, wherein I shall not be very large, but 
 kfeep myself within the bounds proper for a 
 letter, and to those things only, at this time, 
 which may be most of present use and moment 
 to you J and by your due observance of these 
 directions, I shall have a good character, both 
 of your dutifulness to God, your obedience to 
 
ON RELIGION, 39 
 
 your Father, and also of your discretion and 
 prudence J for it is most certain, that as Re- 
 ligion is the best means to advance and certify 
 human nature, so no man shall be either truly 
 wise or truly happy without it, and the love of 
 it J no, not in this life, much less in that which 
 is to come. 
 
 First. Therefore every morning and every 
 evening, upon your knees, humbly commend 
 yourselves to the Almighty God in Prayer, 
 begging his mercy to pardon your sins, his 
 grace to direct you, his providence to protect 
 you J returning him humble thanks for all his 
 dispensations towards you, yea, even for his 
 very corrections and afflictions 3 intreating him 
 to give you wisdom and grace, to make a sober, 
 patient, humble, profitable use of them, and 
 in his due time to deliver you from them ; con- 
 cluding your prayers with the Lord's Prayer. 
 This will be a certain means to bring your mind 
 into a right frame, to procure you comfort and 
 blessing, and to prevent thousands of incon- 
 veniences and mischiefs, to which you will be 
 otherwise subjected. 
 
40 LETTER I. 
 
 Secondly. Every morning read seriously 
 and reverently a portion of the Holy Scripture, 
 and acquaint yourself with the history and 
 doctrine thereof : it is a book full of light and 
 wisdom, vs^ill make you wise to eternal life, 
 and furnish you with directions and principles, 
 to guide and order your life safely and pru- 
 dently. 
 
 Thirdly. Conclude every evening with read- 
 ing some part of the Scripture, and Prayer in 
 your Family. 
 
 Fourthly. Be strict and religious observers 
 of the Lord's-day. Resort to your parish- 
 church twice that day, if your health will per- 
 mit, and attend diligently and reverently to 
 the public prayers and sermons. He cannot 
 reasonably expect a blessing from God the rest 
 of the week, that neglects his duty to God, in 
 the due consecration of this day, to the special 
 service and duty to God, which this day re- 
 quires. 
 
 Fifthly. Receive the Sacrament at least 
 
ON RELIGION. 41 
 
 three times in the year, and oftener, as there is 
 occasion, in your parish-church. The laws of 
 the land require this, and the law of your Sa- 
 viour requires it, and the law of duty and gra- 
 titude requires it of you. Prepare yourselves 
 seriously for this service before-hand, and per- 
 form it with reverence and thankfulness. The 
 neglect of this duty procures great inconveni- 
 ence and strangeness: and commonly the neg- 
 lect hereof ariseth from some conceited opinion, 
 that people inconsiderately take up ; but most 
 ordinarily from a sluggishness of mind, and an 
 unwillingness to fit and prepare the mind for 
 it, or to leave some sinful or vain course that 
 men are not willing to leave, and yet condemn 
 themselves in the practice of. 
 
 Sixthly. Beware of those that go about to 
 seduce you from that religion, wherein you 
 have been brought up hitherto j namely, the 
 true Protestant Religion. It is not unknown 
 to any, that observes the state of things in the 
 world, how many erroneous religions are scat- 
 tered abroad in the vorldj and how industri- 
 ous, men of false persuasions are, to make 
 proselytes. There are Antinomians, Quakers, 
 
42 LETTER I. 
 
 Anabaptists, and divers others, that go about to 
 mislead themselves and others : nay, although 
 the laws of this kingdom, and especially the 
 statute of 23 Eliz. cap. 1. have inflicted the 
 severest penalty upon those that go about to 
 withdraw persons to the Romish religion, from 
 the religion established in England, as any 
 man that reads that statute may findj yet there 
 are scattered up and down the world divers 
 factors and agents, that under several disguises 
 and pretences, endeavour the perverting of 
 weak and easy persons. Take heed of all such 
 persuaders. And that you may know and ob- 
 serve the better, you shall ever find these arti- 
 fices practised by them : 
 
 — ^They will use all flattering applications 
 and insinuations to be master of your humour^ 
 and when they have gotten that advantage, 
 they that seemed before to serve you, will then 
 command you. 
 
 — They will use all possible skill to raise 
 in you jealousy and dislike, towards those 
 that may otherwise continue and keep you in 
 the truth : as, to raise dislike in you against 
 your minister j nay, rather than fail, to raise 
 dissention among relations j yea, to castjea- 
 
ON RELIGION. 43 
 
 lousies and surmises among them, if it may be 
 instrumental to corrupt them. 
 
 — They will endeavour to withdraw people 
 from the public ministry of God's word -, en- 
 courage men to slight and neglect it 3 and 
 when they have once eflFected this, they have a 
 fair opportunity to infuse their own corrupt 
 principles. 
 
 — They will engage you, by some means 
 or other, to themj either by some real, but 
 most ordinarily by some pretended kindness or 
 familiarity j that, in a little time, you shall not 
 dare to displease them : you must do and speak 
 what they will have you, because some way or 
 other you are entangled with them, or engaged 
 to them -J and then they become your gover- 
 nors, and you will not dare to contradict or 
 disobey them. 
 
 These are some of those artifices, whereby 
 crafty and subtle seducers gain proselytes, and 
 bring men under captivity. 
 
 Seventhly. Be very careful to moderate 
 your Passions, especially of choler and anger : 
 it inflames the blood, disorders the brain, and 
 for the time, exterminates not only religion. 
 
44 LITTER 1. 
 
 but common reason : it puts the mind into con- 
 fusion, and throws wild-fire into the tongue, 
 whereby men give others advantage against 
 them : it renders a man incapable of doing his 
 duty to God, and puts a man upon acts of 
 violence, unrighteousness, and injustice to 
 men j therefore keep your passions under dis- 
 cipline, and under as strict a chain, as you 
 would keep an unruly curst mastiff. Look to 
 it, that you give it not too much line at first 5 
 but if it hath gotten any fire within you, 
 quench it presently with consideration, and let 
 it not break out into passionate or unruly 
 words or actions : but, whatever you do, let it 
 not gangrene into malice, envy, or spite. 
 
 Eighthly. Send your children early to 
 learn their Catechism, that they may take in 
 the true principles of religion betimes, which 
 may grow up with them, and habituate them 
 both to the knowledge and practice of it 5 that 
 they may escape the danger of corruption by 
 error or vice, being antecedently seasoned with 
 better principles. 
 
 Ninthly. Receive the blessings of God 
 
ONT RELIGION. 45 
 
 with. very much Thankfulness to him j for Hfr 
 is the root and fountain of all the good you 
 do, or can receive. 
 
 Tenthly. Bear all afflictions and crosses 
 patiently : it is your duty j for afflictions come 
 not from the dust. The great God of heavea 
 and earth is He, that sends these messengers to 
 you J though, possibly, evil occurrences may 
 be the immediate instruments of them. You 
 owe to Almighty God an infinite subjection 
 and obedience, and to expostulate with Him is 
 rebellion j and as it is your duty, so it is your 
 wisdom and your prudence : impatience will 
 not discharge your yoke j but it will make it 
 gall the worse, and sit the harder. 
 
 Eleventhly. Learn not only patience under 
 your afflictions, but also profitably to improve 
 them to your soul's good. Learn by them, 
 how vain and unprofitable things the World, 
 and all the pleasures thereof are, that a sharp 
 or a lingering sickness renders utterly tasteless. 
 Learn how vain and weak a thing Human Na- 
 ture is, which is pulled down to the gates of 
 
46 LETTBR 1. 
 
 death, and clothed with rottenness and corrup- 
 tion, by a little disorder in the blood, iff a 
 nerve, in a vein, in an artery. And since we 
 have so little hold of a temporal life, which is 
 shaken and shattered by any small occurrence, 
 accident, or distemper j learn to lay hold of 
 Eternal Life, and of that Covenant of peace 
 and salvation, which Christ hath brought for 
 all, that believe and obey the Gospel of peace 
 and salvation : there shall be no death, no 
 sickness, no pain, no weakness, but a state of 
 unchangeable and everlasting happiness. And 
 if you thus improve Affliction, you are gainers 
 by it 3 and most certain it is, that there is no 
 more probable way, under heaven, to be de- 
 livered from affliction (if the wise God see it 
 fit) than thus to improve it : for affliction is a 
 messenger, and the rod hath a voice 3 and that 
 is, to require mankind to be the more patient, 
 and the more humble, and the more to acknow- 
 ledge Almighty God in all our ways. And if 
 men listen to this voice of the rod, and con- 
 form to it, the rod hath done his errand -, and 
 either will leave a man, or at least give a man, 
 singular comfort, even under the sharpest af- 
 
 
ON RELIGION. 47 
 
 fliction. And this affliction, which is but for 
 a moment, thus improved, will work for us an 
 exceeding and eternal weight of glory. 
 
 Twelfthly. Reverence your minister: he 
 is a wise and a good man, and one that loves 
 you, and hath a tender care and respect for 
 you. Do not grieve him, either by neglect or 
 disrespect. Assure yourselves, if thefe be any 
 person who sets any of you against him, or 
 provokes or encourageth any of you to despise 
 or neglect him, that person, whoever he be, 
 loves not you, nor the office he bears. And 
 therefore, as the laws of the land, and the 
 DiYine Providence, hath placed him at Alder- 
 ley, to have a care of your souls j so I must tell 
 you, I do expect you should reverence and ho- 
 nour him, for his own, for your, and for his 
 officfr' sake. 
 
 And now I have written this long epistle to 
 you, to perform that office for me that I should 
 have done in person, if I could have taken this 
 journey. The epistle is long 5 but it had been 
 longer, if I had had more time. And though. 
 
48 LETTER I. 
 
 perchance, some there may be in the world, 
 that when they hear of it, will interpret it to 
 be but the excursions and morose rules of old 
 Age, unnecessary, and such as might have 
 been spared j yet I am persuaded, it will find 
 better acceptation thereof from you that are 
 my Children. I am now on the shady side of 
 three-score years: I write to you what you 
 have often heard me in substance speak. And 
 possibly when I shall leave this world, you will 
 want such a remembrancer as I have been to 
 you. The words that I now, and at former 
 times have written to you, are words of truth 
 and soberness j and words and advices that 
 proceed from a heart, full of love and affection 
 to you all. If I should see you do amiss in 
 any thing, and should not reprove you, or if I 
 should find you want counsel and direction, 
 and should cuot give it, I should not perform 
 the trust of a Father j and if you should not 
 thankfully receive it, you would be somewhat 
 defective in the duty you owe to God and me, 
 as Children. As I have never spared my purse 
 to supply you, according to my abilities, and 
 the reasonableness of occasions, so 1 have never 
 
ON RELIGION. 49 
 
 been wanting to you in good and prudent 
 lounsels : and the God of Heaven give you 
 wisdom^ constancy, and fidelity, in the ob- 
 servance of them. 
 
 I am your ever loving father, 
 
 MATTHEW HALE. 
 
 May 20. 
 
LETTER II. 
 
 ON SPEECH. 
 
 CHILDREN, 
 
 I THANK God I came well to Farrington this 
 Saturday, about five of the clock, and because 
 I have some leisure time at my inn, I could 
 not spend that time more to my own content- 
 ment, and your benefit, than by my letter to 
 give you all good Counsel : the subject where- 
 of, at this time, shall be concerning Speech -, 
 because much of the good or evil, that befalls 
 persons, doth occasionally happen by the well 
 or ill managing of that part of human conver- 
 sation. — I shall, as I have leisure and oppor- 
 tunity, at other times, give you my directions 
 concerning other subjects. 
 
 And herein I shall advise you. First, how 
 you are to entertain the Speeches of others^ 
 
OK SPEECH. 51 
 
 according to the divers varieties thereof. Se- 
 condly, how you are to manage and order your 
 own Speech. 
 
 As concerning the former, observe these 
 directions : 1. Observe, and mark as well as 
 you may, what is the temper and disposition of 
 those persons, whose speeches you hear^ whe- 
 ther they be grave, serious, sober, wise, dis- 
 creet persons : if they be such, their speeches 
 commonly are like themselves, and well de- 
 serve your attention and observation j but if 
 they be light, impertinent, vain, passionate 
 persons, their speech is, for the most part, ac- 
 cording 3 and the best advantage, that you will 
 gain by their speech, is but thereby to learn 
 their dispositions, to discern their failings, and 
 to make yourselves the more cautious, both in 
 your conversation with them, and in your own 
 speech and deportment 5 for in the unseemli- 
 ness of their speech, you may better discern 
 and avoid the like in yourselves. 
 
 2. If any person, that you do not very well 
 know to be a person of truth, sobriety, and 
 weight, relate strange stories, be not too ready 
 or easy to believe them, nor report them after 
 
 d2 
 
52 LETTER II. 
 
 him: and yet (unless he be one of your fa- 
 miliar acquaintance) be not too forward to 
 contradict him 3 or, if the necessity of the oc- 
 casion require you to declare your opinion of 
 what is so reported, let it be modestly and 
 gently, not too bluntly or coarsely: by this 
 means, on the one side, you shall avoid being 
 abused by your too much credulity 3 on the 
 other side, you shall avoid quarrels and dis- 
 taste. 
 
 3. If any man speak any thing to the dis- 
 advantage or reproach of one that is absent, be 
 not too ready to believe it 3 only observe and 
 remember it : for it may be it is not true 3 or 
 it is not all true 3 or some other circumstances 
 were mingled with it, which might give the 
 business reported, a justification, or at least an 
 allay, an extenuation, or a reasonable excuse. 
 In most actions, if that which is bad alone, or 
 seems to be so, be reported, omitting that 
 which is good, or the circumstances that ac- 
 company it, any action may be easily misrepre- 
 sented : be not too hasty, therefore, to believe 
 a reproach, till you know the truth, and the 
 whole truth. 
 
 4. If any person report unto you soine in- 
 
Olf SPEECH. 53 
 
 jilry done to you by another, either in words or 
 deeds, do not be over hasty in believing it, nor 
 suddenly angry with the person so accused j for 
 possibly it may be false or mistaken : and how 
 unseemly a thing will it be, when your cre- 
 dulity and passion shall perchance carry you, 
 upon a supposed injury, to do wrong to him 
 that hath done you none 5 or, at least, when 
 the bottom and truth of the accusation is 
 known, you will be ashamed of your passion. 
 Believe not a report, till the party accused be 
 heard j and, if the report be true, yet be not 
 transported either with passion, hasty anger, 
 or revenge, for that will be your own torment 
 and perturbation. Ever, when a person is ac- 
 cused or reported to have injured you, before 
 you give yourself leave to be angry, think with 
 yourself. Why should I be angry, before 1 am 
 certain it is true ? or, if it be true, how can I 
 tell how much I should be angry, till 1 know 
 the whole matter ? Though, it may be, he hath 
 done me wrong, yet possibly it is not so much 
 as it is represented 3 or it was done by mistake 3 
 or, it may be, he is sorry for it. I will not be 
 angry, till I know there be cause 3 and if there 
 be cause, yet I will not be angry till I know 
 
IMl LETTER II. 
 
 the whole cause j for till then (if I must be 
 angry at all), yet I know not how much to be 
 angry : it may be, it is not worth my anger 5 
 or, if it be, it may be it deserves but a little. — • 
 This will keep your mind and carriage, upon 
 such occasions, in a due temper and order 3 and 
 will disappoint malicious or officious tale- 
 bearers. 
 
 5. If a man, whose integrity you do not 
 very well know, makes you great and extraor- 
 dinary professions and promises, give him as 
 kind thanks as may be, but give not much 
 credit to it. Cast about with yourself, what 
 may be the reason of this wonderful kindness : 
 it is twenty to one, but you will find something 
 that he aims at, besides kindness to you : it 
 may be he hath something to beg, or buy of 
 you, or to sell to you j or some such bargain 
 that speaks out at last his own advantage, and 
 not yours j and if he serve his turn upon you, 
 or if he be disappointed, his kindness will grow 
 cool. 
 
 6. If a man flatter and commend you to 
 your face, or to one that he thinks will tell you 
 of it, it is a thousand to one either he hath de- 
 ceived, and abused you some way, or means to 
 
ON SPEECH. 55 
 
 do so. Remembei: the Fable of the Fox com- 
 mending the singing of the Crow, when she 
 had somewhat in her mouth that the Fox 
 liked. 
 
 7. If a person be choleric, passionate, and 
 give you ill language, remember, 1 . Rather to 
 pity him, than to be moved into anger and 
 passion with himj for most certainly, that 
 man is in a distemper and disorder: observe 
 him calmly, and you shall see him in so 
 much perturbation and disturbance, that you 
 will easily believe he is not a pattern to be 
 imitated by youj and therefore return not 
 choler, nor anger, for angry words; for you 
 do but put yourself into a kind of frenzy, be- 
 cause you see him so. 2. Be sure you return 
 not railing, reproaching, or reviling, for re- 
 viling J for it doth but kindle more heat j and 
 you will find silence, or at least very gentle 
 words, the most exquisite revenge of reproaches 
 that can be : for either it will cure the distem- 
 per in the other, and make him see and be sorry 
 for his passion, or it will torment him with 
 more perturbation and disturbance. But, 
 howsoever, it keeps your innocence, gives you 
 
56 LETTER II. 
 
 a deserved reputation of wisdom and modera- 
 tion, and keeps up the serenity and composure 
 of your mind : whereas, passion and anger do 
 make a man unfit for any thing, that becomes 
 him as a Man, or as a Christian. 
 
 8. Some men are excellent in knowledge of 
 husbandry, some of planting, some of garden- 
 ing, some in the mathematics, some in one 
 kind, some in another. In all your conversa- 
 tion learn, as near as you can, wherein the 
 skill and excellence of any person lies, and put 
 him upon talk of that subject -, and observe it, 
 and keep it in memory or writing: by this 
 means you will glean up the worth and ex- 
 cellence of every person you meet with 5 and, 
 at an easy rate, put together that, which may 
 be for your use upon all occasions. 
 
 9. Converse not with a liar or a swearer, 
 or a man of obscene or wanton language j for 
 either he will corrupt you, or at least it will 
 hazard your reputation to be one of the like 
 making : and if it doth neither, yet will fill 
 your memory with such discourses, that will 
 be troublesome to you in after-time 3 and the 
 returns of the remembrance of the passages, 
 
ON SPEECH. 57 
 
 which you long since heard of this nature, will 
 haunt you, when your thoughts should be bet- 
 ter employed. 
 
 Now, as concerning your own Speech, and 
 how you are to manage it, something may be 
 collected out of what goes before 5 but I shall 
 add some things else. 
 
 1. Let your Speech be true. Never speak any 
 thing for a Truth, which you know or believe 
 to be false : it is a great sin against God, that 
 gave you a tongue to speak your mind, and not 
 to speak a lie: it is a great oflFence against 
 Humanity itself j for where there is no truth, 
 there can be no safe society between man and 
 man : and it is an injury to the speaker, for 
 besides the base disreputation it casts upon him, 
 it doth in time bring a man to that baseness of 
 mind, that he can scarce tell how to tell truth, 
 or to avoid lying, even when he hath no colour 
 of necessity for it 5 and in time he comes to 
 such a pass, that as another man cannot be- 
 lieve he tells a truth, so he himself scarce 
 knows when he tells a lie. And observe it, a 
 Lie ever returns, with discovery and shame at 
 the last. 
 
 d5 
 
58 LETTER II. 
 
 2. As you must be careful not to lie, so you 
 must avoid coming near it. You must not 
 equivocate: you must not speak that abso- 
 lutely, which you have but by hear-say, or re- 
 lation: you must not speak that, as upon 
 knowledge, which you have but by conjecture 
 or opinion only. 
 
 3. Let your Words be few ; especially 
 when your betters, or strangers, or men of 
 more experience or understanding, are in 
 place J for you do yourself at once two great 
 mischiefs : — 1 . You betray and discover your 
 own weakness and folly. 2. You rob yourself 
 of that opportunity, which you might other- 
 wise have, to gain knowledge, wisd«m, and 
 experience, by hearing those that you silence 
 by your impertinent talking. 
 
 4. Be not over-earnest, loud, or violent in 
 Talking, for it is unseemly j and earnest, and 
 loud talking, make you overshoot and lose your 
 business : when you should be considering and 
 pondering your thoughts, and how to express 
 them significantly and to the purpose ; you are 
 striving to keep your tongue going, and to 
 silence an opponent, not with reason but with 
 noise. 
 
° ON SPEECH. 59 
 
 5. Be careful not to interrupt another in 
 his talk. Hear him out : you will understand 
 him the better, and be able to give him the 
 better answer. It may be, if you will give 
 him leave, he will say somewhat more than 
 you have yet heard, or well understood, or 
 that which you did not expect. 
 
 6. Always, before you speak, especially 
 where the business is oi moment, consider 
 before-hand ; weigh the sense of your mind 
 which you intend to utter 3 think upon the 
 expressions you intend to use, that they be sig« 
 nificant, pertinent, and inoffensive: and whereas 
 it is the ordinary course of inconsiderate per- 
 sons, to speak their words, and then to think j 
 or not to think till they speak ; think first, and 
 speak after, if it be in any matter of moment 
 or seriousness. 
 
 7. Be willing to speak well of the absent, 
 if you do not know they deserve ill ) by this 
 means, you shall make yourself many friends j 
 and sometimes an undeserved commendation 
 is not lost, to the party to whom it is given. 
 I have known some men, that have met with 
 an undeserved commendation, out of shame of 
 being worse than they have been reported. 
 
60 LETTER II. 
 
 secretly to take up practices answerable to their 
 commendation, and so to make themselves as 
 good as they are reported. 
 
 8. Be sure you give not an ill report to any 
 that you are not sure deserves it. And in most 
 cases, though a man deserves ill, yet you 
 should be sparing to report him so. In some 
 cases, indeed, you are bound in honesty and 
 justice to give that account, concerning the 
 demerit or default of a person, that he de- 
 serves : as, namely, vi^hen you are called to 
 give testimony for the ending of a controversy j 
 or when the concealing of it may harden and 
 encourage a person in an evil way, or bring 
 another into danger. In such cases, the very 
 duty of charity binds you to speak your know- 
 ledge j nay, your probable fear or suspicion 
 of such a person : so it be done for prevention 
 of greater inconvenience, and in love, and 
 especially if the discovery be made to a person 
 that hath a superintendence, care, or authority 
 over the person complained of; for this is an 
 act of love and duty. But for any person 
 maliciously, busily, and with intent to scan- 
 dalize another, to be whispering tales and 
 stories to the prejudice of another, this is a 
 
ON SPEECH. 61 
 
 fault. If you know any good of any person, 
 speak it as you have opportunity ; if you know 
 any evil, speak it, if it be really and prudently 
 done for the good of him, and the safety of 
 others 5 otherwise, rather choose to say 
 nothing, than to say any thing reproachfully, 
 maliciously, or officiously to his prejudice. 
 
