JS9J.

yn)y.

THE QUEII.

SACRED CLASSICS
OR,
&Mmi Sifcrata of Ufoittlts,

EDITED BY
THE REV. R. CATTERMOLE, B.D.
AND
THE REV. H. STEERING, M.A.

v®%. $r.

ifoljn ^atcf)artJ an* Son, ^(ccattflfo ;
WHITTAKER & CO. AVE-MARIA LANE; SIMPKIN & MARSHALL,
STATIONERS' COURT; TALBOYS, OXFORD; DEIGHTON,
CAMBRIDGE ; OLIVER & BOYD, EDINBURGH ;
AND CUMMING, DUBLIN.

MDCCCXXXIV.

LONDON :
PRINTED BT JOSEPH RICKERBF,
SHERBODRN LANE.

£.neraifd iv J ' .Wclh.

TREATISES,
DEVOTIONAL AND PRACTICAL:
VIZ.
HEAVEN UPON EARTH ;
THE CHRISTIAN; THE DEVOUT SOUL;
SELECT THOUGHTS; MEDITATION ON THE LOVE OF CHRIST;
AND THE SOUL'S FAREWELL TO EARTH;
SELECTED FROM THE WORKS
OP
JOSEPH HALL, D.D.
J|jLjP!0|lN TO KING JAMES I.; BISHOP OK NORWICH, &C.

tlN INTRODUCTORY ESSAY AND NOTES,
BY THE
REV. R. CATTERMOLE, B. D.

LONDON:
3fo?in ^atdjartJ anti S&on, ^piccatftllp ;
WHITTAKBR & CO. AVE-MARIA LANE; SIMPKIN & MARSHALL
STATIONERS' COURT; TALBOYS, OXFORD; DEIGHTON,
CAMBRIDGE; OLIVER & BOYD, EDINBURGH;
AND CUMMING, DUBLIN.
UDCCCXXXIV.

W\eZl v-5

INTRODUCTORY ESSAY.

Were it possible to set aside every historical proof
of the supernatural origin of Christianity, there
would still remain, for the reflecting and philoso
phic mind, a fund of powerful evidence — of evi
dence, not perhaps less worthy of being brought
forward, in these times, than that of prophecies
fulfilled or miracles performed — in the astonishing
adaptation of its principles to the needs and facul
ties of mankind, in every period and under every
variety of circumstances; as well as in the demon
strated adequacy of revelation to form the highest
and most angelic character which is consistent with
our fallen condition, and attainable under the dis
turbing pressure of those external circumstances
in the midst of which we are placed.
That the diffusion of the gospel was not gene
rally followed, in the ages succeeding the apos
tolical, by juster views of its nature, or more
perfect examples of practical conformity with its
spirit, tends rather to confirm than to impugn
this position ; inasmuch as the principle advanced
supposes that the seed of faith flourishes, whether
b 2

viii INTRODUCTORY ESSAY.
little or much, in exact proportion to the peculiari
ties of the soil into which it is cast, and according
to the succession of times and seasons. In the first
centuries, during the period of persecution, and
when as yet the gospel was chiefly embraced by
the humble and oppressed classes, trained by their
social position to patient endurance, — submissive
fortitude, constancy, and resignation, were the pre
vailing forms under which its divine principles
were rendered visible and realized in action. With
the accession of the learned — the philosophers of
the pagan schools — to the Christian church, arose
the passion for nice and subtle distinctions, and the
notion that dreamy contemplation, and the austen
retiredness that promotes it, were necessary to the
attainment of that perfection which was to result
from the discipline of revealed truth. Hence pro
ceeded, on the one hand, those lamentable divisions,
sects, heresies, and obstinate controversies, that so
long deformed the church ; on the other, the misera
ble folly which peopled the deserts of Egypt and
Asia with those superstitious inhabitants of their
solitudes, who, from dread of falling beneath the
despotism of an over-indulged nature, wilfully em
braced a degrading slavery to the miseries of a
nature self-tormented.
While this was going on in the east — while the
technical disputes and unprofitable subtleties of
Greek theology amused, for centuries, the degene-

INTRODUCTORY ESSAY. IX
rate swarms of an expiring empire — another spirit
had begun to modify practical Christianity in the
western world. Those hardy tribes who were now
providentially brought into the centre of Europe,
presenting a national character better qualified for
the reception of the faith — a loftier imagination, and
a purer moral sense — began soon to exhibit more
sound and substantial results of the influence of
the gospel upon mankind than had previously ap
peared, except in a comparatively few instances in
the earliest and purest times : they continued, never
theless, too rude and uncultivated to receive the per
fect impression of its divinity. As is ever the case
with minds of limited cultivation, they brought
down its principles to the level of their own con
ceptions, feelings, and condition. We meet with
an illustration of this, in the works which re
main by the artists of the middle ages. The
virgin Mary is there not unfrequently delineated
in the habits of a nun, the Jewish high-priest ap
pears arrayed like a mitred prelate of the period,
while Joseph of Arimathea and the believing cen
turion are represented as belted knights. In the
same manner, the moral character, restored by
means of redemption to its original likeness to God,
as set before us in the inspired pages of St. John
and St. Paul, was modified by a familiar adapta
tion to the habitual notions and pursuits of the
converts. The history of Europe, during many

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xii INTRODUCTORY ESSAY.
vancement of social happiness, which may be traced
up to Christianity as their originating principle,
proved, by a providential reaction, subsidiary to
its diffusion and efficacy. Simultaneously with the
greatest ornaments of our secular history, arose the
constellation (rather than the series) of our unri
valled elder divines; and the pursuit of those
sciences and forms of knowledge, which, by spiri
tualizing, ennoble and bless mankind, was followed
by its natural consequences.
For the first hundred years which followed the un
restrained use of the Bible and vernacular Liturgy,
and the preaching in every village and hamlet, (not
of the logical niceties of the schoolmen, but) of the
unadulterated word of God, the national morals
went on improving, and the national character con
tinued to be elevated ; at the same time, we have
also reason to believe, a corresponding increase took
place in the number of those individuals, who, in
the recesses of private life, expanded their hearts
gladly and unreservedly to the beams of gospel
light, and in mind, in will, and deportment, made
near approaches to the Scripture model. Now it
was, that the character of the Christian, in its gen
uine proportions, began to be truly understood and
rightly appreciated. Now did the servant of God,
in the midst of an evil world, stand forth in his sim
ple and native grandeur : delivered from the bonds
of superstition and slavish ignorance ; fervent, with-

INTRODUCTORY ESSAY. Xlll
out intolerance or fanaticism ; contemplative, but
not visionary ; courteous, meek, gentle, forgiving,
yet fearless and persevering; not shunning the
tumult of secular affairs, yet unsullied or rather pu
rified by the trial ; living, under the constant influ
ence of faith, hope, and charity, a life becoming
the friend of God and man ; and, by the use of that
precious alchymy, which is taught by the holy
Spirit, and of which the principles are unfolded in
the inspired documents of salvation, converting
the polluted air of camps and courts, of commercial
Strife, and all the Babel resorts of the followers of
mammon, into wholesome elements and improving
exercises of virtue. Now, in short, appeared, in
the writings of the wise as well as in the practice of
the holy, that " man after God s own heart," whom
it is the design of the treatises placed before the
reader in the following pages, at once to display and
to recommend for imitation ; that character which
only the gospel, honestly administered and duly
accepted, can form ; and which their distinguished
author has sketched with fewer touches, but with
great beauty, in the subjoined portrait of himself,
in his most favoured moods : " What a heaven do I
feel in myself," writes the pious bishop, in a letter
to a friend, " when, after many traverses of medi
tation, I find in my heart a feeling possession of
my God ! when I can walk and converse with the
God of heaven, not without an openness of heart

Xiv INTRODUCTORY ESSAY.
and familiarity ; when my soul hath caught fast
and sensible hold of my Saviour, and either pulls
him down to itself, or rather lifts up itself to him ;
and can and dare secretly avouch, 'I know whom I
have believed ;' when I can look upon all this inferior
creation with the eyes of a stranger, and am trans
ported to my home in my thoughts, solacing myself
in the view and meditation of my future glory, and
that presence of the saints ; when I see wherefore
I was made ; and my conscience tells me I have
done that for which I came — done it, not so as I
can boast, but so as it is accepted ; while my weak
nesses are pardoned, and my acts measured by my
desires, and my desires by their sincerity ; lastly,
when I can find myself upon holy resolution, made
firm and square, fit to entertain all events ; the good
with moderate regard, the evil with courage and
patience, both with thanks ; strongly settled to good
purposes ; constant and cheerful in devotion ; and,
in a word, ready for God, yea full of God." '
The excellent prelate, Joseph Hall, was among
those numerous examples on record, of persons me
morable for religious and moral worth, who have had
reason to ascribe the formation of their characters, un
der Providence, to the care of maternal piety. His
mother, he says, was " a woman of that rare sanctity,
that, were it not for my interest in nature, I dare say,
1 Epistles, Decade ii. Ep. 1.

INTRODUCTORY ESSAY. XV
that neither Aleih, the mother of that just honour of
Clair val, nor Monica, nor any other of those pious ma
trons anciently famous for devotion, need to disdain
her admittance to comparison. So had she profited in
the school of Christ, that it was hard for any friend
to come from her discourse no whit holier. How
often have I blessed the memory of those divine
passages of experimental divinity which I have
heard from her mouth ! What day did she pass
without a large task of private devotion ? Never
any lips have read to me such feeling lectures of
piety ; neither have I known any soul that more
accurately practised them than her own. Shortly,
for I can hardly take off my pen from so exem
plary a subject, her life and death were saint-like.''
These lessons, by divine goodness, were not lost
upon him ; for we find him, while yet a youth of
fifteen, betaking himself most devoutly to prayer
for guidance and protection in the ordering of his
future life; and, many years afterwards, when pur
suing his successful career at the university, " Never
durst I," he writes, " appear in any of those exer
cises of scholarship till I had from my knees looked
up to heaven for a blessing, and renewed my actual
dependence upon that divine hand."1 Would not such
a habit of bringing devotion in aid of study, do much
towards restoring the science of Theology in Eng
land to its ancient dignity and practical importance ?
1 See also page xxxv.

Xvi INTRODUCTORY ESSAY.
Hall took the degree of Bachelor of Arts at
Cambridge in 1592, when about nineteen years of
age. He soon afterwards became Fellow of his col
lege (Emanuel;) and, in 1596, was made a Master
of Arts. His first preferment was the rectory of
Halsted, in Suffolk, in the gift of Sir Robert
Drury, the patron also of Donne ; shortly after
his presentation to which, he married. In 1605,
being invited by Sir Edmund Bacon, grandson of
the celebrated Lord Bacon, to accompany him on
a journey into the Low Countries, he embraced
the opportunity with the view of making him
self thoroughly acquainted with the actual state
of the Roman Catholic church. The principal in
cident relative to this journey, which he has re
corded in the slight sketch left by him of his life,
is a somewhat amusing conference with Coster, " a
famous Jesuit ; an old man, more testy than subtle,
and more able to wrangle than satisfy."
In his humble benefice at Halsted, this accom
plished divine, already favourably known to the
public as an author, would have been content to
pass his life, had not his patron, in refusing to give
Up a trifling annual sum, his lawful due, and in
dispensable to his support, obliged him to seek a
competency elsewhere. Hall had little reason to
regret a change thus forced on him ; nevertheless,
he took leave of Sir Robert and his lady with
many affectionate expressions of pastoral feel-

INTRODUCTORY ESSAY. XV11
ing. In his farewell letter, he thus writes to
them : "With how unwilling a heart I leave
you, He knows that searches the heart. You
are dear to me as a charge to a pastor : if my
pains to you have not proved it, suspect me. Yet
I leave you. God calls me to a greater work. I
must follow him. It were more easy to me to
live secretly hidden in that quiet obscurity, than to
be drawn out to the eye of the world. In this
point, if I seem to neglect you, blame me not : I
must neglect and forget myself. I can but labour,
wheresoever I am. God knows how willingly I do
that, whether there or here. I shall dig, and delve,
and plant, in what ground soever my Master sets
me. If he take me to a larger field, complain you
not of the loss, while the church may gain." This
observation proved happily prophetical.
To the circumstances of his emerging from his
retirement in Suffolk, to commence his more pub
lic career in the church, a just prominency is as
signed by Hall among those recorded events which
he calls "specialties of Providence" towards himself.
He was in London, endeavouring to obtain from
Sir Robert Drury an engagement no longer to with
hold any portion of the income of the living at
Halsted, when he was recommended to an oppor
tunity of preaching before the interesting and vir
tuous Henry, Prince of Wales, son to James I.
The prince had read and much admired Hall's

XV111 INTRODUCTORY ESSAY.
" Meditations ;" the first eleven books of which were
already published ; and, being no less pleased with
him in the pulpit, immediately appointed him one
of his chaplains. He was now presented, by Lord
Denny, afterwards Earl of Norwich, with the do
native of Waltham Cross, and by Prince Henry
to a prebend in the collegiate church of Wolver
hampton. An estate belonging to this church,
illegally detained from it by Sir Walter Leveson,
Hall succeeded in recovering to the establishment,
and in restoring the neglected service.
At Waltham he remained more than twenty years,
(although frequently solicited by his royal patron to
take up bis residence at court,) regularly preaching,
as he had previously done at Halsted, three sermons
in each week. During this long period, however,
he was several times taken from home on public
employment in his profession. In the year 1616,
he accompanied the splendid embassy of Lord
Hay to the court o'f Henry the Fourth of France.
In March following he was among the clergymen
chosen by King James to attend him into Scotland,
when that sovereign revisited his native country,
with a design to assimilate the religion of that por
tion of his dominions to the forms of the Angli
can church. His third employment of a public
nature was his mission to the great Protestant
council, the synod of Dort, with Davenant and
other English divines ; from this charge, however,

INTRODUCTORY ESSAY. xix
he was compelled by ill health to retire, but not
till he had done honour to the church he repre
sented, by his learning and moderation. Although
the object of this mission was to support the party
opposed to the Arminian doctrines, yet that Hall
was not strictly a Calvinist, (to make use of a
term about that time first brought into vogue,)
that his opinions in regard to the celebrated five
points,1 which were discussed in that assembly,
were moderated by practical wisdom and benevo
lence, appears both from his conduct there, and
from the course he pursued on his return. He now
found the same controversy raging violently in
England ; in order to the composing of which
quarrels, he tells us, he wrote his prospect of paci
fication, (entitled, " Via Media : the way of Peace
in the Five busy Articles," &c.) wherein he endea
voured to point out a safe middle way for moderate
Christians between the two extremes. "These,"
he adds, " I made bold to present to his excellent
majesty, together with an humble motion of a
peaceable silence to be enjoined to both parts, in
those other collateral and needless disquisitions."
Scarcely had Dr. Hall — he had received the de
gree of B. D. in 1603, and that of D.D. in 1612 —
completed this well-meant, but, as it proved, una
vailing service to the church, when he found himself
engaged in a dispute with her more ancient enemies.
1 Predestination ;— the Extent of the Efficacy of Christ's
Death ; — Freewill ; — Conversion ; — Perseverance.

XX INTRODUCTORY ESSAY.
Of his share in the Popish controversies of that
agitated period, he gives the following account: —
" Some insolent Romanists, Jesuits especially, in
their bold disputations pressed nothing so much
as a catalogue of the professors of our religion to be
deduced from the primitive times ; and, with the
peremptory challenge of the impossibility of this
pedigree, dazzled the eyes of the simple; while
some of our learned men, undertaking to satisfy so
needless and unjust a demand, gave, as I con
ceived, great advantage to the adversary. In a
just indignation to see us thus wronged, by mis
taking the question betwixt us ; as if we, yielding
ourselves of another church, originally and funda
mentally different, should make good our own
erection upon the ruins, yea, the nullity, of theirs ;
and, well considering the infinite and great incon-
veniencies that must needs follow upon this de
fence, I adventured to set my pen on work ; desir
ing to rectify the opinions of those men, whom an
ignorant zeal had transported, to the prejudice of
our holy cause : laying forth the corruptions of the
Romish Church, yet making our game of the out
ward visibility thereof; and, by this means, putting
them to the probation of those newly obtruded cor
ruptions, which are truly guilty of the breach be
twixt us.1 The drift whereof not being well con
ceived, by some spirits that were not so wise as
fervent, I was suddenly exposed to the rash cen-
1 In " The Old Religion."

INTRODUCTORY ESSAY. xxi
smes of many well affected and zealous Protest
ants ; as if I had, in a remission to my wonted zeal
to the truth, attributed too much to the Roman
church, and strengthened the adversaries' hands
and weakened our own. This envy I was fain to
take off, by my speedy ' Apologetical Advertise
ment,' and, after that, by my ' Reconciler,' l second
ed with the unanimous letters of such reverend,
learned, sound divines, both bishops and doctors,
by whose undoubtable authority I was able to bear
down calumny itself: which done, I did, by a
seasonable moderation, provide for the peace of
the church, in silencing both my defendants and
challengers, in this unkind and ill-raised quarrel."
Having some years previously ascended the usual
intermediate step, by his promotion to the deanery
of Worcester, Hall was, in 1624, offered a bishop
ric. The see proposed was Gloucester : he declined
it; but, in 1627, accepted that of Exeter. In those
times of well-grounded jealousy on the part of the
Church of England, in regard to the designs of the
Puritans, the conciliatory demeanour of the new
bishop could scarcely fail of bringing him under the
charge of blameable indulgence to nonconformists : .
in this light he was maliciously represented to the
King ; an accusation which caused him much con-
1 " The Reconciler, an epistle pacificatory of the seeming dif
ferences of opinion, concerning the trueness and visibility of the
Roman church."

XX11 INTRODUCTORY ESSAY.
cern, and placed him in a situation of some danger.
Every succeeding year now added proof to the last,
that the time was at hand when the sincerity of men's
attachment to the ritual and government of the
church would be severely put to the test. The omi
nous aspect which public events bore towards the
safety of these institutions, in the year 1640, — a year
memorable for the commencement of the Long Par
liament, and the first manifest breaking out of those
rancorous divisions which in their course overthrew
the establishment, and with it the monarchy, —
called forth the suspected favourer of the noncon
formists as the able champion of episcopal govern
ment. His first publication, on this subject, —
" Episcopacy by Divine Right asserted," — was fol
lowed, before the close of the year, by a second, a
beautiful and earnest address, entitled, " An Hum
ble Remonstrance to the High Court of Parliament,
in defence of the Liturgy and Episcopacy." The
high ground taken by Hall in these publications,
gave violent offence to the Presbyterian party. It
was in reply to the latter work, that the celebrated
treatise, called " Smectymnuus," was written ; a
title which, as is generally known, was formed from
the initials of the writers' names, (five in number,)
who jointly contributed to its composition.1 This
controversy, which was maintained for some time,
1 Stephen Marshall, Edmund Calamy, Thomas Young,
Matthew Newcomen, William Spurslowe.

INTRODUCTORY ESSAY. XX1I1
on the bishop's side with learning and temperate
vigour, and, as he truly says, on the part of his op
ponents, " with much fierceness of spirit and asperity
of language," was made yet more remarkable by the
subsequent accession of the name of Milton to the .
list of combatants. " Smectymnuus" was followed by
Hall's " Defence of his Humble Remonstrance."
And now, in a quarrel worthy of his " giant's
strength" and " glittering arms," had he fought
on the side of truth and antiquity, issued to the
combat the poet of "lost" and "recovered Paradise."
' Milton's Treatise is characterised less by argument
than by what its author expressively describes as
" a certain grim laughter;" and is chiefly worthy
of being remembered as showing how the highest
intellectual endowments may be deprived of their
angelic temper, when, by reversing the order of
>.the divine promise,' they are employed, not, at
the call of universal charity, as instruments to pro
mote the welfare of mankind, but to havoc and
destroy in the war of party passions.
When the parliament of 1640 assembled, it was
in the midst of a deep, expectant agitation of the
national mind, which indistinctly but fearfully
presaged the evils that followed. Hall's prophetic
foresight of the important results, is thus expressed
in the introduction to his " Humble Remon
strance :" " It were but a narrow word, to say that
1 Isaiah, ii. 4.
c2

XX1V INTRODUCTORY ESSAY.
the eyes of all us, the good subjects of the whole
realm, are fixed upon your success ; certainly there
are not more eyes in these three interessed kingdoms
than are now bent upon you. Yea, all the neighbour
churches and kingdoms, if I may not say the whole
Christian world, and no small part beyond it, look
wishfully upon your faces, and with stretched-out
necks gaze at the issue of your great meeting."
'Whether or not, that assembly opened with a fixed
purpose, on the part of the Presbyterian and other
sects, to overthrow the constitution in church and
state, has ever since been, and is likely to continue
to be, a question most unprofitably discussed : that
such a design was, at least, soon after tacitly con
ceived, seems rendered undeniable by the fact,
that the measures, which originated with those par
ties, were pushed on to the production of that fatal
issue, with but a more determined spirit, after the
entire removal of those grievances which were
alleged as their original pretext.
The first attack made by the Commons upon the
episcopal order, was in an attempt to fasten an indict
ment for high treason upon the bishops, and other
members of the late convocation, founded on the
subscription to a body of canons which had been
promulgated by that assembly, for preventing in
novation in the doctrine, discipline, and govern
ment of the church. Upon the failure of this de
sign, " petitions, accusatory," numerously, but, in

INTRODUCTORY ESSAY. XXV
many instances fraudulently, signed, were procured
from all parts of the kingdom, and especially from
the inferior classes inhabiting the metropolis,
against episcopal government. In order to enforce
these demands by intimidation, the populace were
encouraged to collect in vast numbers at Westmin
ster. The ears of the bishops, in their way to and
from the House of Lords, were assailed with the
>, coarsest invectives; and such, at length, was the
violence used towards their persons, that attend
ance upon their senatorial duties was no longer
practicable. Thus circumstanced, twelve of their
number, of whom Bishop Hall, now (on the decease
of Dr. Montagu) translated to the see of Norwich,
was one, with Williams, the Archbishop of York,
at their head, resolved to petition the King and the
Parliament for protection ; they, at the same time,
adopted the more questionable procedure of pro
testing against the validity of such laws as should
be passed during their forced absence. The advan
tage which this indiscreet step gave to their enemies,
the latter were not the men to neglect ; the twelve
prelates were instantly called to the bar of the House,
on their knees, and committed on a second charge of
high treason. This memorable protest was pre
sented December 30th, 1641 ; and on the 13th of
January, Hall and ten of his brethren were lodged
in the Tower, where they continued in confinement
till the following June. In the interval, they peti
tioned to the Lords to be heard on their trial, and

XXV1 INTRODUCTORY ESSAY.
were accordingly brought up ; but the Parliament
finding nothing could be made of such an impeach
ment, found a pretence for remanding them to a
future day : that day, however, never came. They
had been conveyed by water to avoid the mob ; and
Hall, in his relation of these circumstances, feel
ingly alludes to the inconvenience and danger to
which these venerable fathers — learned, irreproach
able, and gray-headed men, — were exposed on their
return, in the darkness of night.
Of the state of religion and public manners, and
of the temper with which the imprisoned bishops
submitted to restraint, and what use they made of
it, we may form some conception from the follow
ing passage in Hall's tract, the " Free Prisoner,"
which was composed in the Tower. " Is it a small
benefit," he asks, " that I am placed there, where no -
oaths, no blasphemies beat my ears ? where my
eyes are in no peril of wounding objects ; where I
hear no invectives, no false doctrines, no sermocina-
tions of ironmongers, felt-makers, coblers, broom-
men, grooms, or any other of those inspired igno-
rants; no curses, no ribaldries; where I see no
drunken comessations, no rebellious routs, no vio
lent oppressions, no obscene rejoicings \s This
strong Tower serves not so much for our prison as
for our defence, what horror soever the name may
carry in it. I bless God for these walls ; out of
which I know not where we could, for the time,
have been safe from the rage of the mis-incensed

INTRODUCTORY ESSAY. XXvii
multitude. Here we have well and happily ap
proved, with the blessed apostle, that, whatever our
restraint be, ' the word of God is not bound.' With
what liberty, with what zeal, with what success,
hath that been preached by us to all comers ! Let
them say, whether the Tower had ever so many,
such guests, or such benedictions; so as, if the
place have rendered us safe, we have endeavoured
to make it happy. Our troubles, through God's
mercy, made us more active, and our labours more
effectual." Upon Bishop Hall's release, which he now ob
tained, on giving bail to the amount of 5,000/., he
retired to Norwich, where he at first met with a
better reception from the people than in those evil
times was to be expected. But this lasted not
long. In April 1643, he Was included by name in
the order for sequestering the estates of notorious
delinquents; the term then fashionable in Parlia
ment for all those whom the leaders of that assem
bly regarded as inimical to their arbitrary acts.
His rents were stopped, and his whole property,
real and personal, seized ; the inventory and ap
praisement being made with such strictness, that
there was not left to him, he says, so much " as a
dozen of trenchers, or his children's pictures." Not
only his present rents, but even the arrears due to
him, being treacherously confessed to the seques
trators, were by them called for and taken from

XXV111 INTRODUCTORY ESSAY.
him. By the act for depriving the bishops of their
revenues, it was provided that a yearly allowance
for maintenance should be assigned to each, " ac
cording to a proportion by them" (the framers of
it) "set down ;" wherein, writes Hall, " they were
pleased that my share should come to 400/. per
annum." As no steps were taken for his support,
he now applied for this allowance; and his claim
was readily acceded to by the local committee, but
immediately prohibited by the general committee
appointed by the Parliament, who refused to grant
any thing at all to the bishop ; but intimated, that
on the application of his wife, a fifth part of his
income would be allowed for the support of herself
and family. This grant, however, was never rea
lized. The concluding paragraphs of the simple
and evidently guileless narrative, from which most
of the foregoing particulars have been extracted, are
so curiously characteristic of the period, that
though familiar to those who have studied the eccle
siastical history of the seventeenth century, they are
here given without deviation from the language of
the writer. ^
" Many insolencies and affronts," continues the
bishop, " were in all this time put upon me. One
while a whole rabble of volunteers came to my
gates late, when they were locked up, and called
for the porter to give them entrance ; which, being
not yielded, they threatened to make by force;

INTRODUCTORY ESSAY. XXIX
and, had not the said gates been very strong, they
had done it. Others of them clambered over the
walls, and would have entered into my house : their
errand, they said, was to search for delinquents ;
what they would have done I know not, had not we,
by a secret way, sent to raise the officers for our
rescue. Another while, the sheriff Toftes and
alderman Linsey, attended with many zealous fol
lowers, came into my chapel to look for supersti
tious pictures and relics of idolatry ; and sent for
me, to let me know they found those windows full
of images which were very offensive, and must be
demolished. I told them they were the pictures of
some ancient and worthy bishops, as St. Ambrose,
Austin, &c. It was answered me, that they were
so many popes, and one man amongst the rest would
take upon him to defend that every diocesan bishop
was pope." In the end, he says, " I obtained leave
that I might, with the least loss and defacing of the
windows, give order for taking off that offence;
which I did, by causing the heads of those pictures
to be taken off.
" There was not that care and moderation used
in reforming the cathedral church bordering upon
my palace. It is no other than tragical to re
late the carriage of that furious sacrilege, whereof
our eyes and ears were the sad witnesses. What
work was here ! What beating down of walls, —
what tearing up of monuments, — what pulling

XXX INTRODUCTORY ESSAY.
down of seats, — what wresting out of irons and
brass from the windows and graves, — what defacing
of arms, — what demolishing of curious stone-work,
that had not any representation in the world, but
only of the cost of the founder and skill of the
mason, — what tooting and piping upon the de
stroyed organ-pipes ! and what a hideous triumph
on the market-day before all the country ; when,
in a kind of sacrilegious and profane procession,
all the organ-pipes, vestments, with copes and sur
plices, together with the leaden cross which had
been newly sawn down from above the green-yard
pulpit, and the service-books and singing-books
that could be had, were carried to the fire in the
public market-place ; a lewd wretch walking be
fore the train, in his cope trailing in the dirt, with a
service-book in his hand, imitating in an impious
scorn the tune, and usurping the words of the
litany used formerly in the church. Near the
public cross all these monuments of idolatry must
be sacrificed to the fire ; not without much ostenta
tion of a zealous joy, in discharging ordnance, to the
cost of some who professed how much they had
longed to see that day. Neither was it any news
upon this guild-day, to have the cathedral, now open
on all sides, to be filled with musketeers waiting
for the major's return, drinking and tobacconing
us freely, as if it had turned ale-house.
" Still yet I remained in my palace, though with

INTRODUCTORY ESSAY. xxxi
but a poor retinue and means ; but the house was
held too good for me. Many messages were sent by
Mr. Corbet to remove me thence. The first pre
tence was, that the committee, who now was at
charge for a house to sit in, might make their daily
session there; being a place both more public,
roomy, and chargeless. The committee, after many
consultations, resolved it convenient to remove
thither, though many overtures and offers were
made to the contrary. Mr. Corbet was impatient
of my stay there ; and procures and sends peremp
tory messages for my present dislodging. We de
sired to have some time allowed for providing some
other mansion, if we must needs be thrust out of
this ; which my wife was so willing to hold, that
she offered, if the charge of the present committee-
house were the thing stood upon, she would be con
tent to defray the sum of the rent of that house of
her fifth part ; but that might not be yielded ; out
we must, and that in three weeks' warning, by Mid
summer-day then approaching; so as we might
have lain in the street, for aught I know, had not
the providence of God so ordered it, that a neigh
bour in the Close, one Mr. Gostlin, a widower, was
content to void his house for us.
" This hath been my measure." —
This autobiographical sketch bears the date of
May 29, 1647. Shortly afterwards, the deprived
bishop secured a retreat from the storms that agitated

XXX11 INTRODUCTORY ESSAY.
his declining life, (he had now reached more than
the average allotment of a good old age,) which, if
less honourable than it became his country to
afford such a man in the close of a long life of
public usefulness, during which he had presented
the world with many precious volumes, such as " it
will not willingly let die;'' yet afforded him the
quiet which his years required, with leisure not
only to practise that art of preparing for another
state of existence, " wherein," says he, " after long
profession of other sciences, I am still (why should
I shame to confess ?) a learner, and shall be, I
hope, whilst I live ;" but also, by his example, and
by the further exercise of his indefatigable pen, to
teach the same to others. The place to which he
retired was the village of Higham, near Norwich,
where he rented a small estate. He died at Higham,
September 8, 1656, at the advanced age of 82, and
was buried in the church-yard of that place, con
formably to an opinion held by him, in common
with some other pious and excellent persons, as
thus expressed in his will : " I do not hold God's
house a meet repository for the dead bodies of the
greatest saints."
Bishop Hall may be fearlessly named among the
best and holiest persons that any age or country
has produced. Ever earnest in exercising his
charity to mankind by labouring for the spiritual

INTRODUCTORY ESSAY. XXXlii
benefit of his own and future generations, — his love
to God in a zealous discharge of the duties of his
high calling, and a fervent communion with the
Spirit of light and truth ; he, in his own person, re
alized that character which it was the design of his
numerous works to form — a thorough Christian.
That this harmony should exist between his life and
the effusions of his pen is natural ; for no one can be
come acquainted with the latter without perceiving
that they contain the faithful results of his own ex.
perience, and the genuine impress of his convic
tions. His habits inclined to be ascetic; yet this
was not from sourness of disposition; but partly
because such was with good men the fashion of
the times in which he lived, and partly that such
habits were congenial with his apostolic simplicity
of mind, confirmed by much retired study. If he
despised the world, — and, speaking of himself, he
says, " It were too great a shame for a philosopher,
a Christian, a divine, a bishop, to have his thoughts
grovelling here upon earth ; for mine, they scorn
the employment, and look upon all these sublunary
distractions with no other eyes than contempt,"
— this was neither the consequence of ignorance
of society, nor of an unwilling seclusion from its
pleasures ; for we possess abundant proofs that he
was a keen and various observer ; while the amuse
ments and pursuits of the court were open to him,
and inviting his regard throughout the whole of
that portion of his life, during which they are com-

XXXIV INTRODUCTORY ESSAY.
monly found to be most attractive. If, again, he
was devoutly earnest in his preparation for a higher
sphere of existence hereafter, it was not because
his eye was insensible to the natural charms which
earth presents to her intelligent inhabitants, or his
heart incapable of human attachment — he was a
poet,1 a friend, a husband, and a father ; but, be
cause his earnest faith admitted him to clear views
of the preciousness of that existence, and because
the familiar experience he enjoyed of the daily-grow
ing immortality within him endeared to his soul
the anticipation of its full development. The
reader will not fail to be pleased, if not improved,
by the following account of Bishop Hall's daily
habits, given by himself, as they appear to have
existed through the greater part of his long life.
" First, I desire to awake at those hours, not when
I will but when I must : pleasure is not a fit rule
for rest, but health ; neither do I consult so much
with the sun, as mine own necessity, whether of
body or, in that, of the mind. If this vessel could
well serve me waking, it should never sleep ; but
now, it must be pleased that it may be serviceable.
" Now, when sleep is rather driven away than
leaves me, I would ever awake with God. My
first thoughts are for him who hath made the night
for rest, and the day for travail ; and, as he gives,
1 His claim to this title rssts on his " Virgidemierum," a
series of satires published in 1597, and on a metrical version of
some of the Psalms.

INTRODUCTORY ESSAY. XXXV
so blesses both. If my heart be ear y seasoned
with his presence, it will savour of him all day after.
" While my body is dressing, not with an effe
minate curiosity, nor yet with rude neglect, my
mind addresses itself to her ensuing task ; bethink
ing what is to done, and in what order, and mar
shalling as it may be my hours with my work.
" That done, after some while meditation, I walk
up to my masters and companions, my books; and
sitting down amongst them with the best content
ment, I dare not reach forth my hand to salute any
of them till I have first looked up to heaven, and
craved favour of him to whom all my studies are
duly referred, without whom I can neither profit
nor labour. After this, out of no over-great va
riety, I call forth those which may best fit my
occasions, wherein I am not too scrupulous of age ;
sometimes I put myself to school to one of those
ancients whom the church hath honoured with the
name of fathers, whose volumes I confess not to
open without a secret reverence of their holiness
and gravity ; sometimes to those latter doctors,
which want nothing but age to make them classi
cal ; always to God's book. That day is lost whereof
some hours are not improved in those divine monu
ments ; others I turn over out of choice, these out
of duty.
" Ere I can have sat unto weariness, my family,
having now overcome all household distractions,

XXXVI INTRODUCTORY ESSAY.
invites me to our common devotions ; not without
some short preparation. "These, heartily per
formed, send me up with a more strong and cheer
ful appetite to my former work, which I find made
easy to me by intermission and variety.
"Now therefore can I deceive the hours with
change of pleasures, that is, of labours. One while
mine eyes are busied, another while my hand, and
sometimes my mind takes the burden from them
both. One hour is spent in textual divinity, another
in controversy ; histories relieve them both. Now,
when the mind is weary of other labours, it begins
to undertake her own : sometimes it meditates and
winds up for future use; sometimes it lays forth her
conceits into present discourse ; sometimes for it
self, ofter for others. Neither know I whether it
works or plays in these thoughts : I am sure no
sport hath more pleasure, no work more use; only
the decay of a weak body makes me think these
delights insensibly laborious.
" Thus could I all day, as ringers use, make my
self music with changes, and complain sooner of
the day for shortness, than of the business for toil,
were it not that this faint monitor interrupts me still
in the midst of my busy pleasures, and enforces
me both to respite and repast. I must yield to
both ; while my body and mind are joined toge
ther in these unequal couples, the better must fol
low the weaker.

INTRODUCTORY ESSAY. XXXvii
" Before my meals, therefore, and after, I let my
self loose from all thoughts, and now would forget
that I ever studied. A full mind takes away the
body's appetite, no less than a full body makes a
dull and unwieldly mind. Company, discourse,
recreations, are now seasonable and welcome.
These prepare me for a diet, not gluttonous but
medicinal ; the palate may not be pleased, but
the stomach, nor that for its own sake. Neither
would I think any of these "comforts worth respect
in themselves, but in their use, in their end, so far
as they may enable me to better things. If I see
any dish to tempt my palate, I fear a serpent in
that apple, and would please myself in a wilful
denial. I rise capable of more, not desirous , not
now immediately from my trencher to my book,
but after some intermission. Moderate speed is a
sure help to all proceedings ; whereas those things
which are prosecuted with violence of endeavour
or desire, either succeed not or continue not.
After my latter meal my thoughts are slight ;
only my memory may be charged with her task of
recalling what was committed to her custody in the
day, and my heart is busy in examining my hands
and mouth, and all other senses, of that day's be
haviour. " And, now the evening is come, no tradesman
doth more carefully take in his wares, clear his
shop-board, and shut his windows, than I would
d

XXXV111 INTRODUCTORY ESSAY.
shut up my thoughts and clear my mind. That
student shall live miserably, which, like a camel,
lies down under his burden. All this done, calling
together my family, we end the day with God.
Thus do we rather drive away the time before us,
than follow it.
" Such are my common days. But God's day
calls for another respect. The same sun arises on
this day, and enlightens it; yet, because that Snn
of Righteousness arose upon it, and gave a new life
unto the world in it, and drew the strength of God's
moral precept unto it, therefore justly do we sing
with the Psalmist, ' This is the day which the Lord
hath made.' Now, I forget the world, and, in a sort
myself; and deal with my wonted thoughts as great
men use, who, at some times of their privacy, for
bid the access of all suitors. Prayer, meditation,
reading, hearing, preaching, singing, good confer
ence, are the businesses of this day ; which I dare
not bestow on any work or pleasure but heavenly.
I hate superstition on the one side, and looseness
on the other ; but I find it hard to offend in too
much devotion, easy in profaneness. The whole
week is sanctified by this day ; and, according to
my care of this, is my blessing on the rest.
" I show you what I would do, and what I ought :
I commit my desires to the imitation of the weak,
my actions to the censures of the wise and holy,
my weaknesses to the pardon and redress of my
merciful God."

INTRODUCTORY ESSAY. XXXIX
To a man so occupied, the loss of wealth, power,
and public influence, must have been a considera
tion but little affecting his real happiness. He has
left, indeed, a record of his sufferings, written and
entitled in the temper of one who felt that he had
reason to complain. Yet we shall do him no more
than justice, if we refer any severe expression it may
contain rather to his sense of insulted dignity as a
bishop, than to his injuries as a man : he was too
good a citizen, and too sound a churchman, not to
lament, amid the howlings of the political tempest,
far less for his personal share of the prosperity it had
swept away, than for the overthrow of the temple
and the desolation of Jerusalem. In the very depth
of the national miseries, however, he did not de
spair; in faith and confident waiting upon Pro
vidence, he beheld afar, through the surrounding
gloom, the dawn of a brighter day;1 and he
thought the only way in which those in his circum
stances could hasten that happy period, was by
promoting works of charity and peace, and that it
was their duty in other respects to " stand still and
see the salvation of God." Respecting his endea
vours, at all times, to promote peace, he thus speaks :
" It was ever the desire of my soul, even from my
first entrance upon .the public service of the church,
(according to my known signature,) with Noah's
dove, to have brought an olive-branch to the tossed
1 See his " Revelation Unrevealed."
d2

xl INTRODUCTORY ESSAY.
ark ; and God knows how sincerely I have endea
voured it. Doubtless our main errand to the world
is peace ; and woe be to us if we do it not." To
the discharge of this paramotmt duty of a Chris
tian minister were especially devoted those nu
merous treatises — some of them among the most
valuable of his writings— which were composed
by him in the interval between his retirement
to his cottage at Higham, and his death. Amid
the uproar of contending factions, by turns usurping
the pulpit and monopolizing the press, the " still
voice" of reason and religious contemplation, which
issued from that obscure seclusion, continued to
" find fit audience." That publications breathing
so pure and tranquil a spirit, were received by so
many with a fervent welcome, was a pledge that
the heart of the distracted nation was yet sound.
It proved that there was yet a remnant left in the
land — the " elect, for whose sake the evil days shouW
be shortened" — who loved mankind and feared
God; men distinguished alike from trteerazy fanatic,
the profligate among the royalists, and the selfish
hypocrites whom present interest attached equally
to any side, or to all by turns. It is to such that,
in times of public commotion and disorder, nations
owe their deliverance; and, whatever may have
been the case in periods of convulsion in countries
less happily constituted than our own, in England
we need never despair that the proportion of " righ-

INTRODUCTORY ESSAY. xli
teous men" required to conciliate heaven for the
common salvation, will be found. To be able to
form the wish for such, is, as far as for this end is
required, to be of the number.
The writings of Bishop Hall have maintained,
nearly down to our own times, (perhaps it may be
said, they still retain,) a more extensive popula
rity than those of almost any other of the great
divines of an age abounding in examples of con
summate theological learning and ability. We
have no difficulty in accounting for this. Though
replete with erudition, these works are familiar in
style ; and while they possess much of the warmth
and interest which belong to the produce of indi
vidual thought, they likewise present the truth and
the reality, which only the acute observer of mankind
can impart to his delineations. It is also to be in
part attributed to another quality of his style, be
sides that which we have termed its familiarity.
Notwithstanding his occasional use of terms now
obsolete, this author has more of a modern air than
any of his contemporaries. This is chiefly owing
to the brevity of his periods. That broad and
massive structure of sentences, which is not more
characteristic of our writers of the highest genius,
from the Reformation to the Revolution, than it is
true to the nature of our language, and in harmony
with the massive vigour of genuine English mind,
Hall was among the first to discard ; and to intro-

xlii INTRODUCTORY ESSAY.
duce instead the modern laconic period, by break
ing up his diction into fragments of more attractive
brilliancy, and greater convenience for ordinary
capacities. Upon the whole, we cannot better sum
up the general claims of this admirable Sacred
Classic to the reader's esteem, than by adopting the
description given of him by his contemporary, Ful
ler, that he was "our English Seneca, dexterous at
controversy, not unhappy at comments, very good at
characters, better in sermons, best of all in medita
tions and contemplations." It is in the last, and,
according to this testimony, his best character as
an author, that Bishop Hall is introduced to the
reader in the present volume.
It yet remains the duty of the editor to add a few
words, in regard to the following selection. In
giving the preference, on this occasion, to the minor
pieces of this admired writer, he had several reasons
for his choice. The first and most obvious was their
convenient length ; a second was the greater novelty
of most of these pieces for the general reader, the
greater individual importance of the author's
more elaborate treatises having diverted atten
tion from his shorter "tractates," as he calls them;
and these again were confirmed by the equal but
more varied excellence of the latter, rendering them,
when methodically arranged, even more likely to
prove lastingly profitable. For the contents of the

INTRODUCTORY ESSAY. xliii
volume have neither been thrown together at ran
dom, nor are they placed in what, but for higher
considerations, would have been a very appropriate
order, viz. that of the dates of their original publi
cation. It is believed they will be found to accord
with the natural succession of the sentiments and
needs of the Christian, in such a manner that he
may, at every step in their perusal, derive that as
sistance from them which he will require in the
corresponding period of his course; while the
whole together may be regarded as a manual of
practical theology.
Thus, in " Heaven on Earth" will be found set
forth, with great power and brevity, the impor
tance and the method of a religious life. In the
" Christian," the principles before adduced are fully
exemplified in a characteristic pattern for imita
tion. We now rise by natural degrees to contem
plate and pursue those pious thoughts and reflec
tions, which accompany the Christian mind in its
maturer growth; and these are supplied in the third
tract, " The Devout Soul." The " Select Thoughts"
lays open a wider sphere for the believer's walk and
converse with God, in the midst of his duties in
the world. Proceeding now to compositions of a
loftier devotional character, we are taught to utter
the praises of the Redeemer in the " Meditation on
the Love of Christ," which we may regard as a sa
cred Hymn, celebrating the redemption. Lastly,

xliv INTRODUCTORY ESSAY.
the whole series is appropriately closed with some
pathetic effusions of piety and love to God, sug
gested by the prospect of death and the assured
hope of immortality, in "The Soul's Farewell to
Earth." The numerous works of Bishop Hall appeared
singly, at intervals, during a period of almost sixty
years. The greater part of them were collected into
three volumes folio, and published in his life-time,
viz. Vol. I. in 1617, and again in 1624; Vol. II. in
1633; Vol. III. in 1634; a fourth volume, in 4to.,
entitled, " The Shaking of the Olive Tree," was
added after the author's death, in 1660, and a
fifth, containing " Divers Treatises," in folio, in
1662. The only modern edition was published
in 1808, by the Rev. Josiah Pratt, B.D., in ten
vols. 8vo. From this edition the present editor
has, in great part, adopted the divisions into para
graphs, and occasionally some improvements upon
the old copies in the arrangement of the sections ;
but the volume now before the reader has not been
given to the public without a careful collation of
all the known editions of the treatises it contains,
and the use of the editor's best judgment in every
department of his duty.
R. C.
London, April \Ath, 1834.

TREATISES,
DEVOTIONAL AND PRACTICAL.

CONTENTS.

Paee-
Heaven upon Earth ; or, of True Peace and Tranquillity
of Mind ..... 1
The Christian laid forth in his whole Disposition and
Carriage . . . . 73
The Devout Soul; or, Rules of Heavenly Devotion . '103
Select Thoughts ; or, Choice Helps for a Pious Spirit : a
Century of Divine Breathings for a Ravished Soul,
beholding the Excellencies of her Lord Jesus . 163
An Holy Rapture; or, a Pathctical Meditation on the
Love of Christ . . . . .283
The Soul's Farewell to Earth, and Approaches to Heaven 311

HEAVEN UPON EARTH

OF TRUE PEACE AND TRANQUILLITY OF MIND

162^

TO THE RIGHT HONOURABLE
HENRY EARL OF HUNTINGDON,
LORD HASTINGS, HUNGERFORD, BOTREAUX, MOLINES, AND
MOILES, HIS MAJESTY'S LIEUTENANT IN THE COUNTIES
OF LEICESTER AND RUTLAND, MY SINGULAR
GOOD LORD :
ALL INCREASE OF TRUE HONOUR, AND HEAVEN BEGUN
UPON EARTH.

Right Honourable,
I have undertaken a great task — to teach men how to be happy
in this life. I have undertaken, and performed it. Wherein I
have followed Seneca ; and gone beyond him : followed him, as
a philosopher ; gone beyond him, as a Christian, as a divine :
rinding it a true censure of the best moralists, that they were
like to goodly ships, graced with great titles, the Safeguard,
the Triumph, the Goodspeed, and such like ; when yet they
have been both extremely sea-beaten, and at last wrecked. The
volume is little ; perhaps the use, more. I have ever thought,
according to the Greek proverb, jiiya /3i/3\iov fikya rclkov*
What it is, even justice challengeth it to him, to whom the
author hath devoted himself. The children of the bondman
are the goods of the parent's master. I humbly betake it to
your Honour's protection, and your Honour to the protection of
the Highest. Your Honour's most humbly devoted,
in all duty and service,
JOSEPH HALL
• A great book is a great evil.
B 2

HEAVEN UPON EARTH

SECTION I.
Censure of Philosophers.
When I had studiously read over the moral writ
ings of some wise heathen, especially those of the
Stoical profession, I must 'confess, I found a little
envy and pity striving together within me. I en
vied nature in them, to see her so witty in devising
such plausible refuges for doubting and troubled
minds : I pitied them, to see that their careful dis
quisition of true rest led them, in the end, but to
mere unquietness. Wherein, methought, they were
as hounds swift of foot, but not exquisite in scent ;
which, in a hasty pursuit, take a wrong way ;
spending their mouths and courses in vain. Their
praise of guessing wittily they shall not lose : their
hopes, both th'ey lost and whosoever follows them.
If Seneca could have had grace to his wit, what
wonders would he have done in this kind ! What
divine might not have yielded him the chair, for
precepts of tranquillity, without any disDarag'e-
ment ? As he was, this he hath gained— never

6 HEAVEN UPON EARTH.
any heathen wrote more divinely ; never any phi
losopher more probably.
Neither would I ever desire better master, if, to
this purpose, I needed no other mistress than na
ture. But this, in truth, is a task which nature
hath never, without presumption, undertaken;
and never performed, without much imperfection :
like to those vain and wandering empirics, which,
in tables and pictures, make great ostentation of
cures ; never approving their skill to their credu
lous patients. And if she could have truly effected
it alone, I know not what employment in this life
she should have left for grace to busy herself about,
nor what privilege it should have been here below
to be a Christian : since this, that we seek, is the
noblest work of the soul; and in which alone
consists the only heaven of this world : this is the
sum of all human desires ; which when we have
attained, then only we begin to live, and are sure
we cannot thenceforth live miserably. No marvel
then, if all the heathen have diligently sought after
it, many wrote of it, none attained it. Not Athens
must teach this lesson, but Jerusalem.

SECTION II.
What Tranquillity is, and wherein it consists.
Yet something grace scorneth not to learn of na
ture ; as Moses may take good counsel of a Midi-
anite. Nature hath ever had more skill in the end, than
in the way to it ; and, whether she have discoursed
of the good estate of the mind, which we call tran-

HEAVEN UPON EARTH. 7
quillity, or the best, which is happiness, hath more
happily guessed at the general definition of them,
than of the means to compass them.
She teacheth us therefore, without controlment,
that the tranquillity of the mind is, as of the sea
and weather, when no wind stirreth, when the
waves do not tumultuously rise and fall upon each
other ; but when the face, both of the heaven and
waters, is still, fair, and equable : that it is such an
even disposition of the heart, wherein the scales of
the mind neither rise up towards the beam, through
their own lightness, or the overweening opinion pf
prosperity, nor are too much depressed with any
load of sorrow ; but hanging equal and unmoved
betwixt both, give a man liberty in all occurrences
to enjoy himself.
Not that the most temperate mind can be so the
master of his passions, as not sometimes to over-joy
his grief, or over-grieve his joy, according to the
contrary occasions of both : for not the evenest
weights, but at their first putting into the balance
somewhat sway both parts thereof, not without
some show of inequality; which yet, after some
little motion, settle themselves in a meet poise. It
is enough, that, after some sudden agitation, it can
return to itself; and rest itself, at last, in a re
solved peace.
And this due composedness of mind we require
unto our tranquillity, not for some short fits of
good mood, which soon after end in discontent
ment, but with the condition of perpetuity : for there
is no heart makes so rough weather, as not some
times to admit of a calm ; and, whether for that he
knoweth no present cause of his trouble, or for that
he knoweth that cause of trouble is countervailed

8 HEAVEN UPON EARTH.
with as great an occasion of private joy, or for that
the multitude of evils hath bred carelessness, the
man that is most disordered finds some respites
of quietness. The balances that are most ill
matched in their unsteady motions, come to an
equality, but stay not at it. The frantic man can
not avoid the imputation of madness, though he be
sober for many moons, if he rage in one.
So then, the calm mind must be settled in an
habitual rest : not then firm, when there is nothing
to shake it ; but then least shaken when it is most
assailed.

SECTION III
Insufficiency of human precepts. — Seneca's rules of
Tranquillity abridged. — Rejected as insufficient. —
Disposition of the work.
Whence easily appears, how vainly it hath been
sought, either in such a constant estate of outward
things, as should give no distaste to the mind, while
all earthly things vary with the weather, and have
no stay but in uncertainty ; or in the natural
temper of the soul, so ordered by human wisdom
as that it should not be affected with any casual
events to either part : since that cannot ever, by
natural power, be held like to itself; but one while
is cheerful, stirring, and ready to undertake ; another
while, drowsy, dull, comfortless, prone to rest, weary
of itself, loathing his own purposes, his own resolu
tions. In both which, since the wisest philosophers have
grounded all the rules of their tranquillity, it is

HEAVEN UPON EARTH. 9
plain that they saw it afar off, as they did heaven
itself, with a desire and admiration, but knew not
the way to it : whereupon, alas ! how slight and
impotent are the remedies they prescribe for un-
quietness ! For what is it that, for the incon
stancy and laziness of the mind, still displeasing
itself in what it doth, and for that distemper
thereof which ariseth from the fearful, unthriving,
and restless desires of it, we should ever be employ
ing ourselves in some public affairs, choosing our
business according to our inclination, and prose
cuting what we have chosen ? wherewith being at
last cloyed, we should retire ourselves, and wear
the rest of our time in private studies ? that we
should make due comparative trials of our own abi
lity, nature of our businesses, disposition of our
chosen friends ? that, in respect of patrimony, we
should be but carelessly affected ; so drawing it in,
as it may be least for show, most for use ; removing
all pomp, bridling our hopes, cutting off super
fluities ? for crosses, to consider, that custom will
abate and mitigate them ; that the best things are
but chains and burdens to those that have them, to
those that use them; that the worst things have
some mixture of comfort, to those that groan under
them ? Or, leaving these lower rudiments that are
given to weak and simple novices, to examine those
golden rules of morality, which are commended to
the most wise and able practitioners; what it
is, to account himself as a tenant at will ; to fore-
imagine the worst, in all casual matters ; to avoid
all idle and impertinent businesses, all pragmatical
meddling with affairs of state ; not so to fix our
selves upon any one estate, as to be impatient of a
change ; to call back the mind from outward things,

10 HEAVEN UPON EARTH.
and draw it home into itself; to laugh at and esteem
lightly of others' misdemeanors ; not to depend upon
others'opinions, but to stand on our own bottoms ; to
carry ourselves in an honest and simple truth, free
from a curious hypocrisy and affectation of seem
ing other than we are, and yet as free from a base
kind of carelessness ; to intermeddle retiredness
with society, so as one may give sweetness to the
other, and both to us, so slackening the mind that
we may not loosen it, and so bending as we may
not break it : to make the most of ourselves, cheer
ing up our spirits with variety of recreations, with
satiety of meals, and all other bodily indulgence,
saving that drunkenness, methinks, can neither
beseem a wise philosopher to prescribe, nor a vir
tuous man to practise ? All these, in their kinds,
please well, profit much, and are as sovereign for
both these, as they are unable to effect that, for
which they are propounded.
Nature teacheth thee all these should be done ;
she cannot teach thee to do them : and yet do all
these and no more, let me never have rest if thou
have it. For neither are here the greatest enemies
of our peace so much as descried afar off; nor those
that are noted, are hereby so prevented that upon
most diligent practice we can promise ourselves
any security : wherewith whoso instructed, dare
confidently give challenge to all sinister events, is
like to some skilful fencer, who stands upon his
usual wards, and plays well ; but if there come
a strange fetch of an unwonted blow, is put beside
the rules of his art, and with much shame over
taken. And for those that are known, believe me,
the mind of man is too weak to bear out itself here
by, against all onsets. There are light crosses,

HEAVEN UPON EARTH. 11
that will take an easy repulse ; others yet stronger,
that shake the house-side, but break not in upon us;
others vehement, which by force make way to the
heart; where they find none, breaking open the
door of the soul that denies entrance : others vio
lent, that lift the mind off the hinges, or rend the
bars of it in pieces ; others furious, that tear up the
very foundations from the bottom, leaving no monu
ment behind them, but ruin. The wisest and most
resolute moralist that ever was,1 looked pale when
he should taste of his hemlock ; and, by his timor-
ousness, made sport to those that envied his spe
culations. The best of the heathen emperors,3 that
was honoured with the title of piety, justly magni
fied that courage of Christians which made them
insult over their tormentors ; and, by their fearless
ness of earthquakes and deaths, argued the truth of
their religion. It must be, it can be, none but a
divine power that can uphold the mind against
the rage of many afflictions; and yet, the greatest
crosses are not the greatest enemies to inward peace.
Let us, therefore, look up above ourselves; and,
from the rules of a higher art, supply the defects of
natural wisdom : giving such infallible directions
for tranquillity, that whosoever shall follow cannot
but live sweetly with continual delight ; applaud
ing himself at home, when all the world beside him
shall be miserable.
To which purpose, it shall be requisite, first, to
remove all causes of unquietness ; and then, to set
down the grounds of our happy rest.
1 Socrates.
2 Antoninus Pius, in an epistle to the Asians concerning the
persecuted Christians.

12 HEAVEN UP0"N EARTH.

SECTION IV

Enemies of inward Peace divided into their ranks. —
The torment of an Evil Conscience. — The joy and
peace of the Guilty but dissembled
I find, on the one hand, two universal enemies of
tranquillity — conscience of evil done, sense or fear
of evil suffered. The former, in one word, we call
sins ; the latter, crosses : the first of these must be
quite taken away, the second duly tempered, ere
the heart can be at rest. For, first, how can that
man be at peace that is at variance with God and
himself? How should peace be God's gift, if it
could be without him, if it could be against him ?
It is the profession of Sin, although fair spoken
at the first closing, to be a perpetual make-bait
betwixt God and man, betwixt a man and him
self. And this enmity, though it do not continually
show itself, (as the mortalest enemies are not always
in pitched fields one against the other ; for that the
conscience is not ever clamorous, but somewhile is
silent, otherwhile with still murmurings bewrays
his mislikes;) yet doth evermore work secret un-
quietness to the heart. The guilty man may have
a seeming truce; a true peace he cannot have.
Look upon the face of the guilty heart, and thou
shalt see it pale and ghastly ; the smiles and laugh
ters, faint and heartless ; the speeches, doubtful
and full of abrupt stops and unseasonable turnings;
the purposes and motions unsteady and savouring
of much distraction, arguing plainly that sin is not

HEAVEN UPON EARTH. 13
so smooth at her first motions, as turbulent after
wards : hence are those vain wearyings of places
and companies, together with ourselves ; that the
galled soul doth, after the wont of sick patients,
seek refreshing in variety, and, after; many tossed
and turned sides, complains of remediless and un
abated torment, Nero, after,- so much innocent
blood, may change his bed-chamber; but his fiends
ever attend him, ever. are. within him, and are as
parts of himself. Alas! what avails it, to seek out
ward. reliefs, when thou,hast thine executioner within
thee ? If thou couldst shift from thyself, thou might-
est have some hope of ease : now, thou shajt never
want furies, so long as thou hast thyself. Yea,
what if thou woujdst run from thyself ? Thy soul
may fly from thy body; thy conscience will not fly
from thy soul, nor- thy sin from thy conscience.
Some men, indeed, in the bitterness of these pangs
of sin, like unto those fondly impatient fishes that
leap out of the pan into the flame, have leaped out
of this private hell, that is, in themselves, into the
common pit; choosing to adventure upon the future
pains that they have feared, rather than to endure
the present horrors they have felt : wherein what
have they gained, but to that hell which was within
thenij a second hell . without ? The conscience
leaves not, where, the fiends begin; but both join
together in torture.
But- there are some firm and obdurate foreheads, '
whose resolution can laugh their sins out of coun
tenance. There are so large and able gorges, as
that they can swallow and digest bloody murders,

1 A proverbial Latin idiom : a person lost to shame is said
to be dura? et perfricatae frontis. — Ed.

14 HEAVEN UPON EARTH.
without complaint ; who, with the same hands
which they have since their last meal embrued
in blood, can freely carve to themselves large mor
sels at the next sitting. Believest thou that such
a man's heart laughs with his face ? Will not he
dare to be a hypocrite, that durst be a villain ?
These glow-worms, when a night of sorrow encom
passes them, make a lightsome and fiery show of
joy; when, if thou press them, thou findest nothing
but a cold and crude moisture. Knowest thou not,
that there are those which count it no shame to
sin, yet count it a shame to be checked with re
morse, especially so as others' eyes may descry ; to
whom repentance seems base-mindedness, unworthy
of him that professes wisdom and valour ? Such
a man can grieve, when none sees it ; but himself
can laugh, when others see it, himself feels not.
Assure thyself, that man's heart bleedeth when his
face counterfeits a smile : he wears out many
waking hours, when thou thinkest he resteth ; yea,
as his thoughts afford him not sleep, so his very
sleep affords him not rest ; but, while his senses
are tied up his sin is loose ; representing itself to
him in the ugliest shape, and frightening him with
horrible and hellish dreams. And if, perhaps,
custom hath bred a carelessness in him, as we see
that usual whipping makes the child not care for
the rod ; yet an unwonted extremity of the blow
shall fetch blood of the soul ; and make the back
that is most hardened, sensible of smart ; and the
further the blow is fetched, through intermission of
remorse, the harder it must needs alight. There
fore, I may confidently tell the careless sinner, as
that bold tragedian said to his great Pompey :
" The time shall come, wherein thou shalt fetch

HEAVEN UPON EARTH. 15
deep sighs ; and therefore shalt sorrow desperately,
because thou sorrowedst not sooner." The fire of
the conscience may lie, for a time, smothered with
a pile of green wood, that it cannot be discerned ;
whose moisture when once it hath mastered, it sends
up so much greater flame, by how much it had
greater resistance. Hope not then, to stop the
mouth of thy conscience from exclaiming, while
thy sin continues : that endeavour is both vain and
hurtful. So I have seen them, that have stopped
the nostril for bleeding, in hope to stay the issue ;
when the blood, hindered in his former course,
hath broken out of the mouth, or found way
down into the stomach. The conscience is not
pacifiable, while sin is within to vex it ; no more
than an angry swelling can cease throbbing and
aching, while the thorn or the corrupted matter lies
rotting underneath. Time, that remedies all other
evils of the mind, increaseth this ; which, like
to bodily diseases, proves worse with continuance,
and grows upon us with our age.