 9. Avoid swearing, in your ordinary com- 
 munication, unless called to it by the magis- 
 trate : and not only the grosser oaths, but the 
 lesser 5 and not only oaths, but imprecations, 
 earnest and deep protestations. As you have 
 the commendable example of good men, to 
 justify a solemn oath before a magistrate, so 
 you have the precept of our Saviour forbid- 
 ding it otherwise. 
 
 10. Avoid scoffing, and bitter and biting 
 jeering, and jesting, especially at your friend's 
 condition, credit, deformity, or natural defects 
 of any person j for these leave a deep impres- 
 sion, and are a most apparent injustice : for 
 were you so used, you would take it inwardly 
 and amiss J and many times such an injury 
 costs a man dear, when he little thinks of it. 
 
 11. Be very careful that you give no re- 
 proachful, bitter, menacing, or spiteful words 
 
^ LETTEB II. 
 
 to any person, nay, not to servants, or other per- 
 sons of an inferior condition 3 and that upon these 
 considerations: — 1. There is not the meanest 
 person, but you may stand in need of him in 
 one kind, or at some time or another : good 
 words make friends, bad words make enemies : 
 it is the best prudence in the world, to make 
 as many friends as honestly you can, especi- 
 ally when it may be done at so easy a rate as a 
 good word 5 and it is the greatest folly that 
 can be, to make an enemy by ill words, 
 which do not at all any good to the party that 
 useth them. 2. Ill words provoke ill words 
 again 3 and commonly such ill words as are 
 gained by such a provocation, especially of an 
 inferior, stick closer, and wound deeper, than 
 such as come unprovoked by ill language, or 
 from an equal. 3. Where faults are committed, 
 they may, and by a superior must, be reproved: 
 but let it be done without reproaches or bit- 
 terness, otherwise it loseth its due end and 
 use; and, instead of reforming the oflfence, 
 exasperates the ofifender, and makes him 
 worse, and gives him the cudgel to strike 
 again J because it discovers your own weak- 
 ness, when you are reprehending another, and 
 
ON SPEECH. 63 
 
 lays you justly open to his reproof, and makes 
 your own but scorned and disesteemed. I 
 press this the rather, because, most ordinarily, 
 ill language is the folly of children, and of 
 weak and passionate people. 
 
 12. If there be occasion for you to speak 
 in any company, always be careful, if you 
 speak at all, to speak latest j especially if 
 strangers are in company : for, by this means, 
 you will have the advantage of knowing the 
 sense, judgment, temper, and relations of 
 others, which may be a great light and help to 
 you in ordering your speech 3 and you will 
 better know the inclination of the company, 
 and speak with more advantage and accepta- 
 tion, and with more security against giving 
 offence. 
 
 13. Be careful that you commend not 
 yourselves: it is the most unuseful and un- 
 grateful thing that can be. You should avoid 
 flattery from others, but especially decline 
 flattering of yourselves : it is a sign your 
 reputation is small and sinking, if your own 
 tongues must be your flatterers or com- 
 menders j and it is a fulsome and unpleasing 
 thing for others to hear it. 
 
$4 LETTER II. 
 
 14. Abhor all foul, unclean, and obscene 
 speeches: it is a sign that the heart is corrupt 5 
 and such kind of speeches will make it worse : 
 it will taint and corrupt yourselves and those 
 that hear it, and brings disreputation to those 
 that use it. 
 
 15. Never use any profane speeches; nor 
 make jests of Scripture expressions. When 
 you use the names of God or of Christ, or 
 any passages or words of the Holy Scripture, 
 use them with reverence and seriousness, and 
 not lightly, vainly, or scurrilously j for it is a 
 taking of the name of God in vain. 
 
 16. If you hear of any unseemly expres- 
 sions used in religious exercises, you must be 
 careful to forget, and not to publish them 5 or 
 if you at all mention them, let it be with pity 
 and sorrow, not with derision or reproach. 
 
 17. Do not upbraid any, or deride any man 
 for a pious, strict, or religious conversation ; 
 for, if he be sincere, you dishonour God and 
 injure him j if he be a hypocrite, yet it is 
 more than you know j or, if you know him 
 to be such, yet his external piety and strictness 
 is not his fault, but his dissimulation and 
 hypocrisy 3 and though his hypocrisy be to be 
 
ON SPEECH. 65 
 
 detested, his external piety and religion is to 
 be commended, not derided. 
 
 18. Have as little conversation as is pos- 
 sible with obstinate Heretics, or persons ob- 
 stinately perverted in matters of religion ; as 
 Papists, Quakers, Anabaptists, Antinomians, 
 Enthusiasts, and the like : but especially con- 
 verse not with them in matters of religion, 
 for, instead of converting them by your per- 
 suasions to the truth, you shall but harden 
 them the more, and endanger yourself. They 
 are to be dealt withal in these matters, only by 
 persons of great abilities] for a perverted, 
 corrupted mind, and obstinate spirit, carries 
 in it a contagion, as infectious, and much 
 more dangerous, than the plague in the body, 
 where their upiiiions meet with a young and 
 weak opponent. 
 
 And thus. Children, as the time and my 
 remembrance would give me leave, I have set 
 down some observations concerning this sub- 
 ject, for your direction and practice : what is 
 wanting, you may abundantly supply by read- 
 ing the wise counsels of Solomon, in his Book 
 
66 LETTER II. 
 
 of Proverbs. Read these my directions often, 
 think of them seriously, and practise thena 
 diligently: though they seem but dry and 
 ordinary things, yet you will find them useful 
 in your conversation j which will be every day 
 more evident unto you, as your judgment, un- 
 derstanding, and experience increase. 
 
 I have but little more to write at this time, 
 but to wish and command you to remember 
 my former counsels that I have often given 
 you. Begin and end the day with private 
 prayers to God, upon your knees j read the 
 Scriptures, often and seriously j be attentive 
 to the public worship of God, in the church j 
 keep yourselves still in some good em- 
 ployment J for idleness is the devil's oppor- 
 tunity, and the nursery of vain and sinful 
 thoughts, which corrupt the mind, and dis- 
 order the life. Let the Girls take care of 
 such business of my family, as is proper for 
 them } and their recreations may be walking 
 abroad in the fields, in fair or frosty mornings, 
 some work with their needle, reading of his- 
 tory or herbals, setting of flowers or herbs, 
 practising their music, and such innocent 
 
OiJ SPEECH. 67 
 
 and harmless exercises. Let the Boys be 
 diligent at their books, and when they have 
 performed their tasks, I do not deny them 
 such recreations as may be healthy, safe, and 
 harmless. Be you all kind and loving one to 
 another, honouring your minister, not bitter 
 or harsh to my servants. Be respectful to 
 all. Bear my absence patiently, cheerfully, 
 and faithfully. Do all things as if I were 
 present among you, and beheld you j for you 
 have a greater Father than I am, that always, 
 and in all places, beholds you, and knows 
 your hearts and thoughts. Study to requite 
 the love, and care and expense of your 
 father for you, with dutifulness, observance, 
 and obedience to him 5 and account it an 
 honour, that God hath given you an oppor- 
 tunity, in my absence, by your care, faithful- 
 ness, and industry, to pay some part of that 
 debt, that, by the laws of nature and gratitude, 
 you owe unto me. Be frugal in my family, 
 but let there be no want : provide conveniently 
 for the poor that come to my door. And I 
 pray God to fill all your hearts with his grace, 
 fear, and love j and to let you see the advan- 
 
68 LETTER II. 
 
 tage and comfort of serring himj and that 
 his blessing, and presence, and comfort, and 
 direction, and providence, be with you, and 
 over you all. 
 
 1 am your ever loving father, 
 
 MATTHEW HALE. 
 
LETTER III. 
 
 ON KEEPING THE LORD'S DAY, 
 
 CHILDREN, 
 
 When I last lodged in this place, in my jour- 
 ney up to London, I sent you from hence divers 
 instructions concerning your Speech ; and how 
 you should manage it 5 and required you to 
 take copies of it, and to direct your practice 
 according to it. I forgot to inquire of you, 
 whether you had taken copies of it, but I hope 
 you have ^ and I do again require you to be care- 
 ful in observing those, and my former directions 
 given to you, some in writing, and many more 
 by word of mouth. I have been careful, that 
 my Example might be a visible direction to 
 you J but if that hath been defective, or not so 
 full and clear a pattern of your imitation, espe- 
 
70 LETTER III. 
 
 cially in respect of my different condition from 
 yours, yet I am certain that those Rules and 
 Directions, which I have at several times given 
 you, both in writing, and by word of mouth, 
 have been sound, and wholesome, and season- 
 able 5 and therefore I do expect that you should 
 remember and practise them : and though your 
 young years cannot yet, perchance, see the rea- 
 son and use of them 5 yet assure yourselves, 
 time and experience will make you know the 
 benefit of them. In Advice given to young 
 people, it fares with them, as it doth with 
 young children that are taught to read, or with 
 young school-boys that learn their grammar 
 rules : they learn their letters, and then they 
 learn to spell a syllable, and then they learn to 
 put together several syllables to make up a 
 word 3 or they learn to decline a noun, or to 
 form a verbj and all this while they under- 
 s^^^and not to what end all this trouble is, nor 
 what it means. But when they come to be able 
 to read English, or to make a piece of Latin, 
 or to construe a Latin author, then they find 
 all these rudiments were very necessary, and to 
 good purpose -, for by this means they come to 
 understand what others have written, and to 
 
ON THE lord's DAY. 71 
 
 know what they knew and wrote, and thereby 
 improve their own knowledge and understand- 
 ing. Just so it is with young people, ia re- 
 spect of counsel and instruction : when the 
 father, or the minister, or some wise and un- 
 derstanding man, doth sometimes admonish, 
 sometimes chide and reprove, sometimes in- 
 struct, they are apt to wonder why so much 
 ado, and what they mean, and it is trouble- 
 some and tedious, and seems impertinent ; and 
 they are ready to say within themselves, that 
 the time were better spent in riding, or hunt- 
 ing, or merriment, or gaming j but when they 
 come to riper years, then they begin to find 
 that those instructions of the ancient are of ex- 
 cellent use, to manage the conversation, and 
 to direct the actions, and to avoid inconveni- 
 encies, and mischiefs, and miscarriages, to 
 which they are subject without the help of 
 these counsels. And therefore it hath been my 
 practice, to give you line upon line, and pre- 
 cept upon precept, to enable you to steer and 
 order your course of life through an evil and 
 dangerous world j and to require you to be 
 frequent in reading the Scriptures, with due 
 observation and understanding, which will 
 
72 LETTER III. 
 
 make you wise for this life^ and that which is 
 to come. 
 
 1 am now come well to Farrington^ from 
 whence I wrote to you my former instructions 
 concerning your Words and Speech 3 and I now 
 intend to write something to you of another 
 subject, viz. your Observation of the 
 Lord's-day, commonly called Sunday: and 
 this I do for these reasons. — 
 
 1. Because it hath pleased God to cast my 
 lot so, that I am to rest at this place upon that 
 day 3 and the consideration, therefore, of that 
 duty, is proper for me and for you : it is opus 
 diei in die suo, ' the work fit and proper for 
 that day.* 
 
 2. Because I have, by long and sound ex- 
 perience, found that the due observance of 
 this day, and of the duties of it, hath been of 
 singular comfort and advantage to me 5 and I 
 doubt not but it will prove so to you. God 
 Almighty is the Lord of our time, and lends it 
 to us J and as it is but just we should conse- 
 crate this part of that time to him, so I have 
 found, by a strict and diligent observation, 
 that a due observation of the duty of this day, 
 hath ever had joined to it a blessing upon the 
 
OM THE lord's DAY. 73 
 
 rest of my time ; and the week that hath been 
 so begun, hath been blessed and prosperous 
 to me : and on the other side, when I have 
 been negligent of the duties of this day, the 
 rest of the week hath been unsuccessful, and 
 unhappy to my own secular employments j so 
 that I could easily make an estimate of my 
 successes, in my own secular employments the 
 week following, by the manner of my passing 
 of this day : and this I do not write lightly or 
 inconsiderately, but upon a long and sound 
 observation and experience. 
 
 3. Because I find in the world much Loose- 
 ness, and Apostacy from this duty. People 
 begin to be cold and careless in it, allowing 
 themselves sports, and recreations, and secular 
 employments in it without any necessity j 
 which is a sad spectacle, and an ill presage. 
 It concerns me, therefore, (that am your fa- 
 ther) as much as I may, to rescue you from 
 . that sin, which the examples of others, and 
 the inclination and inconsiderateness of youth, 
 are otherwise apt to lead you into. 
 
 I shall therefore set down unto you parti- 
 cularly (and not in generals only) these things ) 
 
74 LETTBR III. 
 
 1. What is the reason and ground of your 
 observation of this day. 2. What things 
 ought not to be done upon this day, which 
 possibly may be lawful upon another day. 
 
 3. What things may be done upon this day. 
 
 4. What things are either fit or necessary to 
 be done in order to the sanctification of this 
 day. 
 
 Touching the first of these, viz. the reason 
 of the observation and sanctification of this 
 day : the reasons are these.— 
 
 1. It is a moral Duty, that since the glo- 
 rious God gives me my time, I should con- 
 secrate and set apart some portion of that time, 
 in a special manner, to his service. 
 
 2. And because the glorious God best 
 knows, what portion of time is fit to be pe- 
 culiarly dedicated to his service ; that so the 
 morality of that time might be determined 
 unto some, certainly j he hath, by his express 
 precept, given to his ancient people the Jews, 
 limited one Day of seven, to be that special 
 portion of time, which he would have pe- 
 culiarly dedicated to his service j and so to 
 conclude, and [gather] into it the morality of 
 that duty. 
 
ON THE lord's DAY. 75 
 
 3. This seventh portion of time, under 
 the old law given to the Jews, was determined 
 by the precept and command of God, in the 
 Fourth Command) and likewise, by his own 
 example, confined to the Seventh day from 
 the Creation, upon which the Lord rested 
 from his works of creation. 
 
 4. But our Saviour Christ, who is the Son 
 of God, blessed for ever, and is Lord of the 
 Sabbath*, — fulfilling the word of our redemp- 
 tion by his Resurrection upon the first day of 
 the week, and by his Mission of the Holy 
 Ghost, miraculously, the first day of the 
 week, and by the secret message of the Spirit 
 to the apostles and primitive church, — hath 
 translated the observation of the seventh day 
 of the week, to the First day of the week, 
 which is our Christian Sabbath : that as our 
 Christian baptism succeeds the Sacrament of 
 circumcision, and as our Christian Pascha, 
 the sacrament of the Eucharist, succeeded the 
 Jewish passover, so our Christian Sabbath, the 
 first day of the week, succeeds the Sabbath of 
 the seventh day of the week -, and that mora- 
 lity, which was by Almighty God, under that 
 
 * Matt. xii. 
 
79 LETTER III. 
 
 covenant, confined to the seventh day, is, by the 
 example of Christ and his apostles, to us Gen- 
 tiles, transferred to the first day of the week j 
 and that which would have been morally a 
 violation of the morality of the Fourth Com- 
 mand, under the Jewish Sabbath, is a viola- 
 tion of the same Fourth Command, if done 
 upon the Christian Sabbath, — though the 
 strictness and severity enjoined to the Jews, 
 be not altogether the same that is now re- 
 quired of Christians. And thus you have the 
 Reason of the obligation, upon us Christians, 
 to observe the first day of the week j because 
 by more than a Human institution, the mora- 
 lity of the Fourth Command is transferred to 
 the First day of the week, being our Christian 
 Sabbath 5 and so the Fourth Commandment 
 is not abrogated, but only the day changed > 
 and the Morality of that Command only 
 translated, not annulled. 
 
 Concerning the second. It is certain that 
 what is unlawful to be done upon another day, is 
 much more unlawful upon this j as excess and 
 intemperance, and the like sinful and unlawful 
 actions. But further, there are many things 
 that may be lawfully done on another day. 
 
 .«8u. 
 
ON THE lord's DAY. 77 
 
 which may not lawfully be done upon this ; 
 and many things that are not only lawful upon 
 another day, but also fit and decent, which are 
 yet unfit to be done upon this day. Upon other 
 days we may, and must employ ourselves, in 
 our secular and ordinary callings 3 we may use 
 bodily exercises and recreations, as bowling, 
 shooting, hunting, and divers other recrea- 
 tions 3 we may study human learning : but I 
 hold these to be not only unfit, but unlawful 
 to be used upon this day 3 and therefore re- 
 member it. Moderate walking may thus far 
 be used, so far only as it enableth you to the 
 more cheerful and lively performance of the 
 duties of this day 3 and therefore I allow you 
 to walk soberly about half an hour after dinner, 
 to digest your meat, that you be not drowsy, 
 nor indisposed in the religious duties of the 
 day. Merry, but harmless talking, or talking 
 about sports or worldly business, may be used 
 another day, but not upon this. Feastings may 
 be sometimes seasonably used upon other days, 
 but are not fit upon this day. Let only such 
 provision be made upon this day, as may be 
 necessary for the feeding of the family and the 
 poor 3 and therefore 1 hold that curiosities, 
 baking of meats, and superfluous provisions 
 
78 LETTER in. 
 
 upon this day, are to be avoided, as being an 
 unnecessary breaking of the rest of this day, 
 and unbeseeming the solemnity of it. 
 
 Thirdly, What things mhy be done this day, 
 is a question of a great latitude ; because cir- 
 cumstances are many, that do much diversify 
 the actions of men, and many times render them 
 lawful or unlawful, according to those varie- 
 ties of circumstances. Therefore I shall shortly 
 set down those things, that do not of themselves 
 directly tend io the sanctification of this day, 
 that yet may, and sometimes must, be done 
 upon this day : for there were many things that 
 were strictly enjoined to the Jews, in their ob- 
 servation of their Sabbath, which were cere- 
 monial, and concerned only that state, and do 
 not oblige under the Gospel ; as their dressing 
 of meat upon this day was prohibited to them, 
 but not to us : and many more things they did 
 forbear and count unlawful, which in truth 
 were not only not forbidden, but enjoined and 
 commanded j for which our Lord reproves the 
 Pharisees*, who accounted it a breach of the 
 Sabbath to heal the sick, or to pluck the ears 
 
 * Matth. xii. 
 
 1*^: 
 
ON THE LORD S DAY. /V 
 
 of corn for the necessary relief of hunger. 
 Therefore, 
 
 1. Works of absolute necessity for man or 
 beasts, may be done upon the Lord's-day. And 
 those 1 call works of necessity, which cannot 
 be done before the day, or after, without ap- 
 parent danger : as, for instance, stopping of the 
 breach of a sea-wall j supporting a house that, 
 upon a sudden tempest or casualty, is ready to 
 fall J pulling out an ox or other beast, fallen 
 into a ditch 3 preventing of a trespass, that by 
 a sudden accident, may be occasioned to my 
 corn or my neighbour's j setting of a broken 
 bone 3 physic to remove an incumbent or im- 
 minent disease, or pain j milking of cows j 
 feeding of cattle 3 the necessary dressing of 
 meat for the family j and many more instances 
 of that kind. But yet therein, great weariness 
 and integrity must be used 3 for otherwise 
 men under pretence of necessity, will take the 
 liberty to do what they please. Therefore take 
 these cautions concerning necessity : 
 
 — That is not a necessity, that excuseth a 
 work upon this day, which might have been 
 reasonably foreseen and done before the day : 
 as, for instance, a man hath a necessity to dress 
 
80 LETTER III. 
 
 meat for his family, which he might have pro- 
 vided on the Saturday, and neglects it. This 
 necessity will not justify him, in sending two 
 or three miles to buy meat^ upon the Lord's- 
 day. 
 
 — That is not a necessity, which may be 
 forborne to be done, without any absolute de- 
 struction or loss of the thing, until the morrow. 
 If a rick of hay be on fire, I may endeavour to 
 quench it on the Lord's-day : but if my corn 
 be cut, and lying upon the ground on the 
 Saturday ; though the weather be rainy, or in- 
 clining to wet, I may not make it into cocks, 
 or fetch it home upon the Lord's-day ) becaufe, 
 possibly. Almighty God may send fair weather 
 to-morrow. And therefore, in my forbearance, 
 I do two duties under one: viz. observe his 
 law, and rest upon his providence. ***Men 
 make necessities, many times, to serve their 
 ease, and sloth, and fancies, when in truth 
 there is none j but the business may be de- 
 ferred without any danger. If we would be 
 more faithful in our obedience to God, we 
 should find many pretended necessities, to 
 vanish into mere imaginations. 
 
 2. Works of C/iari^y.— Relief of the poor. 
 
ON THE lord's DAY, 81 
 
 administering physic upon an apparent neces- 
 sity, visiting or comforting the afflicted, ad- 
 monishing the disorderly, persuading peace 
 between neighbours offended, and endeavour- 
 ing to compose diflferences which require not 
 much examination, or cannot be deferred with- 
 out an apparent danger of greater mischief, — 
 these are not only permitted, but commend- 
 able, nay commanded upon this day. But if 
 the business require examination, or may be 
 deferred till to-morrow, then it is best to defer 
 such examinations and treaties, between of- 
 fended parties, till another day -, because they 
 will take away too much of the little precious 
 portion of time of this day, and may be as well 
 done to-morrow. 
 
 As for the fourth. What is proper, fit, or 
 necessary to be done, in order to the Sanctifica- 
 tion of this day, I will set down particularly : 
 for generals seldom produce any great eiFect ; 
 because every man is apt to construe them, ac- 
 cording to his own mind and liking. 
 
 1. I would not have you meddle with any 
 recreations, pastimes, or ordinary work of your 
 calling, from Saturday night, at eight of the 
 
 E 5 
 
88 LETTER III. 
 
 clocks till Monday morning. For though I 
 am not apt to think that Saturday night is part 
 of the Christian Sabbath, yet it is iBt then to 
 prepare the heart for it. 
 
 2. Rise at least three hours before morning 
 sermon j and when you have made yourself fully 
 ready, and washed, and fitted yourself for the 
 solemnity of the day, read two chapters in the 
 Bible; and then go solemnly to your private 
 prayer, and desire of God his grace, to enable 
 you to sanctify his day : and, after your private 
 prayer, read another chapter; and let your 
 reading be with attention, observation, and 
 uncovered on your head. 
 
 3. When you are in the public worship and 
 service of God, be uncovered all the while of 
 reading, praying, or preaching; and if the 
 weather be too cold, wear a satin cap. 
 
 4. Kneel upon your knees at Prayer ; stand 
 up at the reading of the Psalms, and at the first 
 and second Lessons, and the Epistle and Gt)S- 
 pel, the Hymns and Creeds ; so you shall avoid 
 offence, and give the same honour to every part 
 of the holy Scripture : but stand not up at read- 
 ing of any Apocryphal book, if any happen to 
 be read. 
 