SECTION V.
Tlie Remedy of an unquiet Conscience.
There can be, therefore, no peace, without recon
ciliation : thou canst not be friends with thyself,
till with God ; for thy conscience, which is thy
best friend while thou sinnest not, like an honest
servant, takes his master's part against thee when
thou hast sinned ; and will not look straight upon
thee, till thou upon God ; not daring to be so kind
to thee, as to be unfaithful to his Maker.
There can be no reconciliation without remis-

16 HEAVEN UPON EARTH.
sion. God can neither forget the injury of sin, nor
dissemble hatred. It is for men and those of hollow
hearts, to make pretences contrary to their affec
tions ; soothings, and smiles, and embracements,
where we mean not love, are from weakness ; either,
for that we fear our insufficiency of present revenge,
or hope for a fitter opportunity afterwards ; or for
that we desire to make our further advantage of him
to whom we mean evil. These courses are not inci
dent into an almighty Power ; who, having the
command of all vengeance, can smite where he list,
without all doubtings or delays.
There can be no remission without satisfaction.
Neither dealeth God with us as we men with some
desperate debtors ; whom, after long dilations of
payments and many days broken, we altogether, let
go for disability, or at least dismiss them upon an
easy composition. All sins are debts : all God's
debts must be discharged. It is a bold word, but
a true, God would not be just if any of his debts
should pass unsatisfied. The conceit of the pro
fane vulgar makes him a God all of mercies ; and,
thereupon, hopes for pardon, without payment.
Fond and ignorant, presumption, to disjoin mercy
and justice in him, to whom they are both essen
tial; to make mercy exceed justice in him, in whom
both are infinite ! Darest thou hope God can be
so kind to thee,. as to be unjust to himself? God
will be just : go thou on to presume, and perish.
There can be no satisfaction by any recompense
of ours. An infinite justice is offended ; an infi
nite punishment: is; deserved by every sin ; and
every man's sins are as near to infinite as number
can make them. Our best endeavour is worse than
finite, imperfect and faulty : if it could be perfect,

HEAVEN UPON EARTH. 17
we owe it all in present : what we are bound to do
in present, cannot make amends for what we have
not done in time past ; which while we offer to God
as good payment, we do, with the profane traveller,
think to please him with empty date-shells, in lieu
of preservation. Where shall we then find a pay
ment of infinite value, but in him, which is only
and all infinite ? the dignity of whose person,
being infinite, gave such worth to his satisfaction,
that what he suffered in short time, was propor
tionable to what we should have suffered beyond
all times. He did all, suffered all, paid all : he
did it for us ; we, in him.
Where shall I begin to wonder at thee, O thou
divine and eternal Peace-Maker, the Saviour of
men, the Anointed of God, Mediator between God
and man ; in whom there is nothing which doth not
exceed, not only the conceit, but the very wonder of
angels ; who saw thee in thy humiliation with
silence, and adore thee in thy glory with perpetual
praises and rejoicings? Thou wast for ever of thy
self as God, of the Father as the Son ; the Eternal
Son of an Eternal Father ; not later in being, not
less in dignity, not other in substance ; begotten,
without diminution of him that begot thee, while
he communicated that wholly to thee which he
retained wholly in himself, because both were
infinite, without inequality of nature, without di
vision of essence : when, being in this estate,
thine infinite love and mercy to desperate man
kind caused thee, O Saviour, to empty thyself
of thy glory, that thou mightst put on our
shame and misery. Wherefore, not ceasing to be
God as thou wert, thou beganst to be what thou
wert not, man ; to the end that thou mightst be a
c

18 HEAVEN UPON EARTH.
perfect mediator betwixt God and man, which wert
both in one person ; God, that thou mightst sa
tisfy ; man, that thou mightst suffer : that, since
man had sinned, and God was offended, thou,
which wert God and man, mightst satisfy God for
man. None but thyself, which art the Eternal
Word, can express the depth of this mystery, that
God should be clothed with flesh, come down to
men, and become man, that man might be exalted
into the highest heavens, and that our nature might
be taken into the fellowship of the Deity : that he,
to whom all powers in heaven bowed, and thought
it their honour to be serviceable, should come
down to be a servant to his slaves, a ransom for his
enemies; together with our nature taking up our
very infirmities, our shame, our torments, and
bearing our sins without sin : that thou, whom the
heavens were too strait to contain, shouldst lay
thyself in an obscure cratch ; thou, which wert at
tended of angels, shouldst be derided of men,
rejected of thine own, persecuted by tyrants, tempted
with devils, betrayed of thy servant, crucified
among thieves, and, which was worse than all these,
in thine own apprehension, for the time, as for
saken of thy Father : that thou, whom our sins had
pierced, shouldst, for our sins, both sweat drops of
blood in the garden, and pour out streams of blood
upon the cross.
Oh, the invaluable purchase of our peace ! O
ransom enough for more worlds ! Thou, which
wert in the counsel of thy Father, the Lamb
slain from the beginning of time, earnest now, in
fulness of time, to be slain by man for man ; being
at once the sacrifice offered, the priest that did
offer, and the God to whom it was offered. How

HEAVEN UPON EARTH. 19
graciously didst thou both proclaim our peace, as
a prophet, in the time of thy life upon earth ; and
purchase it, by thy blood, as a priest, at thy death;
and now confirmest and appliest it, as a King, in
heaven ! By thee only it was procured ; by thee
it is proffered. O mercy without example, without
measure ! God offers peace to man : the holy
seeks to the unjust; the potter, to the clay; the
king, to the traitor. We are unworthy that we
should be received to peace, though we desired it :
what are we then, that we should have peace
offered for the receiving ? An easy condition of so
great a benefit ! He requires us not to earn it, but
to accept it of him : what could he give more ?
what could he require less of us ? *

SECTION VI.
The Receipt of our Peace offered by Faith. — A Corol
lary of the benefit of this Receipt. — The vain shifts
of the Guilty.
The purchase, therefore, of our peace was paid at
once ; yet must be severally reckoned to every soul
whom it shall benefit. If we have not a hand to
take what Christ's hand doth either hold or offer,
what is sufficient in him cannot be effectual to us.
The spiritual hand, whereby we apprehend the
sweet offers of our Saviour, is faith; which, in
short, is no other, than an affiance in the Mediator :
receive peace, and be happy ; believe, and thou
hast received. From hence it is, that we are inte
rested in all that either God hath promised or

20 HEAVEN UPON EARTH.
Christ hath performed : hence have we from God
both forgiveness and love ; the ground of all, either
peace or glory. Hence, of enemies we become
more than friends, sons; and, as sons, may both
expect and challenge, not only careful provision
and safe protection on earth, but an everlasting
patrimony above. This field is so spacious, that it
were easy for a man to lose himself in it : and if I
should spend all my pilgrimage in this walk, my
time would sooner end than my way; wherein 1
would have measured more paces, were it not, that
our scope is not so much to magnify the benefit of
our peace, as to seek how to obtain it.
Behold now, after we have sought heaven and
earth, where only the wearied dove may find an
olive of peace. The apprehending of this all-suf-
ficent satisfaction makes it ours: upon our satisfac
tion, we have remission ; upon remission follows
reconciliation; upon our reconciliation, peace.
When, therefore, thy conscience, like a stern ser
geant, shall catch thee by the throat, and arrest
thee upon God's debt, let thy only plea be, that
thou hast already paid it : bring forth that bloody
acquittance, sealed to thee from heaven upon thy
true faith ; straightway thou shalt see the fierce
and terrible look of thy conscience changed into
friendly smiles ; and that rough and violent hand,
that was ready to drag thee to prison, shall now
lovingly embrace thee, and fight for thee against
all the wrongful attempts of any spiritual adver
sary. O heavenly peace, and more than peace,
friendship ; whereby alone we are leagued with
ourselves, and God with us ; which whoever wants,
shall find a sad remembrancer in the midst of his
dissembled jollity, and, after all vain strifes shall

HEAVEN UPON EARTH. 21
fall into many secret dumps, from wnich his guilty
heart shall deny to be cheered, though all the
world were his minstrel ! O pleasure worthy to be
pitied, and laughter worthy of tears, that is without
this! Go then, foolish man ; and when thou feelest
any check of thy sin, seek after thy jocund est com
panions ; deceive the time and thyself with merry
purposes, with busy games ; feast away thy cares ;
bury them and thyself in wine and sleep : after all
these frivolous deferrings, it will return upon thee
when thou wakest, perhaps ere thou wakest ; nor
will be repelled till it have showed thee thy hell ;
nor, when it hath showed thee, will yet be repelled.
So the stricken deer, having received a deadly
arrow, whose shaft shaken out hath left the head
behind it, runs from one thicket to another; not
able to change his pain with his places, but finding
his wounds still the worse with continuance. Ah,
fool ! thy soul festereth within ; and is affected so
much more dangerously, by how much less it arj-
peareth. Thou mayst while thyself with variety :
thou canst not ease thee. Sin owes thee a spite,
and will pay it thee ; perhaps, when thou art in
worse case to sustain it. This flitting doth but pro
vide for a further violence at last. I have seen a
little stream of no noise, which, upon his stoppage,
hath swelled up, and with a loud gushing hath
borne over the heap of turfs wherewith it was re
sisted. Thy death-bed shall smart for these wilful
adjournings of repentance ; whereon how many
have we heard raving of their old neglected sins,
and fearfully despairing when they have had most
need of comfort ! In sum, there is no way but this :
thy conscience must have either satisfaction or

22 HEAVEN UPON EARTH.
torment. Discharge thy sin betimes, and be at
peace. He never breaks his sleep for debt, that
pays when he takes up.

SECTION VII.
Solicitation of Sin remedied. — The ordering of Affec
tions.
Neither can it suffice for peace, to have crossed
the old scroll of our sins, if we prevent not the
future : yea, the present very importunity of temp
tation breeds unquietness. Sin, where it hath got
a haunt, looketh for more, as humours that fall
towards their old issue : and, if it be not strongly
repelled, doth near as much vex us with soliciting,
as with yielding. Let others envy their happiness,
I shall never think their life so much as quiet,
whose doors are continually beaten and their morn
ing sleep broken with early clients ; whose entries
are daily thronged with suitors, pressing near for the
next audience; much less, that through their re
miss answers are daily haunted with traitors or
other instruments of viliany, offering their mis
chievous service, and inciting them to some pesti
lent enterprize. Such are temptations to the soul ;
whereof it cannot be rid so long as it holds them in
any hope of entertainment ; and so long they will
hope to prevail, while we give them but a cold and
timorous denial. Suitors are drawn on with an
easy repulse ; counting that as half granted which
is but faintly gainsay ed. Peremptory answers can
only put sin out of heart for any second attempts :
it is ever impudent, when it meets not with a bold

HEAVEN UPON EARTH. 23
heart ; hoping to prevail by wearying us, and weary
ing us by entreaties. Let all suggestions, therefore,
find thee resolute : so shall thy soul find itself at
rest; for as the devil, so sin, his natural brood, flies
away with resistance.
To which purpose all our heady and disordered
infections, which are the secret factors of sin and
Satan, must be restrained by a strong and yet tem
perate command of reason and religion: these, if
they find the reins loose in their necks, like to the
wild horses of that chaste hunter in the tragedy,1
cany us over hills and rocks ; and never leave us,
till we be dismembered, and they breathless : but,
contrarily, if they be pulled in with the sudden vio
lence of a strait hand, they fall to plunging and
careering, and never leave, till their saddle be
empty, and even then dangerously strike at their
prostrate rider. If there be any exercise of Chris
tian wisdom, it is in the managing of these unruly
affections ; which are not more necessary in their
best use, than pernicious in their misgovernance.
Reason hath always been busy, in undertaking this
so necessary a moderation : wherein, although she
have prevailed with some of colder temper, yet
those which have been of more stubborn metal,
like unto grown scholars which scorn the ferule
that ruled their minority, have still despised her
weak endeavours. Only Christianity hath this
power; which, with our second birth, gives us a
new nature : so that now, if excess of passions be
natural to us as men, the order of them is natural
to us as Christians. Reason bids the angry man
say over his alphabet, ere he give his answer;
* Seneca, Hippolytus, Act. iv. — Ed.

24 HEAVEN UPON EARTH.
hoping, by this intermission of time, to gain the
mitigation of his rage : he was never thoroughly
angry that can endure the recital of so many idle
letters. Christianity gives not rules, but power, to
avoid this short madness. It was a wise speech
that is reported of our best and last cardinal, ' (I
hope,) that this island either did or shall see; who,
when a skilful astrologer, upon the calculation of
his nativity, had foretold him some specialties con
cerning his future estate, answered, " Such per
haps I was born : but, since that time, I have been
born again ; and my second nativity hath crossed
my first." The power of nature is a good plea for
those that acknowledge nothing above nature :
but, for a Christian to excuse his intemperateness
by his natural inclination, and to say, " I am born
choleric, sullen, amorous," is an apology worse
than the fault. Wherefore serves religion, but to
subdue or govern nature ? We are so much Chris
tians as we can rule ourselves ; the rest is but form
and speculation. Yea, the very thought of our
profession is so powerful, that, (like unto that preci
ous stone,) being cast into this sea, it assuageth
those inward tempests that were raised by the
affections. The unregenerate mind is not capable
of this power ; and, therefore, through the continual
mutinies of his passions, cannot but be subject to
perpetual unquietness. There is neither remedy
nor hope in this estate. But the Christian soul, that
hath inured itself to the awe of God and the exer
cises of true mortification, by the only looking up
at his holy profession, cureth the burning venom of
these fiery serpents that lurk within him. Hast
1 Cardinal Pole.

HEAVEN UPON EARTH. 25
thou nothing but nature ? Resolve to look for no
peace. God is not prodigal, to cast away his best
blessings on so unworthy subjects. Art thou a
Christian ? do but remember thou art so ; and then,
if thou darest, if thou canst, yield to the excess of
passions.

SECTION VIII.
The second main enemy to Peace — Crosses.
Hitherto, [we have considered,] the most in
ward and dangerous enemy of our peace; which,
if we have once mastered, the other field shall
be fought and won with less blood. Crosses
disquiet us, either in their present feeling, or
their expectation : both of them, when they meet
with weak minds, so extremely distempering them,
that the patient, for the time, is not himself. How
many have we known, which through a lingering
disease, weary of their pain, weary of their lives,
have made their own hands their executioners !
How many, meeting with a headstrong grief, which
they could not manage, have by the violence of it,
been carried quite from their wits ! How many
millions, what for incurable maladies, what for
losses, what for defamations, what for sad accidents
to their children, rub out their lives in perpetual
discontentment ; therefore living because they can
not yet die, not for that they like to live ! If there
could be any human receipt prescribed to avoid
evils, it would be purchased at a high rate : but,
both it is impossible, that earth should redress that
which is sent from heaven ; and, if it could be done,
even the want of miseries would prove miserable ;

26 HEAVEN UPON EARTH.
for the mind, cloyed with continual felicity, would
grow a burden to itself, loathing that, at last, which
intermission would have made pleasant. Give a
free horse the full reins, and he will soon tire. Sum
mer is the sweetest season by all consents, wherein
the earth is both most rich with increase, and
most gorgeous for ornament ; yet, if it were not
received with interchanges of cold frosts and pierc
ing winds, who could live ? Summer would be no
summer, if winter did not both lead it in and fol
low it. We may not, therefore, either hope or strive
to escape all crosses ; some we may : what thou
canst, fly from; what thou canst not, allay and
mitigate. In crosses, universally, let this be thy
rule : make thyself none ; escape some ; bear the
rest ; sweeten all.

SECTION IX.
Of Crosses that arise from conceit.
Apprehension gives life to crosses; and, if some be
simply, most are as they are taken.1 I have seen
many, which when God hath meant them no hurt,
have framed themselves crosses out of imagination ;
and have found that insupportable for weight
which in truth never was, neither had ever any but
a fancied being : others again, laughing out heavy
afflictions, for which they were bemoaned of the
beholders. One receives a deadly wound, and
looks not so much as pale at the smart; another
1 i. e. Though some crosses be such essentially in their own
nature, the greater part are so, or not, accordingly as they are
received. — Ed.

HEAVEN UPON EARTH. 27
hears of many losses, and, like Zeno, after news
of his shipwreck, as altogether passionless, goes to
his rest, not breaking an hour's sleep for that which
would break the heart of some others. Greenham,
that saint of ours, whom it cannot disparage that he
was reserved for our so loose an age, can lie spread
quietly upon the form, looking for the chirurgeon's
knife ; binding himself as fast with a resolved pa
tience, as others with strongest cords ; abiding his
flesh carved, and his bowels rifled, and not stirring
more than if he felt not, while others trembled to
expect, and shrink to feel but the pricking of a
vein. There can be no remedy for imaginary crosses
but wisdom, which shall teach us to esteem of
all events as they are ; like a true glass represent
ing all things to our minds in their due proportion;
so as crosses may not seem that are not, nor little
and gentle ones seem great and intolerable. Give
thy body hellebore, thy mind good counsel, thine
ear to thy friend ; and these fantastical evils shall
vanish away like themselves.

SECTION X.
Of true and real Crosses.
It were idle advice, to bid men avoid evils. Na
ture hath, by a secret instinct, taught brute crea
tures so much, whether wit or sagacity : and our
self-love, making the best advantage of reason, will
easily make us so wise and careful. It is more worth
our labour, since our life is so open to calamities,
and nature to impatience, to teach men to bear
what evils they cannot avoid ; and how, by a well-

28 HEAVEN UPON EARTH.
disposedness of mind, we may correct the iniquity
of all hard events. Wherein it is hardly credible
how much good art and precepts of resolution may
avail us. I have seen one man, by the help of a
little engine, lift up that weiglit alone, which forty
helping hands, by their clear strength, might have
endeavoured in vain. We live here in an ocean
of troubles, wherein we can see no firm land ; one
wave falling upon another, ere the former have
wrought all his spite. Mischiefs strive for places,
as if they feared to lose their room if they hasted
not. So many good things as we have, so many
evils arise from their privation ; besides no
fewer real and positive evils that afflict us. To
prescribe and apply receipts to every particular
cross, were to write a Salmeron-like Commen
tary upon Petrarch's Remedies;1 and I doubt whe
ther so, the work would be perfect: a life would
be too little to write it, and but enough to
,read it.

SECTION XI.
The first remedy of Crosses, before they come
The same medicines cannot help all diseases of the
body ; of the soul, they may. We see fencers give
their scholars the same common rules of position,
of warding and wielding their weapon for offence,
1 Salmeron, one of the earliest of the Jesuits, wrote a volu
minous Commentary on the Gospels, the Acts of the Apostles,
and the Canonical Epistles. — Among the Latin works of Pe
trarch, at present so much and so undeservedly neglected, one of
the principal is his treatise de llemediis utriusque Fortunes ; " Con
ceming the Remedies of prosperous and adverse Fortune." — Ed.

HEAVEN UPON EARTH. 29
for defence, against all comers : such universal pre
cepts there are for crosses.
In the first whereof I would prescribe expect
ation, that either killeth or abateth evils. For
crosses, after the nature of the cockatrice, die if
they be foreseen ; whether this providence makes us
more strong to resist, or by some secret power
makes them more unable to assault us. It is not
credible what a fore-resolved mind can do, can suffer.
Could our English Milo, of whom Spain yet speak-
eth since their last peace, have overthrown that fu
rious beast, made now more violent through the
rage of his baiting, if he had not settled himself in
his station, and expected ? The frighted multitude
ran away from that over-earnest sport, which begun
in pleasure, ended in terror. If he had turned his
back with the rest, where had been his safety,
where his glory and reward ? Now he stood still,
expected, overcame; by one fact he at once pre
served, honoured, enriched himself. Evils will
come never the sooner, for that thou lookest for them :
they will come the easier : it is a labour well lost if
they come not ; and well bestowed, if they do come.
We are sure the worst may come ; why should we
be secure that it will not ? Suddenness finds weak
minds secure, makes them miserable, leaves them
desperate. The best way therefore is, to make
things present, in conceit, before they come ; that
they may be half past in their violence, when
they do come : even as with wooden wasters,1 we
leam to play at the sharp.2 As, therefore, good
soldiers exercise themselves long at the pale;
and there use those activities, which afterwards
they shall practise upon a true adversary ; so must
1 A kind of cudgels. — Ed. 2 The raDier. — Ed.

30 HEAVEN UPON EARTH.
we present to ourselves imaginary crosses, and ma
nage them in our mind before God sends them in
event. " Now I eat, sleep, digest all soundly, with
out complaint : what if a languishing disease should
bereave me of my appetite and rest ? that I should
see dainties and loathe them ; surfeiting of the very
smell, of the thought of the best dishes ? that I
should count the lingering hours, and think Heze-
kiah's long day returned; wearying myself with
changing sides, and wishing anything but what I
' am ? How could I take this distemper ? Now I
have, if not what I would, yet what I need ; as not
abounding with idle superfluities, so not straitened
with penury of necessary things : what if poverty
should rush upon me, as an armed man ; spoiling
me of all my little that I had, and send me to the
fountain for my best cellar — to the ground, for my
bed — for my bread, to another's cupboard — for my
clothes, to the broker's shop, or my friend's ward
robe ? How could I brook this want ? I am now at
at home, walking in mine own grounds, looking on
my young plants, the hope of posterity ; consider
ing the nature, advantages, or fears of my soil, en
joying the patrimony of my fathers: what if, for my
religion, or the malicious sentence of some great
one, I should be exiled from my country ; wander
ing amongst those whose habit, language, fashion,
my ignorance shall make me wonder at ; where
the solitude of places, and strangeness of persons
shall make my life uncomfortable ? How could I
abide the smell of foreign smoke ? How should I
take the contempt and hard usage that waits upon
strangers ?" Thy prosperity is idle and ill spent,
if it be not meddled ' with such forecasting and
1 Mixed. — Ed.

HEAVEN UPON EARTH. 31
wisely suspicious thoughts ; if it be wholly bestowed
in enjoying, no whit in preventing : like unto a fool
ish city, which, notwithstanding a dangerous situ
ation, spends all her wealth in rich furniture of
chambers and state houses ; while they bestow not
one shovelful of earth on outward bulwarks, to their
defence : this is but to make our enemies the hap
pier, and ourselves the more readily miserable.
If thou wilt not, therefore, be oppressed with
evils, expect and exercise : exercise thyself with
conceits of evils ; expect the evils themselves : yea,
exercise thyself in expectation ; so, while the mind
pleaseth itself in thinking, " Yet I am not thus,"
it prepareth itself against it may be so. And if
some, that have been good at the foils, have proved
cowardly at the sharp ; yet, on the contrary, who
ever durst point a single combat in the field that
hath not been somewhat trained in the fence-school ?

SECTION XII.
The second remedy of Crosses, when they are come :
from their Author.
Neither doth it a little blunt the edge of evils, to
consider that they come from a Divine hand, whose
Almighty power is guided by a most wise provi
dence, and tempered with a fatherly love. Even
the savage creatures will be smitten of their keeper,
and repine not : if of a stranger, they tear him in
pieces. He strikes me, that made me, that mode
rates the world : why struggle I with him ; why
with myself ? Am I a fool, or a rebel ? A fool, if
I be ignorant whence my crosses come : a rebel, if

£2 HEAVEN UPON EARTH.
I know it, and be impatient. My sufferings are
from a God, from my God ; he hath destined me
every dram of sorrow that I feel : " Thus much thou
shalt abide ; and here shall thy miseries be stinted."
All worldly helps cannot abate them ; all powers
of hell cannot add one scruple to their weight that
he hath allotted me : I must, therefore, either blas
pheme God in my heart, detracting from his infi
nite justice, wisdom, power, mercy, which all
stand inviolable, when millions of such worms as
I am, are gone to dust ; or else confess that I
ought to be patient. And if I profess I should be
that I will not, I befool myself, and bewray mise-;
rable impotency. But (as impatience is full of ex
cuse) it was thine own rash improvidence, or the
spite of thine enemy, that impoverished, that be-
famed thee : it was the malignity of some unwhole
some dish, or some gross corrupted air that hath
distempered thee. Ah, foolish cur ! why dost thou
bite at the stone which could never have hurt thee,
but from the hand that threw it ? If I wound
thee, what matters it, whether with mine own sword,
or thine, or another's ? God strikes some immedi
ately from heaven, with his own arm, or with the
arm of angels; others he buffets with their own
hands ; some by the revenging sword of an enemy ;
others with the fist of his dumb creatures. God
strikes in all ; his hand moves theirs. If thou see
it not, blame thy carnal eyes. Why dost thou
fault1 the instrument while thou knowest the agent?
Even the dying thief pardons the executioner ; ex
claims on his unjust judge, or his malicious ac
cusers. Either, then, blame the first mover, ordis
1 Blame.— Ed.

HEAVEN UPON EARTH. 33
charge the means ; which as they could not have
touched thee, but as from him, so from him they
have afflicted thee justly, wrongfully perhaps as in
themselves.

SECTION XIII.
The third antidote of Crosses ; from their effect.
But neither seemeth it enough to be patient in
crosses, if we be not thankful also. Good things
challenge more than bare contentment. Crosses,
unjustly termed evils, as they are sent of him that
is all goodness, so they are sent fbr good, and his
end cannot be frustrate. What greater good can
be to the diseased man, than fit and proper physic
to recure him ? Crosses are the only medicines of
sick minds. Thy sound body carries within it a
sick soul : thou feelest it not, perhaps : so much
more art thou sick, and so much more dangerously.
Perhaps thou labourest of some plethory of pride,
or of some dropsy of covetousness, or the staggers
of inconstancy, or some fever of luxury, or con
sumption of envy, or perhaps of the lethargy of
idleness, or of the frenzy of anger : — it is a rare
soul that hath not some notable disease : — only
crosses are thy remedies. What if they be unplea
sant ? they are physic : tis enough if they be whole
some. Not pleasant tasted but the secret virtue
commends medicines. If they cure thee they shall
please thee, even in displeasing ; or else thou lovest
thy palate above thy soul. What madness is this ?
When thou complainest of a bodily disease, thou
sendest to the physician, that he may send thee not
D

34 HEAVEN UPON EARTH.
savoury, but wholesome potions : thou receivest
them in spite of thine abhorring stomach; and,
withal, both thankest and rewardest the physician.
Thy soul is sick ; thy heavenly Physician sees it,
and pities thee, ere thou thyself; and, unsent to,
sends thee not a plausible, but a sovereign remedy :
thou loathest the savour, and rather wilt hazard
thy life than offend thy palate ; and, instead of
thanks, repinest at, revilest the Physician. How
comes it, that we love ourselves so little (if at least
we count our souls the best or any part) as that we
would rather undergo death than pain ; choosing
rather wilful sickness' than a harsh remedy ? Surely,
we men are mere fools in the estimation of our
own good : like children, our choice is led altoge
ther by show, no whit by substance. We cry
after every well-seeming toy, and put from us
solid proffers of good things. The wise Arbitrator
of all things sees our folly, and corrects it ; with
holding our idle desires, and forcing upon us the
sound good we refuse : it is second folly in us, if
we thank him not. The foolish babe cries for his
father's bright knife, or gilded pills. The wiser father
knows that they can but hurt him ; and therefore
withholds them after all his tears. The child thinks
he is used but unkindly. Every wise man, and
himself at more years, can say, it was but childish
folly, in desiring it, in complaining that he missed
it. The loss of wealth, friends, health, is some
times gain to us. Thy body, thy estate is worse :
thy soul is better; why complainest thou ?

HEAVEN UPON EARTH. 35
SECTION XIV.
The fourth antidote of Crosses ; from their issue.
Nay, it shall not be enough, methinks, if only we
be but contented and thankful, if not also cheerful
in afflictions ; if that, as we feel their pain, so we
look not to their end ; although, indeed, this is not
more requisite than rarely found, as being proper
only to the good heart. Every bird can sing in a
clear heaven, in a temperate spring : that one, as
most familiar, so is most commended, that sings
merry notes in the midst of a shower or the dead of
winter. Every epicure can enlarge his heart to
mirth, in the midst of his cups and dalliance : only
the three children can sing in the furnace ; Paul
and Silas in the stocks ; martyrs at the stake. It
is from heaven that this joy comes, so contrary to
all earthly occasions ; bred in the faithful heart,
through a serious and feeling respect to the issue
of what he feels, the quiet and untroubled fruit of
his righteousness ; glory, the crown after his fight ;
after his minute of pain, eternity of joy. He never
looked over the threshold of heaven, that cannot
more rejoice that he shall be glorious, than mourn
in present that he is miserable.

SECTION XV.
Of the importunity and terror of Death.
Yea, this consideration is so powerful, that it alone
is able to make a part against the fear or sense of
the last and greatest of all terribles, death itself:
d2

36 heaven upon earth.
which, in the conscience of his own dreadfulness,
justly laughs at all the vain human precepts of tran
quillity ; appalling the most resolute, and vexing
the most cheerful minds. Neither profane Lucre
tius, with all his epicurean rules of confidence, nor
drunken Anacreon, with all his wanton odes, can
shift off the importunate and violent horror of this
adversary. Seest thou the Chaldean tyrant beset
with the sacred bowls of Jerusalem, the late spoils
of God's temple ; and, in contempt of their owner,
carousing healths to his queens, concubines, peers ;
singing amidst his cups triumphant carols of
praise to his molten and carved gods ? Wouldst
thou ever suspect that this high courage could be
abated ; or, that this sumptuous and presumptuous
banquet, after so royal and jocund continuance,
should have any other conclusion but pleasure ?
Stay but one hour longer, and thou shalt see that
face that now shines with a ruddy gloss, according
to the colour of his liquor, look pale and ghastly,
stained with the colours of fear and death ; and
that proud hand, which now lifts up his massy
goblets, in defiance of God, tremble like a leaf in a
storm ; and those strong knees, which never stooped
to the burden of their laden body, now not able to
bear up themselves, but loosened with a sudden
palsy of fear, one knocking against the other ; and
all this, for that death writes him a letter of sum
mons, to appear that night before him ; and, ac
cordingly, ere the next sun, sent two eunuchs, for
his honourable conveyance into another world.
Where now are those delicate morsels, those deep
draughts, those merry ditties, wherewith the'palate
and ear so pleased themselves ? What is now be
come of all those cheerful looks, loose laughters,

heaven upon earth. 37
stately port, revels, triumphs of the feasting court?
Why doth none of his gallant nobles revive the
fainted courage of their lord with a new cup, or
with some stirring jest shake him out of this un
seasonable melancholy ? O death, how imperious
art thou to carnal minds ! aggravating their misery,
not only by expectation of future pain, but by the
remembrance of the wonted causes of their joy ;
and not suffering them to see aught but what may
torment them ! Even that monster of the Caesars,1
that had been so well acquainted with blood, and
never had found better sport than in cutting of
throats, when now it came to his own turn, how
effeminate, how desperately cowardous did he show
himself! to the wonder of all readers, that he,
which was ever so valliant in killing, should be so
womanishly heartless in dying.

SECTION XVI.
The grounds of the Fear of Death.
There are that fear not so much to be dead as to
die ; the very act of dissolution frightening them
with a tormenting expectation of a short, but into
lerable painfulness. Which let if the wisdom of
God had not interposed to timorous nature, there
would have been many more Lucretias, Cleopatras,
Ahithophels; and good laws should have found
little opportunity of execution, through the wilful
funerals of malefactors. For the soul, that comes
into the body without any, at least sensible, plea
sure, departs not from it without an extremity of
1 Nero.

38 heaven upon earth.
pain ; which, varying according to the manner and
means of separation, yet, in all violent deaths
especially, retaineth a violence not to be avoided,
hard to be endured. And if diseases, which are
destined toward death as their end, be so painful,
what must the end and perfection of diseases be ;
since as diseases are the maladies of the body, so
death is the malady of diseases ?
There are, that fear not so much to die as to be
dead. If the pang be bitter, yet it is but short:
the comfortless state of the dead strikes some that
could well resolve for the act of the passage. Not
the worst of the heathen emperors ' made that
moanful ditty on his death-bed, wherein he be-
wrayeth, to all memory, much feeling pity of his
soul, for her doubtful and impotent condition after
her departure. Hoiv doth Plato's worldling bewail
the misery of the grave ; besides all respect of pain !
" Woe is me, that I shall lie alone, rotting in the
silent earth, amongst the crawling worms, not seeing
aught above, not seen."
Very not-being is sufficiently abhorred of nature,
if death had no more to make it fearful. But
those that have lived under light enough to show
them the gates of hell, after their passage through
the gates of death, and have learned that death is
not only horrible for our not-being here, but
for being infinitely, eternally miserable in a future
world (nor so much for the dissolution of life, as the
beginning of torment) those cannot, without the
certain hope of their immunity, but carnally fear
to die, and hellishly fear to be dead. For, if it be
1 Adrian. This emperor's address to his departing spirit, is
beautifully adapted to the higher knowledge and assured hopes
of Christianity, in Pope's admired od«^<c The Dying Christian
to his Soul." — Ed,

heaven upon earth. 39
such pain to die, what is it to be ever dying ? And
if the straining and luxation of one joint can so
afflict us, what shall the racking of the whole body,
and the torturing of the soul, whose animation
alone makes the body to feel and complain of
smart ? And if men have devised such exquisite
torments, what can spirits, more subtle, more mali
cious ? And if our momentary sufferings seem
long, how long shall that be that is eternal ? And
if the sorrows indifferently incident to God's dear
ones upon earth be so extreme as sometimes to
drive them within sight of despairing, what shall
those be, that are reserved only for those that hate
him, and that he hateth ? None but those who
have heard the desperate complaints of some guilty
Spira, or whose souls have been a little scorched
with these flames, can enough conceive of the hor
ror of this estate : it being the policy of our com
mon enemy to conceal it so long, that we may see
and feel it at once, lest we should fear it before it
be too late to be avoided.

SECTION XVII.
Remedy of the last and greatest breach of Peace,
arising from Death.
Now when this great adversary, like a proud giant,
comes stalking out in his fearful shape, and insults
oyer our frail mortality, daring the world to match
him with an equal champion ; while a whole host
of worldlings show him their backs for fear, the
true Christian, armed only with confidence and
resolution of his future happiness, dares boldly en-

40 heaven upon earth.
counter him, and can wound him in the forehead,
the wonted seat of terror ; and trampling upon hiin,
can cut off his head with his own sword, and vic
toriously returning, can sing in triumph, ' O death,
where is thy sting ?' A happy victory ! We die
and are not foiled ; yea, we are conquerors in
dying ; we could not overcome death if we died
not. That dissolution is well bestowed that parts
the soul from the body, that it may unite both to
God. All our life here, as that heavenly doctor
( Augustin) well terms it, is but a vital death. How
advantageous is that death that determines this
false and dying life, and begins a true one above
all the titles of happiness !
The Epicure or Sadducee dare not die, for fear
of not being : the guilty and loose worldling dares
not die, for fear of being miserable : the distrustful
and doubting semi-christian dares not die, because
he knows not whether he shall be or miserable, or
not be at all : the resolved Christian dares, and
would die, because he knows he shall be happy ;
and looking merrily towards heaven, the place of
his rest, can unfeignedly say, " I desire to be dis
solved : I see thee, my home, I see thee, (a sweet
and glorious home after a weary pilgrimage,) I see
thee : and now, after many lingering hopes, I
aspire to thee. How oft have I looked up at thee,
with admiration and ravishment of soul ; and, by
the goodly beams that I have seen, guessed at the
glory that is above them ! How oft have I scorned
these dead and unpleasant pleasures of earth, in
comparison of thine ! I come now, my joys, I come
to possess you : I come, through pain and death ;
yea, if hell itself were in the way betwixt you and
me, I would pass through hell itself to enjoy you."

heaven upon earth. 41
And, in truth, if that heathen Cleombrotus, a
follower of the ancient academy, but upon only
reading of his master Plato's Discourses of the
Immortality of the Soul,1 could cast down himself
headlong from a high rock, and wilfully break his
neck, that he might be possessed of that immor
tality which he believed to follow upon death, how
contented should they be to die, that know they
shall be more than immortal, glorious ! He went,
not in a hate of the flesh, as the patrician heretics
of old,4 but in a blind love to his soul, out of bare
opinion ; we, upon a holy love, grounded upon
assured knowledge : he, upon an opinion of future
life ; we, on knowledge of future glory : he went
unsent for; we, called for by our Maker. Why
should his courage exceed ours, since our ground,
our estate, so far exceeds his ?
Even this age, within the reach of our memory,
bred that peremptory Italian, which, in imitation
of the old Roman courage, lest in that degenerated
nation there should be no step left of the qualities
of their ancestors, entering upon his torment for
killing a tyrant, cheered himself with this confi
dence : " My death is sharp : my fame shall be
everlasting"3 — The voice of a Roman, not of a
Christian. My fame shall be eternal : an idle com
fort ! My fame shall live ; not my soul live to see
it. What shall it avail thee to be talked of, while
thou art not ? Then fame only is precious when
a man lives to enjoy it. The fame that survives
the soul is bootless. Yet even this hope cheered
him against the violence of his death. What

1 Tuscul. Cicero, Callimachus, Epigram.
2 Augustine, de Heeres. 3 "Mors acerba: fama perpetua.''

42 HEAVEN UPON EARTH.
should it do us, that (not our fame, but) our life,
our glory after death, cannot die ? He that hath
Stephen's eyes, to look into heaven, cannot but
have the tongue of the saints, ' Come, Lord : how
long ? ' That man, seeing the glory of the end,
cannot but contemn the hardness of the way. But,
who wants those eyes, if he say and swear that he
fears not death, believe him not ; if he protest his
tranquillity, and yet fear death, believe him not :
believe him not if he say he is not miserable.

SECTION XVIII.
The second rank of the Enemies of Peace. — The va
nity and unprofitableness of Riches — the first
Enemy on the right hand.
These are enemies on the left hand. There want
not some on the right, which, with less profession
of hostility, hurt Do less: not so easily perceived,
because they distemper the mind, not without some
kind of pleasure. Surfeit kills more than famine.
These are the over-desiring and over-joying of
these earthly things. All immoderations are ene
mies; as to health, so to peace.1 He that desires,
wants as much as he that hath nothing. The
drunken man is as thirsty as the sweating traveller.
Hence are the studies, cares, fears, jealousies, hopes,
griefs, envies, wishes, platforms of achieving, alter
ations of purposes, and a thousand like; whereof
each one is enough to make the life troublesome.
1 Hippocr. Aphor. _,

HEAVEN UPON EARTH. 43
One is sick of his neighbour's field, whose mis
shapen angles disfigure his, and hinder his lord
ship of entireness : what he hath is not regarded,
for the want of what he cannot have. Another
feeds on crusts, to purchase what he must leave,
perhaps, to a fool ; or, which is not much better,
to a prodigal heir. Another, in the extremity of
covetous folly, chooses to die an unpitied death ;
hanging himself for the fall of the market, while the
commons laugh at that loss, and in their speeches
epitaph upon him as on that pope, " He lived as
a wolf, and died as a dog."1 One cares not what
attendance he dances all hours, on whose stairs he
sits, what vices he soothes, what deformities he
imitates, what servile offices he doth, in a hope to
rise. Another stomachs the covered head and stiff
knee of his inferior ; angry that other men think
him not so good as he thinks himself. Another
eats his own heart, with envy at the richer fur
niture, and better estate, or more honour of his
neighbour; thinking his own not good, because
another hath better. Another vexeth himself with
a word of disgrace, passed from the mouth of an
enemy, which he neither can digest nor cast up ;
resolving, because another will be his enemy, to be
his own. These humours are as manifold as there
are men that seem prosperous.
For the avoiding of all which ridiculous and yet
spiteful inconveniences, the mind must be settled
in a persuasion of the worthlessness of these out-
1 Boniface VIIT. Celestine V., his immediate predecessor,
is said to have prophesied concerning this pope, " that he would
enter upon his office like a fox, reign like a lion, and die like a
dog." Whether this saying was really uttered before or forged
after his promotion, it was certainly in a great measure veri
fied. — See Bower's Hist, of the Popes. Vol. vi. p. 372  Ed.

44 HEAVEN UPON EARTH.
ward things. Let it know, that these riches have
made many prouder, none better ; that, as never
man was, so never wise man thought himself better
for enjoying them. Would that wise philoso
pher ' have cast his gold into the sea, if he had
not known he should live more happily with
out it ? If he knew not the use of riches, he
was no wise man : if he knew not the best way
to quietness, he was no philosopher : now, even by
the voice of their oracle, he was confessed to be
both ; yet cast away his gold that he might be
happy.2 Would that wise prophet have prayed as
well against riches as poverty ?3 Would so many
great men, whereof our little island hath yielded
nine crowned kings, while it was held of old by the
Saxons, after they had continued their life in the
throne, have ended it in the cell, and changed
their sceptre for a book, if they could have found
as much felicity in the highest estate as security
in the lowest ? I hear Peter and John, the eldest
and dearest apostles, say, ' Gold and silver have 1
none ?' I hear the devil say, " All these will I give
thee ; and they are mine to give :'' whether shall I
desire to be in the state of these saints, or that
devil ? He was, therefore, a better husband 1 than
a philosopher, that first termed riches goods ; and
he mended the title well, that, adding a fit epithet,
called them goods of fortune ; false goods ascribed
to a false patron. There is no fortune to give or
guide riches ; there is no true goodness in riches to
be guided. His meaning then was, as I can inter-
1 Socrates.
5 A proof that, with Christians, deserves no credit ; but, with
heathens, commands it.
3 Prov. xxx. 8. 4 i. c Economist.

HEAVEN UPON EARTH. 45
pret it, to teach us, in this title, that it is a chance
if ever riches were good to any. In sum, who would
account those as riches, or those riches as goods,
which hurt the owner, disquiet others ; which the
worst have ; which the best have not ; which those
that have not, want not; which those want that
have them ; which are lost in a night, and a man
is not worse when he hath lost them ? It is true
of them that we say of fire and water; they are
good servants, ill masters. Make them thy slaves,
they shall be goods indeed ; in use, if not in na
ture ; good to thyself, good to others by thee : but,
if they be thy masters, thou hast condemned thy
self to thine own galleys. If a servant rule, he
proves a tyrant. What madness is this ! thou hast
made thyself at once a slave and a fool. What if
thy chains be of gold ? or if, with Heliogabalus,
thou hast made thee silken halters ? thy servitude
may be glorious : it is no less miserable.

SECTION XIX.
The secondEnemy on the right hand — Honour.
Honour, perhaps, is yet better : such is the con
fused opinion of those that know little ; but a dis
tinct and curious head shall find a hard task, to
define in what point the goodness thereof con-
sisteth. Is it in high descent of blood ? I would think
so, if nature were tied by any law to produce chil
dren like qualified to their parents. But, although
in the brute creatures she be ever thus regular, that
ye shall never find a young pigeon hatched in an

46 HEAVEN UPON EARTH.
eagle's nest ; neither can I think that true, or if
true it was monstrous, that Nicippus's sheep should
yean a lion ; yet, in the best creature, which hath
his form and her attending qualities from above,
with a likeness of face and features, is commonly
found an unlikeness of disposition; only the earthly
part follows the seed : wisdom, valour, virtue, are
of another beginning. Shall I bow to a molten
calf, because it was made of golden ear-rings ?
Shall I condemn all honour of the first head,
though upon never so noble deserving, because it
can show nothing before itself but a white shield ?
If Caesar, or Agathocles, be a potter's son, shall I
contemn him ? Or if wise Bion be the son of an
infamous courtesan,1 shall the censorious lawyer
raze him out of the catalogue, with partus sequi-
tur ventrem ?* Lastly, shall I account that good
which is incident to the worst ? Either, therefore,
greatness must show some charter, wherein it is
privileged with succession of virtue, or else the
goodness of honour cannot consist in blood.
Is it, then, in the admiration and high opinion
that others have conceived of thee, which draws all
dutiful respect and humble offices from them to
thee ? O fickle good, that is ever in the keeping of
others ! especially of the unstable vulgar, that beast
of many heads; whose divided tongues, as they
never agree with each other, so seldom (whenever1)
agree long with themselves. Do we not see the
superstitious Lystrians, that erewhile would needs
make Paul a god against his will ; and, in devout
zeal, drew crowned bulls to the altars of their new
1 Olympia. Diogen. Laert.
5 " The child follows the maternal parent." — Ed.
* If ever. — Ed.

HEAVEN UPON EARTH. 47
Jupiter and Mercury ? — violence can scarce hold
them from sacrificing to him ; now, not many hours
after, gather up stones against him; having, in
their conceits, turned hirn from a god into a male
factor ; and are ready to kill him, instead of killing
a sacrifice to him. Such is the multitude, and
such the steadiness of their honour.
There, then, only is true honour, where blood
and virtue meet together ; the greatness whereof is
from blood, the goodness from virtue. Rejoice,
ye great men, that your blood is ennobled with the
virtues and deserts of your ancestors. This only is
yours ; this only challengeth all unfeigned respect
of your inferiors. Count it praiseworthy, not that
you have, but that you deserve honour. Blood
may be tainted : the opinion of the vulgar cannot
be constant ; only virtue is ever like itself, and only
wins reverence even of those that hate it; without
which, greatness is as a beacon of vice, to draw
men's eyes the more to behold it; and those that
see it dare loathe it, though they dare not censure
it. So, while the knee bendeth the mind abhor-
reth, and telleth the body it honours an unworthy
subject; within itself secretly comparing that vi
cious great man, on whom his submiss courtesy is
cast away, to some goodly fair-bound Seneca's tra
gedies, that is curiously gilded without; which if
a man open, he shall find Thyestes the tomb of
his own children ; or Oedipus the husband of his
own mother ; or some such monstrous part, which
he at once reads and hates.

48 HEAVEN UPON EARTH.

SECTION XX.
The second remedy of overjoyed Prosperity : — that it
exposes to evil.
Let him think, that not only these outward things
are not in themselves good, but that they expose
their owners to misery; for, besides that God usually
punishes our over-loving them with their loss, (be
cause he tlrinks them unworthy rivals to himself,
who challengeth all height of love as his only right,)
so that the way to lose, is to love much ; the large
ness, moreover, either of affection or estate, makes
an open way to ruin. While a man walks on plain
ground he falls not; or, if he fall, he doth but
measure his length on the ground, and rise again
without harm ; but he that climbeth high is in
danger of falling ; and, if he fall, of killing. All
the sails hoisted, give vantage to a tempest; which,
through the mariners' foresight giving timely room
thereto by their fall, deliver the vessel from the
danger of that gust, whose rage now passeth over
with only beating her with waves for anger that he
was prevented. So the larger our estate is, the
fairer mark hath mischief given to hit; and, which
is worse, that which makes us so easy to hit makes
our wound more deep and grievous. If poor Cod-
rus's house burn, he stands by and warms him with
the flame, because he knows it is but the loss of an
outside ; which, by gathering some few sticks, straw,
and clay, may, with little labour and no cost, be
repaired ; but when the many lofts of the rich
man do one give fire to another, he cries out one
while of his counting-house, another while of his
wardrobe, then of some note 1 chest, and straight of

HEAVEN UPON EARTH. 49
some rich cabinet ; and, lamenting both the frame
and the furniture, is therefore impatient because
he had something.

SECTION XXI.
The vanity of Pleasure ; the third Enemy on the right
hand.
But, if there be any sorceress upon earth, it is
Pleasure ; which so enchanteth the minds of men,
and worketh the disturbance of our peace with
such secret delight, that foolish men think this
want of tranquillity, happiness. She turneth men
into swine, with such sweet charms that they
would not change their brutish nature for their
former reason. " It is a good unquietness," say
they, " that contenteth : it is a good enemy that
profiteth." Is it any wonder that men should be
sottish, when their reason is mastered with sen
suality ? Thou fool, thy pleasure contents thee :
how much ? how long ? If she have not more be
friended thee than ever she did any earthly fa
vourite ; yea, if she have not given thee more than
she hath herself, thy best delight hath had some
mixture of discontentment ; for either some cir
cumstance crosseth thy desire, or the inward dis
taste of thy conscience (checking thine appetite)
permits thee not any entire fruition of thy joy.
Even the sweetest of all flowers hath his thorns ;
and who can determine, whether the scent be more
delectable or the pricks more irksome? It is
enough for heaven to have absolute pleasures ;
which if they could be found here below, cer-

50 HEAVEN UPON EARTH.
tainly that heaven, which is now not enough de
sired, would then be feared. God will have our
pleasures here, according to the fashion of our
selves, compounded ; so as the best delights may
still savour of their earth.
See how that great king, which never had any
match for wisdom, scarce ever any superior for
wealth, traversed over all this inferior world, with
diligent inquiry and observation, and all to find
out that goodness of the children of men which
they enjoy under the sun ; abridging himself of
nothing that either his eyes or his heart could sug
gest to him ; as what is it, that he could not either
know or purchase ? and now, coming home to him
self, after the disquisition of all natural and human
things, complains, that ' Behold, all is' not only
¦' vanity,' but ' vexation.'
Go, then, thou wise scholar of experience, and
make a more accurate search for that which he
sought and missed. Perhaps, somewhere, betwixt
the tallest cedar in Lebanon and the shrubby hys
sop upon the wall, pleasure shrouded herself that
she could not be descried of him ; whether through
ignorance or negligence : thine insight may be
more piercing ; thy means more commodious ; thy
success happier. If it were possible for any man
to entertain such hopes, his vain experience could
not make him a greater fool ; it could but teach
him what he is and knoweth not.
And yet, so imperfect as our pleasures are, they
have their satiety ; and as their continuance is not
good, so their conclusion is worse : look to their
end, and see how sudden, how bitter it is. Their
only courtesy is to salute us with a farewell ; and
such a one as makes their salutation uncomfort-

HEAVEN UPON EARTH. 51
able. This Dalila shows and speaks fair ; but in
the end she will bereave thee of thy strength, of
thy sight, yea of thyself. These gnats fly about
thine ears and make thee music awhile ; but ever
more they sting ere they part. Sorrow and re
pentance is the best end of pleasure ; pain is yet
worse ; but the worst is despair. If thou miss of
the first of these, one of the latter shall find thee;
perhaps both. How much better is it for thee to
want a little honey, than to be swollen up with a
venomous sting !
Thus then the mind, resolved that these earthly
things, honours, wealth, pleasures, are casual, un
stable, deceitful, imperfect, dangerous, must learn
to use them without trust, and to want them with
out grief ; thinking still, " If I have them, I have
some benefit with a great charge : if I have them
not, with little respect of others, I have much se
curity and ease in myself;" which once obtained,
we cannot fare amiss in either estate ; and without
which, we cannot but miscarry in both.

SECTION XXII.
Positive rules of our Peace. — The fruition of God in
holy exercises.
All the enemies of our inward peace are thus
descried and discomfited. Which done, we have
enough to preserve us from misery : but, since we
moreover seek how to live well and happily, there
yet remain those positive rules, whereby our tran
quillity may be both had, continued, and confirmed.
Wherein, I fear not lest I should seem over di-
e2

52 HEAVEN UPON EARTH
vine, in casting the anchor of quietness so deep as
heaven, the only seat of constancy, while it can
find no hold at all upon earth. All earthly things
are full of variableness ; and therefore, having no
stay in themselves, can give none to us. He that
will have and hold right tranquillity, must find
in himself a sweet fruition of God, and feeling ap
prehension of his presence ; that, when he finds
manifold occasions of vexation in these earthly
things, he, overlooking them all, and having re
course to his comforter, may find in him such
matter of contentment that he may pass over all
these petty grievances with contempt ; which who
soever wants, may be secure, cannot be quiet.
The mind of man cannot but want some refuge ;
and, (as we say of the elephant,) cannot rest, unless
it have something to lean upon. The covetous
man, whose heaven is his chest, when he hears
himself rated and cursed for oppressions, comes
home ; and, seeing his bags safe, applauds himself
against all censures. The glutton, when he loseth
friends or good name, yet joyeth in his well fur
nished table, and the laughter of his wine ; more
pleasing himself in one dish, than he can be grieved
with all the world's miscarriage. The needy scho
lar, whose wealth lies all in his brain, cheers him
self against iniquity of times, with the conceit of
his knowledge. These starting holes the mind can
not want when it is hard driven.
Now when, as like to some chased Sisera, it
shrowds itself under the harbour of these Jaels;
although they give it house-room and milk for a
time, yet, at last, either they entertain it with a
nail in the temples ; or, being guilty to their own
impotency, send it out of themselves, for safety and

HEAVEN UPON EARTH. 53
peace. For if the cross light in that which it
made his refuge (as, if the covetous man be crossed
in his riches,) what earthly thing can stay him from
a desperate frenzy ? Or, if the cross fall in a
degree above the height of his stay (as, if the rich
man be sick or dying, wherein all wealth is either
contemned or remembered with anguish,) how do
all his comforts, like vermin from a house on fire,
run away from him, and leave him over to his ruin!
while the soul, that hath placed his refuge above,
is sure that the ground of his comfort cannot be
matched with an earthly sorrow,, cannot be made
variable by the change of any event ; but is infi
nitely above all casualties, and without all uncer
tainties. What state is there, wherein this heavenly stay
shall not afford me not only peace, but joy ?
Am I in prison, or in the hell of prisons, in
some dark, low, and desolate dungeon? Lo, there,
Algerius, that sweet martyr, finds more light than
above; and pities the darkness of our liberty. ¦ We
have but a sun to enlighten our world, which every
cloud dimmeth, and hideth from our eyes : but the
Father of lights, in respectofwhom all the brightstars
of heaven are but as the snuff of a dim candle, shines
into his pit ; and the presence of his glorious angels
makes that a heaven to him, which the world pur
posed as a hell of discomfort. What walls can
keep out that Infinite Spirit that fills all things ?
What darkness can be, where the God of this sun
dwelleth ? What sorrow, where he comforteth ?
Am I wandering in banishment ? Can I go
whither God is not ? What sea can divide betwixt
1 Fox, Martyr.

54 HEAVEN UPON EARTH.
him and me ? Then would I fear exile, if I could
be driven away, as well from God as my country
Now he is as much in all earths. His title is alike
to all places ; and mine in him. His sun shines to
me ; his sea, or earth, bears me up ; his presence
cheereth me, whithersoever I go. He cannot be
said to flit that never changeth his host. He alone
is a thousand companions : he alone is a world of
friends. That man never knew what it was to be
familiar with God, that complains of the want of
home, of friends, of companions, while God is with
him. Am I contemned of the world ? It is enough
for me that I am honoured of God : of both, I
cannot. The world would love me more, if I were
less friends with God. It cannot hate me so much
as God hates it. What care I to be hated of them
whom God hateth ? He is unworthy of God's
favour, that cannot think it happiness enough with
out the world's. How easy is it for such a man,
while the world disgraces him, at once to scorn and
pity it, that it cannot think nothing more con
temptible than itself !
I am impoverished with losses : that was never
thoroughly good that may be lost. My riches will
not lose me ; yea, though I forego all, to my skin,
yet have I not lost any part of my wealth : for if
he be rich that hath something, how rich is he that
hath the Maker and owner of all things!
I am weak and diseased in body: he cannot mis
carry that hath his Maker for his physician. Yet
my soul, the better part, is sound ; for that cannot
be weak whose strength God is! How many are
sick in that, and complain not ! I can be content to
be let blood in the arm or foot, for the curing of the

HEAVEN UPON EARTH. 55
head or heart. The health of the principal part is
more joy to me, than it is trouble to be distempered
in the inferior.
Let me know that God favours me ; then I have
liberty in prison, home in banishment, honour in
contempt, in losses wealth, health in infirmity, life
in death, and in all these, happiness.
And surely if our perfect fruition of God be our
complete heaven, it must needs be that our in
choate1 conversing with him is our heaven imper
fectly, and the entrance into the other : which, me-
thinks, differs from this not in the kind of it, but
in the degree.
For the continuation of which happy society,
since strangeness looseth acquaintance and breedeth
neglect, on our part must be a daily renewing of
heavenly familiarity, by seeking him up, even with
the contempt of all inferior distraction ; by talking
with him in our secret invocations ; by hearing his
conference with us, and by mutual entertainment
of each other in the sweet discourses of our daily
meditations. He is a sullen and unsociable friend
that wants words. God shall take no pleasure in
us, if we be silent. The heart that is full of love
cannot but have a busy tongue. All our talk with
God is either suits or thanks: in them the Chris
tian heart pours out itself to his Maker ; and would
not change this privilege for a world. All his an
noyances, all his wants, all his dislikes are poured
into the bosom of his invisible friend ; who likes us
still so much more as we ask more, as we complain
more. Oh the easy and happy recourse that the poor
1 Begun.

56 HEAVEN UPON EARTH.
soul hath to the high throne of heaven ! We stay
not for the holding out of a golden sceptre to warn
our admission, before which our presence should
be presumption and death. No hour is unseason
able, no person too base, no words too homely, no
fact too hard, no importunity too great. We speak
familiarly ; we are heard, answered, comforted.
Another while, God interchangeably speaks unto
us, by the secret voice of his Spirit, or by the au
dible sound of his word : we hear, adore, answer
him ; by both which the mind so communicates
itself to God, and hath God so plentifully commu
nicated unto it, that hereby it grows to such a
habit of heavenliness as that, now it wants nothing,
but dissolution, of full glory.

SECTION XXIII.
The subordinate rules of Tranquillity. 1. For Ac
tions : to refrain from all sin, and to perform all
duty.
Out of this main ground once settled in the heart,
like as so many rivers from one common sea, flow
those subordinate resolutions, which we require as
necessary to our peace, whether in respect of our
actions or our estate.
For our actions, there must be a secret vow
passed in the soul, both of constant refraining from
whatsoever may offend that Majesty we rest upon ;
and, above this, of true and canonical obedience to
God, without all care of difficulty, and in spite of
all contradictions of nature. Not out of the confi
dence of our own power: impotent men, who are

HEAVEN UPON EARTH. 57
we, that we should either vow or perform ? but, as
he said, " Give what thou biddest, and bid what
thou wilt." Hence the courage of Moses durst
venture his hand to take up the crawling and hiss
ing serpent. Hence Peter durst walk upon the
pavement of the waves. Hence that heroical spirit
of Luther, a man made of metal fit for so great a
work, durst resolve and profess to enter into that
forewarned city, though there had been as many
devils in their streets as tiles on their houses. '
Both these vows, as we once solemnly made by
others, so, for our peace, we must renew in our
selves. Thus the experienced mind, both knowing
that it hath met with a good friend, and withal
what the price of a friend is, cannot but be careful
to retain him, and wary of displeasing ; and there
fore, to cut off all dangers of variance, voluntarily
takes a double oath of allegiance of itself to God,
which neither benefit shall induce us to break, if
we might gain a world, nor fear urge us thereto,
though we must lose ourselves.
The wavering heart, that finds continual combats
in itself betwixt pleasure and conscience, so equally
matched that neither gets the day, is not yet capa
ble of peace ; and, whether ever overcometh, is
troubled both with resistance and victory. Barren
Rebekah found more ease, than when her twins
struggled in her womb. If Jacob had been there
alone, she had not complained of that painful con
tention. One while, pleasure holds the fort, and
conscience assaults it; which when it hath entered
at last by some strong hand, after many batteries
1 The intrepid speech of Luther before his appearance at
the Diet of Worms, is well known. See Mosheim, Eccl. Hist.
vol. iv. p. 58. London, 1782. — Ed.

58 HEAVEN UPON EARTH.
of judgments denounced, ere long pleasure either
corrupts the watch, or by some cunning stratagem,
finds way to recover her first hold. So one part is
ever attempting and ever resisting. Betwixt both
the heart cannot have peace, because it resolves
not : for while the soul is held in suspense, it can
not enjoy the pleasure it useth, because it is half
taken up with fear. Only a strong and resolute
repulse of pleasure is truly pleasant ; for therein
the conscience, filling us with heavenly delight,
maketh sweet triumphs in itself, as being now the
lord of his own dominions, and knowing what to
trust to. No man knows the pleasure of this
thought, " I have done well," but he that hath felt
it ; and he that hath felt it contemns all pleasure to
it. It is a false slander raised on Christianity, that it
maketh men dumpish and melancholic ; for there
fore are we heavy, because we are not enough Chris
tians. We have religion enough to mislike plea
sures, not enough to overcome them. But if we be
once conquerors over ourselves, and have devoted
ourselves wholly to God, there can be nothing but
heavenly mirth in the soul. Lo, hear, ye philoso
phers, the true music of heaven, which the good
heart continually heareth, and answers it in the
just measures of joy. Others may talk of mirth, as
a thing they have heard of, or vainly fancied : only
the Christian feels it; and in comparison thereof,
scorneth the idle, ribaldish, and scurrilous mirth of
the profane.

HEAVEN UPON EARTH. 59
SECTION XXIV.
2. Rule for our Actions : to do nothing doubtingly.
And this resolution which we call for, must not
only exclude manifestly evil actions, but also doubt
ing and suspension of mind in actions suspected
and questionable, wherein the judgment must ever
give confident determination one way. For this
tranquillity consisteth in a steadiness of the mind ;
and how can that vessel, which is beaten upon by
contrary waves and winds, and tottereth to either
part, be said to keep a steady course ? Resolution
is the only mother of security.
For instance, ' I see that usury, which was wont
to be condemned for no better than a legal theft,
hath now obtained with many the reputation of an
honest trade ; and is both used by many, and by
some defended. It is pity that a bad practice
should find any learned or religious patron. The
sum of my patrimony lieth dead by me, sealed up
in the bag of my father : my thriftier friends advise
me to this easy and sure improvement. Their coun
sel and my gain prevail : my yearly sums come in
with no cost but of time, wax, parchment: my
1 " Usury, in the author's days, denoted any advantage whatever
made by lending money. This was condemned by the canons
of the church, probably in imitation of the Jewish law, by
which all profit made by lending, except to strangers, was for
bidden ; (Deut. xxiii. 20.) Since a certain gain has been allowed
by law, the word has grown into a bad sense, to denote unlawful
gain, or that which exceeds the legal allowance. The prohibi
tion to the Jews was peculiarly adapted, and we may therefore
suppose intended, to preserve them a distinct people ; but
among us, where the borrower makes gain by the money he
borrows, it seems most truly equitable that the lender should
have a reasonable share in that gain." — Pratt.

60 HEAVEN UPON EARTH.
estate likes it well ; better than my conscience, which
tells me still he doubts my trade is too easy to be
honest. Yet I continue my illiberal course, not
without some scruple and contradiction ; so as my
fear of offence hinders the joy of my profit, and the
pleasure of my gain heartens me against the fear of
injustice. I would be rich with ease; and yet I
would not be uncharitable, I would not be unjust.
All the while I live in unquiet doubts and distrac
tion : others are not so much entangled in my
bonds as I in my own. At last, that I may be both
just and quiet, I conclude to refer this case wholly
to the sentence of my inward judge, the conscience :
the advocates, Gain and Justice, plead on either part
at this bar, with doubtful success. Gain informs
the judge of a new and nice distinction ; of tooth
less and biting interest ; and brings precedents of
particular cases of usury, so far from any breach of
charity or justice, that both parts therein confess
themselves advantaged. Justice pleads even the
most toothless usury to have sharp gums ; and
finds, in the most harmless and profitable practice
of it, an insensible wrong to the common body, be
sides the infinite wrecks of private estates. The
weak judge suspends, in such probable allegations,
and demurreth ; as being overcome of both, and of
neither part; and leaves me no whit more quiet,
no whit less uncertain. I suspend my practice ac
cordingly ; being sure it is good not to do what I
am not sure is good to be done ; and now Gain
solicits me as much as Justice did before. Betwixt
both, I live troublesomely, nor ever shall do other,
till, in a resolute detestation, I have whipped this
evil merchant out of the temple of my heart. This
rigour is my peace : before, I could not be well,

HEAVEN UPON EARTH. 61
either full of fasting: uncertainty is much pain,
even in a more tolerable action.
Neither is it, I think, easy to determine, whether
it be worse to do a lawful act with doubting, or
an evil with resolution : since that which in itself
is good is made evil to me by my doubt, and what
is in nature evil is in this one point not evil to me,
that I do it upon a verdict of a conscience : so now
my judgment offends in not following the truth ; I
offend not in that I follow my judgment. Wherein,
if the most wise God had left us to rove only ac
cording to the aim of our own conjectures, it should
have been less faulty to be sceptics in our actions,
and either not to judge at all, or to judge amiss;
but now that he hath given us a perfect rule of
eternal equity and truth, whereby to direct the sen
tences of our judgment, that uncertainty which
alloweth no peace to us will afford us no excuse
before the tribunal of heaven : wherefore, then only
is the heart quiet, when our actions are grounded
upon judgment, and our judgment upon truth.

SECTION XXV.
Rules for Estate: 1. Reliance upon the providence
of God.
For his estate, the quiet mind must first roll itself
upon the providence of the highest ; for whoever so
casts himself upon these outward things, that in
their prosperous estate he rejoiceth, and contrarily,
is cast down in their miscarriage, I know not whe
ther he shall find more uncertainty of rest, or
more certainty of unquietness ; since he must

62 HEAVEN UPON EARTH.
needs be like a light unballasted vessel, that rises
and falls with every wave, and depends only
on the mercy of wind and water. But who
relies on the inevitable decree and all-seeing
providence of God, which can neither be crossed
with second thoughts nor with events unlooked
for, lays a sure ground of tranquillity. Let the
world toss how it list, and vary itself, as it ever
doth, in storms and calms, his rest is pitched aloft,
above the sphere of changeable mortality.
To begin is harder than to prosecute : what
counsel had God, in the first moulding of thee in
the womb of thy mother ? What aid shall he have
in repairing thee from the womb of the earth ?
And if he could make and shall restore thee, with
out thee, why shall he not much more, without
thy endeavour, dispose of thee ? Is God wise enough
to guide the heavens, and to produce all creatures
in their kinds and seasons; and shall he not be
able to order thee alone ?
Thou sayst, " I have friends; and (which is my
best friend,) I have wealth to make both them and
me, and wit to put both to best use." O the
broken reeds of human confidence ! Who ever
trusted on friends, that could trust to himself ?
Who ever was so wise, as not sometimes to be a
fool in his own conceit ; ofttimes in the conceit of
others ? Who was ever more discontent than the
wealthy ? Friends may be false : wealth cannot
but be deceitful : wit hath made many fools. Trust
thou to that which, if thou wouldst, cannot fail thee.
Not that thou de6irest shall come to pass, but
that which God hath decreed. Neither thy fears,
nor thy hopes, nor vows, shall either foreslow ' or
1 Impede. — Ed.

HEAVEN UPON EARTH. 63
alter it. The inexperienced passenger, when he
sees the vessel go amiss or too far, lays fast hold
on the contrary part, or on the mast, for remedy :
the pilot laughs at his folly ; knowing that, what
ever he labours, the bark will go which way the
wind and his stern directeth it. Thy goods are
embarked : now thou wishest a direct north wind,
to drive thee to the straits; and then a west, to run
in : and now, when thou hast emptied and laded
again, thou callest as earnestly for the south and
south-east, to return ; and lowerest if all these
answer thee not : as if heaven and earth had no
thing else to do but to wait upon thy pleasure ;
and served only to be commanded service by thee.
Another, that hath contrary occasion, asks for winds
quite opposite to thine. He that sits in heaven
neither fits thy fancy nor his; but bids his winds
spit sometimes in thy face, sometimes to favour
thee with a side blast, sometimes to be boisterous,
otherwhile to be silent, at his own pleasure. Whe
ther the mariner sing or curse, it shall go whither
it is sent. Strive or lie still, thy destiny shall run
on ; and what must be shall be. Not that we
should hence exclude benefit of means, which are
always necessarily included in this wise preordina
tion of all things, but perplexity of cares and
wrestling with providence. Oh, the idle and ill-
spent cares of curious men, that consult with stars
and spirits for their destinies, under colour of pre
vention ! If it be not thy destiny, why wouldst
thou know it ; what needst thou resist it ? If it be
thy destiny, why wouldst thou know that thou
canst not prevent ? That which God hath decreed
is already done in heaven, and must be done on
earth. This kind of expectation doth but hasten

64 HEAVEN UPON EARTH.
slow evils, and prolong them in their continuance ;
hasten them, not in their event, but in our conceit.
Shortly then, if thou swimmest against the stream
of this providence, thou canst not escape drowning ;
every wave turns thee over like a porpoise before a
tempest ; but if thou swimmest with the stream, do
but cast thine arms abroad, thou passest with safety
and with ease ; it both bears thee up and carries
thee on to the haven, whither God hath determined
thine arrival, in peace.

SECTION XXVI.
The second rule for Estate : a persuasion of the
goodness and fitness of it for us.
Next to this, the mind of the unquiet man must
be so wrought by these former resolutions, that it
be thoroughly persuaded the estate wherein he is,
is best of all ; if not in itself, yet to him ; not out
of pride, but out of contentment ; which whosoever
wanteth, cannot but be continually vexed with
envy, and racked with ambition. Yea, if it were
possible to be in heaven without this, he could not
be happy ; for it is as impossible for the mind at
once to long after and enjoy, as for a man to feed
and sleep at once.
And this is the more to be striven for, because
we are all naturally prone to afflict ourselves with
our own frowardness ; ungratefully contemning all
we have, for what we would have. Even the best
of the patriarchs could say, ' O Lord what wilt
thou give me, since I go childless ? '

HEAVEN UPON EARTH. 65
The bondman desires now, nothing but liberty :
that alone would make him happy. Once free, for
getting his former thought, he wishes some wealth
to make use of his freedom ; and says, " It were as
good be straited in place as in ability.'' Once rich,
he longeth after nobility ; thinking it no praise to
be a wealthy peasant. Once noble, he begins to
deem it a base matter to be subject ; nothing can
now content him but a crown. Then, it is a small
matter to rule, so long as he hath but little domi
nions, and greater neighbours : he would therefore
be an universal monarch. Whither then ? surely it
vexeth him as much, that the earth is so small a
globe, so little a molehill, and that there are no
more worlds to conquer. And now that he hath
attained the highest dignity amongst men, he would
needs be a God, conceits his immortality, erects
temples to his own name, commands his dead
statues to be adored ; and not thus contented, is
angry that he cannot command heaven and control
nature. O vain fools! whither doth our restless ambition
climb ? What shall be at length the period of our
wishes ? I could not blame these desires, if con
tentment consisted in having much : but, now that
he only hath much that hath contentment, and that
it is as easily obtained in a low estate, I can account
of these thoughts no better than proudly foolish.
Thou art poor: what difference is there betwixt
a greater man and thee, save that he doth his bu
sinesses by others, thou doest them thyself ? He
hath caters, cooks, bailiffs, stewards, secretaries, and
all other officers for his several services : thou pro-
videst, dressest, gatherest, receivest, expendest,
writest for thyself. His patrimony is large ; thine
F

66 HEAVEN UPON EARTH.
earnings small. If Briareus feed fifty bellies with
his hundred hands, what is he the better than he
that with two hands feedeth one ? He is served in
silver ; thou in a vessel of the same colour, of lesser
price ; as good for use, though not for value. His
dishes are more dainty ; thine as well relished to
thee, and no less wholesome. He eats olives, thou
garlic : he mislikes not more the smell of thy sauce,
than thou dost the taste of his. Thou wantest
somewhat that he hath : he wisheth something
which thou hast, and regardest not. Thou couldst
be content to have the rich man's purse; but his
gout thou wouldst not have ; he would have thy
health, but not thy fare.
If we might pick out of all men's estates that
which is laudable, omitting the inconveniences, we
would make ourselves complete ; but if we must
take all together, we should perhaps little advantage
ourselves with the change : for the most wise God
hath so proportioned out every man's condition,
that he hath some just cause of sorrow inseparably
mixed with other contentments, and hath allotted
to no man living an absolute happiness, without
some grievances ; nor to any man such an exqui
site misery, as that he findeth not somewhat
wherein to solace himself; the weight whereof
varies, according to our estimation of them. One
hath much wealth, but no child to inherit it : he
envies at the poor man's fruitfulness, which hath
many heirs and no lands ; and could be content,
with all his abundance to purchase a successor of
his own loins. Another hath many children, little
maintenance ; he commendeth the careless quiet
ness of the barren ; and thinks fewer mouths and
more meat would do better. The labouring man

HEAVEN UPON EARTH. 67
hath the blessing of a strong body, fit to digest
any fare, to endure any labour; yet he wisheth
himself weaker, on condition he might be wealthier.
The man of nice education hath a feeble stomach,
and (rasping since his last meal,) doubts whether
he should eat of his best dish, or nothing: this
man repines at nothing more than to see his hungry
ploughman feed on a crust; and wisheth to change
estates, on condition he might change bodies with
him. Say, that God should give thee thy wish, what
wouldst thou desire : " Let me," thou sayest, " be
wise, healthful, rich, honourable, strong, learned,
beautiful, immortal." I know thou lovest thyself
so well, that thou canst wish all these and more.
But say, that God hath so shared out these gifts,
by a most wise and just distribution, that thou canst
have but some of these, perhaps but one; which
wouldst thou single out for thyself ? Any thing
beside what thou hast : if learned, thou wouldst be
strong ; if strong, honourable ; if honourable, long
lived. Some of these thou art already.
Thou fool! cannot God choose better for thee,
than thou for thyself? In other matches thou
trustest the choice of a skilfuller chapman : when
thou seest a goodly horse in the fair, though his
shape please thine eye well, yet thou darest not
buy him, if a cunning horse-master shall tell thee
he is faulty; and art willing to take a plainer and
sounder, on his commendation, against thy fancy.
How mueh more should we, in this case, allow bis
choice that cannot deceive us, that cannot be de
ceived !
But thou knowest that other thou desirest.-to be
better than what thou hast: better, perhaps, for
f2

68 HEAVEN UPON EARTH.
him that hath it ; not better for thee. Liberty is
sweet and profitable to those that can use it ; but
fetters are better for the frantic man. Wine is
good nourishment for the healthful, poison to the
aguish. It is good for a sound body to sleep in a
whole skin ; but he that complains of swelling sores
cannot sleep till it be broken. Hemlock to the
goat, and spiders to the monkey, turn to good
sustenance ; which, to other creatures, are account
ed deadly. As in diets, so in estimation of good
and evil, of greater and lesser good, there is much
variety. All palates commend not one dish ; and
what one commends for most delicate, another re
jects for unsavory. And if thou know what dish is
most pleasant to thee, thy physician knows best
which is wholesome. Thou wouldst follow thine
appetite too much ; and, as the French have in their
proverb, wouldst dig thy own grave with thy teeth :
thy wise Physician oversees and overrules thee. He
sees, if thou wert more esteemed, thou wouldst be
proud ; if more strong, licentious ; if richer, covet
ous ; if healthfuller, more secure ; but thou think-
est not thus hardly of thyself.
Fond man ! what knowest thou future things ?
Believe thou him that only knows what would be,
what will be. Thou wouldst willingly go to hea
ven : what better guide canst thou have than him
that dwells there ? If he lead thee through deep
sloughs and braky thickets ; know that he knows
this the nearer way, though more cumbersome.
Can there be in him any want of wisdom, not to
foresee the best ? Can there be any want of power,
not to effect the best ? any want of love, not to give
thee what he knows is best ? How canst thou then
fail of the best, since what his power can do, and

HEAVEN UPON EARTH. 69
what his wisdom sees should be done, his love
hath done, because all are infinite ? He willeth
not things because they are good; but they are
good because he wills them. Yea, if aught had
been better, this had not been. God willeth what
he doth ; and if thy will accord not with his, whe
ther wilt thou condemn of imperfection ?

SECTION XXVII.
The conclusion of the whole.
I have chalked out the way of peace : what re-
maineth, but that we walk along in it ? I have con
ducted my reader to the mine, yea, tothe mint of
happiness, and showed him those glorious heaps
which may eternally enrich him. If now he shall
go away with his hands and skirt empty, how is
he but worthy of a miserable want ? Who shall
pity us while we have no mercy on ourselves ?
Wilful distress hath neither remedy nor compas
sion. And to speak freely, I have often wondered at
this painful folly of us men, who, in the open view
of our peace, as if we were condemned to a neces
sary l and fatal unquietness, live upon our own
rack ; finding no more joy than if we were under
no other hands but our executioners. One droop-
eth under a feigned evil ; another augments a small
sorrow through impatience; another draws upon
himself an uncertain evil through fear : one seeks
true contentment, but not enough ; another hath
just cause of joy, and perceives it not : one is vexed,
for that his grounds of joy are matched with equal

70 HEAVEN UPON EARTH.
grievances ; another cannot complain of any pre
sent occasion of sorrow, yet lives sullenly, because
he finds not any present cause of comfort : one is
haunted with his sin ; another distracted with his
passion ; amongst all which he is a miracle of all
men that lives not some way discontented. So
we live not while we do live, only for that we want
either wisdom or will to husband our lives to our
own best advantage.
Oh, the inequality of our cares ! Let riches or
honour be in question, we sue to them, we seek
for them with importunity, with servile ambition :
our pains need no solicitor ; yea, there is no way
wrong that leads to this end : we abhor the pa
tience to stay till they inquire for us. And if ever,
as it rarely happens, our desert and worthiness
wins us the favour of this proffer, we meet it with
both hands ; not daring, with our modest denials,
to whet the instance and double the intreaties of so
welcome suitors. Yet, lo, here the only true and
precious riches, the highest advancement of the
soul, peace and happiness, seeks for us, sues to us
for acceptation : our answers are coy and overly,1
such as we give to those clients that look to gain by
our favours. If our want were through the scarcity
of good, we might yet hope for pity to ease us ;
but now that it is through negligence, and that we
perish with our hands in our bosom, we are rather
worthy of stripes for the wrong we do ourselves,
than of pity for what we suffer. That we may and
will not, in opportunity of hurting others, is noble
and Christian; but in our own benefit, sluggish,
and savouring of the worst kind of unthriftiness.
1 Haughty, supercilious. — Ed,

HEAVEN UPON EARTH. 71
Sayest thou then, this peace is good to have,
but hard to get ? It were a shameful neglect, that
hath no pretence. Is difficulty sufficient excuse to
hinder thee from the pursuit of riches, of prefer
ment, of learning, of bodily pleasures ? Art thou
content to sit shrugging in a base cottage, ragged,
famished, because house, clothes, and food will
neither be had without money, nor money without
labour, nor labour without trouble and painful-
ness ? Who is so merciful, as not to say that a
whip is the best alms for so lazy and wilful need ?
Peace should not be good, if it were not hard. Go,
and by this excuse shut thyself out of heaven at
thy death, and live miserably till thy death; be
cause the good of both worlds is hard to compass.
There is nothing but misery on earth and hell
below, that thou canst come to without labour ;
and if we can be content to cast away such immo
derate and unseasonable pains upon these earthly
trifles, as to wear our bodies with violence, and to
encroach upon the night for time to get them, what
madness shall it seem in us, not to afford a less
labour to that which is infinitely better, and which
only gives worth and goodness to the other ?
Wherefore, if we have' not vowed enmity with
ourselves, if we be not in love with misery and
vexation, if we be not obstinately careless of our
own good, let us shake off this unthrifty, danger
ous, and desperate negligence, and quicken these
dull hearts to a lively and effectual search of what
only can yield them sweet and abiding content
ment ; which once attained, how shall we insult
over evils, and bid them do their worst ! How shall
we, under this calm and quiet day, laugh at the
rough weather and unsteady motions of the world !

72 HEAVEN UPON EARTH
How shall heaven and earth smile upon us, and we
on them; commanding the one, aspiring to the
other ! How pleasant shall our life be, while neither
joys nor sorrows can distemper it with excess ! yea,
while the matter of joy that is within us turns all
the most sad occurrences into pleasure, how dear
and welcome shall our death be, that shall but
lead us from one heaven to another, from peace to
glory !
Go, now, ye vain and idle worldlings, and please
yourselves in the large extent of your rich manors,
or in the homage of those whom baseness of mind
hath made slaves to your greatness, or in the price
and fashions of your full wardrobe, or in the wan
ton varieties of your delicate gardens, or in your
coffers full of red and white earth ; or, if there be
any other earthly thing more alluring, more pre
cious, enjoy it, possess it, and let it possess you:
let me have only my peace ; and let me never want
it till I envy you.

THE
CHRISTIAN
LAID FORTH IN HIS
WHOLE DISPOSITION AND CARRIAGE.

75

AN EXHORTATORY PREFACE

CHRISTIAN READER.

Out of infallible rules and long experience, have I gathered
up this true character of a Christian : a labour, some will
think, which might have been 'well spared.
Every man professes both to know and act this part. Who
is there that would not be angry, if but a question should be
made either of his skill or interest? Surely, since the first
name given at Antioch, all the believing world hath been am
bitious of the honour of it : how happy were it, if all that are
willing to wear the livery were as ready to do the service !
But it falls out here, as in the case of all things that are
at once honourable and difficult, every one affects the title, few
labour for the truth of the achievement.
Having, therefore, leisure enough to look about me, and
finding the world too prone to this worst kind of hypocrisy, I have
made this true draught ; not more for direction than for trial.
Let no man view these lines as a stranger, but when he looks
in this glass, let him ask his heart whether this be his own
face ; yea, rather, when he sees this face, let him examine his
heart, whether both of them agree with their pattern; and
where he finds his failings, (as who shall not?) let him strive
to amend them, and never give over while he is any way less
fair than his copy.
In the mean time, I would it were less easy by these rules,
to judge even of others, besides ourselves ; or that it were un-

76 PREFACE.
charitable to say, there are many professors, few Christians.
If words and forms might carry it, Christ would have clients
enough ; but if holiness of disposition, and uprightness of car
riage must be the proof, woe is me ! ' In the midst of the
land, among the people, there is as the shaking of an olive-
tree, and as the gleaning grapes, where the vintage is done.'
Isaiah xxiv. 13.
For where is the man that hath obtained the mastery of his
corrupt affections, and to be the lord of his unruly appetite ;
that hath his heart in heaven, while his living carcass is stirring
here upon earth ; that can see the invisible, and secretly enjoy
that Saviour to whom he is spiritually united ; that hath sub
dued his will and reason to his belief; that fears nothing but
God, loves nothing but goodness, hates nothing but sin, re-
joiceth in none but true blessings ; whose faith triumphs over
the world, whose hope is anchored in heaven, whose charity
knows no less bounds than God and men ; whose humility re
presents him as vile to himself as he is honourable in the re
putation of God ; who is wise heavenward, however he passes
with the world ; who dares be no other than just, whether
he win or lose ; who is frugally liberal, discreetly courageous,
holily temperate ; who is ever a thrifty manager of his hours,
so dividing the day betwixt his God and his vocation, that neither
shall find fault with a just neglect, or an unjust partiality ;
whose recreations are harmless, honest, warrantable, such as
may refresh nature, not debauch it ; whose diet is regulated by
health, not by pleasure, as one whose table shall be no altar
to his belly, nor snare to his soul ; who, in his seasonable re
pose, lies down, and awakes with God, caring only to relieve
his spirits, not to cherish sloth ; — whose carriage is meek, gentle,
compliant, beneficial in whatsoever station ; in magistracy im
partially just, in the ministry conscionably faithful, in the
rule of his family wisely provident and religiously exemplary ;
shortly, who is a discreet and loving yoke-fellow, a tender and
pious parent, a duteous and awful son,* a humble and obse
quious servant, an obedient and loyal subject ; — whose heart is
* A son full of reverence for his parents,— Ed,

PREFACE. 77
constantly settled in the main truths of Christian religion, so
as he cannot be removed ; in litigious points, neither too credu
lous ror too peremptory ; whose discourse is such as may be
meet for the expressions of a tongue that belongs to a sound,
godly, and charitable heart ; whose breast continually burns
with the heavenly fire of 'a holy devotion; whose painful suf.
ferings are overcome with patience and cheerful resolutions ;
whose conflicts are attended with undaunted courage, and
crowned with a happy victory ; lastly, whose death is not so
full of fear and anguish, as of strong consolations in that
Saviour who hath overcome and sweetened it; nor of so much
dreadfulness in itself, as of joy in the present expectation of
that blessed issue of a glorious immortality which instantly suc
ceeds it ? — Such is the Christian whom we do here characterize,
and commend to the world both for trial and imitation. Neither
know I which of these many qualifications can be missmg, in
that soul who lays a just claim to Christ his Redeemer.
Take your hearts to task therefore, my dear brethren, into
whose hands soever these lines shall come ; and as you desire
to have peace at the last, ransack them thoroughly ; not con
tenting yourselves with a perfunctory and fashionable oversight,*
which will one day leave you irremediably miserable, but so
search, as those that resolve not to give over, till you find these
gracious dispositions in your bosoms, which I have here de
scribed to you. So shall we be, and make each other happy in
the success of our holy labours; which the God of Heaven
bless in both our hands, to his own glory, and our mutual
comfort in the day of the appearing of our Lord Jesus Christ.
Amen. * A slight external glance. — Ed.

THE CHRISTIAN.

SECTION I.
His Disposition.

The Christian is a man, and more ; an earthly
saint; an angel clothed in flesh; the only lawful
image of his Maker and Redeemer ; the abstract of
God's church on earth ; a model of heaven, made
up in clay ; the living temple of the Holy Ghost.
For his disposition, it hath in it as much of hea
ven as his earth may make room for.
He were not a man, if he were quite free from
corrupt affections ; but these he masters, and keeps
in with a strait hand : and if, at any time, they grow
testy and headstrong, he breaks them with a severe
discipline ; and will rather punish himself than not
tame them. He checks his appetite with discreet,
but strong denials; and forbears to pamper na
ture, lest it grow wanton and impetuous. He
walks on earth, but converses in heaven; hav
ing his eyes fixed on the invisible, and enjoying
a sweet communion with his God and Saviour.
While all the rest of the world sits in darkness*

80 THE CHRISTIAN.
he lives in a perpetual light : the heaven of hea
vens is open to none but him : thither his eye
pierceth, and beholds those beams of inaccessible
glory which shine in no face but his.
The deep mysteries of godliness, which to the
great clerks of the world1 are as a book clasped
and sealed up, lie open before him, fair and legi
ble ; and while those book-men know whom they
have heard of, he knows whom he hath believed.
He will not suffer his Saviour to be ever out of
his eye ; and if through some worldly intercep
tions he lose the sight of that blessed object for a
time, he zealously retrieves him ; not without a
hungry check of his own miscarriage ; and is now
so much the more fixed by his former slackening,
so as he will henceforth sooner part with his soul
than his Redeemer. The terms of entireness,
wherein he stands with the Lord of life, are such
as he can feel, but cannot express, though he
should borrow the language of angels; it is enough
that they two are one spirit.
His reason is willingly captivated to his faith ;
his will to his reason, and his affections to both.
He fears nothing that he sees, in comparison of
that which he sees not ; and displeasure is more
dreadful to him than smart. Good is the ade
quate object of his love, which he duly propor
tions, according to the degrees of its eminence :
affecting the chief good not without a certain ravish
ment of spirit; the lesser, with a wise and holy
moderation. W~hether he do more hate sin or the evil spirit
that suggests it, is a question.
1 Men of great secular learning. — Ed.

THE CHRISTIAN 81
Earthly contents are too mean grounds whereon
to raise his' joy ; these, as he balks not when they
meet in his way, so he doth not too eagerly pursue :
he may taste of them ; but so, as he would rather
fast, than surfeit.
He is not insensible to those losses which casu
alty or enmity may inflict; but that which lies-
most heavily upon his heart, is his sin. This makes
his sleep short and troublesome, his meals stomach-
less, his recreations listless, his every thing tedious,
till he find his soul acquitted by his great surety in
heaven ; which done, he feels more peace and plea
sure in his calm, than he found horror in the
tempest. His heart is the storehouse of most precious
graces. That faith, whereby his soul is established,
triumphs over the world, whether it allure or
threaten; and bids defiance to all the powers of
darkness, not fearing to be foiled by any opposi
tion. His hope cannot be discouraged with the
greatest difficulties ; but bears up against natural
impossibilities, and knows how to reconcile contra
dictions. His charity is both extensive and fervent;
barring out no one that bears the face of a man,
but pouring out itself upon the household of faith ;
that studies good constructions of men and actions,
and keeps itself free both from suspicion and cen
sure. Grace doth more exalt him, than his humility
depresses him. Were it not for that Christ who
dwells in him, he could think himself the meanest
of all creatures : now, he knows he may not dis
parage the Deity of him, by whom he is so glori
ously inhabited ; in whose only right he can be as

82 THE CHRISTIAN.
great in his own thoughts as he is despicable in the
eyes of the world.
He is wise to Godward, however it be with him
for the world : and, well knowing he cannot serve
two masters, he cleaves to the better; making
choice of that good part which cannot be taken
from him : not so much regarding to get that which
he cannot keep, as to possess himself of that good
which he cannot lose.
He is just in all his dealings with men, hating to
thrive by injury and oppression ; and will rather
leave behind something of his own than filch from
another's heap. He is not close-fisted where
there is just occasion of his distribution, wil
lingly parting with those metals which he regards
only for use, not caring for either their colour
or substance; earth is to him no other than
itself, in what hue soever it appeareth.
In every good cause he is bold as a lion, and can
neither fear faces nor shrink at dangers ; and is
rather heartened with opposition, pressing so much
the more where he finds a large door open and
many adversaries; and, when he must suffer, doth
as resolutely stoop as he did before valiantly re
sist. He is holily temperate in the use of all God's
blessings, as knowing by whom they are given, and
to what end ; neither dares either to mislay them,
or to misspend them lavishly ; as duly weighing
upon what terms he receives them, and fore-expect
ing an account. Such a hand doth he carry
upon his pleasures and delights, that they run
not away with him ; he knows how to slacken
the reins without a debauched kind of dissolute-

THE CHRISTIAN. 83
ness, and how to straiten them without a sullen
rigour.

SECTION II.
His Expence of the Day.
He lives as a man that hath borrowed his time,
and challenges not to be owner of it ; caring to
spend the day in a gracious and well governed
thrift. His first morning's task, after he hath lifted up
his heart to that God who gives his beloved sleep,
shall be to put himself in a due posture, wherein to
entertain himself and the whole day : which shall
be done, if he shall effectually work his thoughts
to a right apprehension of his God, of himself, of
all that may concern him.
The true posture of a Christian then is this. He
sees still heaven open to him ; and beholds and ad
mires the light inaccessible : he sees the all-glori
ous God ever before him; the angels of God about
him ; the evil spirits aloof off, enviously groaning
and repining at him ; the world under his feet,
willing to rebel, but forced to be subject; the good
creatures ready to tender their service to him : and
is accordingly affected to all these. He sees heaven
open, with joy and desire of fruition : he sees God,
with an adoring awfulness: he sees the angels,
with a thankful acknowledgment, and care not to
offend them : he sees the evil spirits, with hatred
and watchful indignation : he sees the world, with
a holy imperiousness ; commanding it for use, and
g2

84 THE CHRISTIAN
scorning to stoop to it for observance : lastly, he
sees the good creatures with gratulation, and care
to improve them to the advantage of him that lent
them. Having thus gathered up his thoughts and found
where he is, he may now be fit for his constant de
votion ; which he falls upon, not without a tremb
ling veneration of that infinite and incomprehensi
ble Majesty, before whom he is prostrate : now he
climbs up into that heaven, which he before did
but behold ; and solemnly pours out his soul, in
hearty thanksgivings and humble supplications
into the bosom of the Almighty : wherein his awe
is so tempered with his faith, that, while he labours
under the sense of his own vileness, he is raised up
in the confidence of an infinite mercy. Now he
renews his feeling interest in the Lord Jesus Christ,
his blessed Redeemer ; and labours to get, in every
breath, new pledges of his gracious entireness; so
seasoning his heart with these early thoughts of
piety, as that they stick by him all the day after.
Having thus begun with his God and begged his
blessing, he now finds time to address himself to the
works of his calling.
To live without any vocation, to live in an un
warrantable vocation, not to labour in the vocation
wherein he lives, are things which his soul hateth.
These businesses of his calling therefore, he follows
with a willing and contented industry ; not as
forced to it by the necessity of human laws, or as
urged by the law of necessity out of the sense or
fear of want, nor yet contrarily, out of an eager de
sire of enriching himself in his estate ; but in a
conscionable obedience to that God, who hath made
man to labour as the sparks to fly upward, and

THE CHRISTIAN. 85
hath laid it upon him both as a punishment and
charge, * In the sweat of thy brows shalt thou eat
thy bread.' In an humble alacrity he walks on
in the way, wherein his God hath set him : yet
not the while so intent upon his hands, as not
to tend his heart ; which he lifts up in frequent
ejaculations to that God, to whom he desires to
be approved in all his endeavours ; ascribing all
the thanks, both of his ability and success, to
that omnipotent hand. If he meet with any rubs
of difficulty in his way, he knows who sent them,
and who can remove them : not neglecting any
prudential means of remedy, he is not to seek for a
higher redress.
If he have occasion of trading with others, his
will may not be the rule of his gain, but his con
science : neither dares he strive for what he can
get, but what he ought. Equity is here the clerk of
the market ; and the measure which he would have
others mete out to himself, is the standard whereby
he desires to be tried in his mensurations to all
other. He hates to hoist prices upon occasion of
his neighbour's need ; and to take the advantage of
forfeits by the clock.1 He is not such a slave to
his trade, as not to spare an hour to his soul :
neither dares he be so lavish, as utterly to neglect
his charge, upon whatever pretence of pleasure or
devotion. Shortly, he takes his work at the hand of God,
and leaves it with him ; humbly offering up his
1 In venturing to mark these sentiments as singularly worthy
of attention in the present day, the editor has in view, not only
the permanent well-being of individuals, but the promotion of
the real prosperity of his country.

86* THE CHRISTIAN.
services to his great Master in heaven ; and, after
all his labour, sits comfortably down in the con
science of having faithfully done his task, though
not without the intervention of many infirmities.

SECTION III.
His Recreations.
His recreations (for even these human frailty will
sometimes call for) are such as may be meet re
laxations to a mind over-bent, and a body tired
with honest and holy employments ; safe, inoffen
sive, and for time and measure fitly proportioned
to the occasion : like unto soft music betwixt two
long and stirring acts ; like unto some quick and
savoury sauce, to a listless and cloyed stomach;
like unto a sweet nap, after an overwatching.
He is far from those delights that may effemi
nate or corrupt the mind ; abhorring to sit by those
pleasures from which he shall not rise better.
He hates to turn pastime into trade ; not abiding
to spend more time in whetting, than till his edge
be sharp. In the height of his delectations he
knows to enjoy God ; from whom as he fetches his
allowance, so he craves and expects a gracious ac
ceptation, even when he lets himself most loose.
And if, at any time, he have gone beyond his mea
sure, he chides himself for the excess ; and is so
much the more careful, ever after, to keep within
compass. He can only make a kind of use of those con-

THE CHRISTIAN. 87
tentments wherein light minds are transported :
and can manage his disports without passion ; and
leave a loser without regret. A smile to him is as
much as a loud laughter to the worldling : neither
doth he entertain mirth as his ordinary attendant,
but as his retainer, to wait upon his serious oc
casions : and, finally, so rejoiceth, as if he rejoiced
not.

SECTION IV.
His Meals.
His meals are such as nature requires, and grace
moderates ; not pinching himself with a penurious
niggardliness, nor pampering himself with a wanton
excess. His plate is the least part of his care : so
as his fare may be wholesome, he stands not upon
delicacy. He dares not put his hand to the dish till he
have looked up to the owner ; and hates to put one
morsel into his mouth unblessed ; and knows it his
duty to give thanks for what he hath paid for ; as well
considering, that neither the meat that he eats, nor
the hand and mouth that receives it, nor the stomach
that digests it, nor the metal that buys it, is of his
own making.
And now, having fed his belly, not his eye, he
rises from his board satisfied, not glutted ; and so
bestirs himself upon his calling, as a man not more
unwieldy by his repast but more cheerful, and as
one that would be loth his stomach should be any
hinderance to his brain or to his hand.
If he shall have occasion to entertain himself

88 THE CHRISTIAN.
and his friends more liberally, he dares not lose
himself and his feast. He can be soberly merry,
and wisely free : only in this he is willing not to be
his own man, in that he gives himself for the time
to his guests. His caterer is friendly thrift ; and
temperance keeps the board's end, and carves to
every one the best measure of enough.
As for his own diet, when he is invited to a tempt
ing variety, he puts his knife to his throat :' neither
dares he feed without fear ; as knowing who over
looks him.
Obscenity, detraction, scurrility, are barred from
his table : neither do any words sound there that
are less savoury than the dishes.
Lastly, he so feeds as if he sought for health in
those viands, and not pleasure ; as if he did eat to
live; and rises, not more replenished with food
than with thankfulness.

SECTION V.
His nighfs rest.
In a due season he betakes himself to his rest. He
presumes not to alter the ordinance of day and
night; nor dares confound, where distinction is
made by his Maker.
It is not with him as with the brute creatures,
that have nothing to look after but the mere obe
dience of nature. He doth not therefore lay him
self down as the swine in the sty, or a dog in the
kennel, without any further preface to his desired
' Prov. xxiii. 2.

THE CHRISTIAN. 89
sleep ; but improves those faculties which he is now
closing up to a meet preparation for a holy repose.
For which purpose he first casts back his eye to
the now-expired day, and seriously considers how
he hath spent it; and will be sure to make his
reckonings even with his God before he part. Then
he lifts up his eyes and his heart to that God who
hath made the night for man to rest in, and recom
mends himself earnestly to his blessed protection ;
and then closeth his eyes in peace, not without a
serious meditation of his last rest. His bed repre
sents to him his grave ; his linen, his winding-
sheet ; his sleep, death; the night, the many days
of darkness : and shortly, he so composeth his soul,
as if he looked not to wake till the morning of the
resurrection. After which, if he sleep, he is thankfully cheer
ful ; if he sleep not, his reins chasten and instruct
him in the night season ; and if sleep be out of his
eyes, yet God and his angels are not : whensoever
he awakes, in those hands he finds himself; and
therefore rests sweetly, even when he sleeps not.
His very dreams, however vain or troublesome, are
not to him altogether unprofitable, for they serve to
bewray, not only his bodily temper, but his spiritual
weaknesses, which his waking resolutions shall en
deavour to correct.
He so applies himself to his pillow, as a man
that meant not to be drowned in sleep, but re
freshed : not limiting his rest by the insatiable
lust of a sluggish and drowsy stupidness; but by
the exigence of his health, and habilitation ' to his
calling ; and rises from it, not too late, with more
' Qualification.— Ed.

90 THE CHRISTIAN.
appetite to his work than to a second slumber;
cheerfully devoting the strength renewed by his
late rest, to the honour and service of the Giver.

SECTION VI.
His Carriage.
His carriage is not strange, insolent, surly, and
overly contemptuous; but familiarly meek, humble,
courteous : as knowing what mould he is made of;
and not knowing any worse man than himself.
He hath a hand ready upon every occasion to be
helpful to his neighbour; as if he thought himself
made to do good. He hates to sell his breath to
his friend, where his advice maybe useful: neither
is more ambitious of any thing under heaven, than
of doing good offices.
It is his happiness if he can reconcile quarrels,
and make peace between dissenting friends. When
he is chosen an umpire, he will be sure to cut even
betwixt both parties ; and commonly displeaseth
both that he may wrong neither.
If he be called forth to magistracy, he puts off all
private interests, and commands friendship to give
place to justice. Now he knows no cousins, no
enemies; neither cousins for favour, nor enemies
for revenge, but looks right forward to the cause
without squinting aside to the persons. No flattery
can keep him from browbeating of vice, no fear can
work him to discourage virtue. Where severity is
requisite he hates to enjoy another's punishment ;
and where mercy may be more prevalent he hates
to use severity. Power doth not render him impe-

THE CHRISTIAN. 91
rious and oppressive ; but rather humbles him in
the awful expectation of his account.
If he be called to the honour of God's embassy
to his people, he dares not but be faithful in deli-
,j vering that sacred message. He cannot now either
1 fear faces or respect persons. It is equally odious
to him to hide and smother any of God's counsel,
and to foist in any of his own ; to suppress truth,
and to adulterate it. He speaks not himself, but
Christ; and labours not to tickle the ear, but to
save souls. So doth he go before his flock, as one
that means to feed them no less by his example
than by his doctrine ; and would condemn himself
if he did not live the gospel as well as preach it.
He is neither too austere in his retiredness, nor too
cheap in his sociableness : but carries so even a
hand, that his discreet affableness may be free from
contempt, and that he may win his people with a
loving conversation. If any of his charge be mis
carried into an error of opinion, he labours to re
claim him by the spirit of meekness, so as the mis
guided may read nothing but love in his zealous
conviction. If any be drawn into a vicious course
of life, he fetches him back with a gentle but pow
erful hand : by a holy importunity working the
offender to a sense of his own danger, and to a
saving penitence.
Is he the master of a family ? he dares not be a
lion in his own house, cruelly tyrannizing over his
meanest drudge ; but so moderately exercises his
power, as knowing himself to be his apprentice's
fellow-servant. He is the mouth of his meiny ' to
God in his daily devotions; offering up for them
1 Servants, retinue : it is the same as many. — Ed.

92 THE CHRISTIAN.
the calves of his lips' in his morning ana evening
sacrifice ; and the mouth of God unto .them in his
wholesome instructions and all holy admonitions.
He goes before them in good examples of piety and
holy conversation ; and so governs as one that hath
more than mere bodies committed to his charge.
Is he the husband of a wife ? he carries his yoke
even : not laying too much weight upon the weaker
neck. His helper argues him the principal ; and
he so knows it that he makes a wise use of his just
inequality, so remembering himself to be the su
perior as that he can be no other than one flesh.
He maintains therefore his moderate authority
with a conjugal love : so holding up the right of
his sex, that in the mean time he doth not violently
clash with the brittler vessel. As his choice was
not made by weight, or by the voice, or by the hue
of the skin, but for the pure affection grounded
upon virtue ; so the same regards hold him close
to a constant continuance of his chaste love ; which
can never yield either to change or intermission.
Is he a father of children ? he looks upon them
as more God's than his own, and governs them ac
cordingly. He knows it is only their worse part
which they have received from his loins ; their di
viner half is from the Father of lights, and is now
become the main part of his charge. As God gave
them to him, and to the world by him, so his chief
care is that they may be begotten again to God ;
that they may put off that corrupt nature which
they took from him, and be made partakers of that
divine nature which is given them in their regene
ration. For this cause he trains them up in all
1 Hos. xiv.

THE CHRISTIAN. 93
virtuous and religious education : he sets them in
their way, corrects their exorbitances, restrains their
wild desires, and labours to frame them to all holy
dispositions, and so bestows his fatherly care upon
and for them, as one that would rather they should
be good than rich, and would wish them rather
dead than debauched. He neglects not all honest
means of their provision, but the highest point he
aims at is to leave God their patrimony. In the
choice of their calling or match, he propounds but
forces not, as knowing they have also wills of their
own, which it is fitter for him to bow than to break.
Is he a son ? he is such as may be fit to proceed
from such loins.
Is he a servant ? he cannot but be officious ; for
he must please two masters, though one under, not
against the other : when his visible master sees him
not, lie knows he cannot be out of the eye of the
Invisible, and therefore dares not be either negli
gent or unfaithful. The work that he undertakes
he goes through, not out of fear, but out of con
science ; and would do his business no otherwise
than well, though he served a blind master. He is
no blab of the defects at home, and where he can
not defend is ready to excuse. He yields patiently
to a just reproof, and answers with an humble si
lence ; and is more careful not to deserve than to
avoid stripes.
Is he a subject ? He is awfully affected to so
vereignty, as knowing by whom the powers are or
dained. He dares not curse the king; no, not in
his thought ; nor revile the ruler of his people,
though justly faulty: much less dare he slander
the footsteps of God's anointed. He submits, not
only for wrath, but also for conscience sake, to

94 THE CHRISTIAN.
every ordinance of God ; yea, to every ordinance of
man, for the Lord's sake: not daring to disobey in
regard of the oath of God. If he have reached
forth his hand to cut off but the skirt of the royal
robe, his heart smites him. He is a true paymaster,
and willingly renders tribute to whom tribute, cus
tom to whom custom, honour to whom honour is
due ; and justly divides his duties betwixt God and
Caesar.1 Finally, in whatever relation he stands, he is di
ligent, faithful, conscionable ; observant of his rule,
and careful to be approved such both to God and
men.

SECTION VII.
His resolution in matter of Religion.
He hath fully informed himself of all the neces
sary points of religion ; and is so firmly grounded
in those fundamental and saving truths, that he
cannot be carried about with every wind of doc
trine. As for collateral and unmaterial verities,
he neither despiseth, nor yet doth too eagerly pur
sue them.
He lists not to take opinions upon tru : neither
dares absolutely follow any guide, but those who
he knows could not err.
He is ever suspicious of new faces of theological
truths, and cannot think it safe to walk in untrod
den paths.
1 Eccles. x. 20; Exod. xxii. 28; Is. Ixxxix. 51 ; 1 Pet. ii.
13; 1 Sam. xxiv. 5; Rom. xiii. 7; Matt. xxii. 21.

THE CHRISTIAN. 95
Matters of speculation are not' unwelcome to
him, but his chief care is to reduce his knowledge
to practice ; and therefore he holds nothing his
own but what his heart hath appropriated, and his
life acted.
} He dares not be too much wedded to his own
conceit ; and hath so much humility, as to think
the whole church of Christ upon earth wiser than
himself. However he be a great lover of con
stancy, yet, upon better reason, he can change
his mind in some litigious and unimporting truths,
and can be silent where he must dissent.

SECTION VIII.
His Discourse.
His discourse is grave, discreet, pertinent ; free
from vanity, free from offence.
In secular occasions, nothing falls from him but
seasonable and well-advised truths ; in spiritual,
his speech is such as both argues grace and works
it. No foul and unsavoury breath proceeds out of
his lips, which he abides not to be tainted with any
rotten communication, with any slanderous detrac
tion. If in a friendly merriment he let his tongue
loose to a harmless urbanity, that is the furthest he
dares go ; scorning to come within the verge of a
base scurrility.
He is not apt to spend himself in censures ; but
as for revilings and cursed speakings against God
or men, those his soul abhorreth.

90 THE CHRISTIAN.
He knows to reserve his thoughts, by locking
them up in his bosom under a safe silence ; and
when he must speak, dares not be too free of his
tongue, as well knowing that ' in the multitude of
words there wanteth not sin.'
His speeches are no other than seasonable, and
well fitted both to the person and occasion. Jiggs
at a funeral, lamentations at a feast, holy counsel
to scomers, discouragements to the dejected, and
applauses to the profane, are hateful to him.
He meddles not with other men's matters, much
less with affairs of state ; but keeps himself wisely
within his own compass, not thinking his breath
well spent where he doth not either teach or learn.

SECTION IX.
His Devotion.
He is so perpetually resident in heaven, that he is
often in every day before the throne of grace; and
he never comes there without supplication in his
hand, wherein also he loves to be importunate;
and he speeds accordingly, for he never departs
empty; while other cold suitors, that come thither
but in some good fits of devotion, obtain nothing
but denials.
He dares not press to God's footstool in his own
name ; he is conscious enough of his own unwor-
thiness ; but he comes in the gracious and power
ful name of his righteous Mediator, in whom he
knows he cannot but be accepted, and in an hum
ble boldness, for his only sake craves mercy.

THE CHRISTIAN. 97
No man is either more awful1 or more confident.
When he hath put up his petition to the King
of heaven, he presumes not to stint the time or
manner of God's condescent;5 but patiently and
faithfully waits for the good hour, and leaves him
self upon that infinite wisdom and goodness.
He doth not affect length so much as fervor ;
neither so much minds his tongue as his heart.
His prayers are suited according to the degrees
of the benefits sued for. He therefore begs grace
absolutely, and temporal blessings with limitation,
and is accordingly affected in the grant.
Neither is he more earnest in craving mercies,
than he is zealously desirous to be retributory to
God when he hath received them ; not more hear
tily suing to be rich in grace, than to improve
his graces to the honour and advantage of the be-
stower. With an awful and broken heart doth he make
his addresses to that infinite Majesty, from whose
presence he returns with comfort and joy.
His soul is constantly fixed there, whither he
pours it out. Detraction and distrust are shut out
from his closet; and he is so taken up with his devo
tion, as one that makes it his work to pray. And
when he hath offered up his sacrifices unto God,
his faith listens, and looks in at the door of heaven
to know how they are taken.
1 Under the influence of awe. — Ed. 2 Acquiescence — Ei>.

98 THE CHRISTIAN.
SECTION X.
His Sufferings.
Every man shews fair in prosperity, but the main
trial of the Christian is in suffering ; any man
may steer in a good gale and clear sea, but the
mariner's skill will be seen in a tempest.
Herein the Christian goes beyond the Pagan's,
not practice only, but admiration. 'We rejoice in
tribulation,' saith the chosen vessel. Lo! here a
point transcending all the affectation of heathenism.
Perhaps some resolute spirit, whether out of a na
tural fortitude, or out of an ambition of fame or
earthly glory, may set a face upon a patient en
during of loss or pain ; but never any of these
heroic Gentiles durst pretend to a joy in suffering.
Hither can Christian courage reach ; knowing that
' tribulation worketh patience, and patience expe
rience, and experience hope, and hope maketh not
ashamed.' Is he bereaved of his goods and worldly estate ?
he comforts himself in the conscience of a better
treasure, that can never be lost. Is he afflicted
with sickness ? his comfort is, that the inward man
is so much more renewed daily, as the outward
perisheth. Is he slandered and unjustly disgraced ?
his comfort is, that there is a blessing which will
more than make him amends. Is he banished ?
he knows he is on his way homeward. Is he im
prisoned ? his spirit cannot be locked in : God and
his angels cannot be locked out. Is he dying ? to
him ' to live is Christ, and to die is gain.' Is he

THE CHRISTIAN. 99
dead • he ' rests from his labours,' and is crowned
with glory. Shortly, he is perfect gold, that comes
more pure out of the fire than it went in ; neither
had ever been so great a saint in heaven, if he had
not passed through the flames of his trial here
upon earth.

SECTION XI.
His Conflicts.
He knows himself never out of danger, and there
fore stands ever upon his guard. Neither of his
hands is empty : the one holds out ' the shield of
faith;' the other manageth 'the sword of the
Spirit :' both of them are employed in his perpe
tual CONFLICT.
He cannot be weary of resisting, but resolves to
die fighting. He hath a ward for every blow ;
and as his eye is quick to discern temptations, so is
his hand and foot nimble to avoid them.
He cannot be discouraged with either the num
ber or power of his enemies ; knowing that his
strength is out of himself, in him in whom he can
do all things, and that there can be no match to
the Almighty.
He is careful not to give advantage to his vigi
lant adversary, and therefore warily avoids the oc
casions of sin : and if, at any time, he be over
taken with the suddenness or subtilty of tempta
tion, he speedily recovers himself by a serious re
pentance, and fights so much the harder because of
his foil. H 2

100 THE CHRISTIAN.
He hates to take quarter of the spiritual powers :
nothing less than death can put an end to his
quarrel, nor nothing below victory.

SECTION XII.
His Death.
He is not so careful to keep his soul within his
teeth, as to send it forth well addressed for happi
ness ; as knowing, therefore, the last Drunt to be
most violent, he rouseth up his holy fortitude to
encounter that king of fear, his last enemy, death.
And now, after a painful sickness and a resolute
expectation of the fiercest assault, it falls out with
him as in the meeting of the two hostile brothers,
Jacob and Esau ; instead of grappling, he finds a
courteous salutation ; for stabs, kisses ; for height of
enmity, offices of love. Life could never befriend
him, so much as death offers to do : that tenders
him (perhaps a rough, but) a sure hand, to leac
him to glory, and receives a welcome accordingly.
Neither is there any cause to marvel at the
change. The Lord of life hath wrought it; he,
having by dying subdued death, hath reconciled it
to his own ; and hath, as it were, beaten it into
these fair terms with all the members of his mys
tical body ; so as while unto the enemies of God
death is still no other than a terrible executioner
of divine vengeance, he is to all that are in Christ
a plausible and sure convoy unto blessedness.
The Christian, therefore, now laid upon his last
bed, when this grim messenger comes to fetch him
to heaven, looks not so much at his dreadful visage

the christian. 101
as at his happy errand ; and is willing not to re
member what death is in itself, but what it is to
us in Christ ; by whom it is made so useful and
beneficial, that we could not be happy without it.
Here, then, comes in the last act and employ
ment of faith (for after this brunt passed, there is
no more use of faith but of vision) that heartens
the soul in a lively apprehension of that blessed
Saviour, who both led him the way of suffering,
and is making way for him to everlasting glory ;
that shews him ' Jesus, the author and finisher of
our faith, who, for the joy that was set before him,
endured the cross, despising the shame, and is set
down at the right-hand of the throne of God ;'
that clings close unto him, and lays unremoveable
hold upon his person, his merits, his blessedness.
Upon the wings of this faith, is the soul ready to
mount up toward that heaven which is open to re
ceive it ; and, in that act of evolation, puts itself
into the hands of those blessed angels, who are
ready to carry it up to the throne of glory.1
sic, o sic jovat vivere, sic perire !
1 The reader can hardly have refrained from exclaiming,
more than once, while perusing this brief but most expressive
treatise, were the picture here drawn but moderately realized in
every one of those whose profession binds them to the imita
tion of such a model, not only would the world be free from
the greatest portion of those evils which now afflict it, but
human laws might be dispensed with as superfluous. — Ed.

THE

DEVOUT SOUL;
OR,
RULES OF HEAVENLY DEVOTION.

105

TO ALL CHRISTIAN READERS

GRACE and peace.

That in a time when we hear no noise but of drums and trum
pets, and talk of nothing but 'arms and sieges and battles, I
should write of devotion, may seem to some of you strange and
unseasonable : to me contrarily, it seems most fit and oppor
tune: for, when can it be more proper to direct our address tothe
throne of grace, than when we are in the very jaws of death ?
or when should we go to seek the face of our God, rather
than in the needful time of trouble ?
Blessed be my God, who in the midst of these woeful tumults
hath vouchsafed to give me these calm and holy thoughts,
which I justly suppose he meant not to suggest that they
should be smothered in the breast wherein they were con
ceived, but with a purpose to have the benefit communicated
unto many.
Who is there that needs not vehement excitations and helps
to devotion ? and when more than now ? In a tempest the
mariners themselves do not only cry every man to his God, but
awaken Jonah, that is fast asleep under the hatches, and chide
him to his prayers.
Surely, had we not been failing in our devotions, we could not
have been thus universally miserable. That duty, the neglect
whereof is guilty of our calamity, must, in the effectual perform
ance of it, be the means of our recovery. Be but devout, and
we cannot miscarry under judgments. Woe is me ! the tears of
penitence were more fit to quench the public flame than blood.
How soon would it clear up abovehead, if we were but holily
affected within ! Could we send our zealous ambassadors up to

106
heaven, we could not fail of a happy peace. I direct the way :
God bring us to the end.
For my own particular practice, God is witness to my soul,
that as one the sense of whose private affliction is swallowed up
of the public, I cease not daily to ply the Father of Mercies
with my fervent prayers, thathe would at last be pleased, after
so many streams of blood, to pass an act of pacification in
heaven. And what good heart can do otherwise t Brethren, all ye
that love God, and his church, and his truth, and his anointed,
and your country, and yourselves, and yours, join your forces
with mine ; and let us, by a holy violence, make way to the
gates of heaven with our petition for mercy and peace ; and
not suffer ourselves to be beaten off from the threshold of grace
till we be answered with a condescent. He, whose goodness is
wont to prevent our desires, will not give denials to our impor
tunities. Pray and farewell.
Norwich, March 10, 1643.

THE DEVOUT SOUL.

CHAPTER I.
WHAT DEVOTION IS: — HABITUAL, THAT GOES
THROUGH THE HEART AND LIFE OF A CHRIS
TIAN;  ACTUAL, OR A SPECIAL AND FIXED
EXERCISE OF DEVOTION.
Devotion is the life of religion ; the very soul of
piety ; the highest employment of grace ; and no
other than the prepossession of heaven by the
saints of God here upon earth : every improve
ment whereof is of more advantage and value to the
Christian soul, than all the profit and contentment
which this world can afford it.
There is a kind of art of devotion, if we can at
tain unto it, whereby the practice thereof may be
much advanced. We have known, indeed, some
holy souls, which, out of the general precepts of
piety, and their own happy experiments of God's
mercy, have, through the grace of God, grown to
a great measure of perfection this way ; which yet
might have been much expedited and completed,

108 THE DEVOUT SOUL.
by those helps which the greater illumination and
experience of others might have afforded them.
Like as we see it in other faculties ; there are those,
who out of a natural dexterity, and their own fre
quent practice, have got into a safe posture of de
fence, and have handled their weapon with com
mendable skill, whom yet the fence-school might
have raised to a higher pitch of cunning. As na
ture is perfected, so grace is not a little furthered
by art; since it pleaseth the wisdom of God to work
ordinarily upon the soul, not by the immediate
power of miracle, but in such methods, and by
such means, as may most conduce to his blessed
ends. It is true, that all our good motions come
from the Spirit of God ; neither is it less true, that
all the good counsels of others proceed from the
same Spirit : and that good Spirit cannot be cross
to itself; he, therefore, that infuses good thoughts
into us, suggests also such directions as may render
us apt both to receive and improve them. If God
be bounteous, we may not be idle, and neglective
of our spiritual aids.
If you tell me, by way of instance in a particular
act of devotion, that there is a gift of prayer, and
that the Spirit of God is not tied to rules ; I yield
both these : but, withal, I must say there are also
helps of prayer, and that we must not expect im
mediate inspirations. I find the world much mis
taken in both. They think that man hath the gift
of prayer, that can utter the thoughts of his heart
roundly unto God, that can express himself smoothly
in the phrase of the Holy Ghost, and press God
with most proper words and passionate vehemence ;
and, surely, this is a commendable faculty where
soever it is : but this is not the gift of prayer ; vou

THE DEVOUT SOUL, 109
may call it, if you will, the gift of elocution. Do
we say that man hath the gift of pleading, that can
talk eloquently at the bar ; that can, in good terms,
loud and earnestly importune the judge for his
client ? and not rather he that brings the strongest
reason, and quotes his books and precedents with
most truth and clearest evidence, so as may con
vince the jury and persuade the judge ? Do we
say he hath the gift of preaching, that can deliver
himself in a flowing manner of speech to his hearers ;
that can cite Scriptures or fathers ; that can please
his auditory with the flowers of rhetoric ? or, rather,
he that can divide the Word aright, interpret it
soundly, apply it judiciously, put it home to the
conscience ; speaking in the evidence of the Spirit,
powerfully convincing the gainsayers, comforting
the dejected, and drawing every soul nearer to
heaven ? The like must we say for prayer ; the
gift whereof he may be truly said to have, not
that hath the most rennible ' tongue ; (for prayer is
not so much a matter of the lips as of the heart;)
but he that hath the most illuminated apprehen
sion of the God to whom he speaks ; the deepest
sense of his own wants ; the most eager longings
after grace ; the feventest desires of supplies from
heaven ; and, in a word, whose heart sends up the
strongest groans and cries to the Father of mer
cies. Neither may we look for enthusiasms,2 and im-

1 Fluent.— Ed.
2 Supernatural influences. Either the word had not yet sunk
to that corrupt modern acceptation, which an eloquent contem
porary, the author of the "Natural History of Enthusiasm"
adopts and defends, or Hall was too correct a writer to coun
tenance the incipient debasement, — Ed.

110 THE DEVOUT SOUL.
mediate inspirations; putting ourselves upon God's
Spirit, in the solemn exercises of our invocation,
without heed or meditation ; the dangerous incon
venience whereof hath been too often found, in the
rash and unwarrantable expressions that have fallen
from the mouths of unwary suppliants ; but we
must address ourselves, with due preparation, to
that holy work ; we must digest our suits, and
fore-order our supplications to the Almighty, so
that there may be excellent and necessary use of
meet rules of our devotion.
He, whose Spirit helps us to pray, and whose
lips taught us how to pray, is an all-sufficient ex
ample for us. All the skill of men and angels can
not afford a more exquisite model of supplicatory
devotion, than that blessed Saviour of ours gave us
in the Mount ; led in by a divine and heart-raising
preface, carried out with a strong and heavenly
enforcement ; wherein an awful compellation makes
way for petition, and petition makes way for thanks
giving; the petitions marshalled in a most exact
order; for spiritual blessings, which have an im
mediate concernment of God, in the first place;
then, for temporal favours, which concern ourselves,
in the second. So punctual a method had not been
observed by Him that heareth prayers, if it had
been all one to him, to have had our devotions con
fused and tumultuary.
There is commonly much mistaking of devotion ;
as if it were nothing but an act of vocal prayer, ex
piring with that holy breath, and revived with the
next task of our invocation ; which is usually mea
sured of many by frequence, length, smoothness
of expression, loudness, vehemence. Whereas, in
deed, it is rather an habitual disposition of a holy

THE DEVOUT SOUL. Ill
soul, sweetly conversing with God, in all the forms
of a heavenly, yet awful familiarity; and a con
stant entertainment of ourselves here below, with
the God of Spirits, in our sanctified thoughts and
affections ; one of the noble exercises whereof is
our access to the Throne of Grace in our prayers ;
whereto may be added, the ordering of our holy
attendance upon the blessed word and sacraments
of the Almighty. Nothing hinders, therefore, but
that a stammering suppliant may reach to a more
eminent devotion, than he that can deliver him
self in the most fluent and pathetical forms of elo
cution ; and that our silence may be more devout
than our noise.
We shall not need to send you to the cells or
cloisters for this skill ; although it will hardly be
believed, how far some of their contemplative men
have gone in the theory hereof; perhaps, like as
chymists give rules for the attaining of that elixir
which they never found ; for, sure, they must needs
fail of that perfection they pretend, who are com
monly in the object of it, always in the ground of
it, which is faith, stripped, by their opinion, of
the comfortablest use of it, certainly of applica
tion. As there may be many resemblances betwixt
light and devotion, so this one especially ; that, as
there is a light universally diffused through the
air, and there is a particular recollection of light
into the body of the sun and stars ; so it is in devo
tion : there is a general kind of devotion, that goes
through the renewed heart and life of a Christian,
which we may term habitual and virtual; and
there is a special and fixed exercise of devotion,
which we name actual.

112

CHAPTER II.
REQUISITES TO THE EFFECTUAL PERFORMANCE OF
DEVOTION
The soul that is rightly affected to God is never
void of a holy devotion. Wherever it is, whatever
it doth, it is still lifted up to God ; and fastened
upon him, and converses with him ; ever serving
the Lord in fear, and rejoicing in him with trem
bling;.

Sect. 1. — The heart must be settled in a right appre
hension of God.
For the effectual performance whereof, it is requi
site first, that the heart be settled in a right appre
hension of our God: without which, our devotion
is not thankless only, but sinful.
With much labour therefore, and agitation of a
mind illuminated from above, we must find our
selves wrought to a high, awful, adorative, and
constant conceit of that incomprehensible Majesty,
in whom we live, and move, and are : One God,
in Three most glorious Persons ; infinite in wisdom,
in power, in justice, in mercy, in providence, in
all that he is, in all that he hath, in all that he
doth ; dwelling in light inaccessible ; attended with
thousand thousands of angels ; whom yet we neither
can know, neither would it avail us if we could,
but in the face of the Eternal Son of his Love, our

THE DEVOUT SOCL. 113
blessed Mediator, God and Man ; who sits at the
riglnVhand of Majesty in the highest heavens ; from
the sight of whose glorious humanity we com
fortably rise to the contemplation of that infinite
Deity, whereto it is inseparably united ; in and by
him made ours by a lively faith, finding our per
sons and obedience accepted, expecting our full
redemption and blessedness. Here, here must our
hearts be unremoveably fixed. In his light must
we see light. No cloudy occurrences of this world,
no busy employments, no painful sufferings, must
hinder us from thus seeing him that is invisible.

Sect. 2. — The Heart must behold God as really
present.
Neither doth the devout heart see his God aloof
off, as dwelling above in the circle of heaven, but
beholds that infinite Spirit really present with
him. ' The Lord is upon thy right hand ; ' saith the
psalmist. Our bodily eye doth not more certainly
see our own flesh, than the spiritual eye sees God
close by us; yea in us. A man's own soul is not
so intimate to himself, as God is to his soul ; nei
ther do we move by him only, but in him.
What a sweet conversation, therefore, hath the
holy soul with his God ! What heavenly confe
rences have they two which the world is not privy
to : while God entertains the soul with the divine
motions of his Spirit, the soul entertains God with
gracious compliances !
Is the heart heavy with the grievous pressures of
i

114 THE DEVOUT SOUL.
affliction ? the soul goes in to his God, and pours
out itself before him, in earnest bemoanings and
supplications ; the God of mercy answers the soul
again, with seasonable refreshings of comfort. Is
the heart secretly wounded and bleeding with the
conscience of some sin ? it speedily betakes itself
to the great Physician of the soul, who forth
with applies the balm of Gilead for an unfailing
and present cure. Is the heart distracted with
doubts ? the soul retires to that inward oracle of
God for counsel : he returns to the soul a happy
settlement of just resolution. Is the heart deeply
affected with the sense of some special favour from
his God ? the soul breaks forth into the passionate
voice of praise and thanksgiving: God returns the
pleasing testimony of a cheerful acceptation.
O blessed soul that hath a God to go unto upon
all occasions ! O infinite mercy of a God, that
vouchsafes to stoop to such entireness with dust
and ashes ! It was a gracious speech of a worthy
divine, ¦ upon his death-bed, now breathing towards
heaven, That he should change his place, not his
company. His conversation was now, beforehand,
with his God and his holy angels : the only differ
ence was, that he was now going to a more free and
full fruition of the Lord of Life, in that region
of glory above, whom he had truly, though with
weakness and imperfection, enjoyed in this vale of
tears. i Dr. Preston.

115

CHAPTER HI.
OF HABITUAL DEVOTION.
Now, that these mutual respects may be sure not
to cool with intermission, the devout heart takes
ALL OCCASIONS BOTH TO THINK OF GOD, AND TO
SPEAK TO HIM.

Sect. 1. — The heart takes all occasions to think
of God
There is nothing that he sees, which doth not
bring God to his thoughts.
Indeed, there is no creature wherein there are
not manifest footsteps of omnipotence ; yea, which
hath not a tongue to tell us of its Maker. ' The
heavens declare the glory of God, and the firma
ment sheweth his handy work : one day telleth
another, and one night certifieth another.' 'Yea,
O Lord, how manifold are thy works ! in wisdom
hast thou made them all. The earth is full of thy
riches : so is the great and wide sea, where are
things creeping innumerable, both small and great
beasts.' l Every herb, flower, spire of grass, every
twig and leaf, every worm and fly, every scale and
feather, every billow and meteor, speaks the power
and wisdom of their Infinite Creator. Solomon

1 Psalm xix. 1, 2 ; civ. 24, 25. I 2

116 THE DEVOUT SOUL.
sends the sluggard to the ant; Isaiah sends the
Jews to the ox and the ass ; our Saviour sends his
disciples to the ravens, and to the lilies of the field :
there is no creature of whom we may not learn
something. We shall have spent our time ill in
this great school of the world, if in such store of
lessons, we be non-proficients in devotion.
Vain idolaters make to themselves images of
God, whereby they sinfully represent him to their
thoughts and adoration. Could they have the wit
and grace to see it, God hath taken order to spare
them this labour ; in that he hath stamped in every
creature such impressions of his infinite power,
wisdom, goodness, as may give us just occasion to
worship and praise him with a safe and holy ad
vantage to our souls : ' For the invisible things of
God, from the creation of the world, are clearly
seen, being understood by the things that are made,
even his eternal power and Godhead. ' '
And indeed wherefore serve all the volumes of
natural history, but to be so many commentaries
upon the several creatures, wherein we may read
God ? and even those men who have not the skill
or leisure to peruse them, may yet, out of their
own thoughts and observation, raise from the sight
of all the works of God, sufficient matter to glorify
him.* Who can be so stupid as not to take notice
of the industry of the bee, the providence of the
1 Rom. i. 20.
2 The learned Bishop says accurately, ' We may read
God,' — i. e. meet with delightful illustrations of his power, wis
dom, and goodness, admonishing us of our devotional duties.
But we reason in a circle, when we attempt to form to ourselves
the idea of God by inference from his works ; for were we not
already possessed of that idea, we should never think of insti
tuting such a process of reasoning. — Ed.