ON THE lord's DAY. 8S 
 
 6. Sit at the Sermon, and be very attentive 
 at your prayers, and in your hearing". I com- 
 mend your writing the sermon, especially till 
 you are one or two-and-twenty years old j be- 
 cause young minds are apt to wander: and 
 writing the sermon fixeth them, and maketh 
 them more attentive. 
 
 6. When the minister readeth any of the 
 Psalms or Lessons, turn to them in your Bible^ 
 and go along with him : it will fasten your at- 
 tention, and prevent wandering thoughts. 
 
 7. Be very attentive and serious at Church : 
 use no laughing nor gazing about, nor whis- 
 pering J unless it be to ask those by you some- 
 thing of the sermon that you slipped in writing. 
 
 8. Sing the Singing Psalms, with the rest 
 of the congregation. 
 
 9. After sermon, eat moderately at dinner^ 
 rather sparingly than plentifully upon this day; 
 that you may be fit for the afternoon's exercise, 
 without drowsiness or dulness. 
 
 10. Walk half an hour after dinner in the 
 garden to digest \our meat ; then go to your 
 chamber and peruse your notes, or recollect 
 what you remember of the sermon, until it be 
 church-time. 
 
84 LETTER III. 
 
 11. If you are well, be sure you go to 
 church morning and afternoon, and be there 
 before the minister begin, and stay till he hath 
 ended; and all the while you are at church, 
 carry yourself gravely, soberly, and reverently. 
 
 12. After Evening Sermon, go up to your 
 chamber and read a chapter in the Bible : then 
 examine what you have written, or recollect 
 what you have heard. And if the sermon be 
 not repeated in your father's house, but be re- 
 peated in the minister's house, go to the minis- 
 ter's house to the repetition of the sermon. 
 
 13. In all your speeches or actions of this 
 day, let there be no lightness nor vanity. Use 
 no running, or leaping, or playing, or wrest- 
 ling : use no jesting, or telling of tales, or 
 foolish stories ; no talk about worldly business j 
 but let your actions and speech be such as the 
 day is, serious and sacred, tending to learn or 
 instruct in the great business of your know- 
 ledge of God, and his will, and your own duty. 
 
 J 4. After Supper, and prayers ended in my 
 family, every one of you going to bed, kneel 
 down upon your knees, and desire of God his 
 pardon, for what you have done amiss this day, 
 and his blessing upon what you have heard. 
 
ON THE lord's DAY. 85 
 
 and his acceptance of what you have endea- 
 voured in his service. 
 
 15. Perform all this cheerfully, and up- 
 rightly, and honestly, and count it not a bur- 
 den to you; for assure yourselves you shall 
 find a blessing from God in so doing. And 
 remember it is your father that tells you so, 
 and that loves you, and will not deceive you j 
 and (which is more than that) remember that 
 the eternal God hath promised, " If thou turn 
 away thy foot from the Sabbath, from doing 
 thy pleasure on my holy day; and call the 
 Sabbath a delight, the holy of the Lord, 
 honourable ; and shalt honour him, not doing 
 thine own ways, nor finding thine own plea- 
 sure, nor speaking thine own words : then 
 shalt thou delight thyself in the Lord -, and I 
 will cause thee to ride upon the high places of 
 the earth, and feed thee with the heritage of 
 Jacob thy father : for the mouth of the Lord 
 hath spoken it*." 
 
 And thus I have written to you of the ob- 
 servation of the Lord's-day 3 wherein, though 
 
 * Isaiah, Iviii. 13, 14. 
 
86 LETTER III. 
 
 I have omitted many things^ that might have 
 been fit to be inserted, yet you must consider, 
 that I had but a small portion of time allowed 
 me to write, while I lay at an inn, and upon 
 that day wherein I have performed those duties 
 which I now enjoin you. Let the original be 
 laid up safely for your brother R. and every 
 [one] of you take copies of it, that you may 
 thereby remember the Counsels of 
 
 YOUR LOVING FATHER. 
 
 October the ftOth, 1663. 
 
LETTER IV. 
 
 TO ONE OF HIS SONS, 
 
 RECOVERING FROM A DANGEROUS SICKNESS 
 
 SON 
 
 Although, by reason of the contagiousness of 
 your disease, and the many dependents I have 
 upon me, I thought it not convenient to come 
 unto you during your sickness, yet I have not 
 been wanting in my earnest prayers to Almighty 
 God for you, nor in using the best means I 
 could for your Recovery. 
 
 It hath pleased God to hear my prayers for 
 you, and above means and hopes now to restore 
 you to a competent degree of health j for which 
 
 * The small pox, which seized him when he was a young 
 raao, m the prime of life. 
 
88 LETTER IV. 
 
 I return unto him my humble and hearty 
 thanks: and now you are almost ready to 
 come abroad again, therefore I have thought 
 fit to write this little book to you for these 
 reasons.— 
 
 1 . Because it is not yet seasonable for you 
 to come to me, in respect of these same rea- 
 sons above-mentioned, which hitherto have 
 restrained my coming to you. 
 
 2. Because, at your coming abroad, you 
 will be subject to temptations, by young and 
 inconsiderate company, which, instead of seri- 
 ous thankfulness to God for his mercy to you, 
 might perchance persuade you to a vain and 
 light jollity. And I thought fit to send you 
 these lines, to prevent such inconsiderate im- 
 pressions, and to meet you just at your coming 
 abroad, to season you with more wise and 
 serious principles. 
 
 3. Because you are even now come out of 
 a great and sore visitation, and therefore in all 
 probability, in the fittest temper, to receive 
 the impressions of a serious epistle from your 
 Father. 
 
 And I have chosen to put it into this little 
 volume, because it is somewhat too long for a 
 
ON SICKNESS. 89 
 
 letter, and may be better preserved for your 
 future use and memory. 
 
 God Almighty hath brought you to the 
 very gates of death, and showed you the terror 
 and danger of it : and after that he had shov^^n 
 you this spectacle of your own mortality, he 
 hath marvellously rescued and delivered you 
 from that danger, and given you life, even 
 from the dead -, so that you are as a man new 
 born into the world, or returned to life again, 
 which now you seem, as it were, to begin. 
 You have passed through those two great dis- 
 pensations of the Divine Providence, those two 
 great experiments, that God is pleased some- 
 times to use towards the children of men : 
 namely, correction and deliverance, his rod and 
 his staff. And therefore, in all reasonable con- 
 jecture, this is the most seasonable time to give 
 you a lecture upon both, and those admoni- 
 tions which, may be, render the one and the 
 other profitable unto you. And this I shall en- 
 deavour to do in these following lines. 
 
 You shall not need to fear that I intend to 
 upbraid you with the errors of your youth, or 
 to expostulate with you touching them 5 for I 
 
90 LETTER IV. 
 
 do assure you I do from my heart forgive you 
 all your follies and miscarriages. And I do 
 assure myself that you have repented of them^ 
 and resolved against them for the time to 
 come j and that thereupon, God Almighty hath 
 also fully forgiven what is past : and this is a 
 great assurance thereof to me, in that he hath 
 so wonderfully restored you, and given you, as 
 it were, a new life, wherein you may obey and 
 serve him better than ever you yet did. And 
 therefore, if in this letter there be any touches 
 concerning former vanities, assure yourself 
 they are not angry repetitions, but only neces- 
 sary cautions for your future ordering of your 
 life. 
 
 The business of these papers is principally 
 to commend unto you two general remem- 
 brances, and certain results and collections 
 that arise from them : they are all seasonable 
 for your present condition, and will be of sin- 
 gular use and benefit to you in the whole en- 
 suing course of your life. 
 
 First. I would have you, as long as you 
 live, remember your late sickness in all its cir- 
 cumstances, and these plain and profitable in- 
 ferences and advices that arise from It. 
 
ON SICKNESS. 91 
 
 Secondly. I would have you remember, as 
 long as you live, your great deliverance, and 
 the several circumstances of it, and those ne- 
 cessary duties that are incumbent upon you in 
 relation thereunto. 
 
 It is evident to daily experience, that while 
 afflictions are upon us, and while deliverances 
 are fresh, they commonly have some good effect 
 upon us ; but as the iron is no sooner out of 
 the fire, but it quickly returns to its old cold- 
 ness and hardness, so when the affliction or de- 
 liverance is past, we usually forget them, count 
 them common things, attribute them to means 
 and second causes : and so the good that man- 
 kind should gather from them vanishes, and 
 men grow quickly to be but what they were 
 before they came j their sick-bed promises are 
 forgot, when the sickness is over. 
 
 And therefore I shall give you an account 
 of your sickness and of your recovery } and let 
 them never be forgotten by you. As often as 
 those spots and marks in your face are reflect- 
 ed to your view from the glass 5 as often as 
 this paper comes in your sight j nay, as often 
 as you open your eyes from sleep, which were 
 once closed, and likely never to open again j — 
 
92 LETTER IV. 
 
 SO often, and more often, remenaber your sick- 
 ness and your recovery, and the admonitions 
 that this paper lends you frona the considera- 
 tion of both. 
 
 Pirst. Therefore, touching your late sick- 
 ness, I would have you remember these par- 
 ticulars. — 1. The disease itself, in its own 
 nature, is now become ordinarily very mortal, 
 especially to those of your age Look upon 
 even the last year's general bill of mortality j 
 you will find near two thousand, dead of that 
 disease the last year 5 and had not God been 
 very merciful to you, you might have been one 
 of that number, with as great likelihood as 
 any of them that died of that disease. 2. It 
 was a contagious disease, that secluded the ac- 
 cess of your nearest relations. 3. Your sick- 
 ness surprised you upon a sudden, when you 
 seemed to be in your full strength. 4. Your 
 sickness rendered you noisome to yourself, and 
 all that were about you ; and a spectacle full 
 of deformity, by the excess of your disease 
 beyond most that are sick thereof. 5. It was 
 a fierce and violent sickness : it did not only 
 take away the common supplies of nature^ as 
 
ON SICKNESS. 93 
 
 digestion, sleep, strength, but it took away 
 your memory, your understanding, and the 
 very sense of your own condition, or of what 
 might be conducible to your good. All that 
 you could do, was only to make your condition 
 more desperate, in case they that were about 
 you had not prevented it, and taken more care 
 for you than you did or could for yourself. 
 6. Your sickness was desperate, insomuch 
 that your symptoms, and the violence of your 
 distemper, were without example j and you 
 were in the very next degree to absolute rotten- 
 ness, putrefaction, and death itself. 
 
 Look upon the foregoing description, and 
 remember that such was your condition. You 
 were as sad a picture of mortality and corrup- 
 tion, as any thing but death itself could make : 
 remember it 3 and remember also these en- 
 suing instructions, that may make that remem- 
 brance profitable and useful to you. — 
 
 1. Remember, that '' afiliction cometh not 
 forth of the dust, nor doth trouble spring out 
 of the ground* 3" but this terrible visitation 
 was sent to you from the wise over-ruling 
 
 ♦Job, T. 6. 
 
ON SICKNESS. 95 
 
 is amiss, to be more watchful, circumspect, 
 and obedient to him in the future course of our 
 lives, to fear to offend him. And if a man 
 hear this voice, God hath his end of mercy 
 and goodness, and man hath the fruit, benefit, 
 and advantage of his affliction, and commonly 
 a comfortable issue of it. Read often and at- 
 tentively the 33d chapter of Job, from the 
 beginning to the end. 
 
 III. Remember how uncertain and frail a 
 creature man is, even in his seeming strongest 
 age and constitution of health j even then, a 
 pestilential air, some evil humour in his blood, 
 some obstruction, it may be, of a little vein or 
 artery, a little meat ill digested, and a thousand 
 small occurrences may, upon a sudden, with- 
 out any considerable warning, plunge a man 
 into a desperate and mortal sickness, and bring 
 a man to the grave. Remember this terrible 
 sickness seized upon you suddenly, pulled 
 down your strength quickly, and brought you 
 to the very brink of the grave. And though * 
 God hath recovered you, you know not how 
 soon you may be brought into the like con- 
 dition. 
 
 IV. Remember, therefore, that you make 
 
96 LETTER IV. 
 
 and keep your peace with God, and walk in his 
 fear in the days of health, especially after so 
 great a deliverance, and that for very many 
 reasons. — 1. You know not whether you may 
 not be overtaken with sudden death, and then 
 it will be impossible for you to begin that 
 work. 2. If you have sickness to give you 
 warning of the approach of death, yet you 
 know not whether that sickness may not sud- 
 denly take away your senses, memory, or un- 
 derstanding J whereby you may be disabled to 
 make your peace with God, or to exercise any 
 serious thoughts concerning it. 3. But if that 
 sickness give you fair warning, and take not 
 away your understanding, yet your own ex- 
 perience cannot choose but let you know that 
 pain, and weakness, and distraction of mind, 
 and impatience, and unquietness, are the com- 
 mon attendants of a sick-bed, and render that 
 season at least very difficult then to begin that 
 greatest, and solemnest, and most important 
 business of a man's life.. 4 But if your sick- 
 ness be not so sharp, but that it leaves you 
 patience and attention of mind for that great 
 business, how do you know whether your 
 heart shall be inclined to it ? Repentance and 
 
 mm 
 
ON SICKNESS. .97' 
 
 conversion to God is his gift, though it must 
 be our endeavour. And though the merciful 
 God never refuseth a repenting returning of- 
 fender ; yet how can a man that all the time 
 of his health hath neglected Almighty God, 
 refused his invitations, and served his lusts 
 and his sin, expect reasonably that God, in the 
 time of sickness, when the man can serve his 
 sins no longer, will give him the grace of re- 
 pentance } 
 
 — Whatever you do, therefore, be sure you 
 make your peace with God, and keep it in the 
 days of your health, especially after so great a 
 deliverance from so desperate a sickness. 
 
 V. Remember that your condition is never 
 so low, but that God hath power to deliver 
 you, and therefore trust in him j but remem- 
 ber withal, that your condition is never so safe 
 and secure, but you are within the reach of his 
 power to bring you down. You are now, by 
 the mercy of God, recovered from a terrible 
 sickness, think not with yourself that your 
 turn is now served, and that you shall have no 
 more need of him, and therefore that you may 
 live as you list, and never regard your duty to 
 him 3 deceive not yourself herein 3 remember^ 
 
98 LEfTER IV. 
 
 that this sickness, within two or three days, 
 brought you upon your knees, even from a 
 seeming state of health. The case is the same 
 still, nay much worse, if this affliction make 
 you not better. Almighty God called you to 
 love, and serve, and obey him, by the still 
 voice of his word, by the persuasion of your 
 friends, by the advices and reproofs of your 
 father ; and, when these were not so effectual 
 (as I know you now wish they had been), he 
 sent a messenger that spake louder, that would 
 be heard, even this terrible sickness j and most 
 certainly, if you have heard the voice of this 
 rod (as I am hopeful you have), and thereupon 
 entirely turn to your duty to God in all sin- 
 cerity and obedience, it is the happiest provi- 
 dence that ever befel you j and you will, upon 
 sound conviction, conclude with the Prophet, 
 " It was good for me that I was afflicted." 
 But, on the other side, if, notwithstanding 
 this voice of the rod, you shall, after your re- 
 covery, turn again to folly, and vanity, and 
 excess, and harden yourself against this mes- 
 senger, know for certain, you are within the 
 reach of the Divine Justice and Power : " And 
 if you walk contrary to him, he will walk 
 
ON SICKNESS. 99 
 
 contrary to you, and punish you yet seven 
 times for your sins*." I therefore give you 
 that counsel, that our Lord gave to him that 
 he had healed : ''Behold thou art made whole, 
 go thy way and sin no more, lest a worse thing 
 befal thee." There is no contesting with Al- 
 mighty God : he is ready and easy to be recon- 
 ciled to the worst of men, upon humiliation 
 and true repentance j but he is not to be 
 mastered or conquered by obstinacy and oppo- 
 sition : ''Who hath hardened himself against 
 him and prospered f?'* 
 
 VI. I would have you remember, that sick- 
 ness, as well as death, doth undeceive man- 
 kind, and shows them where their true wisdom 
 lies. When a young man, especially, is in the 
 full career of his vanity and pleasures, he 
 thinks that religion and the fear of God, and 
 walking according to his Word, and the serious 
 practice of duties of religion towards God, 
 prayer unto him, making our peace with him, 
 are pitiful, low, foolish, and inconsiderable 
 matters 3 and that those that practise them are 
 a sort of brain-sick, melancholy, unintelligent 
 
 * Levit. xxvi. ^4. t Job,- ix. 4. 
 
100 
 
 LBTTER IV. 
 
 persons, that want wit or breeding, and under- 
 stand not themselves or the world ; that they 
 are mere empty fancies and imaginations, 
 whimsies, Puritanism, and I know not what 
 else: but, on the other side, they think they 
 are the brave men that live splendidly, deny 
 themselves no pleasure, can drink, and roar, 
 and whore, and debauch, and wear the newest 
 fashions. It may be, this gallant or wise man 
 comes to be taken with a fit of sickness, that 
 tells him he must die, death is at the door, his 
 glass is almost out, and but a few stands left in 
 it; and then the man becomes quite of another 
 judgment : he cries out of his former foolish- 
 ness 'f he finds his pleasures, and intemperance, 
 and excess, are not only perfect follies, but 
 madness, vexation, torment ; and religion and 
 prayer to God, and devotion and peace with 
 God, they are now in request j and now no- 
 thing but declamations against those courses, 
 which in his health he valued as the only 
 wisdom; and nothing but promises of amend- 
 ment, and reformation of life and devotion to 
 God : so sickness hath undeceived the man, 
 and given him a true and rectified judgment 
 concerning wisdom and folly, quite contrary 
 
ONT SICKNESS. 101 
 
 to what he had before. Therefore I would 
 have you to recoUec't ycais^ilf;, and (ii'ihe" vio- 
 lence of your disease lift' you at any time the 
 use of your reason}* , iJetMi'ik'yoJl rst^If; W^l^at 
 opinion you then liad of intemperance, wasting 
 of time, unlawful lust, or any of those sins 
 that formerly pleased you in your health -, whe- 
 ther they did not appear to you in your sickness 
 very vain, foolish, vexing things, such as you 
 wished never to have been committed ; and, on 
 the other side, what opinion you had in your 
 sickness touching piety towards God, hearing 
 of his Word, calling upon his Name, redeem- 
 ing of time, modesty, temperance : whether 
 those actions of your life past, that savoured of 
 these, were not comfortable and contenting to 
 you in your sickness 5 whether your purposes 
 and promises, and resolutions of your sick-bed, 
 were not full of such thoughts as these, — If it 
 please God to recover me, I will never be such 
 a fool as I liave been j I will never drink to 
 excess, mispend my time ; I will never keep 
 such evil company as I have done j I will be 
 more devout towards God, more obedient to 
 his Word, more observant of good counsel, 
 and the like. And, if you find it to be so, I 
 
102 LETTER IV. 
 
 mast desire you to remember, that affliction is 
 the schi)t»l of wisdom -^ \t vectifies men's judg- 
 ments ; and I must again desire you to keep 
 your jndgoient- rig.ht fitUh and let not the re- 
 covery of your health become the loss of your 
 wits J but in your health retain that wisdom 
 your sickness taught you, and practise what 
 you then promised : '' Remember he is the 
 wisest man, that provides for his latter end*." 
 VII. Remember, by your former sickness, 
 how pitiful and inconsiderable a thing the 
 body of man is j how soon is the strength of 
 it turned to faintness and weakness, the beauty 
 of it to ugliness and deformity, the consistency 
 of it to putrefaction and rottenness j and then 
 remember, how foolish a thing it is to be 
 proud of such a carcase j to spend all, or the 
 greatest part of our time in trimming and 
 adorning it^ in studying new fashions, and new 
 postures, and new devices to set it out j in 
 spending our time and provisions in pampering 
 it ; in pleasing the appetite : and yet this is 
 the chief business of most young men of this 
 age. Learn, therefore, humility and lowli- 
 
 *Deut,xxxii. 29. 
 
ON SICKNESS. 103 
 
 ness : learn to furnish thy noble and immortal 
 part, thy soul, with religion, grace, know- 
 ledge, virtue, goodness ^ for that will retain 
 it to eternity. How miserable is that man's 
 condition, that whilst sickness hath made his 
 body a deformed, weak, loathsome thing, sin 
 hath made his soul as ugly and deformed. 
 The grave will heal or cover the deformity of 
 the former j but the soul will carry its ulcers 
 and deformity (without repentance) into the 
 next world. Learn and remember, therefore, 
 to have thy greatest care for thy noblest part : 
 furnish it with piety, grace, knowledge, the 
 fear and love of God, faith in Christ. And as 
 for thy body, use it decently, soberly, and 
 comely, that it may be a fit instrument for thy 
 soul to use in this life -, but be not proud of it, 
 nor make it thy chiefest care and business to 
 adorn, much less defile it. 
 
 VII J. Remember to avoid intemperance 
 and sinful lusts. It is true, sickness and 
 diseases, and finally death, are, by the laws 
 and constitutions of our nature, incident to all 
 mankind j but intemperance, excess of eating 
 and drinking, drunkenness, whoring, unclean- 
 ness, and disorder, bring more diseases, es- 
 
104 LETTER IV. 
 
 pecially upon young men, and destroy more 
 young, strong, healthy raen, than the plague, 
 or other natural or accidental distempers : 
 they weaken the brain, corrupt the blood, 
 decay and distemper the spirit, disorder and 
 putrefy the humours, and make the body a 
 very bag full of putrefaction. Some diseases 
 are, as it were, specifical, and appropriate to 
 these vices : other diseases are commonly oc- 
 casioned by them, by their inflammation and 
 putrefaction of the blood and humours. And 
 all diseases, even those that are epidemical, 
 natural, or casual, yet are rendered by those 
 vices far more sharp, lasting, malignant, and 
 incurable, by that stock of corrupted matter 
 they lodge in the body to feed those diseases, 
 and that impotency that these vices bring upon 
 nature to resist them. Therefore, if you ever 
 expect to have as well a sound body as a sound 
 mind, carefully avoid intemperance and de- 
 bauchery. The most temperate and sober 
 persons are subject to sickness, weakness, and 
 diseases J but the intemperate can never be 
 long without them. 
 
 And thus I have done with the prospect of 
 your disease; and at least many of these 
 
ON SICKNESS. 105 
 
 profitable uses you may gather from the 
 remembrance of it. 
 
 I shall now, in the second place, put you 
 in remembrance of your deliverance, touching 
 which you must remember. — 1. That it was 
 a great, eminent, and extraordinary deliver- 
 ance : you need no other evidence of it, than 
 by looking back upon the greatness and 
 severity of your disease before-mentioned. 
 2. It was a deliverance by the immediate 
 power and mercy of that God that sent you 
 the visitation. 
 