THE DEVOUT SOUL. 117
ant, the cunning of the spider, the reviving of the
fly, the worm's endeavour of revenge, the subtlety
of the fox, the sagacity of the hedgehog, the inno
cence and profitableness of the sheep, the labo-
riousness of the ox, the obsequiousness of the dog,
the timorous shifts of the hare, the nimbleness of
the deer, the generosity of the lion, the courage of
the horse, the fierceness of the tiger, the cheerful
music of birds, the harmlessness of the dove, the
true love of the turtle, the cock's observation of
time, the swallow's architecture ? shortly, (for it
were easy here to be endless,) of the several qualities
and dispositions of every of those our fellow-crea
tures, with whom we converse on the face of the
earth ; and who that takes notice of them, cannot
fetch from every act and motion of theirs, some
monition of duty and occasion of devout thoughts ?
Surely, I fear many of us Christians may justly
accuse ourselves as too neglective of our duty this
way ; that having thus long spent our time in this
great academy of the world, we have not, by so
many silent documents, learned to ascribe more
glory to our Creator. I doubt those creatures, if
they could exchange their brutality with our rea
son, being now so docible as to learn of us so far as
their sense can reach, would approve themselves
better scholars to us, than we have been unto them.
Withal, I must add, that the devout soul stands
not always in need of such outward monitors ; but
finds, within itself, sufficient incitements to raise up
itself to a continual minding of God, and makes
use of them accordingly ; and if at any time, being
taken up with the importunate occasions of the
world, it finds God missing but an hour, it chides
itself with such neglect ; and sets itself to recover

118 THE DEVOUT SO0L.
him, with so much more eager affection : as the
faithful spouse in the Canticles, when she finds him
whom her soul loved, withdrawn from her for a
season, puts herself into a speedy search after him,
and gives not over till she have attained his pre
sence. :

Sect. 2. — The heart speaks to God.
Now, as these many monitors, both outward and
inward, must elevate our hearts very frequently to
God ; so those raised hearts must not entertain him
with a dumb contemplation, but must speak to
him in the language of spirits.
All occasions therefore must be taken, of send
ing forth pious and heavenly ejaculations to God.
The devout soul may do this more than a hundred
times a day, without any hinderance to his special
vocation. The housewife at her wheel, the weaver
at his loom, the husbandman at his plough, the ar
tificer in his shop, the traveller in his way, the mer
chant in his warehouse, may thus enjoy God in
his busiest employment ; for the soul of man is a
nimble spirit, and the language of thoughts need
not take up time ; and though we now, for exam
ple's sake, clothe them in words, yet in our practice
we need not.
Now these ejaculations may be either at large or
occasional. (1.) At large: such as that of old Jacob; 'O
Lord, I have waited for thy salvation : ' or that of
David; ' Oh, save me, for thy mercy's sake.'
' Cant. v. 6.

THE DEVOUT SOUL. 119
And these, either in matter of humiliation, or of
imploration, or of thanksgiving. In all which, we
cannot follow a better pattern than the sweet singer
of Israel ; whose heavenly conceptions we may
either borrow or imitate.
In way of humiliation, such as these: 'Heal
my soul, O Lord, for I have sinned against thee.'
' Oh, remember not my old sins, but have mercy
upon me.' ' If thou wilt be extreme to mark what
is done amiss, O Lord, who may abide it ?' ' Lord,
thou knowest the thoughts of man, that they are
but vain.' ' O God, why abhorrest thou my soul,
and hidest thy face from me?"
In the way of imploration ; ' Up, Lord, and
help me, O God. ' ' Oh, let my heart be sound in
thy statutes, that I be not ashamed.' ' Lord, where
are thy old loving mercies ? ' ' Oh, deliver me, for
I am helpless, and my heart is wounded within me.'
' Comfort the soul of thy servant, for unto thee, O
Lord, do I lift up my soul.' ' Go not far from me,
O God.' ' Oh, knit my heart unto thee, that I may
fear thy name.' 'Thou art my helper and re
deemer, O Lord, make no long tarrying.' ' Oh, be
thou my help in trouble, for vain is the help of
man.' ' Oh, guide me with thy counsel, and after
that, receive me to thy glory.' ' My time is in thy
hand : deliver me from the hands of mine enemies.'
' Oh, withdraw not thy mercy from me, O Lord.'
' Lead me, O Lord, in thy righteousness, because of
mine enemies.' ' Oh, let my soul live, and it shall
praise thee.'2
1 Psalms xli. 4 ; lxxix. 8 ; cxxx. 3 ; xciv. 11 ; lxxxviii. 14.
2 Psalms ill. "J ; cxix. 80; lxxxix. 49; cix. 21, 22; lxxxvi.
4 ; lxxi. 1 2 ; lxxxvi. 11; lxx. 5 ; lx. 1 1 ; lxxiii. 24 ; xxxi.
15; xl. 11; v. 8; cxix. 175.

120 THE DEVOUT SOUL.
In way of thanksgiving : * O God, wonderful
art thou in thy holy places !' ' O Lord, how glo
rious are thy works ! and thy thoughts are very
deep.' ' O God, who is like unto thee ?' ' The Lord
liveth ; and blessed be my strong helper.' ' Lord,
thy loving-kindness is better than life itself.' 'All
thy works praise thee, O Lord ; and thy saints give
thanks unto thee.' ' Oh, how manifold are thy
works ! in wisdom hast thou made them all.' ' Who
is God, but the Lord ; and who hath any strength,
except our God ?' ' We will rejoice in thy salva
tion, and triumph in thy name, O Lord.' ' Oh,
that men would praise the Lord for his goodness !'
' Oh, how plentiful is thy goodness, which thou
hast laid up for them that fear thee !' * Thou, Lord,
hast never failed them that seek thee.' ' In thy
presence is the fulness of joy ; and at thy right
hand there is pleasure for evermore.' * Lord, what
is man that thou art mindful of him ?' ' Not unto
us, Lord, not unto us, but unto thy name give the
praise.' '
(2.) Occasional ejaculations are such as are moved
upon the presence of some such object as carries
a kind of relation or analogy to that holy thought
which we have entertained.
Of this nature I find that which was practised in
St. Basil's time, that, upon the lighting of candles,
the manner was to bless God in these words,
" Praise be to God the Father, and the Son, and
the Holy Ghost ;" which that father says was an
ciently used, but who was the author of it he pro-
fesseth to be unknown. To the same purpose was

iessem 10 oe unknown, xoine same
1 Paalm, lxviii. 35; cxii. 5 ; lxxi. 19; xvi
cxlv. 10; civ. 24; xviii. 31 ; xx.5; cvii. 8;xs
xvi. 11 ; viii. 4; cxv. 1.

xviii. 46 ; lxiii. 3 ;
• xxxi. 19; ix. 10;

THE DEVOUT SOUL. 121
the Lucernarium, which was a part of the evening
office of old. For which there may seem to be more
colour of reason than for the ordinary fashion of
apprecation1 upon occasion of our sneezing, which
is expected and practised by many out of civility.
Old and reverend Beza was wont to move his hat
with the rest of the company, but to say withal,
" Gramercy, Madame la Superstition."
Now, howsoever, in this or any other practice
which may seem to carry with it a smack of super
stition, our devotion may be groundless and unsea
sonable, yet nothing hinders but that we may take
just and holy hints of raising up our hearts to our
God. As when we do first look forth, and see the
heavens over our heads, to think, 'The heavens
declare thy glory, O God ;' when we see the day
breaking or the sun rising, 'The day is thine, and
the night is thine ; thou hast prepared the light and
the sun;' when the light shines in our faces, 'Thou
deckest thyself with light, as with a garment,' or,
' Light is sprung up for the righteous ;' when we
see our garden embellished with flowers, ' The earth
is full of the goodness of the Lord ;' when we see
a rough sea, * The waves of the sea rage horribly,
and are mighty; but the Lord, that dwelleth on
high, is mightier than they ;' when we see the dark
ness of the night, 'The darkness is no darkness
unto thee ;' when we rise up from our bed or our
seat, ' Lord, thou knowest my down-sitting and my
up-rising; thou understandest my thoughts afar
off;' when we wash our hands, 'Wash thou me, O
Lord, and I shall be whiter than snow ;' when we
are walking forth, ' Oh, hold thou up my goings in
1 Praying for, or wishing well to any body.— Ed.

122 THE DEVOUT SOUL.
thy paths, that my footsteps slip not;' when we
hear a passing bell, * Oh, teach me to number my
days, that I may apply my heart to wisdom,' or,
' Lord, let me know my end, and the number of
my days.' '
Thus may we dart out our holy desires to God,
upon all occasions. Wherein heed must be taken
that our ejaculations be not, on the one side, so
rare that our hearts grow to be hard and strange to
God, but that they may be held on in continual
acknowledgment of him, and acquaintance with
him ; and, on the other side, that they be not so
over-frequent in their perpetual reiteration, as that
they grow to be, like that of the Romish votaries,
fashionable;2 which, if great care be not taken,
will fall out to the utter frustrating of our devotion.
Shortly, let the measure of these devout glances be
the preserving our hearts in a constant tenderness
and godly disposition ; which shall be further ac
tuated upon all opportunities, by the exercises of
our more enlarged and fixed devotion ; whereof
there is the same variety that there is in God's ser
vices, about which it is conversant.

1 Psalm, xix. 1 ; Ixxiv. 16; civ. 2 ; xcvii. 1 1 ; xxxiii. 5 ;
xciii. 4 ; cxxxix. 12 ; cxxxix. 1,2; li. 7 ; xvii. *> ; xc 12 ;
xxxix. 4.
2 Matters of form, or custom. — Ed.

123

CHAPTER IV.
OF ACTUAL DEVOTION.
There are three main businesses, wherein God ac
counts his services here below to consist. The first
is, our address to the throne of grace, and the pour
ing out of our souls before him in our prayers; the
second is, the reading and hearing his most holy
word ; the third is, the receipt of his blessed sacra
ments : in all which there is place and use for a
SETTLED DEVOTION.

Sect. 1. — Of our Address to the Throne of Grace in
Prayer.
To begin with the first work of our actual and en
larged devotion.
(1.) Some things are pre-required of us, to make
us capable of the comfortable peformance of so
holy and heavenly a duty ; namely, that the heart
be clean first, and then that it be clear; clean
from the defilement of any known sin, clear from all
entanglements and distractions.
What do we ,in our prayers, but converse with
the Almighty ; and either carry our souls up to
him, or bring him down to us. Now, it is useless
to hope that we can entertain God in an impure
heart. Even we men loath a foul and sluttish

12-1 the devout soul.
lodging; : how much more will the holy God abhor
a habitation spiritually filthy ! I find that even
the ' unclean spirit' made that a motive of his re
possession, that he found 'the house swept and
garnished.' * Satan's cleanliness is pollution, and
his garnishment disorder and wickedness ; without
this, he finds no welcome. Each spirit looks for
an entertainment answerahle to his nature : how
much more will that God of spirits, who is purity
itself, look to be harboured in a cleanly room !
" Into a malicious soul wisdom shall not enter, nor
dwell in the body that is subject unto sin."2
What friend would be pleased that we should
lodge him in a lazar-house ? or, who would abide
to have a toad lie in his bosom ? Surely it is not
in the verge of created nature to yield any thing
that can be so noisome and odious to the sense of
man, as sin is to that absolute and essential
Goodness. His pure eyes cannot endure the
sight of sin ; neither can he endure that the sinner
should come within the sight of him. ' Away
from me, ye wicked,' is his charge both here and
hereafter. It is the privilege and happiness of the pure in
heart, that they shall see God : see him both in
the end and in the way, enjoying the vision of him
both in grace and in glory. This is no object for
impure eyes.
Descend into thyself therefore, and ransack thy
heart, whoever wouldst be a true client of devotion :
search all the close windings of it with the torches
of the law of God ; and, if there be any iniquity
found lurking in the secret corners thereof, drag it
1 Luke, xi. 25. « Wis. i. 4.

the devout soul. 125
out and abandon it : and when thou hast done,
that thy fingers may retain no pollution, say, with
the holy Psalmist, 'I will wash my hands in inno
cence : so will I go to thine altar.' L Presume not
to approach the altar of God, there to offer the
sacrifice of thy devotion with unclean hands ; else
thine offering shall be so far from winning an ac
ceptance for thee from the hands of God, as that
thou shalt make thine offering abominable. And
if a beast touch the mount, it shall die.2
As the soul must be clean from sin, so it
must be clear and free from distractions. The
intent of our devotion is to welcome God to our
hearts : now where shall we entertain him, if the
rooms be full, thronged with cares and turbulent
passions ? The Spirit of God will not endure
to be crowded up together with the world in our
strait lodgings ; a holy vacuity must make way for
him in our bosoms. The divine pattern of devo
tion, in whom the Godhead dwelt bodily, retires
into the mount to pray ; he that carried heaven
with him, would even thus leave the world below
him. Alas ! how can we hope to mount up to hea
ven in our thoughts, if we have the clogs of earthly
cares hanging at our heels ?
Yea, not only must there be shutting out of all
distractive cares and passions, which are professed
enemies to our quiet conversing with God in our
devotion, but there must be also a denudation of
the mind from all those images of our phantasy,
how pleasing soever, that may carry our thoughts
aside from those better objects. We are like to
foolish children, who, when they should be sted-
1 Ps. xxvi. 6. 2 Exod. xix. 13.

126 the devout soul.
fastly looking on their books, are apt to gaze after
every butterfly that passeth by them. Here must
be, therefore, a careful intention1 of our thoughts ;
a restraint from all vain and idle rovings ; and a
holding ourselves close to our divine task. While
Martha is troubled about many things, her devouter
sister, having chosen the better part, plies the one
thing necessary, which shall never be taken from
her; and, while Martha would feast Christ with
bodily fare, she is feasted of Christ with heavenly
delicacies. After the heart is thus cleansed and thus
cleared, it must be in the next place decked with
true humility, the cheapest, yet best ornament of
the soul.
If the wise man tells us, that " pride is the be
ginning of sin,"2 surely all gracious dispositions
must begin in humility. The foundation of all
high and stately buildings must be laid low. They
are the lowly vallies that soak in the showers of
heaven, which the steep hills shelve off, and prove
dry and fruitless : ' To that man will I look,' saith
God, ' that is poor, and of a contrite spirit, and
trembleth at my word.'3 Hence it is that the
more eminent any man is in grace, the more
he is dejected in the sight of God. The father
of the faithful comes to God under the style of
'dust and ashes;'4 David, under the style of 'a
worm and no man;'4 Agur, the son of Jakeh,
under the title of ' more brutish than any man ;
and one that hath not the understanding of a

Fixedness. — Ed. 2 Ecclus. x. 13,
Is. lxvi. 2. * Gen. xviii. 27.
5 Ps. x. 6.

the devout soul. 127
man ;' ' John Baptist, ' as not worthy to carry the
shoes of Christ after him ;'2 Paul, as 'the least of
saints, and chief of sinners.'3 On the contrary,
the more vile any man is in his own eyes, and the
more dejected in the sight of God, the higher he
is exalted in God's favour ; like as the conduit-
water, by how much lower it falls, the higher it
riseth. When, therefore, we would appear before God in
our solemn devotions, we must see that we empty
ourselves of all proud conceits, and find our hearts
fully convinced of our own vileness, yea, nothing
ness in his sight. Down, down with all our high
thoughts ; fall we low, before our great and holy
God, not to the earth only, but to the very brim of
hell, in the conscience of our own guiltiness ; for,
though the miserable wretchedness of our nature
may be a sufficient cause of our humiliation, yet
the consideration of our detestable sinfulness is
that which will depress us lowest in the sight of
God. It is fit the exercise of our devotion should
begin in an humble confessiori of our unworthi-
ness. Now for the effectual furtherance of this our
self-dejection, it will be requisite to bend our eyes
upon a threefold object; to look inward into our
selves ; upward to heaven ; downward to hell.
First, to turn our eyes into our bosoms, and
to take a view, not without a secret self-loathing of
that world of corruption that hath lain hidden
there ; and thereupon, to accuse, arraign, and con
demn ourselves before that awful tribunal of the
Judge of heaven and earth ; both of that original
1 Prov. xxx. 2. 2 Matt. in. 11. 3 1 Tim. i. 15.

128 the devout soul.
pollution, which we have drawn from the tainted
loins of our first parents, and those innumerable
actual wickednesses derived therefrom which have
stained our persons and lives. How can we be but
thoroughly humbled, to see our souls utterly over
spread with the odious and abominable leprosy of
sin ? We find that Uzziah bore up stoutly awhile
against the priests of the Lord, in the maintenance
of his sacrilegious presumption ; but when he saw
himself turned lazar, on the sudden he is con
founded in himself, and, in a depth of shame,
hastens away from the presence of God to a sad
and penitential retiredness. [ We should need no
other arguments to loath ourselves than the sight
of our own faces, so miserably deformed with
the filthy and hateful scurf of our iniquity.
Neither only must we be content to shame and
grieve our eyes with the foul nature and condition
of our sins, but we must represent them to our
selves in all the circumstances that may aggravate
their heinousness. " Alas, Lord, any one sin is
able to damn a soul ; I have committed many, yea,
numberless; they nave not possessed me single;
but, as that evil spirit said, their name is Legion.
Neither have I committed these sins once, but
often. Thine angels, that were, sinned but once,
and are damned for ever: I have frequently reite
rated the same offences : where then, were it not
for thy mercy, shall I appear ? Neither have I
only done them in the time of my ignorance, but
since I received sufficient illumination from thee;
it is not in the dark that I have stumbled and
fallen, but in the midst of the clear light and sun-
1 2 Chron. xxvi.

the devout soul. 129
shine of the gospel, and in the very face of thee
my God. Neither have these been the slips of my
weakness, but the bold miscarriages of my pre
sumption. Neither have I offended out of inconsi-
deration and inadvertency, but after and against
the checks of a remurmuring conscience ; after so
many gracious warnings and fatherly admonitions;
after so many fearful examples of thy judgments ;
after so many infinite obligations of thy favours."
And thus having looked inward into ourselves,
and taken an impartial view of our own vile-
ness, it will be requisite to cast our eyes upward
unto heaven, and there to see against whom we
have offended, even against an Infinite Majesty
and Power, an Infinite Mercy, an Infinite Justice; —
that Power and Majesty which hath 'spread out the
heavens as a curtain; and hath laid the foundations
of the earth so sure that it cannot be moved ; who
hath shut up the sea with bars and doors, and
said, Hitherto shalt thou come and no further, and
here shalt thou Stay thy proud waves;'1 who doeth
whatsoever he will in heaven and in earth; who
commandeth the devils to their chains ; able, there
fore, to take infinite vengeance on sinners ; — that
merc-y of God the Father, who gave his own Son
out of his bosom for our redemption ; that mercy of
God the Son, who, ' thinking it no robbery to be
equal unto God, for our sakes made himself of no
reputation, and took upon him the form of a ser
vant; and, being found in fashion as a man, humbled
himself and became obedient to the death, even the
accursed death of the cross ;' 2 — that mercy of God
the Holy Ghost, who hath made that Christ mine
1 Ps. civ. 2; Job, xxxviii. 4—11. Phil. ii. 6, 7, 8.
K

130 THE DEVOUT SOUL.
and hath sealed to my soul the benefit of that
blessed redemption ; — lastly, that justice of God,
which, as it is infinitely displeased with every sin,
so will be sure to take infinite vengeance on every
impenitent sinner.
And, from hence, it will be fit and seasonable
for the devout soul to look downward into that
horrible pit of eternal confusion ; and there to see
the dreadful, unspeakable, unimaginable tormentsof
the damned : to represent unto itself the terrors of
those everlasting burnings ; the fire and brimstone
of that infernal Tophet ; the merciless and unwea-
riable tyranny of those hellish executioners ; the
shrieks and howlings and gnashings of the tor
mented ; the unpitiable, interminable, unmitigable
tortures of those ever-dying, and yet never-dying
souls. By all which we shall justly affright our
selves into a deep sense of the dangerous and woe
ful condition, wherein we lie in the state of nature
and impenitence ; and shall be driven with a holy
eagerness to seek for Christ, the Son of the ever-
living God, our blessed Mediator, in and by whom
only we can look for the remission of all these our
sins, a reconcilement with this most powerful,
merciful, just God, and a deliverance of our souls
from the hand of the nethermost hell.
It shall not now need or boot to bid the soul
which is truly apprehensive of all these, to sue im
portunately to the Lord of Life for a freedom and
rescue from these infinite pains of eternal death to
which our sins have forfeited it, and for a present
happy recovery of that favour which is better than
life. Have we heard, or can we imagine some
heinous malefactor that hath received the sentence
of death, and is now bound hand and foot, ready

THE DEVOUT SOUL. 131
to be cast into a den of lions or a burning furnace ;
with what strong cries and passionate obsecrations
he plies the judge for mercy ? We may then con
ceive some little image of the vehement suit and
strong cries of a soul truly sensible of the danger
of God's wrath deserved by his sin, and the dread
ful consequents of deservedi imminent damnation :
although, what proportion is there betwixt a weak
creature and the Almighty? betwixt a moment
and eternity ?
Hereupon, therefore, follows a vehement long
ing, uncapable of a denial after Christ, and fer
vent aspirations to that Saviour by whom only
we receive a full and gracious deliverance from
death and hell, and a full pardon and remission of
all our sins; and, if this come not the sooner,
strong knockings at the gates of heaven ; even so
loud, that the Father of Mercies cannot but hear
and open. Never did any contrite soul beg of God
that was not prevented by his mercy : much more
doth he condescend when he is strongly entreated.
Our very entreaties are from him ; he puts into us
those desires which he graciously answers. Now,
therefore, doth the devout soul see the God of all
comfort to bow the heavens, and come down with
healing in his wings ; and hear him speak peace
unto the heart thus thoroughly humbled : ' Fear
not ; thou shall not die, but live. Be of good
cheer : thy sins are forgiven thee.' He therefore
comes in that divine grace of faith, effectually ap
prehending Christ the Saviour, and his infinite
satisfaction and merits ; comfortably applying all
the sweet promises of the gospel, clinging close to
that all-sufficient Redeemer, and in his most per
fect obedience emboldening itself to challenge a
k2

132 THE DEVOUT SOUL.
freedom of access to God, and confidence of ap
pearance before the tribunal of heaven. And now
the soul, clad with Christ's righteousness, dares
look God in the face ; and can both challenge and
triumph over all the powers of darkness; for, 'Being
justified by faith, we have peace with God through
Jesus Christ our Lord.' l
By how much deeper the sense of our misery
and danger is, so much more welcome and joy
ful is the apprehension of our deliverance; and
so much more thankful is our acknowledgment of
that unspeakable mercy. The soul, therefore, that
is truly sensible of this wonderful goodness of its
God, as it feels a marvellous joy in itself, so it
cannot but break forth into cheerful and holy, though
secret gratulations : ' The Lord is full of compas
sion and mercy, long-suffering, and of great good
ness : he keepeth not his anger for ever : he hath not
dealt with me after my sins, nor rewarded me after
my iniquities.' 'What shall I render unto the
Lord for all his benefits towards me ? I will take
the cup of salvation, and call upon the name of the
Lord. 'I will thank thee; for thou hast heard
me, and hast not given me over to death, but art
become my salvation.' ' Oh, speak good of the
Lord, all ye works of his: praise thou the Lord, O
my soul.'2
The more feelingly the soul apprehends, and
the more thankfully it digests the favours of God
in its pardon and deliverance, the more freely doth
the God of Mercy impart himself to it; and the
more God imparts himself to it, the more it loves
1 Rom. v. 1.
2 Psalms, ciii. 8—10; cxvi. 12, 13; cxviii. 18, 21 ; ciii 22.

THE DEVOUT SOUL. 133
him, and the more heavenly acquaintance and
entireness grows between God and it. And now
that love, which was but a spark at first, grows
into a flame, and wholly takes up the soul. This
fire of heavenly love in the devout soul, is and
must be heightened more and more, by the addi
tion of the holy incentives of divine thoughts, con
cerning the means of our freedom and deliver
ance. And here offers itself to us that bottomless abyss
of mercy in our redemption, wrought by the eternal
Son of God, Jesus Christ the just, by whose stripes
we are healed ; by whose blood we are ransomed ;
where none will befit us but admiring and adoring
notions. We shall not disparage you, O ye blessed
angels and archangels of heaven, if we shall say,
ye are not able to look into the bottom of this divine
love, wherewith ' God so loved the world, that he
gave his only begotten Son, that whosoever believeth
in him should not perish, but have everlasting
life.' ' None, oh ! none can comprehend this mercy,
but he that wrought it. Lord! what a trans
cendent, what an infinite love is this ! what an
object was this for thee to love ! A world of
sinners ! Impotent, wretched creatures, that had
despited thee ; that had no motive for thy favour
but deformity, misery, professed enmity ! It had
been mercy enough in thee, that thou didst not
damn the world ; but that thou shouldest love
it, is more than mercy. It was thy great goodness
to forbear the acts of just vengeance to the sinful
world of man ; but to give unto it tokens of thy love,
is a favour beyond all expression. The least gift
1 John, iii. 16.

134 THE DEVOUT SOUL.
from thee had been more than the world could hope
for ; but that thou shouldest not stick to give thine
only begotten Son, the Son of thy love, the Son of
thine essence, thy co-equal, co-eternal Son, who
was more than ten thousand worlds, to redeem this
one forlorn world of sinners, is love above all com
prehension of men and angels. What diminution
had it been to thee and thine essential glory, 0
thou great God of heaven, that the souls that sin
ned should have died and perished everlastingly ?
yet, so infinite was thy loving mercy, that thou
wouldest rather give thine only Son out of thy
bosom, than that there should not be a redemption
for believers.
Yet, O God, hadst thou sent down thy Son to
this lower region of earth, upon such terms as that
he might have brought down heaven with him ;
that he might have come in the port and majesty
of a God, clothed with celestial glory, to have daz
zled our eyes, and to have drawn all hearts unto
him; this might have seemed, in some measure,
to have sorted with his divine magnificence : but
thou wouldest have him to appear in the wretched
condition of our humanity. Yet, even thus, hadst
thou sent him into the world in the highest estate
and pomp of royalty that earth could afford ; that
all the kings and monarchs of the world should
have been commanded to follow his train, and to
glitter in his court, and that the knees of all the
potentates of the earth should have bowed to his
sovereign Majesty, and their lips have kissed his
dust ; this might have carried some kind of appear
ance of a state next to divine greatness : but thou
wouldest have him come in the despised form of a
servant. And thou, O blessed Jesu, wast accord-

THE DEVOUT SOUL. 135
ingly willing, for our sakes, to submit thyself to naked
ness, hunger, thirst, weariness, temptation, contempt,
betraying, agonies, scorn, bufferings, scourgings,
distention, crucifixion, death : O love above mea
sure, without example, beyond admiration ! ' Greats
er love,' thou sayest, ' hath no man than this, that
a man lay down his life for his friends;' but, oh,
what is it then, that thou, who wert God and man,
shouldest lay down thy life, more precious than
many worlds, for thine enemies ! Yet, had it been
but the laying down of a life in a. fair and gentle
way, there might have been some mitigation of
the sorrow of a dissolution. There is not more
difference betwixt life and death, than there may
be betwixt some one kind of death and another.
Thine, O dear Saviour, was the painful, shameful,
cursed death of the cross ; wherein yet all that
man could do into thee was nothing to that in
ward torment which, in our stead, thou enduredst
from thy Father's wrath ; when, ¦ in the bitterness
of thine anguished soul, thou criedst out, ' My
God, my God, why hast thou forsaken me ?' Even
thus, thus wast thou content to be forsaken, that
we wretched sinners might be received to mercy.
O love, stronger than death, which thou vanquished !
more high, than that hell is deep, from which thou
hast rescued us !
The sense of this infinite love of God cannot
choose but ravish the soul, and cause it to go
out of itself into that Saviour who hath wrought
so mercifully for it ; so as it may be nothing in
itself, but what it hath, or is, may be Christ's.
By the sweet powers, therefore, of faith and love,
the soul finds itself united unto Christ feelingly,
effectually, indivisibly; so as that it is not to be

136 THE DEVOUT SOUL.
distinguished betwixt the acts of both. ' To me to
live is Christ,' " saith the blessed apostle ; and, else
where, ' I live ; yet not I, but Christ liveth in me :
and the life, which now I live in the flesh, I live
by the faith of the Son of God, who loved me, and
gave himself for me.'2 ' My beloved is mine, and
I am his,'3 saith the spouse of Christ, in her bridal
song. O blessed union, next to the hypostatical,
whereby the human nature of the Son of God is
taken into the participation of the eternal God
head !
Out of the sense of this happy union, ariseth an
unspeakable complacency and delight of the soul
in that God and Saviour, who is thus inseparably
ours, and by whose union we are blessed; and a
high appreciation of him, above all the world ;
and a contemptuous under- valuation of all earthly
things in comparison of him. And this is no other
than a heavenly reflection of that sweet content
ment which the God of mercies takes in the faith
ful soul: 'Thou hast ravished my heart, my sister,
my spouse ; thou hast ravished my heart, with
one of thine eyes.' ' Thou art beautiful, O my
love, as Tirzah ; comely as Jerusalem. Turn away
thine eyes from me, for they have overcome me.
' How fair is thy love, my sister, my spouse ! How
much better is thy love than wine, and the smell
of thine ointment better than all spices?' And
the soul answers him again in the same language
of spiritual dearness : ' My beloved is white and
ruddy, the chiefest among ten thousand.' ' Set
me as a seal upon thy heart ; as a seal upon thine
arm : for love is as strong as death ;'4 and, as in
1 Phil. i. 21. 2 Gal. ii. 20. 3 Cant. ii. 16.
J Cant. iv. 9 ; vi, 4, 5 ; iv. 10; v. 10 ; viii. 6.

THE DEVOUT SOUL. 137
an ecstatical fit of passionate affection ; ' Stay me
with flagons, and comfort me with apples ; for I
am sick of love.' '
Upon this gracious complacency will follow an
absolute self-resignation, or giving up ourselves
to the hands of that good God whose we are, and
who is ours ; and an humble contentedness with his
good pleasure in all things ; looking upon God with
the same face, whether be smile upon us in his
favours, or chastise us with his loving corrections.
If he speak good unto us, 'Behold the servant of the
Lord; be it unto me according to thy word : if evil,
it is the Lord ; let him do whatsoever he will.' Here
is therefore a cheerful acquiescence in God, and a
hearty reliance, and casting ourselves upon the
mercy of so bountiful a God, who having given us
his Son, can in and with him deny us nothing.
Upon this subacted2 disposition of heart, will
follow a familiar, yet awful, compellation3 of
God and an emptying of our souls before him in
all our necessities ; for that God, who is infinitely
merciful, yet will not have his favours otherwise
conveyed to us, than by our supplications. The
style of his dear ones is, ' His people, that prayeth ; '
and his own style is, 'The God, that heareth pray
ers.' To him, therefore, doth the devout heart pour
out all his requests, with all true humility, with
all fervour of spirit ; as knowing that God will
hear neither proud prayers, nor heartless. Wherein
his holy desires are regulated by a just method;
first suing for spiritual favours, as most worthy,
then for temporal, as the appendages of better ;
1 Cant. ii. 5. 2 Subdued.— Ed. 3 Calling upon.— Ed.

138 THE DEVOUT SOUL.
and in both, aiming at the glory of our good God,
more than our own advantage. And in the order
of spiritual things, first and most for those that
are most necessary and essential for our soul's
health, than for secondary graces, that concern the
prosperity and comfort of our spiritual life ; abso
lutely craving those graces that accompany salva
tion ; all others, conditionally, and with reference
to the good pleasure of the munificent giver.
Wherein, heed must be taken that our thoughts
be not so much taken up with our expressions, as
with onr desires ; and that we do not suffer our
selves to languish into an unfeeling length and re
petition of our suits. Even the hands of a Moses
may in time grow heavy : so therefore must we
husband our spiritual strength that our devotion
may not flag with over-tiring ; but may be most
vigorous at the last. And as we must enter into
our prayers, not without preparatory elevations, so
must we be careful to take a meet leave of God at
their shutting up ; following our supplications
with the pause of a faithful and most lowly adora
tion, and, as it were, sending up our hearts into
heaven, to see how our prayers are taken, and
raising them to a joyful expectation of a graci
ous and successful answer from the Father of mer
cies. Upon the comfortable feeling of a gracious con-
descent, follows a happy fruition of God in all
his favours ; so as we have not them, so much as
God in them; which advanceth their worth a thou
sand fold, and, as it were, brings down heaven upon
us. Whereas, therefore, the sensual man rests only
in the mere use of any blessing, as health, peace,

THE DEVOUT SOUL. 139
prosperity, knowledge, and reacheth no higher;
the devout soul in and through all these, sees and
feels a God that sanctifies them to him, and en
joys therein his favour that is better than life. Even
we men are wont, out of our good nature, to
esteem a benefit, not so much for its own worth, as
for the love and respect of the giver; small legacies,
for this cause, find dear acceptation : how much
more is it so betwixt God and the devout soul ! It
is the sweet apprehension of his love that makes
all his gifts blessings. Do we not see some vain
churl, though cried down by the multitude, herein
secretly applauding himself that he hath bags at
home ? how much more shall the godly man find
comfort against all the crosses of the world, that he
is possessed of Him that possesseth all things, even
God all-sufficient; the pledges of whose infinite
love he feels in all the whole course of God's deal
ing with him !
Out of the true sense of this inward fruition
of God, the devout soul breaks forth into cheer
ful thanksgivings to the God of all comfort ; prais
ing him for every evil that it is free from, for
every good thing that it enjoyeth ; for as it keeps
a just inventory of all God's favours, so it often
spreads them thankfully before him, and lays them
forth, so near as it may, in the full dimensions ; that
so God may be no loser by him in any act of his
benificence. Here, therefore, every of God's benefits
must come into account; whether eternal or tempo-.
ral, spiritual or bodily, outward or inward, public or
private, positive or negative, past or present, upon
ourselves or others : in all which he shall humbly
acknowledge both God's free mercy, and his own

140 THE DEVOUT SOUL.
shameful unworthiness ; setting off the favours of
his good God the more, with the foil of his own
confessed wretchedness, and unanswerableness to
the least of his mercies.
Now, as there is infinite variety of blessings from
the liberal hand of the Almighty, so there is great
difference in their degrees ; for, whereas there are
three subjects of all the good we are capable of —
the estate, body, soul ; and each of these does far
surpass other in value, the soul being infinitely
more worth than the body, and the body far more pre
cious than the outward estate ; so the blessings that
appertain to them in several, differ in their true
estimation accordingly. If either we do not highly
magnify God's mercy for the least, or shall set as
high a prize upon the blessings that concern our
estate as those that pertain to the body, or upon
bodily favours as upon those that belong to the
soul, we shall show ourselves very unworthy and
unequal partakers of the divine bounty. But it
will savour too much of earth, if we be more affected
with temporal blessings than with spiritual and
eternal. By how much nearer relation then any
favour hath to the fountain of goodness, and by
how much more it conduceth to the glory of God,
and ours in him, so much higher place should
it possess in our affection and gratitude. No
marvel therefore, if the devout heart be raised
above itself, and transported with heavenly rap
tures, when, with Stephen's eyes, it beholds the Lord
Jesus standing at the right hand of God, fixing itself
upon the consideration of the infinite merits of his
life, death, resurrection, ascension, intercession ;
and finding itself swallowed up in the depth of that

THE DEVOUT SOUL. 141
divine love, from whence all mercies flow into the
soul, so as that it runs over with passionate thank
fulness ; and is therefore deeply affected with all
other his mercies, because they are derived from
that boundless ocean of divine goodness.
Unspeakable is the advantage that the soul raises
to itself by this continual exercise of thanksgiving ;
for the grateful acknowledgment of favours is the
way to more. Even amongst men whose hands
are short and strait, this is the means to pull no
further benificence; how much more from the
God of all consolation, whose largest bounty dimi-
nisheth nothing of his store ! And herein the de
vout soul enters into its heavenly task, beginning
upon earth those hallelujahs which it shall perfect
above, in the blessed choir of saints and angels ;
ever praising God, and saying, ' Blessing, and
glory, and wisdom, and thanksgiving, and honour,
and power, and might, be unto our God, for ever
and ever.' Amen.

Sect. 2. — Of our reading and hearing God's word.
None of all the services of God can be acceptably,
nor not unsinfully performed, without due devotion.
As therefore in our prayers and thanksgivings, so
in the other exercises of divine worship, especially
in the reading and hearing of God's word, and in
our receipt of the blessed sacrament ; it is so neces
sary, that without it we offer to God a mere carcass
of religious duty, and profane that sacred name we
would pretend to honour.
First, then, we must come to God's book, not

142 THE DEVOUT SOUL.
without a holy reverence, as duly considering both
what and whose it is ; even no other than the word
of the ever-liviDg God, by which we shall once be
judged. Great reason have we therefore to make a
difference betwixt it and the writings of the holiest
men; even no less than betwixt the authors of both.
God is true; yea, truth itself; and that which David
said in bis haste, St. Paul said in full deliberation:
' Every man is a liar.'1
Before we put our hand to this sacred volume, it
will be requisite to elevate our hearts to that God
whose it is, for both his leave and his blessing.
' Open mine eyes,' says the sweet singer in Israel,
'that I may behold the wondrous things of thy
law.' 2 Lo, David's eyes were open before to other
objects, but when he comes to God's book he can
see nothing without a new act of apertion :3 letters
he might see, but wonders he could not see, till
God did unclose his eyes and enlighten them. It
is not, therefore, for us presumptuously to break in
upon God, and to think, by our natural abilities, to
wrest open the precious caskets of the Almighty,
and to fetch out all his treasure thence at plea
sure; but we must come tremblingly before him,
and in all humility crave his gracious admission.
I confess I find some kind of envy in myself,
when I read of those scrupulous observances of
high respects given by the Jews to the book of
God's law, and when I read of a Romish saint4 that
never read the scriptures but upon his knees, and
compare it with the careless neglect whereof I can
accuse myself, and perhaps some others. Not that
1 Psalm cxvi. 11 ; Rom. iii. 4. s Psalm cxix. 18,
3 Opening.— Ed. * Carolus Boromaeus.

THE DEVOUT SOUL. 143
we should rest in the formality of outward ceremo
nies of reverence, wherein it were more easy to be
superstitious than devout; but that our outward
deportment may testify and answer the awful dis
position of our hearts. Whereto we shall not
need to be excited, if we be thoroughly persuaded
of the divine original and authority of that sacred
word. It was motive enough to the Ephesians, zea
lously to plead for and religiously to adore the
image of their Diana, that it was ' the image that
fell down from Jupiter.'1 Believe we and know
that the scripture is inspired by God, and we can
entertain it with no other than an awful address ;
and we cannot be Christians if we do not so be
lieve. Every clause therefore of that God-inspired
volume must be as reverently received by us, so
seriously weighed and carefully laid up, as knowing
that there is no tittle there without his use. What
we read, we must labour to understand ; what we
cannot understand, we must admire silently, and
modestly inquire of. There are plain truths ; and
there are deep mysteries. The bounty of God hath
left this well of living water open for all : what runs
over is for all comers; but every one hath not
wherewith to draw. There is no Christian that
may not enjoy God's book ; but every Christian
may not interpret it. Those shallow fords that are
in it may be waded by every passenger ; but there
are deeps wherein he that cannot swim may drown.
' How can I without a guide ?' said that Ethiopian
eunuch. Wherefore serves the tongue of the learn
ed, but to direct the ignorant ? Their modesty is
i.1 Acts, xix. 35.

144 THE DEVOUT SOUL.
of no less use than the others' skill. It is a woeful
condition of a church when no man will be igno
rant.1 What service can our eyes do us in the ways of
God without our thoughts ? Our diligent and fre
quent reading, therefore, must be attended with our
holy meditation. We feed on what we read ; but
we digest only what we meditate of. What is
in our bible is God's; but that which is in our
hearts is our own. By all which, our care must be,
not so much to become wiser, as to become better;
labouring still to reduce all things to godly prac
tice. Finally, as we enter into this task with the lift
ing up of our hearts for a blessing, so we shut it up
in the ejaculations of our thanksgiving to that God,
who hath blessed us with the free use of his word.
(2.) Our eye is our best guide to God our Crea
tor; but our ear is it that leads us to God our
Redeemer. ' How shall they believe, except they
hear ?' Which that we may effectually do, our
devotion suggests unto us some duties before we
act, some in the act, some after the act.
It is the apostle's charge, that we should be
( swift to hear ;' but heed must be taken that we
make not more haste than good speed. We may
not be so forward, as not to look to our foot when
we go to the house of God ; lest, if we be too ready to
hear, we offer the sacrifice of fools.2 What are the
1 The remarkable applicability of some passages in these
writings to the state Of our own times we must ascribe, not
merely to the comprehensive mind which gave them birth, but
to an actual resemblance, in some habits of Slinking at least, be
tween the present period and the nearly corresponding portion
of the seventeenth century. — Ed.
2 Eccl. v. I.

THE DEVOUT SOUL. 145
feet of the soul, but our affections ? If these be not
set right, we may easily stumble and wrench at
God's threshold. Rash actions can never hope to
prosper. As, therefore, to every great work, so to
this, there is a due preparation required ; and this
must be done by meditation first, then by prayer.
Our meditation first sequesters the heart from
the world, and shakes off those distinctive thoughts
which may carry us away from these better
things. For what room is there for God where the
world hath taken up the lodging ? ' We cannot
serve God and mammon.' Then, secondly, it seizes
upon the heart for God, fixing our thoughts upon
the great business we go about ; recalling the great
ness of that Majesty into whose presence we enter,
and the main importance of the service we are un
dertaking; and examining our intentions where
with we address ourselves to the work intended :
" I am now going to God's house ; wherefore do I
go thither ? Is it to see, or to be seen ? Is it to
satisfy my own curiosity in hearing what the
preacher will say ? Is it to satisfy the law, that
requires my presence ? Is it to please others eyes,
or to avoid their censures ? Is it for fashion ? Is
it for recreation ? Or is it with a sincere desire to
do my soul good, in gaining more knowledge, in
quickening my affections ? Is it in a desire to ap
prove myself to my God, in the conscience of my
humble obedience to his command, and my holy
attendance upon his ordinance ?" And where we
find our ends amiss, chiding and rectifying our
obliquities ; where just and right, prosecuting them
towards a further perfection.
Which that it may be done, our meditation
must be seconded by our prayers. It is an unholy

146 THE DEVOUT SOUL.
rudeness to press into the presence of that God
whom we have not invoked. Our prayers must be;
that God would yet more prepare us for the work,
and sanctify us to it, and bless us in it; that he
would remove our sins ; that he would send down
his Spirit into our hearts, which may enable us to
this great service ; that he would bless the preacher
in the delivery of his sacred message ; that he would
be pleased to direct his messenger's tongue to the
meeting with our necessities ; that he would free
our hearts from all prejudices and distractions;
that he would keep off all temptations, which might
hinder the good entertainment and success of his
blessed word ; finally, that he would make us truly
teachable, and his ordinance the power of God to
our salvation.
In the act of hearing, devotion calls us to reve
rence, attention, application.
Reverence to that great God, who speaks to
us by the mouth of a weak man ; for, in what is
spoken from God's chair agreeable to the scriptures,
the sound is man's, the substance of the message is
God's. Even an Eglon, when he hears of a mes
sage from God, riseth out of his seat.1 It was not
St. Paul's condition only, but of all his faithful ser
vants, to whom he had committed the word of re
conciliation : they ' are ambassadors for Christ; as
if God did beseech us by them, they pray us, in
Christ's stead, to be reconciled to God.' 2 The em
bassy is not the bearer's, but the king's ; and if we
do not acknowledge the great King of heaven in
the voice of the gospel, we cannot but incur a con
tempt. When, therefore, we see God's messenger
1 Judges, iii. 20. 2 2 Cor. v. 20.

THE DEVOUT SOUL. 147
in his pulpit, our eye looks at him, as if it said with
Cornelius, 'We are all here present before God, to
hear all things that are commanded thee of God.' '-
Whence cannot but follow, together with an awful
disposition of mind, a reverent deportment of the
body ; which admits not a wild and roving eye, a
drowsy head, a chatting tongue, a rude and inde
cent posture, but composes itself to such a site as
may best befit a pious soul in so religious an em
ployment. Neither do we come as authorized
judges, to sit upon the preacher; but as humble
disciples, to sit at his feet.
Reverence cannot but draw on attention. We
need not be bidden to hang on the lips of him
whom we honour. It is the charge of the Spirit,
' Let him that hath an ear, hear :' every one hath
not an ear; and of those that have an ear, every
one heareth not. The soul hath an ear as well as
the body ; if both these ears do not meet together
in one act, there is no hearing. Common experi
ence tells us, that when the mind is otherwise taken
up, we do no more hear what a man says, than if
we had been deaf, or he silent. Hence is that first
request of Abigail to David, ' Let thy handmaid
speak to thine ears; and hear the words of thy
handmaid:'2 and Job so importunately urgeth his
friends, ' Hear diligently my speech and my decla
ration with your ears.'3 The outward ear may be
open, and the inward shut : if way be not made
through both, we are deaf to spiritual things.
' Mine ear hast thou bored,' or ' digged,' saith the
Psalmist ; the Vulgate reads it, ' Mine ears hast

1 Acts, x, 33. 2 1 Sam. xxv. 24.
3 Job, xiii. 17.
L 2

148 THE DEVOUT SOUL.
thou perfected.' ' Surely our ears are grown up
with flesh ; there is no passage for a perfect hearing
of the voice of God, till we have made it by a spiri
tual perforation.
And now that the ear is made capable of good
counsel, it doth as gladly receive it ; taking in every
good lesson, and longing for the next ; like unto
the dry and chopped earth, which soaks in every
silver drop that falls from the clouds, and thirsteth
for more, not suffering any of that precious liquor
to fall beside it.
Neither doth the devout man care to satisfy his
curiosity as hearing only that he might hear ; but
reducts2 all things to a saving use, bringing all
he hears home to his heart by a self-reflecting ap
plication ; like a practicer of the art of memory, re
ferring everything to its proper place. If it be
matter of comfort : " There is for my sick-bed ;
there is for my outward losses ; there for my droop
ing under afflictions ; there for the sense of my
spiritual desertions." If matter of doctrine, " There
is for my settlement in such a truth ; there for the
conviction of such an error ; there for my direction
in such a practice." If matter of reproof, he doth
not point at his neighbour, but deeply chargeth
himself: "This meets with my dead-heartedness
and security ; this with my worldly-mindedness ;
this with my self-love and flattery of mine own
estate; this with my uncharitable censoriousness ;
this with my foolish pride of heart ; this with my
hypocrisy ; this with my neglect of God's services
and my duty." Thus, in all the variety of the holy
passages of the sermon, the devout mind is taken
1 Psalm, xl. 6. 2 Reduces. — Ed.

THE DEVOUT SOUL. 149
up with digesting what it hears, and working itself
to a secret improvement of all the good counsel that
is delivered ; neither is ever more busy than when
it sits still at the feet of Christ.
I cannot therefore approve the practice, (which
yet I see commonly received,) of those who think it
no small argument of their devotion to spend their
time of hearing in writing large notes from the
mouth of the preacher ; which, however it may be
a help for memory in the future, yet cannot, as I
conceive, but be some prejudice to our present edi
fication; neither can the brain get so much hereby
as the heart loseth. If it be said, that by this
means, an opportunity is given for a full rumina
tion of wholesale doctrines afterwards, I yield it ;
but withal I may say, that our after-thoughts can
never do the work so effectually as when the lively
voice sounds in our ears and beats upon our heart :
but herein I submit my opinion to better judg
ments. The food that is received into the soul by the
ear, is afterwards chewed in the mouth 'thereof
by memory, concocted in the stomach by medita
tion, and dispersed into the parts by conference
and practice.
True devotion finds the greatest part of the work
behind. It was a just answer, that John Gerson
reports,1 given by a Frenchman, who, being asked
by one of his neighbours if the sermon were done :
" No," saith he, " it is said, but it is not done ;
neither will be, I fear, in haste." What are we
the better, if we hear and remember not ? If we
be such auditors as the Jews were wont to call
1 Serin, ad Eccles. Cautelam.

150 THE DEVOUT SOUL.
sieves, that retain no moisture that is poured into
them ? What the better, if we remember, but think
not seriously of what we hear, or if we practise not
carefully what we think of ? Not that which we
hear is our own ; but that which we carry away.
Although all memories are not alike ; one re
ceives more easily, another retains longer. It is
not for every one to hope to attain to that ability
that he can go away with the whole fabric of a ser
mon, and readily recount it unto others ; neither
doth God require that of any man which he hath
not given him. Our desires and endeavours may
not be wanting where our powers fail. It will be
enough for weak memories if they can so lay up
those wholesome counsels which they receive, as
that they may fetch them forth when they have
occasion to use them ; and that what they want in
the extent of memory, they supply in the care of their
practice. Indeed that is it wherein lies the life of all
religious duties ; and, without which, they are but
idle formalities. That which the philosopher said of
all virtue, I must say of true godliness — that it
consists in action. Our Saviour did not say,
' Blessed are ye, if you know these things ;' but,
' If ye know these things, blessed are ye if ye do
them.' The end of our desire of the sincere milk of
the gospel is, that we may grow thereby in the
stature of all grace unto the fulness of God.1
1 1 Pet. ii. 2; Eph. iii. 19.

THE DEVOUT SOUL. 151
SECTION III.
Of our Receipt of the Blessed Sacraments.
The highest of all God's services are his sacra
ments ; which therefore require the most eminent
acts of our devotion.
The sacrament of initiation, which, in the first
planting of a church, is administered only to those
of riper age and understanding, calls for all possi
ble reverence and religious addresses of the re
ceivers; wherein the primitive times were punc
tually observant, both for substance and ceremony.
Now, in a settled and perpetuated church, in which
the virtue of the covenant descends from the parent
to the child, there seems to he no use of our prepa
ratory directions ; only it is fit that our devotion
should call our eyes back to what we have done in
our infancy, and whereto we are ever obliged; that
our full age may carefully endeavour to make our
word good, and may put us in mind of our sinful
failings. That other sacrament of our spiritual nourish
ment, which our Saviour, as his farewell, left us
for a blessed memorial of his death and passion,
can never be celebrated with enough devotion.
Far be it from us to come to this feast of our
God in our common garments ; the soul must be
trimmed up, if we would be irfeet guests for the
Almighty. The great Master of the Feast will
neither abide us to come naked nor ill clad. Away,
therefore, first with the old beastly rags of our
wonted corruptions. Due examination comes in
first, and thoroughly searches the soul ; and finds

152 THE DEVOUT SOUL.
out all the secret foulness and defilements that it
hides within it ; and, by the aid of true penitence,
strips it of all those loathsome clouts, wherewith it
was polluted. Sin may not be clothed upon with
grace. Joshua's filthy garments must be plucked
off, ere he can be capable of precious robes.1 Here
may be no place for our sinful lusts, for our covet
ous desires, for our natural infidelity, for our mali
cious purposes, for any of our unhallowed thoughts.
The soul, clearly divested of these and all other
known corruptions, must, in the next place, instead
thereof, be furnished with such graces and holy
pre-dispositions, as may fit it for so heavenly a work.
(1.) Amongst the graces requisite, Faith justly
challengeth the first place, as that which is both
most eminent, and necessarily presupposed to the
profitable receipt of this sacrament ; for, whereas
as the main end of this blessed banquet is the
strengthening of our faith, how should that re
ceive strength which hath not being ? To deli
ver these sacred viands to an unbeliever, is to
put meat into the mouth of a dead man. Now,
therefore, must the heart raise up itself to new acts
of believing, and must lay faster hold on Christ,
and bring him closer to the soul ; more strongly
applying to itself, the infinite merits of his most
perfect obedience, and of his bitter death and pas
sion, and erecting itself to a desire and expecta
tion of a more vigorous and lively apprehension of
its omnipotent Redeemer. Neither can this faith
be either dead or solitary ; but is still really opera
tive, and attended, as with other graces, so espe
cially with a serious repentance ; whose wonderful
power is, to undo our former sins, and to mould
1 Zech. iii. 4.

the devout soul. 153
the heart and life to a better obedience ; a grace so
necessary, that the want of it, as in extreme cor
ruption of the stomach, turns the wholesome food
into poison. An impenitent man therefore, com
ing to God's board, is so far from benefiting him
self, as that he eats his own judgment. Stand off
from this holy table, all ye that have not made
your peace with your God, or that harbour any
known sin in your bosom : not to eat is uncom
fortable, but to eat in such a state is deadly ; yet
rest not in this plea, that ye cannot come because
ye are unreconciled ; but as ye love your souls, be
reconciled that you may come.
Another grace necessarily pre-required, is cha
rity to our brethren, and readiness to forgive ; for
this is a communion, as with Christ the head, so
with all the members of his mystical body. This
is the true love- feast of God our Saviour; wherein
we profess ourselves inseparably united both to him
and his. If there be more hearts than one at God's
table, he will not own them. These holy elements
give us an emblem of ourselves : this bread is made
up of many grains, incorporated into one mass ;
and this wine is the confluent juice of many clus
ters; neither do we partake of several loaves, or
variety of liquors, but all eat of one bread, and
drink of one cup. Here is then no place for ran
cour and malice; none for secret grudgings and
heart-burnings : ' Therefore, if thou bring thy gift
to the altar, and there rememberest that thy bro
ther hath ought against thee, leave there thy gift,
and go thy way ; first be reconciled to thy brother,
and then come and offer thy gift.' ¦ Neither may
we do as those two emulous commanders of Greece
' Matt. v. 23, 24.

154 THE devout soul.
did, who resolved to leave their spite behind them
at Mount Athos, and to take it up again in their
return : here must be an absolute and free acquit
ting of all the back-reckonings of our unkindness,
that we may receive the God of Peace into a clear
bosom. (2.) Besides these graces, there are certain holy
predispositions; so necessary, that without them
our souls can never hope to receive true comfort in
this blessed sacrament.
Whereof the first is a hungering and thirsting
desire after these gracious means of our salvation.
What good will our meat do us without an appe
tite ? Surely without it there is no expectation of
either relish or digestion. As, therefore, those
that are invited to some great feast care first to
feed their hunger, ere they feed their body, labour
ing by exercise to get a stomach ere they employ
it; so it concerns us to do here : and, as those that
are listless and weak stomached, are wont to whet
their appetite with sharp sauces ; so must we, by
the tart applications of the law, quicken our de
sires of our Saviour here exhibited. Could we but
see our sins, and our miseries by sin ; could we
see God frowning, and hell gaping wide to swallow
us ; we should not need to be bidden to long for
our Deliverer; and every pledge of his favour
would be precious to us.
Upon the apprehension of our need of a Sa
viour, and so happy a supply thereof presented
unto us, must needs follow a renewed act of true
thankfulness of heart to our good God, that hath
both given us his dear Son to work our redemp
tion, and his blessed sacrament to seal up unto us
our redemption, thus wrought and purchased.

THE DEVOUT SOUL. 155
And with souls thus thankfully elevated unto
God, we approach, with all reverence, to that hea
venly table, where God is both the feast-master and
the feast. What intention of holy thoughts, what
fervour of spirit, what depth of devotion, must we
now find in ourselves ! Doubtless, out of heaven
no object can be so worthy to take up our hearts.
What a clear representation is here of the great
work of our redemption ! How is my Saviour, by
all my senses, here brought home to my soul!
How is his passion lively acted before mine eyes !
for lo, my bodily eye doth not more truly see bread
and wine, than the eye of my faith sees the body
and blood of my dear Redeemer: thus was his
sacred body torn and broken ; thus was his pre
cious blood poured out for me. My sins, wretched
man that I am ! helped thus to crucify my Saviour ;
and, for the discharge of my sins, would he be
thus crucified.
Neither did he only give himself for me upon
the cross; but lo, he both offers and gives him
self to me in this his blessed institution. What
had this general gift been without this appli
cation ? Now my hand doth not more sensibly
take, nor my mouth more really eat this bread,
than my soul doth spiritually receive and feed on
the bread of life. O Saviour, thou art the living
bread, that came down from heaven. Thy flesh is
meat indeed, and thy blood is drink indeed. Oh,
that I may so eat of this bread, that I may live for
ever ! He that cometh to thee, shall never hunger:
he that believeth in thee, shall never thirst. Oh,
that I could now so hunger and so thirst for thee,
that my soul could be for ever satisfied with thee !
Thy people of old were fed with manna in the wil-

156 THE DEVOUT SOUL.
derness ; yet they died ; that food of angels could
not keep them from perishing; but oh, for the
hidden Manna, which giveth life to the world,
even thy blessed self! Give me ever of this
bread, and my soul shall not die, but live. Oh,
the precious juice of the fruit of the vine,
wherewith thou refreshest my soul ! Is this the
blood of the grape ? Is it not rather thy blood of
the New Testament, that is poured out for me ?
Thou speakest, O Saviour, of new wine, that thou
wouldest drink with thy disciples in thy Father's
kingdom: can there be any more precious and
pleasant than this, wherewith thou cheerest the
believing soul ? Our palate is now dull and earthly,
which shall then be exquisite and celestial ; but,
surely, no liquor can be of equal price or sove
reignty with thy blood. Oh, how unsavoury are
all earthly delicacies to this heavenly draught ! O
God, let not the sweet taste of this spiritual nectar
ever go out of the mouth of my soul. Let the com
fortable warmth of this blessed cordial ever work
upon my soul, even till, and in, the last moment
of my dissolution.
Dost thou bid me, O Saviour, do this in remem
brance of thee ? oh, how can I forget thee ? how
can I enough celebrate thee, for this thy unspeak
able mercy ? Can I see thee thus crucified before
my eyes, and for my sake thus crucified, and not
remember thee ? Can I find my sins accessary to
this thy death, and thy death meritoriously ex
piating all these my grievous sins, and not remem
ber thee ? Can I hear thee freely offering thyself
to me, and feel thee graciously conveying thyself
into my soul, and not remember thee ? I do re
member thee, O Saviour: but, oh, that I could

THE DEVOUT SOUL. 157
yet more effectually remember thee — with all the
passionate affections of a soul sick of thy love ;
with all zealous desires to glorify thee ; with all
fervent longings after thee and thy salvation ! I
remember thee, in thy sufferings ; oh, do thou re
member me, in thy glory !
(3.) Having thus busied itself with holy thoughts
in the time of the celebration, the devout soul
breaks not off in an abrupt unmannerliness, with
out taking leave of the great Master of this hea
venly feast ; but, with a secret adoration, humbly
blesseth God for so great a mercy, and heartily re
solves and desires to walk worthy of the Lord Jesus,
whom it hath received; and to consecrate itself
wholly to the service of him that hath so dearly
bought it, and hath given it these pledges of its
eternal union with him.
(4.) The devout soul hath thus supped in hea
ven, and returns home ; yet the work is not thus
done ; after the elements are out of eye and
use, there remains a digestion of this celestial
food by holy meditation. And now it thinks,
oh, what a blessing have I received to-day ! No
less than my Lord Jesus, with all his merits ;
and, in and with him, the assurance of the re
mission of all sins, and everlasting salvation.
How happy am I, if I be not wanting to God
and myself! How unworthy shall I be, if I do
not strive to answer this love of my God and
Saviour, in all hearty affection, and in all holy
obedience !
And now, after this heavenly repast, how do I
feel myself? What strength, what advantage hath
my faith gotten ? How much am I nearer to heaven
than before ? How much faster hold have Itaken of

158 THE DEVOUT SOUL.
my blessed Redeemer ? How much more firm
and sensible is my interest in him ?
Neither are these thoughts and this examination
the work of the next instant only ; but they are such
as must dwell upon the heart, and must often soli
cit our memory and excite our practice, that by
this means we may frequently renew the efficacy
of this blessed sacrament, and our souls may bat
ten more and more with this spiritual nourishment,
and may be fed up to eternal life.

Sect. 4. — Specialties of Devotion.
These are the generalities of our devotion which
are of common use to all Christians. There are,
besides these, certain specialties of it, applicable to
several occasions, times, places, persons. For there
are morning and evening devotions ; devotions pro
per to our board, to our closet, to our bed ; to
God's day, to our own ; to health, to sickness ; to
several callings, to recreations ; to the way, to the
field, to the church, to our home ; to the student,
to the soldier, to the magistrate, to the minister;
to the husband, wife, child, servant; to our own
persons, to our families : the severalties whereof,
as they are scarce finite for number, so are most fit
to be left to the judgment and holy managing of
every Christian ; neither is it to be imagined, that
any soul which is taught of God, and hath any ac
quaintance with heaven, can be to seek in the par
ticular application of common rules to his own
necessity or expedience.

the devout soul. 159

Sect. 5. — Recapitulation.
The result of all is:
A devout man is he that ever sees the invisible,
and ever trembleth before that God he sees ; that
walks ever, here on earth, with the God of heaven,
and still adores that Majesty with whom he con
verses ; that confers hourly with the God of spirits
in his own language, yet so as no familiarity can
abate of his awe, nor fear abate aught of his love ;
to whom the gates of heaven are ever open, that he
may go in at pleasure to the throne of grace, and
none of the angelical spirits can offer to challenge
him of too much boldness ; whose eyes are well
acquainted with those heavenly guardians, the pre
sence of whom he doth as truly acknowledge as if
they were his sensible companions. He is well
known of the King of Glory for a daily suitor in
the court of heaven, and none so welcome there as
he. He accounts all his time lost that falls beside
his God, and can be no more weary of good
thoughts than of happiness.
His bosom is no harbour for any known evil ;
and it is a question whether he more abhors sin or
hell. His care is, to entertain God in a clear and
free heart ; and therefore he thrusts the world out
of doors, and humbly beseeches God to welcome
himself to his own. He is truly dejected and vile
in his own eyes : nothing but hell is lower than he ;
every of his slips are heinous, every trespass is
aggravated to rebellion. The glory and favours of
God heighten his humiliation. He hath looked
down to the bottomless deep, and seen, with horror,

160 THE DEVOUT SOUL.
what he deserved to feel everlastingly. His cries
have been as strong, as his fears just ; and he hath
found mercy more ready to rescue him, than he
could be importunate. His hand could not be so
soon put forth, as his Saviour's for deliverance.
The sense of this mercy hath raised him to an
unspeakable joy, to a most fervent love of so dear
a Redeemer. That love hath knit his heart to so
meritorious a Deliverer, and wrought a blessed
union betwixt God and his soul. That union can
no more be severed from an infinite delight, than
that delight can be severed from an humble and
cheerful acquiescence in his munificent God. And
now, as in a heavenly freedom he pours out his
soul into the bosom of the Almighty, in all faithful
suits for himself and others, so he enjoys God in
the blessings received, and returns all zealous
praises to the giver.
He comes reverently to the oracles of God, and
brings not his eye, but his heart with him ; not
carelessly negligent in seeking to know the revealed
will of his Maker, nor too busily inquisitive into
his deep counsels; not too remiss in the letter, nor
too peremptory in the sense ; gladly comprehend
ing what he may, and admiring what he cannot
comprehend. Doth God call for his ear ? he goes awfully into
the holy presence, and so hears as if he should now
hear his last ; catching every word that drops from
the preacher's lips ere it fall to the ground, and
laying it up carefully where he may be sure to
fetch it. He sits not to censure, but to learn ; yet
speculation and knowledge is the least drift of his
labour. Nothing is his own but what he prac
tises.

THE DEVOUT SOUL. 161
Is he invited to God's feast ? he hates to come in
a foul and slovenly dress, but trims up his soul so
as may be fit for a heavenly guest. Neither doth
he leave his stomach at home, cloyed with the
world ; but brings a sharp appetite with him, and
so feeds as if he meant to live for ever : all earthly
delicacies are unsavory to him, in respect of that
celestial manna. Shortly, he so eats and drinks
as one that sees himself set at table with God and
his angels, and rises and departs full of his Savi
our ; and in the strength of that meal, walks vigor
ously and cheerfully on towards his glory.
Finally, as he well knows that he lives, and
moves, and hath his being in God, so he refers his
life, motions, and being wholly to God ; so acting
all things as one that enjoys God in them, and, in
the mean time, so walking on earth that he doth
in a sort carry his heaven with him.

SELECT THOUGHTS;
OR,
CHOICE HELPS FOR A PIOUS SPIRIT :
A
CENTURY OF DIVINE BREATHINGS FOR
A RAVISHED SOUL,
BEHOLDING THE EXCELLENCIES OF HER LORD JESUS.

M 2

165

TO THE CHRISTIAN READER

GRACE AND PEACE.

It pleased the all-wise and Holy God, who orders all events to
his own glory, to make use of my late secession for the produc
tion of divers, not I hope unprofitable, tractates ; wherein I
much rejoice that my declined age, even in that retiredness,
might be in any measure serviceable to his church. Now I
send these select notions after their fellows ; of which I wish
you may find cause to say, with the wedding-guests at Cana,
'Thou hast reserved the best wine till now.'
The intent of this labour is, to put some good thoughts,
reader, into thy mind, which would not otherwise, perhaps, have
tendered themselves to thee ; such, as I hope, may not a little
further thee on thy journey to heaven. And if, in my labouring
thitherward, I shall, through God's mercy, be a means of forward
ing any soul but some steps up that steep way, how happy am I !
To which purpose, T know no means more effectual than those
meditations which conduce to the animation and vigour of Chris
tian practice : such I have propounded to myself as most behove-
ful and necessary, especially for this age into which we are
fallen ; an age of more brain than heart, and that hath almost
lost piety in the chase of some litigious truths. And surely,
had I known how better to have placed my hours, I should
gladly have changed my task ; but, I must needs say, I have
found this employment so useful and proper, as that I have
looked upon those Polemical Discourses which have been forced
from me, as no better than mere excursions. I wis, it will be
long enough ere we wrangle ourselves into heaven : it must be

166
true contrition, pure consciences, holy affections, heavenly op
positions, hearty devotions, sound regeneration, faith working
by love, an humble walking with God, that shall help us thither ;
and, whatsoever may tend to the advancing of any of these
gracious works in us, is worthy to be dear and precious.
Such passages, reader, if thou shalt, according to my hopes,
meet with here, bless God with me, and improve them to the
best advantage of thy soul. Thus shall our gain be mutual,
and our account happy in the day of the Lord Jesus : in whom
farewell. From Higham, near Norwich,
Feb. 7, 1647.

SELECT THOUGHTS.

If miracles be ceased, yet marvels will never cease.
There is no creature in the world wherein we may
not see enough to wonder at ; for there is no worm
of the earth, no spire of grass, no leaf, no twig,
wherein we may not see the footsteps of a Deity.
The best visible creature is man : now, what man is
he, that can make but a hair or a straw, much less
any sensitive creature ? So as no less than an infinite
power is seen in every object that presents itself to
our eyes. If, therefore, we look only upon the out-
sides of these bodily substances, and do not see
God in every thing, we are no better than brutish ;
making use merely of our sense, without the least
improvement of our faith or our reason. Contrary,
then, to the opinion of those men who hold that a
wise man should admire nothing, I say, that a man
truly wise and good should admire every thing ; or,
rather, that infiniteness of wisdom and omnipo
tence, which shows itself in every visible object.
Lord, what a beast am I, that I have suffered mine
eyes to be taken up with shapes, and colours, and

168 SELECT THOUGHTS.
quantities; and have not looked deeper at thee,
with awful adoration and wonder, in every parcel
of thy great creation ! Henceforth, let me see
nothing but thee, and look at all visible things but
as the mere shadows of a glorious omnipotence.
II.
Our affections are then only safe and right when
they are deduced from God, and have their rise
from heaven. Then only can I take comfort of my
love, when I can love my wife, my child, my friend,
myself, my pleasures, and whatsoever contentments,
in God. Thus I may be sure not to offend, either
in the object or measure. No man can, in God,
love whom he should not, nor immoderately love
whom he should: this holy respect doth both direct
and limit him, and shuts up his delights in the
conscience of a lawful fruition. The like must be
said of our joy, and fear, and grief, and whatever
other affection; for we cannot derive our joy from
God if we place it upon any sinful thing, or if we
exceed in the measure of things allowed ; we can
not fetch our fear from heaven, if it be cowardly
and desparate ; nor our grief, if it be merely worldly
and heartless. And if our affections do begin from
above, they will surely end there; closing up in
that God who is the author and orderer of them.
And such as our affections are, such will be the
whole disposition of the soul, and the whole car
riage of our actions ; these are the feet of the soul,
and which way the feet walk the whole man goes.
Happy is the man that can be so far the master of
himself, as to entertain no affections but such as he
takes upon the rebound from heaven.

SELECT THOUGHTS. 169

III.
Whence is this delicate scent in the rose and
violet ? It is not from the root, that smells of no-
i thing ; not from the stalk, that is as scentless as
', the root; not from the earth whence it grows, which
! contributes no more to these flowers than to the
' grass that grows by them ; not from the leaf; not
from the bud, before it be disclosed, which yields
: no more fragrance than the leaf, or stalk, or root ;
yet here I now find it. Neither is it here by any
miraculous way, but in an ordinary course of na
ture, for all violets and roses of this kind yield the
same redolence : it cannot be, but that it was po
tentially in that root and stem from which the
flowers proceed, and there placed and thence drawn
by that Almighty Power which has given these ad
mirable virtues to several plants, and educes them
in their due seasons to these excellent perfections.
It is the same hand that works spiritually in his
elect. Out of the soil of the renewed heart, watered
with the dew of heaven, and warmed with the
beams of his Spirit, God. can and in his own sea
son doth bring forth those sweet odours of grace
and holy dispositions, which are most pleasing to
himself; and if those excellencies be so closely
lodged in their bosoms, that they do not discover
themselves at all times, it should be no more
strange to us than that this rose and violet are not
to be found but in their own months : it is enough
that the same virtue is still in the root, though the
flower be vanished. IV.
A man that looks at all things through the con
sideration of eternity, makes no more of a man

170 SELECT THOUGHTS.
than of a flower: that lasts some days — he lasts
some years; at their period both fade. Now what
difference is there to be made betwixt days and
years, in the thoughts of an eternal duration ?
Herein, therefore, I have a great advantage of a
carnal heart. Such a one, bounding his narrow
conceits with the present condition, is ready to ad
mire himself and others for what they have or are,
and is therefore dejected upon every miscarriage ;
whereas I behold myself, or that man in all his
glory, vanishing ; only measuring every man's feli
city by the hopes and interest which he hath in a
blessed eternity. V.
When I am dead and forgotten, the world will
be as it is ; the same succession and varieties of
seasons, the same revolutions of heaven, the same
changes of earth and sea, the like occurrents of
natural events and human affairs. It is not in my
power to alter the course of things, or to prevent
what must be. What should I do, but quietly
take my part of the present ; and humbly leave the
care of the future to that all- wise Providence, which
ordereth all things, even the most cross events, ac
cording to his most holy and just purposes ?
VI.
The Scripture is the sun : the church is the
clock, whose hand points us to, and whose sound
tells us, the hour of the day. The sun we know to
be sure and regularly constant in his motion : the
clock, as it may fall out, may go too fast or too
slow. We are wont to look at and listen to the
clock, to know the time of the day ; but, where we

SELECT THOUGHTS. 171
find the variation sensible, to believe the sun
against the clock, not the clock against the sun.
As then we would condemn him of much folly, that
should profess to trust the clock rather than the
sun ; so we cannot but justly tax the miscredulity
of those who will rather trust to the church than to
the Scripture. VII.
What marvellous high respects hath God given
to man above all his other visible creatures ! What
a house hath he put him into ! how gorgeously
arched, how richly pavemented ! Wherefore serves
all the furniture of heaven and earth, but for his
use ? What delicate provision hath that bountiful *
hand made for his palate, both of meats and li
quors, by land and sea! What rich ornaments
hath he laid up for him in his wardrobe of earth
and waters ! And wherefore serves the various
music of 'birds but to please his ear ? For, as for
the brute creatures, all harmony to them is but as
silence. Wherefore serves the excellent variety of
flowers, surpassing Solomon in all his glory, but to
please his eye ? Mere grass is more acceptable to
beasts. Yea, what creature but he, is capable to
survey God's wonders in the deep ? to contemplate
the great fabric of the heavens ? to observe the
glorious bodies, and regular motions of the sun,
moon, stars ? And, which exceeds all conceivable
mercies, who but he is capable of that celestial
glory which is within that beautiful consignation ?
to be a companion of the blessed angels ; yea, to
; be a limb of the mystical body of the Eternal Son
of God, and to partake with him of his everlasting
and incomprehensible glory ? ' Lord, what is man,

172 SELECT THOUGHTS.
that thou art thus mindful of him ?' And how ut
terly unworthy are we even of common mercies, it
we return not to our God more advantage of glory,
than those poor creatures that were made for us,
and which cannot in nature be sensible of his fa
vours ! VIII.
How plain is it that all sensitive things are or
dered by an instinct from their Maker ! He that
gives them being puts into them their several incli
nations, faculties, operations. If we look to birds ;
the mavis, the blackbird, the redbreast, have throats
tuneable to any note, as we daily see they may be
taught strains utterly varying from their natural
tones ; yet they all naturally have the same songs
and accents, different from each other, and fully
according to their own kind, so as every mavis
hath the same ditty with his fellows : if we mark
the building of their nests, each kind observes its
own fashion and materials, some clay, others moss,
hair, sticks ; yea, if their very motions and restings
they are conformed to their own feather, different
from others. If [we look] to beasts, they all, untaught,
observe the fashions of their several kinds.' Galen
observes, that when he was dissecting a she-goat big
with young, a kid, then ready to be yeaned, starts out,
and walks up and down the room ; and there being
in the same place set several vessels of oil, honey,
water, milk, the new fallen kid smells at them all,
and refusing the rest, falls to lapping of the milk ;
whereupon he justly infers, that nature stays not
for a teacher. Neither is it other in flies, and all
sorts of the meanest vermin. All bees build alike,
and order the commonwealth of their hive in one

SELECT THOUGHTS, 173
manner ; all ants keep their own way in their hous
ing, journeys, provisions; all spiders do as per
fectly and uniformly weave their web, as if they had
been apprentices to the trade. The same instincts
are seen also in the rational creatures, although in
most cases overruled by their higher faculties.
What an infinite Providence then is this we live
under, that hath distributed to every creature, as a
several form, so several inclinations, qualities, mo
tions, proper to their own kind, and different from
other ; and keeps them in this constant uniformity
and variety for the delight and contentment of
man ! O God, that I could be capable of enough
wondering at thy great works ! that I could be
enough humbled under the sense of my own inca
pacity ! that I could give thee so much more glory
as I find more violence in myself!
IX.
When I saw my precious watch (now through
an unhappy fall grown irregular) taken asunder
and lying scattered upon the workman's shopboard,
so as here lay a wheel, there the balance, here one
gimmer, there another; straight my ignorance was
ready to think when and ho w will all these ever piece
together again in their former order ? But when
the skilful artisan had taken it a while in hand, and
curiously pinned the joints, it now began to return
to its wonted shape and constant motion, as if it
had never been disordered. > How could I choose
but see in this the just emblem of a distempered
church and state? Wherein, if all seem disjointed
and every wheel laid aside by itself, so as an un
knowing beholder would despair of a redress, yet
if it shall please the great Artist of Heaven to put

174 SELECT THOUGHTS.
his hand unto it, how soon might it return to a
happy resettlement ! Even so, blessed Lord, for
thy great mercy's sake, make up the breaches of
thy Sion, and repair the ruins of thy Jerusalem.
X.
We are, and we are not, all one man's children.
Our bodies once met in one root ; but our minds
and dispositions do so differ, as if we had never been
of kin. One man is so gentle and plausible that he
would fain please all ; another is so churlish and
dogged, that he cares not whom he displeases, and
hardly can be well pleased with himself; one so
sparing and pinching that he grudges himself ne
cessaries; another so vainly lavish that he cares
not how he squanders his estate : one is tenderly
pitiful, another mercilessly cruel; one religiously
devout, another wildly profane ; one cowardly
fearful, another desperately courageous ; one jovi
ally cheerful and lightsome, another sad and
dumpish, even to stupidity; one petulant and
wanton, another austerely continent ; one humble
and low-conceited of rich endowments, another
swollen big with a little. He did never read men
to purpose, that is too much troubled with the harsh
and unpleasing contrariety of humours which he
meets with in the world ; and he shall be too un
thankful to God, that finding himself better com
posed than others, knows not whither to ascribe it ;
and too neglective of himself, that finding his own
distempered, labours not to rectify it.
XL
Nature, law, and grace divide all the ages of the
world. Now, as it is in man, who is a lesser world,

SELECT THOUGHTS. 175
that in every day there is a resemblance of his
whole life ; the morning is his childhood, the mid
way his youth, the evening his old age ; so is it in
this greater world. The dim break of day was the
state of nature ; and this was the nonage of the
world, wherein the light of knowledge, both of
human and divine things, was but weak and ob
scure.1 The sun was risen higher in the state of
the Law, but yet not without thick mists and
shadows, till the high noon of that true Sun of
Righteouness, who personally shone forth to the
world ; upon whose vertical point began the age of
grace, that still continues ; which is the clear after
noon and full vigour of the world, though now in
its sensible declination : after this there shall be
no time but eternity. These then are they which
both the prophets and apostles have styled the last
days ; not only in respect of the times that went
before them, but in regard that no time shall follow
them. Neither have we reason to boggle at the
large latitude of sixteen hundred years : there was
neither of the two other periods of age but were
longer than this. Besides, however childhood and
youth have their fixed terms, which they ordinarily
pass not, yet the duration of old age is indefinite.
We have, in our youth, known some grey-heads
that have continued vigorous till we have lived to
match them in the colour of their livery. And if
this be, as it is, the evening of the world, do we not
1 This was the opinion generally received in Bishop Hall's
time, and it continues still the popular theory. The true state of
nature for man, however, is not the savage or uncultivated state,
but that in which the essential qualities of his humanity are
fully developed, and its ends attained. Such appears to have
been his first condition on earth, under the immediate care and
tuition of the Almighty. — Ed.

176 SELECT THOUGHTS.
see much difference of time in the shutting in of
the light ? A summer's evening is a winter's day.
But, if these were to the apostles the last days, how
can they be other than in the last hour, yea, the last
minute unto us? Why do we not put ourselves
into a constant expectation of the end of all things,
and set ourselves in a meet posture for the receipt
of our returning Saviour? XII.
It is a feeling and experimental expression that
the apostle gives of a Christian, That he ' looks not
on the things which are seen.' ' Not that his eyes
are so dim, as old Isaac's, that he cannot discern
them, or that his inward senses are so stupified that
he cannot judge of their true value ; but that,
taking an exact view of these earthly things, he
descries so much vanity in them, as that he finds
them not worthy to be looked at with the full bent
of his desires : like as it is not the mere sight of a
strange beauty that is forbidden, for a man may as
well look upon a fair face as upon a good picture,
but a settled and fixed aspect that feeds the eye
and draws the heart to a sinful concupiscence.
Thus doth not the Christian look upon the things
that are seen, as making them the full scope and
aim of his desires and affections : so far he takes
notice of them, as to make his best, that is lawful
and moderate, use of them ; not so as to make them
the chief object of his contemplation, the main drift
of his cares. It is well observed by St. Basil, that
as there are two contrary ways, the broad and the
narrow, so there are two guides as contrary —
1 2 Cor. iv. 18.

SELECT THOUGHTS. 177
Sense and Faith. Sense presents to us the pleas
ing delights on the one side ; on the other, the
present afflictions and persecutions that attend a
good profession. Faith lays before us the glorious
things of a future life, and the endless miseries and
torments abiding for sinful souls in the world to
come. Now, it is not for every one to deny all
credit to his sense (alluring him with all present
and visible pleasures, and discouraging him with
the terror and pain of present and visible afflictions,)
and to yield himself, hood-winked, to be led by
faith (fore-promising only better things afar off,
and fore-admonishing him of dangers, future and
invisible.) Faith only is that heroical virtue which
makes a man with a holy contempt to overlook all
the pleasing baits of the world, and with a brave
courage and fortitude to despise all the menaces
and painful inflictions of its present fury. This
works our eyes not to look upon the things which
we cannot but see — the present shews of the world,
whether alluring or terrifying. Had Lot but
looked back on Sodom, the pleasant plain of Sodom
that lay like the garden of God behind his back,
he had never escaped into the mountain. Had the
glorious Protomartyr fixed his eyes only upon his
persecutors, his heart could not but have failed to
see the fire in their faces, the sparkling of their
eyes, the grinding of their teeth, the bending of
their brows, the stopping of their ears, their furious
running upon him, their violent halings and drag-
gings; and lastly, a whole volley of stones dis
charged mortally upon him : he had been utterly
daunted with such an impetuosity of death. But
he, as not seeing any of this pomp and ostentation
of horror, looks up stedfastly to heaven ; and there
N

178 SELECT THOUGHTS.
sees (that which might well make him blind to all
other visible objects) the heavens open, and Jesus
standing at the right hand of God ; and, upon this
sight, he shut up his eyes and slept. The true
Christian, then, hath, with holy Job, made a cove
nant with his eyes, not to look upon either the
cruel insolencies of the raging world with fear and
dejectedness, or on the tempting vanities of the
world with amorous glances ; but with a sober and
constant resolution entertains the objects of both
kinds. Very justly did Tertullian jeer that heathen
philosopher who pulled out his eyes to avoid con
cupiscence ; and can tell him, that a Christian can
hold his eyes, and yet behold beauty unbewitched ;
and can be at once open-eyed to nature, and blind
to lust. And what the apostle said of the use, he
can practise of the sight, of the world and earthly
objects ; he . can so behold them as if he beheld
them not. How oft have we, in a deep study, fixed
our eyes upon that which we the while thought
not upon, neither perceived that we saw ! So doth
the Christian to these worldly glories, pleasures,
profits ; while his mind and affections are on ' the
things above, where Christ sitteth on the right hand
of God.' ¦ There, Lord, let me behold those things
which cannot yet be seen ; but shall once, in the
sight of them, make me blessed. And let me ' not
look on the things that are seen : for the things that
are seen are temporary ; but the things which are
not seen are eternal.' s
1 Col. iii. 1. 2 2 Cor. iv. 18.

SELECT THOUGHTS. 179

XIII.
There is not more strangeness than significance
in that charge of the apostle, That we should ' put
on the Lord Jesus Christ.' ' The soul is, as it were,
a body ; not really and properly so, according to
the gross error of Tertullian, but by way of allu
sion. This body of the soul then may not be
naked, but must be clad : as our first parents were
ashamed of their bodily nakedness ; and so still are
all their (not savage) posterity ; so may we of our
spiritual. Every sinner is naked : those rags that
he hath are so far from hiding his nakedness, that
they are part of it : his fairest moralities are but
glittering sins ; and his sins are his nakedness.
Aaron 'had made Israel naked to their shame:'2
not so much in that they were stript of their ear
rings, as that they were enwrapped in the sin of
idolatry. No marvel if we run away and hide us
from the presence of God, as our first parents did,
while we are guilty to ourselves of our spiritual
deformity. As then we are bodily naked when we
come into the world, so we are spiritually naked
while we are of the world ; neither can it be either
safe or comely for us till we be covered. There is
no clothing can fit the soul but the Lord Jesus
Christ. All other robes in the wardrobe of earth or
heaven are too short, too strait ; like those which
the scorn of Hanun put upon David's messengers,
reaching but to the hams ; for, though the soul of
man be finite, the sin of the soul is scarce so ; and
that sin must be covered, else there can be no safety
for the soul; according to that of the psalmist,
1 Rom. xiii. 14 ; Gal. iii. 27- " Exod. xxxii. 25.
N2

180 SELECT THOUGHTS.
' Blessed is he whose transgression is forgiven,
whose sin is covered.'1 None, therefore, but the
robes of an infinite righteousness can cover the
soul so woefully dressed ; none, therefore, but the
Lord Jesus Christ, who is God blessed for ever
can cover the soul, that it may not appear un
righteous, or can cleanse the soul, that it may not
be unrighteous : and cleansed it must be ere the
Lord Jesus can be put on. We shall wrong his per
fect holiness if we think we can slip him on, as a
case, over our beastly rags. It is with us as with
Joshua the high priest: the filthy garments must first
be taken off; and then the Lord shall say unto us
' Behold, I have caused thine iniquity to pass from
thee, and I will clothe thee with change of raiment.'8
We put on a garment when we apply it all over to
our body, so as that part which is clothed appears
not, but is defended from the air and from the eye.
If we have truly put on the Lord Jesus nothing of
ours is seen, but Christ is all in all to us : although
this application goes yet deeper ; for we so put him
on, that we not only put ourselves into him, but
also put him into ourselves by a mutual kind ot
spiritual incorporation. We put him on then upon
our intellectual parts, by knowing him, by believing
on him. ' This is eternal life to know thee, and
whom thou has sent,' saith our Saviour ; and for
faith, no grace doth so sensibly apprehend him,
and make him so feelingly ours. We put him on
upon our wills and affections, when we take plea
sure in him, when we love him, delight in him,
and prefer him to our chiefest joy. Thus do we
put him on : as our Lord, in our humble and duti-
1 Psalm, xxxii. 1. - Zech. iii. 4.

SELECT THOUGHTS. 181
ful subjection ; as our Jesus in our faithful affiance;
as Christ the anointed of God to be our king in
all holy obedience ; our priest in our willing con
secration to him ; our prophet in our cheerful rea
diness to be instructed by him. How happy are
we if we be thus decked ! We prank up these poor
carcasses of ours gaily with no small expence ; and
when we have done, the stuff or the fashion, or
both, wears out to nothing ; but here is a garment
that will never be out of fashion: 'Jesus Christ
yesterday, and to-day, and the same for ever ;' yea,
the same to us : here we put him on in grace ;
there in eternal glory. The Israelities were forty
years in the wilderness, yet their shoes not worn,
their apparel not impaired;' but this attire shall
not only hold good in the time of our wandering in
this desert, but after we are come into the Canaan
of glory, and is best at last. Wherefore do we put
on our choicest attire on some high days, but to
testify the cheerfulness of our hearts ? ' Let thy
garment be white,' saith the preacher, ' for now
God accepteth thy works.' 2 Mephibosheth changed
not his raiment since David went out, as one that
would have the sorrow of his heart seen in the
neglect of his clothes ; although many a one under
a gay coat hath a heavy heart; but this attire doth
not only testify but make cheerfulness in the soul.
' Thou hast given me more joy of heart than they
had in the time that their corn and their wine in
creased;'3 and, 'In thy presence is the fulness of
joy.'4 What can this apparel of ours do, but keep
us from a blast or a shower ? It is so far from
safeguarding the soul, that it many times wounds
1 Dent. xxix. 5. 2 Eccles. ix. 7, 8. 3 Psalm, iv. 7.
' Psalm xvi. 11.

SELECT THOUGHTS.
that to the death. It was one of the main
3 against the rich glutton, that he was every
-aay-clothed in purple and byss.1 How many souls
shall once wish that their bodies had been ever
either naked or clad with hair-cloth ! But this
array, as it is infinitely rich and beautiful, so it is
as surely defensative of the soul ; and is no less
than armour of proof against all assaults, all mise
ries.2 What a deal of cost and pains do we bestow
upon these wretched bodies of ours, only to make
them pleasing and lovely to the eye of some be
holders, as miserable perhaps as ourselves! and
yet, when we have all done, we are, it may be, no
better than hard-favoured and unhandsome crea
tures, and contemptible in those eyes from whom
we desired most approbation. Jezebel, for all her
licking, is cast out of the window and trodden to
dirt in the streets. But this robe we cannot wear,
and not be amiable in the eyes of the Holiest.
' Behold, thou art fair, my beloved ; behold, thou
art fair, and there is no spot in thee.'3 Lo, in this
case, the apparel makes the man. Neither is it in
the power of any spiritual deformity to make us
other than lovely in the sight of our God, while we
Irave Christ put on upon us. Whatever, therefore,
become of the outward man, let it be my care that
my soul be vested with my Lord Jesus ; so shall I
be sure to be safe, rich, amiable here, and hereafter
glorious. It was part of our Saviour's charge upon
the mount, ' Take no care what to put on ;' but it
must be the main care of our lives how to put on
Christ upon our souls. This is the prime stole,
wherewith the father of the prodigal graceth his re-
1 Luke, xvi. 19. 2 Eph. vi. 13. 3 Cant. i. 15.

SELECT THOUGHTS. 183
turned son. The heaven of heavens is not worth
such another. When I have once got this on my
back, I shall say, though in a contrary sense with
the spouse in the Canticles, ' I have put on my coat,
how shall I put it off? I have washed my feet,
how shall I defile them.' '
XIV.
With how devout passion doth the Psalmist call
to all the works of the Almighty to praise him ! as
well supposing, that every creature, even those that
have no tongues to speak for themselves, yet have
a tongue to praise their Maker : ' The heavens de
clare the glory of God, and the firmament sheweth
his handy work. Day unto day uttereth his speech,
and night unto night sheweth knowledge. There
is no speech, where their voice is not heard.'2 Nei
ther is the very earth defective in this duty ; every
plant says, " Look on me, and acknowledge the
life, colour, form, smell, fruit, force, that T have
from the power of my Creator :" every worm and
fly says, " Look on me, and give God the praise
of my living, sense, and motion :" every bird says,
" Hear me, and praise that God, who hath given
me these various feathers, and taught me these
several notes :" every beast, while he bellows, bleats,
brays, barks, roars, says, " It is God, that hath
given me this shape, this sound:" yea, the very
mute fishes are, in their very silence, vocal in
magnifying the infinite wisdom and power of him
that made them, and placed them in those watery
habitations : ' Let every thing that hath breath,'
saith the Psalmist, ' praise the Lord.'3 Yea, the
Cant. v. 3. 2 Psalm xix. 1, 2. 3 CI. 6.

184 SELECT THOUGHTS,
very winds whistle, and the sea roars out the praise
of the Almighty, who both raises and allays' them
at pleasure. What a shame were it for man, to
whom alone God hath given an understanding
heart, a nimble tongue, and articulate language
wherein he can express his rational thoughts, to be
wanting to this so universal devotion, and to be as
insensible of the great works of God, as the ground
that he treads upon ! If others shall be thus un-
thankfully dumb, yet, 'Praise thou the Lord, O
my soul ; and all that is within me, bless his holy
name. While I live, will I praise the Lord : I will
sing praises to my God, whilst I have any being.'1
But alas, Lord, thou knowest I cannot so much as
will to praise thee, without thee : do thou fill my
heart with holy desires, and my mouth with songs
of thanksgiving.
XV.
It may seem a strange errand upon which our
Saviour tells us he came into the world : ' I am
come to send fire on the earth.' • When the two
fervent disciples would have had fire sent down
from heaven upon but a Samaritan village, our
Saviour rebuked them, and told them they knew
not of what spirit they were ; yet here he makes
it his own business to send fire on earth. Alas,
may we think, we have fire too much already!
How happy were it rather, if the fire which is
kindled in the world were well quenched ! And
what is the main drift of the Prince of Darkness,
but fire ? if not to send fire down from heaven upon
the inhabitants of the earth ; yet, to send the in-
1 Psalm cxlvi. 1,2. 2 Luke xii. 49.

SELECT THOUGHTS. 185
habitants of the earth down to the fire of hell. As
then we find divers kinds of material fire — celestial,
elementary, domestic, artificial, natural ; so there
is no less variety of spiritual fires. It was in fiery,
cloven tongues, wherein the Holy Ghost descended
upon the apostles in their Pentecost ; ' and even
this fire, did our Saviour come to send down on
the earth. 2 ' Thy word was in me as fire,' 3 saith
the prophet ; and ' Did not our hearts burn within
us,' said the two disciples, in their walk to Em-
maus, ' while he talked with us ?'* this fire he also
came to send. Heavenly love and holy zeal are
fire: 'Many waters cannot quench love.'5 'My
zeal hath consumed me,' saith the Psalmist. And
these fires our Saviour came to send into the hearts
of men. Holy thoughts are no other than the
beams of celestial fire : ' My heart was hot within
me : while I was musing, the fire burned ;' and
these we know he sends: 'He maketh his angels
spirits, and his ministers a flame of fire ;'6 these he
sends forth to the earth, ' to minister for them that
shall be heirs of salvation.'7 Besides these, afflic
tions and persecutions are fire : ' We have passed
through fire and water : ' ' Beloved, think it not
strange concerning the fiery trial, which is to try
you, as if some strange thing had happened to
you;'9 and even these are of his sending: 'The
Lord hath kindled a fire in Zion, and it hath de
voured the foundation thereof.'9 There is no evil
in the city, but the Lord hath done it : ' The Lord
hath done that, which he had devised : he hath
1 Acts, ii. 3. 2 John, xvi. 7. 3 Jer. ,. 14.
4 Luke, xxiv. 32. 5 Cant. viii. 7-
6 Psalm, cxix. 139 ; xxxix. 3 ; civ. 4. Heb. i. 7.
' Heb. i. 14. 8 Psalm lxvi. 12. 1 Peter, iv. 12
3 Lam. iv. 11.

186 SELECT THOUGHTS.
thrown down, and not pitied.' ' But this expres
sion of our Saviour goes yet deeper, and alludes to
the effect of separation which follows upon the fire
of our trial. When the lump of ore is put into the
furnace, the fire tries the pure metal from the dross,
and makes an actual division of the one from the
other : so doth Christ by his Word and Spirit.
Even he, that is the Prince and God of Peace,
comes to set division in the world. Surely, there
are holy quarrels, worthy of his engagement ; for
as the flesh lusteth and warreth against the spirit,
so the spirit tightest against the flesh; and this
duel may well beseem God for the author, and the
Son of God for the setter of it : these second blows
make a happy fray. Nothing is more properly
compared, than discord, to fire.2 This, Christ
(the first thing he does) sets in every heart:
there is all quietness, secure ease, and self-content
ment in the soul, till Christ come there. How
should it be other, when Satan sways all without
resistance ? But, when once Christ offers to enter,
there are straight civil wars in the soul betwixt the
old man and the new ; and it fares with the heart,
as with a house divided in itself, wherein the hus
band and the wife are at variance : nothing is to be :
heard but unquiet janglings, open brawlings, se
cret opposition ; the household takes part, and pro
fesses a mutual vexation. This spiritual self-divi
sion, wherever it is, though it be troublesome, yet
it is cordial. It puts the soul into the state of Re-
bekah's womb; which, barren, yielded no pain,
but when an Esau and Jacob were conceived and
struggling within, yielded for the time no ease;
1 Lam. ii. 17. s Judges, ix. 20.

SELECT THOUGHTS. 187
yet this was that which caused her just joy, that
she had not so much children as nations in her
womb : even so the trouble of this inward conflict
is abundantly requited with the joy of this assu
rance, That now Christ is come into our soul, and
is working his own desired ends in and upon us.
Let vain and sensual hearts please themselves in
their inward peace and calmness — there cannot be
a greater sign of gracelessness and disfavour of
God : ' When they shall say peace, peace, then
shall come upon them sudden destruction.' The
old word was, " No safety in war :" here, it is con
trary. It is this intestine war of the heart, with
fire and sword to our corruptions, that must bring
us true rest for the present ; and hereafter, eternal
peace and happiness. Now, Lord, since it is thy
desire that this fire should be kindled, kindle thou
and enflame my heart with a fervant desire and
endeavour, that this thy desire may be accomplished
in me. Set me at war with myself, that I may be
at peace with thee.
XVI.
In all that we have to do with God, he justly re
quires and expects from us an awful disposition of
heart towards his infiniteness. Hereupon it was
that he delivered his law in thunder, fire, smoke,
and all dreadful magnificence ; and when upon the
same day he would send down his Spirit for the
propogation of the gospel, it was done with an
astonishing majesty ; with a sound from heaven as
of a rushing mighty wind and with the apparition
of cloven and fiery tongues. ] And as it was thus
1 Acts ii. 2, 3.

188 SELECT THOUGHTS.
in the descent of the Holy Ghost in the miraculous
gifts, so it is in the sanctifying graces ; seldom ever
doth God by them seize upon the heart, but with a
vehement concussion going before. That of St
Paul's conversion was extraordinary and miracu
lous ; but in some degree, it is thus in every soul ;
we are struck down first, and are made sensible of
our spiritual blindness, ere our full call can be ac
complished. As it was with Elijah in the Mount of
Horeb, there came first a strong wind that tore the
rocks and mountains, and after that an earthquake,
then a fire, before the still small voice ; so it is
usually in our breasts, ere the comfortable voice of
God's Spirit speak to our hearts : there must be
some blustering and flashes of the law. It is our
honour and his favour that we are allowed to love
God : it is our duty to fear him. We may be too
familiar in our love : we cannot be too awful in
our fear. XVII.
All valuations of these outward things are arbi
trary, according to the opinion of their pleasure or
their rarity, or the necessity of their use. Did not
men's minds set a price upon metals, what were
they better than some other entrails of the earth, or
one better than the other ? If by public law the
mint were ordained to be only supplied by our
stannaries, how currently would they pass for more
precious than silver mines. To an Indian, a
bracelet of worthless beads is estimated above his
gold; a hungry Esau values a mess of pottage
above his birth-right. In the siege of Samaria an
ass's head was sold for fourscore pieces of silver,
and a cab of dove's-dung for five pieces.1 We have
1 2 Kings vi, 25.

SELECT THOUGHTS. 189
heard that those of Angola have valued a dog at
the price of many slaves. In all these earthly com
modities, the market rises and falls, according to
conceit and occasion ; neither is there any intrin-
sical and settled worth in any of them : only spiri
tual things, as virtue and grace, are good in them
selves, and so carry their infinite value in them
that they make their owner absolutely rich and
happy. When, therefore, I see a rich man hug
ging his bags and admiring his wealth, I look upon
that man with pity, as knowing the poorness of that
pelf wherein he placeth his felicity ; neither can I
behold him with other eyes than those wherewith a
discreet European sees a savage Indian priding
himself in those trifles which our children have
learned to contemn. On the other side, when I see
a man rich in the endowments of mind, well fraught
with knowledge, eminent in goodness, and truly
gracious, I shall rise up to that man, how homely
soever his outside be, as the most precious and
excellent piece which this world can afford.
XVIII.
Should I but see an angel, I should look, with
Manoah, to die no other death than the sight of
that glory ; and yet even that angel is fain to hide
his face, as not able to behold the infinite majesty
of God his Creator. When Moses did but talk
with God in the mount for forty days, his face did
so shine, that the Israelites could not look upon
the lustre of his countenance ; even the very prer
sence of the Divine Majesty not only hath, but
communicates, glory. Lord, that I could see but
some glimpse of the reflection of those glorious
beams of thine upon my soul ! how happy should

190 SELECT THOUGHTS.
I be in this vision, whose next degree is perfectly
beatifical !
XIX.
As good, so evil is apt to be communicative of
itself; and this so much more as it meets with sub
jects more capable of evil than good. The breath
of a plague-sick man taints the air round about
him ; yea, the very sight of blear eyes infects the
sound, and one yawning mouth stretcheth many
jaws. How many have we known, that have been
innocent in their retiredness, miserably debauched
with lewd conversation. Next to being good, is, to
consort with the virtuous. It is the most merciful
improvement of a holy power to separate the pre
cious from the vile ; it is the highest praise of a
constant goodness for a Lot to be righteous in the
midst of Sodom.
XX.
We are all apt to put off the blame of our mis
carriages from ourselves. Even in paradise we did
so : 'It was the woman,' saith Adam : ' It was the
serpent,' saith the woman. How have we heard
fond gamesters cast the blame of their ill luck upon
the standers by, which intermeddled nothing but
by a silent eye-sight. So the idolatrous pagans of
old, though flagitiously wicked, yet could impute
their public judgments to none but the Christians,
whose only innocence was their protection from
utter ruin. So foolishly partial doth our self-love
render us to our own demerits, that all are guilty
save ourselves. Yea, rather than we will want
shifts, our very stars shall be blamed, which are no
more accessary to our harms, than our eyes are to

SELECT THOUGHTS. 191
the eclipses of their most eminent lights. As, on
the contrary, we are ready to arrogate unto ourselves
those blessings which the mere bounty of divine
providence hath cast upon us; whereto we could not
contribute so much as a hand to receive them, but
by the mercy of the giver. It cannot be well with
me till I have learned to correct this palpable in
justice in both ; challenging to myself all my errors
and guilt of sufferings, and yielding to God the
praise of his own free and gracious benificence.
XXI.
How profitable and beneficial a thing is afflic
tion, especially to some dispositions more than
other ! I see some trees that will not thrive unless
their roots be laid bare ; unless, besides pruning,
their bodies be gashed and sliced : others, that are
too luxuriant, except divers of their blossoms be
seasonably pulled off, yield nothing. I see too
rank corn, if it be not timely eaten down, may
yield something to the barn, but little to the gra
nary. I see some full bodies that can enjoy no
health without strong evacuations, blood-lettings,
fontinels. Suchis the condition of our spiritual part ;
it is a rare soul that can be kept in any constant or
der without these smarting remedies — I confess mine
cannot ; how wild had I run if the rod had not
been over me ! Every man can say he thanks God
for ease ; for me, I bless God for my troubles.
XXII.
When I consider what an insensible atom man
is, in comparison of the whole body of the earth;
and what a mere centre-point the earth is, in com
parison of the vast circumference of heaven ; and

192 SELECT THOUGHTS.
what an almost infinite distance there is betwixt
this point the earth, and that large circle the firma
ment ; and, therewithal, think of the innumerable
number and immense greatness of those heavenly
luminaries; I cannot but apprehend how impro
bable it is that those stars should, at such a dis
tance, distinguish betwixt one man and another,
betwixt one limb of the same body and another,
betwixt one spot of earth and another, and in so
great a mixture and confusion of influences should
give any distinct intimation of particular events in
nature, and much more of mere contingencies of
arbitrary affairs. As for the moon, by reason of
her vicinity to the earth and sensible predominance
over moisture, and for the sun, the great magazine
of light and heat, I acknowledge their powerful
but impartial operations upon this whole globe of
earth and waters, and every part of it, not without
just wonder and astonishment ; the other stars may
have their several virtues and effects, but their mar
vellous remoteness, and my undiscernible nothing
ness, may seem to forbid any certain intelligence of
their distinct workings upon me. ' But whether
these glorious lights give or take any notice of such
an imperceptible mite as I, sure I am there is great
great reason I should take notice of them — of their
beauteous lustre, of their wonderful magnitude, of
their regular motion, and be transported with admi
ration of that omnipotent power, wisdom, provi
dence, which created this goodly and mighty host
of heaven, and guides them in their constant march
without the least deviation from their first setting
1 The popularity of astrological studies in our author's time,
accounts for these repeated allusions to the imaginary influence
of the stars. — Ed.

SELECT THOUGHTS. 193
out to the last moment of their final conflagration.
Oh ! the narrowness of my wretched heart, that
affords not room enough for wonder at that which
I cannot but see. XXIII.
It becomes not us to be niggardly where our Sa
viour intends bounty. How glad should we be
rather to ampliate the benefit of the great work
of our Redeemer. But surely I cannot see upon
what warrant that favour is grounded, that enlargeth
the fruit of Christ's redemption to the angels ; the
good needed it not, the evil were not capable of it;
only mankind was captived and redeemable by
that invaluable ransom. Doubtless those blessed
spirits have their part in the joy and gratulation of
the infinite mercy of our deliverance; for if they
rejoice at the conversion of one sinner, what tri
umph do we think there is in heaven at the uni
versal redemption of all believers ! The propriety
of this favour hath reason to engage us so much
the more. Lord, thy mercy is free and boundless ;
thou wouldst pass by the lapsed angels, and leave
them in their sin and their chains, and only rescue
miserable men out of their hell. Oh ! for a heart
that might be in some measure answerable to so
infinite mercy ; and that might be no less captived
to thy love than it is freed by thy redemption.
XXIV.
Men do commonly wrong themselves with a
groundless expectation of good, fore-promising to
themselves all fair terms in their proceedings, and
all happy success in their issue, boding nothing to
themselves but what they wish. Even the man

194 SELECT THOUGHTS.
after God's owu heart could say, ' In my prosperity
I said, tush, I shall never be removed:'1 wherein
their misreckoning makes their disappointment so
much the more grievous. Had not David made
such account of the strength and stability of his
mountain, it could not have so much troubled him
to have it levelled with the plain. On the con
trary, the evils which we look for, fall so much the
less heavily, by how much we are fore-prepared for
their entertainment. Whatever by-accidents I may
meet withal besides, I have two fixed matches that
I must inevitably encounter with, age and death ;
the one is attended with many inconveniences, the
other with much horror. Let me not flatter myself
with hopes of jollity and ease. My comforts for
heaven shall, I trust, never fail me; but for the pre
sent world, it shall be well with me if I can, without
too much difficulty, scramble out of the necessary
miseries of life, and without too much sorrow,
crawl to my grave.
XXV.
Heaven hath many tongues that talk of it, more
eyes to behold it, but few hearts that rightly affect
it. Ask any Christian especially, whom ye shall
meet with, he will tell you, thither he shapes his
course, there he hath pitched his hopes, and would
think himself highly wronged by that man who
should make doubt of either his interest or speed ;
but if we shall cast our eyes upon the lives of men,
or they reflect their eyes upon their own bosoms,
the hypocrisy will too palpably discover itself; for
surely which way soever the faces look, the hands
1 Psalm xxx. 6.

SELECT THOUGHTS. 195
and feet of the most men move hellward. If ma
lice, fraud, cruelty, oppression, injustice, excess,
uncleanness, pride, contention, covetousness, lies,
heresies, blasphemies, disobedience, be the way thi
ther, woe is me, how many walk in that wide and
open road to destruction ! But even there, where
the heart pretends to innocence, let a man strictly
examine his own affections, he shall find them so
deeply earthed, that he shall be forced to confess
his claim to heaven is but fashionable.1 Ask thyself
but this one question (O man, whatsoever thou art,
ask it seriously:) "Might I this very hour go to
heaven, am I willing and desirous to make a pre
sent change of this life for a better ?" and tell me
sincerely, what answer thou receivest from thine
own heart. Thy judgment cannot but tell thee that
the place is a thousand times better ; that the con
dition would be infinitely advantageous, to exchange
baseness for glory, misery for blessedness, time for
eternity, a living death for a life immortal. If thou
do now fumble, and shuffle, and demur upon the
resolution, be convinced of thine own worldliness
and infidelity ; and know, that if thy heart had as
much of heaven as thy tongue, thou couldst not
but say, with the chosen vessel, ' I desire to depart
hence and to be with Christ, which is far better.'2
XXVI.
There is no earthly pleasure whereof we shall
not soon grow weary, and be as willing to intermit
as ever we were to entertain it, and if the use of it
continue, the very frequency makes it disregarded ;
so as that which at first we esteemed rare and pre-
1 Counterfeit.— Ed. 2 Phil, i, 23.
o 2

196 SELECT THOUGHTS.
cious, is now looked upon as common and despi
cable ; and if it be such as that our impetuous
affection is too much transported with a present
fruition, we are so much the more distempered with
the loss. On the contrary, those painful yokes
which at the first imposing seemed insupportable,
grow tolerable by custom and long acquaintance :
so as, I know not how it comes to pass, that time
hath a contrary power both to aggravate and
lighten evils. Those pleasures are only worthy to
carry our hearts, which are measured by no less
than eternity ; and those pains most justly formi
dable, which know neither end nor remission.
XXVII.
The nearer our Saviour drew to his glory, the
more humility he expressed. His followers were
first his servants, and he their master; then his
disciples, and he their teacher; soon after, they
were his friends, and he theirs ; straightways after
his resurrection and entrance into his immortal
condition, they were his brethren: 'Go to my bre
thren, and say unto them, I ascend to my Father
and your Father ;' lastly, they are incorporated into
him, and made partakers of his glory, 'That they
also may be one with us,' saith he ; ' I in them, and
thou in me, that they may be made perfect in
one ; and the glory which thou gavest me, I have
given them.' ¦ O Saviour, was this done for the
depressing of thyself, or for the exaltation of us, or
rather for both ? How couldst thou more depress
thyself, than thus to match thyself with us poor
wretched creatures ? How couldst thou more exalt
1 John, xiii. 16 ; xv. 8, 14; xx. 17; xvii. 21, 22, 23.

SELECT THOUGHTS. 197
us, than to raise us unto this entireness with thee,
the all-glorious and eternal Son of God ? How
should we learn of thee to improve our highest
advancement to our deepest humility ; and so to
regard each other, that when we are greatest we
should be least ! XXVIII.
How apt are we to misconstrue the spirit of God
to our own disadvantage ! While the blessed apostle
bids us to ' work out' our ' salvation with fear and
trembling,' he doth not bid us to work it out with
doubt and distrust. It is the Psalmist's charge,
that we should ' serve the Lord with fear, and re
joice in him with trembling :' ] so as there is a fear
without diffidence, and a trembling that may con
sist with joy. Trembling is an effect of fear ; but
this fear which we must affect is reverential, not
slavish, not distrustful. Indeed, when we look
upon ourselves, and consider our own frailties and
corruptions, and God's infinite justice, we have too
just cause of doubt and dejection, yea, were it not
for better helps, of utter despair ; but when we cast
up our eyes to the power of him that hath under
taken for us, and the faithfulness of him that hath
promised, and the sure mercies of him that hath
begun his good work in us, we can fear with con
fidence, and rejoice in our trembling. For what
are our sins, to his mercies ; our unworthiness, to
his infinite merits ; our weaknesses, to his omnipo
tence ? I will therefore so distrust myself, that I
will be steadfastly confident in the God of my sal
vation; I will so tremble before the glorious ma-
1 Psalm, ii. 11.

198 SELECT THOUGHTS.
jesty of my God, that I may not abate of the joy
of his never-failing mercy. XXIX.
What a large and open hand hath our God!
How infinitely doth his bounty transcend, not the
practice only, but the admiration of man ! We
think it well, if, upon often asking, we can receive
small favours ; if, after long delay, we can be grati
fied with a condescent ; and, if we have received
one courtesy, that is a bar to a second : whereas,
our munificent God gives us, not only what we ask,
but what we ask not, and therefore before we ask.
Yea, it is he that gives us to ask ; neither could we
so much as crave good things, if he did not put
into us those holy desires. Yea, he not only gives
us blessings before we ask, but he gives us the best
things, a right to eternal glory, before we are at all,
yea,- before the world was. And, as he prevents us
in time, so he exceeds our thoughts in measure,
giving us more than we ask : Rachel would have a
son — God gives her two ; Abraham sues that Ish-
mael may live — God gives him to prosper, and to
be the father of many princes. Yet more, he gives
us what we cannot ask : the dumb demoniac could
not sue for himself; his very silence was vocal,
and receives what he would, and could not request.
Yea, lastly, which is the great improvement of his
mercy, he gives us against our asking : our igno
rance sues against ourselves, requiring hurtful
things ; he will not suffer our hearts and tongues
to wrong us, but withholds what we unfitly crave,
and gives us what we should, and do not crave ; as
the fond child cries to his father for a knife, he
reaches him a spoon, that niay feed and not hurt

SELECT THOUGHTS. 199
nim. O the ocean of divine bounty, boundless,
bottomless ! O our wretched unworthiness, if we
be either niggardly to ourselves, in not asking
blessings, or unthankful to our God in not acknow
ledging them.
XXX.
Infidelity and faith look both through the same
perspective glass, but at contrary ends. Infidelity
looks through the wrong end of the glass ; and
therefore sees those objects which are near afar off,
and makes great things little, diminishing the
greatest spiritual blessings, and removing far from
us threatened evils : faith looks at the right end ;
and brings the blessings that are far off in time close
to our eye, and multiplies God's mercies, which,
in a distance, lost their greatness. Thus the faith
ful saw his seed possessed of the promised land,
when as yet he had no seed, nor was likely to have
any ; when the seed, which he should have, should
not enjoy it till after four hundred years. Thus
that good patriarch saw Christ's day, and rejoiced.
Thus our first parent comforted himself, after his
ejection out of paradise, with the foresight of that
blessed seed of the woman, which should be exhi
bited almost four thousand years after. Still, and
ever, faith is like itself. What use were there of
that grace, if it did not fetch home to my eye
things future and invisible ? That this dissolved
body shall be raised out of the dust, and enlivened
with this very soul wherewith it is now animated,
and both of them put into a condition eternally
glorious, is as clearly represented to my soul in this
glass as if it were already done. ' Faithful is he
that hath promised, which will also do it.'

200 SELECT THOUGHTS.
XXXI.
Who can think other than with scorn of that
base and unworthy conceit which hath been enter
tained by some, that our Saviour lived here on
earth upon alms ? He that vouchsafed to take upon
him the shape of a servant, would have hated to
take upon him the trade of a beggar : service is a
lawful calling, beggary not so. He that gave life
to all creatures, could take a maintenance from
them without asking. He that did command the
fish to bring the tribute money for himself and his
disciples, and could multiply a few loaves and
fishes for the relief of thousands, could rather raise
a sustenance to himself and his than beg it. But
here was neither need nor cause; even ordinary
means failed not; many wealthy followers, who
bad received cures and miraculous deliverances,
besides heavenly doctrine from him, ministered to
him of their substance.1 Neither was this out of
charity, but out of duty : in the charge which he
gave to his disciples, when he sent them by pairs
to preach abroad, he tells them the labourer is
worthy of his wages ; and can we think this rule
doth not much more hold concerning himself?
Had not himself and his family been furnished with
a meet stock raised from hence, what purse was it
which Judas bore ? and how could he be a thief in
his office, if his bags were empty? He, therefore,
that could say, ' It is a more blessed thing to give
then to receive,' certainly would not choose, when
it was in his power, rather to receive than give.
' The earth is the Lord's, and the fulness thereof ;'
i1 Luke, viii. 2, 3.

SELECT THOUGHTS. 201
and he distributes it as he pleaseth amongst the
children of men. For me, I hope I shall have the
grace to be content with whatsoever share shall fall
to my lot ; but my prayer shall be, that I may beg
of none but God.
XXXII.
What a madness it is in us, to presume on our
interest in God's favour for the securing of our sin
fulness from judgment ! The angels were deeper
in it than we mortals can ever hope to be in these
houses of clay, yet, long since, are ugly devils; and
they who enjoyed the liberty of the glorious hea
vens, are now reserved in everlasting chains of dark
ness. And, if we look down upon earth, what
darling had God in the world but Israel ? This
was his firstborn, his lot, his inheritance ; of whom
he said, 'Here I have a delight to dwell.' And
now, where is it ? Oh, the woeful desolations of
that select people ! What is it to tell of the suffos-
sion1 of her vineyards;8 vastation of her tents;3
the devouring of her land;4 demolition of walls ;*
breaking down altars, burning of cities, spoiling of
houses, dashing in pieces their children, ravishing
their wives;6 killing of their priests;7 eating of
their own children of but a span long ; 8 and a
thousand such woeful symptoms of war ? The
Psalmist hath said a word for all, (in a just, but
contrary sense,) ' Destructions are come to a per
petual end :' what destruction can be more, when
there is no Israel ? How is that wretched nation
1 Digging up. a Psalm, lxxx. 13.
3 Jer. iv. 20. 4 Isaiah, i. 7.
5 Psalm, lxxxix. 40. 6 Isaiah, xxvii. 9; xiii. 16.
7 Psalm, lxxviii. 64. B Lara. ii. 20.

202 SELECT THOUGHTS.
vanished, no man knows whither ! So, as it was
Jezebel's curse, that nothing was left whereof it
could be said, ' this was Jezebel ;' so, there is not
one piece of a man left in all the world of whom
we can say, ' This was one of the tribes of Israel.' "
As for those famous churches which were, since
that, honoured with the preaching and pens of the
blessed apostles, where are they now to be looked
for, but amongst the rubbish of our cursed Maho-
metism ? Oh, that we could not be high-minded,
but fear ! XXXIII.
What a woeful conversion is here ! The sting of
death is sin, and the sting of sin is death ; both
meet in man, to make him perfectly miserable.
Death could not have stung us, no, could not have
been at all, if it had not been for sin ; and sin,
though in itself extremely heinous, yet were not so
dreadful and horrible if it were not attended with
death. How do we owe ourselves to the mercy of
a Saviour that hath freed us from the evil of both !
having pulled out the sting of death, which is sin,
that it cannot hurt us ; aud having taken such
order with the sting of sin, which is death, that,
instead of hurting, it shall turn beneficial to us.
Lord, into what a safe condition hast thou put us !
If neither sin nor death can hurt us, what should
we fear ?

1 The good bishop has here coloured his pathetic portrait too
highly for literal truth. Israel, though degraded exists ; and is
undoubtedly reserved for a glorious restoration. See Romans,
xi. — Ed.

SELECT THOUGHTS. 203

XXXIV.
How unjustly hath the presumption of blasphe
mous cavillers been wont to cast the envy of their
condemnation merely upon the absolute will of an
unrespective power ! as if the damnation of the
creature were only of a supreme will, not of a just
merit. The very name of justice convinces them :
a punitive justice cannot but suppose an offence.
It is not for us to rack the brains and strain the
heart-strings of plain honest Christians, with the
subtleties of distinctions, of a negative and positive
reprobation, of causes and consequences — truths
meet for the schools ; it is enough that all Christian
divines, the synods both of Dort and Trent, agree
in this, That never man is, was, can be miserable,
but for sin ; yea, for his own sin. The prophet
tells us so in terms : ' Why is the living man sorrow
ful ? man suffereth for his sin.'1 Nothing can be
more true than that of Bildad the Shuhite, 'Be
hold, God will not cast away a perfect man.2 Thy
perdition is of thyself, O Israel.' It is no less
than rank blasphemy to make God the author of
sin. ' Thou art the God, that hast no pleasure in
wickedness ; neither shall any evil dwell with thee,'3
saith the Psalmist. Our sin is our own ; and the
wages of sin is death ; he that doth the work earns
the wages. So then, the righteous God is cleared
both of our sin and our death : only his justice
pays us what we will needs deserve. ' Have I any
pleasure at all,' saith he, ' that the wicked should
die ; and not that he should return from his ways
and live ? wherefore return ye, and live.'4 What a
1 Lam. iii. 39. 2 Job. viii. 20. 3 Psalm, v. 4.
* Ezek. xviii. 23, 32.

204 SELECT THOUGHTS.
wretched thing is a wilful sinner, that will needs be
guilty of his own death ! Nothing is more odious
amongst men than for a man to be a felon of him
self : besides the forfeiture of his estate, Christian
burial is denied him ; and he is cast forth into the
highway, with a stake pitched through his body, so
as every passenger that sees that woeful monument,
is ready to say, " There lies the carcase, but where
is the soul ?" But so much more heinous is the
self-felony of a wilful sinner, because it is imme
diately acted upon the soul ; and carries him, with
pleasure, in the ways of an eternal death. O Lord,
' cleanse thou me from my secret faults : keep thy
servant also from presumptuous sins, lest they get
the dominion over me.' '
XXXV.
We are wont to say, That we ought to give even
the devil his due ; and surely, it is possible for us
to wrong that malignant spirit, in casting upon
him those evils which are not properly his. It is
true that he is the tempter, and both injects evil
motions, and draws them forth into act ; but yet,
all ill is not immediately his ; we have enough be
sides of our own. ' Every man,' saith St. James,
' is tempted, when he is drawn away of his own
lust, and enticed. Then, when lust hath conceived,
it bringeth forth sin ; and sin, when it is finished,
bringeth forth death.'2 Lo, both the lust and the
seducement are our own ; the sin is ours ; the death
ours. There are, indeed, diabolical suggestions,
which are immediately cast into us by that wicked
one ; but there are carnal temptations, that are
1 Psalm, xix. 12, 13. 5 James, 1. 14, 15.

SELECT THOUGHTS. 205
raised out of our own corrupt nature : these need
not his immediate hand. He was the main agent
in our depravation ; but, being once depraved, we
can act evil of ourselves. And, if Satan be the
father of sin, our will is the mother ; and sin is the
cursed issue of both. He could not make our sin
without ourselves : we concur to our own undoing.
It was the charge of the apostle, that we should 'not
give place to the devil :' lo, he could not take it,
unless we gave it; our will betrays us to his tyranny ;
in vain shall we cry out of the malice and fraud of
wicked spirits, while we nourish their accomplices
in our bosoms.
XXXVI.
I cannot but think, with what unspeakable joy
old Simeon died, when, after long waiting for the
consolation of Israel, he had now seen the Lord's
Christ ; when I hear him say, * Lord, now lettest
thou thy servant depart in peace, according to thy
word ; for mine eyes have seen thy salvation.'
Methinks I should see his soul ready to fly out of
his mouth, in a heavenly ravishment ; and even
then upon its wing towards its glory ; for now his
eyes saw, and his arms embraced, in God's salva
tion his own, in Israel's glory his own. How
gladly doth he now see death, when he hath the
Lord of Life in his bosom ! Or how can he wish to
close up his eyes with any other object ? Yet,
when I have seriously considered it, I cannot see
wherein our condition comes short of his. He saw
the child Jesus but in his swathing bands, when
he was but now entering upon the great work of
our redemption ; we see him after the full accom
plishment of it, gloriously triumphing in heaven.

206 SELECT THOUGHTS.
He saw him but buckling on his armour, and
entering into his lists : we see him victorious :
' Who is this that cometh from Edom, with dyed
garments from Bozrah ? this, that is glorious in his
apparel, travelling in the greatness of his strength,
mighty to save ?' He could only say, ' To us a
child is bom, to us a son is given ;' ' we can say,
* Thou hast ascended on high ; thou hast led cap
tivity captive; thou hast received gifts for men.'2
It is true the difference is, he saw his Saviour with
bodily eyes ; we with mental ; but the eyes of our
faith are no less sure and unfailing than those of
sense. Lord, why should not I, whose eyes have no
less seen thy salvation, say, Now let thy servant
depart, not in peace only, but in a joyful sense
of my instant glory XXXVII.
When I think on my Saviour in his agony and
on his cross, my soul is so clouded with sorrow, as
if it would never be clear again; those bloody
drops, and those dreadful ejaculations, methinks
should be past all reach of comfort ; but when I
see his happy eluctation out of these pangs, and
hear him cheerfully rendering his spirit into the
hands of his Father ; when I find him trampling
upon his grave, attended with glorious angels, and
ascending in the chariot of a cloud to his heaven ;
I am so elevated with joy, as that I seem to have
forgotten there was ever any cause of grief in those
sufferings. I could be passionate to think, O Savi
our, of thy bitter and ignominious death; and,
1 Isaiah, lxiii. 1 ; ix. 6. 2 Psalm, lxviii. 18.

SELECT THOUGHTS. 207
most of all, of thy vehement strugglings with thy
Father's wrath for my sake ; but thy conquest and
glory takes me off, and calls me to hallelujahs of
joy and triumph 'Blessing, honour, glory, and
power be unto him, that sitteth upon the throne
and unto the lamb, for ever and ever.'1
XXXVIII.
It is not hard to observe, that the more holy any
person is, the more he is afflicted with others' sin.
Lot vexed his righteous soul with the unclean con
versation of the Sodomites; David's eye gushed
out rivers of water, because men kept not the law.
Those that can look with dry and undispleased eyes
upon another's sin, never truly mourned for their
own : had they abhorred sin, as sin, the offence of a
God would have been grievous to them in whom
soever. It is a godless heart that doth not find
itself concerned in God's quarrel, and that can
laugh at that which the God of heaven frowns at.
My soul is nearest to me — my sorrow, therefore,
for my sin must begin at home; but it may not
rest there ; from thence it shall diffuse itself all the
world over: 'Who is offended, and I burn not?'2
Who offendeth, and I weep not ?
XXXIX.
The world little considers the good advantage
that is made of sins. Surely the whole church of
God hath reason to bless God for Thomas his unbe
lief: not in the act, which was odious, after so good
assurances, but in the issue. His doubt proves
our evidence ; and his confession, after his touch
' Rev. t. 13. ' 2 Cor. xi. 29.