 Una eademque manus, vulnus opemque tulit.* 
 
 If you had been delivered by the im- 
 mediate efficacy of means, yet you are blind 
 if you see not that the efficacy of means 
 depends upon the providence of God : it is he 
 that provides it, and that makes means effectual. 
 But in this deliverance, God hath pleased to 
 hedge up, as it were, your way from attribut- 
 ing it to means 5 and hath given you an in- 
 dication that it was done by his own immediate 
 power, and that he delivered you above and 
 
 * The hand that gave the wound, administered the cure. 
 
 f5 
 
106 I.ETTEB IV. 
 
 beyond means. It is true, you had a very 
 able and careful physician, and very great 
 attendance and care was used about you. But 
 when your physician, and all that were about 
 you, began to despair of your recovery ; when 
 means proved ineffectual j when the strength 
 of nature was exhausted and baffled by your 
 disease 3 God Almighty, upon a sudden and 
 beyond expectation, relieved you, and, as it 
 were, by his own hand brought you back from 
 the very threshold of the grave. And this he 
 did, that you and all about you, and all your 
 relations, might take notice of it, that it was 
 he that did it. 
 
 And thus Almighty God hath exercised 
 towards you two great experiments, the first 
 of his severity, the second of his mercy. And 
 as your sickness and rod had its voice (a loud 
 and sharp voice), so your recovery and deliver- 
 ance hath its voice also 3 a sweet, gentle, and 
 (I hope) effectual voice ; and I will, as shortly 
 as I can, tell you what it is. — 
 
 I . Remember this benefit : remember it 
 was reached out unto you, from the mere 
 power, goodness, and mercy of God. Re- 
 member evermore in your heart and soul to be 
 thankful to him for it. Remember, as long as 
 
ON SICKNESS. 107 
 
 you live, upon all occasions to acknowledge it: 
 daily to return upon your knees humble thanks 
 for it, to him that had regard to you, and 
 remembered you in your low estate ; to him 
 that forgave your iniquities, and healed your 
 disease j to him that did this for you, when all 
 means failed 5 that did it for you, when you 
 had not the understanding to call upon him 
 for it J to him that did it for you that deserved 
 it notj for you that had provoked him, and 
 neglected him too much in the time of your 
 health. This God it was that thus delivered 
 you. Read often the 103d Psalm attentively, 
 and apply it to your own condition : it will do 
 you good. 
 
 II. Remember to acknowledge this good- 
 ness of God with all humility. Your deliver- 
 ance was not the purchase of your own power, 
 nor of your own desert : it was an act of the 
 free and undeserved goodness of God. What 
 Almighty God said by Moses unto the Israel- 
 ites*, I shall say to you with some variation: 
 Understand, therefore, that the Lord thy God 
 hath not given thee this deliverance for thy 
 
 • Deut. ix. 4, 6. 
 
108 LETTER IV. 
 
 righteousness 3 no, it is the mere effect of his 
 own goodness, and to give you opportunity to 
 praise him, and serve him, better than ever you 
 did before. 
 
 III. Remember that although great deliver- 
 ances require your great acknowledgments, yet 
 there is somewhat more required ; namely, a 
 real practical glorifying of God, by ordering 
 your conversation aright, by serving him, 
 pleading him, obeying him, living to his ho- 
 nour. This Almighty God expects, as well as 
 praises and acknowledgments. As the end of 
 God, in aflflictions, is to make men better, so 
 the end of God in deliverances is to make men 
 better j and if we are not the better men by 
 both dispensations, we do, as much as in us 
 lies, disappoint Almighty God in his design, 
 and disappoint ourselves of the benefit and 
 advantage intended in both, and easily to be 
 gained by both. This, therefore, is the voice 
 of this deliverance : it calls sweetly, and 
 gently indeed, but earnestly and effectually 
 for amendment of lifej and that upon two 
 great and moving arguments. — 1. Your re- 
 covery and great deliverance calls for this 
 from you^ upon the account of common in- 
 
ON SICKNESS. 109 
 
 genuity and good nature, which obligeth a 
 man to be observant and dutiful to his bene- 
 factor. God Almighty is the greatest bene- 
 factor, and hath manifested himself such to 
 you, upon a visible and eminent account : this 
 is engagement enough, upon the account of 
 common humanity, to be dutiful and obedi- 
 ent to him. When, therefore, you are at any 
 time, by the temptation of your own corrup- 
 tion, or by the solicitation of evil persons, 
 solicited to evil actions, consider thus with 
 yourself: Is this a becoming return to that 
 God that hath thus wonderfully delivered me ? 
 Is this the requital that I shall make to him 
 for his mercy ? Shall I please a vain lust, or a 
 vain companion, and displease the great God 
 of heaven and earth, that hath thus delivered 
 me, and done me more good than all the world 
 could ever do me, or than I can ever recom* 
 pense ? ' Do ye thus requite the Lord, O ye 
 foolish people, and unwise ? Is not he thy 
 Father that hath bought thee ? hath he" not 
 made thee, and established thee*?' 
 
 IV. This mercy calls for your obedience to 
 
 * Deut. xxxii. 6. 
 
HO LETTER IV. 
 
 God, in an eminent manner, upon the account 
 of common prudence and discretion. The 
 benefit of your obedience to him will be your 
 own, your own happiness in this life, and in 
 that to come. There is no greater moral se- 
 curity against future dangers and troubles, 
 than obedience and reformation of life, upon 
 great deliverances received 3 nor is there any 
 greater invitation of new troubles and mis- 
 chiefs, than ingratitude, disobedience, and 
 great sins, after great mercies and deliverances. 
 There is a kind of certain and infallible con- 
 nection between great sins, (after great 
 mercies received,) and great judgments to 
 follow } Ingentia beneficia, ingentia peccata, 
 ingentia supplicia*. Again, as 1 have for- 
 merly told you, you do not know how soon 
 you may stand in need of the same mercy and 
 goodness of God, which you have formerly 
 found : you are never out of the reach of his 
 power, and the necessity of his help. What- 
 ever you do, therefore, never disoblige him by 
 whom you live, and whose extraordinary 
 mercy you may stand in need of, you know 
 
 * Great benefits — great sins—- great punishments. 
 
ON SICKNESS. Ill 
 
 not how soon. There is nothing in the world 
 doth more provoke God than neglect, forget- 
 fulness, or wilful disobedience after signal 
 mercies. These provoke the merciful God to a 
 severity of the highest kind, because the sweet- 
 est and most obliging call of mercy and de- 
 liverance is neglected. Read the first chapter 
 of the Proverbs attentively. 
 
 And the merciful God hath given us a 
 plain rule and method how he may be served, 
 obeyed, and pleased : he hath given us a plain 
 discovery of his will in the Scriptures of both 
 Testaments. Read that often : you have it by 
 you, and you need not go far to find what is 
 your Maker's will, and what that obedience is 
 that he requires, as the return of this and all 
 other his mercies. Yet I think it not amiss to 
 mind you of some particulars, that may be 
 useful for you upon this occasion, and to di- 
 rect you how particularly to improve it, and 
 so order your future life in some measure an- 
 swerable to it. — 
 
 1. I would have you make it your first 
 business, after your perfect recovery, to con- 
 sider the course of your life past, since you 
 
112 LETTER IV. 
 
 came to the age of discretion, and see what 
 hath been amiss in it : whether you have not 
 neglected religion, and the duties of it too 
 much J as prayer, hearing the word preached, 
 observing the Lord's-day, receiving the Sacra- 
 ment : whether you have not been guilty of 
 intemperance, excess of drinking, wantonness, 
 uncleanness, idleness, raispending your time, 
 and those supplies which have been allowed 
 you for your maintenance : whether you have 
 not too much delighted in vain, and sinful, 
 and disorderly company, vanity and expense in 
 apparel. And if any such, or the like faults 
 have been, repent of them, be sorry for them, 
 resolve against them ; and let the future course 
 of your life be amended in relation thereunto. 
 I have before told you that your heavenly Fa- 
 ther hath forgiven you, and I have forgiven 
 you ; neither do I mention these things to up- 
 braid you for them, but that you, upon the 
 consideration of what hath been amiss, may be 
 thereby the better enabled to rectify and set in 
 order your future life. If this be done and 
 practised, I will reckon your late sickness and 
 distemper one of the greatest blessings that 
 ever befel you. 
 
ON SICKNESS. 113 
 
 2. I would have you always keep a habit 
 of the fear of God upon your heart. Consider 
 his presence^ order your life as in his presence : 
 consider that he always sees you, beholds, and 
 takes notice of you, and especially whether you 
 carry yourself answerable to this great deliver^ 
 ance. It is one of those talents for which he 
 will expect an account from you. 
 
 3. I would have you frequently and thank- 
 fully consider of the great love of God in Jesus 
 Christ, whom he hath given to be the instruc- 
 tor and governor, and sacrifice for the sins of 
 you and all mankind, through whom, upon 
 repentance, you have assurance of the remis- 
 sion of your sins, and eternal life 5 and fre- 
 quently considerj how great an engagement 
 this is upon you, and all mankind, to live ac- 
 cording to such a hope and such a mercy. 
 
 4. I would have you, every morning, read 
 a portion of the Holy Scriptures, till you 
 have read the Bible from the beginning to the 
 end. Observe it well, read it reverently and 
 attentively, set your heart upon it, and lay it 
 up in your memory, and make it the direction 
 of your life: it will make you a wise and a 
 
114 LBTTBR IV. 
 
 good man. I have been acquainted somewhat 
 with men and books, and have had long ex- 
 perience in learning, and in the world : there 
 is no book like the Bible for excellent learning, 
 wisdom, and use 3 and it is want of understand- 
 ing in them that think or speak otherwise. 
 
 5. Every morning and every evening, upon 
 your knees, with all reverence and attention of 
 mind, return hearty thanks to God for his 
 mercy to you, and particularly for this deliver- 
 ance : desire his grace to enable you to walk 
 in some measure answerable to it ; beg his 
 providence to protect you, his grace to direct 
 you, to keep you from evil actions, and evil 
 persons, and evil occurrences j beg his pardon 
 for your sin, and the continuance of his favour, 
 always concluding with the Lord's Prayer. 
 
 6. Observe conscionably the Lord's-day, to 
 keep it holy. Avoid idle company, idle dis- 
 course, recreations, and secular employments 
 upon that day. Resort twice that day to the 
 public prayers and sermon : come early to it, 
 be attentive at it, keep your eyes and mind 
 from roving after vain thoughts or objects 5 
 and spend the rest of that day, that is free from 
 
ON SICKNESS. 
 
 115 
 
 necessary occasions, in reading the Scriptures, 
 or some good books of divinity. 
 
 7. Once every term at least, come pre- 
 paredly and reverently to the Holy Commu- 
 nion j receive it with great reverence and 
 thankfulness, and due consideration of the 
 end of its institution. Renevjr your covenant 
 with Almighty God that you made in baptism, 
 and to live soberly, righteously, and godly 
 before him ; and beg his grace and strength 
 to perform it. 
 
 And as those directions before do more 
 specially relate to Almighty God, and your de- 
 portment immediately towards him, so these 
 that follow more especially relate to yourself 
 and others, and your moral conversation: 
 therefore, — 
 
 8. Be very moderate in eating and drink- 
 ing. Drunkenness is the great vice of the 
 time 5 and by drunkenness I do mean, not 
 only gross drunkenness, but also tippling, 
 drinking excessively, and immoderately, or 
 more than is convenient or necessary: avoid 
 those companies that are given to it 5 come 
 not into those places that are devoted to that 
 beastly vice,^ namely, taverns and ale-houses -, 
 
116 LETTER lY* 
 
 avoid and refuse those devices that are used to 
 occasion it, as drinking and pledging of 
 healths 5 be resolute against it, and when 
 your resolution is once known, you will never 
 be solicited to it. The Rechabites were com- 
 manded by their father not to drink wine ) and 
 they obeyed it, and had a blessing for it. My 
 command to you is not so strict j I allow you 
 the moderate use of wine and strong drink at 
 your meals ; I only forbid you the excess, or 
 unnecessary use of it, and those places and 
 companies, and artifices, that are temptations 
 to it. 
 
 9. Avoid wanton and lascivious actions, 
 speeches, and company. Read Proverbs, ii. 
 ^j 6, 7, 9. A whore hunts for the precious 
 life of a man 5 and that vice brings a ruin 
 with it to the body, soul, and estate. If you 
 cannot conveniently contain yourself in a single 
 life, and be of competent health, marry j but 
 with the advice and counsel of your father, 
 while he lives. 
 
 10. Be frugal of your time (it is one of the 
 best jewels we have), and to that end avoid 
 idleness : it consumes your time, and lays you 
 open to worse inconveniences. Let your re- 
 
ON SICKNESS. 117 
 
 creations be healthy, and creditable, and mode- 
 rate, without too much expense of time or 
 money. Go not to stage-plays, they are a 
 most profuse wasting of time. Value time by 
 that estimate we would have of it, when we 
 want it : what would not a sick man give for 
 those portions of time of health, that he had 
 formerly improvidently wasted. 
 
 11. Be diligent in your study and callings 
 it is an act of duty to Almighty God that re- 
 quires it, and it will be your wisdom and bene- 
 fit : it will be a good expense of time, a pre- 
 Tcntion from a thousand inconveniencies and 
 temptations that otherwise will befal a man : 
 it will furnish you with knowledge and under- 
 standing, give you the advantage and means 
 of a comfortable and plentiful subsistence, and 
 make you a support, comfort, and benefit to 
 your friends and country. 
 
 12. Be frugal in your expenses : live within 
 the compass of that exhibition that God's pro- 
 vidence, and your father's abilities, shall sup- 
 ply you withal: it is enough to maintain an 
 honest provident man, and ten times more will 
 not be enough for a profuse mind. A frugal 
 man will live comfortably and plentifully upon 
 
118 LETTER IV. 
 
 a little ; and a profuse man will live beggarly, 
 necessitously, and in continual want, whatever 
 his supplies be. 
 
 13. In all your expenses consider before- 
 hand, — Can I not be well enough without this 
 that I am about to buy ? Is there an absolute 
 necessity of it ? Can I not forbear till I am in 
 a better condition to compass it ? If I buy or 
 borrow, can I pay ? and when ? and am I sure? 
 Will this expense hold out ? How shall I bring 
 about the next quarter, or the next year? — 
 If young men would but have the patience to 
 consider and ask themselves questions of the 
 like nature, it would make them considerate in 
 their expenses, and provident for the future j 
 and these considerations will, in a special man- 
 ner, concern you in respect of your father's 
 great expenses for you, which, though I have 
 forgiven and forgotten, I would have you re- 
 member with gratitude and caution. 
 
 14. The vanity of young men in loving 
 fine clothes and new fashions, and valuing 
 themselves by them, is one of the most childish 
 pieces of folly that can be, and the occasion of 
 great profuseness and undoing of young men. 
 Avoid curiosity and too much expensiveness in 
 
ON SICKNESS. 119 
 
 your apparel: let your apparel be comely, 
 plain, decent, cleanly, not curious or costly : 
 it is the sign of a weak head-piece to be sick 
 for every new fashion, or to think himself the 
 better in it, or the worse without it. 
 
 15. Be careful what company you consort 
 with J and much more careful what persons 
 you grow intimate with. Choose sober, wise, 
 learned, honest, religious company : you will 
 gain learning and wisdom, and improve your- 
 self in virtue and goodness, by conversing with 
 them. But avoid debauched, foolish, intem- 
 perate, prodigal, atheistical, profane company, 
 as you would avoid a plague : they will cor- 
 rupt and undo you ; they are a sort of the most 
 pitiful fools in the world; and familiar ac- 
 quaintance and conversation with theqci will 
 endanger to make you like them. 
 
 16. Weigh and consider your words, be- 
 fore you speak them 3 and do not talk at ran- 
 dom, or at a venture. Let your words be few, 
 and to the purpose. Be more ready to hear 
 others, than to speak yourself. Accustom 
 yourself to speak leisurely and deliberately : it 
 will be a means to make you speak warily and 
 considerately. 
 
120 LETTER IV. 
 
 17. Be very careful to speak truth j and 
 beware of lying. As lying is displeasing to 
 God, so it is offensive to man j and always at 
 the latter end returns to the reproach or disad- 
 vantage of him that useth it : it is an evidence of 
 a weak and unmanly mind. Be careful that 
 you believe not hastily strange news, and 
 strange stories ; and be much more careful that 
 you do not report them, though at the second 
 hand j for if it prove an untruth (as commonly 
 strange stories prove so), it brings an im- 
 putation of levity upon him that reports it, and 
 possibly some disadvantage to others. 
 
 18. Take heed what you promise : see that 
 it be just, and honest, and lawful, and what is 
 in your power honestly and certainly to per- 
 form ; and when you have so promised, be 
 true to your word. It is for the most part the 
 fashion of inconsiderate and young men, (es- 
 pecially that run in debt) they will with great 
 asseverations promise precise payment, at this 
 or that day, when either they certainly know 
 they cannot perform, or at least have no pro- 
 bable assurance that they can do it j and when 
 their turn is served, they are as backward in 
 performance, as they were before liberal in 
 
ON SICKNESS. 121 
 
 their promises. Breach of promises and lying 
 are much of a nature, and commonly go to- 
 gether, and are arguments of an impotent and 
 unmanly mind. 
 
 19. Beware of gaming. It is the sudden- 
 est consumption of an estate that can be 3 and 
 that vice seldom goes alone: commonly de- 
 bauchery of all kinds accompanies it. Besides, 
 it makes a man of a wild, vast, and unsettled 
 mind 3 and such men are impatient of an 
 honest calling, or of moderate or honest 
 gain. 
 
 20. Run not into debt* either for wares 
 sold, or money borrowed : be content to want 
 things that are not of absolute necessity, ra- 
 ther than to run upon the score : such a man 
 pays at the latter end a third part more than 
 the principal comes to, and is in perpetual ser- 
 vitude to his creditors 5 lives uncomfortably 5 
 is necessitated to increase his debts to stop his 
 creditors' mouths j and many times falls into 
 desperate courses. 
 
 21. Be respectful to all, familiar and inti- 
 mate with few : be grateful to your benefac- 
 tors, especially to those who, under God, were 
 instrumental for your good, in your late sick- 
 
182 LETTER IV. 
 
 negs, and return your thanks to them j to your 
 father that spared no cost for your recovery j 
 to your doctor, that was exceedingly diligent 
 about you j to those that attended you in your 
 sickness 5 to those that, together with your 
 father, often prayed to God for your recovery, 
 and for a blessing upon this aflBiction, — whose 
 names you shall in due time particularly know j 
 but, above all, to Almighty God, who not only 
 provided and blessed the means, but saved and 
 delivered you above means, and when means 
 failed. 
 
 22. Lastly, I "^hall conclude with one advice 
 more, without the observance whereof my la- 
 bour in writing this long epistle will be pro- 
 bably fruitless : be not wise in your own con- 
 ceit. This is the unhappy error, and many 
 times the ruin of young men especially : they 
 are usually rash, giddy, and inconsiderate, and 
 yet extremely confident of that which they have 
 least reason to trust, namely, their own under- 
 standing, which renders them most reserved 
 from them that are willing and best able to 
 advise them, impatient of reproof, love to be 
 flattered, and so become incapable of good and 
 wise counsel, till their follies have reduced 
 
ON SICKNESS. t^ 
 
 them to extreme straits and inconveniencies. 
 Suspect therefore your own judgment : advise 
 often with your father, especially in all things 
 of moment : be glad of his counsel, and be 
 contented and willing to follow it, and to 
 guide your life according to it 3 at least till 
 ripeness of age, observation, and experience, 
 have enabled you better to advise yourself. 
 This is an easy, and ready and cheap way of 
 attaining wisdom, and avoiding of infinite in- 
 conveniencies. 
 
 And thus I have, in this long epistle, given 
 you the means how you may improve both 
 your sickness, and recovery, to the glory of 
 God, and your own benefit. 
 
 I shall therefore conclude with two con- 
 siderations, that may the more engage you to 
 this use of both these dispensations. 
 
 I. The danger is great, if afflictions make 
 not a man more humble and dutiful : and the 
 danger is yet greater, if great deliverances and 
 mercies do not make a man more thankful and 
 obedient to God 3 because it is the most oblig- 
 ing method that the gracious God can use to- 
 wards the children of men, for that end, in this 
 
 g2 
 
24 LETTER IV. 
 
 life ; and the neglect of that invitation adds in- 
 gratitude and contempt to the neglect of it. 
 
 II. The benefit that you will receive by 
 making a good use of these two dispensations^ 
 in improving your dutifulness and obedience 
 to God, will be singular and excellent. I. It 
 will make you a wise man, by making you a 
 good and religious man. Believe it from your 
 father, who will not deceive you j nay, believe 
 it from a greater than your father, the very 
 Spirit of Truth, who cannot deceive you : — 
 the true fear of God, is the only true wisdom. 
 Read Deut. iv. 6. Job, xxviii. 28. Psalm, cxi. 
 10. Prov. i. 7. Prov. ix. 10. Eccles. xii. 13 j 
 and very many more declarations there are of 
 this great truth. — 2. It will make you a happy 
 man : it will give you the favour and love of 
 God, which is better than life itself. You 
 shall have his mercy to pardon you, his provi- 
 dence to protect you, his wisdom to direct you, 
 his goodness to bless you, and to forgive and 
 forget whatsoever hath heretofore been done 
 amiss by you : this will make all conditions 
 comfortable to you, whether life or death, sick- 
 ness or health. By this means you may be a 
 comfort to your father, a support to your bro- 
 
ON SICKNESS. 
 
 125 
 
 there and sisters, an instrument of good to your 
 country, and attain an honest, creditable, and 
 competent subsistence in this world, and an 
 everlasting inheritance of glory and immor- 
 tality in the world to come. Thus 1 have 
 given you a large letter of sound and good 
 counsel : set your heart to it, and observe and 
 remember it. We see how unstable our lives 
 are ! You nor I know how soon either or 
 both of us may leave this world : it may be, 
 this may be the last paper of advice that your 
 father may give you. But however it shall 
 please God to deal with you or me, touching 
 our continuance in this world, yet let me leave 
 this with you, in the close of this letter : — If I 
 shall find that these directions are dutifully ob- 
 served, I shall be ready from time to time, 
 freely to advise and direct you -, and as I have 
 passed by your former extravagancies, so I 
 shall thereby have great assurance that God 
 hath blessed this visitation to you : but, on the 
 other side, if I shall find that you neglect my 
 counsels, that you make light of them, that 
 you still pursue those courses that will cer- 
 tainly be bitterness in the end, I must then tell 
 you, I shall pray for you, and be sorry for you 
 
126 LETTER IV. 
 
 with my heart ; but I shall not easily be per- 
 suaded to give any more advice or counsels, 
 where I find them despised or neglected. In 
 this paper there are many things omitted, 
 which might have been inserted ; but the con- 
 stant reading of the Holy Scriptures Avill supply 
 unto you that defect : I have chosen only in 
 this paper to mention such things which are 
 seasonable for you upon this occasion. God 
 Almighty hath not been wanting to you in ad- 
 monition, correction, mercy and deliverance 5 
 neither hath your father been wanting to you 
 in education, counsel, care and expense : I 
 pray God Almighty bless all unto you. This 
 is the prayer of 
 
 Your loving Father, 
 
 MATTHEW HALE. 
 
THE GREAT AUDIT 
 
 WITH THE 
 
 ACCOUNT OF THE GOOD STEWARD. 
 
 The great Lord of the world hath placed the 
 children of men in this earth as his Stewards 3 
 and according to the parable in Matthew xxv, 
 he delivers to every person his Talents, a stock 
 of advantages or opportunities. To some he 
 commits more 3 to some, less 3 to all, some. 
 
 This stock is committed to every person 
 under a Trust, or charge, to employ the same 
 in ways, and to ends, and in proportion, suit- 
 able to the talents thus committed to them, 
 and to the measure and quality of them. 
 
 The Ends of this deputing of the children 
 of men to this kind of employment of their 
 talents are divers : 1. That they may be kept 
 in continual action and motion, suitable to 
 
138 THE GKBAT AUDIT. 
 
 the condition of reasonable creatures, as al- 
 most every thing else in the world is continued 
 in motion suitable to its own nature, which 
 is the subject of the wise man's discourse : 
 '' All things are full of labour.*" 2. That in 
 that regular motion they may attain ends of 
 advantage to themselves ; for all things are so 
 ordered by the most wise God, that every 
 being hath its own proportionable perfection 
 and happiness, inseparably annexed to that 
 way and work which his providence hath 
 destined it unto. 3. That in that due and 
 regular employment, each man might be in 
 some measure serviceable and advantageous to 
 another. 4. That although the great Lord of 
 this family can receive no advantage by the 
 service of his creature, because he is perfect 
 and all-sufBcient in himself 5 yet he receives 
 glory and praise by it, and a complacency in 
 beholding a conformity in the creature, to his 
 own most perfect will. 
 
 To the due execution of this trust commit- 
 ted to the children of men, and for their 
 encouragement in it, he hath ?innexed a Re- 
 
 • Ecdes. i. 8. 
 
THE GREAT AUDIT. 129 
 
 ward by his promise, and the free appointment 
 of his own good pleasure. This reward there- 
 fore is not meritoriously due to the employment 
 of the talent j for as the talent is the Lord's, 
 so is the strength and ability whereby it is 
 employed } but by his own good pleasure and 
 free promise the reward is knit to the work. 
 In this case therefore, the reward is not de- 
 mandable, so much upon the account of the 
 divine justice, as upon the account of the 
 divine truth and fidehty. On the other side, 
 to the mal-administration of this trust, there 
 is annexed a retribution of Punishment j and 
 this most naturally and meritoriously : for the 
 law of common justice and reason doth most 
 justly subject the creature, that depends in his 
 being upon his Creator, to the law and will of 
 the Creator; and therefore, having received a 
 talent from his Lord, and together with his 
 being, an ability to employ it according to the 
 will of his Lord, a non-employment or mis- 
 employment thereof, doth most justly oblige 
 him to guilt and punishment, as the natural 
 and just consequent of his demerit. 
 
 Of the Persons that do receive these talents, 
 some do employ them well, though in various 
 
 G 5 
 
130 TH» GBEAT AUDIT. 
 
 degrees J some to more advantage, some to 
 less : and although the best husbands come 
 short of what they should do, and at best are 
 in this respect unprofitable servants, yet if 
 there be a faithful, conscientious, and sincere 
 endeavour to employ that talent to their 
 master's honour, they are accounted good 
 Stewards j and the merits of Christ supply 
 by faith that wherein they come short. 
 
 On the other side, some persons are un- 
 faithful Stewards of their talents -, and these 
 are of three kinds: 1. Such as wholly mis- 
 employ their talents, turning them to the dis- 
 honour and disservice of their Lord, which 
 they should have employed to his service; and 
 these have a double account to make, viz. of 
 their Talents, and of their Mis-employment. 
 2. Such as do not at all employ their talent ; 
 but as they do no harm, so they do no good 
 with it : these are negligent Servants, and 
 have the single, but full account of their Ta- 
 lents to make. 3. Such as do make some use 
 of their Talents, but do not produce an increase 
 proportionable to their stock : and so, though 
 they are not debtors for their whole Talents, 
 yet are in arrear and grown behind-hand ; and 
 
THB pREAT AUIilT. 131 
 
 SO Upon the foot of their account are found 
 debtors to their Lord j which^ without faith in 
 Christ, and his merits coming in to make up 
 the sum, will be enough to cast them in 
 prison, and there keep them to eternity. 
 
 And according to these varieties of degrees, 
 of good or bad administration, are the degrees 
 of Reward or Punishment. He that hath ad- 
 ministered his trust well, so that there is a 
 great access of his improvement, hath a great- 
 er access of glory j and he that hath less sur- 
 plusage upon his account, shall have the less 
 degree of glory : and on the other side, he that 
 hath many talents, and made no improvement, 
 his debt and punishment shall be the greater ; 
 he that hath fewer talents, his non- improve- 
 ment leaves him a debtor in a less sum, and 
 consequently subject to a less punishment. 
 
 The great Day of Account will be the great 
 Day of Judgment, when the Lord of the fami- 
 lies of the whole earth will call every man to 
 his account of his stewardship here on earth : 
 wherein we may with reverence, and for the 
 better fastening it upon our affections, suppose 
 the Lord thus to be speaking to all, and every 
 particular person in the world. 
 
132 THE GREAT AUDIT. 
 
 THE CHARGE 
 
 " Come, ye children of men, as I have for- 
 merly made you stewards of my blessings upon 
 earth, and committed to every one of you, that 
 come to the use of your understanding, several 
 talents to employ and improve to the honour 
 and service of me your Lord and Master, so 
 now I come to call you to render an account 
 of your stewardship; and because you shall see 
 the particular charge of your several receipts, 
 whereunto you may give your answers, behold 
 here is a schedule of the particulars with which 
 I will charge you. Give in your particular 
 answer how you have employed and improved 
 them, and see you do it truly; for know, I 
 have a control and check upon you : a control 
 within you, your own consciences; and a con- 
 trol without you, my book of remembrance, 
 wherein all your receipts, disbursements, and 
 employments are registered. 
 
 '' First, I have given unto you all your Sen- 
 ses ; and principally those two great senses of 
 discipline, your Sight, and your Hearing. 
 
 " Item. I have given unto you all. Under- 
 standing and Reason, to be a guide of your 
 
THE GREAT AUDIT. 133 
 
 actions j and to some of you, more eminent 
 degrees thereof. 
 
 '* Item. I have given you all Memory, a 
 treasury of things past, heard, and observed. 
 
 '' Item. I have given you a Conscience to 
 direct you, and to check you in your miscarri- 
 ages, and to encourage you in well-doing j and 
 I have furnished that conscience of yours with 
 light, and principles of truth and practice, 
 conformable to my will. 
 
 " Item. I have laid open, to all your view, 
 the Works of my Power and Providence, the 
 heavens and the earth, the conspicuous admi- 
 nistration of my wisdom and power in them. 
 
 " Item. I have delivered over to your 
 view, my more special Providences over the 
 children of men, — the dispensation of rewards 
 and punishments, according to eminent deserts 
 or demerits. 
 
 *' Item. I have given you the advantage 
 of Speech, whereby to communicate your 
 minds one to another, and to instruct and ad- 
 vantage one another by the help thereof. 
 
 '' Item. I have given you Time of IJfe in 
 this worid ; to some longer, to some shorter, 
 to all a time of life, a season wherein you 
 
134 THE GREAT AUDIT. 
 
 might exercise those other talents I have in- 
 trusted you withal. 
 
 " Item. I have delivered over unto you the 
 rule and Dominion over my Creatures, allow- 
 ing you the use of them for your food, raiment, 
 and other conveniencies. 
 
 " Item. Besides these common talents I 
 have intrusted you withal, I have delivered 
 over to you, and to you, &c. divers special and 
 eminent Talents above others, viz. of the 
 Mind, or such as concern you as intellectual 
 creatures. 
 
 1. " Great Learning and Knowledge in 
 the works of nature. Arts and Sciences, great 
 Prudence and Wisdom in the conduct of af- 
 fairs, [Elocution,] excellent Education. 
 
 2. "Of the Body: A firm and healthy con- 
 stitution. Strength, Beauty, and Comeliness. 
 
 3. " Of externals : Great affluence of 
 Wealth and Riches j eminence of Place, and 
 Power, and Honour 5 great Reputation and 
 Elsteem in the world ; great Success in enter- 
 prises and undertakings, public and private 5 
 relations economical. 
 
 4. *' Of things of a mixt nature : Christian 
 and liberal Education ; counsel and advice of 
 
THE GREAT AUDIT. 13$ 
 
 faithful and judicious Friends > good Laws in 
 the place and country where you live 3 the 
 written Word of God acquainting you with 
 my will, and the way to eternal life j the Word 
 preached by able and powerful Ministers there- 
 of 5 the Sacraments, both for your imitation 
 and confirmation -, special and powerful mo- 
 tions and impulses of my Spirit upon your 
 consciences, dissuading from sin, and encou- 
 raging in and to holiness } special Providences, 
 abstracting and diverting you from the com- 
 mission of things contrary to my will, dis- 
 honourable to my name, and hurtful to your- 
 selves j Chastisement and Corrections, emi- 
 nently and plainly inflicted for sin committed 
 by yourselves and others, so that the guilt was 
 legible in the punishment j eminent Blessings 
 upon the ways of holiness and virtue, even to 
 the view of the world 5 eminent Restitution and 
 Deliverances, upon repentance and amendment 
 of life } most clear and sensible Experiences of 
 my love, favour, and listening to your prayers, 
 to encourage you to a dependence upon me 5 
 singular Opportunities put into your hands, of 
 instructing the ignorant, delivering the op- 
 pressed, promoting my honour. 
 
]36 THE ACCOUNT OF 
 
 " These are some of the many talents which 
 I have committed to you, though in diflfering 
 degrees : Give up your accounts, you children 
 of men, how you have emyloyed them." 
 
 THE ACCOUNT OF 
 
 THE GOOD STEWARD. 
 
 Lord, before I enter into account with thy 
 Majesty, I must confess, that if thou shouldst 
 enter into judgment with me, and demand that 
 account which in justice thou mayest require 
 of me, I should be found thy debtor. 1 con- 
 fess I have not improved my talents according 
 to that measure of ability that thou hast lent 
 me. I therefore most humbly offer unto thee 
 the redundant merit of thy own Son, to supply 
 my defects, and to make good what is wanting 
 in my account j yet according to thy command, 
 I do humbly render my discharge of the trust 
 thou- hast committed to me, as followeth : 
 
 I. 
 
 IN GENERAL. 
 
 As to all the Blessings and Talents where- 
 with thou hast intrusted me : — 
 
THfc GOOD STEWARD. 137 
 
 1 have looked up to Thee with a thankful 
 heart, as the only author and giver of them. 
 
 1 have looked upon myself as unworthy of 
 them. 
 
 I have looked upon them as committed to 
 my trust and stewardship, to manage them for 
 the ends that they were givenj— the honour of 
 my Lord and Master. 
 
 I have therefore been watchful and sober 
 in the use and exercise of them, lest I should 
 be unfaithful in them. 
 
 If I have at any time, through weakness or 
 inadvertence, or temptation, mis-employed any 
 of them, I have been restless, till I have in 
 some measure rectified my miscarriage by re- 
 pentance and amendment. 
 
 II. 
 
 IN PARTICULAR. 
 
 Concerning my Senses, and the use of 
 them : — 
 
 ."' I have made a covenant with mine Eyes, 
 that they should not rove after vanity, or for- 
 bidden objects : I have employed them in be- 
 holding thy works of wonder and wisdom. 
 
 I have busied them in reading those books 
 
138 THB ACCOUNT OP 
 
 and writings, that may instruct me in the great 
 concernments of eternal life. 
 
 I have stopt my Ears against sinful and 
 unprofitable discourse, and against slandering, 
 and lying, and flattering tongues. 
 
 I have exercised them in listening to those 
 things that might increase my faith, knowledge 
 and piety. 
 
 I have kept them open to the cry of the 
 poor and oppressed, to relieve them. The rest 
 of the employments of these and my other 
 Senses, have been for my necessary preser\a- 
 tion, and the honest exercise of an honest 
 calling and conversation. 
 
 III. 
 
 AS TO THE REASON AND UNDERSTANDING THOU 
 HAST GIVEN ME. 
 
 I have been careful to govern my senses 
 and sensual appetite by my reason, and to 
 govern my reason by thy word. 
 
 I have endeavoured to use and employ it, 
 but not lean or depend upon it : I make it my 
 assistant, but not my idoL 
 
 I have been careful to wind up my reason 
 and understanding to the highest key in the 
 
 j^'M^-' 
 
THE GOOP STEWARD. 139 
 
 searching out of truths, but especially those 
 that are of the greatest concernment in matter* 
 of faith. I have made my understanding to 
 be laborious and industrious, but still kept 
 under yoke and rule of thy word, lest it should 
 grow extravagant and petulant. 
 
 I have looked upon my understanding and 
 reason, as a ray of thy Divine light 5 and there- 
 fore I have used it for Thee 5 and have counted 
 it a most high sacrilege, ingratitude, and re- 
 bellion, to employ it against thee, thy honour, 
 or service. 
 
 I have endeavoured principally to furnish it 
 with that knowledge, which will be of use in 
 the other world. This hath been my business ; 
 other studies, or acquests of other knowledge, 
 have been either for the necessary use of this 
 life, or harmless divertisements or recreations. 
 In the exercise of my reason, as on the one side 
 I have avoided idleness, supineness, or neglect, 
 so on the other side I have not employed 
 it in vain, curious, unprofitable, forbidden, in- 
 quiries. I have studied to use it with sobriety, 
 moderation, humility, and thankfulness. And 
 as I have been careful to employ it, so I have 
 been as careful not to mis-employ it : I looked 
 
140 THE ACCOUNT OF 
 
 upon it as thy talent, and therefore gave unto 
 thee the glory, the use and service of it. 
 
 IV. 
 
 AS TO THE MEMORY THOU HAST LENT ME. 
 
 On the contemplation of that strange and 
 wonderful faculty, that distinctly, and not- 
 withstanding the intervention of thousands of 
 objects, retains their images and representa- 
 tions, with all their circumstances and conse- 
 quents, I have admired the wonderful wisdom, 
 power, and perfection of the Lord. 
 
 I have endeavoured principally to treasure 
 up in it those things that may be most of use 
 for the life to come, and most conducible to 
 the attaining of itj thy mercies, commands, 
 directions, promises j my own vows, reso- 
 lutions, experiences, failings j to keep me 
 constant in my duty, dependant upon thy good- 
 ness, humble and penitent. 
 
 Some things I have studied to forget 3 in- 
 juries, vain and hurtful discourses, and such 
 things, as either would make me the worse 
 by remembering them, or take up too much 
 room in my memory, which might be em- 
 ployed and stored with better furniture. 
 
THE GOOD STEWARD. 141 
 
 The rest of the employment of my memory 
 hath been, to assist me in the ordinary and ne- 
 cessary conversation with others, the ways of 
 my calling, the performing of my promises 
 and undertakings, the preservation of good 
 and lawful learning, that thereby I might do 
 service to Thy name, serve my generation, and 
 improve myself in knowledge, wisdom and un- 
 derstanding. 
 
 AS TOUCHING MY CONSCIENCE, AND THE LIGHT 
 THOU HAST GIVEN ME IN IT. 
 
 It hath been my care to improve that natu- 
 ral light, and to furnish it with the best prin- 
 ciples I could. Before I had the knowledge 
 of thy Word, I got as much furniture as I 
 could from the writings of the best moralists, 
 And the examples of the best men : after I had 
 the light of thy Word, I furnished it with 
 those most pure and unerring principles that I 
 found in it. 
 
 I have been very diligent to keep my con- 
 science clean J to encourage it in the vice- 
 gerency that thou hast given it over my soul 
 and actings : I have kept it in the throne. 
 
142 THB ACCOUNT OF 
 
 and greatest reverence and authority, in my 
 heart. 
 
 In actions to be done or omitted, I have 
 always advised veith it, and taken its advice: I 
 have neither stifled, nor forced, nor bribed it ; 
 but gave it a free liberty to advise and speak 
 out, and a free subjection of my will, purposes, 
 and actions to it. 
 
 If, through inadvertency of mind, or im- 
 portunity of temptations, or precipitancy of 
 occasion, or necessity of the times, I have at 
 any time done amiss, I have not taken her up 
 short, of stopped her mouth, or my own at- 
 tention to her chiding and reproof ; but I have, 
 with much submission of mind, borne her chas- 
 tisement, and improved it to an humbling of 
 myself before thee for my failings ; fori look- 
 ed upon her as acting by thy authority, for thy 
 service, and to thy glory 3 and 1 durst not dis- 
 courage, discountenance, or disobey her. 
 
 When she was pleased, and gave me good 
 words, I was glad j for I esteemed her as a 
 glass, that represented to my soul the favour 
 or displeasure of God himself, and how he 
 stood affected towards me. 
 
 I have more trembled under the fear of a 
 
rat GOOD STEWARD. 143 
 
 leared or discouraged conscience, than under 
 the fear of a sharp or scrupulous conscience} 
 because I always counted the latter, though 
 more troublesome, yet more safe. 
 
 I have been very jealous, either of wound- 
 ing, or grieving, or discouraging, or deading 
 my conscience. I have therefore chosen ra- 
 ther to forbear that which seemed but indiflFer- 
 cnt, lest there should be somewhat in it that 
 might be unlawful } and would rather gratify 
 my conscience, with being too scrupulous, than 
 displease, disquiet, or flat it by being too ven- 
 turous : I have still chosen rather to forbear 
 what might be probably lawful, than to do 
 that which might be possibly unlawful} be- 
 cause I could not err in the former, 1 might in 
 the latter. If things were disputable whether 
 they might be done, I rather chose to forbear, 
 because the lawfulness of my forbearance was 
 unquestionable. 
 
 As I have been careful to advise impartially 
 with my conscience, before my actions, so lest 
 either through inadvertence, precipitancy, in- 
 cogitancy, or sudden emergencies, I had com- 
 mitted any thing amiss, either in the nature 
 or manner of the action, I commonly, every 
 
144 THE ACCOUNT Of 
 
 night, brought my actions of the day past, 
 before the judicatory of my conscience, and left 
 her to a free and impartial censure of them j 
 and what she sentenced well done, 1 with hu- 
 mility returned the praise thereof to Thy name : 
 what she sentenced done amiss, 1 did humbly 
 sue unto thee for pardon, and for grace to pre- 
 vent me from the like miscarriages. By this 
 means I kept my conscience active, renewed 
 and preserved my peace with thee, and learned 
 vigilance and caution for the time to come. 
 
 VI. 
 
 AS TOUCHING THY GREAT WORKS OF CREATION 
 AND PROVIDENCE. 
 
 1 have not looked upon thy works inconsi- 
 derately and commonly, and passed them over 
 as common and ordinary things, as men usually 
 do upon things of common and ordinary oc- 
 currence ^ but I have searched into them as 
 things of great eminence and wonder, and 
 have esteemed it a great part of my duty, that 
 the wise God of nature requires of the children 
 ef men, who therefore exposed these his great 
 works to our view, and gave us eyes to behold, 
 and reason in some measure to observe and 
 
TEIE GOOD STEWARD.- 145 
 
 understand them : and therefore I have strictly 
 observed the frame of the world, the motion, 
 order, and Divine economy of them. I have 
 searched into their qualities, causes, and opera- 
 tions; and have discovered as great, if not 
 greater, matter of admiration therein, than in 
 the external beauty and prospect, that at the 
 first view they presented to my sense. 
 
 And this disquisition, and observation, did 
 not rest only in the bare perusal of the works 
 themselves, or their immediate natural causes, 
 upon which they depended 5 but I traced their 
 being, dependance, and government unto thee, 
 the First Cause ; and by this prosecution and 
 tracing of things to their original, I was led up 
 to a most demonstrative conviction. That there 
 is a God that is the first cause of their being, 
 and motion. And in the contemplation of the 
 admirable vastness of the works mine eyes be- 
 hold, their singular beauty and order, the ad- 
 mirable usefulness, convenience, and adapta- 
 tion of one thing to another, the constancy, 
 regularity, and order of the motion of the 
 heavens and heavenly bodies, the mutual sub- 
 serviency of one thing to another, the order 
 and useful position of the elements, the fertility 
 
146 THE ACCOUNT OF 
 
 of the earth, the variety of beauty and use- 
 fulness of the creatures, their admirable in- 
 stincts, the wonderful fabric of the body of 
 man, the admirableness and usefulness of his 
 faculties animal, and the singular adaptation 
 of the organs to those faculties, the strong 
 powers of the reasonable soul, — in the con- 
 templation of these, and such as these varie- 
 ties, I did, to the everlasting silencing of the 
 atheism that my own corruptions were apt to 
 nourish, conclude. That there is hut one God, 
 that he is most powerful, most wise, knowing 
 all things, governing all things, supporting 
 all things. Upon these convictions, I was 
 strengthened in the belief of thy Holy Word, 
 which had so great a congruity with these 
 truths, that the strict and due contemplation of 
 thy creatures did so demonstratively evince. 
 
 And upon these convictions, I did learn the 
 more to honour, reverence, and admire Thee, 
 and to worship, serve, and obey Thee, to de- 
 pend and rest upon Thee, to walk humbly and 
 sincerely, and awfully before Thee, as being 
 present with me, and beholding me ; to love 
 and adore Thee as the fountain of all being and 
 good. When I looked upon the glory and 
 
THE GOOD STEWARD. 147 
 
 usefulness of the sun, I admired the God that 
 made it, chalked out its motions for it, placed 
 it in that due distance from the earth, for its 
 use and conveniency. When I looked upon 
 the stars, those huge and wonderful balls of 
 light, placed in that immense distance from 
 the inferior bodies, and one from another, 
 their multitude and motion, I admired the 
 wisdom and power of that God, whose hand 
 spans the Heavens, and hath fixed every thing 
 in its place. Nay, when I looked upon the 
 poor little herbs that arise out of the earth, the 
 lowest of vegetables j and considered the secret 
 spark of life that is in it, that attracts, increas- 
 eth, groweth, seminateth, preserves itself, and 
 its kinds j the various virtues that are in them 
 for the food, medicine, and delight of more 
 perfect creatures j my mind was carried up to 
 the admiration, and adoration, and praise of 
 that God, whose wisdom, power, and influence, 
 and government is seen in these little small 
 footsteps of his goodness : so that take all the 
 wisest, ablest, most powerful, and know- 
 ing men under heaven, they cannot equal that 
 power and wisdom of thine, that is seen in 
 a blade of grass ; nor so much as trace out, or 
 
 h2 
 
148 THE ACCOUNT OF 
 
 clearly or distinctly decypher, the great varie- 
 ties in the production, growth, and process of 
 its short, yet wonderful continuance j inso- 
 much that there is scarce any thing that we 
 converse withal, but yielded me inscriptions of 
 the power and wisdom of their Maker written 
 upon them. 
 