208 SELECT THOUGHTS.
had convinced him, was more noble than his incre
dulity was shameful. All his attendance upon
Christ had not taught him so much divinity as this
one touch. Often had he said, 'My Lord,' but never
'My God,' till now. Even Peter's confession, though
rewarded with the change of his name, came short
of this. The flame that is beaten down by the
blast of the bellows, rises higher than otherwise it
would ; and the spring water that runs level in the
plain, yea if it fall low, it will therefore rise high :
the shaken tree roots the deeper. Not that we
should sin that grace may abound, God forbid ; he
can never hope to be good, that will be therefore ill,
that he may be the better ; but, that our holy zeal
should labour to improve our miscarriages to our
spiritual gain, and the greater glory of that majesty
whom we have offended. To be bettered by grace
it is no mastery ; but to raise more holiness out of
sin, is a noble imitation of that holy God, who
brings light out of darkness, life out of death.
XL.
Every man best knows his own complaints : we
look upon the outsides of many whom we think
happy, who, in the mean time, are secretly wrung
with the inward sense of their own concealed sor
rows ; and, under a smooth and calmed counte
nance, smother many a tempest in their bosom ;
there are those whose faces smile, while their con
science gripes them closely within ; there are those
that can dissemble their poverty and domestic vexa
tions, reserving their sighs till their back be turned ;
that, can pick their teeth abroad, when they are
fasting and hungry at home; and many a one
forces a song when his heart is heavy. No doubt,

SELECT THOUGHTS. 209
Naomi made many a short meal after her return to
Bethlehem, yet did notwhine to her great kindred,
in a bemoaning of her want; and good Hannah
bit in many a grief, which her insulting rival
might not see. On the contrary, there are many
whom we pity as miserable, that laugh in their
sleeve, and applaud themselves in their secret feli
city ; and would be very loth to exchange condi
tions with those that commiserate them : a ragged
cynic likes himself, at least as well as a great Alex
ander; the mortified Christian, that knows both
worlds, looks with a kind of contented scorn upon
the proud gallant that contemns him ; as feeling
that heaven within him, which the other is not
capable to believe. It is no judging of men's
real estate by their semblance ; nor valuing others'
worth by our own rate. And for ourselves, if we
have once laid sure grounds of our own inward
contentment and happiness, it matters not greatly
if we be misknown of the world.
XLI.
For one man to give titles to another, is ordi
nary ; but for the great God to give titles to a poor
wretched man, is no less than wonderful. Thus
doth the Lord to Job : ' There is none like him in
the earth, a perfect and upright man.' Oh ! what
must he needs be, in whom his Maker glories!
Lo ! who would have looked for a saint in so ob
scure a corner of the east, and in so dark a time,
before ever the law gave light to the world ? yet,
even then, the land of Uz yields a Job. No time,
no place can be any bar to an infinite mercy.
Even this while, for ought I see, the sun shined
more bright in Midian than in Goshen. God's
p

210 SELECT THOUGHTS.
election will be sure to find out his own, any
where out of hell; and if they could be there,
even there also. Amongst all those idolatrous hea
then, Job is perfect and upright : his religion and
integrity is so much the more glorious, because it
is so ill-neighboured — as some rich diamond is set
off by a dark foil. Oh ! the infinite goodness of
the Almighty, that picks out some few grains out
of the large chaff-heap of the world, which he re
serves for the granary of a blessed immortality !
'It is not of him that willeth, nor in him that
runneth ; but of God that hath mercy.' We
might well imagine, that such a sprig must sprout
out of the stock of faithful Abraham. What other
loins were likely to yield so holy an issue ? And
if his Sarah must be the mother of the promised
seed, yet why might he not also raise a blessed
seed from Keturah ? The birth doth not always
follow the belly : even this second brood yields an
heir of his father's faith. It is said, that ' to the
sons of the concubines Abraham gave gifts, and
sent them away to the east.'1 Surely, this son
of the concubine carries away as rich a legacy
of his father's grace, as ever was enjoyed by
the son of the promise at home. The gifts that
Abraham gave to Midian, were nothing to those
gifts which the God of Abraham gives to the son
of Midian ; who ' was perfect and upright, one
that feareth God and escheweth evil.' I perceive
the holy and wise God meant to make this man a
pattern, as of patience, so of all heavenly virtues :
he could not be fit for that use if he were not exqui
site ; and what can be wanting to that man, of
1 Gen. xxv. 6.

SELECT THOUGHTS. 211
whom God holily boasts that he is perfect ? And
now, what metal is so fit to challenge the fire of
affliction, as this pure gold ? and who is so fit a
match for the great adversary, as this champion of
God ? Never had he been put upon so hard a
combat, if God had not well known both the
strength that he had given him, and the happy
success of his conflict. Little doth that good man
know what wager is laid on his head, but strongly
encounters all his trials. The Sabeans have bereft
him of his oxen ; the Chaldees of his camels ; the
fire from heaven, of his sheep ; the tempest, of his
children; Satan, of his health: and had not his
wife been left to him for his greatest cross, and his
friends for his further tormentors, I doubt whether
they had escaped. Lo, there sits the great poten
tate of the east, naked and forlorn in the ashes ; as
destitute of all comforts, as full of painful boils and
botches, scraping his loathsome hide with a pot
sherd ; yet, even in that woeful posture, possessing
his soul in patience, maintaining his innocence,
justifying his Maker, cheering himself in his Re
deemer, and happily triumphing over all his mise
ries ; and, at last, made the great mirror of divine
bounty to all generations. Now must Job pray for
his friendly persecutors ; and is so high in favour
with God, that it is made an argument of extreme
wrath against Israel, that though Noah, Daniel, and
Job were in the land, they should deliver none but
their own souls.1 O God ! this saint could not have
had this strength of invincible patience without thee;
thou, that rewardest it in him, didst bestow it upon
him ; it is thy great mercy to crown thine own works
1 Ezek. xiv. U 20
P2

212 SELECT THOUGHTS.
in us : thy gifts are free ; thou canst fortify even rriy
weak soul with the same powers : strengthen me
with the same grace, and impose what thou wilt.
XLII.
As it shall be once in glory, so it is in grace ;
there are degrees of it. The apostle, that said of
his auditors, they have received the Holy Ghost as
well as we, did not say they have received the Holy
Ghost as much as we. We know the apostles had
so much as to give it to others : none besides them
could do so. It is a happy thing to have any
quantity of true sanctifying grace at all : every
drop of water is water, and every grain of gold is
gold ; every measure of grace is precious. But who
is there, that when he is dry would take up with
One drop of liquor, when he might have more ? or,
if covetously minded, would sit down content with
one dram of gold ? In such cases, a little doth but
draw on a desire for more. It is strange to see
that in all other commodities we desire a fulness ;
if God give us fruit of our bodies, it contents us not
to have an imperfect child, but we wish it may
have the full shape and proportion ; and when God
hath answered us in that, we do not rest in the in
tegrity of parts, but desire that it may attain to a
fulness of understanding and stature, and then,
lastly, to a fulness of age. We would have full
dishes, full cups, full coffers, full barns, a fulness
of all things, save the best of all, which is the
Holy Ghost. Any measure of spiritual grace con
tents us, so as we are ready to say with Esau, ' I
have enough, my brother.' There is a sinful kind
of contentation, wherewith many fashionable Chris
tians suffer themselves to be beguiled, to tfie utter

SELECT THOUGHTS. 213
undoing of their souls ; for hereupon they grow
utterly careless to get what they think they have
already : who cares to eat, that is full crammed ?
And by this means they live and die graceless ; for
had they ever tasted how sweet the Lord is in the
graces of his Holy Spirit, they could never think they
had enough ; and while they do think so, they are ut
terly uncapableof either having or desiring more. As
there is a sinful, so there is a holy covetousness, which
the more it hath the more it affects. Lord, make me
thus covetous, and I cannot choose but be rich.
XLIII.
What a marvellous familiarity was this which
Moses had with God> that ' the Lord spake unto
Moses, face to face, as a man speaketh unto his
friend!'1 and yet more, that Moses so spake to God !
What a bold and high request was that which
Moses made to God : ' I beseech thee show me thy
glory ; ' that is, as it is there interpreted, ' thy face ! '
that face which no man might see and live. Lo ;
God hath immediately before spoken to Moses, even
to his face, out of the cloudy pillar : that doth not
satisfy his holily ambitious soul ; but as he heard
the voice, so he must see the face, Of the Almighty.
That cloudy pillar did sufficiently represent unto
him the presence of the great God of Israel ; yet
still he sues for a sight of his glory. This is no
pattern for flesh and blood — far be it from our
thoughts to aspire so high. 'Thy face, O God,
will we seek : ' but in thy blessed ordinances, not
in thy glorious and incomprehensible essence. It
is not for me as yet to presume so far as to desire
1 Exod. xxxiii. 11.

214 SELECT THOUGHTS.
to see that infinite light which thou ait, or that
light wherewith thou art clothed, or that light inac
cessible wherein thou dwellest ; only now show me
the light of thy countenance in grace, and prepare
my soul for that light of glory when I shall see as
I am seen.
XLIV.
In the waters of life, the divine Scriptures, there
are shallows and there are deeps ; shallows where
the lamb may wade, and deeps where the elephant
may swim. If we be not wise to distinguish, we
may easily miscarry : he that can wade over the
ford cannot swim through the deep, and if he mis
take the passage he drowns. What infinite mis
chief hath arisen to the church of God from the
presumption of ignorant and unlettered men, that
have taken upon them to interpret the most ob
scure Scriptures, and pertinaciously defended their
own sense ! How contrary is this to all practice,
in whatsoever vocation. In the tailor's trade, every
man can stitch a seam, but every man cannot cut
out a garment ; in the sailor's art, every one may
be able to pull at a cable, but every one cannot
guide the helm ; in the physician's profession, every
gossip can give some ordinary receipts upon com
mon experience, but to find the nature of the dis
ease, and to prescribe proper remedies from the just
grounds of art, is proper to the professors of that
science, and we think it absurd and dangerous to
allow every ignorant mountebank to practice : in
matter of law, every plain countryman knows what
belongs to distraining, impounding, replevying;
but to give sound counsel to a client in a point of
difficulty, to draw firm conveyances, to plead effec-

SELECT THOUGHTS. 215
tually, and to give sound judgment in the hardest
cases, is for none but barristers and benchers : and
shall we think it safe that in divinity, which is the
mistress of all sciences, and in matters which may
concern the eternal safety of the soul, every man
should take upon him to shape his own coat, to
steer his own way, to give his own dose, to put and
adjudge his own case ? The old word was, That
artists are worthy to be trusted in their own trade.
Wherefore hath God given to men skill in arts and
tongues ? Wherefore do the aptest wits spend
their times and studies from their infancy upon
these sacred employments, if men altogether inex
pert in all the grounds, both of art and language,
can be able to pass as sound a judgment in the
depths of theological truths as they ? How happy
were it if we could all learn according to that word
of the apostle, to keep ourselves within our own
line ! As Christians the Scriptures are ours ; but
to use, to enjoy, to read, to hear, to learn, to medi
tate, to practise, not to interpret according to our
private conceit ; for this faculty we must look
higher : ' The priest's lips are to preserve know
ledge, and they shall seek the law at his mouth ;
for he is the messenger of the Lord of hosts.' '
XLV.
When we see the year in his prime and pride,
decked with beautiful blossoms and all goodly
varieties of flowers, cheered with the music of
birds, and stated in a sweet and moderate temper
of heat and cold, how glad we are that we have
made so good an exchange for a hard and chilling
1 Mai. ii. 7.

216 SELECT THOUGHTS.
Winter, and how ready we could be to wish that
this pleasant and happy season might last all the
year long ! But herein, were our desires satisfied,
we should wish to our own great disadvantage ; for
if the spring were not followed with an intention of
summer's heat, those fruits, whose hopes we see in
the bud and flower, could never come to any per
fection ; and even that succeeding fervour, if it
should continue long, would be no less prejudicial
to the health and life of all creatures ; and if there
were not a relaxation of that vigorous heat in
autumn, so as the sap returns back into the root,
we could never look to see but one year's fruit.
And thus also it is spiritually; if our prosperity
were not intermixed with vicissitudes of crosses,
and if the lively beams of grace were not sometimes
interchanged with cold desertions, we should never
know what belongs to spiritual life. What should we
do then, but be both patient of and thankful for our
changes, and make no account of any constancy till
we attain to the region of rest and blessedness ?
XL VI.
What fools doth the devil make of those men,
which would fain otherwise be accounted wise !
Who would think that men could be so far forsaken
of their reason, as to fall down before those stocks
and stones which their own hands had carved ? to
guide their enterprises by the fond auguries of the
flying, or posture, or noise of fowls, or the inspec
tion of the entrails of beasts ? to tie the confidence
of their success to certain scrawls and characters,
which themselves have devised ? to read their own
or others' fortunes in their hands or stars ? to suffer
themselves to be mocked with deceitful visions?

SELECT THOUGHTS. 217
Neither are his spiritual delusions less gross arid
palpable. Wise Solomon speaks of ' the wickedness
of folly ;' ' and we may no less truly invert it, The
folly of wickedness. The fool, saith our Saviour,
' builds his house upon the sand,' 2 so as it may
Ve washed away by the next waves: what other
doth the foolish worldling, that builds all his hopes
upon 'uncertain riches,'3 ' momentary pleasures,' 4
' deceitful favours.' 5 ' The fool,' saith Solomon,
' walketh in darkness;'6 the sinner walks in the
darkness of ignorance, through the works of dark
ness, to the pit of darkness. ' The fool,' saith the
preacher, ' knowns not the way into the city ; '7 the
worldling may perhaps hit the way through the
golden gates of honour, or down to the mines of
wealth, or to the flowery garden of pleasure; but the
way of true peace he knows not; he no more knows
the way to heaven than if there were none. ' The
fool,' saith the psalmist, ' hath said in his heart,
There is no God:' did not the wicked man say
so, he durst not wilfully sin in the face of so mighty
and dreadful an avenger. Lastly, the fool is apt
to part with his patrimony for some gay toys ; and
how ready is the carnal heart to cast away the
favour of God, the inheritance of heaven, the salva
tion of his soul, for these vain earthly trifles ! Holy
men are wont to pass with the world for God's
fools : alas ! how little do these censurers know to
pass a true judgment of wisdom and folly! He
that was rapt into the third heaven tells us, that
' the foolishness of God is wiser than men, and the
weakness of God stronger than men ;'8 but this we
1 Eccl. vii. 25. 3 1 Tim. vi. 17. s Prov. xxxi. 30.
2 Matt. vii. 26. 4 Heb. xi. 25. e Eccl. ii. 14. 7Ib. x. 15.
6 1 Cor. i. 25.

218 SELECT THOUGHTS.
are sure of, that wicked men are the devil's fools,
and that ' judgments are prepared for scorners,
and stripes for the back of fools.' '
XLVII.
There are some things which are laudable in
man, but cannot be incident unto God, as a bash
ful shamefacedness and holy fear ; and there are
some dispositions blame-worthy in men, which are
yet, in a right sense, holily ascribed unto God ; as
unchangeableness and irrepentance. Attributes
and qualities receive their limitations according to
their meet subjects to which they belong, with this
sure rule, That whatsoever may import an infinite
purity and perfection we have reason to ascribe to
our Maker ; what may argue infirmity, misery, cor
ruption, we have reason to take to ourselves. Nei
ther is it otherwise in the condition of men ; one
man's virtue is another's vice : so boldness in a
woman, bashfulness in an old man, bounty in a
poor man, parsimony in the great, are as foully
unbeseeming, as boldness in a soldier, bashfulness
in a child, bounty in the rich, parsimony in the
poor, are justly commendable. It is not enough
for us to know what is good in itself, but what is
proper for us ; else we may be blemished with that
which is another's honour. XL VIII.
It is easy to observe that there are five degrees
of the digestion of our spiritual food. First, it is
received into the cell of the ear, and there digested
by a careful attention ; then it is conveyed into
1 Prov. xix. 29.

SELECT THOUGHTS. 219
the brain, and there concocted by due meditation ;
from thence it is sent down into the heart, and
digested by the affections; and from thence it is
conveyed to the tongue, in conference and holy
confession ; and, lastly, it is thence transmitted to
the hand, and there receives perfect digestion in
our action and performance. And, as the life and
health of the body cannot be maintained except
the material food pass through all the degrees of
bodily concoction, no more can the soul live and
prosper in the want of any of those spiritual de
grees of digestion ; and, as where the food is per
fectly concocted the body grows fat and vigorous,
so it is with the soul where the spiritual repast is
thus kindly digested. Were there not failings in
all these degrees, the souls of men would not be so
meagre and unthriving as they are. Some there
are, that will not give so much as ear-room to the
word of truth ; such are willing recusants : others
will admit it perhaps so far, but there let it rest ;
these are fashionable auditors : some others can be
content to let it enter the brain, and take up some
place in their thoughts and memories ; these are
speculative professors: some (but fewer) others let
it down into their hearts, and there entertain it with
secret liking, but hide it in their bosoms, not daring
to make profession of it to the world ; these are
close Nicodemians: others take it into their mouths,
and busy their tongues in holy chat, yet do no
thing ; these are formal discoursers. But, alas !
how few are there whose hands speak louder than
their tongues; that conscionably hear, meditate,
affect, speak, do the work of their Maker and Re
deemer !

220 SELECT THOUGHTS.
XLIX.
Men that are in the same condition speed not
always alike : Barabbas was a thief, murderer,
seditionary, and deserved hanging no less than the
two thieves that were crucified with our Saviour ;
yet he is dismissed, and they executed. And even
of these two, as our Saviour said of the two women
grinding at the mill, one was taken, the other re
fused : one went, before Peter, to paradise; the other
went, before Judas, into hell. The providence and
election of a God may make a difference : we have
no reason, in the same crime, to presume upon a
contrary issue : if that gracious hand shall exempt
us from the common judgment of our consorts in
evil, we have cause to bless his mercy ; but if
his just hand shall sweep us away in the company
of our wicked consociates, we have reason to thank
none but ourselves for our sufferings.
L.
How sweet a thing is revenge to us naturally !
Even the very infant rejoices to see him beaten
that hath angered him ; and is ready, with his little
hand, to give that stroke to the bystander which
he would have with more force returned to the
offender ; and how many have we known, in mortal
quarrels, cheerfully bleeding out their last drop
when they have seen their enemy gasping and
dying before them ! This alone shows how much
there is remaining in our bosom of the sting of that
old serpent, who was a murderer from the begin
ning; delighting in death, and enjoying our tor
ment : whereas, on the contrary, true grace is mer
ciful, ready to forgive, apt to return good for evil

SELECT THOUGHTS. 221
to pray for our persecutors.1 Nothing doth more
clearly evince what spirit we are of, than our dis
position in wrongs received : the carnal heart
breathes nothing but revenge, and is straight Wring
ing the sword out of the hands of him that hath
said, 'Vengeance is mine:'2 the regenerate soul,
contrarily, gives place to wrath, and ' puts on the
bowels of mercies, kindness, humbleness of mind,
meekness, long-suffering, forbearing, forgiving;'3
and will not ' be overcome with evil, but overcomes
evil with good.'4 We have so much of God, as we
can remit injuries ; so much of Satan, as we would
revenge them. LI.
It is worth observing how nature hath taught all
living creatures to be their own physicians : the
same power that gave them a being, hath led them
to the means of their own preservation. No Indian is
so savage, but that he knows the use of his tobacco
and contra-yerva.5 Yea, even the brute creatures
are bred with this skill. The dog, when he is Sto
mach-sick, can go right to his proper grass ; the
cat, to her nep;2 the goat, to his hemlock; the
weazel, to rue ; the hart, to ditany ; the sick lion
can cure himself with an ape ; the monkey, with a
spider ; the bear, with an ant-heap : to what pur
pose should we instance, when the case is univer
sal ? the toad hath recourse to the plantain-leaf,
the tortoise to his pennyroyal ; and, in short, there

1 Col. Hi. 13. 2 Rom. xii. 19 ; Deut. xxxii. 35.
3 Col. iii. 12, 13. 4 Rom. xii. 21.
0 A plant which grows in the West Indies, used as an anti
dote against poison or infection. — Ed.
° Nepeta, Lat. cat's-mint. — Ed.

222 SELECT THOUGHTS.
is none but knows his own medicine. As for the
reasonable creature, in all the civilized regions of
the world, we may well say now of every nation as
it was of old said of Egypt, that it is a country of
physicians. There is not a housewife but hath an
apothecary's shop in her garden, which affords her
those receipts whereby she heals the ails of her
complaining family. Only mankind is mortally
soul-sick ; and, naturally, neither knows, nor seeks,
nor cares for remedy. O thou, that art the great
Physician in heaven, first cure our insensibleness ;
make thou us as sick of our sins as we have made
ourselves sick by sin, and then speak the word,
and we shall be whole. LII.
When I consider the precious ornaments of the
high-priest, the rich fabric and furniture of the
tabernacle, the bountiful gifts which the princes of
the tribes offered at the dedication of the altar ; ¦ I
cannot but think, what a mass of wealth Israel
brought with them out of Egypt. These treasures
grew not in the wilderness ; neither did Jacob and
his sons bring them out of Canaan : they were
gathered in their Goshen. It was a hard bondage,
under which Israel was held by the latter Pharaohs ;
yet, as if then, instead of the furnaces of bricks,
they had been labouring in the silver mines to their
own advantage ; they come out laden with precious
metals. What should I say to this ? God said,
' Israel is my first born ;' and the first born was to
have a double portion. What was Israel but a
type of God's church ? Now, the church of God
1 Num. viii.

SELECT THOUGHTS. 223
may be held down with cruel tyranny ; but, in
spite of all opposition, it will thrive. And, ' though
they have lain among the pots, yet shall they be as
the wings of a dove covered with silver ; and her
feathers with yellow gold.' ¦ And, if the spouse of
Christ shall be stripped of her outward ornaments,
yet the King's daughter is all glorious within — rich
in those heavenly endowments of grace and holi
ness which shall make her dear and lovely in the
eyes of her celestial Bridegroom. Shortly, the
church may be impaired in her external estate;
but'if, the while, she gathers so much the more of
those better treasures, what hath she lost ? Godli
ness is great gain with contentment. If she have
less of the world, and more of God, what cause can
she have of complaint, or her enemies of insulta-
tion. LIII.
He that is a God of order, loves both to set and
keep it. For the service of his sanctuary he ap
pointed several offices, and in those offices several
degrees. None of those might interfere with others.
The Levites might not meddle with the priests'
charge : nor one degree of Levites with another.
The porters might not thrust in amongst the singers,
though, perhaps, some of their voices might be
more tunable; neither might the singers change
places with the porters. The sons of Merari, that
were to carry the boards, bars, and pillars of the
tabernacle and the court, might not change with
the sons of Gershon, for the lighter burden of the
curtains and hangings : * nor those of Gershon, for
' Psalm lxviii. 13. s Num. iv. 21—33.

224 SELECT THOUGHTS.
the more holy load of the vessels of the sanctuary,
committed to the sons of Kohath ; ¦ neither might
the sons of Kohath so much as go in to see the
covering of those sacred utensils by Aaron and his
sons, upon no less pain than death.2 So punctual
was God in setting every man his proper station,
and holding him to it without either neglect or
change. And why should we think God less curi
ous in his evangelical church ? It was the charge
of him, who, next under the Almighty, had the
marshalling of the church of the Gentiles; 'Let
every man abide in the same calling, wherein he
was called.'3 Perhaps there may be a better head
for policy upon plebeian shoulders, than the gover
nor's : shall that man leave his rank, and thrust into
the chair of government ? Neither is it other in
spiritual offices. It is no thinking, that the wise
and holy God will be pleased with a well-meant
confusion. For all our employments in the ser
vice of the Almighty, we must consult, not with
our abilities, but with our vocation.
LIV.
I see too many men willing to live to no purpose,
caring only to be rid of time, on what terms soever,
making it the only scope of their life to live ; a dis
position that may well befit brute creatures, which
are not capable of any other aim, save merely their
own preservation; but, for men that enjoy the pri
vilege of reason, for Christians that pretend a title
to religion, too base and unworthy. Where God
hath bestowed these higher faculties he looks for
other improvements; for, what a poor thing is it,
1 Num. iv. 15. 2Ib. iv. 20. 3 1 Cor. vii. 20.

SELECT THOUGHTS. 225
only to live ! a thing common to us with the most
despised vermin that breeds on our own corrup
tion ; but to live for some more excellent ends, is
that which reason suggests, and religion perfects.
Here, then, are divers subordinations of ends ;
whereof one makes way for another, and all for the
supreme. We labour and exercise, that we may
eat ; we eat that we may live, and maintain health
and strength ; we desire health and strength, that
we may do good to ourselves and many, that we may
be able to do service to God, our king, and coun
try ; and therein we drive at the testimony of a
good conscience, approving to God our holy de
sires and endeavours ; and, in all these, at the
glory and salvation of our souls ; and lastly, in
that, as the highest of all ends, at the glory of our
blessed Creator and Redeemer. This is indeed to
live : otherwise we may have a being for a time
upon earth, but a life I cannot call it ; and, when
we must cease to be, we are necessarily swallowed
up with the horror of either not being at all, or of
being eternally miserable.
LV.
All our love is moved from some good, which we
apprehend in the party loved — carnal love from
beauty ; worldly from gain ; spiritual from grace ;
divine, from infinite goodness. It must needs be,
therefore, that, when the ground and motive of our
love faileth, the affection itself must cease. Those
that are enamoured of a beautiful face, find their
passion cooled with a loathsome deformity ; those
that are led by the hopes of profit, like wasps, leave
buzzing about the gally-pot, when all the honey is
gone ; those that could carry the rod familiarly in
a

226 SELECT THOUGHTS.
their hand run from it when they see it turned to
a serpent. Contrarily, when that which attracts
our love is constant to itself and everlasting, the
affection set upon it is permanent and eternal. If,
then, I love God for riches, for preferment, for my
own indemnity ; when intervening crosses strip
me of the hopes of all these, I shall be ready to
say, with that distempered king of Israel, 'Behold,
this evil is of the Lord : what should I wait on the
LordLany longer ?' ' If my respects to my Saviour
be for the loaves and fishes, my heart is carried
away with those baskets of fragments; but, if I can
love God for his goodness' sake, this love shall out
last time, and over-match death.
LVI.
What a wretched narrowness of heart is this
which I find in myself, that, when I may have all
things, I take up with nothing ; and, when I may
be possessed of an infinite good, I please myself
in grasping a little thick clay ! It was a large word
that the apostle said to his Corinthians: 'Whether
Paul, or Apollos, or Cephas, or the world, or life,
or death, or things present, or things to come, all
are yours.'3 What, shall we think they were richer
than their neighbours ? or is not this the condition
of all those of whom he can say in the next words,
* ye are Christ's ?' There, there comes in all our
right to this infinite wealth : of ourselves we are
beggars ; in him, who is Lord of All, we are feoffed
in all things : for, while he saith, • All are yours,
and ye are Christ's, and Christ is God's ;' he doth,
in effect, say, ' Christ is yours ; and, in him, God is
1 2 Kings, vi. 33. 2 1 Cor. Hi. 22.

SELECT THOUGHTS. 227
yours;' for this right is mutual. How else should
all things be ours, if God were not ours ; without
whom all is nothing ? And how should God the
Father be ours, without that Son of his love, who
hath said, 'AH things that the Father hath are
mine.' ' Thou, O Father, art in me, and I in thee.'
' No man cometh to the Father but by me.' ' If
then Christ be mine, all is mine ; and if I have so
oft received him, and so often renewed my union
with him, how is he but mine ? O Saviour, let me
feel myself thoroughly possest of thee, whether the
world slide or sink, I am happy.
LVII.
God will not vouchsafe to allow so much honour
to wicked instruments, as to make them the means
of removing public evils. The magicians of Egypt
could have power to bring some plagues upon the
land, but had not the power to take them away.
Certainly there needed a greater power to give a
being to the frogs, than to call them off; yet this lat
ter they cannot do, who prevailed in the first. Moses
and Aaron must be called, to fetch off that judg
ment which the sorcerers have brought upon them
selves. Neither is it otherwise still: wicked men
can draw down those plagues upon a nation which
only the faithful must remove : the sins of the one
make work for the others' intercession. Do we,
therefore, smart and groan under heavy calamities ?
We know to whom we are beholden : ' Thus saith
the Lord to this people, Thus have they loved to
wander ; they have not refrained their feet ; there
fore he will now remember their iniquity, and visit
1 John, xvi. 15; xvii. 21 ; xiv. 6.
«2

228 SELECT THOUGHTS.
their sins. When they fast I will not hear their
cry ; and when they offer burnt offerings and an
oblation, I will not accept them ; but I will con
sume them by the sword and by the famine, and by
the pestilence.' ' Do we desire to be freed from the
present evils, and to escape an utter desolation '
They are Moses and Aaron, that must do it. ' He
said that he would destroy them, had not Moses
his chosen stood before him in the breach, to turn
away his wrath, lest he should destroy them.'2
When our quarrel is with heaven, it is not our force
or our policy that can save us. Every faithful man
is a favourite of the King of Glory ; and can do
more than command legions. Then is a people in
some good way towards safety, when they have
learned to know their friends. While we have
good men's prayers to grapple with wicked men's
sins, there may be hopes of recovery.
LVIII.
The aiming at a good end can be no just excuse
for an unlawful act or disposition ; but, if content
ment did consist in having much, it were a sore
temptation to a man to be covetous, since that con-
tentation is the thing wherein the heart of man is
wont to place its chief felicity ; neither indeed can
there be any possible happiness without it. But
the truth is, abundance is no whit guilty, so much
as of ease, much less, of a full joy: how many
have we known, that have spent more pleased and
happy hours under a house of sticks, and walls of
mud, and roof of straw, than great potentates have
done under marbles and cedar ! And how many,
1 Jer. xiv. 10. 12. 2 Psalm, cvi. 23.

SELECT THOUGHTS. 229
both wise heathen and mortified Christians, have
rid their hands of their cumbersome store that they
might be capable of being happy! Other crea
tures do naturally neglect that, which abused reason
bids us dote upon. If we had no better powers
than beasts or fowls, we should not at all care for
this either white or red earth ; and, if our graces
were as great as the least of saints, we should look
carelessly upon the preciousest and largest trea
sures that the earth can afford. Now, our debauched
reason, instead of stirring us up to emulate the best
creatures, draws us down below the basest of them ;
moving us to place our happiness in those things,
which have neither life nor true worth ; much less
can give that which they have not. It is not for
the generous souls of Christians to look so low as
to place their contentment in any thing, whether
within the bowels, or upon the face of this earth ;
but to raise their thoughts up to the glorious region
of their original and rest, 'looking, not at the
things which are seen, but at the things which are
not seen : for the things that are seen are temporal,
but the things which are not seen are eternal.' '
LIX.
The holy Psalmist knew well what he said, when
tie called the thunder in the clouds, * The voice of
the Lord; a voice, powerful and full of majesty.'3
The very heathens made this the most awful act of
their Jupiter ; which the Spirit of God expresses in
a more divine language : ' The God of glory thun-
dereth.'3 Upon this dreadful sound it is, that the
Psalmist calls to the ' mighty ones,' to ' give unto
1 2 Cor. iv. 18. 2 Psalm, xxix. 4. 3 lb. ver. 3.

230 SELECT THOUGHTS.
the Lord glory and strength,' to ' give unto the
Lord the glory due to his name ;' ' as it were ad
vising the great commanders of the world, when
they hear it thunder, to fall down on their knees,
and to lift up their hands and eyes to that great
God that speaks to them from heaven. No man
needs to bid the stoutest heart to fear, when this
terrible sound strikes through his ear, which is
able to drive even Neros and Caligulas into bench-
holes ; but this mighty voice calls for an improve
ment of our fear, to the glory of that Almighty
power whence it proceeds. Perhaps the presump
tion of man will be finding out the natural causes
of this fearful uproar in the clouds ; but the work
ing by means derogates nothing from the God of
nature.2 Neither yet are all thunders natural : that
whirlwind and th under, wherein God spake to Job 3 —
that thunder and lightning, wherein God spake to
Moses and Israel in Mount Sinai4 — that thunder
and rain, wherewith God answered the prayer of
Samuel in wheat-harvest, for Israel's conviction in
the unseasonable suit for their king5 — that thunder
ing voice from heaven, that answered the prayer of
the Son of God, for the glorifying of his name6 —
the seven thunders, that uttered their voices to the
beloved disciple in Patmos,7 — had nothing of ordi-
1 Psalm, xxix. ver. 1, 2.
2 This is a remark especially worthy to be remembered in an
age like the present, when the wide diffusion of a superficial
acquaintance with natural science is making practical atheists of
so many ; who in the discovery of the laws of nature, willingly
forget the Lawgiver. For a reflecting mind, however, second
causes are rather guides and steps to the First Cause, than ob
stacles to perceiving Him. — Ed.
3 Job, xl. 9 ; xxxviii. 1. 4 Exod. xix.
s 1 Sam. xii. 17, 18. 6 John, xii. 28, 29.
7 Rev. x. 3, 4.

SELECT THOUGHTS. 231
nary nature in them. And how many have we
heard and read of, that for slighting of this great
work of God, have at once heard his voice and felt
his stroke ! Shortly, if any heart can be unmoved
at this mighty voice of God, it is stiffer than the
rocks in the wilderness : for, •' The voice of the Lord
shaketh the wilderness, the Lord shaketh the wil
derness of Kadesh.'1 For me, I tremble at the
power, while I adore the mercy, of that great God
that speaks so loud to me. It is my comfort, that
He is my Father, who approves himself thus om
nipotent ; his love is no less infinite than his power :
let the terror be to them that know him angry;
let my confidence overcome my fear : ' It is the
Lord ; let him do what he will.' All is not right
with me, till I have attained to tremble at him
while he shineth, and to rejoice in him while he
thundereth.
LX.
We talk of mighty warriors that have done great
exploits in conquering kingdoms ; but the Spirit
of God tells us of a greater conquest than all
theirs: 'Whatsoever is born of God, overcometh
the world : and this is the victory, that overcometh
the world, even our faith.'2 Alas ! the conquest of
those great commanders was but poor and partial—
of some small spots of the earth : the conquest of a
regenerate Christian is universal — of the whole
world. Those other conquerors, while they pre
vailed abroad, were yet overcome at home ; and,
while they were the lords of nations, were no other
1 Psalm, xxix. 8. 2 1 John, v. 4

232 SELECT THOUGHTS.
than vassals to their own lusts : these begin their
victories at home, and enlarge their triumphs over
all their spiritual enemies. The glory of those
other victors was laid down with their bodies in
the dust : the glory that attends these is eternal.
What pity it is, that the true Christian should not
know his own greatness ; that he may raise his
thoughts accordingly, and bear himself as one
that tramples the world under his feet ! ' For all
that is in the world,' is ' the lust of the flesh, the
lust of the eyes, and the pride of life.'1 These he
hath truly subdued in himself; not so as to bereave
them of life, but of rule : if he have left them some
kind of being still in him, yet he hath left them no
dominion ; and therefore may well style himself
the Lord of the world. Far, far therefore be it
from him, that he should so abject and debase
himself, as to be a slave to his vassals : none but
holy and high thoughts and demeanors may now
beseem him ; and in these spiritual regards of his
inward greatness and self-conquests, his word must
be, " Either Caesar, or nothing.''
LXI.
I see so many kinds of phrensies in the world,
and so many seemingly wise brains taken with
them ; that I much doubt whom I may be sure to
account free, from either the touch, or at least the
danger of this indisposition. How many opinions
do I see raised every day, that argue no less than
a mere spiritual madness ; such as, if they should
have been but mentioned seven years ago, would
1 1 John, ii. 16.

SELECT THOUGHTS. 233
have been questioned out of what bedlam they had
broken loose ! ¦ And, for dispositions, how do we
see one, so ragingly furious, as if he had newly
torn off his chains and escaped ; another so stu
pidly senseless, that you may thrust pins into him
up to the head, and he startles not at it! One so
dumpishly sad, as if he would freeze to death in
melancholy, and hated any contentment but in
sorrow ; another so apishly jocund, as if he cared
for no other pastime than to play with feathers !
One so superstitiously devout, that he is ready to
cringe and crouch to every stock ; another so wildly
profane, that he is ready to spit God in the face !
Shortly, one so censorious of others, as if he
thought all men mad but himself; another so mad,
as that he thinks himself and all madmen sober
and well-witted ! In this store and variety of dis
tempers, were I not sure of my own principles, I
could easily misdoubt myself : now, settled on firm
grounds, I can pity and bewail the woeful distrac
tion of many ; and can but send them for recovery
to that Divine Wisdom, who calls to them in the
openings of the gates, and uttereth her words,
saying : ' How long, ye simple ones, will ye love
simplicity ? and the scorners delight in their scorn
ing, and fools hate knowledge ? turn you at my
reproof.'3 ' O ye simple, understand wisdom : and,
ye fools, be ye of an understanding heart.'4 ' Bles
sed is the man that heareth me, watching daily at
my gates : but he that sinneth against me, wrong-

1 How pointedly applicable this remark is to other times be
sides the age in which it was called forth, is sufficiently ob
vious. — Ed.
8 Prov. i. 22. 3 lb. via. 5.

234 SELECT THOUGHTS.
eth his own soul: all they that hate me, love
death.' ' LXII.
Man, as he consists of a double nature, flesh and
spirit, so is he placed in a middle rank, betwixt an
angel, which is a spirit, and a beast, which is flesh;
partaking of the qualities, and performing the acts
of both. He is angelical in his understanding, in
his sensual affections bestial ; and to whether of
these he most inclineth and conformeth himself,
that part wins more of the other, and gives a deno
mination to him : so as he, that was before half
angel, half beast, if he be drowned in sensuality,
hath lost the angel, and is become a beast ; if he be
wholly taken up with heavenly meditations, he
hath quit the beast, and is improved angelical.
It is hard to hold an equal temper ; either he must
degenerate into a beast, or be advanced to an angel.2
Mere reason sufficiently apprehends the difference
of the condition : could a beast be capable of that
faeulty, he would wish to be a man rather than a
brute, as he is. There is not more difference be
twixt a man and a beast, than between an angel
and a brutish man. How must I needs therefore
be worse than beast, if, when I may be preferred to
that happy honour, I should rather affect to be a
beast than an angel ! Away, then, with the bestial
delights of the sensual appetite; let not my soul sink
in this mud ; let me be wholly for those intellectual
pleasures which are pure and spiritual ; and let my
ambition be, to come as near to the angel as this
clog of my flesh will permit.
1 Prov. viii. 34. 36.
2 A momentous truth, admirably expressed.

SELECT THOUGHTS. 235
LXIII.
There is great difference in men's dispositions
under affliction : some there are, dead-hearted pa
tients, that grow mopish and stupid with too deep
a sense of their sufferings ; others, out of a careless
jollity, are insensible even of sharp and heavy
crosses. We are wont to speak of some whose en
chanted flesh is invulnerable : this is the state of
those hearts which are so bewitched with worldly
pleasures that they are not to be pierced with any
calamity that may befall them, in their estates,
children, husbands, wives, friends ; so as they can
say with Solomon's drunkard, ' They have stricken
me, and I was not sick ; they have beaten me, but
I felt it not.' ' These are dead flesh, which do no
more feel the knife than if it did not at all enter ;
for whom some corrosives are necessary to make
them capable of smart. This disposition, though
it seems to carry a face of fortitude and patience,
yet is justly offensive, and not a little injurious,
both to God and the soul : to God, whom it endea
vours to frustrate of those holy ends which he pro-
poseth to himself in our sufferings ; for wherefore
doth he afflict us, if he would not have us afflicted D
wherefore doth the father whip the child, but that
he would have him smart, and by smarting bet
tered ? he looks for cries and tears, and the child
that weeps not under the rod is held graceless : to
the soul, whom it robs of the benefit of our suffer
ing ; for what use can there be of patience, where
there is no sense of evil ? and how can patience
have its perfect work, where it is not? Betwixt
1 Prov. xxiii. 35.

236 SELECT THOUGHTS.
both these extremes, if we would have our souls
prosper, a mid-disposition must be attained : we
must be so sensible of evils, that we be not stupified
with them, and so resolute under our crosses that
we may be truly sensible of them ; not so brawned
under the rod that we should not feel it, nor yet so
tender that we should over-feel it ; not more patient
under the stripe, than willing to kiss the hand that
inflicts it. LXIV.
God, as he is one, so he loves singleness and
simplicity in the inward parts. As, therefore, he
hath been pleased to give us those senses double,
whereby we might let in for ourselves, as our eyes
and ears ; and those limbs double, whereby we
might act for ourselves, as our hands and feet ; so
those which he would appropriate to himself, as
our hearts for belief, and our tongue for confession,
he hath given us single ; neither did he ever ordain,
or can abide two hearts in a bosom, two tongues in
one mouth. It is then the hateful style, which the
Spirit of God gives to a hypocrite, that he is ' dou
ble minded.' In the language of God's Spirit, a
fool hath no heart ; and a dissembler hath a heart
and a heart : and surely, as a man that hath two
heads is a monster in nature, so he that hath two
hearts is no less a spiritual monster to God. For
the holy and wise God hath made one for one, one
mind or soul for one body ; and if the regenerate
man have two men in one, the old man and the
new, yet it is so as that one is flesh, the other spirit;
the mind then is not double, but the law of the
1 James, iv. 8,

SELECT THOUGHTS. 237
mind is opposed to the law of the flesh ; * so as here
are strivings in one heart, not the sidings of two.
For, surely, the God of unity can neither endure
multiplication nor division of hearts in one breast.
If, then, we have one heart for God, another for
mammon, we may be sure God will not own this
latter — how should he, for he made it not? Yea,
most justly will he disclaim both ; since that which
he made was but one, this double. And, as the
wise man hath told us, that God hates nothing
which he hath made ; so may we truly say, God
hateth whatsoever he made not, since what he made
not is only evil. When I have done my best, I
shall have but a weak and a faulty heart; but, Lord,
let it be but a single one : ' Search me, O God,
and know my heart; try me, and know my
thoughts ; and see if there be any wicked way in
me, and lead me in the way everlasting.' 2
LXV.
There is a kind of not-being in sin ; for sin is not
an existence of somewhat that is, but a deficiency
of that rectitude which should be : it is a privation,
but not without a real mischief; as blindness is but
a privation of sight, but a true misery. Now, a
privation cannot stand alone, it must have some
subject to learn upon : there is no blindness, but
where there is an eye ; no death, but where there
hath been a life. Sin, therefore, supposes a soul
wherein it is ; and an act whereto it cleaveth ;
and those acts of sin are they which the apostle
calls the ' works of darkness :'3 so as there is a kind

Rom. vii. 23. a Psalm, cxxxix, 23, 24.
» Eph. v. 11.

238 SELECT THOUGHTS.
of operosity in sin ; in regard whereof, sinners are
styled 'the workers of iniquity.'1 And, surely,
there are sins wherein there is more toil and labour
than in the holiest actions : what pains and care doth
the thief take in setting his match, in watching for
his prey ! how doth he spend the darkest and coldest
nights in the execution of his plot! what fears,
what flights, what hazards, what shifts are here
to avoid notice and punishment ! The adulterer
says, that " stolen waters are sweet ;" but that sweet
is sauced to him with many careful thoughts, with
many deadly dangers. The superstitious bigot,
who is himself besotted with error, how doth he
traverse sea and land to make a proselyte ! what
adventures doth he make, what perils doth he run,
what deaths doth he challenge, to mar a soul ! So
as some men take more pains to go to hell, than
some others do to go to heaven. Oh, the sottish-
ness of sinners, that with a temporary misery will
needs purchase an eternal ! How should we think
no pains sufficient for the attainment of heaven,
when we see wretched men toil so much for dam
nation ! LXVI.
With what elegance and force doth the Holy
Ghost express our Saviour's leaving of the world ;
which he calls his taking home again, or his re
ceiving up!2 In the former, implying that the
Son of God was, for the time, sent out of his
Father's house, to these lower regions of his
exile or pilgrimage, and was now re-admitted into
those his glorious mansions ; in the latter, so inti-
1 Luke, xiii. 27. 2 Ibid. ix. 51.

SELECT THOUGHTS. 239
mating his triumphant ascension, that he passeth
over his bitter passion. Surely, he was to take
death in his way ; so he told his disciples in
the walk to Emmaus : ' Ought not Christ to suffer
these things, and to enter into his glory ?' ' He
must be lifted up to the cross, ere his ascension
to heaven. But, as if the thought of death were
swallowed up in the blessed issue of his death,
here is no mention of ought but his assump
tion. Lo ! death truly swallowed up in victory.
Neither is it otherwise, proportionally, with us;
wholly so it cannot be. For as for him, death
did but taste of him, could not devour him, much
less put him over ; it could not but yield him
whole and entire the third day, without any im
pairing of his nature ; yea, with a happy addition
to it, of a glorious immortality, and in that glori
fied humanity he ascended by his own power into
his heaven. For us, we must be content that one
part of us lie rotting for the time in the dust ;
while our spiritual part shall, by the ministry of
angels, be received up to those everlasting habita
tions. Here is an assumption therefore, true and
happy, though not as yet total. And why should
I not, therefore, have my heart taken up, with the
assured expectation of this receiving up into my
glory ° W hy do I not look beyond death, at the
eternally-blessed condition of this soul of mine;
which, in my dissolution, is thus crowned with im
mortality ? So doth the sea-beaten mariner cheer
up himself with the sight of that haven which he
makes for. So doth the traveller comfort himself,
when, after a tempestuous storm, he sees the sun
1 Lu':e xxiv. 26.

240 SELECT THOUGHTS.
breaking forth in his brightness. I am dying;
but, O Saviour, thou art ' the resurrection and the
life ; he that believeth in thee, though he be dead,
yet shall he live.' • ' Awake and sing, ye that dwell
in the dust ; for thy dew is as the dew of herbs,
and the earth shall cast out the dead.' 2 ' Blessed
are the dead that die in the Lord, for they rest
from their labours, and their works follow them.'3
LXVII.
What need I be troubled, that I find in myself a
fear of death ? What Israelite is not ready to run
away at the sight of this Goliath ? This fear is
natural ; and so far from being evil, that it was
incident to the Son of God, who ' was heard in
that which he feared.' Christianity serves not to
destroy, but to rectify nature. Grace regulates
this passion in us, and corrects the exorbitances of
it, never intended to root it out. Let me, therefore,
entertain this fear, but so that I may master it. If
I cannot avoid fear, let it be such as may be inci
dent to a faithful man. While my fear appre
hends just terror in the face of death, let my faith
lay fast hold on that blessed Saviour, who hath
both overcome and sweetened it ; on that blessed
estate of glory, which accompanies it : my fear
shall end in joy, my death in advantage.
LXVIII.
It is too plain, that we are fallen upon the old
age of the world ; the last times, and therefore
nearest to the dissolution. And if time itself did

1 John xi. 25. s Isaiah xxvL 19.
3 Rev. xiv. 13.

SELECT THOUGHTS. 241
not evince it, the disposition and qualities would
most evidently do it : for to what a cold temper
of charity are we grown! what mere ice is in
these spiritual veins! The unnatural and un
kindly flushings of self-love abound indeed every
where , but for true Christian love, it is come to old
David's pass ; it may be covered with clothes, but
it can get no heat.1 Besides, what whimsies and
fancies of dotage do we find the world possessed
withal, beyond the examples of all former times !
what wild and mad opinions have been lately
broached, which the settled brains of better ages
could never have imagined ! Unto these how ex
tremely choleric the world is grown in these later
times, there needs no other proof than the effusion
of so much blood in this present age, as many
preceding centuries of years have been sparing to
spill. What should I speak of the moral distem
pers of diseases; the confluence whereof hath
made this age more wickedly miserable, than all
the former ?' for whenever was there so much pro-
faneness, atheism, blasphemy, schism, excess, diso
bedience, Oppression, licentiousness, as we now
sigh under ? Lastly, that which is the common
fault of age, loquacity, is a plain evidence of the
world's declinedness ; for was there ever age guilty
of so much tongue and pen as the last ? were ever
the presses so cloyed with frivolous work ? Every
man thinks what he lists, and speaks what he thinks,
and writes what he speaks, and prints what he
writes. Neither would the world talk so much,
did it not make account it cannot talk long. What
should we do then, since we know the world truly
1 1 Kings, i. 1.

242 SELECT THOUGHTS.
old, and now going upon his great and fatal cli-
macterical ; but as discreet men would carry them
selves to impotent and decrepid age, bear with the
infirmities of it, pity and bewail the distempers,
strive against the enormities, and prepare for the
dissolution.1 LXIX.
There cannot be a stronger motive to awe and
obedience than that which St. Peter enforceth:
' That God is both a father and a judge;'2 the one
is a title of love and mercy, the other of justice.
Whatever God is, he is all that: he is all love
and mercy; he is all justice. He is not so a
judge, that he. hath waved the title and affection
of a father ; he is not so a father, that he will
remit ought of his infinite justice as a judge. He
is, he will ever be, both these in one; and we
must fasten our eyes upon both these at once, and
be accordingly affected unto both. He is a father,
therefore here must be a loving awe ; he is a judge,
and therefore here must be an awful love and obe
dience. So must we lay hold of the tender mer
cies of a father, that we may rejoice continually ; so
must we apprehend the justice of a righteous judge,
that we do lovingly tremble. Why then should
man despair? God is a Father. All the bowels
1 The circumstances alleged by Hall in support of this fa
vourite, but not very philosophical notion, are, in several in
stances, unhappily chosen ; of such as have a juster applica
tion, the greater part are no less prophetic than directly charac
teristic ; proving that the march of society proceeds in cycles,
and not in a direct line, as is implied in the idea that the terms
youth, maturity, and old age, indicate, when thus applied, a
close analogy. 2 1 Peter, i. 17.

SELECT THOUGHTS. 243
of mortal and human love are strait to his : ' Can a
woman forget her sucking child, that she should
not have compassion on the son of her womb ? yea,
they may forget, yet will I not forget thee ; ' ' saith
the Lord. That which is the title of his per
sonality in divine relation, is also the title of his
gracious relation to us Father : neither can he be
other than he is styled. And contrarily, how dare
man presume, since this Father is a judge ? It is
for sinful flesh and blood to be partial : foolish pa
rents may be apt to connive at the sins of their own
loins or bowels, because theirs ; either they will not
see them, or not hate them, or not censure them, or
not punish them : the infinite justice of a God can
not wink at our failings ; there is no debt of our
sin, but must be paid in ourselves, or our surety.
If then we call him ' Father, who without respect
of persons judgeth according to every man's work;'
why do we not 'pass the time of our sojourning here
in fear ? ' 2
LXX.
How terrible a motion was that, which was made
¦ by the two disciples, of commanding fire to come
down from heaven and consume the inhospitable
Samaritans ? Methinks I could tremble but at the
imagination of so dreadful a judgment as they did
not fear to sue for. Yet if we look to the offence,
it was no positive act of indignity offered to Christ,
but the mere not lodging of his train ; and that not
out of a rude inhumanity, but out of a religious scru
ple. What could they have said if these Samaritans
had pursued them with swords, and staves, and
1 Isaiah, xlix. 15. i 1 Peter, i 17-
r2

244 SELECT THOUGHTS.
stones ? Whom shall we hope to find free from
cruelty of revenge, when even the disciple of love
was thus overtaken ? What wonder is it if natural
men be transported with furious desires, when so
eminent domestics and followers of our Saviour
were thus faulty ? Surely nature in man is cruel ;
neither is there any creature under heaven so
bloody to its own kind. Even bears, and wolves,
and tigers, devour not one another; and if any of
them fall out in single combats for a prey, here is
no public engaging for blood. Neither do they
affect to enjoy each others' torment, rather entertain
ing one anothers' complaints with pity : let but a
swine cry, the rest of the herd within the noise come
running in to see and compassionate his pain. Only
man rejoices in the misery of the same flesh and
blood with himself, and loves to triumph in his re
venge. While we are thus affected, we know not of
what spirit we are : we may soon learn ; we are even
of that spirit who was ' a man-slayer from the begin
ning.' ' As for the good spirit, his just style is, the
'preserver of men:'2 and the errand of the Son of
Man was, ' not to destroy men's lives, but to save
them;'3 and his charge to these and all other his
disciples, ' Be merciful, as your Father also is mer
ciful.'4 And how easily may you observe, that
this very disciple, as if in way of abundant satis
faction for this rash oversight, calls more for love
than all the rest of his master's train ! telling us
that ' God is love ; and he that dwelleth in love,
dwelleth in God, and God in him;'4 and, ' Beloved,
let us love one another ; for love is of God ; and
1 John, viii. 44. 2 Job, vii. 20.
3 Luke, ix. 56. 4 Luke, vi. 36.
4 1 John, iv. 16.

SELECT THOUGHTS. 245
every one that loveth is of God, and knoweth God.
He that loveth not, knoweth not God ; for God is
love.'1 Shortly then, what would not this holy
disciple have given to have recalled this fiery mo
tion ? The more mercy and charity is in us, the
more we have of God ; the more fury and revenge,
of Satan
LXXI.
Much caution must be had in our imitation of
the acts of the holiest ; cautions, both in respect of
the persons, and of the actions. God himself, yea
God clothed in flesh, though the pattern of all per
fection, is not for our universal imitation ; the most
of their actions are for our wonder, not for our ex-
ampling. And amongst men, how absurd were it
in a peasant to imitate a king ! or one of the long
robe a soldier ! If Moses climb up the hill of God,
Sinai, shall another Israelite say, " Moses goes up,
why not I ? " so he might have paid dear for his
presumption : Moses was called up, the rest were
limited ; and if a beast touch the hill, he shall die.
That act may beseem one, which would be very in
congruous in another : the dog fawns upon his
master, and hath his back stroked ; if the ass do
the like he is beaten. We are naturally apt to be
carried with examples. It is one of the greatest
improvements of wisdom, to know whom, in what,
and how far, we may imitate. The best have then-
weaknesses : there is no copy without a blur : ' Be
ye followers of me,' saith the chosen vessel ; but
how? 'even as I am of Christ.'2 It is safe fol
lowing him that cannot err.
1 1 John, iv. 7, 8.
' Phil. iii. 17. 1 Cor. iv. 16. 1 Cor. xi. 1.

246 SELECT THOUGHTS.

LXXII.
God who is simply one, infinitely perfect, abso
lutely complete in himself, enjoys himself fully,
from all eternity, without any relation to the crea
ture ; but knowing our wants and weaknesses, he
hath ordained a society for our well-being; and
therefore, even in man's innocency, could say, ' It
is not good for a man to be alone.' And why,
Lord ? why might not man have taken pleasure
enough in the beauty and sweetness of his para
dise, in contemplating thy heaven, in the command
of thine obsequious creatures ; and, above all, in
the fruition of thy divine presence, in that happy
integrity of his nature, without any accession of
other helps ? Surely thou, who knewest well what
disposition thou hadst put into him, intendedst to
fit him with all meet conveniences ; and thou, who
madest him sociable, before he could have any so
ciety, thoughtest fit to stead him with such a so
ciety as might make his life comfortable to him.
Wise Solomon observes it out of his deep expe
rience, for ' a vanity under the sun, that there is
one alone, and there is not a second ; ' and that,
' two are better than one, because they have a good
reward for their labour.' ' In the plantation of the
evangelical church, the apostles are not reckoned
single, but by pairs;2 and so doth their Lord send
them upon the great errand of his gospel ; and
when he seconded that work by a commission
given to his seventy disciples, he ' sent them two
and two before his face, into every city and place,
1 Eccl. iv. 7, 8, 9. 2 Matth. x. 2, 3, 4.

SELECT THOUGHTS. 247
whither he himself would come.' l After this, when
our Saviour had left the earth, Paul and Barnabas
go together ; and when they are parted, Paul and
Silas, Barnabas and Mark, are sorted. Single en
deavours seldom prosper ; many hands make the
work both quick and sure. They can be no friends
to the happy estate of a family or church that la
bour to cause distractions : division makes certain
way for ruin. LXXIII.
Under the law, there was difference, as of ages,
so of sexes. Circumcision was appropriated to the
male. In the temple there was the court of the
Jews ; and without that, the court of the women ;
neither might that sex go beyond their bounds ;
and still it is so in their Jewish synagogues. But in
Christ, ' there is neither male nor female.' As the
soul hath no sex, so God makes no difference in
the acceptation of either. As it is the honour of
the one sex that Christ, the Son of God, was a man,
so it is the honour of the other sex that he was born
of a woman. And if the woman be, as she is in
nature, the weaker vessel, yet she is no less capable
of grace than the stronger; as the thinnest glass
may receive as precious liquor as the best plate.
Good Anna, as well as Simeon, gave glory to their
new-born Saviour, ' to all that looked for redemp
tion in Jerusalem.'2 And afterwards, the holy
women were no less zealous attendants of Christ,
both in his life and death, than the most forward
disciples;3 yea, they followed him when his do
mestic followers forsook him ; neither could be
1 Luke, x. 1. s lb. ii. 38. 3 lb. viii. 2, 3.

248 SELECT THOUGHTS.
parted by either his cross or his grave. • And they
were the first that were honoured with the notice
and message of their Saviour's blessed resurrection
and ascension ; ' 2 than which, what employment
could be more noble ? ' The Lord gave the word,'
saith the Psalmist, ' great was the company of the
preacheresses;'3 the word is feminine. However,
therefore, in natural and polite respects, the philo
sopher might have some reason to bless God, that
he had made him a man, and not a woman ; yet in
spiritual, which are the best regards, here is no
inequality ; so that it is the great mercy and good
ness of our common Creator, that though he hath
made a difference in the smallest matters, yet he
makes none in the greatest; and that he so indif
ferently peoples heaven with both sexes, that for
ought we know, the greatest saint there is of the
weaker sex. *
LXXIV.
There is nothing more easy than for a man to be
courageous in a time of safety, and to defy those
dangers which he neither feels nor sees. While
the coast is clear every man can be ready to say
with Peter, ' Though all men, yet not I ; if I
should die with thee, I will not deny thee in any
wise.'5 But when the evil hour cometh, when our
enemy appears armed in the lists ready to encoun
ter us, then to call up our spirits, and to grapple
resolutely with dangers and death, it is the praise
and proof of a true Christian valour. Aqd this is
1 " Last at his cross, and earliest at his grave." — Ed.
2 John, xx. 17. s Psalm, lxviii. 11.
4 King James's Preface Monitory.
5 Mark, xiv. 29, 31.

SELECT THOUGHTS. 249
that which the apostle calls 'standing;'1 in oppo
sition to both falling and fleeing ; falling out of
faintness, and fleeing for fear. It shall not be pos
sible for us thus to stand if we shall trust to our
feet. In and of ourselves the best of us are but
mere cowards ; neither can be able so much as to
look our enemy in the face. Would we be perfect
victors ? we must go out of ourselves, into the God
of our strength. If we have made him ours, who
shall, yea, who can, be against us ? ' We can do
all things, through him that strengthens us;'2
all things — therefore conquer death and hell. If we
be weakness, he is omnipotence. Put we on the
Lord Jesus Christ by a lively faith,3 what enemy
can come within us to do us hurt ? ' What time I
am afraid, I will trust in thee, O God : in thee, O
God, have I trusted ; I will not fear what (either)
flesh (or spirit) can do unto me.'4 'The Lord is
my rock, and my fortress, and my deliverer ; my
God, my strength, in whom I will trust; my buck
ler, and the horn of my salvation : I will call upon
the Lord, who is worthy to be praised ; so shall I
be saved from mine enemies.' 5
LXXV.
It is disparagement enough that the apostle casts
upon all the visible things of this world, that ' the
things which are seen are temporary.' 6 Be they
never so glorious, yet being transitory, they can
not be worthy of our hearts. Who would care for
a house of glass, if never so curiously painted and
gilded ? All things that are measured by time are
1 Eph. vi. 13, 14. 2 Phil. iv. 13.
3 Rom. xiii. 14. 4 Psalm, lvi.
5 Psalm, xviii. 2, 3. 6 2 Cor. iv. 18.

250 SELECT THOUGHTS.
thus brittle. Bodily substances, of what kind so
ever, lie open to the eye ; and, being seen, can be
in no other than a fading condition. Even that
goodly fabric of heaven, which we see and admire,
must be changed, and, in a sort, dissolved.1 How
much more vanishing are all earthly glories ! And,
by how much shorter their continuance is, so much
lower must be their valuation. We account him
foolish that will dote too much upon a flower,
though never so beautiful, because we know it can
be but a month's pleasure ; and no care, no art can
preserve it from withering : amongst the rest the
hemerocallis2 is the least esteemed, because one day
ends its beauty. What madness then were it in us
to set our hearts upon these perishing contentments,
which we must soon mutually leave; we them, they
us ! Eternity is that only thing which is worthy to
take up the thoughts of a wise man : that, being
added to evil, makes the evil infinitely more into
lerable ; and, being added to good, makes the good
infinitely more desirable. O eternity ! thou bottom
less abyss of misery to the wicked, thou indeter
minable pitch of joy to the saints of God, what soul
is able to comprehend thee ? What strength of
understanding is able to conceive of thee ? Be thou
ever in my thoughts, ever before mine eyes. Be
thou the scope of all my actions, of all my endea
vours ; and, in respect of thee, let all this visible
world be to me as nothing : and, since only ' the
things which are not seen' by the eye of sense, ' are
eternal,' Lord, sharpen thou the eyes of my faith,
that I may see those things invisible, and may, in
that sight, enjoy thy blessed eternity.
' 2 Peter, iii. 7, 12. " The day-lily.— Ed.

SELECT THOUGHTS. 251
LXXVI.
What is all the world to us, in comparison of the
bird in our bosom, our conscience ? In vain shall
; all the world acquit and magnify us, if that secretly
condemn us ; and if that condemn us not, ' we
have confidence towards God,'1 and may bid defi-
! ance to men and devils. Now, that it may not
, condemn us, it must be both pacified and purged —
pacified, in respect of the guilt of sin ; purged, in
respect of the corruption. For so long as there is
guilt in the soul, the clamours of an accusing and
condemning conscience can no more be stilled,
than the waters of the sea can stand still in a storm.
There is then no pacification without removing the
guilt of sin, no removing of guilt without remission,
no remission without satisfaction, no satisfaction
without a price of infinite value, answerable to the
infiniteness of the justice offended ; and this is no
where to be had but in the blood of Christ, God
and man. All created and finite powers are but
miserable comforters, physicians of no value, to this
one. And the same power that pacifieth the con
science from guilt, must also purge it from the fil
thiness of sin ;2 even that blood of the Son of God,
who ' is made unto us of God sanctification and
redemption.' That faith, which brings Christ home
to the soul, doth, by the efficacy of his blessed
Spirit, purify the heart from ' all filthiness' both ' of
flesh and spirit. Being justified by' this ' faith, we
have peace with God.' 3 When once the heart is
quieted from the uproars of self-accusation, and

1 John, iii. 21. 2 Heb. ix. 14 ; 1 John, i. 7.
3 Acts, xv. 9.

252 SELECT THOUGHTS.
cleansed from dead works, what in this world can
so much concern us as to keep it so ? Which shall
be done, if we shali give Christ the possession of
our souls, and commit the keys into his only hands:
so shall nothing be suffered to enter in that may
disturb or defile, if we shall settle firm resolutions
in our breasts never to yield to the commission of
any known, enormous sin. Failings and slips there
will be in the holiest of God's saints, while they
carry their clay about them : for these we are
allowed to fetch forth a pardon, of course, from that
infinite mercy of our God, who hath set a fountain
open ' to the house of David, and to the inhabitants
of Jerusalem, for sin and for uncleanness,' ' by the
force of our daily prayers. But if, through an
over-bold security and spiritual negligence, we
shall suffer ourselves to be drawn away into some
heinous wickedness, it must cost warm water to
recover us.2 Neither can it, in such a case, be safe
for us to suffer our eyes to sleep, or our eye-lids to
slumber, till we have made our peace with heaven.
This done, and carefully maintained, what can
make us other than happily secure ? ' Blessed is
he whose conscience hath not condemned him, and
who is not fallen from his hope in the Lord.'3
LXXVII.
We cannot apprehend heaven in any notion but
of excellency and glory ; that, as it is in itself a
place of wonderful resplendence and majesty, so it
is the palace of the most high God, wherein he ex
hibits his infinite magnificence; that it is the happy
receptacle of all the elect of God ; that it is the
1 Zech. xiii. 1. a Tears of repentance.— Ed. 3 Ecclus. xiv. 2.