 In the contemplation of thy great works of 
 the Heavens, those goodly, beautiful, and nu- 
 merous bodies, so full of glory and light, I 
 ever reflected upon myself with David's medi- 
 tation, *' Lord, what is man that thou art mind- 
 ful of him, or the son of man, that thou re- 
 gardest him !" It is true, man in himself 
 considered, is a creature full of wonder, but 
 compared wit^i these goodly creatures, he is 
 but an inconsiderable thing. I learnt by thy 
 creatures to be humble, and adore thy con- 
 descension, that art pleased from Heaven, the 
 dwelling-place of thy Majesty and Glory, to 
 take care of such a worm as man, sinful 
 man. 
 
 In the contemplation of thy Power and 
 Wisdom in creating and governing the world, 
 I have learned submission to thy will) as 
 being the will of the same most wise God, 
 
THE GOOD STEWARD. 149 
 
 that by his wisdom hath created and governs 
 all things ; and therefore his will, a naost wise, 
 perfect will. I have learned to depend upon 
 thy Providence; who, though 1 am but a 
 worm, in comparison with thy heavenly works, 
 yet am an excellent and eminent creature, in 
 comparison of the ravens and the grass of the 
 fields 3 yet those he feeds, and these he clothes, 
 and shall he not much more clothe and feed 
 me ? Thus I have in some measure improved 
 the talents of thy works, thereby to find and 
 trace out thy majesty, thy power, wisdom, and 
 greatness, and my own duty. 
 
 VII. 
 
 TOUCHING THY MORE SPECIAL PROVIDENCES 
 TOWARD THE CHILDREN OF MEN. 
 
 As by the works of nature, 1 have learned 
 what thou art, and something of my duty 
 thereupon to thee; so by thy providence to- 
 wards the children of men, I have in some 
 measure learned the same, and a farther lesson : 
 viz. What thy Will is ; for thou hast not left 
 thyself without a witness thereof to a mere na- 
 tural man, observing thy providence towards 
 the children of men. — I have observed some 
 
150 THE ACCOUNT OF 
 
 men of eminent justice and uprightness of life, 
 purity and sanctimony, temperance and so- 
 briety, mercy and gentleness, patience and 
 forbearance, bounty and liberality j and I have 
 observed them to be very happy men, and 
 blessed in what was most desired by them. It 
 may be they were rich and great j but if they 
 were not, it was because riches and greatness 
 was not the thing they most valued : perchance 
 it might have been a burden to them to be 
 such. But I have always observed them to be 
 happy in what they most desired and valued : 
 they had serenity and quietness of mind. If 
 they were not rich, yet they were visibly happy 
 in their contentedness ; and if they were not 
 great, yet they were apparently honourable in 
 the esteem and value of others : nay, if they 
 were under external losses, crosses, reproaches, 
 yet in the midst thereof, it was most apparent 
 to all men they enjoyed that which they more 
 valued, a most composed, cheerful, patient, 
 contented soul. And this hath been apparently 
 as visible to all spectators, as if they had en- 
 joyed a full confluence of external happiness 3 
 and very many times, unless upon eminent and 
 visible reasons, before the end of their days. 
 
THB GOOD STEWARD. 151 
 
 they had signal returns of eternal enjoyments. 
 1 have observed men of notorious and wicked 
 lives, traitors, murderers, oppressors, adul- 
 terers, covenant-breakers, and other villanies, 
 secured by eminent power, policy, or secrecy j 
 yet by wonderful providence that power bro- 
 ken, that policy disappointed, that secrecy dis- 
 covered, and eminent judgments, answerable 
 to their eminent demerits, have overtaken 
 them. I have seen and observed both in my- 
 self and others, our sins and oflfences so suit- 
 ably, and proportionably answered with punish- 
 ments, that though they seem to be produced' 
 by strange and most casual conjectures, yet so 
 exactly conformable to the nature, quality, and 
 degree of the oflFence, that they carried in them 
 the very effigies of the sins, and made it legible 
 in the punishment, sic ille manus, sic ora gere- 
 bat. And from these observations I found that 
 those sins were displeasing to thee 3 that thou 
 wert most wise to discover, and most just and 
 powerful to punish them j and did thereupon 
 conclude. Verily there is a reward for the righ' 
 teous i verily he is a God that judgeth in the 
 earth. 
 
152 THE ACCOUNT OF 
 
 VIII. 
 
 CONCERNING MY SPEECH. 
 
 I have always been careful that I offend 
 not with my tongue. My words have been 
 few, unless necessity or thy honour required 
 itiore speech than ordinary. My words have 
 been true, representing things as they were j 
 and sincere, bearing conformity to my heart 
 and mind. My words have been seasonable, 
 suitable to the occasion, and seasoned with 
 grace and usefulness. 
 
 I have esteemed my words, though tran- 
 sient and passing away, yet treasured up in thy 
 remembrance j for by my words I shall be jus- 
 tified, by my words condemned : and therefore 
 I have reflected often upon my words 3 and 
 when I have found any thing, through inad- 
 vertency or passion, hath passed from me, I 
 have endeavoured to reform it, and humbled 
 myself before thee for it. 
 
 I have esteemed it the most natural and 
 excellent use of my tongue, to set forth thy 
 glory, goodness, power, wisdom, and truth; 
 to instruct others as I had opportunity in the 
 
THE GOOD STEWARD. 153 
 
 knowledge of thee, in their duty to thee, to 
 themselves, and others j to reprove vice and 
 sin 3 to encourage virtue and good living j to 
 convince errors, to maintain the truth j to call 
 upon thy name, and by vocal prayers to sanctify 
 my tongue, and to fix my thoughts to the duty 
 about which I was ; to persuade to peace, and 
 charity, and good works : and in these employ- 
 ments I endeavoured to wind up my tongue to 
 the highest degree of elocution that I was ca- 
 pable of. 
 
 I have often contemplated thy wonderful 
 wisdom and goodness to the children of men, 
 in giving them not only reason and under- 
 standing, but that admirable faculty of speech, 
 whereby one man might communicate his 
 mind, and thoughts, and wants, and desires, 
 and counsels, and assistance, to others 5 the 
 great engine of upholding of mutual society 5 
 and without which our reason and understand- 
 ing were imprisoned within ourselves, and 
 confusion would ensue, as once it did at the 
 confusion of tongues, by the most wise provi- 
 dence for most excellent ends. 
 
 In sum, I have looked upon this, amongst 
 the many other conveniencies I enjoy, as a 
 
 H 5 
 
154 THB ACCOUNT OF 
 
 treasure committed to my trust for my Master's 
 use. I have accordingly employed it conscion- 
 ably, seemly, and humbly, as thy gift, not my 
 own acquest. 
 
 IX. 
 
 TOUCHING MY TIME OP LIFE. 
 
 First, I have duly considered what it is, and 
 for what end thou gavest it me : that it is but 
 a short time, and the minutes that are passed^ 
 and the opportunities in them, are irrevocably 
 and irrecoverably lost 5 that all the wealth of 
 the world cannot redeem it 3 that the time that 
 is before me, is uncertain. When I look upon 
 an hour-glass, or the shadow of a dial, I can 
 guess that here is half an hour, or a quarter, or 
 more, or less to come j but I cannot guess what 
 proportion of time remains in the hour-glass of 
 my life : only I know it is short j but I know 
 not how short it is, whether a year, or a week, 
 or a day, or an hour j and yet upon this little 
 uncertain portion of time, and the due use of 
 it, depends my everlasting happiness or misery. 
 It is my seed-time, and if I sow not my seed 
 here, it is too late to think of that husbandry 
 after death 5 and if I sow, and sow not good 
 
THE GOOD STEWARD. 155 
 
 seed, my crop will be thereafter, in that other 
 world, that immediately expects upon the issue 
 of this 3 and I have a thousand diversions that 
 rob me of much of this little portion of time, 
 and yield me no account in order to my great 
 concernment. When I cast out, from the ac- 
 count of my time, the unprofitableness of my 
 childhood and youth, the hours spent in sleep- 
 ing, eating, drinking, recreations, travels, and 
 other things that carry no sin in them, there 
 remains but a small portion of a short life for 
 concernments of everlasting importance; a 
 great business to be done, great difficulties and 
 impediments in the doing of it, and but a little 
 portion of time, of a short and uncertain life, 
 to do it in. And yet this life of mine was by 
 Thee given, not to be trifled and squandered 
 away, either in sin or idleness; not to gain 
 riches, honour, or reputation ; for when sick- 
 ness comes, these will appear insipid and vain 
 things J and when death comes, they will be 
 merely useless : but it was for a higher end, 
 viz. a time to trade for the most valuable jewel 
 of eternal happiness ; a time to sow such seed 
 as might yield a crop of blessedness in the next 
 world J a time to secure a title to an everlasting 
 
156 THE ACCOUNT OF 
 
 inheritance j such a time, as if once lost, the 
 opportunity is lost for ever 5 lost irrecover- 
 ably; for the night cometh wherein no man 
 can work j " For there is no work, nor device, 
 nor knowledge, nor wisdom in the grave whi- 
 ther thou goest*." 
 
 And upon this consideration of the great 
 end of my life, the great importance of the 
 business that is to be done in it, the brevity 
 and great uncertainty of this life, and the utter 
 impossibility after death to redeem the neglect 
 of the proper and important business of my 
 life, I have endeavoured to husband this short, 
 uncertain, important talent as well as I can. 
 
 1. By a careful avoiding of sinful Employ- 
 ments, which at once do waste this precious 
 talent, and contract a farther debt upon me : 
 it renders me in arrears for the time mispent, 
 and the guilt contracted. 
 
 2. By avoiding Idleness, burning out my 
 candle to no purpose. 
 
 3. By avoiding unnecessary consumption 
 of Time, by long feastings, excessive sleep, 
 impertinent visits, seeing of interludes, unne* 
 
 * Eccles. ix. 10. 
 
THE GOOD STEWARD. 157 
 
 cessary recreations^ curious and impertinent 
 studies and enquiries, that, when attained, serve 
 to no purpose. 
 
 4. By applying, directing and ordering even 
 my studies of human Learning, histories, na- 
 tural or moral philosophy, mathematics, lan- 
 guages, laws, to an end beyond themselves : 
 viz. thereby to enable me to understand, and 
 observe thy excellent wisdom and power; to 
 maintain and uphold thy cause against athe- 
 ism, idolatry, and errors ; to fit me for serving 
 of thee and my country, in the station wherein 
 I live. 
 
 5. By exercising myself in the very business 
 of my Calling, as an act of duty and obedience 
 to thee 3 acting in it those virtues of Christi- 
 anity that might be honourable to thy name, 
 and a good example to others, of improvement 
 of grace unto myself; using in it diligence 
 without anxiety, dependence upon thee with- 
 out presumption, contentedness, patience, 
 thankfulness, honesty, justice, uprightness, 
 plain-dealing, liberality : and by this means 
 translating my secular employment into an 
 exercise of Christian duty ; serving thee while 
 I served myself j and converting that very em- 
 ployment and the time spent therein, to the 
 
15S THE ACCOUNt OF 
 
 use, honour, and advantage of my Lord- and 
 Master, the good example of others, and the 
 increase of my spiritual advantage, as well as 
 my temporal. 
 
 6. By religiously observing those times 
 that have been set apart to religious duties^ 
 especially the Lord's Dayj not mingling with 
 it secular thoughts or employments 5 but with 
 much attention, strictness and care, laying hold 
 upon those times and opportunities, and care- 
 fully applying them singly to the proper busi- 
 ness or the times. 
 
 7. By dedicating and setting apart some 
 portion of my time to Prayer, and reading of 
 thy Word, which I have constantly and peremp- 
 torily observed, whatever occasions interposed, 
 or importunity persuaded to the contrary. 
 
 8. By making the magnum oportet, the 
 great and one thing necessary, the choice and 
 principal Business of my Life, and the great 
 design of it 3 and esteeming that time spent 
 most naturally, profitably, and suitably, that 
 was spent in order to it ; observing thy great 
 works of wisdom and power j contemplating 
 upon thy goodness and excellency j hearing 
 and reading thy wordj calling upon thy 
 Name J crucifying my corruptions 3 exercising 
 
THE GOOD STEWARD. 159 
 
 thy graces ) humbling myself for my sins j re- 
 turning thanks for thy mercies ; studying the 
 mystery of God manifest in the flesh j striving 
 to bring myself conformable to my Pattern, 
 and to have him formed in my heart, and his 
 life in mine ; crucifying myself to the world, 
 and the world to me j fitting myself for death, 
 judgment, and eternity. These, and the like 
 employments, I esteemed the flower, the glory, 
 the best of my spent time, because they will 
 be carried over with advantage into the life to 
 come ; and therefore this I reckoned my busi- 
 ness, and accordingly I made it. Other mat- 
 ters, that only served for the meridian of this 
 life, I used either barely for necessity of my 
 present subsistence, or as a divertisement, and 
 sparingly, or in order to those great ends. 
 Those were the business, these only the joa- 
 rerga * of my life. 
 
 X. 
 
 TOUCHING THY CREATURES, AND THE USE OP 
 THEM, AND THE DOMINION OVER THEM. 
 
 I have esteemed them as thine in propriety. 
 Thou hast committed unto me the use, and a 
 
 • Recreations. 
 
160 THE ACCOUNT OF 
 
 subordinate dominion over them; yet 1 ever 
 esteemed myself an accomptant to Thee for 
 them J and therefore I have received them with 
 thankfulness unto Thee, the great Lord both 
 of them and me. When the earth yielded me 
 a good crop of corn or other fruits, when flocks 
 increased, when my honest labours brought 
 me in a plentiful or convenient supply, I look- 
 ed up to thee as the giver, — to thy providence 
 and blessings, as the original of all my in- 
 crease. I did not sacrifice to my own net, or 
 industry, or prudence j but I received all, as 
 the gracious and bountiful returns of thy libe- 
 ral hand. I looked upon every grain of corn 
 that I sowed, as buried and lost, unless thy 
 power quickened and revived it. I esteemed 
 the best production would have been but stalk 
 and straw, unless thou hadst increased it. I 
 esteemed my own hand and industry but im- 
 potent, unless thou hadst blessed it ; for it is 
 thy blessing that maketh rich, and it is thou 
 that givest power to get wealth*. 
 
 2. I esteemed it my duty to make a return 
 of this my acknowledgment, by giving the 
 
 * ProY. X. 22. Deut viii. 18. 
 
THE GOOD STEWARD. 161 
 
 tribute of my increase, in the maintenance of 
 thy ministers, and the relief of the poor : and I 
 esteemed the practice enjoined to thy ancient 
 people, of giving the tenth of their increase, a 
 sufficient, not only warrant, but instruction to 
 me under the gospel, to do the like. 
 
 3. I have not only looked upon thy bles- 
 sings and bounty, in lending me thine own 
 creatures for my use j but I have sought unto 
 Thee for a blessing upon them, in my use of 
 them. I did very well observe, that there is by 
 my sin a curse in the very creatures that I re- 
 ceive, unless thy blessing fetch it out 5 an 
 emptiness in them, unless thy goodness fill 
 them: though thou shouldst give me quails 
 and manna from heaven, yet without thy 
 blessing upon them, they would become rot- 
 tenness and putrefaction to me. And therefore 
 I ever begged thy blessing upon thy blessings, 
 as well as the blessings themselves 5 and at- 
 tributed the good I found, or was to expect in 
 them, to the same hand that gave them. 
 
 4. I received and used thy creatures, as 
 committed to me under a trust, and as a stew- 
 ard and accomptant for themj and therefore, 
 I was always careful to use them according to 
 
1<?2 THE ACCOUNT OF 
 
 those limits, and in order for those ends, for 
 which thou didst commit them to me. — 1. 
 With temperance and moderation. I did not 
 use thy creatures to luxury and excess, to make 
 provision for my lusts, with vain glory or os- 
 tentation} but for the convenient support of 
 the exigencies of my nature and condition: 
 and if at any time thy goodness did indulge 
 me an use of them for delight, as well as ne- 
 cessity, I did it but rarely and watchfully. I 
 looked not upon the wine, when it gave its 
 colour in the cup j nor gave myself over, either 
 to excess or curiosity in meats and drinks : I 
 checked myself therein, as being in thy pre- 
 sence; and still remembered I had thy crea- 
 tures under an accompt; and was ever careful 
 to avoid excess or intemperance, because every 
 excessive cup or meal was in danger to leave 
 me somewhat in super* and arrear to my 
 Lord. — 5. With mercy and compassion to the 
 creatures themselves, which thou hast put 
 under my power and disposal. When I con- 
 sidered the admirable powers of life and sense, 
 which I saw in the birds and beasts; and that 
 
 'Excess. 
 
THB GOOD STEWARD. 163 
 
 all the men in the world could not give the 
 like being to any thing, nor restore that life 
 and sense which is once taken from them; 
 when I considered how innocently and harm- 
 lessly the fowls and the fish, and the sheep and 
 oxen take their food, that thou the Lord of all 
 hast given them; I have been apt to think, 
 that surely thou didst intend a more innocent 
 kind of food to man, than such as must be 
 taken with such detriment to those living parts 
 of thy creation: and although thy wonderful 
 goodness hath so much indulged to mankind, 
 as to give up the lives of these creatures for 
 the food of man, by thy express commission, 
 yet I still do, and ever did think that there 
 was a justice due from man, even to these sen- 
 sible creatures, that he should take them spar- 
 ingly, for necessity, and not for delight; or if 
 for delight, yet not for luxury. I have been 
 apt to think, that if there were any more libe- 
 ral use of creatures for delight and variety, it 
 should be of fruits, or such other delicacies as 
 might be had without the loss of life; but 
 however it be, this very consideration hath 
 made me very sparing and careful, not vainly. 
 
164 THE ACCOUNT OF 
 
 or superfluously, or unnecessarily, or prodigally 
 to take away the life of thy creatures for feast- 
 ing and excess. And the very same considera- 
 tion hath always gone along with me, in 
 reference to the labours of his creatures. I 
 have ever thought that there was a certain de- 
 gree of justice due from man to the creatures, 
 as from man to man 3 and that an excessive, 
 immoderate, unseasonable use of the creature's 
 labour, is an injustice for which he must ac- 
 count. To deny domestical creatures their 
 convenient foodj to exact that labour from 
 them, that they are not able to perform j to 
 use extremity or cruelty towards them 3 is a 
 breach of that trust under which the dominion 
 of the creatures was committed to us, and a 
 breach of that justice that is due from men to 
 them. And therefore 1 have always esteeifited 
 it as a part of my duty, and it hath been al- 
 ways my practice, to be merciful to beasts*. 
 And upon the same account I have ever 
 esteemed it a breach of trust, and have accord- 
 ingly declined, any cruelty to any of thy crea- 
 
 * Prov. xii. 10. 
 
THE GOOD STEWARD. 165 
 
 turesj and as much as I might, prevented it 
 in others; as a tyranny, inconsistent with the 
 trust and stewardship that thou hast committed 
 to me. I have abhorred those sports than con- 
 sists in the torturing of the creatures: and if 
 either noxious creatures must be destroyed, or 
 creatures for food must be taken, it hath been 
 my practice to do it in that manner, that may 
 be with the least torture or cruelty to the crea- 
 ture. And I have still thought it an unlawful 
 thing to destroy those creatures for recreation's 
 sake, that either were not hurtful when they 
 lived, or are not profitable when they are 
 killed 3 ever remembering, that thou hast given 
 us a dominion over thy creatures 3 yet it is 
 under a law of justice, prudence, and modera- 
 tion, otherwise we should become tyrants, not 
 lords, over thy creatures : and therefore those 
 things of this nature, that others have prac- 
 tised as recreations, I have avoided as sins. 
 
 As to those Habits of Mind, and know- 
 ledge that I have had or acquired; and 
 namely. 
 
166 THE ACCOUNT OF 
 
 XI. 
 
 MY LEARNING OF NATURAL CAUSES AND EF- 
 FECTS, AND OF ARTS AND SCIENCES*. 
 
 I have not esteemed them the chiefest or 
 best furniture of my mind: but have accounted 
 them but dross in comparison of the know- 
 ledge of Thee, and thy Christ, and Him cruci- 
 fied. In the acquiring of them I have always 
 observed this care: — 1. That I might not too 
 prodigally bestow my time upon them, to the 
 prejudice of that time and pains for the ac- 
 quiring of more excellent knowledge, and the 
 greater concernments of my everlasting hap- 
 piness. 
 
 2. I carried along with me, in all my 
 studies of this nature, this great design of im- 
 proving them, and the knowledge acquired by 
 them to the honour of thy name, and the 
 greater discovery of thy wisdom, power, and 
 truth 5 and so translated my secular learning 
 into an improvement of divine knowledge. 
 And had I not had, and practised that design 
 in my acquests of human learning, I had con- 
 cluded my time mispent; because I ever 
 thought it unworthy of a man that had an 
 
THE GOOD STEWARD. 167 
 
 everlasting soul, to furnish it only with such 
 learning, as either would die with his body, 
 and so become unuseful for his everlasting 
 state, or that in the next monaent after death, 
 would be attained without labour or toil in 
 this life. Yet this advantage I made and 
 found in my application to secular studies : — 
 
 It enlarged and habituated my mind for 
 more useful inquiries. 
 
 It carried me up, in a great measure, to 
 the sound and grounded knowledge of Thee, 
 the first cause of all things. 
 
 It kept me from idleness and rust. 
 
 It kept my thoughts, and life oftentimes, 
 from temptations to worse employments. 
 
 My learning and knowledge did not 
 heighten my opinion of myself, parts or abili- 
 ties j but the more I knew, the more humble 
 I was. 
 
 I found it was thy strength and blessing 
 that enabled me to itj that gave me under- 
 standing and enlarged it. I did look upon it 
 as a talent lent me, not truly acquired by 
 me. 
 
 The more I knew, the more I knew my 
 
 own ignorance. I found myself convinced 
 
168 THE ACCOUNT OF 
 
 that there was an ignorance in what I thought 
 I knew; my knowledge was but imperfect, 
 and defective; and I found an infinite latitude 
 of things which I knew not: the farther I 
 waded into knowledge, the deeper st 511 1 found 
 it; and it was with me, just as it is with a 
 child that thinks, that if he could but come to 
 such a field, he should be able to touch the 
 hemisphere of the heavens ; but when he comes 
 thither, he finds it as far oflF as it was before. 
 Thus, while my mind pursued knowledge, I 
 found the object still as far before me as it 
 was, if not much farther ; and could no more 
 attain the full and exact knowledge of any one 
 subject, than the hinder wheel of a chariot 
 can overtake the former: though I knew 
 much of what others were ignorant, yet still 
 I found there was much more, whereof I was 
 ignorant, than what I knew; even in the 
 compass of a most confined and inconsiderable 
 subject. And as my very knowledge taught 
 me humility, in the sense of my own igno- 
 rance; so it taught me that my understanding 
 was of finite and limited power, that takes in 
 things by little and little, and gradually; — 
 That thy wisdom is unsearchable and past 
 
THE GOOD STEWARD 169 
 
 finding outj — That thy works, which are but 
 finite in themselves, and necessarily short of that 
 infinite wisdom by which they are contrived, are 
 yet so wonderful, that as the wise man saith, 
 " No man can find out the work that thou 
 makest, from the beginning to the end.*" 
 If a man would spend his whole life in the 
 study of a poor fly, there would be such a con- 
 fluence of so many wonderful and difficult ex- 
 hibits in it, that it would still leave much more 
 undiscovered than the most singular wit ever 
 yet attained. 
 
 It taught me also, with the wise man, to 
 write vanity and vexation upon all my secular 
 knowledge and learning f. That little that I 
 know, was not attained without much labour, 
 nor yet free from much uncertainty 3 and the 
 great residuum which I knew not, rendered 
 that I knew poor, and inconsiderable: and 
 therefore, — 
 
 I did most evidently conclude, that the 
 happiness and perfection of my intellectual 
 power, was not to be found in this kind of 
 knowledge; in a knowledge thus sensibly 
 
 * Eccles. iii. 1 1. t Eccles. i 14, 
 
ITO THB ACCOUNT OF 
 
 mingled with ignorance, in the things it seems 
 to know; mingled with a dissatisfaction, in 
 respect of the things I know not j mingled 
 with a difficulty in attaining, and restlessness 
 when attained. The more I knew, the more 
 I knew that I knew not 3 and the more I knew, 
 the more impatient my mind was to know 
 what it knew not. My knowledge did rather 
 enlarge my desire of knowing than satisfy it ; 
 and the most intemperate sensual appetite 
 under heaven, was more capable of satisfac- 
 tion by what it enjoyed, than my intellectual 
 appetite or desire was, or could be satisfied 
 with the things I knew : but the enlarging of 
 my understanding with knowledge, did but 
 enlarge and amplify the desire and appetite I 
 had to know; so that what Job's return was 
 upon his inquisition after wisdom : *' The 
 depth saith, It is not in me ; and the sea saith. 
 It is not in me*;" the same account all my 
 several boxes or kinds of knowledge gave me, 
 when I inquired for satisfaction in them. My 
 abstract and choice speculations in the Meta- 
 physics were of that abstract and comprehen- 
 
 *Job, xxviii. 14. 
 
THE (JOOD STEWARD. 171 
 
 sive nature, that when I had perused great 
 volumes of it, and intended* my mind close 
 to it, yet it was so mercurial, that I could 
 hardly hold itj and yet so extensive and end- 
 less, that the more I read or thought of it, the 
 more I might. — Natural Philosophy (though it 
 were more tractable, because holding a greater 
 vicinity to sense and experiment, yet) I found 
 ful of uncertainty j much of it grounded upon 
 imaginary suppositions, impossible to be ex- 
 perimented ; the latter philosophers censuring 
 the former, and departing from them, and the 
 latest despising and rejecting both j the subject 
 as vast as the visible or tangible universe, and 
 yet every individual so complicated, that if all 
 the rest were omitted, any one had more lines 
 concentered in it, than were possible for any 
 one age to sift to the bottom; yet any one 
 lost, or not exactly scanned, leaves all the rest 
 uncertain and conjectural : the very disquisition 
 concerning any one part of the brain, the eye, 
 the nerves, the blood, hath perplexed the most 
 exact scrutators. — ^Those more dry, yet more 
 demonstrable conclusions in the Mathematics^ 
 
 •Applied. 
 
 j2 
 
172 THE ACCOUNT OP 
 
 yet they are endless and perplexed. The pro- 
 portion of lines to lipes, of superficies to super- 
 ficies, bodies to bodies, numbers to numbers, — 
 nay, to leave the whole latitude of the subject, 
 see what long, and intricate, and unsatisfactory 
 pains men have taken about some one particu- 
 lar subject, the quadrature of the circle, coni- 
 cal, oval, and spiral lines ; and yet if it could 
 be attained in the perfection of it, these three 
 unhappinesses attend it. 
 
 1. That it is but of little use : it is only 
 known that it may be known. That which is 
 of ordinary use either in Architecture, Measur- 
 ing of bodies and superficies. Mechanics, Busi- 
 ness of Accounts, and the like, is soon attained, 
 and by ordinary capacities : the rest are but 
 curious impertinents, in respect of use and ap- 
 plication. 
 
 2. That they serve only for the meridian of 
 this life, and of corporal converse. A separated 
 soul, or a spiritualized body, will not be con- 
 cerned in the use and employment of them. 
 
 3. But admit they should; yet, doubtless, 
 a greater measure of such knowledge will be 
 attained in one hour after our dissolution, than 
 the toilsome expense of an age in this life 
 
THE GOOD STEWARD. 173 
 
 ^ would produce. And the like' may be said for 
 Astronomical disquisitions. What a deal to do 
 ihere is, touching the motion or consistency of 
 the sun or earth j the quality and habitable- 
 ness of the moon j the matter, quantity, and 
 distance of the stars; the several positions, 
 continuity, contiguity, and motions of the 
 heavens; the various influences of the hea- 
 venly bodies in their oppositions, conjunctions, 
 aspects. When once the immortal soul hath 
 flown through the stories of the heavens, in 
 one moment all these will be known distinctly, 
 clearly, and evidently, which here are nothing 
 but conjectures and opinions, gained by long 
 reading or observation. 
 
 Upon all these considerations I concluded, 
 that my intellectual power, and the exercise of 
 it in this life, was given me for a more sure 
 and certain, useful, advantageous, suitable and 
 becoming object, even " To know thee, the 
 only true God, and Jesus Christ, whom thou 
 hast sent*." — A knowledge that is useful for 
 the acquiring of happiness here and hereafter; 
 a knowledge of a subject, though infinitely 
 
 * Johh, xvii 3k 
 
^74 THE ACCOUNT OF 
 
 comprehensive, yet but onej a knowledge, 
 that though it still move farther, yet it satisfies 
 in what is acquired, and doth not disquiet in 
 attaining more ; a knowledge that is of such 
 use in the world that is to come, as it is here j 
 a knowledge, that the more it is improved in 
 this life, the more it is improved in that 
 which is to comej every grain of it here 
 is enlarged to a vast proportion hereafter 3 
 a knowledge that is acquired, even with a con- 
 sent, a desire to know, because thy goodness 
 pleaseth to fill such a desire, to instruct from 
 thyself, and there is none teacheth like thee. 
 
 xn. 
 
 CONCERNING HUMAN PRUDENCE, AND UNDER- 
 STANDING IN AFFAIRS, AND DEXTERITY IN 
 THE MANAGING OF THEM. 
 
 I have been always careful to mingle jus- 
 tice and honesty with my prudence j and have 
 always esteemed prudence, acted by injustice 
 and falsity, the arrantest and most devilish 
 practice in the world 3 because it prostitutes 
 thy gift to the service of Hell, and mingles a 
 beam of thy Divine excellence with an extrac- 
 tion of the Devil's furnishing } making a man 
 
THB GOOD STEWARD. 17& 
 
 SO much the worse, by how much he is wiser 
 than others. I always thought that wisdom, 
 which in a tradesman, and in a politician, was 
 mingled with deceit, falsity, and injustice, de- 
 served the same name: only the latter is so 
 much the worse, because it was of the more 
 public and general concernment. Yet, because 
 I have often observed great employments, es- 
 pecially in pubic aflfairs, are sometimes under 
 great temptations of mingling too much craft 
 with prudence, and then to miscal it, policy,— 
 I have, as much as may be, avoided such 
 temptations 3 and if I have met with them, I 
 have resolvedly rejected them. 
 
 I have always observed, that honesty and 
 plain-dealing in transactions, as well public 
 as private, is the best and soundest prudence 
 and policyj and commonly at the long-run 
 over-matcheth craft and subtlety*; for the 
 deceived and deceiver are Thine ; and thou art 
 privy to the subtilty of the one, and the sim- 
 plicity of the other J and Thou, the great mo- 
 derator and observer of men, dost dispense 
 success and disappointments accordingly. 
 
 As human prudence is abused, if mingled 
 
 • Job, xii. 16. 
 
176 THE ACCOUNT OF 
 
 with falsity and deceit, though the end be 
 never so good j so it is much more embased, 
 if directed to a bad end : to the dishonour of 
 thy name, the oppression of thy people, the 
 corrupting of thy worship or truth, or to exe* 
 cute any injustice towards any person. It hath 
 been my care, as not to err in the manner, so 
 neither in the end of the exercising of thy pro- 
 vidence, l' have ever esteemed thy prudence 
 then best employed, when it was exercised in 
 the preservation and support of thy truth j in 
 the upholding of thy faithful ministers j in 
 countermining, discovering, and disappoint- 
 ing the designs of evil and treacherous men 5 
 in delivering the oppressed j in righting the 
 injured j in prevention of wars and discords j 
 in preserving the public peace and tranquillity 
 of the people where I livej in faithful advising 
 of my prince J and in all those offices incum- 
 bent upon me by thy providence, under every 
 relation. 
 
 When my end was most unquestionably 
 good, I ever then took most heed that the 
 means were suitable and justifiable. — 1. Be- 
 cause the better the end was, the more easily 
 we are cozened into the use of ill means to 
 effect it 3 we are too apt to dispense with our- 
 
THE GOOD STEWARD. 177 
 
 selves in the practice of what is amiss, in order 
 to the accomplishing of an end that is good ; 
 we are apt, while with great intention of mind 
 we gaze upon the end, not to care what course 
 we take, so as we attain it ; and are apt to 
 think that God will dispense with, or at least 
 overlook the miscarriage in our attempts, if the 
 end be good. — 2. Because many times, if not 
 most times. Thy name and honour do more 
 suffer, by attempting a good end by bad means, 
 than by attempting both a bad end, and also by 
 bad means. For bad ends are suitable to bad 
 means J they are alike: and it doth not im- 
 mediately, as such, concern thy honour. But 
 every thing that is good, hath somewhat of 
 thee in it : thy name, and thy nature, and thy 
 honour is written upon itj and the blemish 
 that is cast upon it, is in some measure cast 
 upon thee 5 and the evil and scandal, and in- 
 famy, and ugliness that is in the means, is cast 
 upon the end, and doth disparage and blemish 
 it) and consequently it dishonours Thee. To 
 rob for burnt-ofiferings, and to lie for God, is a 
 greater dis-service to Thy majesty, than to rob 
 for rapine, or to lie for advantage. 
 
 Whensoevep my prudence was successful, 
 
 i5 
 
178 THE ACCOUNT OF 
 
 duly to attain a good end, I ever gave Thy 
 name the glory, and that in sincerity. I have 
 known some men (and if a man will observe 
 his own heart, he will find it there also, unless 
 it be strictly denied) that will give God the 
 glory of the success of a good enterprize, but 
 yet with a kind of secret invitation of some- 
 what of praise for themselves, their prudence, 
 conduct, and wisdom j and will be glad to hear 
 of it, and secretly angry and discontented if 
 they miss itj and many times give God the 
 glory, with a kind of ostentation and vain- 
 glory in doing so : but I have given Thee the 
 glory of it ujjon the account of my very judg- 
 ment, that it is due, and due only to Thee. I do 
 know that that prudence that I have, comes 
 from Thee : and I do know, that it is thy pro- 
 vidential ordering of occurrences that makes 
 prudential deliberations successful j and more 
 is due unto thy ordering, disposing, fitting, 
 timing, directing of all in seeming casualties, 
 than there is to that human counsel by which 
 it is acted, or seems to be acted : the least 
 whereof, if not marshalled by Thy hand, would 
 have shattered and broken the counsel to a 
 thousand pieces. Thou givest the advice by 
 
THE GOOD STEWARD. 17^ 
 
 thy wisdom, and secondest it by Thy provi- 
 dence. Thou dealest by us as we do by our 
 children, when we set them to lift up a heavy 
 staflF, or a weight, and we lift with them : and 
 we again are too like those children, that think 
 we move the weight, when we move not a 
 grain of it. 
 
 XIII. 
 
 CONCERNING THE GIFT OF ELOCUTION. 
 
 I have ever used that gift with Humility 5 
 not thereby seeking applause to myself, or 
 owning it : because pride and ostentation, in 
 this gift, would be secret idolatry to myself, 
 and sacrilege to Theej robbing thee of thy 
 glory, and therefore signally vindicated in the 
 example of Herod *. 
 
 2. With Truth : — I never used the advan- 
 tage of my Elocution, either to maintain a 
 falsehood, or to abuse credulity into a foolish 
 opinion or persuasion. 
 
 3. With Integrity : — I never used the ad- 
 vantage of Eloquence or Rhetoric to deceive 
 people, or to cozen them into any thing. My 
 
 * Acts, xii. 
 
180 THE ACCOUNT OF 
 
 heart always went along with my tongue 3 and 
 if I used intention * of speech upon any occa- 
 sion, it was upon an intention * of conviction 
 in myself, of the truth, necessity, usefulness, 
 and fitness of what 1 so persuaded. If my 
 judgment was doubtful or uncertain, so was 
 my speech. I never used elocution, or speci- 
 ous arguments, to invite any to that which in 
 my own judgment I doubted, or doubted whe- 
 ther it were fit or seasonable, all circumstances 
 considered. I never used my elocution to give 
 credit to an ill cause 5 to justify that which de- 
 served blame J to justify the wicked, or to 
 condemn the righteous; to make any thing 
 appear more specious or enormous than it de- 
 served. I never thought my profession should 
 either necessitate a man to use his eloquence 
 by extenuations, or aggravations, to make any 
 thing worse or better than it deserves, or could 
 justify a man in it: to prostitute my elocution 
 or rhetoric in such a way, I ever held to be 
 most basely mercenary; and that it was below 
 the worth of a man, much more of a Christian, 
 so to do. When the case was good, and fully 
 
 ♦ Intentness, earnestness. 
 
frtE GOOD STEWARD. 181 
 
 iso appeared to me, I thought then was that 
 season, that the use of that ability was my 
 duty 3 and that it was given me for such a time 
 as that 3 and I spared not the best of my ability 
 in such a season : and indeed elocution or rhe- 
 toric is a dead and insipid piece, unless it come 
 from, and with a heart full of the sense and 
 conviction of what the tongue expresseth 3 and 
 then, and not till then, elocution hath its life 
 and energy. I esteemed these cases best de- 
 serving my elocution, and in these I was warm 
 and earnest : — the setting forth of thy glory, 
 the asserting of thy truth, the detection and 
 conviction of errors, the clearing of the inno- 
 cent, the aggravating of sins, oppressions, and 
 deceits : and though I was careful that I did 
 not exceed the bounds of truth, or due mode- 
 ration, yet I ever thought that these were the 
 seasons for which that talent was given me, 
 and accordingly I employed it. 
 
 XIV. 
 
 TOUCHING MY BODY, AND BODILY ENDOW- 
 MENTS OF HEALTH, STRENGTH, AND BEAUTY. 
 
 1. In general: — I looked upon my Body 
 
165 THE ACCOUNT OP 
 
 but as an instrument, the vehiculum aninue*; 
 and not so much given for its own sake^ as to 
 be an engine for the exercise of my soul, and 
 a cottage, wherein it might inhabit and perfect 
 itself. And upon that reason, I was very care- 
 ful to keep it useful for that end ; and that as 
 on the one side, by over-much severity or 
 tyranny over it, I might not tire it ; so, on the 
 other side, by over-much pampering or pleas- 
 ing it, might not make it unruly and master- 
 less J though I held the latter far more dan- 
 gerous: For, 
 
 2. I considered and found, that my body 
 was the harbour of the most dangerous temp- 
 tations, and the receptacle of the most danger- 
 ous enemies to my soul. The greatest, and 
 most intimate, and most assiduous temptations, 
 for the most part, made their applications to 
 my body, and held correspondence with the 
 lusts and inclinations of my flesh and blood. 
 The wine, when it gave its colour in the cup, 
 and the pleasantness of it) variety and curi- 
 osity of meats 3 beautiful and fleshly allure- 
 ments 3 costly and excessive apparel j prcce- 
 
 • Vehicle of the soul. 
 
THE GOOD STEWARD. 183 
 
 dence and honour j wealth and power; tlie 
 purveyor of all provisions convenient for the 
 sufficing of fleshly desires ; opportunities of 
 revenging j sense of injuries ; ease, idleness, 
 and delicacy J — these, and a thousand more^ 
 made their applications and addresses to my 
 sensual and corporal appetite, the motions of 
 my blood, the constitution or complexion of 
 my body, the lusts and desires of my flesh j or 
 rather this lust reached and hunted after them; 
 whereby my body, which was given to be in- 
 strumental and subservient unto my soul, was 
 ready still to cast off the yoke, and set up for 
 itself, and prostitute that noble part to be a 
 servant, a bawd unto it ; and bring her to that 
 servitude and vassalage, that all her wit, skill, 
 activity, and power, was wholly taken up in 
 contriving and making provisions for the flesh. 
 I found that the sensual and beastly part, was 
 ready still to thrust the heavenly and intel- 
 lectual part out of her throne, and to usurp 
 it, and to invert the very order of nature itself; 
 ^o that both the parts of my composition were 
 disordered, and out of their place, and lost 
 their use. My body, which was given to serve 
 and obey, became the empress, and commanded 
 
184 THE ACCOUNT OF 
 
 and corrupted my soul, embased and enslaved 
 it to lust and disorder ; and my soul, which 
 was given to rule, became but the minister 
 and slave of my bodyj and was tainted and 
 emasculated by the empire and dominion of 
 my body, and the lusts and steams of con- 
 cupiscence that did arise from it : and I con- 
 sidered, that if the business was thus carried, 
 my happiness was only . in this life. When 
 sickness, or diseases, or death should seize 
 upon my body, I had an immortal soul, that 
 had lost her time wholly in this world j and 
 not only so, but was embased and putrified by 
 these noisome lusts j and that the very con- 
 tagion of my body was incorporated and dif- 
 fused through my soulj and could carry 
 nothing with her but immortality and dis- 
 appointment, and defilement J and conse- 
 quently could expect, to all eternity, nothing 
 but vexation and dissatisfaction, and everlast- 
 ing confusion. Upon all these considerations, 
 I* resolved and practised severity over this 
 unruly beast, brought my body into subjection, 
 refused to gratify her intemperate desires, 
 denied them, kept them in awe and under 
 discipline -, and because I found that my fleshly 
 
THE GOOD STEWARD. 186 
 
 lusts grew petulant, imperious> and unruly, by 
 variety, curiosity, and plenty of meats, drinks, 
 and by ease and idleness, I subdued them by 
 moderate diet and temperance, by hard labour 
 and diligence, till I had reduced my body to 
 that state and order that became itj that it 
 might be in subjection, and not in dominion ; 
 might serve, and not rule. I denied satisfac- 
 tion to an intemperate appetite, a wanton eye, 
 a vain wish, a worldly desire. My table was 
 sparing to myself, my clothes plain, my reti- 
 nue and attendance but necessary. 1 chased 
 away my lusts with the contemplations of the 
 presence of God, the end of Christ's sufiferings, 
 the certainty, yet uncertainty of death, the 
 state after death j and mingled all my en- 
 joyments and desires with these serious and 
 cleansing considerations: and I peremptorily 
 refused to gratify the cravings of an importu- 
 nate, inordinate, sensual appetite 5 and did 
 resolutely let them know, they should not, 
 might not, expect any better dealing from me; 
 and my practice was accordingly. 
 
 3. I found by evident experience, that it is 
 the greatest difficulty that can be, for a man 
 in a good condition to give himself leave to 
 
186 THE ACCOVKT OF 
 
 think it may be otherwise. There is a vanity 
 that accompanies Health, that we can scarce 
 persuade ourselves that we shall ever be sick or 
 die: we cannot put another estimate of our 
 condition than we do at present enjoy, especi- 
 ally if it be pleasing- and delightful. To wean 
 myself from this impotency of mind, although 
 it hath pleased Thee to give me a strong and 
 healthy constitution, yet I often put myself into 
 the imagination and supposition of sickness j 
 thought of my mortality 5 abstracted myself 
 from my present condition of life and health 3 
 and pre-apprehended sickness,* diseases, old 
 age, infirmity, and death : and by this means 
 broke and scattered my confidence of long life, 
 continued healthy and took up thoughts be- 
 coming a sick, infirm, or dying manj con- 
 sidered how my accounts stood, if God should 
 please to call me away j how I could alienate 
 my mind from the world 5 what patience I had 
 to bear pain, and weakness, and sickness. In 
 my most entire and firmest health, it was my 
 care so to order my life and actions, as if the 
 next hour might despoil me of my life and 
 health too. I did not, durst not allow myself, 
 in any considerate practice of any known sin j 
 
THE GOOD STEWARD. 187 
 
 in procrastination of my repentance j in a tole- 
 ration of passions J upon a supposition of a 
 continuance of life, or of an unshaken health : 
 — but still cast with myself. Would I do thus, 
 were the firmness of my health, or the thread 
 of my life, to be broken oflf the next hour i My 
 firm and strong constitution made me neither 
 proud nor presumptuous: but the frequent in- 
 terpositions of the thoughts of my change kept 
 me humble, and watchful. 
 
 4. In reference to my health, I always 
 avoided these two extremes : — 1. I never made 
 it my idol : I declined not the due employment 
 of my body in the works of charity, or neces- 
 sity, or my ordinary calling, out of a vain fear 
 of injuring my health 3 for I reckoned my 
 health given me in order to these employments : 
 and as he is over-curious, that will not put on 
 his clothes for fear of wearing them out, or 
 use his axe in his proper employment, for fear 
 of hurting it, so he gives but an ill account of 
 a healthy body, that dares not employ it in an 
 employment proper for him, for fear of hurting 
 his health. — 2. I was never vainly prodigal of 
 it, but careful in a due manner to preserve it: I 
 would decline places of infection, if I had no 
 
188 THE ACCOUNT 0J> 
 
 necessary calling that brought me to themj 
 unnecessary journies J exposing my bodygra^t* 
 to unnecessary dangers, especially intemper- 
 ance in eating and drinking. 
 