SELECT THOUGHTS. 253
glorious rendezvous of the blessed angels ; that we
have parents, children, husband, wife, brothers,
sisters, friends whom we dearly loved, there. For,
such is the power of love, that it can endear any
place to us where the party affected is, much more
the best. If it be a loathsome gaol, our affection
can make it a delightful bower. Yea, the very
grave cannot keep us off : the women could say of
Mary, that she was gone to the grave of Lazarus to
weep there ; and the zeal of those holy clients of
Christ carries them to seek their (as they supposed
still dead) Saviour, even in his tomb. Above all
conceivable apprehensions, then, wherein heaven is
endeared to us, there is none comparable to that
which the apostle enforceth to us, that there ' Christ
sitteth at the right-hand of God.' ' If we have a
husband, wife, child, whom we dearly love, pent up
in some tower or castle afar off, whither we are not
allowed to have access, how many longing eyes do
we cast thither! how do we please ourselves to
think, within those walls is he inclosed whom my
soul loveth, and who is inclosed in my heart ! But, if
it may be possible to have passage, though with some
difficulty and danger, to the place, how gladly do we
put ourselves upon the adventure ! When, there
fore, we hear and certainly know that our most dear
Saviour is above, in all heavenly glory, and that
the heavens must contain him till his coming again,
with what full contentment of heart should we look
up thither! How should we break through all
these secular distractions, and be carried up by our
affections, which are the wings of the soul, towards
a happy fruition of him ! Good old Jacob, when
1 Col. iii. 1.

254 SELECT THOUGHTS.
he heard that his darling son was yet alive in
Egypt, how doth he gather up his spirits, and take
up a cheerful resolution, 'Joseph my son is yet
alive, I will go and see him before I die !' l Do we
think his heart was any more in Canaan, after he
heard where his Joseph was ? And shall we, when
we hear and know where our dearest Saviour, typi
fied by that good patriarch, is; that he is gone be
fore, to provide a place for us in the rich Goshen
above ; shall we be heartless in our desires towards
him, and take up with earth ? How many poor
souls take tedious, costly, perilous voyages to that
land, which only the bodily presence of our Saviour
could denominate holy, (their own wickedness
justly styles accursed,) only to see the place where
our dear Saviour trod, where he stood, where he sat,
lay, set his last footing, and find a kind of content
ment in this sacred curiosity, returning yet never
the holier, never the happier ! • How then should
I be affected with the sight of that place where he
is now in person, sitting gloriously at the right
hand of Majesty, adored by all the powers of hea
ven ! Let it be a covenant between me and my
eyes, never to look up at heaven, (as how can I
look beside it ?) but I shall, in the same instant,
think of my blessed Saviour, sitting there in his
glorified humanity, united to the incomprehensibly
glorious Deity, attended and worshipped by thou
sand thousands of saints and angels, preparing a
place for me and all his elect in those eternal man
sions. "
1 Gen. xlv. 26.
2 The numerous pilgrimages of Roman Catholics to the Holy
Land were comparatively recent matters of popular tradition in
Bishop Hall's time.— Ed.

SELECT THOUGHTS. 255
LXXVIII.
How lively doth the Spirit of God describe the
heavenly affections of faithful Abraham, that ' he
looked for a city which hath foundations, whose
builder and maker is God.' ¦ What city was this
but the celestial Jerusalem, the glorious seat of the
great empire of heaven ? The main strength of
any building is in the foundation : if that be firm
and sure, the fabric, well knit together, will stand ;
but if that be either not laid, or lie loose and un
settled, the tottering frame doth but wait upon the
next wind for a ruin. The good patriarch had been
used to dwell in tents, which were not capable of
a foundation. It is like, he and his ancestors
wanted not good houses in Chaldea, where they
were formerly planted. God calls him forth of those
fixed habitations in his own country, to sojourn
in tabernacles, or booths, in a strange land ; his
faith carries him cheerfully along, his present frui
tion give way to hope for better things. Instead
of those poor sheds of sticks and skins, he looks for
a city ; instead of those stakes and cords, he looks
for foundations ; instead of men's work, he looks
for the architecture of God. Alas, we men will be
building castles and towers here upon earth, or
in the air rather ; such as either have no founda
tion at all, or, at the best, only a foundation in the
dust : neither can there be any other, while they
are of man's making; for what can he make in
better condition than himself? The city that is of
God's building, is deep and firmly grounded upon
the rock of his eternal decree; and hath more foun-
1 Heb. xi. 10.

256 SELECT THOUGHTS.
dations than one, and all of them both sure and
costly. God's material house, built by Solomon,
had the foundation laid with great squared stone ;
but ' the foundations of the wall of this ' city' of
God are ' garnished with all manner of precious
stones:'1 'glorious things are spoken of thee, O
thou city of God.' Why do I set up my rest in
this house of clay, which is every day falling on my
head, while I have the assured expectation of so
glorious a dwelling above ? ' For we know, that
if our earthly house of this tabernacle were dis
solved, we have a building of God, a house not
made with hands, but eternal in the heavens.'2
LXXIX.
God, though he be free of his entertainments, yet
is curious of his guests. We know what the great
house-keeper said to the sordid guest: ' Friend, how
earnest thou in hither, not having on a wedding
garment ?' To his feast of glory none can come
but the pure ; without this disposition no man shall
so much as see God,3 much less be entertained by
him. To his feast of grace none may come but the
clean, and those who, upon strict examination, have
found themselves worthy. That we may be meet to
sit at either of these tables, there must be a putting
off, ere there can be a putting on ; a putting off the
old garments, ere there can be a putting on the
new : 4 the old are foul and ragged ; the new clean
and holy ; for, if they should be worn at once, the
foul under-garment would soil and defile the clean ;
the clean could not cleanse the foul. As it was in

1 Rev. xxi. 19. 3 2 Cor. v. 1.
3 Heb. xii. 14. * Col. iii. 9, 10.

SELECT THOUGHTS. 257
the Jewish law of holiness, holy flesh in the skirt of
the garment could not infuse a holiness into the
garment, but the touch of an unclean person might
diffuse uncleanness to the garment ; • thus our pro
fessed holiness and pretended graces are sure to be
defiled by our secretly -maintained corruption, not
our corruption sanctified by our graces : as, in
common experience, if the sound person come to
see the infected, the infected may easily taint the
sound ; the sound cannot, by his presence, heal the
infected. If ever, therefore, we look to be welcome
to the feasts of God, we must ' put off the old man
with his deeds, and put on the new man, which is
renewed in knowledge after the image of him that
created him.'2
LXXX.
It is not for us to cast a disparagement upon any
work of our Maker ; much less upon a piece so
near, so essential to us; yet, with what contempt
doth the apostle seem still to mention our flesh !
And, as if he would have it slighted for some
forlorn outcast, he charges us not to 'make "provi
sion for the flesh!'3 What! shall we think the
holy man was fallen out with a part of himself?
Surely, sometimes, his language, that he gives it,
is hard. ' The flesh rebels against the spirit : I
know that in me, that is in my flesh, dwelleth no
good thing;'4 but how easy is it to observe, that
the flesh sometimes goes for the body of man;
sometimes for the body of sin ! as the first, it is a
partner with the soul ; as the latter, it is an enemy ;
1 Hag. ii. 12, 13. 2 Col. iii. 9, 10. 3 Rom. xiii. 14-.
4 Rom. vii. 18.

258 SELECT THOUGHTS.
and the worst of enemies, spiritual. No marvel,
then, if he would not have provision made for
such an enemy. In outward and bodily enmity
the case and his charge is otherwise : ' If thine
enemy hunger, feed him ; if he thirst, give him
drink ;' ' but here ' make no provision for the flesh.'
What reason were there that a man should furnish
and strengthen an enemy against himself? But if
the flesh be the body of the man, it must challenge
a respect ; but the very name carries an intimation
of baseness ; at the best, it is that which is common
to beasts with us : ' There is one flesh,' saith the
apostle, 'of men, another flesh of beasts;'2 both
are but flesh ! Alas ! what is it but a clod of earth
better moulded ; the clog of the soul ; a rotten
pile ; a pack of dust ; a feast of worms ? But,
even as such, provision must be made for it ; with
a moderate and thrifty care, not with a solicitous ;
a provision for the necessities and convenience of
life, not for the fulfilling of the lusts. This flesh
must be fed and clad, not humoured, not pampered :
so fed as to hold up nature, not inordinateness :
shortly, such a hand must we hold over it, as that
we may make it a good servant, not a lawless
wanton.
LXXXI.
What action was ever so good, or so completely
done, as to be well taken of all hands ? Noah and
Lot foretell of judgments from God, upon the old
world and Sodom, and are scoffed at; Israel
would go to sacrifice to God in the wilderness;
and they are idle. Moses and Aaron will be go-
1 Prov. xxv. 21 ; Rom. xii. 20. ' 1 Cor. xv. 39.

SELECT THOUGHTS, 259
verning Israel according to God's appointment:
' Ye take too much upon you, ye sons of Levi :'
David will be dancing before the ark of the Lord ;
' he uncovers himself shamelessly, as one of the
vain fellows :' • our Saviour is sociable ; he is 'a
wine-bibber, a friend of publicans and sinners:'
John Baptist is solitary and austere ; he doth it by
Beelzebub, the prince of devils:2 he rides in a
homely pomp through Jerusalem ; he affects a
temporal kingdom, and he is no friend to Caesar
that can suffer him to live : he is, by his almighty
power, risen from the dead ; his disciples stole him
away while the soldiers slept: the Spirit of God
descends upon the apostles in fiery and cloven
tongues, and they, thus inspired, suddenly speak
all languages; they 'are full of new wine.'3 Stephen
preacheth Christ the end of the law; 'he speaks
blasphemous words against Moses and against
God.' 4 And what aspersions were cast upon the
primitive Christians, all histories witness. What
can we hope to do or say, that shall escape the
censures and misinterpretations of men, when we
see the Son of God could not avoid it ? Let a man
profess himself honestly conscionable ; he is a scru
pulous hypocrite : let him take but a just liberty
in things merely indifferent ; he is loosely profane :
let him be charitably affected to both parts, though
in a quarrel not fundamental ; he is an odious
neuter, a lukewarm Laodicean. It concerns every
wise Christian to settle his heart in a resolved con
fidence of his own holy and just grounds ; and
then to go on in a constant course of his well-war
ranted judgment and practice, with a careless dis-
1 2 Sam. vi. 20. 2 Matt xi. 18, 19. 3 Acts, ii. 13.
4 Acts, vi. 11.

260 SELECT THOUGHTS.
regard of those fools'-bolts which will be sure to be
shot at him which way soever he goes.
LXXXII.
All God's dear and faithful ones are notably de
scribed by the apostle to be such as ' love the ap
pearing of our Lord Jesus;'1 for, certainly, we
cannot be true friends to those whose presence we
do not desire and delight in. Now, this appearing
is either in his coming to us, or our going to him :
whether ever it be, that he makes his glorious re
turn to us for the judgment of the world, and the
full redemption of his elect ; or, that he fetches us
home to himself, for the fruition of his blessedness ;
in both or either we enjoy his appearance. If,
then, we can only be content with either of these,
but do not love them, nor wish for them ; our hearts
are not yet right with God. It is true that there is
some terror in the way to both these : his return to
us is not without a dreadful majesty; for 'the
heavens shall pass away with a great noise, and the
elements shall melt with fervent heat;'2 and the
glorious retinue of his blessed angels must needs be
with an astonishing magnificence; and, on the
other part, our passage to him must be through the
gates of death, wherein nature cannot but appre
hend a horror; but the immediate issue of both
these is so infinitely advantageous and happy, that
the fear is easily swallowed up of the joy. Doth
the daughter of Jephtha abate aught of her timbrels
and dances, because she is to meet a father whose
arms are bloody with victory?3 Doth a loving
wife entertain her returning husband otherwise
1 2 Tim. iv. 8. 2 2Tet. iii. 10. •< Judges, xi. 34.

SELECT THOUGHTS. 261
than with gladness, because he comes home in a
military pomp ? Is the conqueror less joyful to
take up his crown, because it is congratulated to
him with many peals of ordnance ? Certainly then,
neither that heavenly state wherein Christ shall re
turn to us, nor the fears of a harmless and beneficial
death wherein we shall pass to him, neither may
nor can hinder aught of our love to his appearing.
O Saviour, come in whatever equipage or fashion
thou wilt, thou canst be no other than lovely and
welcome. Come, Lord Jesus, come quickly.
LXXXIII.
Suppose a man comes to me on the same errand
which the prophet delivered to Hezekiah, ' Set
thine house in order, for thou shalt die, and not
live,' 1 with what welcome do I entertain him ? Do
I, with that good king, turn my face to the wall
and weep ? or, do I say of the messenger, as David
said of Ahimaaz, 'He is a good man, and brings
good tidings?'2 Surely, nature urges me to the
former, which cannot but hold dissolution her greatest
enemy ; for what can she abhor so much as a not-
being ? faith persuades me to the latter, telling me,
that 'to die is gain.'3 Now, whether of these two
shall prevail with me ? Certainly, as each of them
hath a share in me, so shall either of them act its
own part in my soul. Nature shall obtain so much
of me, as to fetch from me, upon the sudden ap
prehension of death, some thoughts of fear ; faith
shall straight step in and drive away all those weak
fears ; and raise up my heart to a cheerful expecta
tion of so gainful and happy a change. Nature
shows me the ghastliness of death; faith shows
i 2 Kings, xx. 1. 2 2 Sam. xviii. 27. 3 Phil. i. 21 .

262 SELECT THOUGHTS.
me the transcendency of heavenly glory. Nature
represents to me a rotten carcass ; faith presents
me with a glorious soul. Shortly, nature startles
at the sight of death ; faith out-faces and overcomes
it. So then I, who at the first blush, could say,
' O death, how bitter is thy remembrance !' * can
now, upon my deliberate thoughts, say, ' I desire to
depart, and to be with Christ.' 2
LXXXIV.
In the carriage of our holy profession God can
neither abide us cowardly nor indiscreet. The
same mouth that bade us, when we are persecuted
in one city, flee into another, said also, ' He that
will save his life shall lose it :' we may neither
cloak cowardice with a pretended discretion, nor
lose our discretion in a rash courage. He that is
most skilful and most valiant may, in his combat,
traverse his ground for an advantage; and the
stoutest commander may fall flat to avoid a cannon-
shot. True Christian wisdom, and not carnal fear,
is that wherein we must consult for advice, when to
stand to it, and when to give back. On the one
side, he dies honourably that falls in God's quarrel ;
on the other, he that flies may fight again. Even
our blessed Leader, that came purposely to give
his life for the world, yet, when he found that he
was laid for in Judea, flees into Galilee. The
practice of some primitive Christians, that, in an
ambition of martyrdom went to seek out and chal
lenge dangers and death, is more worthy of our
wonder and applause than our imitation. It shall
be my resolution, to be warily thrifty in managing
my life, when God offers me no just cause of hazard;
1 Ecclus. xii. 1. s PhiL i. 23.

SELECT THOUGHTS 263
and to be willingly profuse of my blood, when it is
called for by that Saviour who was not sparing of
shedding his most precious blood for me.
LXXXV.
He had need to be well underlaid, that knows
how to entertain the time and himself with his own
thoughts. Company, variety of employments or
recreations, may wear out the day with the emptiest
hearts; but when a man hath no society but of
himself, no task to set himself upon but what arises
from his own bosom ; surely, if he have not a good
stock of former notions, or an inward mint of new,
he shall soon run out of all, and, as some forlorn
bankrupt, grow weary of himself. Hereupon it is,
that men of barren and unexercised hearts can no
more live without company than fish out of the
water ; and those heremites and other votaries,
which, professing only devotion, have no mental
abilities to set themselves on work, are fain to tire
themselves and their unwelcome hours with the
perpetual repetitions of the same orisons which are
now grown to a tedious and heartless formality.
Those contemplative spirits that are furnished with
gracious abilities, and got into acquaintance with
the God of heaven, may and can lead a life, even
in the closest restraint or wildest solitariness, nearest
to angelical; but those which neither can have
Mary's heart nor will have Martha's hand, must
needs be unprofitable to others, and wearisome to
themselves.
LXXXVT.
There is nothing more easy, than to be a Chris
tian at large ; but the beginnings of a strict and

264 SELECT THOUGHTS.
serious Christianity are not without much difficulty ;
for nature affects a loose kind of liberty, which it
cannot endure to have restrained : neither fares it
otherwise with it, than with some wild colt ; which,
at the first taking up, flings, and plunges, and will
stand on no ground ; but, after it hath been some-
while disciplined at the post, is grown tractable,
and quietly submits either to the saddle or the
collar. The first is the worst: afterwards, that
which was tolerable will prove easy; and that
which was easy will be found pleasant. For, in
true practical Christianity, there is a more kindly
and better liberty : ' Stand fast,' saith the apostle,
' in that liberty, wherewith Christ hath made you
free.' 1 Lo here, a liberty of Christ's making ; and,
therefore, both just and excellent : for what other
is this liberty, than a freedom ; as from the tyranny
of the law, so from the bondage of sin ? ' Being
then made free from sin,' saith St. Paul, ' ye be
came the servants of righteousness.'2 Here are two
masters, under one of which every soul must serve;
either sin or righteousness : if we be free from one,
we are bondmen to the other. We say truly, the
service of God, that is of righteousness, is perfect
freedom ; but, to be free to sin is a perfect bond
age, and to serve sin is no other than a vassalage
to the devil.3 From this bondage Christ only
can free us : 'If the Son shall make you free, ye
shall be free indeed;'4 and we are no Christians,
1 Gal. v. 1. 2 Rom. vi. 18.
3 This account of the freedom of the will is as philosophical
as it is Christian. The will is free as long as it exists in self-
determined submission to the absolute will of God ; but the mo
ment it counteracts the divine, it ceases to be a free will, and
becomes the slave of a corrupt nature. — Ed.
4 John, viii. 36.

SELECT THOUGHTS. 265
unless we be thus freed ; and, being thus freed, we
shall rejoice in the pleasant fetters of our voluntary
and cheerful obedience to righteousness; neither
would we, for a world, return to those gieves and
manacles of sin which we once held our most dear
and comely ornaments ; and can truly say, ' Thou
hast set my feet in a large room.' l ' I will walk at
liberty, for I seek thy precepts.' s
LXXXVII.
I cannot but pity and lament the condition of
those Christians, who, for the hope of a little earthly
dross, do willingly put themselves, for a conti
nuance, out of the pale of God's church. What do
they else, but cast themselves quite out of the Al
mighty's protection ; who hath not bound himself
to follow them out of his own walks, or to seek
them out amongst Turks and infidels ? Well may
he say to them, as to the chief pastor of Pergamus,
' I know thy works, and where thou dwellest, even
where Satan's seat is;-3 but, have they any reason
to expect, that he should dwell with them there,
under the reign of that prince of darkness? These
men put upon themselves that hard measure, which
the man after God's own heart complains to be put
upon him by his worst enemies : ' Woe is me, that
I am constrained to dwell with Meshech, and to
have my habitation in the tents of Kedar.'4 That
holy man could, in the bitterness of his soul, in
veigh against his persecutors, for no other terms
than these men offer to themselves : ' Cursed be
they before the Lord, for they have driven me out

1 Psalm, xxxi. 8. 2 lb. cxix. 45.
3 Rev. ii. 13. * Psalm, cxx. 5.

266 SELECT THOUGHTS.
this day from abiding in the inheritance of the
Lord ; saying, Go, serve other gods.' ¦ I speak
not of those who carry God along with them in
his ordinance : all earths are alike to us, where we
may freely enjoy his presence ; but of those strag
glers, who care not to live without God, so they
may be befriended by mammon. How ill a match
these poor men make for themselves I send them
to their Saviour to leam : ' What is a man pro
fited, if he shall gain the whole world, and lose
his own soul ; or what shall a man give in ex
change for his soul ?'2 God forbid, I should give
their souls for lost ; but I must say, they are ha
zarded : for herein, doubtless, they tempt God,
who hath not promised to keep them in any other,
than their just ways; and they do, in a sort, tempt
and challenge Satan, to draw them on either to a
love of error and impiety, or at least to a cooling of
their care and love of truth. How unlike are these
men to that wise merchant in the gospel ! He sold
all that he had to buy the pearl of great price : 3
they sell the pearl to buy a little worthless mer
chandize. As the greatest part of their traffic
stands upon exchange, so I heartily wish they
would make this one exchange more — of less care
of their wealth, for more care of their souls.
LXXXVIII.
Even when Joseph was a great lord in Egypt,
second to none but Pharaoh, and had the com
mand of that richest country of the world ; yet
then his old father Jacob thought his poor parcel of

1 1 Sam. xxvi. 19. 2 Matt. xvi. 26.
3 Matt. xiii. 45, 46.

SELECT THOUGHTS. 267
Shechem worthy to be bequeathed to him, and
embraced of him, as a noble patrimony ; because
it was in the promised land, and the legacy of a
dying father. How justly do I admire the faith,
both of the father and son, in this donation ! Jacob
was now in Goshen/ Shechem was in Canaan;
neither was the father now in the present posses
sion, nor were the sons in some ages to enjoy it :
it was four hundred and thirty years, that Israel
must be a sojourner in a strange country, ere they
shall enter into the promised land ; ¦ yet now, as
foreseeing the future possession, which his posterity
should take of this spot of earth, so long after,
Jacob gives Shechem to Joseph, and Joseph appre
hends it as a rich blessing, as the double portion
of the divided primogeniture. Infidelity is pur
blind, and can see nothing but that which is hard
at hand; faith is quick sighted, and discerns the
events of many centuries of years, yea of ages to
come. Abraham saw his Saviour's day, and re
joiced to see it, a thousand nine hundred and forty
years off; and Adam, before him, almost four thou
sand years. As to God all things are present,
even future; so to those that by a lively faith
partake of him. Why do I not, by that faith, see
my Saviour returning in his heavenly magnificence,
as truly as now I see the heaven whence he shall
come ? and my body as verily raised from the dust,
and; become glorious, as now I see it weak and de
crepit, and falling into the dust ?
1 Exod. xii. 41.

268 SELECT THOUGHTS.

LXXXIX.
True knowledge causeth appetite and desire, for
the will follows the understanding ; whatsoever
that apprehends to be good for us, the effective part
inclines to it. No man can have any regard to an
unknown good. If a hungry man did not know
that food would refresh and nourish him, or the
thirsty that drink would satisfy him, or the naked
that fire would warm him, or the sick that physic
would recover him, none of these would affect these
succours. And, according to our apprehension of
the goodness and use of these helps, so is our appe
tite towards them ; for the object of the will is a
known good, either true or appearing so. And if
our experience can tell us of some that can say,
with her in the poet, "I see and approve better
things, but follow the worse," it is not for that evil,
as evil, much less as worse, can fall into the will ;
but that their appetite over-carries them to a mis-
conceit of a particular good : so as, howsoever, in a
generality, they do confusedly assent to the good
ness of some holy act or object; yet, upon the pre
sent occasion, here and now, as the school speaketh,1
their sensitive appetite hath prevailed to draw them
to a persuasion that this pleasure or that profit is
worthy to be embraced. Like as our first parents
had a general apprehension that it was good to
obey all the commands of their Creator ; but, when
it came to the forbidden fruit, now their eye and
their ear and their heart tell them it is good for them,
both for pleasure and for the gain of knowledge, to
taste of that forbidden tree. So then, the miscar-
1 The divines of the middle ages. — Ed.

SELECT THOUGHTS. 269
riage is not, in that they affect that which they
think not to be good, but, in that they think that to
be good which is not : for, alas ! for one true good
there are many seeming, which delude the soul with
a fair semblance ; as a man, in a generality, es
teems silver above brass, but when he meets with a
rusty piece of silver and a clear piece of brass, he
chooses rather the clear brass than the silver defaced
with rust. Surely it is our ignorance that is guilty
of our cool neglect of our spiritual good. If we did
know how sweet the Lord is in his sure promises,
in his unfailing mercies, we could not but long
after him, and remain unsatisfied till we find him
ours : would God be pleased to shine in our hearts by
the light of the true knowledge of himself, we could
not have cause to complain of want of heat in our
affections towards his infinite goodness. Did we
but know how sweet and delectable Christ, the
heavenly manna, is, we could not but hunger after
him ; and we could not hunger, and not be satis
fied, and, in being satisfied, blessed.
XC.
Those which we miscall goods, are but in their
nature indifferent ; and are either good or evil as
they are affected, as they are used. Indeed, all
their malignity or virtue is in the mind, in the hand
of the possessor. Riches ill got, ill kept, ill spent,
are but the mammon of iniquity ; but, if well, ' the
crown of the wise is their riches.' ' How can it be
amiss to have much, when he that was the richest
man of the east was the holiest ?s Yea, when God
himself is justly styled the possessor of heaven and
1 Prov. xiv. 24. Job, LI 3.

270 SELECT THOUGHTS.
earth ? How can it be amiss to have little, when
our Saviour says, ' Blessed are ye poor ?M And if
from that divine mouth we hear a woe to the rich,
himself interprets it of them that trust in riches.2
If our riches possess us, instead of our possessing
them, we have changed our God, and lost our
selves ; but, if we have learnt to use our wealth,
and not enjoy it, we may be no less gracious than
rich. If a rich man have a large and humble heart,
and a just hand, he inherits the blessing of the
poor ; if a poor man have a proud heart, and a
thievish hand, he carries away the woe from the
rich. ' Riches,' saith wise Solomon, ' make them
selves wings : they fly away as an eagle towards
heaven.' 3 So as we may use the matter, our souls -
may fly thitherward with them; if we 'do good,
and be rich in good works, ready to distribute,
willing to communicate, laying up in store for
ourselves a good foundation against the time to
come, that we may lay hold on eternal life.' 4 Let
me say with Agur, ' Give me neither poverty nor
riches ;' s but whethersoever God gives, I am both
thankful and indifferent, so as while I am rich in
estate, I may be poor spirit ; and while I am poor
in estate, I may be rich in grace.
XCI.
Had I been in the streets of Jericho, sure me
thinks I should have justled with Zaccheus for the
sycamore, to see Jesus ; and should have blessed
my eyes for so happy a prospect ; and yet I consi
der that many a one saw his face on earth, which

1 Luke, vi. 20. 2 lb. vi. 24 ; Mark, x. 24 ; 1 Tim. vi. 17.
3 Prov. xxiii. 5. 4 1 Tim. vi. 18, 19. s Prov. xxx. 8.

SELECT THOUGHTS. 271
shall never see his glory in heaven ; and I hear the
apostle say, 'Though we have known Christ after
the flesh, yet now henceforth know we him so no
more.' ' Oh, for the eyes of a Stephen, that ' saw
the heavens opened, and the glory of God, and
Jesus standing at the right hand of God ! ' 2 That
prospect did as much transcend this of Zaccheus,
as heaven is above earth, celestial glory above hu
man infirmity. And why should not the eyes of
my faith behold the same object which was seen by
Stephen's bodily eyes ? I see thee, O Saviour, I
see thee, as certainly, though not so clearly. Do
thou sharpen and fortify these weak eyes of mine,
that in ' thy light I may see light.'3
XCII.
How gracious a word was that which God said
to Israel, ' I have called thee .by thy name,' and
' thou art mine !' 4 He that imposed that name upon
Jacob, makes familiar use of it to his posterity.
Neither is the case singular, but universally com
mon to all his spiritual issue. There is not one of
them whom he doth not both call by his name, and
challenge for his own. He that ' tells the number
of the stars, and calls them all by their names,'4
hath also a name for every of these earthly lumina
ries. He, who brought all other living creatures
unto man to see how he would call them, and would
make use of Adam's appellation, reserved the nam
ing of man to himself.6 Neither is there any one
of his innumerous posterity, whom he knows not
by name. But it is one thing to take notice of their
1 2 Cor. v. 16. * Acts, vii. 55, 56.
3 Psalm, xxxvi. 9. 4 Isaiah, xliii. 1.
5 Psalm, cxlvii. 4. 6 Gen. ii. 19, 20.

272 SELECT THOUGHTS.
names, another thing to call them by their names ;
that denotes his omniscience ; this, his specialty of
favour ; none are thus graced but the true sons of
Israel. As God's children do not content them
selves with a confused knowledge of a Deity, but
rest not till they have attained a distinct apprehen
sion of their God, as he hath revealed himself to man ;
so doth God again to them ; it is not enough, that
he knows them in a general view as in the throng,
wherein we see many faces, none distinctly; but he
singles them out in a familiar kind of severalty,
both of knowledge and respect. As then, he hath
names for the several stars of heaven ; Cimah,Cesil,
Mazzaroth,1 &c. and for the several angels, Gabriel,
Raphael, Michael, &c. and calls them by the proper
names which he hath given them; so he doth to
every of his faithful ones : of one he saith, ' Thou
shalt call his name John ;'2 of another, 'Thou art
Simon, thou shalt be called Cephas;'3 to one he
says, ' Zaccheus, come down;'4 to another, 'Cor
nelius, thy prayers and thine alms are come up.'s
In short, there is no one of his whom he doth not
both know and call by his name. What a comfort
is this to a poor wretched man, to think, " Here I
walk, obscure and contemptible upon earth, in a
condition mean and despised of men ; but the great
God of heaven is pleased to take such notice of me,
as even from heaven to call me by my name, and
to single me out for grace and salvation ; and not
only to mention my name from above, in the gracious
offer of his ordinances, but to write it in the eternal
register of heaven. What care I to be inglorious,
1 Job, ix. 9 ; xxxviii. 31. * Luke, i. 13. 3 John, i. 42.
4 Luke, xix. 5. » Acts, x. 3, 4.

SELECT THOUGHTS. 273
yea, causelessly infamous with men, while I am
thus honoured by the King of Glory ?"
XCIII.
It is the great wisdom and providence of the
Almighty, so to order the dispositions and inclina
tions of men, that they affect divers and different
works and pleasures; some are for manuary
trades, others for intellectual employments ; one
is for the land, another for the sea ; one for hus
bandry, another for merchandise; one is for ar
chitecture, another for vestiary services ; ' one
is for fishing, another for pasturage ; and in the
learned trades, one is for the mistress of the sciences,
divinity; another for the law, whether civil or mu
nicipal ; a third is for the search of the secrets of
nature, and the skill and practice of physic ; and
each one of these divides itself into many differing
varieties. Neither is it otherwise in matter of
pleasures : one places his delight in following his
hawk and hound, another in the harmony of music ;
one makes his garden his paradise, and enjoys the
flourishing of his fair tulips, another finds content
ment in a choice library ; one loves his bowl or his
bow, another pleases himself in the patient pastime
of his angle. For surely, if all men affected one
and the same trade of life, or pleasure of recreation,
it were not possible that they could live one by
another ; neither could there be any use of com
merce, whereby man's life is maintained ; neither
could it be avoided but that the envy of the inevi
table rivality would cut each other's throats. It is
good reason we should make a right use ofthisgra-
1 Such occupations as that of a clothier. — Ed. T

274 SELECT THOUGHTS.
cious and provident dispensation of the Almighty ;
and therefore that we should improve our several
dispositions and faculties to the advancing of the
common stock ; and withal, that we should neither
encroach upon each other's profession, nor be apt
to censure each other's recreation.
XCIV.
He were very quick sighted that could perceive
the growing of the grass, or the moving of the
shadow upon the dial ; yet, when those are done,
every eye doth easily discern them. It is no other
wise in the progress of grace ; which how it in-
creaseth in the soul and by what degrees, we can
not hope to perceive ; but, being grown, we may
see it. It is the fault of many Christians, that they
depend too much upon sense, and make that the
judge of their spiritual estate ; being too much de
jected, when they do not sensibly feel the proofs
of their proficiency, and the present proceedings
of their regeneration : why do they not as well
question the growth of their stature, because they
do not see every day how much they are thriven ?
Surely, it must needs be that spiritual things are
less perceptible than bodily : much more, therefore,
must we in these wait upon time for necessary con
viction ; and well may it suffice us, if, upon an
impartial comparing of the present measure of our
knowledge, faith, obedience, with the former, we
can perceive ourselves any whit sensibly advanced.1
' The Editor would earnestly recommend these beautiful and
sound observations to the attention of those anxious believers
who are perplexed about their religious state, for want of that
which it is an absurdity lo expect, viz. a sensible experience of
the operation of the Spirit upon the soul. That which is spiritual
can never be made the object of sense or sensation. See John,
iii. 8.

SELECT THOUGHTS. 275
xcv.
The wise Christian hath learned to value every
thing according to its own worth. If we be too
glad of these earthly things, it is the way to be too
much afflicted with their loss ; and, while we have
them, to be transported into pride and wantonness :
if we esteem them too little, it is the way to an un
thankful disrespect of the giver. Christianity car
ries the heart in a just equipoise; when they come
they are welcomed without too much joy ; and
when they go they part without tears. We may
smile at these earthly favours, not laugh out ; we
may like them, but we must take heed of being in
love with them. For love, of what kind soever it
be, is not without the power of assimilation : if we
love the world, we cannot but be worldly-minded ;
' They, that are after the flesh, do mind the things
of the flesh ; and, to be carnally minded, is death :' ¦
contrarily, if we love God, we are made partakers
of the divine nature, and we are such as we affect.
If we be Christians in earnest, certainly the inner
rooms of our hearts, which are the holy of holies,
are reserved for the Almighty; the outer courts
may be for the common resort of lawful cares and
desires; they may come and go, but our God
shall have his fixed habitation here for ever.
XCVI.
Nature is sly and cunning, neither is it possible
to take her without a shift : the light hussy wipes
her mouth, and it was not she.2 Rachael had stolen
her father's teraphim ; and the custom of women is
1 Rom. viii. 5, 6. 2 Prov. xxx. 10.
T 2

276 SELECT THOUGHTS.
upon her ; Saul reserves all the fat cattle of the
Amalekites ; it is for a sacrifice to the Lord thy
God. Neither is it so only in excusing an evil
done, but in waving a good to be done : ' I am not
eloquent,' saith Moses; ¦ send by him, by whom
thou shouldest send; Pharaoh will kill me:' ' There
is a lion in the way,' saith the sluggard ;' ' I have
married a wife, I cannot come,' saith the sensual
guest ; ' If I give, I shall want ;' ' If I make a
strict profession, I shall be censured.' Whereas
true grace is, on the one side, downright and in
genuous in its confession; not sparing to take shame
to itself, that it may give glory to God ; on the
other side, resolutely constant to its holy purposes :
' I and my house will serve the Lord ;' * If I perish,
I perish ;' ' I am ready not to be bound only, but
also to die at Jerusalem for the name of the Lord
Jesus.' It is not hard, therefore, for us to know
what mistress we serve ; if our care and endeavour
be, by witty evasions to shuffle off both evil and
good, we are the vassals of nature; but if we shall
with an humble penitence acknowledge our evil,
and set ourselves with firm resolutions upon the
tasks of good, we are, under grace, in a way to
glory. XCVII.
It is good for a man not always to keep his
eyes at home, but sometimes to look abroad at his
neighbours, and to compare his own condition with
the worse estate of others. I know I deserve no
more than the meanest, no better than the worst of
men; yet how many do I see and hear, to lie
groaning upon their sick beds in great extremity of
torment, whereas I walk up and down in a compe-

SELECT THOUGHTS. 277
tency of health ! How many do I see ready to
famish, and forced to either beg or starve, whereas
I eat my own bread ! How many lie rotting in
gaols and dungeons, or are driven to wander in
unknown deserts, or amongst people whose lan
guage they understand not ; whereas I enjoy home
and liberty ! How many are shrieking under
scourges and racks, whereas I sit at ease ! And if
I shall cast mine eyes upon my spiritual condition,
alas, how many do I see sit in darkness and in the
shadow of death ; whereas the Sun of Righteous
ness hath risen to me with healing in his wings ! l
How many lie in a woeful bondage under sin and
Satan ; whereas my Saviour hath freed me from
those hellish chains, and brought me to the glorious
liberty of the sons of God ! How many are mise
rably misled into the dangerous by-paths of error ;
whereas he hath graciously kept me in the plain
and sure way of his saving truth ! If we do not
sometimes make these, (not proud, but thankful)
comparisons, and look upon ourselves, not with
direct beams, but by reflection upon others, we
shall never be sensible enough of our own mercies.
XCVIII.
The true Christian is in a very happy condition,
for no man will envy him, and he can envy nobody.
None will envy him, for the world cannot know
how happy he is — how happy in the favour of God;
how happy in the enjoying of that favour. Those
secret delights that he finds in the presence of his
God; those comfortable pledges of love and mutual
interchanges of blessed interest which pass between
1 Mai. iv. 2.

278 SELECT THOUGHTS.
them, are not for worldly hearts to conceive ; and
no man will envy an unknown happiness. On the
other side, he cannot envy the world's greatest
favourite under heaven, for he well knows how
fickle and uncertain that man's felicity is ; he sees
him walking upon ice, and perceives every foot of
his sliding and threatening a fall, and hears that
brittle pavement at every step, crackling under him,
and ready to give way to his swallowing up ; and,
withal, finds, if those pleasures of his could be
constant and permanent, how poor and unsatisfying
they are, and how utterly unable to yield true con
tentment to the soul. The Christian, therefore,
while others look upon him with pity and scorn,
laughs secretly to himself in his bosom, as well
knowing there is none but he truly happy.
XCIX.
It was a high and honourable embassy, whereon
the angel Gabriel was sent down to the Blessed
Virgin, that she should be the mother of her
Saviour ; neither was that inferior of the glorious
angel, that brought the joyful tidings of the incar
nation and birth of the Son of God to the shep
herds of Bethlehem ; but a far more happy errand
was that which the Lord Jesus, after his resurrec
tion, committed to the Marys ; ' Go to my brethren,
and say to them, I ascend to my Father and your
Father, and to my God and your God.' J Lo, he
says not, I am risen, but I ascend ; as if he had
forgot the earth whence he arose and thought only
on that heaven whither he was going ; upon his
Easter his mind is on his Ascension-day. As there
1 John xx. 17.

SELECT THOUGHTS. 279
had been nothing but discomfort in death without
a resurrection, so there had been little comfort in a
resurrection, without an ascension to glory. There
is a contentment in the very act, I ascend ; even
nature is ambitious, and we do all affect to mount
higher, as to come down is a death. But this height
is, like the ascendant, infinite, ' I ascend to my
Father;' there was the glory which he put off in
his humble incarnation ; there was the glory which
he was now to resume and possess to all eternity.
And as if nature and adoption could give a like
interest, he puts both together : ' My Father and
your Father, my God and your God.' His mercy
vouchsafes to style us brethren ; yet the distance is
unmeasurable betwixt him, the Son of his eternal
essence and us, the naturally wretched sons of his
gracious election ; yet, as if both he and we should
be coheirs of the same blessedness, though not in
the same measure, he says, ' My Father and your
Father:' first my Father, then yours; and, indeed,
therefore ours, because his. It is in him that we
are elected, that we are adopted; without him, God
were not only a stranger, but an enemy : it is the
Son that must make us free; it is the Son that
must make us sons ; if we be his the Father cannot
but be ours. O, the unspeakable comfort and hap
piness of a Christian, in respect of his bodily na
ture ! He cannot but say with Job, to the worm,
' Thou art my mother and my sister ;' ¦ in his spiri
tual right, God the Son hath here authorized him
to say to the Almighty, ' Thou art my Father;'
and, in nature, in regard of our frail and dying
condition, willingly say, " I descend to the grave.'
1 Job, xvii. 14.

280 SELECT THOUGHTS.
Faith makes abundant amends in him, and can as
cheerfully say, ' I ascend to my Father.' And
what son, that is not altogether graceless, would
not be glad to go to his father, though it were to a
meaner house than his own ; and therefore is ready
to say, " I will descend to my father.'' How
much more, when his many mansions are infinitely
glorious, and when all our happiness consists in his
blessed presence, must we needs say, with a joy
unspeakable and glorious, ' I ascend to my Father!'
C.
God made man the Lord of his creatures; he
made him not a tyrant; he gave the creatures to
man for his lawful use, not for his wanton cruelty.
Man may therefore exercise his just sovereignty
over the beasts of the field, and fowls of the air, and
fishes of the sea ; not his lawless will to their need
less destruction or torment. Had man made the
creature, he could but challenge an absolute domi
nion over that work of his hands ; but now that he
is only a fellow-creature to the meanest worm, what
an insolent usurpation is this, so licentiously to
domineer over his fellow-dust! Yea, that great
God, who gave a being to the creature, and there
fore hath a full and illimited power over his own
workmanship, takes no pleasure to make use of that
power to the unnecessary vexation and torture of
what he hath made. That all-wise and bountiful
Creator, who hath put into the hands of man the
subordinate dominion over all the store of these infe
rior elements, hath made the limit of his command,
not necessity only, but convenience too : but, if man
shall go beyond these bounds, and will destroy
the creature only because he will, and put it to

SELECT THOUGHTS. 281
pain because it is his pleasure, he abuseth his sove
reignty to a sinful imperiousness, and shall be ac
countable for his cruelty. When the Apostle,
upon occasion of the law for not muzzling the
mouth of the ox, asks, ' Doth God take care for
oxen ?' 1 can we think he meant to question the re
gard for so useful a creature ? Do we not hear the
Psalmist say, ' He giveth to the beast his food, and
to the young ravens that cry.' 2 Do we not hear
our Saviour say, ' that not a sparrow falls to the
ground without our heavenly Father?3 And of
how much more value is an ox than many thou
sands of sparrows ! Is not the speech, therefore,
both comparative and typical ? Is the main care
that God takes in that law, for provision to be
made for the beast ? and doth he not rather, under
that figure, give order for the maintenance of
those spiritual oxen that labour in the husbandry
of the Almighty ? Doubtless, as even the savage
creatures, ' The young lions seek their meat from
God ;' so they find it from him in due season :
' He openeth his hand, and filleth every creature
with good.' 4 Is God so careful for preserving, and
shall man be so licentious in destroying them ?
' A righteous man,' saith Solomon, ' regardeth the
life of his beast ;' a he is no better, therefore, than a
wicked man that regardeth it not. To offer vio
lence to, and to take away the life from, our fellow-
creatures, without a cause, is no less than tyranny.
Surely, no other measure should a man offer to his
beast than that, which if his beast, with Balaam's,
could expostulate with him, he could well justify
to it; no other than that man, if he had been
1 Cor. ix. 9. s Psalm cxlvii. 9. 3 Matt. x. 29.
4 Psalm civ. 21, 27, 28. 5 Prov. xii. 10.

282 SELECT THOUGHTS.
made a beast, would have been content should have
been offered by man to him ; no other than he
shall make account to answer to a common Cre
ator. Justly do we smile at the niceness of the
foolish Manichees,1 who made scruple to pull a herb
or flower, and were ready to preface apologies and
excuses for the reaping of their corn and grinding
the grain they fed upon ; as if these vegetables
were sensible of pain, and capable of our oppres
sion ; but surely for those creatures, which, enjoy
ing a sensitive life, forego it with no less anguish
and reluctation than ourselves, and would be as
willing to live, without harm, as their owners, they
may well challenge both such mercy and justice at
our hands, as that in the usage of them we may
approve ourselves to their Maker. Wherein I
blush and grieve to see how far we are exceeded
by Turks and infidels, whom mere nature hath
taught more tenderness to the poor brute creatures
than we have learned from the holier rules of
charitable Christianity. For my part, let me rather
affect and applaud the harmless humour of that
miscalled saint, who in an indiscreet humility
called every wolf his brother, and every sheep,
yea, every ant his sister, fellowing himself with
every thing that had life in it, as well as himself;
than the tyrannical disposition of those men, who
take pleasure in the abuse, persecution, destruction
of their fellow-creatures, upon no other quarrel,
than because they live.
1 Among many strange tenets of this heretical sect, they held
the doctrine of the metempsychosis, or transmigration of the
souls of men into the bodies of the inferior animals, and other
natures, as a means of expiating their guilt by a lengthened pro
bation. Hence their excessive regard for animal and even
vegetable life. — Ed.

AN HOLY RAPTURE;

A PATHETICAL MEDITATION

THE LOVE OF CHRIST.

A MEDITATION
ON THE LOVE OF CHRIST.

SECTION I.

The Love of Christ how passing knowledge ; how
free, of us, before we were.
What is it, O blessed apostle, what is it, for which
thou dost so earnestly bow thy knees, in the be
half of thine Ephesians, unto the Father of our
Lord Jesus Christ ? even this, that they may know
the love of Christ, which passeth knowledge.1
Give me leave, first, to wonder at thy suit ; and
then much more at what thou suest for. Were
thine affections raised so high to thine Ephesians,
that thou shouldst crave for them impossible fa
vours ? Did thy love so far overshoot thy reason,
as to pray they might attain to the knowledge of
that which cannot be known ? It is the love of
Christ which thou wishest they may know ; and it
is that love which thou sayest is past all knowledge.
What shall we say to this ? Is it, for that there
may be holy ambitions of those heights of grace
which we can never hope actually to obtain ? Or
is it rather, that thou supposest and prayest they
' Eph. iii. 14, 19.

286 meditation on the love of christ.
may reach to the knowledge of that love, the mea
sure whereof they could never aspire to know ?
Surely so it is, O blessed Jesu : that thou hast loved
us, we know, but how much thou hast loved us is
past the comprehension of angels. Those glorious
spirits, as they desire to look into the deep mystery
of our redemption, so they wonder to behold that
divine love whereby it is wrought; but they can
no more reach to the bottom of it than they can
affect to be infinite ; for, surely, no less than an
endless line can serve to fathom a bottomless depth.
Such, O Saviour, is the abyss of thy love to miser
able man. Alas ! what do we poor wretched dust
of the earth go about to measure it, by the spans
and inches of our shallow thoughts ? Far, far be
such presumption from us : only admit us, O
blessed Lord, to look at, to admire and adore that
which we give up for incomprehensible.
What shall we then say to this love, O dear Jesu ;
both as thine, and as cast upon us ? All earthly
love supposeth some kind of equality, or proportion
at least, betwixt the person that loves, and him that
is loved : here is none at all. So as, which is past
wonder, extremes meet without a mean; for, lo,
thou, who art the eternal and absolute Being, God
blessed for ever, lovedst me, that had no being at
all : thou lovedst me, both when I was not, and
could never have been but by thee. It was from
thy love that I had any being at all ; much more,
that, when thou hadst given me a being, thou
shouldst follow me with succeeding mercies. Who
but thou, who art infinite in goodness, would love
that which is not ? Our poor sensual love is drawn
from us by the sight of a face or picture, neither
is ever raised but upon some pleasing motive :

MEDITATION ON THE LOVE OF CHRIST. 287
thou wouldst make that which thou wouldst love;
and wouldst love that which thou hadst made. O
God, was there ever love so free, so gracious, as
this of thine ? Who can be capable to love us,
but men or angels ? Men love us because they
see something in us which they think amiable;
angels love us because thou doest so ; but why dost
thou, O blessed Lord, love us, but because thou
wouldst ? There can be no cause of thy will,
which is the cause of all things. Even so, Lord,
since this love did rise only from thee, let the
praise and glory of it rest only in thee.

SECTION II.
How free, of us, that had made ourselves vile and

Yet more, Lord, we had lost ourselves, before we
were ; and, having forfeited what we should be,
had made ourselves perfectly miserable. Even
¦when we were worse than nothing, thou wouldst
love us.
Was there ever any eye enamoured of deformity ?
Can there be any bodily deformity comparable to
that of sin ? Yet, Lord, when sin had made us abo
minably loathsome, didst thou cast thy love upon us.
A little scurf of leprosy, or but some unsavoury
scent, sets us off, and turns our love into detesta
tion. But, for thee, O God, when we were become
as foul and as ugly as sin could make us, even then
was thy love enflamed towards us ; even when we
were weltering in our blood, thou saidst, "Live ;" and
washed st, and anointedst us, and clothedst us with
a broidered work, and deckedst us with ornaments,

288 MEDITATION ON THE LOVE OF CHRIST.
and graciously espousedst us to thyself, and re-
ceivdest us into thine own bosom. ' Lord, what is
man, that thou art thus mindful of him ; and the
son of man, that thou thus visitest him ?' Oh,
what are we, in comparison of thy once glo
rious angels ? They sinned and fell, never to be
recovered ; never to be loosed from those everlast
ing chains, wherein they are reserved to the judg
ment of the great day. Whence is it, then, O Sa
viour, whence is it, that thou hast shut up thy
mercy from those thy more excellent creatures, and
hast extended it to us vile sinful dust ? Whence, but
that thou wouldst love man because thou wouldst ?
Alas! it is discouragement enough to our feeble
friendship, that he, to whom we wished well is miser
able. Our love doth gladly attend upon and en
joy his prosperity ; but, when his estate is utterly
sunk, and his person exposed to contempt and
ignominy, yea to torture and death, who is there
that will then put forth himself to own a forlorn
and perishing friend ? But for thee, O blessed
Jesu, so ardent was thy love to us, that it was not
in the power of our extreme misery to abate it;
yea, so as that the deploredness of our condition
did but heighten that holy flame. What speak I
of shame or sufferings ? hell itself could not keep
thee off from us ; even from that pit of eternal per
dition didst thou fetch our condemned souls, and
hast contrarily vouchsafed to put us into a state of
everlasting blessedness.

MEDITATION ON THE LOVE OF CHRIST. 289

SECTION III.
How yet free, of us that were professed enemies.
The common disposition of men pretends to a kind
of justice, in giving men their own ; so as they will
repay love for love, and think they may for hatred
return enmity. .Nature itself then teacheth us to
love our friends; it is only grace that can love an
enemy. But, as of injuries, so of enmities thereupon
grounded, there are certain degrees : some are slight
and trivial, some main and capital. If a man do
but scratch my face, or give some light dash to
my fame, it is no great mastery upon submission
to receive such an offender to favour; but, if he
have endeavoured to ruin my estate, to wound my
reputation, to cut my throat ; not only to pardon
this man, but to hug him in my arms, to lodge him
in my bosom as my entire friend, this would be no
other than a high improvement of my charity.
O Lord Jesu, what was I, but the worst of ene
mies, when thou vouchsafedst to embrace me with
thy loving mercy ? How had I shamefully re
belled against thee; and yielded up all my mem
bers as instruments of unrighteousness and sin ! ¦
how had I crucified thee, the Lord of life ! how
had I done little other, than trod under foot the
blessed Son of God ; and counted the blood of the
covenant an unholy thing ! how had I, in some
1 The pious writer must be supposed to personify mankind—
the human race in general — as in a state of rebellion against
God ; not to apply the whole force of his language to the case
of every individual. — Ed. U

290 MEDITATION ON THE LOVE OF CHRIST.
sort, done despite unto the Spirit of grace ! yet,
even then, in despite of all my most odious un
worthiness, didst thou spread thine arms to receive
me ; yea, thou openedst thy heart to let me in. O
love, passing not knowledge only, but wonder also !
O mercy, not incident into any thing less compre
hensible.

SECTION IV.
The wonderful effects of the Love of Christ — His
Incarnation.
But, O dear Lord, when, from the object of thy
mercy I cast mine eyes upon the effects and im
provement of thy divine favours, and see what
thy love hath drawn from thee towards the sons
of men, how am I lost in a just amazement! It
is that which fetched thee down from the glory
of the highest heavens ; from the bosom of thine
eternal Father to this lower world, the region of
sorrow and death. It is that which, to the wonder
of angels, clothed thee with this flesh of ours ; and
brought thee, who thoughtest it no robbery to be
equal with God, to an estate lower than thine own
creatures. O mercy, transcending the admiration of all the
glorious spirits of heaven, that God would be incar
nate ! Surely, that all those celestial powers should
be redacted to either worms or nothing, that all this
goodly frame of creation should run back into its
first confusion, or be reduced to one single atom, it is
not so high a wonder, as for God to become man :
those changes, though the highest nature is capable

MEDITATION ON THE LOVE OF CHRIST. 291
of, are yet hut of things finite ; this is of an
infinite subject, with which the most excellent
of finite things can hold no proportion. Oh,
the great mystery of godliness ; God manifested
in the flesh, and seen of angels! Those hea
venly spirits had, ever since they were made,
seen his most glorious Deity, and adored him as
their omnipotent Creator ; but, to see that God of
Spirits invested with flesh, was such a wonder
as had been enough, if their nature could have
been capable of it, to have astonished even glory
itself; and whether to see him that was their God
so humbled below themselves, or to see humanity
thus advanced above themselves, were the greater
wonder to them, they only know.
It was your foolish misprision,1 O ye ignorant
Lystrians, that you took the servants for the Master :
here only is it verified, which you supposed, that
God is come down to us in the likeness of man, and
as man conversed with men.
What a disparagement do we think it was for the
great monarch of Babylon, for seven years together
as a beast to converse with the beasts of the field !
yet, alas ! beasts and men are fellow-creatures ;2
made of one earth ; drawing in the same air ; re
turning, for their bodily part, to the same dust;
symbolizing in many qualities, and in some mu
tually transcending each others' : so as here may
1 Mistake. — Ed.
2 The bold language of Young —
" Midway from nothing to the Deity" —
more correctly expresses the union of the natural and the super.
natural in man. It is only by wilfully yielding himself to the
modifying influences of a corrupt nature, out of which it is his
duty to seek emancipation, that man sinks so near to the beast as
is here represented. — Ed.
U2

292 MEDITATION ON THE LOVE OF CHRIST.
seem to be some terms of a tolerable proportion ;
since many men are in disposition too like unto
beasts, and some beasts are in outward shape some
what like unto men : but for him that was, and is,
' God blessed for ever,' eternal, infinite, incompre
hensible, to put on flesh, and become a man
amongst men, was to stoop below all possible dis
parities that heaven and earth can afford. O Sa
viour, the lower thine abasement was for us, the
higher was the pitch of thy divine love to us.

SECTION V.
His Love, in his Sufferings.
Yet, in this our human condition there are degrees :
one rules and glitters in all earthly glory, another
sits despised in the dust; one passes the time of
his life in much jollity and pleasure, another wears
out his days in sorrow and discontentment. Blessed
Jesu, since thou wouldst be a man, why wouldst
thou not be the king of men ? Since thou wouldst
come down to our earth, why wouldst thou not
enjoy the best entertainment the earth could yield
thee ? Yea, since thou who art the eternal Son of
God wouldst be the son of man, why didst thou
not appear in a state like to the King of heaven,
attended with the glorious retinue of angels ? O
yet greater wonder of mercies, the same infinite
love that brought thee down to the form of man,
would also bring thee down, being man, to the form
of a servant ! So didst thou love man, that thou
wouldst take part with him of his misery, that he

MEDITATION ON THE LOVE OF CHRIST. 293
might take part with thee of thy blessedness ; thou
wouldst be poor to enrich us, thou wouldst be bur-
thened for our ease, tempted for our victory, de
spised for our glory.
With what less than ravishment of spirit can I
behold thee, who wert from everlasting clothed
with glory and majesty, wrapped in rags ! thee,
who fillest heaven and earth with the majesty of
thy glory, cradled in a manger ! thee, who art the
God of power, fleeing in thy mother's arms from
the rage of a weak man ! thee, who art the God of
Israel, driven to be nursed out of the bosom of thy
church ! thee, who madest the heaven of heavens,
busily working in the homely trade of a foster-
father ! thee, who commandest the devils to their
chains, transported and tempted with that foul
spirit ! thee, who art God all-sufficient, exposed to
hunger, thirst, Weariness, danger, contempt, po
verty, revilings, scourgings, persecution ! thee, who
art the just Judge of all the world, accused and
condemned ! thee, who art the Lord of life, dying
upon the tree of shame and curse ! thee, who art
the eternal Son of God, struggling with thy Father's
wrath ! thee, who hast said, ' I and my Father are
one,' sweating drops of blood in thine agony, and
crying out on the cross, ' My God, my God, why
hast thou forsaken me ?' thee, who hast the keys of
hell and of death, lying sealed up in another man's
grave !
O Saviour, whither hath thy love to mankind
carried thee ? What sighs, and groans, and tears,
and blood hast thou spent upon us wretched men !
How dear a price hast thou paid for our ransom !
What raptures of spirit can be sufficient for the
admiration of thy so infinite mercy ? Be thou

294 MEDITATION ON THE LOVE OF CHRIST.
swallowed up, O my soul, in this depth of divine
love; and hate to spend thy thoughts any more
upon the base objects of this wretched world, when
thou hast such a Saviour to take them up.

SECTION VI.
His Love, in preparing Heaven for us.
But, O blessed Jesu, if, from what thou hast suf
fered for me, I shall cast mine eyes upon what thou
hast done for my soul, how is my heart divided
/betwixt the wonders of both ! and may as soon tell
'how great either of them is, as whether of them is
the greatest.
It is in thee that I was elected from all eternity,
and ordained to a glorious inheritance before there
was a world. We are wont, O God, to marvel at
and bless thy provident beneficence to the first
man; that before thou wouldst bring him forth into
the world, thou wert pleased to furnish such a world
for him, so goodly a house over his head, so plea
sant a paradise under his feet, such variety of crea
tures round about him for his subjection and at
tendance. But how should I magnify thy mercy,
who, before that man or that world had any being,
has so far loved me as to pre-ordain me to a place
of blessedness in that heaven which should be, and
to make me a coheir with my Christ of thy glory !
And, oh, what a heaven is this that thou hast laid
out for me ; how resplendent, how transcendently
glorious ! Even that lower paradise, which thou

MEDITATION ON THE LOVE OF CHRIST. 295
providest for the harbour of innocence and holiness,
was full of admirable beauty, pleasure, magnifi
cence; but if it be compared with this paradise
above, which thou hast prepared for the everlasting
entertainment of restored souls, how mean and beg
garly it was ! O match too unequal, of the best piece
of earth with the highest state of the heaven of hea
vens ! In the earthly paradise I find thine angels the
cherubim, but it was to keep man off from that gar
den of delight, and from the tree of life in the midst
of it ; but in this heavenly one I find millions of
thy cherubim and seraphim rejoicing at man's bles
sedness, and welcoming the glorified souls to their
heaven. There I find but the shadow of that
whereof the substance is here. There we were so
possessed of life that yet we might forfeit it ; here is
life without all possibility of death. Temptation
could find access thither ; here is nothing but a free
and complete fruition of blessedness. There were
delights fit for earthly bodies ; here is glory more
than can be enjoyed of blessed souls. That was
watered with four streams, muddy and impetuous ;
in this is ' the pure river of the water of life, clear
as crystal, proceeding out of the throne of God
and the Lamb.' ' There I find thee only walking
in the cool of the day ; here, manifesting thy ma
jesty continually. There I see only a most pleasant
orchard,2 set with all manner of varieties of flou
rishing and fruitful plants ; here I find also the city
of God, infinitely rich and magnificent, the build
ing of the wall of it of jasper, and the city itself
pure gold, like unto clear glass, and the foundations
1 Rev. xxii. 1. — Ed.
2 Gardens were commonly so called in our author's time :
they were, indeed, scarcely any thing else. — Ed.

296 MEDITATION ON THE LOVE OF CHRIST.
of the wall garnished with all manner of precious
stones. All that I can here attain to see is the pave
ment of thy celestial habitation. And, Lord, how
glorious it is ! how bespangled with the glittering
stars ; for number, for magnitude equally admi
rable ! What is the least of them but a world of
light ? and what are all of them but a confluence
of so many thousand worlds of beauty and bright
ness met in one firmament ? And if this floor of
thy heavenly palace be thus richly set forth, oh,
how infinite glory and magnificence must there
needs be within ! Thy chosen vessel, that had the
privilege to be caught up thither, and to see that
divine state, whether with bodily or mental eyes,
can express it no otherwise than that it cannot pos
sibly be expressed. No, Lord, it were not infinite
if it could be uttered. Thoughts go beyond words ;
yet even these come far short also. He that saw it
says, ' Eye hath not seen, nor ear heard, neither have
entered into the heart of man, the things which
God hath prepared for them that love him.M

SECTION VII.
His Love, in our Redemption from death and hell.
Yet is thy love, O Saviour, so much more to be
magnified of me in this purchased glory, when I
cast down mine eyes and look into that horrible
gulf of torment and eternal death whence thou hast
rescued my poor soul. Even out of the greatest
' 1 Cor. xi. 9.

MEDITATION ON THE LOVE OF CHRIST. 297
contentment which this world is capable to afford
unto mankind, to be preferred to the joys of hea
ven is an unconceivable advantage ; but, from the
depth of misery, to be raised up unto the highest
pitch of felicity, adds so much more to the blessing,
as the evil from which we are delivered is more in
tolerable. O blessed Jesu, what a hell is this out of which
thou hast freed me ! what dreadful horror is here !
what darkness ! what confusion ! what anguish of
souls, that would, and cannot die ! what howling,
and yelling, and shrieking, and gnashing ! what
everlasting burnings ! what never-slacking tor
tures ! what merciless fury of unweariable tor
mentors ! what utter despair of any possibility
of release ! what exquisiteness, what infiniteness
of pains, that cannot, yet must be endured ! O
God, if the impotent displeasure of weak men
have devised so subtle engines of revenge upon
their fellow-mortals for but petty offences, how can
we but think thine infinite justice and wisdom
must have ordained such forms and ways of punish
ment for heinous sins done against thee, as may
be answerable to the violation of thy divine Ma
jesty ? Oh, therefore, the most fearful and de
plored condition of damned spirits, never to be
ended, never to be abated ! Oh, those unquench
able flames ! Oh, that burning Tophet, deep and
large, and those streams of brimstone wherewith it
is kindled ! Oh, that worm, ever gnawing and
tearing the heart, never dying, never sated ! O
ever living death ; O ever renewing torments ;
O never pitied, never intermitted damnation !
From hence, O Saviour, from hence it is that
thou hast fetched my condemned soul. This is the

298 MEDITATION ON THE LOVE OF CHRIST.
place, this is the state, out of which thou hast
snatched me up into thy heaven. O love and
mercy, more deep than those depths from which
thou hast saved me, more high than that heaven to
which thou hast advanced me !