 6. I esteemed Strength, and Beauty, and 
 Comeliness of body Thy blessing} an invita- 
 tion to thankfulness. I esteemed it to carry 
 with it a secret admonition, to bear a propor- 
 tionable mind, and life, to a comely or beauti- 
 ful body J and 1 looked upon a beautiful 
 countenance, as a just reprehension of a de- 
 formed or ugly life or disposition : but I never 
 found in it matter of pride, or vain-glory.— 
 1. Because it is thy gift, and not my own ac- 
 quisition. — 2. Because a small matter quite 
 spoils it : a fall, or a disease spoils the greatest 
 strength : a humour in the face, a rheum in 
 the eye, a palsy, or the small- pox, ruins the 
 greatest beauty : or, if none of these happen, 
 yet either old age, or death, turns all into 
 weakness, deformity, or rottenness. I learn 
 therefore in the enjoyments of these blessings, 
 to enjoy them with humility and thankfulness : 
 in the loss of them, to lose them with patience 
 and contentedness } for I acknowledge thy 
 hand both in the gift and in the loss. I looked 
 
THE GOOD STEWARD. 189 
 
 upon them as flowers of the springy pleasing 
 to the eye, but of short continuance : the ca- 
 sualty of an unruly wind, an unseasonable 
 frost, a worm or fly might intercept their na- 
 tural course of continuance ; but they that 
 escaped best, an autumn or winter will infal- 
 libly overtake and destroy them. 
 
 XV. 
 
 CONCERNING MY WEALTH AND TEMPORAL 
 
 SUBSISTENCE, 
 
 I esteemed these acquisitions rather the ef- 
 fects of thy providence and blessing, than of 
 my power or industry; for if instrumentally 
 my industry acquired them, yet that very in- 
 dustry is thy gift: it is thou that givest me 
 power to get wealth. Again, Though my in- 
 dustry and dexterity to get wealth, were never 
 so great, yet a small interposition, either of 
 thy providence or permission, might soon dis- 
 appoint and frustrate all that dexterity or in- 
 dustry : a thief, or a storm, or a fire, or a leak, 
 or the discomposure of the times, or a prodigal 
 wife or son, or an unfaithful servant, or along 
 sickness, or a misfortune in others whom I 
 trust, or a flaw in a title, or a word misinter- 
 
190 THB ACCOUNT OW 
 
 preted, or a thousand other emergencies may, 
 in a little space, ruin the product of many 
 years' labour and care. When I have looked 
 upon a spider, framing his web with a great 
 deal of curiosity and care, and after his indus- 
 try of many days, the maid with the broom, at 
 one brush, spoils all 3 or when I have seen a 
 republic of pismires, with great circumspec- 
 tion, choosing the seat of their residence, and 
 every one carrying his egg and provisions to 
 their conimon store-house, and the boy with a 
 stick stirring it all abroad, or a hen or par- 
 tridge scattering it all asunder, so that in a 
 little moment, all the labour of those poor in- 
 nocent creatures is disappointed ; — it hath often 
 put me in mind, how easily and suddenly the 
 collection of many years may be dissipated : 
 and the experience of these latter times gives 
 sad and plentiful instances of it. But if none 
 of all these visible emergencies happen, yet it 
 is most plain, that without thy secret blessing 
 upon honest and commendable industry, it 
 proves unsuccessful to that end. I have known 
 in my own observations, oftentimes two men, 
 equally industrious, sober, watchful of oppor- 
 tunities, sparing, yet one gets up in the world. 
 
THS OOOO STEWARD. 191 
 
 the other goes backwards 5 and neither they, 
 nor I, could possibly attribute it to any other 
 cause but this, — thou didst bless the labour of 
 the one, and blow upon the labour of the other. 
 And upon all these considerations I learned, 
 in the midst of all my affluence, not to sacri- 
 fice to my own net, nor to say in my heart. 
 My might, and the power of my hands have 
 gotten me this wealth 3 but I did remember 
 the Lord my God, for it is He that gave me 
 power to get wealth*. 
 
 I did not measure thy favour to me, or the 
 goodness or safety of my own condition, by my 
 wealth and plenty j for I found that those ex- 
 ternals were either indiflFerently dispensed to 
 the good and bad, or if there were any odds, 
 the advantage of externals seemed to be to 
 those, whose portion we might probably con- 
 jecture was only in this life. My wealth and 
 plenty, therefore, rather made me the more 
 jealous of my condition, than secure in it. It 
 made me search and examine my condition the 
 more strictly and carefully j and when upon the 
 result, 1 found my sincerity and uprightness of 
 
 • Deut. viii. 17. 
 
192 THE ACCOUNT OP 
 
 heart, though I with all thankfulness acknow- 
 ledge thy goodness in giving me externals, yet 
 I often begged of Thee that my portion might 
 not be in this life only ; that as thou gavest me 
 wealth, so thou wouldst give and increase thy 
 grace in my heart 3 that though I could wish 
 the continuance of any external advantages as 
 an opportunity to do the more good, yet if it 
 were inconsistent with my everlasting interest, 
 my great expectation in the life to come, 
 I should choose to be without the former, ra- 
 ther than lose the latter 3 and I made it my 
 choice rather to be poor here, and rich in the 
 life to come, than to be rich here, and lost in 
 the life to come. 
 
 And upon the same consideration, I judged 
 myself never the better man, nor the better 
 Christian, for having much of these worldly 
 advantages. I looked upon them as external 
 and adventitious advantages, that had no in- 
 gredience at all into my soul, unless possibly 
 for the worse. I found a man might be rich, 
 or honourable, in respect of his birth or place 5 
 and yet a fool, a glutton, luxurious, vain, im- 
 perious, covetous, proud, and in all probability 
 the more obnoxious to these distempers by his 
 
THB GOOD STEWARD. 193 
 
 wealth or greatness : on the other side, a man 
 might be poor, and wise, and learned, sober, 
 humble j and possibly his poverty might, in re- 
 ference to these virtuous habits, be an advan- 
 tage. My riches and honour, therefore, never 
 made me set one grain of value the more upon 
 myself, than if I had been without them. I 
 esteemed it as an instrument, that, being put 
 into a wise, prudent, faithful^ and liberal hand, 
 might be of usej but gave no more value to 
 that inherent worth of the man, than the axe 
 or the saw gives skill to the carpenter. 
 
 I esteemed all the wealth and honour that 
 I had, but intrusted to me by the Great Master 
 of the Word J a talent which thou committedst 
 to me as thy Steward, and upon account : and 
 this consideration caused me to judge and es- 
 teem of my wealth, and dispense the same, 
 quite in another way than is ord'narily done. 
 
 I did not esteem myself the richer at all for 
 my multitude of riches. I esteemed no more 
 given me, than what was in a reasonable man- 
 ner proportionable to my necessities, to my 
 charge and dependance, and to the station I 
 had in the world 3 all the rest I looked upon as 
 none of mine, but my Master's : it was rather 
 
 K 
 
194 THE ACCOUNT OF 
 
 my burthen than my possession. The more I 
 had, the more was my care, and the greater the 
 charge that I had under my hands, and the 
 more was my solicitude to be a faithful Stew- 
 ard of it, to the honour and use of my Master 5 
 but my part was the least that was in it : indeed 
 I rejoiced in this, that my Master esteemed me 
 wise and faithful, committing the dispensation 
 thereof to my trust j but I thought it no more 
 mine, than the lord's bailiflF, or the merchant's 
 cash-keeper, thinks his master's rents or money 
 his. 
 
 And therefore I thought i* would be a breach 
 of my trust, to consume or embezzle that 
 wealth in excessive superfluities of meat, 
 drink, or apparel j or in advancing myself, or 
 my posterity, to a massy or huge acquest. 
 
 But I employed that overplus in support of 
 the ministry, in relief of the poor, in redemp- 
 tion of captives, in placing children to school 
 and apprentice, in setting the poor on work : 
 and, with submission to thy wisdom, I thought 
 that this latter was an equal, if not a greater 
 charity, than the encouragement of idle or dis- 
 solute persons by liberal supplies j because it 
 kept them in their way, that wisdom and pro- 
 
\ 
 
 THE GOOD STEWARD. 195 
 
 vidence hath designed for the children of 
 men. 
 
 And in those employments of men in their 
 labours^ I still held this course: — 1. To allow 
 them competent wages. — 2. That the greatest 
 expense should be rather in the labour than in 
 the materials.— 3. That the nature of the work 
 should be such as might bring me in a return 
 of profit, rather than of curiosity 3 because the 
 proceed might be a stock for farther charity or 
 public advantage. — 4. But rather than the poor 
 should want employment and subsistence, I 
 thought it allowable to employ them in such 
 labours as might yield them a lawful profit, 
 though it yielded me only a lawful content- 
 ment; as in building, planting, and the like 
 honest, though not altogether profitable em- 
 ployments : in all which, my principal design 
 was the support of others 3 and my own con- 
 ten tation was only a concomitant of it; and I 
 thought such an unprofitable contentment law- 
 fully acquired, when it was attained by the 
 honest labour and convenient profit of those 
 that I employed. — 5. And by this consideration, 
 I kept my heart from making my wealth, 
 either my confidence or my treasures : I kept a 
 
 k2 
 
19ff THE ACCOUNT OF 
 
 loose affection towards it. If I had it, I es- 
 teemed it as thy depositum, an increase of my 
 account and care : if I lost it without my own 
 folly or fault, I looked upon that loss as a dis- 
 charge of so much of my accounts and charge j 
 —I had the less to answer for. 
 
 I esteemed my wealth, — 1. As uncertain to 
 continue with me ; for it hath its wings, and 
 might take its flight, when I little thought of 
 it. — 2. As that which I must leave when I 
 die. — 3. As not useful, after death, for any pur- 
 pose whatsoever unto me.-^4. As that which 
 makes me obnoxious to envy and rapine, while 
 I live.— 5. As unuseful at all, but when it is 
 going away, viz. in the expense of it. — 6. As 
 a great temptation to pride, vanity, insolence, 
 and luxury. — And upon all these, and many 
 more considerations, I ever thought it too low 
 to set my heart upon it, and too weak to place 
 my confidence in it. When I had it, therefore, 
 I received it thankfully, used it soberly and 
 faithfully: when I lost it, I lost it patiently 
 and contentedly. 
 
 Inasmuch as my wealth, in specie, must be 
 *^ 
 
 * Expenditure. 
 
THE 600D STEWARD. 197 
 
 left when I die, and I could not possibly carrjr 
 that luggage into the other world, and if I 
 could, it would not be of use there, I endea- 
 voured so to order and husband it, that I might 
 receive it, though not in kind, yet by way of 
 exchange after death*. And because I found 
 in thy word, ' That he that giveth to the poor, 
 lendeth to the Lordf,' and, 'He that giveth 
 to a prophet but a cup of cold water in the 
 name of a prophet, should receive a prophet's 
 reward:}: ; ' I have taken that course so to dis- 
 pose this unrighteous mammon here, that I 
 might make the God of Heaven my debtor, not 
 by merit, but by promise: and so I have made 
 over that great wealth that thou didst send 
 me, unto the other world. And blessed be thy 
 condescension to thy creatures, that when thou 
 makest us thy debtors and accountants in this 
 world, by thy talent of all kinds that thou de- 
 liverest us, thou art pleased, upon the per- 
 formance of our duty in that trust, to make 
 thyself a debtor to thy creature, by a promise 
 of an everlasting reward. 
 
 *Luke xii. 33. Matth, vi. 20. 1 Tim. vi, 18, 19. 
 t Prov. xix. 17. J Matth. x. 41. 
 
198 THE ACCOUNT OF 
 
 XVI. 
 
 TOUCHING MY EMINENCE OF PLACE OR POWER 
 IN THIS WORLD, THIS IS MY ACCOUNT. 
 
 I never sought or desired it j and that upon 
 these reasons : — 1 . Because I easily saw, that 
 it was rather a burthen than a privilege: it 
 made my charge, and my accounts the greater^ 
 my contentment and rest the less. I found 
 enough in it, to make me decline it in respect 
 of myself; but not any thing that could invite 
 me to seek or desire it. — 2. That external glory 
 and splendour that attended it, I esteemed as 
 vain and frivolous in itself; a bait to allure 
 vain and inconsiderate persons to affect and de- 
 light; not valuable enough to invite a con- 
 siderate judgment to desire or undertake it, I 
 esteemed them as the gilt that covers a bitter 
 pill; and I looked through this dress and out- 
 side, and easily saw, that it covered a state ob- 
 noxious to danger, solicitude, care, trouble, 
 envy, discontent, unquietness, temptation, and 
 vexation. I esteemed it a condition which, if 
 there were any distemper abroad, they would 
 infallibly be hunting and pushing at it; and if 
 it found any corruptions within, either of pride. 
 
THE GOOD STEWARD. 199 
 
 vain-glory, insolence, vindictiveness, or the 
 like, it would be sure to draw them out and set 
 them to work, which if they prevailed, it made 
 my power and greatness not only my burthen, 
 but my sin : if they prevailed not, yet it re- 
 quired a most watchful, assiduous, and severe, 
 vigilant labour and industry to suppress them. 
 When I undertook any place of power or 
 eminence, 1 . I looked to my call thereunto, to 
 be such as I might discern to be thy call, not 
 my own ambition. 2. That the place were 
 such, as might be answered by suitable abili- 
 ties in some measure to perform. 3. That my 
 end in it might not be the satisfaction of any 
 pride, ambition, or vanity in myself j but to 
 serve thy providence, and my generation, ho- 
 nestly and faithfully. In all which, my under- 
 taking was not an act of my choice, but of my 
 duty. 
 
 In the holding or exercising of these places, 
 1 kept my heart humble : I valued not myself 
 one rush the more for it. — 1. Because I easily 
 found that that base a£Fection of pride, which 
 commonly is the fly that haunts such employ- 
 ments, would render me dishonourable to thy 
 Majesty, and dis-serviceable in the employment. 
 
200 THE ACCOUNT OF 
 
 — 2. Because I easily saw great places were 
 slippery places, the mark of envy. It was 
 therefore always my care so to behave myself 
 in itj as I might be in a capacity to leave j and 
 so to leave it, as that when I had left it, I 
 might have no scars and blemishes stick upon 
 me. I carried therefore the same evenness of 
 temper in holding it, as might become me if I 
 were without it. — 3. I found enough in great 
 employment^ to make me sensible of the dan- 
 ger, troubles, and cares of it j enough to make 
 me humble, but not enough to make me proud 
 and haughty. 
 
 I never made use of my power or greatness 
 to serve my own turns j either to heap up 
 riches, or to oppress my neighbour, or to re- 
 venge injuries, or to uphold or bolster out 
 injustice : for though others thought me great, 
 I knew myself to be still the same. And in all 
 things, besides the due execution of ray place, 
 my deportment was just the same, as if I had 
 been no such man : for first, I knew that I was 
 but thy steward and minister, and placed there 
 to serve thee and those ends which thou pro- 
 posedst in my preferment; and not to serve 
 myself, much less my passions or corruptions. 
 
THE GOOD STEWARD. 20l 
 
 And further^ I very well and practically knew, 
 that place, and honour, and preferment, are 
 things extrinsical, and have no ingredience into 
 the man : his value and estimate before, and 
 under, and after his greatness, is still the same 
 in itself, as the counter that now stands for a 
 penny, anon for sixpence, anon for twelve- 
 pence, is still the same counter, though its 
 place and extrinsical denomination be changed. 
 I improved the opportunity of my place, 
 eminence, and greatness, to serve thee and my 
 country in it, with all vigilance, diligence, and 
 fidelity 3 — protected, countenanced, and en- 
 couraged thy worship, name, day, people. I 
 did faithfully execute justice according to that 
 station I had. I rescued the oppressed from 
 the cruelty, malice, and insolence of their op- 
 pressors. I cleared the innocent from unjust 
 calumnies and reproaches. I was instrumental 
 to place those in offices, places, and employ- 
 ments of trust and consequence, that were ho- 
 nest and faithful. I removed those that were 
 dishonest, irreligious, false, or unjust. I did 
 discountenance, and as they justly fell under the 
 verge of the law, I punished profane, turbulent, 
 atheistical, licentious persons. My greatness 
 
 k5 
 
202 THE ACCOUNT OF 
 
 was a shelter to virtue and goodness^ and a 
 terror to vice and irreligion. I interposed to 
 cool the ferocity and violence of others against 
 good men, upon mistake, or slight and incon* 
 siderable differences. In sum, I so used my 
 place and greatness, and so carried myself in 
 all things, as if all the while I had seen Thee, 
 the great Master of all the families in heaven 
 and earth, standing by me. I often consulted 
 my instructions. Thy written Word, and the 
 impartial answers of my Conscience 5 and I 
 strictly pursued it : and when I found myself 
 at any time at a loss, by reason of the difficulty 
 and perplexity of emergencies, I did in an 
 especial manner apply myself unto Thee for 
 advice and direction. 
 
 x\ai. 
 
 TOUCHING MY REPUTATION AND CREDIT. 
 
 I never aflfected the reputation of being rich, 
 great, crafty, politic j but I esteemed much a 
 deserved reputation of justice, honesty, in- 
 tegrity, virtue, and piety. 
 
 I never thought that reputation was the 
 thing, primarily to be looked after in the exer- 
 cise of virtue j for that were to affect the sub- 
 
THE GOOD STEWARD. 203 
 
 stance for the sake of the shadow, which had 
 been a kind of levity and impotence of mind : 
 but I looked at virtue, and the worth of it, as 
 that which was the first desirable j and reputa- 
 tion as a handsome and useful accession to it. 
 
 The reputation of justice and honesty I was 
 always careful to keep untainted, upon these 
 grounds : — 1. Because a blemish in my reputa- 
 tion would be dishonourable to Thee. — 2. It 
 would be an abuse of a talent which Thou 
 hadst committed to me. — 3. It would be a 
 weakening of an instrument which Thou hadst 
 put into my hands, upon the strength whereof 
 much good might be done by me. 
 
 I found both in myself and others, a good 
 reputation had these two great advantages in 
 it. — 1. In respect of the party that had it, it 
 was a handsome incentive to virtue, and did 
 strengthen the vigilance and care, of them that 
 had it, to preserve it. There is a certain ho- 
 nest worth and delight in it, that adds some- 
 what to the care and jealousy of good minds 
 not rashly to lose it. The value and worth of 
 virtue, though it far exceeds the value of that 
 reputation that ariseth from it, yet it is more 
 Platonic and spiritual, and hath not always 
 
204 THE ACCOUNT OF 
 
 that impression upon us, as the sense of our 
 reputation hath ; and I always looked upon it 
 as no small evidence of thy wisdom in govern- 
 ing men, in adding a kind of external splendor 
 and glory to goodness and virtue, which might 
 be, and is a means to preserve the other, as 
 the shell or husk to preserve a kernel. — 2. In 
 respect of others, because it is both an allure- 
 ment to the practice of that virtue which at- 
 tends, and also gives a man a fairer oppor- 
 tunity, and strength to exercise any worthy and 
 good actions for the good of others. A man 
 of a deserved reputation, hath oftentimes an 
 opportunity to do that good which another 
 wants J and may practise it with more security 
 and success. 
 
 5. These temptations I always found at" 
 tending a fair reputation ; and I still watched 
 and declined them as pests and cankers. — 1. 
 Pride and vain-glory : I esteemed this as that 
 which would spoil and deface, not only my 
 soul, but even that very reputation which I 
 had acquired. There is nothing sooner undoes 
 reputation, than the pride and vain-glory that 
 a man takes in it. — 2. Idleness and remissness : 
 when a man begins to think that he hath such 
 
THE GOOD STEWARD. 205 
 
 a Stock thereof, that he may now sit still 3 and 
 with the rich man in the Gospel, please himself 
 that he hath enough laid up for many years ; 
 and therefore he at once starves both his good- 
 ness and reputation. — 3. A daring to adventure 
 upon some very ill action, upon a secret and 
 deceitful confidence in his reputation 3 thinking 
 now he hath acquired such a stock of repu- 
 tation, that he may with secrecy, and safety, 
 and success, adventure upon any thing, in 
 confidence that his reputation will bear him 
 out. — 4, A man of great reputation shall be 
 sure, by those in power, to be put upon actions 
 that may serve turn. This is the Devil's skill : 
 for if he carry it out upon the strength of his 
 reputation, the Devil makes the very result of 
 virtue and worth the instrument of injustice 
 and villany 3 but if he miscarry, the Devil hath 
 got his end upon him, in that he hath blasted 
 him, and wounded thy Honour, which sufiFers 
 in his disreputation. — 5. A great reputation, 
 and the sense of it, and delight in it, is apt to 
 put a man upon any shifts, though never so 
 unhandsome to support it. — 6. It makes a man 
 oftentimes over-timorous in doing that which 
 is good and just, lest he should suffer in his 
 
206 THE ACCOUNT OF 
 
 reputation with some party, whose concern- 
 ment may lie in it. — 7. It is apt to make a 
 man impatient of any the least blemish that 
 may be causelessly cast upon him, and to sink 
 under it. A man of great reputation, and 
 who sets his heart upon it, is desperately 
 sensible of any thing that may wound it : 
 Therefore, — 
 
 Though I have loved my reputation-, and 
 have been vigilant not to lose or impair it by 
 my own default or neglect ; yet I have looked 
 upon it as a brittle things a thing that the 
 Devil aims to hit in a special manner 3 a thing 
 that is much in the power of a false report, a 
 mistake, a misapprehension, to wound and 
 hurt: notwithstanding all my care, I am at 
 the mercy of others, without God's wonderful 
 over-ruling providence. And as my reputation 
 is the esteem that others have of me, so that 
 esteem may be blemished without my default. 
 I have therefore always taken this care, not to 
 set my heart upon my reputation. I will use 
 all fidelity and honesty, and take care it shall 
 not be lost by any default of mine 5 and if, 
 notwithstanding all this, my reputation be 
 foiled by evil or envious men or angels, I will 
 
THB GOOD STEWARD. 207 
 
 patiently bear it, and content myself with the 
 serenity of my own conscience : Hie murus 
 aheneus esto *. 
 
 When thy honour, or the good of my 
 country was concerned, I then thought it was 
 a seasonable time to lay out my reputation for 
 the advantage of either, and to act it, and by 
 and upon it, to the highest, in the use of all 
 lawful means j and upon such an occasion the 
 counsel of Mordecai to Esther was my encou- 
 ragement f. Who knoweth whether God hath 
 given thee this reputation and esteem for such 
 a time as this ? 
 
 • " Be this thy brazen bulwark of defence. 
 Still to preserve thy conscious innocence. 
 Nor e'er turn pale with guilt." 
 
 Horace, Ep. 1. Francis's Translation, 
 t Either, v. 
 
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