SECTION VIII.
Christ's Love, in giving us the Guard of his Angels.
Now, whereas in my passage from this state of
death towards the fruition of immortal glory, I am
waylaid by a world of dangers, partly through my
won sinful aptness to miscarriages, and partly
through the assaults of my spiritual enemies ; how
hath thy tender love and compassion, O blessed
Jesu, undertaken to secure my soul from all these
deadly perils, both without and within: without,
by the guardiance of thy blessed angels ; within,
by the powerful inoperation of thy good Spirit
which thou has given me !
Oh, that mine eyes could be opened, with Elisha's
servant, that I might see those troops of heavenly
soldiers, those horses and chariots of fire, wherewith
thou hast encompassed me ! every one of which is
able to chase away a whole host of the powers of
darkness. Who am I, Lord, who am I, that upon thy gra
cious appointment these glorious spirits should still
watch over me, in mine up-rising and down-lying,
in my going out and coming in ; that they should
bear me in their arms, that they should shield me
with their protection ? Behold, such is their ma-

MEDITATION ON THE LOVE OF CHRIST. 299
jesty and glory that some of thy holiest servants
have hardly been restrained from worshipping
them ; yet, so great is thy love to man, as that thou
hast ordained them to be ' ministering spirits, sent
forth to minister for them who shall be heirs of sal
vation.' ' Surely they are in nature far more excel
lent than man, as being spiritual substances, pure
intelligencers, meet to stand before the throne of
thee, the King of Glory; what a mercy then is this,
that thou, who wouldst humble thyself to be lower
than they in the susception of our nature, art
pleased to humble them in their offices to the guar
dianship of man, so far as to call them the angels
of thy little ones upon earth ! How hast thou
blessed us, and how should we bless thee in so
mighty and glorious attendants !

SECTION IX.
His Love in giving us his Holy Spirit.
Neither hast thou, O God, merely turned us over
to the protection of those tutelary spirits ; but hast
held us still in thine own hand ; having not so
strongly defenced us without, as thou hast done
within ; since that is wrought by thine angels, this
by the Spirit.
O the sovereign and powerful influences of thy
Holy Ghost ; whereby we are furnished with all
saving graces; strengthened against all temptations ;
¦ Heb. i. 14.— Ed.

300 MEDITATION ON THE LOVE OF CHRIST.
heartened against all our doubts and fears; enabled
both to resist and overcome; and, upon our victories,
crowned. O divine bounty, far beyond the reach of
wonder ! ' So God ' the Father ' loved the world,
that he gave his only begotten Son, that whosoever
believeth in him should not perish, but have ever
lasting life.'1 So God the Son loved the world
of his elect, that he gave unto them the Holy
Spirit of promise, whereby they are sealed unto
the day of redemption ; whereby, according to the
riches of his glory, they are strengthened with
might in the inner man; by the virtue whereof
shed abroad in their hearts, they are enabled to cry
Abba, Father. O gifts, either of which are more
worth than many worlds ; yet, through thy good
ness, O Lord, both of them mine. How rich is
my soul, through thy divine munificence, how
overlaid with mercies! How safe in thine al
mighty tuition ! How happy in thy blessed pos
session !
Now, therefore, I dare, in the might of my God,
bid defiance to all the gates of hell. Do your worst,
O all ye principalities and powers, and rulers of
the darkness of this world, and spiritual wicked
nesses in high places, do your worst ; God is mine,
and I am his: I. am above your malice, in the right
of him whose I am. It is true, I am weak, but he
is omnipotent ; I am sinful, but he is infinite holi
ness : that power, that holiness, in his gracious
application, is mine.
It is my Saviour's love, that hath made this happy
exchange, of his righteousness for my sin ; of his
power for my infirmity. ' Who,' then, ' shall lay
1 John, iii. 1C.

MEDITATION ON THE LOVE OF CHRIST. 301
any thing to the charge of God's elect ? It is God
that justifieth. Who shall separate us from the love of
Christ ? Shall tribulation, or distress, or persecution,
or famine, or nakedness, or peril, or sword ? Nay,
in all these things we are more than conquerors,
through him that loved us :' so as ' neither death,
nor life, nor angels, nor principalities, nor powers,
nor things present, nor things to come, nor height,
nor depth, nor any other creature, shall be able to
separate us from the love of God which is in Christ
Jesus our Lord.'1
Lo, where this love is placed : were it our love of
God, how easily might the power of a prevalent
temptation separate us from it, or it from us ! For,
alas ! what hold is to be taken of our affections ;
which, like unto water, are so much more apt to
freeze, because they have been heated ? but it is
the love of God to us in Christ Jesus, which is ever
as himself, constant and eternal. He can no more
cease to love us than to be himself: he cannot but
be unchangeable ; we cannot but be happy.

SECTION X.
Our sense and improvement of Christ's Love, in all
the former particulars; and, first, in respect of
the inequality of the Persons.
All this, O dear Jesu, hast thou done, all this hast
thou suffered, for men. And, oh, now for a heart
that may be some ways answerable to thy mercies !
' Rom. viii. 33, &c.

302 MEDITATION ON THE LOVE OF CHRIST.
Surely, even good natures hate to be in debt for
love, and are ready to repay favours with interest.
Oh, for a soul sick of love, yea, sick unto death !
Why should I, how can I, be any otherwise, any
whit less affected, O Saviour ? This only sickness
is my health ; this death is my life ; and not to be
thus sick, is to be dead in sins and trespasses. I
am rock, and not flesh, if I be not wounded with
these heavenly darts. Ardent affection is apt to
attract love, even where is little or no beauty ; and
excellent beauty is no less apt to inflame the heart,
where there is no answer of affection ; but when
these two meet together, what breast can hold
against them ? and here they are both in an emi
nent degree. Thou canst say even of thy poor
Church, though labouring under many imperfec
tions, ' Thou hast ravished my heart, my sister,
my spouse ; thou hast ravished my heart, with one
of thine eyes, with one chain of thy neck : how
fair is thy love, my sister, my spouse !' ¦ And
canst thou, O blessed Saviour, be so taken with
the incurious and homely features of thy faithful
ones, and shall not we much more be altogether
enamoured of thine absolute and divine beauty ?
of whom every believing soul can say, ' My be
loved is white and ruddy ; the chiefest among ten
thousand : his head is as the most fine gold : his
eyes are as the eyes of doves, by the rivers of
waters : his cheeks are as a bed of spices, as sweet
flowers : his lips like lilies, dropping sweet-smelling
myrrh, &c.'2 It hath pleased thee, O Lord, out of
the sweet ravishments of thy heavenly love, to say
to thy poor Church, '-Turn away thine eyes from
' Cant. iv. 9. ! lb. v. 10, &c.

MEDITATION ON THE LOVE OF CHRIST. 303
me, for they have overcome me :' but, oh, let me
say unto thee, " Turn thine eyes to me, that they
may overcome me :" I would be thus ravished,
thus overcome : I would be thus out of myself,
that I might be all in thee.
Thou lovedst me, before I had being: let me,
now that I have a being, be wholly taken up with
thy love ; let me set all my soul upon thee, that
gavest me being; upon thee, who art the eternal
and absolute Self-Being ; who hast said, and only
couldst say, 'I am that I am.' Alas! Lord, we
are nothing, but what thou wilt have us; and
cease to be, when thou callest in that breath of
life which thou hast lent us : thou art that incom
prehensible glorious, and infinite self-existing Spi
rit, from eternity, in eternity, to eternity ; in and
from whom all things are. It is thy wonderful
mercy, that thou wouldst condescend so low, as
to vouchsafe to be loved of my wretchedness, of
whom thou mightest justly require and expect
nothing but terror and trembling. It is my hap
piness, that I may be allowed to love a Majesty so
infinitely glorious. Oh, let me not be so far want
ing to my own felicity, as to less than ravished
with thy love.

SECTION XL
A further enforcement of our Love to Christ, in re
spect of our Unworthiness and his Sufferings and
prepared Glory.
Thou lovedst me when I was deformed, loathly,
forlorn, and miserable ; shall I not now love thee

304 MEDITATION ON THE LOVE OF CHRIST.
when thou hast freed me, and decked me with the
ornaments of thy graces ? Lord Jesu, who should
enjoy the fruit of thine own favours, but thyself?
How shamefully injurious were it, that, when thou
hast trimmed up my soul, it should prostitute itself
to the love of the world ! Oh, take my heart to
thee alone ; possess thyself of that which none can
claim but thyself.
Thou lovedst me when I was a professed rebel
against thee ; and receivedst me, not to mercy only,
but to the endearment of a subject, a servant, a
son; where should I place the improvement of the
thankful affections of my loyalty and duty, but
upon thee ?
Thou, O God, hast so loved us, that thou wouldst
become the Son of man for our sakes; that we,
who are the sons of men, might become the sons of
God. Oh, that we could put off the man, to put on
Christ ; that we could neglect and hate ourselves
for thee, that hast so dearly loved us, as to lay aside
thy heavenly glory for us !
How shall I be vile enough, O Saviour, for thee;
who, for my sake, being the Lord of life and glory,
wouldst take upon thee the shape of a servant!
How should I welcome that poverty which thy choice
hath sanctified ! How resolutely shall I grapple
with the temptations of that enemy whom thou
hast foiled for me ! How cheerfully should I pass
through those miseries and that death which
thou hast sweetened ! With what comfortable
assurance shall I look upon the face of that
merciful justice which thou hast satisfied ! But,
oh, what a blessed inheritance hast thou, in
thine infinite love provided for me ! ' an inheritance
incorruptible, and undefiled and that fadeth not

MEDITATION ON THE LOVE 1>F CHRIST. 305
away, reserved in heaven for me ; so as when my
earthly house of this tabernacle shall be dissolved,
I have a building of God, a house not made with
hands, eternal in the heavens.' ' A house ? Yea,
a palace of heavenly state and magnificence. Nei
ther is it less than a kingdom, that abides there for
me ; a kingdom so much more above these worldly
monarchies, as heaven is above this clod of earth.
Now, Lord, what conceits, what affections of mind
can be in the least sort answerable to so transcendent
mercy ? If some friend shall have been pleased to
bestow some mean legacy upon me, or shall have
feoffed2 me in some few acres of his land, how deeply
do I find myself obliged to the love and memory of
so kind a benefactor ! O then, Lord, how can my
soul be capable of those thoughts and dispositions,
which may reach to the least proportion of thine
infinite bounty ; who, of a poor worm on earth, hast
made me an heir of the kingdom of heaven.
Woe is me, how subject are these earthly prin
cipalities to hazard and mutability, whether through
death or insurrection! but this crown which thou
hast laid up for me is immarcescible ;3 and shall
sit immovably fast upon my head, not for years,
nor for millions of ages, but for all eternity. Oh,
let it be my heaven, here below, in the mean
while, to live in a perpetual fruition of thee ; and
to begin those hallelujahs to thee here, which shall
be as endless as thy mercy and my blessedness.
1 1 Pet. i. 4; 2 Cor. v. 1. 2 Given in possession  Ed.
3 Unfading. — Ed.

306 MEDITATION ON THE LOVE OF CHRIST.

SECTION XII.
The improvement of our Love to Christ for the
mercy of his Deliverance, of the Tuition ] of his
Angels, of the powerful working of his Good
Spirit.
Hadst thou been pleased to have translated me
from thy former paradise, the most delightful seat
of man's original integrity and happiness, to the
glory of the highest heaven, the preferment had
been infinitely gracious ; but to bring my soul from
the nethermost hell, and to place it among the choir
of angels, doubles the thank of thy mercy, and the
measure of my obligation. How thankful was thy
prophet2 but to an Ebedmelech, that, by a cord and
rags let down into that dark dungeon, helped him
out of that uncomfortable pit wherein he was
lodged; yet, what was there, but a little cold, hun
ger, stench, closeness, obscurity ? Lord, how should
I bless thee, that hast fetched my soul from that pit
of eternal horror, from that lake of fire and brim
stone, from the everlasting torments of the damned,
wherein I had deserved to perish for ever ? I will
sing of thy power unto thee, O my strength, will
I sing ; for God is my deliverer, and the God of my
mercy. But, O Lord, if yet thou shouldst leave me in
my own hands, where were I ? How easily should
I be robbed of thee, with every temptation ? How
should I be made the scorn and insultation3 of men
and devils ! It is thy wonderful mercy, that thou
1 Guardianship.— Ed. 2 Jer. xxxviii. * Mockery.— Ed.

MEDITATION ON THE LOVE OF CHRIST. 307
hast given thine angels charge over me. Those
angels, great in power and giorious in majesty, are
my sure, though invisible, guard. O blessed Jesu,
what an honour, what a safety is this, that those
heavenly spirits, which attend thy throne, should
be my champions ! Those that ministered to thee
after thy temptation, are ready to assist and relieve
me in mine. They can neither neglect their charge,
because they are perfectly holy, nor fail of their vic
tory because they are, under thee, the most powerful.
I see you, O ye blessed guardians, I see you by the eye
of my faith, no less truly than the eye of my sense
sees my bodily attendants ; I do truly, though spi
ritually feel your presence, by your gracious opera
tions in, upon, and for me ; and I do heartily bless
my God and yours, for you, and for those saving
offices, that through his merciful appointment, you
ever do for my soul.
But, as it was with thine Israelites of old, that it
would not content them, that thou promisedst and
wouldst send thine angel before, to bring them into
the land flowing with milk and honey, unless thy
presence, O Lord, should go also along with them;
so is it still with me and all thine ; wert not thou
with and in us, what could thine angels do for us ?
In thee it is that they move and are. The same
infinite Spirit which works in and by them, works
also in me. From thee it is, O thou blessed and
eternal Spirit, that I have any stirrings of holy mo
tions and breathings of good desires, any life of
grace, any will to resist, any power to overcome evil.
It is thou, O God, ' that girdest me with strength
unto battle ; thou hast given me the shield of thy
salvation ; thy right hand hath holden me up ;
thou hast also given me the necks of mine enemies.'
x 2

308 MEDITATION ON THE LOVE OF CHRIST.
Glory and praise be to thee, O Lord, ' which al
ways causest us to triumph in Christ; whocrownest
us with loving kindness and tender mercies,' and
hast not held us short of the best of thy favours.
Truly, Lord, hadst thou given us but a mere
being, as thou hast done to the lowest rank of thy
creatures, it had been more than thou owest us,
more than ever we could be able to requite to thy
divine bounty ; for every being is good, and the
least degree of good is far above our worthiness.
But, that to our being thou hast added life, it is
yet a higher measure of thy mercy ; for, certainly,
of thy common favours, life is the most precious.
Yet this is such a benefit as may be had and not
perceived ; for even the plants of the earth live
and feel it not : that to our life, therefore, thou hast
made a further accession of sense, it is yet a larger
improvement of thy beneficence ; for this faculty
hath some power to manage life, and makes it
capable to affect those means which may tend to
the preservation of it, and to decline the contrary.
But this is no other than the brute creatures
enjoy equally with us, and some of them beyond
us : that, therefore, to our sense thou hast blessed
us with a further addition of reason, it is yet a
higher pitch of munificence ; for hereby we are
men, and as such, are able to attain some know
ledge of thee, our Creator, to observe the motions of
the heavens, to search into the natures of our fel
low-creatures, to pass judgment upon actions and
events, and to transact these earthly affairs to our
own best advantage.
But, when all this is done, woe were to us, if
we were but men ! for our corrupted reason renders
us, of all creatures, the most miserable : that, there-

MEDITATION ON THE LOVE OF CHRIST. 309
fore, to our reason thou hast superadded faith, to
our nature grace, and of men hast made us
Christians, and to us, as such, hast given thy Christ,
thy Spirit; and thereby made us, of enemies, sons
and heirs, coheirs with Christ of thine eternal and
most glorious kingdom of heaven ; yea, hast incor
porated us into thyself, and made us one spirit with
thee our God ; — Lord, what room can there be pos
sibly, in these strait and narrow hearts of ours, for
a due admiration of thy transcendent love and
mercy ?
I am swallowed up, O God, I am willingly swal
lowed up, in this bottomless abyss of thine infinite
love ; and there let me dwell, in a perpetual ravish
ment of spirit, till, being freed from this clog of
earth, and filled with the fulness of Christ, I shall
be admitted to enjoy that which I cannot now reach
to wonder at, thine incomprehensible bliss and
glory which thou hast laid up in the highest hea
vens for them that love thee, in the blessed com
munion of all thy saints and angels, thy cherubim
and seraphim, thrones, dominions, and principali
ties, and powers ; in the beatifical presence of thee,
the ever-living God, the eternal Father of spirits,
Father, Son, Holy Ghost, One infinite Deity in
Three, co-essentially, co-eternally, co-equally, glo
rious persons : to whom be blessing, honour,
glory, and power, for ever and ever. Amen.
Hallelujah.

THE SOUL'S FAREWELL TO EARTH,

APPROACHES TO HEAVEN.

THE SOUL'S FAREWELL TO EARTH,

AND

APPROACHES TO HEAVEN.

SECTION I.

Be thou ever, O my soul, holily ambitious, always
aspiring towards thy heaven, not entertaining any
thought that makes not towards blessedness. For
this cause, therefore, put thyself upon thy wings,
and leave the earth below thee ; and, when thou
art advanced above this inferior world, look down
upon this globe of wretched mortality, and despise
what thou wast and hadst ; and think with thyself :
" There was I, not a sojourner so much as prisoner
for some tedious years; there have I been thus
long tugging with my miseries, with my sins ; there
have my treacherous senses betrayed me to infi
nite evils, both done and suffered. How have I
been there tormented with the sense of others'
wickedness, but more of my own ! what insolence
did I see in men of power ! what rage in men of
blood! what gross superstition in the ignorant!
what abominable sacrilege in those that would be
zealous ! what drunken revellings, what sodomitical
filthiness, what hellish profanations in atheous ruf-

314 THE SOUL'S FAREWELL TO EARTH.
fians ! what perfidiousness in friendship, what co
zenage in contracts, what cruelty in revenges,
shortly, what a hell upon earth ! Farewell, then,
sinful world, whose favours have been no other
than snares, and whose frowns no less than tor
ments ; farewell for ever : for, if my flesh cannot
yet clear itself of thee, yet my spirit shall ever
know thee at a distance, and behold thee no other
wise than the escaped mariner looks back upon the
rock whereon he was lately splitted. Let thy be
witched clients adore thee for a deity : all the
homage thou shalt receive from me shall be no
other than defiance; and, if thy glorious shows
have deluded the eyes of credulous spectators, I
know thee for an impostor. Deceive, henceforth,
those that trust thee ; for me, I am out of the reach
of thy fraud, out of the power of thy malice."
Thus do thou, O my soul, when thou art raised
up to this height of thy fixed contemplation, cast
down thine eyes contemptuously upon the region
of thy former miseries, and be sure ever to keep up
in a constant ascent towards blessedness ; not suf
fering thyself to stoop any more upon these earthly
vanities. For, tell me seriously, when the world was
disposed to court thee most of all, what did it yield
thee but unsound joys, sauced with a deep anguish
of spirit ; false hopes, shutting up in a heart-break
ing disappointment; windy proffers, mocking thee
with sudden retractions ; bitter pills in sugar ;
poison in a golden cup ? It showed thee, perhaps,
stately palaces, but stuffed with cares ; fair and
populous cities, but full of toil and tumult ; flourish
ing churches, but annoyed with schism and sacri
lege ; rich treasures, but kept by ill spirits ; pleas
ing beauties, but baited with temptation ; glorious

THE SOUL'S FAREWELL TO EARTH. 315
titles, but surcharged with pride; goodly sem
blances, with rotten insides; in short, death dis
guised with pleasures and profits.
If, therefore, heretofore, thy unexperience have
suffered thy feathers to be belimed with these earthly
entanglements ; yet, now that thou hast happily
cast those plumes and quit thyself of these miser
able incumbrances, thou mayest soar aloft above
the sphere of mortality, and be still towering up
towards thy heaven; and, as those that have as
cended to the top of some Athos or Teneriff, see
all things below them in the valleys small, and
scarce in their diminution discernible ; so shall all
earthly objects, in thy spiritual exaltation, seem
unto thee : either thou shalt not see them at all, or
at least so lessened, as that they have to thee quite
lost all the proportion of their former dimensions.

SECTION II.
It will not be long, O my soul, ere thou shalt ab
solutely leave the world in the place of thy habita
tion ; being carried up by the blessed angels to thy
rest and glory ; but, in the mean time, thou must
resolve to leave it in thy thoughts and affections.
Thou mayest have power over these even before the
nour of thy separation ; and these, rightly disposed,
have power to exempt thee beforehand from the
interest of this inferior world, and to advance thine
approaches to that world of the blessed. While
thou art confined to this clay, there is naturally a
luggage of carnality that hangs heavy upon thee,

316 THE SOUL'S FAREWELL TO EARTH.
and sways thee down to the earth ; not suffering
thee to mount upward to that bliss whereunto
thou aspirest: this must be shaken off if thou
wouldst attain to any capacity of happiness; even
in this sense, ' flesh and blood cannot inherit the
kingdom of God.' It behoves thee to be, so far as
this composition will admit, spiritualized, ere thou
canst hope to attain to any degree of blessedness.
Thy conjunction with the body doth necessarily
clog thee with an irrational part, which will una
voidably force upon thee some operations of its
own ; and thy senses will be interposing themselves
in all thy intellectual employments, proffering thee
the service of their guidance in all thy proceedings ;
but, if thou lovest eternity of blessedness, shake
them off as importunate suitors ; gather up thyself
into thy own regenerated powers, and do thy work
without and above them. It is enough, that thou
hast, at first, taken some hint from them, of what
concerns thee ; as for the rest, cast them off as un
necessary and impertinent, the prosecution whereof
is too high and too internal for them to intermed
dle with. Thou hast now divine and heavenly
things in chase, whereof there, cannot be the least
scent in any of these earthly faculties. Divest thy
self, therefore, what thou possibly mayest, of all
materiality, both of objects and apprehensions ;
and let thy pure, renewed, and illuminated intellect
work only upon matter spiritual and celestial.
And, above all, propose unto thyself and dwell
upon that purest, perfectest, simplest, blessedest ob
ject, the glorious and incomprehensible Deity ;
there thou shalt find more than enough to take up
thy thoughts to all eternity. Be thou, O my soul,
ever swallowed up in the consideration of that in-

THE SOULS FAREWELL TO EARTH. 317
finite self-being Essence, whom all created spirits
are not capable sufficiently to admire. Behold,
and never cease wondering at the majesty of his
glory. The bodily eyes dazzle at the sight of the
sun ; but, if there were as many suns as there are
stars in the firmament of heaven, their united
splendour were but darkness to their all-glorious
Creator. Thou canst not yet hope to see him as he
is ; but, lo, thou beholdest where he dwells, in light
inaccessible, the sight of whose very outward verge
is enough to put thee into a perpetual ecstasy. It
is not for thee, as yet, to strive to enter within the
vail ; thine eyes may not be free where the angels
hide their faces. What thou wantest in sight, 0
my soul, supply in wonder. Never any mortal
man, O God, durst sue to see thy face, save that
one entire servant of thine, whose face thy confer
ence had made shining and radiant ; but even he,
though inured to thy presence, was not capable to
behold such glory and live. Far be it from me, O
Lord, to presume so high. Only let me see thee as
thou hast bidden me ; and but so, as not to behold
thee after thy gracious revelation, were my sin.
Let me see, even in this distance, some glimmering
of thy divine power, wisdom, justice, mercy, truth,
providence; and let me bless and adore thee in
what I see.

SECTION III.
Oh, the infiniteness of thine Almighty power,
which thou not hast, but art, beyond the possi
bility of all limitations of objects or thoughts. In

318 THE SOUL'S FAREWELL TO EARTH.
us, poor finite creatures, our power comes short of
our will : many things we fain would do, but can
not; and great pity it were, that there should not
be such a restraint upon our unruly appetites,
which would otherwise work out the destruction
both of others and ourselves. But, O God, thy
power is beyond thy will ; thou canst do more than
thou wilt ; thou couldst have made more worlds,
when thou madest this one; and even this one,
which thou hast made, Lord, how glorious a one
it is ! Lo, there needs no other demonstration of
thine omnipotence.
Oh, what a heaven is this, which thou hast
canopied over our heads ! how immensely capa
cious ! how admirably beautiful ! how bestudded
with goodly globes of light ! some one whereof hath
in it such unspeakable glory, as that there have
not wanted nations, and those not of the savagest,
which have mis-worshipped it for their God ; and,
if thou hadst made but one of these in thy firma
ment, thy workmanship had been above our wonder;
for even this had surpassed the whole frame of this
lower world. But now, as their quality strives
with their greatness, so their magnitude strives
with their number, which of them shall more mag
nify the praise of their almighty Creator ; and these
three are no less than matched, by the constant
regularity of the perpetual motion of those mighty
bodies, which having walked their daily rounds
about the world above this five thousand six hun
dred and sixty years, yet are so ordered by thy in
violable decree, that they have not varied one inch
from their appointed line, but keep their due course
and just distance each from other; although not
fixed in any solid orb, but moving singly in a thin

THE SOUL'S FAREWELL TO EARTH. 319
and yielding sky, to the very same point whence
they set forth.
And, if the bodily and visible part of thy hea
venly host, O God, be thus unconceivably glorious,
where shall we find room to wonder at those spi
ritual and living powers, which inhabit those celes
tial mansions, and attend upon the throne of thy
Majesty; the thousand thousands of thy blessed
angels, archangels, cherubim, seraphim, thrones,
principalities, dominions, which in thy presence
enjoy a bliss next to infinite ; any one of which, if
we could see him, were enough to kill us with his
glory ? Not one of those millions of mighty spi
rits, but were able to destroy a world. Oh, then,
how infinitely transcendent is that power of thine,
which hast both created all this heavenly hierarchy,
and so movest in them, that only in and by thee
they are thus potent !
Yea, Lord, let me but cast mine eyes down to
this earth I tread upon, and view thy wonders in
the deep, how manifestly do these proclaim thy
divine omnipotence ! When I see this vast globe
of earth and waters, dreadfully hanging in the
midst of a liquid air, upheld by nothing but by
thy powerful word ; when I see the rage of the
swelling waves, naturally higher than the shores
they beat upon, restrained to their bounds by thine
overruling command ; when I see the earth beau
tifully garnished with marvellous variety of trees,
herbs, flowers, richly stuffed with precious metals,
stones, minerals ; when I see, besides a world of
men, the numberless choice and differences of the
substance, forms, colours, dispositions, of beasts,
fowls, fishes, wherewith these lower elements are

320 THE SOUL'S FAREWELL TO EARTH.
peopled ; how can I be but dissolved into wonder
6f thine almighty power ?

SECTION IV.
Neither is thy power, O God, either more, . or
more thyself, than thy wisdom ; which is no less
essential to thee than infinite. What have we to
do, silly and shallow wretches, with that incom
prehensible wisdom, which is intrinsical to thy Di
vine nature ? The body of that sun is not for our
weak eyes to behold ; it is enough for me if I can
but see some rays of that heavenly light, which
shines forth so gloriously upon thy creature; in
the framing and governing whereof, whether thy
power or wisdom did and do more exhibit itself,
thou only canst judge. Oh, the divine architecture
of this goodly fabric of heaven and earth, raised out
of nothing to this admirable perfection ! What
stupendous artifice of composition is here ! what
exquisite symmetry of parts ! what exact order of
degrees ! what marvellous analogy betwixt beasts,
fishes, plants, the natives of both elements ! Oh,
what a comprehensive reach is this of thine omnis
cience, which, at once, in one act, beholdest all
the actions and events of all the creatures, that
were, are, or shall be in this large universe ! What
a contrivance of thine eternal counsel, which has
most wisely and holily ordered how to dispose of
every creature thou hast made, according to the
pleasure of thy most just will! What a sway of
Providence is this, that governs the world, over-

THE SOULS FAREWELL TO EARTH. 321
ruling the highest, and stooping to the meanest
piece of thy creation ; concurring with and ac
tuating the motions and operations of all second
causes of whatsoever is done in heaven or in
earth !
Yea, Lord, how wonderful are those irradiations
of knowledge and wisdom, which thou hast beamed
forth upon thine intelligent creatures, both angels
and men ! As for those celestial spirits, which see
thy face continually, it is no marvel if they be illu
minated in a degree far above human apprehen
sion ; but, that the rational soul of man, even in
this woeful pilgrimage below, notwithstanding the
ppacity of that earth wherewith it is encompassed,
should be so far enlightened, as that it is able to
know all the motions of the heavens, the magni
tudes and distances of stars, the natures, proper
ties, influences of the planets, the instant of the
eclipses, conjunctions, and several aspects of those
celestial bodies ; that it can discover the secret trea->
sures of earth and sea ; and knows how to unlock
all the close cabinets both of art and nature :
O God, what is this, but some little gleam of
that pure and glorious light, which breaks forth
from thine infiniteness upon thy creature? Yet,
were the knowledge of all men on earth, and
all the angels in heaven, multiplied a thousand
fold, how unable were it, being united together,
to reach unto the height of thy divine counsels ;
to fathom the bottom of thy most wise and holy
decrees ! so as they must be forced to cry out, with
that saint of thine, who was rapt into the third
heaven, ' Oh, the depth of the riches, both of the
wisdom and knowledge of God ! How unsearch-

322 THE SOUL'S FAREWELL TO EARTH.
able are his judgments, and his ways past finding
out!'1

SECTION V.
But with what a trembling adoration, O my soul,
must thou needs look upon the infinite justice of
thy God ; whose inviolable rule is to render to every
man according to his works : Alas ! the little good
thou wert able to do hath been alloyed with so
many and great imperfections, that it can expect
no retribution but displeasure; and, for the many
evils whereof thou art guilty, what canst thou look
for but the wages of sin, death ? not temporary
and natural only, which is but a separation of thee
awhile from thy load of earth; but the spiritual and
eternal separation from the presence of thy God,
whose very want is the height of torments. Lo,
whatever become of thee, God must be himself.
In vain shouldst thou hope, that for thyself he will
abate aught of his blessed essence, of the sacred
attributes : that righteous doom must stand, ' The
soul that sins shall die.' Hell claims his due;
justice must be satisfied : where art thou now, O
my soul ? what canst thou now make account of,
but to despair and die ? surely, in thyself, thou
art lost ; there is no way with thee but utter per
dition. But look up, O my soul, look up ' above the hills,
whence cometh thy salvation :' see the heavens
opening upon thee : see what reviving and com
fortable rays of grace and mercy shine forth unto
1 Rom. xi. 33.

the soul's farewell to earth. 323
thee, from that excellent glory; and out of that
heavenly light, hear the voice of thy blessed Sa
viour, saying to thee, ' O Israel, thou hast destroyed
thyself, but in me is thy help.' l Even so, O J esu,
in thee, only in thee, is my help. Wretched man
that I am, in myself I stand utterly forfeited to
death and hell ; it is thou that hast redeemed me,
with no less ransom than thy precious blood. Death
was owing by me ; by thee it was paid for me, so
as now my debt is fully discharged, and my soul
clearly acquitted. ' Who shall lay any thing to
the charge of God's elect ? It is God that justi-
fieth : who is he that condemneth ? It is Christ
that died; yea, rather that is risen again.'2 Lo,
now, the rigour of thine inviolable justice is taken
off by thine infinite mercy ; the sum that I could
never pay, is, by the power of that faith which
thou hast wrought in me, set off to my all-suffi-,
cient surety, and, by thy divine goodness, graci
ously accepted as mine : I have paid it in him ; he
hath paid it for me. Thy justice is satisfied ; thy
debtor freed ; and thy mercy magnified.

SECTION VI.
There are no bounds to be set unto thy thoughts,
O my soul ; since whatsoever thy God either is
or hath done, comes within thy prospect. There,
besides the great work of his creation, thou mayest
dwell upon the no less almighty work of his admi
nistration of this universal world; whereof the
preservation and government is no less wonderful
1 Hos. xiii. 9. * Rom. viii. 33, 34.
Y2

324 the soul's farewell to earth.
than the frame; there thou shalt see the marvellous
subordination of creatures, some made to rule,
others to obey ; the powerful influence of the celes
tial bodies upon the inferior ; the continual trans
mutation of elements, forsaking their own places
and natures to serve the whole ; forms dying, mat
ter perpetual ; all things maintained by a friendly
discord of humours, out of which they are raised ;
the circular revolution of fashions, occurrents,
events; the different and opposite dispositions
of men, overruled to such a temper, that yet
government is continued in the hands of few,
society and commerce with all ; shortly, all crea
tures, while they do either naturally or voluntarily
act their own part, doing unawares the will of their
Creator. But that which may justly challenge thy longer
stay and greater wonder, is the more than tran
scendent work of man's redemption ; ' the mysteries
whereof the holy angels have desired to look into ;'J
but could never yet sufficiently conceive or admire.
That the Son of God, the Lord of glory, co-eternal,
co-equal to his Father, God blessed for ever, should
take upon him an estate lower than their own;
should clothe his Deity with the rags of our flesh ;
should stoop to weak and miserable manhood ; and,
in that low and despicable condition, should sub
mit himself to hunger, thirst, weariness, temptation
of devils, despite of men ; to the cruelty of tormen
tors, to agonies of soul, to the pangs of a bitter,
ignominious, cursed death ; to the sense of his Fa
ther's wrath for us wretched sinners, that had made
ourselves the worst of creatures, enemies to God,
1 1 Peter, i. 12.

THE SOUL S FAREWELL TO EARTH. 325
slaves to Satan ; is above the reach of all finite
apprehension. O never-to-be-enough magnified
mercy ! ' Thou didst not, O Saviour, when thou
sawest mankind utterly lost and forlorn, content
thyself to send down one of thy cherubim or sera
phim, or some other of thy heavenly angels, to un
dertake the great work of our deliverance, as well
knowing that task too high for any created power ;
but wouldst, out of thine infinite love and compas
sion, vouchsafe so to abase thy blessed self, as to
descend from the throne of thy celestial glory to
this dungeon of earth ; and, not leaving what thou
hadst and what thou wast, to assume what thou
hadst not — man; and to disparage thyself by being
one of us, that we might become like unto thee, co
heirs of thy glory and blessedness. Thou that art
the eternal Son of God, wouldst condescend so low
as to be man, that we, who are worms and no men,
might be advanced to be the sons of God ; thou
wouldst be a servant, that we might reign; thou
wouldst expose thyself to the shame and disgrace
of thy vile creatures here, that thou mightest raise
us up to the height of heavenly honour, with thee
Our God and thy holy angels ; thou wouldst die
for a while, that we might live eternally.
Pause here awhile, O my soul, and do not wish
to change thy thoughts ; neither earth nor heaven
can yield thee any of higher concernment, of
greater comfort; only, withal, behold the glorious
person of that thy blessed Mediator, after his victo
ries over death and hell, sitting triumphant in all the
majesty of heaven, adored by all those millions of
celestial spirits, in his glorified humanity ; and,
1 Bernard. Serm. de Passione Domini.

326 the soul's farewell to earth.
what thou mayest, enjoy the vision of him by faith,
till thou shalt be everlastingly blessed with a clear
and present intuition. Long after that day ; and
be ever careful, in the mean time, to make thyself
ready for so infinite a happiness.

SECTION VII.
And now, O my soul, having left below thee all the
trivial vanities of earth, and fixed thyself (so far as
thy weak eyes will allow thee) upon thy God and
Saviour, in his almighty works and most glorious
attributes ; it will be time for thee, and will not a
little conduce to thy further address towards
blessedness, to fasten thyself upon the sight of the
happy estate of the saints above, who are gone be
fore thee to their bliss ; " and have, through God's
mercy, comfortably obtained that which thou
aspirest unto. Thou that wert guided by their
example, be likewise heartened by their success :
thou art yet a traveller; they, comprehensors ; •
thou art panting towards that rest which they
most happily enjoy ; thou art sweating under the
cross, while they sit crowned in a heavenly magni
ficence. See the place wherein they are, the heaven of
heavens, the paradise of God ; infinitely resplen
dent, infinitely delectable ; such as no eye can be
hold and not be blessed. Shouldst thou set thy
tabernacle in the midst of the sun, thou couldst not
1 Who have already obtained. — Ed.

the soul's farewell to earth. 327
but be encompassed with marvellous light; yet,
even there, it would be but as midnight with thee,
in comparison of those irradiations of glory, which
shine forth above in that imperial region ; for thy
God is the sun there ; ' by how much, therefore,
those divine rays of his exceed the brightest beams
of his creature, so much doth the beauty of that
heaven of the blessed, surpass the created light of
this inferior and starry firmament. Even the very
place contributes not a little to our joy or misery.
It is hard to be merry in a gaol ; and the great Per
sian monarch thought it very improper for a cour
tier to be of a sad countenance within the verge of
so great a royalty.'2 The very devils conceive
horror at the apprehension of the place of their
torment ; and can beseech the over-ruling power of
thy Saviour, * not to command them to go out into
the deep.' 3 No man can be so insensate, to think
there can be more dreadfulness in the place of those
infernal tortures, than there is pleasure and joy
in the height of that sphere of blessedness ; since
we know we have to do with a God that delights
more in the prosperity of his saints than in the
cruciation and howling of his enemies. How canst
thou then, O my soul, be but wholly taken up with
the sight of that celestial Jerusalem, the beauteous
city of thy God, the blessed mansions of glorified
spirits ! Surely, if earth could have yielded any
thing more fair and estimable than gold, pearls,
precious stones, it should have been borrowed to
resemble these supernal habitations ; but, alas, the
lustre of these base materials doth but darken the

1 Rev. xxi. 23. 2 Neh. ii. 2.
3 Luke viii. 31

328 the soul's farewell to earth.
resplendence of those divine excellencies. With
what contempt, now, dost thou look down upon
those muddy foundations of earth, which the low
spirits of worldlings are wont to admire ! and how
feelingly dost thou bless and emulate the spirits>of
just men made perfect, who are honoured with so
blissful a habitation ! '
But what were the place, O my soul, how goodly
and glorious soever in itself, if it were not for the
presence of him whose being there makes it hea
ven ? Lo there the throne of that heavenly Ma
jesty, which, filling and comprehending the large
circumference of this whole, both lower and supe
rior world, yet there keeps and manifests his state,
with the infinite magnificence of the King of Eternal
Glory. There he, in an ineffectible2 manner, com
municates himself to blessed spirits, both angels
and men ; and that very vision is no less to them
than beatifical. Surely, were the place a thousand
degrees lowei in beauty and perfection than it is,
yet that presence would render it celestial : the re
sidence of the king was wont to turn the meanest
village or castle into a court. The sweet singer of
Israel saw this of old, and could say, ' In thy pre
sence is the fulness of joy; and at thy right hand
are pleasures for evermore.' It is not so, in these
earthly and finite excellencies. A man may see
mountains of treasure and be never a whit the richer ;
and may be the witness and agent too in another's
honour, as Haman was of Mordecai's, and be so
much more miserable ; or may view the pomp and
splendour of mighty princes, and be yet still a
beggar; but the infinite graces of that heavenly
1 Heb. xii. 23. 2 Inconceivable, incomprehensible.

THE SOUL'S FAREWELL TO EARTH. 329
King are so communicative, that no man can see
him, but must be transformed into the likeness of
his glory.

SECTION VIII.
Even thy weak and imperfect vision of such hea
venly objects, O my soul, is enough to lay a foun
dation of thy blessedness ; and how can there
choose but be raised thence, as a further degree to
wards it, a sweet complacency of heart, in an appro
priation of what thou seest ; without which nothing
can make thee happy ? Let the sun shine never so
bright, what is this to thee, if thou be blind ? Be
the God of heaven never so glorious, yet if he be
not thy God — be the Saviour of the world never so
merciful, yet if he be not merciful to thee — be the
heaven never so full of beauty and majesty, yet if
thou have not thy portion in that inheritance of the
saints in light — so far will it be from yielding thee
comfort, that it will make a further addition to thy
torment. What an aggravation of misery shall it
be to those that were children of the kingdom, that
from that utter darkness whereinto they are cast,
they shall see aliens ' come from the east and west,
and sit down with Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob, in
the kingdom of heaven ! ¦ Cease not then, O my
soul, till, by a sure and undefeasible application,
thou hast brought all these home to thyself; and
canst look upon the great God of heaven, the graci
ous Redeemer of the world, the glory of that celestial
' Matt. viii. 11.

330 THE SOUL'S FAREWELL TO EARTH.
paradise, as thine own. Let it be thy bold ambi
tion and holy -curiosity to find thy name enrolled
in that eternal register of heaven ; and, if there be
any one room in the many mansions of that celes
tial Jerusalem lower and less resplendent than
other, thither do thou find thyself, through the
great mercy of thy God, happily designed. It must
be the work of thy faith that must do it; that divine
grace it is, the power whereof can either fetch
down heaven to thee, or carry thee beforehand up
to thy heaven ; and not affix thee only to thy God
and Saviour, but unite thee to him, and (which is
yet more) ascertain thee of so blessed an union.
Neither can it be but that from this sense of ap
propriation, there must necessarily follow a marvel
lous contentment and complacency, in the assur
ance of so happy an interest. Lord, how do I see
poor worldlings please themselves in the conceit of
their miserable proprieties ! One thinks, ' Is not
this my great Babylon, which I have built ?' ' An
other, " Are not these my rich mines ?"> Another,
" Is not this my royal and adored magnificence ?"
And how are those unstable minds transported
with the opinion of these great, but indeed worthless
peculiarities, which, after some little time, moulder
with them into dust ! How canst thou then be but
pleasingly affected, O my soul, with the comfortable
sense of having a God, a Saviour, and heaven of
thine own ! For in these spiritual and heavenly feli
cities, our right is not partial and divided, as it
useth to be in secular inheritances ; so as that every
one hath his share distinguished from the rest, and
parcelled out of the whole ; but here, each one hath
1 Dan. iv. 30.

THE SOUL'S FAREWELL TO EARTH. 331
all ; and this blessed patrimony is communicated
to all saints, as that the whole is the propriety of
every one.
Upon the assurance, therefore, of thy God's gra
cious promises made to every true believer, find
thou thyself happily seized of both the King and
kingdom of heaven, so far as thy faith can as yet
feoff • thee in both ; and delight thyself, above all
things, in these unfailing pledges of thine instant
blessedness ; and say, with the holy mother of thy
Redeemer, ' My soul doth magnify the Lord, and
my spirit rejoiceth in God my Saviour.' 2

SECTION IX.
From this feeling complacency, in the owning of
thy right to glory and happiness, there cannot but
arise a longing desire of the full possession thereof;
for thou canst not so little love thyself, as what thou
knowest thou hast a just title unto, and withal appre-
hendest to be infinitely pleasing and beneficial, not
to wish that thou mayest freely enjoy it. If thou
have tasted how sweet the Lord is, thou canst
not but long for more of him ; yea, for all. It
is no otherwise even in carnal delights; the
degustation whereof is wont to draw on the heart
to a more eager appetition : much more in spiri
tual ; the pleasures whereof, as they are more pure,
so they are of the heavenly-minded with far greater
ardency of spirit affected. The covetous man's
heart is in his bags ; what he hath doth but aug-
1 Invest with possession or right. — Ed. 2 Luke i. 46, 47.

332 THE SOULS FAREWELL TO EARTH.
ment his lust of more ; and the having of more
doth not satiate, but enlarge his desires. ' He that
loveth silver 'shall not be satisfied with silver ; nor
he that loveth abundance, with increase ; ' ¦ but
these celestial riches are so much more allective2
as they are more excellent than those which are
delved out of the bowels of the earth. O my
soul, thou hast, through the favour of thy God,
sipped some little of the cup of immortality ;
and tasted of that heavenly manna, the food of an
gels; and canst thou take up with these slight
touches of blessedness ? Thou hast, though most
unworthy, the honour to be contracted to thy Sa
viour here below ; thou knowest the voice of his
spouse, 'Draw me, and we shall run after thee.
Stay me with flagons ; comfort me with apples ;
for I am sick of love. Make haste, my beloved,
and be thou like to a roe, or to a young hart upon
the mountains of spices.'3 Where is thy love, if
thou have not fervent desires of a perpetual enjoy
ment ? if thou do not earnestly wish for a full con
summation of that heavenly match ?
O my Lord and Saviour, as I am not worthy to
love thee, so I were not able to love thee, how ami
able soever, but by thee.- O thou that hast begun
to kindle this fire of heavenly love in me, raise thou
it up to a perfect flame ; make me not only sick of
thy love, but ready and desirous to die for thee,
that I may enjoy thee. Oh, let me not endure,
that any worldly heart should be more enamoured
of these earthly beauties, which are but varnished
rottenness, than I am of thee, who art of absolute
1 Eccl. v. 10. 2 Attractive  Ed.
3 Cant. i. 4; ii. 5; viii. 14.

THE SOUL'S FAREWELL TO EARTH. 333
and infinite perfections, and bestowest them in
being loved. Oh, when shall the day be, wherein
thou wilt make up these blessed nuptials, and en
dow me with a full participation of that glory,
wherewith thou art invested, from and to all eter
nity ? Whereto have all thy sweet favours and gra
cious love-tokens tended, but to this issue of bless
edness ? Oh, do thou crown all thy mercies in me,
and me with immortality !

SECTION X.
Upon this desire of fruition, if thou wouldst be
truly happy, there must follow a constant prosecu
tion of that desire ; for if thy wishes be never so
fervent, yet if they be only volatile and transient,
they shall be able to avail thee little : slight and
flickering motions of good, if they be not followed
with due endeavours, sort to no effect.
Content not thyself, therefore, O my soul, that
thou hast entertained into thyself some affective '
thoughts of thy beatitude, but settle thyself in
firm resolutions to pursue and perpetuate them ;
let them not call in as strangers, but dwell in thee
as inmates, never to be by any secular occasions
dislodged. These morning dews of holy disposi
tions, which are ready to be exhaled with every
gleam of worldly prosperity, as they find little
acceptance from God, so they are able to afford
small comfort to thee ; as whose condition is such,
that they leave thee more disconsolate in their
1 Desiring, — Ed.

334 THE SOUL'S FAREWELL TO EARTH.
vanishing than they yielded thee pleasure in their
momentary continuance. Be thou able to say with
holy David, ' My heart is fixed, O God, my heart
is fixed";' and then thou mayest well add, 'I will
sing and give praise;'1 otherwise, thy distracted
thoughts will admit no cause of sound joy. In
this case it falls out with thee, O my soul, as
with some fond child, who, eagerly following a bee
in hope of her bag, sees a gay butterfly cross his
way, and thereupon leaves his first chase and runs
after those painted wings; but, in that pursuit,
seeing a bird fly close by him, he leaves the fly in
hope of a better purchase ; but, in the mean time,
is disappointed of all, and catcheth nothing. It
mainly behoves thee, therefore, to keep up thy cogi
tations and affections close to these heavenly ob
jects, and to check them whensoever thou perceiv-
est an inclination to their wandering; like as the
careful huntsman, when he finds his hound
offering to follow after a new game, rates him
off, and holds him to his first scent. Whither
are ye straying, O my thoughts ? What means
this sinful and lossful inconstancy ? Can ye
be happier in a change ? Is there any thing in
this miserable world that can be worthy to carry
you away from the hopes and affectations 2 of bless
edness ? Have ye not full often complained of
the worthlessness and satiety of these poor vanities
here below ? Have ye not found their promises
false, their performances unsatisfactory, their dis
appointment irksome ? Away then, ye frivolous
temptations, and solicit those minds that are low
and empty like yourselves ; for me, I disdain your
1 Psalm, Ivii. 7. 2 Desires. — Ed.

THE SOUL S FAREWELL TO EARTH. 335
motions, and being taken up with higher employ
ments, scorn to descend to your base suggestions,
which tend to nothing but mere earthliness.
But as there is no fire which will not go out if it
be not fed, it cannot be enough that thou hast en
tertained these gracious resolutions, unless thou do
also supply and nourish them with holy medita
tions, devout prayers, continual ejaculations, and
the due frequentation of all the holy ordinances of
thy God ; without ^ which, if they .shall languish
through thy neglect, thou shalt find double more
work and difficulty in reviving them, than there
could have been in maintaining and upholding
them in their former vigour. Be not, therefore,
wanting to thyself in the perpetual exercise and
improvement of all those holy means that may
further and perfect these heavenly longings after
salvation ; thy God shall not be wanting to thee in
blessing thee with an answerable success.

SECTION XL
It is the just praise of the marvellous bounty of
thy God, O my soul, that ' he will fulfil the desires
of them that fear him.'1 If, therefore, thou canst
hunger and thirst after righteousness, if thy heart
can yearn after heaven, he shall be sure to satisfy
thee with goodness ; and not only shall bring thee
home at the last to that land of promised blessed-
1 Psalm, cxlv. 19.

336 THE soil's farewell to earth.*
ness, but, in the mean time, also put thee into an
incohate fruition of happiness, which is the next
degree of thine ascent toTieaven.
That which is. complete may be the surest rule
of knowing and judging of that which is imperfect.
Wherein doth the perfection of heavenly bliss con
sist, but in a perpetual enjoying the presence of
God, in a clear vision of the Divine Essence, in a
perfect union with God, and an eternal participa
tion of his life and glory ? Now, as grace is glory
begun, and glory is grace consummate, so dost
thou, O my soul, being wrought to it by the power
of the Spirit of thy God, even in this life, how
weakly soever, enter upon all these acts and privi
leges of beatitude : even here below thou art never
out of the presence of thy God, and that presence
can never be other than glorious ; and that it is not
beatifical here, is not out of any deficiency in it,
but in thine own miserable incapacity, who, while
thou abidest in this vale of tears, and art clogged
with this flesh, art no fit subject of so happy a con
dition. Yea, that blessed presence is ever comfortably
acknowledged by thee, and enjoyed with such con
tentment and pleasure that thou wouldst not part
with it for a world, and that thou justly account-
est all earthly delights but mere vexations to that
alone : ' Whom have I in heaven but thee ? and
what do I desire on earth in comparison of thee ?'•
Balaam could say, how truly soever, 'I shall see
him, but not now : I shall behold him, but not
nigh ;' 2 but, Lord, I see thee even now ; I behold
thee so nigh me that I live in thee, and would
rather die than live without thee. I see thee, though
1 Psalm, lxxiii. 25. 2 Num. xxiv. 17,

THE SOUL'S FAREWELL TO EARTH. 337
weakly and dimly, yet truly and really ; I see thee
as my God all-sufficient, as my powerful Creator,
my merciful Redeemer, my gracious Comforter;
I see thee, the living God, the Father of lights, the
God of spirits, dwelling in light inaccessible, ani
mating, filling, comprehending this glorious world ;
and do awfully adore thine infiniteness.
Neither do I look at thee with a trembling asto
nishment, as some dreadful stranger or terrible
avenger ; but I behold thy majesty so graciously
complying with my wretchedness that thou admit-
test me to a blessed union with thee. I take thee
at thy word, O dear Saviour, even that sweet word
of impetration,1 which thou wert pleased to utter
to thy co-eternal Father, immediately before thy
meritorious passion : ' I pray not for these alone,
but for them also which shall believe on me through
their word ; that they all may be one, as thou, Far
ther, art in me, and I in thee, that they may be
one in us. - And the glory which, fhou gavest me
I have given them, that they may be one even as
we are one ; I in them, and thou in me, that they
may be made perfect in one ; and that the world
may know that thou hast sent me, and hast loved
them as thou hast loved me.'2 I know thou couldst
not but be heard in all that thou prayest, and there
fore I take what thou suedst for as done. Lord, I
do believe in thee ; unite thou me to thee ; make
me one spirit with thee.3 It is no presumption to
sue and hope for what thou hast prayed for and
promised to perform. O, make me, according to
the capability of my weak humanity, paitaker of

Prayer obtained. — Ed. 2 John, xvii. 20 — 23.
3 1 Cor. vi. 17.

338 THE SOULS FAREWELL TO EARTH.
thy divine nature.1 Vouchsafe to allow me, even
me, poor wretched soul, to say of thee, ' I am my
beloved's, and my beloved is mine.'2 And, by
virtue of this indissoluble union, why shouldst
thou not, O my soul, find thyself endowed with
a blessed participation of that heavenly life and
glory which is in and with him ? In that thou
art united to thy body, thou impartest to it
vegetation, sense, motion, and givest it a share in
the exercise of all thy noble faculties ; how much
more entire and beneficial is the spiritual union of
thy God and thee! Alas, that bond of natural
conjunction is easily dissolved by ten thousand ways
of death ; this heavenly knot is so fast tied that all
the powers of hell cannot unloose it. And the
blessings communicated to thee by this divine
match are so much more excellent as the infinite
giver of them is above thy meanness. Lo, now
thou art actually interested in all that thy God is
or hath ; his kingdom is thine, his glory is thine
to all eternity.

SECTION XII.
And what now can follow, O my soul, upon the
apprehension of thus enjoying the presence of thy
God, and the vision of so blessed an object, and
thine union with him and participation of him,
but a sensible ravishment of spirit, with a joy un
speakable and full of glory ? Heretofore, if some
1 2 Peter, i. 4. ¦ Cant. vi. 3,

THE SOULS FAREWELL TO EARTH. 339
great friend should have brought me to the court,
and, having showed me the splendour and magni
ficence of that seat of majesty, should have brought
me into the sight of the king's royal person ; and
should have procured me, not only a familiar con
ference with him, but the entire affection of a
favourite ; and from thence there should have been
heaped upon me titles of honour and large reve
nues, and yet higher, a consociation of princely
dignity ; how should I have been transported with
the sense of so eminent an advancement ! how great
and happy should I have seemed, not more in others'
eyes than in my own ! what big thoughts had here
upon swollen up my heart in the days of my vanity !
But, alas, what poor things are these, in compa
rison of those heavenly promotions ! I might have
been brought into the stateliest court of this world,
and have been honoured, not only with the pre
sence, but the highest favours of the best and
greatest of kings, and yet have been most miser
able. Yea, which of those monarchs that have the
command and dispensation of all greatness, can se
cure himself from the saddest infelicities ? But
these spiritual prerogatives are above the reach of
all possible miseries, and can and do put thee in
some degree into an unfailing possession, both real
and personal, of eternal blessedness. I cannot
wonder that Peter, when, with the other two dis
ciples upon mount Tabor, he saw the glorious
transfiguration of my Saviour, was out of him
self for the time, and knew not what he said ; yet,
as not thinking himself and his partners any other
ways concerned than in the sight of so heavenly a
vision, he mentions only three tabernacles for
z 2

340 THE SOUL'S FAREWELL TO EARTH.
Christ, Moses, Elias, none for themselves.1 It was
enough for him, if without doors, he might be still
blessed with such a prospect ; but how had he been
rapt from himself, if he had found himself taken
into the society of this wondrous transformation,
and interested in the communion of this glory !
Thy renovation and the power of thy faith,
O my soul, puts thee into that happy condition :
thou art spiritually transfigured into the similitude
of thy blessed Saviour, shining with his righteous
ness and holiness;2 so as he is glorified in thee,
and thou in him;3 glorified, not in the fulness of
that perfection which will be, but in the pledge and
earnest of what shall and must be hereafter.
Oh, then, with what unspeakable joy and jubila
tion dost thou entertain thy happiness ! How canst
thou contain thyself any longer within these bounds
of my flesh, when thou feelest thyself thus initiated
into glory ? Art thou in heaven, and knowest it
not ? Knowest thou not, that he who is within
the entry or behind the screen, is as truly within
the house as he that walks in the hall or sits in the
parlour ? And canst thou pretend to be within
the verge of heaven and not rejoice ? What is it
that makes heaven, but joy and felicity ? Thy very
thought cannot separate these two, no more than it
can sever the sun and light; for both these are
equally the originals and fountains of light and
joy ; from whence they both flow, and in which
both are complete. There is no light which is
not derived from the sun, no true joy but from
heaven ; as, therefore, the nearer to the body of the
sun, the more light and heat, so the nearer to
1 Mark, ix. 6 ; Luke, ix. 33. 2 Rom. xii. 2; Eph. iv. 24.
3 John, xvii. 10; 2 Thes. i. 12.

THE SOULS FAREWELL TO EARTH. 341
heaven, the more excess of joy. And certainly, O
my soul, there is nothing but infidelity can keep
thee from an exuberance of joy and delight in the
apprehension of heaven.
Can the weary traveller, after he hath measured
many tedious miles, and passed many dangers both
by sea and land, and felt the harsh entertainments
of a stranger, choose but rejoice to draw near in
his return to a rich and pleasant home ? Can the
ward, after a hard pupilage, choose but 'rejoice that :
the day is coming wherein he shall freely enjoy all l
his lordly revenues and royalties ? Can a Joseph
choose but find himself inwardly joyed, when out
of the dungeon ne shall be called up, not to liberty
only, but to honour ; and shall be arrayed with a
vesture of fine linen, and graced with Pharaoh's
ring and chain, and set in his second chariot, and
in the next chair to the throne of Egypt ? And
canst thou apprehend thyself now approaching to
the glory of the heaven of heavens, a place and
state of so infinite contentment and happiness,
and not to be ecstasied with joy ? There, there
shalt thou, O my soul, enjoy a perfect rest from
all thy toils, cares, fears ; there shalt thou find a
true vital life, free from all the incumbrances of
thy miserable pilgrimage; free from the dangers
of either sins or temptations ; free from all anxiety
and distraction ; free from all sorrow, pain, pertur
bation ; free from all the possibility of change or
death : a life, wherein there is nothing but pure
and perfect pleasure; nothing but perpetual melody
of angels and saints, singing sweet hallelujahs to
their God ; a life which the most glorious Deity
both gives and is ; a life wherein thou hast the full
fruition of the ever-blessed Godhead, the continual

342 THE SOUL'S FAREWELL TO EARTH.
society of the celestial spirits, the blissful presence
of the glorified humanity of thy dear Saviour : a
life wherein thou hast ever consort with the glorious
company of the apostles, the goodly fellowship of
the patriarchs and prophets, the noble army of
martyrs and confessors, the celestial synod of all the
holy fathers and illuminated doctors of the church;
shortly, the blessed assembly of all the faithful pro
fessors of the name of the Lord Jesus, that, having
finished their course, sit now shining in their pro
mised glory. See there that yet unapproachable
light that divine magnificence of the heavenly
King ; see that resplendent crown of righteousness
which decks the heads of every of those saints,
and is ready to be set on thine, when thou hast hap
pily overcome those spiritual powers wherewith
thou art still conflicting ; see the joyful triumphs
of these exulting victors ; see the measures of their
glory different, yet all full, and the least unmea-
sureable ; lastly, see all this happiness not limited
to thousands, nor yet millions of years, but corn-
measured by no less than eternity.
And now, my soul, if thou have received the in
fallible engagement of thy God, in that, having be
lieved thou art sealed with that Holy Spirit of pro
mise which is the earnest of thine inheritance until
the full redemption of thy purchased possession;1
if, through his infinite mercy, thou be now upon
the entering into that blessed place and state of
immortality; forbear, if thou canst, to be raised
above thyself with the 'joy of the Holy Ghost,'2 to
be enlarged towards thy God with a joy unspeak
able and glorious. See, if thou canst now breathe
1 Eph. i. 13, 14. ' 1 Thes. i. 6.

THE SOUL'S FAREWELL TO EARTH. 343
forth any thing but praises to thy God, and songs
of rejoicing : bearing evermore a part in that hea
venly ditty of the angels, ' Blessing, and glory, and
wisdom, and thanksgiving, and honour, and power,
and might be unto our God, for ever and ever. ' '

SECTION XIII.
And now what remains, O my soul, but that thou
do humbly and faithfully wait at the gate of heaven
for a happy entrance, at the good pleasure of thy
God, into those everlasting mansions ? I con
fess, should thy merits be weighed in the ba
lance of a rigorous justice, another place, which
I cannot mention without horror, were more fit for
thee, more due to thee ; for, alas, thou hast been
above measure sinful, and thou knowest the wages
of sin — death. But ' the God of my mercy hath
prevented' thee with infinite compassion;2 and, in
the multitude of his tender mercies, hath not only
'delivered' thee 'from the nethermost hell,'3 but
hath also vouchsafed to 'translate' thee 'to the
kingdom of his dear Son.'4 In him thou hast bold
ness of access to the throne of grace ; thou, who in
thyself art worthy to be a child of wrath, art in him
adopted to be a co-heir of glory, and hast the livery
and sezin4 given thee beforehand of a blessed pos
session, the full estating wherein I do in all humble
awfulness attend.
All the few days therefore of my appointed time
• Rev. vii. 12. 2 Psalm, lix. 10.
3 Psalm, lxxxvi. 13. 4 Col. i. 13.
5 Delivery and possession. — Ed.

344 THE SOUL'S farewell to earth.
will I wait at the threshold of grace, until my
changing come, with a trembling joy, with a long
ing patience, with a comfortable hope. Only,
Lord, I know there is something to he done ere
I can enter : I must die ere I can be capable to
enjoy that blessed life with thee; one stroke of
thine angel must be endured in my passage into
thy paradise. And, lo, here I am before thee,
ready to embrace the condition ; even when thou
pleasest let me bleed once to be ever happy. Thou
hast, after a weary walk through this roaring wil
derness, vouchsafed to call up thy servant to mount
Nebo ; and from thence aloof off to show me the
land of promise, a land that flows with milk and .
honey. Do thou but say, " Die thou on this hill,"
with this prospect in mine eye ; and do thou mer
cifully take my soul from me, who gavest it to me,
and dispose of it where thou wilt in that region of
immortality. Amen, amen. Come Lord Jesu, come
quickly. Behold, Lord, I have by thy providence dwelt in
this house of clay more than double the time
wherein thou wert pleased to sojourn upon earth,
yet I may well say, with thy holy patriarch, ' Few
and evil have been the days of the years of my
pilgrimage;'1 few in number, evil in condition.
Few in themselves, but none at all to thee, with
whom ' a thousand years are but as one day.' But
had they been double to the age of Methuselah,
could they have been so much as one minute to
eternity ? Yea, what were they to me, now that
they are past, but as a tale that is told and for
gotten ? 1 Gen. xlvii. a.

THE SOUL'S FAREWELL TO EARTH. 345
Neither yet have they been so few as evil. Lord,
what troubles and sorrows hast thou let me see,
both my own and others ! what vicissitudes of sick
ness and health! what ebbs and flows of condition !
how many successions and changes of princes, both
at home and abroad ! what turnings of times ! what
alteration of governments ! what shiftings and
downfalls of favourites ! what ruins and desolations
of kingdoms ! what sacking of cities ! what havocs
of war ! what frenzies of rebellions ! what under
minings of treachery ! what cruelties and barba
risms in revenges ! what anguish in the oppressed
and tormented ! what agonies in temptations ! what
pangs in dying ! These I have seen, and in these
I have suffered. And now, Lord, how willing I am
to change time for eternity, the evils of earth for
the joys of heaven, misery for happiness, a dying
life for immortality !
Even so, Lord Jesu; take what thou hast bought,
receive my soul to thy mercy, and crown it with
thy glory. Amen, amen, amen.

THE END

i. Rickerby, Printer, Sherbourn Laae,